A Visit 3

At the ball Margaret wore a gown of thin blue lace that belonged to Carla, and yellow roses in her hair, and she carried one of the fans from the fan room, a daintily painted ivory thing which seemed indestructible, since she dropped it twice, and which had a tiny picture of the house painted on its ivory sticks, so that when the fan was closed the house was gone. Mrs. Rhodes had given it to her to carry, and had given Carla another, so that when Margaret and Carla passed one another dancing, or met by the punch bowl or in the halls, they said happily to one another, “Have you still got your fan? I gave mine to someone to hold for a minute; I showed mine to everyone. Are you still carrying your fan? I've got mine.”

Margaret danced with strangers and with Paul, and when she danced with Paul they danced away from the others, up and down the long gallery hung with pictures, in and out between the pillars which led to the great hall opening into the room of the tiles. Near them danced ladles in scarlet silk, and green satin, and white velvet, and Mrs. Rhodes, in black with diamonds at her throat and on her hands, stood at the top of the room and smiled at the dancers, or went on Mr. Rhodes's arm to greet guests who came laughingly in between the pillars looking eagerly and already moving in time to the music as they walked. One lady wore white feathers in her hair, curling down against her shoulder; another had a pink scarf over her arms, and it floated behind her as she danced. Paul was in his haughty uniform, and Carla wore red roses in her hair and danced with the captain.

“Are you really going tomorrow?” Margaret asked Paul once during the evening; she knew that he was, but somehow asking the question—which she had done several times before—established a communication between them, of his right to go and her right to wonder, which was sadly sweet to her.

“I said you might meet the great-aunt,” said Paul, as though in answer; Margaret followed his glance, and saw the old lady of the tower. She was dressed in yellow satin, and looked very regal and proud as she moved through the crowd of dancers, drawing her skirt aside if any of them came too close to her. She was coming toward Margaret and Paul where they sat on small chairs against the wall, and when she came close enough she smiled, looking at Paul, and said to him, holding out her hands, “I am very glad to see you, my dear.”

Then she smiled at Margaret and Margaret smiled back, very glad that the old lady held out no hands to her.

“Margaret told me you were here,” the old lady said to Paul, “and I came down to see you once more.”

“I'm very glad you did,” Paul said. “I wanted to see you so much that I almost came to the tower.”

They both laughed and Margaret, looking from one to the other of them, wondered at the strong resemblance between them. Margaret sat very straight and stiff on her narrow chair, with her blue lace skirt falling charmingly around her and her hands folded neatly in her lap, and listened to their talk. Paul had found the old lady a chair and they sat with their heads near together, looking at one another as they talked, and smiling.

“You look very fit,” the old lady said. “Very fit indeed.” She sighed.

“You look wonderfully well,” Paul said.

“Oh, well,” said the old lady. “I've aged. I've aged, I know it.”

“So have I,” said Paul.

“Not noticeably,” said the old lady, shaking her head and regarding him soberly for a minute. “You never will, I suppose.”

At that moment the captain came up and bowed in front of Margaret, and Margaret, hoping that Paul might notice, got up to dance with him.

“I saw you sitting there alone,” said the captain, “and I seized the precise opportunity I have been awaiting all evening.”

“Excellent military tactics,” said Margaret, wondering if these remarks had not been made a thousand times before, at a thousand different balls.

“I could be a splendid tactician,” said the captain gallantly, as though carrying on his share of the echoing conversation, the words spoken under so many glittering chandeliers, “if my objective were always so agreeable to me.”

“I saw you dancing with Carla,” said Margaret.

“Carla,” he said, and made a small gesture that somehow showed Carla as infinitely less than Margaret. Margaret knew that she had seen him make the same gesture to Carla, probably with reference to Margaret. She laughed.

“I forget what I'm supposed to say now,” she told him.

“You're supposed to say,” he told her seriously, “‘And do you really leave us so soon?’”

“And do you really leave us so soon?” said Margaret obediently.

“The sooner to return,” he said, and tightened his arm around her waist. Margaret said, it being her turn, “We shall miss you very much.”

“I shall miss you,” he said, with a manly air of resignation.

