First one There were five of them, all with frighteningly broad shoulders; they drank on their elbows at a table in a dark cabin that smelled of salt and sea.Compared with their stature, the cabin was too short, and one end was narrowed down, like the belly of a sea gull hollowed out.The cabin shook slightly, and let out a monotonous sigh, which was so slow that it made people fall asleep. Outside, it should be sea and night, but nothing can be seen from inside.The only exit was from the top of the cabin, closed with a wooden cover, illuminated by an old swinging chandelier. Fires were lit in the stoves, toasting their damp clothes, giving off steam mingled with the smell of earthen pipes.

A clumsy table took up the whole of the living room, leaving just enough room for a man to slip in and sit on a narrow wooden box against the oak planks; behind them, what appeared to be cots dug out of thick square logs, stood open like graves for the dead.All the walls are old and rough, corroded by moisture and salt water, and smoothed by their hands over time. They drank wine and cider from their respective bowls, and raw joy lit up their honest, frank faces.Now they sat around the table, talking in Breton dialect about women and marriage. On the innermost wainscot, in a place of great reverence, nailed to a small board was a terracotta Madonna, patron saint of sailors, somewhat worn, and the art of coloring still primitive.The earthen figures were much older than the living ones, yet her red and blue dress gave an impression of freshness against the gray tones of the hut.She must have heard fervent prayers more than once in times of distress, and at her feet were pinned two bouquets of fake flowers and a rosary.

All five of them were dressed exactly alike, with thick blue sweaters wrapped tightly around the waist and tucked into the waistbands of their trousers, and sulva (the name of the southwestern wind that brings instant rain to our northern hemisphere) on their heads. Oilcloth rain hat. They are of different ages.The captain was about forty; the other three were between twenty-five and thirty.There was another, who was called Sylvester or Luerlu, who was only seventeen years old.In terms of stature and strength, he was already comparable to a grown man; his cheeks were covered with a black, thin and curly beard; but he still retained a pair of blue-gray child's eyes, very gentle, Full of childishness.

Due to the small space, they were tightly packed together. They curled up in the dark small room like this, but they seemed to feel real happiness. Outside, it should be the sea and night, the endless sigh of the black and deep water.A bronze clock hanging on the wall pointed to eleven o'clock, which was undoubtedly eleven o'clock at night. It was close to the ceiling, and the sound of rain could be heard outside. They told each other cheerfully about their marital affairs, but nothing indecent.They talked about unmarried people's wedding plans, or anecdotes at wedding receptions back home.Sometimes they laugh and drop a few overtly candid hints about the enjoyment of love.But love is always holy to those who have been tried so hard, and it is still pure even when it is spoken naked.

By this time Sylvester was getting impatient because another man named John (pronounced Jann in Breton) had not come down. Really, where is Yang En?Have you been working on it?Why not come down to their extravaganza? However, it was almost midnight.said the captain. As he spoke, he stood up, lifted the wooden cover with his head, and called Yang En from the entrance of the cave.Then a strange light cascaded down from above. Yang En!Yang En!Hey, where are people? Someone outside responded rudely. The light that came in through the momentarily half-open hole was so pale it was almost daylight.It was nearly midnight, but it was indeed like the light of the sun, as if it were the twilight light reflected from some mysterious mirror at a great distance.

The opening of the cave was closed again, it was still night, the small chandelier flickered with yellow light again, and everyone heard people wearing clumsy wooden shoes coming down the wooden ladder. He came in, hunched over like a bear because of his size.As soon as he came in, he pinched his nose and made a face, because the smell of salt was too pungent. His figure is slightly larger than ordinary people's size, especially the broad shoulders, which are as straight as a wooden pole; when viewed from the front, the muscles of the shoulders bulge under the blue sweater, forming two spherical shapes at the upper ends of the arms.His big brown eyes were very mobile, showing a reckless and haughty expression.

Sylvester put his arms around Yang En and pulled him towards him tenderly and childishly.Sylvester is his future brother-in-law and has always treated him like a big brother.And he let himself be caressed with the look of a noble lion, showing his white teeth and smiling kindly. The place where his teeth are placed in his mouth seems to be wider than others, so the teeth are a bit sparse and appear very small.His blond beard, never cut, but not very long, rolled tightly into two symmetrical curls above his finely contoured lips, and then at the ends, on either side of the deeply recessed corners of his mouth. Let loose.The rest of the beard was clean-shaven.On his rosy cheeks there was only a new layer of down, like the down of untouched fruit.

After Yang En sat down, everyone poured wine again, and called the little apprentice sailor to help them fill their pipes and light their cigarettes. This job of filling a pipe is equivalent to letting the little sailor smoke a couple of puffs.He was a strong, round-faced little fellow, who was a little kin to the sailors who were all related to each other; and despite the heavy workload, he was still the pampered child of the ship.Yang En let him drink some wine from his own cup, and then sent him to bed. Then, everyone picked up the big topic about marriage. And you?Young, asked Sylvester, when will you have the wedding?

You are not ashamed, the captain said, a young man like you is twenty-seven and not married yet, what will the girls think when they see you? Yang En shook his frightening broad shoulders, assumed a posture of contempt for women, and replied: For my wedding, I will do it at night; other times are also fine, it depends on the situation. This Yann had just completed five years of military service, and he had learned French as a gunner in the fleet, and he had acquired a set of skeptical arguments.Now he was talking about his latest marriage, which seemed to have lasted for a fortnight. That was in Nantes, the same showgirl thing.One night, returning from a sea trip, he broke into a theater somewhat drunk.At the door of the theatre, a woman was selling large bouquets for a louis (that is, twenty francs).He bought a bouquet and didn't really think about what it would be used for, but as soon as he entered the theater, he pointed at the woman who was singing on the stage and threw the flowers vigorously, half as a gesture of sudden love, and half as a gesture to him. The taunt of the big doll who thought it was painted too red.The woman was struck down by the bouquet on the spot; and she fell in love with him for nearly three weeks afterwards.

On my departure, he said, she even gave me this gold watch. In order to let everyone see the watch, he threw it on the table as if it were an insignificant gadget. Things are described with rude words and his unique image language, but for these people in the ancient state, this ordinary story of civilized life seems very incongruous. What they can feel is the sea around them. There was a deep silence; what they glimpsed was the midnight light that poured down from the cabin roof with the feeling of an arctic summer. Yang En's behavior and speech made Sylvester both surprised and sad.He was a pure child, brought up by his old grandmother in an environment that respected the sacraments.The old grandmother was the widow of a fisherman in the inner village of Prubala.When Sylvester was very young, he went to his mother's grave with his grandmother every day, knelt down and wrote a prayer.The cemetery was on a cliff, and from there he could see in the distance the gray waves of the English Channel that had killed his father.His grandmother and he were very poor, and he had to go fishing very early, and his childhood was spent at sea.He still says his prayers every night, and his eyes retain a religious innocence.He was also pretty, and besides Yang En, he was the best looking guy on board.His voice was soft, and his childish tone seemed a little out of proportion to his tall stature and black beard.Because he had grown so fast, he was almost a little apprehensive about how tall and strong he had suddenly become.He planned to marry Yang En's sister soon, but he never paid attention to the teasing of other girls.

