THERE was no hope for him this time: it was the third stroke. Night after night I had passed the house (it was vacation time) and studied the lighted square of window: and night after night I had found it lighted in the same way, faintly and evenly. If he was dead, I thought, I would see the reflection of candles on the darkened blind for I knew that two candles must be set at the head of a corpse. He had often said to me: "I am not long for this world," and I had thought his words idle. Now I knew they were true. Every night as I gazed up at the window I said softly to myself the word paralysis. It had always sounded strangely in my ears, like the word gnomon in the Euclid and the word simony in the Catechism. But now it sounded to me like the name of some maleficent and sinful being. It filled me with fear, and yet I longed to be nearer to it and to look upon its deadly work.

对他而言，这一次是没有任何希望了：这是第三次中风了。一夜又一夜，我走过那所房子（时值假期），端详那灯光映照下的方窗框：一夜又一夜，我发现那窗框里都亮着同样的灯光，微弱而匀和。假如他死了，我想，我会在变暗的百叶窗上看到烛光的影子，因为我知道人们要在死者的头边放置两根蜡烛。他经常对我讲：“我将不久于人世了。”而我一直都认为他的话毫无意义。现在我才知道它们都是真的。每个夜晚，当我抬头注视着那扇窗时，我总会轻轻地对自己说“瘫痪”这个词。在我听来，它总是有些奇怪，就像欧几里得几何中“磬折形”一词以及教义问答手册里“买卖圣职罪”一词。然而现在在我听来它却像是某种作恶多端、罪行累累的生物的名字。它让我充满恐惧，可我又渴望能离它更近一些，以便去观察它完成那致命的工作。

Old Cotter was sitting at the fire, smoking, when I came downstairs to supper. While my aunt was ladling out my stirabout he said, as if returning to some former remark of his:

我下楼来吃晚饭的时候，老科特正坐在火炉边抽烟。姨妈给我盛麦片粥的时候，他仿佛是重拾先前的某个话头似的说道：

"No, I wouldn't say he was exactly... but there was something queer... there was something uncanny about him. I'll tell you my opinion...." He began to puff at his pipe, no doubt arranging his opinion in his mind. Tiresome old fool! When we knew him first he used to be rather interesting, talking of faints and worms; but I soon grew tired of him and his endless stories about the distillery.

“不，我不是说他就是……可是有些地方不对头……他有点古怪。我要告诉你们我的看法……”他开始猛吸烟斗，无疑是在整理自己脑子里的想法。讨厌的老傻瓜！我们刚认识他的时候，他还相当有趣，常常谈论劣质酒精和蜗杆；但是我很快就对他这个人以及他那些没完没了的关于酒厂的故事感到厌烦了。

"I have my own theory about it," he said. "I think it was one of those... peculiar cases.... But it's hard to say...."

“关于酿酒我有我自己的看法。”他说，“我认为它是那些……特殊情况之一……但是很难说……”

He began to puff again at his pipe without giving us his theory. My uncle saw me staring and said to me:

他又开始猛吸烟斗，却没有给我们讲他的看法。姨父看见我在凝神发呆，就对我说：

"Well, so your old friend is gone, you'll be sorry to hear."

“唉，你的老朋友去世了，你听了肯定很难过。”

"Who?" said I.

“谁？”我说。

"Father Flynn."

“弗林神父。”

"Is he dead?"

“他死了？”

"Mr. Cotter here has just told us. He was passing by the house."

“科特先生刚刚告诉我们的。他来时路过了那所房子。”

I knew that I was under observation so I continued eating as if the news had not interested me. My uncle explained to old Cotter.

我知道自己正处于众目睽睽之下，所以就继续吃饭，仿佛这个消息并没有激发我的兴趣。姨父向老科特解释道：

"The youngster and he were great friends. The old chap taught him a great deal, mind you; and they say he had a great wish for him."

“这个年轻人和他是很要好的朋友。要知道，那老家伙教给了他不少东西；人们说他对这孩子有很高的期望。”

"God have mercy on his soul," said my aunt piously.

“愿上帝怜悯他的灵魂。”姨妈虔诚地说。

Old Cotter looked at me for a while. I felt that his little beady black eyes were examining me but I would not satisfy him by looking up from my plate. He returned to his pipe and finally spat rudely into the grate.

