【荆棘鸟】第七章 12

 "I’ve sold you, my Meggie, sold you for thirteen million

pieces of silver."
"Sold me?"
"A figure of speech. It doesn’t matter. Come, sit closer to me.
There may not be the chance for us to talk together again."
"While we’re in mourning for Auntie, you mean?" She wriggled 1 up the log and sat next to him. "What difference will being in mourning make?"
"I don’t mean that, Meggie."
"You mean because I’m growing up, and people might gossip
about us?"
"Not exactly. I mean I’m going away."
There it was: the meeting of trouble head on, the acceptance of another load. No outcry, no weeping, no storm of protest. Just a tiny shrinking, as if the burden sat askew 2, would not distribute itself so she could bear it properly. And a caught breath, not quite like a sigh.
"When?"
"A matter of days."
"Oh, Father! It will be harder than Frank."
"And for me harder than anything in my life. I have no consolation 3.You at least have your family."
"You have your God."
"Well said, Meggie! You are growing up!"
But, tenacious 4 female, her mind had returned to the question she had ridden three miles without a chance to ask. He was leaving, it would be so hard to do without him, but the question had its own importance.
"Father, in the stables you said ‘ashes of roses.’ Did you mean the color of my dress?"
"In a way, perhaps. But I think really I meant something else."
"What?"
"Nothing you’d understand, my Meggie. The dying of an idea which had no right to be born, let alone nurtured 5."
"There is nothing which has no right to be born, even an idea." He turned his head to watch her. "You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?"
"I think so."
"Not everything born is good, Meggie."
"No. But if it was born at all, it was meant to be."
"You argue like a Jesuit. How old are you?"
"I’ll be seventeen in a month, Father."
"And you’ve toiled 6 all seventeen years of it. Well, hard work ages us ahead of our years. What do you think about, Meggie, when you’ve the time to think?"
"Oh, about Jims and Patsy and the rest of the boys, about Daddy and Mum, about Hal and Auntie Mary. Sometimes about growing babies. I’d like that very much. And riding, the sheep. All the things the men talk about. The weather, the rain, the vegetable garden,the hens, what I’m going to do tomorrow."
"Do you dream of having a husband?"
"No, except I suppose I’ll have to have one if I want to grow babies. It isn’t nice for a baby to have no father."
In spite of his pain he smiled; she was such a quaint 7 mixture of ignorance and morality. Then he swung sideways, took her chin in his hand and stared down at her. How to do it, what had to be done?
"Meggie, I realized something not long ago which I ought to have seen sooner. You weren’t being quite truthful 8 when you told me what you thought about, were you?"
"I…", she said, and fell silent.
"You didn’t say you thought about me, did you? If there was no guilt 9 in it, you would have mentioned my name alongside your father’s. I think perhaps it’s a good thing I’m going away, don’t you? You’re a little old to be having schoolgirl crushes, but you’re not a very old almost-seventeen, are you? I like your lack of worldly
wisdom, but I know how painful schoolgirl crushes can be; I’ve suffered enough of them."
She seemed about to speak, but in the end her lids fell over tearbright eyes, she shook her head free.
"Look, Meggie, it’s simply a phase, a marker on the road to being a woman. When you’ve become that woman, you’ll meet the man destined 10 to be your husband and you’ll be far too busy getting on with your life to think of me, except as an old friend who helped you through some of the terrible spasms 11 of growing up. What you mustn’t do is get into the habit of dreaming about me in any sort of romantic fashion. I can never regard you the way a husband will. I don’t think of you in that light at all, Meggie, do you understand me? When I say I love you, I don’t mean I love you as a man. I am a priest, not a man. So don’t fill your head with dreams of me. I’m going away, and I doubt very much that I’ll have time to come back, even on a visit.”
Her shoulders were bent 12 as if the load was very heavy, but she lifted her head to look directly into his face.
"I won’t fill my head with dreams of you, don’t worry. I know you’re a priest."
"I’m not convinced I chose my vocation 13 wrongly. It fills a need in me no human being ever could, even you."
"I know. I can see it when you say Mass. You have a power. I suppose you must feel like Our Lord."
"I can feel every suspended breath in the church, Meggie! As each day goes on I die, and in each morning saying Mass I am reborn.But is it because I’m God’s chosen priest, or because I hear those awed 14 breaths, know the power I have over every soul present?"
