那时候我在缅甸的蒲甘，从那里坐蒸汽船到了曼德勒。在我抵达目的地的前几天，有一个晚上，船泊在临河一个村子的附近，趁这机会我决定岸上去转转。船长告诉我那里有一个不错的小酒吧，可以去放松一下。那里的人惯于招待到像我这样从蒸汽船上下来的陌生人，老板是个体面人。说不定在那儿我还能玩两副桥牌。于是百无聊赖之下，我坐上停在码头边的牛车，来到酒吧门前。当我朝里走时，看到游廊上坐着一个人，他朝我点点头，问我想要杯威士忌混苏打还是金比特。他都没想我有没有钱。我要了威士忌苏打就坐了下来。他是个瘦削的高个子，皮肤晒成古铜色，留着大胡髭，穿着卡其色的短裤和衬衫。我并不知道他的名字，等我们聊了一会儿，又进来一个人自称是酒吧老板，他叫我的这位朋友作乔治。 “你太太那儿有来什么新消息吗？”他问道。 乔治的眼睛变亮了。 “有，这次收到些信。她现在可逍遥着呢。” “是不是劝你不要发愁？” 乔治轻笑了一声，不知道是不是错觉，我似乎觉得他的笑里带着哭腔。 “是这么说了。不过说来简单做起来难。我当然知道她想去度个假，她也确实该放松一下。可她不在了，我可真难过。” 他转向我，“你瞧，这是我第一次和太太分开，没了她我就像一条无家可归的狗。” “你结婚多久了？” “五分钟了。” 酒吧老板笑起来。 “别装傻了，乔治。你结婚都八年了。” 等我们又聊了一会儿，乔治看了看表，说他得去换衣服准备吃晚饭，于是便离开了我们。老板看着他消失在夜色里，脸上带着嘲弄的笑容。 “他现在落了单，我们就一个劲地寻他开心。”他告诉我，“自从他太太离开家以后，他就难受坏啦。” “她要是知道自己的丈夫有多爱她，一定会很高兴。” “梅宝可是个了不起的女人。” 他把服务生叫来，又点了一些酒。在这友好的地方，他们不会问你身上有没有钱，你自然有钱。随后他靠在长椅上，点上一支方头雪茄，把乔治和梅宝的故事讲给我听。 乔治在回家休假的时候与梅宝订了婚。原本按照计划，等他回到缅甸后再过半年，梅宝就来和他会合。然而麻烦事接二连三的出现：先是梅宝的父亲去世，而后战争又爆发了，再后来乔治又被派到别的地方，白人姑娘可受不了那里的环境。于是最后过了七年，梅宝才得以动身。乔治把前前后后都安排妥当，准备等她一到就举行婚礼，然后便出发去仰光接她。在轮船将要到港的那天上午，他开着借来的轿车到码头边，下了车来回踱步。 然后，他忽然间没头没脑一下子泄了气。他可已经有七年没见梅宝，连她长得什么样都记不起来。对他而言她完完全全就是个陌生人。他感到胃里一阵可怕的空虚，膝盖哆嗦起来。他没法坚持到底。他必须告诉梅宝自己是多么的抱歉，但他做不到，他真的没法和她结婚。可是一个男人怎么能对一个姑娘说这种话，一个和他订婚七年、跋涉六千英里来和他结婚的女人。要这么做他也没胆。绝望中他心生出一股勇气。在那当口，码头边正好有一艘船准备开往新加坡。他匆匆忙忙写了一封信给梅宝，然后便一件行李都不拿，穿着身上的行头跳上船逃跑了。 梅宝收到的信是这样写的： 亲爱的梅宝， 我因公事被紧急召走，不知几时才能回来。我觉得你最好先回英格兰去。后面的安排待定。 爱你的乔治 可等他到了新加坡，一份电报正等着他： 非常理解。不要担心。爱你的，梅宝。 恐惧逼得他心生急智。 “唉，我觉得她在跟着我。”他说。他拍电报给仰光的海运事务所，获悉她就在当时开往新加坡的轮船上。没有时间可以浪费。他跳上开往曼谷的火车。可他还是不放心：她毫不费力就能发现他已经去往曼谷，然后像他一样轻而易举搭上火车。万幸的是，正好有一艘法国货船第二天准备开往西贡。那船又脏又挤，又不舒服。他高高兴兴顺利抵达目的地，坐人力车来到酒店。可等他在登记薄上写下自己的名字，一封电报就立即送到他手上。上面只写着： 爱你的，梅宝。 这足足把他吓出一身冷汗。“下一班去香港的船是什么时候？”他问。情势是这样危急。他到了香港，可是不敢待在那里；他辗转马尼拉，马尼拉危机四伏；他又跑到上海，上海让他心神不宁；每次他从酒店里走出来，总是担心会撞进梅宝的怀抱里；不，上海绝不安全。唯一的办法就是去横滨。到了横滨大酒店，一封电报在等着他：可惜没在马尼拉碰到。爱你的，梅宝。 他眉头紧锁，惴惴不安地查看航运报告。她现在在哪里呢？他又折回上海。这次他直接到酒店取电报。递上来的电报是这么写的： 马上就到。爱你的，梅宝。 不，不，他怎么能那么容易被逮住。他已经盘算好了：扬子江那么长，这段时间水位又在下降。他可以搭上最后一班蒸汽船直上重庆，这样除非坐舢板船，不然之后谁也别想在来年春天以前坐船旅行。一个姑娘只身一人是绝不可能坐舢板船的。他取道汉口，到达宜昌，从那里换船，穿过急流湍滩到达重庆。可他只觉得命悬一线，绝不能有任何差池：有个叫成都的地方是四川的首府，离重庆四百英里远。从这里过去只能走陆路，一路上满是土匪强盗。到了那里人就安全了。 等雇来轿夫和苦力，乔治便即刻出发。当最后一眼看到这座孤城的城墙雉堞，他长出了一口气。日落时分若站在那城墙之上，可以看到远在西藏白雪皑皑的山脉。 他终于可以安歇下来：梅宝永远不会发现他在那里。成都的领事恰巧是他的朋友，乔治便住在他那里。他在官邸里享受着安逸的时光，沉浸在呕心沥血横穿亚洲的逃亡之后得来的闲散生活之中，最要紧的是他感到安全无比。日子就这样，一个礼拜又一个礼拜慵懒地过去。 有一天早上，乔治和领事在院子里，浏览一个中国人带给他们的春宫图。正在这时，领事馆的大门口响起了一阵敲门声。门房打开门，只见四个苦力抬着个轿椅走到里面，他们往前走进了两步便把椅子放下，梅宝从上面下来。她穿戴整洁，神情平静，容光焕发。从她脸上丝毫看不出两个礼拜的旅途劳顿。乔治凝固了。他脸色苍白，像个死人。她走到他面前：“你好，乔治，我真担心又要和你错过。”“你好，梅宝。”他颤颤巍巍地回答。 他不知道该说些什么，只是来回张望：梅宝挡在门前面。她看着他，蓝色的眼睛里泛着微笑。 “你一点都没变，”她说。“七年的时间可能把人弄成多么可怕的样子，我真担心你会变得又胖又秃。我太紧张了。要是经过这么多年我却没法嫁给你，那多可怕。” 她转向领事。 “你就是领事吗？” “是的。” “好极了。我进去洗个澡出来嫁给他！” 于是，她成功了。 Mabel by W.S.MaughamI was at Pagan, in Burma, and from there I took the steamer to Mandalay, but a couple of days before I got there, when the boat tied up for the night at a riverside village, I made up my mind to go ashore. The skipper told me that there was there a pleasant little club in which I had only to make myself at home; they were quite used to having strangers drop off like that from the steamer, and the secretary was a very decent chap; I might even get a game of bridge. I had nothing in the world to do, so