“你想要去干什么？”她问。
“什么也不干——只想自由自在。”他回答道。
然而，她却十分明白，他之所以这样，就是因为克莱拉的影响在起作用，要解放他。不过，她什么也没说。
“那我该怎么对我妈妈说呢？”她问。
“我告诉我妈，”他回答说，“我要一刀两断。”
“这话我不会 告诉家里人的。”她说。
他皱着眉头说：“那随你便了。”
他明白是他将她陷入一个不洁的境地，在她危难时离弃不顾。 想到这一点，使他十分恼火。
“你可以告诉他们，你不会也不愿嫁给我就只好分手了，”他说道，“这可是真的。”
她郁郁不乐地咬着手指，回顾两人的恋爱历程。她早就意识到会有这样的结局，她始终明白这一点。如今正如她那痛苦的预料。
“一直——一直是这样！”她大声喊道。“这是我们之间一直争论不休的问题——你一直在竭力摆脱我。”
这话犹如闪电，不知不觉从她嘴里喷了出来。他的心霎时仿佛静止了。她就是这么看待这件事的吗？
“但我们在一起也度过了许多美好的时光和愉快的时刻！”他分辩道。
“从来没有过！”她叫道，“从来没有过。过去你一直在努力挣脱我。”
“并不是一直这样——开始时就不是这样！” 他分辩着。
“一直是这样，从一开始就这样——一直都是这样！”
她说完了，不过她也说得够多了。他坐在那儿直发愣。他本来想说，“过去相处很好，只是现在该结束了。”她否认他们之间有过美好的爱情，不过，以前他在鄙视自己时曾相信过她的爱情。“他过去一直在竭力挣脱她吗？”那可真荒唐。他俩之间原来什么感情也没有，过去他一直想像着他们之间存在着什么感情，原来是竹篮子打水一场空，而且，她早已知道，她什么都清楚，只不 过没告诉他。她一直很清楚却把它隐藏在心底。
他痛苦地坐在那里，一声不响。整个事情的结尾就是一个绝妙的讽刺。她原来一直在玩弄他，而不是他玩弄她。她在他面前隐藏起所有对他的不满，一直在逢迎他，而内心却在藐视他。她现在又瞧不起他了。他变得聪明起来也更残忍了。
“你应该嫁给一个崇拜你的人，”他说，“那样你就可以为所欲为。会有不少男人崇拜你 呢！只要你了解他们天生的缺陷。你应该嫁给这样的男人，他们决不会竭力想挣脱你。”
“谢谢！”她说，“不 过用不着你来建议 我嫁给什么样的人，你以前就曾建议过了。”
“好吧，”他说，“我再也不会说了。”
他静静地坐在那，感到好像不是给了别人一拳，而是挨了别人一拳。他们八年的友谊和爱情，他生命中的这八年，变得毫无价值。
“你什么时候想到这点的？”她问。
“我在星期四晚上就有明确的思想。”
“我就知道迟早会有这样的孰”她说。
他听了这话，心里感到欣慰。“懊，太好了，她如果知道事情会发展到这一步，那么她就不会感到意外。”他想。
“你对克莱拉说过什么吗？”她问。
“没有，但我会告诉她的。”
一片沉默。
“你还记得去年这个时候，在我姥姥家，你说过的话吗？不，上个月你还说过，还记得吗？”
“是的，”他说：“我还记得！而且我说的是真话！那些话没有实现，我无能为力。”
“那些没有实现，是因为你另有所求。”
“不管实现没实现，你总是不会相信我的。”
她奇怪地大笑起 来。
他默默地坐着，他现在只有一种感觉，就是：她骗了他。在他以为她崇拜他时，实际上她在鄙视他。她让他信口开河地乱说一气却从不反驳他，她让他独身瞎闯。最让他咽不下的一口气是，在他以为她崇拜他时，实际上她在藐视他。发现他的错误时，她应该告诉他，她太不公平，他恨她。这么多年来，她一直当面把他看作英雄，而心里把他当作一个乳臭未干的小孩，一个愚蠢的孩子。可是，那又为什么她任凭一个愚蠢的孩子出丑卖乖呢？他恨极了她。
