《The English Patient》第52章

。　the　machine　would　not　necessarily　have　revealed　to　clifton；　married　only　eighteen　months；　his　wife’s　infidelity；　but　it　began　to　encircle　the　fault；　the　disease　in　the　system。　it　knew　every　move　she　and　i　made　from　the　first　day　of　the　awkward　touch　in　the　porte　cochere　of　the　semiramis　hotel。　
i　had　ignored　her　remarks　about　her　husband’s　relatives。　and　geoffrey　clifton　was　as　innocent　as　we　were　about　the　great　english　web　that　was　above　us。　but　the　club　of　bodyguards　watched　over　her　husband　and　kept　him　protected。　only　madox；　who　was　an　aristocrat　with　a　past　of　regimental　associations；　knew　about　such　discreet　convolutions。　only　madox；　with　considerable　tact；　warned　me　about　such　a　world。　
i　carried　herodotus；　and　madox—a　saint　in　his　own　marriage—carried　anna　karenina；　continually　rereading　the　story　of　romance　and　deceit。　one　day；　far　too　late　to　avoid　the　machinery　we　had　set　in　motion；　he　tried　to　explain　clifton’s　world　in　terms　of　anna　karenina’s　brother。　pass　me　my　book。　listen　to　this。　
half　moscow　and　petersburg　were　relations　or　friends　of　oblonsky。　he　was　born　into　the　circle　of　people　who　were；　or　who　became；　the　great　ones　of　this　earth。　a　third　of　the　official　world；　the　older　men；　were　his　father’s　friends　and　had　known　him　from　the　time　he　was　a　baby　in　petticoats。。。。　consequently；　the　distributors　of　the　blessings　of　this　world　were　all　friends　of　his。　
they　could　not　pass　over　one　of　their　own。。。。　it　was　only　necessary　not　to　raise　objections　or　be　envious；　not　to　quarrel　or　take　offence；　which　in　accordance　with　his　natural　kindliness　he　never　did。　
i　have　e　to　love　the　tap　of　your　fingernail　on　the　syringe；　caravaggio。　the　first　time　hana　gave　me　morphine　in　your　pany　you　were　by　the　window；　and　at　the　tap　of　her　nail　your　neck　jerked　towards　us。　i　know　a　rade。　the　way　a　lover　will　always　recognize　the　camouflage　of　other　lovers。　
women　want　everything　of　a　lover。　and　too　often　i　would　sink　below　the　surface。　so　armies　disappear　under　sand。　and　there　was　her　fear　of　her　husband；　her　belief　in　her　honour；　my　old　desire　for　self…sufficiency；　my　disappearances；　her　sus…picions　of　me；　my　disbelief　that　she　loved　me。　the　paranoia　and　claustrophobia　of　hidden　love。　
“i　think　you　have　bee　inhuman；”　she　said　to　me。　
“i’m　not　the　only　betrayer。”　“i　don’t　think　you　care—that　this　has　happened　among　us。　you　slide　past　everything　with　your　fear　and　hate　of　ownership；　of　owning；　of　being　owned；　of　being　named。　you　think　this　is　a　virtue。　i　think　you　are　inhuman。　if　i　leave　you；　who　will　you　go　to？　would　you　find　another　lover？”　i　said　nothing。　
“deny　it；　damn　you。” she　had　always　wanted　words；　she　loved　them；　grew　up　on　them。　words　gave　her　clarity；　brought　reason；　shape。　whereas　i　thought　words　bent　emotions　like　sticks　in　water。　
she　returned　to　her　husband。　
from　this　point　on；　she　whispered；　we　will　either　find　or　lose　our　souls。　
seas　move　away；　why　not　lovers？　the　harbours　of　ephesus；　the　rivers　of　heraclitus　disappear　and　are　replaced　by　estuaries　of　silt。　the　wife　of　candaules　bees　the　wife　of　gyges。　libraries　burn。　
what　had　our　relationship　been？　a　betrayal　of　those　around　us；　or　the　desire　of　another　life？
she　climbed　back　into　her　house　beside　her　husband；　and　i　retired　to　the　zinc　bars。　
i’ll　be　looking　at　the　moon； but　i’ll　be　seeing　you。　
that　old　herodotus　classic。　humming　and　singing　that　song　again　and　again；　beating　the　lines　thinner　to　bend　them　into　one’s　own　life。　people　recover　from　secret　loss　variously。　i　was　seen　by　one　of　her　retinue　sitting　with　a　spice　trader。　she　had　once　received　from　him　a　pewter　thimble　that　held　saffron。　one　of　the　ten　thousand　things。　
and　if　bagnold—having　seen　me　sitting　by　the　saffron　trader—brought　up　the　incident　during　dinner　at　the　table　where　she　sat；　how　did　i　feel　about　that？　did　it　give　me　some　fort　that　she　would　remember　the　man　who　had　given　her　a　small　gift；　a　pewter　thimble　she　hung　from　a　thin　dark　chain　around　her　neck　for　two　days　when　her　husband　was　out　of　town？　the　saffron　still　in　it；　so　there　was　the　stain　of　gold　on　her　chest。　
how　did　she　hold　this　story　about　me；　pariah　to　the　group　after　some　scene　or　other　where　i　had　disgraced　myself；　bagnold　laughing；　her　husband　who　was　a　good　man　worrying　about　me；　and　madox　getting　up　and　walking　to　a　window　and　looking　out　towards　the　south　section　of　the　city。　the　conversation　perhaps　moved　to　other　sigh　tings。　they　were　mapmak…ers；　after　all。　
but　did　she　climb　down　into　the　well　we　helped　dig　together　and　hold　herself；　the　way　i　desired　myself　towards　her　with　my　hand？
we　each　now　had　our　own　lives；　armed　by　the　deepest　treaty　with　the　other。　
“what　are　you　doing？”　she　said　running　into　me　on　the　street。　“can’t　you　see　you　are　driving　us　all　mad。”　to　madox　i　had　said　i　was　courting　a　widow。　but　she　was　not　a　widow　yet。　when　madox　returned　to　england　she　and　i　were　no　longer　lovers。　“give　my　greetings　to　your　cairo　widow；”　madox　murmured。　“would’ve　liked　to　have　met　her。”　did　he　know？　i　always　felt　more　of　a　deceiver　with　him；　this　friend　i　had　worked　with　for　ten　years；　this　man　i　loved　more　than　any　other　man。　it　was　；　and　we　were　all　leaving　this　country；　in　any　case；　to　the　war。　
and　madox　returned　to　the　village　of　marston　magna；　somerset；　where　he　had　been　born；　and　a　month　later　sat　in　the　congregation　of　a　church；　heard　the　sermon　in　honour　of　war；　pulled　out　his　desert　revolver　and　shot　himself。　
i；　herodotus　of　halicarnassus；　set　forth　my　history；　that　time　may　not　draw　the　colour　from　what　man　has　brought　into　being；　nor　those　great　and　wonderful　deeds　manifested　by　both　greeks　and　barbarians。。。　together　with　the　reason　they　fought　one　another。　
men　had　always　been　the　reciters　of　poetry　in　the　desert。　and　madox—to　the　geographical　society—had　spoken　beautiful　accounts　of　our　traversals　and　coursings。　bermann　blew　theory　into　the　embers。　and　i？　i　was　the　skill　among　them。　the　mechanic。　the　others　wrote　out　their　love　of　solitude　and　meditated　on　what　they　found　there。　they　were　never　sure　of　what　i　thought　of　it　all。　“do　you　like　that　moon？”　madox　asked　me　after　he’d　know