Chapter 7

Fru Adelheid laid her hands over Cordt's book:

“May I talk to you a little? May I tell you something? May I tell you that what you are doing is madness?”

He moved her hands from his book and looked up:

“Sit down, Adelheid,”he said wearily.“Sit down in that chair.”

But she took the book from him and threw it on the foor:

“You are ill, Cordt. You have become ill up here in this dreadful room.”

“Have you a household remedy?”he asked.

“How can you have the heart to make a jest of it?”

“It would be a bitter jest, if it were one,”he said.“But it was not a jest. I believe in the old household remedies.”

Fru Adelheid sat down in her chair and stared helplessly before her:

“Of course you do,”she said.“And in old books and in everything that has ceased to exist.”

He said nothing, but yawned wearily.

“And God shall be set on His throne again and I shall sit at the spinning-wheel and we shall enjoy a blessed married life and be happy ever after.”

Cordt crossed his legs and looked at his nails:

“Yes…that is my programme,”he said quietly.“Something likethat. And you have stated it in your usual affectionate manner.”

“Cordt, how can you have the heart?”

She swung her body to and fro; her hands lay folded in her lap, her eyes were moist. She wanted to say something, but could not, because the tears prevented her. She could not understand that he did not help her. Then she said:

“Things are going badly with us, Cordt.”

And, as he was still silent, she pulled herself together with an effort and spoke with closed eyes, constantly rocking to and fro:

“We must obey the law under which we were born…must we not, Cordt? After all, we are modern people…both of us. Tired, empty people, if you like. But we do think and feel otherwise than people did when…when they were the sort of people whom you like. And we cannot alter ourselves. But we can be as happy as it is possible to be…nowadays, being what we are. Why should we not be happy, Cordt ?”

“I am not happy.”

“Oh, Cordt!”

She pressed her hands together and wrung them and bent over them so that her tears fell upon them. Then she turned her wet face to him and asked, softly:

“Then am I no longer pretty, Cordt?”

He stood up and kissed her white forehead:

“That you are,”he said.“But that won't help us any longer.”

He began to walk up and down. Fru Adelheid wept hard and silently. A little later, she said:

“You are driving me away from you, Cordt. I do so want to tell you this, while there is still time, if only I could fnd the right words.Won't you sit down a little, Cordt? My head aches so.”

He sat down in the chair. Then she rose and put some wood on the fre and sat down again:

“I am so afraid of myself when we talk together, Cordt,”she said.“It is not only that I am wicked and say what I do not mean. I do that, too. But you are so good. And you show me thoughts in my mind which are not there before you utter them. But then they come and I think that you are right and that they have been there always. That is so terrible, Cordt.”

They sat silent. Fru Adelheid closed her eyes; Cordt moved restlessly in his chair:

“Adelheid,”he said…“You told me that evening…”

“You must not say that…you must not.”

“Do you remember, you said…about the wild, red love…that it was not the love which you have?”

She shook his hand and pressed it:

“That is just it,”she said.“I am grateful to you because you were so good. And because you did not take it ill. But that was not in me, Cordt. I did not know it. But then you said it…and made me say…what I said. But then, at that very moment, I understood that it was so. And that made me feel so terribly bad…as I did. But then I felt a sort of secret joy…a secret treasure. It seemed to me that I was richer than before. I was no longer afraid of what may come…for women sometimes think of that, Cordt, while they are young, how empty everything will be, when that is past.”

He listened, with his face turned to the fre.

“I am sure that there is not a man who can understand that,”she said.

And then she lay down on the floor, with her chin on the fender…and her eyes shone:

“A woman is young for so short a time,”she said.“And she is always dreading that it will pass. Can't you understand, when she suddenly suspects that there is something greater than the greatest…and then, when she is sad and afraid…that then it may suddenly dawn upon her that all is not over yet?”

Cordt laughed:

“It is a poor pleasure to be the greatest when there is something greater still,”he said.

But Fru Adelheid shook her head:

“It's not like that, Cordt,”she said.

He pushed back his chair and walked up and down many times and it was silent in the room. Then he sat down again beside her and said:

“What you say is true. But it was in you and I am glad I showed it to you. I could not do differently, when I once saw it. I cannot go and wait until another man knocks at the secret door of your heart and offers you the greatest of all.”

She laid her cheek against the fender and looked at him:

“No, Cordt,”she said.“If it is like that, then what I said was not true.”

He waved his hand and shook his head impatiently:

“Not to-day or to-morrow,”he said.“But in a year, or two years, or ten. And, if it does not happen, then it is only an accident.”

