第十章（第25/42页）

“我得回去了。”她说。“我丈夫不晓得我去了哪里。他会胡思乱想的。”“他绝对想不到您会来这儿。”弗林特太太笑得很开心。“他会派人到处找您的。”“再见，约瑟芬。”康妮说完，低头亲吻可爱的小姑娘，抚摸着她柔软的红发。

Mrs. Flint insisted on opening the locked and barred front door. Connie emerged in the farm's little front garden, shut in by a privet hedge. There were two rows of auriculas by the path, very velvety and rich.

前门原本已经闩住，但弗林特太太坚持要将它打开。康妮置身于农场前端小巧的花园中，四周被女贞树篱所环抱。沿路种着两排报春花，如丝般柔软，色泽鲜艳。

"Lovely auriculas," said Connie.

“多美的报春花。”康妮说。

"Recklesses, as Luke calls them," laughed Mrs. Flint. "Have some." And eagerly she picked the velvet and primrose flowers.

“卢克叫它们冒失鬼，”弗林特太太笑着说，“带点回去吧。”她热情备至，采下许多柔软的嫩黄色报春花。

"Enough! Enough!" said Connie.

“够了！够了！”康妮说。

They came to the little garden gate.

两人来到花园门口。

"Which way were you going?" asked Mrs. Flint.

“您来时走得哪条路？”弗林特太太问。

"By the Warren." "Let me see! Oh yes, the cows are in the gin close. But they're not up yet. But the gate's locked, you'll have to climb.” "I can climb," said Connie.

“畜牧场旁边那条。”“让我先看看！哦，对了，奶牛都还在圈里。可它们都还没起来呢。门也上着锁，您必须要翻墙而过。”“我做得到。”康妮说。

"Perhaps I can just go down the close with you." They went down the poor, rabbit-bitten pasture. Birds were whistling in wild evening triumph in the wood. A man was calling up the last cows, which trailed slowly over the path-worn pasture.

“我可以陪您到篱笆墙边。”她俩走过从草场走过，那里早被啃青的兔子糟蹋得不成样子。林中的鸟儿啾唧着，唱出夜晚的胜利之歌。有人呼喝着迟归的牛群，顺着经年累月踩出的小径，慢吞吞地踱过草场。

"They're late, milking, tonight," said Mrs. Flint severely. "They know Luke won't be back till after dark.” They came to the fence, beyond which the young fir-wood bristled dense. There was a little gate, but it was locked. In the grass on the inside stood a bottle, empty.

“他们今天挤奶挤晚了，”弗林特太太严肃地说，“他们知道卢克天黑后才能回来。”她俩来到栅栏边，杉树丛矗立在远处，棵棵枝繁叶茂。篱笆间的小门上着锁。草丛中放着个空瓶子。

"There's the keeper's empty bottle for his milk," explained Mrs. Flint. "We bring it as far as here for him, and then he fetches it himself" "When?" said Connie.

“那是守林人的空奶瓶。”弗林特太太解释说。“我们给他搁在这里，他自己会过来取。”“什么时候？”康妮问。

"Oh, any time he's around. Often in the morning. Well, goodbye Lady Chatterley! And do come again. It was so lovely having you.” Connie climbed the fence into the narrow path between the dense, bristling young firs. Mrs. Flint went running back across the pasture, in a sun-bonnet, because she was really a schoolteacher. Constance didn't like this dense new part of the wood; it seemed gruesome and choking. She hurried on with her head down, thinking of the Flints' baby. It was a dear little thing, but it would be a bit bow-legged like its father. It showed already, but perhaps it would grow out of it. How warm and fulfilling somehow to have a baby, and how Mrs. Flint had showed it off! She had something anyhow that Connie hadn't got, and apparently couldn't have. Yes, Mrs. Flint had flaunted her motherhood. And Connie had been just a bit, just a little bit jealous. She couldn't help it.