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underworld/['ʌndəwə:ld]/ n. 下層社會, 地獄, 下流社會...

馬丁·伊登(MARTIN EDEN)第四十二章

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One day Martin became aware that he was lonely. He was healthy and strong, and had nothing to do. The cessation from writing and studying, the death of Brissenden, and the estrangement from Ruth had made a big hole in his life; and his life refused to be pinned down to good living in cafes and the smoking of Egyptian cigarettes. It was true the South Seas were calling to him, but he had a feeling that the game was not yet played out in the United States. Two books were soon to be published, and he had more books that might find publication. Money could be made out of them, and he would wait and take a sackful of it into the South Seas. He knew a valley and a bay in the Marquesas that he could buy for a thousand Chili dollars. The valley ran from the horseshoe, land- locked bay to the tops of the dizzy, cloud-capped peaks and contained perhaps ten thousand acres. It was filled with tropical fruits, wild chickens, and wild pigs, with an occasional herd of wild cattle, while high up among the peaks were herds of wild goats harried by packs of wild dogs. The whole place was wild. Not a human lived in it. And he could buy it and the bay for a thousand Chili dollars.

The bay, as he remembered it, was magnificent, with water deep enough to accommodate the largest vessel afloat, and so safe that the South Pacific Directory recommended it to the best careening place for ships for hundreds of miles around. He would buy a schooner - one of those yacht-like, coppered crafts that sailed like witches - and go trading copra and pearling among the islands. He would make the valley and the bay his headquarters. He would build a patriarchal grass house like Tati's, and have it and the valley and the schooner filled with dark-skinned servitors. He would entertain there the factor of Taiohae, captains of wandering traders, and all the best of the South Pacific riffraff. He would keep open house and entertain like a prince. And he would forget the books he had opened and the world that had proved an illusion.

To do all this he must wait in California to fill the sack with money. Already it was beginning to flow in. If one of the books made a strike, it might enable him to sell the whole heap of manuscripts. Also he could collect the stories and the poems into books, and make sure of the valley and the bay and the schooner. He would never write again. Upon that he was resolved. But in the meantime, awaiting the publication of the books, he must do something more than live dazed and stupid in the sort of uncaring trance into which he had fallen.

He noted, one Sunday morning, that the Bricklayers' Picnic took place that day at Shell Mound Park, and to Shell Mound Park he went. He had been to the working-class picnics too often in his earlier life not to know what they were like, and as he entered the park he experienced a recrudescence of all the old sensations. After all, they were his kind, these working people. He had been born among them, he had lived among them, and though he had strayed for a time, it was well to come back among them.

"If it ain't Mart!" he heard some one say, and the next moment a hearty hand was on his shoulder. "Where you ben all the time? Off to sea? Come on an' have a drink."

It was the old crowd in which he found himself - the old crowd, with here and there a gap, and here and there a new face. The fellows were not bricklayers, but, as in the old days, they attended all Sunday picnics for the dancing, and the fighting, and the fun. Martin drank with them, and began to feel really human once more. He was a fool to have ever left them, he thought; and he was very certain that his sum of happiness would have been greater had he remained with them and let alone the books and the people who sat in the high places. Yet the beer seemed not so good as of yore. It didn't taste as it used to taste. Brissenden had spoiled him for steam beer, he concluded, and wondered if, after all, the books had spoiled him for companionship with these friends of his youth. He resolved that he would not be so spoiled, and he went on to the dancing pavilion. Jimmy, the plumber, he met there, in the company of a tall, blond girl who promptly forsook him for Martin.

"Gee, it's like old times," Jimmy explained to the gang that gave him the laugh as Martin and the blonde whirled away in a waltz. "An' I don't give a rap. I'm too damned glad to see 'm back. Watch 'm waltz, eh? It's like silk. Who'd blame any girl?"

But Martin restored the blonde to Jimmy, and the three of them, with half a dozen friends, watched the revolving couples and laughed and joked with one another. Everybody was glad to see Martin back. No book of his been published; he carried no fictitious value in their eyes. They liked him for himself. He felt like a prince returned from excile, and his lonely heart burgeoned in the geniality in which it bathed. He made a mad day of it, and was at his best. Also, he had money in his pockets, and, as in the old days when he returned from sea with a pay-day, he made the money fly.

