第四十六章
菲利普发觉在巴黎过日子，开销并不像当初听人说的那样省，他随身带来的那几个钱，不到二月份就已花掉一大半。他秉性高傲，当然不肯启齿向他的监护人求助，而且他也不愿意让路易莎伯母得知他目前的捉襟见肘的窘境，因为他相信，伯母一旦知道了，定会刮尽私囊给他寄钱来，而他心里明白，伯母力不从心，她"私房"里实在也挤不出几个子儿。好在再熬上三个月，等满了法定的成年年龄，那笔小小的财产就可归自己支配了。他变卖了几件父亲留下的零星饰物，以应付眼前这段青黄不接的日子。
差不多也就在这时候，劳森向菲利普提议，是不是合伙把一间空关着的小画室租下来。画室坐落在拉斯佩尔大街的一条岔路上，租金甚为低廉，还附有一个可作卧室用的小房间。既然每天上午菲利普都要去学校上课，到时候劳森就可以独个儿享用画室，不愁有人打扰。劳森曾一连换过好几所学校，最后得出结论，还是单枪匹马干的好。他建议雇个模特儿，一周来个三四天。起初，菲利普担心开支太大，拿不定主意，后来他们一块儿算了笔细帐（他俩都巴不得能有间自己的画室，所以就实打实地估算起来），发现租间画室的费用似乎也不见得比住旅馆高出多少。虽说房租开支略微多了些，还要付给看门人清洁费，但是petit dejeuner由自己动手做，这样可以省出钱来。假如是在一两年以前，菲利普说什么也不肯同别人合住一个房间，因为他对自己的残疾过于敏感。不过，现在这种病态心理已渐趋淡薄：在巴黎，他的残疾似乎算不了一回事；尽管他自己一刻也没忘记过，但他不再感到别人老在注意他的跛足了。
他俩终于搬了进去，又添置了两张小床、只洗脸盆架和几把椅子，生平第一回感受到一种占有之喜。乔迁后的头天晚上，在这间可以称为"家"的屋子里，他们躺在床上，兴奋得合个上眼，唧唧呱呱一直谈到凌晨三时。第二天，他们自己生火煮咖啡，然后穿着睡衣细饮慢啜，倒真别有一番风味。直到十一点光景，菲利普才匆匆赶至阿米特拉诺画室。他今天的兴致特别好，一见到范妮·普赖斯就朝她点头打招呼。
"日子过得可好？"他快活地随口问了一声。
"管你什么事？"她反诘了一句。
菲利普忍不住呵呵笑了。
"这可把我给问住了，何必呢？我不过是想显得有点礼貌罢了。"
"谁希罕你的礼貌。"
"要是同我也吵翻了，您觉得划得来吗？"菲利普口气温和地说。"说实在的，乐意同您说句把话的人并不多呀。"
"那是我自个儿的事，对不？"
"当然罗。"
菲利普开始作画，心里暗暗纳闷：范妮·普赖斯干吗存心要惹人讨厌呢。他得出结论：这女人没有一点讨人喜欢的地方。这儿，大伙儿对她没好感。要说还有谁对她客客气气的话，那无非是顾忌她那片毒舌头，怕她在人前背后吐出些不堪入耳的脏话来。但是那天菲利普心里着实高兴，连普赖斯小姐也不想多所得罪，惹她反感。平时，他只须耍点手腕就能使她回嗔作喜，这会儿他又想重演一下故技。
"嘿，我真希望你能过来看看我的画。我画得糟透了。"
"谢谢你的抬举，可我没这许多闲工夫，我有更值得的事情要做。"
菲利普瞪大眼，吃惊地望着普赖斯小姐，他自以为已摸透了她的脾气，只要开口向她求教，她准会欣然应允的。只见她压低嗓门，气急败环地往下说：
"现在劳森走了，所以你又来迁就我了。多谢你的抬举。还是另请高明吧！我可不愿拾别人的破烂。"
劳森天生具有当教师的禀赋，每逢他有点什么心得体会，总是热切地传授给别人。正因为他乐于教人，所以教起来也颇得法。菲利普不知不觉地养成了习惯，一进画室就挨着劳森坐下；他万万没想到，范妮·普赖斯竟会打翻醋罐子，竟会因为看到他向别人求教而憋了一肚子火。
"当初，你在这儿人生地不熟，所以很乐意找我来着，"她悻悻地说。"可你一交上新朋友，立即把我给甩了，就像甩掉只旧手套那样。一她把这个早被用滥了的比喻，不无得意地又重复了一遍--"就像甩掉只。旧于套那样。好吧，反正我也不在乎，可你休想叫我再当第二次傻瓜！"
