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双语·魔法师的外甥 第四章 钟与锤

所属教程:译林版·魔法师的外甥

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2022年04月23日

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There was no doubt about the Magic this time. Down and down they rushed, first through darkness and then through a mass of vague and whirling shapes which might have been almost anything. It grew lighter. Then suddenly they felt that they were standing on something solid. A moment later everything came into focus and they were able to look about them.

“What a queer place!” said Digory.

“I don’t like it,” said Polly with something like a shudder.

What they noticed first was the light. It wasn’t like sunlight, and it wasn’t like electric light, or lamps, or candles, or any other light they had ever seen. It was a dull, rather red light, not at all cheerful. It was steady and did not flicker. They were standing on a flat paved surface and buildings rose all around them. There was no roof overhead; they were in a sort of courtyard. The sky was extraordinarily dark—a blue that was almost black. When you had seen that sky you wondered that there should be any light at all.

“It’s very funny weather here,” said Digory. “I wonder if we’ve arrived just in time for a thunderstorm; or an eclipse.”

“I don’t like it,” said Polly.

Both of them, without quite knowing why, were talking in whispers. And though there was no reason why they should still go on holding hands after their jump, they didn’t let go.

The walls rose very high all round that courtyard. They had many great windows in them, windows without glass, through which you saw nothing but black darkness. Lower down there were great pillared arches, yawning blackly like the mouths of railway tunnels. It was rather cold.

The stone of which everything was built seemed to be red, but that might only be because of the curious light. It was obviously very old. Many of the flat stones that paved the courtyard had cracks across them. None of them fitted closely together and the sharp corners were all worn off. One of the arched doorways was half filled up with rubble. The two children kept on turning round and round to look at the different sides of the courtyard. One reason was that they were afraid of somebody—or something—looking out of those windows at them when their backs were turned.

“Do you think anyone lives here?” said Digory at last, still in a whisper.

“No,” said Polly. “It’s all in ruins. We haven’t heard a sound since we came.”

“Let’s stand still and listen for a bit,” suggested Digory.

They stood still and listened, but all they could hear was the thump—thump of their own hearts. This place was at least as quiet as the Wood between the Worlds. But it was a different kind of quietness. The silence of the Wood had been rich and warm (you could almost hear the trees growing) and full of life; this was a dead, cold, empty silence. You couldn’t imagine anything growing in it.

“Let’s go home,” said Polly.

“But we haven’t seen anything yet,” said Digory. “Now we’re here, we simply must have a look round.”

“I’m sure there’s nothing at all interesting here.”

“There’s not much point in finding a magic ring that lets you into other worlds if you’re afraid to look at them when you’ve got there.”

“Who’s talking about being afraid?” said Polly, letting go of Digory’s hand.

“I only thought you didn’t seem very keen on exploring this place.”

“I’ll go anywhere you go.”

“We can get away the moment we want to,” said Digory. “Let’s take off our green rings and put them in our right-hand pockets. All we’ve got to do is to remember that our yellow are in our left-hand pockets. You can keep your hand as near your pocket as you like, but don’t put it in or you’ll touch your yellow and vanish.”

They did this and went quietly up to one of the big arched doorways which led into the inside of the building. And when they stood on the threshold and could look in, they saw it was not so dark inside as they had thought at first. It led into a vast, shadowy hall which appeared to be empty; but on the far side there was a row of pillars with arches between them and through those arches there streamed in some more of the same tired-looking light. They crossed the hall, walking very carefully for fear of holes in the floor or of anything lying about that they might trip over. It seemed a long walk. When they had reached the other side they came out through the arches and found themselves in another and larger courtyard.

“That doesn’t look very safe,” said Polly, pointing at a place where the wall bulged outward and looked as if it were ready to fall over into the courtyard. In one place a pillar was missing between two arches and the bit that came down to where the top of the pillar ought to have been hung there with nothing to support it. Clearly, the place had been deserted for hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years.

“If it’s lasted till now, I suppose it’ll last a bit longer,” said Digory. “But we must be very quiet. You know a noise sometimes brings things down—like an avalanche in the Alps.”