Once, on the dancing-floor, he saw Lizzie Connolly go by in the arms of a young workingman; and, later, when he made the round of the pavilion, he came upon her sitting by a refreshment table. Surprise and greetings over, he led her away into the grounds, where they could talk without shouting down the music. From the instant he spoke to her, she was his. He knew it. She showed it in the proud humility of her eyes, in every caressing movement of her proudly carried body, and in the way she hung upon his speech. She was not the young girl as he had known her. She was a woman, now, and Martin noted that her wild, defiant beauty had improved, losing none of its wildness, while the defiance and the fire seemed more in control. "A beauty, a perfect beauty," he murmured admiringly under his breath. And he knew she was his, that all he had to do was to say "Come," and she would go with him over the world wherever he led.

Even as the thought flashed through his brain he received a heavy blow on the side of his head that nearly knocked him down. It was a man's fist, directed by a man so angry and in such haste that the fist had missed the jaw for which it was aimed. Martin turned as he staggered, and saw the fist coming at him in a wild swing. Quite as a matter of course he ducked, and the fist flew harmlessly past, pivoting the man who had driven it. Martin hooked with his left, landing on the pivoting man with the weight of his body behind the blow. The man went to the ground sidewise, leaped to his feet, and made a mad rush. Martin saw his passion-distorted face and wondered what could be the cause of the fellow's anger. But while he wondered, he shot in a straight left, the weight of his body behind the blow. The man went over backward and fell in a crumpled heap. Jimmy and others of the gang were running toward them.

Martin was thrilling all over. This was the old days with a vengeance, with their dancing, and their fighting, and their fun. While he kept a wary eye on his antagonist, he glanced at Lizzie. Usually the girls screamed when the fellows got to scrapping, but she had not screamed. She was looking on with bated breath, leaning slightly forward, so keen was her interest, one hand pressed to her breast, her cheek flushed, and in her eyes a great and amazed admiration.

The man had gained his feet and was struggling to escape the restraining arms that were laid on him.

"She was waitin' for me to come back!" he was proclaiming to all and sundry. "She was waitin' for me to come back, an' then that fresh guy comes buttin' in. Let go o' me, I tell yeh. I'm goin' to fix 'm."

"What's eatin' yer?" Jimmy was demanding, as he helped hold the young fellow back. "That guy's Mart Eden. He's nifty with his mits, lemme tell you that, an' he'll eat you alive if you monkey with 'm."

"He can't steal her on me that way," the other interjected.

"He licked the Flyin' Dutchman, an' you know HIM," Jimmy went on expostulating. "An' he did it in five rounds. You couldn't last a minute against him. See?"

This information seemed to have a mollifying effect, and the irate young man favored Martin with a measuring stare.

"He don't look it," he sneered; but the sneer was without passion.

"That's what the Flyin' Dutchman thought," Jimmy assured him. "Come on, now, let's get outa this. There's lots of other girls. Come on."

The young fellow allowed himself to be led away toward the pavilion, and the gang followed after him.

"Who is he?" Martin asked Lizzie. "And what's it all about, anyway?"

Already the zest of combat, which of old had been so keen and lasting, had died down, and he discovered that he was self- analytical, too much so to live, single heart and single hand, so primitive an existence.

Lizzie tossed her head.

"Oh, he's nobody," she said. "He's just ben keepin' company with me."

"I had to, you see," she explained after a pause. "I was gettin' pretty lonesome. But I never forgot." Her voice sank lower, and she looked straight before her. "I'd throw 'm down for you any time."

Martin looking at her averted face, knowing that all he had to do was to reach out his hand and pluck her, fell to pondering whether, after all, there was any real worth in refined, grammatical English, and, so, forgot to reply to her.

"You put it all over him," she said tentatively, with a laugh.

"He's a husky young fellow, though," he admitted generously. "If they hadn't taken him away, he might have given me my hands full."

"Who was that lady friend I seen you with that night?" she asked abruptly.

"Oh, just a lady friend," was his answer.

"It was a long time ago," she murmured contemplatively. "It seems like a thousand years."

But Martin went no further into the matter. He led the conversation off into other channels. They had lunch in the restaurant, where he ordered wine and expensive delicacies and afterward he danced with her and with no one but her, till she was tired. He was a good dancer, and she whirled around and around with him in a heaven of delight, her head against his shoulder, wishing that it could last forever. Later in the afternoon they strayed off among the trees, where, in the good old fashion, she sat down while he sprawled on his back, his head in her lap. He lay and dozed, while she fondled his hair, looked down on his closed eyes, and loved him without reserve. Looking up suddenly, he read the tender advertisement in her face. Her eyes fluttered down, then they opened and looked into his with soft defiance.

