双语读电影 《爱丽丝梦游仙境-1》第04章 :今天是红皇后的格瑞布琳日。

The world Alice stepped into was strange and beautiful and unexpected, like a garden glimpsed in a mirror from far away. For some reason she had expected it to be full of flowers— talking flowers with silly personalities. But this garden was brown and tangled instead. Stone statues littered the walkways, many of them broken and overgrown with dead vines. The fountain no longer glittered with sun-speckled water. It was still and empty, covered in a creeping greenish-brown moss.
“HAAACHOOOOOORRRRRW!” Something bellow-sneezed behind her. Alice whirled around and saw a green pig dash past, its emerald hooves clattering on the dusty gravel paths. She blinked at its curly, brilliant green tail as it vanished behind a long hedge.
Her eyes fell on a row of flowers, and she jumped. They did have human faces—how had she known they would? But these were not the ones she’d expected somehow. These faces were gaunt and haunted, as if the flowers were starving. Their eyes stared blankly past her, and their petals hung limp, with pale, washed-out colors barely visible against the brown and gray backdrop. None of them spoke to her, although a couple let their gaze travel slowly across her face, then drift back down to the ground.
Now that Alice was paying closer attention, she could see living things moving all around her. Up in the air, dragonflies the size of horses were doing battle with horseflies the size of dragons and gnats that were bigger than any animal she’d ever seen. They swooped and zoomed toward one another, stinging and buzzing angrily. The weak sun, hidden by a haze of gray clouds, barely illuminated the blue green bodies of the dragonflies and the iridescent wings of all the battling insects.
Alice jumped again as another creature stalked past her—a shabby, thin bird on legs as tall and thin as the stilts little boys played with in the alleys outside her London home. She saw more birds that looked much the same: shoulders hunched, drab feathers falling out, knobbly legs that looked too skinny to support even the bird’s thin frame.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Alice muttered. This place was familiar and yet … somehow not. It seemed … sadder than she had imagined.
“I told you she’s the right Alice,” a voice said triumphantly.
Alice whirled around. A cluster of the oddest creatures stood behind her, all of them staring at her intently. The speaker was the White Rabbit, who stood with his front paws neatly tucked into his waistcoat. His long ears and wiggly nose twitched as he studied her.
She was getting an equally intense look from the large bird next to the White Rabbit—a dodo bird, if she was not mistaken. He was peering at her through a pair of eyeglasses and leaning on a walking stick.
The rest of the party consisted of one young dormouse in breeches and a pair of very round boys with their arms thrown over each other’s shoulders. Words were embroidered on their stiffly starched white collars. One said dee and the other said dum.
“I am not convinced,” said the Dormouse, shifting back and forth on her paws.
The White Rabbit threw up his hands. “How is that for gratitude!” he cried. “I’ve been up there for weeks trailing one Alice after the next! I was almost eaten by other animals! Can you imagine? They go about entirely unclothed and they do their … shukm … in public.” A full-body shudder rippled through his white fur. “I had to avert my eyes.” He touched one paw to his forehead dramatically.
“She doesn’t look anything like herself,” one of the flowers suddenly offered. A few of the other flowers with human faces perked up a little and squinted at Alice, who felt rather like a specimen under a microscope at this point.
“That’s because she’s the wrong Alice,” the Dormouse said again.
The pair of boys spoke up.
“And if she was, she might be,” said the one with Dee on his collar.
“But if she isn’t, she ain’t,” said Dum.
“But if she were so, she would be.”
“But she isn’t. No-how.”
They both shook their round, moonlike faces solemnly.
Alice put her hands on her hips. “How can I be the ‘wrong Alice’ when it’s my dream?” she demanded. “And who are you, if I may ask?”
One of the round boys seized her hand. “Oh, I’m Tweedledee, and he’s Tweedledum,” he rattled off quickly.
“Contrariwise,” the other piped up, “I’m Tweedledum—he’s Tweedledee.”
Which didn’t give her much of an answer, really.
The Dodo cleared his throat. “We should consult Absolem.”
The others all nodded. Even the talking flower’s head bobbed up and down. “Exactly,” said the flower. “Absolem will know who she is.”
Tweedledee offered Alice his arm. “I’ll escort you,” he offered.
Just as she was about to take it, Tweedledum suddenly seized her elbow and yanked her away. “Hey, it’s not being your turn! So unfair!” he insisted.
Tweedledee grabbed her other arm and tried to tug her back to him. “Hey, leave off!” he yelled.
“Let go!” bellowed the other.
Alice thought she might split in two in a minute. She wriggled free and jumped away. “Are they always this way?” she asked the rabbit.
“Family trait,” the White Rabbit answered.
“You can both escort her,” he said firmly to the Tweedles.
Shooting daggers at each other with their eyes, Tweedledee and Tweedledum each took one of Alice’s arms and led her forward. The Dormouse, the Dodo, and the White Rabbit followed close behind.
As they walked through the overgrown garden, Alice could hear the talking flowers whispering about her whenever they passed by.
“It can’t be her,” murmured a glum-looking daisy.
“She looks nothing like Alice,” agreed a drooping tiger lily.
