Connie was aware, however, of a growing restlessness. Out of her disconnexion, a restlessness was taking possession of her like madness. It twitched her limbs when she didn't want to twitch them, it jerked her spine when she didn't want to jerk upright but preferred to rest comfortably. It thrilled inside her body, in her womb, somewhere, till she felt she must jump into water and swim to get away from it; a mad restlessness. It made her heart beat violently for no reason. And she was getting thinner.

然而，康妮觉察到不安的情绪一天天在累积。与世隔绝的生活，使得烦乱的感觉近乎疯狂地将她攫住。这种情绪不合时宜地牵动她的四肢，当她想舒适地休息时，又突如其来地拉直她的脊骨。这种情绪在她的体内震颤，在子宫的什么地方，为了将其摆脱，她必须得跃入水中畅泳，一种疯狂的纷乱。这种情绪总让她的心房无端地猛跳。于是，康妮日渐消瘦。

It was just restlessness. She would rush off across the park, abandon Clifford, and lie prone in the bracken. To get away from the house...she must get away from the house and everybody. The work was her one refuge, her sanctuary.

正是因为这种不安。她会抛开克利福德，疾奔着穿过花园，俯卧在蕨草丛中。为的只是摆脱拉格比府，她必须摆脱那座宅邸，摆脱所有的人。树林成为她的那个避难处，她的庇护所。

But it was not really a refuge, a sanctuary, because she had no connexion with it. It was only a place where she could get away from the rest. She never really touched the spirit of the wood itself...if it had any such nonsensical thing.

但树林也并非逃避现实的理想处所，因为她和那里同样没有任何干系。置身此地，只能让康妮体验到暂时的孑然。她从未触及到林木的灵魂……假如当真有如此荒诞的东西。

Vaguely she knew herself that she was going to pieces in some way. Vaguely she knew she was out of connexion: she had lost touch with the substantial and vital world. Only Clifford and his books, which did not exist...which had nothing in them! Void to void. Vaguely she knew. But it was like beating her head against a stone.

她隐隐约约地意识到，自己正走向崩溃的边缘。她模模糊糊地感觉到，自己身处与世隔绝的真空状态，与充满生机的物质世界完全脱离。只有克利福德和他的小说，那些虚构的、空洞无物的东西！除了虚空，还是虚空。她隐约地觉察到事情的真相。但又感觉自己脑袋往石头上撞。

Her father warned her again: "Why don't you get yourself a beau, Connie? Do you all the good in the world.” That winter Michaelis came for a few days. He was a young Irishman who had already made a large fortune by his plays in America. He had been taken up quite enthusiastically for a time by smart society in London, for he wrote smart society plays. Then gradually smart society realized that it had been made ridiculous at the hands of a down-at-heel Dublin street-rat, and revulsion came. Michaelis was the last word in what was caddish and bounderish. He was discovered to be anti-English, and to the class that made this discovery this was worse than the dirtiest crime. He was cut dead, and his corpse thrown into the refuse can.

父亲再次提醒她：“你为什么不给自己找个情人，康妮？这样做对你而言大有好处。”那天冬天，米凯利斯来拉格比小住过几天。这个爱尔兰青年是位剧作家，编写的剧本在美国公演，让他赚得盆满钵满。曾几何时，因为写了几部时兴的社会剧，他一度成为伦敦时髦社交圈的风云人物。可当社交名流们慢慢发觉，自己竟然被这个不入流的都柏林小混混所嘲弄，对他的态度也来了个一百八十度大转弯。米凯利斯也成为下流粗鄙的代名词。有人揭发他有反英情绪，而对于捅出此事的贵族阶层而言，这简直比最恶劣的犯罪还难以宽宥。他遭到伦敦上流社会最无情的唾弃。

Nevertheless Michaelis had his apartment in Mayfair, and walked down Bond Street the image of a gentleman, for you cannot get even the best tailors to cut their low-down customers, when the customers pay.

尽管臭名昭著，米凯利斯仍在梅费尔区（注：伦敦西部的高级住宅区）拥有自己的公寓，当他在邦德街徜徉，绅士派头依然不减。因为只要付钱，即使身份卑微，也能让最棒的裁缝乖乖为你服务。

Clifford was inviting the young man of thirty at an inauspicious moment in this young man's career. Yet Clifford did not hesitate. Michaelis had the ear of a few million people, probably; and, being a hopeless outsider, he would no doubt be grateful to be asked down to Wragby at this juncture, when the rest of the smart world was cutting him. Being grateful, he would no doubt do Clifford 'good' over there in America. Kudos! A man gets a lot of kudos, whatever that may be, by being talked about in the right way, especially "over there". Clifford was a coming man; and it was remarkable what a sound publicity instinct he had.

克利福德却向这个已过而立、正处事业低谷的年轻人发出邀请。然而对此，克利福德没有半点犹豫。米凯利斯差不多拥有数百万忠实听众，作为人人避之不及的过街老鼠，在遭到社交界遗弃的无助时刻，受邀来到拉格比，他无疑会感激涕零。因为心存感激，他自然会“帮助”克利福德在美利坚扬名。名声大噪！只要以正确的方式予以吹捧，你就会声名鹊起，无论是什么名声，尤其是在遥远的大洋彼岸。克利福德将是文坛冉冉升起的明日之星，拥有如此强烈的自我推销意识，更是非同凡响。

In the end Michaelis did him most nobly in a play, and Clifford was a sort of popular hero. Till the reaction, when he found he had been made ridiculous.

