《The New Yorker》July 12，2021（原文附后）
《年轻女孩》
——马歇尔·普鲁斯特
一天，我正在沙滩边聚精会神地走着，突然看到，如两只正欲展翅的海鸟一般，有两个年轻的女孩，或者说两个年轻的女人，她们那不熟识的外貌和风度，倨傲且从容的步伐，无疑是两个我从未见过的陌生人；她们不看向任何人，当然也没有注意到我。接下来的几天，我都没有再见到她们，这也证实了我的感觉：他们只是路过我们这座滨海小镇，这里的每个人都彼此相识，过着同一种生活，一天相约四次玩千篇一律的幼稚沙滩游戏。但是又过了几天，我看到了五六个同类型的女孩，她们聚集于停在沙滩边的一辆豪华马车旁。马车里的女孩正向其他人告别，那些女孩也赶紧骑上系在一旁的马背，匆匆离开了。我觉得自己认出了那天走在沙滩上的两个女孩之一，尽管并不确信，但是这次她的的确确就在我面前，一头红发，淡色且美丽的眼睛停留在我身上，鼻翼在风中颤动，那顶同海鸥在风中展翅般的帽子，正在她那头红色鬈发上摩挲着。她们离开了。
此后，我时不时就能见到她们。其中的那两个女孩我已经能够分辨出来，我希望能一直见到她们。有时偶遇到这个奇怪的团体，发现她们不在其中，我便会感到难过。然而我既不知道她们来自哪里，也不知道她们何时会到这，也就从来不会期望她们的出现，不会痴心渴望见到她们，所以当她们突然出现在我面前时，我甚至紧张地忘记了喜悦。她们都是当地显贵的女儿或侄女，这些家庭是一些贵族，或者是有钱且掺上了贵族气的家庭，他们一年里来C过上几周。她们并不住在镇子里，有些人的宅邸非常近，不过几公里远，她们经常在这个时节来到沙滩边。当然，她们的圈子中并非每个人都如此高贵，但因为形成一个团体的缘故，所有人都被赋予了一种独特的优雅、精致、机敏，一种带有轻蔑的骄傲，因此，在我的世界中，她们是和其他女孩完全不同的存在。对于我来说，她们的穿着实在太过非凡，我不知如何用言语去形容，这或许也能简单地说明一点：她们打发时间的那些活动，像骑马，高尔夫，网球——都是我的朋友所陌生的。她们通常会穿着骑马裙，高尔夫球装，或是网球裙。或许她们的活动离沙滩很远，她们只是偶然来到这里，遵从某种我不知晓的规程——例如，在这天打完高尔夫球后，T府上没有舞会这类的——她们只停留很短一段时间，就像访问一个被征服的国家，她们屈尊而来，带给生活在这片土地上的原住民的，至多一个傲慢无礼的眼神，那是在说“你不属于我的世界，”有时她们甚至还会不加掩饰地彼此交换笑容，那表示“看他们这副德性！”
我们的老朋友T先生总是痛斥她们无礼的行径。妈妈则不然，她对她们毫不在意，像多数有智慧的人那样，她甚至惊讶于有人竟会把时间浪费在不认识的人身上，去想对方到底礼不礼貌。她觉得这些女孩是粗俗的，但完全不在乎她们会如何想她。说老实话，我没有妈妈那样的哲学思想，痴心希望——不说哪怕认识她们，至少让她们对我有一个好印象。只要她们知道了我的叔叔是S.A.最好的朋友，是盖尔芒特公爵。一开始如果妈妈不是想要呼吸呼吸海边的空气，而是去盖尔芒特府上的话，我们本来已经在那了，公爵邀请过我们到他家！哈！如果这点能够写在我脸上，如果有人能够告诉她们这点，如果公爵有想过来这呆上几天，把我介绍给她们的话！可惜现实是，就算盖尔芒特公爵来了，她们也只会把他看作中产阶级的一员，一个穿着朴素的老人，他的礼貌在她们眼里或许表示为一种平民出身，她们会上上下下打量他一番。她们并不认识他，因为她们来自于一个兀自闪耀的世界，但它实际上并非如此。我想不到盖尔芒特公爵怎么才能帮我与她们建立起联系，就算他寻求最平凡的朋友的帮助。她们的父亲不过是些富商、省里小部分有名气的人，或是近来才被冠以贵族之名的商人。
T先生知道她们中一些人的父亲来自哪里，对他来说，他们都是非常出色的人物，尽管起家时的地位与他极其相似，但将来的人生会比他显赫得多。有两次，我看见他和曾出现在女孩身边的一些人亲切交谈，这些人肯定和她们有关系。发现这点之后，我立马变得狂热起来，我想，就算不能自己去和她们结识，也可以通过交往她们身边熟识的人来获取注意。（我那时还不知道T先生喜欢大谈特谈她们的粗鲁。）突然，我感到自己对T先生产生了一种深刻的友谊，变得无比喜爱他，在得到了妈妈的许可后——她完全不知道我为什么这么做，我给他买了一支照他自己的节俭绝不会买的烟斗。一天，我发现女孩们在沙滩上，而我恰好离T的房子不远。但在进他家之前，我赶忙回家梳理了一下头发，戴上哥哥的粉色领带，擦了点妈妈的粉来掩盖脸上较为明显的粉刺。我带上了妈妈的遮阳伞，因为它的柄是玉制的，这让我显得富贵。
“T先生，我请求你陪我到沙滩边小走一会儿。”
“但是为什么呢，我的朋友？”
“我不知道。我是多么喜欢你，那能够让我开心。”
“那好吧，如果你想的话，但请等一等，因为我必须写完一封信。”
他嘲笑了我的遮阳伞，希望我把它留在他家里；我把伞夺了回来，说是妈妈让我必须带上它以防晒伤。为了心中的渴望，我已经变成一个可恶的骗子。“哦，但愿你不是非得写完你的信不可！”我对自己说，那些女孩会走的，我催他快点，我要疯了。突然，我从窗户里看见那六个年轻女孩（那天她们都来了——这实在太好了）正在收拾她们的东西，呼喊她们的狗，准备离开了。我央求他快点，但他不理解我为什么这么固执，我们走出去时，沙滩上已经空无一人，泪水开始浮现，我感觉到一种残忍，粉色的领带、梳理好的发型、脸上的粉末，还有这把遮阳伞，都成了无用的美。
