In Zurich in September Doctor Diver had tea with Baby Warren.

“I think it’s ill advised,” she said, “I’m not sure I truly understand your motives.”

“Don’t let’s be unpleasant.”

“After all I’m Nicole’s sister.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to be unpleasant.” It irritated Dick that he knew so much that he could not tell her. “Nicole’s rich, but that doesn’t make me an adventurer.”

“That’s just it,” complained Baby stubbornly. “Nicole’s rich.”

“Just how much money has she got?” he asked.

She started; and with a silent laugh he continued, “You see how silly this is? I’d rather talk to some man in your family—”

“Everything’s been left to me,” she persisted. “It isn’t we think you’re an adventurer. We don’t know who you are.”

“I’m a doctor of medicine,” he said. “My father is a clergyman, now retired. We lived in Buffalo and my past is open to investigation. I went to New Haven; afterward I was a Rhodes scholar. My great-grandfather was Governor of North Carolina and I’m a direct descendant of Mad Anthony Wayne.”

“Who was Mad Anthony Wayne?” Baby asked suspiciously.

“Mad Anthony Wayne?”

“I think there’s enough madness in this affair.”

He shook his head hopelessly, just as Nicole came out on the hotel terrace and looked around for them.

“He was too mad to leave as much money as Marshall Field,” he said.

“That’s all very well—”

Baby was right and she knew it. Face to face, her father would have it on almost any clergyman. They were an American ducal family without a title—the very name written in a hotel register, signed to an introduction, used in a difficult situation, caused a psychological metamorphosis in people, and in return this change had crystallized her own sense of position. She knew these facts from the English, who had known them for over two hundred years. But she did not know that twice Dick had come close to flinging the marriage in her face. All that saved it this time was Nicole finding their table and glowing away, white and fresh and new in the September afternoon.

How do you do, lawyer. We’re going to Como tomorrow for a week and then back to Zurich. That’s why I wanted you and sister to settle this, because it doesn’t matter to us how much I’m allowed. We’re going to live very quietly in Zurich for two years and Dick has enough to take care of us. No, Baby, I’m more practical than you think—It’s only for clothes and things I’ll need it…. Why, that’s more than—can the estate really afford to give me all that? I know I’ll never manage to spend it. Do you have that much? Why do you have more—is it because I’m supposed to be incompetent? All right, let my share pile up then…. No, Dick refuses to have anything whatever to do with it. I’ll have to feel bloated for us both…. Baby, you have no more idea of what Dick is like than, than—Now where do I sign? Oh, I’m sorry.

…Isn’t it funny and lonely being together, Dick. No place to go except close. Shall we just love and love? Ah, but I love the most, and I can tell when you’re away from me, even a little. I think it’s wonderful to be just like everybody else, to reach out and find you all warm beside me in the bed.

…If you will kindly call my husband at the hospital. Yes, the little book is selling everywhere—they want it published in six languages. I was to do the French translation but I’m tired these days—I’m afraid of falling, I’m so heavy and clumsy—like a broken roly-poly that can’t stand up straight. The cold stethoscope against my heart and my strongest feeling “Je m’en fiche de tout.”—Oh, that poor woman in the hospital with the blue baby, much better dead. Isn’t it fine there are three of us now?

…That seems unreasonable, Dick—we have every reason for taking the bigger apartment. Why should we penalize ourselves just because there’s more Warren money than Diver money. Oh, thank you, cameriere, but we’ve changed our minds. This English clergyman tells us that your wine here in Orvieto is excellent. It doesn’t travel? That must be why we have never heard of it, because we love wine.

The lakes are sunk in the brown clay and the slopes have all the creases of a belly. The photographer gave us the picture of me, my hair limp over the rail on the boat to Capri. “Good-by, Blue Grotte,” sang the boatman, “come again soo-oon.” And afterward tracing down the hot sinister shin of the Italian boot with the wind soughing around those eerie castles, the dead watching from up on those hills.

…This ship is nice, with our heels hitting the deck together. This is the blowy corner and each time we turn it I slant forward against the wind and pull my coat together without losing step with Dick. We are chanting nonsense:

Oh—oh—oh—oh

Other flamingoes than me,

Oh—oh—oh—oh

Other flamingoes than me—

Life is fun with Dick—the people in deck chairs look at us, and a woman is trying to hear what we are singing. Dick is tired of singing it, so go on alone, Dick. You will walk differently alone, dear, through a thicker atmosphere, forcing your way through the shadows of chairs, through the dripping smoke of the funnels. You will feel your own reflection sliding along the eyes of those who look at you. You are no longer insulated; but I suppose you must touch life in order to spring from it.

Sitting on the stanchion of this life-boat I look seaward and let my hair blow and shine. I am motionless against the sky and the boat is made to carry my form onward into the blue obscurity of the future, I am Pallas Athene carved reverently on the front of a galley. The waters are lapping in the public toilets and the agate green foliage of spray changes and complains about the stern.

