Chapter 3 part three

one In the air, a bullet is whistling!Sylvester stopped abruptly and pricked up his ears It is an endless plain covered with verdant, velvety spring grass.The gray sky weighed heavily on people's shoulders. There are a total of six sailors with guns, and they are performing reconnaissance missions on the muddy path in the green rice fields Another sound! !The same voice sounded again in the silent air.This sharp and loud whistling sound, like a long hiss, made people feel that the vicious and cruel little thing was passing through there quickly, and anyone who touched it would be killed.

Sylvester heard this music for the first time in his life.The sound of the bullets coming towards you is very different from the bullets you shoot out: the sound of gunfire from a distance gradually fades away and can no longer be heard; humming sound, but can be heard very clearly Another boo, boo!Now it's raining bullets.They stopped suddenly at a place very close to the sailors, and burrowed into the muddy paddy fields filled with water. Each bullet was accompanied by a soft, clear and rapid sting sound like a hailstorm, splashing a small Small splashes. They looked at each other and smiled, as if seeing a very funny farce.

Chinese!they said. (Annan people, Tokyo people, and Heiqi people, for the sailors, all belong to the Chinese.) I do not know how to express the contempt and mocking hatred in the tone with which they declared these men to be Chinese, and their eagerness to fight. Two or three more bullets whizzed and skimmed closer to the ground; they saw them bouncing like locusts in the grass.This little lead rain lasted less than a minute and stopped.Absolute silence returned to the vast green field, and no movement could be seen in any direction. All six of them were still standing, keeping alert, spying the direction, exploring where the bullet came from.

The bullet must have come from the bamboo grove over there, which looked like a feathered island on the plain, with some sharp corners of the house half-hidden behind it.So they ran thither, their feet sinking and slipping in the mud of the paddy fields; Sylvester, with his longer and nimbler legs, kept ahead. No more whistling; it seems they were dreaming And it seems that all the countries of the world have something always and always in common: the gray sky covered with clouds, the freshly colored spring meadows, one would think one saw the fields of France, where some young people Running happily, playing some kind of game that is definitely not death.

However, the closer they got, the more exotic the beauty of the bamboo grove would be, and the more the strange curvature of the village roofs would be enhanced. Some yellow people who were hiding behind the bamboo grove, in order to see them clearly, They poked out their treacherous and frightened shoulders and faces, and then, with a sudden cry, they jumped out together, forming a long, trembling, but sure and dangerous line. Chinese!The sailors still spoke with brave smiles. But no matter what, they now found out that there were many people on the other side, too many.And when one of them turned his head, he saw some people running from the grass behind.

Young Sylvester looked very handsome on this day and at this hour; his old grandmother would have been proud to see him so valiant! His appearance has changed a lot these days, his tan, his voice has changed, and there he seems to be in the environment where he can make the most of his talents.In the most difficult moment of decision, the sailors, grazed by bullets, had almost begun to retreat (which would have cost them all); while Sylvester went on, holding the barrel of his rifle.Walking in front of his party, swinging the butt of his gun and sweeping left and right with unstoppable momentum, thanks to his valor, he turned the whole situation around: in this small battle without a command, this blind dominator cannot speak clearly The panic and fear of the Chinese people turned to the side of the Chinese, and they began to retreat.

Now that's done, they escaped.And these six sailors reloaded their bullets and wiped out the enemy vigorously; puddles of blood appeared in the grass, bodies pierced by bullets one by one, and some brains flowed into the heads of the rice fields. They bowed their bodies close to the ground, crouched like leopards and fled.Sylvester followed, wounded in two places, a bayonet on his leg, and a deep gash in his arm; Thoughtful fanaticism of strong blood, which endows simple minds with great courage, and made those ancient heroes. One of his pursuers, animated by desperate terror, turned suddenly and aimed at him.Sylvester stopped smiling, let him shoot with a contemptuously sublime gesture, then, seeing the direction of the impending bullet, veered slightly to the left.However, just as the opponent pulled the trigger, the barrel of the gun accidentally deflected in this direction.Sylvester felt a shock in his chest, and a thought flashed through his mind so that he knew what was going on even before he felt the pain, and he turned to the other sailors who followed, trying to treat them like an old soldier. Say the jargon: I pay my account!But as he was running just now, breathing heavily into his lungs with his mouth, he felt that a hole in his right breast was also sucking in air, and it made a horrible little noise like a broken bellows.At the same time, his mouth was filled with blood, and the side of his chest was in severe pain, which quickly became more and more severe, to an unbearable and indescribable level.

He turned his dizzy head two or three times, trying to regain his breath in the rush of red liquid that suffocated him, and then he fell heavily, in the mud. two About half a month later, due to the approaching heavy rain, the sky was extraordinarily gloomy, and the yellow Tokyo became even more sultry. He was sent to Sylvester in Hanoi, and then to Halong Bay, where he was placed on a ship back to France. On the hospital ship. He has been carried for a long time on various stretchers, and occasionally rests in the field hospital.People took care of him as best they could; but under such harsh conditions, water filled the pierced side of his chest, and air kept pouring in from the never-healed wound, making a gurgling sound.

They had awarded him the Military Medal, and he was happy for a moment. He was no longer the decisive, loud, crisp warrior he had once been.No, all of that was worn away in the long pain and the consuming fever.He was a child again, nostalgic for his homeland; he hardly spoke anymore, and only managed to answer in a soft, faint, barely audible voice.He felt that his injury was so serious and he was so far away from home. He thought that it would take so many days to get home. With his weakening physical strength, who knows if he can live to that time?This terrible concept of being far away from home haunted him constantly. When he was awake and after a period of sleep, he felt the sharp pain of the wound, the heat of the fever and the sound of the wounded chest. It was extraordinarily heavy.So he desperately asked people to send him to the hospital ship.

He was so heavy to lift in the stretcher that they inadvertently shook him painfully while carrying him. On the transport ship that was about to set sail, he was placed in a small iron bed arranged in the sick room, and he started another long voyage across the ocean in the opposite direction.It's just that this time he can't live on the open-air mast like a bird, but in the heavy stale air in the cabin, living in the breath of medicine, trauma and pain. For the first few days, the joy of being on the way home made him feel a little better.He can sit up on the pillows in bed and asks for his box now and then.His white sailor's box, which he bought at Paimpol, contained his valuables; it contained letters from Grandma Yvonne, letters from Jann and Gaut, an exercise book with sailor songs, and There is a Confucian work in Chinese that he snatched by chance, and he uses every page of this book to write his naive battle diary.