我不想再呆在沙滩上了。我陪T先生到邮局去，他寄出了他的信，回来的路上，我们突然发现自己和那六个女孩迎面相遇，她们停好了马车和马匹，准备去购物。我抓住T先生的胳膊，这样她们就能清楚地看见我和他是一块儿的，我热切地说起话来，希望她们能注意到我们，并且为了不错失这次机会，我向T先生提议一起到时装店去买些东西；与此同时，我解开了自己的大衣，以便她们能看到我的粉色领带，我摘下帽子展示出鬈发来，悄悄看了眼镜子，确保脸上的粉没有花掉而露出粉刺，然后我握住遮阳伞的顶端打着转儿，展示出玉柄的光彩。我把自己吊在T先生的胳膊上，过于想表现出我俩亲密的样子，并且激动地喋喋不休。突然间，我发现她们都在盯着我们看，我必须承认，遮阳伞似乎没有产生我所期望的效果，换句话说，没有向她们证明我和某个认识她们家的人关系紧密，我把自己完全放倒在T先生怀里，抱住了他。我觉得自己听到了年轻的人群中传来的轻微笑声；我转过身，用一种惊讶且优越的神态盯住她们，像是第一次注意到她们那样。
与此同时，T先生向其中两个女孩的父亲打了招呼，他是来找女儿的。虽然这位父亲碰了碰帽尖，非常礼貌地做出了回应，但他的女儿们，T先生也向她们致以问候，却只是粗鲁地看着他，然后转过身对朋友笑了。实际上，近几年来，这位父亲也认为，T先生虽是一位体面人，但毕竟不是他那个世界的一员。至于这些女孩，她们认为自己一直以来都属于她们父亲所在的那个世界，她们把那个世界——有年老的法务官，饼干大王，假山制造商，韦塞勒女子爵等等——看作宇宙中最独特的存在，或者至少也不落其次，属于C伯爵的那个世界，她们曾在拜访韦塞勒女子爵时，在她家的马道上见过一次C伯爵，他对她们说，“你好，年轻的女士们。”想一想T先生，带着他的宽边草帽，常常搭电车，没有浅色领带、马匹和灯笼裤，不过是一个她们无需回应问候的普通人。“这些孩子的教养多糟啊！”T大叫道。“她们不知道，如果不是我的话，她们的父亲不会有他的宅子，也不会有他的婚姻。”但他还是为她们的父亲辩护，认为他是位正直的人。那位父亲或许不像他的妻女一样无理，但T觉得可笑的是，他喜欢穿着马裤和韦塞勒女子爵在沙滩边散步。尽管如此，他礼貌地向T先生打了招呼。
我有种模糊的感觉，这份问候收效甚微，但因为一种智慧——这种智慧我父亲和母亲也有，尽管形式上不同，我知道，在更大程度上，我是没法抱怨的。我处于认识这两个女孩父亲的朋友的优势地位，我期望她们看见我和他在一起，她们也确实看见了。她们知道了我想让她们知道的，或许多亏了可笑作为一种印象，这会镌刻在她们记忆当中。我没有什么可抱怨的。如果我不能通过这种方式接近她们，根本就别无他法了。她们知道了她们需要知道的，这对我来说就是一种形式的公平。这些女孩意识到了我所处的优势地位。这就是公平。如果她们没怎么认识到这点，或把它看成是一种缺点，那说明被我看作优势的东西，对她们来说并非如此。那同样意味着我没什么好遗憾的。我已经尽我所能梳理好了头发，她们也看见了，她们还看见了玉制的遮阳伞，这给了她们我富贵的印象，因为妈妈都只有向外婆提出请求后才可以使用这把伞；她发觉这把伞对她来说太华丽了，对我们的地位来说也太奢侈了。因此，我再没什么可抱怨的了。打的粉遮住了我的粉刺，粉色领带紧紧地系在衣领上，镜子中我看起来足够迷人，一切都处于最好的状态下。我回到家中，失望又满意，我不再是个无名之辈，至少她们现在能够认出我，我有了一个身份，我是那个带着遮阳伞的男孩，尽管在她们眼中，与T先生的友谊没给我带来什么好处。
我们走在街道上有悬铃木遮荫的那一侧回家，枝叶下有点心店、海产店的橱窗，有射击场，旋转木马，电车从海边驶来，穿过路上的树木，通往乡村，经过在阳光下闪耀的体育场。我们到了C子爵那儿，他在C短暂地停留几周，正和女儿们走在回家的路上——就是那群特别的女孩中的两个，或许是最美的两个，其中之一就是那个令人瞩目的红发女子。他暂时停住脚步，和我们交谈起来，面对这幅场景，我的心脏突突直跳，甚至没法去感受这份意料之外的喜悦。C子爵提议大伙一起散步，然后T先生把我介绍给了他。子爵又把我介绍给了他女儿。我惊讶地发现，如今存在于我的世界中的这两个女孩，并非那么庄严，红头发的女孩伸出手，面露微笑，看着我说，“我在C见过你几次。很高兴认识你。”我确定她片刻前还带着傲慢的眼神在笑。随后，我们分别了，第二天，我在不得不退到路边让车的短暂时刻里，认出了挤在车上的那个大团体，红头发的女孩冲我微笑，好像我们是两个老友一样，她做出一个小小的手势给我打招呼，我没来得及做出回应。
原文：
《YOUNG GIRLS》
BY MARCEL PROUST
One day on the beach, I spotted,walking solemnly along the sand,like two seabirds ready to take flight, two young girls, two young women, really, whom, because of their unfamiliar appearance and style, their haughty and deliberate gait, I took for two foreigners I’d never see again; they weren’t looking at anyone and didn’t notice me. I didn’t see them again in the next few days, which confirmed my sense that they were only passing through our little seaside town, where everyone knew everyone else, where everyone led the same life and met up four times a day to play the same innocent beach games. But several days later I saw five or six girls of the same type gathered around a splendid carriage that had stopped beside the beach; the ones