another mother and daughter

in an ugly and dark room, an old woman, ugly and dark too, sat listening to the wind and rain, and crouching over a meagre fire. more constant to the last-named occupation than the first, she never changed her attitude, unless, when any stray drops of rain fell hissing on the smouldering embers, to raise her head with an awakened attention to the whistling and pattering outside, and gradually to let it fall again lower and lower and lower as she sunk into a brooding state of thought, in which the noises of the night were as indistinctly regarded as is the monotonous rolling of a sea by one who sits in contemplation on its shore.

there was no light in the room save that which the fire afforded. glaring sullenly from time to time like the eye of a fierce beast half asleep, it revealed no objects that needed to be jealous of a better display. a heap of rags, a heap of bones, a wretched bed, two or three mutilated chairs or stools, the black walls and blacker ceiling, were all its winking brightness shone upon. as the old woman, with a gigantic and distorted image of herself thrown half upon the wall behind her, half upon the roof above, sat bending over the few loose bricks within which it was pent, on the damp hearth of the chimney - for there was no stove - she looked as if she were watching at some witch's altar for a favourable token; and but that the movement of her chattering jaws and trembling chin was too frequent and too fast for the slow flickering of the fire, it would have seemed an illusion wrought by the light, as it came and went, upon a face as motionless as the form to which it belonged.

if florence could have stood within the room and looked upon the original of the shadow thrown upon the wall and roof as it cowered thus over the fire, a glance might have sufficed to recall the figure of good mrs brown; notwithstanding that her childish recollection of that terrible old woman was as grotesque and exaggerated a presentment of the truth, perhaps, as the shadow on the wall. but florence was not there to look on; and good mrs brown remained unrecognised, and sat staring at her fire, unobserved.

attracted by a louder sputtering than usual, as the rain came hissing down the chimney in a little stream, the old woman raised her head, impatiently, to listen afresh. and this time she did not drop it again; for there was a hand upon the door, and a footstep in the room.

'who's that?' she said, looking over her shoulder.

'one who brings you news, was the answer, in a woman's voice.

'news? where from?'

'from abroad.'

'from beyond seas?' cried the old woman, starting up.

'ay, from beyond seas.'

the old woman raked the fire together, hurriedly, and going close to her visitor who had entered, and shut the door, and who now stood in the middle of the room, put her hand upon the drenched cloak, and turned the unresisting figure, so as to have it in the full light of the fire. she did not find what she had expected, whatever that might be; for she let the cloak go again, and uttered a querulous cry of disappointment and misery.

'what is the matter?' asked her visitor.

'oho! oho!' cried the old woman, turning her face upward, with a terrible howl.

'what is the matter?' asked the visitor again.

'it's not my gal!' cried the old woman, tossing up her arms, and clasping her hands above her head. 'where's my alice? where's my handsome daughter? they've been the death of her!'

'they've not been the death of her yet, if your name's marwood,' said the visitor.

'have you seen my gal, then?' cried the old woman. 'has she wrote to me?'

'she said you couldn't read,' returned the other.

'no more i can!' exclaimed the old woman, wringing her hands.

'have you no light here?' said the other, looking round the room.

the old woman, mumbling and shaking her head, and muttering to herself about her handsome daughter, brought a candle from a cupboard in the corner, and thrusting it into the fire with a trembling hand, lighted it with some difficulty and set it on the table. its dirty wick burnt dimly at first, being choked in its own grease; and when the bleared eyes and failing sight of the old woman could distinguish anything by its light, her visitor was sitting with her arms folded, her eyes turned downwards, and a handkerchief she had worn upon her head lying on the table by her side.

'she sent to me by word of mouth then, my gal, alice?' mumbled the old woman, after waiting for some moments. 'what did she say?'

'look,' returned the visitor.

the old woman repeated the word in a scared uncertain way; and, shading her eyes, looked at the speaker, round the room, and at the speaker once again.

'alice said look again, mother;' and the speaker fixed her eyes upon her.

again the old woman looked round the room, and at her visitor, and round the room once more. hastily seizing the candle, and rising from her seat, she held it to the visitor's face, uttered a loud cry, set down the light, and fell upon her neck!

'it's my gal! it's my alice! it's my handsome daughter, living and come back!' screamed the old woman, rocking herself to and fro upon the breast that coldly suffered her embrace. 'it's my gal! it's my alice! it's my handsome daughter, living and come back!' she screamed again, dropping on the floor before her, clasping her knees, laying her head against them, and still rocking herself to and fro with every frantic demonstration of which her vitality was capable.

'yes, mother,' returned alice, stooping forward for a moment and kissing her, but endeavouring, even in the act, to disengage herself from her embrace. 'i am here, at last. let go, mother; let go. get up, and sit in your chair. what good does this do?'

'she's come back harder than she went!' cried the mother, looking up in her face, and still holding to her knees. 'she don't care for me! after all these years, and all the wretched life i've led!'

'why> mother!' said alice, shaking her ragged skirts to detach the old woman from them: 'there are two sides to that. there have been years for me as well as you, and there has been wretchedness for me as well as you. get up, get up!'

her mother rose, and cried, and wrung her hands, and stood at a little distance gazing on her. then she took the candle again, and going round her, surveyed her from head to foot, making a low moaning all the time. then she put the candle down, resumed her chair, and beating her hands together to a kind of weary tune, and rolling herself from side to side, continued moaning and wailing to herself.

alice got up, took off her wet cloak, and laid it aside. that done, she sat down as before, and with her arms folded, and her eyes gazing at the fire, remained silently listening with a contemptuous face to her old mother's inarticulate complainings.

'did you expect to see me return as youthful as i went away, mother?' she said at length, turning her eyes upon the old woman. 'did you think a foreign life, like mine, was good for good looks? one would believe so, to hear you!'

'it ain't that!' cried the mother. 'she knows it!'

'what is it then?' returned the daughter. 'it had best be something that don't last, mother, or my way out is easier than my way in.

'hear that!' exclaimed the mother. 'after all these years she threatens to desert me in the moment of her coming back again!'

'i tell you, mother, for the second time, there have been years for me as well as you,' said alice. 'come back harder? of course i have come back harder. what else did you expect?'

'harder to me! to her own dear mother!' cried the old woman

'i don't know who began to harden me, if my own dear mother didn't,' she returned, sitting with her folded arms, and knitted brows, and compressed lips as if she were bent on excluding, by force, every softer feeling from her breast. 'listen, mother, to a word or two. if we understand each other now, we shall not fall out any more, perhaps. i went away a girl, and have come back a woman. i went away undutiful enough, and have come back no better, you may swear. but have you been very dutiful to me?'