His injuries did not abate, however, and from the first week doctors believed he was doomed. Now near the equator, there was a storm in the middle of the heat.The transport moved on, shaking its berths, its wounded and sick, going fast all the way through the turbulent, choppy sea that resembled a monsoon turn. More than one person has died since the departure from Ha Long Bay, and had to be thrown into the deep sea on this road back to France; quite a few cots have been unloaded of their pitiful loads. On this day, the light in the shaking ward was very dim: because of the strong waves, the iron covers of the portholes had to be closed, which made the stuffy ward even more unbearable. His injury is deteriorating and is in its final stages.He had been lying on his injured side, pressing the wound with both hands with all his remaining strength, trying to keep the pus in his right lung from shaking, but the other lung was also infected, and the terminal pain began. All kinds of visions of his native land appeared in his dying mind, and in the sweltering darkness, many faces he loved or loathed bent down on him, and he was always in a kind of trance dream, Brittany and Iceland It is revealed in this dream. In the morning, he asked someone to invite the priest. The old man, who was used to the death of sailors, was surprised to find that under the sailor's strong appearance, there was a child's innocence. He wants air, air; but there's nowhere, the ventilators are giving out air.The nurse always fanned him with a fan painted with Chinese flowers, but they could only stir the extremely unhygienic stale air that his lungs were unwilling to accept after breathing hundreds of times. Sometimes, in a kind of desperate rage, he wanted to leave the bed that made him aware of his imminent death, and go to the deck in the open air and try to live again.ah!The others, they're still living in the tops, and running up and down the rigging!But with all his strength he could only lift his head from his weakened neck, as people do incomplete movements in sleep.well!No, he failed, he fell back into the old hollow in the untidy bed, where death had glued him to; and each time he was exhausted from such a struggle, he lost all consciousness for a while. At last, to please him, a porthole was opened, although the sea was not quite calm, and it was still dangerous to do so.It was about six o'clock in the evening.When the iron waterproof cover was lifted, only bright light came in, a dazzling red light.The setting sun shines brilliantly on the horizon through the cracks in the cloudy sky. Its dazzling light swayed with the swaying of the ship, like a waving torch, staggeringly illuminating the ward. As for the air, no, not a little air came in; the little air outside was powerless to enter the cabin, powerless to expel the smell of sickness and fever.On this endless equatorial sea, there is only hot moisture, only unbreathable sultry heat.There was no air anywhere, not even an air to supply the panting and dying. A last vision disturbed him greatly: his old grandmother, hurrying down a road, looking almost heartbreakingly anxious, the rain pouring down on her through low, gloomy clouds; Notice from the Naval Office, going to Paimpol to hear his obituary. Then he struggled and gasped for breath.People wiped from his mouth the blood and water gurgling from his chest as he writhed in a dying state.The bright sun kept shining on him; and when the sun was sinking, all the clouds were blood-red, as if the whole world was on fire; The head of Sylvester's bed, forming an aura around him. At this hour, too, the sun is visible in Brittany, where twelve noon strikes.It is the same sun, at this same moment of its eternal life, yet over there, of a different color, hanging higher in the bluish sky, shining with a soft white light sitting at the door doing Granny Evna at needlework. In Iceland it is morning, and at the same moment of death the sun rises.It was even paler there, as if it had made its appearance there by an indirect refraction.It shone mournfully into the fjord where the Marie drifted, when the sky was a far-northern purity, reminiscent of airless, cooled stars.This cold clarity makes the pile of rocks in Iceland more clearly presented before the eyes.Seen from the Marie, the whole area seemed to stick to the same plane and stand there.Yang En on the boat also looked a little strange under the sunlight. He was fishing as usual in this moonlight-like scene. When the sash of fire thrown from the porthole of the ship died out, and the sun on the equator line was completely submerged in the golden water, the eyes of the dying grandson were rolled up and turned up on the forehead, as if trying to hide in the head. inside.Then someone stroked