姐,我要。。。
轻松的小说阅读环境
双城记英文版 - Part 2 Chapter XXIII. ONE NIGHT
繁体
恢复默认
返回目录【键盘操作】左右光标键:上下章节;回车键:目录;双击鼠标:停止/启动自动滚动;滚动时上下光标键调节滚动速度。
  Never did the sun go down with a brighter glory on the quiet corner in Soho, than one memorable evening when the Doctor and his daughter sat under the plane-tree together. Never did the moon rise with a milder radiance over great London, than on that night when it found them still seated under the tree, and shone upon their faces through its leaves.Lucie was to be married tomorrow. She had reserved this last evening for her father, and they sat alone under the plane-tree.“You are happy, my dear father?”“Quite, my child.”They had said little, though they had been there a long time. When it was yet light enough to work and read, she had neither engaged herself in her usual work, nor had she read to him. She had employed herself in both ways, at his side under the tree, many and many a time; but, this time was not quite like any other, and nothing could make it so.“And I am very happy tonight, dear father. I am deeply happy in the love that Heaven has so blessed—my love for Charles, and Charles’s love for me. But, if my life were not to be still consecrated to you, or if my marriage were so arranged as that it would part us, even by the length of a few of these streets, I should be more unhappy and self-reproachful now than I can tell you. Even as it is—” Even as it was, she could not command her voice.In the sad moonlight, she clasped him by the neck, and laid her face upon his breast. In the moonlight which is always sad, as the light of the sun itself is—as the light called human life is—at its coming and its going.“Dearest dear! Can you tell me, this last time, that you feel quite, quite sure, no new affections of mine, and no new duties of mine, will ever interpose between us? I know it well, but do you know it? In your own heart, do you feel quite certain?”Her father answered, with a cheerful firmness of conviction he could scarcely have assumed, “Quite sure, my darling! More than that,” he added, as he tenderly kissed her: “my future is far brighter, Lucie, seen through your marriage, than it could have been—nay, than it ever was—without it.”“If I could hope that, my father!—”“Believe it, love! Indeed it is so. Consider how natural and how plain it is, my dear, that it should be so. You, devoted and young, cannot fully appreciate the anxiety I have felt that your life should not be wasted—” She moved her hand towards his lips, but he took it in his, and repeated the word.“—wasted, my child—should not be wasted, struck aside from the natural order of things—for my sake. Your unselfishness cannot entirely comprehend how much my mind has gone on this; but, only ask yourself, how could my happiness be perfect, while yours was incomplete?”“If I had never seen Charles, my father, I should have been quite happy with you.”He smiled at her unconscious admission that she would have been unhappy without Charles, having seen him; and replied:“My child, you did see him, and it is Charles. If it had not been Charles, it would have been another. Or, if it had been no other, I should have been the cause, and then the dark part of my life would have cast its shadow beyond myself, and would have fallen on you.”It was the first time, except at the trial, of her ever hearing him refer to the period of his suffering. It gave her a strange and new sensation while his words were in her ears; and she remembered it long afterwards.“See!” said the Doctor of Beauvais, raising his hand towards the moon. “I have looked at her, from my prison-window, when I could not bear her light. I have looked at her when it has been such torture to me to think of her shining upon what I had lost, that I have beaten my head against my prison-walls. I have looked at her, in a state so dull and lethargic, that I have thought of nothing but the number of horizontal lines I could draw across her at the full, and the number of perpendicular lines with which I could intersect them.” He added in his inward and pondering manner, as he looked at the moon, “It was twenty either way, I remember, and the twentieth was difficult to squeeze in.”The strange thrill with which she heard him go back to that time, deepened as he dwelt upon it; but, there was nothing to shock her in the manner of his reference. He only seemed to contrast his present cheerfulness and felicity with the dire endurance that was over.“I have looked at her, speculating thousands of times upon the unborn child from whom I had been rent. Whether it was alive. Whether it had been born alive, or the poor mother’s shock had killed it. Whether it was a son who would some day avenge his father. (There was a time in my imprisonment, when my desire for vengeance was unbearable.) Whether it was a son who would never know his father’s story; who might even live to weigh the possibility of his father’s having disappeared of his own will and act. Whether it was a daughter who would grow to be a woman.”She drew closer to him, and kissed his cheek and his hand.