第十章（第10/42页）

"It's life," he said. "There's no keeping clear. And if you do keep clear you might almost as well die. So if I've got to be broken open again, I have.” She did not quite see it that way, but still "It's just love," she said cheerfully.

“的确是生活。”他说。“很难与之划清界限。如果真的与生活毫无干系，那就跟死掉没什么两样。所以如果我要再度敞开胸怀，也只能接受目前的现实。”她并不完全认同他的想法，但还是……“那只是爱情而已。”她的心情已经豁然开朗。

"Whatever that may be," he replied.

“无论那算是什么，对我来说，都没啥两样。”他答道。

They went on through the darkening wood in silence, till they were almost at the gate.

两人都陷入沉默，穿过逐渐变暗的树林，园林大门已然在望。

"But you don't hate me, do you? He walked on steadily in the dark. she said wistfully.

“可你并不会恨我，对吗？”黑暗中，他的步履依然平稳。而她的语气则有些惆怅。

"Nay, nay," he replied. And suddenly he held her fast against his breast again, with the old connecting passion. "Nay, for me it was good, it was good. Was it for you?" "Yes, for me too," she answered, a little untruthfully, for she had not been conscious of much.

“不，当然不。”他连忙回答。他冷不防将她紧紧搂入怀中，刚才褪去的热情再度重燃。“不会，我觉得那很美妙，非常美妙。你也这样认为吗？”“没错，我也这样想。”她的回答有些口不应心，因为刚才她的感觉并不强烈。

He kissed her softly, softly, with the kisses of warmth.

他轻吻着她，满怀柔情。

"If only there weren't so many other people in the world," he said lugubriously.

“要是世间只剩你我该多好。”他感伤地说。

She laughed. They were at the gate to the park. He opened it for her.

她露出笑容。两人来到花园门外。他为她敞开门。

"I won't come any further," he said.

“就送你到这里吧。”他说。

"No!" And she held out her hand, as if to shake hands. But he took it in both his.

“好的！”他伸出手，似乎想跟他道别。他却双手握住不放。

"Shall I come again?" she asked wistfully.

“我还该来吗？”她幽幽地问。

"Yes! Yes!" She left him and went across the park.

“当然！当然！”她离他而去，独自穿过园林。

He stood back and watched her going into the dark, against the pallor of the horizon. Almost with bitterness he watched her go. She had connected him up again, when he had wanted to be alone. She had cost him that bitter privacy of a man who at last wants only to be alone.

他站在原地，目送她步入黑暗，消失在露出鱼肚白的地平线处。眼见她远去，他的心情几近苦涩。他本想就此孤独终老，而她却又将他与俗世联系起来。他本想就此了却残生，她却使他从痛苦的清静中挣脱出来。

He turned into the dark of the wood. All was still, the moon had set. But he was aware of the noises of the night, the engines at Stacks Gate, the traffic on the main road. Slowly he climbed the denuded knoll. And from the top he could see the country, bright rows of lights at Stacks Gate, smaller lights at Tevershall pit, the yellow lights of Tevershall and lights everywhere, here and there, on the dark country, with the distant blush of furnaces, faint and rosy, since the night was clear, the rosiness of the outpouring of white-hot metal. Sharp, wicked electric lights at Stacks Gate! An undefinable quick of evil in them! And all the unease, the ever-shifting dread of the industrial night in the Midlands. He could hear the winding-engines at Stacks Gate turning down the seven-o'clock miners. The pit worked three shifts.