5.4 Cheng-sîn seng-oa̍h chiām-chiām khang-hi
La̍h-tiûⁿ khàn-siú tī hia ná tán soah-kang, ná chim-chiok koan-chhat tio̍h it-chhè. Tng i khòaⁿ tio̍h Connie kā thâu-ke ê sí-kha moh khí-lâi sóa khì iáu chi̍t chiah í-á, Clifford se̍h-sin phòe-ha̍p ê sî, i ê bīn soah kiaⁿ kah hoán-pe̍h. I ká-ná khì hō͘ che kiaⁿ tio̍h.
"Mellors, to-siā lí ê pang-bâng lah," Clifford sûi-ì kóng leh, ná liàn lûn-í kiâⁿ hióng chìn-ji̍p ka-po̍k khu ê cháu-lông khì.
"Kám iáu ū siáⁿ hoan-hù, Sian-siⁿ?" ōe siaⁿ pêng-tām, ná hām-bîn.
"Bô lah, lí khì bô-êng!"
"Chài-kiàn, Sian-siⁿ."
"Chài-hōe! To-siā lí sak chhia-á chiūⁿ soaⁿ... Góa siūⁿ, he tùi lí bē siuⁿ tāng hoⁿh," Connie kóng, oa̍t-thâu khòaⁿ gōa-kháu hit ê la̍h-tiûⁿ khàn-siú.
I ê ba̍k-chiu sûi kap yi ê sio-tú, ná chhiūⁿ ùi bāng tiong chhéⁿ lâi. I tùi yi ū ì-sù ah.
"Oh, bē, bē tāng lah!" i kín kóng. Koh-lâi i ê siaⁿ koh kàng-kē chò pún-tē ê khiuⁿ-kháu: "Chài-kìⁿ, Hu-jîn!"
Chia̍h-tàu ê sî, Connie mn̄g: "Lí ê la̍h-tiūⁿ khàn-siú sī siáng?"
"Mellors! Lí ū tú tio̍h i ah," Clifford kóng.
"Sī ah, m̄-koh i sī tó-ūi lâi ê?"
"Bô tó-ūi! I sī Tavershall lâng... thòaⁿ-kang ê kiáⁿ, góa siūⁿ sī."
"I mā chò kòe thòaⁿ-kang?"
"Khòng-tiūⁿ ê thih-kang, góa siūⁿ: sī kang-thâu. M̄-koh, chiàn-cheng chêng... i bōe chò-peng chêng, bat tī chia chò nn̄g nî khàn-siú. Goán lāu-pē chin khòaⁿ-tāng i, só͘-í i tńg-lâi khì khòng-tiūⁿ chò thih-kang, góa kiò i tńg-lâi chia chò la̍h-tiūⁿ khàn-siú. Góa chin hoaⁿ-hí chhiàⁿ tio̍h i... chit hū-kīn chin oh chhōe tio̍h chiah hó ê la̍h-tiūⁿ khàn-siú... chit ê khang-khòe su-iáu bat hū-kīn ki-bîn ê lâng."
"I kám iáu-bōe chhōa-bó͘?"
"I ū, m̄-koh in bó͘ cháu khì... khì chhōe pa̍t-khoán cha-po͘... lo̍h-bóe khì tòe chi̍t ê Stacks Gate thòaⁿ-kang, góa siūⁿ yi iáu tòa tī hia."
"Só͘-í, chit lâng taⁿ sī to̍k-sin?"
"Ē-sái án-ne kóng! In lāu-bú tòa tī chng nih... i ū chi̍t ê gín-á, góa siūⁿ."
