第六十二章
菲利普不甘心于听凭情欲的摆布。他知道，人生世事无一不似过眼烟云，自己的情欲早晚也会烟消云散的。他不胜翘企地期待这一天的到来。爱情好似依附在他心灵上的一条寄生虫，靠吮吸他的心血来维持那可恶的生命；爱情搞得他神魂颠倒，使他对生活中的其他事情一概失去了兴趣。过去，他喜欢去幽静典雅的圣詹姆士公园，常坐在那儿观赏蓝天衬映下的繁枝茂叶，其色泽之淡雅，轮廓之分明，宛如一幅日本版画。他也常去秀丽的泰晤士河河边，觉得在那驳船穿行、码头毗连的河上风光之中，自有一股令人百看不厌的魅力。此外，伦敦变幻不定的万里云天，更能激起他心灵的遐想。可如今，景色再美，他也无心恋及。只要不同米尔德丽德呆在一块儿，他就感到百无聊赖，坐立不安。有时候他去观赏画展，想借此排遣心中的愁思，结果却像观光的游客那样，在国家美术馆的画廊上匆匆而过，没有一幅画能在他心里激起感情的涟漪。他甚至怀疑，自己从前所迷恋过的那些事物，今后会不会再使自己感到兴趣。他过去手不释卷，乐此不疲，现在却觉得满纸荒唐，废话连篇。他一空下来，就钻进医学院俱乐部的吸烟室，一本接一本地浏览期刊杂志。这样的爱情实在是一种折磨，他怨恨自己竟会身陷其中而不能自拔。他成了樊笼中的囚犯，可他心中渴望着自由。
有时他早晨一觉醒来，只觉得心泰神安。他心灵涌起一阵狂喜，因为他相信自己终于挣脱了羁绊：他不再爱她了。哪知过了一会儿，等他神智完全清醒了，痛苦又重新潜入他心田，他明白自己的心病依然如故。尽管他如狂似醉地迷恋着米尔德丽德，可心底里却又对她十分鄙视。他暗暗对自己说：恐怕世界上再没有比这种既爱又嫌的矛盾感情更折磨人的了。
菲利普一向有解剖自我、探究内心感情的习惯。经过一段时间的反复盘算，他终于得出这样的结论：只有使米尔德丽德成为自己的情妇，才能摆脱卑劣情欲的折磨。他的痛苦乃在于肉欲得不到满足；倘若这一点得到了满足，说不定他就能挣脱那条束缚着他身心的、不堪忍受的锁链。他知道米尔德丽德在这方面对他丝毫不感兴趣。每当他发狂似地亲吻她的时候，她出于本能的厌恶，总是尽力挣脱开去。这个女人竟然一点不动春心。有时候他特意讲些在巴黎的风流艳遇，想借此激起她的醋劲，谁知她全然不感兴趣。还有一两回，他故意坐到其他餐桌上去同别的女招待打情骂俏，可她根本不把这当作一回事。菲利普看得出来，她倒不是在存心做作。
"今天下午我没光顾你的座儿，你不介意吧？"有一回他陪她去火车站时这么问。"你管的那几张桌子似乎全坐满了。"
这话并不符合事实，她也不屑点穿他。其实，就算她不把这种事儿放在心上吧，可要是她能装出几分计较的样子，菲利普也会心坏感激的。如果再说句把嗔怪的话，那对菲利普饱受创伤的心灵更是莫大的安慰了。
"我觉得你天天老钉着一张餐桌坐，够傻的。你是该光顾光顾其他姑娘的座儿嘛。"
菲利普越想越觉得眼前只有一条出路：只有叫她委身相就，自己才能获得身心的自由。他就像古时候中了妖术而变成怪兽的骑士，急于想找到那种能恢复自己健美人形的解药。菲利普仅存有一线希望。米尔德丽德很想去巴黎开开眼界。对于她，就像对于大多数英国人一样，巴黎乃是欢乐与时尚的中心。她听人谈起过卢佛尔商场，在那儿可以买到最时新的商品，价钱只及伦敦一半左右。她有位女友曾去巴黎度蜜月，在卢佛尔宫里消磨了一整天。在巴黎逗留期间，她同丈夫，我的老天呀，天天玩个通宵，不到早晨六点是决不肯上床睡觉的。还有"红磨坊"什么的，叫人说不清，道不尽。菲利普心想，哪怕她仅仅是为了实现去巴黎的宿愿才勉强委身相就，自己也不在乎。只要能满足自己的情欲，什么条件他都不计较。他甚至生出闹剧式的疯狂念头--想给她灌麻醉药。吃饭时，他一味地劝她喝酒，想借酒力来刺激她，可她偏偏不爱喝酒。每回进餐，她爱让菲利普点香槟酒，因为这种酒放在餐桌上挺有气派，而她喝下肚的从不超过半杯。她喜欢让大酒杯斟得满满的，然后原封不动地留在餐桌上。
"让跑堂的瞧瞧咱们是何等人物，"她说。
菲利普凑准她态度特别和顺的当口，把这事儿提了出来。三月底他参加解剖学考试。再过一星期就是复活节，到时候她有三个整天的假期。
"听我说，假期里你干吗不去跑一趟巴黎？"他提议说，"我们可以痛痛快快地玩它几天嘛。"
"玩得起吗？得花好大一笔钱呢。"
菲利普盘算过了，跑一趟巴黎少说也得花二十五镑。对他来说，确实是笔不小的款额。不过即使把所有的钱都花在她身上，他也心甘情愿。
"那算得了什么。你就答应了吧，我亲爱的。"
一你倒说说看，天底下还有什么比这更荒唐的事。我哪能没结婚就跟个男人往外乱跑！亏你想得出这么个馊主意。"
