The Baroque
such stuff as dreams are made on
Sophie heard nothing more from Alberto for several days, but she glanced frequently into the garden hoping to catch sight of Hermes. She told her mother that the dog had found its own way home and that she had been invited in by its owner, a former physics teacher. He had told Sophie about the solar system and the new science that developed in the sixteenth century.
She told Joanna more. She told her all about her visit to Alberto, the postcard in the mailbox, and the ten-crown piece she had found on the way home. She kept the dream about Hilde and the gold crucifix to herself.
On Tuesday, May 29, Sophie was standing in the kitchen doing the dishes. Her mother had gone into the living room to watch the TV news. When the opening theme faded out she heard from the kitchen that a major in the Norwegian UN Battalion had been killed by a shell.
Sophie threw the dish towel on the table and rushed into the living room. She was just in time to catch a glimpse of the UN officer's face for a few seconds before they switched to the next item.
"Oh no!" she cried.
Her mother turned to her.
"Yes, war is a terrible thing!"
Sophie burst into tears.
"But Sophie, it's not that bad!"
"Did they say his name?"
"Yes, but I don't remember it. He was from Grimstad, I think."
"Isn't that the same as Lillesand?"
"No, you're being silly."
"But if you come from Grimstad, you might go to school in Lillesand."
She had stopped crying, but now it was her mother's turn to react. She got out of her chair and switched off the TV.
"What's going on, Sophie?"
"Nothing."
"Yes, there is. You have a boyfriend, and I'm beginning to think he's much older than you. Answer me now: Do you know a man in Lebanon?"
"No, not exactly..."
"Have you met the son of someone in Lebanon?"
"No, I haven't. I haven't even met his daughter."
"Whose daughter?"
"It's none of your business."
"I think it is."
"Maybe I should start asking some questions instead. Why is Dad never home? Is it because you haven't got the guts to get a divorce? Maybe you've got a boyfriend you don't want Dad and me to know about and so on and so on. I've got plenty of questions of my own."
"I think we need to talk."
"That may be. But right now I'm so worn out I'm going to bed. And I'm getting my period."
Sophie ran up to her room; she felt like crying.
As soon as she was through in the bathroom and had curled up under the covers, her mother came into the bedroom.
Sophie pretended to be asleep even though she knew her mother wouldn't believe it. She knew her mother knew that Sophie knew her mother wouldn't believe it either. Nevertheless her mother pretended to believe that Sophie was asleep. She sat on the edge of Sophie's bed and stroked her hair.
Sophie was thinking how complicated it was to live two lives at the same time. She began to look forward to the end of the philosophy course. Maybe it would be over by her birthday--or at least by Midsummer Eve, when Hilde's father would be home from Lebanon ...
"I want to have a birthday party," she said suddenly.
"That sounds great. Who will you invite?"
"Lots of people ... Can I?"
"Of course. We have a big garden. Hopefully the good weather will continue."
"Most of all I'd like to have it on Midsummer Eve."
"All right, that's what we'll do."
"It's a very important day," Sophie said, thinking not only of her birthday.
"It is, indeed."
"I feel I've grown up a lot lately."
"That's good, isn't it?"
"I don't know."
Sophie had been talking with her head almost buried in her pillow. Now her mother said, "Sophie--you must tell me why you seem so out of balance at the moment."
"Weren't you like this when you were fifteen?"
"Probably. But you know what I am talking about."
Sophie suddenly turned to face her mother. "The dog's name is Hermes," she said.
"It is?"
"It belongs to a man called Alberto."
"I see."
"He lives down in the Old Town."
"You went all that way with the dog?"
"There's nothing dangerous about that."
"You said that the dog had often been here."
"Did I say that?"
She had to think now. She wanted to tell as much as possible, but she couldn't tell everything.
"You're hardly ever at home," she ventured.
"No, I'm much too busy."
"Alberto and Hermes have been here lots of times."
"What for? Were they in the house as well?"
"Can't you at least ask one question at a time? They haven't been in the house. But they often go for walks in the woods. Is that so mysterious?"
"No, not in the least."
"They walk past our gate like everyone else when they go for a walk. One day when I got home from school I talked to the dog. That's how I got to know Alberto."
"What about the white rabbit and all that stuff?"
"That was something Alberto said. He is a real philosopher, you see. He has told me about all the philosophers."
"Just like that, over the hedge?"
"He has also written letters to me, lots of times, actually. Sometimes he has sent them by mail and other times he has just dropped them in the mailbox on his way out for a walk."
"So that was the 'love letter' we talked about."
"Except that it wasn't a love letter."
"And he only wrote about philosophy?"
"Yes, can you imagine! And I've learned more from him than I have learned in eight years of school. For instance, have you ever heard of Giordano Bruno, who was burned at the stake in 1600? Or of Newton's Law of Universal Gravitation?"
"No, there's a lot I don't know."
"I bet you don't even know why the earth orbits the sun--and it's your own planet!"
"About how old is this man?"
"I have no idea--about fifty, probably."
"But what is his connection with Lebanon?"
This was a tough one. Sophie thought hard. She chose the most likely story.
"Alberto has a brother who's a major in the UN Battalion. And he's from Lillesand. Maybe he's the major who once lived in the major's cabin."
"Alberto's a funny kind of name, isn't it?"
"Perhaps."
"It sounds Italian."
"Well, nearly everything that's important comes either from Greece or from Italy."
"But he speaks Norwegian?"
"Oh yes, fluently."
"You know what, Sophie--I think you should inviteAlberto home one day. I have never met a real philosopher."
"We'll see."
"Maybe we could invite him to your birthday party? It could be such fun to mix the generations. Then maybe I could come too. At least, I could help with the serving. Wouldn't that be a good idea?"
"If he will. At any rate, he's more interesting to talk to than the boys in my class. It's just that..."
"What?"
"They'd probably flip and think Alberto was my new boyfriend."
"Then you just tell them he isn't."
"Well, we'll have to see."
"Yes, we shall. And Sophie--it is true that things haven't always been easy between Dad and me. But there was never anyone else ..."
"I have to sleep now. I've got such awful cramps."
"Do you want an aspirin?" /'Yes, please."
When her mother returned with the pill and a glass of water Sophie had fallen asleep.
May 31 was a Thursday. Sophie agonized through the afternoon classes at school. She was doing better in some subjects since she started on the philosophy course. Usually her grades were good in most subjects, but lately they were even better, except in math.