On the boat, they had only three berths in total, and two people had a bed, so they could only sleep in shifts at night. It was past twelve o'clock at midnight by the time they finished their feast of feasting in honor of their patron saint, the Feast of the Assumption.Three of them slipped to sleep in the little black den like a tomb, and the other three returned to the deck to resume their interrupted fishing work. These three were Young, Sylvester, and a man named Ji Yaom's fellow countryman. It is light outside, and it will always be light. But it was a pale, pale, nothing-like light that fell listlessly on objects like the reflection of a setting sun.All around them, a vast space without any color appeared at once, and everything except their planks seemed translucent, impalpable, and ethereal. The naked eye can hardly distinguish the shape of the sea, and it looks like a trembling mirror that can't reflect any image at close range; at a distance, it looks like a plain filled with mist; at a distance, there is nothing, nothing. Outlines also have no margins. The damp and cool air is colder than the real cold, and it invades the skin. When you breathe, you can smell a strong salty smell.Everything was silent and the rain stopped.In the sky, the invisible and colorless clouds seemed to harbor this inexplicable latent light; one could see things and still be aware that it was night, and there was no slight difference in the paleness of all these things. The three men who stood there had grown up on this cold sea, in this shadowy, visionary wonderland, and had grown accustomed to seeing the ever-changing events that took place around their narrow cabin.Their eyes got used to it all like the eyes of seabirds. The boat rocked slowly on the spot, always uttering the same sigh, monotonously like a Breton song sung over and over in sleep.Young and Sylvester quickly got hooks and lines ready while the other opened a bucket of salt, sharpened his machete, and sat behind them to wait. It won't take long.No sooner had they cast their lines into the still cold water than they lifted the fish, gray and heavy, shining like knives of steel. Lively sturgeon were caught one after another, and they fished silently, with neat and uninterrupted movements.Another dissected the fish with his big knife, flattened it, salted it, and counted it, so that the salted fish for them to go back to make a fortune piled up behind them, wet and fresh. Time passed monotonously, and in the vast and empty space outside, the light slowly changed; it seemed more realistic now, the gray and white twilight, like summer dusk in the extreme north, now crossed the middle of the night, into something like The sight of the dawn is reflected in rose-colored ripples by all the gleams of the sea. You should indeed be married, Jan, said Sylvester suddenly, this time in a very serious tone, gazing at the water. (It seems he was well aware that someone in Brittany was attracted to his big brother's brown eyes, but he was too shy to touch on the big subject.) Me!Soon, one day, yes, I will be married.This Yang En, always so arrogant, he rolled his flexible eyes and said with a smile, but not with any girl from his hometown; no, I, I want to marry Hai, and I will invite everyone on board to my party prom They continued fishing because no time should be wasted chatting, they were caught in a huge school of fish that was migrating and two full days hadn't passed. None of them slept the night before, and in thirty hours they had hooked a thousand fat sturgeon; so the strong arms were tired and the men drowsy.Only their bodies are still awake, and they continue to fish mechanically, while their minds drift from time to time in a state of sleep.The air of the sea they breathe, as clean as it was in the world's beginning, is invigorating, so that in spite of fatigue they feel open-minded and radiant. The morning light, the true light, came at last; as at the beginning of the chaos, this light was separated from the darkness, and gathered in the sky, forming an extremely thick mass; After entering the dark night, I found that the original light was as vague and strange as a dream. Here and there were cracks in the sky covered with thick clouds, like skylights in the round roof, and streaks of rosy silver light came out from the cracks. The clouds below formed a dark band around the whole water, and the distance was covered with darkness and obscurity.The cloud makes one feel that space has been sealed off, demarcated; it is like a curtain drawn across the sky, like a veil that has been opened to conceal the great and disturbing secrets. This morning, around the small wooden boat carrying Yang En and Sylvester, the ever-changing outside world presented an infinitely solemn scene, the