They went on out of that courtyard into another doorway, and up a great flight of steps and through vast rooms that opened out of one another till you were dizzy with the mere size of the place. Every now and then they thought they were going to get out into the open and see what sort of country lay around the enormous palace. But each time they only got into another courtyard. They must have been magnificent places when people were still living there. In one there had once been a fountain. A great stone monster with wide-spread wings stood with its mouth open and you could still see a bit of piping at the back of its mouth, out of which the water used to pour. Under it was a wide stone basin to hold the water; but it was as dry as a bone. In other places there were the dry sticks of some sort of climbing plant which had wound itself round the pillars and helped to pull some of them down. But it had died long ago. And there were no ants or spiders or any of the other living things you expect to see in a ruin; and where the dry earth showed between the broken flagstones there was no grass or moss.

It was all so dreary and all so much the same that even Digory was thinking they had better put on their yellow rings and get back to the warm, green, living forest of the In-between place, when they came to two huge doors of some metal that might possibly be gold. One stood a little ajar. So of course they went to look in. Both started back and drew a long breath: for here at last was something worth seeing.

For a second they thought the room was full of people—hundreds of people, all seated, and all perfectly still. Polly and Digory, as you may guess, stood perfectly still themselves for a good long time, looking in. But presently they decided that what they were looking at could not be real people. There was not a movement nor the sound of a breath among them all. They were like the most wonderful waxworks you ever saw.

This time Polly took the lead. There was something in this room which interested her more than it interested Digory: all the figures were wearing magnificent clothes. If you were interested in clothes at all, you could hardly help going in to see them closer. And the blaze of their colours made this room look, not exactly cheerful, but at any rate rich and majestic after all the dust and emptiness of the others. It had more windows, too, and was a good deal lighter.

I can hardly describe the clothes. The figures were all robed and had crowns on their heads. Their robes were of crimson and silvery grey and deep purple and vivid green: and there were patterns, and pictures of flowers and strange beasts, in needlework all over them. Precious stones of astonishing size and brightness stared from their crowns and hung in chains round their necks and peeped out from all the places where anything was fastened.

“Why haven’t these clothes all rotted away long ago?” asked Polly.

“Magic,” whispered Digory. “Can’t you feel it? I bet this whole room is just stiff with enchantments. I could feel it the moment we came in.”

“Any one of these dresses would cost hundreds of pounds,” said Polly.

But Digory was more interested in the faces, and indeed these were well worth looking at. The people sat in their stone chairs on each side of the room and the floor was left free down the middle. You could walk down and look at the faces in turn.

“They were nice people, I think,” said Digory.

Polly nodded. All the faces they could see were certainly nice. Both the men and women looked kind and wise, and they seemed to come of a handsome race. But after the children had gone a few steps down the room they came to faces that looked a little different. These were very solemn faces. You felt you would have to mind your P’s and Q’s, if you ever met living people who looked like that. When they had gone a little further, they found themselves among faces they didn’t like: this was about the middle of the room. The faces here looked very strong and proud and happy, but they looked cruel. A little further on they looked crueller. Further on again, they were still cruel but they no longer looked happy. They were even despairing faces: as if the people they belonged to had done dreadful things and also suffered dreadful things. The last figure of all was the most interesting—a woman even more richly dressed than the others, very tall (but every figure in that room was taller than the people of our world), with a look of such fierceness and pride that it took your breath away. Yet she was beautiful too. Years afterwards when he was an old man, Digory said he had never in all his life known a woman so beautiful. It is only fair to add that Polly always said she couldn’t see anything specially beautiful about her.

This woman, as I said, was the last; but there were plenty of empty chairs beyond her, as if the room had been intended for a much larger collection of images.

“I do wish we knew the story that’s behind all this,” said Digory. “Let’s go back and look at that table sort of thing in the middle of the room.”

The thing in the middle of the room was not exactly a table. It was a square pillar about four feet high and on it there rose a little golden arch from which there hung a little golden bell; and beside this there lay a little golden hammer to hit the bell with.

“I wonder... I wonder... I wonder...” said Digory.

“There seems to be something written here,” said Polly, stooping down and looking at the side of the pillar.

“By gum, so there is,” said Digory. “But of course we shan’t be able to read it.”

“Shan’t we? I’m not so sure,” said Polly.

They both looked at it hard and, as you might have expected, the letters cut in the stone were strange. But now a great wonder happened: for, as they looked, though the shape of the strange letters never altered, they found that they could understand them. If only Digory had remembered what he himself had said a few minutes ago, that this was an enchanted room, he might have guessed that the enchantment was beginning to work. But he was too wild with curiosity to think about that. He was longing more and more to know what was written on the pillar. And very soon they both knew. What it said was something like this—at least this is the sense of it though the poetry, when you read it there, was better:

Make your choice, adventurous Stranger;

Strike the bell and bide the danger,

Or wonder, till it drives you mad,

What would have followed if you had.