In the last class they got an essay handed back. Sophie had written on "Man and Technology." She had written reams on the Renaissance and the scientific breakthrough, the new view of nature and Francis Bacon, who had said that knowledge was power. She had been very careful to point out that the empirical method came before the technological discoveries. Then she had written about some of the things she could think of about technology that were not so good for society. She ended with a paragraph on the fact that everything people do can be used for good or evil. Good and evil are like a white and a black thread that make up a single strand.
Sometimes they are so closely intertwined that it is impossible to untangle them.
As the teacher gave out the exercise books he looked down at Sophie and winked.
She got an A and the comment: "Where do you get all this from?" As he stood there, she took out a pen and wrote with block letters in the margin of her exercise book: I'M STUDYING PHILOSOPHY.
As she was closing the exercise book again, something fell out of it. It was a postcard from Lebanon:
Dear Hilde, When you read this we shall already have spoken together by phone about the tragic death down here. Sometimes I ask myself if war could have been avoided if people had been a bit better at thinking. Perhaps the best remedy against violence would be a short course in philosophy. What about "the UN's little philosophy book"-- which all new citizens of the world could be given a copy of in their own language. I'll propose the idea to the UN General Secretary.
You said on the phone that you were getting better at looking after your things. I'm glad, because you're the untidiest creature I've ever met. Then you said the only thing you'd lost since we last spoke was ten crowns. I'll do what I can to help you find it. Although I am far away, I have a helping hand back home. (If I find the money I'll put it in with your birthday present.) Love, Dad, who feels as if he's already started the long trip home.
Sophie had just managed to finish reading the card when the last bell rang. Once again her thoughts were in turmoil.
Joanna was waiting in the playground. On the way home Sophie opened her schoolbag and showed Joanna the latest card.
"When is it postmarked?" asked Joanna.
"Probably June 15 ..."
"No, look ... 5/30/90, it says."
"That was yesterday ... the day after the death of the major in Lebanon."
"I doubt if a postcard from Lebanon can get to Norway in one day," said Joanna.
"Especially not considering the rather unusual address: Hilde Moller Knag, c/o Sophie Amundsen, Fu-rulia Junior High School..."
"Do you think it could have come by mail? And the teacher just popped it in your exercise book?"
"No idea. I don't know whether I dare ask either."
No more was said about the postcard.
"I'm going to have a garden party on Midsummer Eve," said Sophie.
"With boys?"
Sophie shrugged her shoulders. "We don't have to invite the worst idiots."
"But you are going to invite Jeremy?"
"If you want. By the way, I might invite Alberto Knox."
"You must be crazy!"
"I know."
That was as far as the conversation got before their ways parted at the supermarket.
The first thing Sophie did when she got home was to see if Hermes was in the garden. Sure enough, there he was, sniffing around the apple trees.
"Hermes!"
The dog stood motionless for a second. Sophie knew exactly what was going on in that second: the dog heard her call, recognized her voice, and decided to see if she was there. Then, discovering her, he began to run toward her. Finally all four legs came pattering like drumsticks.
That was actually quite a lot in the space of one second.
He dashed up to her, wagged his tail wildly, and jumped up to lick her face.
"Hermes, clever boy! Down, down. No, stop slobbering all over me. Heel, boy! That's it!"
Sophie let herself into the house. Sherekan came jumping out from the bushes. He was rather wary of the stranger. Sophie put his cat food out, poured birdseed in the budgerigars' cup, got out a salad leaf for the tortoise, and wrote a note to her mother.
She wrote that she was going to take Hermes home and would be back by seven.
They set off through the town. Sophie had remembered to take some money with her this time. She wondered whether she ought to take the bus with Hermes, but decided she had better wait and ask Alberto about it.
While she walked on and on behind Hermes she thought about what an animal really is.
What was the difference between a dog and a person? She recalled Aristotle's words. He said that people and animals are both natural living creatures with a lot of characteristics in common. But there was one distinct difference between people and animals, and that was hu-man reasoning.
How could he have been so sure?
Democritus, on the other hand, thought people and animals were really rather alike because both were made up of atoms. And he didn't think that either people or animals had immortal souls. According to him, souls were built up of atoms that are spread to the winds when people die. He was the one who thought a person's soul was inseparably bound to the brain.
But how could the soul be made of atoms? The soul wasn't anything you could touch like the rest of the body. It was something "spiritual."
They were already beyond Main Square and were approaching the Old Town. When they got to the sidewalk where Sophie had found the ten crowns, she looked automatically down at the asphalt. And there, on exactly the same spot where she had bent down and picked up the money, lay a postcard with the picture side up. The picture showed a garden with palms and orange trees.
Sophie bent down and picked up the card. Hermes started growling as if he didn't like Sophie touching it.
The card read:
Dear Hilde, Life consists of a long chain of coincidences. It is not altogether unlikely that the ten crowns you lost turned up right here. Maybe it was found on the square in Lillesand by an old lady who was waiting for the bus to Kristiansand. From Kris-tiansand she took the train to visit her grandchildren, and many, many hours later she lost the coin here on New Square. It is then perfectly possible that the very same coin was picked up later on that day by a girl who really needed it to get home by bus. You never can tell, Hilde, but if it is truly so, then one must certainly ask whether or not God's providence is behind everything. Love, Dad, who in spirit is sitting on the dock at home in Lillesand. P.S. I said I would help you find the ten crowns.
On the address side it said: "Hilde Moller Knag, c/o a casual passer-by..." The postmark was stamped 6/15/90.
Sophie ran up the stairs after Hermes. As soon as Alberto opened the door, she said:
"Out of my way. Here comes the mailman."
She felt she had every reason to be annoyed. Alberto stood aside as she barged in. Hermes laid himself down under the coat pegs as before.
"Has the major presented another visiting card, my child?"
Sophie looked up at him and discovered that he was wearing a different costume. He had put on a long curled wig and a wide, baggy suit with a mass of lace. He wore a loud silk scarf at his throat, and on top of the suit he had thrown a red cape. He also wore white stockings and thin patent leather shoes with bows. The whole costume reminded Sophie of pictures she had seen of the court of Louis XIV.
"You clown!" she said and handed him the card.
"Hm ... and you really found ten crowns on the same spot where he planted the card?"
"Exactly."
"He gets ruder all the time. But maybe it's just as well."
"Why?"
"It'll make it easier to unmask him. But this trick was both pompous and tasteless. It almost stinks of cheap perfume."
