【有声英语文学名著】CHAPTER ONE(3)

 Where  did  the  muscles  come  from? Certainly  not  sporting  activity,  unless  you counted skinny-dipping and playing pool. Probably it was just the kind of good  health that was  passed  down  in  the  family,  along  with  the  stocks  and  shares  and  the  good  furniture. Handsome then, or beautiful even, with his paisley boxer 1 shorts pulled down to his hip 2 bones and  somehow  here  in  her  single  bed  in  her  tiny  rented  room  at  the end  of  four  years  of college. "Handsome‘! Who do you think you are, Jane Eyre? Grow up. Be sensible. Don‘t get carried away.

She plucked the cigarette from his mouth. "I can imagine you at forty,‘ she said, a hint of malice 3 in her voice. "I can picture it right now.‘
He smiled without opening his eyes."Go on then.‘
Alright—‘ She shuffled 4 up the bed, the duvet tucked beneath her armpits. "You‘re in this sports  car  with  the  roof  down  in  Kensington  or  Chelsea  or  one  of  those  places and  the amazing thing about this car is it‘s silent, ‘cause all the cars‘ll be silent in, I don‘t know, what – 2006?‘
He scrunched 5 his eyes to do the sum."2004—‘
And this car is hovering 7 six inches off the ground down the King‘s Road and you‘ve got this  little  paunch  tucked  under  the  leather  steering  wheel  like  a  little  pillow  and  those backless gloves on, thinning hair and no chin. You‘re a big man in a small car with a tan like a basted 8 turkey—‘
So shall we change the subject then?‘
And  there‘s  this  woman  next  to  you  in  sunglasses,  your  third,  no,  fourth  wife,  very beautiful, a model, no, an  ex-model, twenty-three, you met her while she was draped on the bonnetof a car at a motor-show in Nice or something, and she‘s stunning 9 and thick as shit—‘
Well that‘s nice. Any kids?‘
No  kids,  just  three  divorces,  and  it‘s  a  Friday  in  July  and  you‘re  heading  off  to  some house in the country and in the tiny boot of your hover 6 car are tennis racquets and croquet mallets and a hamper 10 full of fine wines and South African grapes and poor  little quails 11 and asparagus and the wind‘s in your widow‘s peak and you‘re feeling very, very pleased with yourself and wife number three, four, whatever, smiles at you with about two hundred shiny white  teeth  and  you  smile  back  and  try  not  to  think  about  the  fact  that you  have  nothing, absolutely nothing, to say to each other.‘
She  came  to  an  abrupt  halt.  You  sound  insane,  she  told  herself.  Do  try  not  to sound insane.
 
    这肌肉是怎么来的？显然不是运动练就的，除非把裸体泡浴和打台球也算作锻炼。这副好身板大约同股票证券和名贵家具一样，也承袭自他的家族。就是这样一位英俊，甚至俊美的主儿，在她四年大学时光结束之际，不知怎的就来到了她租住的小屋，躺在了她的单人床上，涡纹图案的拳击短裤还低低地扯到髋骨上。英俊！她寻思着，算了，你以为自己是谁啊，简·爱？老大不小了，清醒点儿，别被他弄得神魂颠倒。
    她把烟从他嘴里取下。“我能想象你四十岁的样子，”语气里透出一丝邪劲儿，“我现在就能描绘出那个场面。”
 
 
    他依旧闭着眼睛，浅笑着，“说说看。”
 
 
    “好吧，”她挪动身子，将羽绒被夹在腋下，“你开着一辆敞篷跑车，行驶在肯辛顿的公路上，也可能是切尔西之类的地方，惊人的是跑车没有噪音，因为到那时所有的汽车都是静音的了，那已经是……我想想，哦，二○○六年了吧？”
 
 
    他眨着眼睛计算，“二○○四年了……”
 
 
    “跑车悬空六英寸顺着英皇大道飞驰。你的小肚腩垫在皮革方向盘下，像一个小枕头似的。手上戴着露手背的手套，头发稀疏，下巴的线条全无。你的身坯在小车里显得硕大，皮肤晒成棕褐色，好像涂了油的烤火鸡……”
 
 
    “好了，咱们换个话题，行吗？”
 
 
    “你身边还坐着一个女人，戴着太阳镜。她是你的第二，哦不，第三，不，第四任太太，非常美，是位模特，哦不，曾经是模特，二十三岁，是在一场奈斯车展上做模特时和你相遇的，当时她正在一辆名车的前盖上摆着姿势，光芒四射，艳色撩人。”
 
 
    “哟，真不错。我有孩子吗？”
 
 
    “没孩子，离过三次婚，当时是七月的一个周五，你们正赶往乡下的一处房子。悬浮车的后备箱里放着网球拍和门球球棒，你还带上了满满一篮子上等葡萄酒和南非葡萄、可怜的小鹌鹑，还有芦笋。挡风玻璃外风声呼啸，你的心情非常非常愉快。第三任，不，第四任太太对你微笑着，露出满嘴闪亮的雪白牙齿。你也冲她微笑，同时暗暗努力回避一桩事实：你们俩之间没有，完全、绝对没有共同语言。”
 
 
    她瞬间安静下来。你真是说疯话，她心想，快别那么荒唐了吧。