MARIE was in a fix. It was not her first, and was not going to be her last. She had been given a most interesting piece of scientific work to do and she had nowhere to do it. The Society for the Encouragement of National Industry had asked her to make a thesis on the magnetic properties of different kinds of steel. It was just the work she loved. She had been getting on with it most successfully in Professor Lippmann's laboratory, but there simply wasn't room for all the heavy apparatus she needed. She had to analyse minerals and group examples of metals, and she hadn't any idea where she could get the loan of floor space. She told her trouble to a scientific Polish friend, M. Kowalski, who had come to Paris with his wife, partly on his honeymoon, partly to give scientific lectures.
Kowalski looked at her seriously. He saw that the matter was important, but what could he, a stranger in Paris, do about suggesting a room.
“I have an idea!” he exclaimed after a few moment's hesitation. “I do know a man of some importance who works in Lhomond Street at the School of Physics and Chemistry. He might have a room to lend, or at any rate he could give you some advice about it. Come and have tea to-morrow evening after dinner. I'll ask the young man to come along, too. He is well known; you must have heard his name, Pierre Curie.”
As Marie entered the sombre boarding-house room where the Kowalskis lodged she noticed at all young man standing in the embrasure of the balcony window. He looked very young, which surprised her because she was expecting to meet a man who had already made his mark. There was something original and very striking about the stranger, an ease, a grace, which seemed all the more marked under his loosely-fitting clothes. There was a clear transparency in the look with which he welcomed the girl to whom he was being introduced, which made him seem very honest, very simple, very young. She liked his grave, yet almost childlike, smile. They began at once to talk of science, for was not that why they had been brought together?
He was an unusual kind of man, the son of a doctor, who had realised, while Pierre was very young, that he was not the kind of boy who fits well into a mould that suits other people; Pierre wouldn't do for a public school, so he had a private tutor to himself. He had grown up a home-keeping boy, loving his father and mother's company and that of his only brother. He had taken to loving science, and also to delving into his own mind and writing down his opinions in his diary. “Women,” he wrote, when he was very young, “l(fā)ove life just for the mere sake of being alive far more than we men: women of genius are very rare. So when we give all our thoughts to some great work which separates us from the ordinary life around us, we have literally to fight against woman. The mother wants the love of her son even though, through loving her, he should make of himself an imbecile. A woman who loves would be ready to sacrifice the greatest genius in the world for the sake of the love of an hour.”
That was a bitter way to think of girlhood or of womanhood, but Pierre had his excuse. In addition to the fact that his observation was sometimes very true, he had had great grief connected with his first love, and he had made up his mind never to speak of it and never to marry. On that fateful evening when he talked science with Marie in the alcove, he was thirty-five. Inside France he was almost unknown, almost neglected, with that strange heart-breaking neglect with which France has the custom of greeting her greatest men, without all the same making them less great.
Outside France he was famous. A discovery that he and his brother had made which had helped to measure very minute quantities of electricity was used with gratitude by the greatest scientists of other countries. His own discovery of the principle of symmetry in crystals was to become a foundation of modern science. He had already given his name to a new balance and a new physical law. He was the honoured master of men like Lord Kelvin; but for all that he was getting only the wage of a superior workman, three pounds a week.
Still, his poverty was somewhat his own fault. He had been offered a post where money was the chief reward, but he had replied, “No, thank you, nothing is more unhealthy for the spirit than pre- occupations of that kind.” He had been suggested for government honours, and had begged to be excused and he had decided never to accept any decoration of any kind.
So this science-lover of stern and settled character stood before Marie and talked, his long, sensitive hand resting on the table, his still, clear eyes watching her with that deep, calm, detached inspection of theirs. Perhaps suddenly he remembered that old opinion of his—“Women of genius are rare.”
