He smiledmaliciously at Tiare, and with lamentations she told us again the story of howat the sale of Strickland's effects she had neglected the pictures, but boughtan American stove for twenty-seven francs."Have youthe pictures still?" I asked."Yes; I amkeeping them till my daughter is of marriageable age, and then I shall sellthem. They will be her dot. " Then he went on with the account of hisvisit to Strickland."I shallnever forget the evening I spent with him. I had not intended to stay more thanan hour, but he insisted that I should spend the night. I hesitated, for Iconfess I did not much like the look of the mats on which he proposed that Ishould sleep; but I shrugged my shoulders. When I was building my house in thePaumotus I had slept out for weeks on a harder bed than that, with nothing toshelter me but wild shrubs; and as for vermin, my tough skin should be proofagainst their malice."We wentdown to the stream to bathe while Ata was preparing the dinner, and after wehad eaten it we sat on the verandah. We smoked and chatted. The young man had aconcertina, and he played the tunes popular on the music-halls a dozen yearsbefore. They sounded strangely in the tropical night thousands of miles fromcivilisation. I asked Strickland if it did not irk him to live in thatpromiscuity. No, he said; he liked to have his models under his hand.Presently, after loud yawning, the natives went away to sleep, and Stricklandand I were left alone. I cannot describe to you the intense silence of thenight. On my island in the Paumotus there is never at night the completestillness that there was here. There is the rustle of the myriad animals on thebeach, all the little shelled things that crawl about ceaselessly, and there isthe noisy scurrying of the land-crabs. Now and then in the lagoon you hear theleaping of a fish, and sometimes a hurried noisy splashing as a brown sharksends all the other fish scampering for their lives. And above all, ceaselesslike time, is the dull roar of the breakers on the reef. But here there was nota sound, and the air was scented with the white flowers of the night. It was anight so beautiful that your soul seemed hardly able to bear the prison of thebody. You felt that it was ready to be wafted away on the immaterial air, anddeath bore all the aspect of a beloved friend. "他幸灾乐祸地向蒂阿瑞笑了笑。于是蒂阿瑞又一次后悔不迭地给我们讲起那个老故事来：在拍卖思特里克兰德遗产的时候，她怎样一点儿也没有注意他的画，只花了二十七个法郎买了一个美国的煤油炉子。“这些画你还保留着吗？”我问。“是的。我还留着。等我的女儿到了出嫁的年龄我再卖，给她做陪嫁。”他又接着给我们讲他去看思特里克兰德的事。“我永远也忘不了我同他一起度过的那个晚上。本来我想在他那里只待一个钟头，但是他执意留我住一夜。我犹豫了一会儿；说老实话，我真不喜欢他建议叫我在上面过夜的那张草席。但是最后我还是耸了耸肩膀，同意留下了。当我在包莫图斯岛给自己盖房子的时候，有好几个星期我睡在外面露天地里，我睡的床要比这张草席硬得多，盖的东西只有草叶子。讲到咬人的小虫，我的又硬又厚的皮肤实在是最好的防护物。“在爱塔给我们准备晚饭的时候，我同思特里克兰德到小河边上去洗了一个澡。吃过晚饭后，我们就坐在露台上乘凉。我们一边抽烟一边聊天。我来的时候看见的那个年轻人有一架手风琴，他演奏的都是十几年以前音乐厅里流行过的曲子。在热带的夜晚，在这样一个离开人类文明几千里以外的地方，这些曲调给人以一种奇异的感觉。我问思特里克兰德，他这样同各式各样的人胡乱住在一起，是否觉得厌恶。他回答说不；他喜欢他的模特儿就在眼前。过了不久，当地人都大声打着呵欠，各自去睡觉了，露台上只剩下我同思特里克兰德。我无法向你描写夜是多么寂静。在我们包莫图斯的岛上，夜晚从来没有这里这么悄无声息。海滨上有一千种小动物发出窸窸窣窣的声响。各式各样的带甲壳的小东西永远也不停息地到处爬动，另外还有生活在陆地上的螃蟹嚓嚓地横爬过去。有的时候你可以听到咸水湖里鱼儿跳跃的声音，另外的时候，一只棕色鲨鱼把别的鱼儿惊得乱窜，弄得湖里发出一片噼啪的泼溅声。但是压倒这一切嘈杂声响的还是海水拍打礁石的隆隆声，它象时间一样永远也不终止。但是这里却一点儿声音也没有，空气里充满了夜间开放的白花的香气。这里的夜这么美，你的灵魂好象都无法忍受肉体的桎梏了。你感觉到你的灵魂随时都可能飘升到缥缈的空际，死神的面貌就象你亲爱的朋友那样熟悉。”