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双语·坎特维尔的幽灵 坎特维尔的幽灵 _ 第五章

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2022年06月13日

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THE CANTERVILLE GHOST _ Chapter 5

A few days after this, Virginia and her curly-haired cavalier went out riding on Brockley meadows, where she tore her habit so badly in getting through a hedge, that, on their return home, she made up her mind to go up by the back staircase so as not to be seen. As she was running past the Tapestry Chamber, the door of which happened to be opened, she fancied she saw some one inside, and thinking it was her mother's maid, who sometimes used to bring her work there, looked in to ask her to mend her habit. To her immense surprise, however, it was the Canterville Ghost himself! He was sitting by the window, watching the ruined gold of the yellowing trees fly through the air, and the red leaves dancing madly down the long avenue. His head was leaning on his hand, and his whole attitude was one of extreme depression. Indeed, so forlorn, and so much out of repair did he look, that little Virginia, whose first idea had been to run away and lock herself in her room, was filled with pity, and determined to try and comfort him. So light was her footfall, and so deep his melancholy, that he was not aware of her presence till she spoke to him.

“I am so sorry for you,” she said, “but my brothers are going back to Eton to-morrow, and then, if you behave yourself, no one will annoy you.”

“It is absurd asking me to behave myself,” he answered, looking round in astonishment at the pretty little girl who had ventured to address him, “quite absurd. I must rattle my chains, and groan through keyholes, and walk about at night, if that is what you mean. It is my only reason for existing.”

“It is no reason at all for existing, and you know you have been very wicked. Mrs. Umney told us, the first day we arrived here, that you had killed your wife.”

“Well, I quite admit it,” said the Ghost petulantly, “but it was a purely family matter, and concerned no one else.”

“It is very wrong to kill any one,” said Virginia, who at times had a sweet Puritan gravity, caught from some old New England ancestor.

“Oh, I hate the cheap severity of abstract ethics! My wife was very plain, never had my ruffs properly starched, and knew nothing about cookery. Why, there was a buck I had shot in Hogley Woods, a magnificent pricket, and do you know how she had it sent up to table? However, it is no matter now, for it is all over, and I don't think it was very nice of her brothers to starve me to death, though I did kill her.”

“Starve you to death? Oh, Mr. Ghost, I mean Sir Simon, are you hungry? I have a sandwich in my case. Would you like it?”

“No, thank you, I never eat anything now; but it is very kind of you, all the same, and you are much nicer than the rest of your horrid, rude, vulgar, dishonest family.”

“Stop!” cried Virginia, stamping her foot, “it is you who are rude, and horrid, and vulgar, and as for dishonesty, you know you stole the paints out of my box to try and furbish up that ridiculous blood-stain in the library. First you took all my reds, including the vermilion, and I couldn't do any more sunsets, then you took the emerald-green and the chrome-yellow, and finally I had nothing left but indigo and Chinese white, and could only do moonlight scenes, which are always depressing to look at, and not at all easy to paint. I never told on you, though I was very much annoyed, and it was most ridiculous, the whole thing; for who ever heard of emerald-green blood?”

“Well, really,” said the Ghost, rather meekly, “what was I to do? It is a very difficult thing to get real blood nowadays, and, as your brother began it all with his Paragon Detergent, I certainly saw no reason why I should not have your paints. As for colour, that is always a matter of taste: the Cantervilles have blue blood, for instance, the very bluest in England; but I know you Americans don't care for things of this kind.”

“You know nothing about it, and the best thing you can do is to emigrate and improve your mind. My father will be only too happy to give you a free passage, and though there is a heavy duty on spirits of every kind, there will be no difficulty about the Custom House, as the officers are all Democrats. Once in New York, you are sure to be a great success. I know lots of people there who would give a hundred thousand dollars to have a grandfather, and much more than that to have a family Ghost.”

“I don't think I should like America.”

“I suppose because we have no ruins and no curiosities,” said Virginia satirically.

“No ruins! no curiosities!” answered the Ghost, “you have your navy and your manners.”

“Good evening; I will go and ask papa to get the twins an extra week's holiday.”

