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The Chrysanthemums 菊花--约翰•斯坦贝克(3)

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2015年06月06日

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Elisa, squatting on the ground, watched to see the crazy, loose-jointed wagon pass by. But it didn't pass. It turned into the farm road in front of her house, crooked old wheels skirling and squeaking. The rangy dog darted from between the wheels and ran ahead. Instantly the two ranch shepherds flew out at him. Then all three stopped, and with stiff and quivering tails, with taut straight legs, with ambassadorial dignity, they slowly circled, sniffing daintily. The caravan pulled up to Elisa's wire fence and stopped. Now the newcomer dog, feeling out-numbered, lowered his tail and retired under the wagon with raised hackles and bared teeth.

伊利莎蹲在地上,看着这辆怪模怪样、松松垮垮的马车驶过去。但它并没有从她的眼前过去,而是弯上了经过她家门前的农场小路,破旧的车轮吱嘎吱嘎尖厉地响着。车下面轮子间的那条瘦骨嶙峋的长腿狗冲到了马车的前面,马上,两条牧羊犬朝着它冲了上去。于是,三条狗都站住了,尾巴直竖着、颤抖着,绷紧了腿,带着外交官般的庄重神情。它们互相围着打转,挑剔地嗅着对方。大篷车在伊利莎家的铁丝栅栏边上停了下来。那条初来乍到的狗这时感觉到数量上的众寡悬殊,垂下尾巴,退回到车下,脖子上的毛竖着,牙齿露在外面。

The man on the wagon seat called out, "That's a bad dog in a fight when he gets started." Elisa laughed. "I see he is. How soon does he generally get started?" The man caught up her laughter and echoed it heartily. "Sometimes not for weeks and weeks,” he said. He climbed stiffly down, over the wheel. The horse and the donkey drooped like unwatered flowers. Elisa saw that he was a very big man. Although his hair and beard were greying, he did not look old. His worn black suit was wrinkled and spotted with grease. The laughter had disappeared from his face and eyes the moment his laughing voice ceased. His eyes were dark, and they were full of the brooding that gets in the eyes of teamsters and of sailors. The calloused hands he rested on the wire fence were cracked, and every crack was a black line. He took off his battered hat.

坐在车上的男人喊道,“这条狗打架受惊时不是条好狗。”伊利莎笑道,“我看是的,它一般要多久就会受惊?”那人被伊利莎的笑声感染,也大声地笑了起来。“ 有时好几周也不会,”他说。说着,他生硬地从车轮上爬下车。那匹马和那头毛驴耷拉着脑袋,象缺了水的花。伊利莎看得出他是个大块头,虽然头发胡子都白了,却并不显老。褴褛的黑色西装皱皱巴巴的,还有星星点点的油渍。笑声一停,他眼角眉梢的笑容也顿时没了。他双眼乌黑,充满忧郁,这种眼神通常只出现在卡车司机或水手的眼里。他放在铁丝栅栏上的手打满了老茧,裂着一条条黑乎乎的口子。他脱下了那顶破烂的帽子。

"I'm off my general road, ma'am," he said. "Does this dirt road cut over across the river to the Los Angeles highway?" Elisa stood up and shoved the thick scissors in her apron pocket. "Well, yes, it does, but it winds around and then fords the river. I don't think your team could pull through the sand." He replied with some asperity, "It might surprise you what them beasts can pull through." "When they get started?" she asked. He smiled for a second. "Yes. When they get started." "Well," said Elisa, "I think you'll save time if you go back to the Salinas road and pick up the highway there." He drew a big finger down the chicken wire and made it sing. "I ain't in any hurry, ma'am. I go from Seattle to San Diego and back every year. Takes all my time. About six months each way. I aim to follow nice weather."

