The Father父親

赫伯特·歐內(nèi)斯特·貝茨　朱建迅/譯

He was a piano-tuner. Snow was falling as he went from house to house， his little blue hands tucked up his sleeves. Already during that morning he had tuned three instruments in rooms where no fires burned and now through bleak streets was making his way to another， walking solemnly， staring with screwed-up eyes at the passing hats， letting the snow cover his fat face as it would.

他是一名鋼琴調(diào)音師。漫天飄雪的時候，他走進一戶戶人家，兩只青色的小手縮在衣袖里。這天上午，他已經(jīng)在沒生火的房間里調(diào)試了三架鋼琴，眼下正經(jīng)過幾條陰冷的街道，走向另一戶人家。他步履沉重，瞇眼緊盯著過往行人的一頂頂帽子，任由雪花覆滿他那張胖臉。

Sometimes， hating the snow， the wet soles of his feet， the cold rooms and the icy keys of the pianos， he wished for night to come. Sometimes something like a lump of frozen stone seemed to lie oppressively across his chest. Now and then drops of moisture shivered in his eyes and on the end of his nose， falling on his moustache and the frayed edges of his black bow.

有時，他討厭雪，討厭潮濕的腳底、寒冷的屋子、冰涼的琴鍵，巴不得夜晚早點來臨。有時，他的胸口好像沉重地壓著什么東西，如同一塊冰冷的石頭。幾顆水珠時不時在他眼里和鼻尖上顫動，滾落在他的胡髭和蝶形黑領(lǐng)結(jié)磨損的邊緣上。

The knocker of the next house he lifted slowly， as if worn out. It too fell like a stone. In the room where he was admitted there was， as he had expected， no fire and he remembered that for a long time now he had no money from the people who lived there.

他慢慢拎起下一戶人家的門環(huán)，仿佛累壞了似的，門環(huán)也像石頭一般重重地墜下。他被主人讓進的這間屋子，如其所料，也沒有生火。他想起自己很久沒掙到這一帶住戶的錢了。

‘Ah！ Well！ he thought simply. ‘Thatll have to be looked into， and sighed.

“??！沒錯！”他簡單地想道，“這可得探究一番哇。”接著嘆了口氣。

Sitting down he opened the instrument， and shivering as he touched the keys， began his work.

他坐下來打開琴蓋，手指觸摸琴鍵的瞬間，渾身打了個寒戰(zhàn)，隨即開始工作。

‘Da！—da！—da！—da！—da！—da！—dadaaaa！ he tested mournfully.

“噠！——噠！——噠！ ——噠！——噠！——噠！——噠噠——！”他彈出凄慘的測試音。

Suddenly he paused， and then tremblingly from his pocket produced a newspaper of that morning， spread it out on the keys and read slowly and methodically， his lips moving a little：

他驀然止住，然后哆哆嗦嗦地從衣袋里掏出一份當(dāng)天的晨報，平攤在琴鍵上，一字字緩慢地讀起來，嘴唇翕動著：

‘An inquest was yesterday held on Selina Bridges， twenty-seven， professional singer， whose body was taken in a decomposed2 condition from the Thames near Waterloo Bridge， on Tuesday afternoon. Medical evidence was given to show that there were signs of alcohol. Suicide while of unsound mind.

“昨天對二十七歲的職業(yè)歌手塞利娜·布里奇斯進行了驗尸，她的尸體于周二下午從滑鐵盧橋附近的泰晤士河里打撈上岸，時已腐敗。醫(yī)學(xué)證據(jù)顯示死者有醉酒的跡象。系神志不清時自殺身亡?！?/p>

The notice became blurred and as if the printing were to blame he brushed his hand once or twice across the page， but misjudging the distance， striking a discord on the piano instead. He tried to smile， but suddenly tears began to run over his face. His fat shoulders danced sadly in their grief. Gradually， softly， the snow on his hair began to melt in pure blobs on his temples and on his legs and boots changed to streams that curled under the piano like dark snakes.

這則告示變得模模糊糊，仿佛都怪印刷質(zhì)量，他一只手朝著紙頁掃了一兩下，但距離估計得不準(zhǔn)，反而在鋼琴上敲出一個不和諧音。他想笑，可淚水倏地涌出，順著面頰簌簌流淌。他肥厚的肩膀悲痛不已地抽動著。他頭發(fā)上凝結(jié)的凍雪開始一點點地慢慢融化，雙鬢變得濕淋淋的。他的雙腿和靴子上的積雪形成兩股小溪，在鋼琴下蜿蜒流淌，猶如兩條黑蛇。

In his misery he noticed nothing. At last the woman of the house put in her head and asked：

陷入哀傷的他什么也沒察覺。終于，這家女主人探頭進門，問道：

‘Whats the matter， Mr. Bridges？ I dont hear you tunin！

“怎么啦，布里奇斯先生？沒聽見你在調(diào)琴嘛！”

‘Im only cold. Its all right， he whispered. He brought a pair of blue hands together in a feeble， demonstrative smack.

