After this crisis Maurice became a man. Hitherto—if human beings can be estimated—he had not been worth anyone's affection, but conventional, petty, treacherous to others, because to himself. Now he had the highest gift to offer. The idealism and the brutality that ran through boyhood had joined at last, and twined into love. No one might want such love, but he could not feel ashamed of it, because it was "he," neither body or soul, nor body and soul, but "he" working through both. He still suffered, yet a sense of triumph had come elsewhere. Pain had shown him a niche behind the world's judge-ments, whither he could withdraw.
There was still much to learn, and years passed before he ex-plored certain abysses in his being—horrible enough they were. But he discovered the method and looked no more at scratches in the sand. He had awoken too late for happiness, but not for strength, and could feel an austere joy, as of a warrior who is homeless but stands fully armed.
As the term went on he decided to speak to Durham. He valued words highly, having so lately discovered them. Why should he suffer and cause his friend suffering, when words might put all right? He heard himself saying, "I really love you as you love me," and Durham replying, "Is that so? Then I for-give you," and to the ardour of youth such a conversation seemed possible, though somehow he did not conceive it as leading to
joy. He made several attempts, but partly through his own shy-ness, partly through Durham's, they failed. If he went round, the door was sported, or else there were people inside; should he enter, Durham left when the other guests did. He invited him to meals—he could never come; he offered to lift him again for tennis, but an excuse was made. Even if they met in the court, Durham would affect to have forgotten something and run past him or away. He was surprised their friends did not notice the change, but few undergraduates are observant—they have too much to discover within themselves and it was a don who re-marked that Durham had stopped honeymooning with that Hall person.
He found his opportunity after a debating society to which both belonged. Durham—pleading his Tripos—had sent in his resignation, but had begged that the society might meet in his rooms first, as he wished to take his share of hospitality. This was like him; he hated to be under an obligation to anyone. Maurice went and sat through a tedious evening. When every-one, including the host, surged out into the fresh air, he re-mained, thinking of the first night he had visited that room, and wondering whether the past cannot return.
Durham entered, and did not at once see who it was. Ignoring him utterly, he proceeded to tidy up for the night.
"You're beastly hard," blurted Maurice, "you don't know what it is to have a mind in a mess, and it makes you very hard."
Durham shook his head as one who refuses to listen. He looked so ill that Maurice had a wild desire to catch hold of him.
"You might give me a chance instead of avoiding me—I only want to discuss."
"We've discussed the whole evening."
"I mean theSymposium, like the ancient Greeks."
"Oh Hall, don't be so stupid—you ought to know that to be alone with you hurts me. No, please don't reopen. It's over. It's
over." He went into the other room and began to undress. "For-give this discourtesy, but I simply can't—my nerves are all no-how after three weeks of this."
"So are mine," cried Maurice.
"Poor, poor chap!"
"Durham, I'm in Hell."
"Oh, you'll get out. It's only the Hell of disgust. You've never done anything to be ashamed of, so you don't know what's really Hell."
Maurice gave a cry of pain. It was so unmistakable that Dur-ham, who was about to close the door between them, said, "Very well, 111 discuss if you like. What's the matter? You appear to want to apologize about something. Why? You behave as if I'm annoyed with you. What have you done wrong? You've been thoroughly decent from first to last."
In vain he protested.
"So decent that I mistook your ordinary friendliness. When you were so good to me, above all the afternoon I came up— I thought it was something else. I am more sorry than I can ever say. I had no right to move out of my books and music, which was what I did when I met you. You won't want my apol-ogy any more than anything else I could give, but, Hall, I do make it most sincerely. It is a lasting grief to have insulted you."
His voice was feeble but clear, and his face like a sword. Mau-rice flung useless words about love.
"That's all, I think. Get married quickly and forget."
"Durham, I love you."
He laughed bitterly.
"I do—I have always—"
"Good night, good night."
"I tell you, I do—I came to say it—in your very own way—I have always been like the Greeks and didn't know."
"Expand the statement."
Words deserted him immediately. He could only speak when he was not asked to.
"Hall, don't be grotesque." He raised his hand, for Maurice had exclaimed. "It's like the very decent fellow you are to comfort me, but there are limits; one or two things I can't swallow."
"I'm not grotesque—"
"I shouldn't have said that. So do leave me. I'm thankful it's into your hands I fell. Most men would have reported me to the Dean or the Police."