她的这番话倒也未必没有道理，菲利普由于被触到了痛处而恼羞成怒，脑子里一想到什么，立时脱口而出：
"去你的吧！我向你讨教，不过是为了投你所好罢了。""
她喘了一口粗气，突然朝菲利普投来满含痛楚的一瞥。接着，两行泪水沿着腮帮子滚落下来。她看上去既邋遢又古怪。这种神态，菲利普从未见到过，也不知算是怎么一回事，只顾忙自己的画去了。他心里很不自在，深感内疚。然而，他说什么也不肯跑到她跟前去，向她赔个不是，问一声自己有没有伤了她的心，因为怕反被她乘机奚落一番。打这以后，她有两三个星期没对他讲过一句话。起先，菲利普见她对自己不理不睬，心里很有点惴惴不安，可事情过后，他似乎反倒为自己摆脱了这样一个难于对付的女友，大有如释重负之感。以往，她总露出一副菲利普非她莫属的神气，菲利普真有点消受不了。这个女人确实不寻常。每天早晨八点就来到画室，模特儿刚摆好姿势，她便立即动手作画。画起来还真有一股韧劲，对谁也不吭一声，即使遇到无力克服的障碍，也依然一小时又一小时地埋头问于，直到钟敲十二点才离开画室。说到她画的画，那真是不可救药。大多数年轻人来画室学上几个月之后，总多少有所长进，好歹能画几笔，可她时至今日，还远远赶不上他们。她每天一成不变地穿着那身难看的棕色衣裙，裙边上还留着上一个雨天沾上的泥巴，菲利普初次同她见面。时就看到的破烂处，至今也没拾掇好。
然而有一天，她红着脸走到菲利普跟前，问菲利普待会儿她能否同他说几句话。
"当然可以，随你说多少句都行，"菲利普含笑说。"十二点我留下来等你。
课结束后，菲利普朝她走去。
"陪我走一程好吗？"她说，窘得不敢正眼看菲利普。
"乐意奉陪。"
他俩默默无言地走了两三分钟。
"你还记得那天你对我说什么来着？"她冷不防这么问。
"哎，我说呀，咱们可别吵嘴，"菲利普说，"实在犯不着哟。"
她痛苦而急促地猛抽一口气。
"我不想同你吵嘴。你是我在巴黎独一无二的朋友。我原以为你对我颇有几分好感。我觉得我俩之间似乎有点缘分。是你把我吸引住了--你知道我指的是什么，是你的跛足吸引了我。"
菲利普哥地红了脸，本能地想装出正常人走路的姿势来。他讨厌别人提及他的残疾。他明白范妮·普赖斯这番话的含义，无非是说：她其貌不扬，人又邋遢，而他呢，是个瘸子，所以他俩理应同病相怜。菲利普心里对她十分恼火，但强忍着没吭声。
"你说你向我对教，不过是为了投我所好。那你认为我的画一无是处罗？"
"我只看过你在阿米特拉诺作的画，光凭那些，很难下断语。"
"不知你是否愿意上我住处看看我的其他作品。我从不让别人看我的那些作品。我倒很想给你看看。"
"谢谢您的美意。我也真想饱饱眼福呢。"
"我就住在这儿附近，"她带着几分歉意说，"走十分钟就到了。"
"噢，行啊，"他说。
他们沿着大街走去。她拐人一条小街，领着菲利普走进一条更加狭陋的小街，沿街房屋的底层都是些出售廉价物品的小铺子。最后总算到了。他们爬上一层又一层的楼梯。她打开门锁，他们走进一间斜顶、开着扇小窗的小顶室。窗户关得严严的，屋里弥漫着一股霉味。虽然天气很冷，屋里也不生个火，看来这屋子从来就没生过炉子。床上被褥凌乱。一把椅子，一口兼作脸盆架的五斗橱，还有一只不值几个钱的画架--一这些就是房间里的全部陈设。这地方本来就够肮脏的了，再加上满屋子杂物，凌乱不堪，看了真叫人恶心。壁炉架上，胡乱堆放着颜料和画笔，其间还搁着一只杯子、一只脏盆子和一把茶壶。
"请你往那边站，我好把画放到椅子上，让你看清楚些。"
她给菲利普看了二十张长十八厘米，宽二十厘米左右的小幅油画。她把它们一张接一张地搁在椅子上，两眼留神着菲利普的脸色。菲利普每看完一张，就点点头。