“夫人,我走岔路了,”他说,“沿这条土路过河上得了去洛山矶的公路吗?”伊利莎站了起来,把那把大剪子放到围裙口袋里。“啊,上得了。不过,这条路要绕很远,然后还要从水中蹚过河,我想你很难走过那片沙滩。”他粗暴地回答,“要是你知道这些家伙都走过什么样的地方,或许会吃惊的。”“一旦它们受惊吗?” 她问。他笑了一笑。“是的,一旦它们受惊。”“嗯,”伊利莎说,“我想,要是你拐回去到萨利纳斯的路,再从那儿上公路,会省些时间。”他用一个大手指弹了一下栅栏,它响了起来。“我一点儿都不着急,夫人。我每年从西雅图走到圣地亚哥,再回来,总是不慌不忙。一趟大概半年光景,哪儿的天气好我就往哪儿走。”

Elisa took off her gloves and stuffed them in the apron pocket with the scissors. She touched the under edge of her man's hat, searching for fugitive hairs. "That sounds like a nice kind of a way to live," she said. He leaned confidentially over the fence. "Maybe you noticed the writing on my wagon. I mend pots and sharpen knives and scissors. You got any of them things to do?" "Oh, no," she said quickly. "Nothing like that." Her eyes hardened with resistance. "Scissors is the worst thing," he explained. "Most people just ruin scissors trying to sharpen ‘em, but I know how. I got a special tool. It's a little bobbit kind of thing, and patented. But it sure does the trick." "No. My scissors are all sharp." "All right, then. Take a pot," he continued earnestly, "a bent pot, or a pot with a hole. I can make it like new so you don't have to buy no new ones. That's a saving for you." "No," she said shortly. "I tell you I have nothing like that for you to do."

伊利莎脱下手套,把它们放在装着剪子的围裙口袋里。她碰了碰自己那顶男式帽子的底沿,看有没有头发从里面跑出来。“听起来很不错的活法,”她说。他把身子弯向栅栏里面,显出很亲密的样子,说,“或许你看到了我马车上的那些字,我修理锅,磨剪子磨菜刀。你有什么东西要修吗?”“哦,没有,”她忙说。“没什么要修的。”她的眼神坚定起来,透出拒绝的神情。“剪子是最难对付的东西,”他解释说。“大部分人只知道拼命磨它,结果却糟蹋了它,可我知道怎么能把剪子磨快又不糟蹋它。我有专门的工具,是一件小玩意儿,还取得了专利,好用得很。”“不过,我的剪子都很快。”“那好吧。”他继续劝说着,“拿口锅修修吧,不管是瘪了的还是有洞的,我都能修得象新的一样,这样你就不用买新锅了。这你不是省钱了吗?”“不用,”她简短地答道。“我告诉过你我没什么要修的东西。”

His face fell to an exaggerated sadness. His voice took on a whining undertone. "I ain't had a thing to do today. Maybe I won't have no supper tonight. You see I'm off my regular road. I know folks on the highway clear from Seattle to San Diego. They save their things for me to sharpen up because they know I do it so good and save them money." "I'm sorry," Elisa said irritably. "I haven't anything for you to do." His eyes left her face and fell to searching the ground. They roamed about until they came to the chrysanthemum bed where she had been working. "What's them plants, ma'am?" The irritation and resistance melted from Elisa's face. "Oh, those are chrysanthemums, giant whites and yellows. I raise them every year, bigger than anybody around here." "Kind of a long-stemmed flower? Looks like a quick puff of colored smoke?" he asked. "That's it. What a nice way to describe them." "They smell kind of nasty till you get used to them," he said. "It's a good bitter smell," she retorted, "not nasty at all." He changed his tone quickly. "I like the smell myself." "I had ten-inch blooms this year," she said.

他的脸顿时变得一种夸张的痛苦,就连声音也变得呜咽了。“我今天一件活儿都没干成,或许今晚饭都吃不上。你看我走错了路,我认识从西雅图到圣地亚歌沿途所有的人,他们都把那些坏的家伙放起来等我来修,因为他们知道我活儿干得好,给他们省钱。”“对不起,”伊利莎有些着恼。“我没什么东西好让你修。”他的目光离开了她的脸,落到了地上,四处瞥了瞥,最后停到伊利莎忙碌着的那片菊花地上。“夫人,那些是什么呀?”听到这话,伊利莎脸上的恼怒和拒绝缓和了。“ 啊,那是菊花,巨白菊和黄菊。我每年都种,开起来比方圆左近的人种的都大。”“是一种长茎花吗?看起来象是一朵彩色烟雾?”他问。“正是,你这样比喻太恰当了。”“要是不习惯它的香味,闻起来有点儿难受,”他说。“那是一种好闻的苦香,”她反驳道,“一点儿也不难受。”他马上改了口。“我就很喜欢那种香味。”“我今年有直径十英寸那么大的花,”她说。