"Does it matter? It just is."
"It would probably never matter to you, but it does to me. I doubt, I doubt."
She switched the subject to what mattered to her. 
"I don’t know how I shall get on without you, Father. First Frank, now you.Somehow with Hal it’s different; I know he’s dead and can never come back. But you and Frank are alive! I’ll aways be wondering how you are, what you’re doing, if you’re all right, if there’s anything
I could do to help you. I’ll even have to wonder if you’re still alive, won’t I?"
"I’ll be feeling the same, Meggie, and I’m sure that Frank does,too."
"No. Frank’s forgotten us…. You will, too."
"I could never forget you, Meggie, not as long as I live. And for my punishment I’m going to live a long, long time." He got up and pulled her to her feet, put his arms about her loosely and affectionately.
"I think this is goodbye, Meggie. We can’t be alone again."
"If you hadn’t been a priest, Father, would you have married me?"
The title jarred. "Don’t call me that all the time! My name is Ralph." Which didn’t answer her question.Though he held her, he did not have any intention of kissing her.
The face raised to his was nearly invisible, for the moon had set and it was very dark. He could feel her small, pointed 15 breasts low down on his chest; a curious sensation, disturbing. Even more so was the fact that as naturally as if she came into a man’s arms every day of her life, her arms had gone up around his neck, and linked tightly.
He had never kissed anyone as a lover, did not want to now;
nor, he thought, did Meggie. A warm salute 16 on the cheek, a quick hug, as she would demand of her father were he to go away. She was sensitive and proud; he must have hurt her deeply when he held up her precious dreams to dispassionate inspection 17. Undoubtedly 18 she was as eager to be done with the farewell as he was. Would it comfort her to know his pain was far worse than hers? 
As he bent his head to come at her cheek she raised herself on tiptoe, and more by luck than good management touched his lips with her own. He jerked back as if he tasted the spider’s poison, then he tipped his head forward before he could lose her, tried to say something against the sweet shut mouth, and in trying to answer she parted it. Her body seemed to lose all its bones, become fluid, a warm melting darkness; one of his arms was clamped round her waist, the other across her back with its hand on her skull 19, in her hair, holding her face up to his as if frightened she would go from him in that very moment, before he could grasp and catalogue this unbelievable presence who was Meggie. Meggie, and not Meggie, too alien to be familiar, for his Meggie wasn’t a woman, didn’t feel like a woman, could never be a woman to him. Just as he couldn’t be a man to her.The thought overcame his drowning senses; he wrenched 20 her arms from about his neck, thrust her away and tried to see her face in the darkness. But her head was down, she wouldn’t look at him.
“It’s time we were going, Meggie,” he said.Without a word she turned to her horse, mounted and waited for him; usually it was he who waited for her.Father Ralph had been right. At this time of year Drogheda was awash with roses, so the house was smothered 21 in them. By eight that morning hardly one bloom was left in the garden. The first of the mourners began to arrive not long after the final rose was plundered 22 from its bush; 
a light breakfast of coffee and freshly baked, buttered rolls was laid out in the small dining room. After Mary Carson was deposited in the vault 23 a more substantial repast would be served in the big dining room, to fortify 24 the departing mourners on their long ways home.The word had got around; no need to doubt the efficiency of the Gilly grapevine, which was the party line. While lips shaped conventional phrases, eyes and the minds behind them speculated,deduced, smiled slyly.