“I have pictured my daughter, to myself, as perfectly forgetful of me—rather, altogether ignorant of me, and unconscious of me. I have cast up the years of her age, year after year. I have seen her married to a man who knew nothing of my fate. I have altogether perished from the remembrance of the living, and in the next generation my place was a blank.”“My father! Even to hear that you had such thoughts of a daughter who never existed, strikes to my heart as if I had been that child.”“You, Lucie? It is out of the consolation and restoration you have brought to me, that these remembrances arise, and pass between us and the moon on this last night.—What did I say just now?”“She knew nothing of you. She cared nothing for you.”“So! But on other moonlight nights, when the sadness and the silence have touched me in a different way—have affected me with something as like a sorrowful sense of peace, as any emotion that had pain for its foundations could—I have imagined her as coming to me in my cell, and leading me out into the freedom beyond the fortress. I have seen her image in the moonlight often, as I now see you; except that I never held her in my arms; it stood between the little grated window and the door. But, you understand that that was not the child I am speaking of?”“The figure was not; the—the—image; the fancy?”“No. That was another thing. It stood before my disturbed sense of sight, but it never moved. The phantom that my mind pursued, was another and more real child. Of her outward appearance I know no more than that she was like her mother. The other had that likeness too—as you have—but was not the same. Can you follow me, Lucie? Hardly, I think? I doubt you must have been a solitary prisoner to understand these perplexed distinctions.”His collected and calm manner could not prevent her blood from running cold, as he thus tried to anatomise his old condition.“In that more peaceful state, I have imagined her, in the moonlight, coming to me and taking me out to show me that the home of her married life was full of her loving remembrance of her lost father. My picture was in her room, and I was in her prayers. Her life was active, cheerful, useful; but my poor history pervaded it all.”“I was that child, my father. I was not half so good, but in my love that was I.”“And she showed me her children,” said the Doctor of Beauvais, “and they had heard of me, and had been taught to pity me. When they passed a prison of the State, they kept far from its frowning walls, and looked up at its bars, and spoke in whispers. She could never deliver me; I imagined that she always brought me back after showing me such things. But then, blessed with the relief of tears, I fell upon my knees and blessed her.”“I am that child, I hope, my father. O my dear, my dear, will you bless me as fervently tomorrow?”“Lucie, I recall these old troubles in the reason that I have tonight for loving you better than words can tell, and thanking God for my great happiness. My thoughts, when they were wildest, never rose near the happiness that I have known with you, and that we have before us.”He embraced her, solemnly commended her to Heaven, and humbly thanked Heaven for having bestowed her on him. By-andby, they went into the house.There was no one bidden to the marriage but Mr. Lorry; there was even to be no bridesmaid but the gaunt Miss Pross. The marriage was to make no change in their place of residence; they had been able to extend it, by taking to themselves the upper rooms formerly belonging to the apocryphal invisible lodger, and they desired nothing more.Doctor Manette was very cheerful at the little supper. They were only three at table, and Miss Pross made the third. He regretted that Charles was not there; was more than half disposed to object to the loving little plot that kept him away; and drank to him affectionately.So, the time came for him to bid Lucie good night, and they separated. But, in the stillness of the third hour of the morning, Lucie came downstairs again, and stole into his room; not free from unshaped fears, beforehand.All things, however, were in their places; all was quiet; and he lay asleep, his white hair picturesque on the untroubled pillow, and his hands lying quiet on the coverlet. She put her needless candle in the shadow at a distance, crept up to his bed, and put her lips to his; then, leaned over him, and looked at him.Into his handsome face, the bitter waters of captivity had worn; but, he covered up their tracks with a determination so strong, that he held the mastery of them even in his sleep. A more remarkable face in its quiet, resolute, and guarded struggle with an unseen assailant, was not to be beheld in all the wide dominions of sleep, that night.She timidly laid her hand on his dear breast, and put up a prayer that she might ever be as true to him as her love aspired to be, and as his sorrows deserved. Then, she withdrew her hand, and kissed his lips once more, and went away. So, the sunrise came, and the shadows of the leaves of the plane-tree moved upon his face, as softly as her lips had moved in praying for him.