scene of deploying into a temple, and the beams of light penetrating from the vault of the hall , long in the still water, as in a balustraded courtyard in front of a church.Then, gradually another wonder appeared in the distance: a rose-red tooth-shaped cliff rose high, this is the gloomy Icelandic headland. Yang Eun and Hae get married!While continuing to fish, Sylvester thought over and over again, but dared not say anything more.It displeased him to hear his elder brother make jokes about the sanctity of marriage; especially since he was still superstitious, and he felt a sense of dread from it. He has been thinking about Yang En's marriage for so long, and he is looking forward to Yang En and Gott.What a joy it would be for a fair-haired girl from Mayville Paimpol to be able to attend their wedding before her military service, before this five-year exile that may not survive!Thinking that this inevitable exile was approaching day by day, his heart tightened. At four o'clock in the morning, the other three people who were sleeping below came to change shifts together.They were still somewhat sleepy, and while taking a deep breath of the chilly fresh air, they came up to put on their boots, and because they thought the reflection of the white light was dazzling, they all closed their eyes. Young En and Sylvester hurriedly nibbled some dry bread for breakfast; they smashed the bread with a wooden board, and then chewed it loudly, and they couldn't help laughing that the bread was so hard stand up.The thought of going down to sleep and being warm in the little bed made them very happy again.With their arms around each other's waists, humming an old tune, they staggered all the way to the hatch. Before stepping into the hole, they stopped to play with the boat's dog, Turkey.It was a young Newfoundland dog with four thick, yet childish and clumsy paws.They teased it with their hands, and the dog bit them like a wolf until it hurt them.So Yang En's ever-changing eyes contained anger, and he pushed hard, and the puppy lay down and howled. Yang En's heart is kind, but his nature is a bit rough. As long as his body is playing around, his gentle caresses often border on barbaric atrocities. two Their ship is called the Mary, and the captain is Gellmer.Every year the boat comes to this cold, dark nightless summer to engage in dangerous large-scale fishing. The ship was as old as the clay Madonna of its patron saint.The keel was of oak, the thick sides already cracked and uneven, soaked in moisture and salt, but durable, and smelling strongly of pitch.When at anchor, the ship looks heavy because of its thick ribs, but whenever a strong west wind blows, it regains its brisk vitality, like a seagull awakened by the wind.It bumps and jumps on the waves in its own unique way, and it is more agile and light than some new boats carefully crafted by modern technology. The six adults and the young cadet sailor are all Icelanders[Note] (this is a brave seafaring nation, mainly scattered in the Paimpol and Treguier areas, and has been fishing for generations). 【Note】Icelanders: Refers to fishermen who go fishing in Iceland. They almost never spend the summer in France. Every year at the end of winter, they, along with other fishermen, receive the blessing of sailing at Paimpol Harbor.For this grand ceremony, a temporary altar was set up on the pier, the specifications will never change. The altar has the appearance of a cave, in which anchors, oars, fishing nets and the like are displayed, and in the middle is the patron saint of sailors, the gentle and calm and expressionless Virgin, this It was brought out of the church especially for sailors.She will always use the same pair of dull eyes to watch generations of fishermen, some of whom are lucky enough to return with full rewards, while others never return. A long procession consisting of wives, mothers, fiancées and sisters slowly followed the Eucharist and circled the port. All Icelandic fishing boats in the port hung their flags to salute the passing procession.The priest stopped in front of each fishing boat, chanting prayers and making gestures of blessing. Then they set off like a fleet.Only the hometown with almost no husband, no lover and no son was left.When going away, the crew let go of their voices and sang in unison the hymn of the Virgin Mary, the lucky star of the sea, in trembling voices. Every year, always the same sailing ceremony, the same farewell. Then, the life at sea began again, three or four rough companions, living an isolated life on the rickety deck in the cold water of the Arctic Sea. The end of August was the day for the return voyage, but the Marie, in accordance with the custom of many Icelanders, only docked at Paimpol, and then went straight down to the