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双语·返老还童:菲茨杰拉德短篇小说选 钻石山 十

所属教程:译林版·返老还童:菲茨杰拉德短篇小说选

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2022年06月22日

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THE DIAMOND AS BIG AS THE RITZ X

It was three o'clock when they attained their destination. The obliging and phlegmatic Jasmine fell off to sleep immediately, leaning against the trunk of a large tree, while John and Kismine sat, his arm around her, and watched the desperate ebb and flow of the dying battle among the ruins of a vista that had been a garden spot that morning. Shortly after four o'clock the last remaining gun gave out a clanging sound, and went out of action in a swift tongue of red smoke. Though the moon was down, they saw that the flying bodies were circling closer to the earth. When the planes had made certain that the beleaguered possessed no further resources they would land and the dark and glittering reign of the Washingtons would be over.

With the cessation of the firing the valley grew quiet. The embers of the two aeroplanes glowed like the eyes of some monster crouching in the grass. The chateau stood dark and silent, beautiful without light as it had been beautiful in the sun, while the woody rattles of Nemesis filled the air above with a growing and receding complaint. Then John perceived that Kismine, like her sister, had fallen sound asleep.

It was long after four when he became aware of footsteps along the path they had lately followed, and he waited in breathless silence until the persons to whom they belonged had passed the vantage-point he occupied. There was a faint stir in the air now that was not of human origin, and the dew was cold; be knew that the dawn would break soon. John waited until the steps had gone a safe distance up the mountain and were inaudible. Then he followed. About half-way to the steep summit the trees fell away and a hard saddle of rock spread itself over the diamond beneath. Just before he reached this point he slowed down his pace warned by an animal sense that there was life just ahead of him. Coming to a high boulder, he lifted his head gradually above its edge. His curiosity was rewarded; this is what he saw:

Braddock Washington was standing there motionless, silhouetted against the gray sky without sound or sign of life. As the dawn came up out of the east, lending a gold green color to the earth, it brought the solitary figure into insignificant contrast with the new day,

While John watched, his host remained for a few moments absorbed in some inscrutable contemplation; then he signalled to the two negroes who crouched at his feet to lift the burden which lay between them. As they struggled upright, the first yellow beam of the sun struck through the innumerable prisms of an immense and exquisitely chiselled diamond—and a white radiance was kindled that glowed upon the air like a fragment of the morning star. The bearers staggered beneath its weight for a moment—then their rippling muscles caught and hardened under the wet shine of the skins and the three figures were again motionless in their defiant impotency before the heavens.

After a while the white man lifted his head and slowly raised his arms in a gesture of attention, as one who would call a great crowd to hear—but there was no crowd, only the vast silence of the mountain and the sky, broken by faint bird voices down among the trees. The figure on the saddle of rock began to speak ponderously and with an inextinguishable pride.

“You out there!” he cried in a trembling voice. “You—there—!” He paused, his arms still uplifted, his head held attentively as though he were expecting an answer. John strained his eyes to see whether there might be men coming down the mountain, but the mountain was bare of human life. There was only sky and a mocking flute of wind along the treetops. Could Washington be praying? For a moment John wondered. Then the illusion passed—there was something in the man's whole attitude antithetical to prayer.

“Oh, you above there!”

The voice was become strong and confident. This was no forlorn supplication. If anything, there was in it a quality of monstrous condescension.

“You there—”

Words, too quickly uttered to be understood, flowing one into the other.…John listened breathlessly, catching a phrase here and there, while the voice broke off, resumed, broke off again—now strong and argumentative, now colored with a slow, puzzled impatience, Then a conviction commenced to dawn on the single listener, and as realisation crept over him a spray of quick blood rushed through his arteries. Braddock Washington was offering a bribe to God!

That was it—there was no doubt. The diamond in the arms of his slaves was some advance sample, a promise of more to follow.

That, John perceived after a time, was the thread running through his sentences. Prometheus Enriched was calling to witness forgotten sacrifices, forgotten rituals, prayers obsolete before the birth of Christ. For a while his discourse took the farm of reminding God of this gift or that which Divinity had deigned to accept from men—great churches if he would rescue cities from the plague, gifts of myrrh and gold, of human lives and beautiful women and captive armies, of children and queens, of beasts of the forest and field, sheep and goats, harvests and cities, whole conquered lands that had been offered up in lust or blood for His appeasal, buying a meed's worth of alleviation from the Divine wrath—and now he, Braddock Washington, Emperor of Diamonds, king and priest of the age of gold, arbiter of splendour and luxury, would offer up a treasure such as princes before him had never dreamed of, offer it up not in suppliance, but in pride.

