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2017年10月18日 17:05:32来源:妙手爱问

CHAPTER XThe Substance of the Shadow `I, ALEXANDRE MANETTE, unfortunate physician, native of Beauvais, and afterwards resident in Paris, write this melancholy paper in my doleful cell in the Bastille, during the last month of the year 1767. I write it at stolen intervals, under every difficulty. I design to secrete it in the wall of the chimney, where I have slowly and laboriously made a place of concealment for it. Some pitying hand may find it there, when I and my sorrows are dust. `These words are formed by the rusty iron point with which I write with difficulty in scrapings of soot and charcoal from the chimney, mixed with blood, in the last month of the tenth year of my captivity. Hope has quite departed from my breast. I know from terrible warnings I have noted in myself that my reason will not long remain unimpaired, but I solemnly declare that I am at this time in the possession of my right mind--that my memory is exact and circumstantial--and that I write the truth as I shall answer for these my last recorded words, whether they be ever by men or not, at the Eternal Judgment-seat. `One cloudy moonlight night, in the third week of December (I think the twenty-second of the month) in the year 1757, I was walking on a retired part of the quay by the Seine for the refreshment of the frosty air, at an hour's distance from my place of residence in the Street of the School of Medicine, when a carriage came along behind me, driven very fast. As I stood aside to let that carriage pass, apprehensive that it might otherwise run me down, a head was put out at the window, and a voice called to the driver to stop. `The carriage stopped as soon as the driver could rein in his horses, and the same voice called to me by my name. I answered. The carriage was then so far in advance of me that two gentlemen had time to open the door and alight before I came up with it. I observed that they were both wrapped in cloaks and appeared to conceal themselves. As they stood carriage door, I also observed that they both looked of about my own age, or rather younger, and that they were greatly alike, in stature, manner, voice, and (as far as I could see) face too. `"You are Doctor Manette?" said one. `"I am." `"Doctor Manette, formerly of Beauvais," said the other; "the young physician, originally an expert surgeon, who within the last year or two has made a rising reputation in Paris?" `"Gentlemen," I returned, "I am that Doctor Manette of whom you speak so graciously." `"we have been to your residence," said the first, "and not being so fortunate as to find you there, and being informed that you were probably walking in this direction, we followed, in the hope of overtaking you. Will you please to enter the carriage?" `The manner of both was imperious, and they both moved, as these words were spoken, so as to place me between themselves and the carriage door. They were armed. I was not. `"Gentlemen," said I, "pardon me; but I usually inquire who does me the honour to seek my assistance, and what is the nature of the case to which I am summoned." `The reply to this was made by him who had spoken second. "Doctor, your clients are people of condition. As to the nature of the case, our confidence in your skill assures us that you will ascertain it for yourself better than we can describe it. Enough. Will you please to enter the carriage?" `I could do nothing but comply, and I entered it in silence. They both entered after me--the last springing in, after putting up the steps. The carriage turned about, and drove on as its former speed. `I repeat this conversation exactly as it occurred. I have no doubt that it is, work for word, the same. I describe everything exactly as it took place, constraining my mind not to wander from the task. Where I make the broken marks that follow here, I leave off for the time, and put my paper in its hiding-place. * * * * `The carriage left the streets behind, passed the North Barrier, and emerged upon the country road. At two-thirds of a league from the Barrier--I did not estimate the distance at that time, but afterwards when I traversed it--it struck out of the main avenue, and presently stopped at a solitary house. We all three alighted, and walked, by a damp soft footpath in a garden where a neglected fountain had overflowed, to the door of the house. It was not opened immediately, in answer to the ringing of the bell, and one of my two conductors struck the man who opened it, with his heavy riding-glove, across the face. `There was nothing in this action to attract my particular attention, for I had seen common people struck more commonly than dogs. But, the other of the two, being angry like-wise, struck the man in like manner with his arm; the look and bearing of the brothers were then so exactly alike, that I then first perceived them to be twin brothers. `From the time of our alighting at