后来，米凯利斯果真在自己的剧作中将克利福德塑造成为极为崇高的形象，受人追捧的英雄人物。直到听闻到评论界的反应，克利福德才发觉自己充当的不过是被嘲弄的对象。

Connie wondered a little over Clifford's blind, imperious instinct to become known: known, that is, to the vast amorphous world he did not himself know, and of which he was uneasily afraid; known as a writer, as a first-class modern writer. Connie was aware from successful, old, hearty, bluffing Sir Malcolm, that artists did advertise themselves, and exert themselves to put their goods over. But her father used channels ready-made, used by all the other R.A.s who sold their pictures. Whereas Clifford discovered new channels of publicity, all kinds. He had all kinds of people at Wragby, without exactly lowering himself. But, determined to build himself a monument of a reputation quickly, he used any handy rubble in the making.

对于丈夫这种盲目迫切的成名欲求，康妮颇感诧异。克利福德希望成为闻名遐迩的作家，第一流的文坛尖兵。让整个世界都知道他的名字，这个让他捉摸不透的广阔世界，这个他知之甚少、甚至心怀畏惧的无常世界。父亲马尔科姆爵士本就卓有名望，老谋深算，满怀激情，且善于造势，从他身上康妮意识到，艺术家确实需要懂得经营自己，竭尽所能地把自己的作品推销出去。但父亲用的还是老一套，其他皇家艺术学会的成员兜售画作时惯用的手段。而克利福德却发掘出五花八门的新颖造势渠道。他把三教九流的各色人等请到拉格比，还无需自降身份。但决意尽快在文坛闯出赫赫声名，他还是无所不用其极。

Michaelis arrived duly, in a very neat car, with a chauffeur and a manservant. He was absolutely Bond Street! But at right of him something in Clifford's county soul recoiled. He wasn't exactly…not exactly…in fact, he wasn't at all, well, what his appearance intended to imply. To Clifford this was final and enough. Yet he was very polite to the man; to the amazing success in him. The bitch-goddess, as she is called, of Success, roamed, snarling and protective, round the half-humble, half-defiant Michaelis' heels, and intimidated Clifford completely: for he wanted to prostitute himself to the bitch-goddess, Success also, if only she would have him. Michaelis obviously wasn't an Englishman, in spite of all the tailors, hatters, barbers, booters of the very best quarter of London. No, no, he obviously wasn't an Englishman: the wrong sort of flattish, pale face and bearing; and the wrong sort of grievance. He had a grudge and a grievance: that was obvious to any true-born English gentleman, who would scorn to let such a thing appear blatant in his own demeanour. Poor Michaelis had been much kicked, so that he had a slightly tail-between-the-legs look even now. He had pushed his way by sheer instinct and sheerer effrontery on to the stage and to the front of it, with his plays. He had caught the public. And he had thought the kicking days were over. Alas, they weren't… They never would be. For he, in a sense, asked to be kicked. He pined to be where he didn't belong...among the English upper classes. And how they enjoyed the various kicks they got at him! And how he hated them! Nevertheless he travelled with his manservant and his very neat car, this Dublin mongrel.

米凯利斯如约而至，座驾奢侈豪华，私人司机和贴身男仆左右相陪。身上穿的是如假包换的邦德街行头！刚打照面，克利福德那颗乡下人的胆怯心灵便畏缩不前了。他并不真是……不真是……事实上，他龌龊的内心根本与光鲜的外表不搭调。对克利福德而言，这点是确定无疑的。不过，他还是对米凯利斯毕恭毕敬，对他取得的非凡成就崇拜不已。米凯利斯既谦卑又趾高气昂，而“成功”——人们常称之为“母狗女神”的——徘徊在他的脚边，肆意咆哮着，担当着保镖的角色。这阵仗彻底把克利福德吓住了，他又何尝不想主动献身给成功女神，只要她愿意跟他春风一度。就算伦敦最上流街区的裁缝、帽商、理发师以及鞋匠们都调动起来，也没法把米凯利斯打扮得像个英国人。不，不，他显然不像是英国人，无论是苍白扁平的脸孔，举手投足间的风度，还是愤世嫉俗的性格，都与英伦风范不合。他总是恨意满腔，牢骚满腹，这根本逃不过地道英国绅士的眼睛，他们从不屑让这种情绪在自己的举止间流露出来。可怜的米凯利斯之前饱受摧残，以至于现在都没有摆脱夹着尾巴做人的丧气相。凭借单纯的直觉以及更加彻底的厚颜无耻，依靠自己的作品，他在戏剧舞台占据一席之地，甚至成为个中翘楚。他赢得观众的青睐。本以为备受蹂躏的日子总算过去。没料想，事实并非如此...它们永远也不会终结。或者可以说，米凯利斯是个自讨苦吃的家伙。他奢求涉足自己不可企及的领域...跻身英国上流社会。而他们想方设法地践踏他，并乐在其中。而他对他们也只有切齿的痛恨。而这个都柏林狗杂种依然带着跟班，乘着名车，招摇过市。

There was something about him that Connie liked. He didn't put on airs to himself, he had no illusions about himself. He talked to Clifford sensibly, briefly, practically, about all the things Clifford wanted to know. He didn't expand or let himself go. He knew he had been asked down to Wragby to be made use of, and like an old, shrewd, almost indifferent business man, or big-business man, he let himself be asked questions, and he answered with as little waste of feeling as possible.

米凯利斯有些优点深得康妮青睐。他从不装腔作势，懂得脚踏实地。一旦攀谈起来，他总能做到条理清晰，简明扼要，实事求是，将克利福德想要了解的一切和盘托出。他从不夸大事实，从不得意忘形。他深知克利福德请自己到拉格比来，只是为了加以利用，而他像位经验老道、从容不迫的商人，甚至可以说是位巨贾，任你如何发问，他都能尽可能自若地回答。

"Money!" he said. "Money is a sort of instinct. It's a sort of property of nature in a man to make money. It's nothing you do. It's no trick you play. It's a sort of permanent accident of your own nature; once you start, you make money, and you go on; up to a point, I suppose.” "But you've got to begin," said Clifford.