I got into one of the bullock-carts that were waiting at the landing-stage and was driven to the club. There was a man sitting on the veranda and as I walked up he nodded to me and asked whether I would have a whisky and soda or a gin and bitters. The possibility that I would have nothing at all did not even occur to him. I chose the longer drink and sat down. He was a tall, thin, bronzed man, with a big moustache, and he wore khaki shorts and a khaki shirt. I never knew his name, but when we had been chatting a little while another man came in who told me he was the secretary, and he addressed my friend as George.'Have you heard from your wife yet?' he asked him.The other's eyes brightened.'Yes, I had letters by this mail. She's having no end of a time.''Did she tell you not to fret?'George gave a little chuckle, but was I mistaken in thinking that there was in it the shadow of a sob?'In point of fact she did. But that's easier said than done. Of course I know she wants a holiday, and I'm glad she should have it, but it's devilish hard on a chap.' He turned to me. 'You see, this is the first time I've ever been separated from my missus, and I'm like a lost dog without her.''How long have you been married?''Five minutes.'The secretary of the club laughed.'Don't be a fool, George. You've been married eight years.'After we had talked for a little, George, looking at his watch, said he must go and change his clothes for dinner and left us. The secretary watched him disappear into the night with a smile of not unkindly irony.'We all ask him as much as wo can now that he's alone,' he told me. 'He mopes so terribly since his wife went home.''It must be very pleasant for her to know that her husband is as devoted to her as all that.''Mabel is a remarkable woman.'He called the boy and ordered more drinks. In this hospitable place they did not ask you if you would have anything; they took it for granted. Then he settled himself in his long chair and lit a cheroot. He told me the story of George and Mabel.They became engaged when he was home on leave, and when he returned to Burma it was arranged that she should join him in six months. But one difficulty cropped up after another; Mabel's father died, the war came, George was sent to a district unsuitable for a white woman; so that in the end it was seven years before she was able to start. He made all arrangements for the marriage, which was to take place on the day of her arrival, and went down to Rangoon to meet her. On the morning on which the ship was due he borrowed a motor-car and drove along to the dock. He paced the quay.Then, suddenly, without warning, his nerve failed him. He had not seen Mabel for seven years. He had forgotten what she was like. She was a total stranger. He felt a terrible sinking in the pit of his stomach and his knees began to wobble. He couldn't go through with it. He must tell Mabel that he was very sorry, but he couldn't, he really couldn't marry her. But how could a man tell a girl a thing like that when she had been engaged to