At first, conversation had been, as it would be when four people meet, quite general. Then Pierre and Marie had got on to science. Had she not come purely for scientific business? With a touch of deference, she questioned the great man who looked so young, and listened to his suggestions. Then he talked of himself, a thing he so rarely did, of his own aims and of his crystallography, which was puzzling and interesting him and whose laws he was seeking. A sudden thought darted through his mind: how strange it is to find one's self talking to a woman about the work one loves, employing technical terms and complicated formulas, and finding that woman, though charming and young, grow interested and keen, finding her understand, and finding her discuss details with faultless perception… What a delicious experience! He looked again at Marie, at her lovely hair, at her hands, made rough by chemical acids and housework, at her grace, at her absolute freedom from coquetry—so attractive and disconcerting a thing. That was the girl who had worked for years in Poland with the hope of reaching Paris, and was now there, working alone, penniless, in an attic.
“'Are you going to live in Paris always?” he asked.
“No, of course not,” replied Marie. “If I manage my examination this summer I shall return to Warsaw. I should like to come back in the autumn, but I don't know if I shall be able to afford it. In the end I shall teach in a Polish school and try to be useful. No Pole may desert her country.”
The conversation slipped off to the misery of Poland, to her oppressive masters. Pierre, whose one thought had been scientific discovery, listened surprised and distressed to a tale of human beings struggling to be free. Perhaps he thought of how great losses truth and knowledge may suffer when the scientists are obliged to give their thoughts away from science. Perhaps he began to dream that he must fight Poland and keep this rare genius for scientific Paris. At any rate, he was not going to lose touch with her. He took to meeting her at the Physics Society, where she went to hear about new discoveries. He sent her a copy of the limited edition of his own new book. He saw her from time to time at work in her linen overall among her apparatus in Lippmann's laboratory.
Then Pierre asked for Marie's address and called at 11 Rue des Feuillantines. Perhaps he remembered it as the street in which Pasteur had, also, once lived. As, after six flights of stairs, he entered the attic, the doctor's son was moved by the sight of the extreme poverty of the room. Yet how well it suited Marie! Never had she seemed so lovely as when she came to meet him in her threadbare frock across that almost empty room; so thin, so ascetic, so on fire, so stubborn, so self-willed she looked, so beautifully framed in emptiness.
All Pierre's bitterness went, like fog when the sun breaks through. They talked and he went back to work with quite another spirit; what had seemed to him little worth doing became more important and more clear. His new theory worked itself out into a most brilliant doctor's thesis and he made the discovery that one woman, at any rate, so far from killing genius in a man, had awakened it. He gave himself better to his high thoughts because he had given his heart to Marie.
But what of her heart? Pierre tried to find out. He took her into the lovely French country they both loved; together they gathered marguerites and brought them home to lend an air of whiteness and grace to the attic. He took her home to Sceaux, outside Paris, to meet his mother and his delightful old father. Marie found herself as if in a second home, a home oddly like hers in Warsaw, among calm, affectionate people who loved one another, loved books, loved nature and, above all, loved science. They talked of beautiful Poland, of Marie's long walks through its beautiful wide-spreading meadows, of her joy at the thought of the coming holidays there and among the Swiss mountains.
“But you are coming back in October?” exclaimed Pierre, a sudden chill clutching his heart! “It would be a sin on your part to abandon science.”
Marie was not deceived. She knew already that he meant it would be a sin to abandon him.
But Poland held her heart. Yet she said, looking shyly up at him, “I think you are right. I should very much like to come back.”
It was not long before Pierre felt brave enough to put his thought into words and to ask her to be his wife. But that she could never be, she said. She could never marry a Frenchman and turn her back on Poland. So many discussions followed that word, for Pierre knew that science was on his side and he could not believe that it was anyone's duty to give up science, which belonged to the whole world, for the sake of working for a mere country.
So Marie went home again for her holidays promising Pierre nothing but that he should always be her friend. He wrote her long persuading letters. He planned to meet her in Switzerland for a few days, but she was meeting her father there and he decided that his presence might spoil the girl's perfect holiday. He told her by post all his thoughts and his hesitations, never forgetting to slip in his opinion that the only dream that a man should live for was the scientific dream. “In politics,” said he, “you never know what you may be doing; you may be ruining your country while trying to help her. If you dream of helping humanity, you don't know how to do it. But science is solid. Any discovery, however small, that you make in that, remains made. Truth, once found, can't disappear and can never be wrong.
Believe me,
Your devoted,
Pierre Curie.”
Marie liked to write to him about her freedom.