The man leaned farther over the fence. "Look. I know a lady down the road a piece, has got the nicest garden you ever seen. Got nearly every kind of flower but no chrysanthemums. Last time I was mending a copper-bottom washtub for her (that's a hard job but I do it good), she said to me, 'If you ever run across some nice chrysanthemums I wish you'd try to get me a few seeds.' That's what she told me.”Elisa's eyes grew alert and eager. "She couldn't have known much about chrysanthemums. You can raise them from seed, but it's much easier to root the little sprouts you see there." "Oh," he said. "I s'pose I can't take none to her, then." "Why yes you can," Elisa cried. "I can put some in damp sand, and you can carry them right along with you. They'll take root in the pot if you keep them damp. And then she can transplant them." "She'd sure like to have some, ma'am. You say they're nice ones?" "Beautiful," she said. "Oh, beautiful." Her eyes shone. She tore off the battered hat and shook out her dark pretty hair. "I'll put them in a flower pot, and you can take them right with you. Come into the yard."

那人又朝栅栏里边靠了靠。“喂,我认识下面离这儿不远的一位太太,从没见过那么好的花园,里面几乎什么花儿都有,就是没有菊花。我上次给她修了一个铜底洗衣盆。那可是件棘手的活儿,不过我干得很好。她跟我说,‘如果你能碰上什么好的菊花,希望你能给我带点儿种子来。’她这么跟我说。”伊利莎眼睛一亮,变得热切起来。"她不可能知道很多关于菊花的知识。你可以下种,但插幼苗的方法更容易,就是你在那边看到的那些。”“啊,”他叫道。“这样的话,我估计一棵也给她带不去了。” “为什么不能?你可以,”伊利莎大声说,“我可以把幼苗种在湿的沙土里,你就可以随身带着了。只要保持沙土不干,这些幼苗就会在花盆里生根,然后她就可以移栽它们了。”“她肯定很高兴有这些菊花,夫人。它们是很漂亮的菊花,对吧?”“漂亮,”她说,“啊,非常漂亮。”她的双眼这会儿炯炯有神。她一把拉下了那顶破旧的帽子,乌黑漂亮的头发散了开来。“我把它们栽到一个花盆里,你再带走。到院里来吧。”

While the man came through the picket gate Elisa ran excitedly along the geranium-bordered path to the back of the house. And she returned carrying a big red flower pot. The gloves were forgotten now. she kneeled on the ground by the starting bed and dug up the sandy soil with her fingers and scooped it into the bright new flower pot. Then she picked up the little pile of shoots she had prepared. With her strong fingers she pressed them into the sand and tamped around them with her knuckles. The man stood over her. "I'll tell you what to do," she said. "You remember so you can tell the lady." "Yes, I'll try to remember." "Well, look. These will take root in about a month. Then she must set them out, about a foot apart in good rich earth like this, see?" She lifted a handful of dark soil for him to look at. "They'll grow fast and tall. Now remember this: In July tell her to cut them down, about eight inches from the ground." "Before they bloom?" he asked. "Yes, before they bloom." Her face was tight with eagerness. "They'll grow right up again. About the last of September the buds will start."

那男人进了尖木桩做的大门,而伊利莎兴奋地沿着两边都是天竺葵的小路跑到房子后面,回来的时候抱着一个大个儿的红花盆。手套已经不知道扔哪儿去了。她跪在苗床旁的地上,用手指挖些沙土,然后捧到那个新的红花盆里。接着她捡起准备好的一小捆苗,用自己有力的手指将它们插到沙子里,然后再用指节在周围拍了拍。男人低头看着她。“我会告诉你怎么做的,”她说。“你得记着,好告诉那位太太。”“好的,我尽力记住。”“那好,记着,这些幼苗会在一个月左右扎根。然后她就得把它们移栽出来,移到象这样肥沃的土壤里,每隔一英尺种一棵,你明白吗?”她抓起一满把黑色的土壤让他看。“它们会长得很快很高。你记着:告诉她七月的时候把它们剪短,剪到距地面大概八英寸高。”“在它们开花前吗?”他问。“是的,在开花前。”她的脸因为兴奋绷得紧紧的。“它们很快就会长起来;九月末就开始打花骨朵了。”

