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雙語·哈代短篇小說選 高崗故人來 一

所屬教程:譯林版·一個想象力豐富的女人:哈代短篇小說選

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2022年05月20日

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Interlopers at the Knap I

The north road from Casterbridge is tedious and lonely, especially in winter time. Along a part of its course it connects with Long-Ash Lane, a monotonous track without a village or hamlet for many miles, and with very seldom a turning. Unapprised wayfarers who are too old, or too young, or in other respects too weak for the distance to be traversed, but who, nevertheless, have to walk it, say, as they look wistfully ahead, “Once at the top of that hill, and I must surely see the end of Long-Ash Lane!” But they reach the hill-top, and Long-Ash Lane stretches in front as mercilessly as before.

Some few years ago a certain farmer was riding through this lane in the gloom of a winter evening. The farmer's friend, a dairyman, was riding beside him. A few paces in the rear rode the farmer's man. All three were well horsed on strong, round-barrelled cobs; and to be well horsed was to be in better spirits about Long-Ash Lane than poor pedestrians could attain to during its passage.

But the farmer did not talk much to his friend as he rode along. The enterprise which had brought him there filled his mind; for in truth it was important. Not altogether so important was it, perhaps, when estimated by its value to society at large; but if the true measure of a deed be proportionate to the space it occupies in the heart of him who undertakes it, Farmer Charles Darton's business to-night could hold its own with the business of kings.

He was a large farmer. His turnover, as it is called, was probably thirty thousand pounds a year. He had a great many draught horses, a great many milch cows, and of sheep a multitude. This comfortable position was, however, none of his own making. It had been created by his father,a man of a very different stamp from the present representative of the line.

Darton, the father, had been a one-idea'd character, with a buttonedup pocket and a chink-like eye brimming with commercial subtlety. In Darton the son, this trade subtlety had become transmuted into emotional, and the harshness had disappeared; he would have been called a sad man but for his constant care not to divide himself from lively friends by piping notes out of harmony with theirs. Contemplative, he allowed his mind to be a quiet meeting place for memories and hopes. So that, naturally enough, since succeeding to the agricultural calling, and up to his present age of thirty-two, he had neither advanced nor receded as a capitalist—a stationary result which did not agitate one of his unambitious, unstrategic nature, since he had all that he desired. The motive of his expedition tonight showed the same absence of anxious regard for Number One.

The party rode on in the slow, safe trot proper to night-time and bad roads, Farmer Darton's head jigging rather unromantically up and down against the sky, and his motions being repeated with bolder emphasis by his friend Japheth Johns; while those of the latter were travestied in jerks stillness softened by art in the person of the lad who attended them. A pair of whitish objects hung one on each side of the latter, bumping against him at each step, and still further spoiling the grace of his seat. On close inspection they might have been perceived to be open rush baskets—one containing a turkey, and the other some bottles of wine.

“D'ye feel ye can meet your fate like a man, neighbour Darton?” asked Johns, breaking a silence which had lasted while five-and-twenty hedgerow trees had glided by.

Mr. Darton with a half-laugh murmured, “Ay—call it my fate! Hanging and wiving go by destiny.” And then they were silent again.

The darkness thickened rapidly, at intervals shutting down on the land in a perceptible flap, like the wave of a wing. The customary close of day was accelerated by a simultaneous blurring of the air. With the fall of night had come a mist just damp enough to incommode, but not sufficient to saturate them. Countrymen as they were born, as may be said, with only an open door between them and the four seasons—they regarded the mist but as an added obscuration, and ignored its humid quality.

They were travelling in a direction that was enlivened by no modern current of traffic, the place of Darton's pilgrimage being an old-fashioned village—one of the Hintocks (several villages of that name, with a distinctive prefix or affix, lying thereabout)—where the people make the best cider and cider-wine in all Wessex, and where the dunghills smell of pomace instead of stable refuse as elsewhere. The lane was sometimes so narrow that the brambles of the hedge, which hung forward like anglers' rods over a stream, scratched their hats and hooked their whiskers as they passed. Yet this neglected lane had been a highway to Queen Elizabeth's subjects and the cavalcades of the past. Its day was over now, and its history as a national artery done for ever.

“Why I have decided to marry her,” resumed Darton (in a measured musical voice of confidence which revealed a good deal of his composition), as he glanced round to see that the lad was not too near, “is not only that I like her, but that I can do no better, even from a fairly practical point of view. That I might ha' looked higher is possibly true, though it is really all nonsense. I have had experience enough in looking above me. ‘No more superior women for me,’ said I—you know when. Sally is a comely, independent, simple character, with no make-up about her, who'll think me as much a superior to her as I used to think—you know who I mean—was to me.”