the outer gate (which we found locked, and which one of the brothers had opened to admit us, and had re-locked), I had heard cries proceeding from an upper chamber. I was conducted to this chamber straight, the cries growing louder as we ascended the stairs, and I found a patient in a high fever of the brain, lying on a bed. `The patient was a woman of great beauty, and young; assuredly not much past twenty. Her hair was torn and ragged, and her arms were bound to her sides with sashes and handkerchiefs. I noticed that these bonds were all portions of a gentleman's dress. On one of them, which was a fringed Scarf for a dress of ceremony, I saw the armorial bearings of a Noble, and the letter E. `I saw this, within the first minute of my contemplation of the patient; for, in her restless strivings she had turned over on her face on the edge of the bed, had drawn the end of the scarf into her mouth, and was in danger of suffocation. My first act was to put out my hand to relieve her breathing; and in moving the scarf aside, the embroidery in the corner caught my sight. `I turned her gently over, placed my hands upon her breast to calm her and keep her down, and looked into her face. Her eyes were dilated and wild, and she constantly uttered piercing shrieks, and repeated the words, "My husband, my father, and my brother!" and then counted up to twelve, and said, "Hush!" For an instant, and no more, she would pause to listen, and then the piercing shrieks would begin again, and she would repeat the cry, "My husband, my father, and my brother!" and would count up to twelve, and say "Hush!" There was no variation in the order, or the manner. There was no cessation, but the regular moment's pause, in the utterance of these sounds. `"How long," I asked, "has this lasted?" `To distinguish the brothers, I will call them the elder and the younger; by the elder, I mean him who exercised the most authority. It was the elder who replied, "Since about this hour last night." `"She has a Husband, a father, and a brother?" `"A brother." `"I do not address her brother?" `He answered with great contempt, "No." `"She has some recent association with the number twelve?" `The younger brother impatiently rejoined, "With twelve o'clock?" `"See, gentlemen," said I, still keeping my hands upon her breast, "how useless I am, as you have brought me! If I had known what I was coming to see, I could have come provided. As it is, time must be lost. There are no medicines to be obtained in this lonely place." `The elder brother looked to the younger, who said haughtily, "There is a case of medicines here;" and brought it from a closet, and put it on the table. * * * `I opened some of the bottles, smelt them, and put the stoppers to my lips. If I had wanted to use anything save narcotic medicines that were poisons in themselves, I would not have administered any of those. `"Do you doubt them?" asked the younger brother. `"You see, monsieur, I am going to use them," I replied, and said no more. `I made the patient swallow, with great difficulty, and after many efforts, the dose that I desired to give. As I intended to repeat it after a while, and as it was necessary to watch its influence, I then sat down by the side of the bed. There was a timid and suppressed woman in attendance (wife of the man down-stairs), who had retreated into a corner. The house was damp and decayed, indifferently furnished--evidently, recently occupied and temporarily used. Some thick old hangings had been nailed up before the windows, to deaden the sound of the shrieks. They continued to be uttered in their regular succession, with the cry, "My husband, my father, and my brother!" the counting up to twelve, and "Hush!" The frenzy was so violent, that I had not unfastened the bandages restraining the arms, but, I had looked to them, to see that they were not painful. The only spark of encouragement in the case, was, that my hand upon the sufferer's breast had this much soothing influence, that for minutes at a time it tranquillised the figure. It had no effect upon the cries: no pendulum could be more regular. `For the reason that my hand had this effect (I assume), I had sat by the side of the bed for half an hour, with the two brothers looking on, before the elder said: `"There is another patient." `I was startled and asked, "Is it a pressing case?" `"You had better see," he carelessly answered; and took up a light. * * * `The other patient lay in a back room across a second staircase, which was a species of loft over a stable. There was a low plastered ceiling to a part of it; the rest was open, to the ridge of the tiled roof, and there were beams across. Hay and straw were stored in that portion of the place, fagots for firing, and a heap of apples in sand. I had to pass through that part, to get at the other. My memory is circumstantial and unshaken. I try it with these details, and I see them all, in this my cell in the Bastille, near the