It was eleven o'clock that night when Mr. Pontellier returned from Klein's hotel. He was in an excellent humor, in high spirits, and very talkative. His entrance awoke his wife, who was in bed and fast asleep when he came in. He talked to her while he undressed, telling her anecdotes and bits of news and gossip that he had gathered during the day. From his trousers pockets he took a fistful of crumpled bank notes and a good deal of silver coin, which he piled on the bureau indiscriminately with keys, knife, handkerchief, and whatever else happened to be in his pockets. She was overcome with sleep, and answered him with little half utterances.
那天晚上十一点蓬迪里埃先生才从克莱恩旅馆回到家。他兴致很高,情绪不错,非常健谈。他一进家门就把已经在床上熟睡的妻子吵醒了。他一边脱衣服一边和她说话,告诉她这一天所听来的奇闻趣事、琐碎消息和闲话。他从裤兜儿里掏出一把皱巴巴的钞票,还有很多银币,它们和钥匙、小刀、手绢还有其他任何也装在裤兜里的东西一起被杂乱地堆放在梳妆台上。她太困了,只能支支吾吾地应答着。
He thought it very discouraging that his wife, who was the sole object of his existence, evinced so little interest in things which concerned him, and valued so little his conversation.
他感觉非常败兴。他的妻子是他生存的唯一目标,可她对他所在意的事情却毫无兴致,对他的谈话丝毫也不重视。
Mr. Pontellier had forgotten the bonbons and peanuts for the boys. Notwithstanding he loved them very much, and went into the adjoining room where they slept to take a look at them and make sure that they were resting comfortably. The result of his investigation was far from satisfactory. He turned and shifted the youngsters about in bed. One of them began to kick and talk about a basket full of crabs.
蓬迪里埃先生早把孩子们的糖果和花生的事忘到了脑后。但是他是非常疼爱孩子们的,他走进隔壁孩子们的卧室去看了一看,确保孩子们睡得舒适。这一看结果却不令他满意。他把孩子们在床上翻了翻身又挪动了几下。其中一个开始边踢腿边说梦话,说满满一篮子螃蟹之类的胡话。
Mr. Pontellier returned to his wife with the information that Raoul had a high fever and needed looking after. Then he lit a cigar and went and sat near the open door to smoke it.
蓬迪里埃先生回到妻子身边,对她说拉乌尔发高烧,需要照顾。然后他点了支雪茄,走到敞开的门旁边坐下抽烟。
Mrs. Pontellier was quite sure Raoul had no fever. He had gone to bed perfectly well, she said, and nothing had ailed him all day. Mr. Pontellier was too well acquainted with fever symptoms to be mistaken. He assured her the child was consuming at that moment in the next room.
蓬迪里埃夫人非常肯定拉乌尔没发烧。她说他上床时很好,这一天也没感觉哪里不适。可蓬迪里埃先生对发烧的症状非常了解,不会搞错。他向她确保孩子此刻正在隔壁房间饱受高烧之苦。
He reproached his wife with her inattention, her habitual neglect of the children. If it was not a mother's place to look after children, whose on earth was it? He himself had his hands full with his brokerage business. He could not be in two places at once; making a living for his family on the street, and staying at home to see that no harm befell them. He talked in a monotonous, insistent way.
他责备妻子不关心孩子们,一向忽视他们。照顾孩子如果不是做母亲的本分的话,又究竟该是谁的呢?他自己手头满是经纪行的业务。他不能同时承担这两个重任:又要在外面赚钱养家糊口,又要在家里照看孩子,确保他们安然无恙。他絮絮叨叨地不停地数落着。
Mrs. Pontellier sprang out of bed and went into the next room. She soon came back and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning her head down on the pillow. She said nothing, and refused to answer her husband when he questioned her. When his cigar was smoked out he went to bed, and in half a minute he was fast asleep.
蓬迪里埃夫人从床上跳起来,去了隔壁房间。不一会儿她就回来了,坐在床边,把头倚在枕头上。她什么也不说,也不回答她丈夫的问话。他抽完烟就上了床,半分钟不到就睡熟了。
Mrs. Pontellier was by that time thoroughly awake. She began to cry a little, and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her peignoir. Blowing out the candle, which her husband had left burning, she slipped her bare feet into a pair of satin mules at the foot of the bed and went out on the porch, where she sat down in the wicker chair and began to rock gently to and fro.
可此时,蓬迪里埃夫人却完全清醒了。她开始轻声哭泣起来,在睡衣袖子上擦着眼泪。吹灭她丈夫点着的还在燃着的蜡烛,她光脚穿上放在床脚的缎面拖鞋,往外走到门廊上。在那里她坐进柳条摇椅,开始轻轻地来回摇晃起来。
It was then past midnight. The cottages were all dark. A single faint light gleamed out from the hallway of the house. There was no sound abroad except the hooting of an old owl in the top of a water-oak, and the everlasting voice of the sea, that was not uplifted at that soft hour. It broke like a mournful lullaby upon the night.