“No fear!” said Polly. “We don’t want any danger.”

“Oh but don’t you see it’s no good!” said Digory. “We can’t get out of it now. We shall always be wondering what else would have happened if we had struck the bell. I’m not going home to be driven mad by always thinking of that. No fear!”

“Don’t be so silly,” said Polly. “As if anyone would! What does it matter what would have happened?”

“I expect anyone who’s come as far as this is bound to go on wondering till it sends him dotty. That’s the Magic of it, you see. I can feel it beginning to work on me already.”

“Well I don’t,” said Polly crossly. “And I don’t believe you do either. You’re just putting it on.”

“That’s all you know,” said Digory. “It’s because you’re a girl. Girls never want to know anything but gossip and rot about people getting engaged.”

“You looked exactly like your Uncle when you said that,” said Polly.

“Why can’t you keep to the point?” said Digory. “What we’re talking about is—”

“How exactly like a man!” said Polly in a very grownup voice; but she added hastily, in her real voice. “And don’t say I’m just like a woman, or you’ll be a beastly copy-cat.”

“I should never dream of calling a kid like you a woman,” said Digory loftily.

“Oh, I’m a kid, am I?” said Polly who was now in a real rage. “Well you needn’t be bothered by having a kid with you any longer then. I’m off. I’ve had enough of this place. And I’ve had enough of you too—you beastly, stuck-up, obstinate pig!”

“None of that!” said Digory in a voice even nastier than he meant it to be; for he saw Polly’s hand moving to her pocket to get hold of her yellow ring. I can’t excuse what he did next except by saying that he was very sorry for it afterwards (and so were a good many other people). Before Polly’s hand reached her pocket, he grabbed her wrist, leaning across with his back against her chest. Then, keeping her other arm out of the way with his other elbow, he leaned forward, picked up the hammer, and struck the golden bell a light, smart tap. Then he let her go and they fell apart staring at each other and breathing hard. Polly was just beginning to cry, not with fear, and not even because he had hurt her wrist quite badly, but with furious anger. Within two seconds, however, they had something to think about that drove their own quarrels quite out of their minds.

As soon as the bell was struck it gave out a note, a sweet note such as you might have expected, and not very loud. But instead of dying away again, it went on; and as it went on it grew louder. Before a minute had passed it was twice as loud as it had been to begin with. It was soon so loud that if the children had tried to speak (but they weren’t thinking of speaking now—they were just standing with their mouths open) they would not have heard one another. Very soon it was so loud that they could not have heard one another even by shouting. And still it grew: all on one note, a continuous sweet sound, though the sweetness had something horrible about it, till all the air in that great room was throbbing with it and they could feel the stone floor trembling under their feet. Then at last it began to be mixed with another sound, a vague, disastrous noise which sounded first like the roar of a distant train, and then like the crash of a falling tree. They heard something like great weights falling. Finally, with a sudden rush and thunder, and a shake that nearly flung them off their feet, about a quarter of the roof at one end of the room fell in, great blocks of masonry fell all round them, and the walls rocked. The noise of the bell stopped. The clouds of dust cleared away. Everything became quiet again.

It was never found out whether the fall of the roof was due to Magic or whether that unbearably loud sound from the bell just happened to strike the note which was more than those crumbling walls could stand.

“There! I hope you’re satisfied now,” panted Polly.

“Well, it’s all over, anyway,” said Digory.

And both thought it was; but they had never been more mistaken in their lives.

这回,魔法毫无疑问地起作用了。他们一直沉下去,沉下去,起先穿过一片黑暗,接着穿过一团不可名状的模糊且呈旋涡状的东西。眼前慢慢亮了起来,突然,他们感到双脚踏上了某种坚实的东西。过了一会儿,能定睛看清楚一些东西了,也能朝四下里张望了。

“好个诡异的地方!”迪格雷说。

“我不喜欢这里,”波莉哆哆嗦嗦地说。

他们最先注意到的是光线,既不像太阳光,也不像电灯、煤油灯、蜡烛或他们见到过的任何一种光。那是一种死气沉沉的、红惨惨的光,让人看了心里不爽。光线是稳定的,一闪也不闪。他们站在一块铺设过的平地上,被四周高耸的建筑包围着。头顶上方没有屋顶,显然他们站着的地方是个院子。天空出奇的昏暗——蓝得发黑。你要是看到这样的天空,准会诧异,这里居然会有光。

