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Tropic of Cancer  北回归线-第八章第五节

Jesus, I've been hearing it all night long! And then he says – as if that weren't enough for me – then he tells me he buried his head in her muff. And when he did that, so help me Christ, if she didn't swing her legs around his neck and lock him there. That finished me! Imagine it! Imagine a fine, sensitive woman like that swinging her legs around his neck! There's something poisonous about it. It's so fantastic that it sounds convincing. If he had only told me about the champagne and the ride in the Bois and even that scene on the balcony I could have dismissed it. But this thing is so incredible that it doesn't sound like a lie any more. I can't believe that he ever read anything like that anywhere, and I can't see what could have put the idea into his head unless there was some truth in it. With a little prick like that, you know, anything can happen. He may not have fucked her at all, but she may have let him diddle her… you never know with these rich cunts what they might expect you to do…"

老天,我一夜都听到这种声音!后来他又说好像我还没有听够 -这时,老天爷作证,她把双腿架在他脖子上,把他夹住了。这真是要我的命!想想看!想想她这样一个漂亮、多愁善感的女人竟会把腿架在他脖子上!这简直叫人无法忍受。这么荒诞,听起来又像是真的。如果他只告诉我香槟酒的事、坐车在波伊思公园里游荡,甚至还有阳台上那一幕,我可能不会信他,可是这件事大难以置信,反而不像是在说谎了。我也不相信他在什么地方读到过这种事情,除非这件事有几分是真的,我也弄不明白他怎么会冒出这个念头来。你知道,在这样一个小滑头那里,什么事情都不稀奇,也许他根本不曾睡过她,可她会允许他玩玩她的……跟这些阔女人在一起你永远也弄不明白她们指望你干什么……”

When he finally pulls himself out of bed and starts to shave the afternoon is already well advanced. I've finally succeeded in switching his mind to other things, to the moving principally. The maid comes in to see if he's ready – he's supposed to have vacated the room by noon. He's just in the act of slipping into his trousers. I'm a little surprised that he doesn't excuse himself, or turn away. Seeing him standing there nonchalantly buttoning his fly as he gives her orders I begin to titter. "Don't mind her," he says, throwing her a look of supreme contempt, " she's just a big sow. Give her a pinch in the ass, if you like. She won't say anything." And then addressing her, in English, he says, "Come here, you bitch, put your hand on this!" At this I can't restrain myself any longer. I burst out laughing, a fit of hysterical laughter which infects the maid also, though she doesn't know what it's all about. The maid commences to take down the pictures and the photographs, mostly of himself, which line the walls. "You," he says, jerking his thumb, "come here! Here's something to remember me by" – ripping a photograph off the wall – "when I go you can wipe your ass with it. See," he says, turning to me, "she's a dumb bitch. She wouldn't look any more intelligent if I said it in French." The maid stands there with her mouth open; she is evidently convinced that he is cracked. "Hey!" he yells at her as if she were hard of hearing. "Hey, you! Yes, you! Like this…!" and he takes the photograph, his own photograph, and wipes his ass with it. "Comme ça! Savvy? You've got to draw pictures for her," he says, thrusting his lower lip forward in absolute disgust.

当他终于从床上爬起来、开始刮胡子时下午已经快过去了,我最终才成功地把他的思路吸引到其他事情上,主要是吸引到搬家上。侍女进来看他收拾好没有—原先叫他中午就得腾出房子—这时他正在穿裤子。他既不请求原谅也不转过身去,这使我略有几分惊奇。看着他满不在乎地站着系裤扣,一边还吩咐她做这做那,我不禁吃吃笑了。“别管她,”说着,他极其轻蔑地瞪了她一眼。“她不过是一头肥母猪。你想拧就在她屁股上拧一把,她不会说什么的。”接着范诺登又用英语对她说,“过来,你这婊子,把手放在这上面!”听到这话我再也忍不住了,哈哈大笑起来。这一阵歇斯底里的大笑也感染了那个侍女,尽管她不明白我在笑什么。侍女开始把钉在墙上的一排绘画和照片取下来,这些画儿和照片上大多是范诺登本人,“你,”他用大拇指戳戳,“到这儿来!这儿有件可以纪念我的东西。” -说着他从墙上撕下一张照片 “等我走了你就用它擦屁股好了。”说完他又转向我,“她是一个傻婊子,就算我用法语说她也不会显得聪明些。”侍女大张着嘴站在那儿,显然是认为范诺登疯了。“喂!”他朝她大喝一声,好像她耳朵不好似的。“喂,你!对了,说你呢!像这样……”他边说边拿起照片,他自己的照片,用它擦了擦屁股。“像这样!懂了吗?看来你得给她画张图才行。”说着他嗝起下唇,表示极度厌恶。

He watches her helplessly as she throws his things into the big valises. "Here, put these in too," he says, handing her a toothbrush and the douche bag.

