Bilingual reading in Chinese and English Moon with Sixpence

Chapter 29

I kept silence for a little while, thinking of what Stroeve had told me. I could not stomach his weakness, and he saw my disapproval. "You know as well as I do how Strickland lived," he said tremulously. "I couldn't let her live in those circumstances — I simply couldn't."

I was silent for a moment, thinking about what Stroeve had told me. I couldn't stand his cowardice, and he could see that I didn't think much of him. "You know as well as I know what life Strickland is," he said in a trembling voice, "and I can't let her live in that environment—I just can't." ”

That's your business, I answered.

What would you have done? he asked.

She went with her eyes open. If she had to put up with certain inconveniences it was her own lookout.

Yes; but, you see, you don't love her.

"It's your business." I replied.

"If this happened to you, what would you do?" he asked.

She walked away on her own with her eyes open. If she has to suffer some hardships, she is also asking for herself. ”

"You're right, but, you know, you don't love her."

Do you love her still?

Oh, more than ever. Strickland isn't the man to make a woman happy. It can't last. I want her to know that I shall never fail her.

Does that mean that you're prepared to take her back?

"Do you still love her now?"

"Ah! Love more than ever. Strickland is not a man who can make a woman happy. It won't last long. I wanted her to know that I would never let her hopes go down. ”

"Do you mean that you are still ready to take her in?"

I shouldn't hesitate. Why, she'll want me more than ever then. When she's alone and humiliated and broken it would be dreadful if she had nowhere to go.

"I will not hesitate in the slightest. She'll need me more then than ever before. When she is abandoned, humiliated, and physically and mentally exhausted, it is terrible if she has nowhere to run. ”

He seemed to bear no resentment. I suppose it was commonplace in me that I felt slightly outraged at his lack of spirit. Perhaps he guessed what was in my mind, for he said:

Stroeve didn't seem to be angry with her at all. Maybe I'm too ordinary, so I'm a little annoyed that he has no backbone. He probably guessed what I was thinking, because he said this:

I couldn't expect her to love me as I loved her. I'm a buffoon. I'm not the sort of man that women love. I've always known that. I can't blame her if she's fallen in love with Strickland.

"I can't hope she loves me as much as I love her. I'm a funny character. I'm not the kind of man who makes women fall in love. I already knew that. If she fell in love with Strickland, I couldn't blame her. ”

You certainly have less vanity than any man I've ever known, I said.

"I've never seen anyone as unselfish as you," I said.

I love her so much better than myself. It seems to me that when vanity comes into love it can only be because really you love yourself best.

"I love her far more than I love myself. I think that if you think about self-esteem in the matter of love, there is only one reason: in fact, you still love yourself the most.

After all, it constantly happens that a man when he's married falls in love with somebody else; when he gets over it he returns to his wife, and she takes him back, and everyone thinks it very natural. Why should it be different with women?

In any case, it is not a rare thing for a married man to fall in love with someone else, and often when his heat has passed, he will return to his wife, and she will be reconciled with him. This kind of thing is natural for everyone to think. If men are like this, why should women be the exception? ”

I dare say that's logical, I smiled, "but most men are made differently, and they can't."

"I admit that what you said is very logical," I laughed, "but most men don't have that mentality, and it's not possible to ask them to treat this as such." ”

But while I talked to Stroeve I was puzzling over the suddenness of the whole affair. I could not imagine that he had had no warning. I remembered the curious look I had seen in Blanche Stroeve's eyes; perhaps its explanation was that she was growing dimly conscious of a feeling in her heart that surprised and alarmed her.

In my conversation with Strov, I kept thinking to myself that the incident had come too suddenly and puzzled me. It is impossible to imagine that he would have been kept in the dark beforehand. I remembered the strange look in Bronche Strahov's eyes that I had seen, perhaps vaguely aware of her feelings, and herself shocked.

Did you have no suspicion before to-day that there was anything between them? I asked.

He did not answer for a while. There was a pencil on the table, and unconsciously he drew a head on the blotting-paper.

Please say so, if you hate my asking you questions, I said.

"Haven't you ever suspected anything was going on between the two of them before today?" I asked him.

He didn't answer my question right away. There was a pencil on the table, and he picked it up and drew an avatar by hand on the ink-absorbing paper.

"If you don't like me asking you this question, just say it," I said.

It eases me to talk. Oh, if you knew the frightful anguish in my heart. He threw the pencil down. "Yes, I've known it for a fortnight. I knew it before she did."

"I was a little happier when I said it. Cough, if only you knew how much pain I had in my heart," he tossed the pencil in his hand against the table. "Yes, I knew that from two weeks ago. I knew it before she herself didn't understand what was going on. ”

Why on earth didn't you send Strickland packing?

I couldn't believe it. It seemed so improbable.

"Then why didn't you send Strickland away?"

I don't believe it, I don't think it's possible.

She couldn't bear the sight of him. It was more than improbable; it was incredible. I thought it was merely jealousy. You see, I've always been jealous, but I trained myself never to show it; I was jealous of every man she knew; I was jealous of you.

She hated this man so much. Such a thing is simply impossible, simply unbelievable. I thought it was my jealousy. You know, I've always been very jealous, but I've trained myself and never showed it. Everyone she knew was jealous of me, even you.

