Chapter 20

Fru Adelheid sat, book in hand, without reading.

It was late. Finn had been with her and had said good-night and Cordt was not at home. It was silent in the house and silent outside.

She had a feeling as though she were alone in the world.

Fru Adelheid was not happy.

The peace which the good grey years had brought had departed from the house. She could not see her way anywhere: not with Finn, not when she was alone, least of all when Cordt was in the room.

She did not feel safe even at church. It would happen to her that she left church heavier in mind than when she entered. It also happened that she simply dared not go in, but turned back, when the organ pealed to her in the porch.

She sat and stared, with her white hands folded in her lap. She wanted to try if she could think the thing out to the end. But she had tried before, with ever-decreasing success.

First, there was the going back to the old room.

This was the beginning and she could not but think that it was the whole matter, for, in truth, she had never got over it. She could not defend herself against the memories that came crowding one upon the other. Her blood grew hot, her eyes moist, without her knowing why.

She suffered from a constant terror which she could neitherexplain nor shake off. Now it was Finn, whose pale face frightened her. Now it was Cordt, who was silent and ever more silent and brooded over his thoughts.

Then she was overcome as by a despairing remorse and she could not see how she had offended. Then she went in a secret dread of revenge and she knew of no one who meant her any harm.

There were days on which every step she took gave a dull and threatening echo of the old days. She felt as though she were living in a house whose walls were full of secret recesses with old documents which would upset everything that existed, if they came to light…she felt as though she were walking over mysterious vaults that concealed the traces of mysterious crimes.

Wearily, Fru Adelheid leant her head upon her hand and let her hand fall again. She half rose in her chair and hid her face in the roses that stood on the table before her. She took up the book and put it down at once.

Then Cordt came.

He nodded to her, went to the farther side of the room and sat down with a book.

She looked at him timidly. She heard him turn the pages and wondered what book it was. She asked him. He answered, without looking up, and the silence increased twofold.

Fru Adelheid sighed and rose to go to bed:

“Good-night, Cordt.”

He closed the book and tossed it on the table. She stopped and looked at him. Then he asked:

“Has Hans been here to-day?”

She sat down in her chair again. He had got up and was pacingthe room. She waited and listened to his footsteps.

Then she could bear it no longer:

“Cordt!”

He stopped and looked at her.

“Cordt…Finn will die, if Hans is always with him.”

“Yes,”he said, softly and sorrowfully.“Finn will die and you will die and I shall die. But Hans will live.”

“What are you trying to do with him, Cordt?”

“Have you forgotten what I want?”

He looked at her and his eyes hurt her.

“I wonder if your wish is also mine, Cordt,”she asked.

“No.”

He said that calmly, without anger, but also without hesitation.

Then she leapt up:

“Your wish was never mine…never! You have been able to persuade me and frighten me and force me.…I never meant it, Cordt, never…even when I agreed.”

“Let the dead days be, Adelheid.”

“And now…Cordt.…Now I am farther away from you…now you understand me less than ever…there is something in me now that is a thousand times stronger than what parted us then.”

Cordt looked at her with a tempest in his strong eyes:

“So there is in me, Adelheid.”

He stood before her, drawn up to his full height. She thought he seemed taller than usual and his face looked strangely young.

“There is Finn,”he said.

Fru Adelheid sat in her chair, because she could not stand.

“You speak as if he were your son and not mine,”she said.

She did not take her eyes from his face. She could not get rid of the thought that he looked so young. His hair had not a sign of grey, his walk was easy and erect as in the old days, his eyes glowed with the same strength and the same confdence.

She bent forward and stared and sought. Surely she must be able to find the wounds which sorrow had given him, the marks which age had brought.

Cordt did not look at her. He stood with his hands folded about his neck and with strangely distant eyes:

“You have said it, Adelheid…it is as you say…there is something now that is a thousand times greater than what parted us then. We mortals always think, when misfortunes come, that no more will come now…that it must be over now. And so there is no difference between the child with its lost doll and the man with his dead love…none except time, which comes and goes, comes and goes, puts out a light and kindles a pyre and puts out the pyre also.”

He dropped his arms and stood silent for a while:

“Adelheid…”

He said no more. He looked round the room and at her, as though he were waking from his thoughts. Then he went to the window and looked across the square, where the lights were being put out.

