Chapter 68

第六十八章

一天早晨，菲利普起床后，直觉得头晕目眩，重新躺下时，蓦地发觉自己病了，四肢疼痛，周身直打冷颤。房东太太来给他送早餐时，他朝着洞开的房门对房东太太说他身体不适，要他送一杯茶和一片烤面包来。过了没几分钟，一声叩门声之后，格里菲思走了进来。他俩同住在一幢公寓里已有一年多了，但除了在过道里互相点头打招呼之外，别无更多的交往。

"喂，听说你身体不舒服，"格里非思说，"我想我得来看看你究竟怎么啦？"

菲利普莫名其妙地脸露赧颜，对自己的病痛满不在乎，只说过一两个钟头就会好的。

"嗯，你最好还是让我给你量量体温，"格里菲思说。

"根本没这个必要，"菲利普烦躁地回答。

"哎，还是量一下吧！"

菲利普把体温表放进嘴里。格里菲思坐在床沿上，喜气洋洋地聊着天，过了一会儿，他从菲利普嘴里抽出体温表看了一眼。

"好了，你瞧瞧体温表，老兄，你得卧床休息，我去叫老迪肯来给你看病。"

"尽扯淡，"菲利普说，"根本无关紧要，我希望你别为我操心。"

"谈不上什么操心。你在发烧，应该卧床休息。你躺着，好吗？"

他的举止仪态有一种特殊的魅力，既庄重又和蔼，简直太迷人了。

"你的临床风度简直妙不可言，"菲利普喃喃地说，微笑着合上了眼睛。

格里菲思替他抖松枕头，动作利落地铺平床单，并替他把被子塞紧。他走进菲利普的起居间寻找虹吸瓶，没找着，便从自己房间里拿了一只来。接着，他把百叶窗拉了下来。

"好了，你好好睡吧，老迪肯一查完病房，我就把他领到这儿来。"

过了好几个钟头以后才有人来看菲利普。他感到脑袋瓜像是要炸开来似的，极度的疼痛撕裂着他的四肢，他担心自己马上要叫起来。不一会儿，一记敲门声过后，格里菲思走了进来，他是那样的健康、强壮和愉快。

"迪肯大夫来了，"他通报了一声。

这位态度和蔼的老医生朝前挪了几步。菲利普跟他只是面熟，并不相识。他问了几个问题，简单地作了检查，然后便开处方。

"你看他得的是什么病？"格里菲思笑吟吟地问道。

"流行性感冒。"

"一点不错。"

迪肯大夫朝这间光线幽暗的公寓房间扫了一眼。

"你不愿意住进医院里去吗？他们会把你安置在隔离病房的，那儿要比这儿能得到更多的照顾。"

"我宁愿呆在原地不动，"菲利普说。

他不想受人打扰，而且身处陌生环境，他总是疑虑重重。他讨厌护士们大肆张扬地围着他转，不喜欢医院里那种令人沉闷的清洁环境。

"先生，我可以来照料他，"格里菲思立刻说道。

"喔，那太好了！"

他开了张药方，又关照了几句，便走了。

"现在，你一切都得听我的，"格里菲思说，"我一人身兼日夜值班护士之职。"

"谢谢你，不过我不会需要什么的，"菲利普说。

格里菲思伸出一只于，搭在菲利普的额头上。那是一只凉丝丝、干巴巴的大手，然而这一摸却给菲利普带来了快意。

"我这就把处方送到药房里去，他们把药配好，我就回来。"

不一会儿，他取来了药，在给菲利普服了一剂之后，就噔噔上楼去拿他的书。

"今天下午我就在你的房间看书，你不会反对吧？"下楼后，他对菲利普说。"我让房门开着，你需要什么，就叫我一声。"

这天晚些时候，菲利普从心神不宁的瞌睡中醒来，听到他的起居室里有说话声，原来是格里菲思的朋友看他来了。

"喂，你今晚最好别来了，"他听到格里菲思说。

过了一两分钟以后，又有一个人走进了房间，对他在这儿找到格里菲思而表示惊讶。

"我正在护理一位租赁这套房间的二年级学生，这个可怜的家伙因患流行性感冒病倒了。今晚不能玩惠斯特了，老兄。"

不久，房间里就剩下格里菲思一个人了，菲利普便招呼他。

"嘿，你怎么推辞不去参加今晚的晚会啦？"他问道。

"这并不是为了你，我得读我的外科教科书。"

"你尽管去好了。我过一会儿就会好的。你不必为我操心。"

"好的。"

菲利普的病情渐见恶化。夜幕降临时，他的神志有些昏迷不清。次日晨光熹微时分，他才从心神不宁的睡眠中清醒过来。他发现格里菲思从扶手椅里爬起来，双膝跪在地上，用手指把一块块煤扔进壁炉里。格里菲思身穿宽大的睡衣裤，外面套了件晨衣。

