Connie and Clifford came home to Wragby in the autumn of 1920. Miss Chatterley, still disgusted at her brother's defection, had departed and was living in a little flat in London.

1920年秋，康妮随克利福德返回格拉比家中。而爱玛则仍因弟弟的背信弃义而忿忿不平，离家住进伦敦的一所小公寓。

Wragby was a long low old house in brown stone, begun about the middle of the eighteenth century, and added on to, till it was a warren of a place without much distinction.

拉格比府是座狭长低矮的旧宅，用褐色岩石堆砌而成，始建于18世纪中叶，后来几经扩建，直至变成一个其貌不扬、迷宫般的场所。

It stood on an eminence in a rather line old park of oak trees, but alas, one could see in the near distance the chimney of Tevershall pit, with its clouds of steam and smoke, and on the damp, hazy distance of the hill the raw straggle of Tevershall village, a village which began almost at the park gates, and trailed in utter hopeless ugliness for a long and gruesome mile: houses, rows of wretched, small, begrimed, brick houses, with black slate roofs for lids, sharp angles and wilful, blank dreariness.

它矗立在高岗之上，周围为栽满橡树的古老园林所环抱，但可惜的是，依然能看到不远处特弗沙尔矿坑烟囱，以及它吐出的团团蒸汽和浓烟。而在潮湿山坡上散落着的特弗沙尔村也依稀可见。那村落从园林门外起绵延长达一英里的距离，展现出赤裸裸、无可救药的丑陋图景。房屋，一排排肮脏污秽的低矮砖房，黑石板搭盖的顶棚，尖锐的棱角，肆意地透露着难言的凄凉氛围。

Connie was accustomed to Kensington or the Scotch hills or the Sussex downs: that was her England. With the stoicism of the young she took in the utter, soulless ugliness of the coal-and-iron Midlands at a glance, and left it at what it was: unbelievable and not to be thought about. From the rather dismal rooms at Wragby she heard the rattle-rattle of the screens at the pit, the puff of the winding-engine, the clink-clink of shunting trucks, and the hoarse little whistle of the colliery locomotives. Tevershall pit-bank was burning, had been burning for years, and it would cost thousands to put it out. So it had to burn. And when the wind was that way, which was often, the house was full of the stench of this sulphurous combustion of the earth's excrement. But even on windless days the air always smelt of something under-earth: sulphur, iron, coal, or acid. And even on the Christmas roses the smuts settled persistently, incredible, like black manna from the skies of doom.

康妮习惯了肯辛顿的生活，看惯了苏格兰式的高地，或是萨塞克斯（注：英国南部一郡，濒临英吉利海峡）的丘陵：那才是她心目中的英格兰。她以年轻人那种淡然的目光审视过煤铁矿林立的米德兰，将那种缺少灵魂的、如假包换的丑陋尽收眼底，之后便听之任之。她不愿相信它的存在，更加不想费神去思索。置身于拉格比府阴森森的房间里，康妮听到矿坑筛煤机的咔嗒声、卷扬机的噗噗声、载重卡车的叮当声、以及运煤机车汽笛的嘶鸣声。特弗沙尔矿坑口依然烈焰滚滚，将其扑灭想必需要花费大笔金钱。所以只好任它继续燃烧。每逢常见的顺风天气，格拉比府就会充溢着难闻的恶臭，那是腐土遇硫磺燃烧而产生的气味。甚至是无风的日子，空气中也充斥着来自地底的味道：硫磺、煤铁、或是酸性物质。就连圣诞蔷薇上也不可思议地经年附满煤尘，好似厄日天空降下的黑色甘露。

Well, there it was: fated like the rest of things! It was rather awful, but why kick? You couldn't kick it away. It just went on. Life, like all the rest! On the low dark ceiling of cloud at night red blotches burned and quavered, dappling and swelling and contracting, like burns that give pain. It was the furnaces. At first they fascinated Connie with a sort of horror; Then she got used to them. And in the morning it rained.

