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然后他转过身来，看到了那个女孩。一见到她，他脑中的种种幻影便都消失不见了。她脸色苍白、体态轻盈，有一对超凡脱俗的蓝色大眼睛，还有一头浓密的金发。他不知道她的穿着如何，只知道她的衣服跟她本人一样好看。他将她比作一朵嫩枝上的淡淡金花。不对，她是个精灵，是个仙子，是个女神；她那升华了的美绝不属于人世间。也许书里说的是对的，在上流社会里有许许多多像她这样的美。她可能也被斯温伯恩那个家伙歌唱过。或许当他描绘桌上那本书里的伊索尔特时，心中想的便是这样一个女孩。所有这些大量的景象、情感和思绪都发生在顷刻间。而在他所处的现实中，一切都不曾中断。他看见她向自己伸出手来，握手时像男人般坦率地直视着他的双眼。他所认识的那些女人可不这样握手。事实上，她们中的大多数根本不和人握手。一阵联想袭来，他结识女人的各种方式涌进他的脑袋，几乎把他淹没。但他把它们甩在一边，只看着她。他从没见过这样一个女人。他所认识的那些女人呀！她们顷刻间在她的两边排列开来。在那永恒的瞬间，他身处一家肖像画廊内，中心位置为她所占据，很多其他女人出现在她的四周，飞快地瞥一眼便能知道她们的体重和尺寸，而她便是衡量的标准。他看到脸色憔悴的工厂女孩和市场南面傻笑喧闹的女孩。还有牧牛区的女人和墨西哥抽烟的黑皮肤老妇女。这些形象转而又被玩偶般走着碎步、脚踩木屐的日本妇女所取代，被面容姣好却又刻上了堕落烙印的欧亚混血儿取代，被身材魁梧、头戴花环、褐色皮肤的南海岛屿妇女所取代。而所有这些形象全都让位给了一群奇形怪状、噩梦般的女人——怀特察普尔人行道上散发着臭味、躲躲闪闪的女人，贫民窟里醉醺醺的妓女，还有一大群地狱来的悍妇，她们满嘴脏话，肮脏下流，乔装成凶悍的妇女来掠夺水手，搜索着港口的垃圾和贫民窟的残渣。
"Won't you sit down, Mr. Eden? " the girl was saying.
“请坐，伊登先生，” 那女孩说道。
"I have been looking forward to meeting you ever since Arthur told us. It was brave of you—”
“自从阿瑟告诉我们之后我就一直盼望着见到你。你真勇敢……”
He waved his hand deprecatingly and muttered that it was nothing at all, what he had done, and that any fellow would have done it. She noticed that the hand he waved was covered with fresh abrasions, in the process of healing, and a glance at the other loose—hanging hand showed it to be in the same condition. Also, with quick, critical eye, she noted a scar on his cheek, another that peeped out from under the hair of the forehead, and a third that ran down and disappeared under the starched collar. She repressed a smile at sight of the red line that marked the chafe of the collar against the bronzed neck. He was evidently unused to stiff collars. Likewise her feminine eye took in the clothes he wore, the cheap and unaesthetic cut, the wrinkling of the coat across the shoulders, and the series of wrinkles in the sleeves that advertised bulging biceps muscles.
他不以为然地挥了挥手，含糊不清地表示那根本不算什么，任何人都会像他那么做的。她注意到他挥动的那只手上有尚未愈合的擦伤，瞥了一眼另一只松垂着的手，发现也是情况一样。再迅速地一打量，她发现他脸颊上有一道伤疤，前额的头发下也露出一道，还有一道顺脖子而下消失在浆硬的领子里。她看到他那古铜色的脖子上被领子磨出的红印时差点笑了出来。他显然适应不了硬领。同样，她那女性的眼睛也注意到了他的衣服，那廉价而缺乏品位的剪裁，外套肩以及袖子上一道道褶皱像在为他那鼓起的二头肌做广告。
While he waved his hand and muttered that he had done nothing at all, he was obeying her behest by trying to get into a chair. He found time to admire the ease with which she sat down, then lurched toward a chair facing her, overwhelmed with consciousness of the awkward figure he was cutting. This was a new experience for him. All his life, up to then, he had been unaware of being either graceful or awkward. Such thoughts of self had never entered his mind. He sat down gingerly on the edge of the chair, greatly worried by his hands. They were in the way wherever he put them. Arthur was leaving the room, and Martin Eden followed his exit with longing eyes. He felt lost, alone there in the room with that pale spirit of a woman. There was no bar—keeper upon whom to call for drinks, no small boy to send around the corner for a can of beer and by means of that social fluid start the amenities of friendship flowing.