"你在干什么？"他问道。

"我把你吵醒了吗？我在生火，想尽量不弄出响声来。"

"你为什么不躺在床上？现在什么时候了？"

"五点左右。我想，今晚我最好还是通宵陪伴着你。我把扶手椅搬了进来，是因为我怕一铺上床垫，我睡得太死，就听不见你要什么东西了。"

"我希望你快别这样了，"菲利普呻吟道，"假如把你传染上了，怎么办？"

"那你就来护理我，老兄，"格里菲思笑着说。

早晨，格里菲思打开百叶窗。固守了个通宵，他看上去脸色苍白，疲惫不堪，但神情仍很快乐。

"喂，找来给你擦洗一下吧，"他兴高采烈地对菲利普说。

"我自己能洗，"菲利普说着，不觉赧然。

"胡扯，你要是躺在小病房里，护士也会来帮你洗的，而我可以做得跟护士一般好。"

菲利普身体太虚弱了，精神上也很痛苦，无力拂其美意，只好听凭他给自己洗脸、洗手、洗脚，让他给自己擦胸、擦背。他的动作温柔，给人以快感，在这同时，他嘴里吐出连珠似的亲切友好的话语。然后，正如他们在医院里做的那样，他换下了床单，抖松枕头整理被褥。

"我想，阿瑟大婶看到了我，保管叫她惊讶不已。迪肯很早就会来看你的。"

"我难以理解你为什么要待我这么好，"菲利普说。

"这对我是一次很好的实习机会。照料一个病人太有趣了。"

格里菲思把自己的早餐给了菲利普，然后穿上衣服出去吃了点东西。十点前几分钟，他手捧一串葡萄和一束鲜花回来了。

"你简直太好了，"菲利普说。

菲利普卧床了五天。

诺拉和格里菲思两人轮流照料他。虽说格里菲思同菲利普年龄相仿，然而他却像一位富有幽默感的母亲一样对待菲利普。他是个体贴人的小伙子，温文尔雅，给人以力量，但是他最大的特点还在于他有一种勃勃的生气，似乎能给每一个与其相处的人带来健康。很多人以他们的母亲或姐妹的爱抚为人生乐趣，而菲利普可不习惯这一套，然而这位体格强壮的年轻人身上洋溢着女性的柔情蜜意，却使他深受感动。菲利普的病情日见好转。于是，格里菲思懒散地坐在菲利普的房间里，讲述些欢快的男女风流逸事，替他解闷消愁。他是个爱调情的家伙，同一个时间里可以跟三四个女人鬼混。他叙述起那些他出于无奈为了摆脱困境而采取的种种办法来，确实娓娓动听。他有这样一种天才，能够使他遭遇的每一件事都蒙上一种富有浪漫色彩的魅力。他因负债累累而手头不活络时，他那些稍许值几个钱的东西都被送进了当铺，即使这样，他还是尽量装得欢天喜地，挥霍无度和落落大方。他生来就是一个冒险家。他就是喜欢那些从事不正当职业以及朝三暮四、反复无常的人，经常出没于伦敦的酒吧间，地痞流氓中很大一批人都同他相识。放荡的女人把他视作朋友，向他倾诉她们人生的烦恼、艰苦和成功；而那班赌棍们却都能体谅他的寒怆的日子，供他吃喝，还借给他面值五英镑的钞票。他虽屡试不第，但都愉快地忍受了。他用幽雅迷人的举止顺从父母双亲的规劝，使得他那位在利兹当开业医生的父亲不忍正言厉色地对他发火。

"我在读书方面，是个实足的笨伯，"他乐呵呵地说，"我的脑子就是转不起来。"

生活也太有趣了。但是，有一点是很清楚的：即他那情感洋溢的青春期一过，在最后取得了医生的资格之后，他一定能够在医道方面有所成就。就凭他那举止的魅力，也能医治人们的病痛。

菲利普崇拜他，正如在学校里崇拜那些身材高大、品行正直、道德高尚的学生一样。菲利普病愈时，他同格里菲思成了莫逆之交。看到格里菲思似乎喜欢坐在他的房间里，谈论些令人感到快乐的趣事儿以及抽着数不胜数的烟卷儿来消磨他的时间，菲利普内心里充满了一种莫可名状的满足。有时，菲利普带他上里根特大街上的那家酒菜馆。海沃德发觉格里菲思很蠢，但劳森却意识到了他的迷人之处，并急于要给他画画。他的体态生动，长着蓝色的眸子、白皙的皮肤和鬈曲的头发。他们讨论的问题，他常常是一无所知，然而他却安静地坐在一旁，俊美的脸上挂着温顺敦厚的微笑，恰如其分地感到他的在场本身足以给同伴们增添欢乐。当发觉马卡利斯特是位证券经纪人时，他热切地想得到些小费。然而，马卡利斯特脸带严肃的笑容告诉他，倘若他有时能购进些股票，他就可以赚进一笔钱财。这使得菲利普也垂涎欲滴，因为在某种程度上，他也有些人不敷出，因此借马卡利斯特提及的轻而易举的生财之道赚一点儿钱，这对菲利普是最合适不过的了。

