了不起的盖茨比:有声导读·插图版:英汉对照
When I came home to West Egg that night I was afraid for a moment that my house was on fire. Two o’clock and the whole corner of the peninsula was blazing with light which fell unreal on the shrubbery and made thin elongating glints upon the roadside wires. Turning a corner I saw that it was Gatsby’s house, lit from tower to cellar.
At first I thought it was another party, a wild rout that had resolved itself into “hide-and-go-seek” or “sardines-in-the-box” with all the house thrown open to the game. But there wasn’t a sound. Only wind in the trees which blew the wires and made the lights go off and on again as if the house had winked into the darkness. As my taxi groaned away I saw Gatsby walking toward me across his lawn.
“Your place looks like the world’s fair,” I said.
“Does it?” He turned his eyes toward it absently. “I have been glancing into some of the rooms. Let’s go to Coney Island, old sport. In my car.”
“It’s too late.”
“Well, suppose we take a plunge in the swimming pool? I haven’t made use of it all summer.”
“I’ve got to go to bed.”
“All right.”
He waited, looking at me with suppressed eagerness.
那晚我回到西卵的家里时，一闪念之间，我还以为房子着了火。半夜两点了，整个半岛一角闪闪发亮，似真似假的光线照在灌木上，又在路边的电线上划出一道道长长的闪光。转了个弯，我才看清楚原来是盖茨比的豪宅，从塔楼到地窖，上下一片灯火通明。
起先，我猜想可能又是一场聚会，或者说一场失控的狂欢会，逐渐演变成“捉迷藏”或“盒中沙丁鱼”的游戏，而整个豪宅都为游戏敞开着。可是，那边却鸦雀无声，只听到风吹树林的声响。风又刮动着电线，使电灯忽明忽暗，好像那豪宅朝着黑夜在眨眼。我的出租车哄哄开走后，我看见盖茨比穿过他的草坪，向我走来。
“你家看上去像个世界博览会。”我说。
“是吗？”他心不在焉地转眼望了望，“我在家里随意看了几间房间。咱们到康尼岛去，老兄。坐我车。”
“太晚了。”
“要不，咱们下游泳池泡泡？这整个夏天我还没用过游泳池呢。”
“我得睡了。”
“好吧。”
他等着我搭话，还用强掩内心渴望的神情望着我。
“I talked with Miss Baker,” I said after a moment. “I’m going to call up Daisy tomorrow and invite her over here to tea.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” he said carelessly. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“What day would suit you?”
“What day would suit YOU?” he corrected me quickly. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble, you see.”
“How about the day after tomorrow?” He considered for a moment. Then, with reluctance:
“I want to get the grass cut,” he said.
We both looked at the grass—there was a sharp line where my ragged lawn ended and the darker, well-kept expanse of his began. I suspected that he meant my grass.
“There’s another little thing,” he said uncertainly, and hesitated.
“Would you rather put it off for a few days?” I asked.
“Oh, it isn’t about that. At least—” He fumbled with a series of beginnings. “Why, I thought—why, look here, old sport, you don’t make much money, do you?”
“Not very much.”
This seemed to reassure him and he continued more confidently.
“I thought you didn’t, if you’ll pardon my—you see, I carry on a little business on the side, a sort of sideline, you understand. And I thought that if you don’t make very much—You’re selling bonds, aren’t you, old sport?”
“Trying to.”
“Well, this would interest you. It wouldn’t take up much of your time and you might pick up a nice bit of money. It happens to be a rather confidential sort of thing.”
“我跟贝克小姐谈过了，”我等了片刻说道，“我准备明天就打电话给黛西，约她过来喝茶。”
“哦，那好啊，”他满不在乎地说，“我不想给你添麻烦。”
“哪一天对你合适？”
“哪一天对你合适？”他立即纠正了我，“你知道，我不愿给你添任何麻烦。”
“后天如何？”他考虑了一会儿，然后勉勉强强地说：
“我要让人把草坪割一下。”
我俩都看了看草坪——在我家乱糟糟的草地与他家深绿色、精心休整的大片草坪之间有条泾渭分明的分界线。我怀疑他暗指的是我家草地。
“还有件小事。”他含糊不清地说，还犹豫了一下。
“你是否希望把约会推迟几天？”
“哦，与这事无关。至少……”他三番五次地开口说话，又停下重来，“呃，我估摸着……呃，你看，老兄，你收入不多，是吗？”
“不太多。”
这一来似乎让他放心一点，使他更自信地说下去。
“我猜你挣得不多，假如你原谅我——你知道，我附带做点小生意，算是副业吧，你明白。我想既然你挣得不多——你在卖债券，是吗，老兄？”
“试着在干。”
“那好，这或许会引起你的兴趣。你不用花上多少时间，就可以赚上一大笔钱。只不过这是一件相当隐秘的事情。”
I realize now that under different circumstances that conversation might have been one of the crises of my life. But, because the offer was obviously and tactlessly for a service to be rendered, I had no choice except to cut him off there.
“I’ve got my hands full,” I said. “I’m much obliged but I couldn’t take on any more work.”
“You wouldn’t have to do any business with Wolfshiem.” Evidently he thought that I was shying away from the “gonnegtion” mentioned at lunch, but I assured him he was wrong. He waited a moment longer, hoping I’d begin a conversation, but I was too absorbed to be responsive, so he went unwillingly home.
The evening had made me light-headed and happy; I think I walked into a deep sleep as I entered my front door. So I didn’t know whether or not Gatsby went to Coney Island or for how many hours he “glanced into rooms” while his house blazed gaudily on. I called up Daisy from the office next morning and invited her to come to tea.
