Chapter 80
第八十章
在以后的三个月里，菲利普埋头研读三门新课程。不出两年工夫，原先蜂拥进入医学院学习的学生越来越少了。有些人离开医院，是因为发觉考试并不像他们原先想象的那么容易；有些则是被他们的家长领回去了，因为这些家长事先没料到在伦敦生活的开销竟会这么大；还有一些人也由于这样或那样的情况而纷纷溜了。菲利普认得一个年轻人，他别出心裁地想出了一个生财之道，把买来的廉价商品转手送进了当铺，没多久，又发现当赊购来的商品更能赚钱。然而有人在违警罪法庭的诉讼过程中供出了他的名字，消息传来，医院里引起了一阵小小的骚动。按着，被告人受到还押，以待证实，随后由他那位受惊的父亲交割了财产转让证才了结此事。最后这个年轻人出走海外，履行"白人的使命"去了。另有一个小伙子，在上医学院学习之前，从未见过城市是啥样的，一下子迷上了游艺场和酒吧间，成天价混迹于赛马迷、透露赛马情报者和驯兽师中间，现在已成了一名登录赌注者的助手。有一次，菲利普曾在皮卡迪利广场附近的一家酒吧间里碰上了他，只见他身上着一件紧身束腰的外套，头上戴着一顶帽檐又宽又厚的褐色帽子。还有一名学生，他颇有点歌唱和摹拟表演的天才，曾在医学院的吸烟音乐会上因模仿名噪一时的喜剧演员而大获成功。这个人弃医加入了一出配乐喜剧的合唱队。还有一位学生，菲利普对他颇感兴趣，因为此人举止笨拙，说起话来大叫大嚷的，使人倒不觉得他是个感情深切的人儿。可是，他却感到生活在伦敦鳞次栉比的房舍中间大有窒息之感。他因成天价关在屋里变得形容枯槁，那个连他自己也不知道是否存在的灵魂宛如被捏在手掌心的麻雀，苦苦挣扎着，悸怕得直喘气，心儿狂跳不止。他渴望着广袤的天空旷无人烟的田野，他孩提时代就是在这种环境里度过的。于是，一天，他趁两课之间的间隙时间不告而别了。以后，他的朋友们听说他抛弃了学医而在一个农场里干活了。
菲利普眼下在学有关内科和外科的课程。一周中有几个上午，他去为门诊病人包扎伤口，乐得借此机会赚几个外快，他还在医生的教授下学习使用听诊器给病人听诊的方法。他学会了配约方。他即将参加七月举行的药物学考试，他觉得在同各种各样药物打交道、调制药水、卷包药丸以及配制药膏中间自有一番乐趣。无论什么事，只要从中能领略得一丝人生的情趣，菲利普无不劲头十足地去做。
一次，菲利普远远地瞥见格里菲思，但没同他打照面，因为他不愿忍受见面时装着不认识他而带来的痛苦。菲利普意识到格里菲思的朋友们知道了他们俩之间的纷争，并推测他们是了解纷争的原委的，因此菲利普在格里菲思的朋友们面前感到有些儿不自然。其中有些人甚至现在也成了他的朋友。他们中间有位名叫拉姆斯登的青年人，此人身材修长，长着个小脑袋，整天没精打采的，是格里菲思最虔诚的崇拜者之一。格里菲思系什么样的领带他也系，格里菲思穿什么样的靴子他也穿，还模仿格里非思的谈吐和手势。他告诉菲利普说，格里菲思因菲利普没有回信而伤心透了。格里菲思想同菲利普重修旧好。
"是他请你来当说客的吗？"菲利普问道。
"喔，不是的，我这么说完全是自己的主意，"拉姆斯登回答说。"他为自己所干的事情感到心里很过意不去。他说你以往待他一直很好。我知道他非常想同你和好。他不上医院来是怕碰见你，他认为你会不理睬他的。
"我应该如此。"
"要知道，这件事弄得他心里难过极了。"
"我能忍受格里菲思得以极大的毅力才能忍受的这点小小的不便。"
"他将尽自己的一切努力来求得和解。"
"那也太孩子气、太歇斯底里了！他干吗要这样呢？我不过是个微不足道的小人物，没有我他日子照样可以过得非常好嘛！我对他丝毫不感兴趣。"
拉姆斯登心想菲利普这个人也太冷酷了，他顿了一两分钟，迷惑不解地用目光打量着四周。
"哈利向上帝祈祷，但愿他同那个女人没什么瓜葛就好了！"
"是吗？"菲利普问了一声。
他说话时语气冷淡。对此，他还挺感满意的哩。可谁又能想到此时他那颗心在胸膛里剧烈地跳荡着呢。他不耐烦地等待着拉姆斯登的下文。
"我想你差不多把这件苦恼的事儿给忘了，是不？"
"我？"菲利普答道。"是差不多全忘了。"
菲利普一点一滴地摸清了米尔德丽德同格里菲思之间的纠葛的来龙去脉。他嘴边挂着微笑，默默地谛听着，装出一副若无其事的样子，骗过了在跟他说话的那个蠢汉。米尔德丽德同格里菲思在牛津度过了周末，非但没有浇灭反而燃起了她那勃勃情火。因此，当格里菲思动身回乡之际，她突然心血来潮，决定独自留在牛津再呆上两三天，因为在那儿的几天日子过得太舒心了。她觉得没有任何一种力量可以把她再拉回到菲利普的身边去，一见到他，就要倒胃口。格里菲思对由自己勾起来的情火不觉大吃一惊，因为他早对同米尔德丽德一道在乡下度过的两天感到冗长乏味了，再说他也无意把一段饶有情趣的插曲变成一桩纠缠不清的私通事件。她迫使他给她写信，于是，作为一个诚实、正经，生来礼貌周全，彬彬有礼，还企望取悦于每一个人的小伙子，他一回到家，便给她写了一封洋洋洒洒、拨人心弦的信。米尔德丽德迅即写了封激情四溢的回信。信中措词不当，这是她缺乏表达能力的缘故。信上的字写得歪歪扭扭，语气猥亵，使得格里菲思心生腻烦，紧接着第二天又来了一封，过了一天，第三封信又接踵而至。此时，格里菲思开始意识到她的爱不再讨人喜欢，却令人深感惊恐。他连信也没有回。不料她给他发来连珠炮似的电报，询问他是否有病，有没有收到她的信，说她因不见他回信而忧心冲忡。这样一来，他只得又提起笔来写信，不过这次他把回信写得尽可能随便些，只要不惹她生气就行。他在信中求她以后别再打电报了，因为他很难就电报一事对他母亲解释清楚。他母亲是个老脑筋，总认为电报是个吓人的玩意儿。她随即写信来说她要见他，并说她打算把身边的东西送进当铺（她身边有只化妆手提包，还是菲利普送给她的结婚礼品，可值八镑），然后打票去找他，并要住在离格里菲思的父亲行医的村庄四英里远的市镇上。这下可把格里菲思吓坏了。这次他倒打了个电报给米尔德丽德，求她千万不要干出这种事情来，并答应一回到伦敦就同她联系。可是，格里菲思一回到伦敦就发觉米尔德丽德已经上格里菲思要去赴任的那家医院找过他了。