老科特盯着我看了一会儿。我感觉到他那双亮闪闪的小黑眼睛在审视我，可我不愿让他得逞，所以并没有从盘子上抬起头来。他又开始抽他的烟斗，最后冲壁炉里粗鲁地吐了一口痰。

"I wouldn't like children of mine," he said, "to have too much to say to a man like that."

“我可不愿意让我的孩子们，”他说，“去和那样的一个人有太多的话可说。”

"How do you mean, Mr. Cotter?" asked my aunt.

“您想说什么呢，科特先生？”姨妈问道。

"What I mean is," said old Cotter, "it's bad for children. My idea is: let a young lad run about and play with young lads of his own age and not be... Am I right, Jack?"

“我是想说，”老科特说，“那对孩子们不好。我的看法是：要让一个小伙子到处跑跑，和与他同龄的伙计们玩，而不是……我说的对吧，杰克？”

"That's my principle, too," said my uncle. "Let him learn to box his corner. That's what I'm always saying to that Rosicrucian there: take exercise. Why, when I was a nipper every morning of my life I had a cold bath, winter and summer. And that's what stands to me now. Education is all very fine and large.... Mr. Cotter might take a pick of that leg mutton," he added to my aunt.

“这也是我的原则，”姨父说，“要让他学着闯出自己的一片天地。这也是我总是对那边那位玫瑰十字会会员说的话：多做锻炼。啊，想当年我是个小毛孩的时候，每天早上我都要洗个冷水澡，无论冬夏。而这也是我现在依然坚持的习惯。学校教育倒也是不错……科特先生可以来一块羊腿肉。”他又冲着姨妈说道。

"No, no, not for me," said old Cotter.

“不了，不了，别给我了。”老科特说道。

My aunt brought the dish from the safe and put it on the table.

姨妈从橱柜里取出了那盘羊腿肉放到了桌子上。

"But why do you think it's not good for children, Mr. Cotter?" she asked.

“可是，科特先生，您为什么觉得那对孩子们不好呢？”她问道。

"It's bad for children," said old Cotter, "because their mind are so impressionable. When children see things like that, you know, it has an effect...."

“那对孩子们不好，” 老科特说，“因为他们的思想很容易受影响。当孩子们看到此类事情的时候，你知道，它会产生一种影响……”

I crammed my mouth with stirabout for fear I might give utterance to my anger. Tiresome old red-nosed imbecile!

我往嘴里填塞着麦片粥，唯恐自己会怒气爆发。讨厌的红鼻子老傻瓜！

It was late when I fell asleep. Though I was angry with old Cotter for alluding to me as a child, I puzzled my head to extract meaning from his unfinished sentences. In the dark of my room I imagined that I saw again the heavy grey face of the paralytic. I drew the blankets over my head and tried to think of Christmas. But the grey face still followed me. It murmured, and I understood that it desired to confess something. I felt my soul receding into some pleasant and vicious region; and there again I found it waiting for me. It began to confess to me in a murmuring voice and I wondered why it smiled continually and why the lips were so moist with spittle. But then I remembered that it had died of paralysis and I felt that I too was smiling feebly as if to absolve the simoniac of his sin.

夜深的时候我才入睡。尽管我很生气老科特说我是小孩子，但我还是使劲在脑子里琢磨着他那没有讲完的话中所隐含的意思。房间里漆黑一片，我想象着我又看到了中风病人那张忧郁而灰白的脸。我把毯子拉上来盖住头，试着去想圣诞节。但是那张灰白的脸仍然追着我。它低语着，我明白它很想要诉说些什么。我感到自己的灵魂退隐到了某个舒适而又堕落的地方；在那里，我又发现它在等我。它开始喃喃地向我倾诉，我不知道它为什么一直在笑，为什么它的双唇被唾沫弄得那样湿润。可是很快我想起它已经死于瘫痪，我感觉我也开始无力地微笑，仿佛是要赦免他买卖圣职的罪行。

The next morning after breakfast I went down to look at the little house in Great Britain Street. It was an unassuming shop, registered under the vague name of Drapery. The drapery consisted mainly of children's bootees and umbrellas; and on ordinary days a notice used to hang in the window, saying: Umbrellas Re-covered. No notice was visible now for the shutters were up. A crape bouquet was tied to the doorknocker with ribbon. Two poor women and a telegram boy were reading the card pinned on the crape. I also approached and read:

第二天早晨，早饭过后，我去看了位于大不列颠街上的那所小房子。这是家不起眼的商店，是以“织物”这样一个意思含混的名字登记在册的。而所谓的织物主要包括儿童毛线鞋和雨伞；平时，一则告示常常挂在窗口，上面写着：雨伞换面。现在告示看不见了，因为百叶窗都关着。一把黑绉纱做的花束用丝带绑在门环上。两个穷女人和一个送电报的男孩正在读黑绉纱上别着的那张卡片。我也走上前去，看了起来：

July 1st, 1895 The Rev. James Flynn (formerly of S. Catherine's Church, Meath Street), aged sixty-five years. R. I. P.

