Then the fellows about the street began to chaff her.
'You look pale,' said one of a group to her one day.
'You're overworkin' yerself, you are,' said another.
'Married life don't agree with Liza, thet's wot it is,' added a third.
''Oo d'yer think yer gettin' at? I ain't married, an' never like ter be,' she answered.
'Liza 'as all the pleasures of a 'usband an' none of the trouble.'
'Bli'me if I know wot yer mean!' said Liza.
'Na, of course not; you don't know nothin', do yer?'
'Innocent as a bibe. Our Father which art in 'eaven!'
''Aven't been in London long, 'ave yer?'
They spoke in chorus, and Liza stood in front of them, bewildered, not knowing what to answer.
'Don't you mike no mistake abaht it, Liza knows a thing or two.'
'O me darlin', I love yer fit to kill, but tike care your missus ain't round the corner.' This was particularly bold, and they all laughed.
Liza felt very uncomfortable, and fiddled about with her apron, wondering how she should get away.
'Tike care yer don't git into trouble, thet's all,' said one of the men, with burlesque gravity.
'Yer might give us a chanst, Liza, you come aht with me one evenin'. You oughter give us all a turn, just ter show there's no ill-feelin'.'
'Bli'me if I know wot yer all talkin' abaht. You're all barmy on the crumpet,' said Liza indignantly, and, turning her back on them, made for home.
Among other things that had happened was Sally's marriage. One Saturday a little procession had started from Vere Street, consisting of Sally, in a state of giggling excitement, her fringe magnificent after a whole week of curling-papers, clad in a perfectly new velveteen dress of the colour known as electric blue; and Harry, rather nervous and ill at ease in the unaccustomed restraint of a collar; these two walked arm-in-arm, and were followed by Sally's mother and uncle, also arm-in-arm, and the procession was brought up by Harry's brother and a friend. They started with a flourish of trumpets and an old boot, and walked down the middle of Vere Street, accompanied by the neighbours' good wishes; but as they got into the Westminster Bridge Road and nearer to the church, the happy couple grew silent, and Harry began to perspire freely, so that his collar gave him perfect torture. There was a public-house just opposite the church, and it was suggested that they should have a drink before going in. As it was a solemn occasion they went into the private bar, and there Sally's uncle, who was a man of means, ordered six pots of beer.
'Feel a bit nervous, 'Arry?' asked his friend.
'Na,' said Harry, as if he had been used to getting married every day of his life; 'bit warm, thet's all.'
'Your very good 'ealth, Sally,' said her mother, lifting her mug; 'this is the last time as I shall ever address you as miss.'
'An' may she be as good a wife as you was,' added Sally's uncle.
'Well, I don't think my old man ever 'ad no complaint ter mike abaht me. I did my duty by 'im, although it's me as says it,' answered the good lady.
'Well, mates,' said Harry's brother, 'I reckon it's abaht time to go in. So 'ere's to the 'ealth of Mr. 'Enry Atkins an' 'is future missus.'
'An' God bless 'em!' said Sally's mother.
Then they went into the church, and as they solemnly walked up the aisle a pale-faced young curate came out of the vestry and down to the bottom of the chancel. The beer had had a calming effect on their troubled minds, and both Harry and Sally began to think it rather a good joke. They smiled on each other, and at those parts of the service which they thought suggestive violently nudged one another in the ribs. When the ring had to be produced, Harry fumbled about in different pockets, and his brother whispered:
'Swop me bob, 'e's gone and lorst it!'
However, all went right, and Sally having carefully pocketed the certificate, they went out and had another drink to celebrate the happy event.
In the evening Liza and several friends came into the couple's room, which they had taken in the same house as Sally had lived in before, and drank the health of the bride and bridegroom till they thought fit to retire.