She stopped and seemed perplexed. "It's the budding that takes the most care," she said hesitantly. "I don't know how to tell you." She looked deep into his eyes, searchingly. Her mouth opened a little, and she seemed to be listening. "I'll try to tell you,” she said. “Did you ever hear of planting hands?" "Can't say I have, ma'am." "Well, I can only tell you what it feels like. It's when you're picking off the buds you don't want. Everything goes right down into your fingertips. You watch your fingers work. They do it themselves. You can feel how it is. They pick and pick the buds. They never make a mistake. They're with the plant. Do you see? Your fingers and the plant. You can feel that, right up your arm. They know. They never make a mistake. You can feel it. When you're like that you can't do anything wrong. Do you see that? Can you understand that?" She was kneeling on the ground looking up at him. Her breast swelled passionately. The man's eyes narrowed. He looked away self-consciously. "Maybe I know," he said. "Sometimes in the night in the wagon there -"

她停了下来,好像有点儿不知所措。“打苞的时候最需要好好照看,”她欲言又止地说。“我不知道该怎么对你说。”她凝视着他的眼睛,好像在寻找什么。她的嘴微微张着,象是倾听什么回答。“我给你讲讲看,”她说。“你听说过庄稼里手吗?”“我想没有,夫人。”“那么,我只能给你说说那是什么感觉。那是在你摘掉那些多余花蕾的时候。一切都聚集到你的手指里,你看着自己手指的活计。它们在自己干着活儿,你能感觉到那是怎么一回事儿。它们在不停地摘着,摘着,不出一点儿差错。它们与庄稼是天生的搭档,你明白吗?庄稼和手指间。你可以感觉到,一直到你的手臂。它们知道该怎么做,从不出错。你可以感觉到。只要这样,你就不会出什么错。你明白吗?你听懂了吗?”她跪在那里,朝上看着他,胸脯激动得涨了来。那个男人眯起了眼。好像自己意识到什么,朝远处看了看。“或许我理解,”他说。“有时候,晚上,在马车里……”

Elisa's voice grew husky. She broke in on him, "I've never lived as you do, but I know what you mean. When the night is dark - why, the stars are sharp-pointed, and there's quiet. Why, you rise up and up! Every pointed star gets driven into your body. It's like that. Hot and sharp and - lovely." Kneeling there, her hand went out toward his legs in the greasy black trousers. Her hesitant fingers almost touched the cloth. Then her hand dropped to the ground. She crouched low like a fawning dog. He said, "it's nice, just like you say. Only when you don't have no dinner, it ain't." She stood up then, very straight, and her face was ashamed. She held the flower pot out to him and placed it gently in his arms. "Here. Put it in your wagon, on the seat, where you can watch it. Maybe I can find something for you to do." At the back of the house she dug in the can pile and found two old and battered aluminum saucepans. She carried them back and gave them to him. "Here, maybe you can fix these."

伊利莎的声音变得有些沙哑,她打断他说,“我从没象你那样生活过,但我知道你的意思。天黑的时候——啊,群星亮闪闪的,周遭一片寂静。你觉得自己愈来愈高,每一颗亮闪闪的星星都融入自己身体里。就是那样。热热的,亮亮的——美极了。”她跪在那儿,她的手朝他穿着脏兮兮的黑裤子的腿伸了去。她迟疑不决的手指几乎碰到了他的裤子。接着她的手垂了下去。她蜷缩在地上,象只摇尾乞怜的狗。他说,“对,就象你说的,那很美。只要不是没有晚饭吃。”听到这些她站了起来。腰挺得很直,脸上有些羞愧。她将花盆抱出来,轻轻地放在他的怀里。“好,放在你的车上,放到座位上,这样你就可以看着它。或许我能找些东西来你修一下。”她在屋后的罐子堆里很找了一通,找到了两个破旧的铝炖锅。她拿着它们回来交给他。“喂,或许你可以把这些东西修一下。”

