康妮竭尽所能地帮助他。刚开始倒也醉心其中。他凡事都会跟她进行探讨，用那种一成不变的语调，没完没了，无休无止，而她也必须殚精毕力，奉陪到底。似乎她的灵与肉，情与性都被唤醒，跟小说的主题融为一体。这样美妙的感觉让她为之兴奋不已，深深着迷。

Of physical life they lived very little. She had to superintend the house. But the housekeeper had served Sir Geoffrey for many years, arid the dried-up, elderly, superlatively correct female you could hardly call her a parlour-maid, or even a woman...who waited at table, had been in the house for forty years. Even the very housemaids were no longer young. It was awful! What could you do with such a place, but leave it alone! All these endless rooms that nobody used, all the Midlands routine, the mechanical cleanliness and the mechanical order!

而在物质层面，他们的生活实在是再贫乏不过。她必须操持家务。女管家伺候杰弗里爵士多年，她身体干瘪，年老色衰，且刚愎自用，非但不像个女侍，甚至连是否算得女人都成问题……40年来，都是她服侍查泰莱爵士一家用餐。就连那些真正的女佣也都垂垂老矣。这真是糟糕透顶！身临其中，除了听其自然，确实别无他法。这里有无穷无尽的空房间，米德兰地区世代相传的繁文缛节，还有那机械呆板的整洁有序。

For the rest the place seemed run by mechanical anarchy. Everything went on in pretty good order, strict cleanliness, and strict punctuality; even pretty strict honesty.

至于这里的其他地方，似乎在机械的无政府状态下运行着。一切都进行得有条不紊，干脆利落，严守时间，从无遮掩欺瞒。

And yet, to Connie, it was a methodical anarchy. No warmth of feeling united it organically. The house seemed as dreary as a disused street.

但对康妮来说，这不过是种井然有序的混乱状态。缺乏温情的有机维系。整座府邸阴郁凄清，如同废弃的街道。

What could she do but leave it alone? So she left it alone. Miss Chatterley came sometimes, with her aristocratic thin face, and triumphed, finding nothing altered. She would never forgive Connie for ousting her from her union in consciousness with her brother. It was she, Emma, who should be bringing forth the stories, these books, with him; the Chatterley stories, something new in the world, that they, the Chatterleys, had put there.

除了顺其自然，她还能做些什么呢？因此，她也只好听之任之。查泰莱小姐偶尔也会过府探望，她面容瘦削却满脸傲气，发现家中一切都依然如故，颇觉志得意满。她永远也无法原谅康妮，正是这个外来者切断了自己与弟弟的情感纽带。只有她，艾玛，本该与克利福德构思和创作小说,那可是专属于查泰莱家族的作品，世间绝无仅有的新颖物事，由查泰莱的家人一手缔造。

There was no other standard. There was no organic connexion with the thought and expression that had gone before. Only something new in the world: the Chatterley books, entirely personal.

此外别无标准可以评断。跟前人的思想和言论毫无关联。查泰莱家族的作品是全新的创作，充满个性意味的文学作品。

Connie's father, where he paid a flying visit to Wragby, and in private to his daughter: As for Clifford's writing, it's smart, but there's nothing in it. It won't last!

康妮的父亲曾在拉格比府有过短暂的逗留，期间他私下对女儿说：“克利福德的作品确实精巧雅致，但内里却空洞无物。根本不会长久流传！”

Nothing in it!

空洞无物！

What did he mean by nothing in it? If the critics praised it, and Clifford's name was almost famous, and it even brought in money… what did her father mean by saying there was nothing in Clifford's writing? What else could there be? For Connie had adopted the standard of the young: what there was in the moment was everything. And moments followed one another without necessarily belonging to one another.

父亲这么说究竟是何意思？若连评论家都赞美他的作品，克利福德几乎要跻身知名小说家的行列，而且甚至已经赚到稿酬……而父亲却认为女婿的作品空洞无物，这么说究竟是何用意？除了名和利，文学作品还能带来别的什么吗？康妮秉承的是年轻一代的生活准则：眼下拥有的就是一切。时刻彼此相继，但却无需彼此相属。

It was in her second winter at Wragby her father said to her: "I hope, Connie, you won't let circumstances force you into being a demi-vierge.” "A demi-vierge! Why not? Why not? Why? Why not?” "Unless you like it, of course!" said her father hastily. To Clifford he said the same, when the two men were alone: "I'm afraid it doesn't quite suit Connie to be a demi-vierge.” "A half-virgin!" replied Clifford, translating the phrase to be sure of it.

