The-Fly及其译文内容

TheFlybyKatherineMansfield'Youareverysnuginhere,'pipedoldMrWoodifield,andhepeeredoutofthegreat,greenleatherarmchairbyhisfriendtheboss'sdeskasababypeersoutofitspram.Histalkwasover;itwastimeforhimtobeoff.Buthedidnotwanttogo.Sincehehadretired,sincehis...stroke,thewifeandthegirlskepthimboxedupinthehouseeverydayoftheweekexceptTuesday.OnTuesdayhewasdressedandbrushedandallowedtocutbacktotheCityfortheday.Thoughwhathedidtherethewifeandgirlscouldn'timagine.Madeanuisanceofhimselftohisfriends,theysupposed....Well,perhapsso.Allthesame,weclingtoourlastpleasuresasthetreeclingstoitslastleaves.SotheresatoldWoodifield,smokingacigarandstaringalmostgreedilyattheboss,whorolledinhisoncechair,stout,rosy,fiveyearsolderthanhe,andstillgoingstrong,stillatthehelm.Itdidonegoodtoseehim.Wistfully,admiringly,theoldvoiceadded,'It'ssnuginhere--uponmyword!''Yes,it'scomfortableenough,'agreedtheboss,andhenippedtheFinancialTimeswithapaper-knife.Asamatteroffacthewasproudofhisroom;helikedtohaveitadmired,especiallybyoldWoodifield.Itgavehimafeelingofdeep,solidsatisfactiontobeplantedthereinthemidstofitinfullviewofthatfrailoldfigureinthemuffler.'I'vehaditdoneuplately,'heexplained,ashehadexplainedforthepast--howmany?--weeks.'Newcarpet,'andhepointedtothebrightredcarpetwithapatternoflargewhiterings.'Newfurniture,'andhenoddedtowardsthemassivebookcaseandthetablewithlegsliketwistedtreacle.'Electricheating!'Hewavedalmostexultantlytowardsthefivetransparent,pearlysausagesglowingsosoftlyinthetiltedcopperpan.ButhedidnotdrawoldWoodifield'sattentiontothephotographoverthetableofagrave-lookingboyinuniformstandinginoneofthosespectralphotographers'parkswithphotographers'storm-cloudsbehindhim.Itwasnotnew.Ithadbeenthereforoversixyears.'TherewassomethingIwantedtotellyou,'saidoldWoodifield,andhiseyesgrewdimremembering.'Nowwhatwasit?IhaditinmymindwhenIstartedoutthismorning.'Hishandsbegantotremble,andpatchesofredshowedabovehisbeard.Pooroldchap,he'sonhislastpins,thoughttheboss.And,feelingkindly,hewinkedattheoldman,andsaidjokingly,'Itellyouwhat.I'vegotalittledropofsomethingherethatwilldoyougoodbeforeyougooutintothecoldagain.It'sbeautifulstuff.Itwouldn'thurtachild.'Hetookakeyoffhiswatch-chain,unlockedacupboardbelowhisdesk,anddrewforthadark,squatbottle.'That'sthemedicine,'saidhe.'AndthemanfromwhomIgotittoldmeonthestrictQ.T.itcamefromthecellarsatWindsorCassel.'grey-hairedofficemessenger