in the carriage were saying goodbye to the others, who hurried over to their horses, which were tied up alongside and on which they rode off.I believed that I recognized one of the two girls I’d seen walking on the sand, though I wasn’t sure, but the girl who really stood out for me this time had red hair, light-colored,superior eyes that rested on me, nostrils that quivered in the wind, and a hat that resembled the open wings of a seagull flying in the wind that was ruffling her red curls. They left.
I saw them again from time to time. Two of them I recognized and wanted to keep seeing. Sometimes, when I came across the strange group, those two weren’t among them, and that made me sad.But, not knowing where they came from or at what time they would be there,I was never able to anticipate their appearances, and either I was longing to see them without being able to, or,when I did suddenly catch sight of them, I was too flustered to take any pleasure in it. They were the daughters or the nieces of the local aristocracy, the noble families or the wealthy families who mixed with nobility and spent several weeks of the year in C. Some of those whose châteaux were very close by, just a few kilometres away, came to the beach often in this season,though they didn’t live in the town itself. Although not everyone in their milieu was so elegant, of course,the chance grouping of these girls conferred on all of them a certain grace, elegance, and agility, a disdainful pride that made them seem of a completely different species from the girls in my world. They seemed to me to dress in an extraordinary way that I wouldn’t have known how to define, and which was probably quite simply a result of the fact that they spent their time pursuing sports that my friends weren’t familiar with—riding, golf, tennis. Usually, they wore riding skirts or golf out-fits,tennis shirts. Probably they pursued these things far from the beach and came there only occasionally, on a schedule that I had no way of knowing—for example,perhaps after golf on the day when there was no dance at the Château de T., etc.— and they stayed for only a short time, as if visiting a conquered country, without deigning to give the natives who lived there more than a haughty and blatantly impolite glance that said “You don’t belong in my world,” and sometimes even exchanging among themselves,without trying to hide it, a smile that signified “Just look at them!”