已经是后半夜了。所有别墅都漆黑一片。只有一道微弱的光线从主屋的廊道那里照射过来。外面寂静一片,只能听见水栎树顶一只老猫头鹰的叫声,还有在这夜深人静时分平和的海面上发出的永不停息的声音。它像凄婉的摇篮曲一样打破黑夜的宁静。
The tears came so fast to Mrs. Pontellier's eyes that the damp sleeve of her peignoir no longer served to dry them. She was holding the back of her chair with one hand; her loose sleeve had slipped almost to the shoulder of her uplifted arm. Turning, she thrust her face, steaming and wet, into the bend of her arm, and she went on crying there, not caring any longer to dry her face, her eyes, her arms. She could not have told why she was crying. Such experiences as the foregoing were not uncommon in her married life. They seemed never before to have weighed much against the abundance of her husband's kindness and a uniform devotion which had come to be tacit and self-understood.
蓬迪里埃夫人泪如雨下,睡衣袖子已经湿透,不能再用来擦泪了。她一只手抓住椅背,宽松的衣袖几乎从举起的手臂滑落到肩部。她转过身去,把热而潮湿的脸塞进臂弯里接着大哭,再也无心去擦拭她的面颊、眼睛和手臂了。她自己也说不清为什么哭。自从结婚以来像刚才这样的经历并不少见。不过之前她丈夫对她无微不至的体贴和一贯的忠诚似乎使这些经历显得微不足道,对于这些她是默然领会、心知肚明的。
An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with a vague anguish. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul's summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood. She did not sit there inwardly upbraiding her husband, lamenting at Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself. The mosquitoes made merry over her, biting her firm, round arms and nipping at her bare insteps.
一种来自于她意识陌生深处的无以名状的压抑感使她整个人充满了莫名的烦闷。这就像阴影,像迷雾,拂过她夏日的心灵。这是一种奇怪而陌生的感觉,是一种心情。她不是坐在那里暗自谴责她的丈夫,也不是在悲叹自己的命运,而正是命运引领她走上这条他们所走过的道路。她只是独自在那里痛哭。蚊子肆意地叮咬着她,叮咬着她结实圆润的手臂,叮咬着她赤裸的脚背。
The little stinging, buzzing imps succeeded in dispelling a mood which might have held her there in the darkness half a night longer.
正是这些嗡嗡叫着叮咬她的淘气虫们成功地驱走了她的这种情绪,否则,她也许还会带着这种情绪在黑暗中呆上半夜。
The following morning Mr. Pontellier was up in good time to take the rockaway which was to convey him to the steamer at the wharf. He was returning to the city to his business, and they would not see him again at the Island till the coming Saturday. He had regained his composure, which seemed to have been somewhat impaired the night before. He was eager to be gone, as he looked forward to a lively week in Carondelet Street.
第二天一早,蓬迪里埃先生起床很准时,为了坐四轮马车到码头搭汽船。他要回城去处理他的生意,直到下周六他们才会在这个岛上再见到他。此时他很自若,从头一天晚上的坏情绪中恢复了镇静。他急着离开,期望在卡龙德莱特大街过一周快活的生活。
Mr. Pontellier gave his wife half of the money which he had brought away from Klein's hotel the evening before. She liked money as well as most women, and, accepted it with no little satisfaction.
蓬迪里埃先生把头一天晚上从克莱恩旅馆拿回来的钱给了妻子一半。她和大多数女人一样喜欢钱,所以心满意足地收下了。
"It will buy a handsome wedding present for Sister Janet! " she exclaimed, smoothing out the bills as she counted them one by one.
“用这钱可以给珍妮特妹妹买件漂亮的结婚礼物!” 她高兴地说,一边把钱弄平一边一张一张地数着。
"Oh! We'll treat Sister Janet better than that, my dear, " he laughed, as he prepared to kiss her good-by.
“哦!我们要对她比这样更好些,亲爱的。” 他一边笑着说一边准备跟她吻别。
The boys were tumbling about, clinging to his legs, imploring that numerous things be brought back to them. Mr. Pontellier was a great favorite, and ladies, men, children, even nurses, were always on hand to say goodby to him. His wife stood smiling and waving, the boys shouting, as he disappeared in the old rockaway down the sandy road.
孩子们在他周围转,抱着他的腿,求他给他们带回来许多好东西。蓬迪里埃先生很有人缘,女士们、男人们、孩子们,就连保姆们都总是来跟他告别。他的妻子站在那里,一边微笑一边挥手,孩子们叫喊着,看着他坐着旧四轮马车在砂路上远去。
A few days later a box arrived for Mrs. Pontellier from New Orleans. It was from her husband. It was filled with friandises, with luscious and toothsome bits-the finest of fruits, pates, a rare bottle or two, delicious syrups, and bonbons in abundance.
几天后,一个盒子从新奥尔良寄到了蓬迪里埃夫人这里。这是她丈夫寄过来的。盒子里装满了花式小蛋糕,以及各种各样的美味可口的小食品:精美的水果、馅饼、一两瓶名贵好酒、可口的糖浆还有很多糖果。
Mrs. Pontellier was always very generous with the contents of such a box; she was quite used to receiving them when away from home. The pates and fruit were brought to the dining-room; the bonbons were passed around. And the ladies, selecting with dainty and discriminating fingers and a little greedily, all declared that Mr. Pontellier was the best husband in the world. Mrs. Pontellier was forced to admit that she knew of none better.
对于盒子里的食品,蓬迪里埃夫人向来很慷慨。她外出度假的时候经常会收到它们。她把馅饼和水果拿到餐厅,糖果则分给周围的人。女士们一边用纤纤细手有点贪婪地挑着糖果,一边齐夸蓬迪里埃先生是世上最好的丈夫。蓬迪里埃夫人也不得不承认她没看到过更好的了。
IV