Fru Adelheid stared with great fxed eyes at where he stood.

She had not seen him during many years…where had she been all those years…what had she been doing?

Then she had seen him again, distantly and dimly at frst, like the memory of a fght, a pain, on the day when she stood once more in the old room. He had come closer…the time he warned her aboutFinn. And, little by little, he had approached her through Finn…through his fears and his love, through his every word, constantly closer and more effectively.

She clutched the arms of the chair so frmly that her knuckles turned white.

Now it had come…now the doors of the mysterious cellars grated on their rusty hinges and the crime stood revealed…now the secret recesses in the walls were opened and the old documents bore witness to the right.…

Now there was no longer anything between her and him and there was nothing outside him and her. He stood beside her…she could reach him with her hands. She had no son and no God. His words swept over her like a storm, his eyes were bent upon her.…

She wanted to get up and run away, but could not. A sort of dizziness came over her and the ground retreated under her feet.

There were voices which told her that it was surely a very old and forgotten story…a legend preserved in the archives of the house for the entertainment and instruction of future times, which would possibly judge differently from the one who had set the legend down.

There were others, mocking and exultant voices, which whispered to her that it was all imagination and nothing else…that Finn belonged to her and not to him, that all his confdence and all his strength would break like glass against that pale, quiet boy, who loved his mother.

There were hymns and psalms and organ-pealing and impressive words about sin and forgiveness and Christ's heavenly glory. The cool air of the church-vault passed over her burningforehead…all the bells rang, as though for a soul in need.

She heard it all and it vanished like a sound in the air.

And all the voices were merged before her confused thoughts.

It turned into an evening in the old days…an evening of lights and gaiety. She saw the people of that time…she heard her own voice.…

Then, suddenly, it was quenched in the great silence of the old room.

The candles were burning on the mantelpiece.…She sat and stared into the red hearth. Now Cordt spoke . . .Cordt in the old days:

“I will stake life and happiness to win you. I will talk to you and importune you and conquer you. I will take you in my arms and close my door to you and run after you and forgive you. And, if I do not win you, I shall cast you off.”

She sprang up and clasped her head in her two hands:

“Cordt…Cordt…”

He turned round and looked into her white face.

She raised her face to him and sought and stared after her portrait in his eyes…only a thought from the old days…a memory…

It was not there. For him there was nothing in the world except that which was his happiness and his fear and his struggle…now as in the old days…

And it was no longer she.

“Adelheid…are you ill?”

“No…no…”

She laughed aloud. Cordt took her hands and led her to a chair.She let him do as he would and continued to look up in his face.

Then she suddenly thrust him from her.

She smiled and shook her head at her folly. She rose and walked round the room. She said she was quite well, told him to go away…just to go away.

And Cordt went.

She stared at the door, which closed after him, as though she had seen him for the last time. Then she turned round and looked into a mirror which showed her whole fgure.

Slowly she walked up to the mirror, sat down before it, with her head in her hands, and stared into her own face.

The clock struck one and two from the church-steeples and she did not hear. Then some one shouted down in the square. She rose, took a candle and left the room.

She went through the long passages and up the stairs, softly and carefully, as if she were a thief. She listened at Cordt's door and at Finn's. Then she stood outside the old room. She listened…there was no sound. She opened the door ajar and saw that it was dark.

She went in quickly and walked straight up to the secret recess in the wall. She opened it and took the yellow document in her trembling hands.

Then she stared at Cordt's name and her own, which were written down last and struck out again.

第二十章

阿德尔海德坐在那里，手里捧着书，但并没有阅读。

天色已晚。芬一直和她待在一起，直到他道了晚安然后去休息。科特不在家中。房子里外都一般寂静。

她有一种感觉，好似这世界上只有她一个人。

阿德尔海德并不快乐。

那段长久单调的日子所带给她的内心的平静已从这房子里消失。她无法看清自己未来的路：和芬在一起的时候不行，她自己一个人的时候也不行，更不用提当科特在这屋子里的时候。

甚至在教堂里，她都无法感到安稳。有时，她离开教堂时的心情比她进入教堂时还要沉重；有时，她根本不敢踏入教堂，当听到教堂走廊里风琴的召唤时，她却转身离开。

她长久地坐着，目视前方，白皙的手叠放在膝盖上。她想试试看她能否把这事情想清楚。她之前也曾这样努力过，但从未成功。

首先，是回到老屋子。

这是所有事情的开端，她禁不住想，老屋子是所有事情的源头，因为，事实上，她内心里从未真正地战胜它。与之关联的回忆汹涌地袭来，她根本无力抵挡，这让她血液沸腾，双眼模糊，而她却不知为了什么。