Our old friend Monsieur T. was constantly inveighing against their poor manners. Mama, on the contrary, paid no attention to them and was surprised, as, by the way, most intelligent people are, that anyone would waste his time thinking about people he didn’t know and questioning whether or not they were polite. She considered the girls coarse but was entirely indifferent to what they might think of her.I have to say,honestly,thatI did not share Mama’s philosophy, and I would have passionately loved—I won’t even say to know them, but for them to form a high opinion of me.If only they knew that my uncle was the best friend of S.A., the Duke of Clermont, and that at that very moment, if Mama had wanted to and hadn’t preferred the sea air, we could have been at Clermont, where His Highness had invited us to stay! Ah! If only it could have beenwritten on my face,if someone could have told them,if the Duke had thought to come here for a couple of days and present me to them! But, in reality, if the Duke of Clermont had come here,they would have taken him for a bourgeois and poorly dressed old man, in whose politeness they would have seen proof of a common birth, and they would have looked him up and down.They didn’t know him, because they came from a world that believed itself brilliant but wasn’t at all. And I don’t see how the Duke of Clermont, even if he called on his most humble acquaintances, would have been able to put me in touch with them.Their fathers were rich businessmen, or minor noblemen from the provinces, or businessmen whose nobility had only recently been conferred.
Monsieur T. knew some of their fathers from the area, and for him they were quite brilliant people,who, although they had started off in pretty much the same position as him,were leading more brilliant lives. Twice I saw him chatting amicably with men I’d seen with the girls and who must have been related to them. When this happened,I became feverish with the knowledge that I could, if not become acquainted with them, then at least be seen by them in the company of someone who was acquainted with them. (I didn’t yet know that Monsieur T. liked to rant about their rudeness.) Suddenly I felt the deepest friendship for T., I lavished him with affection, and, with permission from Mama, who had no idea why I’d asked,I bought him a superb pipe that his thriftiness had kept him from buying for himself.And one day,when I spotted the girls on the beach, I was just steps away from T.’s house. But, before going in, I raced home to comb my hair,to put on a pink tie that belonged to my older brother, and to put a bit of Mama’s powder on a small pimple I could feel emerging on my cheek.Itook Mama’s parasol, because it had a jade handle and seemed to me to signal opulence.
“Monsieur T., I beg you to come and take a little walk along the beach.”
“But why, my friend?”
“I don’t know. I like you so much, and it would give me pleasure.”
“Well, all right,if you like,but wait, because I have to finish a letter.”
He laughed at my parasol,wanted me to leave it at his house; I took it back from him roughly, saying that Mama had forced me to take it to protect myself from the sun. I had become a pitiless liar in defense of my desire.“Oh,if only you didn’t have to finish your letter!” I told myself that the girls would be gone,I urged him to hurry, I was feverish. Suddenly,from thewindow,I caughtsight of the six young girls (on that day they were all there—it would have been perfect) gathering their things, whistling for their dogs,getting ready to leave.I begged him, he didn’t understand my insistence, we headed down, the beach was deserted,I had tears in my eyes, I felt the cruel and useless beauty of that pink tie, my combed hair, the speck of powder, and the parasol.
I didn’t want to stay at the beach. I accompanied Monsieur T. to the post office,where he mailed his letter, and, on our way back, we suddenly found ourselves face to face with the six girls, who had stopped their carriage and their horses in order to do some shopping.I grabbed Monsieur T.’s arm so they would clearly see that I was with him, and I began talking animatedly so they would notice us, and, in order to be sure not to lose them, I suggested to Monsieur T.that he come with me to buy something in the boutique; at the same time, I unbuttoned my overcoat so they could see my pink tie, I tipped my hat back to reveal my curly lock of hair, I glanced furtively at a mirror to make sure that the powder hadn’t rubbed off, leaving my pimple visible, and I held my parasol by the tip to show off the splendor of the jade handle, which I twirled in the air.Literally hanging from Monsieur T.’s arm, overwhelming him with signs of our intimacy, I chattered away excitedly.Then,suddenly, when I saw that they were all looking at us, and, I have to admit, the parasol didn’t seem to be producing exactly the effect that I had hoped for, on some absurd pretext,to prove to them that I was closely tied to someone who knew their families, I threw myself into Monsieur T.’s arms and embraced him.I thought I heard a light laugh from the young crowd; I turned and stared at them with the surprised and superior air of someone who was noticing them for the first time and taking their measure.
