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“Correct,” she said again, and managed this time to look at her interrogator, knowing what would follow, forcing herself to show him that on this score at least she had no doubts, and no regrets.
“是,”她答道,这次,她勉力看着审问她的人。她知道接下来会问什么,强迫自己向他表明,至少在这个事情上,她没有疑问,也不懊悔。
“Correct,” she repeated defiantly.
“是,”她又说了一遍,语气里带着挑战的意味。
“As a condition of your application being favourably considered by the authorities, you signed an undertaking to the organs of State Security to perform certain tasks for them during your residence in Paris. One, to persuade your husband, the traitor Ostrakov, to return to the Soviet Union—”
"作为对你的申请给予积极考虑的条件,你向国家安全委员会(即克格勃————译注)的有关部门签署了一份承诺书,保证在居住巴黎期间为他们执行某些任务。其一,劝说你的丈夫,叛徒奥斯特拉科夫返回苏联--"
“To attempt to persuade him,” she corrected him, with a faint smile. “He was not amenable to this suggestion.”
“尝试说服他,”她淡然一笑,纠正他的说法。“他不接受这个建议。”
“Two, you undertook also to provide information concerning the activities and personalities of revanchist anti-Soviet émigré groups. You submitted two reports of no value and afterwards nothing. Why?”
"其二,你还承诺提供有关反苏复仇流亡团体的活动和人员信息。你交了两份毫无价值的报告,之后就没有了。为什么?”
“My husband despised such groups and had given up his contact with them.”
“我丈夫看不起这些团体,和他们断绝来往了。”
“You could have participated in the groups without him. You signed the document and neglected its undertaking. Yes or no?”
"没有他,你也可以参加这些团体的活动。你在文件上签了字,却没做到承诺。是不是?"
“Yes.”
“For this you abandon your child in Russia? To a Jew? In order to give your attention to an enemy of the people, a traitor of the State? For this you neglect your duty? Outstay the permitted period, remain in France?”
“是。”
"就为了这个,你把孩子丢在俄国?把孩子丢给一个犹太佬?就因为你的注意力放在一个人民的敌人,国家的叛徒身上?就为了这个你玩忽职守?逾期不归,留在法国?"
“My husband was dying. He needed me.”
“And the child Alexandra? She did not need you? A dying husband is more important than a living child? A traitor? A conspirator against the people?”
“我丈夫快死了。他需要我。”
“那孩子亚历山德拉呢?她就不需要你了?一个快死的丈夫还比一个活着的孩子更重要?而且是一个叛徒,一个反人民的阴谋家?”
Releasing her wrist, Ostrakova deliberately took hold of her tea and watched the glass rise to her face, the lemon floating on the surface.
奥斯特拉科娃松开手腕,有意将杯子举起来,遮住脸,看着柠檬飘在液面上。
Beyond it, she saw a grimy mosaic floor and beyond the floor the loved, ferocious, and kindly face of Glikman pressing down on her, exhorting her to sign, to go, to swear to anything they asked.
透过杯子,她仿佛又看见那肮脏的马赛克地板,在地板的那头是格里克曼那张可爱,狂野,亲切的脸。他向她施压,极力劝她签字,要她走,答应他们的任何要求。
The freedom of one is more than the slavery of three, he had whispered; a child of such parents as ourselves cannot prosper in Russia whether you stay or go; leave and we shall do our best to follow; sign anything, leave, and live for all of us; if you love me, go. . . .
他曾低声对她说,一个人的自由胜过三个人的奴役;像我们这样父母所生的孩子,无论你是走是留,都不可能在苏联过好日子;你走吧,我们会尽力追随你;签字吧,走吧,为我们大家而活;如果你爱我,就走吧......
“They were the hard days, still,” she said to the stranger finally, almost in a tone of reminiscence. “You are too young. They were the hard days, even after Stalin’s death: still hard.”
“那时候的日子还是很苦的,”她终于开口,几乎用怀旧的语气对陌生人说道,“你太年轻。那时候日子还很苦,即使是在斯大林死后,仍然很苦。”
“Does the criminal Glikman continue to write to you?” the stranger asked in a superior, knowing way.
