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A Coward
懦夫

In society he was called "Handsome Signoles." His name was Vicomte Gontran-Joseph de Signoles.

在社交场合中,人们叫他“英俊的西尼奥勒"。他的名字叫子爵贡特朗-约瑟夫·德西尼奥勒。

An orphan, and possessed of an ample fortune, he cut quite a dash, as it is called. He had an attractive appearance and manner, could talk well, had a certain inborn elegance, an air of pride and nobility, a good mustache, and a tender eye, that always finds favor with women.

他是个孤儿,拥有一笔数目不菲的财产,因此正如人们所说,颇有派头。他仪表堂堂、举止得体、善于交谈,具有某种与生俱来的优雅、高贵傲岸的神气、漂亮的胡须及温柔的眼睛,这些都令女人喜欢。

He was in great request at receptions, waltzed to perfection, and was regarded by his own sex with that smiling hostility accorded to the popular society man. He had been suspected of more than one love affair, calculated to enhance the reputation of a bachelor. He lived a happy, peaceful life—a life of physical and mental well-being. He had won considerable fame as a swordsman, and still more as a marksman.

他经常被邀请参加各种招待会,华尔兹舞跳得很完美。同性会向他投去投给受欢迎的社交宠儿的那种微笑的敌意。人们怀疑他有好几个情人,引起单身汉的称羡。他过着一种快乐而平静的生活——一种物质和精神都很富足的生活。他是一位有名的剑客,更是一名神枪手。

"When the time comes for me to fight a duel," he said, "I shall choose pistols. With such a weapon I am sure to kill my man."

他说:“若是到了决斗的时候,我会选择用手枪。用这种武器,我肯定能杀死我要杀的人。”

One evening, having accompanied two women friends of his with their husbands to the theatre, he invited them to take some ice cream at Tortoni's after the performance. They had been seated a few minutes in the restaurant when Signoles noticed that a man was staring persistently at one of the ladies. She seemed annoyed, and lowered her eyes. At last she said to her husband:

一天晚上,他陪他的两位女性朋友及她们的丈夫去剧院,看完演出后他邀请他们去妥多尼吃冰激凌。他们在那个餐馆坐了几分钟,这时西尼奥勒注意到有位先生目不转睛地盯着他的女客之一。她似乎恼怒了,低下了眼睛。终于对她的丈夫说:

"There's a man over there looking at me. I don't know him; do you?”

“那儿有个男人一直盯着我。我不认识他,你认识吗?”

The husband, who had noticed nothing, glanced across at the offender, and said:

那位什么也没觉察到的丈夫向那个冒犯者瞥了一眼,说道:

"No; not in the least."

“不,完全不认识。”

His wife continued, half smiling, half angry:

他的妻子半嗔半笑地继续说道:

"It's very tiresome! He quite spoils my ice cream.”

“这太烦人了!他把我的冰淇淋都看脏了。”

The husband shrugged his shoulders.

那位丈夫耸了耸肩膀。

"Nonsense! Don't take any notice of him. If we were to bother our heads about all the ill-mannered people we should have no time for anything else.”

“废话!不要理他。如果我们对所有不懂礼貌的人都管,我们就没有时间关注别的了。”

But the vicomte abruptly left his seat. He could not allow this insolent fellow to spoil an ice for a guest of his. It was for him to take cognizance of the offence, since it was through him that his friends had come to the restaurant. He went across to the man and said:

可是这位子爵突然离开了座位。他不能容忍这个无礼的家伙玷污他客人的冰淇凌。既然他的朋友是由他邀请到这个餐馆来的,这种冒犯就是冲着他来的。他走到那位先生那儿说道:

"Sir, you are staring at those ladies in a manner I cannot permit. I must ask you to desist from your rudeness."

“先生,我不能容忍你盯着那些女士的方式。请你不要再粗鲁无礼。”

The other replied:

那个人回答道:

"Let me alone, will you!"

“你别管我!”

"Take care, sir," said the vicomte between his teeth, "or you will force me to extreme measures."

那位子爵咬牙切齿地说道:“先生,小心点儿,不要逼我采取极端手段。”

The man replied with a single word—a foul word, which could be heard from one end of the restaurant to the other, and which startled every one there. All those whose backs were toward the two disputants turned round; all the others raised their heads; three waiters spun round on their heels like tops; the two lady cashiers jumped, as if shot, then turned their bodies simultaneously, like two automata worked by the same spring.