At that moment, Monsieur T. greeted the father of two of the girls, who had come to find them. But although the father responded very politely with a tip of his hat, his daughters,whom Monsieur T. had greeted at the same time, instead of replying, stared at him rudely,then turned back to their friends,smiling.In truth,the father thought Monsieur T. a decent man but not part of what,for several years, he had considered his world. And the girls, who assumed they would eternally belong to the same world that their father had entered, and who viewed that world—that of the old solicitorT.,of the biscuit magnate, of the fabricator of man-made hills, of the Viscount of Vaucelles, etc.—as the most elegant in the universe, or at least right behind the divine one shimmering on the horizon, to which belonged the Marquess of C., whom they had glimpsed at the racetrack and while visiting the Viscountess of Vaucelles, and who had once said to them,“Hello, young ladies,” considered Monsieur T., with his wide-brimmed straw hat and his habit of taking the tram, and his lack of light-colored ties, horses, and knickerbockers, as an ordinary man whose greetings they did not have to return.“What badly raised children!” T. cried.“They don’t know that,without me, their father would have neither his château nor his marriage.” Yet he defended the father,whom he considered a good man. The father, who was perhaps less ridiculous than his wife and daughters, was happy, even so, to wear those knickerbockers, which T. found comical, as he strolled along the beach with the Viscount of Vaucelles. Still, he politely greeted Monsieur T.
I had a vague sense that the effect this greeting produced was weak, but, following a certain wisdom thatI have always had and that my father and my mother had, in different forms,to an even greater extent, I could not complain. I had the advantage of knowing a friend of the father of two of the girls, I had hoped that they would see me with him, and they had seen me.They knew, had had etched into their memories,thanks, perhaps, to the taint of ridiculousness, what I’d wanted them to know.I had nothing to complain about. If I couldn’t reach them in this way,I couldn’t reach them. They knew what they needed to know, and this seemed to me a form of justice. The girls were aware of the advantage that I had.This was justice.If they found it minor, or saw it as a disadvantage, that meant that what I saw as an advantage was not one for them. Which meant that I had nothing to regret. I had combed my hair as well as I could, and they had seen it, they had seen the jade parasol,which had given them an exaggerated idea of our wealth, because Mama used the parasol only to please her mother, who had given it to her; she found it much too beautiful for her, much too luxurious for our situation. Thus I had nothing to complain about.The powder had not been rubbed off my pimple, the pink tie was knotted snugly at my collar, in the mirror I found myself charming, the whole incident took place in the most favorable conditions.I returned home disappointed but content, less lost in the unknown than I had been until then, telling myself that at least they would recognize me now, I had an identity for them, I was the boy with the parasol, even though MonsieurT.’s friendship hadn’t legitimized me in their eyes.
We were making our way home along one of those streets shaded by plane trees, from beneath whose foliage the windows of the pastry shop, the shellfish shop, the shooting gallery, the carrousel, and the gymnasium smiled at the sun, where one is caught off guard by the tram from the seaside passing through the trees on its way to the countryside, when we ran into the Viscount of C., who was staying in C. for several weeks and was walking home with his daughters—two members of the famous gang of girls,the prettiest two, perhaps, one of whom was the noted redhead. He stopped for a moment to speak with us, my heart was beating so hard that I couldn’t even feel the pleasure that I’d had no chance to anticipate and with which I was now confronted.The Viscount of C. suggested that we walk together, and Monsieur T. introduced me to him. He introduced me to his daughter. To my great surprise, because the girls in my world were not so formal, she held out her hand, smiling, and, looking at me sympathetically, said, “I see you sometimes in C. I’m happy to meet you.” I was sure that she had laughed and looked insolent just moments before.We parted, and the next day, having had to step to the side of the road to let a car go past,I had barely had time to recognize the large group piled into the car when the redhead smiled, as though we were two old friends, and made a little gesture of greeting with her hand,to which I didn’t have time to respond.