没错，事实就是如此，一切都是命中注定！虽然令人生畏，但抗争又有什么意义呢？摆脱命运的束缚如同痴人说梦。它仍会循路而行。生活也同样如此！夜晚黑压压的低矮云层中，燃烧着的斑驳的红点不断颤动，时而膨胀，时而收缩，如同让人疼痛难忍的灼伤。那是矿区炼煤的高炉。起初，康妮曾因此被某种恐惧攫住，但后来也渐渐习惯了这一切。早晨的时候，天下起了雨来。

Clifford professed to like Wragby better than London. This country had a grim will of its own, and the people had guts. Connie wondered what else they had: certainly neither eyes nor minds. The people were as haggard, shapeless, and dreary as the countryside, and as unfriendly. Only there was something in their deep-mouthed slurring of the dialect, and the thresh-thresh of their hob-nailed pit-boots as they trailed home in gangs on the asphalt from work, that was terrible and a bit mysterious.

克利福德声称比起伦敦，他还是更加青睐拉格比。这里拥有独树一帜的顽强意志，民众个个胆识过人。康妮怀疑除此以外，他们还有什么，高瞻远瞩和真知灼见跟他们是毫不沾边的。这里的居民个个形容枯槁，面貌丑陋，表情阴郁，态度冷漠，一如生养他们的这片土地。只有那低沉含混的土语，以及放工结伙回家时平头钉鞋踩在柏油路上发出的低沉作响踢踏声，让外来者既害怕又好奇。

There had been no welcome home for the young squire, no festivities, no deputation, not even a single flower. Only a dank ride in a motor-car up a dark, damp drive, burrowing through gloomy trees, out to the slope of the park where grey damp sheep were feeding, to the knoll where the house spread its dark brown facade, and the housekeeper and her husband were hovering, like unsure tenants on the face of the earth, ready to stammer a welcome.

当这对年轻的贵族夫妇返回故里，没有听到诚挚热情的问候，没有享受到接风洗尘的宴席，没有看到列队迎候的村众，甚至连朵鲜花都没有见到。只是体验到阴湿寒冷的旅程，汽车驶过漆黑潮湿的大道，钻进阴暗的密林，攀上放牧着湿漉漉的灰色羊群的坡地，停在那座深褐色建筑物坐落的山丘上。女管家及其丈夫正在那里来回踱步，像两个心神不宁的佃户，结结巴巴地编排着欢迎词。

There was no communication between Wragby Hall and Tevershall village, none. No caps were touched, no curtseys bobbed. The colliers merely stared; the tradesmen lifted their caps to Connie as to an acquaintance, and nodded awkwardly to Clifford; that was all. That was all. Gulf impassable, and a quiet sort of resentment on either side. At first Connie suffered from the steady drizzle of resentment that came from the village. Then she hardened herself to it, and it became a sort of tonic, something to live up to. It was not that she and Clifford were unpopular, they merely belonged to another species altogether from the colliers. Gulf impassable, breach indescribable, such as is perhaps nonexistent south of the Trent. But in the Midlands and the industrial North gulf impassable, across which no communication could take place. You stick to your side, I'll stick to mine! A strange denial of the common pulse of humanity.

拉格比府与特弗沙尔村并无半点瓜葛，毫不往来。男人不脱帽致敬，女人不屈膝行礼。矿工们只是瞪眼凝视着他们，商贩们向康妮举举帽子，像是遇到相熟的人，对克里福德则会尴尬地点点头，仅此而已。仅此而已。双方被难以逾越的鸿沟隔开，心中深埋着无言的仇恨。起初，康妮因村民们细雨般不绝的仇恨颇觉苦恼。但还是逐渐硬起心肠，将这种恨意当作赖以为生的某种强身药剂。并非她与丈夫不受欢迎，只是他们与矿工们完全属于不同的阶层而已。人际间难以逾越的鸿沟，无法言喻的裂痕，或许在特伦特河以南的地区难觅其踪。但在中北部的工业区，这种不可调和的分歧却让不同阶级的人们断绝往来。你走你的阳关道，我过我的独木桥！这对人性中共通的情感是种无端地否定。

Yet the village sympathized with Clifford and Connie in the abstract. In the flesh it was—You leave me alone!—on either side.

然而在抽象中，村民们仍对查泰莱夫妇深感同情。而在实际中，双方却都坚守着“你别来管我！”的信条。

The rector was a nice man of about sixty, full of his duty, and reduced, personally, almost to a nonentity by the silent—You leave me alone!—of the village. The miners' wives were nearly all Methodists. The miners were nothing. But even so much official uniform as the clergyman wore was enough to obscure entirely the fact that he was a man like any other man. No, he was Mester Ashby, a sort of automatic preaching and praying concern.

