第十章（第39/42页）

天气肃杀，他咳嗽起来。彻骨的冷风拂过山岗。那女人浮现在他的脑海。他甘愿放弃自己拥有的一切，甚至放弃自己可能会拥有的一切，只为将软玉温香搂入怀中，共裹一毯，酣然入眠。天长地久的希望，过往拥有的一切，他都甘愿放弃，只为换得有她在旁，共裹一毯，酣然睡去，只是睡去。似乎与她相拥而眠，已经成为他生存的唯一需要。

He went to the hut, and wrapped himself in the blanket and lay on the floor to sleep. But he could not, he was cold. And besides, he felt cruelly his own unfinished nature. He felt his own unfinished condition of aloneness cruelly. He wanted her, to touch her, to hold her fast against him in one moment of completeness and sleep.

他返回小屋，裹着毯子，躺在地上，试图进入梦乡。但他却做不到，凉意难以驱散。而且，他发觉自己天性中的缺憾，这让他感到痛苦不堪。他发觉自己形单影只的状态并不完整，这让他感到痛苦异常。他需要她，想爱抚她，想紧紧拥她入怀，体验片刻的圆满与安眠。

He got up again and went out, towards the park gates this time: then slowly along the path towards the house. It was nearly four o'clock, still clear and cold, but no sign of dawn. He was used to the dark, he could see well.

他再度起身，来到屋外，这次直奔花园大门而去，然后顺着通往拉格比的小径缓缓前行。已经将近四点，清冷的夜空依然晴朗，但却没有破晓的迹象。他惯走夜路，辨得清周围的一切。

Slowly, slowly the great house drew him, as a magnet. He wanted to be near her. It was not desire, not that. It was the cruel sense of unfinished aloneness, that needed a silent woman folded in his arms. Perhaps he could find her. Perhaps he could even call her out to him: or find some way in to her. For the need was imperious.

距离拉格比越来越近，那座府邸像块磁石，将他牢牢吸住。他希望她能陪在自己身旁。这想法无关情欲。只是那缺憾的孤寂感让他难以忍受，需要将寡言的女子拥入臂弯。或许他能找到她。或许他能喊她出来，或者想方设法溜进她的卧房。他迫不及待地想要实现自己的心愿。

He slowly, silently climbed the incline to the hall. Then he came round the great trees at the top of the knoll, on to the drive, which made a grand sweep round a lozenge of grass in front of the entrance. He could already see the two magnificent beeches which stood in this big level lozenge in front of the house, detaching themselves darkly in the dark air.

他蹑手蹑脚地缓缓攀上山坡，向那宅邸走去。接着，他绕过坡顶的参天大树，踏上车道，车道因门前的菱形草坪陡然转弯。草坪中央那两株高耸入云的山毛榉映入眼帘，两棵树伫立在大宅前的这块宽阔的菱形平地上，在黑暗的夜里显得依然突兀。

There was the house, low and long and obscure, with one light burning downstairs, in Sir Clifford's room. But which room she was in, the woman who held the other end of the frail thread which drew him so mercilessly, that he did not know.

拉格比低矮狭长，昏暗朦胧，楼下克利福德爵士的房间仍亮着灯。可她究竟在那个房间，那个系紧他的心弦，残忍牵绊着他的女人？他不得而知。

He went a little nearer, gun in hand, and stood motionless on the drive, watching the house. Perhaps even now he could find her, come at her in some way. The house was not impregnable: he was as clever as burglars are. Why not come to her? He stood motionless, waiting, while the dawn faintly and imperceptibly paled behind him. He saw the light in the house go out. But he did not see Mrs. Bolton come to the window and draw back the old curtain of dark-blue silk, and stand herself in the dark room, looking out on the half-dark of the approaching day, looking for the longed-for dawn, waiting, waiting for Clifford to be really reassured that it was daybreak. For when he was sure of daybreak, he would sleep almost at once.