1895年7月1日詹姆斯·弗林神父（曾供职于米斯街的圣凯瑟琳教堂），享年六十五岁。愿他安息。

The reading of the card persuaded me that he was dead and I was disturbed to find myself at check. Had he not been dead I would have gone into the little dark room behind the shop to find him sitting in his arm-chair by the fire, nearly smothered in his great-coat. Perhaps my aunt would have given me a packet of High Toast for him and this present would have roused him from his stupefied doze. It was always I who emptied the packet into his black snuff-box for his hands trembled too much to allow him to do this without spilling half the snuff about the floor. Even as he raised his large trembling hand to his nose little clouds of smoke dribbled through his fingers over the front of his coat. It may have been these constant showers of snuff which gave his ancient priestly garments their green faded look for the red handkerchief, blackened, as it always was, with the snuff-stains of a week, with which he tried to brush away the fallen grains, was quite inefficacious.

读了这张卡片，我才确信他是死了，我心烦意乱，一步也走不动。要是他没死的话，我就会到商店后面的那间小黑屋里去，就会看到他坐在火炉旁边的扶手椅里，整个人几乎都严严实实地包裹在大衣里。姨妈也可能会让我带给他一包高杯牌鼻烟，而这个礼物则会让他从昏昏沉沉的瞌睡中醒过来。每次总是我把这包烟倒进他那黑色的鼻烟壶里，因为他的手抖得太厉害，让他来做的话就会把一半的鼻烟都撒到地板上。甚至当他用那只颤抖的大手把烟凑到鼻子跟前的时候也总会有许多小片的烟粉从指缝中落到他的大衣前襟上。很可能正是这些经常落下的烟粉使他那古旧的神父服呈现出一种消褪的绿色，而他试图用来拂去这些鼻烟粉粒的那块红手帕也很不管用。由于沾满了一个星期的鼻烟污渍，那手帕一直都是黑乎乎的。

I wished to go in and look at him but I had not the courage to knock. I walked away slowly along the sunny side of the street, reading all the theatrical advertisements in the shop-windows as I went. I found it strange that neither I nor the day seemed in a mourning mood and I felt even annoyed at discovering in myself a sensation of freedom as if I had been freed from something by his death. I wondered at this for, as my uncle had said the night before, he had taught me a great deal. He had studied in the Irish college in Rome and he had taught me to pronounce Latin properly. He had told me stories about the catacombs and about Napoleon Bonaparte, and he had explained to me the meaning of the different ceremonies of the Mass and of the different vestments worn by the priest. Sometimes he had amused himself by putting difficult questions to me, asking me what one should do in certain circumstances or whether such and such sins were mortal or venial or only imperfections. His questions showed me how complex and mysterious were certain institutions of the Church which I had always regarded as the simplest acts. The duties of the priest towards the Eucharist and towards the secrecy of the confessional seemed so grave to me that I wondered how anybody had ever found in himself the courage to undertake them; and I was not surprised when he told me that the fathers of the Church had written books as thick as the Post Office Directory and as closely printed as the law notices in the newspaper, elucidating all these intricate questions. Often when I thought of this I could make no answer or only a very foolish and halting one upon which he used to smile and nod his head twice or thrice. Sometimes he used to put me through the responses of the Mass which he had made me learn by heart; and, as I pattered, he used to smile pensively and nod his head, now and then pushing huge pinches of snuff up each nostril alternately. When he smiled he used to uncover his big discoloured teeth and let his tongue lie upon his lower lip—a habit which had made me feel uneasy in the beginning of our acquaintance before I knew him well.