Bay of Biscay, where they sold their fish, and then went to the salt-panned villages. On the sandbar, buy salt for your next trip to sea. These southern ports, where the sun is still warm, are filled for days with these robust sailors eager for entertainment, reveling in the afterglow of summer, the mild air, the earth, and the women. Then, with the first autumn fog, everyone returned home.In Paimpol, or in the huts scattered in the Kolo area, they are temporarily busy with family, love, marriage and childbirth.Almost every year some baby is discovered who was pregnant last winter and is now waiting for the godfather to come back to be christened.This nation of fishermen, devoured by Iceland, needs many children. three On a fine Sunday evening in June of this year, two women in Paimpol were writing a letter intently. The incident took place in front of a large window, which was open, and on a sill of ancient, thick granite stood a row of flower pots. They were hunched over the table, both looking very young, one in the old-fashioned large turban, the other in the newer small turban worn by Paimpol women.Here are two lovers, one would say, partnering in writing a tender letter to some handsome Icelandic fellow! The one who was dictating, that is, the one wearing a big turban raised his head, thinking, ah!It was an old woman, very, very old, and though the figure wrapped in a little brown shawl looked young from behind, it was actually very old, a grandmother at least seventy years old.But her cheeks were flushed, and she looked quite beautiful and moisturized, just like some old people with a childlike face and white hair.Her tulle kerchief fell low over her head and forehead, and folded in two or three broad pointed corners, as if inside one another, down to the nape of her neck.Her venerable face was set in harmony with these religious white folds.Her eyes are very gentle, full of honesty and kindness.She has no teeth, not a single one left, and when she smiles, she shows her round gums like a baby.Although her chin has turned into a wooden shoe tip (as she often said), the lines on her side have not been damaged by the years, and it can still be vaguely seen that she must be as straight and perfect as the saint in the church. She looked out the window, wondering if there was anything else she could say to make her grandson happy. To be honest, there is no second good old woman like her in the whole Paimpol who can even find so many interesting things to say out of thin air on such and such things.In this letter she has told three or four ridiculous stories, but without malice, for no evil thoughts are in her mind. The other woman saw that she had nothing to say, so she carefully wrote the address: Off the coast of Iceland, near Reykjavik, the captain of the Mary, Galmer, turned to Sylvester.Accepted by Mr. Moang. Then she raised her head and asked: Is it finished?Grandma Mo Ang? This one is very young, very young, with a face of about twenty years old, and fair hair, a color that is very rare in this corner of Brittany where the majority of dark hair is.She has blonde hair and flaxen gray eyes with almost black lashes.Her eyebrows were as golden as her hair, and there was a darker orange-yellow streak in the middle, which seemed to be a line drawn on it, giving her face a resolute and resolute expression.Her profile was short and dignified, with a straight bridge of nose running down from her forehead, and she was very straight, like a Greek.A deep dimple was born under the lower lip, adding to the charm of the lips.Whenever she was concentrating on something, she would bite her lower lip with her snow-white upper teeth from time to time, leaving a slender red mark on the tender skin.Her whole slender frame had a certain pride, and a little seriousness, which she had inherited from her ancestors, the brave Icelandic sailors.Her eyes had an expression that was both stubborn and tender. Her headscarf was tied in a shell shape, low over her forehead, clinging tightly to her forehead like a cloth belt, and then raised high from the sides, revealing the thick braids of hair curled into coils behind her ears.This kind of headgear handed down from ancient times gave the women of Paimpol an antique look. She had evidently been brought up in very different circumstances from the poor old woman.Although she called her grandma, the old man was actually just a distant relative of hers who was in an extremely unfortunate situation. She is Mr. Mayville's daughter.Mr. Mayville, also a former Icelandic fisherman, was a somewhat pirate-like figure who had made his fortune in certain daring ventures at sea. The pretty room in which they had just written was hers, a bed brand new, in the fashion of the town, hung with muslin lace hangings; The