或许您还会喜欢:
悬崖上的谋杀
作者:佚名
章节:35 人气:0
摘要:博比·琼斯把球放在球座上,击球前球杆简单地轻摆一下,然后慢慢收回球杆,接着以闪电般的速度向下一击。在五号铁头球棒的随便一击下,球会呼啸腾起,越过障碍,又直又准地落到球场的第十四穴处吗?不,远非如此,结果太糟了,球掠过地面,稳稳地陷入了障碍坑洼。没有热心的观众发出沮丧的哼哼声,惟一的目击者也显得一点不吃惊。 [点击阅读]
悬崖山庄奇案
作者:佚名
章节:22 人气:0
摘要:我觉得,英国南部没有哪个滨海小镇有圣卢那么令人流连忘返,因此,人们称它为“水城皇后”真是再恰当也没有了。到了这里,游客便会自然而然地想起维埃拉(译注:法国东南部及意大利西北部的海滨地区,濒临地中海,以风光旖旎著称)。在我的印象里,康沃尔郡的海岸正像法国南方的海滨一样迷人。我把这个想法告诉了我的朋友赫尔克里-波洛。他听了以后说:“昨天餐车里的那份菜单上就是这么说的,我的朋友,所以这并非你的创见。 [点击阅读]
悲惨世界
作者:佚名
章节:65 人气:0
摘要:米里哀先生是法国南部的地区狄涅的主教。他是个七十五岁的老人,原出身于贵族,法国大革命后破落了。他学问渊博,生活俭朴,好善乐施。他把每年从zheng府那里领得的一万五千法郎薪俸,都捐献给当地的慈善事业。被人们称为卞福汝(意为“欢迎”)主教。米里哀先生认为自己活在世上“不是为了自己的生命,而是来保护世人心灵的”。 [点击阅读]
惊险的浪漫
作者:佚名
章节:12 人气:0
摘要:帕金顿先生与太太吵了几句,气呼呼地戴上帽子,把门一摔,离家去赶八点四十五分的火车,到市里去上班。帕金顿太太依旧坐在早餐桌前。她的脸涨得通红,紧咬着嘴唇,要不是最后愤怒代替了委屈,她早就哭出来了。“我不会再忍下去了,”帕金顿太太说,“我不会再忍下去了!”她继续想了一会儿,又喃喃道:“那个放荡女人,狡猾卑鄙的狐狸精!乔治怎么会这么傻呢!”愤怒逐渐平息了,悲伤和委屈的感觉又涌上心头。 [点击阅读]
惹我你就死定了
作者:佚名
章节:139 人气:0
摘要:“喂,你去见男朋友,我干嘛要跟着啊?”“嘻嘻,我和宗浩说好了,要带你去见他的啊^o^”晕~-_-^,这么闷热的天,本来就够闹心的了,还要去给朋友当电灯泡,可怜芳龄十八的我啊,这些年都干嘛了?我好想有个男人啊,做梦都想…“朴宗浩有什么呀?他是公高的吧?公高那帮小子太危险了,你离他们远点儿。 [点击阅读]
愁容童子
作者:佚名
章节:23 人气:0
摘要:母亲送给古义人一块地皮。在古义人的记忆里,幼少年时期,那里曾耸立着参天的辽杨。最初提起这个话头,是母亲年愈九旬、头脑还清晰的那阵子。在那之前,古义人几年回去一次,母亲九十岁以后,便大致每年都要回到四国那个森林中的山谷。准确的时期已经记不清了,就季节而言,应该是五月中旬的事。“年岁大了,身上也就有老人的气味了。”母亲从大开着的门窗向对岸望去。 [点击阅读]