"罪犯格里克曼还在给你写信吗?"陌生人用一种高高在上、明知故问的口吻问道。
“He never wrote,” she lied. “How could he write, a dissident, living under restriction? The decision to stay in France was mine alone.”
“他从没写过信,”她撒了个谎,“作为一个持不同政见者,生活在监控下,他怎么可能写信?留在法国完全是我一个人的决定。”
Paint yourself black, she thought; do everything possible to spare those within their power.
描黑你自己,尽力保护还生活在他们权力范围之内的人。她想。
“I have heard nothing from Glikman since I came to France more than twenty years ago,” she added, gathering courage.
“自从二十年前来法国后,我从没受到他的任何消息。”她鼓起勇气补充说。
“Indirectly, I learned that he was angered by my anti-Soviet behaviour. He did not wish to know me any more. Inwardly he was already wishing to reform by the time I left him.”
“我间接得知,我的反苏行为激怒了他。他不想再认我。在我离开他的时候,他内心已经想改过自新了。”
“He did not write concerning your common child?”
“He did not write, he did not send messages. I told you this already.”
“Where is your daughter now?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have received communications from her?”
“他没给你写信说起孩子的事?”
“他没写过信,也没传递过消息。我已经跟你说了。”
“你女儿现在在哪里?”
“我不知道。”
“你收到过她的消息吗?”
“Of course not. I heard only that she had entered a State orphanage and acquired another name. I assume she does not know I exist.”
"当然没有。我只听说她进了国立孤儿院,取了另一个名字。我猜她不知道我的存在。"
The stranger ate again with one hand, while the other held the notebook. He filled his mouth, munched a little, then swilled his food down with the beer. But the superior smile remained.
陌生人又一只手吃饭,另一只手拿着笔记本。他塞满了嘴,嚼了几下,然后就着啤酒把食物吞了下去。他的脸上依然挂着高人一等的微笑。
“And now it is the criminal Glikman who is dead,” the stranger announced, revealing his little secret. He continued eating.
"现在,这个罪犯格里克曼已经死了,"陌生人揭晓了他的小秘密,然后继续吃东西。
Suddenly Ostrakova wished the twenty years were two hundred. She wished that Glikman’s face had never, after all, looked down on her, that she had never loved him, never cared for him, never cooked for him, or got drunk with him day after day in his one-roomed exile where they lived on the charity of their friends, deprived of the right to work, to do anything but make music and love, get drunk, walk in the woods, and be cut dead by their neighbours.
霎时,奥斯特拉科娃希望这不是二十年,而是两百年。她唯愿从没见过格里克曼那张脸,从没爱上他,从没照料过他,从没为他做过饭,和他一起住在那个单间里,日复一日喝得酩酊大醉。那是他的流放地,他们被剥夺了工作的权利,只能靠朋友接济生活,除了奏乐,做爱,醉酒,在林子里散步,别的什么都不能做。邻居都对他们假装视而不见。
“Next time I go to prison or you do, they will take her anyway. Alexandra is forfeit in any case,” Glikman had said. “But you can save yourself.”
“下次我或者你进了监狱,他们就会把她带走。我们不管怎样都会失去亚历山德拉,”格里克曼说过,“但你还可以救你自己。”
“I will decide when I am there,” she had replied.
“Decide now.”
“When I am there.”
“我到了那儿再决定。”她当时这么说。
“现在就决定。”
“等我到了那儿再说。”
The stranger pushed aside his empty plate and once more took the sleek French notebook in both hands. He turned a page, as if approaching a new chapter.
陌生人推开空盘子,再次双手捧起那本锃亮的法国笔记本。他翻开了一页,仿佛即将翻开新的篇章。
“Concerning now your criminal daughter Alexandra,” he announced, through his food.
“Criminal?” she whispered.
“关于你的罪犯女儿亚历山德拉,”他边吃边说道。
“罪犯?”她喃喃道。
To her astonishment the stranger was reciting a fresh catalogue of crimes.