'i!' cried the old woman. 'to my gal! a mother dutiful to her own child!'

'it sounds unnatural, don't it?' returned the daughter, looking coldly on her with her stern, regardless, hardy, beautiful face; 'but i have thought of it sometimes, in the course of my lone years, till i have got used to it. i have heard some talk about duty first and last; but it has always been of my duty to other people. i have wondered now and then - to pass away the time - whether no one ever owed any duty to me.

her mother sat mowing, and mumbling, and shaking her head, but whether angrily or remorsefully, or in denial, or only in her physical infirmity, did not appear.

'there was a child called alice marwood,' said the daughter, with a laugh, and looking down at herself in terrible derision of herself, 'born, among poverty and neglect, and nursed in it. nobody taught her, nobody stepped forward to help her, nobody cared for her.'

'nobody!' echoed the mother, pointing to herself, and striking her breast.

'the only care she knew,' returned the daughter, 'was to be beaten, and stinted, and abused sometimes; and she might have done better without that. she lived in homes like this, and in the streets, with a crowd of little wretches like herself; and yet she brought good looks out of this childhood. so much the worse for her. she had better have been hunted and worried to death for ugliness.'

'go on! go on!' exclaimed the mother.

'i am going on,' returned the daughter. 'there was a girl called alice marwood. she was handsome. she was taught too late, and taught all wrong. she was too well cared for, too well trained, too well helped on, too much looked after. you were very fond of her - you were better off then. what came to that girl comes to thousands every year. it was only ruin, and she was born to it.'

'after all these years!' whined the old woman. 'my gal begins with this.'

'she'll soon have ended,' said the daughter. 'there was a criminal called alice marwood - a girl still, but deserted and an outcast. and she was tried, and she was sentenced. and lord, how the gentlemen in the court talked about it! and how grave the judge was on her duty, and on her having perverted the gifts of nature - as if he didn't know better than anybody there, that they had been made curses to her! - and how he preached about the strong arm of the law - so very strong to save her, when she was an innocent and helpless little wretch! - and how solemn and religious it all was! i have thought of that, many times since, to be sure!'

she folded her arms tightly on her breast, and laughed in a tone that made the howl of the old woman musical.

'so alice marwood was transported, mother,' she pursued, 'and was sent to learn her duty, where there was twenty times less duty, and more wickedness, and wrong, and infamy, than here. and alice marwood is come back a woman. such a woman as she ought to be, after all this. in good time, there will be more solemnity, and more fine talk, and more strong arm, most likely, and there will be an end of her; but the gentlemen needn't be afraid of being thrown out of work. there's crowds of little wretches, boy and girl, growing up in any of the streets they live in, that'll keep them to it till they've made their fortunes.'

the old woman leaned her elbows on the table, and resting her face upon her two hands, made a show of being in great distress - or really was, perhaps.

'there! i have done, mother,' said the daughter, with a motion of her head, as if in dismissal of the subject. 'i have said enough. don't let you and i talk of being dutiful, whatever we do. your childhood was like mine, i suppose. so much the worse for both of us. i don't want to blame you, or to defend myself; why should i? that's all over long ago. but i am a woman - not a girl, now - and you and i needn't make a show of our history, like the gentlemen in the court. we know all about it, well enough.'

lost and degraded as she was, there was a beauty in her, both of face and form, which, even in its worst expression, could not but be recognised as such by anyone regarding her with the least attention. as she subsided into silence, and her face which had been harshly agitated, quieted down; while her dark eyes, fixed upon the fire, exchanged the reckless light that had animated them, for one that was softened by something like sorrow; there shone through all her wayworn misery and fatigue, a ray of the departed radiance of the fallen angel.'

her mother, after watching her for some time without speaking, ventured to steal her withered hand a little nearer to her across the table; and finding that she permitted this, to touch her face, and smooth her hair. with the feeling, as it seemed, that the old woman was at least sincere in this show of interest, alice made no movement to check her; so, advancing by degrees, she bound up her daughter's hair afresh, took off her wet shoes, if they deserved the name, spread something dry upon her shoulders, and hovered humbly about her, muttering to herself, as she recognised her old features and expression more and more.

'you are very poor, mother, i see,' said alice, looking round, when she had sat thus for some time.

'bitter poor, my deary,' replied the old woman.

she admired her daughter, and was afraid of her. perhaps her admiration, such as it was, had originated long ago, when she first found anything that was beautiful appearing in the midst of the squalid fight of her existence. perhaps her fear was referable, in some sort, to the retrospect she had so lately heard. be this as it might, she stood, submissively and deferentially, before her child, and inclined her head, as if in a pitiful entreaty to be spared any further reproach.

'how have you lived?'

'by begging, my deary.

'and pilfering, mother?'

'sometimes, ally - in a very small way. i am old and timid. i have taken trifles from children now and then, my deary, but not often. i have tramped about the country, pet, and i know what i know. i have watched.'

'watched?' returned the daughter, looking at her.

'i have hung about a family, my deary,' said the mother, even more humbly and submissively than before.

'what family?'

'hush, darling. don't be angry with me. i did it for the love of you. in memory of my poor gal beyond seas.' she put out her hand deprecatingly, and drawing it back again, laid it on her lips.

'years ago, my deary,' she pursued, glancing timidly at the attentive and stem face opposed to her, 'i came across his little child, by chance.'

'whose child?'

'not his, alice deary; don't look at me like that; not his. how could it be his? you know he has none.'

'whose then?' returned the daughter. 'you said his.'

'hush, ally; you frighten me, deary. mr dombey's - only mr dombey's. since then, darling, i have seen them often. i have seen him.'

in uttering this last word, the old woman shrunk and recoiled, as if with sudden fear that her daughter would strike her. but though the daughter's face was fixed upon her, and expressed the most vehement passion, she remained still: except that she clenched her arms tighter and tighter within each other, on her bosom, as if to restrain them by that means from doing an injury to herself, or someone else, in the blind fury of the wrath that suddenly possessed her.

'little he thought who i was!' said the old woman, shaking her clenched hand.

'and little he cared!' muttered her daughter, between her teeth.

'but there we were, said the old woman, 'face to face. i spoke to him, and he spoke to me. i sat and watched him as he went away down a long grove of trees: and at every step he took, i cursed him soul and body.'