"Perfume?"
"It tries to be elegant but is really a sham. Can't you see how he has the effrontery to compare his own shabby surveillance of us with God's providence?"
He held up the card. Then he tore it to pieces. So as not to make his mood worse she refrained from mentioning the card that fell out of her exercise book at school.
"Let's go in and sit down. What time is it?"
"Four o'clock."
"And today we are going to talk about the seventeenth century."
They went into the living room with the sloping walls and the skylight. Sophie noticed that Alberto had put different objects out in place of some of those she had seen last time.
On the coffee table was a small antique casket containing an assorted collection of lenses for eyeglasses. Beside it lay an open book. It looked really old.
"What is that?" Sophie asked.
"It is a first edition of the book of Descartes's philosophical essays published in 1637 in which his famous Discourse on Method originally appeared, and one of my most treasured possessions."
"And the casket?"
"It holds an exclusive collection of lenses--or optical glass. They were polished by the Dutch philosopher Spinoza sometime during the mid-1600s. They were extremely costly and are also among my most valued treasures."
"I would probably understand better how valuable these things are if I knew who Spinoza and Descartes were."
"Of course. But first let us try to familiarize ourselves with the period they lived in. Have a seat."
They sat in the same places as before, Sophie in the big armchair and Alberto Knox on the sofa. Between them was the coffee table with the book and the casket. Alberto removed his wig and laid it on the writing desk.
"We are going to talk about the seventeenth century--or what we generally refer to as the Baroque period."
"The Baroque period? What a strange name."
"The word 'baroque' comes from a word that was first used to describe a pearl of irregular shape. Irregularity was typical of Baroque art, which was much richer in highly contrastive forms than the plainer and more harmonious Renaissance art. The seventeenth century was on the whole characterized by tensions between irreconcilable contrasts. On the one hand there was the Renaissance's unremitting optimism--and on the other hand there were the many who sought the opposite extreme in a life of religious seclusion and self-denial. Both in art and in real life, we meet pompous and flamboyant forms of self-expression, while at the same time there arose a monastic movement, turning away from the world."
"Both proud palaces and remote monasteries, in other words."
"Yes, you could certainly say that. One of the Baroque period's favorite sayings was the Latin expression 'carpe diem'--'seize the day.' Another Latin expression that was widely quoted was 'memento mori,' which means 'Remember that you must die.' In art, a painting could depict an extremely luxurious lifestyle, with a little skull painted in one corner.
"In many senses, the Baroque period was characterized by vanity or affectation. But at the same time a lot of people were concerned with the other side of the coin; they were concerned with the ephemeral nature of things. That is, the fact that all the beauty that surrounds us must one day perish."
"It's true. It is sad to realize that nothing lasts."
"You think exactly as many people did in the seventeenth century. The Baroque period was also an age of conflict in a political sense. Europe was ravaged by wars. The worst was the Thirty Years' War which raged over most of the continent from 1618 to 1648. In reality it was a series of wars which took a particular toll on Germany. Not least as a result of the Thirty Years' War,France gradually became the dominant power in Europe."
"What were the wars about?"
"To a great extent they were wars between Protestants and Catholics. But they were also about political power."
"More or less like in Lebanon."
"Apart from wars, the seventeenth century was a time of great class differences. I'm sure you have heard of the French aristocracy and the Court of Versailles. I don't know whether you have heard much about the poverty of the French people. But any display of magnificence presupposes a display of power. It has often been said that the political situation in the Baroque period was not unlike its art and architecture. Baroque buildings were typified by a lot of ornate nooks and crannies. In a somewhat similar fashion the political situation was typified by intrigue, plotting, and assassinations."
"Wasn't a Swedish king shot in a theater?"
"You're thinking of Gustav III, a good example of the sort of thing I mean. The assassination of Gustav III wasn't until 1792, but the circumstances were quite baroque. He was murdered while attending a huge masked ball."
"I thought he was at the theater."
"The great masked ball was held at the Opera. We could say that the Baroque period in Sweden came to an end with the murder of Gustav III. During his time there had been a rule of 'enlightened despotism,' similar to that in the reign of Louis XIV almost a hundred years earlier. Gustav III was also an extremely vain person who adored all French ceremony and courtesies. He also loved the theater..."
"... and that was the death of him."
"Yes, but the theater of the Baroque period was more than an art form. It was the most commonly employed symbol of the time."
"A symbol of what?"
"Of life, Sophie. I don't know how many times during the seventeenth century it was said that 'Life is a theater.' It was very often, anyway. The Baroque period gave birth to modern theater--with all its forms of scenery and theatrical machinery. In the theater one built up an illusion on stage--to expose ultimately that the stage play was just an illusion. The theater thus became a reflection of human life in general. The theater could show that 'pride comes before a fall,' and present a merciless portrait of human frailty."
"Did Shakespeare live in the Baroque period?"
"He wrote his greatest plays around the year 1600, so he stands with one foot in the Renaissance and the other in the Baroque. Shakespeare's work is full of passages about life as a theater. Would you like to hear some of them?"
"Yes."
"In As You Like It, he says:
All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts.
"And in Macbeth, he says:
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing."
"How very pessimistic."
"He was preoccupied with the brevity of life. You must have heard Shakespeare's most famous line?"
"To be or not to be--that is the question."
"Yes, spoken by Hamlet. One day we are walking around on the earth--and the next day we are dead and gone."
"Thanks, I got the message."
"When they were not comparing life to a stage, the Baroque poets were comparing life to a dream. Shakespeare says, for example: We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep..."
"That was very poetic."
"The Spanish dramatist Calderon de la Barca, who was bom in the year 1600, wrote a play called Life Is a Dream, in which he says: 'What is life? A madness. What is life? An illusion, a shadow, a story, and the greatest good is little enough, for all life is a dream ...' "
"He may be right. We read a play at school. It was called Jeppe on the Mount."
"By Ludvig Holberg, yes. He was a gigantic figure here in Scandinavia, marking the transition from the Baroque period to the Age of Enlightenment."
"Jeppe falls asleep in a ditch ... and wakes up in the Baron's bed. So he thinks he only dreamed that he was a poor farmhand. Then when he falls asleep again they carry him back to the ditch, and he wakes up again. This time he thinks he only dreamed he was lying in the Baron's bed."