“Don’t bring Tom,” I warned her.
“What?”
“Don’t bring Tom.”
“Who is ‘Tom’?” she asked innocently.
The day agreed upon was pouring rain. At eleven o’clock a man in a raincoat dragging a lawn-mower tapped at my front door and said that Mr. Gatsby had sent him over to cut my grass. This reminded me that I had forgotten to tell my Finn to come back so I drove into West Egg Village to search for her among soggy white-washed alleys and to buy some cups and lemons and flowers.
The flowers were unnecessary, for at two o’clock a greenhouse arrived from Gatsby’s, with innumerable receptacles to contain it. An hour later the front door opened nervously, and Gatsby in a white flannel suit, silver shirt and gold-colored tie hurried in. He was pale and there were dark signs of sleeplessness beneath his eyes.
这下我明白了他的言外之意，在不同的情况下，那次谈话可能就会成为我人生中的危机之一，但是因为他的建议显而易见地、毫不掩饰地是为了酬谢我帮他的忙，所以我别无选择，只得当即打断他的话。
“我手头的工作已经让我忙得不可开交，”我说，“我很感激你，但我实在不能再接活儿了。”
“你不必与沃尔夫谢姆做任何生意。”很明显，他想到是我在回避午餐时提及的那种“关系”，但是我向他确认他搞错了。他又久等了一会，希望我找话说说，可是我脑子里杂乱无章，无心思搭茬，他只好不情愿地回了家。
这一晚的经历使我感到既轻飘又快乐，我觉得我一进家门就坠入了梦乡。因此，我不知道盖茨比是否去了康尼岛，也不知他的房子持续发出俗丽耀眼的灯光时，他花了多少小时去“随意看看几间房间。”翌日上午，我从办公室给黛西拨了个电话，请她过来喝茶。
“别带汤姆来。”我告诫她。
“什么？”
“别带汤姆。”
“汤姆是谁？”她故作天真地问道。
约定那天下起了倾盆大雨。上午十一点，有个人身穿雨衣，拖着一台割草机，敲了我的大门，说是盖茨比先生让他过来割一下我的草地。这令我想起自己忘了叫我的芬兰女佣回来，于是我驾车去了西卵村，在湿淋淋、白花花的小巷里寻找她，并去购买一些杯子、柠檬和鲜花。
鲜花是没必要准备的，因为午后两点，从盖茨比家里送来一暖房的鲜花，连带无数的插花器皿。一小时之后，大门被人小心翼翼地推开，盖茨比穿着一套白色法兰绒西装、银色衬衫和金色领带，匆忙进了屋。他脸色苍白，双眼底下带有因彻夜未眠而留下的黑圈。
“Is everything all right?” he asked immediately.
“The grass looks fine, if that’s what you mean.”
“What grass?” he inquired blankly. “Oh, the grass in the yard.” He looked out the window at it, but judging from his expression I don’t believe he saw a thing.
“Looks very good,” he remarked vaguely. “One of the papers said they thought the rain would stop about four. I think it was ‘The Journal’. Have you got everything you need in the shape of—of tea?”
I took him into the pantry where he looked a little reproachfully at the Finn. Together we scrutinized the twelve lemon cakes from the delicatessen shop.
“Will they do?” I asked.
“Of course, of course! They’re fine!” and he added hollowly,“...old sport.”
The rain cooled about half-past three to a damp mist through which occasional thin drops swam like dew. Gatsby looked with vacant eyes through a copy of Clay’s ‘Economics’, starting at the Finnish tread that shook the kitchen floor and peering toward the bleared windows from time to time as if a series of invisible but alarming happenings were taking place outside. Finally he got up and informed me in an uncertain voice that he was going home.
“Why’s that?”
“Nobody’s coming to tea. It’s too late!” He looked at his watch as if there was some pressing demand on his time elsewhere. “I can’t wait all day.”
“一切准备就绪了吗？”他开口就问。
“草地看上去挺好，如果你指的是草地。”
“什么草地？”他有心无心地问道，“哦，你院里的草地。”他朝窗外看着草地，但是根据他的表情，我断定他什么都没看见。
“看上去很好，”他含糊地说，“有家报纸认定这雨会在四点钟左右停。我想是《日报》。你一切——喝茶需要的东西——都备齐了吗？”
我把他领进食品间，他以责备的眼神望了望芬兰女佣。我们一起仔细看了看从点心店买来的十二块柠檬蛋糕。
“这行吗？”我问道。
“行，当然行！挺好！”他又空洞地加了一声，“老兄。”
将近三点半，雨逐渐减弱，成了湿雾，偶尔仍有几滴雨像露珠一般漂浮着。盖茨比以茫然的眼神浏览着一本克莱所著的《经济学》。每当芬兰女佣的脚步震动厨房的地板，他就一惊。他还不时地朝着模糊不清的窗户望望，好像屋外正在发生一系列看不见、但触目惊心的事件。最后，他站起身来，用模棱两可的语气告诉我，他要回家。
“这为什么？”
“没人来喝茶了。太晚了！”他看了看手表，仿佛别处还有事更紧迫地需要他的时间，“我不能等上一整天。”
“Don’t be silly; it’s just two minutes to four.”
He sat down, miserably, as if I had pushed him, and simultaneously there was the sound of a motor turning into my lane. We both jumped up and, a little harrowed myself, I went out into the yard.
Under the dripping bare lilac trees a large open car was coming up the drive. It stopped. Daisy’s face, tipped sideways beneath a three-cornered lavender hat, looked out at me with a bright ecstatic smile.