他无可奈何地监视着她把东西扔进几只大箱子里。“这儿,把这些也放进去,”说着他递给她一只牙刷和装灌洗器的袋子。

Half of his belongings are lying on the floor. The valises are crammed full and there is nowhere to put the paintings and the books and the bottles that are half empty. "Sit down a minute," he says. "We've got plenty of time. We've got to think this thing out. If you hadn't come around I'd never have gotten out of here. You see how helpless I am. Don't let me forget to take the bulbs out… they belong to me. That wastebasket belongs to me too. They expect you to live like pigs, these bastards."

他的东西有一半仍摊在地板上,箱子都已塞满,没有地方可装绘画、书和半空的瓶子了。他说,“坐一会儿,咱们有的是时间,咱们得好好想一想。你若是不来我永远也搬不出去,你看我一点儿办法也没有。别忘了提醒我带走灯泡……那都是我的,还有废纸篓也是属于我的。这些王八蛋,他们要你像猪一样生活。”

The maid has gone downstairs to get some twine… "Wait till you see… she'll charge me for the twine even if it's only three sous. They wouldn't sew a button on your pants here without charging for it. The lousy, dirty scroungers!" He takes a bottle of Calvados from the mantelpiece and nods to me to grab the other. "No use carrying these to the new place. Let's finish them off now. But don't give her a drink! That bastard, I wouldn't leave her a piece of toilet paper. I'd like to ruin the joint before I go. Listen… piss on the floor, if you like. I wish I could take a crap in the bureau drawer."

这时侍女下楼拿麻绳去了……“你等着瞧……她会间我要麻绳钱的,哪怕只有三个苏呢。在这儿,他们给你裤子缀一个扣子也得要钱。这伙讨厌的、肮脏的小偷!”他从壁炉台上取了一瓶苹果烧酒,并且点头示意我抓起另一瓶。“把它带到新地方去没有用,现在把它喝光拉倒。不过别给她喝!这王八蛋,我连一张手纸也不留给她。我真想在走之前把这个地方弄个一塌糊涂。对了……想撤尿就撒在地板上,我还想在五斗橱抽屉里大便呢。”

He feels so utterly disgusted with himself and everything else that he doesn't know what to do by way of venting his feelings. He walks over to the bed with the bottle in his hand and pulling back the covers he sprinkles Calvados over the mattress. Not content with that he digs his heel into the mattress. Unfortunately there's no mud on his heels. Finally he takes the sheet and cleans his shoes with it. "That'll give them something to do," he mutters vengefully. Then, taking a good swig, he throws his head back and gargles his throat, and after he's gargled it good and proper he spits it out on the mirror. "There, you cheap bastards! Wipe that off when I go!" He walks back and forth mumbling to himself. Seeing his torn socks lying on the floor he picks them up and tears them to bits. The paintings enrage him too. He picks one up – a portrait of himself done by some Lesbian he knew and he puts his foot through it. "That bitch! You know what she had the nerve to ask me? She asked me to turn over my cunts to her after I was through with them. She never gave me a sou for writing her up. She thought I honestly admired her work. I wouldn't have gotten that painting out of her if I hadn't promised to fix her up with that cunt from Minnesota. She was nuts about her… used to follow us around like a dog in heat… we couldn't get rid of the bitch! She bothered the life out of me. I got so that I was almost afraid to bring a cunt up here for fear that she'd bust in on me. I used to creep up here like a burglar and the lock the door behind me as soon as I got inside… She and that Georgia cunt – they drive me nuts. The one is always in heat and the other is always hungry. I hate fucking a woman who's hungry. It's like you push a feed inside her and then you push it out again… Jesus, that reminds me of something… where did I put that blue ointment? That's important. Did you ever have those things? It's worse than having a dose. And I don't know where I got them from either. I've had so many women up here in the last week or so I've lost track of them. Funny too, because they all smelled so fresh. But you know how it is…"