"I've kept straight all these years," she said, her voice so low that it was almost a whisper.

In his heart Martin knew that it was the miraculous truth. And at his heart pleaded a great temptation. It was in his power to make her happy. Denied happiness himself, why should he deny happiness to her? He could marry her and take her down with him to dwell in the grass-walled castle in the Marquesas. The desire to do it was strong, but stronger still was the imperative command of his nature not to do it. In spite of himself he was still faithful to Love. The old days of license and easy living were gone. He could not bring them back, nor could he go back to them. He was changed - how changed he had not realized until now.

"I am not a marrying man, Lizzie," he said lightly.

The hand caressing his hair paused perceptibly, then went on with the same gentle stroke. He noticed her face harden, but it was with the hardness of resolution, for still the soft color was in her cheeks and she was all glowing and melting.

"I did not mean that - " she began, then faltered. "Or anyway I don't care."

"I don't care," she repeated. "I'm proud to be your friend. I'd do anything for you. I'm made that way, I guess."

Martin sat up. He took her hand in his. He did it deliberately, with warmth but without passion; and such warmth chilled her.

"Don't let's talk about it," she said.

"You are a great and noble woman," he said. "And it is I who should be proud to know you. And I am, I am. You are a ray of light to me in a very dark world, and I've got to be straight with you, just as straight as you have been."

"I don't care whether you're straight with me or not. You could do anything with me. You could throw me in the dirt an' walk on me. An' you're the only man in the world that can," she added with a defiant flash. "I ain't taken care of myself ever since I was a kid for nothin'."

"And it's just because of that that I'm not going to," he said gently. "You are so big and generous that you challenge me to equal generousness. I'm not marrying, and I'm not - well, loving without marrying, though I've done my share of that in the past. I'm sorry I came here to-day and met you. But it can't be helped now, and I never expected it would turn out this way."

"But look here, Lizzie. I can't begin to tell you how much I like you. I do more than like you. I admire and respect you. You are magnificent, and you are magnificently good. But what's the use of words? Yet there's something I'd like to do. You've had a hard life; let me make it easy for you." (A joyous light welled into her eyes, then faded out again.) "I'm pretty sure of getting hold of some money soon - lots of it."

In that moment he abandoned the idea of the valley and the bay, the grass-walled castle and the trim, white schooner. After all, what did it matter? He could go away, as he had done so often, before the mast, on any ship bound anywhere.

"I'd like to turn it over to you. There must be something you want - to go to school or business college. You might like to study and be a stenographer. I could fix it for you. Or maybe your father and mother are living - I could set them up in a grocery store or something. Anything you want, just name it, and I can fix it for you."

She made no reply, but sat, gazing straight before her, dry-eyed and motionless, but with an ache in the throat which Martin divined so strongly that it made his own throat ache. He regretted that he had spoken. It seemed so tawdry what he had offered her - mere money - compared with what she offered him. He offered her an extraneous thing with which he could part without a pang, while she offered him herself, along with disgrace and shame, and sin, and all her hopes of heaven.

"Don't let's talk about it," she said with a catch in her voice that she changed to a cough. She stood up. "Come on, let's go home. I'm all tired out."

The day was done, and the merrymakers had nearly all departed. But as Martin and Lizzie emerged from the trees they found the gang waiting for them. Martin knew immediately the meaning of it. Trouble was brewing. The gang was his body-guard. They passed out through the gates of the park with, straggling in the rear, a second gang, the friends that Lizzie's young man had collected to avenge the loss of his lady. Several constables and special police officers, anticipating trouble, trailed along to prevent it, and herded the two gangs separately aboard the train for San Francisco. Martin told Jimmy that he would get off at Sixteenth Street Station and catch the electric car into Oakland. Lizzie was very quiet and without interest in what was impending. The train pulled in to Sixteenth Street Station, and the waiting electric car could be seen, the conductor of which was impatiently clanging the gong.

"There she is," Jimmy counselled. "Make a run for it, an' we'll hold 'em back. Now you go! Hit her up!"