“我就是冷。沒事的?！彼诶飮肃榈馈Ｋ蠑n兩只發(fā)青的手，發(fā)出微弱而感情流露的一下拍擊聲。

‘Youve no business3 out， this woman told him.

“你不該出來的?！边@個女人對他說。

‘Thats all right！ Thats all right， he croaked. ‘Thats all—

“沒關(guān)系！沒關(guān)系?！彼ひ舻统炼硢〉卣f，“沒關(guān)——”

He began to cough， his eyes swelled and became an ugly grey. Suddenly he trembled and wept again.

他咳起來，眼泡腫脹，變成一種難看的灰色。他忽然又打了個哆嗦，哭泣起來。

‘You ought to have something， the woman suggested.

“你得喝點什么?！迸颂嶙h道。

While she had gone out his fit of coughing ceased and he fell into a morose4 state of reflection， shuddering at the thought of the freezing winds， bringing the snow.

她出去之后，他這陣嗆咳止息了，陷入一種回首往事不勝悲戚的狀態(tài)，想到外面呼嘯的寒風(fēng)裹挾著雪花，不禁渾身戰(zhàn)栗。

‘You dont look well， said the woman on returning. ‘Not half you dont. Youve no business out. Ive brought a glass of wine.

“你看上去不太好?！被氐轿堇锏呐苏f?！胺浅２缓?。你不該出來的。我拿來了一杯葡萄酒?！?/p>

He drank some wine.

他喝了些酒。

‘Id be well enough， he replied. ‘I used to be strong. I never had an illness. But its my daughter， Selina， whos a singer. Thats whats the matter.

“我馬上就會好的?！彼鸬?，“我以前挺結(jié)實的，從沒生過病。都是因為我女兒，塞利娜，她是一個歌手。就是這么回事。”

He pointed out the notice. As the woman read it he drank more wine and whimpered5 quietly. Hearing him， the woman in consolation sniffed and then whimpered too. They wept together. By and by there seemed to come over the woman， the cold piano， and the cheerless room a change and in the place of the great stone across his chest came something soothing and warm. He felt suddenly that he must pour out a long stream of confidences and woes into her soft， kind face.

他指著那則告示。女人讀告示之際，他又喝了兩口酒，開始悄聲抽泣。女人聽到他的聲音，出于安慰擤了擤鼻子，稍后也抽泣起來。兩人一起流淚。漸漸地，眼前的女人、冰冷的鋼琴、陰暗的房間，似乎都發(fā)生了一種變化，他的胸口不再壓著那塊巨石，而是泛起某種帶有暖意和慰藉的東西。他忽然覺得，他必須將自己的所有秘密與痛苦，當(dāng)著她溫柔和善的臉，一股腦兒地統(tǒng)統(tǒng)傾瀉出來。

‘Shes my only child， he whimpered. ‘When she was young I used to say shed be a singer. A prima donna6， I fancied. Its nice now to think that I was right. I taught her to read and play—and then after all that—

“她是我唯一的孩子。”他抽抽搭搭地說，“她很小的時候，我常說她將來會成為一名歌手，音樂劇的首席女歌手，我這么認(rèn)為?，F(xiàn)在一想到我這話說對了，感到挺欣慰。我教她讀書和游戲——而在那之后——”

‘Yes？

“唔？”

‘After all that she went away， he told her and then was silent.

“在那之后她走了。”說完這話，他沉默了。

Because of the pain of all this he did not speak again but sat rubbing his blue hands together， thinking of his daughter， of the poverty of her death， and lastly of what every one knew—that once， years ago， he had quarrelled with her and had not seen her since. On his shaky fingers a tear fell and， looking like a bluish pearl， would not roll off. The woman， observing this， left him and fetched a second glass of wine.