“Is this absolutely where you live, my dearest one?”
The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain. I had to follow the sound of it for a moment, up and down, with my ear alone before any words came through. A damp streak of hair lay like a dash of blue paint across her cheek and her hand was wet with glistening drops as I took it to help her from the car.
“Are you in love with me,” she said low in my ear. “Or why did I have to come alone?”
“That’s the secret of Castle Rackrent. Tell your chauffeur to go far away and spend an hour.”
“Come back in an hour, Ferdie.” Then in a grave murmur, “His name is Ferdie.”
“Does the gasoline affect his nose?”
“I don’t think so,” she said innocently. “Why?”
We went in. To my overwhelming surprise the living room was deserted.
“Well, that’s funny!” I exclaimed.
“别犯傻，四点还差两分呢。”
他苦恼不堪地坐了下来，好像我推了他一样。与此同时，传来一辆车转进我巷子的声响。我俩一跳而起，我自己也略显慌张地跑到院子里。
在滴着雨、没有花的丁香树下，一辆大型敞篷车沿着车道开上来。车停后，黛西的脸在一顶淡紫色三角形的帽子下歪向一边，端详着我，投来一个明媚灿烂、欣喜若狂的笑容。
“这真是你住的地方吗，我最亲爱的人？”
她的嗓音宛如令人喜悦的碧波荡漾，在雨中听了使人无比振奋。我非得随着它高低起伏的声音倾耳恭听一阵，才能辨清她所说的话语。一撮潮湿的头发，像一抹蓝色的颜料贴在她的脸颊上。我搀着她的手下车时，发现她的手都被闪闪发光的水珠打湿了。
“你爱上我了吗？”她在耳边悄悄地说，“要不然我为什么非得独自而来？”
“那可是莱克棱特城堡的秘密[1]。让你的司机走远点，过一个小时再回来。”
“一个小时后再回来，弗迪。”接着，她又正儿八经地低声说：“他的名字叫弗迪。”
“是不是汽油影响到他的鼻子？”
“我想不是，”她天真地说，“为什么问这？”
我们走进了屋。令我大吃一惊的是客厅里空无一人。”
“唉，太滑稽了！”我大声说。
“What’s funny?”
She turned her head as there was a light, dignified knocking at the front door. I went out and opened it. Gatsby, pale as death, with his hands plunged like weights in his coat pockets, was standing in a puddle of water glaring tragically into my eyes.
With his hands still in his coat pockets he stalked by me into the hall, turned sharply as if he were on a wire and disappeared into the living room. It wasn’t a bit funny. Aware of the loud beating of my own heart I pulled the door to against the increasing rain.
For half a minute there wasn’t a sound. Then from the living room I heard a sort of choking murmur and part of a laugh followed by Daisy’s voice on a clear artificial note.
“I certainly am awfully glad to see you again.”
A pause; it endured horribly. I had nothing to do in the hall so I went into the room.
Gatsby, his hands still in his pockets, was reclining against the mantelpiece in a strained counterfeit of perfect ease, even of boredom. His head leaned back so far that it rested against the face of a defunct mantelpiece clock and from this position his distraught eyes stared down at Daisy who was sitting frightened but graceful on the edge of a stiff chair.
“We’ve met before,” muttered Gatsby. His eyes glanced momentarily at me and his lips parted with an abortive attempt at a laugh. Luckily the clock took this moment to tilt dangerously at the pressure of his head, whereupon he turned and caught it with trembling fingers and set it back in place. Then he sat down, rigidly, his elbow on the arm of the sofa and his chin in his hand.
“I’m sorry about the clock,” he said.
“什么滑稽？”
这时有人不失尊严地轻轻敲了大门，她转过头来，我出去开了门。盖茨比面如死灰，双手像沉重的秤砣一样紧揣在他上衣的口袋里，站在一汪水里，神情凄惨地瞪着我的眼睛。
他双手依然揣在兜里，阔步经过我身边，走进门廊。接着，他好像受着牵线控制似的忽然转过身来，消失在客厅里。这一切一点都不滑稽。我意识到自己的心也在扑通扑通地跳，于是伸手拉上大门，把越下越大的雨挡在外面。
半分钟里，一点声响都没有。然后，我听见客厅里传来像是哽咽的轻声细语和一点笑声，还有黛西矫揉造作的说话声。
“我真高兴再次见到你。”
又是寂静无声的一刻，令人可惧地延续着。我在门廊里无所事事，所以我索性走进屋里。
盖茨比的手还揣在衣袋里，斜靠在壁炉架上，竭力装出一副轻松自如、甚至意兴阑珊的模样。他的头后仰得太过头，都快靠上早已失灵的壁炉钟面。他从这个角度用那双心慌意乱的眼睛注视着黛西，她坐在一把硬硬的椅子边沿上，神色惊慌，但姿态依然不失优美。
“我们以前见过面。”盖茨比低声说。他望了我一眼，嘴唇张开要笑却笑不出声来。幸亏那只钟因为他的头靠在上面的压力在这关头危险地向一边倾斜，他立即转身，用颤抖的手指抓住钟，把它放回原处。接着，他僵硬地坐了下来，胳膊肘搁在沙发扶手上，手托着下巴。
“对不起，碰到你的钟了。”他说。
My own face had now assumed a deep tropical burn. I couldn’t muster up a single commonplace out of the thousand in my head.
“It’s an old clock,” I told them idiotically.
I think we all believed for a moment that it had smashed in pieces on the floor.
“We haven’t met for many years,” said Daisy, her voice as matter-of-fact as it could ever be.
“Five years next November.”