'he will thrive in spite of that,' returned the daughter disdainfully.

'ay, he is thriving,' said the mother.

she held her peace; for the face and form before her were unshaped by rage. it seemed as if the bosom would burst with the emotions that strove within it. the effort that constrained and held it pent up, was no less formidable than the rage itself: no less bespeaking the violent and dangerous character of the woman who made it. but it succeeded, and she asked, after a silence:

'is he married?'

'no, deary,' said the mother.

'going to be?'

'not that i know of, deary. but his master and friend is married. oh, we may give him joy! we may give 'em all joy!' cried the old woman, hugging herself with her lean arms in her exultation. 'nothing but joy to us will come of that marriage. mind met'

the daughter looked at her for an explanation.

'but you are wet and tired; hungry and thirsty,' said the old woman, hobbling to the cupboard; 'and there's little here, and little' - diving down into her pocket, and jingling a few half- pence on the table - 'little here. have you any money, alice, deary?'

the covetous, sharp, eager face, with which she 'asked the question and looked on, as her daughter took out of her bosom the little gift she had so lately received, told almost as much of the history of this parent and child as the child herself had told in words.

'is that all?' said the mother.

'i have no more. i should not have this, but for charity.'

'but for charity, eh, deary?' said the old woman, bending greedily over the table to look at the money, which she appeared distrustful of her daughter's still retaining in her hand, and gazing on. 'humph! six and six is twelve, and six eighteen - so - we must make the most of it. i'll go buy something to eat and drink.'

with greater alacrity than might have been expected in one of her appearance - for age and misery seemed to have made her as decrepit as ugly - she began to occupy her trembling hands in tying an old bonnet on her head, and folding a torn shawl about herself: still eyeing the money in her daughter's hand, with the same sharp desire.

'what joy is to come to us of this marriage, mother?' asked the daughter. 'you have not told me that.'

'the joy,' she replied, attiring herself, with fumbling fingers, 'of no love at all, and much pride and hate, my deary. the joy of confusion and strife among 'em, proud as they are, and of danger - danger, alice!'

'what danger?'

'i have seen what i have seen. i know what i know!' chuckled the mother. 'let some look to it. let some be upon their guard. my gal may keep good company yet!'

then, seeing that in the wondering earnestness with which her daughter regarded her, her hand involuntarily closed upon the money, the old woman made more speed to secure it, and hurriedly added, 'but i'll go buy something; i'll go buy something.'

as she stood with her hand stretched out before her daughter, her daughter, glancing again at the money, put it to her lips before parting with it.

'what, ally! do you kiss it?' chuckled the old woman. 'that's like me - i often do. oh, it's so good to us!' squeezing her own tarnished halfpence up to her bag of a throat, 'so good to us in everything but not coming in heaps!'

'i kiss it, mother,' said the daughter, 'or i did then - i don't know that i ever did before - for the giver's sake.'

'the giver, eh, deary?' retorted the old woman, whose dimmed eyes glistened as she took it. 'ay! i'll kiss it for the giver's sake, too, when the giver can make it go farther. but i'll go spend it, deary. i'll be back directly.'

'you seem to say you know a great deal, mother,' said the daughter, following her to the door with her eyes. 'you have grown very wise since we parted.'

'know!' croaked the old woman, coming back a step or two, 'i know more than you think i know more than he thinks, deary, as i'll tell you by and bye. i know all'

the daughter smiled incredulously.

'i know of his brother, alice,' said the old woman, stretching out her neck with a leer of malice absolutely frightful, 'who might have been where you have been - for stealing money - and who lives with his sister, over yonder, by the north road out of london.'

'where?'

'by the north road out of london, deary. you shall see the house if you like. it ain't much to boast of, genteel as his own is. no, no, no,' cried the old woman, shaking her head and laughing; for her daughter had started up, 'not now; it's too far off; it's by the milestone, where the stones are heaped; - to-morrow, deary, if it's fine, and you are in the humour. but i'll go spend - '

'stop!' and the daughter flung herself upon her, with her former passion raging like a fire. 'the sister is a fair-faced devil, with brown hair?'

the old woman, amazed and terrified, nodded her head.

'i see the shadow of him in her face! it's a red house standing by itself. before the door there is a small green porch.'

again the old woman nodded.

'in which i sat to-day! give me back the money.'

'alice! deary!'

'give me back the money, or you'll be hurt.'

she forced it from the old woman's hand as she spoke, and utterly indifferent to her complainings and entreaties, threw on the garments she had taken off, and hurried out, with headlong speed.

the mother followed, limping after her as she could, and expostulating with no more effect upon her than upon the wind and rain and darkness that encompassed them. obdurate and fierce in her own purpose, and indifferent to all besides, the daughter defied the weather and the distance, as if she had known no travel or fatigue, and made for the house where she had been relieved. after some quarter of an hour's walking, the old woman, spent and out of breath, ventured to hold by her skirts; but she ventured no more, and they travelled on in silence through the wet and gloom. if the mother now and then uttered a word of complaint, she stifled it lest her daughter should break away from her and leave her behind; and the daughter was dumb.

it was within an hour or so of midnight, when they left the regular streets behind them, and entered on the deeper gloom of that neutral ground where the house was situated. the town lay in the distance, lurid and lowering; the bleak wind howled over the open space; all around was black, wild, desolate.

'this is a fit place for me!' said the daughter, stopping to look back. 'i thought so, when i was here before, to-day.'

'alice, my deary,' cried the mother, pulling her gently by the skirt. 'alice!'

'what now, mother?'

'don't give the money back, my darling; please don't. we can't afford it. we want supper, deary. money is money, whoever gives it. say what you will, but keep the money.'

'see there!' was all the daughter's answer. 'that is the house i mean. is that it?'

the old woman nodded in the affirmative; and a few more paces brought them to the threshold. there was the light of fire and candle in the room where alice had sat to dry her clothes; and on her knocking at the door, john carker appeared from that room.

he was surprised to see such visitors at such an hour, and asked alice what she wanted.

'i want your sister,' she said. 'the woman who gave me money to-day.'

at the sound of her raised voice, harriet came out.

'oh!' said alice. 'you are here! do you remember me?'

'yes,' she answered, wondering.

the face that had humbled itself before her, looked on her now with such invincible hatred and defiance; and the hand that had gently touched her arm, was clenched with such a show of evil purpose, as if it would gladly strangle her; that she drew close to her brother for protection.