他可不喜欢这种做法。因此，见到她时，便关照她不论用什么托词都不能上医院去找他。到了这个时候（两人隔了三个星期没有见面），他发觉米尔德丽德实在叫人讨厌，自己也闹不清当初为什么会同她纠缠在一起的。于是，他决心尽快地把米尔德丽德甩掉。他这个人可又不愿与人争吵，也不忍叫人伤心，不过他还有别的事情要干呀，最后还是横下一条心，决不让米尔德丽德再来缠扰自己。在同米尔德丽德见面时，他还是跟从前一样的举止文雅、笑容可掬、诙谐风趣、温情脉脉，而对自前一次见面以后一直没去看她一事，他总能找出些令人信服的借口来。尽管如此，他还是千方百计地躲着米尔德丽德。当米尔德丽德敦促他践约时，他总是在最后一刻打个电报给她，找个托辞溜之大吉。房东太太（格里菲思任职头三个月是在寓所度过的）奉命见到米尔德丽德来访就说他有事外出了。米尔德丽德便采取在街上堵截的办法。格里菲思得知她已在附近候了三两个钟头后，就住她耳朵里灌上几句甜言蜜语，随即推说有事务上的约会，便撒腿就走。后来他渐渐变得形迹诡秘，能神不知鬼不觉地溜出医院大门。有一次，他半夜里回寓所时，看到寓所前空地栏杆旁立着一位妇人。因不知她是何许人，格里菲思转身就走，一路奔到拉姆斯登的住所，在他那儿借宿一夜。第二天，房东太太告诉他说，前一天夜里米尔德丽德坐在他门口一连哭了几个钟头，最后房东太太只好无可奈何地对米尔德丽德说，如果她再不走，她可要派人去叫警察了。
"我说呀，老兄，"拉姆斯登说，"你倒脱得干系好自在。哈利说，要是他当初稍微考虑一下，想到她竟会这样惹人讨厌，就是去见鬼也不会跟她有什么瓜葛。"
菲利普脑海里浮现出米尔德丽德于深夜接连几个小时坐在门口哭泣的情景，仿佛看到她在房东太太驱赶时木然仰望的神情。
"不知她眼下怎么样了。"
"哦，她在某处找到了工作。真是谢天谢地。这样，她整日都有事忙了。"
关于米尔德丽德的最新消息，他是在夏季学期快结束时才听说的。他听说格里菲思被米尔德丽德的死乞白赖的纠缠激怒了，最后也顾不得文雅不文雅了，直截了当地对米尔德丽德说，他讨厌受人烦扰，叫她最好滚远点，别再打扰他。
"他只好这么着了，"拉姆斯登说，"事情也做得太过分了。"
"事情就这么了结了？"菲利普问道。
"噢，他已有十天没见着她了。要知道，哈利甩个把人的手段可高明啦。这是他遇到的最棘手的一件事，可他把它处理得妥妥帖帖。"
从此以后，菲利普再也没有听到有关米尔德丽德的消息。她湮没在伦敦茫茫的人海之中。
For the next three months Philip worked on subjects which were new to him. The unwieldy crowd which had entered the Medical School nearly two years before had thinned out: some had left the hospital, finding the examinations more difficult to pass than they expected, some had been taken away by parents who had not foreseen the expense of life in London, and some had drifted away to other callings. One youth whom Philip knew had devised an ingenious plan to make money; he had bought things at sales and pawned them, but presently found it more profitable to pawn goods bought on credit; and it had caused a little excitement at the hospital when someone pointed out his name in police-court proceedings. There had been a remand, then assurances on the part of a harassed father, and the young man had gone out to bear the White Man’s Burden overseas. The imagination of another, a lad who had never before been in a town at all, fell to the glamour of music-halls and bar parlours; he spent his time among racing-men, tipsters, and trainers, and now was become a book-maker’s clerk. Philip had seen him once in a bar near Piccadilly Circus in a tight-waisted coat and a brown hat with a broad, flat brim. A third, with a gift for singing and mimicry, who had achieved success at the smoking concerts of the Medical School by his imitation of notorious comedians, had abandoned the hospital for the chorus of a musical comedy. Still another, and he interested Philip