双语·面纱 第五十八章
Two or three days later Waddington fetched Kitty from the convent (for her restlessness had induced her immediately to resume her work) and took her to drink the promised cup of tea with his mistress. Kitty had on more than one occasion dined at Waddington's house. It was a square, white, and pretentious building, such as the Customs build for their officials all over China; and the dining-room in which they ate, the drawing-room in which they sat, were furnished with prim and solid furniture. They had the appearance of being partly offices and partly hotel; there was nothing homelike in them and you understood that these houses were merely places of haphazard sojourn to their successive occupants. It would never have occurred to you that on an upper floor mystery and perhaps romance dwelt shrouded. They ascended a flight of stairs and Waddington opened a door. Kitty went into a large, bare room with whitewashed walls on which hung scrolls in various calligraphies. At a square table, on a stiff arm-chair, both of blackwood and heavily carved, sat the Manchu. She rose as Kitty and Waddington entered, but made no step forward.
“Here she is,” said Waddington, and added something in Chinese.
Kitty shook hands with her. She was slim in her long embroidered gown and somewhat taller than Kitty, used to the Southern people, had expected. She wore a jacket of pale green silk with tight sleeves that came over her wrists and on her black hair, elaborately dressed, was the head-dress of the Manchu women. Her face was coated with powder and her cheeks from the eyes to the mouth heavily rouged; her plucked eyebrows were a thin dark line and her mouth was scarlet. From this mask her black, slightly slanting, large eyes burned like lakes of liquid jet. She seemed more like an idol than a woman. Her movements were slow and assured. Kitty had the impression that she was slightly shy but very curious. She nodded her head two or three times, looking at Kitty, while Waddington spoke of her. Kitty noticed her hands; they were preternaturally long, very slender, of the color of ivory; and the exquisite nails were painted. Kitty thought she had never seen anything so lovely as those languid and elegant hands. They suggested the breeding of uncounted centuries.
She spoke a little, in a high voice, like the twittering of birds in an orchard, and Waddington, translating, told Kitty that she was glad to see her; how old was she and how many children had she got? They sat down on three straight chairs at the square table and a boy brought in bowls of tea, pale and scented with jasmine. The Manchu lady handed Kitty a green tin of Three Castles cigarettes. Beside the table and the chairs the room contained little furniture; there was a wide pallet bed on which was an embroidered head rest and two sandalwood chests.
“What does she do with herself all day long?” asked Kitty.
“She paints a little and sometimes she writes a poem. But she mostly sits. She smokes, but only in moderation, which is fortunate, since one of my duties is to prevent the traffic in opium.”
“Do you smoke?” asked Kitty.
“Seldom. To tell you the truth I much prefer whiskey.”
There was in the room a faintly acrid smell; it was not unpleasant, but peculiar and exotic.
“Tell her that I am sorry I cannot talk to her. I am sure we have many things to say to one another.”
When this was translated to the Manchu she gave Kitty a quick glance in which there was the hint of a smile. She was impressive as she sat, without embarrassment, in her beautiful clothes; and from the painted face the eyes looked out wary, self-possessed and unfathomable. She was unreal, like a picture, and yet had an elegance which made Kitty feel all thumbs. Kitty had never paid anything but passing and somewhat contemptuous attention to the China in which fate had thrown her. It was not done in her set. Now she seemed on a sudden to have an inkling of something remote and mysterious. Here was the East, immemorial, dark and inscrutable. The beliefs and the ideals of the West seemed crude beside ideals and beliefs of which in this exquisite creature she seemed to catch a fugitive glimpse. Here was a different life, lived on a different plane. Kitty felt strangely that the sight of this idol, with her painted face and slanting, wary eyes, made the efforts and the pains of the everyday world she knew slightly absurd. That colored mask seemed to hide the secret of an abundant, profound and significant experience: those long, delicate hands with their tapering fingers held the key of riddles undivined.
“What does she think about all day long?” asked Kitty.
“Nothing,” smiled Waddington.
“She's wonderful. Tell her I've never seen such beautiful hands. I wonder what she sees in you.”
Waddington, smiling, translated the question.
“She says I'm good.”
“As if a woman ever loved a man for his virtue,” Kitty mocked.
The Manchu laughed but once. This was when Kitty, for something to say, expressed admiration of a jade bracelet she wore. She took it off and Kitty, trying to put it on, found, though her hands were small enough, that it would not pass over her knuckles. Then the Manchu burst into childlike laughter. She said something to Waddington and called for an amah. She gave her an instruction and the amah in a moment brought in a pair of very beautiful Manchu shoes.