 

我把你出卖了，我的梅吉，以一千三百银币把你卖掉了。"
　　"把我卖掉了？"
　　"这是夸张的说法。别怕，来，坐得离我近些。也许我们再也没有机会一起交谈了。"
　　"你是说，在为姑妈服丧期间吗？"她在圆木上扭了扭身子，坐近了他的身边。"服丧的时候有什么不一样吗？"
　　"我不是那个意思，梅吉。"
　　"你的意思是。我长大了，人们会背后说我们的闲话吗？"
　　"不完全是这样。我是说，我要走了。"
　　见面徒增烦恼，又要吞下一个苦果。她既没有大哭，没有啜泣，更没有激烈的反对。只是身体微微地抽动了一下，好像被一副担子压偏了，负重不均使她无法恰当地承受它。她吐了口气，但又不象是叹息。
　　"什么时候走？"
　　"就是几天的事。"
　　"哦，神父！这比弗兰克走更难让人忍受！"
　　"对我来说，这比一切都难以忍受。我没有任何安慰，而你至少还有你的家庭。"
　　"你有你的上帝！"
　　"说得好。梅吉！你长大了！"
　　但是，作为一个固执的女子，她的脑子又转到了那个她深埋在心头、没有机会询问的问题上了。他要走了，失去了他日子将会很难熬的，但是，这个问题本身是很重要的。
　　"神父，在马厩里你说过'苍白的玫瑰花。'你指的是我衣服的颜色吗？"
　　"从某种意义上讲，也许是。不过我想，我实际上是另有所指。"
　　"什么？"
　　"你根本不会理解的，我的梅吉。这个想法是没有生命力的。它没有权利诞生，更别说培育它成长了。"
　　"世上任何东西都有权利诞生，就连一个想法也不例外。"
　　他转过身去望着她。"你明白我说的是什么，对吗？"
　　"我想是这样的。"
　　"不是任何诞生的东西都是好的，梅吉。"
　　"是的。不过，如果它已经诞生，那它实际上就存在了。"
　　你争辩起来就像个耶稣会会士。你多大了？"
　　"再过一个月就是17岁了，神父。"
　　"你整整辛劳了17年。哦，艰苦的工作使我们早熟。梅吉，当你有时间思过的时候，你都在想些什么？"
　　"哦，想詹斯、帕西和其他的男孩子们，想爹和妈，想哈尔和玛丽姑妈。有时候想那对正在长大的婴儿。我特别爱想这个。还想骑马和羊群，男人们谈的所有的事情，天气、雨水、菜园子、母鸡和我第二天要做的事情。
　　"你想象过有一个丈夫吗？"
　　"没有，除非我想生孩子，我猜我会有一个丈夫的。婴儿没有父亲可不好。"
　　尽管他心中很痛苦，但他还是笑了，她真是个无知和美德的离奇的混合体啊。随后，他侧转过身来，一只手托着她的下巴，低头盯着她。怎么办才好呢？以前是怎么做的呢？
　　"梅吉，不久前，我明白了一些我本来早该明白的东西。当你告诉我，你曾经想过些什么的时候，你并没有完全说实话，对吗？"
　　"我……"她刚要说，又哑口无言了。
　　"你没有说你起过我，是吗？如果不是心虚的话，那么在你提到你父亲的名字时应该提到我的名字。我想，我要离去也许是一个好事，你不这样想吗？比起那些女学生们的热恋，我稍稍老成一点儿，但是你还不象个快17岁的人那样老成，对吗？我喜欢你没有那种精于世故的聪明。可是，我知道女学生的热恋有多么痛苦，你尝够她们那种迷恋的苦头。"
　　她好像要说什么，可终于合上了那双泪光莹莹的眼睛，一个劲儿地摇着头。
　　"喂，梅吉，这只不过是你将要成为成年女子的一个阶段，一个标志罢了。当你长成一个女人之后，你就会遇上一个注定要成为你丈夫的男人，你的生活会变得很繁忙，除了把我想成一个帮助你度过可怕的成长期的老朋友外，你就不会再想我了。你千万不能以一种浪漫的遐想来想我。我决不能考虑你希望我成为你的丈夫的愿望。我根本没有用那种眼光来想过你，梅吉，你明白我的意思吗？当我说我爱你的时候，我并不是说我是象男人那样爱你。我是个教士，不是个男人。所以，别让有关我的梦幻来充满你的头脑。我要离开了，而且，我非常怀疑我还会有回来的机会，哪怕是一次拜访的机会。"
　　她的肩膀垂了下来，好象担子太重了。但她的头却抬了起来，直盯盯地望着他的眼睛。
　　"我不会用有关你的梦幻来充满自己的头脑的，别担心。我知道你是个教士。"