The hostile gang was temporarily disconcerted by the manoeuvre, then it dashed from the train in pursuit. The staid and sober Oakland folk who sat upon the car scarcely noted the young fellow and the girl who ran for it and found a seat in front on the outside. They did not connect the couple with Jimmy, who sprang on the steps, crying to the motorman:-

"Slam on the juice, old man, and beat it outa here!"

The next moment Jimmy whirled about, and the passengers saw him land his fist on the face of a running man who was trying to board the car. But fists were landing on faces the whole length of the car. Thus, Jimmy and his gang, strung out on the long, lower steps, met the attacking gang. The car started with a great clanging of its gong, and, as Jimmy's gang drove off the last assailants, they, too, jumped off to finish the job. The car dashed on, leaving the flurry of combat far behind, and its dumfounded passengers never dreamed that the quiet young man and the pretty working-girl sitting in the corner on the outside seat had been the cause of the row.

Martin had enjoyed the fight, with a recrudescence of the old fighting thrills. But they quickly died away, and he was oppressed by a great sadness. He felt very old - centuries older than those careless, care-free young companions of his others days. He had travelled far, too far to go back. Their mode of life, which had once been his, was now distasteful to him. He was disappointed in it all. He had developed into an alien. As the steam beer had tasted raw, so their companionship seemed raw to him. He was too far removed. Too many thousands of opened books yawned between them and him. He had exiled himself. He had travelled in the vast realm of intellect until he could no longer return home. On the other hand, he was human, and his gregarious need for companionship remained unsatisfied. He had found no new home. As the gang could not understand him, as his own family could not understand him, as the bourgeoisie could not understand him, so this girl beside him, whom he honored high, could not understand him nor the honor he paid her. His sadness was not untouched with bitterness as he thought it over.

"Make it up with him," he advised Lizzie, at parting, as they stood in front of the workingman's shack in which she lived, near Sixth and Market. He referred to the young fellow whose place he had usurped that day.

"I can't - now," she said.

"Oh, go on," he said jovially. "All you have to do is whistle and he'll come running."

"I didn't mean that," she said simply.

And he knew what she had meant.

She leaned toward him as he was about to say good night. But she leaned not imperatively, not seductively, but wistfully and humbly. He was touched to the heart. His large tolerance rose up in him. He put his arms around her, and kissed her, and knew that upon his own lips rested as true a kiss as man ever received.

"My God!" she sobbed. "I could die for you. I could die for you."

She tore herself from him suddenly and ran up the steps. He felt a quick moisture in his eyes.

"Martin Eden," he communed. "You're not a brute, and you're a damn poor Nietzscheman. You'd marry her if you could and fill her quivering heart full with happiness. But you can't, you can't. And it's a damn shame."

"'A poor old tramp explains his poor old ulcers,'" he muttered, remembering his Henly. "'Life is, I think, a blunder and a shame.' It is - a blunder and a shame."

那天,馬丁意識到了自己的寂寞。他身強力壯,卻無所事事。寫作和學習停止了,布里森登死了,露絲跟他吹了,他的生命被戳了個洞而他又不肯把生活固定在悠悠閑閑坐咖啡館抽埃及煙的模式上。不錯,南海在召喚他,但是他有一種感覺:美國的游戲還沒有做完。他有兩本書快要出版,還有更多的書就會找到出版的機會,還有錢可賺,他想等一等,然后帶一大口袋金幣到南海去。他知道瑪奎撤思群島有一個峽谷和一道海灣,用一千智利元就可以買到。那道峽谷從被陸地包圍的馬蹄鐵形海灣開始直到白云緣繞的令人暈眩的峰頂,約有一萬英畝,滿是熱帶水果、野雞、野豬,偶然還會出現野牛群。在山巔上還有受到一群群野狗騷擾的成群的野羊。那兒整個是渺無人煙的荒野,而他用一千智利元就能買到。

他記得那海灣,它風景壯麗,波闊水深,連最大的船只都可以非常安全地出入?!赌咸窖笾改稀钒阉扑]為周圍幾百英里之內最好的船舶檢修處。他打算買一艘大帆船——像游艇的、銅皮包裹的、駕駛起來像有巫術指揮的大帆船,用它在南海諸島之間做椰子干生意,也采珍珠。他要把海灣和峽谷當作大本營,要修建一幢塔提家的那種草屋,讓那草屋、峽谷和大帆船里滿是皮膚黝黑的仆人。他要在那兒宴請泰欣黑的商務代辦、往來的商船船長和南太平洋流浪漢中的頭面人物。他要大宴賓客,來者不拒,像王公貴族一樣。他要忘掉自己讀過的書,忘掉書里那個其實是虛幻的世界。

