雙語(yǔ)·返老還童：菲茨杰拉德短篇小說(shuō)選 伯妮斯剪短發(fā) 一
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BERNICE BOBS HER HAIR I
After dark on Saturday night one could stand on the first tee of the golf-course and see the country-club windows as a yellow expanse over a very black and wavy ocean. The waves of this ocean, so to speak, were the heads of many curious caddies, a few of the more ingenious chauffeurs, the golf professional's deaf sister—and there were usually several stray, diffident waves who might have rolled inside had they so desired. This was the gallery.
The balcony was inside. It consisted of the circle of wicker chairs that lined the wall of the combination clubroom and ballroom. At these Saturday-night dances it was largely feminine; a great babel of middle-aged ladies with sharp eyes and icy hearts behind lorgnettes and large bosoms. The main function of the balcony was critical. It occasionally showed grudging admiration, but never approval, for it is well known among ladies over thirty-five that when the younger set dance in the summer-time it is with the very worst intentions in the world, and if they are not bombarded with stony eyes stray couples will dance weird barbaric interludes in the corners, and the more popular, more dangerous, girls will sometimes be kissed in the parked limousines of unsuspecting dowagers.
But, after all, this critical circle is not close enough to the stage to see the actors' faces and catch the subtler byplay. It can only frown and lean, ask questions and make satisfactory deductions from its set of postulates, such as the one which states that every young man with a large income leads the life of a hunted partridge. It never really appreciates the drama of the shifting, semi-cruel world of adolescence. No; boxes, orchestra-circle, principals, and chorus are represented by the medley of faces and voices that sway to the plaintive African rhythm of Dyer's dance orchestra.
From sixteen-year-old Otis Ormonde, who has two more years at Hill School, to G. Reece Stoddard, over whose bureau at home hangs a Harvard law diploma; from little Madeleine Hogue, whose hair still feels strange and uncomfortable on top of her head, to Bessie MacRae, who has been the life of the party a little too long—more than ten years—the medley is not only the centre of the stage but contains the only people capable of getting an unobstructed view of it.
With a flourish and a bang the music stops. The couples exchange artificial, effortless smiles, facetiously repeat“l(fā)a-de-da-da dum-dum,” and then the clatter of young feminine voices soars over the burst of clapping.
A few disappointed stags caught in midfloor as they bad been about to cut in subsided listlessly back to the walls, because this was not like the riotous Christmas dances—these summer hops were considered just pleasantly warm and exciting, where even the younger marrieds rose and performed ancient waltzes and terrifying fox trots to the tolerant amusement of their younger brothers and sisters.
Warren McIntyre, who casually attended Yale, being one of the unfortunate stags, felt in his dinner-coat pocket for a cigarette and strolled out onto the wide, semidark veranda, where couples were scattered at tables, filling the lantern-hung night with vague words and hazy laughter. He nodded here and there at the less absorbed and as he passed each couple some half-forgotten fragment of a story played in his mind, for it was not a large city and every one was Who's Who to every one else's past. There, for example, were Jim Strain and Ethel Demorest, who had been privately engaged for three years. Every one knew that as soon as Jim managed to hold a job for more than two months she would marry him. Yet how bored they both looked, and how wearily Ethel regarded Jim sometimes, as if she wondered why she had trained the vines of her affection on such a wind-shaken poplar.
Warren was nineteen and rather pitying with those of his friends who hadn't gone East to college. But, like most boys, he bragged tremendously about the girls of his city when he was away from it. There was Genevieve Ormonde, who regularly made the rounds of dances, house-parties, and football games at Princeton, Yale, Williams, and Cornell; there was black-eyed Roberta Dillon, who was quite as famous to her own generation as Hiram Johnson or Ty Cobb; and, of course, there was Marjorie Harvey, who besides having a fairylike face and a dazzling, bewildering tongue was already justly celebrated for having turned five cart-wheels in succession during the last pump-and-slipper dance at New Haven.
