第38章 儿子与情人 (1)
《儿子与情人》是一部带有自传性质的长篇小说。
莫尔太太把儿子当作自己理想中的爱人，她照顾他，
抚养他，她做的一切，都超出了一位母亲所能做的。
她对儿子的这种爱，不是单纯的亲情之爱，更大程度
上来说是一种爱情的体现。而保罗，也在心目中把自
己的母亲当作了自己的爱人，以至于他觉得，只要他
母亲在，他在此生就不可能找到自己的爱人。因为这
个爱人就在他身边，那就是他的母亲。
[ 英] 戴维·赫伯特·劳伦斯（ D.H.Lawrence）
When he was twenty-three years old Paul sent in a
landscape to the winter exhibition at Nottingham Castle. Miss
Jordan had taken a good deal of interest in him，had invited him
to her house，where he met other artists. He was beginning to
grow ambitious.
One morning the postman came just as he was washing
in the scullery. Suddenly he heard a wild noise from his mother.
Rushing into the kitchen，he found her standing on the hearthrug
wildly waving a letter and crying“ Hurrah!”as if she had gone
mad. He was shocked and frightened.
“Why，mother!”he exclaimed.
She flew to him，flung her arms round him for a moment，
then waved the letter，crying:
“Hurrah，my boy! I knew we should do it!
He was afraid of her — the small，severe woman with greying
hair suddenly bursting out in such frenzy. The postman came
running back，afraid something had happened. They saw his
tipped cap over the short curtains. Mrs. morel rushed to the door.
“His picture’s got first prize，Fred，”she cried，“and is sold
for twenty guineas.”
“My word，that’s something like!”said the young postman，
whom they had known all his life.
“And Major Moreton has bought it!”she cried.
“It looks like meanin’ something，that does，Mrs. Morel，”
said the postman，his blue eyes bright. He was glad to have
brought such a lucky letter. Mrs. Morel went indoors and sat
down，trembling. Paul was afraid lest she might have misread
the letter，and might be disappointed after all. He scrutinized it
once，twice. Yes，he became convinced it was true. Then he sat
down，his heart beating with joy.
“Mother!”he exclaimed.
“Didn’t I say we should do it!”she said，pretending she
was not crying.
He took the kettle off the fire and mashed the tea.
“You didn’t think，mother —”he began tentatively.
“No，my son — not so much — but I expected a good deal.”
“But not so much，”he said.
“No — no — but I knew we should do it.”
And then she recovered her composure，apparently at
least. He sat with his shirt turned back，showing his young
throat almost like a girl’s，and the towel in his hand，his hair
sticking up wet.
“Twenty guineas，mother! That’s just what you wanted to
buy Arthur out. Now you needn’t borrow any. It’ll just do.”
“Indeed，I shan’t take it all，”she said.
“But why?”
“Because I shan’t.”
“Well — you have twelve pounds，I’ll have nine.”
They cavilled about sharing the twenty guineas. She wanted
to take only the five pounds she needed. He would not hear of it.
So they got over the stress of emotion by quarreling.
Morel came home at night from the pit，saying:
“They tell me Paul’s got first prize for his picture，and sold it
to Lord Henry Bentley for fifty pound.”
“Oh，what stories people do tell ！”she cried.
“Ha!”he answered.“ I said I wor sure it wor a lie. But they
said tha’d told Fred hodgkisson.”
“As if I would tell him such stuff!”
Ha! assented the miner.
But he was disappointed nevertheless.
“It’s true he has got the first prize，”said Mrs. Morel.
The miner sat heavily in his chair.
“Has he，beguy!”he exclaimed.
He stared across the room fixedly.
“But as for fifty pounds — such nonsense!” she was silent
awhile“. Major Moreton bought it for twenty guineas，that’s true. ”
“Twenty guineas! Tha niver says! ”exclaimed Morel.
“Yes，and it was worth it. ”
“Ay!”he said.“ I don’t misdoubt it. But twenty guineas for
a bit of a paintin’as he knocked off in an hour or two!”
He was silent with conceit of his son. Mrs. Morel sniffed，as
if it were nothing.
“And when does he handle th’money?”asked the collier.
“That 1 couldn’t tell you When the picture is sent home，I
suppose.”
There was silence. Morel stared at the sugar-basin instead
of eating his dinner His black arm，with the hand all gnarled with
work，lay on the table. His wife pretended not to see him rub the
back of his hand across his eyes，nor the smear in the coal-dust
on his black face.
“Yes，an’that other lad’ud’a done as much if they hadna
ha’killed’im，”he said quietly.
The thought of William went through Mrs. Morel like a cold
blade. It left her feeling she was tired，and wanted rest.
Paul was invited to dinner at Mr Jordan’s. Afterwards he
said:
“Mother，I want an evening suit.”
“Yes，I was afraid you would，”she said. She was glad.
There was a moment or two of silence“ There’s that one of
William’s，”she continued，“that I know cost four pounds ten and
which he’d only worn three times. ”
“Should you like me to wear it，mother?”he asked.
“ Yes，I think it would fit you — at least the coat The trousers
would want shortening”
He went upstairs and put on the coat and vest Coming
down，he looked strange in a flannel collar and a flannel shirtfront，
with an evening coat and vest It was rather large.
“The tailor can make it right，”she said，smoothing her hand
over his shoulder“It’s beautiful stuff. I never could find in my
heart to let your father wear the trousers，and very glad I am now.”
And as she smoothed her hand over the silk collar she
thought of her eldest son. But this son was living enough inside
the clothes. She passed her hand down his back to feel him. He
was alive and hers. The other was dead.
He went out to dinner several times in his evening suit that
had been William’s. Each time his mother’s heart was firm with
pride and joy. He was started now. The studs she and the children
had bought for William were in his shirt-front ；he wore one of
William’s dress shirts. But he had an elegant figure. His face was
rough，but warm-looking and rather pleasing. He did not look
particularly a gentleman，but she thought he looked quite a man.