him for seven years and had come six thousand miles to marry him? He hadn't the nerve for that either. George was seized with the courage of despair. There was a boat at the quay on the very point of starting for Singapore; he wrote a hurried letter to Mabel, and without a stick of luggage, just in the clothes he stood up in, leaped on board.The letter Mabel received ran somewhat as follows:Dearest Mabel,I have been suddenly called away on business and do not know when I shall be back. I think it would be much wiser if you returned to England. My plans are very uncertain. Your loving George.But when he arrived at Singapore he found a cable waiting for him.Quite understand. Don't worry. Love. Mabel.Terror made him quick-witted.'By Jove, I believe she's following me,' he said. He telegraphed to the shipping-office at Rangoon and sure enough her name was on the passenger list of the ship that was now on its way to Singapore. There was not a moment to lose. He jumped on the train to Bangkok. But he was uneasy; she would have no difficulty in finding out that he had gone to Bangkok and it was just as simple for her to take the train as it had been for him. Fortunately there was a French tramp sailing next day for Saigon. He took it. At Saigon he would be safe; it would never occur to her that he had gone there; and if it did, surely by now she would have taken the hint. It is five day's journey from Bangkok to Saigon and the boat is dirty, cramped, and uncomfortable. He was glad to arrive and took a rickshaw to the hotel. He signed his name in the visitors' book and a telegram was immediately handed to him. It contained but two words:Love. Mabel.They were enough to make him break into a cold sweat. 'When is the next boat for Hong-Kong?' he asked. Now his flight grew serious. He sailed to Hong-Kong, but dared not stay there; he went to Manila; Manila was ominous; he went on to Shanghai: Shanghai was nerve-racking; every time he went out of the hotel he expected to run straight into Mabel's arms; no, Shanghai would never do. The only thing was to go to Yokohama. At the Grand Hotel at Yokohama a cable awaited him:So sorry to have missed you at Manila. Love. Mabel.He scanned the shipping intelligence with a fevered brow. Where was she now? He doubled back to Shanghai. This time he went straight to the club and asked for a telegram. It was handed to him:Arriving shortly. Love. Mabel.No, no, he was not so easy to catch as all that. He had already made his plans. The Yangtse is a long river and the Yangtse was falling. He could just about catch the last steamer that could get up to Chungking and then no one could travel till the following spring except by junk. Such a journey was out of the question for a woman alone. He went to Hankow and from Hankow to Ichang, he changed boats here and from Ichang through the rapids went to Chungking. But he was desperate now, he was not going to take any risks: there was a place called Cheng-tu, the capital of Szechuan, and it was four hundred miles away. It could only be reached by