令她吃惊的是,陌生人背诵了一串新的罪行。
As he did so, Ostrakova lost her final hold upon the present. Her eyes were on the mosaic floor and she noticed the husks of langoustine and crumbs of bread.
他这样做的时候,奥斯特拉科娃失去了对现实的最后一点感知。她的眼睛仿佛盯着马赛克地板,注意到小龙虾壳和面包屑。
But her mind was in the Moscow law court again, where her own trial was being repeated.
她的思绪却回到了莫斯科的法庭,那里正在重演对她的审判。
If not hers, then Glikman’s—yet not Glikman’s either. Then whose? She remembered trials that the two of them had attended as unwelcome spectators.
如果不是对她的审判,那就是对格里克曼的审判--但也不是对格里克曼的。那是对谁的?她想起了他们两人作为不受欢迎的旁观者参加的审判。
Trials of friends, if only friends by accident: such as people who had questioned the absolute right of the authorities; or had worshipped some unacceptable god; or had painted criminally abstract pictures; or had published politically endangering love-poems.
那些对朋友的审判,哪怕只是偶然碰到的朋友。有质疑当局的绝对权力的,有崇拜某些不允许的神的,有画抽象画,被视作犯罪的,有出版政治上有危害性的爱情诗的。
The chattering customers in the café became the jeering claque of the State police; the slamming of the bagatelle tables, the crash of iron doors.
咖啡馆里喋喋不休的顾客变成了国家警察雇佣的鼓掌捧场和嘲弄的人群;台球桌的砰砰声成了铁门的撞击声。
On this date, for escaping from the State orphanage on something street, so many months’ corrective detention.
某天,她因为从某条街上的国家孤儿院中逃出来而遭到了几个月的惩戒监禁。
On that date, for insulting organs of State Security, so many more months, extended for bad behaviour, followed by so many years’ internal exile.
某天,她又因为侮辱国安委的机关,又被判了几个月,因为行为不端而延长了刑期,加上很多年的内部流放。
Ostrakova felt her stomach turn and thought she might be sick.
奥斯特拉科娃感到胃里翻江倒海,觉得可能生病了。
She put her hands to her glass of tea and saw the red pinch marks on her wrist.
她把手放在杯子上,看着手腕上红色的掐痕。
The stranger continued his recitation and she heard her daughter awarded another two years for refusing to accept employment at the something factory, God help her, and why shouldn’t she?
陌生人继续背诵着她女儿的事情。她听到女儿因为拒绝到某家工厂上班,又被判了两年。上帝保佑她,她为什么不可以拒绝?
Where had she learnt it? Ostrakova asked herself, incredulous.
她从哪里学来的?奥斯特拉科娃对自己说,感到难以置信。
What had Glikman taught the child, in the short time before they took her away from him, that had stamped her in his mould and defeated all the system’s efforts?
在孩子被带走之前的短短时间里,格里克曼到底教了她什么,在她身上打下了烙印,和他像是一个模子出来的,让体制的所有努力统统化为徒劳?
Fear, exultation, amazement jangled in Ostrakova’s mind, till something that the stranger was saying to her blocked them out.
恐惧、欣喜、惊讶,奥斯特拉科娃的心中五味杂陈,直到陌生人说了些什么,才使她清醒过来。
“I did not hear,” she whispered after an age. “I am a little distressed. Kindly repeat what you just said.”
"我没听见,"过了好一会儿,她才低声说。"我有点难受。请再说一遍你刚才说的话。"
He said it again, and she looked up and stared at him, trying to think of all the tricks she had been warned against, but they were too many and she was no longer clever.
他又说了一遍,她抬起头,盯着他,试图想出所有警告她提防的伎俩,但这些伎俩太多,她的脑子也不灵了。
She no longer had Glikman’s cleverness—if she had ever had it—about reading their lies and playing their games ahead of them.
她已经不再有格里克曼的那种机智--如果她曾经有过的话--就是识破他们的谎言,在他们玩弄伎俩之前,抢先一步对他们玩弄伎俩。
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