I knew she didn't love me as I loved her. That was only natural, wasn't it? But she allowed me to love her, and that was enough to make me happy.

I knew she didn't love me as much as I loved her. It's natural, isn't it? But she allowed me to love her so I felt happy.

I forced myself to go out for hours together in order to leave them by themselves; I wanted to punish myself for suspicions which were unworthy of me; and when I came back I found they didn't want me -- not Strickland, he didn't care if I was there or not, but Blanche.

I forced myself outside for hours, leaving the two of them alone. I think I suspected so much that she had lowered my personality and that I was going to punish myself. But when I came back from outside I found out they didn't need me—it didn't matter if Strickland needed me or not, it didn't matter to him if I was at home or not, I mean I found that Bronches didn't need me.

She shuddered when I went to kiss her. When at last I was certain I didn't know what to do; I knew they'd only laugh at me if I made a scene. I thought if I held my tongue and pretended not to see, everything would come right. I made up my mind to get him away quietly, without quarrelling. Oh, if you only knew what I've suffered!"

When I walked over and kissed her, she trembled. In the end I knew all the truth about it, but I didn't know what to do. I knew that if I made a big fuss, I would only provoke their ridicule. I thought if I pretended I didn't see anything and didn't pick it out, maybe it would be over. I made up my mind to quietly send him away without arguing. Cough, if only I could tell you about the pain in my heart! ”

Then he told me again of his asking Strickland to go. He chose his moment carefully, and tried to make his request sound casual; but he could not master the trembling of his voice; and he felt himself that into words that he wished to seem jovial and friendly there crept the bitterness of his jealousy.

Then he told Strickland to move out. He chose a moment very carefully, and he tried to make his tone seem casual, but he still could not restrain himself. His voice trembled, and the words he had wanted to say kindly and amusingly revealed jealous anger.

He had not expected Strickland to take him up on the spot and make his preparations to go there and then; above all, he had not expected his wife's decision to go with him. I saw that now he wished with all his heart that he had held his tongue. He preferred the anguish of jealousy to the anguish of separation.

He didn't expect that as soon as he said it, Strickland agreed, and immediately packed up his things. Most unexpectedly, his wife was also going with Strickland. It could be seen that he was very remorseful and really hoped that he would continue to endure. He would rather endure the torment of jealousy than the pain of separation.

"I wanted to kill him, and I only made a fool of myself. "

He was silent for a long time, and then he said what I knew was in his mind.

"If I'd only waited, perhaps it would have gone all right. I shouldn't have been so impatient. Oh, poor child, what have I driven her to?"

"I wanted to kill him, but I made myself ugly in vain."

He was silent for half a moment, and finally what he said, I knew, was something that had accumulated in his heart.

"If I had waited a few more days, maybe nothing would have happened." I really shouldn't be so impatient. Ah, poor boy, I forced her to this point! ”

I shrugged my shoulders, but did not speak. I had no sympathy for Blanche Stroeve, but knew that it would only pain poor Dirk if I told him exactly what I thought of her.

I shrugged my shoulders, but didn't say anything. I had no sympathy for Bronche Stroeve at all, but I knew that if I told poor Dilk the truth, it would only increase his suffering.

He had reached that stage of exhaustion when he could not stop talking. He went over again every word of the scene. Now something occurred to him that he had not told me before; now he discussed what he ought to have said instead of what he did say; then he lamented his blindness.

By this time he was exhausted and unable to control himself, so he just talked about it. He repeated what everyone had said in that storm. For a moment he remembered something he had forgotten to tell me, and the next he discussed with me that he should have said it, not that sentence.

He regretted that he had done this, and blamed himself that he had omitted the other. It grew later and later, and at last I was as tired as he.

He was heartbroken that he couldn't see the problem clearly, regretted that he had done something, and blamed himself for not doing one. The night grew darker, and finally I was as tired as he was.

"What are you going to do now?" I said finally.

"What can I do? I shall wait till she sends for me. "

"Why don't you go away for a bit?"

"No, no; I must be at hand when she wants me. "

"What are you going to do now?" I asked him finally.

"What can I do? I could only wait for her to greet me back. ”

"Why don't you go for a walk out of town?"

"No, it doesn't. If she needs it, I'll make sure she can find me. ”

For the present he seemed quite lost. He had made no plans. When I suggested that he should go to bed he said he could not sleep; he wanted to go out and walk about the streets till day. He was evidently in no state to be left alone. I persuaded him to stay the night with me, and I put him into my own bed. I had a divan in my sitting-room, and could very well sleep on that.

He didn't seem to have any idea what to do in the moment. He had no plans. Finally I suggested he should go to sleep, he said he couldn't sleep, he was going outside for an all-night walk. Of course, I must not leave him alone in this situation. I persuaded him to spend the night with me, and I placed him on my bed. I also had a couch in the living room on which I could sleep.

He was by now so worn out that he could not resist my firmness. I gave him a sufficient dose of veronal to insure his unconsciousness for several hours. I thought that was the best service I could render him.

He was exhausted by this time, so he went to bed according to my idea. I gave him some Frona and told him to sleep unconsciously for a few hours. I think that's the biggest help I've been able to give him.

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