"Oh, go to Hell, it's all you're fit for," cried Maurice, rushed into the court and heard once more the bang of the outer door. Furious he stood on the bridge in a night that resembled the first —drizzly with faint stars. He made no allowance for three weeks of torture unlike his own or for the poison which, secreted by one man, acts differently on another. He was enraged not to find his friend as he had left him. Twelve o'clock struck, one, two, and he was still planning what to say when there is nothing to say and the resources of speech are ended.
Then savage, reckless, drenched with the rain, he saw in the first glimmer of dawn the window of Durham's room, and his heart leapt alive and shook him to pieces. It cried "You love and are loved." He looked round the court. It cried "You are strong, he weak and alone," won over his will. Terrified at what he must do, he caught hold of the mullion and sprang.
"Maurice—"
As he alighted his name had been called out of dreams. The violence went out of his heart, and a purity that he had never imagined dwelt there instead. His friend had called him. He stood for a moment entranced, then the new emotion found him words, and laying his hand very gently upon the pillows he an-swered, "Give!"
出了这件事之后，莫瑞斯变成了男子汉。倘若能够对人加以评价的话，过去他不值得让任何人爱慕。他曾经是个墨守成规、心胸狭窄、背信弃义的人。他连自己都欺骗，又怎么能忠于旁人呢？现在他具有能够赠送人们的最有价值的礼品了。少年期一直流淌在身子里的理想主义与肉欲终于结合了，并孕育出爱情这个果实。或许任何人都不想得到这样的爱情，但是他不会为此感到羞愧，因为那就是“他本人”。并不单是肉体或灵魂，更不是肉体与灵魂合二为一，却是“他本人”对二者起着作用。他依然苦恼着，胜利的感觉却来自其他方面。痛苦将世间的审判所触及不到的适当场所指给他看，他可以隐遁在那里。
尚有许许多多应该学习的事物，过了好几年他才探索自己内部那一个个深渊——它们真够可怕的。然而他发现了办法，再也不去看沙地上的示意图了。他觉醒得太迟，来不及获得幸福了，但还来得及增强自己的实力。他能感受到禁欲的喜悦，犹如一个失去了家园、却武装到牙齿的战士。
随着这个学期的进展，他决定跟德拉姆谈一次话。他最近才看出语言的价值，予以高度评价。既然语言可能会把一切事情都安排好，他为什么还要自讨苦吃，也让朋友吃苦头呢？他听见自己在说：“我真的爱你，正如你爱我一样。”并听见德拉姆回答：“是吗？那么我就饶了你。”以年轻人的激情，这样的交谈似乎是可能的。不过，不知怎的，他不认为它会使自己找到快乐。他尝试了几次，由于他本人缺乏自信，又由于德拉姆过于腼腆，都失败了。他到德拉姆的房间去一看，要么就是外面那扇门关得严严的，表示谢绝会客，要么就是屋里有旁人。倘若他进去的话，其他客人告辞时，德拉姆也会跟他们结伴而去。他请德拉姆吃饭——德拉姆总找个借口谢绝。他提出再让德拉姆搭他的摩托车去打网球，德拉姆必然婉辞。即使他们二人在院子里相遇，德拉姆也会假装忘了东西，从他身旁一溜烟儿跑得没影儿了。他们的朋友们竟然没发觉这个变化，使莫瑞斯感到吃惊。其实，本科生没有几个观察力敏锐的。他们自顾不暇，自己内部的东西就够他们发现的了。倒是有一位学监谈到，德拉姆不再向那个名叫霍尔的人献殷勤了。
