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I don't pretend to be a great painter, he said, "I'm not a Michael Angelo, no, but I have something. I sell. I bring romance into the homes of all sorts of people. Do you know, they buy my pictures not only in Holland, but in Norway and Sweden and Denmark? It's mostly merchants who buy them, and rich tradesmen. You can't imagine what the winters are like in those countries, so long and dark and cold. They like to think that Italy is like my pictures. That's what they expect. That's what I expected Italy to be before I came here."
“我知道自己不是个伟大的画家，”他对我说，“我不是米开朗基罗，不是的，但是我有自己的东西。我的画有人要买。我把浪漫情调带进各种人的家庭里。你知道，不只在荷兰，就是在挪威、瑞典和丹麦也有人买我的画。买画的主要是商人，有钱的生意人。那些国家里冬天是什么样子你恐怕想象不到，阴沉、寒冷、长得没有尽头。他们喜欢看到我画中的意大利景象。那是他们所希望看到的意大利，也是我没来这里以前想象中的意大利。”
And I think that was the vision that had remained with him always, dazzling his eyes so that he could not see the truth; and notwithstanding the brutality of fact, he continued to see with the eyes of the spirit an Italy of romantic brigands and picturesque ruins. It was an ideal that he painted—a poor one, common and shop-soiled, but still it was an ideal; and it gave his character a peculiar charm.
我觉得这是他永远也抛弃不掉的幻景，这种幻景闪得他眼花缭乱，叫他看不到真实情景。他不顾眼前严酷的事实，总用自己幻想的目光凝视着一个到处是浪漫主义的侠盗、美丽如画的废墟的意大利。他画的是他理想中的境界——尽管他的理想很幼稚、很庸俗、很陈旧，但终究是个理想；这就赋予了他的性格一种迷人的色彩。
It was because I felt this that Dirk Stroeve was not to me, as to others, merely an object of ridicule. His fellow-painters made no secret of their contempt for his work, but he earned a fair amount of money, and they did not hesitate to make free use of his purse. He was generous, and the needy, laughing at him because he believed so naively their stories of distress, borrowed from him with effrontery. He was very emotional, yet his feeling, so easily aroused, had in it something absurd, so that you accepted his kindness, but felt no gratitude. To take money from him was like robbing a child, and you despised him because he was so foolish. I imagine that a pickpocket, proud of his light fingers, must feel a sort of indignation with the careless woman who leaves in a cab a vanity-bag with all her jewels in it.
正因为我有这种感觉，所以戴尔克·施特略夫在我的眼睛里不象在别人眼睛里那样，只是一个受人嘲弄挖苦的对象。他的一些同行毫不掩饰他们对他作品的鄙视，但是施特略夫却很能赚钱，而这些人把他的钱包就看作是自己的一样，动用时是从来没有什么顾虑的。他很大方；那些手头拮据的人一方面嘲笑他那么天真地轻信他们编造的不幸故事，一方面厚颜无耻地伸手向他借钱。他非常重感情，但是在他那很容易就被打动的感情里面却含有某种愚蠢的东西，让你接受了他好心肠的帮助却丝毫没有感激之情。向他借钱就好象从小孩儿手里抢东西一样；因为他太好欺侮，你反而有点儿看不起他。我猜想，一个以手快自豪的扒手对一个把装满贵重首饰的皮包丢在车上的粗心大意的女人一定会感到有些恼火的。