他挥手并含糊地表示自己并没做什么时，也打算遵从她的要求找椅子坐下。他抽空欣赏了她坐下时的轻松优雅，便跌跌撞撞地走向她对面的一把椅子，心中完全明白自己的样子是多么笨拙。这对他来说是种新的体验。直到刚才之前，他一辈子也没留意过外表的优雅或是笨拙。这种自我意识从没进过他的脑袋。他小心翼翼地在椅子边缘坐下，同时非常担心他的双手。不管放在哪里，它们都很碍事。阿瑟离开了房间，马丁·伊登不情愿地看着他走掉。与那苍白的、仙女般的女人独处一室使他感到不知所措。这里没有酒吧老板可以叫酒来喝，也没有小孩可以打发去街角买啤酒，因此没法用社交的饮料来开始亲密的友谊。
"You have such a scar on your neck, Mr. Eden, " the girl was saying. "How did it happen? I am sure it must have been some adventure. "
“你脖子上有那样一条伤疤，伊登先生，” 那女孩说道， “那是怎么来的？我确信那一定是次冒险。”
"A Mexican with a knife, miss, " he answered, moistening his parched lips and clearing hip throat. "It was just a fight. After I got the knife away, he tried to bite off my nose. "
“被一个墨西哥人用刀划伤的，小姐，” 他舔了舔干渴的嘴唇，清了清嗓子回答道， “只不过是打架而已。我把他的刀弄掉以后，他还想把我的鼻子给咬掉。”
Baldly as he had stated it, in his eyes was a rich vision of that hot, starry night at Salina Cruz, the white strip of beach, the lights of the sugar steamers in the harbor, the voices of the drunken sailors in the distance, the jostling stevedores, the flaming passion in the Mexican's face, the glint of the beast—eyes in the starlight, the sting of the steel in his neck, and the rush of blood, the crowd and the cries, the two bodies, his and the Mexican's, locked together, rolling over and over and tearing up the sand, and from away off somewhere the mellow tinkling of a guitar. Such was the picture, and he thrilled to the memory of it, wondering if the man could paint it who had painted the pilot—schooner on the wall. The white beach, the stars, and the lights of the sugar steamers would look great, he thought, and midway on the sand the dark group of figures that surrounded the fighters. The knife occupied a place in the picture, he decided, and would show well, with a sort of gleam, in the light of the stars. But of all this no hint had crept into his speech. "He tried to bite off my nose, " he concluded.
尽管说得不好，但他眼前却浮现出了萨利纳克鲁斯那个炎热的星夜里各种的景象。有狭长的白色海滩，港口运糖船的灯光，远处醉酒的水手们的声音，熙熙攘攘的码头苦力，墨西哥人脸上那火热的怒气，星光下那露出凶光的野兽般的眼睛，钢刀在自己脖子上的那种刺痛，那喷涌而出的鲜血，那人群，那叫喊，他和墨西哥人的躯体纠缠翻滚，沙尘飞扬，遥远的某处传来动听的吉他声。这便是那幅画，现在想起来也还是令他激动，他想知道画出墙上领航船那幅画的画家是否能把这个场景也画下来。他想，那白色的沙滩、点点的星光、运糖船的灯火，还有沙滩中间围观打斗者的黑压压的人群，若是画出来一定会很棒。他决定在画里给那把刀留个位置，如果在星光下带点闪光那就更棒了。但这一切他都丝毫没有提及。 “他还想把我的鼻子给咬掉。” 他结束了回答。
"Oh, " the girl said, in a faint, far voice, and he noticed the shock in her sensitive face.