德拉姆和莫瑞斯同是一个讨论会的会员。在一次集会之后，莫瑞斯找到了机会。德拉姆以参加荣誉学位考试为理由，申请退出该会。在这之前，他要求会员们在他的房间里举行一次集会，以便报答大家的深情厚谊。德拉姆行事为人一向是这样的：他不愿意欠任何人的情。莫瑞斯前往，耐心地坐在那儿度过一个单词沉闷的傍晚。当包括主人在内的每一个人涌到室外去呼吸新鲜空气时，他留了下来，回想着自己初次造访这间屋子的往事，猜测着究竟有没有J日梦重温的可能。
德拉姆进来了，他没有马上发觉待在那儿的是谁。他完全无视莫瑞斯，着手收拾房间。
“你太苛刻了，”莫瑞斯莽撞地说，“你不知道头脑不灵敏是什么滋味，所以才会如此苛刻地对待我。”
德拉姆好像拒绝听到一般摇了摇头。他面带病容，促使莫瑞斯疯狂地渴望紧紧抓住他。
“别总是躲避我，哪怕给我一次机会也好嘛——我只是想讨论一下。”
“咱们已经讨论了一个晚上。”
“我指的是《会饮篇》，就像古代希腊人那样。”
“喂，霍尔，别那么傻头傻脑的——你应该知道，跟你单独在一起，使我感到痛苦。不，请不要揭旧伤疤吧。事情已经过去了，过去了。”他走进邻室，开始脱衣服。“请原谅我待你简慢。然而我确实不行了——这三个星期以来，我的神经完全乱了套。”
“我也一样！”莫瑞斯叫喊。
“小可怜虫！”
“德拉姆，眼下我在地狱里呢。”
“哦，你会挣脱出来的。那只不过是厌烦的地狱而已。你从来没做过任何丢人的事，所以你不知道什么是真正的地狱。”
莫瑞斯发出了痛苦的喊声：“绝对不会弄错的。”正要把自己和莫瑞斯之间的那扇门关上的德拉姆说：“好的。倘若你愿意的话，我就跟你讨论一番。究竟是怎么回事？你好像要为什么事道歉似的。为什么？看你的举止，仿佛我被你惹恼了一般。你做了什么坏事呢？你自始至终是绝对正派的。”
莫瑞斯怎么抗议也没有用。
“你是那样正派，以致我对你那普通的友谊产生了误会。你对我那么好，尤其是我上楼来的那个下午——我竟然认为它是另外一种东西。我非常抱歉，难以用语言表达。我不该越出书籍和音乐的范畴，可我遇见你的时候，却这么做了。你不屑于听到我的道歉，也不愿意让我替你做旁的什么。然而霍尔，我最真诚地向你道歉。我对你太无礼了，将毕生感到懊悔。”
德拉姆的声音有气无力，却是清脆的，脸像一把剑那样寒气逼人。莫瑞斯说了一些关于爱的话，终归徒劳。
“一切都了结啦，我想。早点儿结婚，忘掉这些吧。”
“德拉姆，我爱你。”
德拉姆发出了苦涩的笑声。
“是真的——从来就……”
“晚安，晚安。”
“我告诉你，我爱你——我是为了说这话而来的——用跟你完全一样的措词。我一向跟那些希腊人如出一辙，却蒙在鼓里。”
“你畅所欲言吧。”
莫瑞斯立即语塞了。只有没人要求他说话时，他才说得出来。
“霍尔，别出洋相。”德拉姆举起一只手来，因为莫瑞斯惊叫起来了。“你想安慰我。你是个好人，这样做正符合你的处世之道。然而，什么都是有限度的。有一两件事我不能忍受。”
“我并没有出洋相……”
“我不该这么说。因此，务必请离开我。我很感谢自己栽在你手里。绝大多数人会到学监或警察那儿去告发我。”
“哦，下地狱去吧，那是最适合你的地方。”莫瑞斯喊着冲进院子，再度听见了外面那扇门“砰”的一声关上。他狂怒地伫立在那座桥上。这个夜晚与头一次的那么相似，下着蒙蒙细雨，星星朦朦胧胧。他没有考虑到三个星期以来德拉姆所经受的与他不同的折磨，以及一个人的隐私或许会在旁人身上发生截然不同的作用。自从上次分手后他再也没有看到他的朋友，所以被激怒了。时钟敲了十二下、一下、两下，他仍在琢磨该说些什么，尽管已无话可说，语言已经枯竭。
莫瑞斯被雨淋透了，非常暴躁，在最初一抹曙光中他看见了德拉姆那个房间的窗户。他的心脏剧烈地跳动，将他震得粉碎。它喊道：“你爱着，也被爱着。”他四下里望着院子。院子喊道：“你是坚强的，他是软弱而孤独的。”莫瑞斯的意志屈服了，必须要做的事使他极度惊恐，他抓住窗棂子，纵身一跳。
“莫瑞斯……”
当他跳进屋子后，德拉姆在梦中呼唤着他的名字。心头的狂躁消失了，取而代之的是他从未想象过的纯真感情。他的朋友呼唤了他，他神魂颠倒。伫立片刻，新产生的激情终于使他有所吐露，他轻轻地将手放在枕头上，回答说：“克莱夫！”