她痛苦地坐在那里。她早就知道了——呵，她知道得一清二楚！在他疏远她的那一段时间，她就把他看清楚，看出他的渺小、卑劣、愚蠢。甚至在她内心已经对 他作好了防备，以免受到他的打击和伤害。她并没有被打击，甚至都没怎么伤着。她早就知道了，可是为什么他还能坐在那儿依然控制和支配着她呢？他的一举一动都让她着迷，仿佛被 他施了催眠术似的。然而他却是卑鄙虚伪，反复无常的小人。为什么她还受到这种支配呢？为什么世上再 没有谁的比他的胳膊动作更能挑动她的心灵呢？为什么她被他紧紧地左右着？为什么即使现在，假如他看着她、命令她，她还是会言听计从呢？他的任何命令她都会唯命是从的。不过，她清楚一旦服从了他，那她就会把他置于自己的控制之下，要他去哪他就去哪儿。她对此非常自信。都是这位新近的插足者的影响！唉，他不是个男子汉！他只是一个哭闹着要新玩具的小孩子。无论他的心向往什么，都无法长久羁绊他的易变的灵魂。好吧，就让他走吧。不过等他厌倦了新感觉时，他还是会回来的。
他一直在那里挖着土，挖啊挖，直到她烦得要死。她站起身。他坐着那里往河里扔土块。
“我们到附近去喝点茶吧？”他问。
“好吧。”她答道。
喝茶时他们谈了一些不相干的话题。他滔滔不绝地谈着对装潢艺术的爱好——是那间乡下别墅引起了他的谈兴——以及它与美学的关系。她的态度冷淡而沉默。在回家的路上，她问：
“我们不再见面了吗？”
“不见了——或者极少见面。”他回答道。
“也不通信？”她道，几乎在挖苦。
一随你的便吧，”他答道，“我们不是陌生人——不管怎么样，我们也不应该成为陌生人。我以后会常常给你写信的，你就随便吧。”
“我明白了！”她尖刻地答道。
不过，他已经是任何东西都伤不了他的心了。他已经作出了生命中的一次大裂变。刚才她告诉他说他们之间的爱情从来就是一场冲突时，他为此大吃一惊。现在这一切都无所谓了。
假如根本没有爱，那么对于这段爱情的结束也没什么奇怪的了。
他在小巷的尽头与她分手了。望着穿着新衣的她，孤零零的往家 去，就要应付巷子那一头的家里人，他心里充满着羞愧和痛苦，他一动不动地站在路上，心里想到是自己让她受煎熬。
为了恢复自尊，他本能地走进了柳树酒店想去喝几杯。店里有四个外出玩的姑娘，各自喝着一小杯葡萄酒，她们的桌子上还扔着几块巧克力。保罗就坐在一旁喝着威士忌。他注意到了那几个姑娘正压低嗓门嘀咕着什么，还互相推推搡搡。不一会，一个身材健美，皮肤黝黑，看起来十分轻桃的姑娘向他探过身来说：
“想来块巧克力吗？”
另外三个姑娘哈哈大笑，笑这位姑娘不知害臊。
“好啊，”保罗说：“给我来块硬一点的——带果仁的，我不喜欢奶油的。”
“好，给你，”那姑娘说，“这是块杏仁的。”
她把巧克力拈在手指间，他张开了嘴，她把糖扔进了他的嘴里，脸色不禁红了。
“你真好！”他说。
“咳”，她答道，“我们刚才看到你一副愁眉苦脸的样子，她们都问我敢不敢请你吃一块巧克力。”
“再来一块也行—一给我一块不同味儿的尝尝。”他说。
大家立刻嘻嘻哈哈笑成了一团。
他九点钟后回家，天已黑了，他悄悄地进了屋，母亲一直在等着他，看到他回来，她立即匆匆忙忙地站起身。
“我已经给她说了。”他说。
“我非常高兴。”母亲大大松了一口气回答说。
他疲倦地把帽子挂了起来。
“我说我们还是一刀两断吧。”他说。
“做得对，孩子，”母亲说，“现在她虽然难受，不过这样做对将来有好处，我知道你和她不合适。”
他坐下时笑得全身震颤起来。
“我在酒店里跟几个姑娘玩得挺开心。”
母亲 看他这会儿已经忘了米丽亚姆了。他把在柳树酒店和几个姑娘相遇的事讲给她听，莫瑞尔太太望着他，他的快乐仿佛是强装出来的，内心其实十分忧郁而痛苦。
“来吃晚饭吧！”她柔声细语地说。
晚饭后，他若有所思地说：
“妈妈，她并不失望，因为她一开始就很本没想跟我好。”
“我怕她对你还会有意思。”她说。
“不，”他说，“也许不会。”
“你知道你们还是彻底断了关系的好。”她说。
“我不知道。”他绝望地说。
“好了，把她抛到九霄云外去吧。”母亲回答。
就这样，他离开了米丽亚姆，留下她孤零零的一人，很少有人关心体贴她，她也很少关心别人。她独自在耐心等待着什么。
"Nothing--only to be free," he answered.
