They crossed the river in a sampan. A chair was waiting for Kitty at the landing-stage and she was carried up the hill to the water-gate. It was through this that the coolies came to fetch water from the river and they hurried to and fro with huge buckets hanging from the yoke on their shoulder, splashing the causeway so that it was as wet as though it had heavily rained. Kitty's bearers gave short, sharp cries to urge them to make way.
“Of course all business is at a standstill,” said Waddington, walking by her side. “Under normal circumstances you have to fight you way through the coolies carrying loads up and down to the junks.”
The street was narrow and winding so that Kitty lost all sense of the direction in which she was going. Many of the shops were closed. She had grown used on the journey up to the untidiness of a Chinese street, but here was the litter of weeks, garbage and refuse; and the stench was so horrible that she had to put her handkerchief to her face. Passing through Chinese cities she had been incommoded by the staring of the crowd, but now she noticed that no more than an indifferent glance was thrown at her. The passers-by, scattered rather than as usual thronging, seemed intent on their own affairs. They were cowed and listless. Now and then as they went by a house they heard the beating of gongs and the shrill, sustained lament of unknown instruments. Behind those closed doors one was lying dead.
“Here we are,” said Waddington at last.
The chair was set down at a small doorway, surmounted by a cross, in a long white wall, and Kitty stepped out. He rang the bell.
“You musn't expect anything very grand, you know. They're miserably poor.”
The door was opened by a Chinese girl, and after a word or two from Waddington she led them into a little room on the side of the corridor. It contained a large table covered with a chequered oilcloth and round the walls was a set of stiff chairs. At one end of the room was a statue, in plaster, of the Blessed Virgin. In a moment a nun came in, short and plump, with a homely face, red cheeks, and merry eyes. Waddington, introducing Kitty to her, called her Soeur St. Joseph.
“C'est la dame du docteur?” she asked, beaming, and then added that the Mother Superior would join them directly.
Sister St. Joseph could speak no English and Kitty's French was halting; but Waddington, fluent, voluble, and inaccurate, maintained a stream of facetious comment which convulsed the good-humoured nun. Her cheerful, easy laughter not a little astonished Kitty. She had an idea that the religious were always grave and this sweet and childlike merriment touched her.
他们乘着一条小舢板过了河。码头上有一个轿椅已经为凯蒂备好，她被抬着上山，一直来到水闸处。在这儿，苦力们从河中取水，然后在肩上搭上轭，挑着巨大的水桶来来回回地运送着水，在堤道上溅满了水，把小土道弄得湿漉漉的，就像刚下过一场大雨似的。凯蒂的轿夫们口中发出短促、尖声的喊叫，催促他们让路。
“显而易见，所有的生意都停了下来。”威廷顿走在她的旁边，跟她说道，“在过去正常的情况下，这条路上满是肩挑背扛的苦力，上上下下地把货物运到船上去，你得奋力跟他们抢道才能过去。”
街道狭窄而弯曲，凯蒂完全失去了前进的方向感，很多店铺都关了门。在来湄潭府的一路上，她已经对街道的脏乱习以为常了。但这儿，好几个星期的垃圾已经堆积成山，恶臭熏天，她不得不把手绢捂在口鼻处。以前经过中国的城镇时，人群对她的注目而视让她不胜其烦，但现在她注意到不再有好奇的目光向她投来，路人不像通常那样摩肩接踵地行走，而是三三两两地散得很开，似乎只想埋头管自己的事情。他们如同惊弓之鸟，但又显得无精打采。当他们经过一座座房屋时，时不时会听见里面传来的敲锣声，还有某些不知名的乐器传来的刺耳而又悠长的哀怨曲调，在这些紧闭的门后，一定又有人死去了。
“我们到了。”威廷顿终于说道。
轿椅在一所院落的小门前被放了下来，门的上方是一个十字架，四周是长长的白色院墙。凯蒂从轿椅上走下来，威廷顿按响了门铃。
“你别以为这儿富丽堂皇，你知道，实际上她们非常寒酸。”
一个中国女孩打开了大门，威廷顿跟她说了几句话，她把他们引到走廊一侧的一间小屋子里面。屋里放着一张大桌子，上面盖着一个黑白格子相间的油布，墙的四周摆着一套硬木椅子，房间的一端是石膏做成的圣母玛利亚的雕像。没过多大一会儿，一位修女走了进来，个头矮胖，一张面孔很朴实，红色的脸颊，一双欢快的眼睛。威廷顿把凯蒂介绍给了她，而把她称为圣约瑟夫修女。
“这位是医生的太太吗？”[1]她笑容满面地用法语问道。然后又补充说，院长马上就会来见他们。
圣约瑟夫修女不会说英语，而凯蒂的法语也是磕磕绊绊。但是威廷顿用一口流利但绝非地道的法语，滔滔不绝地发表了一通滑稽的评论，引得本来就爱笑的圣约瑟夫修女捧腹大笑。她那欢快、轻松的笑声让凯蒂大吃一惊，她原以为教会人士总是很严肃的，而这种甜美、孩子般的快乐打动了她。
* * *
[1]原文为法语。