close of the tenth year of my captivity, as I saw them all that night. `On some hay on the ground, with a cushion thrown under his head, lay a handsome peasant-boy-a boy of not more than seventeen at the most. He lay on his back, with his teeth set, his right hand clenched on his breast, and his glaring eyes looking straight upward. I could not see where his wound was, as I kneeled on one knee over him; but, I could see that he was dying of a wound from a sharp point. `"I am a doctor, my poor fellow," said I. "Let me examine it." `"I do not want it examined," he answered; "let it be." `It was under his hand, and I soothed him to let me move his hand away. The wound was a sword-thrust, received from twenty to twenty-four hours before, but no skill could have saved him if it had been looked to without delay. He was then dying fast. As I turned my eyes to the elder brother, I saw him looking down at this handsome boy whose life was ebbing out, as if he were a wounded bird, or hare, or rabbit; not at all as if he were a fellow-creature. `"How has this been done, monsieur?" said I. `"A crazed young common dog! A serf! Forced my brother to draw upon him, and has fallen by my brother's Sword--like a gentleman." `There was no touch of pity, sorrow, or kindred humanity, in this answer. The speaker seemed to acknowledge that it was inconvenient to have that different order of creature dying there, and that it would' have been better if he had died in the usual obscure routine of his vermin kind. He was quite incapable of any compassionate feeling about the boy, or about his fate. `The boy's eyes had slowly moved to him as he had spoken, and they now slowly moved to me. `"Doctor, they are very proud, these Nobles; but we common dogs are proud too, sometimes. They plunder us, outrage us, beat us, kill us; but we have a little pride left, sometimes. She--have you seen her, Doctor?" `The shrieks and the cries were audible there, though subdued by the distance. He referred to them, as if she were lying in our presence. `I said, "I have seen her." `"She is my sister, Doctor. They have had their shameful rights, these Nobles, in the modesty and virtue of our sisters, many years, but M have had good girls among us. I know it, and have heard my father say so. She was a good girl. She was betrothed to a good young man, too: a tenant of his. We are all tenants of his--that man's who stands there. The other is his brother, the worst of a bad race." `It was with the greatest difficulty that the boy gathered bodily force to speak; but, his spirit spoke with a dful emphasis. `We were so robbed by that man who stands there, as all we common dogs are by those superior Beings--taxed by him without mercy, obliged to work for him without pay, obliged to grind our corn at his mill, obliged to feed scores of his tame birds on our wretched crops, and forbidden for our lives to keep a single tame bird of our own, pillaged and plundered to that degree that when we chanced to have a bit of meat, we ate it in fear, with the door barred and the shutters closed, that his people should not see it and take it from us--I say, we were so robbed, and hunted, and were made so poor, that our father told us it was a dful thing to bring a child into the world, and that what we should most pray for, was, that our women might be barren and our miserable race die out!" `I had never before seen the sense of being oppressed, bursting forth like a fire. I had supposed that it must be latent in the people somewhere; but, I had never seen it break out, until I saw it in the dying boy. `"Nevertheless, Doctor, my sister married. He was ailing at that time, poor fellow, and she married her lover, that she might tend and comfort him in our cottage--our dog-hut, as that man would call it. She had not been married many weeks, when that man's brother saw her and admired her, and asked that man to lend her to him--for what are husbands among us! He was willing enough, but my sister was good and virtuous, and hated his brother with a hatred as strong as mine. What did the two then, to persuade her husband to use his influence with her, to make her willing?" `The boy's eyes, which had been fixed on mine, slowly turned to the looker-on, and I saw in the Mo faces that all he said was true. The two opposing kinds of pride confronting one another, I can see, even in this Bastille; the gentleman's all negligent indifference; the peasant's, all trodden-down sentiment, and passionate revenge. `"You know, Doctor, that it is among the Rights of these Nobles to harness us common dogs to carts, and drive us. They so harnessed him and drove him. You know that it is among their Rights to keep us in their grounds all night, quieting the frogs, in order that their noble sleep may not be disturbed. They kept him out in the unwholesome mists at night, and ordered him back into his harness in the day. But he was not persuaded. No! Taken out of harness one day at noon, to