人性的枷鎖(12)

人性的枷鎖OF HUMAN BONDAGE

BY W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM毛姆

1915

中譯Bill Lin

第12章 苦難

隨著時間的流逝，菲利浦的殘疾不再引起大夥的興趣。就像某個孩子的紅頭髮，或像另一個孩子的過度肥胖，也都被大家接受了。不過在這一陣子，菲利浦卻變得極度敏感。只要能不跑，盡量不跑，因為他知道，一跑就瘸得更惹眼，而且他採取了一個奇特的走法。在人前，他盡可能站著不動，把他的瘸腳擺在另一隻腳後面，以免引人注意，他無時無刻的留意任何會牽扯到瘸腳的事物。

因為他沒法加入其他孩子玩的遊戲，所以他們的生活對他一直是生疏的；他只能在他們的圈子外自得其樂；他覺他們和自己之間好像有一道阻隔。有時，他們似乎認為，他不能踢球是他自己的錯，他也無法使他們了解。他大部分時間都是孤獨一人；他原來特喜歡講話，但是慢慢的變得沉默了。他開始思考自己跟其他人之間的不同。

宿舍裡最大個子的辛格不喜歡他，以年齡來說，菲利浦的個子算是小的，他忍受了各種粗魯的待遇。大約過了半個學期，學校裡流行一種玩“鋼筆尖”遊戲的狂熱。這是給兩個人玩的遊戲，在桌子或長板凳上用鋼筆尖玩。你必須用指甲推動自己鋼筆尖，讓它的筆尖爬到對手的鋼筆尖上，而對手要招架防備，也要讓自己的筆尖頭爬上對方的筆尖背；誰先做到了，就在自己拇指上呵口氣，按住這兩隻筆尖，假如你能把它們粘住，提起來而不掉掉，那麼，這兩隻鋼筆尖就你的了。

很快的，學生們全都在玩這個遊戲，比較靈巧的贏到了大量的鋼筆尖。但是過了一陣子，華生先生認定這是一種賭博，禁止玩這種遊戲，還把學生們的鋼筆尖全部沒收。菲利浦玩得很機巧，要他交出全部的戰利品確是很沉重；但是，他的手指癢得還想再玩；幾天以後，去足球場途中，他進去一家商店，花了一個便士，買了幾隻J形鋼筆尖。他把這些筆尖擺在口袋裡，摸著也高興。

辛格很快地發現他還有鋼筆尖。辛格的鋼筆尖也被沒收了，但是他偷偷地留下一隻幾乎是所向無敵叫“巨象”的特大號鋼筆尖，他死也要把菲利浦的J形鋼筆尖贏過來。儘管菲利浦知道自己的小鋼筆尖是占下風，但他有一個冒險的性格，願意承擔風險；而且他知道辛格不會讓他拒絕的。他已經一個星期沒玩了，現在是抱著一陣興奮的快感坐下玩。他一下子就輸掉了兩隻小鋼筆尖，辛格樂死了，可是第三回一個不小心，辛格的“巨象”滑轉了一下，菲利浦就把他的J形鋼筆尖推上了“巨象”的背上。他樂得呱呱叫。這時候，華生先生進來了。

「你們在幹什麼？」他問。

他看著辛格，又看著菲利浦，誰也不答腔。

「難道你們不知道，我不准你們玩這種白痴的遊戲？」

菲利浦的心恐懼驚嚇得怦怦地跳。他知道後果如何，但是在恐懼中又摻雜著幾分得意。他還未挨過鞭笞。當然會痛，但是以後還有得吹噓。

「到我的書房來。」

校長轉過身，他們並肩跟在後面，辛格輕聲對菲利浦耳語：「我們都要挨揍了。」

華生先生指著辛格說：「彎下身子！」

菲利浦臉色蒼白，看見辛格每一鞭就抽搐一下，三鞭下來，辛格就叫了起來。接著又是三鞭。

「夠了，起來。」

辛格直起身子，一臉淚水。菲利浦向前一步，華生先生打量了他一番：「我不想鞭笞你。你是新來的，而且我也不想打一個瘸子。都走吧，不許再鬧了。」

他倆回教室時，一群孩子們在那兒等著他們，經由某個神祕的管道，他們已經知道出了什麼事。他們馬上朝著辛格問東問西。辛格面對著他們，他疼得臉色發紅，面頰上還留著淚痕。他將腦袋朝站在身後不遠的菲利浦一撇：

「給他逃掉了，因為他是個瘸子。」他生氣的說。

菲利浦紅著臉，默默地站著。他感覺到孩子們不屑地看著他。

「挨了幾下？」有個孩子問辛格。

但是他不回應。他很生氣，因為他受了傷害。

「別再來找我玩鋼筆尖了，」他對菲利浦說，「你可真行，一點也不擔風險。」

「我沒有找你。」

「你沒有？」

辛格馬上一腳踹過去，把菲利浦絆倒在地。菲利浦平時就站不太穩，他重重地摔在地上。

「瘸子！」辛格罵了一聲。

剩下的那一學期裡，他狠狠地修理菲利浦，儘管菲利浦試著逃避，可是學校太小，總是躲不過；他試過高高興興地與他和好，他卑躬屈膝，甚至買了一把小刀送他；辛格雖然收下了小刀，但是還不肯罷休。