年过花甲的教区长和蔼可亲，尽职尽责，但村民们这种各扫门前雪的冷漠态度，却让他几乎变成可有可无的人物。矿工的妻子们几乎是清一色的卫理公会信徒。矿工们却不信教。但身着牧师法袍，已经足够彻底掩饰他是个普通人这个事实。他不是普通人，他是阿什比牧师大人，一种讲道和祈祷自动机械。

This stubborn, instinctive—We think ourselves as good as you, if you are Lady Chatterley!—puzzled and baffled Connie at first extremely. The curious, suspicious, false amiability with which the miners' wives met her overtures; the curiously offensive tinge of—Oh dear me! I AM somebody now, with Lady Chatterley talking to me! But she needn't think I'm not as good as her for all that!—which she always heard twanging in the women's half-fawning voices, was impossible.

“就算你被尊为查泰莱夫人，但其实跟我们没有什么区别！”起初，村民们这种本能的固执的态度，让康妮感到十分困扰和为难。每当她主动向矿工家眷示好，总会换来怪里怪气、将信将疑的虚情假意，还有那莫名其妙的咄咄逼人的言语：我的天呢！现在我可是大人物了，查泰莱夫人跟我说话来着！可她也别认为这样就可以看扁我！主妇们那半是阿谀的话语中带着浓重的鼻音，在康妮的耳边时时回荡，确实让人难以忍受。

There was no getting past it.

但却是无法回避的。

It was hopelessly and offensively nonconformist.

这些不皈依国教的乡下佬简直无可救药，令人反感。

Clifford left them alone, and she learnt to do the same: she just went by without looking at them, and they stared as if she were a walking wax figure. When he had to deal with them, Clifford was rather haughty and contemptuous; one could no longer afford to be friendly. In fact he was altogether rather supercilious and contemptuous of anyone not in his own class. He stood his ground, without any attempt at conciliation. And he was neither liked nor disliked by the people: he was just part of things, like the pit-bank and Wragby itself.

克利福德从不搭理他们，康妮也学着依样照做：每次擦身而过，总是目不斜视，而村民们则不约而同地盯着她看，仿佛在凝视一座会走路的蜡像。当不得不跟他们打交道时，克利福德总是摆出傲慢骄横的神态，给这些家伙好脸色并不是明智的选择。事实上，他对于所有非其阶层的人们，都保持着这种不屑一顾的高傲态度。他固守着自己的阵地，没有任何修好的意图。村民们对克利福德无甚好感，但也并不讨厌：他不过是生活的组成部分，跟矿坑和格拉比府没什么两样。

But Clifford was really extremely shy and self-conscious now he was lamed. He hated seeing anyone except just the personal servants. For he had to sit in a wheeled chair or a sort of bath-chair. Nevertheless he was just as carefully dressed as ever, by his expensive tailors, and he wore the careful Bond Street neckties just as before, and from the top he looked just as smart and impressive as ever. He had never been one of the modern ladylike young men: rather bucolic even, with his ruddy face and broad shoulders. But his very quiet, hesitating voice, and his eyes, at the same time bold and frightened, assured and uncertain, revealed his nature. His manner was often offensively supercilious, and then again modest and self-effacing, almost tremulous.

然而自从意识到自己再也无法行走，克利福德就变得极端怯懦。除了自家的仆从，他不愿见到任何其他的人。因为残废的他只能坐在轮椅或者巴斯椅上。然而，他仍会像以往一样，穿着高级裁缝为他量身剪裁的高档服装，系着邦德街买回的精致领带，若仅看上半身，他依旧风流倜傥，气度非凡。克利福德本就没有时下青年的那副娘娘腔，红润的脸庞，外加宽厚的肩膀，让他看起来倒有几分牧民的气质。但他那细微迟疑的声音，兼具果敢与畏缩、自信与不安的眼神，则透露出他的本性。他的举止有时傲慢得让人难以忍受，有时却谨慎谦恭到怯懦战栗的地步。

Connie and he were attached to one another, in the aloof modern way. He was much too hurt in himself, the great shock of his maiming, to be easy and flippant. He was a hurt thing. And as such Connie stuck to him passionately.