Warren, who had grown up across the street from Marjorie, had long been“crazy about her.” Sometimes she seemed to reciprocate his feeling with a faint gratitude, but she had tried him by her infallible test and informed him gravely that she did not love him. Her test was that when she was away from him she forgot him and had affairs with other boys. Warren found this discouraging, especially as Marjorie had been making little trips all summer, and for the first two or three days after each arrival home he saw great heaps of mail on the Harveys' hall table addressed to her in various masculine handwritings. To make matters worse, all during the month of August she had been visited by her cousin Bernice from Eau Claire, and it seemed impossible to see her alone. It was always necessary to hunt round and find some one to take care of Bernice. As August waned this was becoming more and more difficult.
Much as Warren worshipped Marjorie he had to admit that Cousin Bernice was sorta dopeless. She was pretty, with dark hair and high color, but she was no fun on a party. Every Saturday night he danced a long arduous duty dance with her to please Marjorie, but he had never been anything but bored in her company.
“Warren”—a soft voice at his elbow broke in upon his thoughts, and he turned to see Marjorie, flushed and radiant as usual. She laid a hand on his shoulder and a glow settled almost imperceptibly over him.
“Warren,” she whispered, “do something for me—dance with Bernice. She's been stuck with little Otis Ormonde for almost an hour.”
Warren's glow faded.
“Why—sure,” he answered half-heartedly.
“You don't mind, do you? I'll see that you don't get stuck.”
“'Sall right.”
Marjorie smiled—that smile that was thanks enough.
“You're an angel, and I'm obliged loads.”
With a sigh the angel glanced round the veranda, but Bernice and Otis were not in sight. He wandered back inside, and there in front of the women's dressing-room he found Otis in the centre of a group of young men who were convulsed with laughter. Otis was brandishing a piece of timber he had picked up, and discoursing volubly.
“She's gone in to fix her hair,” he announced wildly. “I'm waiting to dance another hour with her.”
Their laughter was renewed.
“Why don't some of you cut in?” cried Otis resentfully. “She likes more variety.”
“Why, Otis,” suggested a friend, “you've just barely got used to her.”
“Why the two-by-four, Otis?” inquired Warren, smiling.
“The two-by-four? Oh, this? This is a club. When she comes out I'll hit her on the head and knock her in again.”
Warren collapsed on a settee and howled with glee.
“Never mind, Otis,” he articulated finally. “I'm relieving you this time.”
Otis simulated a sudden fainting attack and handed the stick to Warren.
“If you need it, old man,” he said hoarsely.
No matter how beautiful or brilliant a girl may be, the reputation of not being frequently cut in on makes her position at a dance unfortunate. Perhaps boys prefer her company to that of the butte flies with whom they dance a dozen times an evening but, youth in this jazz-nourished generation is temperamentally restless, and the idea of fox-trotting more than one full fox trot with the same girl is distasteful, not to say odious. When it comes to several dances and the intermissions between she can be quite sure that a young man, once relieved, will never tread on her wayward toes again.
Warren danced the next full dance with Bernice, and finally, thankful for the intermission, he led her to a table on the veranda. There was a moment's silence while she did unimpressive things with her fan.
“It's hotter here than in Eau Claire,” she said.
Warren stifled a sigh and nodded. It might be for all he knew or cared. He wondered idly whether she was a poor conversationalist because she got no attention or got no attention because she was a poor conversationalist.
“You going to be here much longer?” he asked and then turned rather red. She might suspect his reasons for asking.
“Another week,” she answered, and stared at him as if to lunge at his next remark when it left his lips.
Warren fidgeted. Then with a sudden charitable impulse he decided to try part of his line on her. He turned and looked at her eyes.
“You've got an awfully kissable mouth,” he began quietly.
This was a remark that he sometimes made to girls at college proms when they were talking in just such half dark as this. Bernice distinctly jumped. She turned an ungraceful red and became clumsy with her fan. No one had ever made such a remark to her before.