　　"我并不认为我错误地选择了自己的职业。这职业使我心中充满了一种需要，这是人类，甚至连你都不可能有的。"
　　"我知道。发你做弥撒的时候我就感到了。你有一种力量。我想，你一定有一种象我们的上帝一样的感觉。"
　　"在教堂里的时候，我总能感觉到来自天上的气息，梅吉！当每一天过去的时候，我便死去了，但在每天早晨做弥撒的时候，我又复活了。这是不是因为我是上帝所选中的教士，或者是因为我能觉察到那个人敬民的气息，并且知道我的力量超过了在场的每一个人？"
　　"这有关系吗？事情就该是这样嘛。"
　　"这也许对你来说是无关紧要的，但对我却至关重要。"
　　她把话题转到了与她有关的事上。"神父，我不知道，失去了你我将会怎样生活下去。先是失去了弗兰克，现在是你。哈尔毕竟是另外一回事。我知道，他已经死了。永远不会回来了。可你和弗兰克却活在人间啊！我会永远记挂着我们在干着什么，你们是不是一切平安，我是不是能做些什么事帮助你们。甚至我会惦念着你们是不是还活着，对吗？"
　　"我也会有同样感觉的，梅吉，而且我相信弗兰克也会这样的。"
　　"不。弗兰克已经把我们忘在脑后了……你也会这样的。"
　　"我永远不会忘记的，梅吉，只要我活着，就不会忘记。我要是活得长久，这就是对我的惩罚。"他站起身来，把她拉了起来，轻轻地、充满深情地用双臂搂着她。"我想，这就是道别了，梅吉。我们不能再单独地呆在一起了。"
　　"神父，假如你不是个教士的话，你会娶我吗？"
　　"这个称呼让人感到不愉快、不要老这样叫我。我的名字叫拉尔夫，"所答非所问。
　　虽然他搂着她，但他没有助她的打算。她张向他仰起的脸庞几乎看不清楚，因为月亮已经下山，周围一片漆黑。他能感到她那小而隆起的乳房贴着他的胸口，有一种莫名其妙的感觉，使人心乱。更撩乱人心的是，她的双臂搂着他的脖子，紧紧地搂着，就好象在她的生活中天天扑在男人怀抱中那样自然。
　　他从来没有作为一个情人而吻过任何人，现在也不想这样，就连梅吉他也不想吻。面对着她那即将离去的神父，她想得到的是一次脸颊上的热吻，一次热烈的拥抱。她是个敏感而骄傲的人。他一旦打破了她那珍贵的梦幻，并使这种梦幻变成冷静的客观态度，她的感情肯定深深地受到了伤害。毋庸置疑，她和他一样急于以告别来结束这一切。要是她知道他心中的痛苦比她还厉害，她会感到宽慰吗？当他向她的面颊低下头去的时候，她踮起了脚尖，与其说她是想方设法倒不如说她的嘴唇碰巧挨上了他的嘴唇。他就象尝到了蜘蛛的毒汁似的，猛地把头向后退开了。接着，他又把头向前俯去，舍不得推开她。他竭力想对那张柔情的、紧闭的嘴说些什么，而她在等待着，张开了自己的嘴唇。她的身子象酥了一样，软瘫了，象是一团温暖而又柔软的黑暗。他的一只胳臂夹着她的腰，另一只胳臂抱着她的后背，托着她的后脑勺，手指插进了她的头发，把她的脸举向他的脸，仿佛深怕他还没来得及抱紧她，没来得及仔细看看眼前这个叫梅吉的人时，她就从他的身边消失了似的。她既是梅吉，又非梅吉，和他所熟悉的那个人是如此的不相容；因为他的梅吉不是一个女人，他没有感到她象个女人，对他来说，她永远不会是个女人，就好象他对她不是个男人一样。
　　这种想法使他战胜了那使他沉迷的感觉。他猛地扳开了她那搂着他脖子的双臂，将她推开，竭力想在黑暗中看清她的脸庞。可是，她的头是低着的，没有望着他。
　　"该走了，梅吉。"他说道。
　　她一言未发，转向了她的马匹，翻身上马，等着他；通常是他等着她的。
　　拉尔夫神父是对的。每年的这个时候，德罗海达遍地都是玫瑰，因此，房子里充满了花香。可是那天早晨8点钟的时候，花园里几乎没有一朵开放的玫瑰了。最后一朵玫瑰从花丛上采来后不久，第一位送葬者就来了。早餐很随便，小小的餐室里摆着咖啡和新鲜的烤奶油卷。在玛丽·卡森置尸墓穴之后，将在大餐厅里举行一次更加丰盛的宴会，供赶远路回家的送葬者果腹。消息已经传遍了附近的地区，根本没有必要怀疑基里地区小道消息传播的效率，其快如电。在上下嘴唇一碰，说着些套话的同时，那些眼睛以及眼睛后面的头脑却在推测着、判断着、狡诈地微笑着。