“金钱！”他感慨道。“金钱是种本能。挣钱是人类与生俱来的天性。无论你怎么做。无论你耍什么花招。在我看来，这是人类天性中不可变更的运数；一旦掌握要领，钱就会滚滚而来，一发不可收拾，直至富埒陶白。“但总得掌握入门的诀窍。”克利福德说。

"Oh, quite! You've got to get in. You can do nothing if you are kept outside. You've got to beat your way in. Once you've done that, you can't help it.” "But could you have made money except by plays?" asked Clifford.

“没错，的确如此！入门确实至关重要。置身其中才能施展拳脚。必须想方设法找到挣钱的门路。一旦深谙此道，就会欲罢不能。”“除了写剧本，你还有其他挣钱的门道么？”克利福德问。

"Oh, probably not! I may be a good writer or I may be a bad one, but a writer and a writer of plays is what I am, and I've got to be. There's no question of that.” "And you think it's a writer of popular plays that you've got to be?" asked Connie. "There, exactly!" he said, turning to her in a sudden flash. "There's nothing in it! There's nothing in popularity. There's nothing in the public, if it comes to that. There's nothing really in my plays to make them popular. It's not that. They just are like the weather...the sort that will have to be...for the time being.” He turned his slow, rather full eyes, that had been drowned in such fathomless disillusion, on Connie, and she trembled a little. He seemed so old...endlessly old, built up of layers of disillusion, going down in him generation after generation, like geological strata; and at the same time he was forlorn like a child. An outcast, in a certain sense; but with the desperate bravery of his rat-like existence.

“哦，或许没有吧！拥有生花妙笔也好，作品不堪卒读也罢，都无法改变我身为剧作家的事实，而且这也是我唯一的出路。这一点毋庸置疑。”“那你觉得自己注定会成为尽人皆知的剧作家么？”康妮问道。“没错，千真万确！”他答道，霍地把脸扭向康妮。“其实也算不得什么！家喻户晓也没有什么了不起。说白了，广大观众也就是那么回事。其实我的剧本并无出众之处。受欢迎的关键不在于此。一切就好似天气……不过是水到渠成的事情……至少目前看来是这样。”他那对迟钝的大眼睛凝视着康妮，眼神中饱含着无穷无尽的幻灭，四目相对，康妮不禁微微战栗了一下。他看上去如此苍老……久历岁月的沧桑，经年累月的幻灭层叠起来，在他身上沉积汇聚，如同地层的形成过程；但与此同时，他又像个孤立无助的孩子。某种意义上，一个被抛弃者，却有着老鼠般抗争的勇敢气概。

"At least it's wonderful what you've done at your time of life," said Clifford contemplatively.

“至少你年纪轻轻就有如此成就，仅这一点就令人叹服。”克利福德若有所思地说。

"I'm thirty...yes, I'm thirty!" said Michaelis, sharply and suddenly, with a curious laugh, hollow, triumphant, and bitter.

“我30岁了……的确，我已过而立之年！”米凯利斯的声调突然拔高，嘴角流露出诡异的笑容，虚伪空洞，志得意满，却又渗透着丝丝苦涩。

"And are you alone?" asked Connie.

“你独身一人？”康妮问。

"How do you mean?

“你的意思是？

Do I live alone? I've got my servant. He's a Greek, so he says, and quite incompetent. But I keep him. And I'm going to marry. Oh, yes, I must marry.” "It sounds like going to have your tonsils cut," laughed Connie. "Will it be an effort?" He looked at her admiringly. "Well, Lady Chatterley, somehow it will! I find…excuse me…I find I can't marry an Englishwoman, not even an Irishwoman...” "Try an American," said Clifford.

我独自过活？我有个仆人。他自称来自希腊，什么都做不好。但我还是没有解雇他。我已经有结婚的打算。嗯，没错，我必须结婚。”“听你的口气，就像要去割扁桃体，”康妮调侃道，“成家真的就那么艰难？”他望着康妮，倾慕之情溢于言表。“怎么说呢，查泰莱夫人，确实有些困难。我发觉……请恕我冒昧……我发觉自己没办法娶位英国妻子，甚至连爱尔兰姑娘也不太合适……”“试试美国妞。”克利福德提议道。

"Oh, American!" He laughed a hollow laugh.

“噢，美国妞！”米凯利斯挤出干巴巴的笑容。

"No, I've asked my man if he will find me a Turk or something...something nearer to the Oriental.” Connie really wondered at this queer, melancholy specimen of extraordinary success; it was said he had an income of fifty thousand dollars from America alone. Sometimes he was handsome: sometimes as he looked sideways, downwards, and the light fell on him, he had the silent, enduring beauty of a carved ivory Negro mask, with his rather full eyes, and the strong queerly-arched brows, the immobile, compressed mouth; that momentary but revealed immobility, an immobility, a timelessness which the Buddha aims at, and which Negroes express sometimes without ever aiming at it; something old, old, and acquiescent in the race! Aeons of acquiescence in race destiny, instead of our individual resistance. And then a swimming through, like rats in a dark river. Connie felt a sudden, strange leap of sympathy for him, a leap mingled with compassion, and tinged with repulsion, amounting almost to love. The outsider! The outsider! And they called him a bounder! How much more bounderish and assertive Clifford looked! How much stupider!