…We travelled a lot that year—from Woolloomooloo Bay to Biskra. On the edge of the Sahara we ran into a plague of locusts and the chauffeur explained kindly that they were bumble-bees. The sky was low at night, full of the presence of a strange and watchful God. Oh, the poor little naked Ouled Na?l; the night was noisy with drums from Senegal and flutes and whining camels, and the natives pattering about in shoes made of old automobile tires.

But I was gone again by that time—trains and beaches they were all one. That was why he took me travelling but after my second child, my little girl, Topsy, was born everything got dark again.

…If I could get word to my husband who has seen fit to desert me here, to leave me in the hands of incompetents. You tell me my baby is black—that’s farcical, that’s very cheap. We went to Africa merely to see Timgad, since my principal interest in life is archeology. I am tired of knowing nothing and being reminded of it all the time.

…When I get well I want to be a fine person like you, Dick—I would study medicine except it’s too late. We must spend my money and have a house—I’m tired of apartments and waiting for you. You’re bored with Zurich and you can’t find time for writing here and you say that it’s a confession of weakness for a scientist not to write. And I’ll look over the whole field of knowledge and pick out something and really know about it, so I’ll have it to hang on to if I go to pieces again. You’ll help me, Dick, so I won’t feel so guilty. We’ll live near a warm beach where we can be brown and young together.

…This is going to be Dick’s work house. Oh, the idea came to us both at the same moment. We had passed Tarmes a dozen times and we rode up here and found the houses empty, except two stables. When we bought we acted through a Frenchman but the navy sent spies up here in no time when they found that Americans had bought part of a hill village. They looked for cannons all through the building material, and finally Baby had to twitch wires for us at the Affaires étrangères in Paris.

No one comes to the Riviera in summer, so we expect to have a few guests and to work. There are some French people here—Mistinguett last week, surprised to find the hotel open, and Picasso and the man who wrote Pas sur la Bouche.

…Dick, why did you register Mr. and Mrs. Diver instead of Doctor and Mrs. Diver? I just wondered—it just floated through my mind—You’ve taught me that work is everything and I believe you. You used to say a man knows things and when he stops knowing things he’s like anybody else, and the thing is to get power before he stops knowing things. If you want to turn things topsy-turvy, all right, but must your Nicole follow you walking on her hands, darling?

…Tommy says I am silent. Since I was well the first time I talked a lot to Dick late at night, both of us sitting up in bed and lighting cigarettes, then diving down afterward out of the blue dawn and into the pillows, to keep the light from our eyes. Sometimes I sing, and play with the animals, and I have a few friends too—Mary, for instance. When Mary and I talk neither of us listens to the other. Talk is men. When I talk I say to myself that I am probably Dick. Already I have even been my son, remembering how wise and slow he is. Sometimes I am Doctor Dohmler and one time I may even be an aspect of you, Tommy Barban. Tommy is in love with me, I think, but gently, reassuringly. Enough, though, so that he and Dick have begun to disapprove of each other. All in all, everything has never gone better. I am among friends who like me. I am here on this tranquil beach with my husband and two children. Everything is all right—if I can finish translating this damn recipe for chicken à la Maryland into French. My toes feel warm in the sand.

“Yes, I’ll look. More new people—oh, that girl—yes. Who did you say she looked like…. No, I haven’t, we don’t get much chance to see the new American pictures over here. Rosemary who? Well, we’re getting very fashionable for July—seems very peculiar to me. Yes, she’s lovely, but there can be too many people.”

九月，戴弗医生和芭比·沃伦在苏黎世一起喝茶。

“我觉得这样做不妥当，”芭比·沃伦说，“你的意图我不知道自己是不是真的能理解。”

“你只要不阻挠就行。”

“可我毕竟是尼科尔的姐姐呀。”

“你不能因此就有权加以干涉。”迪克心里升腾起一把无名之火，心里有话，但不知道怎么说才好了，“尼科尔有钱，可是这不意味着我是贪她的钱而来的。”

“尼科尔的确很有钱，问题就在于此。”芭比不依不饶，说话的口气仍很硬。

“那你说她到底有多少钱？”他问道。

这一问算是将了芭比一军。迪克暗自发笑，继续说道：“跟你谈这件事你看是不是有点冒傻气？我最好还是和你们家哪位拿事的男士谈一谈……”

“这件事我完全可以做主。”她说话的口气仍旧很硬，“我们并不是觉得你是图钱而来，而是不了解你。”

“我是一名医生，”他说，“家父是牧师，现已退休。我们家住在布法罗，对于我的过去你们可以去调查嘛。我在纽黑文上过学，后来获得了罗兹奖学金。我的曾祖父做过北卡罗来纳州州长，我是疯狂的安东尼·韦恩的直系后代。”