roughness of the stone wall.On the ceiling, a layer of white plaster hides the huge beams that tell the age of the house; it is a genuinely well-to-do middle-class house, with windows that open onto Paimpol's old gray square, where the local commercial fairs and religious ceremonies are held. held in this square. Is it finished?Grandma Evna, do you have anything else to say? No, girl, just to add that I send my regards to the Gavo children. Children of the Gavo family!That is, Yang En, this beautiful and proud girl, blushed when she wrote this name. After adding this sentence at the end of the letter with skillful calligraphy, she stood up and turned her head to look out the window, as if there was something interesting in the square. She appeared taller when she stood up; like a woman of high society, she wore a well-fitting, unruffled blouse, and despite her turban she was ladylike.Because she had never done rough work, her hands were very delicate and fair, but they were not as morbidly thin as recognized as beautiful. In fact, she used to run barefoot in the water earlier when she was little Gaut, when her mother was dead, and she was a vagrant when her father went out to sea during the fishing season; she was beautiful, Ruddy, disheveled, willful and stubborn, he thrived in the sharp wind of the English Channel.During this period, she was taken in by the poor grandmother Mo Ang.Grandma Moan put Sylvester under her care when she went to work with some people in Paimpol. She was only eighteen months older than the little one entrusted to her care, but she loved him like a little mother; his hair was as black as her hair was, and he had as much vivacity and capriciousness as she had. How obedient and lovable. When she grew up, riches and cities did not dazzle her, and she looked back on her childhood with distant dreams of primitive freedom, and recalled a vague and mysterious time when the sandy beaches were wider than they are now, The cliffs on the coast are undoubtedly more majestic than they are now When she was about five or six years old, still quite young, her father, who started trading in ship goods, got rich.He took her to Saint-Brieuc and then to Paris.And so she became Mademoiselle Marguerite from Gautre.She is tall, dignified, and has serious eyes. Although she is quite different from the Breton girl wandering on the beach, she always has a little bit of laissez-faire in her heart, and still retains the stubborn nature of her childhood.Her understanding of some things in life came by chance, without any choice, but a natural and superior self-esteem protected her.From time to time she behaved boldly, said something too frank in the presence of others, which surprised others, and her clear and beautiful eyes were not likely to be lowered by the young man's gaze; but they were so calm and indifferent, It was impossible to cause the slightest misunderstanding, and they immediately saw that the other party was a girl whose heart was as pure and well-behaved as her appearance. In these great cities her dress varied far more than she herself.Although she kept the headscarf, which is difficult for Breton women to remove, she quickly learned another way of dressing.The body that was used to being free when she was a fisherman's girl, and whose beautiful outlines sprouted in the sea breeze, and then developed and plump, is now bound up with the stockings and long corsets of the city ladies. Every year she goes back to Brittany with her father, like those who bathe in the sea, only returning in summer, and in a few days, she regains her old memories and the old name of Goth (Breton Goth Margaret); she looked with a little curiosity at those Icelandic fishermen who were often talked about, but never showed up there, and who always disappeared a few times a year; It seems to be a distant abyss.Now the one she loves is there. Then, at the whim of her father, one day she was taken forever back to the fisherman's country.Her father wanted to spend his days in his native land, and lived in Paimpol Square as a rich man. After she had reread the letter and sealed the envelope, the poor, clean, kind old woman thanked her and took her leave.The old man lived quite far away, in a small village on the coast, at the entrance of the inner country of Prombara, where she still lived in the hut where she was born, where she bore her son, and there she raised her grandson. When she walked through the city, many people greeted her, and she frequently replied.She is one of the oldest women in the place, the survivor of a revered and courageous family. Although she was wearing tattered clothes that could not be repaired any longer, but because she was exceptionally clean and tidy, she actually seemed to be well dressed.She always wore the