“啊。” 那女孩说，声音微弱而遥远，他注意到她敏感的脸上显露出的震惊。
He felt a shock himself, and a blush of embarrassment shone faintly on his sunburned cheeks, though to him it burned as hotly as when his cheeks had been exposed to the open furnace—door in the fire—room. Such sordid things as stabbing affrays were evidently not fit subjects for conversation with a lady. People in the books, in her walk of life, did not talk about such things—perhaps they did not know about them, either.
他自己也感到震惊，被太阳晒黑的脸颊因尴尬而微微有些发红，尽管事实上他已燥热得仿佛暴露在锅炉舱敞开的炉门前。打架动刀子这类低贱的事显然不适合成为与一位女士交谈的话题。书里的人们，她那个阶层的人们，是不会谈论这类事的——或许他们根本不知道这类事。
There was a brief pause in the conversation they were trying to get started. Then she asked tentatively about the scar on his cheek. Even as she asked, he realized that she was making an effort to talk his talk, and he resolved to get away from it and talk hers.
他们努力想要开始的谈话稍稍停顿了一下。然后她试探性地问起他脸上的伤疤。她的问话刚一出口，他便意识到她正努力着谈自己的话题，便决定抛开这个话题转而去谈她的话题。
"It was just an accident, " he said, putting his hand to his cheek. "One night, in a calm, with a heavy sea running, the main—boom—lift carried away, an 'next the tackle. The lift was wire, an' it was threshin 'around like a snake. The whole watch was tryin't o grab it, an' I rushed in an 'got swatted. "
“只是一次意外罢了，” 他边说边用手摸了摸脸颊， “一天晚上，一丝风也没有，却碰上了湍急的海流，主吊杆的吊索断了，接着复滑车也坏了。吊索是钢缆做的，像蛇一样猛烈抽打着。所有值班水手都想抓住它，我冲了上去，然后就挨了一鞭。”
"Oh, " she said, this time with an accent of comprehension, though secretly his speech had been so much Greek to her and she was wondering what a lift was and what swatted meant.
“啊。” 她说。这次带着理解的口气，尽管暗地里觉得他说的话简直无法理解，她不知道什么是 “吊索” ，也不知道 “挨了一鞭” 是何种感受。
"This man Swineburne, " he began, attempting to put his plan into execution and pronouncing the i long.
“这个叫斯外温伯恩的人。” 他说道，打算执行自己的计划，却把 “斯温” 念成了 “斯外恩” 。
"Who? "
“谁？”
"Swineburne, " he repeated, with the same mispronunciation. "The poet. "
“斯外恩伯恩，” 他重复道，但还是念错了音， “那个诗人。”
"Swinburne, " she corrected.
“是斯温伯恩。” 她纠正道。
"Yes, that's the chap, " he stammered, his cheeks hot again. "How long since he died? "
“没错，就是那个家伙，” 他结结巴巴地说，脸颊又发热了， “他死了有多久了？”
"Why, I haven't heard that he was dead. " She looked at him curiously. "Where did you make his acquaintance? "
“什么？我没听说他死了呀。” 她莫名其妙地望着他。 “你在哪里认识他的？”
"I never clapped eyes on him, " was the reply. "But I read some of his poetry out of that book there on the table just before you come in. How do you like his poetry? "
“我可没见过他，” 他回答说， “不过在你进来前我倒是从桌上的那本书里读了几首他的诗。你觉得他的诗怎么样？”
And thereat she began to talk quickly and easily upon the subject he had suggested. He felt better, and settled back slightly from the edge of the chair, holding tightly to its arms with his hands, as if it might get away from him and buck him to the floor. He had succeeded in making her talk her talk, and while she rattled on, he strove to follow her, marvelling at all the knowledge that was stowed away in that pretty head of hers, and drinking in the pale beauty of her face. Follow her he did, though bothered by unfamiliar words that fell glibly from her lips and by critical phrases and thought—processes that were foreign to his mind, but that nevertheless stimulated his mind and set it tingling. Here was intellectual life, he thought, and