由于這一切引起的痛苦，他沒再吭聲，而是依然坐著，搓揉發(fā)青的雙手，想起他的女兒，想起她死時貧困潦倒，最后又想起人所共知的事實——幾年前，他曾經(jīng)跟她吵過一架，之后再沒見過她。一滴淚水落在他不住哆嗦的手指上，宛若一粒淡藍色的珍珠，顫顫悠悠地拒絕滑落。女人見狀趕緊走開，去取第二杯葡萄酒。

As he drank it a soft sensation went through his flesh. He suddenly found it an unimaginable pleasure to do nothing but murmur to the woman between his tears， miserable with a warm， comforting misery， softer and easier to bear than the deadly thoughts which had moved leadenly across his brain in the snow.

他喝著葡萄酒，渾身泛起一陣舒爽的感覺。他驀然發(fā)覺這是一種難以想象的快樂：什么也不做，只管噙著淚水對女人絮叨，胸中懷著苦悶，一種帶有幾許暖意和慰藉的苦悶，比雪地上沉重地自他腦中冒出的恐怖念頭更加柔和，易于忍受。

He murmured： ‘My only child. I remember I taught her to play. I always said shed be a singer. I always said so.

他悄聲說道：“我唯一的孩子。我記得當(dāng)年怎樣教她演奏。我總是說她會成為一名歌手。我總是這么說。”

Now， though he was aware of the poverty and misery of her death， it seemed easy to think of her as successful， artistic and clever， even that she had never despised and left him. In a little while growing warmer and less conscience-stricken， he turned again to work on the piano， permitting himself occasionally the thin luxury of a scale or two， forgetting the snow， the endless list of houses before him， and seeing the death of his daughter as if screened from it by a pleasant rosy cloud. At last he got up， called thanks to the woman of the house and， tucking his hands into his sleeves， stepped into the snow again.

此時，盡管他意識到她死得潦倒凄涼，卻似乎很容易想到她的成功、聰明、富有藝術(shù)天賦，甚至認(rèn)為她從未鄙視他、離開他。在短暫的時間后他覺得漸漸溫暖、不太受到良心的譴責(zé)，他繼續(xù)調(diào)試鋼琴，偶爾允許自己略微享受彈奏一兩個音階的樂趣，忘了大雪，忘了前面沒完沒了要去的一座座房子，看待他女兒之死，也仿佛隔著一團怡人的玫瑰色煙云。終于，他站起身，對女主人響亮地說了聲謝謝，兩手縮進袖口，復(fù)又走入風(fēng)雪中。

Then gradually as the dreamy sensation of the wine wore off he began to shiver again. The heavy stone dropped back across his chest and bent his ribs inward in great， painful arcs. There were no longer hallucinations7 and comfortable miseries as in the house. Each piano he tuned grew colder. Between his visits the snow was venomous8 and froze him into an aching heap.

接著，葡萄酒引起的幻覺緩緩消失，他又打起了哆嗦。沉重的石塊復(fù)又落在他的胸口，仿佛壓得肋骨嚴(yán)重朝里彎曲，疼得厲害。不像在女人家里時那樣，有幻覺和安適的苦難，他調(diào)試的鋼琴一架比一架冰冷。在他走向一戶戶人家的途中，兇惡的風(fēng)雪凍得他渾身疼痛，蜷作一團。

He turned in， ordered whisky， and drinking it very quickly went on. Now at the houses the people seemed to know of his grief and pitied him.

他拐進酒館，點了杯威士忌，匆匆喝完后又繼續(xù)前行?，F(xiàn)在他上門的幾戶人家似乎知曉了他的不幸，對他表示同情。

‘Yes， its my daughter， he would tell them， ‘Selina. She went away to be a singer in London. Its a long time ago. I remember I used to say shed be a prima donna. Its nice to think that. Yes， it helps.

“對，是我的女兒，”他告訴他們說，“塞利娜。她離家去倫敦當(dāng)歌手。那是很久以前了。記得我以前說過她會成為一名音樂劇的首席歌手。想到這兒心里好受了。是的，多少好受一些。”

And they would shake commiserating9 heads， give him tender ‘Goodmornings and thanks， yet all the time think： ‘Thats all right. But hes been drinking again. And they say he used to beat Selina before she left him.

他們憐憫地搖搖頭，溫柔地對他說“早安”，向他道謝，心里始終暗想：“那好吧?？伤珠_始喝酒了。況且他們說他從前總打塞利娜，后來她才離開了他?！?/p>

The snow shot down its white bullets faster than ever. His face began to look no more than a wrinkled blue pea tucked between his hat and shoulders. His feet seemed to die， frozen， beneath him. The desire to drink again was strong.