She stopped and seemed perplexed. "It's the budding that takes the most care," she said hesitantly. "I don't know how to tell you." She looked deep into his eyes, searchingly. Her mouth opened a little, and she seemed to be listening. "I'll try to tell you,” she said. “Did you ever hear of planting hands?" "Can't say I have, ma'am." "Well, I can only tell you what it feels like. It's when you're picking off the buds you don't want. Everything goes right down into your fingertips. You watch your fingers work. They do it themselves. You can feel how it is. They pick and pick the buds. They never make a mistake. They're with the plant. Do you see? Your fingers and the plant. You can feel that, right up your arm. They know. They never make a mistake. You can feel it. When you're like that you can't do anything wrong. Do you see that? Can you understand that?" She was kneeling on the ground looking up at him. Her breast swelled passionately. The man's eyes narrowed. He looked away self-consciously. "Maybe I know," he said. "Sometimes in the night in the wagon there -"

她停了下来,好像有点儿不知所措。“打苞的时候最需要好好照看,”她欲言又止地说。“我不知道该怎么对你说。”她凝视着他的眼睛,好像在寻找什么。她的嘴微微张着,象是倾听什么回答。“我给你讲讲看,”她说。“你听说过庄稼里手吗?”“我想没有,夫人。”“那么,我只能给你说说那是什么感觉。那是在你摘掉那些多余花蕾的时候。一切都聚集到你的手指里,你看着自己手指的活计。它们在自己干着活儿,你能感觉到那是怎么一回事儿。它们在不停地摘着,摘着,不出一点儿差错。它们与庄稼是天生的搭档,你明白吗?庄稼和手指间。你可以感觉到,一直到你的手臂。它们知道该怎么做,从不出错。你可以感觉到。只要这样,你就不会出什么错。你明白吗?你听懂了吗?”她跪在那里,朝上看着他,胸脯激动得涨了来。那个男人眯起了眼。好像自己意识到什么,朝远处看了看。“或许我理解,”他说。“有时候,晚上,在马车里……”

Elisa's voice grew husky. She broke in on him, "I've never lived as you do, but I know what you mean. When the night is dark - why, the stars are sharp-pointed, and there's quiet. Why, you rise up and up! Every pointed star gets driven into your body. It's like that. Hot and sharp and - lovely." Kneeling there, her hand went out toward his legs in the greasy black trousers. Her hesitant fingers almost touched the cloth. Then her hand dropped to the ground. She crouched low like a fawning dog. He said, "it's nice, just like you say. Only when you don't have no dinner, it ain't." She stood up then, very straight, and her face was ashamed. She held the flower pot out to him and placed it gently in his arms. "Here. Put it in your wagon, on the seat, where you can watch it. Maybe I can find something for you to do." At the back of the house she dug in the can pile and found two old and battered aluminum saucepans. She carried them back and gave them to him. "Here, maybe you can fix these."

伊利莎的声音变得有些沙哑,她打断他说,“我从没象你那样生活过,但我知道你的意思。天黑的时候——啊,群星亮闪闪的,周遭一片寂静。你觉得自己愈来愈高,每一颗亮闪闪的星星都融入自己身体里。就是那样。热热的,亮亮的——美极了。”她跪在那儿,她的手朝他穿着脏兮兮的黑裤子的腿伸了去。她迟疑不决的手指几乎碰到了他的裤子。接着她的手垂了下去。她蜷缩在地上,象只摇尾乞怜的狗。他说,“对,就象你说的,那很美。只要不是没有晚饭吃。”听到这些她站了起来。腰挺得很直,脸上有些羞愧。她将花盆抱出来,轻轻地放在他的怀里。“好,放在你的车上,放到座位上,这样你就可以看着它。或许我能找些东西来你修一下。”她在屋后的罐子堆里很找了一通,找到了两个破旧的铝炖锅。她拿着它们回来交给他。“喂,或许你可以把这些东西修一下。”

After a while she began to dress, slowly. She put on her newest underclothing and her nicest stockings and the dress which was the symbol of her prettiness. She worked carefully on her hair, penciled her eyebrows and rouged her lips. Before she was finished she heard the little thunder of hoofs and the shouts of Henry and his helper as they drove the red steers into the corral. She heard the gate bang shut and set herself for Henry's arrival. His step sounded on the porch. He entered the house calling, "Elisa, where are you?" "In my room, dressing. I'm not ready. There's hot water for your bath. Hurry up. It's getting late."