road, and the road was infested with brigands. A man would be safe there.George collected chair-bearers and coolies and set out. It was with a sigh of relief that he saw at last the crenellated walls of the lonely Chinese city. From those walls at sunset you could see the snowy mountains of Tibet.He could rest at last: Mabel would never find him there. The consul happened to be a friend of his and he stayed with him. He enjoyed the comfort of a luxurious house, he enjoyed his idleness after that strenuous escape across Asia, and above all he enjoyed his divine security. The weeks passed lazily one after the other.One morning George and the consul were in the courtyard looking at some curios that a Chinese had brought for their inspection when there was a loud knocking at the great door of the Consulate. The door-man flung it open. A chair borne by four coolies entered, advanced, and was set down. Mabel stepped out. She was neat and cool and fresh. There was nothing in her appearance to suggest that she had just come in after a fortnight on the road. George was petrified. He was as pale as death. She went up to him. 'Hullo, George, I was so afraid I'd missed you again.' 'Hullo, Mabel,' he faltered.He did not know what to say. He looked this way and that: she stood between him and the doorway. She looked at him with a smile in her blue eyes.'You haven't altered at all,' she said. 'Men can go off so dreadfully in seven years and I was afraid you'd got fat and bald. I've been so nervous. It would have been terrible if after all these years I simply hadn't been able to bring myself to marry you after all.'She turned to George's host.'Are you the consul?' she asked.'I am.''That's all right. I'm ready to marry him as soon as I've had a bath.' And she did.
四点五十五分，康德的仆人兰佩准时叫醒他。五点，他穿着拖鞋、晨衣，戴着睡帽，又在睡帽上加一顶三角帽，坐在书房准备吃早饭。他的早餐包括一杯淡茶和一烟斗烟。接下来的两小时他准备早晨的讲课。然后他更衣。他讲课的课堂就在他家的底楼。他的讲课从七点开始，一直到九点结束。他的课大受欢迎，如果你想抢个好位置，非得六点半到课堂不可。 康德坐在一张小书桌后面，以谈话的语气讲课，声音很轻，很少用手势，但他讲话幽默，旁征博引，使他的讲课富有生气。他的目标是培养学生进行自我思考，他不喜欢他的学生忙忙碌碌地记下他说的每一句话。 “先生们，不要忙着写，”又一次他说，“我不是在宣读神谕。” 他习惯于把目光投向坐在他旁边的学生，通过观察其表情来判断他是否已听懂。但一件小小的琐事往往会分散他的注意力。有一次，他注意到一个学生的纽扣掉了，他的思路因此而被打断。另一次，有一个学生昏昏欲睡，连连打哈欠，他打断自己的讲演。说道：“如果有人一定得打哈欠，礼貌的方法是用手捂住嘴巴。” 九点钟康德回到他的书房，又穿上晨衣、拖鞋，戴上睡帽和三角帽，一直学习到十二点三刻。然后，他把厨师叫下来，告诉她吃饭的时间。然后他更衣，回到书房，等着客人一同进餐。 他不能忍受一个人吃饭的寂寞，因此，总是有客人和他一同进餐，客人少则两人，多则五人。客人一到，康德吩咐佣人把饭端上，他自己则去取银匙，银匙跟钱一起被锁在客厅的橱柜里。 客人们在餐厅就座后，康德说声“先生们，请，”便开始用餐。这一餐的食物非常丰盛，因为这是康德白天唯一的一餐，通常有汤、干豆烧鱼、烤肉，最后是奶酪和时令水果。每位客人前放一品脱红葡萄酒和一品脱白葡萄酒，客人们想喝什么就喝什么。 康德喜欢谈话，但他喜欢一个人说，如果有人打断或反驳，就会显得不快；但他的谈话总是令人愉快，就是他一个人独说，也没人介意。 他还会讲一些幽默的故事，这些故事有很多，他讲得非常出色。他说：“据说饭后笑一笑有助于消化。” 吃饭的时候他喜欢慢慢享受，客人们一直到很晚才起身。客人们走后，他不再坐下，以免睡着。他不允许自己这样做，因为他认为人不能贪睡，这样时间就节省下来，生命就延长了。他开始午后的散步。 他个子矮小，只有五英尺高，窄胸，肩膀一个高一个低。他很瘦，近乎憔悴。他有个鹰勾鼻子，眉毛精致，气色不错。他的眼睛很小，但很蓝，富有生气及穿透力。他穿着整洁。他头戴金色假发，脖子上系一条黑色领带，穿的衬衫在领子和袖口有褶边；外套、裤子和马甲质地都很好，脚上穿一双灰色丝袜，穿的鞋子有银白色扣子。他腋下挟一顶三角帽，手拿金头拐杖。他每天散步一小时，不管雨天还是晴天，但如果看上去天色不好，他的仆人会拿一把大伞跟着他。 他唯一没有去散步的一回是在他收到卢梭的《爱弥尔》的时候，那是他在家中看书，三天没出门。散步时他走得很慢，因为他认为出汗对他不好，他喜欢一个人散步，因为他养成了通过鼻孔呼吸的习惯，他认为这样能预防感冒。要是有个伴儿和他一块儿散步，出于礼貌他就得说话，他就不得不用嘴巴来呼吸了。 他的散步总是同一条线路，沿着林登街，根据海涅说，他要在这条街来回走八次。