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He spoke as though I were a child that needed to be distracted. I was sore, but not with him so much as with myself. I thought of the happy life that pair had led in the cosy studio in Montmartre, Stroeve and his wife, their simplicity, kindness, and hospitality; it seemed to me cruel that it should have been broken to pieces by a ruthless chance; but the cruellest thing of all was that in fact it made no great difference. The world went on, and no one was a penny the worse for all that wretchedness. I had an idea that Dirk, a man of greater emotional reactions than depth of feeling, would soon forget; and Blanche's life, begun with who knows what bright hopes and what dreams, might just as well have never been lived. It all seemed useless and inane.
他說話的樣子，倒好象我是個小孩子，需要他把我的精神岔開似的。我氣得要命，但與其說是對他倒不如說對我自己。我回想起這一對夫妻——施特略夫同他的妻子，在蒙特瑪特爾區一間舒適的畫室中過的幸福生活，他們兩人淳樸、善良、殷勤好客，這種生活竟由于一件無情的偶然事件被打得粉碎，我覺得這真是非常殘忍的；但是最最殘忍的還是，這件事對別人并沒有什么影響。人們繼續生活下去，誰也沒有因為這個悲劇而活得更糟。我猜想，就連戴爾克不久也會把這件事遺忘，因為盡管他反應強烈，一時悲慟欲絕，感情卻沒有深度。至于勃朗什自己，不論她最初步入生活時曾懷有何等美妙的希望與夢想，死了以后，同她根本沒有降臨人世又有什么兩樣？一切都是空虛的，沒有意義的。
Strickland had found his hat, and stood looking at me.
思特里克蘭德拿起了帽子，站在那里看著我。
"Are you coming?"
“你來嗎？”
"Why do you seek my acquaintance?" I asked him. "You know that I hate and despise you."
“你為什么要同我來往？”我問他，“你知道我討厭你，鄙視你。”
He chuckled good-humouredly.
他咯咯地笑了笑，一點也沒有惱怒。
"Your only quarrel with me really is that I don't care a twopenny damn what you think about me."
“你同我吵嘴，實際上是因為我根本不在乎你對我的看法。”
I felt my cheeks grow red with sudden anger. It was impossible to make him understand that one might be outraged by his callous selfishness. I longed to pierce his armour of complete indifference. I knew also that in the end there was truth in what he said. Unconsciously, perhaps, we treasure the power we have over people by their regard for our opinion of them, and we hate those upon whom we have no such influence. I suppose it is the bitterest wound to human pride. But I would not let him see that I was put out.
我感到自己的面頰氣得通紅。你根本無法使他了解，他的冷酷、自私能叫人氣得火冒三丈。我恨不得一下子刺穿了他那副冷漠的甲胄。但是我也知道，歸根結底，他的話也不無道理。雖然我們沒有明確意識到，說不定我們還是非常重視別人看重不看重我們的意見、我們在別人身上是否有影響力的；如果我們對一個人的看法受到他的重視，我們就沾沾自喜，如果他對這種意見絲毫也不理會，我們就討厭他。我想這就是自尊心中最厲害的創傷。但是我并不想叫思特里克蘭德看出我這種氣惱。
"Is it possible for any man to disregard others entirely?" I said, though more to myself than to him. "You're dependent on others for everything in existence. It's a preposterous attempt to try to live only for yourself and by yourself. Sooner or later you'll be ill and tired and old, and then you'll crawl back into the herd. Won't you be ashamed when you feel in your heart the desire for comfort and sympathy? You're trying an impossible thing. Sooner or later the human being in you will yearn for the common bonds of humanity."
“一個人可能完全不理會別人嗎？”我說，與其說是問他還不如說是問我自己，“生活中無論什么事都和別人息息相關，要想只為自己、孤零零地一個人活下去是個十分荒謬的想法。早晚有一天你會生病，會變得老態龍鐘，到那時候你還得爬著回去找你的同伙。當你感到需要別人的安慰和同情的時候，你不羞愧嗎？你現在要做的是一件根本不可能的事。你身上的人性早晚會渴望同其他的人建立聯系的。”
"Come and look at my pictures."
“去看看我的畫吧！”
"Have you ever thought of death?"
“你想到過死嗎？”
"Why should I? It doesn't matter."
“何必想到死？死有什么關系？”
I stared at him. He stood before me, motionless, with a mocking smile in his eyes; but for all that, for a moment I had an inkling of a fiery, tortured spirit, aiming at something greater than could be conceived by anything that was bound up with the flesh. I had a fleeting glimpse of a pursuit of the ineffable. I looked at the man before me in his shabby clothes, with his great nose and shining eyes, his red beard and untidy hair; and I had a strange sensation that it was only an envelope, and I was in the presence of a disembodied spirit.
我凝望著他。他一動不動地站在我面前，眼睛里閃著譏嘲的笑容。但是盡管他臉上是這種神情，一瞬間我好象還是看到一個受折磨的、熾熱的靈魂正在追逐某種遠非血肉之軀所能想象的偉大的東西。我瞥見的是對某種無法描述的事物的熱烈追求。我凝視著站在我面前的這個人，衣服襤褸，生著一個大鼻子和炯炯發光的眼睛，火紅的胡須，蓬亂的頭發。我有一個奇怪的感覺，這一切只不過是個外殼，我真正看到的是一個脫離了軀體的靈魂。
"Let us go and look at your pictures," I said.
“好吧，去看看你的畫吧。”我說。