她在拉格比度过的第二个冬天，父亲嘱咐她道：“康妮，我不想眼睁睁看你因为形势所迫而守活寡。”“守活寡！为什么不呢？为什么不呢？为什么呢？为什么不呢？”“当然，除非你真的心甘情愿。”父亲忙解释道。而和克利福德独处时，他也跟女婿说过同样的话：“恐怕守活寡的角色并不适合康妮。”“活寡妇！”克利福德换了种说法诠释岳父的用词，以便更明确地理解他的意思。

He thought for a moment, then flushed very red. He was angry and offended.

他凝思片刻，脸涨得通红。显然是被触怒了。

"In what way doesn't it suit her?" he asked stiffly.

“到底哪里不适合她呢？”他态度生硬地反问道。

"She's getting thin...angular. It's not her style. She's not the pilchard sort of little slip of a girl, she's a bonny Scotch trout.” "Without the spots, of course!" said Clifford.

“她变瘦了……削瘦。她本来可不是这副模样。她不像沙丁鱼那般瘦削纤细，而像苏格兰鳟鱼一样丰腴健美。”“她身上可没有斑纹。”克利福德抢白道。

He wanted to say something later to Connie about the demi-vierge business...the half-virgin state of her affairs. But he could not bring himself to do it. He was at once too intimate with her and not intimate enough. He was so very much at one with her, in his mind and hers, but bodily they were non-existent to one another, and neither could bear to drag in the corpus delicti. They were so intimate, and utterly out of touch.

后来，他想找康妮谈谈守活寡的事……聊聊她有名无实的婚姻状态。但他始终羞于启口。两人既亲密无间，又彼此疏离。精神层面相互交融，但肉体层面却从无交集，而小夫妻又都不愿谈及这令人难堪的事实。两人情深意笃，但全无床笫之乐。

Connie guessed, however, that her father had said something, and that something was in Clifford's mind. She knew that he didn't mind whether she were demi-vierge or demi-monde, so long as he didn't absolutely know, and wasn't made to see. What the eye doesn't see and the mind doesn't know, doesn't exist.

康妮猜出父亲肯定跟克利福德说过什么，而丈夫心中却有些事难以启齿。她明白，自己独守空闺或是红杏出墙，丈夫并不介怀，只要不让他抓到把柄，或者撞个正着。眼不见、心不知的事情，自然就是不存在的。

Connie and Clifford had now been nearly two years at Wragby, living their vague life of absorption in Clifford and his work. Their interests had never ceased to flow together over his work. They talked and wrestled in the throes of composition, and felt as if something were happening, really happening, really in the void.

转眼间，康妮和克利福德已在拉格比府住了将近两年，过着混沌不清的日子，全部精力都集中在克利福德和他的作品上。创作的过程中，两人的兴趣不断高涨、彼此交融。他们相互交换意见，反复推敲，仔细斟酌，深尝创作的艰辛，感觉到那些虚无的故事里，果然发生着什么，的确发生着什么。

And thus far it was a life: in the void. For the rest it was non-existence. Wragby was there, the servants...but spectral, not really existing. Connie went for walks in the park, and in the woods that joined the park, and enjoyed the solitude and the mystery, kicking the brown leaves of autumn, and picking the primroses of spring. But it was all a dream; or rather it was like the simulacrum of reality. The oak-leaves were to her like oak-leaves seen ruffling in a mirror, she herself was a figure somebody had read about, picking primroses that were only shadows or memories, or words. No substance to her or anything...no touch, no contact! Only this life with Clifford, this endless spinning of webs of yarn, of the minutiae of consciousness, these stories Sir Malcolm said there was nothing in, and they wouldn't last. Why should there be anything in them, why should they last? Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. Sufficient unto the moment is the appearance of reality.

