諾貝爾文學經典:《寵兒》第9章Part 4

Softly and then so loud itwoke Denver, then Paul D himself. "Red heart. Red heart. Red heart."
TO GO BACK to the original hunger was impossible. Luckily for Denver, looking was foodenough to last. But to be looked at in turn was beyond appetite; it was breaking through her own skin to a place where hunger hadn't been discovered. It didn't have to happen often, becauseBeloved seldom looked right at her, or when she did, Denver could tell that her own face was justthe place those eyes stopped while the mind behind it walked on. But sometimes — at momentsDenver could neither anticipate nor create — Beloved rested cheek on knuckles and looked atDenver with attention.
It was lovely. Not to be stared at, not seen, but being pulled into view by the interested, uncriticaleyes of the other. Having her hair examined as a part of her self, not as material or a style. Havingher lips, nose, chin caressed as they might be if she were a moss rose a gardener paused to admire. Denver's skin dissolved under that gaze and became soft and bright like the lisle dress that had itsarm around her mother's waist. She floated near but outside her own body, feeling vague andintense at the same time. Needing nothing. Being what there was.
At such times it seemed to be Beloved who needed somethingm wanted something. Deep down inher wide black eyes, back behind the expressionlessness, was a palm held out for a penny whichDenver would gladly give her, if only she knew how or knew enough about her, a knowledge notto be had by the answers to the questions Sethe occasionally put to her: '"You disremembereverything? I never knew my mother neither, but I saw her a couple of times. Did you never seeyours? What kind of whites was they? You don't remember none?"Beloved, scratching the back of her hand, would say she remembered a woman who was hers, andshe remembered being snatched away from her. Other than that, the clearest memory she had, theone she repeated, was the bridge — standing on the bridge looking down. And she knew onewhiteman.
Sethe found that remarkable and more evidence to support her conclusions, which she confided toDenver.
"Where'd you get the dress, them shoes?"Beloved said she took them.
"Who from?"Silence and a faster scratching of her hand. She didn't know; she saw them and just took them.

而後響亮得吵醒了丹芙，也吵醒了保羅·D自己。"紅心。紅心。紅心。"
回覆最初的飢餓是不可能的。丹芙很幸運，光是看着別人就能頂飯吃。可是反過來被別人回看，卻不是她的胃口承受得住的；它會穿透她的皮膚，直達一個飢餓尚未被發現的地方。這種事不必經常發生，因爲寵兒很少正眼瞧她，即便瞧上一眼，丹芙看得出，自己的臉也不過是她眼睛略停一停的地方，眼睛後面的頭腦仍在繼續漫遊。可有的時候——這種時刻丹芙既無法預料也無法創造——寵兒用指節拄着腮，關注地端詳着丹芙。
那真可愛。不是被盯視，也不是僅僅被看見，而是被另一個人興致勃勃、不加評點的眼睛拉進視野。把她的頭髮當做她自身的一部分，而不是當做一種材料或者一種樣式，加以審視。讓她的嘴脣、鼻子、下巴得到愛撫，就彷彿她是一朵讓園丁流連不已的毛萼洋薔薇。丹芙的皮膚在她的注視下溶解，變得像摟住她媽媽腰身的那件萊爾裙一般柔軟、光豔。她在自己的軀體之外漂游，感到恍惚，同時也覺得緊張。別無他求。聽之任之。
這種時候倒是寵兒看起來有所需要——有所要求。在她漆黑的大眼睛深處，在面無表情背後，有一隻手掌平攤出來，在討要着一個銅子兒；丹芙當然樂於施與，只要她知道如何給她，或者對她有足夠的瞭解。但這瞭解並不得自寵兒對那些問題所作的回答，那些塞絲偶爾向她提出的問題："你什麼都不記得了麼？我也一直不認識我的媽媽，可我見過她兩回。你從來沒見過你的媽媽麼？他們是哪種白人？你一點兒都不記得了？" 寵兒會撓着手背，說她記得一個屬於她的女人，還記得自己從她身邊被人搶走。除此以外，她記得最清楚的、不斷重複的，是那座橋——站在橋上往下看。另外，她還記得一個白人。
塞絲認爲這一點值得注意，也發現了更多的證據，支持着她曾經向丹芙透露過的結論。
"你是從哪兒弄到那條裙子和那雙鞋的？" 寵兒說是她拿的。
"從誰那兒？" 沉默。更快地撓手。她不知道；她看見了，就拿了。