為了辦到這一切,他必須在加利福尼亞呆下去,讓口袋里塞滿了錢——錢已經開始汩汩地流來了。只要一本書走了紅,他就可能賣掉他全部作品的手稿。他還可以把小說和詩歌編成集子出版,保證把那峽谷、海灣和大帆船買到手。他決不再寫東西了,這是早已決定了的。但是在等著他的書出版的時候,他總得有點事做,不能像現在這樣渾渾噩噩呆頭呆腦,什么都不在乎地過日子。

有個星期天早上他聽說砌磚工野餐會那天要在貝陵公園舉行,就到那兒去了。他早年參加過多次工人階級的野餐會,當然知道情況。他一走進公園,往日的快樂辛酸便重新襲來。這些勞動人民畢竟是他的同行,他是在他們之間出生和長大的,雖然曾和他們分手,但畢竟已回到了他們之中。

“這不是馬丁嗎?”他聽見有人說,接著就有一只親切的手落到他肩上,“你這么久到哪兒去了?出海了么?來,喝一杯?!?br>
他發現自己又回到老朋友之間。還是那群老朋友,只是少了幾個舊面孔,多了幾張新面孔。有些人并不是砌磚工,但是跟以前一樣來參加星期天野餐,來跳舞,打架,尋開心。馬丁跟他們一起喝酒,重新覺得像個現實世界的人了。他覺得自己真傻,當初怎么會離開了他們呢?他非??隙ㄈ绻麤]有去讀書,沒有去和那些高層人物廝混,而是一直跟這些人在一起,他會要幸福得多。但是,那啤酒的味道卻似乎變了,沒有從前那么可口了。他的結論是:布里森登敗壞了他對高泡沫啤酒的胃口。他又在猜想,看來書本已經破壞了他跟這些少時的朋友之間的友誼。他決心不那么嬌氣,便到舞廳去跳舞。他在那兒遇見了水暖工吉米跟一個金頭發白皮膚的高挑個兒的姑娘在一起。那姑娘一見馬丁便丟下吉米,來和他跳。

“噴噴,還是跟從前一樣,”馬丁和那姑娘一圈一圈跳起華爾茲來,大家對吉米一笑,吉米解釋道,“我才他媽媽的不在乎呢,馬丁回來了,我高興得要命。你看他跳華爾茲,滑溜溜的,像綢緞一樣。難怪姑娘們喜歡他?!?br>
但是馬丁卻把那金發姑娘還給了吉米。三個人便和六七個朋友站在一起,看著一對對的舞伴打旋子,彼此開著玩笑,快活著。大家看見馬丁回來都很高興。在他們眼里他并沒有出版什么書,身上也沒有什么虛構的價值,大家喜歡他,都只因為他本人。他覺得自己像個流放歸來的王子,寂寞的心沐浴在真情實愛之間,又含苞欲放了。他狂歡極樂,表現得出類拔萃。而且,他口袋里有錢,恣意地揮霍著,就像當年出海歸來剛發了工資一樣。

有一回他在舞池里見到了麗齊·康諾利,一個工人正摟著她從他身邊舞過;后來他在舞場里跳舞,又見她坐在一張小吃桌邊。一番驚訝與招呼過去,他便領她去到草場——在那兒他們可以不必用高聲談話來壓倒音樂。他剛一開始說話,她就已經成了他的人,這他很明白。她那又自卑又傲慢的眼神,她那得意揚揚的身姿的柔媚動作,她聽他說話時那專注的神情,在在流露出了這一點。她再也不是他以前所認識的那個姑娘了,現在她已成了個女人。馬丁注意到,她那大膽而野性的美有了進步。野性如故,但那大膽和火辣卻醇和了些?!懊廊?,絕色的美人,”馬丁傾倒了,對自己低聲喃喃地說。而他卻明白地屬于他,他只需要說一聲“來”,她就會乖乖地跟隨他走到天涯海角。