Then she moved nearer to him and laid her head on his knee. She looked up to see if he minded. But he was far away in his thoughts and did not notice it.

She suddenly felt peaceful and contented. She was glad that she had got it said. She felt as if it was removed to a distance…perhaps it was quite gone…she could not understand why he continued to speak of it.

And what he said about another man seemed so far to her and so impossible. She thought about it as though it concerned somebody else:

“I love you, Cordt,”she said.“And, if, one day, another man came and I loved him…could I help it?”

He sprang up so suddenly that she had to seize the arm of the chair lest she should fall:

“No,”he said, scornfully.“You could not.”

He rushed through the room and repeated his words three or four times. Fru Adelheid rose from the floor and sat down in her chair and closed her eyes.

“The man who hit upon that excuse did a fne day's work,”said Cordt.“He drove out of the world a great portion of men's strength to live their lives.”

He threw himself so violently into his chair that Fru Adelheid started. Then he sat long quiet and she was glad that he was silent.

“Why should one not be able to control one's heart?”he said, at last.“Suppose I have a wife and child; and my wife is she whom I myself chose. Then, one day, I meet another woman, who rouses my desires. I meet her at a party, where there are lights and wine and music…we are not ourselves, she and I…we are in another mood than usual…everything is done to lead us from the way by which we go on ordinary days. But why should I not be able to step aside, in loyal gratitude for that which I possess?”

She opened her eyes at intervals and closed them again. She heard what he said, but did not realize that he was speaking to her.

“Who is it that placed love outside the laws? If I take it into my head to kill a fellow-creature, there is no doubt but that I am indulging a most criminal fancy. If I have given my word and think of breaking it, I am no gentleman. But my heart may do as it pleases.”

“Yes,”said Fru Adelheid.

She was thinking of nothing when she spoke and he did not hear her.

“There are people, we know, who have the right to send thousands to their death,”he said.“There are people whose passion rises skywards in red fames and devours the poor chattels that stand in its way and lights up all the land. Poets sing about it and a wax taper burns before its image in every human heart. But, if a man plays the Napoleon in the Store Br?ndstr?de, we hang him…Why should every second woman be entitled to look upon herself as an Hélo?se?”

He sank into his chair and stared before him:

“I am not sure either whether the radiance of the one great fame makes up for the thousand tiny lights that are put out. Does any one know, I wonder? Can any one measure it?”

Fru Adelheid moved and Cordt turned his face to her and looked at her attentively. Her eyes were soft and dreamy; she smiled faintly, like a drowsy child.

“And if that be so,”he said, in a subdued voice,“if it be the case that I am not able to control my heart…”He let his head fall heavily on the arm of the chair.“If it be the case that love makes mehappy and confdent, so that I build my life and the life of my family upon it…if it can then expire, without my knowing how or why, and I have to look for the mother of my children in a strange man's bed, then why do I let my wife go out in the street unveiled? Why do I not lock her up, as the Turk does? Or why do we not kill the mother when the child is born?”

He rose and walked round the room and grew calmer as he walked:

“But it is not so,”he said.“Let the great keep their greatness…let the poets celebrate them and the puny moderns ape them in their wretched way. And may there always be women who cannot give themselves more than once and men who love them.”

He stood by the fre and looked through the room. It was still on every side; the church-clock struck two.

“See, Adelheid,”he said,“how life passes more and more into law's domain. Every day, the liberty of the one is taken for an encroachment upon the rights of the other. Every day, land, hitherto free of law, is regulated by law. Flowers beget no fowers without the gardener's consent; animals no longer select their own mates. But no one can control his heart; and human beings pair like dogs in the street.”

The fre had burnt out when Cordt woke from his musings.

He saw that Fru Adelheid was asleep. He stood before her a long time, sick with compassion for her and for himself.

Then he stroked her gently on the hair:

“It is late…Adelheid.”

第七章

阿德尔海德伸手放在科特的书上，说道：

“我能和你谈谈吗？我能告诉你一件事吗？我能跟你说，你现在所做的是愚蠢的行为吗？”

科特挪开阿德尔海德的手，抬起了头。

“坐下，阿德尔海德，”他疲倦地说，“坐在那椅子里。”

阿德尔海德从科特手里夺过书，扔到了地板上，“你病了，科特。你在这间可怕的屋子里得了病。”

“那你有家庭良方吗？”科特问。

“你怎么还有心情说笑？”

“如果是笑话，也是个冷笑话，”他说道，“但这并不是笑话。我相信传统的治疗方法。”

阿德尔海德坐在她的椅子里，无助地看着前方。

“你当然会信，”她说，“你还信老书本，以及所有死去的东西。”