过了一会儿她开始穿衣服,穿得很慢。她穿上自己的新内衣,最精致的长袜,还有那件象征她的美丽的裙子。她仔细地梳理着头发,描眉,涂口红。还没等她收拾好,外面传来了马蹄的得得声。亨利同他的伙计吆喝着往牲口圈里赶牛。听到大门砰的一声关上,她准备好,等着亨利过来。走廊上传来亨利的脚步声,他走到屋里喊道,“伊利莎,你在哪儿?”“在我屋里穿衣服呢,还没好呢。你洗澡的热水好了,快点儿洗,没有时间了。”

When she heard him splashing in the tub, Elisa laid his dark suit on the bed, and shirt and socks and tie beside it. She stood his polished shoes on the floor beside the bed. Then she went to the porch and sat primly and stiffly down. She looked toward the river road where the willow-line was still yellow with frosted leaves so that under the high grey fog they seemed a thin band of sunshine. This was the only color in the grey afternoon. She sat unmoving for a long time. Her eyes blinked rarely. Henry came banging out of the door, shoving his tie inside his vest as he came. Elisa stiffened and her face grew tight. Henry stopped short and looked at her. "Why - why, Elisa. You look so nice!" "Nice? You think I look nice? What do you mean by 'nice'?"

伊利莎听到亨利在浴盆里哗啦哗啦的洗澡声,把他的黑西服放在床上,边上是他的衬衫、袜子和领带。她把擦亮的鞋子摆放在床边的地板上,然后来到走廊上,一本正经地坐在那儿,显得有些呆滞。她朝河边的路上看去,那儿的柳叶上挂着霜,依然泛着黄色,因而在半空的灰白色雾气笼罩下,这一带柳树好象是道薄薄的阳光。这是整个灰色下午唯一的色彩。她一动不动地坐了很久,很少眨眼睛。亨利出来时砰的一声关门,边走边往马甲里塞领带。伊利莎直起身子,脸也绷紧了。亨利蓦地停下来盯着她。“嘿,伊利莎,你看起来真棒!”“棒?你觉得我很棒?‘很棒’是什么意思?”

Henry blundered on. "I don't know. I mean you look different, strong and happy."

"I am strong? Yes, strong. What do you mean 'strong'?" He looked bewildered. "You're playing some kind of a game," he said helplessly."It's a kind of a play. You look strong enough to break a calf over your knee, happy enough to eat it like a watermelon." For a second she lost her rigidity. "Henry! Don't talk like that. You didn't know what you said." She grew complete again. "I'm strong," she boasted. "I never knew before how strong." Henry looked down toward the tractor shed, and when he brought his eyes back to her, they were his own again. "I'll get out the car. You can put on your coat while I'm starting." Elisa went into the house. She heard him drive to the gate and idle down his motor, and then she took a long time to put on her hat. She pulled it here and pressed it there. When Henry turned the motor off she slipped into her coat and went out.

“我不知道。我是说你看起来有些不一样,强壮、快活。”亨利结结巴巴地说。“强壮?是的,我很强壮。这又是什么意思?”他显得有些迷惑不解。“你在玩儿什么游戏,”他无可奈何地说。“你在玩游戏。你显得很强壮,可以在你的膝盖上劈死一头小牛;又很高兴,能象吃个大西瓜那样把它吃掉。”一时间她僵硬的神情没了。“亨利!别那样说。你不知道你在说什么。”她又恢复了原来的样子。“我很强壮,”她夸耀地说。“我以前从不知道自己有多么结实。”亨利朝下看了看拖拉机棚。当他收回目光再看她时,那眼神又变成他以前的那种了。“我去把车开出来,趁这当儿,你把大衣穿好。”伊利莎走进了屋。她听到亨利把车开到了门口,马达空转着。她磨磨蹭蹭地戴上帽子,按按这儿扯扯那儿。这时亨利熄了马达,她很快穿上大衣,走了出去。