"这些画你很喜欢，是吗？"过了一会儿，她急不可待地问。
"我想先把所有的画看完了，"他回答道，"然后再说说自己的看法。"
菲利普强作镇静，其实心里又惊又慌，不知该说什么是好。这些画不单画得糟糕，油彩也上得不好，像是由不懂美术的外行人涂上去似的，而且毫无章法，根本没有显示出明暗的层次对比，透视也荒唐可笑。这些画看上去就像是个五岁小孩画的。可话得说回来，要果真出自五岁小孩之手，还会有几分天真的意趣，至少试图把自己看到的东西按原样勾画下来。而摆在眼前的这些画，只能是出于一个市井气十足、脑袋里塞满了乱七八糟的庸俗画面的画匠之手。菲利普还记得她曾眉飞色舞地谈论过莫奈和印象派画家，可是摆在他面前的这些作品，却是蹈袭了学院派最拙劣的传统。
"喏，"她最后说，"全在这儿了。"
虽说菲利普待人接物不见得比别人更诚实，但要他当面撒一个弥天大谎，倒也着实使他为难。在他说出下面这段话的时候，脸一直红到了脖子根：
"我认为这些都画得挺不错的。"
她那苍白的脸上，泛起淡淡的红晕，嘴角处还漾起一丝笑容。
"我说，你要是觉得这些画并不怎么样，就不必当面捧我。我要听你的真心话。"
"这确实是我的心里话。"
"难道没什么好批评的了？总有几幅作品，你不那么喜欢的吧。"
菲利普无可奈何地四下张望了一眼。他瞥见一幅风景画，一幅业余爱好者最喜欢画的风景"小品"：画面五彩缤纷，画着一座古桥，一幢屋顶上爬满青藤的农舍，还有一条绿树成荫的堤岸。
"当然罗，我也不想冒充行家，说自己对绘画很精通，"他说，"不过，那幅画究竟有多大意思，我可不太明白。"
她的脸刷地涨得通红。她赶紧把那幅画拿在手里，把背面对着菲科普。
"我不懂你干吗偏偏选这张来挑剔。这可是我所画过的最好的一幅。我相信自己的眼力没错。至于画的价值，懂就是懂，不懂就是不懂，这种事儿是没法把着手教的。"
"我觉得所有这些都画得挺不错的，"菲利普重复了一句。
她带着沾沾自喜的神情望着那些画。
"依我看，这些画完全拿得出去，没什么好难为情的。"
菲利普看了看表。
"我说，时间不早了。我请你去吃顿便饭，肯赏脸吗？"
"这儿我已准备好了午饭。"
菲利普看不到一丝午饭的影子，心里想：也许等他走后，看门人会把午餐送上来的吧。他只想快点离开这儿，屋里的那股霉味把他头都熏疼了。
philip did not find living in paris as cheap as he had been led to believe and by february had spent most of the money with which he started. he was too proud to appeal to his guardian, nor did he wish aunt louisa to know that his circumstances were straitened, since he was certain she would make an effort to send him something from her own pocket, and he knew how little she could afford to. in three months he would attain his majority and come into possession of his small fortune. he tided over the interval by selling the few trinkets which he had inherited from his father.