He would give to God, he continued, getting down to specifications, the greatest diamond in the world. This diamond would be cut with many more thousand facets than there were leaves on a tree, and yet the whole diamond would be shaped with the perfection of a stone no bigger than a fly. Many men would work upon it for many years. It would be set in a great dome of beaten gold, wonderfully carved and equipped with gates of opal and crusted sapphire. In the middle would be hollowed out a chapel presided over by an altar of iridescent, decomposing, ever-changing radium which would burn out the eyes of any worshipper who lifted up his head from prayer—and on this altar there would be slain for the amusement of the Divine Benefactor any victim He should choose, even though it should be the greatest and most powerful man alive.

In return he asked only a simple thing, a thing that for God would be absurdly easy—only that matters should be as they were yesterday at this hour and that they should so remain. So very simple! Let but the heavens open, swallowing these men and their aeroplanes—and then close again. Let him have his slaves once more, restored to life and well.

There was no one else with whom he had ever needed: to treat or bargain.

He doubted only whether he had made his bribe big enough. God had His price, of course. God was made in man's image, so it had been said: He must have His price. And the price would be rare—no cathedral whose building consumed many years, no pyramid constructed by ten thousand workmen, would be like this cathedral, this pyramid.

He paused here. That was his proposition. Everything would be up to specifications, and there was nothing vulgar in his assertion that it would be cheap at the price. He implied that Providence could take it or leave it.

As he approached the end his sentences became broken, became short and uncertain, and his body seemed tense, seemed strained to catch the slightest pressure or whisper of life in the spaces around him. His hair had turned gradually white as he talked, and now he lifted his head high to the heavens like a prophet of old—magnificently mad.

Then, as John stared in giddy fascination, it seemed to him that a curious phenomenon took place somewhere around him. It was as though the sky had darkened for an instant, as though there had been a sudden murmur in a gust of wind, a sound of far-away trumpets, a sighing like the rustle of a great silken robe—for a time the whole of nature round about partook of this darkness; the birds' song ceased; the trees were still, and far over the mountain there was a mutter of dull, menacing thunder.

That was all. The wind died along the tall grasses of the valley. The dawn and the day resumed their place in a time, and the risen sun sent hot waves of yellow mist that made its path bright before it. The leaves laughed in the sun, and their laughter shook until each bough was like a girl's school in fairyland. God had refused to accept the bribe.

For another moment John, watched the triumph of the day. Then, turning, he saw a flutter of brown down by the lake, then another flutter, then another, like the dance of golden angels alighting from the clouds. The aeroplanes had come to earth.

John slid off the boulder and ran down the side of the mountain to the clump of trees, where the two girls were awake and waiting for him. Kismine sprang to her feet, the jewels in her pockets jingling, a question on her parted lips, but instinct told John that there was no time for words. They must get off the mountain without losing a moment. He seized a hand of each, and in silence they threaded the tree-trunks, washed with light now and with the rising mist. Behind them from the valley came no sound at all, except the complaint of the peacocks far away and the pleasant of morning.

When they had gone about half a mile, they avoided the park land and entered a narrow path that led over the next rise of ground. At the highest point of this they paused and turned around. Their eyes rested upon the mountainside they had just left—oppressed by some dark sense of tragic impendency.

Clear against the sky a broken, white-haired man was slowly descending the steep slope, followed by two gigantic and emotionless negroes, who carried a burden between them which still flashed and glittered in the sun. Half-way down two other figures joined them—John could see that they were Mrs. Washington and her son, upon whose arm she leaned. The aviators had clambered from their machines to the sweeping lawn in front of the chateau, and with rifles in hand were starting up the diamond mountain in skirmishing formation.

But the little group of five which had formed farther up and was engrossing all the watchers' attention had stopped upon a ledge of rock. The negroes stooped and pulled up what appeared to be a trap-door in the side of the mountain. Into this they all disappeared, the white-haired man first, then his wife and son, finally the two negroes, the glittering tips of whose jewelled head-dresses caught the sun for a moment before the trap-door descended and engulfed them all.