“不，我已跟仆人打过招呼，让他从土耳其……或者更靠近东方的国度，帮我寻觅一位佳偶。”康妮惊奇于这个取得非凡成就，却古怪忧郁的家伙。坊间传闻，仅在美国他就有5万英镑入账。有时康妮觉得他如此地英挺俊朗：当他侧过脸，或者垂下头，在光线的映照下，他的面孔呈现出宁静而持久的美感，像是戴着一副象牙精雕成的黑人面具。双眸炯炯有神，浓眉斜插入鬓，静止不动的嘴唇紧紧抿着；那短暂的瞬间，却揭示出佛陀所希冀的永恒，而黑人们常在不经意间流露出那种神情，是古老民族经年累月积淀而成的、默认的某种东西。那是黑人千百年来对自身种族命运的默认，与我们白人所倡导的个人反抗迥然不同。突然某种微妙的情感悄然流入康妮的意识之中，如同黑暗河道中潜游的老鼠。莫名的怜悯之意在康妮心中陡然升腾，混合着同情，掺杂着厌恶，汇聚成接近于男女之爱的奇异情感。被社会遗弃的倒霉蛋！被社会唾弃的可怜虫！还要背负下流胚的恶名！若论下流无耻，独断专行，克利福德与他相比，更是有过之而无不及。而且更加无知愚钝！

Michaelis knew at once he had made an impression on her. He turned his full, hazel, slightly prominent eyes on her in a look of pure detachment. He was estimating her, and the extent of the impression he had made. With the English nothing could save him from being the eternal outsider, not even love. Yet women sometimes fell for him...Englishwomen too.

米凯利斯很快就察觉到康妮对他的好感。他那双淡褐色、稍显凸出的大眼睛，始终以康妮为视线的焦点，但同时又摆出一副毫不在意的超然表情。他在揣摩着她的想法，猜测着自己在这位可人儿心中究竟占据何种位置。只要和英国佬共处，他就永难摆脱被边缘化的境地，就算是在爱情的领域也不例外。但女人们却时常为他而倾倒……就连英国女人也难以抗拒他的魅力。

He knew just where he was with Clifford. They were two alien dogs which would have liked to snarl at one another, but which smiled instead, perforce. But with the woman he was not quite so sure.

他深知自己与克利福德之间的关系。他们就是两个水火不容的卑鄙小人，本应彼此谩骂叫嚣，却因相互利用的需要，不得不携手言欢。但与这个女人的关系，他却有些拿不准。

Breakfast was served in the bedrooms; Clifford never appeared before lunch, and the dining-room was a little dreary. After coffee Michaelis, restless and ill-sitting soul, wondered what he should do. It was a fine November...day fine for Wragby. He looked over the melancholy park. My God! What a place!

众人在各自卧室用过早餐。午餐前从不见克利福德的踪影，饭厅显得有些冷清。用罢咖啡，米凯利斯感觉心神不宁，如坐针毡，心里盘算着自己该做点什么。这是十一月一个天气晴好的日子，至少对拉格比而言是如此。他起身俯瞰屋外那片阴郁的园林。天呢！这到底是个什么鬼地方！

He sent a servant to ask, could he be of any service to Lady Chatterley: he thought of driving into Sheffield. The answer came, would he care to go up to Lady Chatterley's sitting-room.

他差仆人前去询问，是否能够为查泰莱夫人效犬马之劳，他打算乘车去谢菲尔德逛逛。得到的答复是，请他到夫人的起居室一叙。

Connie had a sitting-room on the third floor, the top floor of the central portion of the house. Clifford's rooms were on the ground floor, of course. Michaelis was flattered by being asked up to Lady Chatterley's own parlour. He followed blindly after the servant...he never noticed things, or had contact with Isis surroundings. In her room he did glance vaguely round at the fine German reproductions of Renoir and Cézanne.

康妮的起居室位于三楼，也就是拉格比府中央部分的顶层。由于克利福德行动不便，他的房间自然都在底层。受邀去查泰莱夫人的私人会客室，米凯利斯有点受宠若惊。他茫然地跟在仆人身后，对沿路的陈设毫不在意，也没有留心观察周遭颇具伊西斯风格的装饰。而步入她的房间后，他却模模糊糊地瞥见雷诺阿（注：1841-1912，法国画家、雕塑家，印象派的代表人物）和塞尚（注：1839-1906，法国画家，后期印象派的主将。）精美的德国复制品。

"It's very pleasant up here," he said, with his queer smile, as if it hurt him to smile, showing his teeth. "You are wise to get up to the top." "Yes, I think so," she said.

“楼上的房间果然令人心旷神怡，”他说，脸上显出露齿的怪异笑容，好像这样的微笑会使他感到痛苦，“住在顶楼是个明智的选择。”“没错，我也有同感。”她说。

Her room was the only gay, modern one in the house, the only spot in Wragby where her personality was at all revealed. Clifford had never seen it, and she asked very few people up.

她的房间是整座府邸唯一色彩鲜活、具有现代气息的地方，也是整个拉格比唯一能够彰显她全部个性的所在。克利福德从没到过这个房间，她也很少请人上来做客。

Now she and Michaelis sit on opposite sides of the fire and talked. She asked him about himself, his mother and father, his brothers...other people were always something of a wonder to her, and when her sympathy was awakened she was quite devoid of class feeling. Michaelis talked frankly about himself, quite frankly, without affectation, simply revealing his bitter, indifferent, stray-dog's soul, then showing a gleam of revengeful pride in his success.

此刻，她和米凯利斯在壁炉两侧落座，畅谈起来。她问及他自己、他的父母兄弟……康妮对别人的事总有几分好奇，而当心底的同情被唤醒，等级意识便荡然无存。米凯利斯开诚布公地讲起自己，没有丝毫隐瞒，不做半点矫饰，将自己满怀怨恨、麻木不仁、如同丧家犬般的灵魂，彻彻底底地展现在康妮面前，而在讲述自己的成功经历时，则掺杂着复仇的快感以及骄傲的情绪。

"But why are you such a lonely bird?" Connie asked him; and again he looked at her, with his full, searching, hazel look.

