8
1现实
作者： F. 斯科特 · 费兹杰拉德
编译：嘉炜
她用了“粗鲁”这个词，但是这词中却没有那种形容南方男孩的固有意念。只有她自己内心里一清二楚，她的耳朵分不清两个北方佬的口音。不知为什么，卡尔霍恩太太也并没有在厄尔出现在门口的时候晕死过去。艾莉父母的偏见曾一度被认为是无法消除的，但由于艾莉的主观意愿的微妙变化，如今却逐渐消失了。她的朋友们都很惊讶。艾莉，一直有一种凌驾于塔尔顿所有人之上的姿态，所以他的意中人也一直是军营里“最好的”男人——但是艾丽和舍恩中尉关系让人觉得无法理解！我渐渐厌倦了向人们解释，她只是在寻求新鲜感——实际上，大约每个星期都会有一个新人出现——一会儿是来自彭萨科拉的一个少官，一会儿又是一个来自新奥尔良的老朋友——但在这段时间里，厄尔·舍恩总会出现在其中。
由军官和士官组成的先遣部队接到了命令，要求于指定时间到达登船港，并乘船前往法国。我的名字在名单上。我在射击训练场已经呆了一个星期，当我回到营地的时候，厄尔立刻把我拉住了。
“我们要在交谊厅举行一个小小的告别派对。只有你、我、克雷克船长和三个女孩。”
厄尔和我去接女孩儿们。我们接了萨莉·卡罗尔·哈珀和南希·拉马尔，然后去了艾莉的家;在门口被管家告知说她不在家。
“不在家?”厄尔茫然地重复。“她在哪儿?”
“她没有留下任何信息；只是说她不在家。”
“但这是一件事情可真是有趣了！”他在熟悉的昏暗的走廊上踱来踱去，管家在门口等着。他突然想到了什么。“哎，”他告诉我——“是的，我觉得她受伤了。”
我只能沉默地等待着。他严肃地对管家说：“你告诉她，我要和她谈一下。”
“她不在家，我怎么跟她说呢?”
厄尔又若有所思地绕过门廊，然后他点了几下头说:
“她肯定因为城里发生的事而难过。”
他用三言两语向我扼要地描述了那件事。
“这样，你在车里等着。”我说。“也许我能解决这个问题。”他不情愿地退回车里，我对管家说:“奥利弗，你告诉艾莉小姐，我要单独见她。”
经过一阵争吵，他了解了艾莉的意思，又回来回答说:
“艾莉小姐说她不想见那位先生，永远也不想。她说你想进来就进来吧。”
她在书房里。我原以为会看到她冷静、愤怒、富有尊严的样子，但她脸上的神情却充满了悲痛、纷乱、绝望。她的眼眶红红的，好像已经哭了好几个小时了。
“Oh，你好，安迪。”她断断续续地说。“我很久没见到你了。他走了?”
“事已至此，艾莉——”
“事已至此，艾莉！”她喊道。“事已至此，艾莉！你知道，他对我说话，装作尊重我。他站在离我十英尺远的地方，身边站着那个让人生厌的——那个让人生厌的女人——握着她的胳膊，跟她说话。然后，当他看到我时，又举起帽子跟我打招呼，好像什么事都没有发生。安迪，我不知道该怎么办。我不得不去药店要一杯水，我很害怕他会跟着我进来，所以我请求里奇先生让我从后门出去。我再也不想见到他，也不想听到他的消息。”
我尝试着安慰她。我说了一些在这种情况下该说的话，很快半个小时过去了。我还是无法触动她。有几次，她都是喃喃地说他不“真诚”，这是第四次，我想知道这个词对她意味着什么。我想这必然不是坚定不移的爱；我有点怀疑，这是她希望别人以某种特殊的方式来关心她。
我起身要走。然后，令人难以置信的是，外面的汽车喇叭不耐烦地响了三次。厄尔的这一举动让我震惊，这急躁的喇叭声，就像厄尔在房间里一样清楚地说：“好吧！见鬼去吧！我不会在这里等上一整夜的。”
艾莉目瞪口呆地看着我。突然，她的脸上出现了一种奇特的神情，并且逐渐舒展开来，忽隐忽现中露出了一种泪流满面，又神秘莫测的微笑。
“他真可怕，不是吗？”她无可奈何地绝望地喊道。“他难道不可怕吗?”
“快点，”我赶紧说。“拿上你的披肩，这可是我们在塔尔顿的最后的一个夜晚了。”
She used the word "tough" without the conviction it would have carried had he been a Southern boy. She only knew it with her mind; her ear couldn't distinguish between one Yankee voice and another. And somehow Mrs. Calhoun didn't expire at his appearance on the threshold. The supposedly ineradicable prejudices of Ailie's parents were a convenient phenomenon that disappeared at her wish. It was her friends who were astonished. Ailie, always a little above Tarleton, whose beaux had been very carefully the "nicest" men of the camp--Ailie and Lieutenant Schoen! I grew tired of assuring people that she was merely distracting herself--and indeed every week or so there was someone new--an ensign from Pensacola, an old friend from New Orleans--but always, in between times, there was Earl Schoen.
Orders arrived for an advance party of officers and sergeants to proceed to the port of embarkation and take ship to France. My name was on the list. I had been on the range for a week and when I got back to camp, Earl Schoen buttonholed me immediately.
"We're giving a little farewell party in the mess. Just you and I and Captain Craker and three girls."
Earl and I were to call for the girls. We picked up Sally Carrol Happer and Nancy Lamar, and went on to Ailie's house; to be met at the door by the butler with the announcement that she wasn't home.
"Isn't home?" Earl repeated blankly. "Where is she?"
"Didn't leave no information about that; just said she wasn't home."
"But this is a darn funny thing!" he exclaimed. He walked around the familiar dusky veranda while the butler waited at the door. Something occurred to him. "Say," he informed me--"say, I think she's sore."
I waited. He said sternly to the butler, "You tell her I've got to speak to her a minute."
"How'm I goin' tell her that when she ain't home?"
Again Earl walked musingly around the porch. Then he nodded several times and said:
"She's sore at something that happened downtown."
In a few words he sketched out the matter to me.
"Look here; you wait in the car," I said. "Maybe I can fix this." And when he reluctantly retreated: "Oliver, you tell Miss Ailie I want to see her alone."
After some argument he bore this message and in a moment returned with a reply:
"Miss Ailie say she don't want to see that other gentleman about nothing never. She say come in if you like."
She was in the library. I had expected to see a picture of cool, outraged dignity, but her face was distraught, tumultuous, despairing. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as though she had been crying slowly and painfully, for hours.
"Oh, hello, Andy," she said brokenly. "I haven't seen you for so long. Has he gone?"
"Now, Ailie--"
I talked. I said what one says in such cases. I said it for half an hour. I could not move her. Several times she answered by murmuring something about his not being "sincere," and for the fourth time I wondered what the word meant to her. Certainly not constancy; it was, I half suspected, some special way she wanted to be regarded.
I got up to go. And then, unbelievably, the automobile horn sounded three times impatiently outside. It was stupefying. It said as plainly as if Earl were in the room, "All right; go to the devil then! I'm not going to wait here all night."
Ailie looked at me aghast. And suddenly a peculiar look came into her face, spread, flickered, broke into a teary, hysterical smile.
"Isn't he awful?" she cried in helpless despair. "Isn't he terrible?"
"Hurry up," I said quickly. "Get your cape. This is our last night."