她承受着绵长的恐惧，而这恐惧她既无法解释从何而来，亦无法驱散。有时是芬，芬那苍白的脸让她害怕。有时是科特，科特变得越来越沉默，总是在酝酿他那些想法。

她陷入一阵令人绝望的懊悔中，而她却不知道自己如何犯下了罪过。然后她内心充满对复仇的恐惧，而她知道没有人想要伤害她。她感到她住在一幢墙体充满密格的房子中，而一旦密格之中的文件曝光，将毁灭现存的所有一切。她感到好似走在神秘的地窖上，那地窖掩盖着诡异的罪过的痕迹。

阿德尔海德疲倦地用手托着头，又把手放下。她在椅子里直了直上半身，将脸靠近摆在她身前桌子上的玫瑰。然后她拿起书，不久又再次把书放在一边。

然后，科特来了。

科特朝阿德尔海德点了点头，算是打个招呼，然后走到房间里较远的那一边，拿了本书坐了下来。

阿德尔海德怯懦地看着科特。她听到科特在翻书，于是想知道他读的是什么书。阿德尔海德开口问科特，科特头也不抬地回答了她，沉默加倍地充斥着房间。

阿德尔海德叹了口气，站起来准备去睡觉，“晚安，科特。”

科特合上书，随手扔到桌子上。阿德尔海德停下脚步，看着他。然后他问道：

“今天汉斯来了吗？”

阿德尔海德又坐回到椅子里。此刻，科特已站了起来，在屋子里踱步。阿德尔海德一边等待一边听着科特的脚步声，直到她无法忍受，“科特！”

科特停了下来，看着她。

“科特，芬会死的，如果汉斯一直和他在一起。”

“是的，”科特说道，声音轻轻地，充满悲伤，“芬会死掉，你会死掉，我也将死掉，但汉斯会活着。”

“你想拿芬怎么办，科特？”

“难道你已经忘记我想要什么了吗？”

科特看着她，那眼神伤到了她。

“不知你的愿望是不是同我的一样，科特。”她问道。

“不。”

科特冷静地回答道，口气里没有怒气，但毫不犹豫。

听到这样的回答，阿德尔海德从椅子里跳了起来，“你的愿望从来都跟我不同。从不！你成功地说服我，威吓我，强迫我。但我从来都不想那样，科特，从不！即便是我同意的时候。”

“阿德尔海德，不要再谈陈年旧事了。”

“现在呢，科特？现在我离你越来越远，而你越来越不能理解我。在我身上，有一种力量比那时将我们分开的东西强大一千倍。”

科特看着阿德尔海德，眼中闪过一阵愤怒，“阿德尔海德，我身上也有。”

科特站在她面前，她感到科特比平常似乎要高一些，而他的脸看着出奇地年轻。

“芬来了。”科特说道。

阿德尔海德无法站立，于是坐回到椅子里。

“你说话的方式就好像他只是你的儿子，不是我的。”阿德尔海德说道。

阿德尔海德盯着科特的脸。她无法摆脱科特看上去如此年轻的想法。他的头发没有一点儿变白的迹象，他走路轻盈挺拔，眼睛充满力量和自信，和以往无二。

阿德尔海德身体前倾，盯着科特的脸，寻找蛛丝马迹。她当然应该能找到悲伤留给他的伤口，岁月带给他的痕迹。

科特没有看她。他双手交叉搂着脖子站在那里，眼神迷离，“阿德尔海德，你说对了，就像你说的那样，现在我们身上有种力量比当初分开我们的强大千倍。我们凡人总是认为，当不幸来临，后面就会是好运，不幸一定会终结。而且，失去爱人的男人和失去洋娃娃的孩子没有什么不同。除了时间，来来去去，熄灭了一盏灯，点燃了一堆柴，然后又熄灭了柴。”

科特放下胳膊，无声地站了会儿，“阿德尔海德。”