他对自己、对一切都十分厌恶,因而不知该做什么才能发泄发泄怨气。于是他提着酒瓶走到床前,掀起床罩把烧酒洒在床垫上。这还嫌不过痛,他又用脚拼命在床垫上踩,可遗憾的是鞋底井没有泥。他又取下床单擦鞋,嘴里愤愤不平地喃喃道,“这样他们就有点儿事情干了。”最后,他含了一口酒,脑袋向后昂着漱喉咙,待漱得心满意足了才一口全啐在镜子上。“瞧着,你们这些下贱的王八蛋!等我走了好好擦去吧!”他在屋里踱来踱去,嘴里一边还咕噜着什么。看到自己的烂袜子扔在地上他便拣起来撕个粉碎,画儿也惹他大动肝火,他拾起一张一脚把它湍透了—这是他认识的一个女同性恋者给他画的肖像。“那个婊子!你知道她居然有胆量要我干什么?她要我把玩过的娘儿们介绍给她。我写文章吹捧她,她从来没有给过我一个苏,还以为我真心崇拜她的画呢。若不是我答应安排她同那个明尼苏达州来的女人见面,她才不会白给我画这张像呢。她简直快为那女人发狂了……像条发情的狗一样到处跟着我们……我们没法甩掉这婊子!她差点儿没把我缠死。我烦得要死,几乎不敢再领女人到这儿来,唯恐她会破门冲进来揍我一顿。我总是像贼一样悄悄溜上来,一进来就赶快锁上门……她和那个格鲁吉亚娘儿们—她俩逼得我要发疯,一个总是在发情,另一个总是肚子饿。我最恨睡一个饿着肚子的女人,那就像把一块吃的塞进她肚子里然后又掏出来……天啊,这使我想起一件事情……我把那蓝色药膏放在哪儿了?那很要紧,你生过那样的疮吗?比吃一剂药还难受。也不知道是从哪儿染上的,上星期这儿来了那么多女人,我大概早把她们忘了。这很有意思,因为她们身上都散发出纯洁的气息。你明白这是怎么回事……”

The maid has piled his things up on the sidewalk. The patron looks on with a surly air. When everything has been loaded into the taxi there is only room for one of us inside. As soon as we commence to roll Van Norden gets out a newspaper and starts bundling up his pots and pans; in the new place all cooking is strictly forbidden. By the time we reach our destination all his luggage has come undone; it wouldn't be quite so embarasssing if the madam had not stuck her head out of the doorway just as we rolled up. "My God!" she exclaims, "what in the devil is all this? What does it mean?"

侍女把范诺登的东西都堆在人行道上,旅馆老板酸溜溜地在一旁看着。等东西全装上出租车,车里就只坐得下一个人了。车刚一开范诺登便掏出一张报纸把他的锅碗瓢盆包扎起来,新住处严禁做饭。待我们到了目的地他的行李已经又全部打开了,若是我们到达时那老板娘没把头探出门来还不会那么叫人难堪。她嚷道,“我的天哪!这到底是怎么回事?这是什么意思?”

Van Norden is so intimidated that he can think of nothing more to say than "C'est moi… c'est moi, madame!" And turning to me he mumbles savagely: "That cluck! Did you notice her face? She's going to make it hard for me."

范诺登被她吓住了,他不知该说什么才好,只是用法语道,“是我……是我,太太!”说完他又转向我恶狠狠地咕哝道,“这个笨蛋!看见她的脸色了?她要给我找麻烦呢。”

The hotel lies back of a dingy passage and forms a rectangle very much on the order of a modern penitentiary. The bureau is large and gloomy, despite the brilliant reflections from the tile walls. There are bird cages hanging in the windows and little enamel signs everywhere begging the guests in an obsolete language not to do this and not to forget that. It is almost immaculately clean but absolutely poverty stricken, threadbare, woebegone. The upholstered chairs are held together with wired things; they remind one unpleasantly of the electric chair. The room he is going to occupy is on the fifth floor. As we climb the stairs Van Norden informs me that Maupassant once lived here. And in the same breath remarks that there is a peculiar odor in the hall.