“但你为何孤独地好似离群之鸟？”康妮问道。而米凯利斯则又瞪着那双淡褐色的大眼睛，注视着她，目光中含有探寻的意味。

"Some birds ARE that way," he replied. Then, with a touch of familiar irony: "but, look here, what about yourself? Aren't you by way of being a lonely bird yourself?” Connie, a little startled, thought about it for a few moments, and then she said: "Only in a way! Not altogether, like you!" "Am I altogether a lonely bird?" he asked, with his queer grin of a smile, as if he had toothache; it was so wry, and his eyes were so perfectly unchangingly melancholy, or stoical, or disillusioned or afraid.

“有些人本就是如此，”他答道，接着又换上康妮熟悉的嘲讽腔调，“但也不要忘记眼前之人，你自己呢？你又何尝不是某种离群的孤雁？”康妮心中一惊，沉吟片刻后说：“倒也有些道理。但并非像你那样，完全与孤独为伴。”“我拥有的就只是寂寞？”他反问道，咧嘴露出古怪的笑容，脸庞扭曲得好像饱受牙痛的折磨，眼神仍是一成不变的忧郁，或是坚忍，或是幻灭，又或是恐惧。

"Why?" she said, a little breathless, as she looked at him. "You are, aren't you?” She felt a terrible appeal coming to her from him, that made her almost lose her balance.

“为何这么说？”她问，与他目光相接时，不禁有些呼吸急促。“难道你并非如此么？”康妮感到自己被他那股强烈的吸引力慑住，有些心旌旗摇。

"Oh, you're quite right!" he said, turning his head away, and looking sideways, downwards, with that strange immobility of an old race that is hardly here in our present day. It was that that really made Connie lose her power to see him detached from herself.

“嗯，你说得太对了！”他说，扭头把脸侧向一边，目光低垂，呈现出那种古老民族独有、现今罕见的静止状态。眼见对方如此冷淡地对待自己，康妮感到非常气馁。

He looked up at her with the full glance that saw everything, registered everything. At the same time, the infant crying in the night was crying out of his breast to her, in a way that affected her very womb.

他抬起头，饱含深情地凝望着她，将眼前的女子完完全全地收入眼底，也把自己心中的情意彻彻底底地传递出来。与此同时，他的胸腔中发出如同婴儿夜啼的声响，不知为何，这哭声让她的子宫都为之震颤。

"It's awfully nice of you to think of me," he said laconically.

“你能如此为我着想，真是太令人感动了。”他毫不掩饰心中的情感。

"Why shouldn't I think of you?" she exclaimed, with hardly breath to utter it.

“我为何不该为你着想呢？”她惊叫道，激动地几乎透不过气。

He gave the wry, quick hiss of a laugh.

他面容扭曲着快速地发出轻笑。

"Oh, in that way!...

“哦，确实应该！……

May I hold your hand for a minute?" he asked suddenly, fixing his eyes on her with almost hypnotic power, and sending out an appeal that affected her direct in the womb.

能否让我握握你的柔荑？”他突然问道，两眼完全集中在她的身上，放射出近乎催眠的目光，那无可比拟的感染力直接震撼着她的子宫。

She stared at him, dazed and transfixed, and he went over and kneeled beside her, and took her two feet close in his two hands, and buried his face in her lap, remaining motionless. She was perfectly dim and dazed, looking down in a sort of amazement at the rather tender nape of his neck, feeling his face pressing her thighs. In all her burning dismay, she could not help putting her hand, with tenderness and compassion, on the defenceless nape of his neck, and he trembled, with a deep shudder.

她呆呆地望着他，感到头晕目眩，不知所措。他走上前来，跪在她的身旁，两手紧握住她的双足，把脸深埋进她的裙摆，一动不动。她的脑袋一片空白，讶异地望着他那白皙柔嫩的后颈，感觉到他的脸庞挤压着自己的大腿。尽管热血沸腾，心如鹿撞，她还是禁不住将手抚上那毫无防备的脖颈，充满柔情与怜爱，而跪在地上的他则剧烈地颤抖起来。

Then he looked up at her with that awful appeal in his full, glowing eyes. She was utterly incapable of resisting it. From her breast flowed the answering, immense yearning over him; she must give him anything, anything.

接着，他抬起头来望着她，炽热的目光中饱含着骇人的感染力。这目光让她完全失去抵抗的能力。胸中充溢着不可遏制的强烈欲求，那是对他求欢举动的回应。她要将自己的身心完全交托给眼前的这个男人，完全地。

He was a curious and very gentle lover, very gentle with the woman, trembling uncontrollably, and yet at the same time detached, aware, aware of every sound outside.

作为情人，他难得地温柔体贴，很懂得怜香惜玉，情不自禁地颤抖着，同时又能游离在情爱之外，对四周的每点声响都保持警惕。

To her it meant nothing except that she gave herself to him. And at length he ceased to quiver any more, and lay quite still, quite still. Then, with dim, compassionate fingers, she stroked his head, that lay on her breast.

对康妮而言，除了委身于他之外，其他的都已被抛诸脑后。云收雨毕，他终于不再战栗，静静地躺在那里，动也不动。然后，她伸出充满爱怜的纤指，轻抚着他依偎在自己胸前的头。

When he rose, he kissed both her hands, then both her feet, in their suède slippers, and in silence went away to the end of the room, where he stood with his back to her. There was silence for some minutes. Then he turned and came to her again as she sat in her old place by the fire.

