第十一章（第2/12页）

这个杂物间里还有不少稀奇古怪的物件，一只体积硕大的黑漆盒子，做工精美巧妙，有六七十年的历史，里面装着各式各样的玩意儿。上层是一整套化妆用具，刷子、瓶子、镜子、梳子、盒子、甚至还有三把带鞘的精致小剃刀，以及剃须碗之类的东西。下层则是各种文具，吸墨纸、钢笔、墨水瓶、纸、信封、便笺本。然后是女红用具，有三把大小各异的剪刀、顶针、针、丝线、棉线、织补衬球，件件质量上乘，精工细作。此外，还有少量药品，瓶子上贴着鸦片酊、没药剂、丁香精等等标签，但里面都是空的。所有东西都是崭新的，把箱盖合上，就像一个装满物什的小周末行李包。盒子内部的布置活像个迷宫。瓶子里的东西都不会洒出来，因为根本没有倾覆的空间。

The thing was wonderfully made and contrived, excellent craftsmanship of the Victorian order. But somehow it was monstrous. Some Chatterley must even have felt it, for the thing had never been used. It had a peculiar soullessness.

箱子的设计和做工都极为精巧，是维多利亚时期绝妙的手艺。但不知为何，它总显得有几分怪异。查泰莱家族的某位先人想必也有同感，因为它从来未被使用过。它给人灵魂缺失的奇异感觉。

Yet Mrs. Bolton was thrilled.

不过，博尔顿太太却喜形于色。

"Look what beautiful brushes, so expensive, even the shaving brushes, three perfect ones! No! And those scissors! They're the best that money could buy. Oh, I call it lovely!” "Do you?" said Connie.

“瞧啊，多么漂亮的刷子呀，如此奢华，甚至那三把刮脸刷都那样完美！噢！还有那些剪子！都是能买得到的最好的精品了。哦，简直太漂亮了！”“是吗？”康妮说。

"Then you have it." "Oh no, my Lady!" "Of course! It will only lie here till Doomsday. If you won't have it, I'll send it to the Duchess as well as the pictures, and she doesn't deserve so much. Do have it!” "Oh, your Ladyship! Why, I shall never be able to thank you." "You needn't try," laughed Connie.

“那归你了。”“啊，不，夫人！”“不用客气！不然，它会搁在这里直到世界末日的。如果你不要，我就连同那些画，一起送去给公爵夫人，但她不配得到这么多东西。拿去吧！”“噢，夫人！哦，我真不知道怎么感谢您。”“那就不用谢了。”康妮笑道。

And Mrs. Bolton sailed down with the huge and very black box in her arms, flushing bright pink in her excitement.

博尔顿太太怀抱着那只黑漆大盒子，激动得满脸通红，兴高采烈地下楼去了。

Mr. Betts drove her in the trap to her house in the village, with the box. And she had to have a few friends in, to show it: the school-mistress, the chemist's wife, Mrs. Weedon the undercashier's wife. They thought it marvellous. And then started the whisper of Lady Chatterley's child.

贝茨先生驾着双轮马车，把博尔顿太太和箱子，送回特弗沙尔村的家里。她请来几位朋友，炫耀自己新得的宝贝，有学校女教员、药剂师夫人以及助理出纳威登先生的妻子。大家都赞不绝口。然后，她们就窃窃私语起来，议论查泰莱太太要生孩子的事。

"Wonders'll never cease!" said Mrs. Weedon.

“奇迹常在！”威登太太评价说。

But Mrs. Bolton was convinced, if it did come, it would be Sir Clifford's child. So there!

博尔顿太太深信不疑，如果真有孩子，父亲肯定是克利福德爵士。事情就是如此！

Not long after, the rector said gently to Clifford: "And may we really hope for an heir to Wragby? Ah, that would be the hand of God in mercy, indeed!" "Well! We may HOPE," said Clifford, with a faint irony, and at the same time, a certain conviction. He had begun to believe it really possible it might even be HIS child.

没过多久，教区牧师就语重心长地对克利福德说：“我们是不是真的可以期待，拉格比将会有个继承人呢？啊，若真如此，那真是要感谢慈悲的上帝！”“哦！希望是这样。”克利福德说，语气略带讥讽，可与此同时，连他自己也有些信以为真了。他开始相信，真的可能甚至有自己的孩子。

Then one afternoon came Leslie Winter, Squire Winter, as everybody called him: lean, immaculate, and seventy: and every inch a gentleman, as Mrs. Bolton said to Mrs. Betts. Every millimetre indeed! And with his old-fashioned, rather haw-haw! manner of speaking, he seemed more out of date than bag wigs.

某天下午，莱斯利·温特，人们口中的“乡绅”温特，前来拜访克利福德。他年过古稀，身材瘦削，气度非凡，从头到脚都透出贵族派头。当着贝茨太太，博尔顿太太对他做过如是评价。彻头彻尾的绅士做派！他说话的时候，总是伴着哈哈的笑声，听起来非常老派。他这种老套的谈话方式，简直比18世纪那些戴假发的家伙还要过时。

Time, in her flight, drops these fine old feathers.

飞逝的时光，将这些古雅的羽毛都吹散了。

They discussed the collieries. Clifford's idea was, that his coal, even the poor sort, could be made into hard concentrated fuel that would burn at great heat if fed with certain damp, acidulated air at a fairly strong pressure. It had long been observed that in a particularly strong, wet wind the pit-bank burned very vivid, gave off hardly any fumes, and left a fine powder of ash, instead of the slow pink gravel.

他们的话题围绕着煤矿。克利福德的想法是，即便自家的煤炭品质较差，也能够加工成高度浓缩的燃料，如果在强大的压力环境下，施以某种潮湿的酸性气体，便能燃烧产生巨大的热能。早有科学实验证明，置于极其强烈潮湿的气流中，煤炭能够充分燃烧，几乎不产生任何烟尘，残留物是精细的粉末，而非粉红色的渣滓。

"But where will you find the proper engines for burning your fuel?" asked Winter.

“可你到哪里去找适合的机器，来燃烧你的燃料呢？”温特问。

"I'll make them myself. And I'll use my fuel myself. And I'll sell electric power. I'm certain I could do it.” "If you can do it, then splendid, splendid, my dear boy. Haw! Splendid! If I can be of any help, I shall be delighted. I'm afraid I am a little out of date, and my collieries are like me. But who knows, when I'm gone, there may be men like you. Splendid! It will employ all the men again, and you won't have to sell your coal, or fail to sell it. A splendid idea, and I hope it will be a success. If I had sons of my own, no doubt they would have up-to-date ideas for Shipley: no doubt! By the way, dear boy, is there any foundation to the rumour that we may entertain hopes of an heir to Wragby?” "Is there a rumour?" asked Clifford.