little brown shawl of Paimpol, which was her grand guest attire, and for sixty years the veiled point of her large kerchief hung from it when she was married. Her shawl, which used to be sky blue, had been dyed again when her son Pierre was married, and since then she has only used it on Sundays, so it still looks good. She walked still upright, without age; and though her chin did turn up a little, her eyes were so kind, and her profile so delicate, that one could not help but admit that she was very pretty. She is very well respected, and that can be seen simply by the way people greet her. On the way home, she passed by the door of her lover, a joiner who had once courted her passionately, now an old man of eighty, who always sat at the door, while the young men The sons are planing wood at the workbench.People said she refused to marry him as a girl, and she still refused to marry him as a widow, and he was always sorry; in old age, this feeling turned into a half-malicious, ridiculous resentment, and he always Greet her like this: Hello!Beauty, when should I measure you? She thanked him and said no, she didn't want to have the dress made.In the old man's slightly clumsy joke, he was talking about clothes made of pine boards, and that's where all earthly clothes ended. Well, you can do it whenever you like!You're welcome, beauty, you know He had joked with her several times, but today she couldn't laugh at all, because she felt extremely tired and exhausted by the endless toil.She thought of her dear grandson, the last of her relatives, returning from Iceland to serve in the army.Five years!Maybe go to China, and have to fight!When he came back, who knew if she was still alive?The thought made her very sad. No, the poor old lady was not as happy as she looked, and her face convulsed terribly, as if she was about to cry. Very likely, indeed, very likely the last grandchild will be taken from her before long!She would probably die alone, unable to even see him again. There had been various attempts (some town gentlemen she knew) to keep him on the grounds that a poor old grandmother who was dying of work needed him. Encouragement, but without success.Because one of Sylvester's elder brothers, John.Mo Ang was a deserter. Although the family never mentioned him again, he was still alive somewhere in America. It was he who deprived his younger brother of his special right to be exempted from military service.And there was mention of her meager pension as a sailor's widow, and they thought she wasn't poor enough. She went home and said long prayers for all her lost loved ones, sons and grandchildren; Thinking of the clothes made of pine boards, and thinking that she was already so old and her grandson was about to leave, her heart tightened. The other woman, the young girl, was still sitting at the window, gazing at the golden light of the setting sun reflected on the granite wall, at the black swallows circling in the sky.Paimpol was always so dead that even on Sundays, even on this long May night, no one came to court the young girls, who walked in twos and threes, thinking of their lovers far away in Iceland. When she wrote this sentence for me to say hello to the children of the Gavo family, she was very excited. Now, this name never wants to leave her. Like a boudoir daughter, she often sat at the window all night.Her father didn't like her walking with other girls of her own age who used to be her class.Besides, when he came out of the cafe, and walked smoking pipes with other old sailors like himself, he would have liked to look up and see his daughter in that rich mansion, at the window set in granite. Before, in the middle of a pot of flowers. Children of the Gavo family!She could not help looking across to the sea, and she could see nothing, but could feel the sea near, at the end of these lanes along which the sailors walked uphill.Her thoughts ran to the vast world that always fascinated, fascinated, and engulfed people; to the distant Arctic seas, where Captain Galmer's Mary sailed. What a queer fellow the Gavo boy was!After attacking her in a way that was as bold as it was gentle, now she's gone, never to be caught again Then, in her long meditations, she recalled her return to Brittany the previous year. One morning in December, after a night's travel, the train from Paris brought her and her father to Gan Gang in a foggy, whitish twilight. It was very cold and the night was receding. She acquired an impression she had never had before: the old town, which she had passed only in the summer, could hardly be recognized now.There she had the feeling of being suddenly dropped into what country people call the distant past of the past.How quiet it was to leave Paris!The silent train of life of the people of this other world travels like this in the mist for trifles!These dark, dank and blackened granite old-fashioned houses, this remnant of the night, this whole thing in Brittany now lovable to her because of her love for Jan, looked sad and desolate that morning. .