“Talk!” he answered. “We're all slaves, slaves of our affections, slaves of prejudice, slaves when we have to earn a living, wheels in a machine, We have to yield something to the things around us! If we yield too much, we are poor mean things; if we don't yield enough, we are crushed.”
In October Marie returned to Paris, and it wasn't only she who was stubborn. What about that yielding to the things around one, about which Pierre spoke? He began to wonder if it should be he who should yield. The thought had no sooner come than he acted on it! He offered to give up Paris and to go to Poland. For a time he would give up science and teach French for a living; then somehow he would get back into scientific work.
Marie confided her hesitations to Bronia and asked her what she thought about that wonderful offer of Pierre's to give up his country. For herself, she felt that no one had the right to ask such a sacrifice of another. She was overwhelmed at the thought that Pierre had offered it to her. Pierre, too, went to the Dluskis. They were entirely on his side.
Bronia began to go with Marie to visit his parents, and heard from his mother so tender an account of the wonderful son Pierre was, that she knew that her sister's happiness would be safe in his hands.
Ten months more Marie hesitated, and then the two who had both promised themselves that they would never marry abandoned their high-flown ideas, and said yes to happiness.
Marie's brother wrote her a charming letter from Poland full of understanding. It was as if Poland itself spoke to tell the Polish girl that she could do more good to Poland by marrying a French scientist who happened to be Pierre Curie than she could by returning to be a schoolmistress in Warsaw. And, indeed, all that was about to happen showed that Marie had chosen the right.
So Marie could plan her wedding in all happiness; and what an odd wedding it was to be!
On the 26th of July, 1895, the sun rose in a clear sky, and Marie Sklodovska with it. Her beautiful face was lit with joy as she did her lovely hair and put on her new navy-blue dress with the striped blue blouse that Casimir Dluski's mother had given her. She hadn't wanted a real wedding dress; she was glad to have a new one because she only possessed one she wore every day, but she much preferred something useful that she could wear afterwards in the laboratory.
When she was dressed, Pierre fetched her and they left by the bus to catch the train to Sceaux, where the wedding was to be. Down the Boulevard St. Michel the heavy horses clop-clopped, passing the Sorbonne that the two looked at with loving eyes, for had it not brought them together?
At Sceaux there were to be no guests except Bronia and Casimir, Mr. Sklodovski and Hela, who had come all the way from Warsaw. They couldn't afford a gold ring or a wedding breakfast. For wedding presents, the most important were two shining bicycles, given them by a cousin, on which they were going to spend their honeymoon.
Said the one father to the other father, as they met the bride and bridegroom in the garden after the wedding, “You will have in Marie a daughter you can love, for since the day of her birth she has never given me a moment's pain.”
瑪麗身處困境。這不是第一次,也不會(huì)是最后一次。她有項(xiàng)很有趣的科研項(xiàng)目要做,但卻沒(méi)有科研場(chǎng)所。全國(guó)工業(yè)促進(jìn)協(xié)會(huì)請(qǐng)她就不同類型鋼鐵的磁性進(jìn)行論文研究。這正是她鐘愛(ài)的工作。在利普曼教授的實(shí)驗(yàn)室里,已經(jīng)成功進(jìn)行了大部分實(shí)驗(yàn),但實(shí)驗(yàn)室根本沒(méi)地方放所有需要用的大型儀器。她要分析礦物質(zhì)和金屬樣本,她不知道哪兒能租到一樓的實(shí)驗(yàn)室。她將自己的困難告訴了一位科學(xué)界的波蘭朋友柯瓦斯基先生,他碰巧和妻子來(lái)巴黎做演講,順便度蜜月。
柯瓦斯基認(rèn)真地望著瑪麗。他覺(jué)得這件事很重要,不過(guò)他一個(gè)在巴黎的客居人又能給出什么建議呢。
片刻思索后,他突然喊道:“我有主意了!我還真認(rèn)識(shí)一個(gè)在勒蒙大街物理化學(xué)學(xué)院工作的人,他還算有些能力。他也許能借到實(shí)驗(yàn)室,就算借不到也能給點(diǎn)建議。明晚吃完飯來(lái)我家喝茶吧。我也會(huì)邀請(qǐng)那個(gè)年輕人來(lái)家中做客。他名聲在外,你可能聽過(guò)他的名字,皮埃爾·居里?!?/p>
當(dāng)瑪麗走進(jìn)柯瓦斯基夫婦寄宿的獨(dú)棟公寓時(shí),望見(jiàn)了一個(gè)個(gè)子高高的年輕人正站在陽(yáng)臺(tái)窗戶的凹處。他看上去十分年輕,這可在瑪麗的意料之外,她想自己要見(jiàn)的這位業(yè)內(nèi)名人怎么也該上了年紀(jì)。這個(gè)年輕人看似普通,卻令人印象深刻;看似休閑隨意,但舉止優(yōu)雅,這種氣質(zhì)在寬松合體的穿著下愈發(fā)突顯。兩個(gè)人互相介紹認(rèn)識(shí)時(shí),他的眼神真摯而純凈,讓他看上去十分真誠(chéng)、簡(jiǎn)單、年輕?,旣愋蕾p他嚴(yán)肅卻略帶稚氣的微笑,他們立刻談?wù)撈鹆丝茖W(xué),這不就是將兩個(gè)人牽線到一起的關(guān)鍵因素嗎?