“Fresh!” —the word had slipped out before she realized it, and she bit her lip. Too late she decided to be amused, and offered him a flustered smile.
Warren was annoyed. Though not accustomed to have that remark taken seriously, still it usually provoked a laugh or a paragraph of sentimental banter. And he hated to be called fresh, except in a joking way. His charitable impulse died and he switched the topic.
“Jim Strain and Ethel Demorest sitting out as usual,” he commented.
This was more in Bernice's line, but a faint regret mingled with her relief as the subject changed. Men did not talk to her about kissable mouths, but she knew that they talked in some such way to other girls.
“Oh, yes,” she said, and laughed. “I hear they've been mooning around for years without a red penny. Isn't it silly?”
Warren's disgust increased. Jim Strain was a close friend of his brother's, and anyway he considered it bad form to sneer at people for not having money. But Bernice had had no intention of sneering. She was merely nervous.
伯妮斯剪短發(fā) 一
禮拜六晚上，天黑之后，站在高爾夫球場(chǎng)第一個(gè)發(fā)球區(qū)，可以望見(jiàn)鄉(xiāng)村俱樂(lè)部的窗子透出黃色的燈光，照著一大片黑壓壓的、人頭攢動(dòng)的人群。這么說(shuō)吧，這人群實(shí)際上是由許多好奇的球童、一些智商高點(diǎn)的司機(jī)和那個(gè)職業(yè)高爾夫球手的聾子妹妹組成的——而且，通常，還有一些因?yàn)槿狈ψ孕哦坞x在外的人流，如果他們想，便會(huì)隨時(shí)涌入俱樂(lè)部。這就是周末舞會(huì)的盛況。
俱樂(lè)部大廳和舞廳的墻連在一起，圍成一個(gè)內(nèi)置式的露臺(tái)，沿墻擺放著一圈藤椅。禮拜六晚上來(lái)跳舞的大多是女人，一大群吵吵嚷嚷的中年婦女，戴著長(zhǎng)柄眼鏡，乳房高聳，目光犀利，心如鐵石。這個(gè)露臺(tái)的主要功能就是供這些女人挑毛病的。她們偶爾也會(huì)勉強(qiáng)說(shuō)幾句恭維之詞，但永遠(yuǎn)都是違心之語(yǔ)。因?yàn)椋^(guò)三十五歲的女人都非常明白，參加夏季舞會(huì)的年輕人都懷有世界上最齷齪的不軌意圖。如果沒(méi)有這些女人殺傷力十足的目光，那些情侶會(huì)溜到角落里去跳一種奇怪而粗鄙的舞蹈。而更流行、更危險(xiǎn)的做法是，跳舞的年輕人常常會(huì)躲進(jìn)停車場(chǎng)，在毫不知情的貴婦人們的豪華轎車?yán)锝游恰?/p>