康妮和他彼此依恋，又相互疏远，这可是时下夫妻间最盛行的相处之道。因伤致残对克利福德的打击过重，使其心灵倍受煎熬，再也无法像过去那般轻松释然。可怜的他身心俱伤。而康妮则对他情根深种，不离不弃。

But she could not help feeling how little connexion he really had with people. The miners were, in a sense, his own men; but he saw them as objects rather than men, parts of the pit rather than parts of life, crude raw phenomena rather than human beings along with him. He was in some way afraid of them, he could not bear to have them look at him now he was lame. And their queer, crude life seemed as unnatural as that of hedgehogs.

但她还是不禁觉得丈夫与他人缺乏沟通。矿工们可以说都是他的仆从，但他始终把他们当作没有生命的物体、而非活生生的人来看待，当他们是矿场而非生活的组成部分，是粗鄙天然事物，而非和自己一般无二的人类。克利福德甚至有些惧怕他们，受不了让他们看到自己如今这副残缺不全的模样。而他们过着古怪粗劣的生活，简直跟反常的刺猬没什么两样。

He was remotely interested; but like a man looking down a microscope, or up a telescope. He was not in touch. He was not in actual touch with anybody, save, traditionally, with Wragby, and, through the close bond of family defence, with Emma. Beyond this nothing really touched him. Connie felt that she herself didn't really, not really touch him; perhaps there was nothing to get at ultimately; just a negation of human contact.

他远远地关注着他们的行为举动，像是通过显微镜或者望远镜去观察事物一样。但却跟他们没有半点往来。除了跟拉格比府的传统纽带、以及和艾玛的血亲关系，他几乎与其他任何人都没有实质性的接触。除此之外，没有什么能真正触及他的内心。康妮觉得连自己也无法真正确实地拨动丈夫的心弦，或许根本没有什么能做到这一点，克利福德的存在恰恰是对人际交往的某种否定。

Yet he was absolutely dependent on her, he needed her every moment. Big and strong as he was, he was helpless. He could wheel himself about in a wheeled chair, and he had a sort of bath-chair with a motor attachment, in which he could puff slowly round the park. But alone he was like a lost thing. He needed Connie to be there, to assure him he existed at all.

但他对妻子的依赖已经到达无可附加的地步，时时刻刻需要她陪在身旁。他虽然魁梧健硕，却无法自立。他能够驱动轮椅四处走走，还可以驾着装有马达的巴斯轮椅，缓缓地在自家园林里兜圈。但每当独处，他就像只迷途的羔羊。他需要康妮伴随左右，只有如此，才能确信自己真真切切地活在世间。

Still he was ambitious. He had taken to writing stories; curious, very personal stories about people he had known. Clever, rather spiteful, and yet, in some mysterious way, meaningless. The observation was extraordinary and peculiar. But there was no touch, no actual contact. It was as if the whole thing took place in a vacuum. And since the field of life is largely an artificially-lighted stage today, the stories were curiously true to modern life, to the modern psychology, that is.

虽然身残，但克利福德依然不失鸿鹄之志。他醉心于小说的创作。这些作品描述的是他身边熟悉的人物个人的奇特故事。笔触聪颖机智，流露出些许恶毒之感，却又因情节神秘莫测而缺乏深意。其出色的观察力异乎常人。但缺少与他人实际的接触和沟通。他笔下的一切似乎都发生在虚无缥缈的空中楼阁里。由于如今的人们多半生活在人造光线点亮的舞台之上，克利福德的小说倒是与现代的生活和现代人的心理颇为契合。

Clifford was almost morbidly sensitive about these stories. He wanted everyone to think them good, of the best, NE PLUS ULTRA. They appeared in the most modern magazines, and were praised and blamed as usual. But to Clifford the blame was torture, like knives goading him. It was as if the whole of his being were in his stories.

克利福德对这些小说的在意，几乎达到病态的地步。他渴望世人都为之拍案叫绝，将其视为无可匹敌的巅峰之作。他的作品发表在最时兴的杂志上，得到的评价自然也是毁誉参半。但对于克利福德来说，毁訾无异于痛苦的折磨，简直就像用刀剜他的肉。好像他生命的全部意义都存在于小说之中。

Connie helped him as much as she could. At first she was thrilled. He talked everything over with her monotonously, insistently, persistently, and she had to respond with all her might. It was as if her whole soul and body and sex had to rouse up and pass into theme stories of his. This thrilled her and absorbed her.