温存过后，他站起身来，亲吻着她的双手，以及她穿着麂皮拖鞋的双脚，然后默不作声地走到房间尽头，背对着她立在那里。沉默持续了数分钟之久。然后他转过身来，再度回到她的身边，此时康妮则回到壁炉旁刚才坐的位置。

"And now, I suppose you'll hate me!" he said in a quiet, inevitable way.

“我猜，此刻你想必会恨我的！”他平静的语调中流露出听天由命的意味。

She looked up at him quickly.

她旋即仰起头看着他。

"Why should I?" she asked.

“我为什么该恨你？”她问。

"They mostly do," he said; then he caught himself up. "I mean...a woman is supposed to." "This is the last moment when I ought to hate you," she said resentfully.

“她们大都如此，”他解释说，接着又纠正起自己的说法，“我的意思是……女人多半都会这样想。”“就算应该恨你，也不会是在此刻。”她气鼓鼓地说。

"I know! I know! It should be so! You're FRIGHTFULLY good to me..." he cried miserably.

“我知道！我了解！应该是这样没错！你对我简直太好了……”他叫道，语调中满是悲切。

She wondered why he should be miserable. "Won't you sit down again?" she said. He glanced at the door.

她搞不懂这悲切是何来由。“你干嘛不再坐下来？”她问。而他的眼神却瞥向房门。

"Sir Clifford!" he said, "won't he...won't he be...?” She paused a moment to consider. "Perhaps!" she said.

“克利福德爵士！”他说，“他会不会……他会不会觉察……？”她沉思片刻。“或许会！”她答道。

And she looked up at him.

说着抬头凝视着他。

"I don't want Clifford to know not even to suspect. It WOULD hurt him so much. But I don't think it's wrong, do you?” "Wrong! Good God, no! You're only too infinitely good to me...I can hardly bear it.” He turned aside, and she saw that in another moment he would be sobbing.

“我不想让克利福德知道，甚至不愿他有所怀疑。那会使他异常痛苦。况且我不觉得这样做有什么错误，你觉得呢？”“错误！仁慈的上帝，当然没有！你只是对我太好了……几乎让我承担不起。”他扭过脸去，她看得出他几乎就要哽咽。

"But we needn't let Clifford know, need we?" she pleaded. "It would hurt him so. And if he never knows, never suspects, it hurts nobody." "Me!" he said, almost fiercely; "he'll know nothing from me! You see if he does. Me give myself away! Ha! Ha!" he laughed hollowly, cynically, at such an idea. She watched him in wonder. He said to her:" May I kiss your hand arid go? I'll run into Sheffield I think, and lunch there, if I may, and be back to tea. May I do anything for you? May I be sure you don't hate me?—and that you won't?”—he ended with a desperate note of cynicism.

“但咱们没必要让克利福德知道，不是么？”她央求道。“那样只会伤他的心。只要他不明真相，不曾起疑，也就不会有人受到伤害。”“我！”他说，用近乎斩钉截铁的语气，“他绝不会从我口中知道任何事！”不信你就瞧着吧。我竟然会出卖自己？！哈！哈！”他的笑声空洞，显示出对这种想法的不屑一顾。她不明就里地望着他。他再次提出请求：“可否让我在动身前亲吻你的手？我想我要去趟谢菲尔德，可能的话，在那里吃顿午餐，下午茶的时候回来。有什么可以为你效劳的么？我当真可以确信你没有恨我？以后也永远不会恨我？”结束时的语气有强烈的讥诮意味。

"No, I don't hate you," she said. "I think you're nice.” "Ah!" he said to her fiercely, "I'd rather you said that to me than said you love me! It means such a lot more… Till afternoon then. I've plenty to think about till then.” He kissed her hands humbly and was gone.

“放心，我不恨你，”她说，“反倒觉得你是个好人。”“啊！”他的语调饱含热情，“这句话甚至比你说爱我还要令我感动！对我而言，它意味着更多……那么下午见。在那之前，我有好多事情要好好思考一下。”他恭顺地吻了她的双手，转身离去。

"I don't think I can stand that young man," said Clifford at lunch.

吃午餐的时候，克利福德说：“我真有点受不了那小子。”

"Why?" asked Connie.

“为什么？”康妮问。

"He's such a bounder underneath his veneer...just waiting to bounce us.” "I think people have been so unkind to him," said Connie.

“揭去光鲜的外表，他就是个不折不扣的下流坯……随时可能给我们带来威胁。”“我倒觉得是人们对他太不友善。”康妮说。

"Do you wonder? And do you think he employs his shining hours doing deeds of kindness?" "I think he has a certain sort of generosity." "Towards whom?" "I don't quite know.” "Naturally you don't. I'm afraid you mistake unscrupulousness for generosity.” Connie paused. Did she? It was just possible. Yet the unscrupulousness of Michaelis had a certain fascination for her. He went whole lengths where Clifford only crept a few timid paces. In his way he had conquered the world, which was what Clifford wanted to do. Ways and means...? Were those of Michaelis more despicable than those of Clifford? Was the way the poor outsider had shoved and bounced himself forward in person, and by the back doors, any worse than Clifford's way of advertising himself into prominence? The bitch-goddess, Success, was trailed by thousands of gasping, dogs with lolling tongues. So Michaelis could keep his tail up. The queer thing was, he didn't.