然而，這群吹毛求疵的女人畢竟離舞臺(tái)不夠近，因此，她們看不清男演員們的臉龐，也捕捉不到那些微妙的插曲。她們只能蹙著眉頭，貓著身子去打探消息，根據(jù)自以為是的推測(cè)——比如，凡是收入可觀的年輕人都過(guò)著招蜂引蝶的浪蕩日子——做出心滿意足的論斷。她們從來(lái)都無(wú)法真正理解青春世界變化無(wú)常的劇情，也無(wú)法真正體會(huì)到青春世界殘酷無(wú)情的一面。沒(méi)有包廂，各色人等、各種聲音混雜在一起，隨著戴爾舞蹈樂(lè)隊(duì)?wèi)n郁的非洲旋律搖擺，這就是舞會(huì)的樂(lè)隊(duì)、主角和合唱團(tuán)。
在這些人中，十六歲的奧迪斯·奧蒙德還有兩年就要從希爾學(xué)院畢業(yè)了；G.李斯·斯托達(dá)德在他家的書桌上懸掛著哈佛大學(xué)的法學(xué)學(xué)位證書；小馬德琳·霍格頂著一頭奇怪的頭發(fā)，看起來(lái)很別扭；貝茜·麥克雷過(guò)上派對(duì)生活的時(shí)間可是有點(diǎn)長(zhǎng)了——十多年了——他們這群人不僅是舞會(huì)的主角，還是能夠毫無(wú)遮擋地看到表演的觀眾。
隨著一陣花式演奏和一聲巨響，音樂(lè)戛然而止。舞者們輕松地交換著習(xí)以為常的微笑，嘻嘻哈哈地重復(fù)著“啦——得——嗒——嗒，嗒姆——嗒姆”，接著，姑娘們嘰嘰喳喳的歡聲笑語(yǔ)驟然蓋過(guò)了人們的掌聲。
幾個(gè)沒(méi)有女伴的年輕人正要插進(jìn)去和女孩們跳舞，音樂(lè)的突然停止令舞池中的他們有些失望，有些無(wú)所適從，因而他們只好收起熱情，無(wú)精打采地退回到墻邊。和圣誕舞會(huì)的狂歡氣氛不同，夏季舞會(huì)的節(jié)奏令人愉快，人們的興奮程度也恰到好處。因此，已婚的年輕人也會(huì)站起來(lái)，跳起古老的華爾茲和難看得要命的狐步舞，和對(duì)他們報(bào)以遷就態(tài)度的弟弟妹妹們一起玩樂(lè)。
沃倫·麥金泰爾，一個(gè)隨便對(duì)待學(xué)業(yè)的耶魯大學(xué)學(xué)生，就是這樣一個(gè)沒(méi)有舞伴的落寞之人。他從無(wú)尾晚禮服的口袋里摸出一根雪茄，溜達(dá)到外面的露臺(tái)上。露臺(tái)寬敞，燈影朦朧，舞者們散坐在桌子旁。燈影綽綽的夜空，蕩漾著曖昧的情話和迷離的笑聲。他向周圍那些漫不經(jīng)心的人點(diǎn)頭致意。從每一對(duì)舞者身邊經(jīng)過(guò)時(shí)，他的腦海里都會(huì)浮起某個(gè)處于半沉睡狀態(tài)的故事片段。這個(gè)城市并不大，每個(gè)人都對(duì)其他人的底細(xì)了如指掌。比如，吉姆·斯特蘭和埃塞爾·德莫雷斯特已經(jīng)戀愛(ài)三年了。誰(shuí)都知道，吉姆要是能找到一份工作并能堅(jiān)持干上兩個(gè)多月，埃塞爾就會(huì)嫁給他。然而，他倆看上去多么不開(kāi)心呀。有時(shí)，埃塞爾厭倦地望著吉姆，仿佛想弄明白，自己過(guò)去怎么會(huì)把感情的藤蔓纏繞在這樣一棵在風(fēng)雨中飄搖的樹(shù)上。