Clifford iōng i he phú-phú, sió-khóa phok-phok ê nâ-sek ba̍k-chiu khòaⁿ Connie, ba̍k-chiu nih ná ū bông-bông ê siáⁿ-mih. Gōa-piáu khòaⁿ lâi, i chin mé-lia̍h, m̄-koh pōe nih, i tō ná Midlands ê khì-hun, bông-bông koh ū ian-bū. He bông lú pê lú hióng chêng. Só͘-í, tng i iōng he kî-te̍k ê hong-sek khòaⁿ Connie, thê-kiong yi kî-te̍k, cheng-khak ê chu-liāu ê sî, yi kám-kak Clifford ê sim-lêng āu-piah chhiong-móa tio̍h ian-bū, khang-khang bô siáⁿ. Che hō͘ yi tio̍h-kiaⁿ. I khòaⁿ lâi bô jîn-sèng, ká-ná sī pe̍h-chhi.
Bô-ì-tiong yi ngō͘ chhut jîn-lūi lêng-hûn ê chi̍t tiâu tōa kui-chek: lâng ê lêng-hûn siū chhòng-siong táⁿ-kek, bah-thé nā bô sí, lêng-hun ká-ná ē tòe bah-thé án-ne hó khí-lâi. M̄-koh che kan-ta sī piáu-bīn, si̍t-chāi che kan-ta sī si̍p-koàn-te̍k ho̍k-goân ê ki-lêng. Bān-bān, bān-bān, lêng-hûn ê siong khai-sí hián-lō͘, tō ná chhè-siong bān-bān lú lâi lú thiàⁿ, thiàⁿ kah kui-ê sim-lí khì. Lán nā siūⁿ-kóng, lán í-keng ho̍k-goân ah, í-keng kā pàng bē-kì ah, hit-sî lán chiah ē tú-tio̍h siōng-kài khó-phà ê hoán-èng.
Clifford taⁿ tō sī án-ne. I kám-kak "hó" ah, i tńg-lâi Wragby, siá sió-soat, kám-kak sèⁿ-miā an-choân, chóng-sī mā bē-kì-tit ah, sim-sin lóng ho̍k-goân ah. M̄-koh, taⁿ, chi̍t nî chi̍t nî kòe, bān-bān, bān-bān, Connie kám-kak tio̍h he khó-phà, khióng-pò͘ ê chhè-siong koh chhut-hiān, chhiong-móa i ê sin-khu. Ū chi̍t chūn, he chin chhim, chhim kah bâ-pì, ká-ná bô tī-leh. Taⁿ i koh bān-bān seⁿ-thòaⁿ kiaⁿ-hiâⁿ, sīm-chì put-sūi, hō͘ lâng kám-kak ē-tio̍h ah. Cheng-sîn-siōng, i iáu sī chin liú-lia̍h. M̄-koh he put-sūi, hit ê tiōng-tāi táⁿ-kek ê chhè-siong, khiok chiām-chiām chhut-hiān tī i kám-kak ê ka-tī.
Che seⁿ-thòaⁿ tī Clifford, m̄-koh Connie kám-kak he mā seⁿ-thòaⁿ tī yi. Chi̍t chióng tùi it-chhè ê lāi-chāi kiaⁿ-hiâⁿ, khang-hi, léng-tām, bān-bān seⁿ-thòaⁿ tī yi ê lêng-hûn. Clifford hó-hó ê sî, i iáu ē-tàng hèng chhih-chhih khai-káng, ká-ná ē-tàng chi-phòe bī-lâi: chhiūⁿ-kóng tī chhiū-nâ, kóng yi tio̍h seⁿ gín-á lâi kè-sêng Wragby. M̄-koh, keh-kang, chiah-ê hó-thiaⁿ ōe tō ná ta-hio̍h, khiû khì, hu khì, bô siáⁿ ì-gī, chi̍t chūn hong tō kā chhoe cháu lah. He ōe m̄-sī ná ū oa̍h-miā ê hio̍h-á, chheng-chhun koh ū sèⁿ-miā-la̍t; in put-kò sī bô si̍t-chè sèⁿ-miā ê chi̍t tui lo̍h-hio̍h.