"Holberg borrowed this theme from Calderon, and Calderon had borrowed it from the old Arabian tales, A Thousand and One Nights. Comparing life to a dream, though, is a theme we find even farther back in history, not least in India and China. The old Chinese sage Chuang-tzu, for example, said: Once I dreamed I was a butterfly, and now I no longer know whether I am Chuang-tzu, who dreamed I was a butterfly, or whether I am a butterfly dreaming that I am Chuang-tzu."
"Well, it was impossible to prove either way."
"We had in Norway a genuine Baroque poet called Fetter Dass, who lived from 1647 to 1707. On the one hand he was concerned with describing life as it is here and now, and on the other hand he emphasized that only God is eternal and constant."
"God is God if every land was waste, God is God if every man were dead."
"But in the same hymn he writes about rural life in Northern Norway--and about lumpfish, cod, and coal-fish. This is a typical Baroque feature, describing in the same text the earthly and the here and now--and the celestial and the hereafter. It is all very reminiscent of Plato's distinction between the concrete world of the senses and the immutable world of ideas."
"What about their philosophy?"
"That too was characterized by powerful struggles between diametrically opposed modes of thought. As I have already mentioned, some philosophers believed that what exists is at bottom spiritual in nature. This standpoint is called idealism. The opposite viewpoint is called materialism. By this is meant a philosophy which holds that all real things derive from concrete material substances. Materialism also had many advocates in the seventeenth century. Perhaps the most influential was the English philosopher Thomas Hobbes. He believed that all phenomena, including man and animals, consist exclusively of particles of matter. Even human consciousness--or the soul--derives from the movement of tiny particles in the brain."
"So he agreed with what Democritus said two thousand years before?"
"Both idealism and materialism are themes you will find all through the history of philosophy. But seldom have both views been so clearly present at the same time as in the Baroque. Materialism was constantly nourished by the new sciences. Newton showed that the same laws of motion applied to the whole universe, and that all changes in the natural world--both on earth and in space--were explained by the principles of universal gravitation and the motion of bodies.
"Everything was thus governed by the same unbreakable laws--or by the same mechanisms. It is therefore possible in principle to calculate every natural change with mathematical precision. And thus Newton completed what we call the mechanistic world view."
"Did he imagine the world as one big machine?"
"He did indeed. The word 'mechanic' comes from the Greek word 'mechane,' which means machine. It is remarkable that neither Hobbes nor Newton saw any contradiction between the mechanistic world picture and belief in God. But this was not the case for all eighteenth- and nineteenth-century materialists. The French physician and philosopher La Mettrie wrote a book in the eighteenth century called L 'homme machine, which means 'Man--the machine.' Just as the leg has muscles to walk with, so has the brain 'muscles' to think with. Later on, the French mathematician Laplace expressed an extreme mechanistic view with this idea: If an intelligence at a given time had known the position of all particles of matter, 'nothing would be unknown, and both future and past would lie open before their eyes.' The idea here was that everything that happens is predetermined. 'It's written in the stars' that something will happen. This view is called determinism." "So there was no such thing as free will."
"No, everything was a product of mechanical processes--also our thoughts and dreams. German materialists in the nineteenth century claimed that the relationship of thought to the brain was like the relationship of urine to the kidneys and gall to the liver." "But urine and gall are material. Thoughts aren't." "You've got hold of something central there. I can tell you a story about the same thing. A Russian astronaut and a Russian brain surgeon were once discussing religion. The brain surgeon was a Christian but the astronaut was not. The astronaut said, 'I've been out in space many times but I've never seen God or angels.' And the brain surgeon said, 'And I've operated on many clever brains but I've never seen a single thought.' " "But that doesn't prove that thoughts don't exist."
"No, but it does underline the fact that thoughts are not things that can be operated on or broken down into ever smaller parts. It is not easy, for example, to surgically remove a delusion. It grows too deep, as it were, for surgery. An important seventeenth-century philosopher named Leibniz pointed out that the difference between the material and the spiritual is precisely that the material can be broken up into smaller and smaller bits, but the soul cannot even be divided into two."
"No, what kind of scalpel would you use for that?" Alberto simply shook his head. After a while he pointed down at the table between them and said:
"The two greatest philosophers in the seventeenth century were Descartes and Spinoza. They too struggled with questions like the relationship between 'soul' and 'body,' and we are now going to study them more closely."
"Go ahead. But I'm supposed to be home by seven."
巴洛克时期
……宛如梦中的事物……
苏菲已经有好几天没有接到艾伯特的消息了。她不时留意花园里的动静，希望能看到汉密士的影踪。她告诉妈妈那只狗已经自己找到路回家了，后来它的主人——一个退休的哲学老师一一请她进屋里去坐。他告诉苏菲有关太阳系的构造和十六世纪发展出来的新科学。
她对乔安说得更多。她告诉她上次去找艾伯特的情形、信箱里的明信片以及她在回家途中捡到十块钱的事。但她没有告诉乔安她梦见席德，并发现那条金十字架链子。
失控五月二十九日星期二那天，苏菲正在厨房里洗碗。妈妈已经到客厅里去看电视新闻了。当新闻节目的片头音乐渐弱后，她从厨房里听到主播报道挪威联合国部队的某个少校被炮弹击中毙命的消息。
苏菲把擦碗布扔在桌上，冲进客厅，刚好在荧屏上看到那名丧生少校的脸。两三秒钟后主播就开始播报其他新闻了。
“天哪!”她叫了出来。
妈妈转过身来看着她。
“是啊，战争真是一件很可怕的事!”
苏菲开始哭泣。
“可是，苏菲，事情并没有那么糟呀！”
“他们有没有报出他的名字?”
“有，不过我不记得了。只知道他好像是葛林史达那里的人。”
“那不是和黎乐桑一样吗?”
“怎么会呢?傻孩子。”
“可是如果你住在葛林史达，你不是也可能到黎乐桑来上学吗?”
苏菲已经停止哭泣，但现在轮到妈妈有反应了。她从椅子上站起来，关掉电视，问道：“苏菲，这到底是怎么回事?”
“没什么。”
“我看一定有事。你有一个男朋友对不对?我猜他的年纪比你大很多。我要你现在就回答我：你认识一个在黎巴嫩的男人吗?”
“不，不完全是……”
“你是不是认识某个在黎巴嫩的男人的儿子?”
“我没有。我甚至连他的女儿都没见过。”
“谁的女儿?”