his long-lashed eyelids down and Sylvester was beautiful and serene again, like a reclining marble statue. three I cannot fail to mention Sylvester's funeral, which I personally officiated at on Singapore Island.In the first few days of the voyage, enough dead had been thrown in the China Sea, and since this Malay land was nearby, it was decided to keep Sylvester a few hours longer, so that he could be buried there. Because of the viciousness of the sun, this was done in the early hours of the morning.On the boat that carried him, his body was covered with the flag of France.The great foreign city was still sleeping when we docked.A small cart sent by the consul was already waiting at the pier, and we put Sylvester in it with the wooden cross that had been made for him on board; , the name written in white paint, is still flowing on the black bottom plate. We pass through this tower of Babel at sunrise [Note 1].Just two steps away from the dirty and noisy China Quarter, we deeply rediscovered the tranquility of the French Church.In this tall white temple, where I and my sailors are alone, the voice of the preacher-priest chanting Days of Wrath resounds like a melodious incantation of magical power.Through the open gates one could see something like Elysium, a lovely green, with huge palms; and when the wind stirred the blossoms on the great trees, a rain of carmine blossoms fell and drifted into the church. [Note 1] Tower of Babel: This refers to the fact that there are immigrants from various countries in Singapore, and their languages ​​are very mixed. 【Note 2】The first sentence in the scriptures sung by the Catholic Church for the dead.Originally in Latin. Then, we walked to the cemetery.It's a long way.The ranks of our little sailors were very modest, and the coffins were always covered with the French flag.We had to pass through four Chinese neighborhoods, a world populated by people of yellow race; then there were neighborhoods of Malays, Indians, and all kinds of Asian faces, all watching us pass by with wide-eyed amazement. Next, there are fields that are already very hot, and many lovely butterflies with wings like blue velvet are flying on the tree-lined road.Flowers and palms are everywhere; displaying all the splendor of the vigorous life on the line of the equator.Finally, I came to the cemetery. On the tombs of some Chinese officials, there are various inscriptions, dragons and monsters; there are also various unknown exotic flowers and plants.We buried him like a corner of Indra's garden. [Note] Indra: also known as Indra, the highest god in Hinduism, equivalent to Zeus in Greek mythology. On his grave we buried this little wooden cross made at night: Sylvester.Moang nineteen years old As the sun rose higher and higher, we had to leave him, and hasten back to the ship, turning our heads frequently to see him again lying under the wonderful tree and the great flowers. Four The transport ship continued its voyage across the Indian Ocean.Below the cabin, in the swaying ward, there are still some poor people locked up; on the deck, only carefree, healthy and youth can be seen.The surrounding sea is filled with bright sunshine and pure air. The sailors lay in the shade of the sails on this fine, fair day, playing with their parrots and driving them about.In Singapore, where they had just been, various domesticated animals were sold to passing sailors. They selected some young parrots, because their beaks and faces are a bit childish; they haven't grown their tails yet, but they already have green feathers, ah!It's so cute and green.Both father and mother were green, so they had inherited the color unconsciously when they were very young, and they were laid out on the deck of the boat so clean they looked like fresh leaves from some tropical tree. Sometimes, when everyone drives them together, they look at each other funny, turning their necks in all directions, as if they want to study and observe each other from different angles.They walk like a limp, with a ridiculous twist, and they will suddenly start running quickly and hurriedly, not knowing where they are going; some of them also run and fall. Then there are vervet monkeys learning to circle, which is another pastime.There are a few beloved monkeys, who are warmly hugged, they curl up in a ball, stick to the strong chest of the master, and look at the master with a half-funny, half-moving female gaze. When three o'clock struck, the logistics corpsman took two wax-sealed canvas sacks bearing Sylvester's name on them to be auctioned on deck, all his clothes, all that had belonged to him during his lifetime.According to the rules, the things of the dead are handled in this way.The sailors all ran to form a circle with great interest.Auctioning