一个爱情和欢乐的时期这样开始了。
丽莎一下班，吃好点心，就往外溜，到什么约定的地方去碰头吉姆。通常是在教堂附近，威斯敏斯特桥大道在那里弯向泰晤士河。他们常携手闲荡，直到有什么地方可以坐下休息。
有时候，她沿着亚尔培堤走到巴特西公园注，在那里凳子上坐下，看孩子们玩耍。骑自行车的女性注已经不大到巴特西来，而到对岸的那些公园里去了，但是还不时有一辆经过，丽莎带着老派的偏见，常看着骑车的过去，背后议论，说话常粗野得不象个上等女人。
吉姆和丽莎俩都喜欢孩子，那些很小的破衣烂衫的小鬼常来绕着他们，要在吉姆的膝盖上骑马，或者跟丽莎假打架。
他们觉得自己是跟维尔街的人们离得远远的了，可是有两次，他们正在路上走，却被他们认识的人碰到了。
一次是两个工人正从沃克斯霍尔注完工回家，到他们走得很近的时候，丽莎才看见他们；她急忙把吉姆的臂膀甩掉．两个人在对方走过身边的时候都把眼睛朝着地上，象鸵鸟一样，以为只要你不看，就不会被人看见。
“你看见他们吗，吉姆？”他们走过以后，丽莎轻轻问。“恐怕他们没看见我们。”
她几乎本能地回过头去，正好那两个男人中的一个也回过头来；那就没有疑问了。
“真吓了我一跳，”她说。
“我也是，”吉姆回答；“我浑身一阵火热。”
“我们真是傻瓜，”丽莎说；“我们该招呼他们！你看他们会传出去吗？”
他们一点也没有听到什么。后来吉姆在小酒店遇到那两个人中的一个，他也没提起碰到过他。他们想，大概他们没有被认出来。
然而第二次糟了。
这回又是在亚尔培堤上。他们碰上了一伙四个人，都是住在一条街上的。丽莎的心往下沉了，因为逃避已经不可能。她想连忙回头跑，可是那几个人早已看到他们了。
她小声对吉姆说——
“壮起胆来。”所以他们走到面前的时候，她对其中的一个说，“喂！你们上哪儿去？”
这几个人停了下来，其中一个反过来问——
“你们上哪儿去？”
“我吗？哦，我刚到医院去。厂里有个姑娘不舒服，所以我想，我该去看看她。”
她开始说话的时候，有点结结巴巴，可很快就镇静下来，谎话说得挺利落，没有丝毫吞吞吐吐的。
“我医院里出来，”她继续说，“准知道正好这家伙经过医院，他对我说‘你好！’他说，‘我到沃克斯霍尔去，我们一起走一段，好吗？’‘好，’我说，‘一起走也好嘛。’”
一个人做了个眼色，另一个说，“得了吧，丽莎！”
她做出清白受污辱的神气而火冒起来。
“你这是什么意思？”她说；“你以为我在骗人？”
“骗人？不！你是刚从乡下来的老实人，是不是？”
“你以为我骗人？你说我为什么要骗人？自己说谎的人从来不相信别人，那倒是千真万确的。”
“好吧，丽莎，别那么泼辣。”
“泼辣！你再说，我打肿你的眼睛。我们走．”她对局促不安地站在旁边的吉姆说；他们走了。
这些人叫嚷着，“我们不用等多久，就有好戏看。”他们嘻嘻哈哈地也走了。
从那一回以后，他们决定拣绝对没有人看见的地方去。他们一定要过了威斯敏斯特桥才碰头，然后才同到巴特西公园。他们总是卧在草地上，相互偎依着，这样度过了一个个漫长的夏夜。
白天的闷热过去之后，公园里微风习习，他们痛快地呼吸着凉爽的空气。这儿似乎远离了伦敦，又清静，又凉快。丽莎躺在吉姆身旁，只觉得她在一种醉人的欢乐之中，她对他的爱情泛溢到整个世界，把整个人类都沉浸在里面。但愿好景常在！
他们常尽是待着，看一颗颗星星在蔚蓝的空中熹微地闪现出来，直到深夜，蔚蓝变成漆黑，满天千万颗星照耀在他们头顶。
但是随着夜间逐渐转凉，他们觉得躺在草地上冷了，同时又觉得走了那么长的路来到这里，逗留的时间也似乎太短。所以他们同原先一样，过了桥沿着亚尔培堤漫步，看见有空凳子，就在那里坐下。丽莎蜷缩在她情人的怀里，他的粗大的臂膀抱着她。
九月的雨并不影响他们；他们跟平常一样，来到他们树下的位子上，吉姆会把丽莎抱在膝盖上，张开自己的外套，给她遮雨，而她呢，两臂挽住他的脖子，紧挨着他，偶尔格格地发出一声欢乐和愉快的笑声。
这些漫长的夜晚，他们竟不大说话；事实上，他们有什么可交谈的呢？他们常默默无言地两人贴着脸，坐上一个小时，彼此的面颊上都感觉到对方嘴里热烘烘的呼吸，而到临了，唯一的动作就是丽莎的嘴唇往上一抬，吉姆的嘴唇凑上去，两人的嘴唇就这样合在一起，接吻。
有时候丽莎微微睡着了，吉姆总一动不动地坐在那儿，只怕惊醒了她。她自己醒来的时候，常嫣然一笑，他又俯下身子去吻她。他们真是快乐。
可是时间过得那么快，不知不觉大鹏钟敲起了十二点。他们只好勉强站起身来，回家走了。
他们的分手是没完没了的——每天晚上吉姆死抱住她，不肯放手，他想到分离就热泪盈眶。
“只要我们能永远在一起，”他说，“要我怎么样我都情愿。”