我想进去看看他，但我却没有勇气上去敲门。我沿着阳光照耀的那侧街道默默地走开，一路看着商店橱窗里所有的剧院海报。我觉得有些奇怪，我和那天色似乎都没有处于悲哀的情绪之中，我甚至感到有些恼火，因为发现自己内心居然有一种重获自由的感觉，仿佛因为他的死而使我从某种束缚中解放了出来。我对此感到不解，因为正如我姨父前一天晚上所说的那样，他教会了我许多东西。他曾经在罗马的爱尔兰学院学习过，他教会了我正确地读念拉丁文。他曾经给我讲过关于地下墓穴以及拿破仑·波拿巴的故事，他还曾经给我解释过各种弥撒仪式以及神父所穿的不同法衣的含义。有时他会通过向我提出难解的问题来寻开心，问我在特定情况下应该怎么做，或者问我某种罪行是致命的还是可宽恕的抑或只是些毛病而已。他的问题让我明白教会的某些制度是如何复杂和神秘，而我先前一直把它们看作是些再简单不过的规定。神父对圣餐以及忏悔室的秘密所负的责任在我看来是如此重大，我很想明白何以有人能鼓起足够的勇气去承担它们；而当他告诉我说，教堂的神父们曾写过像《邮局手册》一样厚、排版得像报纸上的法律公告一样密集的书来阐明所有这些错综复杂的问题时，我已经不觉得惊讶了。每每想到这一点，我总是无法给出答案或者只能给出一个非常愚蠢、非常含混的答案，对此，他总是报以微笑，同时还点两三下头。有时他会考考我他曾叫我用心记住的举行弥撒所需的应答短诗；当我叽里呱啦诵读的时候，他总是若有所思地微笑点头，时不时地轮流往两个鼻孔里塞大撮大撮的鼻烟。他微笑的时候常常会露出大颗大颗变色的牙齿，舌头则总是贴在下嘴唇上——这个习惯在我刚认识他、还没跟他熟识之前曾让我感到很不舒服。

As I walked along in the sun I remembered old Cotter's words and tried to remember what had happened afterwards in the dream. I remembered that I had noticed long velvet curtains and a swinging lamp of antique fashion. I felt that I had been very far away, in some land where the customs were strange—in Persia, I thought.... But I could not remember the end of the dream.

我在阳光下往前走着的时候，想起了老科特的话，然后开始极力回忆在梦里后来到底发生了什么。我记起我看到了长长的天鹅绒窗帘，还有一盏摇摆不定的古老的吊灯。我感觉我已经走了很远，到了某个风俗奇特的地方——是在波斯吧，也许……但我却记不起梦的结局了。

In the evening my aunt took me with her to visit the house of mourning. It was after sunset; but the window-panes of the houses that looked to the west reflected the tawny gold of a great bank of clouds. Nannie received us in the hall; and, as it would have been unseemly to have shouted at her, my aunt shook hands with her for all. The old woman pointed upwards interrogatively and, on my aunt's nodding, proceeded to toil up the narrow staircase before us, her bowed head being scarcely above the level of the banister-rail. At the first landing she stopped and beckoned us forward encouragingly towards the open door of the dead-room. My aunt went in and the old woman, seeing that I hesitated to enter, began to beckon to me again repeatedly with her hand.

傍晚，姨妈带我去了办丧事的那所房子。当时已过了日落时分；但房子向西的玻璃窗上仍反射有一大片云堆呈现出的金褐色的余光。南妮在前厅里迎接我们；由于冲她大声喊叫会显得不太得体，所以姨妈只是和她握了握手。老妇人带有询问意味地向上指了指，见姨妈点了点头，便开始在我们前面沿着狭窄的楼梯费力地往上爬，她的头向下低得几乎和旁边的栏杆一样高。在第一个楼梯平台上，她停了下来，招呼我们朝停放死者的那间屋子敞开的门走去。姨妈走了进去，老妇人见我犹豫不决，就又开始用手不停地招呼我。

I went in on tiptoe. The room through the lace end of the blind was suffused with dusky golden light amid which the candles looked like pale thin flames. He had been coffined. Nannie gave the lead and we three knelt down at the foot of the bed. I pretended to pray but I could not gather my thoughts because the old woman's mutterings distracted me. I noticed how clumsily her skirt was hooked at the back and how the heels of her cloth boots were trodden down all to one side. The fancy came to me that the old priest was smiling as he lay there in his coffin.