'that i could speak with you, and not know you! that i could come near you, and not feel what blood was running in your veins, by the tingling of my own!' said alice, with a menacing gesture.

'what do you mean? what have i done?'

'done!' returned the other. 'you have sat me by your fire; you have given me food and money; you have bestowed your compassion on me! you! whose name i spit upon!'

the old woman, with a malevolence that made her ugliness quite awful, shook her withered hand at the brother and sister in confirmation of her daughter, but plucked her by the skirts again, nevertheless, imploring her to keep the money.

'if i dropped a tear upon your hand, may it wither it up! if i spoke a gentle word in your hearing, may it deafen you! if i touched you with my lips, may the touch be poison to you! a curse upon this roof that gave me shelter! sorrow and shame upon your head! ruin upon all belonging to you!'

as she said the words, she threw the money down upon the ground, and spurned it with her foot.

'i tread it in the dust: i wouldn't take it if it paved my way to heaven! i would the bleeding foot that brought me here to-day, had rotted off, before it led me to your house!'

harriet, pale and trembling, restrained her brother, and suffered her to go on uninterrupted.

'it was well that i should be pitied and forgiven by you, or anyone of your name, in the first hour of my return! it was well that you should act the kind good lady to me! i'll thank you when i die; i'll pray for you, and all your race, you may be sure!'

with a fierce action of her hand, as if she sprinkled hatred on the ground, and with it devoted those who were standing there to destruction, she looked up once at the black sky, and strode out into the wild night.

the mother, who had plucked at her skirts again and again in vain, and had eyed the money lying on the threshold with an absorbing greed that seemed to concentrate her faculties upon it, would have prowled about, until the house was dark, and then groped in the mire on the chance of repossessing herself of it. but the daughter drew her away, and they set forth, straight, on their return to their dwelling; the old woman whimpering and bemoaning their loss upon the road, and fretfully bewailing, as openly as she dared, the undutiful conduct of her handsome girl in depriving her of a supper, on the very first night of their reunion.

supperless to bed she went, saving for a few coarse fragments; and those she sat mumbling and munching over a scrap of fire, long after her undutiful daughter lay asleep.

were this miserable mother, and this miserable daughter, only the reduction to their lowest grade, of certain social vices sometimes prevailing higher up? in this round world of many circles within circles, do we make a weary journey from the high grade to the low, to find at last that they lie close together, that the two extremes touch, and that our journey's end is but our starting-place? allowing for great difference of stuff and texture, was the pattern of this woof repeated among gentle blood at all?

say, edith dombey! and cleopatra, best of mothers, let us have your testimony!

在一间丑陋和黑黑的房间里，一位也是丑陋和黑黑的老太婆坐在那里，一边听着风雨的，一边蜷曲着身子，在微弱的炉火旁边取暖。她对取暖比对听风雨专心，从不改变她的姿势，除非偶尔掉下的雨点在闪燃着的灰烬上发出嘶嘶的时，她才抬起头，重新注意到外面呼啸的风声和嗒嗒地下着的雨声，然后又让头低垂着，低垂着，低垂着，陷入沉思的状态中；这时候她对夜间嘈杂的，就像一个坐在海边沉思的人对海浪滚滚的单调一样，并没有清楚地听进耳朵里去。

房间里除了炉火的光之外，没有别的光。炉火像一头半睡着的猛兽的眼睛一样，不时不乐意地闪一闪亮光，映照出了一些决不需要更好照出的物品。一堆破布，一堆骨头，一张破烂的床，两、三条破损的椅子或凳子，乌黑的墙和更加乌黑的天花板——这就是炉火闪烁的亮光所能照射到的一切。老太婆的巨大的、扭曲了的影子一半投射在她身后的墙上，一半投射在头顶的天花板上；这里没有壁炉；而只有烟囱；当她这样弯曲着身子坐在那里，面对着圈围着炉火的潮湿的烟囱炉膛上的几块松动的砖头时，她看去就仿佛是在女巫的祭坛前面期待着得到一个吉利的征兆似的；跟火焰徐缓的闪烁比较起来，她的牙齿发出卡嗒卡嗒响声的嘴巴和颤抖的下巴如果不是动作得太频繁和太快的话，人们本可能会以为，这只不过是那一亮一灭的光线照射在那张跟身体一样一动不动的脸上所产生的幻影罢了。

如果弗洛伦斯这时站在这间房间里，注视着这位在炉火旁边缩着身子、把影子投射到墙上和天花板上的人的话，那么她只需看一眼，就能回想起善良的布朗太太，尽管她对这位可怕的老太婆的回忆是一个孩子的回忆，它也许就像墙上的影子一样奇异，一样夸张，不符合真实的情景。可是弗洛伦斯不在这里，善良的布朗太太仍然没有被认出来；她坐在那里，凝视着炉火，谁也没有注意到她。

雨水的细流发出嘶嘶的，沿着烟囱流下来；老太婆被一声比平时更响的爆裂声所惊起，不耐烦地抬起头来，重新听着。这一次她没有把头再低下来；因为有谁轻轻地推开门，房间里听到了走进的脚步声。

“是谁？”她回过头去问道。

“给您捎消息来的人，”一个女人的回答道。

“消息？哪里来的消息？”

“外国来的。”

“是海外来的吗？”老太婆惊跳起来，喊道。

“是的，是海外来的。”

老太婆急忙把煤火耙拢，走到这时已关上门、走进来、站在房间中间的客人的跟前，把手放到她湿透了的斗篷上，把这位不加抗拒的女人的身子转过来，好让火光充分照射到她。不管她所期望的是什么，她的期望落空了；因为她又放开斗篷、气忿忿地发出了一声失望与痛苦的喊叫。

“怎么回事？”客人问道。

“嗬嗬！嗬嗬！”老太婆仰着脸，可怕地嚎啕大哭起来。

“怎么回事？”客人又问道。

“这不是我的女儿！”老太婆把胳膊往上一举，在头顶紧紧地握着手，哭道，“我的艾丽斯在哪里？我漂亮的女儿在哪里？他们把她给弄死了！”

“他们还没有把她弄死，如果您姓马伍德的话，”客人说道。

“这么说，您看到过我的女儿了吗？”老太婆喊道，“她给我写信了吗？”