They danced two waltzes, after which the captain escorted her handsomely back to the chair from which he had taken her, next to which Paul and the old lady continued in conversation, laughing and gesturing. The captain bowed to Margaret deeply, clicking his heels.

“May I leave you alone for a minute or so?” he asked. “I believe Carla is looking for me.”

“I'm perfectly all right here,” Margaret said. As the captain hurried away she turned to hear what Paul and the old lady were saying.

“I remember, I remember,” said the old lady laughing, and she tapped Paul on the wrist with her fan. “I never imagined there would be a time when I should find it funny.”

“But it was funny,” said Paul.

“We were so young,” the old lady said. “I can hardly remember.”

She stood up abruptly, bowed to Margaret, and started back across the room among the dancers. Paul followed her as far as the doorway and then left her to come back to Margaret. When he sat down next to her he said, “So you met the old lady?”

“I went to the tower,” Margaret said.

“She told me,” he said absently, looking down at his gloves. “Well,” he said finally, looking up with an air of cheerfulness. “Are they never going to play a waltz?”

Shortly before the sun came up over the river the next morning they sat at breakfast, Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes at the ends of the table, Carla and the captain, Margaret and Paul. The red roses in Carla's hair had faded and been thrown away, as had Margaret's yellow roses, but both Carla and Margaret still wore their ball gowns, which they had been wearing for so long that the soft richness of them seemed natural, as though they were to wear nothing else for an eternity in the house, and the gay confusion of helping one another dress, and admiring one another, and straightening the last folds to hang more gracefully, seemed all to have happened longer ago than memory, to be perhaps a dream that might never have happened at all, as perhaps the figures in the tapestries on the walls of the dining room might remember, secretly, an imagined process of dressing themselves and coming with laughter and light voices to sit on the lawn where they were woven. Margaret, looking at Carla, thought that she had never seen Carla so familiarly as in this soft white gown, with her hair dressed high on her head—had it really been curled and pinned that way? Or had it always, forever, been so?—and the fan in her hand—had she not always had that fan, held just so?—and when Clara turned her head slightly on her long neck she captured the air of one of the portraits in the long gallery. Paul and the captain were still somehow trim in their uniforms; they were leaving at sunrise.

“Must you really leave this morning?” Margaret whispered to Paul.

“You are all kind to stay up and say good-by,” said the captain, and he leaned forward to look down the table at Margaret, as though it were particularly kind of her.

“Every time my son leaves me,” said Mrs. Rhodes, “it is as though it were the first time.”

Abruptly, the captain turned to Mrs. Rhodes and said, “I noticed this morning that there was a bare patch on the grass before the door. Can it be restored?”

“I had not known,” Mrs. Rhodes said, and she looked nervously at Mr. Rhodes, who put his hand quietly on the table and said, “We hope to keep the house in good repair so long as we are able.”

“But the broken statue by the lake?” said the captain. “And the tear in the tapestry behind your head?”

“It is wrong of you to notice these things,” Mrs. Rhodes said, gently.

“What can I do?” he said to her. “It is impossible not to notice these things. The fish are dying, for instance. There are no grapes in the arbor this year. The carpet is worn to thread near your embroidery frame,” he bowed to Mrs. Rhodes, “and in the house itself—” bowing to Mr. Rhodes “—there is a noticeable crack over the window of the conservatory, a crack in the solid stone. Can you repair that?”

Mr. Rhodes said weakly, “It is very wrong of you to notice these things. Have you neglected the sun, and the bright perfection of the drawing room? Have you been recently to the gallery of portraits? Have you walked on the green portions of the lawn, or only watched for the bare places?”

“The drawing room is shabby,” said the captain softly. “The green brocade sofa is torn a little near the arm. The carpet has lost its luster. The gilt is chipped on four of the small chairs in the gold room, the silver paint scratched in the silver room. A tile is missing from the face of Margaret, who died for love, and in the great gallery the paint has faded slightly on the portrait of—” bowing again to Mr. Rhodes “—your great-great-great grandfather, sir.”

Mr. Rhodes and Mrs. Rhodes looked at one another, and then Mrs. Rhodes said, “Surely it is not necessary to reproach us for these things?”

The captain reddened and shook his head.