such pockets is a common occurrence on hospital ships, and people have become so used to it that they no longer feel bad about it.Besides, Sylvester was not very well known on this ship. His overalls, the shirt, the blue-striped sea-soul shirt, were tossed and fiddled with, and bought for a certain price, bid up for fun by the buyers. Now came the turn of the holy little box, and the price was fixed at fifty sous.The letters and military medals inside had already been taken out, and were intended to be given to his family members; but there were still the songbook, the writings of Confucius, and all kinds of sewing needles, buttons, and other small things that Evna's grandmother had prepared for him. Then the logistician in charge of presenting the lot brought out two small statues of Buddha, which Sylvester had plundered from a pagoda to give to Goth, so strange in appearance that they People laughed when they saw them appear as the last possessions.The sailors laughed so much not from lack of sympathy, but simply from lack of use of their brains. Finally, the canvas bag was sold, and the buyer immediately erased the name written on it and replaced it with his own. The dust and lint that had fallen on the deck so clean after the auction was then carefully swept away with a broom. So the sailors went back happily to play with their parrots and monkeys again. five One day in the first half of June, when Granny Evna returned home, the neighbors told her that the Commissioner of the Naval Service had sent for her. It was something that concerned her grandson, sure; but it didn't frighten her at all.In sailor families, they often deal with the Military Registry Bureau. Therefore, as a sailor's daughter, wife, mother, and grandmother, she has known this office for nearly sixty years. No doubt he had accepted an appointment; or perhaps he had saved a small stipend aboard the Cirse for her to collect.Knowing how to see the Commissioner, she dressed herself up, put on her pretty dress and a white kerchief, and set off at about two o'clock. She walked hurriedly on the cliff path, heading straight for Paimpol, because she hadn't received a letter from her grandson in the past two months, and she was always a little uneasy thinking about it. She met her old lover sitting at the door, the old man's body was failing because of the severe cold of the previous winter. How about it?When you want it, you know, you're welcome, beauty! (What he never forgets is still the wooden clothes.) The fine, comfortable weather of June spreads joy all around her, and on the pebbled hills there always grows only the small, golden-flowered gorse; I saw a piece of fresh green, the hawthorn trees along the road were in bloom, and the tall weeds everywhere were fragrant.But she didn't see it all, she, so old, with so many past seasons accumulating in her, seemed so fleeting now as if only a few days Around the villages whose walls were blackened and almost collapsed, roses, carnations, violets, and countless small flowers bloomed all the way to the roofs covered with thatch and moss, attracting the first white butterflies to be born. In the homeland of the Icelanders, spring is almost without love.I saw the beautiful girls of this brave nation leaning against the door and dreaming, turning their heads on one side, and seeing far and far with brown or blue eyes, seeing places that the eyesight cannot reach.The men who aroused their sorrow and longing were out there now, in the far northern seas, engaged in large-scale fishing But it was spring after all, warm, sweet, disturbing, with the buzzing of little flies and the fragrance of new leaves. All this inanimate thing continued to smile at the old grandmother as she walked as vigorously as she could to hear the death of her last grandson.She was approaching that terrible time when she would be told of events far away on the China Sea; and this ominous journey of hers was exactly what Sylvester had expected at his deathbed, and had caused He shed his last bitter tears: his good old grandmother, summoned by the Naval Registry office in Paimpol, to tell her of his death!He saw her pass the road quite clearly, walking straight and hastily in her little brown shawl, umbrella, and large kerchief.This hallucination had made him lift up and writhe in agony, when the great red sun, sinking in splendor on the equator, shone in through the porthole of the sick-room, and watched him die. . Only, yonder, in his last vision, this trek of the poor old granny, imagined to be a rainy day, was actually the opposite, and it was made in the mockingly merry spring As she approached Paimpol, her uneasiness grew, and she quickened her pace again. She walked into the gray city, into the sunlit granite streets, and greeted