“这儿的天气真怪,”迪格雷说。“我看我们是不是正巧赶上一场暴风雨,或一次日食。”

“我不喜欢这里,”波莉说。

不知怎么的,两人都轻声轻气地说话。虽然跳下水后就没有理由一直拉着手,但他们一直不肯松开。

院子四周的围墙高高耸立着,墙上嵌有许许多多巨大的窗户,窗户没安玻璃,望进去,里面漆黑一片。稍往下,有几扇支着柱子的巨大拱门,像火车隧道那样打哈欠似的张着黑洞洞的大口。天气冷极了。

建造所有这些建筑的石头看上去红通通的,但这可能只是受那种奇怪的光照射的缘故。这些石头显然已相当古老了。院中铺地的石板多处都裂了缝,没有一块石板与另一块接得严丝合缝,它们的棱角都磨平了。有一扇拱门让碎石堵了一半。两个孩子不停地把身子转过来转过去,朝院子四周东张西望,生怕有什么人——或什么东西——趁他们背过身时从窗户里窥探他们。

“你想这儿会有人住吗?”迪格雷终于开口说话,但仍然压低了声音。

“没有吧,”波莉说,“这地方只是堆废墟。打我们来这儿起,还没听到一丁点儿动静。”

“站好了别动,我们再来听听,”迪格雷建议道。

他们一动不动站在那里,静静地听,但除了自己心脏的怦怦跳动声,什么也没有听到。这个地方至少安静得像世界间的树林。不过,这是另一种安静。那片树林的安静是葱翠、温暖而又生机勃勃的(你几乎可以听见树木在生长);而这里则是种死寂、冰冷而又空空荡荡的安静,你无法想象会有什么生命在这儿生长。

“我们回家吧,”波莉央求着说。

“可我们什么都没发现呢,”迪格雷说。“既然来了,就得四处看看。”

“我敢肯定,这儿没啥好玩的。”

“来都来了,却怕得要死不敢看看,那么,找一枚魔戒把你带到其他世界里去又有什么意义呢?”

“谁说怕得要死啦?”波莉说着,甩开了迪格雷的手。

“我就觉得你好像对探索这个地方没啥热情。”

“随你去哪儿,我都跟着。”

“我们想离开时就能离开,”迪格雷说。“让我们把绿戒指取下来,放进右边口袋。你要做的,只是记住左边口袋里装的是黄戒指。你可以把手放在离口袋尽可能近的地方,但千万不要伸进去,不然,一碰黄戒指,你就消失了。”

准备好以后,他俩静悄悄地朝着一扇巨大的拱门走去,这是通向建筑内部的拱门之一。他们站在门槛上,朝里望去,发现里面并非他们原先想象的那样漆黑一片。拱门通向一个昏暗的大厅,看起来空荡荡的;而在大厅远处的一端有一排柱子支着拱门,从拱门里透进更多同样微弱的光线。他们穿过大厅,脚步小心翼翼的,唯恐地上有洞或横着什么东西将他们绊倒。他们似乎走了很长一段路。当他们走到大厅另一端,钻过拱门时,却发现自己来到了另一个更大的院子里。

“这儿好像不太安全,”波莉指着一处地方说,那儿有一面墙鼓了出来,好像随时要倒向院中。有两扇拱门之间缺了一根柱子,原本垂下来与柱顶相接的那丁点儿残迹,毫无支撑地悬在半空。那地方显然已荒芜了几百甚至上千年了。

“既然保留到了今天,我想它还会继续保留下去的,”迪格雷说,“但我们千万别弄出啥声响。你知道,有时一丁点儿动静就会使东西塌下来——就像阿尔卑斯山的雪崩一样。”

他们又往前走去,出了那个院子,进了另一扇门,接着,登上了一大段台阶,又穿过一个接一个的大房间,那地方大得简直把你搞得头晕目眩。每次他们都觉得,这回可要重见天日了,可以看看这个巨大的宫殿之外究竟是个什么样的国度了;然而,他们每次都只闯进了另一个院子而已。人丁兴旺时,这地方一定宏伟气派。有一处地方曾经是一座喷泉,一个巨大的石兽展翅屹立,兽嘴大张,望进去,在很里面还能看见喷水管道的残迹。石兽下面有一个用来接水的宽宽的石盆,但已经干涸得像白骨一般了。还有些地方,有某种攀缘植物的枯藤,它们曾缠着石柱生长,有几根柱子都被它们拽塌了。不过,这种植物已死了很久了。至于蚂蚁、蜘蛛,这里是没有的,也没有你在废墟中常见到的其他生物。碎裂的石板间露出干燥的泥土,上面既不长草,也不长青苔。