“别烦恼，老朋友！”丽莎自己含着眼泪哭出来，回答说，“这也没有办法．所以我们只能好好忍受。”
但是尽管他们谨慎小心，维尔街的人们还是都知道了。
首先，丽莎觉察到那些女人似乎不象以前那样对她亲热了，而且她常常觉得她们在谈论她。她经过的时候，她们好象瞧着她，然后讲些什么，或者还放声大笑，而她走近她们的时候，她们立刻停止说话，局促不安地缄默了。
她有很长一段时期，一直不愿相信她们对她的态度变了。吉姆是什么也没有觉察到，还向她劝说，说那全都是她的想象。可是后来越来越明显，吉姆也不得不同意丽莎的想法，觉得人们确实已经不知怎么发现了他们的秘密。
有一回，丽莎在跟吉姆的女儿波莉谈话，布莱克斯顿太太把她叫了去。波莉到了她母亲跟前，丽莎看见那女人怒冲冲地说了些什么，接着母女俩都远远瞧着她。丽莎看见布莱克斯顿太太目光对着她，脸上一副阴冷的怒容几乎使她惊骇。她硬着头皮走前几步，去招呼那女人，可是布莱克斯顿太太动也不动地站着，恶狠狠地瞧着她，吓得她不敢开口。
她告诉了吉姆，他气得脸色发青，说道，“那个女人该死！要是她对你说了什么，我就揍她。”
“无论怎么样都不要打她，吉姆，好吗？”丽莎说。
“那她就得识相！”他回答。
他告诉她，近来他老婆在发脾气，不跟他说话。上一天夜里，他一天工作完毕回家，向她道“晚安’’，她扭转了头，睬也不睬他。
“我跟你说话，你不能回一声吗？”当时他说。
“晚安，”她回答了，死样怪气地，依旧不回头。
从那一回之后，丽莎觉得波莉总是回避她。
“怎么啦，波莉？”有一天她对她说。“你现在一句话也不说了；你把舌头给人割掉了吗？”
“我？我没有什么好说的，我知道，”波莉回答，一面转身就走。
丽莎面孔涨得通红，急忙看看周围有没有人注意到这情况。有两个小伙子坐在人行道上，看到了。她看见他们彼此用臂肘轻轻碰碰，眨眨眼睛。
后来，这条小街上的人们开始跟她开起玩笑来。
“你脸色苍白”，有一天，一群人中有一个对她说。
“你干得太卖力了，准是的，”另一个说。
“问题是结婚生活对丽莎不合适，’’第三个加上一句。
“你在跟谁说话？我没有结婚，我从来不要结婚，”她回答。
“丽莎有丈夫可能给她的一切欢乐，而没有丈夫可能给她的任何麻烦。”
“我不懂你在说些什么！”丽莎说。
“不，你当然不懂，你是一点也不懂的，对吗？”
“象婴儿一样天真。我们在天上的父啊！注”
“在伦敦还待得不久吧？”
他们一吹一唱的，丽莎站在他们面前，茫然无从接嘴。
“你别弄错了，丽莎是懂得点儿的。”
“啊，我亲爱的，我爱你，恨不得把你杀了，可要当心不要你的老婆就在转角处。”这个话说得特别大胆，因此大伙都哈哈大笑。
丽莎狼狈不堪，尽摸弄着她的围裙，不知该怎么脱身。
“当心别招祸，那倒是最要紧的，”一个男人用一本正经的口气开玩笑。
“你也给我们个机会，丽莎；几时晚上你跟我也一起出去一次。你应该让我们每个人都挨到一次，表示你对我们一视同仁。”
“你们都在说些什么，我完全莫名其妙。你们都昏了头。”丽莎愤慨地说完，就转身朝家里走。
另外发生的事情中，还有萨莉的结婚。
有个星期六，一个小小的行列从维尔街出发。行列中，萨莉兴奋得尽是傻笑，前刘海用卷发纸卷了一个星期，显得异常漂亮；她穿着一身簇新的棉绒衣服，颜色是所谓电光蓝的。还有哈利，神经有点紧张，颈项里裹着不习惯的硬领，很不自在。他们俩携手并行，后面跟着萨莉的母亲和舅舅，也是手挽着手。行列由哈利的哥哥和一个朋友领头。
他们在一阵喇叭声中扔了一只旧皮靴注而出发，在维尔街街心上行进，一路受到邻居们的祝贺。可是他们进入威斯敏斯特桥大道，渐渐在走近教堂的时候，这对幸福的新人不作声了，哈利开始汗流如注，因而他的硬领真使他受罪。
就在教堂对面有家小酒店，于是有人建议在进教堂之前先喝上一杯。因为这是个严肃的时刻，所以他们进入里边的小房间，萨莉的舅舅是有钱人，他叫了六罐啤酒。
“觉得有点紧张吧，哈利？”他的朋友问。
“不，”哈利说，仿佛他已经习惯于一生天天做新郎似的；“就是热一点。”
“祝你身体健康，萨莉，”她母亲举杯说；“这回是我最后一次称你姑娘了。”
“愿她象你一样做个好妻子，”萨莉的舅舅说。
“嗯，我想我的老头儿对我从来没有一句抱怨的话。我尽到了我对他的责任，虽然这是我自己说的。”那位善良的老太太说。
“好吧，朋友们，”哈利的哥哥说，“我看时间差不多．要进教堂了。所以我这儿向亨利•阿特金斯注和他未来的夫人敬一杯。祝他们身体健康。”
“还愿上帝保佑他们！”萨莉的母亲说。
然后他们进入了教堂。
在他们严肃地在通道上向前走去的时候，一个脸色苍白的年轻副牧师从法衣室里出来，走到圣坛脚下。