here was beauty, warm and wonderful as he had never dreamed it could be. He forgot himself and stared at her with hungry eyes. Here was something to live for, to win to, to fight for—ay, and die for. The books were true. There were such women in the world. She was one of them. She lent wings to his imagination, and great, luminous canvases spread themselves before him whereon loomed vague, gigantic figures of love and romance, and of heroic deeds for woman's sake—for a pale woman, a flower of gold. And through the swaying, palpitant vision, as through a fairy mirage, he stared at the real woman, sitting there and talking of literature and art. He listened as well, but he stared, unconscious of the fixity of his gaze or of the fact that all that was essentially masculine in his nature was shining in his eyes. But she, who knew little of the world of men, being a woman, was keenly aware of his burning eyes. She had never had men look at her in such fashion, and it embarrassed her. She stumbled and halted in her utterance. The thread of argument slipped from her. He frightened her, and at the same time it was strangely pleasant to be so looked upon. Her training warned her of peril and of wrong, subtle, mysterious, luring; while her instincts rang clarion—voiced through her being, impelling her to hurdle caste and place and gain to this traveller from another world, to this uncouth young fellow with lacerated hands and a line of raw red caused by the unaccustomed linen at his throat, who, all too evidently, was soiled and tainted by ungracious existence. She was clean, and her cleanness revolted; but she was woman, and she was just beginning to learn the paradox of woman.
于是她便就他提起的话题轻松、快速地谈了起来。他感觉好多了，从椅子边缘稍稍往后靠了靠，并紧紧地握住扶手，生怕它会挣脱，把他摔在地上。他成功地使她谈起了她的话题。她侃侃而谈，他则努力跟上，他惊讶于她那美丽的脑袋竟装了那么多知识，同时也尽情欣赏着她那苍白而美丽的脸庞。他跟上了她的话，尽管她唇边不经意流淌出的陌生词汇、评论术语和他从未知晓的思维过程使他感到有些吃力，但仍刺激了他的头脑，使之兴奋。这便是智力生活，他想，这便是美，连做梦都想不到它竟是如此温暖、美好。他忘却了自我，饥渴的双眼紧盯着她。这便是一个人为之生活、为之奋斗、为之争取的东西——是的，为之献出生命的东西。那些书说的是对的。世上确有这样的女子。她便是其中之一。她为他的想象插上翅膀，巨大而光辉的画布在他眼前展开，画布上隐约可见的模糊而巨大的形象，那是爱情，是浪漫故事，是为女人而做出的英雄事迹——为一个苍白的女人，一朵金色的花朵。那摇晃、悸动的景象犹如仙女创造的海市蜃楼，透过它，他凝视着这个坐在那里谈论文学与艺术的真实的女人。他同样倾听着，但完全没有意识到自己已目不转睛，也不知道自己眼中闪耀的正是他天性中的阳刚之气。她虽对男人的世界所知甚少，但身为一个女人，还是敏锐地察觉到了他火热的眼神。她从未见过男人这般看她，这使她局促不安。她说话变得结巴，没有再说下去。思路离她而去。他把她吓到了，但同时，被这样看着她竟出奇地感到愉快。她的教养警告她有危险，有不应有的、微妙的、神秘的诱惑；但她的本能却发出了嘹亮的呐喊，穿透她的身体，驱使她克服阶级、地位和得失的障碍奔向这个来自另一个世界的旅人，奔向这个手上有伤、喉咙被不习惯的亚麻布磨出红印的粗俗的年轻人，这个年轻人很明显已经受了粗野生活方式的污染。她是纯洁的，她的纯洁令她对这个年轻人感到抵触；但她同时又是女人，她刚开始体会到女人的矛盾。
"As I was saying—what was I saying?” She broke off abruptly and laughed merrily at her predicament.
“就像我刚才说的——我刚才说什么来着？” 她突然不说话了，快活地嘲笑起自己的狼狈处境。
"You was saying that this man Swinburne failed bein 'a great poet because—an't hat was as far as you got, miss, " he prompted, while to himself he seemed suddenly hungry, and delicious little thrills crawled up and down his spine at the sound of her laughter. Like silver, he thought to himself, like tinkling silver bells; and on the instant, and for an instant, he was transported to a far land, where under pink cherry blossoms, he smoked a cigarette and listened to the bells of the peaked pagoda calling straw—sandalled devotees to worship.