feed--if he could find food--he sobbed twelve times, once for every stroke of the bell, and died on her bosom." `Nothing human could have held life in the boy but his determination to tell all his wrong. He forced back the gathering shadows of death, as he forced his clenched right hand to remain clenched, and to cover his wound. `"Then, with that man's permission and even with his aid, his brother took her away; in spite of what I know she must have told his brother--and what that is, will not be long unknown to you, Doctor, if it is now--his brother took her away--for his pleasure and diversion, for a little while. I saw her pass me on the road. When I took the tidings home, our father's heart burst; he never spoke one of the words that filled it. I took my young sister (for I have another) to a place beyond the reach of this man, and where, at least, she will never be his vassal. Then, I tracked the brother here, and last night climbed in-a common dog, but sword in hand.--Where is the loft window? It was somewhere here?" `The room was darkening to his sight; the world was narrowing around him. I glanced about me, and saw that the hay and straw were trampled over the floor, as if there had been a struggle. `"She heard me, and ran in. I told her not to come near us till he was dead. He came in and first tossed me some pieces of money; then struck at me with a whip. But I, though a common dog, so struck at him as to make him draw. Let him break into as many pieces as he will, the sword that he stained with my common blood; he drew to defend himself--thrust at me with all his skill for his life." `My glance had fallen, but a few moments before, on the fragments of a broken sword, lying among the hay. That weapon was a gentleman's. In another place, lay an old sword that seemed to have been a soldier's. `"Now, lift me up, Doctor; lift me up. Where is he?" `"He is not here," I said, supporting the boy, and thinking that he referred to the brother. `"He! Proud as these nobles are, he is afraid to see me. Where is the man who was here? Turn my face to him." `I did so, raising the boy's head against my knee. But, invested for the moment with extraordinary power, he raised himself completely: obliging me to rise too, or I could not have still supported him. `"Marquis," said the boy, turned to him with his eyes opened wide, and his right hand raised, "in the days when all these things are to be answered for, I summon you and yours, to the last of your bad race, to answer for them. I mark this cross of blood upon you, as a sign that I do it. In the days when all these things are to be answered for, I summon your brother, the worst of the bad race, to answer for them separately. I mark this cross of blood upon him, as a sign that I do it. `Twice, he put his hand to the wound in his breast, and with forefinger drew a cross in the air. He stood for an instant with the finger yet raised, and, as it with it, and I laid him down dead. * * * * `When I returned to the bedside of the young woman, I found her raving in precisely the same order and continuity. I knew that this might last for many hours, and that it would probably end in the silence of the grave. `I repeated the medicines I had given her, and I sat at the side of the bed until the night was far advanced. She never abated the piercing quality of her shrieks, never stumbled in the distinctness or the order of her words. They were always "My husband, my father, and my brother! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Hush!" `This lasted twenty-six hours from the time when I first saw her. I had come and gone twice, and was again sitting by her, when she began to falter. I did what little could be done to assist that opportunity, and by-and-by she sank into a lethargy, and lay like the dead. `It was as if the wind and rain had lulled at last, after a long and fearful storm. I released her arms, and called the woman to assist me to compose her figure and the dress she had torn. It was then that I knew her condition to be that of one in whom the first expectations of being a mother have arisen; and it was then that I lost the little hope I had had of her. `"Is she dead?" asked the Marquis, whom I will still describe as the elder brother, coming booted into the room from his horse. `"Not dead," said I; "but like to die." `"what strength there is in these common bodies!" he said, looking down at her with some curiosity. `"There is prodigious strength," I answered him, "in sorrow and despair." `He first laughed at my words, and then frowned at them. He moved a chair with his foot near to mine, ordered the woman away, and said in a subdued voice, `"Doctor, finding my brother in this difficulty with these hinds, I recommended that your aid should be invited. Your reputation is high, and, as a young man with your fortune to make, you are probably mindful of your interest. The things that you see here, are things to be seen, and not spoken of." `I