She, however, knew in her heart that Clara's influence wasover him to liberate him. But she said nothing.
"And what have I to tell my mother?" she asked.
"I told my mother," he answered, "that I was breaking off--cleanand altogether."
"I shall not tell them at home," she said.
Frowning, "You please yourself," he said.
He knew he had landed her in a nasty hole, and was leavingher in the lurch. It angered him.
"Tell them you wouldn't and won't marry me, and have broken off,"he said. "It's true enough."
She bit her finger moodily. She thought over their whole affair. She had known it would come to this; she had seen it all along. It chimed with her bitter expectation.
"Always--it has always been so!" she cried. "It has beenone long battle between us--you fighting away from me."
It came from her unawares, like a flash of lightning. The man's heart stood still. Was this how she saw it?
"But we've had SOME perfect hours, SOME perfect times,when we were together!" he pleaded.
"Never!" she cried; "never! It has always been you fightingme off."
"Not always--not at first!" he pleaded.
"Always, from the very beginning--always the same!"
She had finished, but she had done enough. He sat aghast. He had wanted to say: "It has been good, but it is at an end." And she--she whose love he had believed in when he had despisedhimself--denied that their love had ever been love. "He hadalways fought away from her?" Then it had been monstrous. There had never been anything really between them; all the timehe had been imagining something where there was nothing. And shehad known. She had known so much, and had told him so little. She had known all the time. All the time this was at the bottomof her!
He sat silent in bitterness. At last the whole affair appearedin a cynical aspect to him. She had really played with him,not he with her. She had hidden all her condemnation from him,had flattered him, and despised him. She despised him now. He grew intellectual and cruel.
"You ought to marry a man who worships you," he said; "then youcould do as you liked with him. Plenty of men will worship you,if you get on the private side of their natures. You ought to marryone such. They would never fight you off."
"Thank you!" she said. "But don't advise me to marry someoneelse any more. You've done it before."
"Very well," he said; "I will say no more."
He sat still, feeling as if he had had a blow, instead ofgiving one. Their eight years of friendship and love, THE eightyears of his life, were nullified.
"When did you think of this?" she asked.
"I thought definitely on Thursday night."
"I knew it was coming," she said.
That pleased him bitterly. "Oh, very well! If she knew thenit doesn't come as a surprise to her," he thought.
"And have you said anything to Clara?" she asked.
"No; but I shall tell her now."
There was a silence.
"Do you remember the things you said this time last year,in my grandmother's house--nay last month even?"
"Yes," he said; "I do! And I meant them! I can't helpthat it's failed."
"It has failed because you want something else."
"It would have failed whether or not. YOU never believedin me."
She laughed strangely.