“你刚才说这个斯温伯恩没能成为一个伟大的诗人是因为——就是说到这，小姐。” 他提示道，而他自己似乎突然感到很饥饿，听到她的笑声，一阵阵美味的小激动在他的脊梁上来回爬行。他心想，这就像个叮当作响的银色铃铛；转瞬间他被传送到了一个遥远的国度。他在那儿的粉色的樱花树下停留了片刻，抽着烟聆听那有层层飞檐的宝塔上传来的铃声，这铃声召唤脚穿草鞋的善男信女前去膜拜。
"Yes, thank you, " she said. "Swinburne fails, when all is said, because he is, well, indelicate. There are many of his poems that should never be read. Every line of the really great poets is filled with beautiful truth, and calls to all that is high and noble in the human. Not a line of the great poets can be spared without impoverishing the world by that much. "
“是的，谢谢你，” 她说， “归根到底，斯温伯恩失败是因为他不够文雅。他的很多诗，人们永远不应该去读。真正伟大的诗人的每一行诗句都充满了优美的真理，向人性中所有高尚的品行发出召唤。伟大诗人的诗句一行也删除不得，每删去一行都是世界的一大损失。”
"I thought it was great, " he said hesitatingly, "the little I read. I had no idea he was such a—a scoundrel. I guess that crops out in his other books.”
“我倒觉得他的诗很棒，” 他迟疑地说， “至少就我读到的那一小部分来说。我不知道他是这样一个——无赖。我猜那体现在他的其他书里吧。”
"There are many lines that could be spared from the book you were reading, " she said, her voice primly firm and dogmatic.
“你读的那本书里也有很多诗行是可以删去的。” 她说，口气一本正经而且武断。
"I must 'a' missed 'em, " he announced. What I read was the real goods. It was all lighted up an' shining, an 'it shun right into me an' lighted me up inside, like the sun or a searchlight. That's the way it landed on me, but I guess I ain't up much on poetry, miss. "
“我肯定错过那部分了，” 他声称， “我读到的都是真正的好东西。全都光辉、闪亮，像太阳或是探照灯一样一直照到我的心里，让里面也亮了起来。它给我的感觉就是这样，不过我想我不是很懂诗，小姐。”
He broke off lamely. He was confused, painfully conscious of his inarticulateness. He had felt the bigness and glow of life in what he had read, but his speech was inadequate. He could not express what he felt, and to himself he likened himself to a sailor, in a strange ship, on a dark night, groping about in the unfamiliar running rigging. Well, he decided, it was up to him to get acquainted in this new world. He had never seen anything that he couldn't get the hang of when he wanted to and it was about time for him to want to learn to talk the things that were inside of him so that she could understand. She was bulking large on his horizon.
他感到自己的话站不住脚便住了嘴。他感到局促不安，痛苦地意识到自己多么不会说话。他从读到的诗句中感受到了生命的宏大和辉煌，只是言不达意。他表达不了自己的感受，他将自己比作一个水手，在陌生的船上，在漆黑的夜里，在自己不熟悉的运转的索具之间摸索。好吧，他决定，熟悉这个新世界就靠他自己了。还从来没有一样东西的窍门是他想要找到却找不到的，也是时候试着谈谈自己知道的东西了，好让她能了解。在他的地平线上，她显得越来越高大。
"Now Longfellow—” she was saying.
“至于朗费罗——” 她说道。
"Yes, I've read 'm, " he broke in impulsively, spurred on to exhibit and make the most of his little store of book knowledge, desirous of showing her that he was not wholly a stupid clod. “' The Psalm of Life, '' Excelsior, 'an' …I guess that's all. "
“哦，我读过他的书。” 他冲动地插嘴道，急于展现和充分利用他那少得可怜的书本知识，急于让她知道自己并不完全是个蠢蛋。 “《人生颂》、《精益求精》，还有……估计就这些了。”
She nodded her head and smiled, and he felt, somehow, that her smile was tolerant, pitifully tolerant. He was a fool to attempt to make a pretence that way. That Longfellow chap most likely had written countless books of poetry.