“My embroidery is very nearly finished,” Mrs. Rhodes said. “I have only to put the figures into the foreground.”

“I shall mend the brocade sofa,” said Carla.

The captain glanced once around the table, and sighed. “I must pack,” he said. “We cannot delay our duties even though we have offended lovely women.” Mrs. Rhodes, turning coldly away from him, rose and left the table, with Carla and Margaret following.

Margaret went quickly to the tile room, where the white face of Margaret who died for love stared eternally into the sky beyond the broad window. There was indeed a tile missing from the wide white cheek, and the broken spot looked like a tear, Margaret thought; she kneeled down and touched the tile face quickly to be sure that it was not a tear.

Then she went slowly back through the lovely rooms; across the broad rose-and-white tiled hall, and into the drawing room, and stopped to close the tall doors behind her.

“There really is a tile missing,” she said.

Paul turned and frowned; he was standing alone in the drawing room, tall and bright in his uniform, ready to leave. “You are mistaken,” he said. “It is not possible that anything should be missing.”

“I saw it.”

“It is not true, you know,” he said. He was walking quickly up and down the room, slapping his gloves on his wrist, glancing nervously, now and then, at the door, at the tall windows opening out onto the marble stairway. “The house is the same as ever,” he said. “It does not change.”

“But the worn carpet...” It was under his feet as he walked.

“Nonsense,” he said violently. “Don't you think I'd know my own house? I care for it constantly, even when they forget; without this house I could not exist; do you think it would begin to crack while I am here?”

“How can you keep it from aging? Carpets will wear, you know, and unless they are replaced...”

“Replaced?” He stared as though she had said something evil. “What could replace anything in this house?” He touched Mrs. Rhodes's embroidery frame, softly. “All we can do is add to it.”

There was a sound outside; it was the family coming down the great stairway to say good-by. He turned quickly and listened, and it seemed to be the sound he had been expecting. “I will always remember you,” he said to Margaret, hastily, and turned again toward the tall windows. “Good-by.”

“It is so dark,” Margaret said, going beside him. “You will come back?”

“I will come back,” he said sharply. “Good-by.” He stepped across the sill of the window onto the marble stairway outside; he was black for a moment against the white marble, and Margaret stood still at the window watching him go down the steps and away through the gardens. “Lost, lost,” she heard faintly, and, from far away, “All is lost.”

She turned back to the room, and, avoiding the worn spot in the carpet and moving widely around Mrs. Rhodes's embroidery frame, she went to the great doors and opened them. Outside, in the hall with the rose-and-white tiled floor, Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes and Carla were standing with the captain.

“Son,” Mrs. Rhodes was saying, “when will you be back?”

“Don't fuss at me,” the captain said. “I'll be back when I Can.”

Carla stood silently, a little away. “Please be careful,” she said, and, “Here's Margaret, come to say good-by to you, Brother.”

“Don't linger, m'boy,” said Mr. Rhodes. “Hard on the women.”

“There are so many things Margaret and I planned for you while you were here,” Carla said to her brother. “The time has been so short.”

Margaret, standing beside Mrs. Rhodes, turned to Carla's brother (and Paul; who was Paul?) and said, “Good-by.” He bowed to her and moved to go to the door with his father.

“It is hard to see him go,” Mrs. Rhodes said. “And we do not know when he will come back.” She put her hand gently on Margaret's shoulder. “We must show you more of the house,” she said. “I saw you one day try the door of the ruined tower; have you seen the hall of flowers? Or the fountain room?”

“When my brother comes again,” Carla said, “we shall have a musical evening, and perhaps he will take us boating on the river.”

“And my visit?” said Margaret smiling. “Surely there will be an end to my visit?”

Mrs. Rhodes, with one last look at the door from which Mr. Rhodes and the captain had gone, dropped her hand from Margaret's shoulder and said, “I must go to my embroidery. I have neglected it while my son was with us.”

“You will not leave us before my brother comes again?” Carla asked Margaret.

“I have only to put the figures into the foreground,” Mrs. Rhodes said, hesitating on her way to the drawing room. “I shall have you exactly if you sit on the lawn near the river.”