"那有什么大不了呢？"
他大谈特谈和平大街有多繁华，牧羊女舞剧场又是何等富丽堂皇。他绘形绘色把卢佛尔宫和廉价商场描述了一番。最后又着意提到仙阁酒家、修道院以及外国游客常去光顾的寻欢作乐之处。他把自己所鄙夷的巴黎那俗艳的一面，抹上了一层绚丽夺目的油彩。他一个劲地劝米尔德丽德跟他同往巴黎一游。
"听我说，你老是讲你爱我，爱我，要是你果真爱我，就该要我嫁给你。可你从来也没向我求过婚。"
"你知道我结不起婚啊。说到底，我还刚进大学读一年级。今后六年里我赚不到一个子儿。"
"噢，我只是说说罢了，没有责怪你的意思。即使你跪在我面前向我求婚，我也不会答应嫁给你的。"
他曾多次想到过结婚的事儿，他怎么也不敢贸然跨出这一步。早在巴黎的时候，他就形成了这样一种看法：男婚女嫁乃是市井之徒的荒谬习俗。他也知道，同她结下百年之好，定会断送掉他的前程。菲利普出于中产阶级的本能，认为娶一个女招待为妻，无异是冒天下之大不题。家里。放着个平庸的婆娘，体面人士岂肯上门求医。再从他目前的经济状况来看，他巴巴结结地过日子，尚可以勉强维持到他最终取得医生资格。要是结了婚，即使商定不生小孩，他也无力养活妻子。想到克朗肖如何把自己的命运同一个庸俗、邋遢的女人连结在一起，菲利普不由得心寒了。他完全可以预见到，爱慕虚荣、头脑平庸的米尔德丽德将来会成个何等样的角色。说什么也不能同这样的女人结合。在理智上他可以下这样的论断，然而在感情上却认为，哪怕是天塌地陷，也得把她占为己有。假如他非得同她结婚才能将她弄到手，那他就孤注一掷，干脆讨她做老婆，将来的事等到将来再说。哪怕到头来身败名裂，他也全不在乎。他脑子一经生出个念头，那就想赶也赶不跑。他像着了魔似的，其他的一切全可置于不顾。他还有一套不寻常的本事，凡是自己执意要做的事，他总能摆出各种各样的理由来，说得自己心安而又理得。现在，他也把自己所想到的那些反对这门婚事的正当理由，逐条逐条地推翻了。他只觉得自己一天比一天更加倾心于米尔德丽德；而那股得不到满足的情欲最后竟使他恼羞成怒。
"老天在上，要是哪天她当真做了我老婆，非得和她清算这笔帐，让她也来受受这份活罪，"他自言自语说。
最后，他再也忍受不住这种痛苦的折磨。一天晚上，在索霍区那家小饭馆吃过晚饭之后（现在他们已是那儿的常客了），菲利普对她说：
"哎，那天你说，即使我向你求婚，你也不会嫁给我的，此话可当真？"
"嗯，怎不当真？"
"我没有你实在没法活。我要你永远陪在我身边。我竭力摆脱，可就是摆脱不了。永远也办不到。我要你嫁给我。"
她曾读过许多小说，自然不会不知道该如何应付这种场面。
"我真的非常感激你，菲利普。承蒙您向我求婚，我真有点受宠若惊呢。"
"哦，别来这套废话。你愿意嫁给我的，是吗？"
"你觉得我们一起生活会幸福吗？"
"不会。但这又有何妨？"
这句话几乎是菲利普违背了自己的意愿，硬从牙缝里挤出来的。她听了不觉一惊。
"哟，你这人好怪。既然你那么想，干吗还要同我结婚？那天你不是说结不起婚的吗？"
"我想我还剩有一千四百镑的财产。两个人凑合着过日子，不见得比单身多花钱。咱们细水长流，那笔款子可以维持到我取得行医资格，然后再在医院里实习一段时间，我就能当上助理医师。"
"那就是说，这六年里你赚不到一个于儿。我们得靠四镑左右的钱过一个星期，是吗？"
"只有三镑多一点儿。我还得付学费呢。"
"你当上了助理医师，能有多少收入？"
"每周三镑。"
"你的意思是说，你长年累月地寒窗苦读，还把仅有的一点儿老本都给贴上了，到头来，却只能换到个每周三镑的收入？我看即使到那时候，我的日子也不见得会比现在好过些。"
菲利普一时语塞。
"这就是说你不愿嫁给我罗？"过了一会儿他嗓音嘶哑地问。"我对你的一片痴情，难道你觉得全无所谓？"
"在这些事情上，谁都免不了要为自己打算打算，不是吗？我不反对结婚，但如果结婚以后，境遇并不见得比眼前好，那我宁可不结婚。我看不出这样的婚事会有什么意思。"
"我看你根本不把我放在心上，否则你不会存这种想法。"
"大概是吧。"
菲利普哑口无言。他喝了一杯酒，想清清梗塞的喉管。
"瞧那个刚走出去的姑娘，"米尔德丽德说，"她穿的那身皮货，是在布里克斯顿的廉价商场里买的。上次我去那儿时在橱窗里看到过。"
菲利普冷冷一笑。
"你笑什么？"她问，"我说的一点不假。当时我还对我姨妈说过，我才不高兴买那种陈列在橱窗里的货色呢，你是花几个钱买下的，谁肚子里都雪亮。"
