第十八章（第14/14页）

"You didn't like him, but he's better than that, really. He's really kind," Connie explained as they left.

“你不喜欢他，但实际上他的个性并非如此。他真的是个好人。”从邓肯家出来，康妮向梅勒斯解释着。

"He's a little black pup with a corrugated distemper," said Mellors.

“他像条患上螺纹狂热症的小黑狗。”梅勒斯说。

"No, he wasn't nice today.” "And will you go and be a model to him?" "Oh, I don't really mind any more. He won't touch me. And I don't mind anything, if it paves the way to a life together for you and me.” "But he'll only shit on you on canvas.” "I don't care. He'll only be painting his own feelings for me, and I don't mind if he does that. I wouldn't have him touch me, not for anything. But if he thinks he can do anything with his owlish arty staring, let him stare. He can make as many empty tubes and corrugations out of me as he likes. It's his funeral. He hated you for what you said: that his tubified art is sentimental and self-important. But of course it's true.”

“嗯，他今天确实有些讨人嫌。”“你会去给他做模特吗？”“噢，我已经无所谓了。他绝不会碰我。只要我们最终能走到一起，其他的都无所谓。”“但他会在画布上对你胡涂乱抹。”“我不在乎。他只会画出对我的感觉，那样的话，我就不会介意。我不会让他碰我分毫。可若是他认为仅用那对画家的直眼睛盯着我看，就能得到满足，那不妨让他看好了。他尽可以把我画成许多空管子还有螺纹。那是他的自由。他之所以讨厌你，就是因为你的那番言论：他画的管子只不过是无病呻吟，妄自尊大。不过当然这评价确实一针见血。”