死亡约会 Part II Chapter 12（2）

（单词翻译）

For a few moments Poirot walked in silence, then he said: ‘They are very pretty, these historiesyou recount to yourself?’

She stopped. She glared at him. ‘They’re true. They’re all true.’ Again she stamped an angryfoot.

‘Yes,’ said Poirot, ‘they are certainly ingenious.’

She cried out: ‘They are true—true—’

Then, angrily, she turned from him and ran down the hillside. Poirot stood looking after her. Ina minute or two he heard a voice close behind him.

‘What did you say to her?’

Poirot turned to where Dr Gerard, a little out of breath, stood beside him. Sarah was comingtowards them both, but she came at a more leisurely¹ pace.

Poirot answered Gerard’s question.

‘I told her,’ he said, ‘that she had imagined to herself some pretty stories.’

The doctor nodded his head thoughtfully.

‘And she was angry? That is a good sign. It shows, you see, that she has not yet completelypassed through the door. She still knows that it is not the truth! I shall cure her.’

‘Ah, you are undertaking² a cure?’

‘Yes. I have discussed the matter with young Mrs Boynton and her husband. Ginevra will cometo Paris and enter one of my clinics. Afterwards she will have her training for the stage.’

‘The stage?’

‘Yes—there is a possibility there for her of great success. And that is what she needs—what shemust have! In many essentials she has the same nature as her mother.’

‘No!’ cried Sarah, revolted.

‘It seems impossible to you, but certain fundamental traits are the same. They were both bornwith a great yearning³ for importance; they both demand that their personality shall impress! Thispoor child has been thwarted⁴ and suppressed at every turn; she has been given no outlet⁵ for herfierce ambition, for her love of life, for the expression of her vivid romantic personality.’ He gavea little laugh. ‘Nous allons changer tout⁶ ?a!’

Then, with a little bow, he murmured: ‘You will excuse me?’ And he hurried down the hill afterthe girl.

Sarah said: ‘Dr Gerard is tremendously keen on his job.’

‘I perceive his keenness,’ said Poirot.

Sarah said, with a frown: ‘All the same, I can’t bear his comparing her to that horrible oldwoman—although, once—I felt sorry for Mrs Boynton myself.’

‘When was that, mademoiselle?’

‘That time I told you about in Jerusalem. I suddenly felt as though I’d got the whole businesswrong. You know that feeling one has sometimes when just for a short time you see everything theother way round? I got all het-up about it and went and made a fool of myself!’

‘Oh, no—not that!’