Kismine clutched John's arm.

“Oh,” she cried wildly, “where are they going? What are they going to do?”

“It must be some underground way of escape—”

A little scream from the two girls interrupted his sentence.

“Don't you see?” sobbed Kismine hysterically. “The mountain is wired!”

Even as she spoke John put up his hands to shield his sight. Before their eyes the whole surface of the mountain had changed suddenly to a dazzling burning yellow, which showed up through the jacket of turf as light shows through a human hand. For a moment the intolerable glow continued, and then like an extinguished filament it disappeared, revealing a black waste from which blue smoke arose slowly, carrying off with it what remained of vegetation and of human flesh. Of the aviators there was left neither blood nor bone—they were consumed as completely as the five souls who had gone inside.

Simultaneously, and with an immense concussion, the chateau literally threw itself into the air, bursting into flaming fragments as it rose, and then tumbling back upon itself in a smoking pile that lay projecting half into the water of the lake. There was no fire—what smoke there was drifted off mingling with the sunshine, and for a few minutes longer a powdery dust of marble drifted from the great featureless pile that had once been the house of jewels. There was no more sound and the three people were alone in the valley.

钻石山 十

他们到达目的地的时候已经凌晨三点钟了。娴静沉着的佳斯敏立刻靠着一棵大树干睡着了。约翰搂着吉斯敏坐下来,眺望着山谷中的景象:前一天早上还是花园的地方如今已经成为一片废墟,那里还在令人绝望地进行着拉锯战,不过看样子战斗即将结束了。刚过四点钟,最后的那架高射炮在一阵迅速升腾起的红色烟雾中轰然倒塌,失去了战斗力。虽然月亮已经西沉,但是他们依然能够看见那些飞机在离地面更近的地方盘旋。这些飞机一旦确定被围困者再也没有能力反抗,就会降落到地面上,届时,华盛顿家族黑暗而光辉的统治也就宣告结束了。

停火之后,山谷里一片沉寂。两架飞机的残骸像趴在草丛里的怪兽的眼睛,闪着可怕的火光。城堡静静地立在黑暗中,虽然没有光,但它像在阳光中一样优雅标致。树林沙沙作响,似乎在进行公证的判决,空气中充斥着此起彼伏的哭诉声。这时,约翰发现,吉斯敏和她姐姐一样进入了甜蜜的梦乡。

四五点钟的时候,他听到他们刚刚走过的那条小道上有脚步声,他屏住呼吸,静静地等待着,他看见一拨属于钻石山一方的人从他们所在的有利地点经过。现在,空气里隐约有点天籁之声了,露水很凉,他知道天很快就要亮了。约翰等待着,直到那拨人走得远远地上了山,脚步声消失了,他觉得安全了,才跟踪过去。大约在陡峭的半山腰处,树木倒向一边,一大块马鞍一样的岩石遮在下面的钻石上。快走到这个地方的时候,他放慢了脚步,本能地感觉到前面有人。他走到一块椭圆形的大石头后面,慢慢地伸出头,他的好奇心得到了满足。他看到了如下的情景:

布拉道克·华盛顿悄然无声、毫无生气地站在那里一动不动,苍茫的天空映出他的身影。东方渐白,给大地蒙上一层清冷的绿色,使这个形单影只的人与新的一天形成微不足道的反差。

约翰观察着的时候,有一会儿,他的东道主在沉思冥想,显得神秘莫测。接着,他朝两个蹲在他脚边的黑人发出指令,让他们抬起横在他们中间的东西。当他们吃力地站起来的时候,第一缕金色的阳光立刻照在一颗精雕细琢的巨钻的无数个钻面上,巨钻立刻释放出一道道银色的光芒,像启明星的碎片一般在空中熠熠放光。两个黑人抬着钻石,打了几个趔趄——然后,他们身上的一块块肌肉在汗津津的皮肤下面绷得紧紧的。然而,三个人面对上苍,回天无力,又站着不动了。

过了一会儿,那个白人抬起头,慢慢地举起两只胳膊,摆出让人安静的姿势,好像要面对广大观众演讲一样——不过,没有广大观众,只有茫茫的大山和沉寂的天空,只有林中的小鸟发出微弱的叫声,来打破这天地的寂静。站在石鞍上的那个人以不容置喙的傲慢姿态有板有眼地开腔说话了。

“上边的,听着——”他声音颤抖地大声说,“你——听着——!”他不说了,依然举着胳膊,神情专注地抬着头,仿佛在等待回应。约翰睁大眼睛,想看看是否有人从山上下来,可是,山上空无一人,只有苍茫的天空和从树梢上吹来的嘲笑的笛声。华盛顿是在祈祷吗?约翰好奇地想了一会儿。接着,他就不再这么想了——这个人所有的言谈举止都和祈祷大相径庭。

“喂,上边的,你听着!”