“Please don't go, Miss Virginia,” he cried; “I am so lonely and so unhappy, and I really don't know what to do. I want to go to sleep and I cannot.”

“That's quite absurd! You have merely to go to bed and blow out the candle. It is very difficult sometimes to keep awake, especially at church, but there is no difficulty at all about sleeping. Why, even babies know how to do that, and they are not very clever.”

“I have not slept for three hundred years,” he said sadly, and Virginia's beautiful blue eyes opened in wonder; “for three hundred years I have not slept, and I am so tired.”

Virginia grew quite grave, and her little lips trembled like rose-leaves. She came towards him, and kneeling down at his side, looked up into his old withered face.

“Poor, poor Ghost,” she murmured, “have you no place where you can sleep?”

“Far away beyond the pine-woods,” he answered, in a low dreamy voice, “there is a little garden. There the grass grows long and deep, there are the great white stars of the hemlock flower, there the nightingale sings all night long. All night long he sings, and the cold, crystal moon looks down, and the yew-tree spreads out its giant arms over the sleepers.”

Virginia's eyes grew dim with tears, and she hid her face in her hands.

“You mean the Garden of Death,” she whispered.

“Yes, Death. Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace. You can help me. You can open for me the portals of Death's house, for Love is always with you, and Love is stronger than Death is.”

Virginia trembled, a cold shudder ran through her, and for a few moments there was silence. She felt as if she was in a terrible dream.

Then the Ghost spoke again, and his voice sounded like the sighing of the wind.

“Have you ever read the old prophecy on the library window?”

“Oh, often,” cried the little girl, looking up; “I know it quite well. It is painted in curious black letters, and it is difficult to read. There are only six lines:

When a golden girl can win

Prayer from out the lips of sin,

When the barren almond bears,

And a little child gives away its tears,

Then shall all the house be still

And peace come to Canterville.

But I don't know what they mean.”

“They mean,” he said sadly, “that you must weep for me for my sins, because I have no tears, and pray with me for my soul, because I have no faith, and then, if you have always been sweet, and good, and gentle, the Angel of Death will have mercy on me. You will see fearful shapes in darkness, and wicked voices will whisper in your ear, but they will not harm you, for against the purity of a little child the powers of Hell cannot prevail.”

Virginia made no answer, and the Ghost wrung his hands in wild despair as he looked down at her bowed golden head. Suddenly she stood up, very pale, and with a strange light in her eyes. “I am not afraid,” she said firmly, “and I will ask the Angel to have mercy on you.”

He rose from his seat with a faint cry of joy, and taking her hand bent over it with old-fashioned grace and kissed it. His fingers were as cold as ice, and his lips burned like fire, but Virginia did not falter, as he led her across the dusky room. On the faded green tapestry were broidered little huntsmen. They blew their tasselled horns and with their tiny hands waved to her to go back. “Go back! little Virginia,” they cried, “go back!” but the Ghost clutched her hand more tightly, and she shut her eyes against them. Horrible animals with lizard tails, and goggle eyes, blinked at her from the carven chimney-piece, and murmured “Beware! little Virginia, beware! we may never see you again,” but the Ghost glided on more swiftly, and Virginia did not listen. When they reached the end of the room he stopped, and muttered some words she could not understand. She opened her eyes, and saw the wall slowly fading away like a mist, and a great black cavern in front of her. A bitter cold wind swept round them, and she felt something pulling at her dress. “Quick, quick,” cried the Ghost, “or it will be too late,” and, in a moment, the wainscoting had closed behind them, and the Tapestry Chamber was empty.

坎特维尔的幽灵 _ 第五章

之后过了几天,弗吉尼娅和她的鬈发骑士出门,前往布洛克雷牧场骑马。到了那里,在穿过一道树篱的时候,她挂坏了骑装,所以他们回家后,她打定主意从后楼梯上去,以免被人看见。她跑过挂毯屋的时候,门正好开着,她看见里面好像有人,认为那是她母亲的侍女,侍女有时会把活计带到那里做,所以她就朝里面看了看,想请侍女给她修补一下骑装。然而,让她无比惊讶的是,那居然是坎特维尔的幽灵!只见他正坐在窗边,望着金黄色的落叶飘过空中,红叶沿着长长的林荫道狂舞。他的头倚在一只手上,整个姿态看上去极度消沉。实际上,小弗吉尼娅看到他的第一个想法就是逃走,然后把自己锁在房间里,但她又感到了怜悯,决心去设法安慰他。她的脚步是那么轻,他的忧郁是那么深,直到她对他说话,他才意识到她的存在。

