英文小说连载《朗读者The Reader》Part 2 Chapter 3
2019-01-08 19:22:22三好网
I DIDN’T KNOW the woman’s name. Clutching my bunch of flowers， I hesitated in front of the door and all the bells. I would rather have turned around and left， but then a man came out of the building， asked who I was looking for， and directed me to Frau Schmitz on the third floor.
No decorative plaster， no mirrors， no runner. Whatever unpretentious beauty the stairwell might once have had， it could never have been comparable to the grandeur of the fa？ade， and it was long gone in any case. The red paint on the stairs had worn through in the middle， the stamped green linoleum that was glued on the walls to shoulder height was rubbed away to nothing， and bits of string had been stretched across the gaps in the banisters. It smelled of cleaning fluid. Perhaps I only became aware of all this some time later. It was always just as shabby and just as clean， and there was always the same smell of cleaning fluid， sometimes mixed with the smell of cabbage or beans， or fried food or boiling laundry.
I never learned a thing about the other people who lived in the building apart from these smells， the mats outside the apartment doors， and the nameplates under the doorbells. I cannot even remember meeting another tenant on the stairs.
Nor do I remember how I greeted Frau Schmitz. I had probably prepared two or three sentences about my illness and her help and how grateful I was， and recited them to her. She led me into the kitchen.
It was the largest room in the apartment， and contained a stove and sink， a tub and a boiler， a table， two chairs， a kitchen cabinet， a wardrobe， and a couch with a red velvet spread thrown over it. There was no window. Light came in through the panes of the door leading out onto the balcony—not much light； the kitchen was only bright when the door was open. Then you heard the scream of the saws from the carpenter’s shop in the yard and smelled the smell of wood.
The apartment also had a small， cramped living room with a dresser， a table， four chairs， a wing chair， and a coal stove. It was almost never heated in winter， nor was it used much in summer either. The window faced Bahnhofstrasse， with a view of what had been the railroad station， but was now being excavated and already in places held the freshly laid foundations of the new courthouse and administration buildings. Finally， the apartment also had a windowless toilet. When the toilet smelled， so did the hall.
I don’t remember what we talked about in the kitchen. Frau Schmitz was ironing； she had spread a woolen blanket and a linen cloth over the table； lifting one piece of laundry after another from the basket， she ironed them， folded them， and laid them on one of the two chairs. I sat on the other. She also ironed her underwear， and I didn’t want to look， but I couldn’t help looking. She was wearing a sleeveless smock， blue with little pale red flowers on it. Her shoulder-length， ash-blond hair was fastened with a clip at the back of her neck. Her bare arms were pale. Her gestures of lifting the iron， using it， setting it down again， and then folding and putting away the laundry were an exercise in slow concentration， as were her movements as she bent over and then straightened up again. Her face as it was then has been overlaid in my memory by the faces she had later. If I see her in my mind’s eye as she was then， she doesn’t have a face at all， and I have to reconstruct it. High forehead， high cheekbones， pale blue eyes， full lips that formed a perfect curve without any indentation， square chin. A broad-planed， strong， womanly face. I know that I found it beautiful. But I cannot recapture its beauty.
我不知道那个女人叫什么名字。我手持一束鲜花，犹豫不决地站在了楼下门口的门铃前。我真想回去，但这时，从门里走出一个人来，他问我要找谁，并把我领到了四楼的史密芝女士家。
没有石膏花饰，没有镜子，没有地毯。楼道里应有的那种纯朴的、不能与门面的那种富丽堂皇相比拟的美，早已不复存在。阶梯中间的红漆已被踩没了，贴在楼梯旁墙上的、与肩齐高的、有压印花纹的绿色漆布被磨得油光锃亮。凡是楼梯扶手支柱坏了的地方，都被拉上了绳子，楼道闻起来有洗涤剂的味道——也许这些都是我后来才注意到的。它总是那样年久失修的样子，总是那样地清洁，闻起来总是同一种洗涤剂的味道，有时和白菜或扁豆的味混在一起，有时和炒炸或煮、洗衣服的味混在一起。除了这些味道、门前的脚垫和门铃按钮下面的姓名牌，我不认识住在这里的任何其他人。我也不记得我是否在楼道里曾遇到过其他住户。
我也记不得我是怎样和史密芝女士打的招呼。可能我把事先想好了的两三句有关我的病情、她的帮助和感谢她的话背给了她听。她把我带到厨房里。
厨房是所有房间中最大的一间，里面有电炉盘。水池、浴盆、浴水加热炉、一张桌子、两把椅子、一台冰箱、一个衣柜和一张长沙发。沙发椅上铺着一块红色的天鹅绒布料。厨房没有窗子，光线是由通向阳台的门上的玻璃照射进来的，没有多少光线，只是门开着的时候厨房才有亮，可是这样就听得见从院子里木工棚中传来的锯木头的尖叫声，并闻得到木头味。
还有一间又小又窄的起居室，里面配有餐具柜。餐桌、四把椅子、耳型扶手沙发和一个炉子。这个房间冬天的时候从来就没生过炉子，夏天的时候也几乎是闲置不用。窗子面向火车站街，看得见以前的被挖得乱七八糟的火车站旧址和已经奠基的新的法院和政府机关办公大楼的工地。房间里还有一间不带窗户的厕所，如果厕所里有臭味的话，房间过道里也闻得到。
我也不记得我们在厨房里都说了些什么。史密芝女士在熨衣服，她在桌子上铺了一块毛垫和一块亚麻巾，从筐篓里一件接一件地拿出衣服，熨好之后叠起来放在其中的一把椅子上。我坐在另外的一把椅子上。她也熨她的内裤，我不想看，但又无法把目光移开。她穿着一件无袖的蓝底带有浅红色小花的围裙。她把她的齐肩长的金灰色长发用发夹束在了颈后。她裸露的胳膊是苍白的。她拿着熨斗熨几下，又放下，把熨好的衣服叠在一起放在一边。她手的动作很慢，很专注，转身、弯腰、起身的动作也同样很慢／民专注。她当时的面部表情被我后来的记忆覆盖了。如果我闭上眼睛想象她当时的样子，想象不出她的面部表情是什么样子。我必须重新塑造她。她高额头，高颧骨，两只浅蓝色的眼睛，上下的两片嘴唇均匀而丰满，下颚显得非常有力，一幅平淡的、冷冰冰的女人面孔。我知道，我曾经觉得它很美，眼下我又看出它的漂亮之处。