He sat in silence. He was full of a feeling that she haddeceived him. She had despised him when he thought she worshipped him. She had let him say wrong things, and had not contradicted him. She had let him fight alone. But it stuck in his throat that she haddespised him whilst he thought she worshipped him. She should havetold him when she found fault with him. She had not played fair. He hated her. All these years she had treated him as if he werea hero, and thought of him secretly as an infant, a foolish child. Then why had she left the foolish child to his folly? His heart washard against her.
She sat full of bitterness. She had known--oh, well shehad known! All the time he was away from her she had summedhim up, seen his littleness, his meanness, and his folly. Even she had guarded her soul against him. She was not overthrown,not prostrated, not even much hurt. She had known. Only why,as he sat there, had he still this strange dominance over her? His very movements fascinated her as if she were hypnotised by him. Yet he was despicable, false, inconsistent, and mean. Why this bondagefor her? Why was it the movement of his arm stirred her as nothingelse in the world could? Why was she fastened to him? Why, even now,if he looked at her and commanded her, would she have to obey? She would obey him in his trifling commands. But once he was obeyed,then she had him in her power, she knew, to lead him where she would. She was sure of herself. Only, this new influence! Ah, he wasnot a man! He was a baby that cries for the newest toy. And all the attachment of his soul would not keep him. Very well,he would have to go. But he would come back when he had tired of hisnew sensation.
He hacked at the earth till she was fretted to death. She rose. He sat flinging lumps of earth in the stream.
"We will go and have tea here?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered.
They chattered over irrelevant subjects during tea. He held forth on the love of ornament--the cottage parlour moved himthereto--and its connection with aesthetics. She was cold and quiet. As they walked home, she asked:
"And we shall not see each other?"
"No--or rarely," he answered.
"Nor write?" she asked, almost sarcastically.
"As you will," he answered. "We're not strangers--nevershould be, whatever happened. I will write to you now and again. You please yourself."
"I see!" she answered cuttingly.
But he was at that stage at which nothing else hurts. He had made a great cleavage in his life. He had had a great shockwhen she had told him their love had been always a conflict. Nothing more mattered. If it never had been much, there was no needto make a fuss that it was ended.
He left her at the lane-end. As she went home, solitary,in her new frock, having her people to face at the other end,he stood still with shame and pain in the highroad, thinking ofthe suffering he caused her.
In the reaction towards restoring his self-esteem, he wentinto the Willow Tree for a drink. There were four girls who hadbeen out for the day, drinking a modest glass of port. They hadsome chocolates on the table. Paul sat near with his whisky. He noticed the girls whispering and nudging. Presently one,a bonny dark hussy, leaned to him and said:
"Have a chocolate?"
The others laughed loudly at her impudence.
"All right," said Paul. "Give me a hard one--nut. I don'tlike creams."
"Here you are, then," said the girl; "here's an almond for you."
She held the sweet between her fingers. He opened his mouth. She popped it in, and blushed.
"You ARE nice!" he said.
"Well," she answered, "we thought you looked overcast,and they dared me offer you a chocolate."
"I don't mind if I have another--another sort," he said.
And presently they were all laughing together.
It was nine o'clock when he got home, falling dark. He enteredthe house in silence. His mother, who had been waiting,rose anxiously.
"I told her," he said.
"I'm glad," replied the mother, with great relief.
He hung up his cap wearily.
"I said we'd have done altogether," he said.
"That's right, my son," said the mother. "It's hard for her now,but best in the long run. I know. You weren't suited for her."
He laughed shakily as he sat down.
"I've had such a lark with some girls in a pub," he said.
His mother looked at him. He had forgotten Miriam now. He toldher about the girls in the Willow Tree. Mrs. Morel looked at him. It seemed unreal, his gaiety. At the back of it was too much horrorand misery.
"Now have some supper," she said very gently.
Afterwards he said wistfully:
"She never thought she'd have me, mother, not from the first,and so she's not disappointed."
"I'm afraid," said his mother, "she doesn't give up hopesof you yet."
"No," he said, "perhaps not."
"You'll find it's better to have done," she said.
"I don't know," he said desperately.
"Well, leave her alone," replied his mother. So he left her,and she was alone. Very few people cared for her, and she for veryfew people. She remained alone with herself, waiting.
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