“她说您不认得字，”客人回答道。

“我现在也还是不认得！”老太婆使劲地绞扭着双手，高声喊道。

“您这里没有蜡烛吗？”客人向房间四处环视了一下，问道。

老太婆闭着嘴用牙根咀嚼着，同时摇着头，又喃喃自语地说着她漂亮的女儿，一边从角落里的碗柜中取出一支蜡烛，用颤抖的手把它插进炉火，费劲地点亮了，然后把它放在桌子上。肮脏的烛心起初因为被溶流的油脂堵住，火光幽暗不明。当老太婆昏花的眼睛和衰弱的视力借着亮光能够看清东西的时候，她的客人已经坐下，交叉着胳膊，低垂着眼睛；她曾经系在头上的手绢已摊放在她身旁的桌子上。

“这么说，我的女儿艾丽斯，她托您给我捎口信来了？”老太婆等了一会儿之后，嘟嘟囔囔地问道。“她说些什么？”

“您看吧，”客人说道。

老太婆惊愕地、捉摸不准地重复地说了这几个字；她用手遮着眼睛，向说话的人看看，向房间四下里看看，又重新向说话的人看看。

“艾丽斯说，请您再看看，妈妈，”说话的人目不转睛地注视着她。

老太婆又向房间四下里看看，向客人看看，又重新向房间四下里看看。她急忙从坐位上站起来，拿起蜡烛，把客人的脸孔照了照，高声地喊叫了一声，放下蜡烛，搂抱着客人的脖子。

“这是我的女儿！这是我的艾丽斯！这是我漂亮的女儿，活着回来了！”老太婆尖声喊叫着，一边对着她女儿的胸脯，一前一后地摇晃着她自己；她女儿冷淡地听随她拥抱。“这是我的女儿！这是我的艾丽斯！这是我漂亮的女儿，活着回来了！”她又尖声地喊叫着，一边倒在她面前的地板上，抱着她的膝盖，把头紧靠着它们，并像先前一样，用她的体力所能表现出的狂热的劲头，一前一后地摇晃着她自己。

“是的，妈妈，”艾丽斯弯下身子，吻了吻她，回答道，可是甚至在这片刻的动作之间，她还是竭力想摆脱她的拥抱。

“我终于到这里来了。放手吧，妈妈，放手吧。起来，坐到你的椅子上去。这样有什么好处？”

“她回来的时候比离开的时候更冷酷无情了！”母亲仰望着她的脸孔，并依旧抱住她的膝盖，高声喊道，“她不关心我！

经过这许多年头，我度过了这么悲惨可怜的生活之后！”

“得了吧，妈妈！”艾丽斯抖动着她破烂的裙子，摆脱开老太婆，说道，“别只看到你那一方面，还有我这一方面呢！这些年头不仅是你度过的，也是我度过的；悲惨可怜的生活，不仅你有，我也一样有。起来吧，起来吧！”

母亲站起来，哭着，使劲地绞扭着双手，稍微离开一点，注视着她；接着，她又拿着蜡烛，绕着她走，从头到脚打量着她，同时轻声哭泣着。然后，她放下蜡烛，重新坐到椅子上，拍着巴掌，好像给一支拖得很长的歌曲打拍子似的，同时身子一左一右地摇晃着，并继续在独自低泣和痛哭着。

艾丽斯站起来，脱掉潮湿的斗篷，把它放在一边。在这之后，她又跟先前一样坐下来，交叉着两只胳膊，眼睛凝视着炉火，露出轻蔑的脸色，一声不响地听着她老母亲口齿不清的怨言。

“你是不是指望我回来的时候跟我离开的时候一样年轻，妈妈？”她把眼光投射到老太婆身上，终于开口说道，“你是不是以为像我在外国所过的生活会使一个人漂亮起来？说实在的，谁要是听了你的话，真会这么想呢！”

“问题不在这里！”母亲喊道，“她自己明白！”

“那么问题在哪里呢？”女儿回答道，“有些话你最好别唠叨了。妈妈，要知道，我出去比进来容易。”

“听听她讲的话吧！”母亲高声喊道，“经过这许多年头之后，她刚回来就吓唬着又要把我抛弃了！”

“妈妈，我再说一遍，这些年头不仅是你度过的，也是我度过的。”艾丽斯说道，“回来更冷酷无情了？当然，我回来是更冷酷无情了。除此之外，你还指望什么呢？”

“对我更冷酷无情了！对她自己的亲妈妈！”老太婆喊道。

“我不知道是谁开始使我冷酷无情起来的，如果不是我自己的亲妈妈的话，”她坐着回答道，一边交叉着两只胳膊，皱着眉头，紧闭着嘴唇，仿佛决心把任何温柔的感情从心中驱除出去似的，“你听我说几句话，妈妈。如果我们现在相互了解的话，那么也许我们以后就不会再吵架了。我离开家的时候是个女孩子，现在回来是个女人了。我离开家的时候，对你很不孝顺，没有尽到我做女儿的责任；现在回来了，你可以怒骂说，我没有比过去好一点。可是你过去曾经对我充分尽到你做母亲的责任了吗？”

“我！”老太婆喊道，“对我的女儿！做妈妈的对自己亲生女儿尽责任！”

“你听起来觉得奇怪，是不是？”女儿回答道；她那严厉的、不顾一切的、冷酷无情的、美丽可爱的脸孔冷冰冰地看着她，“可是我在我那些孤独的岁月中有时曾想到这一点，直到后来我对这已经习惯了为止。总的说来，我曾经听有些人谈论责任；可是总是谈到我对别人的责任。我时常纳闷——我想这些事是为了消磨时间——，是不是就没有人对我尽到责任呢？”

母亲坐在那里皱着眉头，闭着嘴用牙根咀嚼着，并摇着头，但不知道这是表示愤怒、懊悔、否认，还是仅仅是身体虚弱的表现。

“从前有一个女孩子，名叫艾丽斯·马伍德，”女儿大笑了一声，并用可怕的自我嘲笑的眼色打量着自己，说道，“她在贫穷与没有照管中出生和长大。没有一个人教育她，没有一个人前来帮助她，没有一个人关怀她。”

“没有一个人！”母亲指着自己和敲着她的胸脯，同时重复着她的话，说道。

“她所得到的唯一的照顾，”女儿回答道，“就是有时挨打，挨饿和挨骂；要是没有这种照顾，她可能反会好一些。她住在这样家里和住在街上，跟一群像她一样可怜的孩子一起生活；可是尽管度过了这样的童年时代，她却还是长成了一个美人儿。这对她更糟了。她宁肯由于长得丑陋而被迫害和虐待一辈子。”