啤酒对他们纷乱的心情有镇定作用，这会儿哈利和萨莉俩都觉得这玩意实在是大笑话。他们相视微笑，碰到礼拜式中有些他们觉得有暗示性处，彼此用臂肘猛触对方的肋骨。到要拿出戒指的时候，哈利在一只只口袋里乱摸。他哥哥在旁轻声地说——
“该死，他准丢掉了！”
然而一切还是顺利进行。萨莉小心翼翼地放好了结婚证书之后，他们走出教堂，又去喝一杯酒，庆祝这大喜事。
晚上，丽莎和几个朋友来到这对新人屋里。他们的新房就借在萨莉原来住的同一幢房子里。他们喝酒祝贺新郎新娘身体健康，直闹到他们认为该是告辞了的时候。
Chapter 10
It was November. The fine weather had quite gone now, and with it much of the sweet pleasure of Jim and Liza's love. When they came out at night on the Embankment they found it cold and dreary; sometimes a light fog covered the river-banks, and made the lamps glow out dim and large; a light rain would be falling, which sent a chill into their very souls; foot passengers came along at rare intervals, holding up umbrellas, and staring straight in front of them as they hurried along in the damp and cold; a cab would pass rapidly by, splashing up the mud on each side. The benches were deserted, except, perhaps, for some poor homeless wretch who could afford no shelter, and, huddled up in a corner, with his head buried in his breast, was sleeping heavily, like a dead man. The wet mud made Liza's skirts cling about her feet, and the damp would come in and chill her legs and creep up her body, till she shivered, and for warmth pressed herself close against Jim. Sometimes they would go into the third-class waiting-rooms at Waterloo or Charing Cross and sit there, but it was not like the park or the Embankment on summer nights; they had warmth, but the heat made their wet clothes steam and smell, and the gas flared in their eyes, and they hated the people perpetually coming in and out, opening the doors and letting in a blast of cold air; they hated the noise of the guards and porters shouting out the departure of the trains, the shrill whistling of the steam-engine, the hurry and bustle and confusion. About eleven o'clock, when the trains grew less frequent, they got some quietness; but then their minds were troubled, and they felt heavy, sad and miserable.