她点了点头，笑了笑，不知怎么，他觉得她的笑透露出一种宽容，同情的宽容。他那样假装内行简直愚蠢极了。那个叫朗费罗的家伙很可能写了无数本诗集。
"Excuse me, miss, for buttin 'in that way. I guess the real facts is that I don't know nothin' much about such things. It ain't in my class. But I 'm goin't o make it in my class. "
“请原谅我，小姐，我不该那样插嘴。我想，事实上对这类东西我一点也不懂。对这东西我不在行。不过我会努力使自己在行的。”
It sounded like a threat. His voice was determined, his eyes were flashing, the lines of his face had grown harsh. And to her it seemed that the angle of his jaw had changed; its pitch had become unpleasantly aggressive. At the same time a wave of intense virility seemed to surge out from him and impinge upon her.
这听起来像是一种威胁。他的语气很坚定，双眼闪烁着光芒，脸部的线条变得僵硬。而在她看来，他下巴的角度变了，倾斜得有点咄咄逼人，使人不快。同时，一股强烈的男子气概冲出他的身体，向她扑来。
"I think you could make it in—in your class, " she finished with a laugh. "You are very strong. "
“我想你会使自己——在行的，” 她笑着结束了自己的话， “你非常强壮。”
Her gaze rested for a moment on the muscular neck, heavy corded, almost bull—like, bronzed by the sun, spilling over with rugged health and strength. And though he sat there, blushing and humble, again she felt drawn to him. She was surprised by a wanton thought that rushed into her mind. It seemed to her that if she could lay her two hands upon that neck that all its strength and vigor would flow out to her. She was shocked by this thought. It seemed to reveal to her an undreamed depravity in her nature. Besides, strength to her was a gross and brutish thing. Her ideal of masculine beauty had always been slender gracefulness. Yet the thought still persisted. It bewildered her that she should desire to place her hands on that sunburned neck. In truth, she was far from robust, and the need of her body and mind was for strength. But she did not know it. She knew only that no man had ever affected her before as this one had, who shocked her from moment to moment with his awful grammar.
她的目光在他肌肉发达的脖子上停留了一会儿，他那被太阳晒成古铜色的脖子青筋暴起，犹如公牛一般，洋溢着粗犷的健康与力量。尽管他只是坐在那里，红着脸还有点谦卑，但她再一次感到被他所吸引。一个放肆的念头冲进她的脑中，让她大吃一惊。似乎她觉得如果把自己的双手放在他的脖子上，那么他的力量和活力便会流进她的体内。她被这个念头吓坏了。这似乎向她揭露了一种她做梦也想不到的邪恶天性。何况在她看来，力量本是样庸俗粗鲁的东西。她理想中的男性美一向都是修长优雅的。然而刚才那个想法还是挥之不去。她竟然渴望将双手放在那被太阳晒黑的脖子上，这令她困惑。事实上，她自己一点也不强壮，而她的身体和心灵需要的正是力量。只是她自己并不知道。她只知道从没有一个男人能像眼前这人一样影响自己，反而一次又一次用他糟糕的语法令她震惊。
"Yes, I ain't no invalid, " he said. "When it comes down to hard—pan, I can digest scrap—iron. But just now I've got dyspepsia. Most of what you was sayin 'I can't digest. Never trained that way, you see. I like books and poetry, and what time I've had I've read' em, but I've never thought about 'em the way you have. That's why I can't talk about 'em. I' m like a navigator adrift on a strange sea without chart or compass. Now I want to get my bearin's. Mebbe you can put me right. How did you learn all this you've ben talkin '? "
“没错，我可没有缺胳膊少腿，” 他说， “日子不好过时候，我可是连碎铁片都能消化的。不过我刚才倒是有点消化不良。你说的大部分话我都消化不了。你知道，我从没受过那种训练。我喜欢书和诗，一有时间就读，但从没像你这样琢磨过它们。这就是为什么我没法谈论它们。我就像是个漂到了陌生海域的海员，手边却没有海图或是罗盘。我现在想找到自己的方向。或许你能帮我校准。你说的那些东西你都是怎么学来的？”
"By going to school, I fancy, and by studying, " she answered.