我蹑手蹑脚地走了进去。透过百叶窗的花边，昏暗的金色光芒弥漫到整个屋子里，使得蜡烛的光亮看起来有些苍白而微弱。他已经被放入棺材。南妮带头，我们三个跪在了棺脚边。我假装开始祈祷但却无法集中自己的思绪，因为老妇人在一旁的嘟哝声分散了我的注意力。我注意到她的裙子后面是怎样笨拙地扣在一起，还有她那布靴的鞋跟怎样被踩得偏向了一侧。恍惚之中我仿佛看到老神父正躺在他的棺材里微笑。

But no. When we rose and went up to the head of the bed I saw that he was not smiling. There he lay, solemn and copious, vested as for the altar, his large hands loosely retaining a chalice. His face was very truculent, grey and massive, with black cavernous nostrils and circled by a scanty white fur. There was a heavy odour in the room—the flowers.

但是他没有。当我们起身走到棺头旁边的时候，我看到他并没有微笑。他躺在那里，看上去庄严而博学，穿戴得像是要去祭坛，那双大手里松松地揽着一个圣杯。他的脸看上去灰暗而硕大，神情蛮横，鼻孔仿佛两个黑洞，脸颊周围长着一圈稀疏的白毛。屋子里有一股浓烈的味道——是那些花散发出来的。

We crossed ourselves and came away. In the little room downstairs we found Eliza seated in his arm-chair in state. I groped my way towards my usual chair in the corner while Nannie went to the sideboard and brought out a decanter of sherry and some wine-glasses. She set these on the table and invited us to take a little glass of wine. Then, at her sister's bidding, she filled out the sherry into the glasses and passed them to us. She pressed me to take some cream crackers also but I declined because I thought I would make too much noise eating them. She seemed to be somewhat disappointed at my refusal and went over quietly to the sofa where she sat down behind her sister. No one spoke: we all gazed at the empty fireplace.

我们各自在身前画了十字，然后离开。在楼下的小屋里，我们看见伊丽莎正端坐在他那把扶手椅里。我摸索着朝角落里那把我平时常坐的椅子走去，而南妮则到橱柜里取出了一瓶雪利酒和几个酒杯。她把这些东西放在桌子上，邀请我们大家都喝上一小杯酒。然后，在她姐姐的吩咐下，她把雪利酒倒入酒杯，然后端给了我们大家。她极力劝说我再吃些奶油饼干，但我谢绝了，因为我怕吃那些饼干会弄出很大的声响。对于我的拒绝，她显得有些失望，于是就安静地走到沙发跟前在她姐姐身后坐了下来。谁都没有说话：我们全都凝视着空荡荡的壁炉。

My aunt waited until Eliza sighed and then said:

一直等到伊丽莎叹了口气，姨妈才开口说道：

"Ah, well, he's gone to a better world."

“啊，好了，他已经去了一个更好的世界。”

Eliza sighed again and bowed her head in assent. My aunt fingered the stem of her wine-glass before sipping a little.

伊丽莎又叹了口气，点点头表示赞同。姨妈用手指摸了摸高脚酒杯的杯脚，然后呷了一小口酒。

"Did he... peacefully?" she asked.

“他走得……平静吗？”她问道。

"Oh, quite peacefully, ma'am," said Eliza. "You couldn't tell when the breath went out of him. He had a beautiful death, God be praised.""And everything...?"

“哦，非常平静，夫人。”伊丽莎说道，“你都无法得知他的呼吸是什么时候停止的。他死得很美，感谢上帝。”“那么一切都……？”

"Father O'Rourke was in with him a Tuesday and anointed him and prepared him and all."

“奥鲁尔克神父星期二和他在一起，给他涂了圣油，为他准备好了一切。”

"He knew then?"

“当时他清醒吗？”

"He was quite resigned."

“他很顺从。”

"He looks quite resigned," said my aunt.

“他看起来很顺从。”姨妈说道。

"That's what the woman we had in to wash him said. She said he just looked as if he was asleep, he looked that peaceful and resigned. No one would think he'd make such a beautiful corpse."

“这也是我们叫进去给他清洗的那个女人所说的话。她说他看上去就仿佛是睡着了，他看上去是那么安详和顺从。谁都想不到他死了的样子还能这么美。”

"Yes, indeed," said my aunt.

“是啊，的确如此。”姨妈说道。

She sipped a little more from her glass and said:

她又从酒杯里呷了一小口酒，然后说道：

"Well, Miss Flynn, at any rate it must be a great comfort for you to know that you did all you could for him. You were both very kind to him, I must say."