“说下去！说下去！”母亲大声喊道。

“我正在说下去，”女儿回答道，“从前有一个女孩子，名叫艾丽斯·马伍德。她长得漂亮。她受到教育太晚了，而且受的全是错误的教育。她受到了太多的关心，受到了太好的训练，得到了太多的帮助，受到了太周到的照顾。你很喜欢她——那时你的生活富裕起来了。在这女孩子身上发生的事情，每年在成千个女孩子身上发生。这只是堕落，她是为这而生下来的。”

“经过这许多年头以后！”老太婆怨诉道，“我的女儿就这样开始！”

“她很快就要讲完了，”女儿说道。“从前有一个罪犯，名叫艾丽斯·马伍德——那时她还是个女孩子，可是却已经被人遗弃了，扔掉了。对她进行了审讯，将她判了刑。天主呀，那些法庭上的大人先生们是怎样议论这件事情的！法官是怎样谈到她的责任，谈到她误用了天赋的资质，仿佛他不如其他人清楚：这些天赋的资质已成了她的祸根！他又怎样宣讲着法律强有力的臂膀——是的，当她还是个天真烂漫、无依无靠的小可怜虫的时候，这臂膀是这么强有力地来拯救她！这一切又是多么庄严与虔诚！真的，从那时候起，我好多次地想到这些！”

她把胳膊紧紧地交叉在胸前，高声大笑起来；跟她这种笑声相比，老太婆的嚎啕大哭倒显得是优美悦耳的音乐了。

“艾丽斯·马伍德就这样被流放到海外，妈妈，”她继续说道，“被打发去学习履行她的责任；实际上那里却比这里使人二十倍地忘记自己的责任，那里比这里多二十倍的邪恶、堕落与丑行。艾丽斯·马伍德回来的时候已成了一个女人，一个经过这一切之后所应当成为的女人。到一定的时候，非常可能，她将会在更庄严的气氛中听到更漂亮的谈话，看到更有力的臂膀向她伸过来，她的末日也就将来临了；但是那些大人先生们不用害怕失业。就在他们所住的任何一条街道上，又有一大群可怜的男女孩子成长起来，所以他们又将有工作好做，直到发财致富为止。”

老太婆把胳膊肘支在桌子上，用两只手托着脸孔，装出一副十分痛苦的样子——或许真的很痛苦也说不定。

“好了，我讲完了，妈妈，”女儿摇了摇头，仿佛也结束了这个话题似地说道，“我已经说够了。不论我们做什么，你和我今后都别再谈什么尽责任的问题了。我想，你的童年也跟我的童年相似。那样对我们两人就更不好了。我不想责怪你，也不想为我自己辩护。我为什么要这样做呢？这是好久以前就已过去的事了。但是我现在是个女人，不是个女孩子了，你和我都用不着像法庭上的大人先生们那样去把我们的历史抖搂出来，我们对它一清二楚。”

她虽然已经堕落了，道德败坏了，但在她的脸孔与身姿中仍然有一种美丽；甚至在它表露得最不好的时候，对她最漠不关心的人也不能不觉察到。当她沉默下来、她先前十分激动的脸孔平静下来的时候，她凝视着炉火的乌黑的眼睛原先射出了不顾一切的眼光，现在已换成了某种类似忧虑而和缓下来的眼光；这时候一位堕落了的天使的曾经消失的光辉，通过她长途跋涉之后的痛苦与疲乏，照耀出来。

母亲默默无言地向她注视了一些时候之后，大胆地把满是皱纹的手向桌子对面她的身上悄悄伸过去；当她看到女儿允许她这样做的时候，就摸摸她的脸孔，把她的头发抚平。艾丽斯似乎感觉到老太婆这关怀的表示至少是真心诚意的，所以一动不动，没有去阻止她；老太婆得一步进一步，她把女儿的头发重新编扎起来，把它湿漉漉的鞋子（如果它们还可以称为鞋子的话）脱掉，在她肩上披上点什么干的东西，并低声下气地在她身边来回忙碌着；当她愈来愈多地认出她过去的一些特征和表情的时候，就嘟嘟囔囔地自言自语着。

“我看你很穷，妈妈，”艾丽斯这样坐了一些时候之后，向四下里看看，说道。

“穷得可怜，我的宝贝，”老太婆回答道。

她喜爱她的女儿，又怕她的女儿。也许她在好久以前就开始喜爱她了，那时候她正在为生活而进行屈辱的斗争的过程中，第一次注意到女儿的美貌。也许她的害怕跟她刚才听到的往事有些关系。不管怎样，现在她正顺顺从从、恭恭敬敬地站在女儿面前，低着头，仿佛在可怜地恳求她别再责备她。

“你是怎么生活的？”

“向别人讨钱，我的宝贝。”

“偷东西吗，妈妈？”

“有时候也偷，艾丽——偷得不多。我老了，胆子又小。有时候，我的宝贝，我从孩子们身上搞到些小东西，不过不经常。我在附近一带流浪漂泊，心肝，我知道了我所知道的事情。我一直在注意观察着。”

“注意观察着？”女儿看着她，问道。

“我一直在一个家庭附近闲荡，我的宝贝”母亲说道，她甚至比先前更低声下气、更顺顺从从的了。

“哪个家庭？”

“轻一点，我亲爱的。别生我的气，我是因为爱你才那么做的。我那么做是为了想念我在海外的可怜的女儿。”她向她求情地伸过手去，然后又缩回来，放在嘴唇上。

“好多年以前，我的宝贝，”她怯生生地朝对面那张专注而又严厉的脸孔看了一眼，继续说道，“我无意间碰上了他的小女孩。”

“谁的小女孩？”

“不是他的，亲爱的艾丽斯；别那样看我；不是他的。怎么能是他的呢？你知道他没有孩子。”

“那么是谁的呢？”女儿问道，“你刚才说是他的。”

“轻一点，艾丽；你吓了我一跳，我的宝贝。董贝先生的小女儿——只是董贝先生的。从那时候起，亲爱的，我就经常看到他们。我看到·他。”

在说出最后这个字的时候，老太婆往后退却，缩成一团，仿佛害怕女儿会打她似的。可是女儿的脸孔虽然一动不动地对着她，流露出激烈的愤怒的神情，但却依旧静静地坐着，只不过把胳膊愈来愈紧地往胸脯收拢，仿佛用这办法来抑制它们，免得在突然袭击她身心的暴怒的盲目冲动下，会伤害她自己或其他人。