Yi kám-kak sì-kè lóng sī án-ne. Tevershall ê khòng-kang koh teh kóng boeh pā-kang, chāi Connie khòaⁿ lâi, che m̄-sī la̍t ê piáu-hiān, che sī chiàn-cheng ê chhè-siong, chhàng chi̍t chām liáu koh bān-bān phû chhut-lâi, chō-sêng put-an ê tōa thòng-khó͘, kap put-boán ê sit-sîn. He chhè-siong chhim-chhim-chhim... he sī chhò-gō͘, put-jîn-tō ê chiàn-cheng. He su-iàu chin chē nî, su-iàu kúi-nā tāi lâng ê oa̍h hoeh, chiah ē-tàng kā he chhim-chhim tī in lêng-hûn kap bah-thé ê gēng-hoeh iûⁿ-khui. Che mā su-iàu ū sin ê hi-bāng.
Khó-liân ê Connie! Chi̍t nî chi̍t nî kòe, yi bīn-tùi ê sī sèⁿ-miā khang-hi ê khióng-pō͘. Clifford hām yi ê cheng-sîn seng-oa̍h chiām-chiām kám-kak khang-hi. In ê hun-in seng-oa̍h, Clifford tiāⁿ-tiāⁿ kóng ê in chhin-bi̍t si̍p-koàn só͘ cho͘-ha̍p ê oân-chèng seng-oa̍h: ū-sî kúi-nā kang oân-choân khang-khang bô pòaⁿ-hāng. Kan-ta kóng-ōe, kóng kah chhùi-kak khí-pho. Sū-si̍t che lóng sī khang ê, put-kò sī chhùi-hoe.
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5.4 精神生活漸漸空虛
獵場看守 tī 遐 ná 等煞工, ná 斟酌觀察著一切. 當伊看著 Connie kā 頭家 ê 死跤 moh 起來徙去猶一隻椅仔, Clifford se̍h 身配合 ê 時, 伊 ê 面煞驚 kah 反白. 伊 ká-ná 去予這驚著.
"Mellors, 多謝你 ê 幫忙 lah," Clifford 隨意講 leh, ná 輾輪椅行向進入家僕區 ê 走廊去.
"敢猶有啥吩咐, 先生?" 話聲平淡, ná 陷眠.
"無 lah, 你去無閒!"
"再見, 先生."
"再會! 多謝你捒車仔上山... 我想, 彼對你袂 siuⁿ 重 hoⁿh," Connie 講, 越頭看外口彼个獵場看守.
伊 ê 目睭隨 kap 她 ê 相拄, ná 像 ùi 夢中醒來. 伊對她有意思 ah.
"Oh, 袂, 袂重 lah!" 他緊講. Koh 來伊 ê 聲 koh 降低做本地 ê 腔口: "再 kìⁿ, 夫人!"
食晝 ê 時, Connie 問: "你 ê 獵場看守是 siáng?"
"Mellors! 你有拄著伊 ah," Clifford 講.
"是 ah, m̄-koh 伊是陀位來 ê?"
"無陀位! 伊是 Tevershall 人... 炭工 ê 囝, 我想是."
"伊 mā 做過炭工?"
"礦場 ê 鐵工, 我想: 是工頭. M̄-koh, 戰爭前... 伊未做兵前, bat tī 遮做兩年看守. 阮老爸真看重伊, 所以伊轉來去礦場做鐵工, 我叫伊轉來遮做獵場看守. 我真歡喜倩著伊... 這附近真 oh 揣著 chiah 好 ê 獵場看守... 這个 khang-khòe 需要 bat 附近居民 ê 人."
"伊敢猶未娶某?"
"伊有, m̄-koh in 某走去... 去揣別款查埔... 落尾去綴一个 Stacks Gate 炭工, 我想她猶蹛 tī 遐."
"所以, 這人今是獨身?"
"Ē-sái án-ne 講! In 老母蹛 tī 庄 nih... 伊有一个囡仔, 我想."
