第十八章（第13/14页）

They were looking at the pictures in the studio, and Duncan kept his smallish brown eyes on the other man. He wanted to hear what the game-keeper would say. He knew already Connie's and Hilda's opinions.

一行人在工作室里欣赏画作，邓肯始终眯着棕色的小眼睛，打量着梅勒斯。他想听听梅勒斯的看法。对于希尔达姐妹的意见，他早就一清二楚。

"It is like a pure bit of murder," said Mellors at last; a speech Duncan by no means expected from a game-keeper.

“感觉有点像赤裸裸的谋杀。”梅勒斯终于给出自己的评价，而邓肯绝没想到区区一个守林人能够说出这番言论。

"And who is murdered?" asked Hilda, rather coldly and sneeringly.

“那被谋杀的是谁呀？”希尔达问，冷漠的口吻中带着揶揄。

"Me! It murders all the bowels of compassion in a man." A wave of pure hate came out of the artist. He heard the note of dislike in the other man's voice, and the note of contempt. And he himself loathed the mention of bowels of compassion. Sickly sentiment!

“我！人的怜悯之心完全被践踏。”画家听到梅勒斯的话，气不打一处来。他听出梅勒斯口气中的厌恶与鄙视。而他更反感别人提及怜悯之心这种话题。病态的情感！

Mellors stood rather tall and thin, worn-looking, gazing with flickering detachment that was something like the dancing of a moth on the wing, at the pictures.

梅勒斯站在那里，修长清瘦，面容憔悴，端详着画作的眼神不专注地来回闪跳，好像只展翅飞舞的蛾子。

"Perhaps stupidity is murdered; sentimental stupidity," sneered the artist.

“或许被谋杀的是愚蠢吧，只知感情用事的愚蠢。”邓肯讽刺道。

"Do you think so? I think all these tubes and corrugated vibrations are stupid enough for anything, and pretty sentimental. They show a lot of self-pity and an awful lot of nervous self-opinion, seems to me.” In another wave of hate the artist's face looked yellow. But with a sort of silent hauteur he turned the pictures to the wall.

“你这么认为吗？依我看，这些管子和螺旋体比任何东西都要愚蠢，更具备无病呻吟的特色。对我而言，它们简直就是自怜自哀，冥顽不灵的代表。”画家气得脸色蜡黄。但他仍保持着高傲的态度，一声不吭地将画作向墙壁翻转过去。

"I think we may go to the dining-room," he said. And they trailed off, dismally.

“我想咱们可以去用餐了。”他说。一行人鱼贯而出，气氛异常沉闷。

After coffee, Duncan said: "I don't at all mind posing as the father of Connie's child. But only on the condition that she'll come and pose as a model for me. I've wanted her for years, and she's always refused." He uttered it with the dark finality of an inquisitor announcing an auto da fe.

用过咖啡，邓肯开口道：“充当康妮孩子的父亲，我丝毫不会介意。但唯一的条件是，她得来画室做我的模特。这是我多年来梦寐以求的事情，但总是吃到闭门羹。”他声调低沉，不容置疑，像是位宣布火刑的宗教裁判官。

"Ah!" said Mellors. "You only do it on condition, then?" "Quite! I only do it on that condition." The artist tried to put the utmost contempt of the other person into his speech. He put a little too much.

“啊！”梅勒斯说。“只有答应这条件，你才能帮忙吗？”“没错！必须答应这条件。”画家试图在话语中表现出对梅勒斯的极端藐视。但他似乎做得有些过头。

"Better have me as a model at the same time," said Mellors. "Better do us in a group, Vulcan and Venus under the net of art. I used to be a blacksmith, before I was a game-keeper.” "Thank you," said the artist. "I don't think Vulcan has a figure that interests me.” "Not even if it was tubified and titivated up?" There was no answer. The artist was too haughty for further words.

“最好同时也请我做你的模特。”梅勒斯说。“最好把我俩画在一起，坠入艺术之网的伏尔甘（注：罗马神话中的火与锻造之神，维纳斯的丈夫）和维纳斯。做守林人之前，我当过铁匠呢。”“感激不尽。”画家回应道。“伏尔甘那身材我可不感兴趣。”“即便将它装扮得像根管子都不行吗？”邓肯没有回答。画家不屑于再跟梅勒斯攀谈。

It was a dismal party, in which the artist henceforth steadily ignored the presence of the other man, and talked only briefly, as if the words were wrung out of the depths of his gloomy portentousness, to the women.

晚餐时的气氛相当沉闷。邓肯始终没有再搭理梅勒斯，只是跟两位女士谈话，而且尽量做到言简意赅，仿佛那些语句是从他忧郁自负的深渊里挤出来的一般。