at about this time lawson suggested that they should take a small studio which was vacant in one of the streets that led out of the boulevard raspail. it was very cheap. it had a room attached, which they could use as a bed-room; and since philip was at the school every morning lawson could have the undisturbed use of the studio then; lawson, after wandering from school to school, had come to the conclusion that he could work best alone, and proposed to get a model in three or four days a week. at first philip hesitated on account of the expense, but they reckoned it out; and it seemed (they were so anxious to have a studio of their own that they calculated pragmatically) that the cost would not be much greater than that of living in a hotel. though the rent and the cleaning by the concierge would come to a little more, they would save on the petit dejeuner, which they could make themselves. a year or two earlier philip would have refused to share a room with anyone, since he was so sensitive about his deformed foot, but his morbid way of looking at it was growing less marked: in paris it did not seem to matter so much, and, though he never by any chance forgot it himself, he ceased to feel that other people were constantly noticing it.
they moved in, bought a couple of beds, a washing-stand, a few chairs, and felt for the first time the thrill of possession. they were so excited that the first night they went to bed in what they could call a home they lay awake talking till three in the morning; and next day found lighting the fire and making their own coffee, which they had in pyjamas, such a jolly business that philip did not get to amitrano’s till nearly eleven. he was in excellent spirits. he nodded to fanny price.
‘how are you getting on?’ he asked cheerily.
‘what does that matter to you?’ she asked in reply.
philip could not help laughing.
‘don’t jump down my throat. i was only trying to make myself polite.’
‘i don’t want your politeness.’
‘d’you think it’s worth while quarrelling with me too?’ asked philip mildly. ‘there are so few people you’re on speaking terms with, as it is.’
‘that’s my business, isn’t it?’
‘quite.’
he began to work, vaguely wondering why fanny price made herself so disagreeable. he had come to the conclusion that he thoroughly disliked her. everyone did. people were only civil to her at all from fear of the malice of her tongue; for to their faces and behind their backs she said abominable things. but philip was feeling so happy that he did not want even miss price to bear ill-feeling towards him. he used the artifice which had often before succeeded in banishing her ill-humour.
‘i say, i wish you’d come and look at my drawing. i’ve got in an awful mess.’
‘thank you very much, but i’ve got something better to do with my time.’
philip stared at her in surprise, for the one thing she could be counted upon to do with alacrity was to give advice. she went on quickly in a low voice, savage with fury.
‘now that lawson’s gone you think you’ll put up with me. thank you very much. go and find somebody else to help you. i don’t want anybody else’s leavings.’
lawson had the pedagogic instinct; whenever he found anything out he was eager to impart it; and because he taught with delight he talked with profit. philip, without thinking anything about it, had got into the habit of sitting by his side; it never occurred to him that fanny price was consumed with jealousy, and watched his acceptance of someone else’s tuition with ever-increasing anger.
‘you were very glad to put up with me when you knew nobody here,’ she said bitterly, ‘and as soon as you made friends with other people you threw me aside, like an old glove’—she repeated the stale metaphor with satisfaction—‘like an old glove. all right, i don’t care, but i’m not going to be made a fool of another time.’
there was a suspicion of truth in what she said, and it made philip angry enough to answer what first came into his head.
‘hang it all, i only asked your advice because i saw it pleased you.’
she gave a gasp and threw him a sudden look of anguish. then two tears rolled down her cheeks. she looked frowsy and grotesque. philip, not knowing what on earth this new attitude implied, went back to his work. he was uneasy and conscience-stricken; but he would not go to her and say he was sorry if he had caused her pain, because he was afraid she would take the opportunity to snub him. for two or three weeks she did not speak to him, and, after philip had got over the discomfort of being cut by her, he was somewhat relieved to be free from so difficult a friendship. he had been a little disconcerted by the air of proprietorship she assumed over him. she was an extraordinary woman. she came every day to the studio at eight o’clock, and was ready to start working when the model was in position; she worked steadily, talking to no one, struggling hour after hour with difficulties she could not overcome, and remained till the clock struck twelve. her work was hopeless. there was not in it the smallest approach even to the mediocre achievement at which most of the young persons were able after some months to arrive. she wore every day the same ugly brown dress, with the mud of the last wet day still caked on the hem and with the raggedness, which philip had noticed the first time he saw her, still unmended.
but one day she came up to him, and with a scarlet face asked whether she might speak to him afterwards.
‘of course, as much as you like,’ smiled philip. ‘i’ll wait behind at twelve.’
he went to her when the day’s work was over.