十九歲的沃倫很為那些沒(méi)有去東部上大學(xué)的朋友們惋惜。但是，和大多數(shù)男孩子一樣，一旦遠(yuǎn)離家鄉(xiāng)，他就會(huì)極力夸耀遠(yuǎn)在家鄉(xiāng)的姑娘們。吉納維芙·奧蒙德總是到普林斯頓、耶魯、威廉姆斯和康奈爾大學(xué)去跳舞、參加家庭派對(duì)、踢足球。在同齡人當(dāng)中，黑眼睛的羅伯塔·迪琳和同輩的約翰遜·海勒姆與泰·考柏一樣有名氣。當(dāng)然，還有瑪嬌麗·哈維，她貌若天仙，嘴巴抹蜜。除此之外，她還因?yàn)槿ツ暝诩~黑文舉行的軟皮鞋舞和木屐舞的舞會(huì)上連續(xù)做了五個(gè)側(cè)手翻而大名鼎鼎。
沃倫和瑪嬌麗隔街而居，他對(duì)她早已情根深種。有時(shí)，她用一點(diǎn)少得可憐的感激之情來(lái)回報(bào)他。而且，她還用一個(gè)百試不爽的方法來(lái)考驗(yàn)他：鄭重其事地告訴他，她不愛(ài)他。她的具體做法是：一旦他不在身邊，她就把他拋到腦后，而去和其他小伙子們談情說(shuō)愛(ài)。沃倫很沮喪，特別是，整個(gè)夏天瑪嬌麗三天兩頭去旅行，每次在她回來(lái)后的頭幾天，他都會(huì)發(fā)現(xiàn)她家客廳的桌子上堆滿了寫給她的情書，信封上的字跡遒勁有力，為不同的男性所寫。更糟的是，八月份她的表妹伯妮斯從奧克萊爾來(lái)看她，整整一個(gè)月她們倆都黏在一起。他想和她單獨(dú)見(jiàn)一面似乎是不可能的事?？偟孟朕k法另外找人把伯妮斯支開(kāi)。八月份快結(jié)束的時(shí)候，想和她單獨(dú)待一會(huì)兒更是難上加難。
盡管沃倫非常愛(ài)慕瑪嬌麗，但他不得不承認(rèn)，她的表妹伯妮斯也一點(diǎn)都不差。她很漂亮，頭發(fā)烏黑，面頰紅潤(rùn)。不過(guò)，她在舞會(huì)上沒(méi)有一點(diǎn)情趣。每個(gè)禮拜六晚上，為了取悅瑪嬌麗，他都得沒(méi)完沒(méi)了、熱情洋溢地和她的表妹跳舞，以完成差事。然而，和伯妮斯在一起，他簡(jiǎn)直無(wú)聊透頂。
“沃倫?！币宦暅厝岬暮魡緩闹膺厒鱽?lái)，打斷了他的思緒。他望著瑪嬌麗，一臉興奮，心旌蕩漾。她將一只手搭在他的肩膀上，他的心頭悄然騰起一團(tuán)火花。
“沃倫，”她輕聲慢語(yǔ)地說(shuō)，“幫我個(gè)忙——和伯妮斯跳支舞吧。她被小奧迪斯·奧蒙德纏住了，都快一個(gè)小時(shí)了?！?/p>
沃倫心中的火花熄滅了。
“哦，好啊?！彼牟辉谘傻卮鸬?。
“你不會(huì)介意的，是嗎？我不會(huì)讓你脫不開(kāi)身的。”
“沒(méi)事的?！?/p>
瑪嬌麗笑了——這一笑足以表達(dá)她的感激之情。
“你簡(jiǎn)直是個(gè)天使，我不勝感激?！?/p>
天使嘆口氣，到露臺(tái)上四處尋找，卻不見(jiàn)伯妮斯和奧迪斯的蹤影。他又轉(zhuǎn)回來(lái)，在女更衣室前看見(jiàn)了奧迪斯。奧迪斯站在一群男孩子中間，揮舞著一根不知從哪兒撿來(lái)的木棍兒，正在高談闊論，小伙子們笑得像抽了風(fēng)一樣。
“她在里面弄頭發(fā)呢，”他扯著嗓子說(shuō)，“我正等著和她再跳上一個(gè)小時(shí)?！?/p>
又爆發(fā)出一輪笑聲。
“你們?yōu)槭裁床缓退枘兀俊眾W迪斯恨恨地喊道，“她更愿意換換口味。”
“哦，奧迪斯，”一個(gè)朋友說(shuō)，“你好不容易才對(duì)上她的胃口。”
“你拿根棍子干什么，奧迪斯？”沃倫笑著問(wèn)道。
“棍子？哦，這？這是一根球棒。等她出來(lái)的時(shí)候，我就一棒子把她敲進(jìn)去。”