一些黎明即起的主婦已經打開大門，她經過的時候，瞥見室內古舊的陳設和巨大的壁爐，剛起床的老奶奶裹著頭巾，神態安詳地坐在爐邊。天稍亮的時候，她去教堂作禱告，那雄偉的大殿在她看來是多麼陰暗和龐大啊，它那粗大的柱子，柱基已因年代久遠而損壞，它那墓穴般的、陳腐的硝石氣味，和巴黎的教堂是多麼不同！圓柱後面一個幽深的角落燃有一支蠟燭，一個女人跪在燭前，無疑在許什麼心願；微弱的火焰在穹隆裡輪廓不明的空間內幾乎完全沒有亮光，她突然重新體驗到一種自己已經忘懷的感覺：在她很小的時候，當人們帶她到班保爾教堂作冬天第一次早禱時感受到的那種恐懼和淒涼。 這巴黎，她當然不留戀，雖說那兒有許許多多美麗有趣的東西。首先，她在那兒感到受約束，因為她血管裡有著航海者的血液。其次，她在那兒覺得自己是個外來的陌生人。巴黎的女子，一個個都體態纖瘦，腰肢束成不自然的曲線，她們走起路來有一種特殊的姿勢，很善於在撐著鯨鬚的緊身褡裡扭來擺去；而她是太有頭腦了，絕不會試圖模仿這類舉動。她戴著每年從班保爾定做的頭巾在巴黎街上行走，頗有些不自在；可是她沒有意識到，人們之所以頻頻地回頭看她，是因為她長得實在可愛極了。 在這些巴黎女子中，有一些固然具有某種高雅風度，使她頗受吸引，但她知道這類人難於接近。其他的一些，階層較低，可能願意與她交往，她又不屑與她們為伍，倨傲地避開了她們。因此她在那兒沒有什麼朋友，除了她那忙忙碌碌、經常不在家的父親，她幾乎和任何人都不來往。所以她毫不留戀那離鄉背井的、孤獨的生活。 儘管如此，她回來的那一天，看見冬天的布列塔尼竟如此荒涼，仍然大吃了一驚。想到還要坐四、五個小時的馬車，更深地鑽進這個平淡乏味的地帶才能到達班保爾，她不禁心情抑鬱，煩躁不安起來。 這是個陰天，整個下午，她和父親乘著一輛又小又破、四面透風的驛車旅行，天黑下來的時候，他們在沐著霧氣凝成的小水珠的樹木的幢幢怪影下，經過了一些淒涼的村莊。不一會他們就得點燈了，什麼也看不見了。兩道孟加拉焰火似的發綠的光，好像在馬匹前方的兩側奔跑，這是兩盞前燈投射在路旁無盡的綠籬上的光，為什麼十二月裡突然有這麼綠的樹木？她起初很驚訝，俯身想看個明白，隨後她似乎認出而且憶起這是荊豆，是生長在懸崖和小徑上的海濱的常綠荊豆，它在班保爾地區是從來不會黃萎的。就在這時刮起了一陣較溫暖的風，她於是相信自己認出了，感覺到了海 這條路快到盡頭的時候，一個突如其來的想法使她興奮而且愉快起來： 瞧，既然是冬天，這次我要看到那些漂亮的冰島漁夫了。 十二月份，他們應當都在的，兄弟、未婚夫、情人、親友，每次她回來度夏時，她那些大大小小的朋友晚上散步時談得那麼多的人們，全都該回來了。她一心想著這些，雙腳一動不動，竟在馬車裡凍僵了 確實，她看見了他們，現在她的心已被他們當中的一個占有了。 Four 她第一次看見他，那位楊恩，是在她到達的第二天，冰島人的朝聖節慶典上，這天是十二月八日，是漁夫們的保護神聖母傳喜訊的日子。行列剛剛通過，陰沉沉的街道上還懸著白布，上面釘有常春藤、冬青和一些冬季的花草樹葉。 在這慘淡的天空下舉行的朝聖節，快樂也是沉重和略顯野蠻的。這種沒有喜悅的快樂，主要來自對危險的藐視和挑戰態度，也來自體力的健壯和酒精的刺激；而在這快樂之上，卻比別處更不加掩飾地籠罩著普遍的死的威脅。 教堂的鐘聲，教士們的唱詩聲，小酒店裡傳出的單調俚俗的小調，水手們古老的催眠曲，來自大海、來自渺茫之鄉、來自太古時代沉沉黑夜裡的古老的悲歌，在班保爾形成一片喧嘩。成群的水手互挽著胳膊，在街上踉踉蹌蹌地走著，一則因為在船上搖晃慣了，二則因為開始有些醉意，在海上度過了長期的禁欲生活，他們邊走邊向女人們投去分外熱烈的目光。一群群姑娘，頭戴修女式的白色頭巾，裹得緊緊的美麗胸脯微微顫動著，漂亮的眼睛裡滿含著整個夏天的欲望。古老的花崗石房屋包藏著人世的躦動紛擾，陳舊的屋頂講述著多少個世紀以來它們和風、雨、迷霧及大海擲給它們的一切之間的搏鬥，講述著在它們庇蔭之下發生的種種熱情故事以及往日的勇敢冒險和愛情奇遇。 宗教的感情，往昔的印象，帶著對古代祭禮的尊崇，對白璧無暇的保護神聖處女的象徵的尊崇，籠罩在這一切之上。在小酒店旁邊，臺階上落滿樹葉的教堂敞開了陰森的大門，門內香煙繚繞，黑暗中燭光閃爍，在穹壁上，到處掛著水手們的供品。在多情的少女們身旁，那些失蹤的水手們的未婚妻，那些遇難者的寡婦，披著長長的黑紗，戴著光滑的小頭巾，從死者的祭堂走出來，眼睛低垂，默默地在人世的嘈雜聲中穿過，好像在預告著死亡。而那近在咫尺的海，永遠是這強壯有力的一代代人的偉大養育者和吞噬者的海，也在騷動著，發出巨大的聲響，參加著這節日盛會。 從這一切事物的總體上，歌特獲得了一個混亂的印象。她很興奮，而且歡笑著，但內心卻十分苦楚，想到這個地方又成為她永久的住處，她便悶悶不樂。在廣場上，有一些遊藝項目和雜耍，她和女友們一道蹓躂著，她們把左右那些班保爾或普魯巴拉內的年輕男子的名字告訴她。一群冰島人停在民歌歌手們面前，背朝著她們，其中一個身材像巨人般高大，肩膀也出奇地寬，一開始就引起了她的注意，她不假思索地，甚至略帶嘲諷地說： 這人好大的塊頭！ 言下之意似乎是： 誰要是嫁給這麼一個闊肩的丈夫，生活裡該多不便啊！ 他似乎聽見了這句話，便回過頭來，把她從頭到腳迅速地打量了一遍，那眼光似乎在說： 這戴著班保爾頭巾的姑娘是誰？風度這麼高雅，我從來沒見過她呀！ 隨後，由於禮貌的關係，他趕緊垂下眼睛，重又顯出專心聽唱歌的樣子，只讓人看見他腦袋上相當長的，在後頸根鬈曲得十分厲害的黑髮。 她曾經無拘無束地打聽過其他許多人的姓名，卻沒敢探聽這個人的。這依稀難辨的漂亮側面，這高傲而略顯剽悍的目光，這稍帶黃褐色的栗色眸子，在眼白發藍的眼睛裡靈活地轉動著，所有這一切都給了她深刻的印象，而且使她膽怯起來。 這恰是加沃家的孩子，西爾維斯特的大朋友，她在莫昂家早就聽說過了。朝聖節這天晚上，西爾維斯特和他手挽手在街上走著，正好遇上她和她父親，於是他們停下來彼此問候。 小西爾維斯特在她面前很快就恢復了兄弟的姿態。由於他們是親戚關係，便仍然用親昵的口吻談話。不錯，在這已經長了黑鬍鬚的十七歲的大男孩面前，她一開始有些猶豫，但他那和善的孩童般的眼睛是如此溫柔，完全和過去一樣，她很快就覺得似乎從來沒有和他離開過似的。他到班保爾來的時候，她便留他吃晚飯；這種事無關緊要，他因為自己家裡飲食不很好，在她這兒便津津有味地吃著 說實在的，在這撒滿綠色樹枝的灰色小街的拐角，楊恩第一次被介紹給她時，對她的態度是不怎麼殷勤的，他只是以一種近乎靦腆然而十分高貴的姿態向她脫了脫帽，又用他那同樣迅速的目光把她打量了一遍，然後把眼睛轉向另一邊，顯出不高興遇見她，而且急於要走開的樣子。祭祀行列通過時，起了一陣強勁的西風，把黃楊樹枝撒了滿地，又在空中拋下了一幅灰黑的帳幔，歌特，在她回憶的沉思中又清楚地看到了這一切：朝聖節結束時陰沉的黃昏；被風捲得沿街飛舞的釘著花草的白布；成群的喧鬧著的冰島漢子，這些和風、和暴風雨周旋慣了的人，看見天快下雨了，便唱著歌鑽進酒店裡去；特別是那個大小夥子，站在她面前，扭過頭，因為遇見她而滿臉不高興和心煩意亂的樣子，從那時到現在，在她身上起了多麼深刻的變化啊！ 那節日結尾時的喧鬧和現在的寧靜是多麼不同！同樣是這個班保爾，今夜是多麼的沉靜和空虛！這五月的溫暖而漫長的黃昏，使她獨自守在窗前，情思脈脈，沉入遐想。 five 他們第二次相見，是在別人的婚禮上。這加沃家的孩子被指定和她配對作儐相。起初她想像這事會不大愉快：和這小夥子一道列隊在街上走，所有的人都會因他的高身材而注意他們，何況他還很可能一路上找不出一句話來對她講！再說，這人一副孤傲的氣派，真讓她望而生畏。 到了約定的時間，所有的人都集合在一起，準備整隊出發，只有楊恩沒有露面。時間過了，他還是沒來，人們已經在說不要等了。這時她才發現她只是為他一人才梳妝打扮的；和其他任何青年人在一起，這慶祝，這舞會，對她都會平淡乏味、毫無樂趣 最後，他終於來了，也穿得漂漂亮亮，他毫不侷促地向新娘的親屬道歉。他說，一些意想不到的巨大魚群，當晚將從歐裡尼洋面通過，英國方面已經發出通告；於是普魯巴拉內所有的船隻立即準備待發。各個村子都騷動起來，女人們到酒店去找她們的丈夫，催他們快跑；她們自己也東跑西顛，幫著扯篷，開船；總之，這在當地真是一次不折不扣的戰鬥準備。 他在圍繞著他的人們中間神態非常自如地講述著，夾帶著一些自己獨有的手勢，靈活地轉動著眼珠，他面帶動人的微笑，露出閃亮的白牙。為了更好地表達啟航的匆忙，他在語句中不時帶出一聲小小的、拉長的呵！這是水手們模仿風的吼聲來表現迅速的一種呼叫，十分滑稽。他說他不得不趕快找一個替手，而且設法取得冬季雇用他的船老板的同意，這樣一來就遲到了；因為不願意錯過這次婚禮，他失去了他在這次捕魚中的全份利益。 聽他說話的漁夫們，對這些原因是完全理解的，誰也沒想到要責怪他；人們都知道，生活中的一切，多多少少要和海上意料不到的事相關聯，多多少少要服從天時的變化和魚群的神祕遷移。在場的其他冰島人只是遺憾沒早些聽到消息，好和普魯巴拉內的漁民一樣，去打撈這從洋面經過的財富。 現在已經太晚了，算了吧，只好把手臂交給姑娘們了。提琴手已經開始在門外奏起音樂，他們於是高高興興地上了路。 起初，他只是對她講些沒有意義的殷勤話，就像人們在婚宴上對不太熟悉的姑娘們講的那種。在這一對對儐相中，只有他們這一對是彼此陌生的，其他全是表兄妹和尚未結婚的情人。其中有幾對只是沒有舉行婚禮罷了，因為，在班保爾地方，人們從冰島回來的期間，愛情總是進展得很快的。（不過他們都是誠實人，隨後總歸要結婚的。） 但是，在晚上跳舞的時候，他們倆的談話又回到這次魚汛上，他忽然注視著她的雙眼，說出這樣一句出人意料的話： 在班保爾只有你一個人，甚至在世界上也只有你一個人，才能使我放棄這次出航；若是別的任何一個姑娘，我是絕不會錯過這次捕魚的機會的，歌特小姐 這漁夫敢於對她，對多少像位王后一般來到這舞會上的她，說出這樣的話，起初使她頗為吃驚，隨後卻美滋滋地十分高興，她終於回答道： 謝謝你，楊恩先生，我也是寧願和你而不願和別人在一起。 全部情況就是如此。但是從這時起一直到舞會結束，他們開始用另外一種方式交談，聲音更低，也更溫柔 大家隨著提琴跳著老式的舞蹈，和幾乎總是同樣的舞伴在一起。當他出於禮貌和其他姑娘跳過以後再來邀請她時，他們便交換一種老友重逢時的微笑，而且繼續進行他們剛才的十分親密的談話。楊恩以一種天真樸實的態度講述他的捕魚生涯，他的辛勞，他的收入，他的父母過去為養育十四個小加沃所遇到的困難，他是他們的長子現在，他們總算寬裕一些了，特別因為他父親在英法海峽找到了一隻漂流的難船，政府把這隻船售出後，分給他父親一萬法郎，這筆錢使他們得以在原有的住房上加蓋一層樓房。他們家在普魯巴拉內的最高處，在陸地的盡頭，在波爾．愛旺村，俯臨英法海峽，風景十分優美。 這冰島的職業，他說，是十分艱苦的呢。