One night Captain Nichols and Strickland were sitting in one of the bars of the Rue Bouterie. The Rue Bouterie is a narrow street of one-storeyed houses, each house consisting of but one room; they are like the booths in a crowded fair or the cages of animals in a circus. At every door you see a woman. Some lean lazily against the side-posts, humming to themselves or calling to the passer-by in a raucous voice, and some listlessly read. They are French. Italian, Spanish, Japanese, coloured; some are fat and some are thin; and under the thick paint on their faces, the heavy smears on their eyebrows, and the scarlet of their lips, you see the lines of age and the scars of dissipation. Some wear black shifts and flesh-coloured stockings; some with curly hair, dyed yellow, are dressed like little girls in short muslin frocks. Through the open door you see a red-tiled floor, a large wooden bed, and on a deal table a ewer and a basin. A motley crowd saunters along the streets—Lascars off a P. and O., blond Northmen from a Swedish barque, Japanese from a man-of-war, English sailors, Spaniards, pleasant-looking fellows from a French cruiser, negroes off an American tramp. By day it is merely sordid, but at night, lit only by the lamps in the little huts, the street has a sinister beauty. The hideous lust that pervades the air is oppressive and horrible, and yet there is something mysterious in the sight which haunts and troubles you. You feel I know not what primitive force which repels and yet fascinates you. Here all the decencies of civilisation are swept away, and you feel that men are face to face with a sombre reality. There is an atmosphere that is at once intense and tragic.
一天晚上，尼柯尔斯船长和思特里克兰德正坐在布特里路的一家酒吧间里。布特里路是一条狭窄的街道，两旁都是一间间的平房，每所房子只有一间小屋，就象拥挤的集市棚子或者马戏团的兽笼。每间屋子门口都可以看到一个女人。有的懒洋洋地靠着门框，或者哼着小曲，或者用沙哑的嗓子向过路人打招呼，也有的无精打采地看一本书。她们有的是法国人，有的是意大利人，有的是西班牙人，有的是日本人，也有的是黑人；有的胖，有的瘦；在厚厚的脂粉、乌黑的眼眉和猩红的唇脂下面，你可以看到岁月在她们脸上刻下的痕迹和堕落放荡留下的伤疤。她们有的人穿着黑色内衫和肉色长袜，有的头发卷曲、染成金黄颜色，穿着纱衣，打扮得象小女孩。从敞开的门外边，可以看到屋子里的红砖地，一张大木床，牌桌上摆着一只大口水罐和一个面盆。街头上形形色色的人踱来踱去——邮轮上的印度水手，瑞典三桅帆船上的金发的北欧人，军舰上的日本兵，英国水手，西班牙人，法国巡洋舰上英俊的水兵，美国货轮上的黑人。白天，这里污秽肮脏，但是到了夜里，在小屋子的灯光照耀下，这条街就有一种罪恶的魅力。弥漫在空中的丑恶的淫欲使人感到窒息，简直是可怕的，但是在这一切缠绕着你、激动着你的景象里却有某种神秘的东西。你觉得有一种人们并不了解的原始力量又让你厌恶，又深深地把你迷住。在这里，一切文明、体面都已荡然无存，人们面对的只是阴郁的现实，一种既热烈又悲哀的气氛笼罩着一切。