第十章（第9/25页）

She went to the wood next day. It was a grey, still afternoon, with the dark-green dogs-mercury spreading under the hazel copse, and all the trees making a silent effort to open their buds. Today she could almost feel it in her own body, the huge heave of the sap in the massive trees, upwards, up, up to the bud-a, there to push into little flamey oak-leaves, bronze as blood. It was like a ride running turgid upward, and spreading on the sky.

翌日，她再度造访树林。那是个阴郁寂静的午后，墨绿色的水银菜在榛丛下蔓延，所有树木都一声不响地绽出嫩芽。今天，她几乎能在自己体内感觉到这种盎然的生机，大树的汁液向上喷涌，向上，不断向上，直至芽尖，生发成闪亮的嫩橡树叶，呈现出血青色。如同汹涌的潮水不断向上攀升，在天空激荡澎湃。

She came to the clearing, but he was not there. She had only half expected him. The pheasant chicks were running lightly abroad, light as insects, from the coops where the fellow hens clucked anxiously. Connie sat and watched them, and waited. She only waited. Even the chicks she hardly saw. She waited.

她来到那片空地，却不见他的身影。她原本也没抱太大希望。野鸡宝宝步履轻盈地向笼外跑去，灵活得像是微小的昆虫，而鸡妈妈则在笼中忧心忡忡地咯咯叫着。康妮坐下来，注视着它们，等待着。她只剩等待。甚至连鸡宝宝都无法留住她视线。她等待着。

The time passed with dream-like slowness, and he did not come. She had only half expected him. He never came in the afternoon. She must go home to tea. But she had to force herself to leave.

时间如梦，缓缓逝去，而他依然没有出现。她本来就没太指望见到他。他下午从不会来这儿。她得赶回家去喝下午茶。但离去时，她是那样地不情愿。

As she went home, a fine drizzle of rain fell.

回家的路上，天空飘起细雨。

"Is it raining again?" said Clifford, seeing her shake her hat.

“又下雨了？”看到她抖落帽子上的水滴，克利福德问。

"Just drizzle." She poured tea in silence, absorbed in a sort of obstinacy. She did want to see the keeper today, to see if it were really real. If it were really real.

“小雨而已。”为他斟茶时，她默默不语，想见他的念头在脑海中挥之不去。她今天实在太想见他，只为了解那天发生的一切究竟是梦是真。究竟是真是幻。

"Shall I read a little to you afterwards?" said Clifford.

“过会儿我读书给你听吧？”克利福德问。

She looked at him. Had he sensed something? "The spring makes me feel queer—I thought I might rest a little," she said.

她的视线转向他。难道丈夫已经有所察觉？“春天让我感觉有点乏累——我本想去休息一会的。”她说。

"Just as you like. Not feeling really unwell, are you?" "No! Only rather tired—with the spring. Will you have Mrs. Bolton to play something with you?” "No! I think I'll listen in.” She heard the curious satisfaction in his voice. She went upstairs to her bedroom. There she heard the loudspeaker begin to bellow, in an idiotically velveteen-genteel sort of voice, something about a series of street-cries, the very cream of genteel affectation imitating old criers. She pulled on her old violet coloured mackintosh, and slipped out of the house at the side door.

“想就去吧。你真的感觉身体不适么？”“没事！只是有点困乏——都是春天惹的祸。让博尔顿太太来陪你玩会牌？”“不用！我想听会儿收音机。”她听出他语调中那奇异的满足感。她上楼回到卧室。即使在自己房间，她仍能听到扬声器在叫嚷，那是种白痴似地故作风雅的呓语，像是接连不断的沿街叫卖声，对老套叫卖者刻意模仿和时髦粉饰。她披上那件紫色旧雨衣，从侧门溜了出来。

The drizzle of rain was like a veil over the world, mysterious, hushed, not cold. She got very warm as she hurried across the park. She had to open her light waterproof.

蒙蒙细雨好像给世界罩上轻纱，神秘莫测，安详静谧，却并不冰冷。康妮急匆匆穿过花园，感觉燥热起来。她只得解开单薄的雨衣。

The wood was silent, still and secret in the evening drizzle of rain, full of the mystery of eggs and half-open buds, half unsheathed flowers. In the dimness of it all trees glistened naked and dark as if they had unclothed themselves, and the green things on earth seemed to hum with greenness.

傍晚的细雨中，树林沉默无声，寂静安宁，又充满神秘的卵与半开半合的嫩芽和花朵。朦胧中，赤裸的树木闪烁着幽暗的光芒，好像已将衣衫褪尽，地上的绿色植被似乎正低声吟唱，仍显稚嫩。

There was still no one at the clearing. The chicks had nearly all gone under the mother-hens, only one or two last adventurous ones still dibbed about in the dryness under the straw roof shelter. And they were doubtful of themselves.

林间空地处依然不见人影。小鸡们差不多都已躲到妈妈的身下，只有一两只冒失鬼仍在草棚遮蔽的干燥处啄食。它们有些局促不安。

So! He still had not been. He was staying away on purpose. Or perhaps something was wrong. Perhaps she should go to the cottage and see.

原来如此！他仍未出现。他是有意逃避。不然或许是出了什么岔子。或许她该进屋去看个究竟。

But she was born to wait. She opened the hut with her key. It was all tidy, the corn put in the bin, the blankets folded on the shelf, the straw neat in a corner; a new bundle of straw. The hurricane lamp hung on a nail. The table and chair had been put back where she had lain.

但她生来就注定要等待。她用钥匙打开屋门。屋里依旧整饬，谷物归仓，毯子叠好搁在架上，新添的一捆稻草齐整地摆放在角落处。钉子上挂着防风灯。桌椅重新归位，那是她曾经躺过的地方。

She sat down on a stool in the doorway. How still everything was! The fine rain blew very softly, filmily, but the wind made no noise. Nothing made any sound. The trees stood like powerful beings, dim, twilit, silent and alive. How alive everything was!

她坐在门边的凳子上。一切都那样寂静！轻柔的雨丝纷纷飘落，织成薄幕，但听不到半点风声。万物无声。屹立不摇的树木好似孔武有力的勇士，轮廓模糊，沉默不语，但却充满生机。一切都那样生机勃发！

Night was drawing near again; she would have to go. He was avoiding her.

夜幕再度拉近，她得回去了。他分明是在躲着她。