这家旅馆位于一条阴暗的小道后面,呈一个长方形,同一所现代罪犯教养所十分相似。衣橱又大又没有一点光泽,尽管瓷砖墙上映出的影子很堂皇。窗子上都挂着鸟笼子,到处钉着小小的珐琅牌子,用陈腐的语言请求客人们不要做这个、不要忘记那个。这家旅馆几乎一尘不染,只是穷得一贫如洗,破破烂烂,一副衰败景象。铺椅垫的椅于用铁丝捆在一起,令人不快地联想到电椅。范诺登的房间在五楼,上楼时他告诉我莫泊桑一度也曾在这儿住过,同时又说大厅里有一种古怪的气味。

On the fifth floor a few windowpanes are missing; we stand a moment gazing at the tenants across the court. It is getting toward dinner time and people are straggling back to their rooms with that weary, dejected air which comes from earning a living honestly. Most of the windows are wide open: the dingy rooms have the appearance of so many yawning mouths. The occupants of the rooms are yawning too, or else scratching themselves. They move about listlessly and apparently without much purpose; they might just as well be lunatics.

五楼上有几扇窗子没有玻璃,我们站下看了一会儿那几位正穿过院子的房客。快到吃饭时间了,人们正三三两两地回屋里去,他们都显得无精打彩、萎靡不振- 靠诚实劳动换饭吃的人总是这样的。窗子大多都大敞着,昏暗的房间仿佛是许多正打哈欠的大嘴。屋子里注的房客也在打哈欠,或是在替自己搔痒。他们坐卧不宁地动来动去显然毫无目的,说他们是一群疯子也并不过分。

As we turn down the corridor toward room 57, a door suddenly opens in front of us and an old hag with matted hair and the eyes of a maniac peers out. She startles us so that we stand transfixed. For a full minute the three of us stand there powerless to move or even to make an intelligent gesture. Back of the old hag I can see a kitchen table and on it lies a baby all undressed, a puny little brat no bigger than a plucked chicken. Finally the old one picks up a slop pail by her side and makes a move forward. We stand aside to let her pass and as the door closes behind her the baby lets out a piercing scream. It is room 56, and between 56 and 57 is the toilet where the old hag is emptying her slops.

我们顺着走廊朝五十七号房间走去,这时前面突然有一扇门开了,一个头发蓬乱、目光像疯子一样的老妖婆偷偷从门里窥视我们。她吓了我们一大跳,我们傻站在那儿,惊呆了。足足有一分钟,我们三个人站在那儿,一步也挪不动,甚至无法打一个有意义的手势。我看见老妖婆背后摆着一张厨桌,桌上躺着一个浑身赤裸裸的婴儿,这是一个比一只拔光毛的鸡大不了多少的小把戏,最后那老家伙拎起身边一只污水桶朝前跨了一步,我们闪到一边让她过去,门在她身后关上时里面的婴儿发出一声令人心碎的尖叫。这是五十六号房间,五十六与五十七之间是卫生间,老妖婆到那几倒脏水去了。

Ever since we have mounted the stairs Van Norden has kept silence. But his looks are eloquent. When he opens the door of 57 I have for a fleeting moment the sensation of going mad. A huge mirror covered with green gauze and tipped at an angle of 45 degrees hangs directly opposite the entrance over a baby carriage which is filled with books. Van Norden doesn't even crack a smile; instead he walks nonchalantly over to the baby carriage and picking up a book begins to skim it through, much as a man would enter the public library and go unthinkingly to the rack nearest to hand. And perhaps this would not seem so ludicrous to me if I had not espied at the same time a pair of handle bars resting in the corner.

我们一踏上楼梯范诺登便不吱声了,不过他的目光仍很动人。打开五十七号的房门后,在极短的一刹那间我觉得自己就要发疯了。一面大镜子上盖着绿纱、歪斜着呈四十五度角挂在门对面,镜子底下放着一部婴儿车,车上堆满了书。范诺登见到这些根本没有笑,他冷淡地走过去抓起一本书翻看了一遍,那副样子很像一个刚走进公共图书馆的人不假思索地走到离他最近的一个书架前去。若是这时我不曾无意问瞧见墙角里摆着一副自行车把,这也不会显得那么荒唐可笑。

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