"下次我一听到好消息就告诉你，"那位证券经纪人说。"有时真的会有好消息来的，问题在于等待时机。"

菲利普情不自禁地畅想起来，要是能赚个五十英镑，那该多好啊！这样，他就可以给诺拉买件她过冬御寒的皮大衣。他注视着里根特大街上的几家商店，挑选了几件他买得起的东西。诺拉一切都应该享有，因为她使他的生活充满了欢乐。
 

One morning Philip on getting up felt his head swim, and going back to bed suddenly discovered he was ill. All his limbs ached and he shivered with cold. When the landlady brought in his breakfast he called to her through the open door that he was not well, and asked for a cup of tea and a piece of toast. A few minutes later there was a knock at his door, and Griffiths came in. They had lived in the same house for over a year, but had never done more than nod to one another in the passage.

‘I say, I hear you’re seedy,’ said Griffiths. ‘I thought I’d come in and see what was the matter with you.’

Philip, blushing he knew not why, made light of the whole thing. He would be all right in an hour or two.

‘Well, you’d better let me take your temperature,’ said Griffiths.

‘It’s quite unnecessary,’ answered Philip irritably.

‘Come on.’

Philip put the thermometer in his mouth. Griffiths sat on the side of the bed and chatted brightly for a moment, then he took it out and looked at it.

‘Now, look here, old man, you must stay in bed, and I’ll bring old Deacon in to have a look at you.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Philip. ‘There’s nothing the matter. I wish you wouldn’t bother about me.’

‘But it isn’t any bother. You’ve got a temperature and you must stay in bed. You will, won’t you?’

There was a peculiar charm in his manner, a mingling of gravity and kindliness, which was infinitely attractive.

‘You’ve got a wonderful bed-side manner,’ Philip murmured, closing his eyes with a smile.

Griffiths shook out his pillow for him, deftly smoothed down the bedclothes, and tucked him up. He went into Philip’s sitting-room to look for a siphon, could not find one, and fetched it from his own room. He drew down the blind.

‘Now, go to sleep and I’ll bring the old man round as soon as he’s done the wards.’

It seemed hours before anyone came to Philip. His head felt as if it would split, anguish rent his limbs, and he was afraid he was going to cry. Then there was a knock at the door and Griffiths, healthy, strong, and cheerful, came in.

‘Here’s Doctor Deacon,’ he said.

The physician stepped forward, an elderly man with a bland manner, whom Philip knew only by sight. A few questions, a brief examination, and the diagnosis.

‘What d’you make it?’ he asked Griffiths, smiling.

‘Influenza.’

‘Quite right.’

Doctor Deacon looked round the dingy lodging-house room.

‘Wouldn’t you like to go to the hospital? They’ll put you in a private ward, and you can be better looked after than you can here.’

‘I’d rather stay where I am,’ said Philip.

He did not want to be disturbed, and he was always shy of new surroundings. He did not fancy nurses fussing about him, and the dreary cleanliness of the hospital.

‘I can look after him, sir,’ said Griffiths at once.

‘Oh, very well.’

He wrote a prescription, gave instructions, and left.

‘Now you’ve got to do exactly as I tell you,’ said Griffiths. ‘I’m day-nurse and night-nurse all in one.’

‘It’s very kind of you, but I shan’t want anything,’ said Philip.

Griffiths put his hand on Philip’s forehead, a large cool, dry hand, and the touch seemed to him good.

‘I’m just going to take this round to the dispensary to have it made up, and then I’ll come back.’

In a little while he brought the medicine and gave Philip a dose. Then he went upstairs to fetch his books.

‘You won’t mind my working in your room this afternoon, will you?’ he said, when he came down. ‘I’ll leave the door open so that you can give me a shout if you want anything.’

Later in the day Philip, awaking from an uneasy doze, heard voices in his sitting-room. A friend had come in to see Griffiths.

‘I say, you’d better not come in tonight,’ he heard Griffiths saying.

And then a minute or two afterwards someone else entered the room and expressed his surprise at finding Griffiths there. Philip heard him explain.

‘I’m looking after a second year’s man who’s got these rooms. The wretched blighter’s down with influenza. No whist tonight, old man.’

Presently Griffiths was left alone and Philip called him.

‘I say, you’re not putting off a party tonight, are you?’ he asked.

‘Not on your account. I must work at my surgery.’