listened to the patient's breathing, and avoided answering. ` "Do you honour me with your attention, Doctor? `"Monsieur," said I, "in my profession, the communications of patients are always received in confidence." I was guarded in my answer, for I was troubled in my mind with what I had heard and seen. `Her breathing was so difficult to trace, that I carefully tried the pulse and the heart. There was life, and no more. Looking round as I resumed my seat, I found the brothers intent upon me. * * * * `I write with so much difficulty, the cold is so severe, I am so fearful of being detected and consigned to an underground cell and total darkness, that I must abridge this narrative. There is no confusion or failure in my memory; it can recall, and could detail, every word that was ever spoken between me and those brothers. `She lingered for a week. Towards the last, I could understand some few syllables that she said to me, by placing my ear close to her lips. She asked me where she was, and I told her; who I was, and I told her. It was in vain that I asked her for her family name. She faintly shook her head upon the pillow, and kept her secret, as the boy had done. `I had no opportunity of asking her any question, until I had told the brothers she was sinking fast, and could not live another day. Until then, though no one was ever presented to her consciousness save the woman and myself, one or other of them had always jealously sat behind the curtain at the head of the bed when I was there. But when it came to that, they seemed careless what communication I might hold with her; as if--the thought passed through my mind--I were dying too. `I always observed that their pride bitterly resented the younger brother's (as I call him) having crossed swords with a peasant, and that peasant a boy. The only consideration that appeared to affect the mind of either of them was the consideration that this was highly degrading to the family, and was ridiculous. As often as I caught the younger brother's eyes, their expression reminded me that he disliked me deeply, fur knowing what I knew from the boy. He was smoother and more polite to me than the elder; but I saw this. I also saw that I was an incumbrance in the mind of the elder, too. `My patient died, two hours before midnight--at a time, by my watch, answering almost to the minute when I had first seen her. I was alone with her, when her forlorn young head trooped gently on one side, and all her earthly wrongs and sorrows ended. `The brothers were waiting in a room down-stairs, impatient to ride away. I had heard them, alone at the bedside, striking their boots with their riding-whips, and loitering up and down. `"At last she is dead?" said the elder, when I went in. `"She is dead," said I. `"I congratulate you, my brother," were his words as he turned round. `He had before offered me money, which I had postponed taking. He now gave me a rouleau of gold. I took it from his hand, but laid it on the table. I had considered the question, and had resolved to accept nothing. `"Pray excuse me," said I. "Under the circumstances, no." `They exchanged looks, but bent their heads to me as I bent mine to them, and we parted without another word on either side. * * * * `I am weary, weary, weary--worn down by misery. I cannot what I have written with this gaunt hand. `Early in the morning, the rouleau of gold was left at m' door in a little box, with my name on the outside. From the first, I had anxiously considered what I ought to do. I decided, that day, to write privately to the Minister, stating the nature of the two eases to which I had been summoned, and the place to which I had gone: in effect, stating all the circumstances. I knew what Court influence was, and what the immunities of the Nobles were, and I expected that the matter would never be heard of; but, I wished to relieve my own mind. I had kept the matter a profound secret, even from my wife; and this, too, I resolved to state in my letter. I had no apprehension whatever of my real danger; but I was conscious that there might be danger for others, if others were compromised by possessing the knowledge that I possessed. `I was much engaged that day, and could not complete my letter that night. I rose long before my usual time next morning to finish it. It was the last day of the year. The letter was lying before me just completed, when I was told that a lady waited, who wished to see me. * * * * `I am growing more and more unequal to the task I have set myself. It is so cold, so dark, my senses are so benumbed, and the gloom upon me is so dful. `The lady was young, engaging, and handsome, but not marked for long life. She was in great agitation. She presented herself to me as the wife of the Marquis St. Evrémonde. I connected the title by which the boy had addressed the elder brother, with the initial letter embroidered on the scarf, and had no difficulty in arriving at the conclusion that I