这地方阴森森的,各处千篇一律,迪格雷禁不住盘算起来,打算戴上黄戒指,回到中间地带那片温暖、葱翠、生机勃勃的林子里去。这时候,他们来到了两扇似乎是金铸的巨门前。有一扇门半开着,他们自然要进去看个究竟。这一看,不禁让他们倒吸一口凉气,吓得退了回来:终于遇到一处值得一看的地方了!

一眼望去,他们还以为屋子里满是人呢——足有好几百人,全都一动不动地端坐着。你猜得到,波莉和迪格雷也一动不动地站了很久,朝里面张望着。可他们很快就断定,眼前这些不大会是真人。他们既没有动静,也没有气息,真像是你见过的最精美的蜡像。

这一回,波莉打了头阵。她对这屋子里有些东西的兴趣,可比迪格雷大多啦。所有塑像都衣着华丽,如果你对服饰感兴趣,肯定会忍不住走近去细瞧。相比其他地方的空荡荡、灰扑扑,这些服饰的光泽,虽不能说使这间屋子多么赏心悦目,但无论如何,也使之满室生辉了。这间屋子的窗户也更多,因此也更为明亮。

要描绘这些服饰可真的太难啦。那些塑像个个身披长袍,头戴皇冠。深红、银灰、暗紫、鲜绿的长袍上绣满了花卉、怪兽或其他各式各样的花纹。皇冠上嵌的,胸前挂的,都是巨大而耀眼的宝石,他们浑身上下的装饰,无不显得珠光宝气。

“这些衣服这么久了怎么还没腐烂?”波莉问。

“施了魔法呗,”迪格雷低声说。“你感觉不到吗?我敢打赌,这整间屋子都让魔法给定住了。一进来我就感觉到了。”

“随便哪件衣服都值几百英镑啊,”波莉说。

可迪格雷更感兴趣的是那几张面孔,它们的确有一番看头呢。那些人端坐在屋子四周的石椅上,屋子中央是空的,你可以走过去,逐个端详那些面孔。

“这些人长得多好看啊,”迪格雷说。

波莉点点头。他们看见的面孔都长得非常好看,男男女女看起来既善良又聪明,可能是某个长相俊美的种族的后代吧。可是,等到孩子们朝屋子里面又走了几步时,看见的脸庞就有些不同了。这些面孔神情严肃,让你觉得,要是在现实生活中遇到这样的人,可得小心伺候着。他们又往前走了几步,大约走到了屋子的中央,这里的面孔看上去强悍、高傲、陶醉,却又冷酷无情,不是他们喜欢的神情。越往前走,脸越显得冷酷。再往前,脸依旧冷酷,但已看不到陶醉的神情了,甚至充满了绝望:似乎这些塑像的原身曾做过什么可怕的事情,有过什么可怕的遭遇似的。最后一尊塑像最有意思——是一位衣着更为华丽的女人,体格魁梧(那间屋子里每一尊塑像都比我们世界的普通人魁梧),她脸上露出的残忍与傲慢的神情,使你见了大气都不敢出一声。不过,她同样非常漂亮。过了许多年,等迪格雷老了的时候,他还会说这是他这辈子见过的最美丽的女人。为公平起见,我们不得不再补充一句,波莉总是说,她看不出这女人有哪个地方特别漂亮。

这个女人,我刚才说了,是最末一个;而她身后还放着许多把空椅子,想必这间屋子原打算容纳更多的塑像。

“我真希望咱们能知道这背后的故事,”迪格雷说,“我们回去看看屋子中间那个像桌子一样的东西吧。”

屋子中央那个东西并不是一张桌子,而是一个四英尺高的方柱,上面隆起了一个小小的金拱门,门上挂着一只小金钟,钟旁放着一把小金锤,是用来敲钟的。

“嗯……我想……嗯……”迪格雷嘀咕着。

“那儿好像写着些什么,”波莉说着弯下腰去,注视着柱子的侧面。

“好家伙!就在那儿,”迪格雷说,“可是,我们甭想读懂的。”