“Ay,” said Johns. “However, I shouldn't call Sally Hall simple. Primary, because no Sally is; secondary, because if some could be, this one wouldn't. 'Tis a wrong denomination to apply to a woman, Charles, and affects me, as your best man, like cold water. 'Tis like recommending a stage play by saying there's neither murder, villainy, nor harm of any sort in it, when that's what you've paid your half-crown to see.”

“Well; may your opinion do you good. Mine's a different one.” And turning the conversation from the philosophical to the practical, Darton expressed a hope that the said Sally had received what he'd sent on by the carrier that day.

Johns wanted to know what that was.

“It is a dress,” said Darton. “Not exactly a wedding dress; though she may use it as one if she likes. It is rather serviceable than showy—suitable for the winter weather.”

“Good,” said Johns. “Serviceable is a wise word in a bridegroom. I commend 'ee, Charles.”

“For,” said Darton, “why should a woman dress up like a rope-dancer because she's going to do the most solemn deed of her life except dying?”

“Faith, why? But she will, because she will, I suppose,” said Dairyman Johns.

“H'm,” said Darton.

The lane they followed had been nearly straight for several miles, but they now left it for a smaller one which after winding uncertainly for some distance forked into two. By night country roads are apt to reveal ungainly qualities which pass without observation during day; and though Darton had travelled this way before, he had not done so frequently, Sally having been wooed at the house of a relative near his own. He never remembered seeing at this spot a pair of alternative ways looking so equally probable as these two did now. Johns rode on a few steps.

“Don't be out of heart, sonny,” he cried. “Here's a handpost. Ezra—come and climb this post, and tell us the way.”

The lad dismounted, and jumped into the hedge where the post stood under a tree.

“Unstrap the baskets, or you'll smash up that wine!” cried Darton, as the young man began spasmodically to climb the post, baskets and all.

“Was there ever less head in a brainless world?” said Johns. “Here, simple Ezzy, I'll do it.” He leapt off, and with much puffing climbed the post, striking a match when he reached the top, and moving the light along the arm, the lad standing and gazing at the spectacle.

“I have faced tantalization these twenty years with a temper as mild as milk!” said Japheth; “but such things as this don't come short of devilry!” And flinging the match away, he slipped down to the ground.

“What's the matter?” asked Darton.

“Not a letter, sacred or heathen—not so much as would tell us the way to the town of Smokey hole—ever I should sin to say it! Either the moss and mildew have eat away the words, or we have arrived in a land where the natives have lost the art o' writing, and should ha' brought our compass like Christopher Columbus.”

“Let us take the straightest road,” said Darton placidly; “I shan't be sorry to get there—'tis a tiresome ride. I would have driven if I had known.”

“Nor I neither, sir,” said Ezra. “These straps plough my shoulder like a zull. If 'tis much further to your lady's home, Maister Darton, I shall ask to be let carry half of these good things in my innerds—hee, hee!”

“Don't you be such a reforming radical, Ezra,” said Johns sternly. “Here, I'll take the turkey.”

This being done, they went forward by the right-hand lane, which ascended a hill, the left winding away under a plantation. The pit-a-pat of their horses' hoofs lessened up the slope; and the ironical directingpost stood in solitude as before, holding out its blank arms to the raw breeze, which brought a snore from the wood as if Skrymir the Giant were sleeping there.

高崗故人來 一

沿卡斯特橋鎮(zhèn)往北的大路漫長無趣、行人稀少,尤其是在冬季。沿此路前行,可通往長梣樹道。長梣樹道是一條單調(diào)乏味的小徑,方圓數(shù)英里都看不到村舍與人家,也很少有轉彎。不知情的路人,假如過于老邁、年幼或羸弱,走這么遠的路會異常吃力。但倘若又非走不可時,他們就只能向往地望望前方,安慰自己,“只要爬上那個小山頂,肯定就能看到長梣樹道的盡頭了”!然而等他們爬到山頂時,長梣樹道卻一如既往繼續(xù)無情地向前伸展。

數(shù)年前,曾有一個農(nóng)場主在一個暮靄沉沉的冬日黃昏騎馬走在這條道上。他的朋友,一個奶牛場主,也騎著馬與他并肩而行。身后隔幾步遠處跟著農(nóng)場主的幫工。三人都騎著渾圓壯實的矮腳馬;而在長梣樹道上,有好馬騎意味著比可憐的徒步行人更容易保持好心情。

