第十章（第28/34页）

“当今世界对情感过于放纵，结果只能让它变得庸俗不堪。我们需要的是古典的约束。”“没错，”她缓缓地说，想到他听着收音机里的多愁善感的胡言乱语时，那张茫然空虚的面孔。“世人装出多情的模样，其实却冷酷无情。这多半是浪漫主义在作祟吧。”“一针见血！”他说。

As a matter of fact, he was tired. This evening had tired him. He would rather have been with his technical books, or his pit-manager, or listening-in to the radio.

事实上，他已经乏累不堪。这个夜晚让他精疲力竭。他宁可读点技术性书籍，给矿场的经理们训训话，或者听会儿收音机。

Mrs. Bolton came in with two glasses of malted milk: for Clifford, to make him sleep, and for Connie, to fatten her again. It was a regular night-cap she had introduced.

博尔顿太太走了进来，手拿两杯麦乳精，一杯给克利福德，为的是让他安然入睡，一杯给康妮，为的是让她更加丰盈。她来格拉比后，总会在晚间给主人准备这种饮品。

Connie was glad to go, when she had drunk her glass, and thankful she needn't help Clifford to bed. She took his glass and put it on the tray, then took the tray, to leave it outside.

康妮乐得离开克利福德，喝完麦乳精，庆幸自己不必服侍丈夫就寝。她拿起他的玻璃杯，放到托盘上，端着托盘，打算出去。

"Goodnight Clifford! DO sleep well! The Racine gets into one like a dream. Goodnight!" She had drifted to the door. She was going without kissing him goodnight. He watched her with sharp, cold eyes. So! She did not even kiss him goodnight, after he had spent an evening reading to her. Such depths of callousness in her! Even if the kiss was but a formality, it was on such formalities that life depends. She was a Bolshevik, really. Her instincts were Bolshevistic! He gazed coldly and angrily at the door whence she had gone. Anger!

“晚安，克利福德！睡个好觉！拉辛的诗让人恍若置身梦境。晚安！”她步履轻盈地向房门走去。她居然就这么走了，连晚安吻都没留给他。他望着她的背影，露出恶狠狠的冷冷的目光。好吧！他整晚都在为她读诗，可她道晚安时，竟然没有吻他。这个心如铁石的婆娘！即使亲吻只是种俗套，可生活恰恰就依赖于此类俗套。她简直跟布尔什维克无异。她生来就是个激进分子！他眼睁睁看着她走出房门，满脸冰霜，怒火中烧。怒撞顶梁！

And again the dread of the night came on him. He was a network of nerves, and when he was not braced up to work, and so full of energy: or when he was not listening-in, and so utterly neuter: then he was haunted by anxiety and a sense of dangerous impending void. He was afraid. And Connie could keep the fear off him, if she would. But it was obvious she wouldn't, she wouldn't. She was callous, cold and callous to all that he did for her. He gave up his life for her, and she was callous to him. She only wanted her own way. "The lady loves her will." Now it was a baby she was obsessed by. Just so that it should be her own, all her own, and not his!

可怕的暗夜再度让他惊惧交加。他只是神经网络构成的肉体而已，如果不全神贯注、干劲十足地投入工作，或者超然物外地聆听广播，他总是被焦虑攫住，感觉恐怖的空虚正步步紧逼。他害怕极了。而康妮恰恰是驱散恐惧的灵丹妙药，当然前提是她愿意如此。但显而易见的是，她不愿意，不情愿这样做。她果然心如铁石，对他所做的一切无动于衷。他将自己的生命交托于她，而她却熟视无睹。她只想按自己的意愿行事。“女人生来任性。”她满心想的都是孩子。她只想要自己的孩子，完全属于她自己，跟他毫无干系！

Clifford was so healthy, considering. He looked so well and ruddy in the face, his shoulders were broad and strong, his chest deep, he had put on flesh. And yet, at the same time, he was afraid of death. A terrible hollow seemed to menace him somewhere, somehow, a void, and into this void his energy would collapse. Energyless, he felt at times he was dead, really dead.

克利福德的身体还算健康。气色很好，面庞红润，双肩宽阔有力，胸膛厚实壮硕，甚至已经有些发福。可尽管如此，他对死亡的恐惧却有增无减。某处似乎存在着可怕的虚空，随时随刻威胁着他，一旦堕入这深渊，他的精力便会土崩瓦解。精力全失，有时他感觉自己早就死掉，殒命已久。

So his rather prominent pale eyes had a queer look, furtive, and yet a little cruel, so cold: and at the same time, almost impudent. It was a very odd look, this look of impudence: as if he were triumphing over life in spite of life. "Who knoweth the mysteries of the will—for it can triumph even against the angels—” But his dread was the nights when he could not sleep. Then it was awful indeed, when annihilation pressed in on him on every side. Then it was ghastly, to exist without having any life: lifeless, in the night, to exist.