,watchinghim,dodgedinandoutofhiscubbyholelikeadogthatexpectstobetakenforarun.Then:'I'llseenobodyforhalfanhour,Macey,'saidtheboss.'Understand?Nobodyatall.'Verygood,sir.'Thedoorshut,thefirmheavystepsrecrossedthebrightcarpet,thefatbodyplumpeddowninthespringchair,andleaningforward,thebosscoveredhisfacewithhishands.Hewanted,heintended,hehadarrangedtoweep....IthadbeenaterribleshocktohimwhenoldWoodifieldsprangthatremarkuponhimabouttheboy'sgrave.ItwasexactlyasthoughtheearthhadopenedandhehadseentheboylyingtherewithWoodifield'sgirlsstaringdownathim.Foritwasstrange.Althoughoversixyearshadpassedaway,thebossneverthoughtoftheboyexceptaslyingunchanged,unblemishedinhisuniform,asleepforever.'Myson!'groanedtheboss.Butnotearscameyet.Inthepast,inthefirstmonthsandevenyearsaftertheboy'sdeath,hehadonlytosaythosewordstobeovercomebysuchgriefthatnothingshortofaviolentfitofweepingcouldrelievehim.Time,hehaddeclaredthen,hehadtoldeverybody,couldmakenodifference.Othermenperhapsmightrecover,mightlivetheirlossdown,butnothe.Howwasitpossible?Hisboywasanonlyson.Eversincehisbirththebosshadworkedatbuildingupthisbusinessforhim;ithadnoothermeaningifitwasnotfortheboy.Lifeitselfhadcometohavenoothermeaning.Howonearthcouldhehaveslaved,deniedhimself,keptgoingallthoseyearswithoutthepromiseforeverbeforehimoftheboy'ssteppingintohisshoesandcarryingonwhereheleftoff?Andthatpromisehadbeensonearbeingfulfilled.Theboyhadbeenintheofficelearningtheropesforayearbeforethewar.Everymorningtheyhadstartedofftogether;theyhadcomebackbythesametrain.Andwhatcongratulationshehadreceivedastheboy'sfather!Nowonder;hehadtakentoitmarvelously.Astohispopularitywiththestag,everymanjackofthemdowntooldMaceycouldn'tmakeenoughoftheboy.Andhewasn'tintheleastspoiled.No,hewasjusthisbright,naturalself,withtherightwordforeverybody,withthatboyishlookandhishabitofsaying,'Simplysplendid.'Butallthatwasoveranddonewithasthoughitneverhadbeen.ThedayhadcomewhenMaceyhadhandedhimthetelegram*thatbroughtthewholeplacecrashingabouthishead.'Deeplyregrettoinformyou....'Andhehadlefttheofficeabrokenman,withhislifeinruins.Sixyearsago,sixyears....Howquicklytimepassed!Itmighthavehappenedyesterday.Thebosstookhishandsfromhisface;hewaspuzzled.Somethingseemedtobewrongwithhim.Hewasn'tfeelingashewantedtofeel.Hedecidedtogetupandhavealookattheboy'sphotograph.Butitwasn'tafavouritephotographofhis;theexpressionwasunnatural.Itwascold,evenstern-looking.Theboyhadneverlookedlikethat.Atthatmomentthebossnoticedthataflyhadfallenintohisbroadinkpot,andwastryingfeeblybutdesperatelytoclamberoutagain.Help!help!saidthosestrugglinglegs.Butthesidesoftheinkpotwerewetandslippery;ittillbackagainandbegantoswim.Thebosstookupapen,pickedtheflyoutoftheink,andshookitontoapieceofblotting-paper.Forafractionofaseconditlaystillonthedarkpatchthatoozedroundit.Thenthefrontlegswaved,tookhold,and,pullingitssmall,soddenbodyupitbegantheimmensetaskofcleaningtheinkfromitswings.Overandunder,overandunder,wentalegalongawing,asthestonegoesoverandunderthescythe.Thentherewasapause,whilethefly,seemingtostandonthetipsofitstoes,triedtoexpandfirstonewingandthentheother.Itsucceededatlast,and,sittingdown,itbegan,likeaminutecat,tocleanitsface.Nowonecouldimaginethatthelittlefrontlegsrubbedagainsteachotherlightly,joyfully.Thehorribledangerwasover;ithadescaped;itwasreadyforlifeagain.Butjustthenthebosshadanidea.Heplungedhispenbackintotheink,leanedhisthickwristontheblottingpaper,andastheflytrieditswingsdowncameagreatheavyblot.Whatwoulditmakeofthat?Whatindeed!Thelittlebeggarseemedabsolutelycowed,stunned,andafraidtomovebecauseofwhatwouldhappennext.Butthen,asifpainfully,itdraggeditselfforward.Thefrontlegswaved,caughthold,and,moreslowlythistime,thetaskbeganfromthebeginning.He'sapluckylittledevil,thoughttheboss,andhefeltarealadmirationforthefly'scourage.Thatwasthewaytotacklethings;thatwastherightspirit.Neversaydie;itwasonlyaquestionof....Buttheflyhadagainfinisheditslaborioustask,andthebosshadjusttimetorefillhispen,toshakefairandsquareonthenewcleanedbodyyetanotherdarkdrop.Whataboutitthistime?Apainfulmomentofsuspensefollowed.Butbehold,thefrontlegswereagainwaving;thebossfeltarushofrelief.Heleanedovertheflyandsaidtoittenderly,'Youartfullittleb...'Andheactuallyhadthebrilliantnotionofbreathingonittohelpthedryingprocess.Allthesame,therewassomethingtimidandweakaboutitseffortsnow,andthebossdecidedthatthistimeshouldbethelast,ashedippedthependeepintotheinkpot.Itwas.Thelastblotfellonthesoakedblotting-paper,andthedraggledflylayinitanddidnotstir.Thebacklegswerestucktothebody;thefrontlegswerenottobeseen.'Comeon,'saidtheboss.'Looksharp!'Andhestirreditwithhispen--invain.Nothinghappenedorwaslikelytohappen.Theflywasdead.Thebossliftedthecorpseontheendofthepaper-knifeandflungitintothewaste-paperbasket.Butsuchagrindingfeelingofwretchednessseizedhimthathefeltpositivelyfrightened.HestartedforwardandpressedthebellforMacey.'Bringmesomefreshblotting-paper,'hesaid,sternly,'andlooksharpaboutit.'Andwhiletheolddogpaddedawayhefelltowonderingwhatitwashehadbeenthinkingaboutbefore.Whatwasit?Itwas....Hetookouthishandkerchiefandpasseditinsidehiscollar.Forthelifeofhimhecouldnotremember.