适合中学生阅读的英文小说
The Open Window 英汉对照
shudderby H.H. Munro (SAKI)
"My aunt will be down presently, Mr. Nuttel," said a very self-possessed young lady of fifteen; "in the meantime you must try and put up with me."Framton Nuttel endeavored to say the correct something which should duly flatter the niece of the moment without unduly discounting the aunt that was to come. Privately he doubted more than ever whether these formal visits on a succession of total strangers would do much towards helping the nerve cure which he was supposed to be undergoing
"I know how it will be," his sister had said when he was preparing to migrate to this rural retreat; "you will bury yourself down there and not speak to a living soul, and your nerves will be worse than ever from moping. I shall just give you letters of introduction to all the people I know there. Some of them, as far as I can remember, were quite nice."
Framton wondered whether Mrs. Sappleton, the lady to whom he was presenting one of the letters of introduction came into the nice division.
"Do you know many of the people round here?" asked the niece, when she judged that they had had sufficient silent communion.
"Hardly a soul," said Framton. "My sister was staying here, at the rectory, you know, some four years ago, and she gave me letters of introduction to some of the people here."
He made the last statement in a tone of distinct regret.
"Then you know practically nothing about my aunt?" pursued the self-possessed young lady.
"Only her name and address," admitted the caller. He was wondering whether Mrs. Sappleton was in the married or widowed state. An undefinable something about the room seemed to suggest masculine habitation.
"Her great tragedy happened just three years ago," said the child; "that would be since your sister's time."
"Her tragedy?" asked Framton; somehow in this restful country spot tragedies seemed out of place.
"You may wonder why we keep that window wide open on an October afternoon," said the niece, indicating a large French window that opened on to a lawn.
"It is quite warm for the time of the year," said Framton; "but has that window got anything to do with the tragedy?"
"Out through that window, three years ago to a day, her husband and her two young brothers went off for their day's shooting. They never came back. In crossing the moor to their favorite snipe-shooting ground they were all three engulfed in a treacherous piece of bog. It had been that dreadful wet summer, you know, and places that were safe in other years gave way suddenly without warning. Their bodies were never recovered. That was the dreadful part of it." Here the child's voice lost its self-possessed note and became falteringly human. "Poor aunt always thinks that they will come back someday, they and the little brown spaniel that was lost with them, and walk in at that window just as they used to do. That is why the window is kept open every evening till it is quite dusk. Poor dear aunt, she has often told me how they went out, her husband with his white waterproof coat over his arm, and Ronnie, her youngest brother, singing 'Bertie, why do you bound?' as he always did to tease her, because she said it got on her nerves. Do you know, sometimes on still, quiet evenings like this, I almost get a creepy feeling that they will all walk in through that window--"
She broke off with a little shudder. It was a relief to Framton when the aunt bustled into the room with a whirl of apologies for being late in making her appearance.
"I hope Vera has been amusing you?" she said.
"She has been very interesting," said Framton.
"I hope you don't mind the open window," said Mrs. Sappleton briskly; "my husband and brothers will be home directly from shooting, and they always come in this way. They've been out for snipe in the marshes today, so they'll make a fine mess over my poor carpets. So like you menfolk, isn't it?"
She rattled on cheerfully about the shooting and the scarcity of birds, and the prospects for duck in the winter. To Framton it was all purely horrible. He made a desperate but only partially successful effort to turn the talk on to a less ghastly topic, he was conscious that his hostess was giving him only a fragment of her attention, and her eyes were constantly straying past him to the open window and the lawn beyond. It was certainly an unfortunate coincidence that he should have paid his visit on this tragic anniversary.
"The doctors agree in ordering me complete rest, an absence of mental excitement, and avoidance of anything in the nature of violent physical exercise," announced Framton, who labored under the tolerably widespread delusion that total strangers and chance acquaintances are hungry for the least detail of one's ailments and infirmities, their cause and cure. "On the matter of diet they are not so much in agreement," he continued.
"No?" said Mrs. Sappleton, in a voice which only replaced a yawn at the last moment. Then she suddenly brightened into alert attention--but not to what Framton was saying.
"Here they are at last!" she cried. "Just in time for tea, and don't they look as if they were muddy up to the eyes!"