“呃，弗林小姐，无论如何你们已经为他尽力了，明白这一点一定会给你们很大的宽慰的。你们俩待他都非常好，我得说。”

Eliza smoothed her dress over her knees.

伊丽莎抚平了膝头的裙子。

"Ah, poor James!" she said. "God knows we done all we could, as poor as we are—we wouldn't see him want anything while he was in it."

“唉，可怜的詹姆斯！”她说，“上帝知道我们做了所有我们能做的一切，尽管我们穷成这样——我们也不愿意看到他在那里头还缺少什么东西。”

Nannie had leaned her head against the sofa-pillow and seemed about to fall asleep.

南妮已经把头靠在了沙发靠枕上，看上去像是马上就会睡着。

"There's poor Nannie," said Eliza, looking at her, "she's wore out. All the work we had, she and me, getting in the woman to wash him and then laying him out and then the coffin and then arranging about the Mass in the chapel. Only for Father O'Rourke I don't know what we'd done at all. It was him brought us all them flowers and them two candlesticks out of the chapel and wrote out the notice for the Freeman's General and took charge of all the papers for the cemetery and poor James's insurance."

“可怜的南妮，” 伊丽莎看着她说道, “她累坏了。她和我，我们做的所有这些活儿，包括找那个女人给他清洗，把他抬出来，放进棺材，然后又安排教堂里做弥撒。要是没有奥鲁尔克神父我不知道我们究竟能做什么。正是他从教堂给我们拿来所有的鲜花和那两个烛台，写了那份登在《自由民日报》上的公告，还负责处理所有和墓地那边有关的文件以及可怜的詹姆斯的保险。”

"Wasn't that good of him?" said my aunt.

“那他这人不是很好吗？”姨妈说。

Eliza closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.

伊丽莎闭上双眼，慢慢地摇了摇头。

"Ah, there's no friends like the old friends," she said, "when all is said and done, no friends that a body can trust."

“唉，还是老朋友靠得住，”她说，“但是归根到底，一具尸首是谈不上信任什么朋友的。”

"Indeed, that's true," said my aunt. "And I'm sure now that he's gone to his eternal reward he won't forget you and all your kindness to him."

“的确如此，这话不假。”姨妈说道，“不过我敢说，既然他已经去享用他那份永恒的奖赏，他不会忘记你们以及所有你们对他的好。”

"Ah, poor James!" said Eliza. "He was no great trouble to us. You wouldn't hear him in the house any more than now. Still, I know he's gone and all to that...."

“啊，可怜的詹姆斯！”伊丽莎说道，“对我们来说他一直都不是大麻烦。他还在的时候，在房子里发出的动静也不会比现在更大。可是，我知道他不在了，而且永远去了那个……”

"It's when it's all over that you'll miss him," said my aunt.

“只有一切结束的时候你们才会开始想他。”姨妈说。

"I know that," said Eliza. "I won't be bringing him in his cup of beef-tea any more, nor you, ma'am, sending him his snuff. Ah, poor James!"

“我明白。”伊丽莎说，“我再也不用把牛肉汁给他端进去，而您，夫人，也再不用送鼻烟给他了。唉，可怜的詹姆斯！”

She stopped, as if she were communing with the past and then said shrewdly:

她止住了话头，仿佛在沉湎于过去，然后又机敏地说道：

"Mind you, I noticed there was something queer coming over him latterly. Whenever I'd bring in his soup to him there I'd find him with his breviary fallen to the floor, lying back in the chair and his mouth open."

“您听我说，我注意到他在去世前就有些不对劲了。每次我端汤进去的时候，总是发现他的祈祷书掉在地上，人躺在椅子里，嘴巴张开着。”

She laid a finger against her nose and frowned: then she continued:

她把一个手指搁在鼻子上，皱起了眉头，然后接着说道：

"But still and all he kept on saying that before the summer was over he'd go out for a drive one fine day just to see the old house again where we were all born down in Irishtown and take me and Nannie with him. If we could only get one of them new-fangled carriages that makes no noise that Father O'Rourke told him about, them with the rheumatic wheels, for the day cheap—he said, at Johnny Rush's over the way there and drive out the three of us together of a Sunday evening. He had his mind set on that.... Poor James!"