這些念頭剛閃過,他的腦袋右面就挨了重重一擊,幾乎被打倒在地。那是一個男人的拳頭,打得太憤怒,也太急,原想打他的腮幫,卻打偏了。馬丁一個趔趄,轉過身子,見那拳頭又狠狠飛來,便順勢一彎腰,那一拳落了空,那人身子卻旋了過去,馬丁左手一個勾拳,落到正旋轉的人身上,拳頭加上旋轉力使那人側著身子倒到了地上。那人翻身跳起,又瘋狂地撲了上來。馬丁看到了他那氣急敗壞的臉色,心里納悶,是什么事讓他這么大發脾氣?可同時左手又揮出了一個直拳,全身力氣都壓了上去。那人往后倒地,翻了個個兒,癱倒在那里。人群中的吉米和其他人急忙向他們跑來。

馬丁全身激動。往昔的日子又回來了:尋仇結恨、跳舞、打架。說說笑笑。他一面拿眼睛盯著對手,一面看了麗齊一眼。平時一打架,女人們都會尖叫,可是麗齊沒有叫,她只是身子微微前傾,大氣不出地專心看著,一只手壓在胸前,面色酡紅,眼里放著驚訝和崇拜的光。

那人已經站起身來,掙扎著要摔脫拽住他的幾條胳臂。

“她是在等我回來!”他對大家解釋道,“她在等我回來,可這個新到的家伙卻來插上一腳。放了我,告訴你們,我得教訓他一頓?!?br>
“你憑什么東西生氣?”吉米在幫著拉架,問道,“這人是馬丁·伊登,拳頭厲害著呢,告訴你吧,你跟他鬧別扭,他能把你活活吃了?!?br>
“我不能讓他就那么把她偷走,”對方插嘴道。

“他連荷蘭飛人也吃掉了的,你總認識荷蘭飛人吧,”吉米繼續勸解,“他五個回合就把荷蘭飛人打趴下了。你跟他干不了一分鐘的,懂嗎?”

這番勸告起了緩解的作用,那氣沖沖的年輕人瞪大眼睛打量了馬丁一會兒。

“他看起來可不像,”他冷笑了,但笑得沒多大力氣。

“當初荷蘭飛人也是那么想的,”吉米向他保證,“好了,咱們別再提這事了。姑娘多的是,算了吧?!?br>
那青年接受了勸告,往舞場去了,一群人跟著他。

“他是誰?”馬丁問麗齊,“他這么鬧是什么意思,究竟?”

畢竟當年對打架的那種強烈的、執著的狂熱已經過去,他發現自己太愛做自我分析,他是再也無法像那樣心地單純、獨來獨往、原始野蠻地活下去了。

麗齊腦袋一甩。

“啊,他誰也不是,”她說,“不過陪陪我罷了?!?br>
“我得有人陪著,你看,”她停了一會兒,說道,“我越來越感到寂寞,不過我從來沒有忘記你?!彼拖侣曇?,眼睛直勾勾望著前面?!盀榱四阄译S時可以把他扔掉?!?br>
馬丁望著她那扭到一邊的頭。他明白他只需要一伸手,就可以把她攬過來。但他卻沉思了:他心里只在懷疑文雅的合乎語法的英語究竟有什么真正的價值,沒有答腔。

“你把他打了個落花流水,”她笑了笑,試探著說。

“不過他倒也是個結實的小伙子,”他坦率地承認,“要不是叫別人勸走了,他也能給我不小的麻煩呢?!?br>
“那天晚上我看見你和一個女的在一起,那是誰?”她突然問道。

“啊,一個女朋友,”他答道。

“那已是很久很久以前了,”她沉思著說,“好像有一千年了呢?!?br>
但是馬丁沒有接那個話碴,卻把談話引上了別的渠道。他們在餐館吃了午飯。他叫來了酒和昂貴精美的食品,吃過便和她跳舞。他再不跟別人跳,只跟她跳,直跳到她筋疲力盡為止。他跳得很好,她跟他一圈一圈地跳著,感到天堂般地幸福。她的頭偎在他肩上,恨不得無窮無盡地跳下去。下午他們鉆進了樹林。她在樹林里坐了下來,讓他按古老的良好習俗躺著,把頭枕在她膝頭上,攤開了四肢。他躺在那兒打盹,她用手撫摩著他的頭發,低頭看他閉上的眼睛,盡情地撫愛著他。他突然睜開眼一看,看出了她滿臉的柔情。她的目光往下一閃,張了開來,帶著不顧一切的溫情直望著他的眼睛。