"真不懂你是什么意思。先是伤透了我的心，接着又七拉八扯地净说些毫不相干的废话。"
"瞧你尽跟我耍脾气，"她说，似乎像是蒙受了多大委屈似的。"我没法不去注意那件皮货，因为我对姨妈说过……"
"你对你姨妈说些什么关我屁事，"他不耐烦地打断她的话。
"我希望你对我说话的时候嘴里放干净些，菲利普，你知道我不爱听粗话。"
菲利普脸上露出一丝笑容，眼窝里却闪烁着怒火。他沉默了片刻，悻悻地瞅着她。对眼前的这个女人，他既恼恨又鄙视，可就是爱她。
"我要是还有一丝半点理智的话，无论如何也不会再想见你，"他终于忍不住这么说了。"但愿你能知道，就因为爱上你这样的女人，我可是打心底里瞧不起自己！"
"你这话冲着我说，恐怕不很得体吧，"她虎着脸说。
"是不得体，"他哈哈笑了。"让我们到派维莲凉亭去吧。"
"你这个人就是这么怪。偏偏在别人意想不到的时候冷不防笑起来。既然我让你那么伤心，你干吗还要带我去派维莲凉亭？"
"无非是因为同你分开要比同你待在一起更使我伤心。"
"我倒真想知道你究竟对我有怎么个看法。"
他纵声大笑。
"我亲爱的，你要是知道了我对你的看法，就再不愿意搭理我啦。"
philip did not surrender himself willingly to the passion that consumed him. he knew that all things human are transitory and therefore that it must cease one day or another. he looked forward to that day with eager longing. love was like a parasite in his heart, nourishing a hateful existence on his life’s blood; it absorbed his existence so intensely that he could take pleasure in nothing else. he had been used to delight in the grace of st. james’ park, and often he sat and looked at the branches of a tree silhouetted against the sky, it was like a japanese print; and he found a continual magic in the beautiful thames with its barges and its wharfs; the changing sky of london had filled his soul with pleasant fancies. but now beauty meant nothing to him. he was bored and restless when he was not with mildred. sometimes he thought he would console his sorrow by looking at pictures, but he walked through the national gallery like a sight-seer; and no picture called up in him a thrill of emotion. he wondered if he could ever care again for all the things he had loved. he had been devoted to reading, but now books were meaningless; and he spent his spare hours in the smoking-room of the hospital club, turning over innumerable periodicals. this love was a torment, and he resented bitterly the subjugation in which it held him; he was a prisoner and he longed for freedom.