“这件事跟你没有关系。”
“我看大有关系。”
“我看问问题的人应该是我。为什么爸爸老是不在家?是不是因为你们没有胆量离婚?也许你交了男朋友，不希望让爸爸和我知道……还有很多很多。要问就大家一起来问嘛！”
“我想我们需要好好谈一谈。”
“也许吧!不过我已经累了，我要睡觉了；我的月经来了。”
苏菲几乎是一边饮泣一边上楼。
她上完厕所，钻进被窝后，妈妈就进房里来了。
苏菲假装睡着了，虽然她知道妈妈不会相信的。她也知道妈妈知道。尽管如此，妈妈还是假装相信她已经睡着了。她坐在苏菲的床边，抚摸着她的头发。
苏菲心想一个人同时过两种生活是多么复杂呀！她开始期待哲学课程早点结束。也许在她生日时就可以上完吧。至少在仲夏节席德的父亲从黎巴嫩回来时……“我想开一个生日宴会。”她突然说。
“好啊!你想请谁呢?”
“很多人……可以吗?”
“当然可以。我们的花园很大……希望现在的好天气会一直持续下去。”
“最重要的是我希望能在仲夏节那天举行。”
“好，就这么办。”
“这是很重要的日子。”苏菲说，心里想的不只是她的生日而已。
“确实是。”
“我觉得我最近好像长大了不少。”
“很好呀!不是吗?”
“我也不知道。”
到目前为止，苏菲一直把头半蒙在枕头里讲话。现在妈妈说话了：“苏菲，你一定要告诉我你刚才为什么……为什么好像……失去控制的样子?”
“你十五岁的时候不是有时也会这样吗?”
“也许吧。可是你知道我在说什么。”
苏菲突然翻身面对着妈妈。“那只狗的名字叫汉密士。”她说。
“是吗?”
“它的主人是一个名叫艾伯特的男人。”
“原来如此。”
“他住在旧城区。”
“你那天一直跟着那只狗走到那儿去?”
“那里并不危险。”
“你说过那只狗常常到这儿来。”
“我说过吗?”
她现在得好好想一想了。她想尽可能把一切事情都告诉妈妈，但又不能全部吐露。
“你总是不在家。”她试探着。
“没错，我太忙了。”
“艾伯特和汉密士曾经到过这儿来很多次。”
“来干什么呢?他们曾经进屋子里来吗?”
“你就不能一次问一个问题吗?他们从来没有进屋里来，不过他们经常到林子里散步。这有什么神秘吗?”
“不，一点也不神秘。”
“他们散步时，就像其他人一样，会经过我们的门口。有一天我放学回家后跟那只狗说了几句话，就这样认识了艾伯特。”
“那有关白兔子和你说的那些话又是怎么回事呢?”
“那是艾伯特告诉我的。他是一个真正的哲学家，他告诉我所有哲学家的事。”
“你们只是站在树篱旁边谈吗?”
“他也写信给我。事实上，他写了很多封。有时寄来，有时他会在散步途中把信放在我们家的信箱里。”
“那就是我们说的‘情书’啰?”
“嗯，只不过那不是真正的情书。”
“他在信上只谈哲学吗?”
“是的。你能想象吗?我从他那儿学到的比我这八年来在学校里学的更多，比方说，你听说过布鲁诺吗?他在一六OO年被烧死在火刑柱上。或者，你有没有听说过牛顿的万有引力定律呢?”
“没有。有很多东西是我不知道的。”
“我敢说你一定不知道地球为什么绕着太阳转，对不对?——你看，你还住在地球上呢！”
“这个男人年纪多大?”
“不知道——大概有五十岁吧!”
“他跟黎巴嫩有什么关系呢?”
这可不容易回答。苏菲很快想了一下，决定选择一个听起来最可信的说法。
“艾伯特有一个弟弟是驻黎巴嫩联合国部队的少校，他住在黎乐桑。也许他就是从前住在小木屋里的那个少校吧。”
“艾伯特这个名字有点奇怪，是不是?”
“大概吧！”
“听起来像是意大利名字。”
“这个嘛……几乎所有重要的东西好像都来自希腊或意大利。”
“可是他会说挪威话吧?”
“当然，说得才流利呢!”
“你知道吗?苏菲，我想你应该找一天请这个艾伯特到我们家来。我从来没有遇见过真正的哲学家。”
“再说吧。”
“我们请他参加你的生日宴会，你看怎样?请各种不同年纪的人来会很好玩的。说不定我也可以参加呀!至少，我可以帮你招待客人。你说这样好不好?”
“如果他肯来的话，跟他说话比跟我们班上那些男生讲话要有意思多了。只不过……”
“怎样?”
“他们搞不好会起哄，说艾伯特是我新交的男朋友。”
“那你就告诉他们他不是呀！”
“嗯，再说吧!”
“好吧。还有，苏菲，我和你爸爸有时确实不是处得很好，但我们之间从来没有第三者……”
“我想睡了。我经痛得很厉害。”
“你要不要吃一片阿斯匹灵?”
“好。”
当妈妈拿着药片和水回到房里时，苏菲已经睡着了。
神秘的书信
五月三十一日是星期四。整个下午苏菲在学校上课时都觉得时间很难挨。自从开始上哲学课后，她在某些科目上的成绩进步了。通常她大多数科目的成绩不是A就是B，但上个月她在公民课与作文课上都拿A。不过她的数学成绩则远远落后。
最后一堂课时，老师发回上次写的一篇作文。苏菲选的题目是《人与科技》。她长篇大论地谈到文艺复兴时期的种种和当时在科技方面的突破、对大自然的新观念，以及培根所说的“知识就是力量”。她特别指出是因为有了实证法才有种种科技的发明，然后她谈了一些她认为对社会未必有利的科技发明。在最后一段，她写道：人们做的每一件事都有利有弊。善恶好坏就像一股黑线与一股白线相互交织，有时甚至紧密得无法分开。
当老师把作业本发回时，他从讲台上看着苏菲，戏谑似地向她点点头。
苏菲得了一个A。老师的评语是：“你从哪里学到这些的?”
