【荆棘鸟】第五章 11

"没想吧，这些年来我总是抱怨你拖她的后腿，我就是这么想的，我就是这么想的！"
　　"没有拖她的后腿，弗兰克，谁也没有！"神父喊道，想把他拉回来。"这只是上帝那难以捉摸的伟大计划的一部分；你应该这样想！"
　　"上帝那难以捉摸的伟大计划！"从门口传来了那年轻人嘲讽的声音，"德·布里克萨特神父，你当神父时，比应声虫高明不了多少！我说上帝保佑你，因为你是这里唯一不了解上帝的人！"
　　帕迪坐在椅子上，脸色灰白；他吃惊地看着跪在炉子旁，哭得东倒西歪的梅吉。他站起身来，走到她在前，但拉尔夫神父粗暴地把他推开了。
　　"别碰她。你干得已经够了！柜橱里有威士忌，去喝点儿吧。我先送她去睡觉，然后回来和你谈谈，你别走。伙计，听见我的话了吗？"
　　"我会呆在这儿的。神父。让她去睡吧，"
　　在楼上那间迷人的、苹果绿色的卧室里，神父替小姑娘脱掉了外衣和衬衫，让她坐在床边，然后再给她脱去鞋袜。安妮送来的睡衣放在枕头上。在脱她的内裤之前、他把睡衣拉过来，从她的头上轻轻套下。他一直跟她扯着不相干的闲话，比如扣子拒绝解开啦，鞋带顽固地紧缚着啦，缎带解不开啦，等等。她是不是在听，那就很难说了。烦恼、痛苦和难以方喻的童年悲剧，远远超过了她这种年纪可以接受的范围。她的眼睛越过他的肩头，忧郁地凝望着。
　　"现在躺下，亲爱的姑娘。安心睡吧，我一会儿就来看你。别担心，听见了吗？咱们以后再谈这件事。"
　　"她好吗？"当他回到客厅时，帕迪问。
　　拉尔夫神父伸手去拿柜橱上的威士忌，给自己倒了大半杯。
　　"我真的不知道，老天在上，帕迪，我想知道什么对爱尔兰人祸害更大。是酒呢？还是脾气？是什么使你说出那番话？不，别忙着回答！当然是脾气喽。当然，没错儿！我头一眼看见他时，就知道他不是你们的孩子。
 

"And to think all these years I've blamed you for dragging her down, when it was me. It was me!" "It was no one, Frank, no one!" the priest cried, trying to pull him back. "It's a part of God's great unfathomable plan; think of it like that!" Frank shook off the detaining hand and walked to the door with his light, deadly, tiptoed gait. He was born to be a boxer 1, thought Father Ralph in some detached corner of his brain, that cardinal's brain. "God's great unfathomable plan!" mocked the young man's voice from the door. "You're no better than a parrot when you act the priest, Father de Bricassart! I say God help you, because you're the only one of us here who has no idea what he really is!"
Paddy was sitting in a chair, ashen 2, his shocked eyes on Meggie as she huddled 3 on her knees by the fire, weeping and rocking herself back and forth 4. He got up to go to her, but Father Ralph pushed him roughly away. "Leave her alone. You've done enough! There's whiskey in the sideboard; take some. I'm going to put the child to bed, but I'll be back to talk to you, so don't go. Do you hear me, man?"
"I'll be here, Father. Put her to bed."
Upstairs in the charming apple-green bedroom the priest unbuttoned the little girl's dress and chemise, made her sit on the edge of the bed so he could pull off her shoes and stockings. Her nightdress lay on the pillow where Annie had left it; he tugged 5 it over her head and decently down before he removed her drawers. And all the while he talked to her about nothing, silly stories of buttons refusing to come undone 6, and shoes stubbornly staying tied, and ribbons that would not come off. It was impossible to tell if she heard him; with their unspoken tales of infant tragedies, of troubles and pains beyond her years, the eyes stared drearily 7 past his shoulder. "Now lie down, my darling girl, and try to go to sleep. I'll be back in a little while to see you, so don't worry, do you hear? We'll talk about it then."
"Is she all right?" asked Paddy as he came back into the lounge. Father Ralph reached for the whiskey bottle standing 8 on the sideboard, and poured a tumbler half full.
"I don't honestly know. God in heaven, Paddy, I wish I knew which is an Irishman's greater curse, the drink or the temper. What possessed 9 you to say that? No, don't even bother answering! The temper.