some other old women, her contemporaries, who sat at the windows.When they saw her they were all surprised and said: Where was she going in such a hurry?How did she wear Sunday clothes on a normal day? The Commissioner of the Military Register Office was not there. A very ugly little guy about fifteen years old was sitting at the desk. He was the Commissioner's clerk.Because being a fisherman was too bad, I received a little education, put on black oversleeves, and sat on the same chair all day long to copy and write. After she gave her name, the clerk stood up as if in a serious manner, and took out some stamped official paper from a file folder. A lot of papers What does this mean?Some papers, some stamped papers, a sailor's manual yellowed at sea, all of which seemed to have an air of death He spread the papers in front of the old woman, who was already trembling and her vision was beginning to blur.For she recognized the two letters Gaud had written on her behalf to her grandson, and returned them unopened, when her son Pierre died twenty years before. China returned it to Mr. Commissioner and he returned the letter to her Now he reads solemnly: John.Mary.Sylvester.Mo Ang, enrolled in the army in Paimpol, page 213 of the military register, number 2091, died on the 14th on the Bian Ao ocean liner. What?What has happened to him, good sir? die!He is dead, he said again. My God, this clerk is undoubtedly not bad-minded. The reason why he talked about this matter in such an abrupt way can only be said to be unreasonable and the ignorance of underage children.Seeing that the old woman did not quite understand the meaning of the word, he explained in Breton: he died! he died! She repeated it in the quivering voice of an old man, like a poor hoarse echo, repeating an irrelevant sentence. This was exactly what she had half guessed, but it only made her tremble; and now that it was proven, she showed no sign of emotion.First of all, because of her age, especially since last winter, her ability to feel pain has become a little dull, so she won't feel sad immediately.Besides, a lot of things were going awry in her mind at the moment, and she was mixing this bad news with other people's: she had lost so many sons, it would take her a while to realize that this was the last one she cherished so dearly, the one she had placed on her life. The one with all prayer, all life, all anticipation, and all thoughts clouded by the onset of second childhood What's more, she was ashamed to express her despair in front of this annoying little person; shouldn't it be like him to announce the death of her grandson to a grandmother!She stood, stiff at the desk, twisting the tassels of her brown shawl with her poor old washing-cracked hands. How far from home she felt now!Good God, had to walk the whole way, decently, to get to her little hut, and she was anxious to shut herself in like a wounded beast that goes into a cave to die .Because of this, and because she was particularly intimidated by such a long walk, she tried not to think about it as much as possible along the way, and didn't try to figure it out. She was handed a bill of exchange to claim, as heir, the thirty francs for the sale of Sylvester's knapsack; the letters, the papers, and the locket containing the medals of military service.She held them clumsily from one hand to the other, and could not find a pocket to put them in. She walked across Paimpol in a daze, not looking aside, leaning forward slightly, as if about to fall, and only heard the blood buzzing up in her ears.She hastened her pace and walked desperately, like a poor machine that is very old and needs to be put to full power for the last time, without any concern about whether the mainspring will be broken. After walking for about three kilometers, she had already bent forward completely, exhausted.From time to time her wooden shoes bumped against the rocks, and the shock made her head ache.She was eager to hide at home, lest she fall on the road and be sent back. six Granny Evna is drunk! She stumbled, and the urchins ran after her.This was just the entrance to the inner village of Prombala, and there were many houses along the street, but she still had the strength to stand up again and limped away on crutches. Grandma Evna is drunk! Some presumptuous little fellows ran up to her, laughing and laughing, and her kerchief was all messed up. Some of these children were not really bad, and when they got a closer look at her, they saw this old, desperate, painful face, and they turned away in bewilderment and surprise, not daring to say anything more. When she got home and closed the door, she uttered a wail, suffocating her grief, and let herself fall in the corner of the room with her head against the wall.The