“She is not even wearing the right dress,” complained one of the violets.
Alice peered at the tiger lily as they hurried by. It couldn’t look familiar … how silly! All tiger lilies looked the same, surely. And yet there was something about this one, as if they’d met before. How peculiar this dream was getting!
“Who is this Absolem?” Alice asked her companions. She couldn’t remember dreaming about an “Absolem” before.
“He’s wise,” said the White Rabbit. “He’s absolute.”
“He’s Absolem,” the Tweedles added in unison, as if that should answer the question. Alice realized she wasn’t going to get much more useful information out of them. She’d have to wait until they reached this wise old Absolem.
She blinked, then blinked again. The garden path sloped down a little hill, and slowly—so slowly that at first she hadn’t noticed it—they were surrounded by a strange mist. Through the mist she could see that they were wandering into a tall forest, but the trees were not by any means ordinary. Their trunks were fat and pale, and when Alice looked up to find branches, she saw instead a flat brownish gray canopy extending out from the top of the trunk in an unbroken, round circle.
“Oh!” she gasped softly. They weren’t trees … they were mushrooms! She was standing in a forest of tall mushrooms, many of them towering high above her head. The earth was spongy and squishy and dark under her shoes.
“Who are you?” intoned a deep voice.
Alice’s eyes traveled up the nearest trunk—up and up and up to where the mist was rising in a steady plume. It wasn’t an ordinary mist. It was the smoke from a hookah. And that hookah was currently being smoked by a very large blue caterpillar.
A shiver danced across Alice’s skin. She did remember something about a blue caterpillar. But before she could fit the pieces of her memory together, the White Rabbit pushed her toward the mushroom.
“Um,” Alice stammered. “Absolem?”
The Caterpillar writhed a little, looking displeased. “You’re not Absolem,” it pointed out. “I’m Absolem. The question is … who are YOU?”
He inhaled deeply, then puffed a series of smoke rings in her face. Alice coughed and tried to wave the smoke away.
“Alice,” she answered when she could breathe again.
“We shall see,” the Caterpillar responded skeptically.
“What do you mean by that?” Alice demanded.
All this nonsense about being the wrong Alice was starting to annoy her. “I ought to know who I am!”
“Yes, you ought,” said the Caterpillar with a disapproving look. “Stupid girl. Unroll the Oraculum,” he added commandingly.
The White Rabbit hopped over to a nearby toadstool, only as high as Alice’s shoulders. He bounced up on his strong back paws and grabbed the ancient parchment lying rolled up on top of it. With a dramatic flourish, he unrolled it.
“The Oraculum,” he announced. “Being a Calendrical Compendium of Underland.”
Alice peered over his shoulder. It was the oddest scroll. It looked nothing like her neat schoolbooks with their even rows of dates and boring historical facts. But it was clearly a timeline, with important events marked for each day. Every day had a title, but every day also had an odd little illustration next to it … and some of them were moving!
“It’s a calendar,” Alice guessed.
“Compendium,” the Caterpillar corrected her. “It tells of each and every day since the Beginning.”
“Today is Griblig Day in the time of the Red Queen,” explained the White Rabbit. He pointed with one paw at the illustration for “Griblig Day.”
To Alice’s surprise, the illustration showed her, the White Rabbit, and all the others peering at the Oraculum—exactly the way they were peering at it that very moment!
Well, that’s odd, she thought. More than odd, it’s curious. And it makes me curious. How did the parchment know what was going to happen before it happened?
“Show her the Frabjous Day,” said the Caterpillar. Its long blue coils rippled as it went back to smoking the hookah.
The White Rabbit flipped ahead in the scroll, turning the rolls on either side to advance into the future. Tweedledee was too impatient to wait. He was dancing on his small round feet.
“Oh yeah, Frabjous being the day you slay the Jabberwocky,” he told Alice.
“Sorry?” she said. “Slay a … what?”
He pointed at the Oraculum, and Alice turned slowly to see the illustration on “Frabjous Day.” It was one of the moving pictures—unfortunately, since the thing moving in it was one of the most horrible creatures Alice had ever seen. It was as tall as a giraffe with reptilian wings, scales, long sharp claws, a pronged tail, and a vest. Not to mention its enormous gnashing teeth and wide, flaming eyes.
In the picture, the Jabberwocky hissed furiously at a female knight with long blond hair, wearing chain mail, and carrying a shining sword. They fought, blade clashing against claws and scales, and the Jabberwocky shrieked with anger.
Tweedledum’s pudgy finger poked into her view, tapping the illustration of the knight. “Oh, yeah, that being you there with the Vorpal Sword.”
“No other swords can kill the Jabberwocky,” said Tweedledee. “No-how.”
“If it ain’t Vorpal, he ain’t dead,” said Tweedledum.
Alice stared at the image, transfixed. That couldn’t be her. She’d never worn chain mail in her life! Let alone lifted a sword! She couldn’t even imagine battling a giant monster like that!
The knight in the picture swung her sword, turning her face toward the readers of the scroll. Alice gasped.
It was her. Most unmistakably. And she had bloodlust in her eyes.

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