那个男人只回答了一个字——一个下流的字,这个字响遍了整个餐馆,使那儿的每个人都震惊。所有背对着这两位争论者的人都转过头来,其他所有的人都抬起头来,三个男服务员像陀螺般以脚跟为支点突然旋转过来,两位女收银员像是被枪击了一样吓得跳起来,然后同时将全身转过来,好像她们是两个被同一个发条控制的机器人。

There was dead silence. Then suddenly a sharp, crisp sound. The vicomte had slapped his adversary's face. Every one rose to interfere. Cards were exchanged.

顿时鸦雀无声。继而忽然尖脆的一声响。那位子爵已经打了他的对手一耳光。每个人都站起来调停。两个人互换了名片。

When the vicomte reached home he walked rapidly up and down his room for some minutes. He was in a state of too great agitation to think connectedly. One idea alone possessed him: a duel. But this idea aroused in him as yet no emotion of any kind. He had done what he was bound to do; he had proved himself to be what he ought to be. He would be talked about, approved, congratulated. He repeated aloud, speaking as one does when under the stress of great mental disturbance:

这位子爵回到家,在房间里来来回回快步踱了几分钟。他太焦虑了,无法顺畅地思考。他只有一个想法:决斗。除了这个想法以外,没有引起任何其他情绪。他已经做了他应该做的,证明了他应该证明的。人们将谈论这件事,称赞他、祝贺他。一面像人们在进行重要思考时说话那样,他大声反复说道:

"What a brute of a man!" Then he sat down, and began to reflect. He would have to find seconds as soon as morning came. Whom should he choose? He bethought himself of the most influential and best-known men of his acquaintance. His choice fell at last on the Marquis de la Tour-Noire and Colonel Bourdin—a nobleman and a soldier. That would be just the thing. Their names would carry weight in the newspapers. He was thirsty, and drank three glasses of water, one after another; then he walked up and down again. If he showed himself brave, determined, prepared to face a duel in deadly earnest, his adversary would probably draw back and proffer excuses. He picked up the card he had taken from his pocket and thrown on a table. He read it again, as he had already read it, first at a glance in the restaurant, and afterward on the way home in the light of each gas lamp: "Georges Lamil, 51 Rue Moncey.” That was all. He examined closely this collection of letters, which seemed to him mysterious, fraught with many meanings. Georges Lamil! Who was the man? What was his profession? Why had he stared so at the woman? Was it not monstrous that a stranger, an unknown, should thus all at once upset one's whole life, simply because it had pleased him to stare rudely at a woman? And the vicomte once more repeated aloud: "What a brute!"

“真是一个粗野的人!”然后他坐下来,开始深思。天一亮他就得去找见证人。他应该选择谁呢?他琢磨着应该找他所熟悉的人里最有影响力的和最有名望的。他最后选择了黑塔侯爵和布尔丹上校——一位贵族和一名军人。这就很合适。他们的名字在报纸上很有影响力。他渴了,一杯接一杯地喝了三杯水,然后又来回踱起来。如果他表现出勇敢、坚决,准备用一种殊死的热切去面对决斗,他的对手很可能就会退缩并提出道歉。他拿起了那张他曾从衣袋里拿出并扔在桌子上的名片。他重新把它读了一遍,他已经读过,先前在餐馆瞟过一眼,后来在回家的路上的一盏盏灯光下读过:“乔治·拉米尔,梦西路51号。”这就是全部的内容。他仔细地观察这些排列在一起的字,对他似乎是个谜,充满了许多种意义。乔治·拉米尔!是个什么样的人?他的职业是什么?为什么他这样盯着那个女人?一个陌生人、一个不认识的人,由于他喜欢无礼地盯着一个女人看,就一下子搅乱了你的整个生活,这难道不骇人听闻吗?于是子爵又大声重复道:“真是一个粗野的人!”

Then he stood motionless, thinking, his eyes still fixed on the card. Anger rose in his heart against this scrap of paper—a resentful anger, mingled with a strange sense of uneasiness. It was a stupid business altogether! He took up a penknife which lay open within reach, and deliberately stuck it into the middle of the printed name, as if he were stabbing some one.

然后他站着不动,思索着,他的眼睛仍然盯在名片上。对着这张纸片,他的心中升起了一股怒气—一种夹杂着奇怪的不安之感的怨气。真是一件愚蠢的事儿!他拿起旁边一把打开着的折刀,故意刺在印着的姓名中间,仿佛刺穿了某个人。

So he would have to fight! Should he choose swords or pistols?—for he considered himself as the insulted party. With the sword he would risk less, but with the pistol there was some chance of his adversary backing out. A duel with swords is rarely fatal, since mutual prudence prevents the combatants from fighting close enough to each other for a point to enter very deep. With pistols he would seriously risk his life; but, on the other hand, he might come out of the affair with flying colors, and without a duel, after all.