‘Don’t put it off. I shall be all right. You needn’t bother about me.’

‘That’s all right.’

Philip grew worse. As the night came on he became slightly delirious, but towards morning he awoke from a restless sleep. He saw Griffiths get out of an arm-chair, go down on his knees, and with his fingers put piece after piece of coal on the fire. He was in pyjamas and a dressing-gown.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

‘Did I wake you up? I tried to make up the fire without making a row.’

‘Why aren’t you in bed? What’s the time?’

‘About five. I thought I’d better sit up with you tonight. I brought an arm-chair in as I thought if I put a mattress down I should sleep so soundly that I shouldn’t hear you if you wanted anything.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t be so good to me,’ groaned Philip. ‘Suppose you catch it?’

‘Then you shall nurse me, old man,’ said Griffiths, with a laugh.

In the morning Griffiths drew up the blind. He looked pale and tired after his night’s watch, but was full of spirits.

‘Now, I’m going to wash you,’ he said to Philip cheerfully.

‘I can wash myself,’ said Philip, ashamed.

‘Nonsense. If you were in the small ward a nurse would wash you, and I can do it just as well as a nurse.’

Philip, too weak and wretched to resist, allowed Griffiths to wash his hands and face, his feet, his chest and back. He did it with charming tenderness, carrying on meanwhile a stream of friendly chatter; then he changed the sheet just as they did at the hospital, shook out the pillow, and arranged the bed-clothes.

‘I should like Sister Arthur to see me. It would make her sit up. Deacon’s coming in to see you early.’

‘I can’t imagine why you should be so good to me,’ said Philip.

‘It’s good practice for me. It’s rather a lark having a patient.’

Griffiths gave him his breakfast and went off to get dressed and have something to eat. A few minutes before ten he came back with a bunch of grapes and a few flowers.

‘You are awfully kind,’ said Philip.

He was in bed for five days.

Norah and Griffiths nursed him between them. Though Griffiths was the same age as Philip he adopted towards him a humorous, motherly attitude. He was a thoughtful fellow, gentle and encouraging; but his greatest quality was a vitality which seemed to give health to everyone with whom he came in contact. Philip was unused to the petting which most people enjoy from mothers or sisters and he was deeply touched by the feminine tenderness of this strong young man. Philip grew better. Then Griffiths, sitting idly in Philip’s room, amused him with gay stories of amorous adventure. He was a flirtatious creature, capable of carrying on three or four affairs at a time; and his account of the devices he was forced to in order to keep out of difficulties made excellent hearing. He had a gift for throwing a romantic glamour over everything that happened to him. He was crippled with debts, everything he had of any value was pawned, but he managed always to be cheerful, extravagant, and generous. He was the adventurer by nature. He loved people of doubtful occupations and shifty purposes; and his acquaintance among the riff-raff that frequents the bars of London was enormous. Loose women, treating him as a friend, told him the troubles, difficulties, and successes of their lives; and card-sharpers, respecting his impecuniosity, stood him dinners and lent him five-pound notes. He was ploughed in his examinations time after time; but he bore this cheerfully, and submitted with such a charming grace to the parental expostulations that his father, a doctor in practice at Leeds, had not the heart to be seriously angry with him.

‘I’m an awful fool at books,’ he said cheerfully, ‘but I CAN’T work.’

Life was much too jolly. But it was clear that when he had got through the exuberance of his youth, and was at last qualified, he would be a tremendous success in practice. He would cure people by the sheer charm of his manner.

Philip worshipped him as at school he had worshipped boys who were tall and straight and high of spirits. By the time he was well they were fast friends, and it was a peculiar satisfaction to Philip that Griffiths seemed to enjoy sitting in his little parlour, wasting Philip’s time with his amusing chatter and smoking innumerable cigarettes. Philip took him sometimes to the tavern off Regent Street. Hayward found him stupid, but Lawson recognised his charm and was eager to paint him; he was a picturesque figure with his blue eyes, white skin, and curly hair. Often they discussed things he knew nothing about, and then he sat quietly, with a good-natured smile on his handsome face, feeling quite rightly that his presence was sufficient contribution to the entertainment of the company. When he discovered that Macalister was a stockbroker he was eager for tips; and Macalister, with his grave smile, told him what fortunes he could have made if he had bought certain stock at certain times. It made Philip’s mouth water, for in one way and another he was spending more than he had expected, and it would have suited him very well to make a little money by the easy method Macalister suggested.

‘Next time I hear of a really good thing I’ll let you know,’ said the stockbroker. ‘They do come along sometimes. It’s only a matter of biding one’s time.’

Philip could not help thinking how delightful it would be to make fifty pounds, so that he could give Norah the furs she so badly needed for the winter. He looked at the shops in Regent Street and picked out the articles he could buy for the money. She deserved everything. She made his life very happy.