because his uncouth manner and interjectional speech did not suggest that he was capable of any deep emotion, had felt himself stifle among the houses of London. He grew haggard in shut-in spaces, and the soul he knew not he possessed struggled like a sparrow held in the hand, with little frightened gasps and a quick palpitation of the heart: he yearned for the broad skies and the open, desolate places among which his childhood had been spent; and he walked off one day, without a word to anybody, between one lecture and another; and the next thing his friends heard was that he had thrown up medicine and was working on a farm.
Philip attended now lectures on medicine and on surgery. On certain mornings in the week he practised bandaging on out-patients glad to earn a little money, and he was taught auscultation and how to use the stethoscope. He learned dispensing. He was taking the examination in Materia Medica in July, and it amused him to play with various drugs, concocting mixtures, rolling pills, and making ointments. He seized avidly upon anything from which he could extract a suggestion of human interest.
He saw Griffiths once in the distance, but, not to have the pain of cutting him dead, avoided him. Philip had felt a certain self-consciousness with Griffiths’ friends, some of whom were now friends of his, when he realised they knew of his quarrel with Griffiths and surmised they were aware of the reason. One of them, a very tall fellow, with a small head and a languid air, a youth called Ramsden, who was one of Griffiths’ most faithful admirers, copied his ties, his boots, his manner of talking and his gestures, told Philip that Griffiths was very much hurt because Philip had not answered his letter. He wanted to be reconciled with him.
‘Has he asked you to give me the message?’ asked Philip.
‘Oh, no. I’m saying this entirely on my own,’ said Ramsden. ‘He’s awfully sorry for what he did, and he says you always behaved like a perfect brick to him. I know he’d be glad to make it up. He doesn’t come to the hospital because he’s afraid of meeting you, and he thinks you’d cut him.’
‘I should.’
‘It makes him feel rather wretched, you know.’
‘I can bear the trifling inconvenience that he feels with a good deal of fortitude,’ said Philip.
‘He’ll do anything he can to make it up.’
‘How childish and hysterical! Why should he care? I’m a very insignificant person, and he can do very well without my company. I’m not interested in him any more.’