她拿出一枝笔，在作业本旁边的空白处写：因为我正在研究哲学。
当她把作业本合上时，有一个东西从里面掉了出来。那是一张从黎巴嫩寄来的明信片。
苏菲俯身在课桌前看着信中的内容：
亲爱的席德：
当你看到这封信时，我们大概已经在电话中谈过这里发生的死亡悲剧。有时候我会问自己：如果人类的思想比较清楚的话，是否就能够避免战争与暴力?也许消除战争与暴力最好的方法，就是为人们上一门简单的哲学课程。也许我们应该出版一本《联合国哲学小册》，译咸各国语言，分发给未来每一位世界公民。我将向联合国主席提出这个建议。
你在电话上说你愈来愈会收拾照管自己的东西了。我很高兴，因为你是我所见过最会丢三落四的人。然后你又说自从我们上次通话后你只掉过一个十块钱的铜板，我会尽量帮你找回来。虽然我还在千里之外，可是我在家乡有一个帮手(如果我找到那十块钱，我会把它跟你的生日礼物放在一起)。我感觉自己好像已经开始走上漫长的归乡路了。
爱你的老爸苏菲刚看完明信片，最后一堂课的下课铃就响了。她的思绪再度陷入一团混乱。
乔安像往常一样在游乐场等她。在回家的路上，苏菲打开书包，拿明信片给乔安看。
“邮戳上的日期是几月几号?”
“大概是六月十五日吧……”
“不，你看……上面写的是5／30／90。”
“那是昨天呀……就是黎巴嫩那位少校死掉的第二天。”
“我怀疑从黎巴嫩寄来的明信片能够在一天之内寄到挪威。”
乔安继续说。
“再加上地址又很特别：请富理亚初中的苏菲代转席德…”
“你认为它会是寄来的吗?然后老师把它夹在你的作业本里?”
“我不知道。我也不知道自己敢不敢跑去问老师。”
然后，他们换了一个话题。
“仲夏节那天，我要在我家花园里举行一个宴会。”苏菲说。
“你会请男生来吗?”
苏菲耸耸肩。
“我们不一定要请那些笨蛋来。”
“可是你会请杰瑞米吧?”
“如果你想的话。还有，我可能会请艾伯特来。”
“你疯子!”
“我知道。”
谈到这里，他们已经走到超市，只好分道扬镳了。
苏菲回家后的第一件事就是看看汉密士是否在花园里。果然没错，它就站在那里，在苹果树旁边嗅来嗅去。
“汉密士]”
有一秒钟的时间，汉密士并没有动。苏菲知道为什么：它听到她的叫声、认出她的声音，决定看看她是否在声音传来的地方。然后，它看到了她，便开始向她跑来。它愈跑愈快，最后四只脚像鼓锤般地疾疾点地。
在这一秒钟的时间里，发生的事情还真不少。
汉密士冲向苏菲，忙不迭地摇着尾巴，然后跳起来舔她的脸。
“汉密士，你真聪明。下去……下去……不要，不要把口水弄得我满脸……好了，好了!够了!”
苏菲走进屋里。雪儿又从树丛里跳了出来。它对汉密士这位陌生访客相当提防。苏菲拿出猫食，在鹦哥的杯子里倒一些饲料，拿一片生菜叶子给乌龟吃，然后便留一张纸条给妈妈。
她说她要带汉密士回家。如果到七点她还没回来的话，她会打电话。
然后他们便开始穿越市区。这次苏菲特别在身上带了点钱。她本来考虑带汉密士一起坐公车，但后来决定还是问过艾伯特的意思再说。
当她跟着汉密士走的时候，脑海里一直想着动物到底是什么。
狗和猫有什么不同呢?她记得亚理斯多德说：人与动物都是自然的生物，有许多相同的特征。但是人与动物之间却有一个明显不同的地方，那就是：人会思考。
他凭什么如此确定呢?相反的，德谟克里特斯则认为人与动物事实上很相似，因为两者都由原子组成。他并不认为人或动物拥有不朽的灵魂。他的说法是：人的灵魂是由原子组成的，人一死，这些原子也就随风四散。
他认为人的灵魂与他的脑子是紧紧相连，密不可分的。
不过，灵魂怎么可能是原子做的呢?灵魂不像身体其他部位一样是可以碰触到的。它是“精神性”的东西。
他们已经走过大广场，接近旧城区了。当他们走到苏菲那天捡到十块钱的人行道上时，她自然而然的看着脚下的柏油路面。就在她那天弯腰捡钱的同一个地方，她看到了一张明信片，有风景的那面朝上。照片里是一个种有棕榈树与橘子树的花园。
苏菲弯腰捡起明信片。汉密士开始低声怒吼，仿佛不愿意苏菲碰那张明信片一般。
明信片的内容如下：
亲爱的席德；
生命是由一长串的巧合组成的。你所遗失的十块钱并非没有可能在这里出现。也许它是在黎乐桑的广场上被一位预备前往基督山的老太太捡到，她从基督山搭乘火车去探视她的孙儿。很久以后也许她在新广场这里又把那枚铜板给丢了。因此那枚铜板非常可能在当天被一名急需要钱坐公车回家的女孩捡到了。这很难说，席德，但如果真是这样，我们就必须问一问是否每一件事都是天意。现在，就精神上而言，我已经坐在咱家旁边的船坞上了。
P．S：我说过我会帮你找回那十块钱的。
爱你的爸爸地址栏上写着：“请过路人代转席德”。邮戳的日期是六月十五日。
苏菲跟在汉密士的身后跳上台阶。艾伯特一打开门，她便说：“闪开，老爹，邮差来了。”
她觉得自己现在有十足的理由生气。
苏菲进门时，艾伯特便让到旁边。汉密士像从前那样躺在衣帽钩架下面。
“少校是不是又给你一张明信片了，孩子?”
苏菲抬眼看着他，发现他今天又穿了另外一套衣服。她最先注意到的是他戴了一顶长长鬈鬈的假发，穿了一套宽松、镶有许多花边的衣服，脖子上围了一条颜色异常鲜艳的丝巾。在衣服之上还披了一件红色的披肩。另外他还穿着白色的长袜和显然是皮制的薄薄的鞋子，鞋面上还有蝴蝶结。这一整套服装使苏菲想起她在电影上看到的路易十四的宫廷。
“你这个呆子！”她说，一边把明信片递给他。
“嗯……你真的在他放这张明信片的地方捡到了十块钱吗?”
“没错。”
“他愈来愈没礼貌了。不过这样也好。”
“为什么?”
“这使我们比较容易拆穿他的面具。不过他这个把戏既夸张又不高明，几乎像是廉价香水一样。”
“香水?”
“因为他努力要显得很高雅，但实际上却虚有其表。你难道看不出来他居然厚脸皮的把他监视我们的卑鄙行为比做天意吗?”