The automatic quality of Gatsby’s answer set us all back at least another minute. I had them both on their feet with the desperate suggestion that they help me make tea in the kitchen when the demoniac Finn brought it in on a tray.
Amid the welcome confusion of cups and cakes a certain physical decency established itself. Gatsby got himself into a shadow and while Daisy and I talked looked conscientiously from one to the other of us with tense unhappy eyes. However, as calmness wasn’t an end in itself I made an excuse at the first possible moment and got to my feet.
“Where are you going?” demanded Gatsby in immediate alarm.
“I’ll be back.”
“I’ve got to speak to you about something before you go.”
He followed me wildly into the kitchen, closed the door and whispered:“Oh, God!” in a miserable way.
“What’s the matter?”
“This is a terrible mistake,” he said, shaking his head from side to side, “a terrible, terrible mistake.”
“You’re just embarrassed, that’s all,” and luckily I added:“Daisy’s embarrassed too.”
这时我觉得自己脸上火辣辣的，仿佛被热带骄阳暴晒了一番。脑子里徒有千句客套话，只是一句也出不来。
“一只旧钟而已。”我傻乎乎地告诉他们。
我想，我们那时都以为钟在地上砸得粉碎了。
“我们已有多年未见了。”黛西说，嗓音实在平常极了。
“到十一月整整五年。”
盖茨比不由自主似的回答又让我们愣了一分钟。情急之下，我建议他们帮我到厨房准备茶点，让他俩都站起身来。谁料想，这时候我那魔鬼似的芬兰女佣却用托盘把茶点端了进来。
就在一阵颇受欢迎的递送茶杯和蛋糕的忙乱当中，一种实在的规矩得以确立。盖茨比甘愿沦为影子，我跟黛西交谈时，他用紧张、不乐的眼神在我俩之间认真地看来看去。然而，因为平静本身不是这次聚会的目的，所以我逮住时机找了个借口，站起身来。
“你去哪儿？”盖茨比立即慌忙地问道。
“我会回来的。”
“你走之前，我有话跟你说。”
他疯狂地跟着我走进厨房，关上门，凄惨地低声说：“哦，天哪！”
“怎么啦？”
“这是个糟透的错误，”他边说，边把头摇来摇去，“一个糟透、糟透的错误。”
“你只是有点尴尬，仅此而已。”幸亏我还加了一句，“黛西也有点尴尬。”
“She’s embarrassed?” he repeated incredulously.
“Just as much as you are.”
“Don’t talk so loud.”
“You’re acting like a little boy,” I broke out impatiently. “Not only that but you’re rude. Daisy’s sitting in there all alone.”
He raised his hand to stop my words, looked at me with unforgettable reproach and opening the door cautiously went back into the other room.
I walked out the back way—just as Gatsby had when he had made his nervous circuit of the house half an hour before—and ran for a huge black knotted tree whose massed leaves made a fabric against the rain. Once more it was pouring and my irregular lawn, well-shaved by Gatsby’s gardener, abounded in small muddy swamps and prehistoric marshes. There was nothing to look at from under the tree except Gatsby’s enormous house, so I stared at it, like Kant at his church steeple, for half an hour. A brewer had built it early in the “period” craze, a decade before, and there was a story that he’d agreed to pay five years’ taxes on all the neighboring cottages if the owners would have their roofs thatched with straw. Perhaps their refusal took the heart out of his plan to Found a Family—he went into an immediate decline. His children sold his house with the black wreath still on the door. Americans, while occasionally willing to be serfs, have always been obstinate about being peasantry.
After half an hour the sun shone again and the grocer’s automobile rounded Gatsby’s drive with the raw material for his servants’ dinner—I felt sure he wouldn’t eat a spoonful. A maid began opening the upper windows of his house, appeared momentarily in each, and, leaning from a large central bay, spat meditatively into the garden. It was time I went back. While the rain continued it had seemed like the murmur of their voices, rising and swelling a little, now and then, with gusts of emotion. But in the new silence I felt that silence had fallen within the house too.
“她也尴尬？”他半信半疑地重复道。
“跟你一样尴尬。”
“嗓门别太大。”
“你像个小孩一样，”我不耐烦地冲他发作，“不仅如此，你还无礼。黛西独自一人坐在里面。”
他举手让我别再说下去，带着难以忘却的怨气看着我，小心谨慎地开了门，回到那间屋子里。
我从后门溜出——半小时之前，盖茨比也是从这出去，紧张地绕屋走了一圈——奔向一颗黑黝黝、盘根错节的大树，密密的树叶形成了一块遮雨的篷布。这时又下起了瓢泼大雨，我那片不合常规的草地，尽管已被盖茨比的园丁修剪整齐，现已沦为一片小小的泥潭和远古的沼泽地了。从树底下远望，除了盖茨比庞大的豪宅，没什么可看的。因此，我盯着它看了半小时，犹如康德凝视他的教堂塔楼。十年前，有位酿酒商在“仿古建筑热”的初期造了这栋豪宅。据传闻，他愿意承担周围邻居家房子的五年税款，只要房主肯在屋顶上盖上茅草。也许，房主们的拒绝使他“创建名门望族”的计划遭受重创，他的时运急转而下，彻底颓废。祭奠他的花圈还在门上，他的子女就卖了房子。美国人尽管偶尔不在乎当当农奴，但是永远顽固不化地不愿被人当作乡巴佬。
半小时以后，太阳又开始光芒四射。食品店的货车沿着盖茨比家弯弯的车道驶来，送来他仆人做晚饭的原料——我断定他将一口不沾。一名女佣开始打开楼上的窗户，她在每扇窗口出现片刻，接着从正中央的大窗户里探出身子，心思重重地朝花园里吐了口痰。该是我回家的时候了。雨还在下着，就好像是他们俩在轻声细语，不时随着两人的情感迸发而起伏、激昂。又是一阵寂静之后，我觉得屋里已静默无声了。
I went in—after making every possible noise in the kitchen short of pushing over the stove—but I don’t believe they heard a sound. They were sitting at either end of the couch looking at each other as if some question had been asked or was in the air, and every vestige of embarrassment was gone. Daisy’s face was smeared with tears and when I came in she jumped up and began wiping at it with her handkerchief before a mirror. But there was a change in Gatsby that was simply confounding. He literally glowed; without a word or a gesture of exultation a new well-being radiated from him and filled the little room.