The little roadster bounced along on the dirt road by the river, raising the birds and driving the rabbits into the brush. Two cranes flapped heavily over the willow-line and dropped into the river-bed. Far ahead on the road Elisa saw a dark speck. She knew. She tried not to look as they passed it, but her eyes would not obey. She whispered to herself sadly, "He might have thrown them off the road. That wouldn't have been much trouble, not very much. But he kept the pot," she explained. "He had to keep the pot. That's why he couldn't get them off the road." The roadster turned a bend and she saw the caravan ahead. She swung full around toward her husband so she could not see the little covered wagon and the mismatched team as the car passed them. In a moment it was over. The thing was done. She did not look back. She said loudly, to be heard above the motor, "It will be good, tonight, a good dinner."

小敞篷车沿着河在土路上颠簸前行,惊起一群鸟,野兔也被惊得钻进了树丛。两只鹤重重地拍打着翅膀,越过路边的柳树,然后落到河岸上。远远的,伊利莎看到路上有个黑点。她知道那是什么。当他们经过那个黑点时,她尽量不去看它,可眼睛不听她的话。她伤心地小声对自己说,“他可以把它们扔到路下边的。那不会给他增加什么麻烦的,一点儿也不会。不过他留着花盆呢,”她自己解释说。“他肯定得留着花盆,所以没能把它们扔到路下边。”他们的小敞篷车转了个弯,她看到了前面的大篷车。她急忙转向自己的丈夫,以免汽车超过时看见那辆小小的篷车,那怪模怪样的队伍。事情一会儿就过去了,一切都结束了。她没有往后看。她大声说,甚至盖过了马达的声音,“今晚会很好,一顿美餐。”

"Now you're changed again," Henry complained. He took one hand from the wheel and patted her knee. "I ought to take you in to dinner oftener. It would be good for both of us. We get so heavy out on the ranch." "Henry," she asked, "could we have wine at dinner?" "Sure we could. Say! That will be fine." She was silent for a while; then she said, "Henry, at those prize fights, do the men hurt each other very much?" "Sometimes a little, not often. Why?" "Well, I've read how they break noses, and blood runs down their chests. I've read how the fighting gloves get heavy and soggy with blood." He looked around at her. "What's the matter, Elisa? I didn't know you read things like that." He brought the car to a stop, then turned to the right over the Salinas River bridge. "Do any women ever go to the fights?" she asked. "Oh, sure, some. What's the matter, Elisa? Do you want to go? I don't think you'd like it, but I'll take you if you really want to go." She relaxed limply in the seat. "Oh, no. No. I don't want to go. I'm sure I don't." Her face was turned away from him. "It will be enough if we can have wine. It will be plenty." She turned up her coat collar so he could not see that she was crying weakly - like an old woman.

“你又变了,”亨利抱怨说。他一只手离开了方向盘,拍了拍她的膝盖。“我应该经常带你到城里去吃饭。这对我们都有好处,农场上的生活太沉闷了。“亨利,” 她问,“我们吃饭时可以喝一杯吗?”“当然可以。啊,真是太好了!” 她沉默了一会儿,又说,“亨利,拳击赛时双方会不会伤得很厉害?”“有时有一点,不过不常。怎么了?”“嗯,我从书上看到,他们有的把鼻子都打断了,鲜血顺着胸往下流。拳击手套浸满了血,湿漉漉地很沉。” 他回过头来看着她。“伊利莎,你怎么了?我不知道你还看这些东西。” 他把车停了下来,然后向右转,开上萨利纳斯桥。“看拳击的有女人吗?” 她问。“啊,当然了,有一些。怎么了,伊利莎?你也想看吗?我觉得你不会喜欢的。不过,要是你真想去看我会带你去的。”她无精打采地坐在座位上。“哦,不,不,我不想,真不想。” 她把脸转向了另一面。“只要有酒,就够了。就很高兴了。” 她把大衣的领子竖了起来,以免他看到自己在轻轻啜泣——象是一位老太太。


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