他指着那张明信片，然后就像以前那样把它撕成碎片。为了不让他更生气，苏菲就没有再提在学校时从她作业本里掉出来的那张明信片。
“我们进房里坐吧。现在几点了?”
“四点。”
“今天我们要谈十七世纪。”
他们走进那间四面斜墙、开有天窗的客厅。苏菲发现这次房里的摆设和上次不同。
茶几上有一个小小的古董珠宝箱，里面放着各式各样的镜片。
珠宝箱旁边摆着一本摊开来的书，样子看来颇为古老。
“那是什么?”苏菲问。
“那是笛卡尔著名的《方法论》，是第—一版，印制于公元一六三七年，是我最宝贝的收藏之一。”
“那个箱子呢……?”
“……是我独家收藏的镜片，也叫做光学玻璃。它们是在十七世纪中由荷兰哲学家史宾诺莎(Spinoza)所打磨的。这些镜片价格都非常昂贵，也是我最珍贵的收藏之一。”
“如果我知道史宾诺莎和笛卡尔是谁的话，也许比较能了解这些东西到底有多珍贵。”
“当然。不过还是先让我们熟悉一下他们的时代背景好了。我们坐下来吧!”
理想与唯物主义他们坐在跟上次一样的地方。苏菲坐在大扶手椅里，艾伯特则坐在沙发上。那张放着书和珠宝箱的茶几就在他们两人中间。当他们坐下来时，艾伯特拿下他的假发。放在书桌上。
“我们今天要谈的是十七世纪，也就是我们一般所说的‘巴洛克时期(BaroquePeriod)’。”
“巴洛克时期?好奇怪的名字。”
“‘巴洛克’这个名词原来的意思是‘形状不规则的珍珠’。这是巴洛克艺术的典型特征。它比文艺复兴时期的艺术要更充满了对照鲜明的形式，相形之下，后者则显得较为平实而和谐。整体来说，十七世纪的主要特色就是在各种相互矛盾的对比中呈现的张力。
当时有许多人抱持文艺复兴时期持续不坠的乐观精神，另一方面又有许多人过着退隐山林、禁欲苦修的宗教生活。无论在艺术还是现实生活上，我们都可以看到夸张华丽的自我表达形式，但另外一方面也有一股退隐避世的潮流逐渐兴起。”
“你是说，当时既有宏伟华丽的宫廷，也有僻静的修道院?”
“是的。一点没错。巴洛克时期的口头禅之一是拉丁谚语carpediem，也就是‘把握今天’的意思。另外一句也很流行的拉丁谚语则是mementomori，就是‘不要忘记你将会死亡’。
“在艺术方面，当时的绘画可能一方面描绘极其繁华奢靡的生活，但在角落里却画了一个骷髅头。从很多方面来说，巴洛克时期的特色是浮华而矫饰的。但在同一时期，也有许多人意识到世事无常，明白我们周遭的美好事物终有一天会消殒凋零。”
“没错。我想意识到生命无常的确是一件令人伤感的事。”
“你的想法就和十七世纪的许多人一样。在政治方面，巴洛克时期也是一个充满冲突的年代。当时的欧洲可说是烽火遍地。其中最惨烈的是从一六一八年打到一六四八年的‘三十年战争’，欧洲大部分地区都卷入其中。事实上，所谓‘三十年战争’指的是一连串战役，而受害最深的是德国。由于这些战争，法国逐渐成为欧洲象强大的国家。”
“他们为什么要打仗呢?”
“有一大部分是由于基督新教与天主教之间的冲突。但也有一些是为了争夺政权。”
“就像黎巴嫩的情况。”
“除此之外，十七世纪也是阶级差距很大的时代。你一定听过法国的贵族和凡尔赛宫。但我不知道你对法国人民穷困的生活知道多少。不过财富往往建立于权力之上。人们常说巴洛克时期的政治情势与当时的艺术与建筑有几分相似。巴洛克时期的建筑特色在于屋角与隙缝有许多细部装饰。同样的，当时政治情势的特色就是各种阴谋与暗杀充斥。”
“不是有一位瑞典国王在戏院里遇刺吗?”
“你说的是古斯塔夫三世(GustavⅢ)。这是一个很好的例子。
古斯塔夫三世遇刺的时间其实是在一七九二年，但当时的情况却与巴洛克时期很像。他是在一场化装舞会中遇害的。”
“我还以为他是在戏院里被杀的。”
“那场化装舞会是在一座歌剧院举行的。我们可以说瑞典的巴洛克时期随着古斯塔夫三世的遇刺而结束。在古斯塔夫的时代已经开始有所谓的‘开明专制’政治，与近一百年前路易十四统治的时期颇为相似。古斯塔夫三世本身也是一个非常虚荣的人，他崇尚所有的法国仪式与礼节。不过，他也很喜爱戏剧……”
“……他就是因此而死的对不对?”
“是的，不过巴洛克时期的戏剧不只是一种艺术形式而已，也是当时最常使用的象征。”
“什么东西的象征?”
“生活的象征。我不知道十七世纪的人究竟说过多少次‘人生如戏’之类的话。总之，很多次就是了。现代戏剧一—包括各种布景与舞台机关——就是在巴洛克时期诞生的。演戏的人在舞台上创造一种假象，最终目的就是要显示舞台上的戏剧不过是一种假象而已。戏剧因此成为整个人生的缩影。它可以告诉人们‘骄者必败’，也可以无情的呈现出人类的软弱。”
“莎士比亚是不是巴洛克时期的人?”
“他最伟大的几出剧作是在一六OO年写成的。因此可以说，他横跨了文艺复兴时期与巴洛克时期。莎士比亚的剧本中有许多片段讲到人生如戏。你想不想听我念几段?”
“当然想。”
“在《皆大欢喜》中，他说：世界是一座舞台，所有的男男女女不过是演员：有上场的时候，也有下场的时候；每个人在一生中都扮演着好几种角色。”
“在《马克白》中，他说：人生不过是一个行走的影子，一个在舞台上高谈阔步的可怜演员，无声无息地悄然退下；这只是一个傻子说的故事，说得慷慨激昂，却无意义。”
“好悲观哪!”
“那是因为他时常想到生命的短暂。你一定听过莎士比亚最著名的一句台词吧！”
“存在或不存在，这是问题所在。”(Tobeornottobe——thatisthequestion．)“对，是哈姆雷特说的。今天我们还在世上到处行走，明天我们就死了，消失了。”
“谢啦j我明白了!”