康妮竭尽所能地帮助他。刚开始倒也醉心其中。他凡事都会跟她进行探讨，用那种一成不变的语调，没完没了，无休无止，而她也必须殚精毕力，奉陪到底。似乎她的灵与肉，情与性都被唤醒，跟小说的主题融为一体。这样美妙的感觉让她为之兴奋不已，深深着迷。

Of physical life they lived very little. She had to superintend the house. But the housekeeper had served Sir Geoffrey for many years, arid the dried-up, elderly, superlatively correct female you could hardly call her a parlour-maid, or even a woman...who waited at table, had been in the house for forty years. Even the very housemaids were no longer young. It was awful! What could you do with such a place, but leave it alone! All these endless rooms that nobody used, all the Midlands routine, the mechanical cleanliness and the mechanical order!

而在物质层面，他们的生活实在是再贫乏不过。她必须操持家务。女管家伺候杰弗里爵士多年，她身体干瘪，年老色衰，且刚愎自用，非但不像个女侍，甚至连是否算得女人都成问题……40年来，都是她服侍查泰莱爵士一家用餐。就连那些真正的女佣也都垂垂老矣。这真是糟糕透顶！身临其中，除了听其自然，确实别无他法。这里有无穷无尽的空房间，米德兰地区世代相传的繁文缛节，还有那机械呆板的整洁有序。

For the rest the place seemed run by mechanical anarchy. Everything went on in pretty good order, strict cleanliness, and strict punctuality; even pretty strict honesty.

至于这里的其他地方，似乎在机械的无政府状态下运行着。一切都进行得有条不紊，干脆利落，严守时间，从无遮掩欺瞒。

And yet, to Connie, it was a methodical anarchy. No warmth of feeling united it organically. The house seemed as dreary as a disused street.

但对康妮来说，这不过是种井然有序的混乱状态。缺乏温情的有机维系。整座府邸阴郁凄清，如同废弃的街道。

What could she do but leave it alone? So she left it alone. Miss Chatterley came sometimes, with her aristocratic thin face, and triumphed, finding nothing altered. She would never forgive Connie for ousting her from her union in consciousness with her brother. It was she, Emma, who should be bringing forth the stories, these books, with him; the Chatterley stories, something new in the world, that they, the Chatterleys, had put there.

除了顺其自然，她还能做些什么呢？因此，她也只好听之任之。查泰莱小姐偶尔也会过府探望，她面容瘦削却满脸傲气，发现家中一切都依然如故，颇觉志得意满。她永远也无法原谅康妮，正是这个外来者切断了自己与弟弟的情感纽带。只有她，艾玛，本该与克利福德构思和创作小说,那可是专属于查泰莱家族的作品，世间绝无仅有的新颖物事，由查泰莱的家人一手缔造。

There was no other standard. There was no organic connexion with the thought and expression that had gone before. Only something new in the world: the Chatterley books, entirely personal.

此外别无标准可以评断。跟前人的思想和言论毫无关联。查泰莱家族的作品是全新的创作，充满个性意味的文学作品。

Connie's father, where he paid a flying visit to Wragby, and in private to his daughter: As for Clifford's writing, it's smart, but there's nothing in it. It won't last!

康妮的父亲曾在拉格比府有过短暂的逗留，期间他私下对女儿说：“克利福德的作品确实精巧雅致，但内里却空洞无物。根本不会长久流传！”

Nothing in it!

空洞无物！

What did he mean by nothing in it? If the critics praised it, and Clifford's name was almost famous, and it even brought in money… what did her father mean by saying there was nothing in Clifford's writing? What else could there be? For Connie had adopted the standard of the young: what there was in the moment was everything. And moments followed one another without necessarily belonging to one another.

父亲这么说究竟是何意思？若连评论家都赞美他的作品，克利福德几乎要跻身知名小说家的行列，而且甚至已经赚到稿酬……而父亲却认为女婿的作品空洞无物，这么说究竟是何用意？除了名和利，文学作品还能带来别的什么吗？康妮秉承的是年轻一代的生活准则：眼下拥有的就是一切。时刻彼此相继，但却无需彼此相属。

It was in her second winter at Wragby her father said to her: "I hope, Connie, you won't let circumstances force you into being a demi-vierge.” "A demi-vierge! Why not? Why not? Why? Why not?” "Unless you like it, of course!" said her father hastily. To Clifford he said the same, when the two men were alone: "I'm afraid it doesn't quite suit Connie to be a demi-vierge.” "A half-virgin!" replied Clifford, translating the phrase to be sure of it.