科特没有回应，疲倦地打着哈欠。

“上帝会回到他的宝座上，我呢，会坐到纺车上，然后我们会有幸福的婚姻，从此过上美好的生活。”

科特双腿交叠，看着他的指甲。

“是的，这是我的计划，”他静静说道，“差不多就是那样。你刚刚真挚动人地表述了这个计划。”

“科特，你怎么还有这样的心情？”

阿德尔海德晃来晃去，她的手放在膝盖上，她的眼睛湿润了。她想再说些什么，但又说不出来，泪水让她哽咽。她无法理解他为什么不帮她。然后她说道：

“科特，我们的关系很糟糕。”

科特依旧沉默。阿德尔海德努力让自己镇定，她闭上转来转去的眼睛，说道：

“我们必须遵循我们所处的这个时代的规律，不是吗，科特？毕竟，我们是现代人，我们俩都是。或许你觉得现代人是疲倦的、空虚的，但我们的感受和想法毕竟与你喜欢的那些人不一样。并且，我们无法改变自己。但像我们这样的人，就是现在，我们可以尽可能地快乐……我们有什么不开心的呢，科特？”

“我不开心。”

“哦，科特！”

阿德尔海德双手合十，十指交叉，紧紧握着，她低下头，眼泪滴在手上。然后她泪流满面地转向科特，问道：

“那么，我是不是不再漂亮了，科特？”

科特站起身来，亲吻了她那雪白的额头。

“你依旧非常漂亮，”他说道，“但这对于我们糟糕的关系已没什么作用了。”

科特开始来回踱步。阿德尔海德默默地、狠狠地哭泣着。一会儿后，她说：

“你在逼我离开你，科特。我想趁着还有时间，告诉你这些话，如果我能找到合适的言语。你能坐下来吗，科特？我的头疼得很。”

科特坐在椅子里，然后阿德尔海德站起来，往壁炉里添了些木头，继而又坐下，说道：

“每当我们一起说话的时候，科特，我就很害怕我自己，这不仅仅是因为我有点儿邪恶，总是说一些不是我本意的话。是的，我也总是口是心非。但你那么好，你让我看到我脑子里的想法，这些想法在你没有说出来的时候并不存在。但当你说出来的时候，我会意识到你是对的，并且这正是我所想的。科特，这可真糟糕。”

沉默再一次降临。阿德尔海德闭上眼睛，科特不安地在椅子里挪动。

“阿德尔海德，”科特说道，“那晚你告诉我……”

“你不要说那个，你不要说出来。”

“你还记得吗，你说……关于那狂野、激情的爱情，你说我们所拥有的不是这样的爱？”

阿德尔海德摇了摇科特的手，然后紧紧握住。

“就是这样的，”她说，“我感激你，因为你这么好，还因为你不会生我的气。但是，一开始我并没有意识到我内心的想法，科特。我当时不知道。但你说了那些话，然后使得我说了我所说的。但是就在那一刻，我明白，我说的是真的。这让我感到很难过，我从未那么难过过。但同时我也觉得我似乎比以前更加富有。我不再害怕未来，因为女人在她们还年轻的时候有时会想到那种爱情，科特。而当这一切都已成过去，一切将变得空虚。”

科特面向壁炉，静静地听着。

“我敢肯定，世界上没有一个男人能够理解我刚才说的话。”她说道。

然后，阿德尔海德平躺在地板上，头靠在壁炉的围栏上，眼睛里充满光芒。

“女人年轻的时光太短，”她说，“而且女人总是在担心时光会匆匆流逝。当她突然怀疑：还有比她本以为是最好的爱情更好的。然后，她或许会突然意识到这一切还没有结束，难道你不能理解那时她所经历的悲伤害怕吗？”

科特大笑，“本以为已经拥有最好的了，结果却发现还有更好的，这实在不是什么愉快的事情。”科特说。

但阿德尔海德摇摇头，说道：

“不是那样的，科特。”

科特向后推了推椅子，站了起来，开始在屋里踱步，沉默又一次笼罩了这间屋子。然后他在她身边坐了下来，“你所说的是真的。但它的确在你的骨子里，我很高兴是我让你看清了它。当我意识到这一点时，我就无法再做别的选择。我无法静静等待另外的男人打开你的心扉，给你那最伟大的爱情。”

阿德尔海德脸靠着围栏看着科特，“不，科特。如果是那样的话，我所说的就是错的。”

他摆摆手，不耐烦地摇摇头，“或许不是今天或者明天。但可能会是一年、两年后，或是十年后。如果没有发生，那也只是因为意外。”