“真是抱歉,”她说,“但我的两个弟弟明天将返回伊顿公学,之后,如果你行为规矩的话,就没有人会打扰你。”

“要求我行为规矩,真是荒唐,”他一边回答,一边惊讶地回头望着这个斗胆跟他说话的漂亮小女孩,“真是可笑极了。我必须把锁链晃得叮当乱响,透过锁孔发出呻吟,夜里走来走去,你指的是这些吗?这是我存在的唯一理由。”

“这根本不是存在的理由,你知道你一向邪恶透顶。我们来到这里的第一天,乌姆妮太太告诉我们说,你杀了自己的妻子。”

“好吧,我完全承认这一点,”幽灵气急败坏地说,“但那纯粹是一个家庭问题,跟别人无关。”

“杀死任何一个人,都是非常错误的。”弗吉尼娅说,她不时地表现出一种可爱的清教徒般的严肃神情,这种严肃源自某个古老的新英格兰祖先。

“噢,我讨厌抽象道德的假正经!我的妻子相貌平平,从来没有浆好过我的衣领,而且对烹饪一无所知。哎呀,有一次我在霍格莱树林打死了一只公鹿,那是一只非常壮硕的两岁公鹿,你知道她是怎么把它送上餐桌的吗?不管怎样,现在都无关紧要了,因为一切都过去了,尽管的确是我杀了她,但我认为,她的兄弟们把我饿死也不是很地道。”

“把你饿死?噢,幽灵先生,我是说西蒙先生,你饿了吗?我的盒子里有一块三明治。你喜欢吃吗?”

“不,谢谢你,我现在从来不吃任何东西。不过,你还是有情有义,比你那些可怕、粗鲁、庸俗而又不诚实的家人好多了。”

“住口!”弗吉尼娅跺着脚嚷道,“可怕、粗鲁、庸俗的是你,至于不诚实,你自己清楚,你从我的盒子里偷走了我的颜料,试图保持书房里那块荒唐可笑的血迹。首先,你拿走了我所有的红色,包括朱红色,结果任何落日我都画不成了,接着你拿走了翠绿色和铬黄色,最后我只剩下了靛蓝和中国白,只能画月光下的场景,可那景象总是令人沮丧,也根本不容易画。尽管我气得不行,但我从来没有告发过你,整个事情真是荒唐极了,谁曾经听说过翠绿色的血液呢?”

“噢,真的吗?”幽灵颇为温顺地说,“我该怎么办?如今很难搞到真正的血了,况且,你的兄弟一开始就用完美牌洗涤剂挑起事端,我当然看不出有什么理由不拿你的颜料。至于颜色,这始终是一个品位的问题。比如,坎特维尔家族具有贵族血统——英国最高贵的血统;可是,我知道你们美国人不关心这样的事儿。”

“你对此一无所知,而你能做得最好的事儿就是移居国外,长长见识。我的父亲会十分乐意给你自由通行权,尽管那里各种烈酒都有重税,但海关方面不会有任何困难,因为那些官员都是民主党人。一旦到了纽约,你就一定能大获成功。我知道,那里好多人愿意出十万美元获得一个爷爷,而对于一个家族幽灵出价会高得多。”

“我认为我不会喜欢美国。”

“我想是因为我们没有废墟,也没有古玩。”弗吉尼娅讥讽地说。

“不要废墟!不要古玩!”幽灵回答说,“还有你们的海军和美式礼仪。”

“再见,我要去请求爸爸再给这对双胞胎一个星期假。”

“请不要走,弗吉尼娅小姐,”他喊道,“我很孤独,也很不开心,我真不知道该怎么办。我想去睡觉,却又睡不着。”

“这相当荒唐!你只需上床,吹灭蜡烛就行了。有时保持清醒很难,尤其是在教堂,但睡觉根本不难。哎呀,就是婴儿也知道该怎么做,而他们并不是很聪明。”

“我已经三百年没有睡过觉了,”他伤心地说,弗吉尼娅美丽的蓝眼睛惊奇地睁大,“三百年来我都没有睡过觉了,我好累呀。”

弗吉尼娅变得相当严肃,小小的嘴唇像玫瑰花叶一样颤抖。她向他走来,在他的身边跪下来,抬起头,望着他苍老干瘪的脸庞。

“可怜巴巴的幽灵,”她喃喃地说,“你没有可以睡觉的地方吗?”