“我這幾年一直都規規矩矩,”她說,聲音很低,幾乎像說悄悄話。

馬丁從心里知道那是一個奇跡般的事實。一種巨大的誘惑從他心里升起。他是有能力讓她幸福的。他自己雖得不到幸福,可他為什么不能讓她幸福呢?他可以和她結婚,然后帶她到瑪奎撒思那干草打墻的堡壘去住。這個愿望很強,但更強的是他那不容分說地否定那愿望的天性。盡管他并不愿意,他仍然忠實于愛情。往日那種放縱輕狂的日子已經過去。他變了——直到現在他才知道自己的變化有多大。

“我不是結婚過日子的人,麗齊,”他淡淡地說。

那撫摩著他頭發的手明顯地停止了活動,然后又溫柔地撫摩起來。他注意到她的臉色僵硬了,卻是下定了決心的僵硬,因為她面頰上還有溫柔的紅暈,仍然陶醉,仍然容光煥發。

“我不是那意思,”她剛開口又猶豫了,“或者說我一向就不在乎。

“我不在乎,”她重復說,“我只要能做你的朋友,就已感到驕傲。為了你我什么事都可以做。我看這就是我天生的命?!?br>
馬丁坐起身子,抓住了她的手,勉強地,有溫暖但沒有熱情。而那溫暖卻叫她心涼了。

“咱倆別談這個了吧,”她說。

“你是個高貴的女人,很了不起,”他說,“應該是我為認識你而驕傲,而我確實感到驕傲,很驕傲。你是我漆黑一團的世界里的一線光明。我對你應當規規矩矩,就像你一向規規矩矩一樣?!?br>
“你對我規不規矩我不在乎,你可以愿對我怎么樣就怎么樣,在這個世界上只有你才可以這樣做。你可以把我甩到地上,再踩在我身上。在這個世界上我只準你這么做,”她的眼光又問出什么都不在乎的光芒?!拔覐男【妥⒁獗Wo自己,可沒有白保護?!?br>
“正因為你如此我才不能輕率,”他溫情脈脈地說,“你是個好姑娘,心地寬厚,也叫我心地寬厚。我不打算結婚,因此不打算光戀愛不結婚,雖然以前那么做過。我很抱歉今天到這里來遇見了你,可現在已經無可奈何。我從沒有想到會出現這樣的局面。

“可是,聽我說,麗齊,我不能告訴你我開始時有多喜歡你,我不僅是喜歡,而且是佩服你,尊敬你。你非常出色,而且善良得非常出色??墒枪庾焐险f有什么用?不過,我還想做一件事。你生渾一直困難,我想讓你過得好一些。(此時麗齊眼里閃出了歡樂的光彩,卻隨即暗淡了,)我有把握很快就會得到一筆錢——很多?!?br>
在那一瞬間他已放棄了峽谷、海灣、草墻堡壘和那漂亮的白色大帆船。說到底那些東西又算得了什么?他還可以像以前一貫那樣,去當水手,無論上什么船、上什么地方都行。

“我想把那錢送給你。你總想得到點什么東西吧——上中學呀,上商業學院呀,可能想學學速記吧,我都可以為你安排。也許你的父母還健在——我可以讓他們開個雜貨店什么的。一切都可以,你只要說出來我都可以給你辦到?!?br>
她坐著,默不作聲,眼睛直勾勾地望著前面,沒有眼淚,一動不動,喉頭卻疼痛起來,那便咽的聲音能夠聽見,馬丁猜到了,動了感情,喉頭也不禁疼痛起來。他懊悔說了剛才的話。比起她向他奉獻的東西,他的奉獻好像太粗俗——不過是金錢罷了,那本是可以隨便放棄而不關痛癢的身外之物,而她向他奉獻的卻是她自己,隨之而來便是恥辱、難堪。罪孽,甚至是進人天堂的希望。