kerchief slid down over her eyes, and she took it off and threw it on the floor, poor pretty kerchief, how she had loved it.Her only holiday dress was all soiled, and a thin lock of yellow and white hair fell out from under her headband, making her look like a poor woman. seven Gaud came to inquire at night and found her lying there with disheveled hair, her arms drooping, her head leaning against the stone wall, with a sad face and a childlike whimper; she could hardly cry: too old grandmothers , There are no more tears in the dry eyes. My grandson is dead! As he spoke, he threw letters, official documents, medals, etc. into Goth's lap. Gaud looked over these things, saw that it was true, and knelt down to pray. The two women stayed together and passed the June twilight almost in silence. A June twilight is long in Brittany, but over there, in Iceland, endless.The cricket that brings happiness still plays its thin music in the fireplace.In the evening, yellow twilight shines through the skylight into the hut of the Morang family, whose descendants have been exterminated by the sea. Finally, Goth said: My good grandma, I, I will come to live with you, I will move the bed they left for me, watch over you, take care of you, you will not be alone She wept bitterly for her little friend Sylvester, but in her grief she could not help thinking of another man who had set out to fish. Young would soon learn of Sylvester's death, for the whaler happened to be sailing soon.Will he cry for him?Possibly, because he loved him so much, and she was weeping, thinking about Young, angry at his cruelty, and thinking of him tenderly, for he too was about to lose Sylvis. a special pain, which brought them both closer together, and her heart was full of him. eight On a dim evening in August, the letter bringing the news of Sylvester's death to Yang En finally reached the Marie off the coast of Iceland; at this moment he just finished a hard day's work, felt extremely tired, and was about to go down to eat and sleep.He read the message with sleepy eyes in the dim yellow light of a small lamp in his cabin; What's the matter.Out of self-esteem, he never showed anything emotional, and like ordinary sailors, he hid the letter under his blue sweater against his chest and said nothing. Only, he no longer had the courage to sit down to dinner with the others; he didn't even bother to explain why, and fell asleep on his little bed. Soon he dreamed of dead Sylvester, of the funeral procession marching Towards midnight, in that state of mind peculiar to sailors who still have a sense of time in their sleep, he felt that it was time to be called up for his shift, and he saw the funeral procession.he thinks: I was dreaming; luckily they were coming to wake me up, and the dream would be gone. But when a rough hand was laid on him, a voice said Gavo!Get up, change of shift!When he was dying, he heard the light rubbing of the paper on his chest. This subtle, ominous music confirmed the reality of death.ah!Yes, it was the letter!It's real!This was already a more piercing and cruel feeling. He woke up in his sleep and got up so quickly that he touched his broad forehead to the beam. Then he put on his clothes, pushed open the hatch, and went up to take over the fishing. Nine Yang En came to the deck and looked around sleepily at the familiar sea. That night, the boundless sea presented the most astonishingly purest state, it had no color, it just gave people a sense of depth. That definite demarcation without a trace of land, nor horizons of geological time, which must have been so many times since time immemorial, looks at it as if you saw nothing but the existing, and Beyond eternity that never fades away. The sky wasn't even completely black, it was slightly lit by a kind of afterglow coming from nowhere.There seems to be a slight humming habitually, sending out purposeless laments.There was gray everywhere, a vague gray that the naked eye could not catch, the sea in sleep and mysterious stillness, hidden under nameless protective colours. The floating clouds in the sky are scattered, and because everything is not without its appearance, the clouds also appear to have a shape. In the darkness, they are almost all mixed together, forming a huge curtain. But at a certain point in the sky, low and close to the water, though very far away, there is more clearly a marbling, as in an inexpressive painting drawn by an inattentive hand, a sort of Not fleeting, haphazardly assembled graphics for the human eye.This is the only point in the totality that seems to have a meaning, where the whole empty, elusive melancholy thought seems to be embodied.People's eyes finally fixed there involuntarily. He, Yang En, as his nimble eyeballs gradually got used to the darkness outside, he paid more attention to the only pattern in the sky, which looked like a sinking human figure with outstretched arms.