她在拉格比度过的第二个冬天，父亲嘱咐她道：“康妮，我不想眼睁睁看你因为形势所迫而守活寡。”“守活寡！为什么不呢？为什么不呢？为什么呢？为什么不呢？”“当然，除非你真的心甘情愿。”父亲忙解释道。而和克利福德独处时，他也跟女婿说过同样的话：“恐怕守活寡的角色并不适合康妮。”“活寡妇！”克利福德换了种说法诠释岳父的用词，以便更明确地理解他的意思。

He thought for a moment, then flushed very red. He was angry and offended.

他凝思片刻，脸涨得通红。显然是被触怒了。

"In what way doesn't it suit her?" he asked stiffly.

“到底哪里不适合她呢？”他态度生硬地反问道。

"She's getting thin...angular. It's not her style. She's not the pilchard sort of little slip of a girl, she's a bonny Scotch trout.” "Without the spots, of course!" said Clifford.

“她变瘦了……削瘦。她本来可不是这副模样。她不像沙丁鱼那般瘦削纤细，而像苏格兰鳟鱼一样丰腴健美。”“她身上可没有斑纹。”克利福德抢白道。

He wanted to say something later to Connie about the demi-vierge business...the half-virgin state of her affairs. But he could not bring himself to do it. He was at once too intimate with her and not intimate enough. He was so very much at one with her, in his mind and hers, but bodily they were non-existent to one another, and neither could bear to drag in the corpus delicti. They were so intimate, and utterly out of touch.

后来，他想找康妮谈谈守活寡的事……聊聊她有名无实的婚姻状态。但他始终羞于启口。两人既亲密无间，又彼此疏离。精神层面相互交融，但肉体层面却从无交集，而小夫妻又都不愿谈及这令人难堪的事实。两人情深意笃，但全无床笫之乐。

Connie guessed, however, that her father had said something, and that something was in Clifford's mind. She knew that he didn't mind whether she were demi-vierge or demi-monde, so long as he didn't absolutely know, and wasn't made to see. What the eye doesn't see and the mind doesn't know, doesn't exist.

康妮猜出父亲肯定跟克利福德说过什么，而丈夫心中却有些事难以启齿。她明白，自己独守空闺或是红杏出墙，丈夫并不介怀，只要不让他抓到把柄，或者撞个正着。眼不见、心不知的事情，自然就是不存在的。

Connie and Clifford had now been nearly two years at Wragby, living their vague life of absorption in Clifford and his work. Their interests had never ceased to flow together over his work. They talked and wrestled in the throes of composition, and felt as if something were happening, really happening, really in the void.

转眼间，康妮和克利福德已在拉格比府住了将近两年，过着混沌不清的日子，全部精力都集中在克利福德和他的作品上。创作的过程中，两人的兴趣不断高涨、彼此交融。他们相互交换意见，反复推敲，仔细斟酌，深尝创作的艰辛，感觉到那些虚无的故事里，果然发生着什么，的确发生着什么。

And thus far it was a life: in the void. For the rest it was non-existence. Wragby was there, the servants...but spectral, not really existing. Connie went for walks in the park, and in the woods that joined the park, and enjoyed the solitude and the mystery, kicking the brown leaves of autumn, and picking the primroses of spring. But it was all a dream; or rather it was like the simulacrum of reality. The oak-leaves were to her like oak-leaves seen ruffling in a mirror, she herself was a figure somebody had read about, picking primroses that were only shadows or memories, or words. No substance to her or anything...no touch, no contact! Only this life with Clifford, this endless spinning of webs of yarn, of the minutiae of consciousness, these stories Sir Malcolm said there was nothing in, and they wouldn't last. Why should there be anything in them, why should they last? Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. Sufficient unto the moment is the appearance of reality.