苍蝇王汉梁译“你这儿真舒服，”任德菲尔德老先生一边说，一边坐在他的朋友—经理—的写字台旁边的绿皮大靠背椅上，目视着前方。他的话说完了，该告辞了。但他还不想走。自从他因病退休后，他的妻子、女儿们除了星期二这一天之外，其它日子一直把他关在家里。到了星期二，穿戴、掸刷得衣冠楚楚的他，被准许大白天回伦敦的金融、贸易中心区去。可是他的老婆、女儿们却想象不出他在哪儿能干些什么。她们猜想，他准是去麻烦他的朋友们啦。唉，也许是这样。不过，我们留恋自己仅剩的乐趣犹如一棵树依依不舍它的最后几篇叶子。所以，老任德菲尔德还坐在那儿，一边抽烟，一边瞧着经理。肥胖，红润的经理坐在办公椅里摇动着。他比任德菲尔德大五岁，仍然工作的相当出色，照旧领导着自己的企业。瞧瞧他那副模样，对人确有好处。那个老气横秋的嗓门又赞叹地补了一句：“这儿真舒服，真的！”“是嘛，舒服极了，”经理附和道，一边用一把裁剪刀拍了拍报纸。事实上，他的确对自己的房间颇为得意；他很乐意有人赞美它，尤其是出诸老任德菲尔德之口。在这个房间里，面对这个虚弱的老家伙，使他感到心满意足。“最近，我又在房里添了些东西，”他说。“新家具，”他瞧瞧大书架和弯腿桌。“电热器！”他朝壁炉指了指。不过，他没有把任德菲尔德的注意力引向桌子上方的照片，照片上是一个表情严肃、身穿军官制服的小伙子。照片不是新的，挂在那儿已经六年多了。“我有些事想告诉你，”老任德菲尔德说。他的目光随着回忆模糊了起来：“哎，是什么呀？早上我出门时还记得的。”他的双手哆嗦了起来，面孔胀的血红。可怜的老家伙，他快完了—经理想。她觉得自己挺仁厚，便开玩笑似的说：“告诉你，我这里有点酒，你先喝两口，再到外面冷空气中去，对你有好处。这酒太妙了。小孩儿喝了都无妨。”他从自己的表链上取下一把钥匙，打开写字台下的一个食橱，拿出一只胖鼓鼓的深色瓶子。“就是这酒，”他说。“给我酒的那个人私下告诉我，这瓶东西还来自温莎堡呢。”老任德菲尔德见状张开了嘴。他看上去很吃惊。“这是威士忌，是么？”他有气无力地问。经理转过瓶子，挺友善地给他看瓶子上的商标。果真是威士忌！“你知道，”老任德菲尔德一边说，一边惊疑地仰视着对方，“我在家里她们是不准我跟酒沾边的”他看上去想要哭似的。“啊，那便是咱们比娘儿们高明的地方了，”经历大声说着，从桌上抓起两只跟水瓶放在一起的玻璃杯，挺大度地把酒斟入两只杯中。“喝下去，这对你有好处。可别掺水啊！”他喝掉自己杯中的酒，抽出手帕，揩揩嘴巴，一边瞧着把威士忌含在嘴里打转转的老任德菲尔德。老头儿吞下酒，静了一会。威士忌使他浑身发热。酒力渗入他冰冷老朽的脑子—他记起来了。“对了”说着，他从椅子里直起身子。“我想，你一定乐意知道的。姑娘们上星期在比利时。她们去探望了可怜的雷盖的墓，碰巧也看到了令郎的墓穴。两个墓好像还靠的很近呢。”老任德菲尔德停了停，但经理并不答话。只从他的眼皮在打颤这一点，才知道他还在听。“姑娘们对墓地的照管方式挺满意，”那老气横秋的嗓门儿继续道。“目的保养的可好了。他们的坟墓即使在国内也不见得照看得更好些。你没渡海到那儿去过吗？”“没有，没有！”由于种种原因，经理尚未渡海过去。“墓地有方圆几英里呢。整个公墓干净得就像一个花园。一个个墓地上都开着鲜花。一条条走道又整洁有宽阔。”从他的声音里听得出，他显然挺喜欢整洁宽阔的走道。老头儿又停了一下，然后奇异地活跃了起来。“旅馆费贵极了，要了姑娘们好多钱。我说，那简直是抢劫。他们认为，咱们是到那儿去观光的，所以就有准备支付一切开销。就这么回事。”说着，他转向房门。“不错，不错！”经理大声道。虽然他压根儿弄不清“不错”些什么。他绕过写字台，跟着前面迟缓的脚步走到门口，直至目送那个老头儿离去，任德菲尔德走了。经理呆了许久，茫无所见。那个灰头发的公务信使看他进进出出，好似一条盼望被牵出去溜溜腿的狗，尔后，经理道：“马赛，我半个小时内不见客，懂吗?谁都不见。”“是，先生。”门关上了。坚实、沉重的步子再次走过地板，肥胖的身子在弹簧椅上坐了下来，经理朝前倾身，双手掩面。他想他准备痛苦一场。。。。。。老任德菲尔德提起了儿子的墓，这对他来说是一个痛苦的打击。这恰如墓地打开，他眼见儿子躺在地上，任德菲尔德的姑娘们都俯视着他一样。说来也怪，时光虽已流逝了六年多，经理的心目中始终保存着儿子那不变的、完美的、永远安睡着的形象。“我的儿子！”他叫道。但眼里却流不出泪来。在过去，在儿子死后的最初几个月、甚至最初几年里。他只要一提起这四个字便会悲从中来，泪流满面。那时，他宣称：时间冲突不了他的哀思—他逢人便这样说。别人也许会淡忘，但他不会。这怎么可能呢。这小伙子是他的独生子。他一生下来，经理已在着手为他经营一份企业了。要不是为了这孩子，这一切便没什么意思了。生命本身也变得毫无意义。要不是为了这孩子，这一切便没什么意思了。生命本省也变得毫无意义。要不是儿子会继承他的事业、这么个前景在鼓舞着他，这些年来，他怎么可能如