Framton shivered slightly and turned towards the niece with a look intended to convey sympathetic comprehension. The child was staring out through the open window with a dazed horror in her eyes. In a chill shock of nameless fear Framton swung round in his seat and looked in the same direction.
In the deepening twilight three figures were walking across the lawn towards the window, they all carried guns under their arms, and one of them was additionally burdened with a white coat hung over his shoulders. A tired brown spaniel kept close at their heels. Noiselessly they neared the house, and then a hoarse young voice chanted out of the dusk: "I said, Bertie, why do you bound?"
Framton grabbed wildly at his stick and hat; the hall door, the gravel drive, and the front gate were dimly noted stages in his headlong retreat. A cyclist coming along the road had to run into the hedge to avoid imminent collision.
"Here we are, my dear," said the bearer of the white mackintosh, coming in through the window, "fairly muddy, but most of it's dry. Who was that who bolted out as we came up?"
"A most extraordinary man, a Mr. Nuttel," said Mrs. Sappleton; "could only talk about his illnesses, and dashed off without a word of goodby or apology when you arrived. One would think he had seen a ghost."
"I expect it was the spaniel," said the niece calmly; "he told me he had a horror of dogs. He was once hunted into a cemetery somewhere on the banks of the Ganges by a pack of pariah dogs, and had to spend the night in a newly dug grave with the creatures snarling and grinning and foaming just above him. Enough to make anyone lose their nerve."
Romance at short notice was her speciality.
“纳特先生，我姑妈很快就下来。”一个15岁的年轻小说，她看上去十分沉着冷静。“在这段时间里，我来陪陪你。”
在这小的姑妈还没有到来之前，弗雷顿·纳特努力的寻着适当的词语来赞美这个漂亮的姑娘。可他又不想因唐突说错话而让小的姑妈对他的印象打折扣。纳特目前正患着精神衰弱症。他比以前更加怀疑，这一个接一个的拜访陌生人是否真的能对他的精神有帮助。
纳特的在他准备搬到乡下住的时候曾经说：“我知道最后你会怎样。你一定会把你封闭起来，不对任何人说话。在闷闷不乐的生活中，你的精神病一定会比以前更糟糕。我要为你写介绍信，介绍你给所有住在那里的我认识的人。在我印象中，他们中间有些人还是有着好心肠的。”
介绍信中有一封是给赛普顿夫人的。弗雷顿揣测着这位夫人是不是个和善之辈。