“Oh, hello, old sport,” he said, as if he hadn’t seen me for years. I thought for a moment he was going to shake hands.
“It’s stopped raining.”
“Has it?” When he realized what I was talking about, that there were twinkle-bells of sunshine in the room, he smiled like a weather man, like an ecstatic patron of recurrent light, and repeated the news to Daisy. “What do you think of that? It’s stopped raining.”
“I’m glad, Jay.” Her throat, full of aching, grieving beauty, told only of her unexpected joy.
“I want you and Daisy to come over to my house,” he said, “I’d like to show her around.”
“You’re sure you want me to come?”
“Absolutely, old sport.”
我走进屋子——进入客厅之前我在厨房里弄出各种动静，就差没把炉灶掀翻——但我坚信他们根本没听见任何声响。他们坐在沙发的两头看着对方，有问题被提及，或者在商议，先前的拘泥已经无影无踪了。黛西泪流满面，见我进门，就一跃而起，面对镜子用手绢开始擦去泪痕。可是盖茨比的变化真是令人瞠目结舌。他简直是乐得神采奕奕：没有任何欣喜的言语或举动，但一种新的幸福感从他身上油然而生，弥漫了整个小客厅。
“哦，你好，老兄。”他说，似乎与我多年未见。我还以为他会上来跟我握手。
“雨停了。”
“是吗？”当他明白了我说的是什么，又见屋里阳光闪烁，他笑了，像个气象预报员，也像个兴高采烈的回归光拥戴者。他把消息报给黛西。“你觉得怎样？雨停了。”
“我很高兴，杰伊。”她的声音充满苦叹之美，但吐露的只是她意料之外的喜悦。
“我要请你和黛西到我家去，”他说，“我想领她去看看。”
“你确定要我来吗？”
“当然喽，老兄。”
Daisy went upstairs to wash her face—too late I thought with humiliation of my towels—while Gatsby and I waited on the lawn.
“My house looks well, doesn’t it?” he demanded. “See how the whole front of it catches the light.”
I agreed that it was splendid.
“Yes.” His eyes went over it, every arched door and square tower. “It took me just three years to earn the money that bought it.”
“I thought you inherited your money.”
“I did, old sport,” he said automatically, “but I lost most of it in the big panic—the panic of the war.”
I think he hardly knew what he was saying, for when I asked him what business he was in he answered ‘That’s my affair,’ before he realized that it wasn’t the appropriate reply.
“Oh, I’ve been in several things,” he corrected himself. “I was in the drug business and then I was in the oil business. But I’m not in either one now.” He looked at me with more attention. “Do you mean you’ve been thinking over what I proposed the other night?”
Before I could answer, Daisy came out of the house and two rows of brass buttons on her dress gleamed in the sunlight.
“That huge place THERE?” she cried pointing.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it, but I don’t see how you live there all alone.”
“I keep it always full of interesting people, night and day. People who do interesting things. Celebrated people.”
Instead of taking the short cut along the Sound we went down the road and entered by the big postern. With enchanting murmurs Daisy admired this aspect or that of the feudal silhouette against the sky, admired the gardens, the sparkling odor of jonquils and the frothy odor of hawthorn and plum blossoms and the pale gold odor of kiss-me-at-the-gate. It was strange to reach the marble steps and find no stir of bright dresses in and out the door, and hear no sound but bird voices in the trees.
黛西上楼去洗脸——我惭愧地想起了我的毛巾，可惜太晚了——盖茨比和我在草坪上等着。
“我的房子看上去挺不错，是吗？”他问道，“瞧，房子的正面阳光充足。”
我承认他的房子的确富丽堂皇。
“是的。”他的双眼从上到下，把每扇拱形的门和方形的塔都扫视了一遍，“我在三年之内就挣够了买这房子的钱。”
“我记得你说过是继承了家产。”
“对，老兄，”他不假思索地说，“不过在极度恐慌中，战争的恐慌中，几乎丢尽了。”
我想他简直都不知道自己在说什么，因为我问他做何生意时，他先答道，“那是我私事。”话音一落，他方才意识到答非所问。
“哦，我涉猎过多种行业，”他更正道，“我先经营医药生意，后来做过石油生意，可现在两项都不做了。”他认真地望着我，问道：“那么说你已在考虑我那天晚上提及的事？”
我还没搭话，黛西已经走出屋子，她衣裳上的两排铜扣在阳光下发出光亮。
“就是那边的大别墅？”她手指着大声问道。
“你喜欢吗？”
“我挺喜欢，可是我不理解你怎么能独自一人住在那里。”
“我让那里昼夜聚满着有意思的人、做有意思的事情的人、赫赫有名的人。”
我们特意没走沿着海湾的近道，相反是顺路而行，从很大的后门进去。黛西远望着衬在空中的中世纪城堡式建筑的轮廓，嘴里发出迷人动听的喃喃细语，对各种东西夸赞不已。她还赞赏了花园以及园内各种鲜花的奇香美味，从亮晶晶的黄水仙到泡沫般的山楂花与梅花，再有淡金色的金银花。令人纳闷的是，我们走到大理石台阶跟前，门内外没见到穿戴艳丽的人群涌来涌去，除了林中的鸟鸣没听见任何声音。
And inside as we wandered through Marie Antoinette music rooms and Restoration salons I felt that there were guests concealed behind every couch and table, under orders to be breathlessly silent until we had passed through. As Gatsby closed the door of “the Merton College Library”, I could have sworn I heard the owl-eyed man break into ghostly laughter.