愤怒的葡萄
作者:佚名
章节:32 人气:0
摘要:具结释放的汤姆·约德和因对圣灵产生怀疑而不再做牧师的凯绥结伴,回到了被垄断资本与严重干旱吞食了的家乡。他们和约德一家挤进一辆破卡车,各自抱着美好的幻想向“黄金西部”进发。一路上,他们受尽折磨与欺凌,有的死去,有的中途离散。 [点击阅读]
我在暧昧的日本
作者:佚名
章节:17 人气:0
摘要:(一)回顾我的文学生涯,从早期的写作起,我就把小说的舞台放在了位于日本列岛之一的四国岛中央、紧邻四国山脉分水岭北侧深邃的森林山谷里的那个小村落。我从生养我的村庄开始写起,最初,只能说是年轻作家头脑中的预感机能在起作用,我完全没有预料到这将会成为自己小说中一个大系列的一部分。这就是那篇题为《饲育》的短篇小说。 [点击阅读]
我弥留之际
作者:佚名
章节:59 人气:0
摘要:朱厄尔和我从地里走出来,在小路上走成单行。虽然我在他前面十五英尺,但是不管谁从棉花房里看我们,都可以看到朱厄尔那顶破旧的草帽比我那顶足足高出一个脑袋。小路笔直,像根铅垂线,被人的脚踩得光溜溜的,让七月的太阳一烤,硬得像砖。小路夹在一行行碧绿的中耕过的棉花当中,一直通到棉花地当中的棉花房,在那儿拐弯,以四个柔和的直角绕棉花房一周,又继续穿过棉花地,那也是脚踩出来的,很直,但是一点点看不清了。 [点击阅读]
我是猫
作者:佚名
章节:23 人气:0
摘要:夏目漱石,日本近代作家,生于江户的牛迂马场下横町(今东京都新宿区喜久井町)一个小吏家庭,是家中末子。夏目漱石在日本近代文学史上享有很高的地位,被称为“国民大作家”。代表作有《过了春分时节》《行人》《心》三部曲。 [点击阅读]
我的名字叫红
作者:佚名
章节:58 人气:0
摘要:如今我已是一个死人,成了一具躺在井底的死尸。尽管我已经死了很久,心脏也早已停止了跳动,但除了那个卑鄙的凶手之外没人知道我发生了什么事。而他,那个混蛋,则听了听我是否还有呼吸,摸了摸我的脉搏以确信他是否已把我干掉,之后又朝我的肚子踹了一脚,把我扛到井边,搬起我的身子扔了下去。往下落时,我先前被他用石头砸烂了的脑袋摔裂开来;我的脸、我的额头和脸颊全都挤烂没了;我全身的骨头都散架了,满嘴都是鲜血。 [点击阅读]
我的爸爸是吸血鬼
作者:佚名
章节:81 人气:0
摘要:序幕那是萨瓦纳的一个凉爽春夜,我的母亲走在石子路上,木屐像马蹄似的敲得鹅卵石哒哒响。她穿过一片盛开的杜鹃,再穿过铁兰掩映下的小橡树丛,来到一片绿色空地,边上有一个咖啡馆。我父亲在铁桌旁的一张凳子上坐着,桌上摊了两个棋盘,父亲出了一个车,仰头瞥见了我母亲,手不小心碰到了一个兵,棋子倒在桌面,滑下来,滚到一旁的走道上去了。母亲弯下身子,捡起棋子交还给他。 [点击阅读]