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the moon and sixpence(月球和六便士)-第20部分

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     〃Will you let me see your pictures?〃 

     〃Why should I?〃 

     〃I might feel inclined to buy one。〃 

     〃I might not feel inclined to sell one。〃 

     〃Are you making a good living?〃 I asked; smiling。 

     He chuckled。 

     〃Do I look it?〃 

     〃You look half starved。〃 

     〃I am half starved。〃 

     〃Then come and let's have a bit of dinner。〃 

     〃Why do you ask me?〃 

     〃Not    out   of  charity;〃   I  answered      coolly。   〃I   don't   really   care   a 

twopenny damn if you starve or not。〃 

     His eyes lit up again。 

     〃Come on; then;〃 he said; getting up。           〃I'd like a decent meal。〃 



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                                 Chapter XXI 



       I   let   him   take   me   to   a   restaurant   of   his   choice;   but   on   the   way   I 

bought a paper。        When we had ordered our dinner; I propped it against a 

bottle   of   St。   Galmier   and   began   to   read。   We   ate   in   silence。 I   felt   him 

looking at me now and again; but I took no notice。                 I meant to force him 

to conversation。 

     〃Is there anything in the paper?〃 he said; as we approached the end of 

our silent meal。 

     I fancied there was in his tone a slight note of exasperation。 

     〃I always like to read the  on the drama;〃 I said。 

     I folded the paper and put it down beside me。 

     〃I've enjoyed my dinner;〃 he remarked。 

     〃I think we might have our coffee here; don't you?〃 

     〃Yes。〃 

     We lit our cigars。       I smoked in silence。        I noticed that now and then 

his eyes rested on me with a faint smile of amusement。 I waited patiently。 

     〃What have you been up to since I saw you last?〃 he asked at length。 

     I had not very much to say。          It was a record of hard work and of little 

adventure;   of   experiments   in   this   direction   and   in   that;   of   the   gradual 

acquisition   of   the   knowledge   of   books   and   of   men。   I   took   care   to   ask 

Strickland nothing about his own doings。 I showed not the least interest in 

him; and at last I was rewarded。            He began to talk of himself。          But with 

his poor   gift of   expression he gave but indications   of   what he had gone 

through;   and   I   had   to   fill   up   the   gaps   with   my  own   imagination。   It   was 

tantalising to get no more than hints into a character that interested me so 

much。      It was like making one's way through a mutilated manuscript。                     I 

received the impression of a life which was a bitter struggle against every 

sort   of   difficulty;   but   I   realised  that   much   which   would   have   seemed 

horrible   to   most   people   did   not   in   the   least   affect   him。 Strickland   was 

distinguished from most Englishmen by his perfect indifference to comfort; 

it did not irk him to live always in one shabby room; he had no need to be 

surrounded   by   beautiful   things。       I   do   not   suppose   he   had   ever   noticed 

how dingy was the paper on the wall of the room in which on my first visit 



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I found him。       He did not want arm…chairs to sit in; he really felt more at 

his   ease   on   a   kitchen   chair。   He   ate   with   appetite;   but   was   indifferent   to 

what he ate; to him it was only food that he devoured to still the pangs of 

hunger;   and   when   no   food   was   to   be   had   he   seemed   capable   of   doing 

without。     I learned that for six months he had lived on a loaf of bread and 

a bottle of milk a day。 He was a sensual man; and yet was indifferent to 

sensual   things。   He   looked   upon   privation   as   no   hardship。        There   was 

something impressive in the manner in which he lived a life wholly of the 

spirit。 

     When      the  small    sum   of   money   which      he   brought    with   him    from 

London came to an end he suffered from no dismay。                    He sold no pictures; 

I think he made little attempt to sell any; he set about finding some way to 

make a bit of money。          He told me with grim humour of the time he had 

spent acting as guide to Cockneys who wanted to see the night side of life 

in   Paris;   it   was   an   occupation   that   appealed   to   his   sardonic   temper   and 

somehow   or   other   he   had   acquired   a   wide   acquaintance   with   the   more 

disreputable quarters of the city。           He told me of the long hours he spent 

walking      about    the   Boulevard      de   la  Madeleine      on    the  look…out     for 

Englishmen;   preferably   the   worse   for   liquor;   who   desired   to   see   things 

which the law forbade。 When in luck he was able to make a tidy sum; but 

the shabbiness of his clothes at last frightened the sight…seers; and he could 

not find people adventurous enough to trust themselves to him。                     Then he 

happened   on   a   job   to   translate   the   advertisements   of   patent   medicines 

which were sent broadcast to the medical profession in England。                      During 

a strike he had been employed as a house…painter。 

     Meanwhile he had never ceased to work at his art; but; soon tiring of 

the studios; entirely by himself。          He had never been so poor that he could 

not buy canvas and paint; and really he needed nothing else。                    So far as I 

could make out; he painted with great difficulty; and in his unwillingness 

to accept help from anyone lost much time in finding out for himself the 

solution   of   technical   problems   which   preceding   generations   had   already 

worked out one by one。            He was aiming at something; I knew not what; 

and   perhaps   he   hardly  knew   himself;   and   I   got   again   more   strongly   the 

impression of a man possessed。             He did not seem quite sane。            It seemed 



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to   me   that   he   would   not   show   his   pictures   because   he   was   really   not 

interested in them。 He lived in a dream; and the reality meant nothing to 

him。 I had the feeling that he worked on a canvas with all the force of his 

violent personality; oblivious of everything in his effort to get what he saw 

with the mind's eye; and then; having finished; not the picture perhaps; for 

I   had   an   idea   that   he   seldom   brought   anything   to   completion;   but   the 

passion that fired him; he lost all care for it。         He was never satisfied with 

what he had done; it seemed to him of no consequence compared with the 

vision that obsessed his mind。 

     〃Why   don't     you   ever   send   your   work    to  exhibitions?〃   I   asked。    〃I 

should have thought you'd like to know what people thought about it。〃 

     〃Would you?〃 

     I  cannot    describe    the  unmeasurable       contempt     he  put   into  the  two 

words。 

     〃Don't you want fame?           It's something that most artists haven't been 

indifferent to。〃 

     〃Children。      How can you care for the opinion of the crowd; when you 

don't care twopence for the opinion of the individual?〃 

     〃We're not all reasonable beings;〃 I laughed。 

     〃Who makes fame?           Critics; writers; stockbrokers; women。〃 

     〃Wouldn't it give you a rather pleasing sensation to think of people you 

didn't know and had never seen receiving emotions; subtle and passionate; 

from the work of your hands?            Everyone likes power。          I can't imagine a 

more   wonderful   exercise   of   it   than   to   move   the   souls   of   men   to   pity   or 

terror。〃 

     〃Melodrama。〃 

     〃Why do you mind if you paint well or badly?〃 

     〃I don't。    I only want to paint what I see。〃 

     〃I wonder if I could write on a desert island; with the certainty that no 

eyes but mine would ever see what I had written。〃 

     Strickland did not speak for a long time; but his eyes shone strangely; 

as though he saw something that kindled his soul to ecstasy。 

     〃Sometimes I've thought of an island lost in a boundless sea; where I 

could live in some hidden valley; among strange trees; in silence。                 There I 



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think I could find what I want。〃 

     He did not express himself quite like this。            He used gestures instead 

of adjectives; and he halted。         I have put into my own words what I think 

he wanted to say。 

     〃Looking back on t
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