“我想是通过上学，通过学习。” 她回答道。
"I went to school when I was a kid, " he began to object.
“我小时候也上过学。” 他反驳道。
"Yes; but I mean high school, and lectures, and the university. "
“是的，但我是指中学、讲座，还有大学。”
"You've gone to the university? " he demanded in frank amazement. He felt that she had become remoter from him by at least a million miles.
“你上过大学？” 他问道，坦率地表达了自己的惊讶。他觉得她离自己更遥远了，至少有一百万英里。
"I 'm going there now. I' m taking special courses in English. "
“我马上就要去了。我要学的是英文的专门课程。”
He did not know what "English" meant, but he made a mental note of that item of ignorance and passed on.
他并不清楚 “英文” 是什么意思，但他在脑子里记下了自己的无知，然后继续说了下去。
"How long would I have to study before I could go to the university? " he asked.
“我想上大学的话得先学习多久？” 他问道。
She beamed encouragement upon his desire for knowledge, and said: "That depends upon how much studying you have already done. You have never attended high school? Of course not. But did you finish grammar school? "
她用微笑来鼓励他对知识的渴望，并说： “这取决于你已经学到了多少知识。你从没上过中学？当然没有。那你小学毕业了吗？”
"I had two years to run, when I left, " he answered. "But I was always honorably promoted at school. "
“我停学的时候还有两年要上，” 他回答道， “不过我在学校的时候总是以成绩优秀而升级的。”
The next moment, angry with himself for the boast, he had gripped the arms of the chair so savagely that every finger—end was stinging. At the same moment he became aware that a woman was entering the room. He saw the girl leave her chair and trip swiftly across the floor to the newcomer. They kissed each other, and, with arms around each other's waists, they advanced toward him. That must be her mother, he thought. She was a tall, blond woman, slender, and stately, and beautiful. Her gown was what he might expect in such a house. His eyes delighted in the graceful lines of it. She and her dress together reminded him of women on the stage. Then he remembered seeing similar grand ladies and gowns entering the London theatres while he stood and watched and the policemen shoved him back into the drizzle beyond the awning. Next his mind leaped to the Grand Hotel at Yokohama, where, too, from the sidewalk, he had seen grand ladies. Then the city and the harbor of Yokohama, in a thousand pictures, began flashing before his eyes. But he swiftly dismissed the kaleidoscope of memory, oppressed by the urgent need of the present. He knew that he must stand up to be introduced, and he struggled painfully to his feet, where he stood with trousers bagging at the knees, his arms loose—hanging and ludicrous, his face set hard for the impending ordeal.
他马上就为自己吹嘘而生起自己的气来，便死命地握住扶手，每个指尖都感到刺痛。同时她意识到有个女人进了房间。他看到那个女孩离开椅子，穿过房间，轻快地走向这个新来的人。她们互相亲吻了对方，然后揽着彼此的腰向他走去。那一定是她的母亲，他想。她是位高个子的金发妇女，苗条、端庄而且美丽。她所穿的长袍是他预料在这样一所房子里会见到的那种。那优雅的线条令他看了感到愉悦。她和她所穿的衣服让他想起舞台上的女人。然后他记起曾见过类似的贵妇人穿着类似的长袍进入伦敦的剧院，而自己站着看的时候被警察赶到了雨棚外的蒙蒙细雨中。接着他的思维跳跃到了横滨大酒店，在那里的人行道上，他同样也见过许多贵妇人。横滨市和横滨港的千姿百态在他眼前飞速闪过。但他立刻结束了这万花筒般的回忆，因眼前有更紧急的需求。他知道自己必须站起来接受介绍，便痛苦地挣扎着站起身来，裤子的膝盖部分鼓胀着，双臂滑稽地松垂着，脸孔板着，准备迎接即将到来的严酷考验。