二月初就出發，駛向一個那麼寒冷、那麼陰沉的地帶，海面又是那樣的凶險、不平靜 所有他們在舞會上的談話，對於歌特都像昨天的事情一樣記憶猶新，她瞧著五月的夜幕在班保爾降落，一面在頭腦中慢慢地重溫那次談話的情景。如果他根本不想結婚，為什麼要告訴她這些生活細節，而她也多少像個未婚妻似地聽著；誰都知道他並不像個喜歡把自己的私事告訴一切人的平庸男子啊 不過這仍是一個相當好的職業呢，他說，我呀，我是不會改行的。幹這行每年能掙八百法郎，有時候還掙到一千二百法郎，我回來領到這筆款就交給我母親。 你都交給母親嗎，楊恩先生？ 是呀，總是全都交給她。在我們這兒，冰島人都習慣這樣，歌特小姐。（他說這話時，仿佛這是天經地義而且十分自然的事情。）因此，我呀，你也許不信，我幾乎從來身無分文。每逢星期天，在我來班保爾的時候，母親才給我一點零用錢。別的事也都一樣。我穿的這件新衣是我父親今年給我添置的，沒有這件衣服我絕不會來參加婚禮；嗯，肯定的，穿著去年的舊衣服，我絕不會來把手臂獻給你 她因為看慣了巴黎人的裝束，楊恩的新衣在她看來可能並不太優雅，上衣太短，露出背心的敞胸式樣也有點過時了；但是套在這衣服裡的身軀卻漂亮得無懈可擊，而且跳起舞來是十分的氣派。 每次他對她講述什麼，他就微笑著注視她的雙眼，看看她有什麼反應，當他對她談出這一切，讓她知道他並不富有時，他的眼光是何等的善良和誠實啊！ 她也一直正面瞧著他，對他微笑。她很少回答，可是全神貫注地聽著，而且越來越感到驚異，受他吸引。他是怎樣的一種混合體啊！既有粗野生硬的舉止，又有惹人愛憐的孩子氣。他的嗓音低沉，和別人說話時，顯得生硬而果斷，和她談話時，卻變得越來越清新、柔和；只是對她一人，他才會讓自己的聲音極為溫柔地顫動，像弦樂奏出的朦朧的低音。 這個風度瀟灑、表情強悍的大小夥子，在家裡居然被人當小孩看待，自己還覺得理所當然，這是件多麼奇怪而意想不到的事情！他跑過那麼多地方，有過那麼多的奇遇，經歷過那麼多的危險，可是在父母面前還保持著這種恭順的絕對的服從。 她把他和別人作比較，和三、四個巴黎的浮華少年，幾個為了她的錢而追求過她、向她表示過愛慕的小職員和平庸文人之類作比較，覺得他是她所認識的男人中最優秀的，同時也是最漂亮的。 為了使自己和他距離更近，她告訴他，她的家也不是一直都像現在這麼寬裕；她的父親以前也是冰島漁夫，因此至今在冰島人中還很受尊敬；她說自己還記得小時候赤著腳在沙灘上奔跑，就在她可憐的媽媽死去以後 ah!這舞會之夜，在她一生中唯一甜蜜的、也是決定性的一夜。那一夜可以說已經十分遙遠，既然那是在十二月，而今卻已是五月了。所有那些漂亮的男舞伴，現在都在那邊捕魚，分散在冰島海面上。正當布列塔尼的土地靜靜地罩上夜幕的時候，他們在那無邊的孤寂中，在蒼白的陽光下，卻看得清清楚楚。 歌特依舊待在窗口。隨著夜的降臨，幾乎被古老的房屋從四面八方封閉起來的班保爾廣場顯得愈來愈淒涼，到處聽不到一點聲響。房屋的上空，仍然透著微明，似乎愈來愈深邃，升高，漸漸遠離了地面的景物。此刻，在這黃昏時分，這些景物全都連成了一片，成為一幅山牆和古老屋頂的黑色剪影。不時地，一扇門或一扇窗關上了；某個老水手跌跌撞撞地從小酒店出來，朝陰暗的小巷走去；或者幾個蹓躂得晚了的女孩子，捧著五月的鮮花回來，其中一個認識歌特，便向她道著晚安，把一束山楂花朝她高高舉起，仿佛要讓她嗅嗅花的香氣；在這半透明的夜色中，她還可以依稀看見這白色小花的細巧花束。此外，有一種溫馨的香味從花園和院落升上來，這是爬在花崗石牆壁上的忍冬開花的香氣，還有從港口飄來的淡淡的海藻的氣味。一些晚歸的蝙蝠在空中掠過，無聲地飛翔著，像是夢中的動物。 歌特在這窗口不知度過了多少個夜晚，她凝視著這憂傷的廣場，思念著已經出發的冰島人，而且總是在回憶那次舞會 婚禮接近尾聲時，天氣非常熱，許多跳華爾滋的人開始頭暈了。她想起他曾和別的一些女人，一些多多少少和他有過愛情關係的姑娘或女人跳舞，她想起他回答她們的呼喚時那種輕蔑的高傲態度他對待她們是怎樣的不同呀！ 他是一個可愛的舞伴，身體挺直得像一棵成材的大橡樹，旋轉時腦袋微微後仰，風度既輕鬆又高貴。他那鬈曲的棕色頭髮，稍有一些披在前額上，隨著跳舞時帶起的風飄動著；當他俯身將她挽得更穩，好跳快速華爾滋時，個子也相當高的歌特感覺到他的頭髮擦著了她的頭巾。 他不時將他的小妹妹瑪麗和西爾維斯特指給她看，那未婚的一對正在一起跳舞。看見他們兩個那麼年輕，兩人在一起時那麼克制，彼此恭恭敬敬，滿臉羞怯地、低聲說著一些無疑十分美妙的事情，他不禁和善地笑了。當然，他也不會容許他們有別種姿態；儘管他已經變得很老練很大膽，但是，看見他們那麼天真，仍然覺得十分高興；他和歌特交換著親密的會心的微笑，好像在說：看看我們這兩個小弟弟小妹妹，他們是多麼可愛又可笑啊！ 夜將盡時，人們頻頻地抱吻，表兄妹、未婚的情人之間的吻，儘管是當眾嘴對嘴地吻著，卻仍然保持著一種坦率、誠實的儀態。他當然沒有吻她，對梅維爾先生的女兒是不能這麼做的；他可能只是在最後的華爾滋舞中將她摟得稍微緊一點罷了，她呢，對他完全信賴，一點也不抵抗，相反卻心甘情願地靠在他身上，在這使她整個身心都被他吸引過去的、急驟的、深沉的、美妙的暈眩中，她那二十歲少女的感官絕不是無動於衷的，但首先是她的心在開始騷動。 你看見那個不知害臊的姑娘了嗎？她是怎樣地盯著他瞧啊！兩、三個漂亮姑娘在議論，她們的眼睛在金黃色或黑色的睫毛下貞潔地低垂著，而她們在那些男舞伴中，卻每人至少有一、兩個情人。她的確老在瞧他，但她有她的理由，因為在她的生活中，他是第一個也是僅有的一個引起她注意的青年男子。 早上分手的時候，當所有的人都在寒冷的曙光中四散走開的時候，他們以一種特殊的方式互相道別，好像是兩個第二天又要會面的未婚情人。她和父親一道穿過這個廣場回家時，絲毫沒有倦意，只覺得又輕盈又快活，她高高興興地呼吸著，甚至愛上了這戶外的寒霧，這慘淡的黎明。一切都使她感到美妙和甜蜜。 五月的夜早已降臨，所有的窗戶都隨著窗框的聲響關上了。歌特還待在那兒，讓她的窗子敞開著。稀稀落落的最後幾個行人，還能在黑夜中辨認出她的白頭巾的模樣，他們想必會說：那個姑娘，一定是在思念她的戀人啦。這是真的，她確實在想他，帶著一種想哭的心情在想他；她小小的白牙咬著嘴唇，不斷地繃開那鮮豔的嘴唇下面的皺摺。她的眼睛凝視著黑夜，卻沒有瞧任何具體的東西 但是，這次舞會以後，為什麼他再也不來了呢？他起了什麼變化呢？偶然遇見的時候，他總是一副想逃開的樣子，把他那總是轉動得很迅速的目光轉向一邊。 她常常和西爾維斯特談起這事，他也覺得不可理解。 不過，歌特，只要你爸爸同意，你該嫁的還是他呢，他說，因為這一帶你再也找不出比得上他的人了。首先，我告訴你，他是很規矩老實的，儘管表面上看不出來；他喝醉酒的時候很少。他有時有點執拗，其實十分溫柔。不，你不知道他心眼有多好。而且他是怎樣的一個水手啊，每個漁季，船長們都爭著雇他 她爸爸的同意麼，她是有把握的，因為她想做的事，還從來沒有遇到過障礙。他不富有，這個她根本不在意，首先，像他那樣的水手，只要花點錢讓他去學習六個月的航海課，就可以成為一名船長，而所有的船主都會樂於把船交給他的。 他的個子太大，這也沒什麼關係；過分強壯，在女子身上可能是缺點，而對於男人卻絲毫不會有損於他的美。 此外，她還不露痕跡地在當地那些知道所有愛情故事的姑娘們中間打聽過，誰也沒聽說他對誰有過什麼諾言；不管是在雷查德裡歐還是在班保爾，他和那些愛慕他的美人們周旋，總是保持一定距離，並沒顯出和誰更加親近的樣子。 一個星期天的晚上，已經很晚了，她看見他在她窗下經過，還緊緊地挽著一個名叫貞妮．加洛芙的女人，這女人當然很漂亮，只是名聲極壞。這件事，使她十分痛苦。 人家還告訴她，他性格非常暴躁；一天晚上，他喝醉了，在班保爾的一家咖啡館，漁夫們正在那兒飲酒作樂，因為人家不給他開門，他便將一張巨大的大理石桌向那扇門擲去。 所有這些，她都原諒了他：誰都知道，水手們發起怒來有時候會作出何等樣的事情但是，如果他的心地是好的，為什麼當她什麼想法也沒有的時候，他來接近她，而後又撇開她；他有什麼必要含著看上去那麼坦率動人的微笑整晚地注視她，像對待未婚妻似的用溫柔的聲音向她講知心話？現在她已經不能再接受別人，不能改變主意了。從前，就在這個地方，當她完全是個孩子的時候，人家呵責她是個壞小孩時，總說沒見過脾氣有她那麼強的；至今她還是這樣。雖然她現在成了一位美麗的小姐，而且未經訓練就具有了一種略顯嚴肅、高傲的風度，其實她的本性還是沒變。 這次舞會以後，去年冬天就在期待與他相見的心情中度過，而他卻直到動身去冰島也沒有來向她告別一聲。現在他不在這兒了，對於她也就等於一切都不存在。緩慢的時間似乎步履艱難地爬行著，爬向漁夫們返航的秋天，她已經盤算好，到那時一定要把事情弄個明白，也好有個了結 市政廳的時鐘正敲十一點，在這春季寧靜的夜晚，鐘聲顯得格外嘹亮。 在班保爾，十一點就算很晚了；歌特於是關上窗子，點燃了燈，準備睡覺 這事在楊恩，很可能只是由於有點怪僻；或者，也由於他有點驕傲，他是因為覺得她太有錢，而害怕遭到拒絕嗎？她曾經想直截了當去問他；但是西爾維斯特覺得這樣做不合適，一個女孩子顯得這麼大膽總是不太好的。在班保爾，已經有人在批評她的神情和裝束了 她像一個正在做夢的女孩子一樣，心不在焉地慢慢脫去衣服：首先摘掉她的細紗頭巾，接著是她按城裡式樣做的緊貼腰身的雅緻的長裙，她把它們隨便扔在一張椅子上。 然後再解她那闊小姐用的長緊身褡，因這緊身褡使她具有巴黎人的身段，引起了一些人的議論。她的身體一旦自由，就顯得更加完美了；因為不再受束縛，不再被褲襪捆得過分細瘦，她又恢復了那種豐滿柔和的自然線條，像那些大理石雕像一樣；她的動作改變著這些線條的狀貌，而她的每一個姿勢都是十分優雅動人的。 在這深夜裡，小小的油燈孤零零地燃燒著，有點神祕地照亮了她的肩膀和胸脯、她的還沒有被任何人看到的可愛的形體，既然楊恩不願意要她，這美麗的身體將不會為任何人所有，而會不經觀賞就逐漸枯萎。 她知道自己臉蛋漂亮，但對自己的形體美卻沒怎麼意識到。再說，在布列塔尼地區，冰島漁民家的女孩子一般都具有這種類型的美，人們也就不太注意，甚至她們當中最不規矩的女孩，也不會向人炫耀這一點，而且羞於讓人看見她們的身體。正是城裡那些高雅之士才對這個給予極大的重視，要模塑或描繪下來。 她著手解開盤在耳後的螺狀髮髻，兩條辮子便像兩條沉甸甸的蛇一般落下來垂在背上。她又將它們像冠冕一樣挽在頭頂，這樣對睡覺比較適宜於是，從側面看去，她很像一個羅馬處女。 這時她的手臂仍然舉著，一面咬著嘴唇，一面繼續用手指玩弄金色的髮辮，好像一個孩子一面擺弄什麼玩具，一面想著別的；後來，她又讓它們垂落下來，為著消遣很快地把它們拆開、抖散，不一會她就讓頭髮一直蓋到腰部，像個森林裡的仙女。 隨後，睡意終於來了，儘管為愛情所苦惱，想要哭泣，她還是一下子跳上床，把臉埋藏在像帳幔一樣鋪開的、絲一般的頭髮裡。 莫昂奶奶在自己普魯巴拉內的茅屋裡，在人生另一個更黑暗的斜坡上，也終於入睡了，她帶著老年人冷瑟瑟的困倦，想著她的小孫兒和死亡。 在這同一時刻，在瑪麗號上，在這晚很不平靜的博雷阿勒海面上，楊恩和西爾維斯特，這兩個被思念的人，一面唱著歌，一面在無窮盡的白晝的光亮下快活地釣著魚。 six 約一個月以後六月。 在冰島一帶，出現了被水手們稱作白色寧靜的那種稀有的天氣；也就是說，空氣紋絲不動，好像所有的風都吹盡了，終止了。 天空蒙著一幅巨大的白幕，接近水平線的部位，漸漸發暗，變成了鉛灰色，像錫一樣毫無光彩。水平線之下，死氣沉沉的海水射出刺眼的、蒼白的寒光。 這一次，是波紋，是變幻不定的波紋在海面嬉戲；一些輕飄飄的圓環，像對著鏡子呵氣呵出來的。整個閃光的水面好像籠罩了一張構圖模糊的