而这就是迄今为止他们生活的全部——无尽的虚空。此外并无真实的存在。拉格比府仍巍然耸立，仆从们依旧来回奔忙……但这些都如同幽灵般虚幻，并非真实地存在着。康妮时常独自去花园里散步，在通往花园的树林中徜徉，踢踩秋日泛黄的落叶，摘撷春天的樱草花，体味着那里的幽静和神秘。但这一切都只是梦境，或者更像是现实的幻影。在她看来，橡树叶仿佛在镜中摇曳，而自己也化身成书中的人物，采撷着那些投影于镜像中、深埋于记忆里、或者记叙于文字间的樱草花。对她而言，一切都是虚无缥缈的……没有联系，缺少沟通！只有与克利福德的生活，那无穷无尽、曲折离奇的故事情节，细小琐碎的心理变化，还有马尔科姆爵士口中空洞无物、不会长久流传的小说。为什么非要有内涵呢？为什么非得长久流传呢？眼下烦恼已不少，莫为将来空自扰。今朝有酒今朝醉，明日愁来明日忧。

Clifford had quite a number of friends, acquaintances really, and he invited them to Wragby. He invited all sorts of people, critics and writers, people who would help to praise his books. And they were flattered at being asked to Wragby, and they praised. Connie understood it all perfectly. But why not? This was one of the fleeting patterns in the mirror. What was wrong with it? She was hostess to these people...mostly men. She was hostess also to Clifford's occasional aristocratic relations. Being a soft, ruddy, country-looking girl, inclined to freckles, with big blue eyes, and curling, brown hair, and a soft voice, and rather strong, female loins she was considered a little old-fashioned and 'womanly'. She was not a 'little pilchard sort of fish', like a boy, with a boy's flat breast and little buttocks. She was too feminine to be quite smart.

克利福德朋友众多，但都只是泛泛之交，因此拉格比府也时常宾客盈门。受邀前来的朋友形形色色，其中有评论家及作家，都是些能为他的作品唱颂歌的家伙。能被请来拉格比府做客，他们个个受宠若惊，说些趋炎附势的恭维话也再正常不过。康妮自然是心知肚明。但这又有什么不妥呢？这也不过是镜中转瞬即逝的幻象而已。没什么可大惊小怪的。身为女主人，她要招待这些来宾，其中大多是男性。还要款待克利福德那些不常登门的贵族亲朋。她性情温和，面色红润，如同乡下女孩般平易近人，脸上总生有雀斑，一对湛蓝色阔目，一头棕色卷发，再加上温柔的嗓音，强健的腰身，大家都认为她虽然略显老气，但却有“女人味”。她跟干瘪的沙丁鱼扯不上半点关系，也不像男孩般平胸瘦臀。反倒是过分的柔美让她显得不够时髦。

So the men, especially those no longer young, were very nice to her indeed. But, knowing what torture poor Clifford would feel at the slightest sign of flirting on her part, she gave them no encouragement at all. She was quiet and vague, she had no contact with them and intended to have none. Clifford was extraordinarily proud of himself.

因此，男人们，尤其是那些老家伙们，当真对她殷勤备至。但康妮清楚，只要自己稍显轻佻，可怜的克利福德就会备受煎熬，所以她从来不会给那些狂蜂浪蝶以可乘之机。她寡言少语，态度冷淡，从不与他们多做纠缠，甚至根本没有这样的想法。克利福德为此得意不已。

His relatives treated her quite kindly. She knew that the kindliness indicated a lack of fear, and that these people had no respect for you unless you could frighten them a little. But again she had no contact. She let them be kindly and disdainful, she let them feel they had no need to draw their steel in readiness. She had no real connexion with them.

夫家的亲戚们待她倒也非常友善。康妮清楚这种态度说明自己并不会让他们感到畏惧，如果你没法使他们怕你三分，也就难以赢得他们的尊重。但她与这些人也并无深交。和风细雨也好，盛气凌人也罢，她都处之泰然，那种淡定让他们觉得无须如此咄咄逼人。她跟他们又并非血亲。

Time went on. Whatever happened, nothing happened, because she was so beautifully out of contact. She and Clifford lived in their ideas and his books. She entertained...there were always people in the house. Time went on as the clock does, half past eight instead of half past seven.

时光荏苒。过往种种都好像未曾发生，因为她总能优雅地做到置身事外。她和克利福德生活在思想世界中，只为创作小说而存在。她热情款待着宾客们，拉格比府也总是高朋满座。钟表滴答作响，时间悄然逝去，转瞬八点半已将七点半抛到身后。