他的声音很强硬,很自信,根本不是在哀求。要说有那么一点“求”的意思的话,那也是一种狂傲的屈尊。

“你,听着——”

他叽叽呱呱地说了一大通,根本无法听懂……约翰屏着呼吸仔细倾听,偶尔听懂一两个字。他的声音时断时续——一会儿强硬,像是在吵架;一会儿低沉困惑,怒气冲冲。然后,这唯一的听众开始明白是怎么回事了,他顿时觉得血脉偾张。布拉道克·华盛顿在贿赂上帝!

就是这么回事——毫无疑问。他的奴隶抬着的钻石只是预付的样品,他许诺以后会源源不断地供应。

过了很久,约翰才明白,这就是贯穿于他那一大堆话里的线索。大富大贵的普罗米修斯正在见证绝对在耶稣降生之前就被人们遗忘了的牺牲、祭拜仪式和祈祷。有一会儿,他提醒上帝,不要忘记自己曾经半推半就地从人类那里接受过的这样那样的礼物——上帝将城市从瘟疫之中救出时,人类为他建造的大教堂;人类因为贪欲和杀戮而犯下滔天罪行,为了祈求上帝平息、缓和怒气而将没药和黄金、人类的生命、美丽的女人、俘获的军队、孩子、王后、森林和田野里的野兽、绵羊和山羊、粮食蔬菜、城池以及征服的所有土地都献给了上帝——而现在,他,布拉道克·华盛顿,钻石皇帝、黄金时代的国王和牧师、享尽奢华的独裁者,愿意奉献的财宝就连以前的君王们都从来不敢奢望,他不是在哀求而是在骄傲地奉献这些财宝。

他继续祈祷,开始论及具体事宜。他愿意把这颗世界上最大的钻石献给上帝,这颗钻石可以切出比树上的叶子还要多出不知多少的钻面,而整颗钻石则可以雕刻得和蝇子一样大小的钻石一样精美无暇。不计其数的人将长年累月地为这颗钻石耗尽心血。它可以镶嵌在雄伟的、贴着金箔且雕饰华美的教堂圆顶上,再用蛋白石和古老的蓝宝石装饰教堂的大门。中间再建一个私人祈祷室,上面再用彩虹色的、能腐蚀一切的、永远变幻不定的镭石建造一个祭坛。祈祷的人只要在祈祷的时候胆敢抬头看一眼,他的眼睛立刻就会被烧坏——而且,为了能让神圣的救世主开心,在这个祭坛上,可以宰杀上帝所选中的任何一个牺牲品,哪怕他是拥有至高无上的权力的、最伟大的活人。

作为交换,他只有一个小小的要求,这对上帝而言,简直不费吹灰之力——只要将目前的一切恢复如初,直到永远。这非常简单!只要将天庭打开,把那些人和飞机吞没——然后再关上天庭的门就万事大吉了。让他重新拥有奴隶,恢复原来的生活和财富。

除了上帝,他不需要酬劳任何人,也不需要和任何人讨价还价。

他只怀疑他贿赂的东西是否够分量。上帝当然有他的价格标准。上帝以人的形象创造而来,人们如是说:他一定有他的代价(价格)(8)。而且这个价格一定非常昂贵——绝不是长年累月才建成的教堂,也绝不是上万工人建成的金字塔,而是他今天许诺给上帝的这座教堂和这座金字塔。

他停下来不说了,那便是他的建议。他声称,一切都会按照高标准办理,绝对货真价实,绝不会有任何流俗之处。他的言外之意是说,上帝是接受还是拒绝,悉听尊便。

快要说完的时候,他开始语不连贯,他的话既简短又迟疑,他似乎浑身紧张,似乎要用尽所有力气抓住周围空间里的空气和最细微的声音。说着说着,他的头发变白了。现在,他对着天庭,高高地昂着头,像古代的先知,疯狂之态无与伦比。