“不过就这样，他还老是说，夏天过完之前，他会挑个好天坐车再去看看爱尔兰区的那所老房子，带着我和南妮一起。我们都是在那里出生的。只要我们能弄到一辆那种新式马车——奥鲁尔克神父曾告诉过他那种车不会发出噪声，轮子转起来呼哧呼哧的——然后便宜地租用一天，他说，就从路那边的约翰尼·拉什店里弄来，在一个礼拜日的傍晚拉我们三个一块出去。他一门心思都在这件事上……可怜的詹姆斯！”

"The Lord have mercy on his soul!" said my aunt.

“愿上帝宽恕他的灵魂！”姨妈说道。

Eliza took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes with it. Then she put it back again in her pocket and gazed into the empty grate for some time without speaking.

伊丽莎掏出手帕擦了擦眼睛。紧接着她又把手帕放回了口袋里，然后就盯着空荡荡的炉子一言不发地看了好一会儿。

"He was too scrupulous always," she said. "The duties of the priesthood was too much for him. And then his life was, you might say, crossed."

“他总是顾虑太多。”她说，“神父的职责对他来说是太重了。所以呢，他这一辈子，可以说，都是在受罪。”

"Yes," said my aunt. "He was a disappointed man. You could see that."

“是呀，”姨妈说，“他是个失意的人。这一点大家都能看出来。”

A silence took possession of the little room and, under cover of it, I approached the table and tasted my sherry and then returned quietly to my chair in the comer. Eliza seemed to have fallen into a deep revery. We waited respectfully for her to break the silence: and after a long pause she said slowly:

沉默控制了这个小房间，在沉默的掩护下，我凑到桌子旁边尝了尝我的那份雪利酒，然后又静静地坐回到角落的椅子上。伊丽莎似乎已经深深地陷入了沉思。我们都满怀敬意地等着她来打破沉默：在一段漫长的停顿之后，她才缓缓地说道：

"It was that chalice he broke.... That was the beginning of it. Of course, they say it was all right, that it contained nothing, I mean. But still.... They say it was the boy's fault. But poor James was so nervous, God be merciful to him!"

“他打碎了那只圣杯……那也是这一切的开始。当然，他们说那没什么，我的意思是，说那杯子里什么也没盛。不过仍然……他们说那是那个男孩的错。但可怜的詹姆斯却非常紧张，愿上帝可怜他！”

"And was that it?" said my aunt. "I heard something...."

“真是这样吗？”姨妈问道，“我听说了……”

Eliza nodded.

伊丽莎点点头。

"That affected his mind," she said. "After that he began to mope by himself, talking to no one and wandering about by himself. So one night he was wanted for to go on a call and they couldn't find him anywhere. They looked high up and low down; and still they couldn't see a sight of him anywhere. So then the clerk suggested to try the chapel. So then they got the keys and opened the chapel and the clerk and Father O'Rourke and another priest that was there brought in a light for to look for him.... And what do you think but there he was, sitting up by himself in the dark in his confession-box, wide-awake and laughing-like softly to himself?" She stopped suddenly as if to listen. I too listened; but there was no sound in the house: and I knew that the old priest was lying still in his coffin as we had seen him, solemn and truculent in death, an idle chalice on his breast.

“那件事影响了他的心理，”她说，“在那之后他开始变得郁郁寡欢，不跟人说话，还一个人到处乱走。”就这样，一天晚上，他们想请他去做探访可却哪儿都找不着他。他们上找下找；可依旧是哪儿都看不见他的踪影。最后执事建议去礼拜堂找找看。于是他们拿上钥匙打开了礼拜堂的门，奥鲁尔克神父和当时在场的另一位神父还拿来了一盏灯以方便寻找他……然后他就在那里，独自坐在黑暗的忏悔室里，完全清醒着，好像在轻轻地对着自己发笑。发现他那副样子，你会怎么想？她突然停了下来，仿佛要聆听什么。我也凝神倾听着，但屋子里没有任何声音。我知道老神父还像我们刚刚看到的那个样子一动不动地躺在棺材里，死了还显得庄严而气势逼人，一只空置的圣杯放在他的胸前。

Eliza resumed:

伊丽莎接着说道：

"Wide-awake and laughing-like to himself.... So then, of course, when they saw that, that made them think that there was something gone wrong with him...."

“他非常清醒，好像还在冲自个儿发笑……那么，当然，他们看见那情景，那情景让他们觉得他有什么地方不对劲了……” yNP7yLHgN+UuJoT8E3LdJRf4guYliGVUdLJoHBm3Gftq7lYbvoSKyFdaJIJXGnoi