“不談了吧,”她說著哽咽了,裝作是咳嗽,站起身來?!八懔?,我們回家去吧,我太疲倦了?!?br>
一天已經過去,尋歡作樂的人們差不多全走光了。但是馬丁和麗齊走出林子時卻發現有群人還在等著,馬丁立即明白了那意思:快要出亂子了。那群人是他的??~。他們一起從公園大門走了出去,而另一群人卻三三兩兩跟在后面,那是麗齊的小伙子糾合來報復奪女友之恨的。幾個警察和特別警官怕出亂子,也跟在后面,準備隨時制止。然后兩撥人便分別上了去舊金山的火車。馬丁告訴吉米他要在十六路站下車,再轉去奧克蘭的電車。麗齊非常安靜,對逼人而來的騷亂漠不關心?;疖囘M了十六路站,等在那兒的電車已經在望;售票員已在不耐煩地敲著鑼。

“電車已經到了,”吉米給他出主意,“沖過去,我們擋住他們?,F在就走!沖上車去!”

尋仇的人群見了這局面一時不知如何是好,緊接著便下了火車沖了上來。坐在車上的清醒平靜的奧克蘭乘客并沒有注意到有那么個小伙子和一個姑娘跑來趕車,而且在靠外的一面找到了座位;也沒有把他們跟吉米聯系起來,吉米已跳上踏板,向駕駛員叫著:——

“合電鍘,老兄,開出去!”

緊接著吉米便猛地一旋,乘客們看見他一拳打在一個要想跳上車來的人臉上,但是沿著整個電車的一側已有許多拳頭打在了許多臉上。吉米和他的那伙人沿著長長的臺階排成了一排,迎擊了進攻的人。電車在一聲響亮的鑼聲中開動了。吉米的人趕走了最后的襲擊者,又跳下車去結束戰斗。電車沖向前去,把一片混亂的大打出手丟到了遠處。目瞪口呆的乘客們做夢也沒有想到坐在靠外的角落里座位上的那個文靜的青年和漂亮的女工會是這番騷亂的原因。

馬丁剛才還很欣賞這一番打斗,往日那斗毆的刺激又回到了他胸中。不過那感覺迅速消失,一種巨大的悲涼壓上了他心頭。他覺得自己非常老邁了——比這批無憂無慮逍遙自在的往日的游伴老了許多個世紀。他已經走得太遠,再也回來不了。他們這種生活方式當年也是他的生活方式,可現在它卻叫他興味素然。他對這一切都感到失望,他已經成了個局外人?,F在高泡沫啤酒已經淡而無昧,跟他們的友誼也一樣淡而無味了。他和他們距離太遠,在他和他們之間成千上萬翻開的書本形成了巨大的鴻溝。他把自己流放了出去。他在遼闊的智慧的王國里漫游得太遠,已經無法返回??闪硪环矫嫠麉s還是人,他群居的天性和對友誼的需求仍然渴望滿足。他并沒有得到新的歸宿,他那幫朋友不可能了解他,他的家人不可能了解他,資產階級不可能了解他,就是他身邊這個他很尊重的姑娘也不可能了解他。她也不可能了解他對她的尊重。他思前想后,心里的悲涼之中并非沒有糅合進了辛酸。

“跟他和好吧,”分手時他勸麗齊,這時他倆已來到了六號路和市場街附近她所居住的工人棚屋前。他指的是那被他侵犯了地位的青年。

“我做不到——現在做不到了,”她說。

“啊,做到吧,”他歡歡喜喜地說,“你只要吹一聲口哨他就會趕快跑來的?!?br>
“我不是那意思,”她簡單地說。

他明白她的意思了。

他正打算道聲晚安,她卻向他偎依過來。偎依得并不迫切,也不挑逗,卻是一往情深而卑躬屈節。他從心底里受到了感動。一種寬厚的容忍之情從他心底油然而生,他伸出雙臂擁抱了她,吻了她,他明白那壓在他唇上的吻是人類所能得到的最真誠的吻。

“我的上帝呀!”她抽泣起來,“我可以為你死去,為你死去?!?br>
她突然從他身邊掙扎開了,跑上了臺階。他限里立即感到一陣潮潤。

“馬丁·伊登,”他思考著,“你并不是野獸,可你是個他媽的可憐的尼采信徒。你應該娶了她的,你應該讓她那顫栗的心充滿幸福??赡戕k不到,辦不到。真他媽的丟臉?!?br>
“‘可憐的老流浪漢解釋他那可憐的老潰瘍說,’”他想起了他的詩人亨雷,喃喃地說道,“‘在我看來,生命是一個大錯誤,一種恥辱?!_實——一個大錯誤,一種恥辱?!?
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