“你感到不解么？难不成你以为他整日行善积德？”“我认为他有种宽宏的气度。”“对谁？”“我不太清楚。”“你当然不清楚。恐怕你只是误把寡廉鲜耻当成了宽宏大量。”康妮无言以对。当真如此么？确有这种可能。但正是米凯利斯不知廉耻的品性让她为之着迷。相对于克利福德的蹒跚学步，他早已功成名就。他以自己的方式征服世界，而这正是克利福德梦寐以求的。至于方法和途径……？米凯利斯所用的手段比克利福德的更加卑劣么？这个被社会边缘化的倒霉蛋，凭借自身的奋斗以及偷偷摸摸的伎俩扬名立万，而克利福德则依靠自我标榜和吹嘘上位，难道两者有什么本质的不同？成功，这位堕落女神，被千万只耷拉着舌头的狗，气喘吁吁地尾随在后。因此，米凯利斯大可以趾高气昂地翘起尾巴。但出人意料的是，他并没有如此地得意忘形。

He came back towards tea-time with a large handful of violets and lilies, and the same hang-dog expression. Connie wondered sometimes if it were a sort of mask to disarm opposition, because it was almost too fixed. Was he really such a sad dog? His sad-dog sort of extinguished self persisted all the evening, though through it Clifford felt the inner effrontery. Connie didn't feel it, perhaps because it was not directed against women; only against men, and their presumptions and assumptions. That indestructible, inward effrontery in the meagre fellow was what made men so down on Michaelis. His very presence was an affront to a man of society, cloak it as he might in an assumed good manner.

他果然在下午茶时分回到拉格比，手里捧着一大束紫罗兰和百合，垂头丧气的卑怯表情依然如故。康妮有时怀疑，这种神态是否是他用来瓦解对方敌对的面具，因为他总是那副可鄙的模样。他当真是只丧家犬么？整晚他都摆出那副可怜巴巴的丧气相，而在克利福德眼中，这不过是为了掩饰其厚颜无耻的本质。康妮却并不这么认为，或许这样的伎俩不会用在女人身上，而只针对男人，针对他们的专横和狂妄。这个瘦小枯干的家伙厚颜无耻到根深蒂固的程度，而正因为此，人们才会对他如此地深恶痛绝。无论装得多么斯文得体，他的存在对于上流社会的人们而言，都无异于公然侮辱。

Connie was in love with him, but she managed to sit with her embroidery and let the men talk, and not give herself away. As for Michaelis, he was perfect; exactly the same melancholic, attentive, aloof young fellow of the previous evening, millions of degrees remote from his hosts, but laconically playing up to them to the required amount, and never coming forth to them for a moment. Connie felt he must have forgotten the morning. He had not forgotten. But he knew where he was...in the same old place outside, where the born outsiders are. He didn't take the love-making altogether personally. He knew it would not change him from an ownerless dog, whom everybody begrudges its golden collar, into a comfortable society dog.

康妮爱上了他，但还是竭力坐在那里刺绣，聆听着男人们谈天说地，不露出任何蛛丝马迹。至于米凯利斯，他表现得无懈可击，依然是昨晚那个忧郁专注而又冷漠的青年，与克利福德夫妇远远地保持着距离，说话时言简意赅，既能投其所好，又做到适可而止，绝不大献殷勤。康妮甚至感觉他准是已经忘记上午的缠绵。他并未遗忘。但他深知自己所处的位置……被边缘化的处境未曾改变，依然游离在上流社会之外。他并没有太把那次偷情放在心上。他明白这并不能让自己从一只无主的流浪狗，摇身一变成为生活安逸的贵族狗，脖颈上套着的金项圈依然是人们嫉恨的目标。

The final fact being that at the very bottom of his soul he WAS an outsider, and anti-social, and he accepted the fact inwardly, no matter how Bond-Streety he was on the outside. His isolation was a necessity to him; just as the appearance of conformity and mixing-in with the smart people was also a necessity.

但最终的真相是，在灵魂深处，米凯利斯的确与上流社会格格不入，他厌恶虚情假意的交际，甚至在心底早已接受了这一事实，不管外表装扮得如何光鲜亮丽。孤独是其性格中不可或缺的组成部分，就像他表现出来的见贤思齐、力争跻身上流同样必不可少。

But occasional love, as a comfort arid soothing, was also a good thing, and he was not ungrateful. On the contrary, he was burningly, poignantly grateful for a piece of natural, spontaneous kindness: almost to tears. Beneath his pale, immobile, disillusioned face, his child's soul was sobbing with gratitude to the woman, and burning to come to her again; just as his outcast soul was knowing he would keep really clear of her.

偶尔涉足爱河，给身心以慰藉，倒也是件好事，而他也并非忘恩负义之辈。相反却对真诚自然的情感，抱有强烈而深切的感激，几乎因此潸然泪下。那张苍白的面孔流露出沉静寂寥的神态，而隐藏在其后的那孩童般的灵魂，更是对眼前女子感激涕零，迫不及待地想再度与她亲近，但那颗被放逐的心灵却深知，自己应该与她划清界限。

He found an opportunity to say to her, as they were lighting the candles in the hall: "May I come?" "I'll come to you," she said.

借着在走廊燃亮蜡烛的机会，他对她说：“我能去找你么？”“我会去找你的。”她应道。

"Oh, good!" He waited for her a long time...but she came.

“哦，太好了！”他等了很久……她姗姗而来。

He was the trembling excited sort of lover, whose crisis soon came, and was finished. There was something curiously childlike and defenceless about his naked body: as children are naked. His defences were all in his wits and cunning, his very instincts of cunning, and when these were in abeyance he seemed doubly naked and like a child, of unfinished, tender flesh, and somehow struggling helplessly.