sometimes he awoke in the morning and felt nothing; his soul leaped, for he thought he was free; he loved no longer; but in a little while, as he grew wide awake, the pain settled in his heart, and he knew that he was not cured yet. though he yearned for mildred so madly he despised her. he thought to himself that there could be no greater torture in the world than at the same time to love and to contemn.
philip, burrowing as was his habit into the state of his feelings, discussing with himself continually his condition, came to the conclusion that he could only cure himself of his degrading passion by making mildred his mistress. it was sexual hunger that he suffered from, and if he could satisfy this he might free himself from the intolerable chains that bound him. he knew that mildred did not care for him at all in that way. when he kissed her passionately she withdrew herself from him with instinctive distaste. she had no sensuality. sometimes he had tried to make her jealous by talking of adventures in paris, but they did not interest her; once or twice he had sat at other tables in the tea-shop and affected to flirt with the waitress who attended them, but she was entirely indifferent. he could see that it was no pretence on her part.
‘you didn’t mind my not sitting at one of your tables this afternoon?’ he asked once, when he was walking to the station with her. ‘yours seemed to be all full.’
this was not a fact, but she did not contradict him. even if his desertion meant nothing to her he would have been grateful if she had pretended it did. a reproach would have been balm to his soul.
‘i think it’s silly of you to sit at the same table every day. you ought to give the other girls a turn now and again.’
but the more he thought of it the more he was convinced that complete surrender on her part was his only way to freedom. he was like a knight of old, metamorphosed by magic spells, who sought the potions which should restore him to his fair and proper form. philip had only one hope. mildred greatly desired to go to paris. to her, as to most english people, it was the centre of gaiety and fashion: she had heard of the magasin du louvre, where you could get the very latest thing for about half the price you had to pay in london; a friend of hers had passed her honeymoon in paris and had spent all day at the louvre; and she and her husband, my dear, they never went to bed till six in the morning all the time they were there; the moulin rouge and i don’t know what all. philip did not care that if she yielded to his desires it would only be the unwilling price she paid for the gratification of her wish. he did not care upon what terms he satisfied his passion. he had even had a mad, melodramatic idea to drug her. he had plied her with liquor in the hope of exciting her, but she had no taste for wine; and though she liked him to order champagne because it looked well, she never drank more than half a glass. she liked to leave untouched a large glass filled to the brim.
‘it shows the waiters who you are,’ she said.
philip chose an opportunity when she seemed more than usually friendly. he had an examination in anatomy at the end of march. easter, which came a week later, would give mildred three whole days holiday.
‘i say, why don’t you come over to paris then?’ he suggested. ‘we’d have such a ripping time.’
‘how could you? it would cost no end of money.’
philip had thought of that. it would cost at least five-and-twenty pounds. it was a large sum to him. he was willing to spend his last penny on her.
‘what does that matter? say you’ll come, darling.’
‘what next, i should like to know. i can’t see myself going away with a man that i wasn’t married to. you oughtn’t to suggest such a thing.’
‘what does it matter?’
he enlarged on the glories of the rue de la paix and the garish splendour of the folies bergeres. he described the louvre and the bon marche. he told her about the cabaret du neant, the abbaye, and the various haunts to which foreigners go. he painted in glowing colours the side of paris which he despised. he pressed her to come with him.
‘you know, you say you love me, but if you really loved me you’d want to marry me. you’ve never asked me to marry you.’
‘you know i can’t afford it. after all, i’m in my first year, i shan’t earn a penny for six years.’
