美国语文第六册 第214期:瑞普·凡·温克尔(4)
此时，围观者面面相觑，互相点头示意，双手抚额，一筹莫展。
There was a whisper, also, about securing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from doing mischief, at the very suggestion of which the self-important man in the cocked hat retired with some precipitation.
也有人小声低语，说先应该夺下他的枪，免得这个老家伙狗急跳墙开枪走火，那个戴尖顶帽颇为高傲的老者暗示大家马上动手。
At this critical moment, a fresh, comely woman pressed through the throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded man.
就在这千钧一发之际，一位相貌姣好的妇人拨开众人，瞥了一眼这位一脸灰白胡须的老人。
She had a chubby child in her arms, which, frightened at his looks, began to cry. "Hush, Rip!" cried she, "hush, you little fool! the old man won't hurt you."
她怀中抱着一个胖乎乎的幼儿，这孩子一见瑞普便吓得大哭。“别哭，瑞普!”她喝道，“别哭，你这个小笨蛋!这位老人又不会打你!”
The name of the child, the air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections in his mind.
这孩子的名字，这位母亲的举止和说话的声音，所有这一切唤醒了他心中的记忆。
"What is your name, my good woman?" asked he. "Judith Gardenier." "And your father's name?" "Ah, poor man! Rip Van Winkle was his name.
“这位善良的夫人，你的名字是?”他问道。“朱迪丝·卡德尼耶。”“你父亲的名字是?”“哦，那可怜的人!他的名字是瑞普·凡·温克尔。
but it's twenty years since he went away from home with his gun, and never has been heard of since.
二十年前他拎着枪离家一去未归，从那以后再也没有他的音信。
his dog came home without him; but whether he shot himself, or was carried away by the Indians, nobody can tell.
他养的狗也不见了;到底是自杀了还是被印第安人劫走了，谁也说不清。
I was then but a little girl." Rip had but one question more to ask; but he put it with a faltering voice: "Where's your mother?"
当时我还是个小女孩呢。”瑞普还想再问一个问题;他的声音颤抖着：“你母亲在哪儿?”
"Oh, she, too, died but a short time since; she broke a blood vessel in a fit of passion at a New England peddler."
“噢，不久后她也死了;在与一个新英格兰小贩的争执中因血管破裂而亡。”
