第十一章（第11/12页）

It was a sunny day, and Connie was working in the garden, and Mrs. Bolton was helping her. For some reason, the two women had drawn together, in one of the unaccountable flows and ebbs of sympathy that exist between people. They were pegging down carnations, and putting in small plants for the summer. It was work they both liked. Connie especially felt a delight in putting the soft roots of young plants into a soft black puddle, and cradling them down. On this spring morning she felt a quiver in her womb too, as if the sunshine had touched it and made it happy.

某日，阳光和煦，康妮正在花园中忙碌，博尔顿太太担当助手。不知为何，两个女人被牵扯在一起，人与人之间存在着同情的浪潮，玄妙得难以说清。她俩把康乃馨系在杆上，栽种花草的嫩苗，以期夏日的绽放。两人都偏好此类活计。康妮特别喜欢把幼苗柔软的根系插进松软的黑土里，然后埋好。在这个春意盎然的早晨，她感觉自己的子宫都在震颤，好像受到阳光的抚摸，让它快活起来。

"It is many years since you lost your husband?" She said to Mrs. Bolton as she took up another little plant and laid it in its hole.

“你丈夫去世很多年了吧？”她边对博尔顿太太说，边拾起一根嫩苗，埋进掘好的土坑里。

"Twenty-three!” Said Mrs. Bolton, as she carefully separated the young columbines into single plants. "Twenty-three years since they brought him home.” Connie's heart gave a lurch, at the terrible finality of it. "Brought him home!"

“23年了！”博尔顿太太答道，小心翼翼地将娇嫩的耧斗菜一根根分开。“从他们把他送回家那刻算起，已经23年了。”听到这悲惨的结局，康妮心中不觉凄然。“送他回家！”

"Why did he get killed, do you think?" she asked.

“你觉得他究竟因何遇难？”她问。

"He was happy with you?" It was a woman's question to a woman. Mrs. Bolton put aside a strand of hair from her face, with the back of her hand.

“你俩生活得幸福吗？”这是女人间才会有的问题。博尔顿太太抬起手背，将垂在脸上的发缕拨开。

"I don't know, my Lady! He sort of wouldn't give in to things: he wouldn't really go with the rest. And then he hated ducking his head for anything on earth. A sort of obstinacy, that gets itself killed. You see he didn't really care. I lay it down to the pit. He ought never to have been down pit. But his dad made him go down, as a lad; and then, when you're over twenty, it's not very easy to come out.” "Did he say he hated it?" "Oh no! Never! He never said he hated anything. He just made a funny face. He was one of those who wouldn't take care: like some of the first lads as went off so blithe to the war and got killed right away. He wasn't really wezzle-brained. But he wouldn't care. I used to say to him: 'You care for nought nor nobody!' But he did! The way he sat when my first baby was born, motionless, and the sort of fatal eyes he looked at me with, when it was over! I had a bad time, but I had to comfort HIM. 'It's all right, lad, it's all right!’ I said to him. And he gave me a look, and that funny sort of smile. He never said anything. But I don't believe he had any right pleasure with me at nights after; he'd never really let himself go. I used to say to him: Oh, let thysen go, lad! I'd talk broad to him sometimes. And he said nothing. But he wouldn't let himself go, or he couldn't. He didn't want me to have any more children. I always blamed his mother, for letting him in th'room. He'd no right t'ave been there. Men makes so much more of things than they should, once they start brooding.” "Did he mind so much?" said Connie in wonder.

“我不知道，夫人！他生性好强，不愿随波逐流。任何事都无法让他屈服。这种执拗的脾气，确实是致命的。但他却不以为然。我将他的死归结于煤矿。他根本不应该去井下做工。但他迫于父命，很小的时候就当上矿工，岁月如梭，一旦超过20岁，想再脱身就不太容易了。”“他说过自己讨厌这份工作吗？”“噢，没有！从来没说过！他从不抱怨任何事。他最多只会做做怪样。他是那种满不在乎的人，就像大战初期首批开拔到前线的士兵，鲁莽轻率，即刻殒命。他并非呆头呆脑。只是无所顾忌。我总对他说：‘你从不在乎任何人和事！’但他的确在乎！头个孩子降生时，他呆坐在那里，动也不动，等到孩子呱呱坠地，他望着我的眼神异常凄惨。尽管我遭了不少罪，但还是要去安慰他。‘没事儿了，亲爱的，没事儿了！’我对他说。他望着我，露出怪异的笑容。他什么也没说。但我确信，自此以后我们夜里再也体验不到床笫之乐，他再也不会恣意发泄。我常对他说：嘿，给我放开点，伙计！我有时对他说些粗话。他却一声不吭。然而，他依然放不开手脚，或许再也无法那样做。他不想我再怀孩子。我总将这归咎于他的母亲，是她让他进入产房。他本来无权这样做。男人们一旦开始瞎琢磨，就总会小题大做。”“他那么在意呀？”康妮诧异地问。

"Yes, he sort of couldn't take it for natural, all that pain. And it spoilt his pleasure in his bit of married love. I said to him: If I don't care, why should you? It's my look-out! But all he'd ever say was: it's not right! "Perhaps he was too sensitive," said Connie.

“是的，他无法将生产的痛楚当作顺理成章的事。这使他对夫妻之爱兴致全无。我对他说：连我都不当回事，你干嘛这么在意呀？该留心的是我！但他只迸出一句话：那样做不对！”“或许他太过多愁善感。”康妮说。

"That's it! When you come to know men, that's how they are: too sensitive in the wrong place. And I believe, unbeknown to himself he hated the pit, just hated it. He looked so quiet when he was dead, as if he'd got free. He was such a nice-looking lad. It just broke my heart to see him, so still and pure looking, as if he'd wanted to die. Oh, it broke my heart, that did. But it was the pit.” She wept a few bitter tears, and Connie wept more. It was a warm spring day, with a perfume of earth and of yellow flowers, many things rising to bud, and the garden still with the very sap of sunshine.

“说得对！当你真正了解男人，就会发现他们的多愁善感总是用错地方。我相信，连他自己都不晓得，他对煤矿充满恨意，深恶痛绝。他死后的表情异常安详，好像总算得到超脱。他是个帅小伙儿。看到他那副平静纯洁的样子，好像甘心赴死一样，我的心都碎了。噢，我的心都碎了，真的。这一切都是煤矿造成的。”她悲痛不已，频频垂泪，而康妮却哭得更厉害。那是个温暖的春日，泥土的芬芳和黄花的馨香相互交缠，许多植物开始萌芽，静谧的花园中洒满阳光。