白色彈丸似的雪粒越發(fā)急驟地傾瀉而下。他的臉看上去只是一枚塞在帽子和肩膀之間的皺癟的藍色豌豆。他的雙腿仿佛失去了活力，在他身下凍得僵硬。再飲一杯的愿望很是迫切。

In the warm bar he became enveloped in reminiscence and there seemed to come back the soothing air that had shrouded the woman who had been generous with wine. From the bright face of the barmaid seemed to shine kindness. His thoughts were glowing， immense in reach. He felt that he must confide in her too.

在溫暖的酒吧里，他沉浸在回憶中，籠罩著那個慷慨施酒的女人的安恬氣氛似乎又回來了。女招待神采奕奕的臉上，仿佛閃耀著善良的光輝。他的思緒在閃著光，映照著很遠的地方。他覺得也該向她傾吐自己的心事。

‘My daughter Slina. You knew my daughter Slina？ he muttered.

“我女兒叫瑟利娜。你知道我的女兒瑟利娜嗎？”他咕噥道。

She looked sharply up. ‘Selina？

她猛然抬起頭?！叭?？”

‘She used—used to sing. Shes a singer.

“她曾經(jīng)——曾經(jīng)唱過歌。她是歌手?！?/p>

‘Yes， I know. Whats the matter？

“對呀，我知道。怎么啦？”

He muttered two words in a low voice， then closed his eyes. The barmaid stretched out her warm， soft hands and put them on his. ‘So its true？ she whispered. ‘Id heard something.

他輕聲吐出兩個詞兒，旋即閉上雙眼。女招待伸出一雙溫軟的手，擱在他的兩只手上。她低聲說：“這么說是真的啰？我聽說了一些事。”

‘Yes， its true.

“是的，是真的?！?/p>

The girls hand crept upwards and touched his bowed head. ‘Dont carry on， she said. The sound of her voice， the softness of her hands， the warm smell of the room comforted him. It seemed to him suddenly that Selina was no more than a child in a pink cotton dress， standing on his chest and pulling his hair. And his heart was heavy.

姑娘的一只手緩緩上移，觸碰他垂下的腦袋?！皠e再想這些了?！彼f。她說話的嗓音、雙手的柔軟、屋里溫暖的味道給了他安慰。頃刻間，他依稀覺得塞利娜還是個身穿粉紅色布裙的小姑娘，站在他的胸脯上揪著他的頭發(fā)。他的心頭沉甸甸的。

‘I used to say how beautifully shed sing， he said.

“我以前常說她會唱得多好?！彼f。

Tears ran down his cheeks in a soft， unchecked flow. The heavy misery of his heart made him say： ‘I did everything. I made her what she was.

淚水順著他的面頰緩緩地、止不住地流淌。他心頭郁結(jié)的凄苦迫使他說：“我什么都做了。是我造就她的。”

And though she too knew that he had ill-treated her， quarrelled and parted with her and had not seen her since， and that in misery she had drowned herself at last， the girl went on softly stroking his hair， comforting him. And sometimes， as if in response， tears fell on her hands， sighs would shake his breast， and she would hear him murmur softly， half to himself：

盡管知道他曾經(jīng)虐待自己的女兒，跟她吵架，與她決裂，之后再沒見過她，她最后在絕望中投水自殺，女招待還是繼續(xù)溫柔地撫摸他的頭發(fā)，安慰他。有時，仿佛作出回應(yīng)似的，淚珠滴落在她手上，他的胸脯隨著一聲聲嘆息抖動，她聽見他自語似的悄聲咕噥道：

‘I used to say how beautifully shed sing. I had faith in her. I made her what she was.

“我以前常說她會唱得多好。我對她有信心。是我造就她的?！?/p>

She listened with sadness. Outside the snow kept on falling in soft white flakes， sadly too.

她憂傷地聽著。屋外，輕盈潔白的雪花持續(xù)從天而降，同樣帶著憂傷。

1赫伯特·歐內(nèi)斯特·貝茨（1905—1974），英國著名作家，主要以短篇小說的成就馳譽文壇。他擅長用散文詩的筆觸描繪景色和抒寫胸懷，文筆生動、真切、傳神，自然景物與人物心理的描寫熨貼入微，富有詩的意蘊和韻律。本文選自《日暮及其他故事集》（Days End and Other Stories）。

2 decomposed腐敗的。

3 have no business無權(quán)，沒有理由。? 4 morose陰郁的，情緒低落的。

5 whimper抽搭，抽泣。? 6 prima donna（歌劇中的）女主角演員。

7 hallucination幻覺。? 8 venomous惡毒的，劇烈的。? 9 commiserating同情的。