“谁是疯狂的安东尼·韦恩？”芭比一脸茫然地问。

“你不知道疯狂的安东尼·韦恩？”

“依我看，你们俩的这件事已经够疯狂的了。”

他无奈地摇了摇头。这时，尼科尔出现在旅馆的平台上，东张西望地在寻找他们。

“他的确很疯狂，像马歇尔·菲尔德一样把许多钱都捐了出去。”他说。

“那倒是挺不错……”

芭比这般挑剔其实并没有错，她心里是很清楚的。如果比身份，她父亲可以说比任何一个牧师都要强。他们家是一个没有爵号的贵族世家——这个家族的名字写在旅馆的登记簿上，签在介绍信上，遇到尴尬的情况，可以引起人们的心理变化，而这种心理的变化曾经影响过她，使她意识到了自己的社会地位是多么显赫。她是从英国人那里知道这一点的——那些英国人熟知他们家族两百多年的历史。她所不知道的是：迪克有两次都差点跟她翻脸，放弃这桩婚姻。幸亏这时尼科尔发现了他们坐的地方，飘然走了过来，在八月份的这个下午她显得是那么清新艳丽，满脸熠熠生彩。

以下是尼科尔婚前及婚后的一段经历和臆想：

你好，律师！明天我们要去科莫一个星期，然后返回苏黎世。我想让你和我姐姐把这件事定下来，至于我能得多少无关紧要。我们将在苏黎世安安静静住两年，迪克的钱完全够用的。不，芭比，我比你想象的要实际——我需要钱只是买买衣服什么的……啊，怎么会有那么多钱！家里真能给我那么多钱？这恐怕叫我花都花不完。难道你也有那么多钱？……你怎么比我的还多？是不是因为我是个病人？好吧，就让我那一份堆在那儿吧……不行的，迪克拒绝同这笔钱有任何牵连。我为我们俩感到自豪……芭比，你对迪克的为人是不太了解……哦，让我在哪儿签字？哦，真抱歉。

……两人世界真是有趣又冷清，迪克。你我相厮相守，哪儿都不去，只要有爱就够了。若说爱，我爱得最深，你离开我，哪怕是一小会儿，我都受不了。能像其他人一样生活，一伸手就能摸到你睡在我身旁，暖乎乎的，这感觉真好。

……麻烦你给医院挂电话，叫我丈夫来接！……是的，这本小书到处都在卖——他们要用六种语言出版。我倒是可以把它翻译成法语，但这些日子我感到疲倦，身子又重又笨，老怕摔倒，就像个站都站不直的破不倒翁。冰凉的听诊器压在我的胸口上，我只有一个感觉：“我什么都不怕！”……唉，医院里那个母亲真可怜，抱着个皮肤发青的婴儿，真是生不如死呀。咱们现在成了三口之家，你说好不好？

……岂有此理，迪克！再怎么说咱们也得住大一些的房子。难道就因为沃伦家的钱比戴弗家的多，咱们就得委屈自己不成？……哦，谢谢你，侍者，不过，我们改主意了。这位英国牧师对我们说，你们奥维多产的葡萄酒味道很好。知名度不高？怪不得连我们这些爱酒人士都没有听说过。

湖泊嵌在褐色的土地上，一道道山坡此起彼伏，像是肚皮上的褶皱。摄影师把我的照片给了我们——在前往卡布里岛的轮船上，我站在栏杆边，头发披散下来。一个船员在唱：“再见，蓝色的格罗特！不久我们还会再来相会。”后来，轮船沿着靴状的意大利国那炎热、险恶的腰部航行，风儿掠过那怪异的城堡，呼呼地叫着，而山上的亡灵在向下俯瞰。

这艘轮船很棒，我们高兴得用脚后跟磕打甲板。这是一处临风的拐角，每次我们走过这里，我总要被风刮得身子倾斜，于是我就裹紧衣服，一步不落地跟着迪克。我们由着性子胡唱：

喔—喔—喔—喔

火烈鸟跟我无缘，

喔—喔—喔—喔

火烈鸟跟我无缘……

同迪克在一起，生活充满了乐趣……在甲板上，人们坐在椅子上盯着我们看；一位女士竖起耳朵，想听我们在唱什么歌。迪克唱烦了……那好吧，你就自己走吧，迪克。你自己走，独自一人穿过那堆椅子黑压压的影子，穿过那烟囱里冒出的黑烟，你会有不同的感觉，会觉得气氛沉重。你会觉得那一双双眼睛在斜睨着你。你不再是与世隔绝的孤家寡人啦？我认为应该先融入生活，再从生活中超脱才对！

