Chapter 4
My father had died long before.
My mother could think of nothing but her troubles, of the difficulties of making ends meet upon her narrow pension, so that she had little in common with the growing girl.
My school fellows, half-enlightened and half-corrupted, were uncongenial(性情不相投的) to me because of their frivolous(轻佻的) outlook upon that which to me was a supreme passion.
The upshot(结果) was that everything which surged up(（情感）涌现) in me, all which in other girls of my age is usually scattered, was focused upon you.
You became for me—what simile(明喻) can do justice to(公正地评价) my feelings?
You became for me the whole of my life.
Nothing existed for me except in so far as it related to you.
Nothing had meaning for me unless it bore upon you in some way.
You had changed everything for me.
Hitherto I had been indifferent at school, and undistinguished.
Now, all of a sudden, I was the first.
I read book upon book, far into the night, for I knew that you were a book-lover.
To my mother’s astonishment, I began, almost stubbornly, to practice the piano, for I fancied that you were fond of(喜爱) music.
I stitched(缝补) and mended my clothes, to make them neat for your eyes.
It was a torment(使人痛苦的事，折磨) to me that there was a square patch in my old school-apron (cut down from one of my mother’s overalls).
I was afraid you might notice it and would despise me, so I used to cover the patch with my satchel(书包) when I was on the staircase.
I was terrified lest(唯恐，担心) you should catch sight of(注意到) it.
What a fool I was! You hardly ever looked at me again.
Yet my days were spent in waiting for you and watching you.
There was a judas(猫眼) in our front door, and through this a glimpse of your door could be had.
Don’t laugh at me, dear.
Even now, I am not ashamed of the hours I spent at this spy-hole(窥视孔).
The hall was icy cold, and I was always afraid of exciting my mother’s suspicions.
But there I would watch through the long afternoons, during those months and years, book in hand, tense as a violin string, and vibrating(颤动，振动) at the touch of your nearness.
I was ever near you, and ever tense; but you were no more aware of it than you were aware of the tension of the main spring of the watch in your pocket,
faithfully recording the hours for you, accompanying your footsteps with its unheard ticking and vouchsafed(给予，赐予) only a hasty glance for one second among millions.
I knew all about you, your habits, the neckties you wore;
I knew each one of your suits.
Soon I was familiar with your regular visitors, and had my likes and dislikes among them.
From my thirteenth to my sixteenth year, my every hour was yours.
What follies(愚蠢的行为) did I not commit?
I kissed the door-handle you had touched; I picked up a cigarette-end you had thrown away, and it was sacred to me because your lips had pressed it.
A hundred times, in the evening, on one pretext or another, I ran out into the street to see in which room your light was burning,
that I might be more fully conscious of your invisible presence.
During the weeks when you were away (my heart always seemed to stop beating when I saw John carry your portmanteau(手提箱) downstairs), life was devoid(毫无...的) of meaning.
Out of sorts(心情不好), bored to death, and in an ill-humor, I wandered about not knowing what to do, and had to take precautions lest(以免) my tear-dimmed eyes should betray my despair to my mother.
I know that what I am writing here is a record of grotesque(怪诞的，荒唐的) absurdities, of a girl’s extravagant fantasies.
I ought to be ashamed of them; but I am not ashamed, for never was my love purer and more passionate than at this time.
I could spend hours, days, in telling you how I lived with you though you hardly knew me by sight.
Of course you hardly knew me, for if I met you on the stairs and could not avoid the encounter, I would hasten by with lowered head,
afraid of your burning glance, hasten like one who is jumping into water to avoid being singed(烧焦).
For hours, days, I could tell you of those years you have long since forgotten;
could unroll all the calendar of your life: but I will not weary you with details.
Only one more thing I should like to tell you dating from(注明日期) this time, the most splendid experience of my childhood.
You must not laugh at it, for, trifle though you may deem it, to me it was of infinite significance.
It must have been a Sunday.
You were away, and your man was dragging back the heavy rugs, which he had been beating, through the open door of the flat.
They were rather too much for his strength, and I summoned up(鼓起) courage to ask whether he would let me help him.
He was surprised, but did not refuse.
Can I ever make you understand the awe(敬畏), the pious veneration(崇拜), with which I set foot in your dwelling, with which I saw your world—
the writing-table at which you were accustomed to sit (there were some flowers on it in a blue crystal vase), the pictures, the books?
I had no more than a stolen glance, though the good John would no doubt have let me see more had I ventured to ask him.
But it was enough for me to absorb the atmosphere, and to provide fresh nourishment for my endless dreams of you in waking and sleeping.
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