“他没有想到我是谁！”老太婆挥挥握紧的拳头，说道。

“他也根本没有注意到！”女儿咬牙切齿地嘟囔着。

“可是有一次我们面对面地碰见了，”老太婆说道，“我跟他说话，他也跟我说话。我坐着，眼看着他穿过一个长长的小树林走开了；他每走一步，我就咒骂他一次，咒骂他的灵魂，也咒骂他的肉体。”

“不管你怎样咒骂，他还照样飞黄腾达！”女儿用鄙弃的语气回答道。

“不错，他现在是飞黄腾达。”母亲说道。

她不再说话，因为坐在她面前的那张脸孔已经由于愤怒而改变了样子。看上去仿佛她胸中翻腾起伏的情感都要把她的胸膛给炸裂了。她为了抑制和管束这种情感而做的努力与愤怒本身同样可怕，同样有力地表明这个女人的激烈的、危险的性格。不过她所做的努力成功了。她沉默了一会儿之后，问道：

“他结婚了吗？”

“没有，宝贝，”母亲回答道。

“快结婚了吗？”

“据我了解，还没有，宝贝。但是他的老板与朋友结婚了。我们可以祝他快乐！我们可以祝他们全都快乐！”老太婆兴高采烈地喊道；这时候她的两只枯瘦的胳膊把自己的身子紧紧地抱住，“这个结婚的结果只会使我们高兴！你记住我的这句话吧！”

女儿望着她，等待解释。

“不过你又湿又累，又饿又渴，”老太婆脚一拐一拐地向碗柜走去，说道，“这里找不到什么东西。这里也——”她把手伸到衣袋里掏了掏，然后把几个半便士叮叮当当地扔在桌子上。“袋里没什么钱。你有钱吗，艾丽斯，我的宝贝？”

当她提出这个问题的时候，以及当她注视着女儿从怀中取出不久前才得到的礼金的时候，她脸上露出的贪婪的、狡黠的、渴望的表情，几乎和女儿的语言同样清楚地说明了这位母亲与她女儿的历史。

“所有的钱都在这里了吗？”母亲问道。

“我没有别的了。要不是有人施舍的话，我连这点钱也没有。”

“要不是有人施舍，是吗，宝贝？”老太婆说道，一边向桌子弯下身去贪婪地看看钱，好像对依旧把钱拿在手里的女儿不信任似的，并继续注视着，“哼！六加六，十二，再加六，十八——这样，我们得好好地用它。我去买点吃的和喝的。”

从她的外貌来看，人们不会料想到她的动作还能这么麻利，因为年龄和穷困似乎已使她变得又丑又衰老了。

她开始用颤抖的手把一顶旧帽的带子系好，并围上一条破烂的围巾；同时，仍旧用同样贪婪与狡黠的眼光凝视着女儿手中的钱。

“这个结婚的结果会使我们高兴什么？”女儿问道，“你没有跟我说明白。”

“使我们高兴的是，”她用摸索着的手指整整服装，回答道，“这结婚没有一点爱情，可是却有着许多高傲与憎恨，我的宝贝。使我们高兴的是，因为他们高傲，所以他们之间存在着不和与冲突，并且充满了危险——危险，艾丽斯！”

“什么危险？”

“我已经看到了我所看到的！我已经知道了我所知道的！”母亲吃吃地笑着。“让什么人去看着他们吧！让什么人注意着他们吧！我的女儿也许还能交上个好朋友！”

这时候，老太婆看到女儿一本正经地、困惑不解地看着她的时候，无意之中把钱紧握了一下，就着急地想把钱赶快弄到手，于是急急忙忙地说道，“可是我得出去买点什么，我得出去买点什么。”

当她伸出手掌站在女儿面前的时候，女儿在跟这些钱分手之前，又看了看它们，并拿到嘴唇上吻了吻。

“怎么，艾丽！你吻它们吗？”老太婆吃吃地笑着。“这真像我！我常常这么做。它们对我们多好呀！”她把自己那个失去光泽的半便士也紧握着举到喉咙上松垂的皮上，“它们能给我们办多少好事呀，可惜它们不能成堆地来到我们跟前！”

“妈妈，我现在吻它们，”女儿说道，“或者我刚才吻它们——我不记得我过去曾经这样做过——，这是为了感谢给我钱的人。”

“为了感谢给钱的人，是吗，宝贝？”老太婆回答道，当她拿到钱的时候，她那昏花的眼睛发出了闪闪的亮光，“不错！如果给钱的人不吝啬，舍得把钱拿出来，我也会为了感谢给钱的人吻它们的。可是我得出去把它们花掉，宝贝。我马上就回来。”

“你似乎是说，你知道了好多事情，妈妈，”女儿目送她到门口，说道，“自从我们分别以后你已变得很聪明了。”

“我知道！”老太婆退回一、两步，哇哇地大声说道，“我比你想的知道得多。我比他想的知道得多，宝贝，我不久就会告诉你的。我知道他的一切。”

女儿表示怀疑地微笑了一下。

“我知道他的哥哥，艾丽斯，”老太婆伸出脖子，非常可怕地幸灾乐祸地斜眼看着说道，“他本可能住在你住过的地方，——但因为偷钱——他现在跟他姐姐住在伦敦城外北边公路附近。”

“住在哪里？”

“伦敦城外北边公路附近，宝贝。如果你愿意，你可以去看看他们的房屋。这座房屋没有什么可以夸耀的，虽然他自己的另一座倒是十分阔气。不，不，不”老太婆摇摇头，大笑着喊道，因为她的女儿已经从椅子上跳起来了，“现在不去看；那里太远了。房屋是在一块里程碑附近，那块里程碑旁边有一堆石子；——如果天气晴朗，你又有兴趣的话，那么就明天去吧，宝贝。可是我现在得去把钱花掉——”

“站住！”女儿重新燃烧着怒火，向她冲过去，说道，“那位姐姐是不是一位脸孔漂亮的女妖精，头发是黑色的？”

老太婆惊奇与恐惧地点点头。

“我在她脸上看到了他的一些特征，两人长得有些相像！

那是一座孤零零的红房子，门前有一条绿色的小走廊。”

老太婆又点点头。

“今天我在那里坐过！把钱还给我。”

“艾丽斯！宝贝！”