had seen that nobleman very lately. `My memory is still accurate, but I cannot write the words of Our conversation. I suspect that I am watched more closely than I was, and I know not at what times I may be watched. She had in part suspected, and in part discovered, the main facts of the cruel story, of her husband's share in it, and my being resorted to. She did not know that the girl was dead. Her hope had been, she said in great distress, to show her, in secret, a woman's sympathy. Her hope had been to avert the wrath of Heaven from a House that had long been hateful to the suffering many. `She had reasons for believing that there was a young sister living, and her greatest desire was, to help that sister. I could tell her nothing but that there was such a sister; beyond that, I knew nothing. Her inducement to come to me, relying on my confidence, had been the hope that I could tell her the name and place of abode. Whereas, to this wretched hour I am ignorant of both. * * * * `These scraps of paper fail me. One was taken from me, with a warning, yesterday. I must finish my record to-day. `She was a good, compassionate lady, and not happy in her marriage. How could she be! The brother distrusted and disliked her, and his influence was all opposed to her; she stood in d of him, and in dead of her husband too. When I handed her down to the door, there was a child, a pretty boy from two to three years old, in her carriage. `"For his sake, Doctor," she said, pointing to him in tears, "I would do all I can to make what poor amends I can. He will never prosper in his inheritance otherwise. I have a presentiment that if no other innocent atonement is made for this, it will one day be required of him. What I have left to call my own--it is little beyond the worth of a few jewels--I will make it the first charge of his life to bestow, with the compassion and lamenting of his dead mother, on this injured family, if the sister can be discovered." `She kissed the boy, and said, caressing him, "It is for thine own dear sake. Thou wilt be faithful, little Charles?" The child answered her bravely, "Yes!" I kissed her hand, and she took him in her arms, and went away caressing him. I never saw her more. `As she had mentioned her husband's name in the faith that I knew it, I added no mention of it to my letter. I sealed my letter, and, not trusting it out of my own hands, delivered it myself that day. `That night, the last night of the year, towards nine o'clock, a man in a black dress rang at my gate, demanded to see me, and softly followed my servant, Ernest Defarge, a youth, upstairs. When my servant came into the room where I sat with my wife--O my wife, beloved of my heart! My fair young English wife!--we saw the man, who was supposed to be at the gate, standing silent behind him. `An urgent case in the Rue St. Honoré', he said. It would not detain me, he had a coach in waiting. `It brought me here, it brought me to my grave. When I was clear of the house, a black muffler was drawn tightly over my mouth from behind, and my arms were pinioned. The two brothers crossed the road from a dark corner, and identified me with a single gesture. The Marquis took from his pocket the letter I had written, showed it me, burnt it in the light of a lantern that was held, and extinguished the ashes with his foot. Not a word was spoken. I was brought here, I was brought to my living grave. `If it had pleased GOD to put it in the hard heart of either of the brothers, in all these frightful years, to grant me any tidings of my dearest wife--so much as to let me know by a word whether alive or dead--I might have thought that He had not quite abandoned them. But, now I believe that the mark of the red cross is fatal to them, and that they have no part in His mercies. And them and their descendants, to the last of their race, I, Alexandre Manette, unhappy prisoner, do this last night of the year 1767, in my unbearable agony, denounce to the times when all these things shall be answered for. I denounce them to Heaven and to earth.' A terrible sound arose when the ing of this document was done. A sound of craving and eagerness that had nothing articulate in it but blood. The narrative called up the most revengeful passions of the time, and there was not a head in the nation but must have dropped before it. Little need, in presence of that tribunal and that auditory, to show how the Defarges had not made the paper public, with the other captured Bastille memorials borne in procession, and had kept it, biding their time. Little need to show that this detested family name had long been anathematised by Saint Antoine, and was wrought into the fatal register. The man never trod ground whose virtues and Services would have sustained him in that place that day, against such denunciation. And all the worse for the doomed man, that the denouncer was a well-known citizen, his own attached friend, the father of his wife. One of the