現在他已開始看見那形象，仿佛覺得那真是一個人影，由於來自遠處，便愈來愈長大，變得龐大無比。 隨後，在他同時飄浮著模糊夢境和原始信仰的想像中，這哀傷的人影從黑暗的天邊坍下，漸漸和對他那死去的兄弟的回憶混在一起，像是死者最後的顯形。 他常常有這類奇怪的聯想，特別是童年時代，在孩童的頭腦裡但是無論多麼含糊的語句，用來表現這種意境總嫌過分明確，只有夢中有時出現、醒時卻只剩下毫無意義的謎一般的片言隻語的那種朦朧語言，才能加以表達。 他凝視著浮雲，只覺悲從中來，這深沉、痛苦、充滿莫名的神祕之感的悲哀，使他的靈魂冰冷。現在他比剛才進了一步，總算明白他可憐的小兄弟再也不會露面，永遠不會再露面了；悲痛，需要相當長的時間才能穿透他那顆心的強韌堅硬的外膜，現在卻已注滿心房以至外溢了。他重又看見西爾維斯特溫柔的面容，他那孩童的和善的眼睛，他正想抱吻他，一種紗幕似的東西突然不由自主地在眼瞼內落下，起初他還不明白是怎麼回事，因為自他成年以來還不曾哭過。但是眼淚開始沉甸甸地籟簌落到面頰上，抽泣也使他深厚的胸膛起起伏伏。 他繼續俐落地釣魚，一刻不停，也不說一句話，其他兩個人默默地聽他哭，他們知道他是那麼內向和驕傲，唯恐惹惱了他，便裝作什麼也沒聽見。 在他看來，死亡便是一切的終結。 出於尊敬，他也常參加家裡為死者舉行的祈禱，但他根本不信靈魂不滅的說法。 水手們在一起閒談時，往往用一種簡略和肯定的語氣把這當成眾所周知的事情談論；但這並不妨礙他們對幽靈懷有模糊的懼怕，對墓地隱約地感到恐怖，對聖徒和守護神極端信任，尤其是對環繞教堂的聖地懷有一種天生的敬仰。 因此楊恩害怕自己也被海攫去，好似這樣會更加虛空，想到西爾維斯特在那一邊，在地球另一面遙遠的土地上，他愈加悲痛欲絕，愈加心情沉重了。 他向來不把別人放在眼裡，於是旁若無人地、無拘無束地哭著，毫不感到難為情。 外面，太空已慢慢發白，雖則此刻不過兩點鐘；同時，空間似乎在擴展，擴展，變得更加遼闊，以一種更可怕的方式退縮下去。隨著這種黎明的出現，眼睛愈益睜大，頭腦也更加清醒，可以更好地想像到遠方的廣闊無垠；於是肉眼可見的空間的界限便愈退愈遠，愈見消逝。 一種蒼白的亮光，逐漸增大，似乎是一些極小的光束，輕輕搖曳著投射過來；永恆的外界事物漸漸變得發亮、透明，好像一些燃著白焰的燈，在不定形的灰色雲層後面逐漸升起，它們懷著神祕的戒心審慎地上升，唯恐打擾了海的寧靜的休息。 在天際之下，那巨大的白光燈便是太陽，它有氣無力地爬行著，從一大早就開始了它緩慢而沉著的爬出水面的行程 這一天，哪兒都看不見朝霞的色彩，一切都是灰白的、陰暗的。在瑪麗號上，有一個人在哭泣，是那大個子楊恩 這蠻兄弟的眼淚，這外部世界分外深重的憂傷，便是為那默默無聞的可憐的年輕英雄致哀的表示，他曾在這冰島海面度過了他的半生 天大亮的時候，楊恩突然用藍毛衣的袖子拭乾眼睛，不再哭泣。這事便告結束了。他似乎又完全被捕魚的工作所占據，一心關注眼前現實事物單調的進程，不再想什麼了。 再說，釣魚的工作十分緊張，兩隻手臂都忙不過來。 在漁夫們周圍，那遼闊無邊的背景上，眼看又出現一種新的變化。那無窮無盡的擴展，那早晨的開闊景象終止了，相反，現在遠景似乎在收縮，在自我封閉，人們怎能相信剛才還看見海是那麼遼闊呢？水平線現在顯得很近，甚至使人感到缺乏空間，空中充滿薄薄的飄動著的帷幕，有的比霧氣還朦朧，有的卻可以看出像是帶穗的輪廓。它們在一片寂靜中緩緩落下，好像一些毫無分量的白紗；然而這紗在到處同時降落，很快就把下面罩得嚴嚴實實，看到供呼吸的空氣都被堵塞，不禁使人感到氣也透不過來。 這是八月的初霧上來了。幾分鐘之內，這裹屍布般的霧氣就到處一樣濃厚，簡直無法穿透；在瑪麗號周圍，人們除了一片發亮的濕潤的蒼白，已什麼也看不出了，連船桅也似乎隱沒在這一片蒼白之中。 得啦，瞧這可惡的霧又來了。漁夫們說。 他們早就熟悉了這漁季第二階段無法迴避的夥伴，但這同時說明冰島的漁季即將結束，啟程返回布列塔尼的時候快到了。 那霧氣化作晶瑩的小水珠，掛在他們的鬍鬚上面，還使他們曬黑的皮膚濕潤發亮。那些在船的兩端相望的人們，都覺得對方如幽靈般模糊；相反，那些離得很近的東西，則在這發白的、暗淡的光線下顯得分外清晰。人們得當心不要張嘴呼吸，否則一種冰涼、潮濕的感覺會一直透入肺腑。 與此同時，捕魚的速度愈來愈快，大家不再說話，只顧忙著釣魚；時時刻刻可以聽見伴隨著一下皮鞭似的響聲，一條大魚被扔到了甲板上；然後，它們拼命扭動著，用尾巴拍打著艙面，到處都濺上了海水和它們掙扎時抖落的銀色細鱗。用大刀剖開魚肚的水手，匆忙中割破了手指，鮮紅的血便和鹽水混到了一起。 ten 這一次，他們一連在濃霧中待了十天，什麼也看不見，但捕魚的情況依然良好，因為忙於釣魚，大家倒也不感厭倦。不時地，每隔一定的時間，他們中的一個便吹響一支號角，那聲音活像一隻野獸的嗥叫。 有時候，在外面，在白色濃霧深處，另一聲遠方的嗥叫回答著他們的呼喚。於是大家便更加警覺起來。如果這叫聲漸漸靠近，所有的人便豎起耳朵注意這不相識的鄰船，當然他們看是絕對看不見的，不過那鄰船的存在構成了一種危險。大家對它作著種種猜測，它成了他們關注的對象，共同的話題，因為極想看見它，他們的眼睛都竭力想穿透那在空氣中到處張掛的、觸摸不著的白紗。 然後，它漸漸遠去了，號角的嗥叫聲消失在聽覺所不能及的遠方；於是他們重又獨自處在一片沉寂之中，處在這無邊無際的凝然不動的水氣之內。一切都浸透了水，一切都滲著鹽分和鹽汁。寒氣變得愈加侵人肌膚；太陽在水平線下越來越停滯不前；已經是真正夜裡一兩點鐘了，灰色的夜的降臨帶來了陰森和寒冷。 每天早上他們都要用一隻鉛球探測水的深度，唯恐瑪麗號太靠近冰島。但是船上所有的繩索連接起來都探不到海底；可見他們確是在廣闊的海面，在深水區域。 他們的生活既艱苦又有益於健康；格外刺骨的寒冷增加了晚上的舒適之感，他們下去進餐和睡覺時，便對那粗笨的橡木船艙內的溫暖住室獲得了更深的印象。 在白天，這些比僧侶還要與世隔絕的人們彼此很少交談。每個人都執著釣竿，幾小時幾小時地待在他固定不變的崗位上，只有手臂忙於不間斷的捕魚作業。他們彼此相隔不過兩、三米遠，後來卻誰也看不見誰。 這濃霧的沉靜，這白色的朦朧不明，使他們的頭腦進入麻木狀態。他們一面釣魚，一面低聲哼著家鄉小調，因為怕大聲唱會把魚嚇跑。他們的思想變得更加緩慢和稀疏，好像它們在膨脹、伸長，以便填滿時間，不給非存在【註】的間隔留下空隙。他們也不再想女人，因為天氣已經很冷；但是他們夢想著一些支離破碎的或者美妙的事物，好像在睡眠中一樣，而且這些夢的線索也如同霧一般鬆散 【註】法語原文為non｜etre，即哲學概念的非存在，指時間、空間。 這八月的迷霧，每年照例以這種憂鬱而沉靜的方式結束冰島的漁季。否則，就老是那同樣美好的、使水手們胸部膨脹、肌肉強健的體力生涯。 楊恩一下子就恢復了他平常的姿態，似乎他巨大的悲痛並不持久；他警覺而且靈活，駕船和釣魚都極為俐落，他舉止從容自然，仿佛心中毫無牽掛；何況，他只在他願意的時候才流露感情而這種時候是極少的，平時他總是高昂著腦袋，一副滿不在乎和凌駕一切的樣子。 晚上進餐的時候，在那陶製聖母所庇護的簡陋住室裡，當他們在桌前坐下，手拿大餐刀，面對著熱騰騰的菜盤時，他仍和從前一樣，聽見別人講起什麼可笑的事便笑了起來。 在他內心，可能也稍稍想到過歌特，西爾維斯特臨終時的最後願望無疑是想要他娶她為妻，她現在已經變成一個孤苦伶仃的女孩子了尤其是，對他兄弟的悼念可能還在他心靈深處縈繞 但這楊恩的心是一片未開墾的處女地，難於駕馭，很少為人所了解，他的心理動態是不外露的。 eleven 一天早上，三點鐘光景，正當他們在濃霧的包裹下靜靜地夢想時，忽然聽見一種他們所不熟悉的、音色陌生的說話聲，甲板上的人彼此瞧著，用眼睛互相詢問： Who is speaking? 不，沒有，誰也沒有說話。 的確，這聲音像是從外面的空間傳來的。 這時，那從前一天就疏於職守的吹號人，趕快跑上來，使出全部力氣吹響了悠長的警報。 在靜寂中，單是這聲音就已經使人戰慄了。接著，似乎反而由這號角的顫音召來一個意想不到的龐然大物，以具有浮雕感的灰色畫的面貌出現，就在離他們很近的地方，帶威脅意味地高高矗立船桅、橫桁、纜繩，一條船的圖形在空中勾畫出來，像那些嚇人的魔影，隨著一道光束，一下子全部顯現在張開的布幕上。那船上還出現了另一些人，和他們已挨得很近，那些人欠身俯在船欄上，在一種因受驚和恐怖而清醒過來的狀態中，睜大了眼睛瞧著他們 他們衝向那些槳、備用桅杆、釣篙所有船上那些長而結實的備用品，把它們伸出船外，好使那向他們靠近的龐然大物與來客和他們保持一定的距離。對方也一樣驚駭，向他們伸出一些巨大的長棍，好將他們推開。 但僅僅是他們頭頂上的橫桁發出一聲輕輕的摩擦聲，一時鉤絆住的桅帆，馬上毫無損壞地分開了：由於海面十分平靜，碰撞也極其微弱，甚至微弱到令人真感到另一條船並無體積，而是一件柔軟的東西，幾乎毫無分量 這時，驚恐的情緒過去了，人們開始笑起來；原來彼此都是熟人： 啊哎，是瑪麗號呀！ Hello!加沃，洛麥克，蓋爾默！ 來船是柏特皇后號，船長拉沃埃也是班保爾人；水手們都是附近村子裡的；那長著黑鬍鬚的高個子，笑時露出牙齒的，是凱傑古，普魯達尼埃人；其他的是普魯萊斯人或普魯內蘭人。 怎麼，你們為什麼不吹號角，你們這幫蠻子？柏特皇后號的拉沃埃問。 那麼，你們呢，你們這群海盜，海賊，海裡的毒種？ 噢，我們嘛那是另一回事啦；我們是禁止出聲的。（他說這話時帶有某種不祥的、神祕的暗示，還有一絲奇怪的微笑，後來瑪麗號上的人還常常回憶起這笑容，而且引起許多猜想。） 接著，他似乎覺得說得太多，便以一句玩笑話來結束： 我們的號角嘛，讓這個傢伙給吹破了。 他指著一個形象如海神般的水手，那人脖子極粗，胸部寬得出奇，腿卻十分短小，在他那畸形的魁梧中，包含著某種令人不安的古怪成分。 在他們互相凝視，等待著一陣清風或下面的一股水流把一隻船比另一隻更快地帶走，從而使它們分開的當兒，他們隨意閒談著。所有的人都倚在船舷，小心翼翼地用長棒互相抵制，好像被圍攻的人用長矛抵禦敵人一樣。他們談起家鄉的事，談起剛由巡洋艦帶來的信件，談到年老的雙親和他們的妻子。 我呀，凱傑古說，我那口子告訴我，她剛生下我們正等著的娃娃，這樣我們的孩子馬上就要湊足一打了。 另一個說他得了一對雙胞胎，第三個宣布那漂亮的貞妮．加洛芙一個在冰島人中十分聞名的姑娘嫁給了普魯裡沃一個殘廢的老富翁。 他們好像透過一層白紗互相看望，同時這白紗似乎也改變了他們說話的聲調，使聲音變得發悶而且像是來自遠處。 這時楊恩的眼睛一直不能從其中一個漁夫身上移開，那是一個已經有點見老的小個兒，楊恩確信自己在任何地方都沒見過他，而他卻立刻以一種老相識的態度和他招呼：你好哇，大個子楊恩！他銳利的眼睛閃著狡猾的神情，這人的長相如猴子般醜得令人討厭。 我呀，柏特皇后號的拉沃埃又說，我還聽說普魯巴拉內的伊芙娜．莫昂老奶奶的孫兒死了，他正在服役，你們知道的，在去中國的艦隊上；真可惜呀！ 聽見這話，瑪麗號上其他人都朝楊恩轉過頭來，看他是否已經知道這個不幸的消息。 是的，他以一種冷淡高傲的態度低聲說，我父親最近一封來信告訴我了。 大家都瞧著他，好奇地想知道他的哀痛，使他感到十分不快。 