One evening they had been sitting at Waterloo Station; it was foggy outside--a thick, yellow November fog, which filled the waiting-room, entering the lungs, and making the mouth taste nasty and the eyes smart. It was about half-past eleven, and the station was unusually quiet; a few passengers, in wraps and overcoats, were walking to and fro, waiting for the last train, and one or two porters were standing about yawning. Liza and Jim had remained for an hour in perfect silence, filled with a gloomy unhappiness, as of a great weight on their brains. Liza was sitting forward, with her elbows on her knees, resting her face on her hands.
'I wish I was straight,' she said at last, not looking up.
'Well, why won't yer come along of me altogether, an' you'll be arright then?' he answered.
'Na, that's no go; I can't do thet.' He had often asked her to live with him entirely, but she had always refused.
'You can come along of me, an' I'll tike a room in a lodgin' 'ouse in 'Olloway, an' we can live there as if we was married.'
'Wot abaht yer work?'
'I can get work over the other side as well as I can 'ere. I'm abaht sick of the wy things is goin' on.'
'So am I; but I can't leave mother.'
'She can come, too.'
'Not when I'm not married. I shouldn't like 'er ter know as I'd--as I'd gone wrong.'
'Well, I'll marry yer. Swop me bob, I wants ter badly enough.'
'Yer can't; yer married already.'
'Thet don't matter! If I give the missus so much a week aht of my screw, she'll sign a piper ter give up all clime ter me, an' then we can get spliced. One of the men as I works with done thet, an' it was arright.'
Liza shook her head.
'Na, yer can't do thet now; it's bigamy, an' the cop tikes yer, an' yer gits twelve months' 'ard for it.'
'But swop me bob, Liza, I can't go on like this. Yer knows the missus--well, there ain't no bloomin' doubt abaht it, she knows as you an' me are carryin' on, an' she mikes no bones abaht lettin' me see it.'
'She don't do thet?'
'Well, she don't exactly sy it, but she sulks an' won't speak, an' then when I says anythin' she rounds on me an' calls me all the nimes she can think of. I'd give 'er a good 'idin', but some'ow I don't like ter! She mikes the plice a 'ell ter me, an' I'm not goin' ter stand it no longer!'
'You'll ave ter sit it, then; yer can't chuck it.'
'Yus I can, an' I would if you'd come along of me. I don't believe you like me at all, Liza, or you'd come.'
She turned towards him and put her arms round his neck.
'Yer know I do, old cock,' she said. 'I like yer better than anyone else in the world; but I can't go awy an' leave mother.'
'Bli'me me if I see why; she's never been much ter you. She mikes yer slave awy ter pay the rent, an' all the money she earns she boozes.'
'Thet's true, she ain't been wot yer might call a good mother ter me--but some'ow she's my mother, an' I don't like ter leave 'er on 'er own, now she's so old--an' she can't do much with the rheumatics. An' besides, Jim dear, it ain't only mother, but there's yer own kids, yer can't leave them.'
He thought for a while, and then said:
'You're abaht right there, Liza; I dunno if I could get on without the kids. If I could only tike them an' you too, swop me bob, I should be 'appy.'
Liza smiled sadly.
'So yer see, Jim, we're in a bloomin' 'ole, an' there ain't no way aht of it thet I can see.'
He took her on his knees, and pressing her to him, kissed her very long and very lovingly.