“把钱还给我，要不我会打伤你的。”

她一边说，一边从老太婆手里把钱硬抢过来；并且丝毫不顾她的埋怨和哀求，就重新披上脱下的斗篷，急速地向门外跑出去。

母亲一拐一拐地尽量跟随着她，同时劝说着她；可是这些劝说对她丝毫不起作用，就像对包围着她们的风雨和黑暗不起作用一样。女儿固执地、狠狠地打定了主意，对于其他一切全都满不在乎；她不顾气候和距离，仿佛她已忘记了她经过了长途跋涉，也忘记了她的疲劳，一直向着那座她曾得到救助的房屋走去；走了几刻钟之后，老太婆筋疲力尽，气喘吁吁，大胆地抓住女儿的裙子；可是她不敢再做别的了；她们穿过雨水和黑暗，默默无言地向前继续走去。如果说母亲不时吐出一两声怨言的话，那么她总是在刚要吐出的时候就立刻把它压下去，唯恐女儿会从她身边跑开，把她丢在后面；

女儿则一直一句话也不说。

当她们把城市的街道抛在身后，进入房屋所在的那个既不是城市又不是乡村的地段、四周是更加深沉的黑暗的时候，已经过了半夜十二点钟了。城市座落在远方，阴惨、昏暗；寒风在开旷的空间怒号；四周的一切是黑暗、荒芜、凄凉。

“这地方对我倒是很合适的！”女儿停下脚步，回头看看，说道，“今天当我初到这里的时候，我就这样想过。”

“艾丽斯，我的宝贝，”母亲轻轻地拉了拉她的裙子，喊道，“艾丽斯！”

“现在还想说什么，妈妈？”

“别把钱还回去，我亲爱的，请别还回去。我们还不起，我们要吃晚饭，宝贝。不管是谁给的，钱总是钱。你想对她说什么就说什么，但钱得留着。”

“看那边！”这就是女儿的回答。“那就是我所说的房屋。

是不是？”

老太婆肯定地点点头；她们再走几步，就到了门口。艾丽斯曾经坐着烘衣服的那间房屋中有着炉火和蜡烛的亮光；

她敲了敲门，约翰·卡克就从那间房间中走出来。

在这样的时刻看到这样的来访者，他感到惊讶。他问艾丽斯需要什么。

“我需要你的姐姐，”她说道，“就是今天给我钱的那个女人。”

哈里特听到她提高了嗓门的，就走出来了。

“啊！”艾丽斯喊道，“你在这里！你记得我吗？”

“记得，”她感到奇怪地回答道。

先前曾经恭顺地对着她的那张脸孔，现在却以这样不可抑制的仇恨和蔑视的神情看着她；先前曾经温柔地摸过她的胳膊的那只手，现在却这样显露出不怀好意地紧握着，仿佛它真想把她勒死似的；哈里特看到这种情景，就紧挨着她的弟弟，寻求保护。

“我先前怎么能跟你讲话，没有把你认出来呢！我先前怎么能接近你，没有根据我自己血液的震颤，感觉到你血管里流的是什么样的血呢！”艾丽斯摆出一副威胁的姿态，说道。

“您是什么意思？我做了什么啦？”

“你做了什么啦？”另一位回答道，“你曾让我坐在你的炉火旁边；你曾给我饭吃，给我钱；你曾向我表示怜悯！你！对你的姓我要吐唾沫！”

老太婆怀着怨恨（这使她那丑陋的脸孔更加可怕了），向姐弟俩挥动着满是皱纹的手，表示完全同意她女儿说的话，可是她却又拉拉女儿的裙子，求她把钱留着。

“如果我有一颗眼泪掉在你的手上，那么就让它使你的手枯萎吧！如果我曾对你讲过一句温柔的话，那么就让它把你的耳朵震聋吧！如果我曾用嘴唇吻过你的话，那么就让它毒害你吧！让我咀咒这座曾经给我庇护的房屋！让悲伤和耻辱落到你的头上！让你所有的亲人全都毁灭吧！”

她一边说，一边把钱扔在地上，用脚去踢它们。

“我把它们踏进尘土！即使它们给我铺设了通向天堂的道路，我也不去捡它们！我真但愿我这双今天走到这里来的流血的脚在去你家之前烂掉就好了！”

哈里特脸色苍白，身子发抖；她拦住她弟弟，听凭艾丽斯说下去，不去打断她。

“真不错，在我回来的第一个小时，我就被你或姓你这个姓的别的什么人怜悯和宽恕了！真不错，你扮演了慈善夫人的角色来对待我！我临终的时候将感谢你；我将为你，为你们整个家族祈祷，你可以相信这一点！”

她狠狠地挥了挥手，仿佛要把仇恨洒到地上，让站在她前面的这两个人毁灭似的，同时又向黑暗的天空仰望了一次，然后大踏步地走进暴风雨的深夜。

母亲曾经一次又一次徒劳无益地拉着女儿的裙子，并用无比贪婪的眼光注视着落在门口的钱币，仿佛她全身的注意力都集中在上面似的；她真想留下来在附近游荡，直到房屋里的灯火熄灭之后，再到污泥中去摸索，把那几个钱重新弄到手里。可是女儿把她拉开了，她们踏上了归途；老太婆一路上不断为她们的损失哀哭和悲叹着，就她胆量所敢的程度，痛心地抱怨她漂亮的女儿的不孝顺的行为——在她们母女团聚的第一夜就夺走了她一顿晚餐。

如果不算那点粗劣的剩饭的话，她可以说没吃晚饭就上床睡觉了；至于这点剩饭，她在她不孝顺的女儿睡熟之后很久还坐在那里，对着即将熄灭的炉火，闭着嘴有力地咀嚼着。

这位可怜的母亲和这位可怜的女儿，是不是只不过是有时在上层社会流行的某些社会恶习在下层社会的一个缩影呢？在这个圆圆的世界中存在许多圈子，一圈套着一圈；我们需不需要在这个世界中作一次令人疲劳的旅行，从最高层一直旅行到最低层，最后得出这个结论：最高层与最低层是紧紧挨近的，最高层的开始的一端与最低层结尾的一端是相互聚合的，我们旅行的终点只不过是我们旅行的出发点？尽管材料与质地有很大的不同，这种式样的织品在上流社会中不是也完全可以找到吗？

伊迪丝·董贝，请回答吧！还有克利奥佩特拉，您这位母亲当中最好的母亲，让我们请您来作证吧！