不過一路上農(nóng)場主很少同友人交談。他的腦子里滿是令他來這路上走一遭的那件事,因為那的確是件大事。也許從它對整個社會的價值來衡量并不那么重要,但如果一件事的重要性跟它在做這件事的人心里所占據(jù)的空間成正比的話,農(nóng)場主查爾斯·達頓今晚要做的事幾乎可等同于君王的國家大事。

他是個家境殷實的農(nóng)場主。他的“營業(yè)收入”——按專業(yè)說法——一年大約有三萬英鎊。他的農(nóng)場里馱馬奶牛成群,綿羊無數(shù)。但這些家業(yè)并不是他自己掙來的,而是他的父親創(chuàng)下的。他父親同他這個家族血脈的最新代表相比,性格可是完全不同。

老達頓是個一意孤行的人,口袋守得緊緊的,眼睛細細的像條縫,里頭滿是生意人的精明。而到了兒子這里,這種工于算計的精明卻轉化成了感性,原來的嚴苛則完全消失了;若不是他有一群快活的朋友,他也時常小心不跟他們唱反調(diào)的話,他簡直可以被稱為是個憂郁的人。他喜歡沉思,大腦常常成為回憶與希望交匯的靜謐場所。因此毫不奇怪,自從他繼承家業(yè)到現(xiàn)在三十二歲的這些年來,他的家產(chǎn)既未再擴大,也不曾減少。但這故步自封并未讓他有絲毫不快,他本就毫無野心也不善計謀,因為他自認為已經(jīng)擁有了想要的一切。今晚此行的目的同樣顯示了他對自己不甚在意。

三人的馬步緩慢而謹慎,在天色已晚路又難行時這謹慎的確很有必要。在夜色中,農(nóng)場主達頓的頭一上一下顛得很不浪漫。他的好友,杰夫斯·約翰斯,則以更大幅度的抖動與他相應和。而后者的動作又被隨從小伙子模仿得毫無美感可言,幾近抽搐。隨從身上一前一后各搭著一個白色的東西,每走一步就要撞一下,更是破壞了他坐姿的雅觀。仔細近看就會發(fā)現(xiàn)原來是兩個沒有蓋兒的蒲草籃子——一個裝著一只火雞,另一個裝著幾瓶酒。

“達頓老兄,你覺得自己真的可以像個男人一樣面對命運了哇?”等到他們已經(jīng)經(jīng)過了二十五叢樹籬后,約翰斯打破了沉默,開口問道。

達頓先生微笑了一下,低聲說:“是啊——這就是我的命!娶妻跟上絞刑一樣,都是命中注定。”然后兩人又不說話了。

夜色迅速變濃,每隔一段時間就能看見它拍動黑翼下降,逐漸籠罩大地。與此同時空氣也逐漸凝滯,加速了白晝的結束。隨著夜色降臨,潮濕的霧氣彌漫開來,足以讓人不適,但還不至于把人打濕。生為鄉(xiāng)下人,可以說他們與四季天氣之間只隔著一扇敞開的門——因此他們只把這霧氣看作增加了行路的一些障礙,卻并不在意它的潮濕。

達頓此次“朝圣”的目的地是一個老式的村莊,因此一路上并沒有現(xiàn)代化的車流穿梭增添生氣。這個村子是眾多欣托克村中的一個(在那片地區(qū)有許多村子都叫這個名字,并在前面或后面添個不同的詞綴加以區(qū)別)——這個村釀的蘋果汁和蘋果酒是全威塞克斯最好的。村里的堆肥散發(fā)出的都是蘋果渣的氣味,而不像別處盡是牲畜的糞便味。這條小路有些地方非常狹窄,樹籬上的刺藤就像是小溪上垂下的釣竿,會掛住他們的帽子或勾住他們的胡須。然而這條人煙稀少的小道在伊麗莎白時代曾是女王的臣民和車馬隊出行的主要干道。它早已不復當年盛況,作為一條舉國聞名的主干道的歷史已永遠終結。

“我之所以決定娶她,”達頓環(huán)視了一下,看到幫工離他們還不算太近,便繼續(xù)開口(聲音悅耳,語氣平和,充滿自信,充分展示了他的性格氣質(zhì)),“不光是因為我喜歡她,也因為我沒有更好的選擇了,就算是從很務實的角度來看。有人說我可以找個門第更高的,也許沒錯,但其實蠢透了。我已經(jīng)吃過了想高攀的苦頭。那以后——你知道是什么時候,我就告訴自己,‘我再也不會去招惹高高在上的女人了?!蜷L得好,有主見,頭腦簡單,也不會裝腔作勢,在她心中我高高在上,就像曾經(jīng)——你知道是誰——在我心中高高在上一樣。”

