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she wore the same gray dress that she wore so often, neat and becoming, and her brow was as candid, her eyes as untroubled, as when I had been used to see her occupied with her household duties in the studio.
穿的是过去经常穿的一件灰衣服，前额光洁明净，眼睛里没有一丝忧虑和烦恼，正象我过去看到她在施特略夫画室里操持家务时一模一样。
Come and have a game of chess, said Strickland.
“来下盘棋吧。”思特里克兰德说。
I do not know why at the moment I could think of no excuse. I followed them rather sulkily to the table at which Strickland always sat, and he called for the board and the chessmen. They both took the situation so much as a matter of course that I felt it absurd to do otherwise. Mrs. Stroeve watched the game with inscrutable face. She was silent, but she had always been silent. I looked at her mouth for an expression that could give me a clue to what she felt; I watched her eyes for some tell-tale flash, some hint of dismay or bitterness; I scanned her brow for any passing line that might indicate a settling emotion. Her face was a mask that told nothing. Her hands lay on her lap motionless, one in the other loosely clasped. I knew from what I had heard that she was a woman of violent passions; and that injurious blow that she had given Dirk, the man who had loved her so devotedly, betrayed a sudden temper and a horrid cruelty. She had abandoned the safe shelter of her husband's protection and the comfortable ease of a well-provided establishment for what she could not but see was an extreme hazard.
我不懂为什么当时我会没想出一个借口回绝了他。我怀着一肚子闷气跟在他们后面，走到思特里克兰德的老座位前边。他叫侍者取来了棋盘和棋子。他们两个人对这次不期而遇一点也没有大惊小怪，我自然也只能装出一副若无其事的样子，不然就显得我太不通人情了。施特略夫太太看着我们下棋，从她脸上的表情丝毫也猜不透她心里想的是什么。她什么话也没说，但她根本就不是爱说话的人。我看着她的嘴，希望看到一个能使我猜测出她真实感情的神态；我打量着她的眼睛，寻找某种泄露她内心隐秘的闪光，表示惶惑或者痛苦的眼神；我打量着她的前额，看那上面会不会偶然出现一个皱纹，告诉我她正在衰减的热情。但她的面孔宛如一副面具，我在那上面丝毫也看不出她的真实思想。她的双手一动不动地摆在膝头上，一只手松松地握着另一只。从我所听到的一些事，我知道她的性情很暴烈，戴尔克那么全心全意地爱着她，她却狠狠地打了他一巴掌，这说明了她翻脸无情，心肠非常冷酷。她抛弃了自己丈夫庇护下的安乐窝，抛弃了温饱舒适的优裕生活，甘愿承担她自己也看得非常分明的风险患难。