“除了将生命比喻为舞台之外，巴洛克时期的诗人也将生命比喻为梦境。例如，莎士比亚就说：我们的本质原来也和梦一般，短短的一生就在睡梦中度过……”
“很有诗意。”
“公元一六OO年出生的西班牙剧作家卡德隆(Calder6ndelaBarca)写了一出名为《人生如梦》的戏。其中有一句台词是：‘生命是什么?是疯狂的。生命是什么?是幻象、是影子、是虚构之物。生命中至美至善者亦微不足道，因为生命只是一场梦境……，”
“他说的也许没错。我们在学校里也念过一个剧本，名叫《杰普大梦》(JeppeOntheMount)。”
“没错，是由侯柏格(LudvigHolberg)写的。他是北欧的大作家，是巴洛克时期过渡到开明时期的一个重要人物。”
“杰普在一个壕沟里睡着了……醒来时发现自己躺在男爵的床上。因此他以为他梦见自己是一个贫穷的农场工人。后来当他再度睡着时，他们把他抬回壕沟去，然后他又醒过来了。这次他以为他刚才只是梦见自己躺在男爵的床上罢了。”
“侯柏格是从卡德隆那儿借用了这个主题，而卡德隆则是借用古代阿拉伯的民间故事《一千零一夜》中的主题。不过，在此之前，早已有人将生命比喻为梦境，包括印度与中国的作家。比方说，中国古代的智者庄子就曾经说过：‘昔者庄周梦为蝴蝶，栩栩然蝴蝶也……俄然觉，则蘧蘧然周也。不知周之梦为蝴蝶欤，蝴蝶之梦为周欤?”’“这个嘛，我想我们实在不可能证明究竟哪一种情况才是真的。”
“挪威有一个巴洛克时期的天才诗人名叫达斯(PetterDass)，生于一六四七年到一七O七年间。他一方面着意描写人世间的现实生活，另一方面则强调唯有上帝才是永恒不变的。
“上帝仍为上帝，即便天地尽荒；上帝仍为上帝，纵使人人皆亡。
“但他在同一首赞美诗中也描写挪威北部的乡村生活，描写鲂鱼、鳕鱼和黑鳕鱼等。这是巴洛克时期作品的典型特征，一方面描写今生与现实人间的生活，另一方面也描写天上与来世的情景。这使人想起柏拉图将宇宙分成具体的感官世界与不变的概念世界的理论。”
“这些巴洛克时期的人又有什么样的哲学呢?”
“他们的哲学特色同样也是两种完全相反的思想模式并存，而且两者之中充满了强烈的冲突。我说过，有许多人认为生命基本上具有一种崇高的特质。我们称之为‘理想主义’。另一种迥然相异的看法则被称为‘唯物主义’，就是指一种相信生命中所有的自然现象都是从肉体感官而来的哲学。十七世纪时也有许多人信奉物质主义。其中影响最大的可能是英国的哲学家霍布士(ThomasHobbes)。他相信自然界所有的现象——包括人与动物——都完全是由物质的分子所组成的。就连人类的意识(也就是灵魂)也是由人脑中微小分子的运动而产生的。”
“这么说，他赞同两千年前德谟克里特斯的说法啰?”
“在整部哲学史上你都可以看到理想主义与唯物主义的影踪。
不过两者很少像在巴洛克时期这般明显共存。由于受到各种新科学的影响，唯物主义日益盛行。牛顿证明整个宇宙适用同样的运动定律，也证明自然界(包括地理和太空)的所有变化都可以用宇宙重力与物体移动等定律来加以说明。因此，一切事物都受到同样的不变法则或同样的机转所左右。所以在理论上，所有自然界的变化都可以用数学精确地计算。就这样，牛顿成就了我们所谓的‘机械论的世界观’。”．“他是否认为整个世界就是一部很大的机器?”
“是的。mechanic(机械论的)这个字是从希腊文mechane而来的，意思就是机器。值得注意的是：无论霍布士或牛顿都不认为机械论的世界观与他们对上帝的信仰有何抵触。但十八、十九世纪的唯物主义者则不然。十八世纪的法国物理学家兼哲学家拉美特利（LaMettrie)写了一本名为《人这部机器》(L’hommemachine)的书，他认为，就像人腿有肌肉可以行走一般，人脑也有‘肌肉’可以用来思考。后来，法国的数学家拉普拉斯(Laplace)也表达了极端机械论的观点。他的想法是：如果某些神祗在某个时刻能知道所有物质分子的位置，则‘没有任何事情是他们所不知道的，同时他们也能够看到所有过去及未来的事情’。他认为所有事情都命中注定。一件事情会不会发生，都是冥冥中早有定数。这个观点被称为决定论’。”
“这么说，他们认为世间没有所谓自由意志这回事啰?”
“是的。他们认为一切事物都是机械过程的产物，包括我们的思想与梦境在内。十九世纪德国的唯物主义者宣称，思想与脑袋的关系就像尿液与肾脏、胆汁与肝的关系。”
“可是尿液和胆汁都是物质，但思想却不是。”
“你说到重点了。我可以告诉你一个类似的故事。有一次，一位俄罗斯太空人与一位脑外科医生讨论宗教方面的问题。脑外科医生是个基督徒，那位太空人不是。太空人说：‘我到过太空许多次，但却从来没有见过上帝或天使。’脑外科医生答道：‘我开过很多聪明的脑袋，也没有看过一个思想呀!”’“可是这并不代表思想并不存在。”
“没错。它强调了一个事实，那就是：思想并不是可以被开刀或被分解成较小单位的东西。举例来说，如果一个人满脑子幻想,你很难开刀将它去除。我们可以说，它生长的部位太深人了，无法动手术。十七世纪一位重要的哲学家莱布尼兹指出：物质与精神不同的地方在于物质可以不断被分割成更小的单位，但灵魂却连分割成一半也不可能。”
“是呀!要用什么样的手术刀才能分割灵魂呢?”
艾伯特只是摇头。过了一会，他向下指着他们两人中间的桌子说：“十七世纪最伟大的两位哲学家笛卡尔和史宾诺莎也曾绞尽脑汁思考灵魂与肉体的关系，我们会更详细地讨论他们的思想。”
“好吧，不过如果我们到七点钟还没结束的话，我就得借你的电话用一用。”