‘will you walk a little bit with me?’ she said, looking away from him with embarrassment.
‘certainly.’
they walked for two or three minutes in silence.
‘d’you remember what you said to me the other day?’ she asked then on a sudden.
‘oh, i say, don’t let’s quarrel,’ said philip. ‘it really isn’t worth while.’
she gave a quick, painful inspiration.
‘i don’t want to quarrel with you. you’re the only friend i had in paris. i thought you rather liked me. i felt there was something between us. i was drawn towards you—you know what i mean, your club-foot.’
philip reddened and instinctively tried to walk without a limp. he did not like anyone to mention the deformity. he knew what fanny price meant. she was ugly and uncouth, and because he was deformed there was between them a certain sympathy. he was very angry with her, but he forced himself not to speak.
‘you said you only asked my advice to please me. don’t you think my work’s any good?’
‘i’ve only seen your drawing at amitrano’s. it’s awfully hard to judge from that.’
‘i was wondering if you’d come and look at my other work. i’ve never asked anyone else to look at it. i should like to show it to you.’
‘it’s awfully kind of you. i’d like to see it very much.’
‘i live quite near here,’ she said apologetically. ‘it’ll only take you ten minutes.’
‘oh, that’s all right,’ he said.
they were walking along the boulevard, and she turned down a side street, then led him into another, poorer still, with cheap shops on the ground floor, and at last stopped. they climbed flight after flight of stairs. she unlocked a door, and they went into a tiny attic with a sloping roof and a small window. this was closed and the room had a musty smell. though it was very cold there was no fire and no sign that there had been one. the bed was unmade. a chair, a chest of drawers which served also as a wash-stand, and a cheap easel, were all the furniture. the place would have been squalid enough in any case, but the litter, the untidiness, made the impression revolting. on the chimney-piece, scattered over with paints and brushes, were a cup, a dirty plate, and a tea-pot.
‘if you’ll stand over there i’ll put them on the chair so that you can see them better.’
she showed him twenty small canvases, about eighteen by twelve. she placed them on the chair, one after the other, watching his face; he nodded as he looked at each one.
‘you do like them, don’t you?’ she said anxiously, after a bit.
‘i just want to look at them all first,’ he answered. ‘i’ll talk afterwards.’
he was collecting himself. he was panic-stricken. he did not know what to say. it was not only that they were ill-drawn, or that the colour was put on amateurishly by someone who had no eye for it; but there was no attempt at getting the values, and the perspective was grotesque. it looked like the work of a child of five, but a child would have had some naivete and might at least have made an attempt to put down what he saw; but here was the work of a vulgar mind chock full of recollections of vulgar pictures. philip remembered that she had talked enthusiastically about monet and the impressionists, but here were only the worst traditions of the royal academy.
‘there,’ she said at last, ‘that’s the lot.’
philip was no more truthful than anybody else, but he had a great difficulty in telling a thundering, deliberate lie, and he blushed furiously when he answered:
‘i think they’re most awfully good.’
a faint colour came into her unhealthy cheeks, and she smiled a little.
‘you needn’t say so if you don’t think so, you know. i want the truth.’
‘but i do think so.’
‘haven’t you got any criticism to offer? there must be some you don’t like as well as others.’
philip looked round helplessly. he saw a landscape, the typical picturesque ‘bit’ of the amateur, an old bridge, a creeper-clad cottage, and a leafy bank.
‘of course i don’t pretend to know anything about it,’ he said. ‘but i wasn’t quite sure about the values of that.’
she flushed darkly and taking up the picture quickly turned its back to him.
‘i don’t know why you should have chosen that one to sneer at. it’s the best thing i’ve ever done. i’m sure my values are all right. that’s a thing you can’t teach anyone, you either understand values or you don’t.’
‘i think they’re all most awfully good,’ repeated philip.
she looked at them with an air of self-satisfaction.
‘i don’t think they’re anything to be ashamed of.’
philip looked at his watch.
‘i say, it’s getting late. won’t you let me give you a little lunch?’
‘i’ve got my lunch waiting for me here.’
philip saw no sign of it, but supposed perhaps the concierge would bring it up when he was gone. he was in a hurry to get away. the mustiness of the room made his head ache.