諾貝爾文學經典:《寵兒》第1章Part 13
"And they took my milk!"The fat white circles of dough lined the pan in rows. Once more Sethe touched a wet forefinger tothe stove. She opened the oven door and slid the pan of biscuits in. As she raised up from the heatshe felt Paul D behind her and his hands under her breasts. She straightened up and knew, butcould not feel, that his cheek was pressing into the branches of her chokecherry tree.
Not even trying, he had become the kind of man who could walk into a house and make thewomen cry. Because with him, in his presence, they could. There was something blessed in hismanner. Women saw him and wanted to weep — to tell him that their chest hurt and their kneesdid too. Strong women and wise saw him and told him things they only told each other: that waypast the Change of Life, desire in them had suddenly become enormous, greedy, more savage thanwhen they were fifteen, and that it embarrassed them and made them sad; that secretly they longedto die — to be quit of it — that sleep was more precious to them than any waking day. Young girls sidled up to him to confess or describe how well-dressed the visitations were that had followedthem straight from their dreams. Therefore, although he did not understand why this was so, hewas not surprised when Denver dripped tears into the stovefire.
Nor, fifteen minutes later, aftertelling him about her stolen milk, her mother wept as well. Behind her, bending down, his body anarc of kindness, he held her breasts in the palms of his hands. He rubbed his cheek on her back andlearned that way her sorrow, the roots of it; its wide trunk and intricate branches. Raising hisfingers to the hooks of her dress, he knew without seeing them or hearing any sigh that the tearswere coming fast. And when the top of her dress was around her hips and he saw the sculpture herback had become, like the decorative work of an ironsmith too passionate for display, he couldthink but not say, "Aw, Lord, girl." And he would tolerate no peace until he had touched everyridge and leaf of it with his mouth, none of which Sethe could feel because her back skin had beendead for years. What she knew was that the responsibility for her breasts, at last, was in somebodyelse's hands.
"還搶走了我的奶水!"白胖的面圈在平底鍋上排列成行。塞絲又一次用沾溼的食指碰了碰爐子。她打開烤箱門，把一鍋麪餅插進去。她剛剛起身離開烤箱的熱氣，就感覺到背後的保羅·D和託在她乳房下的雙手。她站直身子，知道——卻感覺不到——他正把臉埋進苦櫻桃樹的枝杈裏。
幾乎在不知不覺之間，他已經成爲那種一進屋就能使女人哭泣的男人。有他相陪伴，當着他的面，她們就哭得出來。他的舉止中有某種神聖的東西。女人們見了他就想流淚——向他訴說胸口和膝頭的創傷。堅強的和智慧的女人見了他，將只有她們彼此間才說的事講給他聽：更年期早過了，她們內心的慾望卻忽然間變得旺盛、貪婪起來，比十五歲的時候更狂野，讓她們羞愧，也讓她們悲哀；她們偷偷地渴望死去——以求得解脫——對她們來說睡去比任何醒着的日子都珍貴。年輕姑娘則羞怯地湊近他坦白心事，或者向他描述在夢中尾隨她們的不速之客穿着多麼漂亮的衣裳。所以，雖然他不明白究竟是怎麼一回事，但當丹芙獨對爐火垂淚時，他並不感到驚訝。
一刻鐘之後，她的媽媽向他說完被掠走的奶水後同樣啜泣的時候，他也不感到驚訝。他在她背後俯下身去，身體形成一道愛憐的弧線，手掌托起她的乳房。他用臉頰揉擦着她的後背，用這種方式感受她的悲傷，它的根，它巨大的主幹和繁茂的枝杈。他把手指挪到裙子的掛鉤上，不用看到眼淚，也不用聽到一聲嘆息，便知道它們已洶涌而至。當裙子的上身褪下來圍住她的臀部時，他看到她後背變成的雕塑，簡直就像一個鐵匠心愛得不願示人的工藝品。他百感交集，一時說不出話來："噢，主啊，姑娘。"直到每一道隆起、每一片樹葉都被他的嘴脣犁遍，他才平靜下來，而這一切塞絲絲毫感覺不到，因爲她背上的皮膚已死去多年了。她只知道，她雙乳的負擔終於落在了另一個人的手中。