皮埃爾的父親是名醫(yī)生,他雖然年輕卻不同于常人。皮埃爾沒(méi)上過(guò)公立學(xué)校,有專門的私人教師。他在家中長(zhǎng)大,承歡父母膝下,與哥哥相處融洽。他深受家庭影響而熱愛(ài)科學(xué),經(jīng)常陷入沉思,并在日記中寫下自己的思考?!芭耍彼苣贻p的時(shí)候就寫道,“比男人更加熱愛(ài)生活:有才華的女人彌足珍貴。當(dāng)我們專注于某項(xiàng)偉大工作而無(wú)法兼顧日常生活時(shí),我們就要和女人們周旋。母親想要兒子的關(guān)愛(ài),盡管這種愛(ài)會(huì)讓兒子變成傻瓜。而陷入愛(ài)河的女人甚至?xí)闀一ㄒ滑F(xiàn)的愛(ài)情犧牲掉世界上最偉大的才華?!?/p>
這樣理解女人的方式雖然有些偏激,但皮埃爾卻有自己的理由。他的觀察有時(shí)確實(shí)符合現(xiàn)實(shí),再加上初戀令他飽受痛苦,他決心塵封這段往事并決定終身不婚。但當(dāng)他與瑪麗在陽(yáng)臺(tái)上談?wù)摽茖W(xué)的時(shí)候,他再次相信命中注定,那時(shí)他已三十五歲。在法國(guó)國(guó)內(nèi),他并不知名,甚至被忽視,不過(guò)法國(guó)經(jīng)常讓偉人們飽嘗令人心碎的忽視感,但卻并不會(huì)削減這些人的偉大。
在法國(guó)之外,他已經(jīng)名揚(yáng)四海。他和哥哥發(fā)現(xiàn)的微量電測(cè)量方法已為其他國(guó)家的科學(xué)家廣泛使用,讓大家心存感激。他獨(dú)自發(fā)現(xiàn)的晶體對(duì)稱結(jié)構(gòu)原理,成為現(xiàn)代科學(xué)的基礎(chǔ)。一種新的天平和一項(xiàng)新的物理規(guī)律都以他的名字命名。他和開爾文爵士一樣享有盛譽(yù),但他的薪水卻僅僅等同于高級(jí)技工,一周僅有三鎊。
不過(guò),他的一貧如洗也部分歸結(jié)于自身原因。曾經(jīng)也有一份收入頗豐的工作擺在他面前,但他的回答是:“不了,謝謝,這類工作簡(jiǎn)直就是對(duì)我精神的最大折磨。”他也被提名政府榮譽(yù)獎(jiǎng),但卻請(qǐng)求除名,下決心永不接受這些虛名矯飾。
這位堅(jiān)定決絕的科學(xué)狂熱者站在瑪麗面前侃侃而談,他修長(zhǎng)纖細(xì)的手搭在桌上,一雙安靜清澈的眼睛望向瑪麗,透露出一股深邃、平和、超然物外的神情。也許皮埃爾突然記起了他過(guò)去所說(shuō)的名言——“有才華的女人彌足珍貴”。
起初,因?yàn)槭撬娜艘?jiàn)面,他們之間的談話較為籠統(tǒng)。隨后,皮埃爾和瑪麗就談到了科學(xué)。她來(lái)此的目的不就是一心為了科學(xué)嗎?滿懷尊重,她認(rèn)真請(qǐng)教了眼前這個(gè)年紀(jì)不大卻已小有名氣的年輕人,仔細(xì)傾聽了他的建議。后來(lái),皮埃爾一反常態(tài)地談到了自己,講到了自己的夢(mèng)想,說(shuō)到了他在研究并且尋找結(jié)晶學(xué)的規(guī)律,雖然謎團(tuán)重重但卻讓人著迷。