他总是在同一时刻离家，非常准时，镇上的人们可以据此调整钟表的时间。他回家后就回到书房，然后读书、写信，直到黄昏天色黯淡之时。然后，他习惯性地两眼凝视附近教堂的塔楼，思索起他正思考的问题。九点三刻，他暂停他艰苦的劳作，十点便在床上安睡。 尽管他活到八十岁，他从未到过离他出生的小镇六十英里以外的地方。他小毛小病不断，病痛缠身，但他凭借自己的意志不去注意它们，仿佛这些病痛并未发生在其身上一般。 他既不冲动，也不感情外露，待人友好，尽管并不富有，却慷慨大方，乐于助人。他智慧非凡，思辩能力让人敬佩，但他的内心情感却十分贫乏。有两次他认真考虑过婚姻，但他花了太多的时间去考虑婚姻的利弊得失，就在他考虑的当口，他注目的一个年轻女子与他人结了婚，另一位在他作出决定之前就离开了他所在的康尼斯伯格镇。KANT THE MAN William Somerset Maugham Punctually at five minutes to five Lampe, his servant, waked Professor Kant and by five, in his slippers, dressing-gown and night-cap, over which he wore his three-corned hat, he seated himself in his study ready for breakfast. This consisted of a cup of weak tea and a pipe of tobacco. The next two hours he spent thinking over the lecture he was to deliver that morning. The he dressed. The lecture room was on the ground floor of his house. He lectured from seven till nine and so popular were his lectures that if you wanted a good seat you had to be there at six-thirty. Kant, seated behind a little desk, spoke in a conversational tone, in a low voice, and very rarely indulged in gesture, but he enlivened his discourse with humor and abundant illustrations. His aim was to teach his students to think for themselves and he did not like it when they busied themselves with their quills to write down his every word. “Gentlemen, do not scratch so,” he said once. “I am not oracle.” It was his custom to fix his eyes on a student who sat close to him and judge by the look on his face whether or not he understood what he said. But a very small thing distracted him. On one occasion he lost the thread of his discourse because a button was wanting on the coat of one of the students, and on another, when a sleepy youth persistently yawned, he broke off to say: “If one cannot avoid yawning, good manners require that the hand should be placed before the mouth.” At nine o’clock Kant returned to his room, once more put on his dressing-gown, his night-cap, his three-corned hat and his slippers and studied till exactly a quarter to one. Then he called down to his cook, told her the hour, dressed and went back to his study to await the guests he expected to dinner. He could not bear to eat alone, and there were always guests, never less than two nor more than five. As soon as they were assembled Kant told his servant to bring the dinner and himself went to fetch the silver spoons which he kept locked up with his money in a bureau in the parlour. The party seated themselves in the dining-room and with the words “Now, gentlemen,” Kant set to. The meal was substantial. It was the only one he ate in the day, and consisted of soup, dried pulse with fish, roast, cheese to end with and fruit when in season. Before each guest was placed a pint bottle of red wine and a pint bottle of white so that he could drink whichever he liked. Kant was fond of talking, but preferred to talk alone, and if interrupted or contradicted was apt to show displeasure; his conversation, however, was so agreeable that none minded if he monopolized it. He would also tell humorous stories, of