他們隔著濃霧匆匆地交談，這奇特的會見就這樣一分鐘一分鐘地過去了。 我的女人同時還告訴我，拉沃埃接著說，梅維爾先生的女兒搬出城住到普魯巴拉內鄉，去照料她的祖姑母莫昂老奶奶；她現在靠在別人家做零工過活。雖說她有種小姐氣派，而且喜歡打扮，可是我一直覺得這是個誠實的有膽量的姑娘。 於是，大家又一次瞧著楊恩，這下可真的惹惱他了，一片紅暈升上了他金褐色的面頰。 和柏特皇后號上這些人的交談就以對歌特的這番評價而告結束，從此任何活著的人都再也不曾看見他們了。適才不多一會兒，由於船已不那麼靠近，他們的臉仿佛已更加模糊，突然，瑪麗號上的人覺得沒什麼可推擋的了，他們的長木棒的頂端已碰不著東西；所有他們那些槓桿：槳、桅或橫桁都在虛空中探尋，然後一個接一個地沉重地垂落在海裡，好像一些巨大的死去的胳膊。大家於是收起這些已經沒有用處的防禦物。柏特皇后號重新被濃霧吞沒，一下子變得無影無蹤，好像一個透明屏幕後的燈一經吹滅，屏上的圖像也立即消失一樣。他們還試圖朝它呼喚，但是得不到任何回答一種由許多聲音混合的，帶嘲弄意味的喧囂，最後化為悲戚的呻吟，使他們驚異得面面相覷 這柏特皇后號沒有和其他的冰島人一道回來，由於薩繆爾｜阿澤尼德號上的人曾在一個峽灣看見確實屬於它的漂流物（它尾部的裝飾和它的一塊龍骨），大家便不再等他們，一到十月，所有那些水手的名字都寫到了教堂的黑牌上。 然而，從它最後一次出現的日子這個日子瑪麗號上的人是記得清清楚楚的到返航的時期為止，冰島海面並沒有任何危險的天氣，相反，在這一天的三個星期以前，一陣猛烈的西風曾經捲去了兩隻船上的好幾個水手。大家於是回想起拉沃埃的微笑，而且，把所有的事情聯在一起，又作了許多設想；晚上，楊恩不止一次又看見那像猴子般眨著眼的水手，瑪麗號上的有些人駭怕地尋思，那天早上他們是不是曾經和一些死去的人交談過。 twelve 夏季一天天過去，到了八月末，朝霧開始出現時，冰島人便回來了。 那兩個孤苦無依的女人，已經在普魯巴拉內莫昂家的茅屋裡一起生活了三個月歌特在這已故水手的寒舍裡承擔了女兒的職責。她把人家拍賣父親的房產後剩下的一切都搬來了：她那漂亮的城裡式樣的床，還有五顏六色的漂亮衣裙。她為自己縫製了一件式樣比較簡樸的黑色喪服，像伊芙娜老奶奶一樣，戴上了一幅厚紗做的、除了有些皺褶外別無裝飾的服喪的頭巾。 每天，她到城裡有錢人家裡去縫衣服，晚上才回來，一路上倒也不曾受到任何追求者的打擾。她始終有點高傲，仍然被周圍的人當小姐一樣敬重；那班年輕人向她問好時，仍和過去一樣把手放到帽子上。 在夏季美麗的黃昏，她沿著懸崖上那條路從班保爾回來，呼吸著使人恢復疲勞的海上的大氣。針線活還沒來得及改變她的模樣她還沒有變成別的那些整天彎腰幹活的女人的樣子，她一面眺望著大海，眺望著那遠方有著楊恩的浩瀚的大洋，一面伸直了她得自種族的美麗、輕盈的身軀 這條路同樣也通往他的家。再走過去一點，朝那個石頭更多、被風刮得草木更少的地方走去，就到了波爾．愛旺村，那兒的樹木長滿了灰色的苔蘚，矮小地生長在石頭縫裡，而且順著強勁的西風倒向一邊。她無疑永遠不會再去那兒，那個波爾．愛旺村，雖然它離這兒還不到一里【註】地；但是，她這輩子既然去過一次，就足以使這一整條路留下一種魅力；再說，楊恩必定經常從這兒走過，她在門口就可以望見他來往在荒涼的曠野上，出沒在矮小的荊豆叢中。因此她喜愛這整個普魯巴拉內地區；她幾乎慶幸命運將她拋在這兒，當地任何別的地方她都無法生活下去。 【註】此處指法國古里，約合四公里。 在八月末的季節，有一種熱帶地方的疲憊感從南方流向北方；有些個晚上非常明亮，別處強烈日光的反射，一直延伸到布列塔尼海面。天空經常是萬里無雲，澄澈而寧靜。 在歌特回家的時刻，因為天色已晚，什麼東西都已溶為一體，開始集聚和形成一些剪影。這兒，那兒，一簇荊豆矗立在高處兩塊石頭之間，像一頂亂蓬蓬的羽冠；一叢枝幹扭曲的樹在低窪地形成黑糊糊的一片，或者，在另一處，某個用麥秸蓋屋頂的村莊在荒原上勾畫出一個齒形邊緣的小丘。十字路口，在十字架上張開黑色手臂守護田野的古老的基督像，好像真的是被處死的人；在遠方，英法海峽像一面黃色的大鏡子，和下半部已經發暗、靠近水平線的部分已經變黑的天空明顯地區分開來。在這個地區，即使是這樣平靜、這樣晴朗的好天氣，也還是顯得憂鬱的；在任何情況下，總有一種不安籠罩在一切之上；這是一種起因於大海的憂慮，有多少生命都託付給大海，而它的永恆威脅卻只不過是暫時入睡而已。 歌特邊走邊沉思，在這野外從來不覺得歸途多麼漫長。她聞著沙灘上的鹽味和生長在崖石上、夾雜在乾瘦的荊棘叢中的花兒的香味。要不是伊芙娜老奶奶等著她回家，她會樂於在這長著荊豆的小徑上久久徘徊，如同那些喜歡幻想的小姐，夏天的晚上在公園裡徘徊一樣。 經過這個地帶時，她有時也憶起若干兒時的往事；但由於她的愛情，這些事現在都變得多麼模糊、遙遠和細小了呵！不管怎樣，她還是要把楊恩當作未婚夫看待，一個她永遠不能得到的、高傲、粗魯、總是迴避著她的未婚夫；但是她卻固執地對他懷著永遠不會再吐露的、忠貞不貳的愛情。目前，她很高興知道他在冰島在那兒，至少海會將他看管在深深的修道院裡，使他不能投入其他女人的懷抱 的確，這幾天他快回來了，但她對待他這次歸來比往常要平靜得多。她本能地意識到，她的貧窮不致成為更受蔑視的理由，因為他和別的小夥子不一樣，而且，西爾維斯特的死肯定可以使他倆接近起來。他回來以後，少不了要來到她們的住處，探望他朋友的祖母；她決心在他來訪時待在家裡，這樣做看來絲毫不會有失尊嚴；她要裝作把以前的事全忘了，而像一個老熟人似的和他談話，甚至把他當作西爾維斯特的兄弟一般親切對待，同時盡量顯得自然從容。Who knows?如今她在世上這樣孤苦伶仃，大概不至於不可能在他身邊占據一個姐妹的位置吧。在向他作了充分解釋，讓他明白自己並不指望和他結婚以後，也許不至於不能向他求得友誼的支持，獲得友情的滿足吧。她覺得他只是有些粗魯，固執於獨立不羈的念頭，然而他溫和、坦率，必定能夠理解發自內心的善良意願。 當他發現她在這裡，在這幾乎要倒塌的小茅屋裡窮苦地生活，他會有什麼感覺呢？很窮，啊！是的，因為莫昂奶奶已經沒有力量再去乾洗衣服的活兒，除了寡婦年金，什麼收入也沒有了；確實，她現在吃得很少，所以她倆還能在不求助於任何人的情況下勉強度日 她到家的時候，往往天已黑了；進門以前，還得踏著磨禿了的岩石往下走幾步，因為茅屋坐落在普魯巴拉內道旁坡下朝沙灘傾斜的地方。它幾乎隱藏在厚厚的棕黑色的茅草屋頂下，那屋頂圓鼓鼓的，活像僵硬的皮毛覆蓋下一隻巨大死獸的背部。它的牆壁顏色晦暗，像岩石般粗糙，上面長著苔蘚和一小簇、一小簇綠色的辣根菜。在門口登上三級圓凸凸的臺階，拉動一根從一個小孔伸出的繩索，就可以抽開門內的插閂。進門以後，首先看見對面那個天窗，仿佛開在城牆般厚的壁上，朝向大海，從那兒射進最後一抹淡黃色的光。在巨大的壁爐裡，燃著芳香的松枝和山毛櫸枝，這都是伊芙娜老奶奶散步時沿路拾來的；她坐在爐邊，照應著她倆的晚餐；她因為愛惜頭巾，在家裡只戴一頂壓髮帽。在爐火的紅光映照下，她側面的剪影依然很美。她向歌特抬起那雙過去是褐色，現在已失去光澤而變得發青的眼睛，由於年老，這雙眼睛已經混濁，昏花，模糊了。她每次都要說這麼一句話： ah!老天爺，我的好女兒，今晚你回來得這麼晚呀 一點不晚呀，奶奶，歌特已聽慣了這句話，便溫柔地回答，還是和平常一樣呢！ ah!孩子，我可是覺得比平時晚了。 她們坐在一張因為用得太舊而幾乎變形、然而還和橡樹幹一般厚的桌前喝湯。同時蟋蟀從來不曾忘了為她們奏起輕輕的銀鈴般清脆的音樂。 茅屋的一面裝著刻工粗糙的板壁，現在已全被蟲蛀了；拉開這板壁，便是一些多層床鋪，好幾代漁民就在這裡生育，睡眠，那些年老的母親便在這裡死去。 在屋頂黑色的梁木上，掛著一些破舊的家用什物，一些草束、木勺、熏肉；還有一些舊漁網，從莫昂家最後幾個兒子遇難以後，這些漁網就一直掛在那兒，晚上老鼠便來咬齧網眼。 歌特那張掛著白紗幔帳的床，安置在屋子的一個角落，給這克爾特人的小屋帶來一點新鮮高雅的氣派。 一張西爾維斯特穿著水兵服的照片，用鏡框裝了，掛在花崗石牆上。他祖母還在上面懸掛了他的軍功勳章和他留下的一對縫在水兵右袖上的紅布做的錨；歌特也為他在班保爾買來一個黑白兩色珠子穿成的花環，這是布列塔尼地方用來裝飾死者遺像的。這兒便是他小小的靈堂，便是他的故鄉布列塔尼用以紀念他的一切 夏季的夜晚，她們為了節省燈火，早早就睡了；天氣好的時候，她們就在屋前石凳上坐一會兒，瞧著稍稍比她們頭頂高出一點的路上的行人。 然後，伊芙娜老奶奶睡進她的分層櫃床，歌特則睡上她的小姐床鋪。因為幹了許多活，走了許多路，她很快就入睡了，而且像一個明智的、果斷的姑娘那樣，並不太心慌意亂地夢著冰島人的歸來 Thirteen 可是有一天，她在班保爾聽說瑪麗號已經到岸時，卻感到自己突然像發起燒來一樣。等待時的寧靜全都無影無蹤了；她匆匆趕完活計，自己也不明白為什麼比平時更早地上路回家。正當她急急忙忙在路上走時，遠遠看見他正朝自己迎面走來。 她的兩腿顫抖，甚至感到發軟，他已經離得很近，在二十步遠的地方顯現出他漂亮的身材和漁夫便帽下的鬈髮。她感到自己手足無措，這次相遇是如此出乎意料，她真害怕自己會站不穩，害怕讓他看出自己的慌張；此刻她真是羞得要死而且她以為頭巾一定沒有戴好，加上幹活幹得太快，樣子一定十分疲勞，要是能藏進荊豆叢或躲進什麼獸穴裡，她是會不惜任何代價的。再說，他也同樣有一個向後轉的動作，好像要設法換一條道。但是來不及了：他們正是狹路相逢。 他呢，為了不碰著她，像一匹多疑的馬兒退縮著跳到一邊，他緊靠土坡站著，用一種疑懼而粗野的眼光瞧著她。 刹那間，她也抬起眼睛，不由自主地向他投去乞求和痛苦的一瞥，在這比槍彈更迅速的目光的無意相遇中，她的亞麻色灰瞳仁仿佛擴大了，似乎被某種思想的偉大火焰所照亮，投射出一種真正發藍的光，同時她的臉卻變得通紅，一直紅到鬢腳，紅到金色的髮辮底下。 他用手碰碰帽子說： 你好，歌特小姐！ 你好，楊恩先生，她回答。 這就算完了；他走過去了。她繼續走她的路，雖說依然顫抖著，但隨著他愈來愈遠，她覺得血液循環漸漸恢復正常，力氣也慢慢復原了 回到家裡，她發現莫昂奶奶坐在屋角，雙手抱住頭哭著，發出小孩子般咿咿呀呀的聲音，她頭髮散亂，髮尾從壓髮帽下掉落出來，像是一小束灰麻纖維。 ah!我的好歌特，我今天撿柴回來的時候，在普魯愛澤遇見加沃家的孩子啦，我們談起了我可憐的孫兒，這你也會想到的。他們今天早上才從冰島回來，中午我還沒回家，他就已經來過一次了。可憐的孩子，他也是滿眶的眼淚呢我的好歌特，他為了替我拿那一小捆柴，一直把我送到門口 她站著聽了這番話，心也隨著緊縮起來：這麼說，楊恩已經來過了，她曾經作了那麼多打算，想對他說那麼多話的那次訪問已經過去，顯然不會再有了；這事完結了 於是茅屋顯得更加淒涼，貧窮更加嚴酷，人世也更加空虛，她懷著死的願望垂下了頭。 fourteen 冬天漸漸降臨，像攤開的裹屍布一樣聽其自然地慢慢落下。灰色的日子過了一天又一天，而楊恩一直沒有再露面，兩個女人冷清清地生活著。 因為天氣冷，生活費更加昂貴，日子也更難熬了。 而且伊芙娜奶奶也變得很難照料。她的頭腦不管用了，現在動不動要生氣，說些傷人和罵人的話；每星期總有一次到兩次，她會像小孩子一樣無緣無故發起火來。 可憐的老奶奶！在她頭腦清楚的時候還是那麼溫柔，所以歌特依舊尊重她，愛她。她一直十分和善，最後卻變得脾氣很壞；一個人在生命將盡的時候，忽然表現出沉睡了一生的全部惡意，一直隱藏著的說粗話的全部本領，這對人類靈魂是何等樣的嘲弄，又是何等嘲弄人的奧祕啊！ 她還開始唱歌，這比她發脾氣更加不