Clifford 用伊彼殕殕, 小可 phok-phok ê 藍色目睭看 Connie, 目睭 nih ná 有茫茫 ê 啥物. 外表看來, 伊真猛掠, m̄-koh 背 nih, 伊 tō ná Midlands ê 氣氛, 茫茫 koh 有煙霧. 彼茫 lú 爬 lú 向前. 所以, 當伊用彼奇特 ê 方式看 Connie, 提供她奇特, 精確 ê 資料 ê 時, 她感覺 Clifford ê 心靈後壁充滿著煙霧, 空空無啥. 這予她著驚. 伊看來無人性, ká-ná 是白痴.
無意中她悟出人類靈魂 ê 這條大規則: 人 ê 靈魂受創傷打擊, 肉體若無死, 靈魂 ká-ná 會綴肉體 án-ne 好起來. M̄-koh 這干焦是表面, 實在這干焦是習慣的復原 ê 機能. 慢慢, 慢慢, 靈魂 ê 傷開始顯露, tō ná 挫傷慢慢 lú 來 lú 疼, 疼 kah 規个心理去. 咱若想講, 咱已經復原 ah, 已經 kā 放袂記 ah, 彼時咱才會拄著上蓋可怕 ê 反應.
Clifford 今 tō 是 án-ne. 伊感覺 "好" ah, 伊轉來 Wragby, 寫小說, 感覺性命安全, 總是 mā 袂記得 ah, 心身攏復原 ah. M̄-koh, 今, 一年一年過, 慢慢, 慢慢, Connie 感覺著彼可怕, 恐怖 ê 挫傷 koh 出現, 充滿伊 ê 身軀. 有一陣, 彼真深, 深 kah 麻痺, ká-ná 無 tī-leh. 今伊 koh 慢慢生湠驚惶, 心志不遂, 予人感覺會著 ah. 精神上, 伊猶是真扭掠. M̄-koh 彼不遂, 彼个重大打擊 ê 挫傷, 卻漸漸出現 tī 伊感覺 ê 家己.
這生湠 tī Clifford, m̄-koh Connie 感覺彼 mā 生湠 tī 她. 一種對一切 ê 內在驚惶, 空虛, 冷淡, 慢慢生湠 tī 她 ê 靈魂. Clifford 好好 ê 時, 伊猶 ē-tàng 興 chhih-chhih 開講, ká-ná ē-tàng 支配未來: 像講 tī 樹林, 講她著生囡仔來繼承 Wragby. M̄-koh, 隔工, chiah-ê 好聽話 tō ná 焦葉, khiû 去, hu 去, 無啥意義, 一陣風 tō kā 吹走 lah. 彼話毋是 ná 有活命 ê 葉仔, 青春 koh 有性命力; in 不過是無實際性命 ê 一堆落葉.
她感覺四界攏是 án-ne. Tevershall ê 礦工 koh teh 講欲罷工, 在 Connie 看來, 這毋是力 ê 表現, 這是戰爭 ê 挫傷, 藏一站了 koh 慢慢浮出來, 造成不安 ê 大痛苦, kap 不滿 ê 失神. 彼挫傷深深深... 彼是錯誤, 不人道 ê 戰爭. 彼需要真濟年, 需要幾若代人 ê 活血, 才 ē-tàng kā 彼深深 tī in 靈魂 kap 肉體 ê 凝血溶開. 這 mā 需要有新 ê 希望.
可憐 ê Connie! 一年一年過, 她面對 ê 是性命空虛 ê 恐怖. Clifford 和她 ê 精神生活漸漸感覺空虛. In ê 婚姻生活, Clifford 定定講 ê in 親密習慣所組合 ê 完整生活: 有時幾若工完全空空無半項. Kan-ta 講話, 講 kah 喙角起波. 事實這攏是空 ê, 不過是喙花.
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5.4
The keeper, waiting at attention to be dismissed, watched everything narrowly, missing nothing. He went pale, with a sort of fear, when he saw Connie lifting the inert legs of the man in her arms, into the other chair, Clifford pivoting round as she did so. He was frightened.
'Thanks, then, for the help, Mellors,' said Clifford casually, as he began to wheel down the passage to the servants' quarters.
'Nothing else, Sir?' came the neutral voice, like one in a dream.