We went upstairs, through period bedrooms swathed in rose and lavender silk and vivid with new flowers, through dressing rooms and poolrooms, and bathrooms with sunken baths—intruding into one chamber where a dishevelled man in pajamas was doing liver exercises on the floor. It was Mr. Klipspringer, the ‘boarder’. I had seen him wandering hungrily about the beach that morning. Finally we came to Gatsby’s own apartment, a bedroom and a bath and an Adam study, where we sat down and drank a glass of some Chartreuse he took from a cupboard in the wall.
He hadn’t once ceased looking at Daisy and I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes. Sometimes, too, he stared around at his possessions in a dazed way as though in her actual and astounding presence none of it was any longer real. Once he nearly toppled down a flight of stairs.
His bedroom was the simplest room of all—except where the dresser was garnished with a toilet set of pure dull gold. Daisy took the brush with delight and smoothed her hair, whereupon Gatsby sat down and shaded his eyes and began to laugh.
进屋后，我们穿过玛丽 ·安托内特[2]风格的音乐厅和王政复辟时代[3]特色的小客厅。我隐隐约约地觉得，每张沙发和桌子后面都有客人隐藏，奉命屏住气息，直到我们走过为止。盖茨比关上钉着“姆藤大学图书馆”[4]标牌的房门时，我可以发誓，我听见那个带着猫头鹰眼镜的人突然发出鬼似的狂笑。
我们走到楼上，经过各个按时代装饰的卧室，里面全由玫瑰色和淡紫色的绫罗绸缎装点，新放的鲜花使房里生气盎然。我们经过更衣室、弹子房和装有下沉式浴缸的浴室——还闯进一间房间，里面有位穿着睡衣、身上脏兮兮的人正在地板上做着护肝运动[5]。他就是外号叫“房客”的克利坡斯布林格先生。我那天早晨还看见他在海滩上饥肠辘辘地东游西荡。最后，我们来到盖茨比本人的套房，内有一间卧室、浴室和亚当书房[6]。在书房里，我们坐下喝了杯他从壁橱里取出的夏特露丝酒。
他的眼光一刻没离开过黛西。我想他在重新估价他豪宅里的一切，而标准就是那双他所钟爱的眼睛对房子作出的反应程度。有时候，他也会瞠目结舌地注视着自己拥有的一切，仿佛因为黛西真正而又难以置信的出现，没有一件再是真实的了。有一次，他几乎从楼梯上滚落下来。
他的卧室是所有房间中最简单的——唯有梳妆台上装着一幅纯金的梳妆用具。黛西兴高采烈地拿起梳子梳理了自己的头发，这一来引得盖茨比坐下，手捂住眼睛笑了起来。
“It’s the funniest thing, old sport,” he said hilariously. “I can’t—when I try to—”
He had passed visibly through two states and was entering upon a third. After his embarrassment and his unreasoning joy he was consumed with wonder at her presence. He had been full of the idea so long, dreamed it right through to the end, waited with his teeth set, so to speak, at an inconceivable pitch of intensity. Now, in the reaction, he was running down like an overwound clock.
Recovering himself in a minute he opened for us two hulking patent cabinets which held his massed suits and dressing-gowns and ties, and his shirts, piled like bricks in stacks a dozen high.
“I’ve got a man in England who buys me clothes. He sends over a selection of things at the beginning of each season, spring and fall.”
He took out a pile of shirts and began throwing them, one by one before us, shirts of sheer linen and thick silk and fine flannel which lost their folds as they fell and covered the table in many-colored disarray. While we admired he brought more and the soft rich heap mounted higher—shirts with stripes and scrolls and plaids in coral and apple-green and lavender and faint orange with monograms of Indian blue. Suddenly with a strained sound, Daisy bent her head into the shirts and began to cry stormily.
“They’re such beautiful shirts,” she sobbed, her voice muffled in the thick folds. “It makes me sad because I’ve never seen such—such beautiful shirts before.”
After the house, we were to see the grounds and the swimming pool, and the hydroplane and the midsummer flowers—but outside Gatsby’s window it began to rain again so we stood in a row looking at the corrugated surface of the Sound.