frenzied aspirations of the populace was, for imitations of the questionable public virtues of antiquity, and for sacrifices and self-immolations on the people's altar. Therefore when the President said (else had his own head quivered on his shoulders), that the good physician of the Republic would deserve better still of the Republic by rooting out an obnoxious family of Aristocrats, and would doubtless feel a sacred glow and joy in making his daughter a widow and her child an orphan, there was wild excitement, patriotic fervour, not a touch of human sympathy. `Much influence around him, has that Doctor?' murmured Madame Defarge, smiling to The Vengeance. `Save him now, my Doctor, save him!' At every juryman's vote, there was a roar. Another and another. Roar and roar. Unanimously voted. At heart and by descent an Aristocrat, an enemy of the Republic, a notorious oppressor of the People. Back to the Conciergerie, and Death within four-and-twenty hours! 相关名著: 有声名著之傲慢与偏见 有声名著之儿子与情人 有声名著之红与黑 有声名著之了不起的盖茨比 有声名著之歌剧魅影 有声名著之远大前程 有声名著之巴斯史维尔猎犬 有声名著之吸血鬼 有声名著之野性的呼唤 有声名著之黑骏马 有声名著之海底两万里 有声名著之秘密花园 有声名著之化身士 有声名著之螺丝在拧紧 有声名著之三个火手更多名著gt;gt; Article/200905/70696。

  • 有声名著之永别了武器 Chapter18《永别了,武器》是美国诺贝尔文学奖获得者海明威的主要作品之一。美国青年弗瑞德里克·亨利在第一次世界大战后期志愿参加红十字会驾驶救护车,在意大利北部战线抢救伤员。在一次执行任务时,亨利被炮弹击中受伤,在米兰医院养伤期间得到了英国籍护士凯瑟琳的悉心护理,两人陷入了热恋。亨利伤愈后重返前线,随意大利部队撤退时目睹战争的种种残酷景象,毅然脱离部队,和凯瑟琳会合后逃往瑞士。结果凯瑟琳在难产中死去。海明威根据自己的参战经历,以战争与爱情为主线,吟唱了一曲哀婉动人的悲歌,曾多次被搬上银幕,堪称现代文学的经典名篇。英文原著:永别了武器PDF文本下载 Article/200912/90958。
  • They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class,他们匆匆离开大厅,想赶在第一节课之前,找个没人的地方拆开包裹,拿出飞天扫帚。but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle.可是,就在穿过门厅时,他们发现上楼的路被克拉布和高尔挡住了。Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.马尔福把包裹从哈利手里夺过去,摸了摸。That#39;s a broomstick,he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face.是一把飞天扫帚。他说,一边把包裹扔还给哈利,脸上混杂着嫉妒和怨恨的表情。You#39;ll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren#39;t allowed them.你等着挨罚吧,波特,一年级学生是不许玩这个的。Ron couldn#39;t resist it.罗恩按捺不住了。It#39;s not any old broomstick,he said, it#39;s a Nimbus Two Thousand.这不是什么旧型飞天扫帚,他说,这是光轮2000。What did you say you#39;ve got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?Ron grinned at Harry.你说你在家里有一把什么来着,马尔福?彗星260?罗恩对哈利咧着嘴大笑。Comets look flashy, but they#39;re not in the same league as the Nimbus.彗星倒是挺耀眼的,但它们和光轮根本不是一个档次。What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn#39;t afford half the handle,Malfoy snapped back.你怎么知道,韦斯莱,你连半个扫帚把都弄不到。马尔福凶巴巴地回敬道。I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig.我猜你和你那些兄弟不得不一根枝子一根枝子地攒吧。Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy#39;s elbow.罗恩还没来得及回答,弗立维教授在马尔福胳膊肘边出现了。 /201205/182290。
  • 《哈克贝里·费恩历险记》第2章:第1节 相关专题:· 有声读物-安徒生童话故事·有声读物-浪漫满屋· 新概念优美背诵短文50篇 Article/200808/46571。
  • Richard Rodgers Wrote Musical Plays That Often Dealt with Social IssuesMusic experts say that a Richard Rodgers show is always playing somewhere in the world.VOICE ONE:I'm Mary Tillotson.VOICE TWO:And I'm Shirley Griffith with the VOA Special English Program, People in America. (MUSIC: "Victory at Sea")VOICE ONE: Richard Rogers That is music from the television show "Victory At Sea" written in nineteen fifty-two. The man who composed that beautiful music is known mainly as a writer of show songs. He wrote more than one thousand songs that helped tell stories in theaters, on television and in the movies. His music has been heard in more than two hundred movies and two thousand television shows.Some experts say his music created more happiness than that of any other American popular composer. His name was Richard Rodgers. Today, we tell his story.(MUSIC)VOICE TWO:Richard Charles Rodgers was born in New York City on June twenty-eighth, nineteen-oh-two. Both his parents enjoyed singing and playing the piano. His grandparents loved opera and took their grandson to many productions. Richard attended many Broadway shows as a child.Richard Rodgers began playing the piano by the age of three. At the age of fifteen, he decided that he would work in the musical theater. That same year, he wrote the music for a stage show presented by a local group of young people. Then, he wrote music for a production by students at Columbia University. Other future show business leaders were also involved in the Columbia productions. Two of these men would be very important in Richard Rodgers' life-- Oscar Hammerstein and Lorenz Hart.VOICE ONE:Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart worked as a songwriting team for more than twenty years. Their first hit song was in the musical "The Garrick Gaities" produced in nineteen twenty-five. The song is still performed today. Here is Mickey Rooney singing "Manhattan."