“你认识很多附近的人么？”那小问道，她觉得他们之间的沉默已经太长了。
“几乎没有。”弗雷顿说：“四年前我在这里住过一段时间，你也许知道，就是在那教区长家里。是她给了写这些介绍信让我认识周围的人的。”
他说最后一句的时候，语气中满是后悔。
那个冷静的小继续说：“那么你几乎对我姑妈是一无所知了？”
“只知道名字和地址。”弗雷顿承认到。房间的一些迹象含糊的暗示着这里有男子居住，但是弗雷特不能确定赛普顿夫人的丈夫是否还健在。
“我姑妈最大的不幸发生在三年前。”那小接着说，“那时候你已经离开了。”
“不幸？”弗雷顿说。不知怎的，他觉得这样闲逸的村庄里充满了悲剧。
“你也许觉得奇怪，为什么我们在十月天里还开着窗户。”小指着一扇开着的巨大法式落地窗说。窗外是一片草坪。
“一年当中，这个时候的确是有些热的，不大适合开窗。”弗雷顿说，“但这和你姑妈的不幸有什么关系？”
“三年前的今天，我姑妈的丈夫和两个弟弟从那窗户里穿过，出去外面打猎，此后就再也没有回来。他们本来要去那最合适猎杀锥鸟的沼泽地的，可是谁也没有想到，在穿越沼泽的时候，他们都被陷了进去。那是个死气沉沉又湿闷的下午，你也许不知道，那地方本来是安全的，可那天突然没了预兆和警示。最悲哀的是，他们完全陷了进去，连尸体都没能到。”那小的声音支支吾吾的，失去了原来的冷静。“可怜的姑妈却一直相信她的丈夫和弟弟会回来的，相信他们以及一只带着棕斑点的西班牙猎狗会像平时一样，从那窗子里走进屋里来。所以每天傍晚我们都敞开着那窗子，直到天渐渐黑下来。可怜的，亲爱的姑妈总是不厌其烦的告诉我他们会怎样穿过窗子。她说她的丈夫手中会拿着防水的白大衣，她最小的弟弟罗尼会唱着‘博迪，你为什么又蹦又跳？’。罗尼总是这样和姑妈开玩笑的，因为这首歌总让姑妈心烦意乱。你知道么，像这样安静的黄昏里，我总会有奇怪的感觉，觉得他们真的会突然从窗子里穿进来——”
小不由的打了个寒颤。弗雷顿也是直到赛普顿夫人出现才感觉好一些的。赛普顿夫人来时匆匆忙忙，不住的为来迟而道歉。
“但愿维拉没有让你觉得无聊。”赛普顿夫人说。
“她是个十分有趣的姑娘。”弗雷顿回答。
“希望你不要介意我开着那扇窗子，”赛普顿夫人轻快的说，“我丈夫和弟弟马上就打猎回来了，他们总是从窗子进屋的。他们今天是去沼泽打锥鸟，所以他们回来的时候可要把我可怜的地毯弄脏了。就像你们这些男人一样，不是么？”
接着她又饶有兴趣喋喋不休地谈起打猎，最近树林里面鸟不多，以及冬天会有鸭子等等。对于弗雷顿来说，没有什么比这更加恐怖了。他急切的希望把这些可怕的话题转换掉，但是他没能成功。弗雷顿也意识到，这女主人只给了他一丁点的注意力，她的眼睛一直绕过他，望着他身后的窗子和草坪。他竟然会在这个悲剧发生三周年的日子拜访这位夫人，真是个不幸的巧合！
“医生一致要我完全的放松休息，避免精神上的刺激，也不要进行任何激烈运动，”弗雷顿大声说。他小心翼翼的避免着眼前的陌生人问起有关他病症的细节，的费用，以及生病的缘由。“但是在是否应该节食上，医生们还没有给出意见。”他接着说。
“没有么？”赛普顿夫人说，刚好盖住了打哈欠的声音。她突然精神一振，但不是因为弗雷顿的话。
“他们终于回来了！”赛普顿夫人叫着，“刚好赶上喝茶的时候呢！他们是不是看起来脏兮兮的，像是沼泽的泥巴都没到他们眼睛上了！”
弗雷顿微微打了个颤，他带着同情而理解的表情转向年轻小。而那小却是目不转睛的望着窗口，眼睛里满是害怕。不知名的恐惧如寒冰般向弗雷顿涌来，他跌坐在椅子上，目光也望向同一个地方。
在渐渐变黑的暮中，三个人影穿过草坪向窗口走来；他们手中都握着，其中一个肩上还搭着一件白外套。一只疲倦的棕小西班牙狗跟在他们脚边。他们无声无息的接近了房子，然后一个年轻的声音划破了霭霭黄昏：
“我说，博迪，你为什么又蹦又跳？”
弗雷顿不顾一切的抓起自己的手杖和帽子，没命向外奔逃，大厅的门、石子路的车道和庄园的大门，他统统都没有注意到。路上一位骑自行车的人为了避开他，竟然撞到了路旁的篱笆上。
“亲爱的，我们回来了。”那个披着白防水衣的人从窗子外穿进来，“全是泥巴，但几乎都干了。我一进来就匆忙跑掉了的人是谁？”
“是一个非常古怪的人，叫做纳特先生。”赛普顿夫人说，“他只会说关于自己病情，一看见你回来就匆忙跑出去了，也不说声再见或者道歉，好像遇见了鬼一样。”
“我想那是因为这西班牙犬吧，”那年轻小平静的说，“他告诉过我他害怕狗。有一次他被一流浪狗一直追赶到了恒河岸上的某个公墓里，实在没办法只好在一个新挖的墓穴里呆了一晚上，那些可怕的野狗就在他的头顶上龇牙咧嘴的咆哮，换成是谁，魂儿也得被吓飞了。”
   不做准备就编故事是这位充满想象力的小的拿手好戏。

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