皮埃爾的腦海中突然閃過(guò)一個(gè)念頭:自己竟然會(huì)和一位女性談起摯愛(ài)的工作,各種學(xué)科術(shù)語(yǔ)和復(fù)雜的公式。眼前的這位女性不僅年輕迷人,還對(duì)科學(xué)充滿熱忱與濃厚的興趣,他發(fā)現(xiàn)她善于理解,談?wù)摷?xì)節(jié)問(wèn)題時(shí)很有自己的真知灼見(jiàn)……多么愉快的交談!他再次望向瑪麗,看著她的一頭秀發(fā),看著她因化學(xué)酸性試劑和家務(wù)而變得粗糙的雙手,欣賞著她的優(yōu)雅,欣賞著她撇去浮華與嬌柔的一切——多么迷人,撥亂人心弦。這就是那個(gè)在波蘭工作多年一心想來(lái)巴黎的女孩,現(xiàn)在實(shí)現(xiàn)了夢(mèng)想,獨(dú)自一人、身無(wú)分文地在閣樓上勤奮努力。
“你會(huì)一直住在巴黎嗎?”他問(wèn)道。
“不,當(dāng)然不會(huì),” 瑪麗回答道,“如果暑假前我順利通過(guò)考試,我就會(huì)回到華沙。秋季可能會(huì)再回來(lái),但我不知道自己是否能負(fù)擔(dān)得起學(xué)費(fèi)。我可能最后就在波蘭的某所學(xué)校里面教書了,努力發(fā)揮自己的才能。波蘭人絕不會(huì)背棄自己的祖國(guó)?!?/p>
兩人間的談話隨即又轉(zhuǎn)移到了波蘭正在承受的苦難,提到了它的壓迫者。皮埃爾,這個(gè)先前一心撲在科研上的人聽到這樣一段人類追求自由的艱難故事,不免感到既吃驚又悲傷。也許是他想到了如果科學(xué)家不能一門心思做科研,那會(huì)給真理和知識(shí)的追尋帶來(lái)多么慘重的損失。也許是他想到自己要與波蘭競(jìng)爭(zhēng),為把這個(gè)罕見(jiàn)的天才留在巴黎科學(xué)界而努力。無(wú)論如何,他都不會(huì)與瑪麗失去聯(lián)系。他去物理協(xié)會(huì)聽講就是為了見(jiàn)到瑪麗,她經(jīng)常去那里聽新發(fā)現(xiàn)。他送給瑪麗一本自己限量版的新書。工作時(shí)間,他也會(huì)時(shí)不時(shí)到利普曼教授的實(shí)驗(yàn)室去看望穿著亞麻衣在儀器設(shè)備間忙碌的瑪麗。
皮埃爾隨后要了瑪麗的地址,并來(lái)到帝皇大道11號(hào)拜訪瑪麗。他可能因?yàn)榭茖W(xué)家路易斯·巴斯德曾在這條大街上住過(guò)而對(duì)此熟知。爬上六層樓,走進(jìn)小閣樓,這個(gè)出身于醫(yī)生家庭的男子被眼前窮困潦倒的景象深深觸動(dòng)了。不過(guò)這與瑪麗十分相配!她穿著磨得開了線的毛裙,穿過(guò)空蕩蕩的房間來(lái)見(jiàn)皮埃爾,顯得分外可愛(ài);身形纖細(xì),樸實(shí)無(wú)華,熱情而又堅(jiān)毅,她在一無(wú)所有的房間中顯得愈發(fā)光彩照人。
皮埃爾的所有痛楚都煙消云散,就像陽(yáng)光穿透濃霧。兩個(gè)人交談甚歡,皮埃爾于是帶著不一樣的心情繼續(xù)投入工作;本來(lái)覺(jué)得不重要的事情現(xiàn)在也顯得尤為重要,愈發(fā)明晰。他的新理論被一位著名博士的論文驗(yàn)證,他也在生活中發(fā)現(xiàn)了一位不僅沒(méi)有扼殺反而喚醒男性才華的女士。他現(xiàn)在越發(fā)堅(jiān)信自己的崇高理想,因?yàn)樗麗?ài)上了瑪麗。
