第十三章（第14/15页）

"You are very elegant in your speech, Lady Chatterley!" "I assure you, you were very elegant altogether out there in the wood. I was utterly ashamed of you. Why, my father is ten times the human being you are: you GENTLEMAN!” He reached and rang the bell for Mrs. Bolton. But he was yellow at the gills.

“这番演说真是精彩绝伦，查泰莱夫人！”“我敢担保，你在林中的演讲才算得上绝妙呢。我真替你害臊。哎呀，说到待人以善，我父亲比你胜强十倍，你这位高贵的绅士！”他按铃召唤博尔顿太太。可两颊已经气得蜡黄。

She went up to her room, furious, saying to herself: "Him and buying people! Well, he doesn't buy me, and therefore there's no need for me to stay with him. Dead fish of a gentleman, with his celluloid soul! And how they take one in, with their manners and their mock wistfulness and gentleness. They've got about as much feeling as celluloid has.” She made her plans for the night, and determined to get Clifford off her mind. She didn't want to hate him. She didn't want to be mixed up very intimately with him in any sort of feeling. She wanted him not to know anything at all about herself: and especially, not to know anything about her feeling for the keeper. This squabble of her attitude to the servants was an old one. He found her too familiar, she found him stupidly insentient, tough and indiarubbery where other people were concerned.

她火冒三丈，上楼回到房间，嘴里还念叨着：“那家伙，只知道用钱买人！幸亏，他没有买下我，所以我也没有义务跟他继续过下去。死鱼般的绅士，明胶做成的灵魂！他们最擅长的就是行骗，装出温文尔雅、多愁善感、和蔼可亲的样子。他们跟明胶没什么不同，根本没有任何感情。”她谋划着晚上如何出去，决定将克利福德抛诸脑后。她并不想恨他。她不想在感情上跟他有任何瓜葛。她不想他知晓自己的事情，尤其是自己对守林人的感情。因为她对待仆从的态度，两人早就争吵过多次。他觉得她太容易亲近，她认为他对其他人过于无情，麻木不仁地就像块橡胶。

She went downstairs calmly, with her old demure bearing, at dinner-time. He was still yellow at the gills: in for one of his liver bouts, when he was really very queer.— He was reading a French book.

晚餐时间已到，她气定神闲地走下楼来，保持着旧日端庄娴静的仪态。而他两腮的颜色依然没有改变，他的确很不舒服时，就势必遭受肝火的折磨——他正在读一本法语书。

"Have you ever read Proust?" he asked her.

“你读过普鲁斯特（注：1871-1922，法国作家）的作品吗？”他问道。

"I've tried, but he bores me.” "He's really very extraordinary.” "Possibly! But he bores me: all that sophistication! He doesn't have feelings, he only has streams of words about feelings. I'm tired of self-important mentalities.” "Would you prefer self-important animalities?” "Perhaps! But one might possibly get something that wasn't self-important.” "Well, I like Proust's subtlety and his well-bred anarchy.” "It makes you very dead, really." "There speaks my evangelical little wife." They were at it again, at it again! But she couldn't help fighting him. He seemed to sit there like a skeleton, sending out a skeleton's cold grizzly will against her. Almost she could feel the skeleton clutching her and pressing her to its cage of ribs. He too was really up in arms: and she was a little afraid of him.

“读过，可实在太无趣了。”“他的确非常优秀。”“可能吧！但却让我感到很沉闷，通篇都是强词夺理的语句！他的作品缺乏感情色彩，只是将描写感情的语句堆叠起来。我受够了这种妄自尊大的心态。”“你宁愿选择自以为是的兽性？”“或许吧！还是要点不那么自以为是的东西好。”“呵，普鲁斯特的作品充满微妙的情感，以及高雅的无政府主义情结，我欣赏的正是这些。”“那会让你变得死气沉沉，此话当真。”“我的小传教士夫人又开始讲道了。”他俩再度开始争吵，吵个没完没了！但她就是忍不住，非要跟他争辩。他坐在那里，就像具骷髅，向她发出骷髅冰冷阴郁的意志。她觉得这骷髅快要将她攫住，塞进自己肋骨间的空洞里。他也摆出应战的架势，而她还真惧他三分。

She went upstairs as soon as possible, and went to bed quite early. But at half past nine she got up, and went outside to listen. There was no sound. She slipped on a dressing-gown and went downstairs. Clifford and Mrs. Bolton were playing cards, gambling. They would probably go on until midnight.

她抽冷子脱了身，返回楼上，早早就上床休息。可九点半的时候，她悄悄起身，踱到房间外面，听着动静。声息皆无。她穿好睡衣，轻手轻脚地下了楼。克利福德和博尔顿太太正在赌牌。他俩可能要继续到午夜时分。