因此他就得决斗!他应该选用剑还是手枪呢?——因为他认为自己是被侮辱的一方。用剑他冒的险少一些,但是用手枪他可能会吓退他的对手。用剑决斗很少是致命的,因为相互的谨慎会阻止打斗的双方过于接近,就不会刺得太深。用手枪会严重地以生命冒险,但是另一方面,他也有可能摆脱这一溅血的事件,并免于一场决斗。

"I must be firm," he said. "The fellow will be afraid."

“我必须坚定。”他说。“那家伙会害怕的。”

The sound of his own voice startled him, and he looked nervously round the room. He felt unstrung. He drank another glass of water, and then began undressing, preparatory to going to bed.

他的声音使自己吃惊,紧张地看了看房间的四周。他感到很紧张。他又喝了一杯水,然后开始脱衣服,准备上床睡觉。

As soon as he was in bed he blew out the light and shut his eyes.

他一上床就吹灭了灯,闭上眼睛。

"I have all day to-morrow," he reflected, "for setting my affairs in order. I must sleep now, in order to be calm when the time comes."

他深思着:“我明天一整天都要去安排这些事。为了到时能镇定,我现在必须睡觉。”

He was very warm in bed, but he could not succeed in losing consciousness. He tossed and turned, remained for five minutes lying on his back, then changed to his left side, then rolled over to his right. He was thirsty again, and rose to drink. Then a qualm seized him:

他在床上很热,但不能入睡。他翻来覆去,仰着躺了五分钟,然后转到左侧躺,再翻到右侧躺。他又口渴了,于是起来喝水。然后感到一阵不安:

"Can it be possible that I am afraid?"

“难道我害怕吗?”

Why did his heart beat so uncontrollably at every well-known sound in his room? When the clock was about to strike, the prefatory grating of its spring made him start, and for several seconds he panted for breath, so unnerved was he.

为什么房间里每一个熟悉的声音也使他的心无法控制地跳起来?钟报时之前那弹簧的吱吱声也使他吓了一跳,他气喘吁吁地呼了几秒钟的气,他感到真不安。

He began to reason with himself on the possibility of such a thing: "Could I by any chance be afraid?"

他开始自己推理这样一件事情的可能性:“我会害怕吗?”

No, indeed; he could not be afraid, since he was resolved to proceed to the last extremity, since he was irrevocably determined to fight without flinching. And yet he was so perturbed in mind and body that he asked himself:

不,绝对不,他不会害怕的,既然他已经决心继续走到底,既然他已经完全决定决斗且绝不退缩。但是他感到身心如此烦扰,便自问道:

"Is it possible to be afraid in spite of one's self?”

“一个人会不顺从自己的意志而感到害怕吗?”

And this doubt, this fearful question, took possession of him. If an irresistible power, stronger than his own will, were to quell his courage, what would happen? He would certainly go to the place appointed; his will would force him that far. But supposing, when there, he were to tremble or faint? And he thought of his social standing, his reputation, his name.

于是他内心被这种疑虑和不安的问题占据了。如果一种比他的意志更强的不可抗拒的力量削弱了他的勇气,会发生什么呢?他肯定会去那个约定的地方,他的意志会驱使他去的。但假如他在那儿发抖或者发晕呢?于是他想到了他的社会地位、他的名誉、他的名望。

And he suddenly determined to get up and look at himself in the glass. He lighted his candle. When he saw his face reflected in the mirror he scarcely recognized it. He seemed to see before him a man whom he did not know. His eyes looked disproportionately large, and he was very pale.

他突然决定站起来,从镜子里看看自己。他点燃了蜡烛。当他看到自己从镜子里照出来的脸时,他几乎认不出来了。他好像从来没有见过似的。他的眼睛看起来大得不成比例,而且很苍白。

He remained standing before the mirror. He put out his tongue, as if to examine the state of his health, and all at once the thought flashed into his mind:

他在镜子前一直站着。他伸出了舌头,好像要检查健康状态似的。忽然一个念头闪过:

"At this time the day after to-morrow I may be dead.”

“后天的这个时候,我可能已经死了。”

And his heart throbbed painfully.

于是他的心痛苦地跳动起来。

"At this time the day after to-morrow I may be dead. This person in front of me, this 'I' whom I see in the glass, will perhaps be no more. What! Here I am, I look at myself, I feel myself to be alive—and yet in twenty-four hours I may be lying on that bed, with closed eyes, dead, cold, inanimate.”