然后,正当约翰出神地看着这一切的时候,他仿佛感到一种奇怪的现象在他周围的某个地方发生了。天空仿佛在顷刻之间黯淡下来,一阵阵的风声中似乎夹杂着低沉的呼啸,远处有喇叭的声音,还有一声叹息,犹如宽松柔软的睡袍发出的窸窸窣窣的声音——一时之间,天昏地暗;鸟儿不再歌唱;树木也停止了摇动,远山传出沉闷、骇人的隆隆声。

一切都结束了。风躲进山谷里的深草丛中休息去了。黎明和白天很快又找准了自己的位置,初升的太阳释放出朦胧的黄色热浪,照亮了前方的道路。树叶在阳光下欢笑,树木和着笑声跳舞,枝条摇摆得像众仙女柔软飘逸的腰肢。上帝拒绝接受贿赂。

约翰又欣赏了一会儿白天取得的胜利,然后,他转过身,看见湖边相继飘落了一个个褐色的物体,好像从云彩里飘然而下的金色天使在跳舞。飞机已经着陆了。

约翰从大石头上滑下来,跑到山坡下的那片树林里,两个姑娘已经醒了,正在等他。吉斯敏跳起来,口袋里的珠宝发出叮叮当当的响声,她张开嘴,想要问什么,然而,本能告诉约翰,没有说话的时间了。他们必须立刻下山,一秒钟都不能耽搁。他分别抓住她们的一只手,悄悄地在树林中穿行,现在他们沐浴在阳光和山岚中。他们身后的山谷悄无声息,只有远处传来的孔雀的叫声和清晨欢乐的气息。

他们走了大约半英里,避开公园,踏上一条狭窄的小径,朝下一个山头走去。他们爬到山顶,停下脚步,回头张望。他们的目光落在刚刚离开的山坡上——那里感觉不妙,一场悲剧即将上演。

天空清晰地衬托出一个落魄的白发男人,他正慢慢地顺着陡峭的山坡往下走,身后跟着两个体格庞大、面无表情的黑人,他们抬着那颗在阳光下依然华光四射的巨钻。走到半山腰处,另外有两个人同他们会合——约翰看得出来,他们是华盛顿太太和搀扶着她的儿子。几个飞行员已经从飞机上下来,走到城堡前面一览无余的草坪上了。他们手里握着步枪,开始以小规模战斗的队形朝钻石山上攀登。

但是,那五个人的小队已经遥遥领先,而且吸引了所有观察者们的注意。他们在一块突出的岩石边停下脚步。黑人弓着腰,推开一扇像是装在山坡上的活板门。他们都进到里面,看不见了。白发男人先进去,接着是他的妻儿,最后是两个黑人。在活板门落下将他们吞没之前的那一刻,他们头饰上的钻石棱角在阳光的照射下发出璀璨的光芒。

吉斯敏紧紧抓着约翰的胳膊。

“哦,”她疯狂地叫道,“他们要去哪里?他们要干什么?”

“那肯定是一条可以逃生的地道——”

两个女孩的轻声尖叫打断了约翰的话。

“你没看见吗?”吉斯敏号啕大哭,“山上布了电线!”

听到她的话,约翰抬起两只手遮住刺目的阳光。只见整个山体表面突然燃烧起炫目的黄色火光,这些光是从草皮下面射出来的,好像是从指缝里漏出来的一样。这令人难以忍受的光继续燃烧了一会儿,然后像熄灭了的灯丝一样,消失了,留下一片黑色的垃圾,慢慢地冒着蓝烟,夺去了山上残留的植被和血肉之躯的生命。飞行员们连一滴血、一根骨头都没有留下——他们连同那进入山中的五个人的灵魂一样,彻底地不复存在了。

与此同时,随着一阵地动山摇,整个城堡飞入空中,被炸成无数燃烧的碎片,再跌回烟雾弥漫的废墟里,一半落入湖水中。没有火——只有那和阳光交织在一起的烟雾,缭绕着飘散了,从那曾经是珠宝堆砌的华屋豪舍而今却成为一大堆平淡无奇的废墟里腾起的大理石粉尘整整弥漫了几分钟之久。万籁俱寂,只剩下他们三个人孤独地待在这偌大的山谷中。

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