床笫上的他总是激动异常，全身战栗，高潮来得快，去得也快。他赤裸的身体尤其如同婴孩般无助，因为孩童们总会不着一缕。全赖机智的头脑与狡黠的天性，他才能保全自我，而当此两者无从发挥之时，他就变得加倍赤裸，愈发与孩童无异，肉体娇嫩纤弱，发育尚未完全，徒劳的挣扎显得那样无力。

He roused in the woman a wild sort of compassion and yearning, and a wild, craving physical desire. The physical desire he did not satisfy in her; he was always come and finished so quickly, then shrinking down on her breast, and recovering somewhat his effrontery while she lay dazed, disappointed, lost.

他激发出康妮狂野的怜爱和渴望，还有疯狂的、按耐不住的情欲。但他却无法令她的欲望得以满足，来去匆匆的高潮过后，就会蜷缩在她的胸口，逐渐恢复他无耻的嘴脸，而她却只能怔怔地躺在那里，怅然若失。

But then she soon learnt to hold him, to keep him there inside her when his crisis was over. And there he was generous and curiously potent; he stayed firm inside her, giving to her, while she was active...wildly, passionately active, coming to her own crisis.

但很快，她就学会掌控他，当高潮过后，仍把他留在体内。他也积极配合，始终保持充盈状态，在她的体内坚挺不倒，将整个身体交托给她，任她摇摆……狂热地摇摆，疯狂地摇摆，直到她的高潮来临。

And as he felt the frenzy of her achieving her own orgasmic satisfaction from his hard, erect passivity, he had a curious sense of pride and satisfaction.

他感受到了自己顺从的坚挺给她带来的高潮的极度快感，莫名的自豪和愉悦油然而生。

"Ah, how good!" she whispered tremulously, and she became quite still, clinging to him. And he lay there in his own isolation, but somehow proud.

“啊，太美妙了！”她喃喃道，身子抖动着。一会儿后就安静下来，紧紧依偎着他。而他平躺着，享受着孤寂之中的些许自豪。

He stayed that time only the three days, and to Clifford was exactly the same as on the first evening; to Connie also. There was no breaking down his external man.

那次他只逗留了三天，在克利福德看来，他跟第一天晚上没什么两样，康妮也没有看出任何破绽。他的表面功夫做得可算无懈可击。

He wrote to Connie with the same plaintive melancholy note as ever, sometimes witty, and touched with a queer, sexless affection. A kind of hopeless affection he seemed to feel for her, and the essential remoteness remained the same. He was hopeless at the very core of him, and he wanted to be hopeless. He rather hated hope. "UNE IMMENSE ESPÉRANCE A TRAVERSÉ LA TERRE”, he read somewhere, and his comment was: “—AND IT'S DARNED-WELL DROWNED EVERYTHING WORTH HAVING.” Connie never really understood him, but, in her way, she loved him. And all the time she felt the reflection of his hopelessness in her. She couldn't quite, quite love in hopelessness. And he, being hopeless, couldn't ever quite love at all.

他给康妮写信时，哀怨忧郁的口吻一如既往，时而点缀着机智，某种怪异的情感掺杂其中，却不带有任何情欲的成分。他似乎对彼此间的感情并不抱希望，因此从来不会表现得过于亲近。在内心深处，他从不相信希望的存在，也不愿与希望扯上任何干系。他甚至对希望怀有厌恶之情。他曾在某处读到过这样的诗句：“希望的狂潮席卷大地。”而他给出的评价则是：“它将一切有价值的东西尽数淹没。”康妮从未真正了解过他，但却以自己的方式爱着他。她始终有这样的感觉，即他对这段感情不抱希望。她却无法在希望无存的状态下，全身心地去爱对方。而他，因为与希望绝缘，自然也从未能够深爱过某人。

So they went on for quite a time, writing, and meeting occasionally in London. She still wanted the physical, sexual thrill she could get with him by her own activity, his little orgasm being over. And he still wanted to give it her. Which was enough to keep them connected.

两人的私情维系了很久，飞鸿传情，间或在伦敦幽会。她依然渴望那种令人迷醉的性快感，虽然只是在对方短暂的高潮结束后，靠自己的挺动得来的。而他也仍旧愿意满足她的欲求。而这已经足够延续两人之间的关系。

And enough to give her a subtle sort of self-assurance, something blind and a little arrogant. It was an almost mechanical confidence in her own powers, and went with a great cheerfulness.

更使她产生某种微妙的自得，盲目而又带有些许傲慢。那几乎是对自身力量机械的自信，同时伴随着强烈的愉悦感。

She was terrifically cheerful at Wragby. And she used all her aroused cheerfulness and satisfaction to stimulate Clifford, so that he wrote his best at this time, and was almost happy in his strange blind way. He really reaped the fruits of the sensual satisfaction she got out of Michaelis' male passivity erect inside her. But of course he never knew it, and if he had, he wouldn't have said thank you!

身在拉格比的她也雀跃异常。她也以所有被唤醒的愉悦心情和满足感来激励克利福德，因此，这段时间他的作品质量最为上乘，而不明真相的他也几乎奇怪地被妻子的快乐所感染。她从米凯利斯被动的坚挺中得到性快感，而他也从这种肉体的满足感中受益匪浅。当然，他始终被蒙在鼓里，如果知道事情的真相，他绝不会有半点感激之意！

Yet when those days of her grand joyful cheerfulness and stimulus were gone, quite gone, and she was depressed and irritable, how Clifford longed for them again! Perhaps if he'd known he might even have wished to get her and Michaelis together again.

但当那妙不可言的愉悦和刺激消逝得无踪无影后，她变得意志消沉，烦躁易怒，而克利福德多么希望那过去的好时光能够重来！若他明晰个中缘由，或许甚至会希望妻子与米凯利斯鸳梦重温也未可知。 Oth6mj73YwArN2bFHdklUNwX4ktIDZmYaFN/Z0pJSayMDGeZbxgbVCfoLO+0AQk6