“We shall be models of stillness,” said Carla, laughing. “Margaret, will you come and sit beside me on the lawn?”

拜访 3

在舞会上，玛格丽特穿着卡拉的蓝色蕾丝边薄礼服，头发上别着黄色的玫瑰花。她还从装满扇子的房间里得到了一把扇子，象牙制的扇骨看上去很坚固，因为她不小心把它弄掉了两次，扇骨竟然毫发无损。象牙扇骨上还优雅地画着这栋房子的微型画，扇子一收，房子也就不见了。扇子是罗德斯太太送给她的，卡拉也得到了一把，这样当玛格丽特和卡拉共舞时，在喝潘趣酒(2)或者在厅里见面时，她们都会快乐地问对方：“你的扇子还在吗？我把我的扇子借给了别人一会儿。我把我的扇子给每个人都看了。你还拿着你的扇子吗？我还拿着我的呢。”

玛格丽特既跟陌生人跳舞，也跟保罗跳了舞，而当她跟保罗跳舞时，他们远离了跳舞的人群，在挂着各种画的画廊里翩翩起舞，又在柱子间舞进舞出，这些柱子一直排列到大厅，大厅的一侧就是那间铺着特殊瓷砖的房间。他们身边跳舞的女士们有的身着深红色的丝质长裙，有的穿着绿色缎子礼服，还有的穿着白色的天鹅绒长袍；而罗德斯太太穿着黑色的舞会礼服，脖子上戴着钻石项链，手上也戴着钻石戒指，站在舞厅上方的走廊上，微笑地看着跳舞的人群，或者挽着罗德斯先生的胳膊和客人们打招呼。客人们从廊柱间笑声朗朗地进入舞厅，有的迫不及待地找着舞伴，有的在进来时已经随着音乐踩着节拍了。有的女士头发上插着白色的羽毛，波浪般的长发披在肩上；还有的女士在肩上披着粉色的围巾，当她起舞时，围巾在她身后随风舞动。保罗穿着笔挺的制服，而卡拉头发上别着红色的玫瑰正在和上尉共舞。

“你明天真的要走了吗？”在傍晚时，玛格丽特问保罗。虽然她知道他要走了，但还是忍不住又问这个问题——她以前已经问了好几次了——用它在他们之间建立某种联系，他有走的权利，她有想知道的权利，她的心头有某种酸酸的甜蜜。

“你是不是已经见过姑奶奶了。”保罗说道，他好像已经知道了答案。玛格丽特顺着他的目光，看见了塔楼中的老妇人。她穿着黄色的绸缎衣服，看上去有种君临天下和骄傲的神情，当她穿过跳舞的人群时，如果有人靠近她，她会拽着长裙闪到一边。她向玛格丽特和保罗走了过来，而这两人正坐在靠墙的小椅子上。当她走近他们时微笑着注视保罗，伸出她的双手，对他说道：“我很高兴见到你，我亲爱的。”

然后，她对玛格丽特笑了笑，玛格丽特也冲她微笑，心里暗自庆幸老妇人没有向她伸出双手。

“玛格丽特告诉我你回来了，”老妇人对保罗说道，“我下来是想见你一面。”

“我很高兴您想见我，”保罗说道，“我也很想见您，我差点儿去了塔楼。”

他们两个人都哈哈大笑了起来，而玛格丽特，一会儿看看这个，一会儿又看看那个，惊诧于两个人是那么相像。玛格丽特笔直僵硬地坐在狭窄的椅子上，蓝色的蕾丝长裙迷人地飘散在脚下，双手交叉，规矩地放在膝头，倾听着他们的谈话。保罗已经给老妇人拉过了一把椅子，他们坐在一起，头挨得很近，交谈时注视着对方，时不时地微笑着。

“你看上去身体很棒，”老妇人说道，“身体确实很好。”她叹了口气。

“您看上去也非常好呀。”保罗说道。

“哦，得了吧，”老妇人说道，“我上了年纪，年岁大了，我知道的。”

“我岁数也不小了。”保罗说道。

“一点儿也看不出来，”老妇人说道，摇着头，又认真地看了他有一分钟，“你绝不会老的，我认为。”