which he had a rich supply and which he told uncommonly well, so, he said, “that the repast may end with laughter, which is calculated to promote digestion.” He like to linger over dinner and the guests did not rise from table till late. He would not sit down after they had left in case he fell asleep, and this he would not permit himself to do since he was of opinion that sleep should be enjoyed sparingly, for thus time was saved and so life lengthened. He set out on his afternoon walk. He was a little man, barely five feet tall, with a narrow chest and one shoulder higher than the other, and he was thin almost to emaciation. He had a crooked nose, but a fine brow and his color was fresh. His eyes, though small, were blue, lively and penetrating. He was natty I his dress. He wore a small blond wig, a black tie, and a shirt with ruffles round the throat and wrists; a coat, breeches and waistcoat of fine cloth, gray silk stockings and shoes with silver buckles. He carried his three-cornered hat under his arm and in his hand a gold-headed cane. He walked every day, rain or fine, for exactly one hour, but if the weather was threatening, his servant walked behind him with a big umbrella. The only occasion on which he is known to have omitted his walk is when he received Rousseau’s Emile, and then, unable to tear himself away from it, he remained indoors for three days. He walked very slowly because he thought it was bad for him to sweat, and alone because he had formed the habit of breathing through his nostrils, since thus he thought to avoid catching cold and, had he had a companion with whom courtesy would obliged him to speak, he would have been constrained to breathe through his mouth. He invariably took the same walk, along the Linden Alley, and this, according to Heine, he strolled up and down eight times. He issued from his house at precisely the same hour so that the people of the town could set their clocks by it. When he came home he returned to his study and read and wrote letters till the light failed. Then, as was his habit, fixing his eyes on the tower of a neighboring church, he pondered over the problems that just then occupied him. At a quarter to ten he suspended his arduous labor and by ten was safely tucked up in bed. Though he lived to be eighty, he never went more than sixty miles away from the town in which he was born. He suffered from frequent indispositions and was seldom free from pain, but he was able by the exertion of his will to turn his attention away from his feelings just as though they did not concern him. He was neither impulsive nor demonstrative, but he was kindly, within his scanty means generous. His intelligence was great, his power of reasoning impressive, but his emotional nature was meagre. Twice he thought seriously of marrying, but he took so long to consider the advantages and disadvantages of the step he had in mind that in the interval one of the young women he had his eye on married somebody else and the other left Konigsberg before he reached a decision.