(MUSIC)Rodgers wrote the music first, then Hart put words to the music. They also wrote songs for the movies. One of their most widely known songs comes from a movie, "Blue Moon." Many singers have recorded it since it was written in nineteen thirty-four. It was even a rock and roll hit for the Marcels in the nineteen sixties. (MUSIC)VOICE TWO:Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart stopped working together in the early nineteen forties. Hart was an unhappy man. He was in poor health as a result of a serious drinking problem. It was increasingly difficult for Rodgers to work with him. Richard Rodgers turned to another old friend -- Oscar Hammerstein.Rodgers and Hammerstein worked differently than did Rodgers and Hart. Oscar Hammerstein would write the words and give them to Rodgers. Rodgers then would write music to go with the words.Their first show together was the historic "Oklahoma!" It opened in nineteen forty-three. Critics have called it a revolution in American theater. Rodgers and Hammerstein were praised for writing songs that developed the show and helped tell the story."Oklahoma!" still is performed on Broadway and in other theaters around the world. Here is the famous title song from the first Broadway production.(MUSIC)VOICE ONE:Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote the songs for nine musical plays, including "The King And I," "Flower Drum Song," and "The Sound of Music." Their musical plays were also made as movies.Their songs expressed love and pain and told about social problems. One example is this song from the musical "South Pacific" that opened in nineteen forty-nine. One of the men in the musical is in love with a woman of a different race. He sings a song expressing the conflict between his racial feelings and his love. The song is called "You've Got to be Carefully Taught." Listen to William Tabbert who sang it first on Broadway.(MUSIC) VOICE TWO:Richard Rodgers wrote both the words and the music for Broadway shows following Oscar Hammerstein's death in nineteen sixty. Critics say the best of these is "No Strings". It explored a romance between a black woman and a white man. The main song is "The Sweetest Sounds." Richard Kiley and Diahann Carroll sang it on Broadway.(MUSIC)VOICE ONE: Richard Rodgers and his wife Dorothy had two daughters and six grandchildren. One daughter and two grandsons also write music. Richard Rogers died in nineteen seventy-nine. He was seventy-seven years old. Books written about his life describe him as a cold man who was often depressed. Family members say he was only able to express himself through music.Richard Rodgers once said the show he liked the best was "Carousel," the second musical he wrote with Oscar Hammerstein. It is a sad story about a young girl who marries a thief. One of the songs in the show now is considered to have a religious influence. Here is the song, "You'll Never Walk Alone".(MUSIC)VOICE TWO:Music experts say that a Richard Rodgers show is always playing somewhere in the world -- on Broadway, in theaters in different countries, in local school productions. And people all over the world still enjoy the movies linked to Richard Rodgers. Movies with wonderful music such as "State Fair", "South Pacific", "Pal Joey", "The Sound of Music", "Oklahoma" and "Carousel".(MUSIC)VOICE ONE:This VOA Special English program was written by Nancy Steinbach and produced by Caty Weaver. I'm Mary Tillotson.VOICE TWO:And I'm Shirley Griffith. Join us again next week for another PEOPLE IN AMERICA program on the Voice of America.(MUSIC: "Carousel Waltz") Article/200803/31548。
  • The house was about four kilometres from the station,but after only a minute or two the children began to ask,#39; Are we nearly there?#39;And every time they saw a house they said,#39; Oh, is this it?#39;But it never was. Then they came to the top of a hill, and there was a White house with a green garden and lots of fruit trees. #39; Here we are!#39;Mother said.他们的新家距车站大约四公里远,而每过一两分钟孩子们就开口问:;我们快到了吗?;而且他们每看到一幢房子都说:;哦,是这个吗?;可总不是。接着他们来到一个山顶,那儿有一幢带有绿色的花园和很多果树的白房子。;我们到了!;母亲说。Everyone hurried to get out of the carriage;; Robert,Anthea, Jane, Cyril, and Martha, the nursemaid, with the baby. But Mother did not hurry. The children ran round the house and all through the garden to see what there was. But Mother stood and watched the driver while he carried the boxes into the house.大家急忙下车;;罗伯特、安西娅、简、西里尔,还有抱着婴孩的保姆马莎。可母亲不慌不忙。孩子们绕着房子跑,都穿过花园看看那里有什么。但是赶车人把箱子搬到房子里去时妈妈站着看着他。The children loved the house. They knew immediately that they were going to be happy there. Mother did not like the house very much because it was old and there were no cup-boards. But it was deep in the country and after two years in London the children thought that it was wonderful. If you live in London and your family is not rich, you get bored because you cannot go to shops and theatres ,and people say,#39; Don#39;t do this#39; and #39;Don#39;t go there. #39;In the country you can go any-where and do anything.孩子们喜欢这房子。他们马上就明白在那儿他们会很快活的。母亲不太喜欢这房子,因为它很旧,也没有柜子。可是这房子位于真正意义上的乡间;在伦敦住了两年之后,孩子们认为这一点太好了。要是住在伦敦可你的家庭又不富有,你就会觉得厌倦,因为你不能去商店和剧场,人们还会说;不许干这个;、;不许去那儿;的。在乡下你想去哪儿就去哪儿,想干什么就干什么。 Article/201203/174082。
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