“滑稽极了，老兄，”他笑呵呵地说，“我不能……但我争取……”
他已明显地经历过两种情绪的交替，现正在进入第三种。先是举止尴尬，接着欣喜若狂，眼下又因为她的到来而沉浸在惊奇之中。为这一天，他已思索多年，梦寐以求，持之以恒；可说是咬紧牙关、凭着无法想象的毅力苦苦等待。现在，物极必反，他就像一只发条拧得过紧的时钟一样，正逐渐松弛下来。
很快振作精神之后，他为我们打开两个特大的带有设计专利的衣橱[7]，里面放满了他的西装、睡衣、领带，以及像砖块一样垒了十几堆的衬衣。
“我有专人在英国为我采购衣服。每逢春、秋两季开始，他就选些衣服给我送来。”
他拿出一堆衬衣，开始一件件扔在我们面前，薄麻布的、厚丝绸的、细法兰绒的衬衣全部抖散了飘落下来，五颜六色地盖满了桌子。我们忙着欣赏，他又拿来一摞摞衣服，柔软细腻、优质贵重的衣服堆得越来越高——有条纹和花纹衬衫，还有珊瑚色、苹果绿、淡紫色、淡橘色的格子衬衫，件件秀着深蓝色的姓名缩写字母图案。忽然间，黛西按捺不住地叫出声来，低头倒入衬衫堆里，放声号啕大哭起来。
“这些衬衫好美啊，”她哽咽着，声音闷在厚厚的衣堆里又轻又含糊，“太使我伤心了，因为我从未见过这么……这么漂亮的衬衫。”
参观完房子，我们原准备去看看四周的园子、游泳池、水上飞机和仲夏盛开的鲜花，可是只见盖茨比的窗外又下起了雨，我们只好站成一排，眺望长岛湾波涛荡漾的海面。
“If it wasn’t for the mist we could see your home across the bay,” said Gatsby. “You always have a green light that burns all night at the end of your dock.”
Daisy put her arm through his abruptly but he seemed absorbed in what he had just said. Possibly it had occurred to him that the colossal significance of that light had now vanished forever. Compared to the great distance that had separated him from Daisy it had seemed very near to her, almost touching her. It had seemed as close as a star to the moon. Now it was again a green light on a dock. His count of enchanted objects had diminished by one.
I began to walk about the room, examining various indefinite objects in the half darkness. A large photograph of an elderly man in yachting costume attracted me, hung on the wall over his desk.
“Who’s this?”
“That? That’s Mr. Dan Cody, old sport.”
The name sounded faintly familiar.
“He’s dead now. He used to be my best friend years ago.”
There was a small picture of Gatsby, also in yachting costume, on the bureau—Gatsby with his head thrown back defiantly—taken apparently when he was about eighteen.
“I adore it!” exclaimed Daisy. “The pompadour! You never told me you had a pompadour—or a yacht.”
“Look at this,” said Gatsby quickly. “Here’s a lot of clippings—about you.”
They stood side by side examining it. I was going to ask to see the rubies when the phone rang and Gatsby took up the receiver.
“没雾的话，我们能看见海湾那边你的家，”盖茨比说，“你家码头后边总是有盏绿灯通宵不灭。”
黛西出其不意地伸手挽住他，可是他似乎仍在深思自己刚刚说的话。有可能他醒悟到，这盏绿灯在他心目中的深意已经永远消失。相比把他与黛西隔开的遥远距离，这绿灯象征了他与她近在咫尺的心仪，近得几乎触手可及，就好像星星离月亮那么近。现在，这灯又成了一家码头上普普通通的绿灯，可是他所钟爱的神奇宝物中从此少了一件。
我在屋里走来走去，在昏暗中看看模糊不清的各种摆饰。一位年岁不轻、穿着游艇服的男人大相片挂在书桌上方的墙上，引起了我的注意。
“这是谁？”
“你问那个？那是丹 ·寇迪先生，老兄。”
这个名字听着有点耳熟。
“他已去世了。他是我多年前最好的朋友。”
橱柜上有张盖茨比的小相片，他也穿着游艇服——头不可一世地后仰着——显然是十八岁左右时照的。
“我喜欢这张，”黛西喊着，“大背头发型！你从没告诉我你留过大背头发型，或有艘游艇。”
“来看这个，”盖茨比急忙说，“这里收有不少剪报——都是关于你的。”
他俩肩并肩站着，翻看着剪报。我刚想要求看看红宝石，电话响了，盖茨比拿起听筒。
“Yes... Well, I can’t talk now... I can’t talk now, old sport... I said a SMALL town... He must know what a small town is... Well, he’s no use to us if Detroit is his idea of a small town...”
He rang off.
“Come here QUICK!” cried Daisy at the window.
The rain was still falling, but the darkness had parted in the west, and there was a pink and golden billow of foamy clouds above the sea.
“Look at that,” she whispered, and then after a moment:“I’d like to just get one of those pink clouds and put you in it and push you around.”
I tried to go then, but they wouldn’t hear of it; perhaps my presence made them feel more satisfactorily alone.
“I know what we’ll do,” said Gatsby, “we’ll have Klipspringer play the piano.”
He went out of the room calling “Ewing!” and returned in a few minutes accompanied by an embarrassed, slightly worn young man with shell-rimmed glasses and scanty blonde hair. He was now decently clothed in a “sport shirt” open at the neck, sneakers and duck trousers of a nebulous hue.
“Did we interrupt your exercises?” inquired Daisy politely.
“I was asleep,” cried Mr. Klipspringer, in a spasm of embarrassment. “That is, I’d BEEN asleep. Then I got up...”
“Klipspringer plays the piano,” said Gatsby, cutting him off.“Don’t you, Ewing, old sport?”
“I don’t play well. I don’t—I hardly play at all. I’m all out of prac—”
“We’ll go downstairs,” interrupted Gatsby. He flipped a switch.The grey windows disappeared as the house glowed full of light.