而这就是迄今为止他们生活的全部——无尽的虚空。此外并无真实的存在。拉格比府仍巍然耸立，仆从们依旧来回奔忙……但这些都如同幽灵般虚幻，并非真实地存在着。康妮时常独自去花园里散步，在通往花园的树林中徜徉，踢踩秋日泛黄的落叶，摘撷春天的樱草花，体味着那里的幽静和神秘。但这一切都只是梦境，或者更像是现实的幻影。在她看来，橡树叶仿佛在镜中摇曳，而自己也化身成书中的人物，采撷着那些投影于镜像中、深埋于记忆里、或者记叙于文字间的樱草花。对她而言，一切都是虚无缥缈的……没有联系，缺少沟通！只有与克利福德的生活，那无穷无尽、曲折离奇的故事情节，细小琐碎的心理变化，还有马尔科姆爵士口中空洞无物、不会长久流传的小说。为什么非要有内涵呢？为什么非得长久流传呢？眼下烦恼已不少，莫为将来空自扰。今朝有酒今朝醉，明日愁来明日忧。

Clifford had quite a number of friends, acquaintances really, and he invited them to Wragby. He invited all sorts of people, critics and writers, people who would help to praise his books. And they were flattered at being asked to Wragby, and they praised. Connie understood it all perfectly. But why not? This was one of the fleeting patterns in the mirror. What was wrong with it? She was hostess to these people...mostly men. She was hostess also to Clifford's occasional aristocratic relations. Being a soft, ruddy, country-looking girl, inclined to freckles, with big blue eyes, and curling, brown hair, and a soft voice, and rather strong, female loins she was considered a little old-fashioned and 'womanly'. She was not a 'little pilchard sort of fish', like a boy, with a boy's flat breast and little buttocks. She was too feminine to be quite smart.

克利福德朋友众多，但都只是泛泛之交，因此拉格比府也时常宾客盈门。受邀前来的朋友形形色色，其中有评论家及作家，都是些能为他的作品唱颂歌的家伙。能被请来拉格比府做客，他们个个受宠若惊，说些趋炎附势的恭维话也再正常不过。康妮自然是心知肚明。但这又有什么不妥呢？这也不过是镜中转瞬即逝的幻象而已。没什么可大惊小怪的。身为女主人，她要招待这些来宾，其中大多是男性。还要款待克利福德那些不常登门的贵族亲朋。她性情温和，面色红润，如同乡下女孩般平易近人，脸上总生有雀斑，一对湛蓝色阔目，一头棕色卷发，再加上温柔的嗓音，强健的腰身，大家都认为她虽然略显老气，但却有“女人味”。她跟干瘪的沙丁鱼扯不上半点关系，也不像男孩般平胸瘦臀。反倒是过分的柔美让她显得不够时髦。

So the men, especially those no longer young, were very nice to her indeed. But, knowing what torture poor Clifford would feel at the slightest sign of flirting on her part, she gave them no encouragement at all. She was quiet and vague, she had no contact with them and intended to have none. Clifford was extraordinarily proud of himself.

因此，男人们，尤其是那些老家伙们，当真对她殷勤备至。但康妮清楚，只要自己稍显轻佻，可怜的克利福德就会备受煎熬，所以她从来不会给那些狂蜂浪蝶以可乘之机。她寡言少语，态度冷淡，从不与他们多做纠缠，甚至根本没有这样的想法。克利福德为此得意不已。

His relatives treated her quite kindly. She knew that the kindliness indicated a lack of fear, and that these people had no respect for you unless you could frighten them a little. But again she had no contact. She let them be kindly and disdainful, she let them feel they had no need to draw their steel in readiness. She had no real connexion with them.

夫家的亲戚们待她倒也非常友善。康妮清楚这种态度说明自己并不会让他们感到畏惧，如果你没法使他们怕你三分，也就难以赢得他们的尊重。但她与这些人也并无深交。和风细雨也好，盛气凌人也罢，她都处之泰然，那种淡定让他们觉得无须如此咄咄逼人。她跟他们又并非血亲。

Time went on. Whatever happened, nothing happened, because she was so beautifully out of contact. She and Clifford lived in their ideas and his books. She entertained...there were always people in the house. Time went on as the clock does, half past eight instead of half past seven.

时光荏苒。过往种种都好像未曾发生，因为她总能优雅地做到置身事外。她和克利福德生活在思想世界中，只为创作小说而存在。她热情款待着宾客们，拉格比府也总是高朋满座。钟表滴答作响，时间悄然逝去，转瞬八点半已将七点半抛到身后。 LWbznKzs3ATtZiP5TUvthRdkKZYBfogqj5S4ZoqqDBOZoWI6UXkjdXI8b/YwFq/v