“She wants to give you these if you can wear them,” said Waddington. “You'll find they make quite good bedroom slippers.”
“They fit me perfectly,” said Kitty, not without satisfaction.
But she noticed a roguish smile on Waddington's face.
“Are they too big for her?” she asked quickly.
“Miles.”
Kitty laughed and when Waddington translated, the Manchu and the amah laughed also.
When Kitty and Waddington, a little later, were walking up the hill together, she turned to him with a friendly smile.
“You did not tell me that you had a great affection for her.”
“What makes you think I have?”
“I saw it in your eyes. It's strange, it must be like loving a phantom or a dream. Men are incalculable; I thought you were like everybody else and now I feel that I don't know the first thing about you.”
As they reached the bungalow he asked her abruptly:
“Why did you want to see her?”
Kitty hesitated for a moment before answering.
“I'm looking for something and I don't quite know what it is. But I know that it's very important for me to know it, and if I did it would make all the difference. Perhaps the nuns know it; when I'm with them I feel that they hold a secret which they will not share with me. I don't know why it came into my head that if I saw this Manchu woman I should have an inkling of what I am looking for. Perhaps she would tell me if she could.”
“What makes you think she knows it?”
Kitty gave him a sidelong glance, but did not answer. Instead she asked him a question.
“Do you know it?”
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
“Tao. Some of us look for the Way in opium and some in God, some of us in whiskey and some in love. It is all the same Way and it leads nowhither.”
两三天以后，威廷顿把凯蒂从修道院接了出来（因为她待在家里不踏实，所以马上又回去工作了），领着她去和他的情妇一起喝茶，因为这事他早就答应过她，而凯蒂从未去威廷顿家里吃过饭。那是一座四四方方、显得矫饰的白色房子，全中国海关给他们的官员建的房屋大抵都是这个样子。在餐厅里吃饭，在客厅里聊天，里面摆设着整洁和坚固的家具。这些房屋的外表看上去又像办公室，又像旅馆，而恰恰没有家的气氛，你能理解这些房子只不过是轮换的海关官员们临时的栖身之地。你脑子里绝不会涌现出这样的想法，这些屋子能有什么秘密，或许隐藏了某个爱情故事。他们爬上了一段楼梯，威廷顿打开了门。凯蒂走进一个很大的、空荡荡的房间，白灰刷的墙的四面悬挂着不同字体的书法条幅。四方桌的旁边是一把坚硬的扶手椅，桌椅都是红木的，雕刻着很多图案，椅子上坐着一位满族妇女，当凯蒂和威廷顿进屋的时候，她站起身来，但没有向前迈步迎接他们。
“这就是她。”威廷顿说道，又用中文说了几句话。
