Dr. Coutras shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

库特拉斯医生耸了一下肩膀，脸上露出笑容。

"You will laugh at me. I am a materialist, and I am a gross, fat man—Falstaff, eh?—the lyrical mode does not become me. I make myself ridiculous. But I have never seen painting which made so deep an impression upon me. Tenez, I had just the same feeling as when I went to the Sistine Chapel in Rome. There too I was awed by the greatness of the man who had painted that ceiling. It was genius, and it was stupendous and overwhelming. I felt small and insignificant. But you are prepared for the greatness of Michael Angelo. Nothing had prepared me for the immense surprise of these pictures in a native hut, far away from civilisation, in a fold of the mountain above Taravao. And Michael Angelo is sane and healthy. Those great works of his have the calm of the sublime; but here, notwithstanding beauty, was something troubling. I do not know what it was. It made me uneasy. It gave me the impression you get when you are sitting next door to a room that you know is empty, but in which, you know not why, you have a dreadful consciousness that notwithstanding there is someone. You scold yourself; you know it is only your nerves—and yet, and yet... In a little while it is impossible to resist the terror that seizes you, and you are helpless in the clutch of an unseen horror. Yes; I confess I was not altogether sorry when I heard that those strange masterpieces had been destroyed."

“你会笑我的。我是个实利主义者，我生得又蠢又胖——有点儿象福斯塔夫（莎士比亚戏剧《亨利四世》中人物，身体肥胖，喜爱吹牛），对不对？——抒情诗的感情对我是很不合适的。我在惹人发笑。但是我真的还从来没有看过哪幅画给我留下这么深的印象。说老实话，我看这幅画时的心情，就象我进了罗马塞斯廷小教堂一样。在那里我也是感到在天花板上绘画的那个画家非常伟大，又敬佩又畏服。那真是天才的画，气势磅礴，叫人感到头晕目眩。在这样伟大的壁画前面，我感到自己非常渺小，微不足道。但是人们对米开朗基罗的伟大还是有心理准备的，而在这样一个土人住的小木房子里，远离文明世界，在俯瞰塔拉窝村庄的群山怀抱里，我却根本没想到会看到这样令人吃惊的艺术作品。另外，米开朗基罗神智健全，身体健康。他的那些伟大作品给人以崇高、肃穆的感觉。但是在这里，虽然我看到的也是美，却叫我觉得心神不安。我不知道那究竟是什么，但它确实叫我不能平静。它给我一种印象，仿佛我正坐在一间空荡荡的屋子隔壁，我知道那间屋子是空的，但不知为什么，我又觉得里面有一个人，叫我惊恐万状。你责骂你自己吧；你知道这只不过是你的神经在作祟——但是，但是……过一小会儿，你就再也不能抗拒那紧紧捕捉住你的恐惧了。你被握在一种无形的恐怖的掌心里，无法逃脱。是的，我承认当我听到这些奇异的杰作被毁掉的时候，我并不是只觉得遗憾的。”

"Destroyed?" I cried.

“怎么，毁掉了？”我喊起来。

"Mais oui; did you not know?"

“是啊。你不知道吗？”

"How should I know? It is true I had never heard of this work; but I thought perhaps it had fallen into the hands of a private owner. Even now there is no certain list of Strickland's paintings."

“我怎么会知道？我没听说过这些作品倒是事实，但是我还以为它们落到某个私人收藏家手里去了呢。思特里克兰德究竟画了多少画儿，直到今天始终没有人编制出目录来。”