TheFly及其译文.docx
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TheFly及其译文.docx
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TheFly及其译文
The-Fly及其译文
TheFly
byKatherineMansfield
'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,solidsatisfactiontobe
remembered.
'Thatwasit,'hesaid,heavinghimselfoutofhischair.'Ithoughtyou'dliketoknow.ThegirlswereinBelgiumlastweekhavingalookatpoorReggie'sgrave,andtheyhappenedtocomeacrossyourboy's.They'requiteneareachother,itseems.'
OldWoodifieldpaused,butthebossmadenoreply.Onlyaquiverinhiseyelidsshowedthatheheard.
'Thegirlsweredelightedwiththewaytheplaceiskept,'pipedtheoldvoice.'Beautifullylookedafter.Couldn'tbebetteriftheywereathome.You'venotbeenacross,haveyer?
'
'No,no!
'Forvariousreasonsthebosshadnotbeenacross.
'There'smilesofit,'quaveredoldWoodifield,'andit'sallasneatasagarden.Flowersgrowingonallthegraves.Nicebroadpaths.'Itwasplainfromhisvoicehowmuchhelikedanicebroadpath.
Thepausecameagain.Thentheoldmanbrightenedwonderfully.
'Doyouknowwhatthehotelmadethegirlspayforapotofjam?
'hepiped.'Tenfrancs!
Robbery,Icallit.Itwasalittlepot,soGertrudesays,nobiggerthanahalf-crown.Andshehadn'ttakenmorethanaspoonfulwhentheychargedhertenfrancs.Gertrudebroughtthepotawaywithhertoteach'emalesson.Quiteright,too;it'stradingonourfeelings.Theythinkbecausewe'reovertherehavingalookroundwe'rereadytopayanything.That'swhatitis.'Andheturnedtowardsthedoor.
'Quiteright,quiteright!
'criedtheboss,thoughwhatwasquiterighthehadn'ttheleastidea.Hecameroundbyhisdesk,followedtheshufflingfootstepstothedoor,andsawtheoldfellowout.Woodifieldwasgone.
Foralongmomentthebossstayed,staringatnothing,whilethegrey-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
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