不過(guò)她的心意到底如何呢?皮埃爾還要仔細(xì)觀察。他帶瑪麗去了美麗的法國(guó)鄉(xiāng)間,兩個(gè)人都熱愛(ài)鄉(xiāng)村生活;他們一起采摘雛菊并帶回家,為小閣樓營(yíng)造了一種簡(jiǎn)潔優(yōu)雅的氛圍。皮埃爾帶瑪麗回到了巴黎郊外位于索城的家,見(jiàn)到了自己的母親和性格開朗的老父親。瑪麗仿佛置身于自己另外一個(gè)家,一個(gè)和華沙的家極其相似的地方,周圍是平易近人、相親相愛(ài)的一家人。他們愛(ài)好看書,熱愛(ài)自然,最重要的是熱愛(ài)科學(xué)。大家談?wù)撈鹈利惖牟ㄌm,講到瑪麗在綿延草原上的漫長(zhǎng)穿行,聊到了即將在瑞士群山中度假的歡樂(lè)。
“但十月份的時(shí)候你會(huì)回來(lái)的吧?”皮埃爾焦急地問(wèn)道,他突然緊張起來(lái),“如果你拋棄了科學(xué),那可是大罪過(guò)。”
瑪麗才不會(huì)上當(dāng)。她知道皮埃爾的意思是若拋棄了他那才是罪過(guò)。
然而,波蘭仍占據(jù)著她的心。她抬起頭,略帶羞澀地望向皮埃爾說(shuō):“我覺(jué)得你說(shuō)得對(duì)。我應(yīng)該還會(huì)回來(lái)?!?/p>
皮埃爾很快就鼓起勇氣向瑪麗表達(dá)了自己的心意,并向她求婚。但瑪麗拒絕了。她不可能嫁給一個(gè)法國(guó)人,從而背棄自己的祖國(guó)波蘭。他們圍繞這一問(wèn)題展開了很多討論,皮埃爾知道科學(xué)站在自己這邊,他堅(jiān)信沒(méi)有人有義務(wù)為了國(guó)家而放棄科學(xué),科學(xué)屬于整個(gè)世界,不能為了一國(guó)之利而做出犧牲。
于是,瑪麗再次回國(guó)度假,除了繼續(xù)維持朋友關(guān)系外,她不能向皮埃爾做出其他任何承諾。皮埃爾給瑪麗寫了一封又一封長(zhǎng)長(zhǎng)的勸說(shuō)信。他想去瑞士待幾天看望瑪麗,但瑪麗要和父親一起度假,他覺(jué)得自己的出現(xiàn)可能會(huì)破壞瑪麗的美好假期。他寫信表達(dá)自己的全部思緒和猶豫,并不斷滲透自己的想法,認(rèn)為一個(gè)人要終身為之奮斗的夢(mèng)想就應(yīng)該是科學(xué)。他寫道:
在政治領(lǐng)域,你可能永遠(yuǎn)不知道自己在做什么;也許本意是愛(ài)國(guó)但實(shí)際造成了破壞。想拯救人類,卻不知該從何入手。但科學(xué)是純粹的。任何發(fā)現(xiàn),無(wú)論多么渺小,一旦出現(xiàn)就會(huì)一直存在。一旦發(fā)現(xiàn)了真理,它便不會(huì)消失,也不會(huì)出錯(cuò)。
相信我
愛(ài)你的
皮埃爾·居里
瑪麗喜歡給他寫信表達(dá)自己對(duì)自由的追求。