“在很远的松林那边,”他用梦幻般的声音低沉地答道,“有一座小花园。那里的草长得又高又深,那里有又大又白的星形的铁杉花,那里的夜莺彻夜鸣唱。它彻夜鸣唱,水晶般的寒月俯瞰下方,紫杉树展开巨大的手臂撑在沉睡者的上方。”

弗吉尼娅渐渐地泪眼模糊,把脸藏在了自己的双手里。

“你是说死亡花园吧。”她低声说道。

“是的,是死亡。死亡一定非常美丽。躺在柔软的褐色泥土里,青草在头顶晃动,倾听寂静的声音。没有昨天,也没有明天。要忘却时间,要原谅生活,要安宁。你可以帮助我。你可以为我打开死亡之屋的门,因为爱跟你永在,爱比死亡更强大。”

弗吉尼娅一哆嗦,浑身打了个冷战,有片刻的沉默。她觉得自己仿佛是在一个可怕的梦里。

这时,幽灵又说起了话,他的声音听上去就像是风的叹息。

“你读过书房窗户上的那段古老预言吗?”

“噢,经常读,”小女孩抬起头大声说道,“我一清二楚。那是用古怪的黑色字母涂写的,读起来很难。只有六行:

当可人的女孩能从罪恶之口,

赢得一次次祈祷,

当荒芜的巴旦木有果实结出,

小孩子流下一颗颗泪珠,

这时整个房子一片静悄悄,

坎特维尔的安宁就会来到。

但我不知道这是什么意思。”

“这些话是说,”他伤心地说,“你必须跟我一起为我的罪恶哭泣,因为我没有眼泪;跟我一起为我的灵魂祈祷,因为我没有信仰;接下来,如果你始终甜美、善良和温柔,死亡天使就会怜悯我。你会在黑暗中看到形形色色可怕的身影,各种各样邪恶的声音会在你的耳边低语,但它们伤害不了你,因为地狱的力量对小孩子的纯真发挥不了作用。”

弗吉尼娅没有回答,幽灵一边俯视着她低垂的金发脑袋,一边十分绝望地绞着双手。突然,她站起来,脸色煞白,眼里有一种异样的光芒。“我不害怕,”她坚定地说,“我会请天使怜悯你的。”

他发出了一声轻微的欢呼,从座位上站起身,拉住她的手,以古老优雅的方式弯下腰,吻了吻。他的手指像冰一样冷,嘴唇像火一样烫。但当他领着弗吉尼娅穿过昏暗的房间的时候,她没有动摇。淡绿色的挂毯上绣着一些小猎人。这些小猎人吹着流苏号角,挥动着小手让她回去。“回去!小弗吉尼娅,”他们喊道,“回去吧!”然而,幽灵把她的手抓得更紧了。于是,她闭上了眼睛,不再看那些小猎手。一些带有蜥蜴尾巴的可怕动物从雕刻的壁炉架上对她眨着金鱼眼睛,喃喃地说:“当心!小弗吉尼娅,当心!我们可能再也见不到你了。”但是,幽灵向前滑行得更快了,弗吉尼娅听而不闻。当他们走到房间尽头的时候,他停下来,喃喃地说了一些她听不懂的话。她睁开眼睛,看到墙像雾一样慢慢地消失,一个巨大的黑色洞穴出现在她面前。一阵刺骨的寒风从他们身边扫过,她感觉有什么东西拽着她的衣服。“快,快,”幽灵喊道,“否则就来不及了。”护墙板立刻就在他们身后合拢了,挂毯屋空空如也。

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