凯蒂和她握了手，女主人早已在等着他们了。她穿着南方妇女经常穿的刺绣的旗袍，身材苗条，比凯蒂还要高些。她上身还穿着一件淡绿色的真丝夹克衫，袖子在手腕处收紧。一头乌发，很精致地梳着，上面还有满族妇女常戴的头饰。脸上敷着厚厚的一层粉，从眼睛下面到嘴边的脸颊上涂着很重的胭脂，她修过的眉毛是一条黑线，而嘴唇抹得鲜红。在如同面具般的脸上，黑色的眼珠稍微有些斜视，一双大眼睛水汪汪的好像湖水流淌一般。她看上去更像是一个被人追逐的偶像，而不是普通人家的主妇。她的动作慢条斯理，但信心十足。她给凯蒂留下的印象是有点儿害羞，但她对凯蒂也很好奇。当威廷顿谈到她时，她会注视着凯蒂，点两三下头。凯蒂也注意到了她的手，双手修长，手指纤细，颜色如象牙一般，精致的指甲涂着色。凯蒂思忖她从来没有见过这么可爱、慵懒和优雅的手，它们暗示着有上百年贵族血统的教养。
她说话不多，但音调较高，就像果园中鸟儿叽叽喳喳的声音，而威廷顿在一旁翻译着，告诉凯蒂她很高兴见到她，她还问凯蒂多大了，有几个孩子了。他们坐在四方桌边的三把椅子上，仆人端上来三碗茶，淡淡的，散发着茉莉花的清香。这位满族女士又递给凯蒂一个绿色锡制烟盒的“三炮台”牌香烟。除了桌子、椅子，房间里几乎没有什么家具。卧室里有一张宽宽的硬板床，上面有一个刺绣的枕头，以及两个檀香木的柜子。
“她成天自己一个人待着都干点儿什么呀？”凯蒂问道。
“她有时画画，有时写诗，但大部分时候都坐着，她抽鸦片烟，但幸亏抽得不多，因为我的职责之一就是阻止鸦片走私。”
“你也抽鸦片吗？”凯蒂问道。
“很少抽，跟你说实话，我更爱喝威士忌。”
房间里有着淡淡的刺鼻的味道，并非难闻，只是有点儿特殊和异国的情调。
“告诉她我很抱歉不能跟她交谈，我敢肯定我们有很多事情可以告诉对方。”
当这句话翻译给满族女士听的时候，她很快地瞥了凯蒂一眼，眼中有一丝笑意。她的坐姿给人印象很深，落落大方，她穿着美丽的衣服，化了妆的脸上目光警觉、沉着和高深莫测。她是不真实的，就像一幅画像，然而身上的那种气定神闲和优雅精致让凯蒂觉得自己笨手笨脚的。命运之神把凯蒂带到了中国，但她从来没怎么关注过这里，觉得自己只是个过客，甚至对这里的一切有点嗤之以鼻，并没有完全融入这里的生活。现在突然之间她好像略微了解了这里的某些遥远而神秘的东西，这就是东方，古老、黑暗和神秘莫测。西方的信仰和理念与东方的相比，显得如此粗俗。这种比较，可以从这位精致的女人身上窥见一斑。这儿有着不同的生活，与西方在不同的层面上。凯蒂觉得很奇怪，从这位如偶像般的女人身上，从她涂脂抹粉的脸上和斜视的、警觉的目光中，凯蒂原来所了解的日常生活中的种种努力和苦痛，都显出了些许的荒诞。在彩色的面具之下，似乎隐藏着丰富、深刻和更有意义的生活体验的秘密，而那双细长的纤纤玉手则握着不解之谜的钥匙。
“她一整天都会思考什么？”凯蒂问道。
“什么也不想。”威廷顿笑着说。
“她真的很漂亮，告诉她，我从来没见过一双这么美丽的手。我很奇怪她看上了你什么。”
威廷顿笑着把这个问题翻译给了她听。
“她说我很不错的。”
“就像女人永远会因为男人的品行而爱上他一样。”凯蒂嘲弄地说道。
这个满族女人破天荒地笑出声过一次。凯蒂为了打破沉默，说她非常喜欢这个女人戴在手上的玉镯。她把它从手腕上褪下来，而凯蒂想把它戴在手上时，却发现虽然她的手足够小，但镯子无法穿过关节处。这时，满族女人爆发出了孩子般的笑声。她对威廷顿说了些什么，然后叫一个女仆上来，跟她交代了一句，女仆不一会儿就拿来了一双非常漂亮的满族特有样式的布鞋。
“如果你能穿下，她想把这双鞋送给你。”威廷顿说道，“你会发现这鞋作为卧室穿的拖鞋非常合适。”
“肯定会很合适。”凯蒂满意地说道，但是她注意到威廷顿脸上掠过一丝调皮的微笑。
“这鞋对她来说太大吗？”她很快问道。
“可不是一星半点儿的大。”
凯蒂笑出了声，当威廷顿把这话翻译过去时，满族女士和女仆也都笑了起来。
凯蒂和威廷顿一起向山上走去，过了一会儿，她转过身，向他露出友好的微笑。
“你还没告诉我，你也特别爱她吧。”
“什么情况让你有这种想法？”
“我从你眼中看出来的，很奇怪，它就像喜欢一个幻影或一个梦境。男人们是不可估量的。我原来以为你和其他人一样，但现在我觉得有点儿摸不透你了。”
当他们到达平房时，他突然向她发问。
“你为什么想见她？”
凯蒂在张口之前，犹豫了一下。
“我正在寻找某个东西，但又不十分清楚它是什么。我知道搞清楚它对我来说很重要，如果我明白了，一切都会大不同。也许修女们知道它，当我和她们在一起时，我能感觉到她们保守着这个秘密，又不愿意告诉我。我不知道为什么突然有了种念头，如果我能见到这个满族女士，我应该能够摸索到我苦苦追寻的东西的踪迹。或许她能告诉我这个东西是什么。”
“你怎么就认为她能知道这个东西是什么呢？”
凯蒂从侧面看了他一眼，但没有回答，反而又问了他一个问题。
“你知道它是什么吗？”
他笑了，耸了耸肩膀。
“也许是‘道’吧，有的人从鸦片中寻找，有的人从上帝那儿寻找，有的人从威士忌中寻找，有的人从爱情中寻找。但最终都一样，它引导我们去了乌有乡。”