沃倫一屁股癱坐在沙發(fā)上大笑了起來(lái)。
“放心吧，奧迪斯，”他終于能止住笑好好說(shuō)話了，“這次我來(lái)救你了。”
奧迪斯假裝突然眩暈了一下，把那根棍子遞給沃倫。
“也許你用得上，老兄。”他粗魯?shù)卣f(shuō)。
無(wú)論一個(gè)姑娘多么光鮮靚麗，如果不能被人頻繁地邀請(qǐng)，那她在舞會(huì)上的處境就會(huì)十分尷尬。也許，比起那些曾經(jīng)與他們跳過(guò)十幾支舞的花蝴蝶，男孩子們倒寧愿她的陪伴。但是在爵士樂(lè)的滋養(yǎng)中長(zhǎng)大的這一代年輕人生性喜怒無(wú)常，和同一個(gè)姑娘跳上多于一支完整的狐步舞雖然不至于十分厭煩，卻會(huì)覺(jué)得索然無(wú)味。跳完幾支舞，在中場(chǎng)休息的時(shí)候，她能十分確定，一個(gè)年輕人一旦擺脫她，就再也不愿碰她那任性的腳指頭了。
沃倫和伯妮斯又跳完了一支舞，多虧有中場(chǎng)休息，他終于可以把她領(lǐng)到露臺(tái)上的一張桌子旁。沉默片刻后，她扇著扇子開(kāi)始了乏味的談話。
“這里比奧克萊爾還熱?！彼f(shuō)。
沃倫悶悶地嘆了口氣，點(diǎn)了點(diǎn)頭。他對(duì)這種情景已早有預(yù)見(jiàn)。他心煩意亂，徒勞地想弄明白，是因?yàn)榈貌坏疥P(guān)愛(ài)才使她不善交談，還是因?yàn)椴簧平徽劧顾貌坏疥P(guān)愛(ài)。
“你還要繼續(xù)在這里待下去嗎？”他問(wèn)道，接著臉就紅了。她可能會(huì)懷疑他這樣問(wèn)她的初衷。
“還要再待一個(gè)禮拜?！彼鸬?。她看著他，仿佛已經(jīng)猜到他即將脫口而出的話。
他很不安。突然，他心軟了，決定稍微恭維一下她。他回過(guò)頭看著她的眼睛。
“你的嘴唇性感極了?！彼届o地說(shuō)。
這是他在大學(xué)舞會(huì)上，在如此刻般朦朧的燈光下，與女生們交談時(shí)掛在嘴邊的話。伯妮斯顯然吃了一驚，羞紅了臉，在扇子后顯得很窘迫。以前，這樣的話從來(lái)沒(méi)有人對(duì)她說(shuō)過(guò)。
“新鮮！”這個(gè)詞脫口而出，她趕緊咬住嘴唇。然而，當(dāng)她后來(lái)又表現(xiàn)出開(kāi)心的樣子，并對(duì)他報(bào)以感激的微笑時(shí)，為時(shí)已晚。
沃倫很煩惱。一般情況下，姑娘們不會(huì)把這句話當(dāng)真，通常都會(huì)哈哈大笑或開(kāi)幾個(gè)打情罵俏式的玩笑。把這句話說(shuō)成新鮮，除非是開(kāi)玩笑，否則他不喜歡。他的憐憫之心消失了，他換了話題。
“吉姆·斯特蘭和埃塞爾·德莫雷斯特總是坐在外面?！彼f(shuō)道。
這句話比較符合伯妮斯的風(fēng)格。雖然話題的轉(zhuǎn)變使她感到自在些，卻也讓她覺(jué)得有點(diǎn)遺憾。男人們不會(huì)和她聊關(guān)于嘴唇是否性感的話題，但她知道他們會(huì)和其他姑娘聊。
“哦，是的，”她說(shuō)，然后笑了笑，“聽(tīng)說(shuō)他們這幾年都無(wú)所事事，身無(wú)分文。這樣不是很傻嗎？”
沃倫的厭惡之情又增加一層。吉姆·斯特蘭是他哥哥的好朋友，無(wú)論如何，他認(rèn)為嘲笑別人沒(méi)錢是不禮貌的。然而，伯妮斯并非故意要嘲笑誰(shuí)，她只是緊張而已。
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