远处——如果他们也有远近的话——可以看见马、树、塔等正跳着圆圈舞。
这儿，一头奶牛、一只兔子俯首地上，同样大——?面显示如此。?中的中国晴空万里。
我们刚买了一套与众不同的蓝色古瓷器，昨天晚上，我和姐姐首次用它喝茶。（我们都很怀旧，可以喝着不掺杂任何其他东西的茶，静静地坐一下午。）我把上面的一些奇观指给她看，禁不住说，这些年我们过得多幸福呀，竟然可以买到如此好的东西一饱眼福。这时，我同伴的眉头掠过一丝伤感的阴影。我善于觉察布里奇特心中的愁云。
她说：“我多希望过去的好时光可以重现。那时我们不富有。我不是说想成为穷人，但那是一种中间状态，”她喜欢随口漫谈，“我相信我们会比现在更快乐。现在因为你有钱去花，买东西就是买东西，这要在从前可是件乐事。我们相中了一件便宜的奢侈品时（哦！那时我要赢得你的同意多难啊！）常常要讨论好几天，左思又想，看可以省出什么钱来，存多少才能够那个数，我觉得当时买的每件物品都物有所值。
“你还记得那件棕外套吗？你常穿它以至于线头都露出来了！朋友都觉得穿它太丢面子了！这都要归咎于波蒙特和弗莱彻的对开剧作集。那是一个深夜，你把它从科文特加登剧院的巴克书店淘了回来。记得当时我们犹豫良久，直到星期六晚上十点才决定买。从伊斯灵顿出发时，你担心太晚了。所幸的是书店老板虽然嘟囔着不乐意，但是仍借着摇曳的烛火（他准备睡觉了）从尘封的宝藏中将这件遗物·了出来。而你回到家后，仍希望这本书能比现在重上一倍。你把它拿给我看，我们一起检查它的完整性（你称之为校对）。然后我用糨糊粘补疏松了的书页。这时你已迫不及待了，无法等到天亮。你能说穷人就没有快乐吗？说说你现在穿的这件整洁的黑礼服吧，自从我们变得富有之后，就很精心地收拾它。你多穿了四五个星期，安抚一下不安的心情——因为这件衣服花了15或16先令的巨款（那时我们觉得这是个大数目，你都用来买那本旧书了）。但是它带给你多少快乐和满意？有你那件旧衣服（你的老乌鸦）一半多吗？现在你能随心所欲地买你喜欢的书，但是你再也没给我带回一本好的旧书来。
“因为买了不到15先令的莱昂纳多仿造品——就是我们称为布朗奇夫人的那幅?，你至少说了20个对不起！当你看着?，想着花的钱——想着花的钱，再看那幅?时——你觉得穷人没有生活的乐趣吗？而如今，你只需走进科尔à吉?店，就可以买到莱氏的荒?，对吧？
“然后，还记得吗，我们安步当车去恩菲尔德、波特斯巴和沃尔瑟姆旅行时是多么开心快乐？当然现在我们有钱了，可以出去度假之类的，但兴致全没了——记得那只小提篮，我用它来装薄荷冷羊肉和沙à——记得你如何打听到一家还算不错的餐馆，好让我们进去摆出自带的食物——只需花点钱买你非要不可的麦芽酒——体会老板娘的神色，看她是否会铺上桌布——我们真心期望她是个朴实厚道的老板娘，就像艾萨克·沃尔顿所描绘的那样，他在风景宜人的丽河两岸钓鱼时遇到过很多这样的老板娘，——有时她们会很慷慨热情，但有时又很冷μ——不过我们仍很快乐，吃着我们的家常便饭，很少渴望皮斯卡托的鳟鱼厅。现在我们开心玩一天的机会太少了，即使出游大多也是以车代步——进好的酒店，点最好的菜，不计价钱——但味道却比不上偶尔在乡下吃的农家饭，在乡下我们不知道人家会拿什么招待我们，也不知道我们受不受欢ó。
“你现在太自傲了，只愿坐在正厅后排看戏。记得看《赫克瑟姆之战》、《征服加来》和斑尼斯特与布兰德夫人主演的《丛林中的孩子们》时，我们都坐哪里吗？那时候，我们必须尽量节约每个先令，才能一季度在一先令走廊座上看三四出戏——你一直觉得不该带我去——我一直因此而感激你——在羞愧的同时乐趣更大——开幕了，我们介意坐在哪里吗？或者说坐在哪里重要吗？我们的思绪早已随罗莎琳德飞到阿登，随薇奥à飞进伊利里亚法院。你过去常说顶层楼座是社会一员欣赏戏剧的最佳之处——还说这种表演次数越少越好——我们在剧院里见到的观众，一般不看剧本，所以看戏时都全神贯注，而且的确很专注——漏掉一个字都是无法弥补的空缺。那时我们就靠这种想法来安慰自己——作为女性，我想问一下，是不是在剧院有了昂贵的座位，我就可以得到更多的礼遇？事实并非如此。虽然以前进门走楼梯时，秩序相当差，但是女士优先的惯例保持良好，——克服一点小麻烦后，再坐下来舒适地看戏，其中的乐趣无穷！现在我们只需付钱往里走。你说如今在顶层楼座看不清演出了。但我肯定那时我们看得清晰也听得明白，并且感觉很好——但那时的一切都已随贫穷消逝了。”
送 行
Seeing People off
麦克斯·毕尔勃姆 / Max Beerbohm
麦克斯·毕尔勃姆（1872—1956），英国著名讽刺?家、散文家和剧评家。曾就读于牛津大学。除擅长绘?外，他还写过不少散文，并取得了较高的成就。后来继萧伯纳任《星期六评论》剧评专栏作者达12年之久，晚年移居美国直到去世。
I am not good at it. To do it well seems to me one of the most difficult things in the world, and probably seems so to you, too.
To see a friend off from Waterloo to Vauxhall were easy enough. But we are never called on to perform that small feat. It is only when a friend is going on a longish journey, and will be absent for a languish time, that we turn up at the railway station. The dearer the friend and the longer the journey, and the longer the likely absence, the earlier do we turn up, and the more lamentably do we fail. Our failure is in exact ratio to the seriousness of the occasion, and to the depth of our feeling.
In a room, or even on a doorstep, we can make the farewell quite worthily. We can express in our faces the genuine sorrow we feel. Nor do words fail us. There is no awkwardness, no restraint, on either side. The thread of our intimacy has not been snapped. The leave-taking is an ideal one. Why not, then, leave the leave-taking at that? Always, departing friends implore us not to bother to come to the railway station next morning. Always, we are deaf to these entreaties, knowing them to be not quite sincere. The departing friends would think it very odd of us if we took them at their word. Besides, they really do want to see us again. And that wish is heartily reciprocated. We duly turn up. And then, oh then, what a gulf yawns! We stretch our arms vainly across it. We have utterly lost touch. We have nothing at all to say. We gaze at each other as dumb animals gaze at human beings. We "make conversation"—and such conversation! We know that these friends are the friends from whom we parted overnight. They know that we have not altered. Yet, on the surface, everything is different; and the tension is such that we only long for the guard to blow his whistle and put an end to the farce.
On a cold grey morning of last week I duly turned up at Euston, to see off an old friend who was starting for America.
Overnight, we had given him a farewell dinner, in which sadness was well mingled with festivity. Years probably would elapse before his return. Some of us might never see him again. Not ignoring the shadow of the future, we gaily celebrated the past. We were as thankful to have known our guest as we were grieved to lose him; and both these emotions were made manifest. It was a perfect farewell.