诺贝尔文学经典:《宠儿》第15章Part1

It made him dizzy. At first he thought it was her spinning. Circling him the way she was circlingthe subject. Round and round, never changing direction, which might have helped his head. Thenhe thought, No, it's the sound of her voice; it's too near. Each turn she made was at least threeyards from where he sat, but listening to her was like having a child whisper into your ear so closeyou could feel its lips form the words you couldn't make out because they were too close. Hecaught only pieces of what she said — which was fine, because she hadn't gotten to the main part— the answer to the question he had not asked outright, but which lay in the clipping he showedher. And lay in the smile as well. Because he smiled too, when he showed it to her, so when she burst out laughing at the joke — the mix-up of her face put where some other coloredwoman'sought to be — well, he'd be ready to laugh right along with her. "Can you beat it?" he would ask. And "Stamp done lost his mind," she would giggle."Plumb lost it."
But his smile never got a chance to grow. It hung there, small and alone, while she examined theclipping and then handed it back.
Perhaps it was the smile, or maybe the ever-ready love she saw in his eyes — easy and upfront, theway colts, evangelists and children look at you: with love you don't have to deserve — that madeher go ahead and tell him what she had not told Baby Suggs, the only person she felt obliged toexplain anything to. Otherwise she would have said what the newspaper said she said and no e could recognize only seventy-five printed words (half of which appeared in the newspaperclipping), but she knew that the words she did not understand hadn't any more power than she hadto explain. It was the smile and the upfront love that made her try.
"I don't have to tell you about Sweet Home — what it was — but maybe you don't know what itwas like for me to get away from there."Covering the lower half of her face with her palms, she paused to consider again the size of themiracle; its flavor.

他被弄得头晕目眩。一开始他以为是因为她转个不停。像绕着话题转一样绕着他兜圈子。一圈又一圈，从不改换方向，否则他的脑袋或许还能得救。然后他想，不对，是因为她的声音，太近了。她转的每一圈离他坐的地方都至少有三码远，可听她说起话来，就像是一个孩子对着你的耳朵低语，这样近，以致你能感到嘴唇翕动却听不出个子午卯酉。他只捕捉到了只言片语——那没关系，因为她还没说到主要部分呢——还没回答那个他并未直接提问，却放在给她看的剪报里的问题。也是放在微笑里的。因为他是微笑着把剪报递给她看的，所以，他都准备好了，当她对着这个笑话放声大笑的时候——她脸上的迷惑本该出现在另外的某个黑女人脸上——当然，他就会马上和她一起大笑起来。"你能相信这种事吗？"他会问。"斯坦普真没脑子，"她会格格笑着，"一点儿脑子没有。"
但是他的微笑一直没有机会发展。它悬在那里，又小又孤单；而她仔细看了看剪报，然后就把它递了回来。
也许是那个微笑，也许是她在他眼里看到的时刻准备着的爱——轻松而不加掩饰的，小马驹、传道士和孩子们看人的那种眼神，充满着你并不一定配得上的爱——驱使她开口道出了她从没告诉过贝比·萨格斯的事情，她从前觉得只对她一个人有责任解释一切。否则她会只讲报纸上说她讲过的话，而不再多说一句。塞丝只能认出七十五个印出来的词（一半出现在那张剪报上），可她知道，自己不认识的字不比她要解释的话更有力。是那微笑和不加掩饰的爱驱使她来作一次尝试。
"我不用给你讲-甜蜜之家-——它是什么——可也许你不知道我从那儿逃出去是什么滋味。"她用双掌遮住下半边脸，稍作停顿，再一次在心里掂量那个奇迹的大小，它的味道。