第二章（第3/5页）

He was remotely interested; but like a man looking down a microscope, or up a telescope. He was not in touch. He was not in actual touch with anybody, save, traditionally, with Wragby, and, through the close bond of family defence, with Emma. Beyond this nothing really touched him. Connie felt that she herself didn't really, not really touch him; perhaps there was nothing to get at ultimately; just a negation of human contact.

他远远地关注着他们的行为举动，像是通过显微镜或者望远镜去观察事物一样。但却跟他们没有半点往来。除了跟拉格比府的传统纽带、以及和艾玛的血亲关系，他几乎与其他任何人都没有实质性的接触。除此之外，没有什么能真正触及他的内心。康妮觉得连自己也无法真正确实地拨动丈夫的心弦，或许根本没有什么能做到这一点，克利福德的存在恰恰是对人际交往的某种否定。

Yet he was absolutely dependent on her, he needed her every moment. Big and strong as he was, he was helpless. He could wheel himself about in a wheeled chair, and he had a sort of bath-chair with a motor attachment, in which he could puff slowly round the park. But alone he was like a lost thing. He needed Connie to be there, to assure him he existed at all.

但他对妻子的依赖已经到达无可附加的地步，时时刻刻需要她陪在身旁。他虽然魁梧健硕，却无法自立。他能够驱动轮椅四处走走，还可以驾着装有马达的巴斯轮椅，缓缓地在自家园林里兜圈。但每当独处，他就像只迷途的羔羊。他需要康妮伴随左右，只有如此，才能确信自己真真切切地活在世间。

Still he was ambitious. He had taken to writing stories; curious, very personal stories about people he had known. Clever, rather spiteful, and yet, in some mysterious way, meaningless. The observation was extraordinary and peculiar. But there was no touch, no actual contact. It was as if the whole thing took place in a vacuum. And since the field of life is largely an artificially-lighted stage today, the stories were curiously true to modern life, to the modern psychology, that is.

虽然身残，但克利福德依然不失鸿鹄之志。他醉心于小说的创作。这些作品描述的是他身边熟悉的人物个人的奇特故事。笔触聪颖机智，流露出些许恶毒之感，却又因情节神秘莫测而缺乏深意。其出色的观察力异乎常人。但缺少与他人实际的接触和沟通。他笔下的一切似乎都发生在虚无缥缈的空中楼阁里。由于如今的人们多半生活在人造光线点亮的舞台之上，克利福德的小说倒是与现代的生活和现代人的心理颇为契合。

Clifford was almost morbidly sensitive about these stories. He wanted everyone to think them good, of the best, NE PLUS ULTRA. They appeared in the most modern magazines, and were praised and blamed as usual. But to Clifford the blame was torture, like knives goading him. It was as if the whole of his being were in his stories.

克利福德对这些小说的在意，几乎达到病态的地步。他渴望世人都为之拍案叫绝，将其视为无可匹敌的巅峰之作。他的作品发表在最时兴的杂志上，得到的评价自然也是毁誉参半。但对于克利福德来说，毁訾无异于痛苦的折磨，简直就像用刀剜他的肉。好像他生命的全部意义都存在于小说之中。

Connie helped him as much as she could. At first she was thrilled. He talked everything over with her monotonously, insistently, persistently, and she had to respond with all her might. It was as if her whole soul and body and sex had to rouse up and pass into theme stories of his. This thrilled her and absorbed her.

康妮竭尽所能地帮助他。刚开始倒也醉心其中。他凡事都会跟她进行探讨，用那种一成不变的语调，没完没了，无休无止，而她也必须殚精毕力，奉陪到底。似乎她的灵与肉，情与性都被唤醒，跟小说的主题融为一体。这样美妙的感觉让她为之兴奋不已，深深着迷。

Of physical life they lived very little. She had to superintend the house. But the housekeeper had served Sir Geoffrey for many years, arid the dried-up, elderly, superlatively correct female you could hardly call her a parlour-maid, or even a woman...who waited at table, had been in the house for forty years. Even the very housemaids were no longer young. It was awful! What could you do with such a place, but leave it alone! All these endless rooms that nobody used, all the Midlands routine, the mechanical cleanliness and the mechanical order!

而在物质层面，他们的生活实在是再贫乏不过。她必须操持家务。女管家伺候杰弗里爵士多年，她身体干瘪，年老色衰，且刚愎自用，非但不像个女侍，甚至连是否算得女人都成问题……40年来，都是她服侍查泰莱爵士一家用餐。就连那些真正的女佣也都垂垂老矣。这真是糟糕透顶！身临其中，除了听其自然，确实别无他法。这里有无穷无尽的空房间，米德兰地区世代相传的繁文缛节，还有那机械呆板的整洁有序。

For the rest the place seemed run by mechanical anarchy. Everything went on in pretty good order, strict cleanliness, and strict punctuality; even pretty strict honesty.

至于这里的其他地方，似乎在机械的无政府状态下运行着。一切都进行得有条不紊，干脆利落，严守时间，从无遮掩欺瞒。

And yet, to Connie, it was a methodical anarchy. No warmth of feeling united it organically. The house seemed as dreary as a disused street.

但对康妮来说，这不过是种井然有序的混乱状态。缺乏温情的有机维系。整座府邸阴郁凄清，如同废弃的街道。

What could she do but leave it alone? So she left it alone. Miss Chatterley came sometimes, with her aristocratic thin face, and triumphed, finding nothing altered. She would never forgive Connie for ousting her from her union in consciousness with her brother. It was she, Emma, who should be bringing forth the stories, these books, with him; the Chatterley stories, something new in the world, that they, the Chatterleys, had put there.

除了顺其自然，她还能做些什么呢？因此，她也只好听之任之。查泰莱小姐偶尔也会过府探望，她面容瘦削却满脸傲气，发现家中一切都依然如故，颇觉志得意满。她永远也无法原谅康妮，正是这个外来者切断了自己与弟弟的情感纽带。只有她，艾玛，本该与克利福德构思和创作小说,那可是专属于查泰莱家族的作品，世间绝无仅有的新颖物事，由查泰莱的家人一手缔造。

There was no other standard. There was no organic connexion with the thought and expression that had gone before. Only something new in the world: the Chatterley books, entirely personal.

此外别无标准可以评断。跟前人的思想和言论毫无关联。查泰莱家族的作品是全新的创作，充满个性意味的文学作品。