“對頭,”約翰斯回答,“但是我可不覺得莎莉·霍爾頭腦簡單。第一,莎莉頭腦并不簡單。第二,就算有的人頭腦簡單,你的這位也不會。這種說法不應該用來形容一個女人。查爾斯,作為你的伴郎,聽到這種話我簡直就像遭潑了一盆冷水。感覺就像你花了半個克朗買了一張戲票,結果人家跟你說這出戲里頭沒有謀殺,沒有壞蛋,也沒有任何嚴重傷害一樣?!?/p>

“哦,你愛怎么想就怎么想吧,反正我的看法跟你完全不同?!苯又_頓把對話從哲學思辨轉到了世俗現(xiàn)實,說他希望莎莉已經(jīng)收到了他那天讓郵差帶給她的東西。

約翰斯問帶的是什么。

“是一條長裙,”達頓回答,“不算是結婚禮服,當然如果她愿意也可以當成結婚禮服穿。主要是為了實用而不是為了好看——適合冬天穿?!?/p>

“好得很,”約翰斯說,“‘實用’這個詞由新郎官說出來簡直太明智啦。我要好好表揚你,查爾斯?!?/p>

“因為,”達頓辯解說,“結婚就跟死亡一樣,都是人一生中最嚴肅的大事,這種時候為什么要穿得像個走鋼絲的雜技演員一樣花里胡哨呢?”

“是呀,為啥呢?但是她肯定會穿得花里胡哨,因為她就是要穿得花里胡哨?!蹦膛鲋骷s翰斯說。

“哦?!边_頓回答。

他們走過的小道一連數(shù)英里幾乎都是筆直的?,F(xiàn)在他們離開了這條道,走上了一條更窄的小路,彎彎曲曲繞了不知道多遠后,分成了兩條岔路。鄉(xiāng)村小路在晚上比白天更容易暴露出丑陋的一面,白天很可能沒太留意就過去了。雖然達頓以前走過這條路,但畢竟不常走。他追求莎莉時她住在離他家不遠的親戚家里。他根本不記得在這個地方有兩條看起來完全一樣的岔路。約翰斯騎馬上前幾步。

“伙計,不要垂頭喪氣?!彼暗?,“這兒有個路標。伊斯拉——你過來爬上去看一下,告訴我們該走哪條路?!?/p>

小伙子翻身下馬,跳進了路標所在的一棵樹下的灌木叢里。

“把籃子先解下來,不然你會把酒瓶摔碎的!”看見年輕人跟抽筋一樣一躥一躥地抱著柱子往上爬,身上還背著兩個籃子,達頓連忙喊道。

“這個世界已經(jīng)夠沒腦子了,你比它還要蠢!”約翰斯說,“算了,蠢蛋伊斯拉,等我來?!彼埋R,吭哧吭哧頗費了些勁兒爬到路標頂端,劃了根火柴,借著光察看路牌,小伙子站在下面定定地看著這景象。

“這二十年來我每次被人耍,脾氣從來都好得像溫開水!”約翰斯說,“但遇到這種事絕對是撞鬼啰!”他把火柴一扔,滑下地來。

“怎么回事?”達頓問。

“牌子上頭一個字都沒有,既沒有圣徒寫的字,也沒有異端寫的字!連去地獄的路咋走都沒寫——雖然這個話說起來有點罪過!要不就是生霉長苔蘚把原來的字吃掉了,要不就是我們到了原始社會,當?shù)厝硕疾粫懽謬D。我們應該像哥倫布一樣帶個指南針來才對?!?/p>

“我們就走最直的那條路吧,”達頓平靜地說,“希望能早點到——騎馬還是相當累人的。早知道這樣,我就坐馬車來了?!?/p>

“我也想快點到,先生,”伊斯拉說,“我肩膀上的背帶跟犁一樣都勒到肉里頭去了。要是去您夫人家的路還遠的話,達頓老爺,我就要求您讓我把這些好東西裝一半到我肚子里了——嘻嘻!”

“伊斯拉,不要像個激進黨人一樣嘰嘰歪歪,”約翰斯嚴厲地說,“來,我來拿火雞?!?/p>

等他把火雞籃子接過來以后,三人踏上了右邊的那條小路,小路通往一座小山。左邊的那條路則蜿蜒向下通向一片種植林。嗒嗒的馬蹄聲逐漸上坡遠去;那個充滿諷刺的路標一如之前,孤零零豎在原地,在陰冷的晚風中伸展著空無一字的手臂,風帶來了樹林的鼾聲,仿佛巨人斯克里米爾正在那里沉睡一般。[1]

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