偶而，忍無可忍，他只好對這個子比他大的男孩拳打腳踢，但是辛格又大又壯，菲利浦一點辦法也沒有，到頭來不但挨揍還得跪地求饒。這是使他一直受不了的：他受不了求饒的屈辱，但每當痛到不能忍受，他又不得不這麼幹。更糟的是，他的不幸像是沒有止境：辛格才十一歲，不到十三歲不能升到高中部。菲利浦認清自己還得同這個折磨鬼再過兩年，逃也逃不掉。他只有正在用功和上床睡覺的時候，才感到快樂。

那時，一種古怪的感覺經常重複地出現：他的生活，和它的苦難，只不過是一場夢，早上醒來，他又會躺在倫敦家裡自己的小床上了。

**************

As time went on Philip's deformity ceased to interest. It was accepted like one boy's red hair and another's unreasonable corpulence. But meanwhile he had grown horribly sensitive. He never ran if he could help it, because he knew it made his limp more conspicuous, and he adopted a peculiar walk. He stood still as much as he could, with his club-foot behind the other, so that it should not attract notice, and he was constantly on the look out for any reference to it. Because he could not join in the games which other boys played, their life remained strange to him; he only interested himself from the outside in their doings; and it seemed to him that there was a barrier between them and him. Sometimes they seemed to think that it was his fault if he could not play football, and he was unable to make them understand. He was left a good deal to himself. He had been inclined to talkativeness, but gradually he became silent. He began to think of the difference between himself and others.

The biggest boy in his dormitory, Singer, took a dislike to him, and Philip, small for his age, had to put up with a good deal of hard treatment. About half-way through the term a mania ran through the school for a game called Nibs. It was a game for two, played on a table or a form with steel pens. You had to push your nib with the finger-nail so as to get the point of it over your opponent's, while he maneuvered to prevent this and to get the point of his nib over the back of yours; when this result was achieved you breathed on the ball of your thumb, pressed it hard on the two nibs, and if you were able then to lift them without dropping either, both nibs became yours. Soon nothing was seen but boys playing this game, and the more skillful acquired vast stores of nibs. But in a little while Mr. Watson made up his mind that it was a form of gambling, forbade the game, and confiscated all the nibs in the boys' possession. Philip had been very adroit, and it was with a heavy heart that he gave up his winning; but his fingers itched to play still, and a few days later, on his way to the football field, he went into a shop and bought a pennyworth of J pens. He carried them loose in his pocket and enjoyed feeling them. Presently Singer found out that he had them. Singer had given up his nibs too, but he had kept back a very large one, called a Jumbo, which was almost unconquerable, and he could not resist the opportunity of getting Philip's Js out of him. Though Philip knew that he was at a disadvantage with his small nibs, he had an adventurous disposition and was willing to take the risk; besides, he was aware that Singer would not allow him to refuse. He had not played for a week and sat down to the game now with a thrill of excitement. He lost two of his small nibs quickly, and Singer was jubilant, but the third time by some chance the Jumbo slipped round and Philip was able to push his J across it. He crowed with triumph. At that moment Mr. Watson came in.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

He looked from Singer to Philip, but neither answered.

"Don't you know that I've forbidden you to play that idiotic game?"

Philip's heart beat fast. He knew what was coming and was dreadfully frightened, but in his fright there was a certain exultation. He had never been swished. Of course it would hurt, but it was something to boast about afterwards.

"Come into my study."

The headmaster turned, and they followed him side by side Singer whispered to Philip:

"We're in for it."

Mr. Watson pointed to Singer.

"Bend over," he said.

Philip, very white, saw the boy quiver at each stroke, and after the third he heard him cry out. Three more followed.

"That'll do. Get up."

Singer stood up. The tears were streaming down his face. Philip stepped forward. Mr. Watson looked at him for a moment.

"I'm not going to cane you. You're a new boy. And I can't hit a cripple. Go away, both of you, and don't be naughty again."

When they got back into the school-room a group of boys, who had learned in some mysterious way what was happening, were waiting for them. They set upon Singer at once with eager questions. Singer faced them, his face red with the pain and marks of tears still on his cheeks. He pointed with his head at Philip, who was standing a little behind him.

"He got off because he's a cripple," he said angrily.

Philip stood silent and flushed. He felt that they looked at him with contempt.

"How many did you get?" one boy asked Singer.

But he did not answer. He was angry because he had been hurt

"Don't ask me to play Nibs with you again," he said to Philip. "It's jolly nice for you. You don't risk anything."

"I didn't ask you."

"Didn't you!"

He quickly put out his foot and tripped Philip up. Philip was always rather unsteady on his feet, and he fell heavily to the ground.

"Cripple," said Singer.

For the rest of the term he tormented Philip cruelly, and, though Philip tried to keep out of his way, the school was so small that it was impossible; he tried being friendly and jolly with him; he abased himself, so far as to buy him a knife; but though Singer took the knife he was not placated. Once or twice, driven beyond endurance, he hit and kicked the bigger boy, but Singer was so much stronger that Philip was helpless, and he was always forced after more or less torture to beg his pardon. It was that which rankled with Philip: he could not bear the humiliation of apologies, which were wrung from him by pain greater than he could bear. And what made it worse was that there seemed no end to his wretchedness; Singer was only eleven and would not go to the upper school till he was thirteen. Philip realised that he must live two years with a tormentor from whom there was no escape. He was only happy while he was working and when he got into bed. And often there recurred to him then that queer feeling that his life with all its misery was nothing but a dream, and that he would awake in the morning in his own little bed in London.