'Nothing, good morning!'
'Good morning, Sir.'
'Good morning! It was kind of you to push the chair up that hill ... I hope it wasn't heavy for you,' said Connie, looking back at the keeper outside the door.
His eyes came to hers in an instant, as if wakened up. He was aware of her.
'Oh no, not heavy!' he said quickly. Then his voice dropped again into the broad sound of the vernacular: 'Good mornin' to your Ladyship!'
'Who is your game-keeper?' Connie asked at lunch.
'Mellors! You saw him,' said Clifford.
'Yes, but where did he come from?'
'Nowhere! He was a Tevershall boy ... son of a collier, I believe.'
'And was he a collier himself?'
'Blacksmith on the pit-bank, I believe: overhead smith. But he was keeper here for two years before the war ... before he joined up. My father always had a good opinion of him, so when he came back, and went to the pit for a blacksmith's job, I just took him back here as keeper. I was really very glad to get him ... its almost impossible to find a good man round here for a gamekeeper ... and it needs a man who knows the people.'
'And isn't he married?'
'He was. But his wife went off with ... with various men ... but finally with a collier at Stacks Gate, and I believe she's living there still.'
'So this man is alone?'
'More or less! He has a mother in the village ... and a child, I believe.'
Clifford looked at Connie, with his pale, slightly prominent blue eyes, in which a certain vagueness was coming. He seemed alert in the foreground, but the background was like the Midlands atmosphere, haze, smoky mist. And the haze seemed to be creeping forward. So when he stared at Connie in his peculiar way, giving her his peculiar, precise information, she felt all the background of his mind filling up with mist, with nothingness. And it frightened her. It made him seem impersonal, almost to idiocy.
And dimly she realized one of the great laws of the human soul: that when the emotional soul receives a wounding shock, which does not kill the body, the soul seems to recover as the body recovers. But this is only appearance. It is really only the mechanism of the re-assumed habit. Slowly, slowly the wound to the soul begins to make itself felt, like a bruise, which only slowly deepens its terrible ache, till it fills all the psyche. And when we think we have recovered and forgotten, it is then that the terrible after-effects have to be encountered at their worst.
So it was with Clifford. Once he was 'well', once he was back at Wragby, and writing his stories, and feeling sure of life, in spite of all, he seemed to forget, and to have recovered all his equanimity. But now, as the years went by, slowly, slowly, Connie felt the bruise of fear and horror coming up, and spreading in him. For a time it had been so deep as to be numb, as it were non-existent. Now slowly it began to assert itself in a spread of fear, almost paralysis. Mentally he still was alert. But the paralysis, the bruise of the too-great shock, was gradually spreading in his affective self.
And as it spread in him, Connie felt it spread in her. An inward dread, an emptiness, an indifference to everything gradually spread in her soul. When Clifford was roused, he could still talk brilliantly and, as it were, command the future: as when, in the wood, he talked about her having a child, and giving an heir to Wragby. But the day after, all the brilliant words seemed like dead leaves, crumpling up and turning to powder, meaning really nothing, blown away on any gust of wind. They were not the leafy words of an effective life, young with energy and belonging to the tree. They were the hosts of fallen leaves of a life that is ineffectual.
So it seemed to her everywhere. The colliers at Tevershall were talking again of a strike, and it seemed to Connie there again it was not a manifestation of energy, it was the bruise of the war that had been in abeyance, slowly rising to the surface and creating the great ache of unrest, and stupor of discontent. The bruise was deep, deep, deep ... the bruise of the false inhuman war. It would take many years for the living blood of the generations to dissolve the vast black clot of bruised blood, deep inside their souls and bodies. And it would need a new hope.
Poor Connie! As the years drew on it was the fear of nothingness in her life that affected her. Clifford's mental life and hers gradually began to feel like nothingness. Their marriage, their integrated life based on a habit of intimacy, that he talked about: there were days when it all became utterly blank and nothing. It was words, just so many words. The only reality was nothingness, and over it a hypocrisy of words.
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