第38章 儿子与情人 (1)

　　Sons and Lovers

　　《儿子与情人》是一部带有自传性质的长篇小说。

　　莫尔太太把儿子当作自己理想中的爱人，她照顾他，

　　抚养他，她做的一切，都超出了一位母亲所能做的。

　　她对儿子的这种爱，不是单纯的亲情之爱，更大程度

　　上来说是一种爱情的体现。而保罗，也在心目中把自

　　己的母亲当作了自己的爱人，以至于他觉得，只要他

　　母亲在，他在此生就不可能找到自己的爱人。因为这

　　个爱人就在他身边，那就是他的母亲。

　　[ 英] 戴维·赫伯特·劳伦斯（ D.H.Lawrence）

　　When he was twenty-three years old Paul sent in a

　　landscape to the winter exhibition at Nottingham Castle. Miss

　　Jordan had taken a good deal of interest in him，had invited him

　　to her house，where he met other artists. He was beginning to

　　grow ambitious.

　　One morning the postman came just as he was washing

　　in the scullery. Suddenly he heard a wild noise from his mother.

　　Rushing into the kitchen，he found her standing on the hearthrug

　　wildly waving a　letter and crying“ Hurrah!”as if she had gone

　　mad. He was shocked and frightened.

　　“Why，mother!”he exclaimed.

　　She flew to him，flung her arms round him for a moment，

　　then waved the letter，crying:

　　“Hurrah，my boy! I knew we should do it!

　　He was afraid of her — the small，severe woman with greying

　　hair suddenly bursting out in such frenzy. The postman came

　　running back，afraid something had happened. They saw his

　　tipped cap over the short curtains. Mrs. morel rushed to the door.

　　“His picture’s got first prize，Fred，”she cried，“and is sold

　　for twenty guineas.”

　　“My word，that’s something like!”said the young postman，

　　whom they had known all his life.

　　“And Major Moreton has bought it!”she cried.

　　“It looks like meanin’ something，that does，Mrs. Morel，”

　　said the postman，his blue eyes bright. He was glad to have

　　brought such a lucky letter. Mrs. Morel went indoors and sat

　　down，trembling. Paul was afraid lest she might have misread

　　the letter，and might be disappointed after all. He scrutinized it

　　once，twice. Yes，he became convinced it was true. Then he sat

　　down，his heart beating with joy.

　　“Mother!”he exclaimed.

　　“Didn’t I say we should do it!”she said，pretending she

　　was not crying.

　　He took the kettle off the fire and mashed the tea.

　　“You didn’t think，mother —”he began tentatively.

　　“No，my son — not so much — but I expected a good deal.”

　　“But not so much，”he said.

　　“No — no — but I knew we should do it.”

　　And then she recovered her composure，apparently at

　　least. He sat with his shirt turned back，showing his young

　　throat almost like a girl’s，and the towel in his hand，his hair

　　sticking up wet.

　　“Twenty guineas，mother! That’s just what you wanted to

　　buy Arthur out. Now you needn’t borrow any. It’ll just do.”

　　“Indeed，I shan’t take it all，”she said.

　　“But why?”

　　“Because I shan’t.”

　　“Well — you have twelve pounds，I’ll have nine.”

　　They cavilled about sharing the twenty guineas. She wanted

　　to take only the five pounds she needed. He would not hear of it.

　　So they got over the stress of emotion by quarreling.

　　Morel came home at night from the pit，saying:

　　“They tell me Paul’s got first prize for his picture，and sold it

　　to Lord Henry Bentley for fifty pound.”

　　“Oh，what stories people do tell ！”she cried.

　　“Ha!”he answered.“ I said I wor sure it wor a lie. But they

　　said tha’d told Fred hodgkisson.”

　　“As if I would tell him such stuff!”

　　Ha! assented the miner.

　　But he was disappointed nevertheless.

　　“It’s true he has got the first prize，”said Mrs. Morel.

　　The miner sat heavily in his chair.

　　“Has he，beguy!”he exclaimed.

　　He stared across the room fixedly.

　　“But as for fifty pounds — such nonsense!” she was silent

　　awhile“. Major Moreton bought it for twenty guineas，that’s true. ”

　　“Twenty guineas! Tha niver says! ”exclaimed Morel.

　　“Yes，and it was worth it. ”

　　“Ay!”he said.“ I don’t misdoubt it. But twenty guineas for

　　a bit of a paintin’as he knocked off in an hour or two!”

　　He was silent with conceit of his son. Mrs. Morel sniffed，as

　　if it were nothing.

　　“And when does he handle th’money?”asked the collier.

　　“That 1 couldn’t tell you When the picture is sent home，I

　　suppose.”

　　There was silence. Morel stared at the sugar-basin instead

　　of eating his dinner His black arm，with the hand all gnarled with

　　work，lay on the table. His wife pretended not to see him rub the

　　back of his hand across his eyes，nor the smear in the coal-dust

　　on his black face.

　　“Yes，an’that other lad’ud’a done as much if they hadna

　　ha’killed’im，”he said quietly.

　　The thought of William went through Mrs. Morel like a cold

　　blade. It left her feeling she was tired，and wanted rest.

　　Paul was invited to dinner at Mr Jordan’s. Afterwards he

　　said:

　　“Mother，I want an evening suit.”

　　“Yes，I was afraid you would，”she said. She was glad.

　　There was a moment or two of silence“ There’s that one of

　　William’s，”she continued，“that I know cost four pounds ten and

　　which he’d only worn three times. ”

　　“Should you like me to wear it，mother?”he asked.

　　“ Yes，I think it would fit you — at least the coat The trousers

　　would want shortening”

　　He went upstairs and put on the coat and vest Coming

　　down，he looked strange in a flannel collar and a flannel shirtfront，

　　with an evening coat and vest It was rather large.

　　“The tailor can make it right，”she said，smoothing her hand

　　over his shoulder“It’s beautiful stuff. I never could find in my

　　heart to let your father wear the trousers，and very glad I am now.”

　　And as she smoothed her hand over the silk collar she

　　thought of her eldest son. But this son was living enough inside

　　the clothes. She passed her hand down his back to feel him. He

　　was alive and hers. The other was dead.

　　He went out to dinner several times in his evening suit that

　　had been William’s. Each time his mother’s heart was firm with

　　pride and joy. He was started now. The studs she and the children

　　had bought for William were in his shirt-front ；he wore one of

　　William’s dress shirts. But he had an elegant figure. His face was

　　rough，but warm-looking and rather pleasing. He did not look

　　particularly a gentleman，but she thought he looked quite a man.