“是……嗯……我现在没法说……我现在没法说，老兄……我说的是个小城……他应该知道小城是什么……算啦，如果底特律是他心目中的小城，那他对我们就没什么用了……”
他挂了电话。
“快过来！”黛西在窗口叫着。
雨仍在下，但是西面天上的乌云已经散开，一片粉色和金色的云霞在海湾上空翻滚。
“瞧那儿，”她轻声地说，过了会又说，“我就想采一朵粉色的云彩，把你搁在里面推来推去。”
我说我想告辞，可是他们闭耳不听；或许，有我在场他俩觉得这幽会更心满意足。
“我知道我们该做什么，”盖茨比说，“我们去让克利坡斯布林格弹弹钢琴。”
他走出屋子，喊着，“尤英！”几分钟后，他回到屋里，身边带着一位拘谨、略显憔悴的年轻人，带着玳瑁框眼镜，留着稀疏的金发。他现在穿戴整齐，穿着一件开领的运动衫、一双球鞋和一条颜色模糊的帆布裤。
“我们打断你的锻炼了吗？”黛西礼貌地问道。
“我在睡觉，”克利坡斯布林格先生一时紧张，脱口而出，“我是说，我原先在睡，然后就起来了……”
“克利坡斯布林格会弹钢琴，”盖茨比打断了他，“对吗，尤英老兄？”
“我弹得不好。我弹得不……我几乎不弹了，好久不练了。”
“我们下楼吧。”盖茨比又打断了他。他拨了个开关，顿时灰暗不清的窗户不见了，屋里灯火通明。
In the music room Gatsby turned on a solitary lamp beside the piano. He lit Daisy’s cigarette from a trembling match, and sat down with her on a couch far across the room where there was no light save what the gleaming floor bounced in from the hall.
When Klipspringer had played “The Love Nest” he turned around on the bench and searched unhappily for Gatsby in the gloom.
“I’m all out of practice, you see. I told you I couldn’t play. I’m all out of prac—”
“Don’t talk so much, old sport,” commanded Gatsby.
“Play!”
IN THE MORNING,
IN THE EVENING,
AIN’T WE GOT FUN—
Outside the wind was loud and there was a faint flow of thunder along the Sound. All the lights were going on in West Egg now; the electric trains, men-carrying, were plunging home through the rain from New York. It was the hour of a profound human change, and excitement was generating on the air.
ONE THING’S SURE AND NOTHING’S SURER THE RICH GET RICHER AND THE POOR GET—
CHILDREN.
IN THE MEANTIME, IN BETWEEN TIME—
在音乐室里，盖茨比打开钢琴旁边的一盏灯。他用一根颤抖着火柴点燃黛西的香烟，和她一道坐在屋子那边的沙发上。除了从闪亮的走廊地板上折射进来的一点光线，那里没什么亮光。
克利坡斯布林格弹完一曲《爱巢》，在琴凳上转身，透过幽暗不乐意地寻找盖茨比。
“你瞧，我好久没练了。我说过我不会弹，我好久没练了……”
“废话少说嘛，老兄，”盖茨比命令道，“再弹！”
“无论清晨，
还是夜晚，
我们玩得多欢——”
屋外，风刮得呼呼直响，一阵阵雷声响彻长岛海湾。西卵已经华灯初上，电车载着回家的乘客冒雨从纽约奔驰而来。这是人们面临巨大变化的时辰，就连空中都洋溢着愈来愈多的兴奋：
“一事之真无事更准
富的生财穷的生——崽。
与此同时，
彼此之间——”
As I went over to say goodbye I saw that the expression of bewilderment had come back into Gatsby’s face, as though a faint doubt had occurred to him as to the quality of his present happiness. Almost five years! There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
As I watched him he adjusted himself a little, visibly. His hand took hold of hers and as she said something low in his ear he turned toward her with a rush of emotion. I think that voice held him most with its fluctuating, feverish warmth because it couldn’t be over-dreamed—that voice was a deathless song.
They had forgotten me, but Daisy glanced up and held out her hand; Gatsby didn’t know me now at all. I looked once more at them and they looked back at me, remotely, possessed by intense life. Then I went out of the room and down the marble steps into the rain, leaving them there together.
当我过去告辞时，我看见怅然若失的神情又出现在盖茨比的脸上，似乎有点怀疑他目前的幸福质量。将近五年了！想必那天下午有过一些时刻，黛西远远低于他的梦想期望——绝非因为她的过错，相反是因为他那活力无限的幻想。他的幻想已超越了她，超越了一切。凭着一腔异想天开的激情，他把自己抛进了这一幻想，持续不断地为之添枝加叶，用每根向他飘来的羽毛为之点缀。再多的炙热激情或活力都无法挑战一个人在他幽灵似的心坎上积久深藏的幻想。
我望着他，他明显地调整了一下自己的情绪。他握住她的手，她在他耳旁低声说了什么之后，他立即转向她，激情四射。在我看来，她的嗓音高低起伏、极为热情，最能迷住他，因为它永远不会被梦想过头的——那声音是一首永不消逝的歌。
他们已把我忘得一干二净了，但是黛西抬头瞧了一下，伸出她的手；盖茨比这会儿好像视我为路人。我再次望了他俩一眼，他俩也看看我，但好像已相隔甚远，完全沉浸在人生的激情之中。我随即走出房间，下了大理石的台阶，步入雨中，把他俩一起留在那儿。
[1] 引自同名历史小说Castle Rackrent，该书由十八世纪早期作家玛利亚 ·艾琪维斯（Maria Edgeworth）所著。
[2] 1755—1793，法国国王路易十六的王后。
[3] 十七世纪下半叶，由英国国王查理二世主导。
[4] 牛津大学下属的一个学院，以藏书丰富闻名。
[5] 类似俯卧撑，作者的用词带有讽刺当时酗酒成风、肝病盛行的意味。
[6] 按十八世纪苏格兰建筑师罗伯特·亚当的风格设计的书房。
[7] 指的是产于英国的康湃藤姆专利男士衣橱，十分昂贵。