阿德尔海德向科特靠近，将自己的头放在科特的膝盖上。她抬头看了看科特是否介意自己这样。但科特迷失在自己的思绪中，并没有注意到。

阿德尔海德突然感到内心平静且满足。她很开心说出了自己想要说的话。她感到似乎这件事情已被远远地移开，甚至消失了，她不能明白为什么科特还要继续谈论它。

科特所说的另外一个男人，在阿德尔海德看来如此遥远，毫无可能。她像思考别人的事情一样想着此事，说道：

“我爱你，科特。如果有一天，有另外一个男人出现了，并且我爱上了他，难道我能控制住吗？”

科特猛地站起来，靠在他膝盖上的阿德尔海德赶紧抓住椅子的扶手以免摔倒。

“不，”科特讽刺地说，“你当然控制不住。”

他在屋子里疾速穿行，将自己的话重复了三四遍。阿德尔海德从地板上站起来，坐到了她的椅子里，闭上眼睛。

“想到这个借口的人真是个天才，把人生活下去的一大部分力量都驱散了。”

科特一头扎进他的椅子，然后静静地坐了很久。看到科特安静下来，阿德尔海德很欣慰。

“为什么一个人控制不了他的心？”科特最终说道，“假设我有一个妻子和一个孩子，我的妻子是我自己选择的伴侣。有一天，我遇到另外一个女人，她勾起我的欲望。我与她在舞会上相识，那里有灯光、美酒和音乐，我们并非真实的自己，她与我，我们有着与平常不一样的心情，所做的一切都是为了让我们从日常的烦琐中脱离。但我难道不应该跳出这个游戏，衷心地感谢我所拥有的一切吗？”

在科特说话的时候，阿德尔海德睁开了双眼，然后又闭上。她听到了科特所说的，但却没有意识到这话是对她讲的。

“是谁把爱情置于法律之外？如果我脑子里想着为了爱情杀死同类，毫无疑问我在进行犯罪幻想。如果我说出了我的誓词，然后想着将来可以不履行，我就不是一个绅士。但我的心可以肆意而为。”

“是的。”阿德尔海德附和道。

她说这话的时候脑子一片空白，科特也没有听到她的话。

“我们知道，有些人，他们有权利让成百上千的人去死；有些人，他们的激情像赤红的火焰一样直冲天空并照亮大地，吞噬一切挡路之物。诗人歌颂这样的激情，每个人心中都供奉着这样一座神龛。但，如果有人在市政厅广场大街上扮演拿破仑，我们会绞死他。那为什么每两个女人中就有一个会把自己视为海洛薇姿(1)？”

科特陷入自己的椅子里，盯着眼前，“我不知道，是否一次伟大的焰火抵得上成千的微小灯光。我在想，有人知道答案吗？有人能够测量出来吗？”

阿德尔海德挪了挪位置，科特转头看着她，专注地看着她。她的眼睛温柔梦幻，她淡淡地笑了下，好似一个昏昏欲睡的孩子。

“如果真是那样，”科特声音压抑地说，“如果我真的无法控制我的心，”科特让自己的头重重地抵向椅子扶手，“如果爱情真的让我开心、自信，让我将自己和自己家庭的生活都建立在此基础上；如果我的爱情会在我不知不觉的情况下终止，我不得不在另外一个男人的床上寻找我孩子的母亲，那我为什么还要我的妻子出去见人？为什么我不把她锁起来，就像土耳其人那样？或者，在她生下小孩后，我就杀了她？”

科特站起来，开始在屋子里走来走去，渐渐地，他平静下来，“但不是这样的，让那伟大的爱情保持它们的伟大，让诗人歌颂它们，让那微不足道的现代人卑微地模仿它们。希望还是有女人一生只奉献于一个男人，而这些男人也会永久爱着她们。”

他站在壁炉边，看过整个屋子。四下都很安静，教堂的钟敲了两下。

“你看，阿德尔海德，生活会越来越多地进入法律的管辖内。每一天，一方的自由都是以侵犯另一方的权利为代价。国家，与法律无关，但却受法律的制约。没有园丁的同意，花儿不会开花。家畜不能随便选择它们的伴侣。但没有人能控制自己的心，然后人类就像狗一样在大街上交配。”

当科特从他的沉思中醒来，壁炉里的火已几近熄灭。

他看到阿德尔海德已经睡着了。他在她身前站了很久，充满了对她和自己的同情。

然后，科特轻轻抚摸了阿德尔海德的头发，说：

“太晚了，阿德尔海德。”

————————————————————

(1) 法国国王路易十六的王后，生活奢靡，艳名远播。