‘oh, i’m not blaming you. i wouldn’t marry you if you went down on your bended knees to me.’
he had thought of marriage more than once, but it was a step from which he shrank. in paris he had come by the opinion that marriage was a ridiculous institution of the philistines. he knew also that a permanent tie would ruin him. he had middle-class instincts, and it seemed a dreadful thing to him to marry a waitress. a common wife would prevent him from getting a decent practice. besides, he had only just enough money to last him till he was qualified; he could not keep a wife even if they arranged not to have children. he thought of cronshaw bound to a vulgar slattern, and he shuddered with dismay . he foresaw what mildred, with her genteel ideas and her mean mind, would become: it was impossible for him to marry her. but he decided only with his reason; he felt that he must have her whatever happened; and if he could not get her without marrying her he would do that; the future could look after itself. it might end in disaster; he did not care. when he got hold of an idea it obsessed him, he could think of nothing else, and he had a more than common power to persuade himself of the reasonableness of what he wished to do. he found himself overthrowing all the sensible arguments which had occurred to him against marriage. each day he found that he was more passionately devoted to her; and his unsatisfied love became angry and resentful.
‘by george, if i marry her i’ll make her pay for all the suffering i’ve endured,’ he said to himself.
at last he could bear the agony no longer. after dinner one evening in the little restaurant in soho, to which now they often went, he spoke to her.
‘i say, did you mean it the other day that you wouldn’t marry me if i asked you?’
‘yes, why not?’
‘because i can’t live without you. i want you with me always. i’ve tried to get over it and i can’t. i never shall now. i want you to marry me.’
she had read too many novelettes not to know how to take such an offer.
‘i’m sure i’m very grateful to you, philip. i’m very much flattered at your proposal.’
‘oh, don’t talk rot. you will marry me, won’t you?’
‘d’you think we should be happy?’
‘no. but what does that matter?’
the words were wrung out of him almost against his will. they surprised her.
‘well, you are a funny chap. why d’you want to marry me then? the other day you said you couldn’t afford it.’
‘i think i’ve got about fourteen hundred pounds left. two can live just as cheaply as one. that’ll keep us till i’m qualified and have got through with my hospital appointments, and then i can get an assistantship.’
‘it means you wouldn’t be able to earn anything for six years. we should have about four pounds a week to live on till then, shouldn’t we?’
‘not much more than three. there are all my fees to pay.’
‘and what would you get as an assistant?’
‘three pounds a week.’
‘d’you mean to say you have to work all that time and spend a small fortune just to earn three pounds a week at the end of it? i don’t see that i should be any better off than i am now.’
he was silent for a moment.
‘d’you mean to say you won’t marry me?’ he asked hoarsely. ‘does my great love mean nothing to you at all?’
‘one has to think of oneself in those things, don’t one? i shouldn’t mind marrying, but i don’t want to marry if i’m going to be no better off than what i am now. i don’t see the use of it.’
‘if you cared for me you wouldn’t think of all that.’
‘p’raps not.’
he was silent. he drank a glass of wine in order to get rid of the choking in his throat.
‘look at that girl who’s just going out,’ said mildred. ‘she got them furs at the bon marche at brixton. i saw them in the window last time i went down there.’
philip smiled grimly.
‘what are you laughing at?’ she asked. ‘it’s true. and i said to my aunt at the time, i wouldn’t buy anything that had been in the window like that, for everyone to know how much you paid for it.’
‘i can’t understand you. you make me frightfully unhappy, and in the next breath you talk rot that has nothing to do with what we’re speaking about.’
‘you are nasty to me,’ she answered, aggrieved. ‘i can’t help noticing those furs, because i said to my aunt...’
‘i don’t care a damn what you said to your aunt,’ he interrupted impatiently.
‘i wish you wouldn’t use bad language when you speak to me philip. you know i don’t like it.’
philip smiled a little, but his eyes were wild. he was silent for a while. he looked at her sullenly. he hated, despised, and loved her.
‘if i had an ounce of sense i’d never see you again,’ he said at last. ‘if you only knew how heartily i despise myself for loving you!’
‘that’s not a very nice thing to say to me,’ she replied sulkily.
‘it isn’t,’ he laughed. ‘let’s go to the pavilion.’
‘that’s what’s so funny in you, you start laughing just when one doesn’t expect you to. and if i make you that unhappy why d’you want to take me to the pavilion? i’m quite ready to go home.’
‘merely because i’m less unhappy with you than away from you.’
‘i should like to know what you really think of me.’
he laughed outright.
‘my dear, if you did you’d never speak to me again.’