Ramsden thought Philip hard and cold. He paused for a moment or two, looking about him in a perplexed way.
‘Harry wishes to God he’d never had anything to do with the woman.’
‘Does he?’ asked Philip.
He spoke with an indifference which he was satisfied with. No one could have guessed how violently his heart was beating. He waited impatiently for Ramsden to go on.
‘I suppose you’ve quite got over it now, haven’t you?’
‘I?’ said Philip. ‘Quite.’
Little by little he discovered the history of Mildred’s relations with Griffiths. He listened with a smile on his lips, feigning an equanimity which quite deceived the dull-witted boy who talked to him. The week-end she spent with Griffiths at Oxford inflamed rather than extinguished her sudden passion; and when Griffiths went home, with a feeling that was unexpected in her she determined to stay in Oxford by herself for a couple of days, because she had been so happy in it. She felt that nothing could induce her to go back to Philip. He revolted her. Griffiths was taken aback at the fire he had aroused, for he had found his two days with her in the country somewhat tedious; and he had no desire to turn an amusing episode into a tiresome affair. She made him promise to write to her, and, being an honest, decent fellow, with natural politeness and a desire to make himself pleasant to everybody, when he got home he wrote her a long and charming letter. She answered it with reams of passion, clumsy, for she had no gift of expression, ill-written, and vulgar; the letter bored him, and when it was followed next day by another, and the day after by a third, he began to think her love no longer flattering but alarming. He did not answer; and she bombarded him with telegrams, asking him if he were ill and had received her letters; she said his silence made her dreadfully anxious. He was forced to write, but he sought to make his reply as casual as was possible without being offensive: he begged her not to wire, since it was difficult to explain telegrams to his mother, an old-fashioned person for whom a telegram was still an event to excite tremor. She answered by return of post that she must see him and announced her intention to pawn things (she had the dressing-case which Philip had given her as a wedding-present and could raise eight pounds on that) in order to come up and stay at the market town four miles from which was the village in which his father practised. This frightened Griffiths; and he, this time, made use of the telegraph wires to tell her that she must do nothing of the kind. He promised to let her know the moment he came up to London, and, when he did, found that she had already been asking for him at the hospital at which he had an appointment. He did not like this, and, on seeing her, told Mildred that she was not to come there on any pretext; and now, after an absence of three weeks, he found that she bored him quite decidedly; he wondered why he had ever troubled about her, and made up his mind to break with her as soon as he could. He was a person who dreaded quarrels, nor did he want to give pain; but at the same time he had other things to do, and he was quite determined not to let Mildred bother him. When he met her he was pleasant, cheerful, amusing, affectionate; he invented convincing excuses for the interval since last he had seen her; but he did everything he could to avoid her. When she forced him to make appointments he sent telegrams to her at the last moment to put himself off; and his landlady (the first three months of his appointment he was spending in rooms) had orders to say he was out when Mildred called. She would waylay him in the street and, knowing she had been waiting about for him to come out of the hospital for a couple of hours, he would give her a few charming, friendly words and bolt off with the excuse that he had a business engagement. He grew very skilful in slipping out of the hospital unseen. Once, when he went back to his lodgings at midnight, he saw a woman standing at the area railings and suspecting who it was went to beg a shake-down in Ramsden’s rooms; next day the landlady told him that Mildred had sat crying on the doorsteps for hours, and she had been obliged to tell her at last that if she did not go away she would send for a policeman.
‘I tell you, my boy,’ said Ramsden, ‘you’re jolly well out of it. Harry says that if he’d suspected for half a second she was going to make such a blooming nuisance of herself he’d have seen himself damned before he had anything to do with her.’
Philip thought of her sitting on that doorstep through the long hours of the night. He saw her face as she looked up dully at the landlady who sent her away.
‘I wonder what she’s doing now.’
‘Oh, she’s got a job somewhere, thank God. That keeps her busy all day.’
The last thing he heard, just before the end of the summer session, was that Griffiths, urbanity had given way at length under the exasperation of the constant persecution. He had told Mildred that he was sick of being pestered, and she had better take herself off and not bother him again.
‘It was the only thing he could do,’ said Ramsden. ‘It was getting a bit too thick.’
‘Is it all over then?’ asked Philip.
‘Oh, he hasn’t seen her for ten days. You know, Harry’s wonderful at dropping people. This is about the toughest nut he’s ever had to crack, but he’s cracked it all right.’
Then Philip heard nothing more of her at all. She vanished into the vast anonymous mass of the population of London.