“談?wù)?!”他回答道,“我們都是奴隸,感情的奴隸,偏見(jiàn)的奴隸,謀生的奴隸,是機(jī)器上的輪子。我們必須向周圍環(huán)境做出讓步。如果讓步太多,我們會(huì)一無(wú)所有;如果讓步太少,我們又會(huì)被摧毀?!?/p>
十月份,瑪麗回到了巴黎,固執(zhí)的不止她一人。皮埃爾說(shuō)的對(duì)周圍事物的讓步到底是什么?皮埃爾開始思考自己是不是該做出妥協(xié)。很快他便將想法付諸實(shí)踐!他主動(dòng)提出可以放棄巴黎,奔赴波蘭。他愿意暫時(shí)放棄科學(xué),教法語(yǔ)謀生,然后再找機(jī)會(huì)回到科研工作中。
瑪麗向布朗尼婭吐露了自己的糾結(jié),并詢問(wèn)她關(guān)于皮埃爾要放棄自己國(guó)家這個(gè)提議的意見(jiàn)。就她自己而言,她覺(jué)得一個(gè)人根本沒(méi)權(quán)力去要求別人做出如此大的犧牲。但皮埃爾的這個(gè)提議確實(shí)令她備受感動(dòng)。皮埃爾也向杜魯斯基一家征求意見(jiàn)。他們完全站在皮埃爾一邊。
布朗尼婭陪著瑪麗拜訪了皮埃爾的父母,并從他母親口中得知皮埃爾是個(gè)十分優(yōu)秀且孝順的兒子,布朗尼婭相信妹妹與他攜手定會(huì)幸福快樂(lè)。
瑪麗又糾結(jié)了十個(gè)多月,然后這兩個(gè)曾經(jīng)的不婚者放棄了自己的信條,牽手走向幸福。
瑪麗的哥哥從波蘭寄了一封熱情洋溢、充滿理解的信,口吻就好像波蘭祖國(guó)母親在告訴她的女兒,嫁給皮埃爾·居里這位法國(guó)科學(xué)家比回到華沙做一名女教師要有意義得多。事實(shí)上,后來(lái)發(fā)生的事也都表明瑪麗的決定是正確的。
于是瑪麗可以放心快樂(lè)地籌備自己的婚禮了,這是一場(chǎng)不同尋常的婚禮!
1895年7月26日,萬(wàn)里晴空,瑪麗·斯克沃多夫斯卡心情亦如陽(yáng)光般燦爛。她美麗的臉龐上閃爍著幸福的光芒,一頭秀發(fā)也顯得愈發(fā)有光澤,穿上了她嶄新的海藍(lán)色裙子和卡西米爾·杜魯斯基的母親送給她的藍(lán)色條紋襯衫。她并不想穿婚紗;她很高興自己能有一條新裙子,因?yàn)樗壳爸挥幸粭l裙子,而且自己每天都在穿;她喜歡實(shí)用的、日后做實(shí)驗(yàn)還能穿的衣服。
瑪麗梳妝打扮好,皮埃爾接上她一同坐車去火車站,搭火車前往索城,奔赴他們的婚禮。沿著圣米歇爾大道向下,馬蹄嘚嘚響,經(jīng)過(guò)巴黎大學(xué)時(shí)兩人相視一笑,眼神中充滿愛(ài)意——不就是愛(ài)將兩個(gè)人連在了一起嗎?
在索城,客人只有布朗尼婭和卡西米爾,斯克沃多夫斯基先生和海拉,他們從華沙遠(yuǎn)道而來(lái)。兩個(gè)人買不起金戒指,也沒(méi)錢籌備婚禮早宴?;槎Y禮物中,最重要的就是一位堂兄送的兩輛嶄新的自行車,兩個(gè)人計(jì)劃騎著自行車去度蜜月。
婚禮過(guò)后,雙方的父親見(jiàn)過(guò)兩位新人,隨后瑪麗的父親對(duì)皮埃爾的父親說(shuō):“你可以將瑪麗當(dāng)成女兒來(lái)疼愛(ài),她從出生那刻起就沒(méi)讓我傷心失望過(guò)。”
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