这时，上尉走了过来，在玛格丽特的面前鞠了一躬，玛格丽特希望保罗能注意到他们，她站起身准备和他一起跳舞。

“我看见你一个人坐在那里，”上尉说道，“我要抓住这个宝贵的机会，整个晚上我一直在等这个机会。”

“很好的战术，”玛格丽特说道，心想这些话他可能以前在不同的舞会上说过无数次了。

“我可是一名优秀的参谋，”上尉勇敢地说道，好像给出机智的回答是他义不容辞的任务，在那么多闪亮的枝状大吊灯下说出连珠妙语，“如果目标是我梦寐以求的。”

“我看见你是在和卡拉跳舞呀。”玛格丽特说道。

“卡拉。”他说道，同时还做了一个手势好像表明卡拉比玛格丽特差远了。玛格丽特亲眼看见他曾对卡拉也做过同样的手势，也许指的就是玛格丽特。她哈哈一笑。

“我忘了我现在想说什么了。”她告诉他。

“你是想说，”他一脸严肃地告诉她，“你们真的这么快就要走了吗？”

“你们真的这么快就要走了吗？”玛格丽特顺从地说道。

“为了尽早地回来。”他说道，搂着她腰部的手用了一下力。玛格丽特知道该她说话了，于是说道：“我们会特别想念你们的。”

“我会想你的。”他说道，用一种男人服从命令式的口吻。

他们一起跳了两支华尔兹，然后上尉很绅士地陪她回到了原先的座位上，保罗和老妇人还在旁边的椅子上交谈，笑声和手势不断。上尉向玛格丽特深鞠一躬，做了一个立正的姿势。

“我可以暂时离开一下吗？”他问道，“我觉得卡拉正在找我。”

“我在这儿很好。”玛格丽特说道。当上尉匆匆离开后，她又开始倾听保罗和老妇人的谈话了。

“我记得，我记得，”老妇人一边用扇子轻轻地拍着保罗的手腕，一边大笑着说，“我从未想到有一阵子我发现那很有意思。”

“确实好玩。”保罗说道。

“我们那时是那么年轻，”老妇人说道，“我都快忘了。”

她突然站了起来，朝着玛格丽特颔首作别，穿过跳舞的人群回到来时的房间。保罗一直跟着她走到门口，然后离开她回到玛格丽特身边。当他挨着她坐下时说道：“那么你和这个老妇人见过面了？”

“我去了塔楼。”玛格丽特说道。

“她告诉我了，”他心不在焉地说道，低头看着手套，“好了，”他最后一边用一种快乐的神情看着玛格丽特，一边说道，“他们永远不演奏华尔兹吗？”

第二天在太阳还没在河流上升起之前，他们已经坐在餐桌前吃早餐了，罗德斯夫妇坐在餐桌的两头，卡拉和上尉坐在一起，玛格丽特和保罗挨着。卡拉头上的红玫瑰已经褪色被扔掉了，玛格丽特的黄玫瑰也是同样的命运，但是卡拉和玛格丽特仍然穿着她们舞会时穿的礼服。她们穿着礼服有很长时间了，以至于很不方便的礼服穿在她们身上反而显得很自然了，似乎她们不打算换下来了，要在这栋房子里永远地穿下去。帮助彼此穿这套复杂的礼服时的乐趣，彼此赞赏着对方，捋直裙边的褶皱，让长裙摆动得更加优雅，这一切似乎是存留在记忆中很久以前的事了，也许是一个梦，根本就没有发生过。或许就像挂在餐厅墙上挂毯中的人物还秘密地记得一个想象中的穿衣过程，伴随着笑声和轻快的话语坐在草坪上，草坪上的他们都被织进了挂毯。玛格丽特看着卡拉，她看见卡拉穿着这身柔软的白色礼服，从没有过这么亲切熟悉之感，她的头发高高地盘在头顶——以前真的是这样拳曲着的吗？真的是这样盘着的吗？或者，一直都是那样的？——还有她手中的扇子——她以前难道没拿过那把扇子，就是如此这般地拿着吗？——当卡拉微微转动细长脖子上的头时，仿佛是长长画廊中某个肖像画的仪态。保罗和上尉穿着制服，依旧显得那么精神。他们在太阳升起时就要出发了。