坐在救生艇的立柱上，我眺望大海，头发随风飘扬，闪着亮光。在蓝天之下，我一动不动，乘坐着我的小船驶向未来，驶向那蔚蓝色的远方。我仿佛就是希腊女神帕拉斯·雅典娜，人们怀着敬意将我的像镌刻在船头上。辽阔的大海上涛声滚滚，玛瑙绿的浪花翻卷着，在船尾发出一声声的叹息。

那年，我们到处旅行，去过伍卢穆卢湾，也去过比斯克拉。在撒哈拉沙漠的边上，我们遇上了蝗灾，可司机轻描淡写地说那只不过是大黄蜂。入夜，星空低垂，那儿似乎处处都有不知名的神在注视着我们。啊，那个光着身子的奥莱德奈尔小孩真可怜。夜空里回荡着各种声响，有塞内加尔的鼓声、笛声和骆驼的哀号声，还有土著人穿着用旧轮胎做成的鞋子啪嗒啪嗒走动的声音。

但那个时候，我已怀上了第二胎，迷恋于火车和海滩，因而他就带我四处旅行。不过，我的第二个孩子，小女儿托普西出生后，我的心境又变得阴郁起来。

……要是有人给我丈夫捎个口信就好了。谁料想他竟然把我一个人丢在此处，交给一些无能的家伙看管！你说我生下的是个黑孩子——太可笑了，简直是无稽之谈！我们到非洲的目的只是想参观参观提姆加德，因为我生活中的主要兴趣是考古。我讨厌无知，讨厌人们老说我什么也不懂。

……待我身体好起来，我要做一个像你这样的有用人才，迪克——要是不太迟的话，我想学医。咱们必须动用我的钱，购置一套住房——我不愿再住公寓了，不愿在公寓里眼巴巴地等着你回来。再说，你在苏黎世也待够了，因为你在这儿没有时间写书。你说过，一个科学家不著书立说就是怯懦的表现。我也要在知识领域上下求索，了解和掌握知识，这样，万一我身体再次崩溃，就能够以知识作为精神的支柱。你可要帮助我，迪克，让我无愧于自己的人生。咱们可以定居于温暖宜人的海滩附近，把皮肤晒成古铜色，焕发出青春的活力。

……这儿将成为迪克的工作室。哦，我俩不约而同地想到一块儿了。我们从塔姆斯路过，来来回回有十几次了，偶然跑到这里来，结果发现了这些空房子，还有两间马厩。我们找了个法国人做中介买下了它们，谁知法国海军得知美国人买下了这个山村的几间房屋，就立刻派人来调查，对这儿进行彻底搜查，看有没有藏着武器。最后还是芭比跑到巴黎的外交部找关系，才算为我们了结了这件事。

夏天没有人来里维埃拉，于是我们就盼着人来，盼着有点事做。这儿稀稀拉拉来了几个法国人……上个星期，米斯廷盖来到这里，他发现旅馆竟然开门营业了，感到十分惊讶……另外，我们还看到了毕加索和《禁止接吻》的那个作者。

……迪克，你登记时为什么用戴弗先生和戴弗太太，而不用戴弗医生和戴弗夫人？我只是有些好奇……这只是偶然产生的想法……你教导我，说工作就是一切，而我相信你说得对。你常说：一个人要不断学习，一旦止步不前，就会流于平庸——学则进，不学则退。如果你忽东忽西，也行，莫非要你的尼科尔也亦步亦趋跟你学，亲爱的？

……汤米说我寡言少语。自从我病好之后，我这还是第一次跟迪克彻夜长谈。我俩坐在床上，点着烟抽，蓝蓝的曙光照进来时，我们就把枕头盖在脸上，不让光线直射眼睛。有的时候，我唱唱歌，跟猫狗玩耍，还交了几个朋友——玛丽就是其中的一个。我跟玛丽交谈，都是自顾自地说，谁都不听谁的。说话是男人的事。我要是说话，就跟自己说，仿佛我成了迪克。我甚至还觉得自己成了我的儿子，想象着他是多么聪明，又是多么迟钝。有时，我又觉得自己成了多姆勒医生，甚至有一次觉得自己变成了汤米·巴尔班。汤米大概爱上了我，不过他爱得温文尔雅、脉脉含情。这样一来，迪克和他之间就有了嫌隙。总而言之，现在的状况比以往任何时候都好。周围的朋友们都很喜欢我；我和我丈夫及两个孩子在这静谧的海滨享受着天伦之乐。要是我能把这该死的制作马里兰鸡的食谱译成法文的话，那就事事顺心了。脚丫子踩在沙滩上暖丝丝的，感觉真好！

好的，让我看看。又新来了一些人……哦，那个女孩……是的。你说她看上去像谁来着……不，我没看过——这地方能看美国新影片的机会是不多的。罗斯玛丽是谁？噢，七月份咱们这儿一下子变得非常时尚起来了——这在我看来非常奇怪。是的，她很可爱，但是来这儿的人未免也太多了。