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IN AN ATTIC.

在阁楼里

Friday, 28th.

星期五,28日

Yesterday afternoon I went with my mother and my sister Sylvia, to carry the linen to the poor woman recommended by the newspaper: I carried the bundle; Sylvia had the paper with the initials of the name and the address. We climbed to the very roof of a tall house, to a long corridor with many doors. My mother knocked at the last; it was opened by a woman who was still young, blond and thin, and it instantly struck me that I had seen her many times before, with that very same blue kerchief that she wore on her head.

昨天下午,我同母亲、姐姐西尔维娅一起去送亚麻布品给报纸报道的那个贫困的妇女。我提着包裹,西尔维娅拿着写着这位妇女名字首字母和住址的纸条。我们爬上了一座高楼的顶部,有条走廊通向许多房间。母亲敲了最后一间的门。一个年轻的、瘦瘦的金发妇女打开了门,我立刻想起我以前见过她很多次,她头上总戴着这一条蓝色大方巾。

"Are you the person of whom the newspaper says so and so?" asked my mother.

“你是报纸上所说的那位吗?”我母亲问道。

"Yes, signora, I am."

“是的,夫人,我是。”

"Well, we have brought you a little linen." Then the woman began to thank us and bless us, and could not make enough of it. Meanwhile I espied in one corner of the bare, dark room, a boy kneeling in front of a chair, with his back turned towards us, who appeared to be writing; and he really was writing, with his paper on the chair and his inkstand on the floor. How did he manage to write thus in the dark? While I was saying this to myself, I suddenly recognized the red hair and the coarse jacket of Crossi, the son of the vegetable-pedler, the boy with the useless arm. I told my mother softly, while the woman was putting away the things.

“我们给你带了一些亚麻布品。”那位妇女开始感谢我们,并祝福我们,好像怎么感谢怎么祝福都不够似的。这时,我发现在这又空又暗的房间一角,一个男孩跪在一张椅子前面,背对着我们,好像在写字。他的确是在写字,把纸铺在椅子上,墨水瓶放在地板上。他是怎么做到在黑暗中写字的呢?正当我暗自思忖的时候,我突然认出了克洛西的红发和他粗劣的夹克,就是那个蔬菜小贩的儿子,一只手臂残疾的男孩。趁那个妇女把东西收好的时候,我轻声把这些告诉了母亲。

"Hush!" replied my mother; "perhaps he will feel ashamed to see you giving alms to his mother: don't speak to him."

“嘘!”母亲答道,“看到你送救济品给她母亲,他可能会感到难为情的,你别去和他讲话。”

But at that moment Crossi turned round; I was embarrassed; he smiled, and then my mother gave me a push, so that I should run to him and embrace him. I did embrace him: he rose and took me by the hand.

但恰在那时克洛西转过身来了。我很尴尬,他微笑着。这时母亲推了我一把,让我能跑过去拥抱他。我拥抱了他,他站起来握住了我的手。

"Here I am," his mother was saying in the meantime to my mother, "alone with this boy, my husband in America these seven years, and I sick in addition, so that I can no longer make my rounds with my vegetables, and earn a few cents. We have not even a table left for my poor Luigino to do his work on. When there was a bench down at the door, he could, at least, write on the bench; but that has been taken away. He has not even a little light so that he can study without ruining his eyes. And it is a mercy that I can send him to school, since the city provides him with books and copy-books. Poor Luigino, who would be so glad to study! Unhappy woman, that I am!"

“我在这里,”他母亲正对我母亲说,“和这孩子相依为命,我丈夫去美国已经七年了,我又病了,再也不能挑着菜四处叫卖来糊口了。我们连桌子没剩下一张,没法让我可怜的路易吉诺在桌子上写功课。以前门下还有条长凳,他至少能在那上面写字,但是现在那个也被拿走了。他连一盏小灯都没有,这么个学习法,眼睛都要坏了。幸亏市政府给他提供书本和字帖,我才能送他去上学。可怜的路易吉诺,他多么喜欢读书啊!我真是个不幸的女人!”

My mother gave her all that she had in her purse, kissed the boy, and almost wept as we went out. And she had good cause to say to me: "Look at that poor boy; see how he is forced to work, when you have every comfort, and yet study seems hard to you! Ah! Enrico, there is more merit in the work which he does in one day, than in your work for a year. It is to such that the first prizes should be given!"

母亲把钱包里所有的钱都给了她,亲吻了那个男孩。我们走出去的时候,母亲几乎快哭出来了。她语重心长地对我说:“瞧瞧那个可怜的男孩,瞧瞧他是怎么被迫去学习的,而你养尊处优,还抱怨学习对你来说太难!啊!安利柯,他学习一天的功劳比你学习一年的还要多。像这种孩子才应该被授予头奖啊!” AoipRdtxeSbGf2RiZJybAWbTBcugKZIFGyWGuoE5vIgeoYkXuhtyvem1T62BwyV1

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