他没再说什么。他环视了屋子，又看了看她，就好像他刚从他的思考中醒过来一样。然后他走向窗户，望向广场，那里的灯已经全部熄灭了。

阿德尔海德大睁着双眼盯着科特站立的地方。

很多年了，她都忽略了他的存在，这些年她都去了哪里？她都在做些什么？

她现在又注意到了他，起初遥远而模糊，当她又一次站在老屋子的时候，就好像一次吵架、一种伤痛的回忆那般。然后，他靠近了一些，就是在那次他警告她芬不能像她那样活着。再然后，一点儿一点儿，通过芬，通过他的恐惧和他的爱，通过他每句话，他接近了她，越来越近，影响也越来越大。

她把椅子的扶手握得那么用力以至于她的关节都泛白了。

现在，那神秘的地窖之门的铰链嘎吱作响，罪过显现。现在墙体里秘密的暗格都被打开，老旧的文件都公布于众。

现在，她和他之间的一切都消失了，而他们之外的一切也都不存在了。他站在她身旁，她伸伸手就能触摸到他。她失去了儿子也失去了上帝。他的话像暴风雨般扫过她的心灵，他的眼睛注视着她。

她想要站起来逃走，但却无法动弹。她感到一阵晕眩，脚下的大地似乎在后退。

她听到许多说话的声音，向她诉说一个很久以前早已被人忘记的故事，一个记录在家族档案里用于娱乐和对后人进行指导的传说，而后人大约会对这传说加以不同于原作者的评论。

还有其他话语，嘲笑和兴奋的声音，都在向她耳语，这一切都是幻想。芬是属于她的，而不是他，他所有的自信、力量都会在遇到那深爱着母亲、苍白而安静的男孩时变得粉碎。

话语中还有圣歌、赞美诗、风琴声和令人难忘的对罪恶、宽恕和基督的荣耀的话语。教堂地窖的凉风吹过她滚烫的额头。所有的钟一起敲响，就好像是为了一个灵魂之需。

她听到了这一切，而这一切就像空中任意的声音一样消失了。

所有的话语在她混乱的思绪前混成一团，演绎成旧时光里的一个夜晚，一个充满灯光和欢乐的夜晚。她看到那时的人们，她听到她自己的声音。

然后，突然地，所有的声音都被老屋子里的寂静镇压。

蜡烛在壁炉架上燃烧。她坐在那里，盯着红色的壁炉。科特在说话……那是以前的科特，“我会用生命和快乐作为赢得你的心的赌注。我会和你说话，强求你，征服你。我会拥抱你，拒绝你，然后追求你，宽恕你。如果我没有赢得你，我将抛弃你。”

她站起来，双手拍着她的脑袋说道：

“科特，科特。”

科特转过头，看着她苍白的脸。

阿德尔海德抬起头看着科特，在科特的眼睛里寻找自己的影子，或者仅仅是过去时光的一丝念想儿，一点儿记忆。

但她找不到。对于科特，这世界上除了他的快乐、他的恐惧、他的挣扎之外就再无其他，以往如此，现在亦如此。只是，这一切都不再围绕着她。

“阿德尔海德，你生病了吗？”

“没有，没有。”

阿德尔海德大声笑起来。科特握着她的手，把她领到一把椅子前。阿德尔海德任科特摆布，眼睛却一直看着科特的脸。

然后，她突然猛推开科特。

她微笑着，对自己的愚蠢摇摇头，然后在屋子里走了一圈。她说她很好，让科特离开，快点儿离开。

然后科特走了。

她看着科特离开时关上的门，好似那是她最后一次看到科特。然后她转身，看着镜子，镜子里呈现出她整个人。

慢慢地，她走向镜子，坐了下来，手托着头，眼睛盯着镜子里自己的脸。

教堂尖塔里的钟敲了一下，两下，她都没有听到。然后有人在广场上尖叫。她站了起来，拿了一支蜡烛，离开了屋子。

她穿过长长的走廊，走上楼梯，小心翼翼地，好像她是小偷一样。她站在科特和芬的卧室门前，听里面的动静。然后她站在老屋子门外。她凝神听着，没有任何声音。她微微打开老屋子的门，里面一片漆黑。

她迅速走进去，径直走到墙上的暗格处，打开暗格，双手颤抖地拿出那泛黄的文件。

然后她盯着科特和自己的名字，写在文件最后面，又被划掉的名字。