“你们真的今天一大早就得走吗？”玛格丽特向保罗耳语道。

“你们都太好了，为了跟我们说再见，这么一大早就起来了。”上尉说道。他向前倾着身子看着玛格丽特前面的桌子，好像它代表着玛格丽特的情谊。

“每次我儿子离开我的时候，”罗德斯太太说道，“我都感觉他好像是第一次离开家。”

突然，上尉转向了罗德斯太太说道：“我今天早晨注意到，门前的草地有一块被踩得光秃秃的。还能给它复原吗？”

“我没发现呀。”罗德斯太太说道。她紧张地看了一眼罗德斯先生。罗德斯先生把手平静地放在桌上说道：“只要我们能力所及，我们希望这栋房子能处于良好的修缮状态。”

“但是湖边破败的雕像怎么办？”上尉说道，“还有挂毯上的裂口你也抛在脑后？”

“你注意到这些东西是不对的。”罗德斯太太柔声说道。

“那我能做些什么呢？”他对她说道，“不注意到这些事情是不可能的。比如鱼儿都快死了。还有，今年藤架上也看不见葡萄了。地毯都磨出了线，就跟您刺绣时第一层打底的样子差不多了，”他向罗德斯太太欠了欠身子，“还有这栋房子本身……”又冲罗德斯先生鞠了一躬，“暖房的窗户有着明显的裂纹，坚固的石墙也有了裂缝。您都能修缮吗？”

罗德斯先生没有什么底气似的说道：“你整天注意这些东西是不对的，你没注意到太阳吗，没有注意到客厅既明亮又完美吗？你最近没去挂满肖像的画廊吗？你没去草坪上的绿地散步吗，而只看到了那块光秃秃的地方？”

“客厅也破败不堪了，”上尉心平气和地说道，“绿色的凸花纹织锦面的沙发磨损得都快到扶手了，地毯已经失去了光泽。金色屋子里，四把小椅子上的镀金也有了缺口，银色屋子中的镀银之处也都剥落了。因爱而死的玛格丽特的脸上，有一块小瓷砖还不翼而飞了，而大画廊里的某个肖像画也有些褪色……”他再次向罗德斯先生弯了弯腰，“那是你曾曾祖父的肖像，先生。”

罗德斯先生和太太面面相觑，然后罗德斯太太说道：“因为这些事情指责我们肯定是没必要的吧？”

上尉满脸通红，摇了摇头。

“我的刺绣马上就完工了，”罗德斯太太说道，“我只需将人物再突出一下。”

“我将修补一下凸花纹织锦面的沙发。”卡拉说道。

上尉再一次环视了桌子边的每个人，然后叹了口气。“我得收拾行李了，”他说道，“即使在可爱的女士们面前失礼，我们也不能不按时归队。”罗德斯太太冷冷地扭过脸，起身离开了桌子，卡拉和玛格丽特也紧随其后。

玛格丽特快速地走到那间铺瓷砖的屋子，屋里因爱而死的玛格丽特白皙的脸上的眼睛，正永恒地凝视着大窗户外面远处的天空。在宽宽的白色面颊处，确实有一块瓷砖不见了，留下的破损点好像是一滴眼泪，玛格丽特暗自心想。她跪了下去，用手迅速地摸着瓷砖镶嵌的脸颊想确定那终归不是一滴泪珠。

接着她穿过好几个可爱的房间慢慢地走了回来。她穿过了宽阔的玫瑰红和白色瓷砖铺就的大厅，走进了客厅，然后停下脚步转身去关身后高大的房门。

“真的有块瓷砖不见了。”她说道。

保罗转过身，皱了皱眉。他一个人站在客厅里，穿着制服，显得高大精神，正准备离开。“你弄错了，”他说道，“不可能有东西不见的。”

“我亲眼看见的。”

“那不是真的，你知道。”他说道。他在房间里快速地走来走去，用手套轻轻抽着手腕，时不时很紧张地瞄着房门，瞄着高高在上的大开的窗户，窗户外面是大理石楼梯。“这栋楼房与以前一样，”他说道，“没有改变。”