“读不懂?我看难说,”波莉说。

他俩读得很起劲,你可能猜到了,石头上刻着的是一种奇怪的字母。而恰在此时,不可思议的怪事儿发生了:虽然奇怪的字母并未变形,但他们看着看着,却发现自己能读懂了。要是迪格雷记得几分钟前他还说过,这屋子被施了魔法,他就早该想到是魔法起作用了。可是他心中满是好奇,压根儿没想到这个。他越来越渴望知道柱子上究竟写了些什么。很快,他俩都读懂了。上面大概写了这么些东西——至少大意如此,你要是亲自去读原诗,意思会更清楚:

快选择吧,爱冒险的旅人;

钟一敲响,就将惹火上身,

或者痴想,会有什么后果,

最后把自己弄得走火入魔。

“千万不要,”波莉说,“我们别去惹火上身。”

“唉,没用的,你没看出来吗?”迪格雷说。“我们跑不掉啦。我们会一直想下去,想敲了钟究竟有什么后果。我可不愿意想得走火入魔。千万不要!”

“别傻了,”波莉说,“好像谁愿意似的!它要发生就让它发生,有啥大不了?”

“我看,每个到了这儿的人都会想个不停,最后搞得疯疯癫癫的。你看,这就是它的魔力。我感觉我已经有点儿中魔了。”

“胡说,我没感觉,”波莉不高兴了。“我才不信你真中魔了呢,你是装的吧。”

“你就知道这些,”迪格雷说。“女孩子家的,什么都不想知道,尽关心谁跟谁订婚了,整天扯这些八卦。”

“你说这番话的神气简直跟你舅舅一模一样,”波莉说。

“你为什么就不能谈正经的?”迪格雷说。“咱俩现在的正题是——”

“多像个男子汉啊!”波莉装出大人的口吻说道。接着,她又变回自己的语调匆匆补了一句:“不要说我就像个女人,不然,你就是一只讨厌的学舌鹦鹉。”

“我做梦也没想过把你这样的小鬼叫作女人,”迪格雷傲慢地说。

“噢,我是个小鬼,对吗?”波莉这下可真火了。“好吧,你再也不需要带上个小鬼来拖累你了。我要走了。我受够了这个地方,也受够了你——你这讨厌的、顽固的、自以为是的蠢猪!”

“住手!”迪格雷大吼一声,他本不想发出如此凶恶的声音,可他看见波莉的手正伸向口袋,要去摸那枚黄戒指。迪格雷接下去的举动我是不能为他开脱的,最多只能说,他后来后悔了(许多人都是事后才悔过的)。还没等波莉的手摸到口袋,他一把抓住她的手腕,靠过去,用背抵住她的胸膛,又用另一只手肘挡开她另一条手臂。他探过身去,拾起锤子,在金钟上轻轻一敲。然后,他一松手,两人都跌倒在地上,他俩狠狠盯着对方,喘着粗气。波莉开始哭了,不是因为害怕,也不是因为他把她的手腕扭得很痛,而是因为极大的愤怒。不过,他们很快就把这场风波抛到了九霄云外,因为有别的事情需要他们费心了。

钟一敲响,就发出一种音调,你可能猜到了,是一种悦耳的音调,轻轻柔柔的。钟声回荡着,丝毫没有减弱,并且越来越响。不到一分钟,声音就比起先增大了一倍。又过了一会儿,声音大到连孩子们相互讲话都听不到了(但这时他们并不想讲话—只是张口结舌地站着)。再过了一会儿,声音大得连他们大叫大喊起来都听不见了。然而,声音还在越变越大:从头到尾就一个音调,连绵不绝,虽然听起来十分悠扬,却透出一丝恐怖的气息。随后,整个屋子的空气也随之颤动了起来,两人感觉到连脚下的石板都在颤抖。终于,有另一种模糊而又凄惨的声音混了进来,起初像是远处火车在咆哮,继而又像大树轰的一声坠地。他们听见好像有什么笨重的东西倒了下来。最后,突如其来一阵撞击,轰隆一声,那震动差点儿把他俩抛了出去。只见屋子一端约四分之一的屋顶塌了下来,大块大块的砖石坠落在他们四周,墙壁也在晃动。钟声停息了,尘土消散了,一切又恢复了平静。

真搞不明白是魔法使屋顶倾塌的呢,还是原本就快断裂的墙恰好抵挡不了刺耳的钟声而倾塌的。

“好了!我想这下你满意了吧,”波莉气喘吁吁地说。

“不管怎么说,一切都结束了,”迪格雷说。

两人都这么认为;然而,他俩却犯了一生中最大的一个错误。

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