“但是磨损得很厉害的地毯……”当他踱步的时候，地毯就在他的脚下。

“胡说，”他暴跳如雷地说道，“你认为我还不知道我自己家的房子吗？我不断地料理它，甚至他们都忘了。没有这栋房子，我就无法存活。你以为当我还在这儿的时候，它就开始崩溃了吗？”

“你怎么能不让它老化呢？地毯会磨损，你知道，除非它们被更换……”

“更换？”他瞪大眼睛，好像她说了什么邪恶的事情，“这栋房子里什么能被更换？”他轻轻地抚摩着罗德斯太太未完工的刺绣，“我们所能做的只是添针加线增补它。”

外面传来一阵嘈杂声，全家人从楼梯上下来打算跟他们道别。他敏捷地转过身，倾听着，好像那是他一直在期盼的声音。“我会永远记住你的，”他对玛格丽特匆匆说道，然后又转向高高的窗户，“再见。”

“天还那么黑，”玛格丽特在他身边走着，说道，“你还会回来吗？”

“我会回来的，”他尖声说道，“再见。”他迈过窗台，跳到外面的大理石楼梯上。在白色大理石的映衬下，他像一团黑影，玛格丽特静静地站在窗户边目送着他走下台阶，穿过花园。“失去了，失去了，”她听见从远处传来的微弱的声音，“一切都失去了。”

她转身回到了房间，避免走在地毯上磨损的地方，远远地绕过罗德斯太太正在制作的刺绣。她走到门厅大门处，打开了门。外面，在玫瑰红和白色瓷砖铺就的大厅里，罗德斯先生、罗德斯太太，以及卡拉，正和上尉站在一起。

“儿子，”罗德斯太太正在说，“你什么时候再回来？”

“不要烦我，”上尉说道，“我能回来时自然会回来。”

卡拉安静地站在一边。“请多保重，”她又说道，“这是玛格丽特，她是过来跟你说再见的，哥哥。”

“别再耽搁了，我的儿子，”罗德斯先生说道，“女人们就是婆婆妈妈的。”

“你在家时，我和玛格丽特为你计划了好多事情，”卡拉对她哥哥说道，“可时间太短了。”

玛格丽特站在罗德斯太太身边，对着卡拉的哥哥（是保罗吗，谁又是保罗？）说道：“再见。”他向她鞠躬致意，和他父亲一起走向大门。

“看见他走太难受了，”罗德斯太太说道，“我们不知道他什么时候才能回来。”她把手温柔地搭在玛格丽特的肩上。“我们必须领你参观一下这栋房子更多的地方，”她说道，“我看见你有一天想打开那个破败塔楼的门来着。你参观过充满鲜花的门厅吗？或者那个有喷泉的房间？”

“当我哥哥再次回来时，”卡拉说道，“我们会在晚上办个音乐会，也许他会带着我们在河上划船呢。”

“那我的参观计划呢？”玛格丽特笑着说道，“我的参观肯定要泡汤了吧？”

罗德斯太太最后看了一眼大门，罗德斯先生和上尉已经从门口消失了，她的手从玛格丽特的肩上挪了下来，说道：“我必须忙我的刺绣去了，我儿子在家的这几天我都没动它。”

“在我哥哥再次回来之前，你不会离开我们吧？”卡拉问玛格丽特。

“我只需把人物更加突出，”罗德斯太太一边说着，一边迟疑着向客厅走去。“如果你们坐在河边的草坪上，我会把你们原封不动地刺绣下来。”

“我们是不能动的模特，”卡拉大笑着说道，“玛格丽特，你愿意来草坪上坐在我的旁边吗？”

* * *

(1) 英语中有个成语“阿喀琉斯之踵（Achilles heel）”。阿喀琉斯是古代希腊神话中的一位英雄人物。阿喀琉斯之踵的典故出自荷马史诗《伊利亚特》。他的母亲生下他后，抱着他来到斯提克斯河边来泡水，使他刀枪不入。可是因为手捏着的后脚跟没泡到水，因而后脚跟成了他唯一的弱点。后人即以阿喀琉斯之踵表示“致命伤，最大的弱点”。

(2) 一种用酒、果汁、牛奶等调合的饮料。