“后天的这个时候,我可能已经死了。”我面对着的这个人,在镜子里看到的这个‘我’,或许将不复存在。什么!我就在这儿,看着我自己,感觉自己还活着—然而在二十四小时后我或许躺在这张床上,眼睛闭了、死了、凉了、没有生命了。”

He turned round, and could see himself distinctly lying on his back on the couch he had just quitted. He had the hollow face and the limp hands of death.

他转身,清楚地看到自己仰面躺在自己刚离开的床榻上。他有一副死人才有的凹陷的脸颊和松沓的双手。

Then he became afraid of his bed, and to avoid seeing it went to his smoking-room. He mechanically took a cigar, lighted it, and began walking back and forth. He was cold; he took a step toward the bell, to wake his valet, but stopped with hand raised toward the bell rope.

于是他开始害怕他的床榻了,为了避免看到它,他走到吸烟室。他机械地拿了一支雪茄烟,点燃它,然后开始踱来踱去。他感觉冷,走到了铃铛那儿想叫醒仆人,但是手伸到了铃铛绳子上时他又停止了。

"He would see that I am afraid!"

“他会看出我害怕!”

And, instead of ringing, he made a fire himself. His hands quivered nervously as they touched various objects. His head grew dizzy, his thoughts confused, disjointed, painful; a numbness seized his spirit, as if he had been drinking.

于是他没有拉铃,自己点燃了炉火。当他触碰到那些东西的时候,他的双手神经质地颤抖。他的头开始眩晕,思想混乱、断断续续、痛苦不堪,像是喝了酒似的,精神感到一阵麻木。

And all the time he kept on saying:

他一直说:

"What shall I do? What will become of me?"

“我该怎么办?我将会变成什么样子的呢?”

His whole body trembled spasmodically; he rose, and, going to the window, drew back the curtains.

他的整个身体痉挛性地颤抖。他站起来,走向窗户,拉开窗帘。

The day—a summer day-was breaking. The pink sky cast a glow on the city, its roofs, and its walls. A flush of light enveloped the awakened world, like a caress from the rising sun, and the glimmer of dawn kindled new hope in the breast of the vicomte. What a fool he was to let himself succumb to fear before anything was decided—before his seconds had interviewed those of Georges Lamil, before he even knew whether he would have to fight or not!

白天—夏日的白天—已经到来了。粉色的天空在这个城市、那些屋顶和墙上射下了光芒。红色的光芒就像是冉冉升起的太阳的爱抚覆盖着已经苏醒的世界,黎明的微光点燃了子爵胸膛中新的希望。真傻啊,在任何事情还未决定之前,在他的见证人还没有会见乔治·拉米尔的见证人之前,甚至在他不知道到底要不要决斗之前,就让自己屈从于恐惧!

He bathed, dressed, and left the house with a firm step.

他洗漱完毕,穿好衣服,以一种坚定的步伐走出了房子。

He repeated as he went:

他边走边重复着:

"I must be firm—very firm. I must show that I am not afraid.”

“我必须坚定——非常坚定。我必须表明我不害怕。”

His seconds, the marquis and the colonel, placed themselves at his disposal, and, having shaken him warmly by the hand, began to discuss details.

他的见证人们,那位侯爵和上校,接受了他的委托,并且在与他热烈握手之后,开始讨论细节。

"You want a serious duel?" asked the colonel.

那位上校问道:“你想要认真地决斗吗?”

"Yes—quite serious," replied the vicomte.

“是的,很认真。”子爵回答道。

"You insist on pistols?" put in the marquis.

那位侯爵问:“你坚持要用手枪吗?”

"Yes."

“是的。”

"Do you leave all the other arrangements in our hands?"

“能让我们有权作出其它安排吗?”

With a dry, jerky voice the vicomte answered:

子爵用干涩的声音一字一顿地回答:

"Twenty paces—at a given signal—the arm to be raised, not lowered—shots to be exchanged until one or other is seriously wounded.”

“二十步——听令给出的信号——抬手开枪,不是落手时开——互相射击直至严重受伤。”

"Excellent conditions," declared the colonel in a satisfied tone. "You are a good shot; all the chances are in your favor."

“条件很好。”这位上校以一种满意的语调说。“你是一位好的射击手,好运一定属于你。”

And they parted. The vicomte returned home to, wait for them. His agitation, only temporarily allayed, now increased momentarily. He felt, in arms, legs and chest, a sort of trembling—a continuous vibration; he could not stay still, either sitting or standing. His mouth was parched, and he made every now and then a clicking movement of the tongue, as if to detach it from his palate.

然后他们走开了。子爵回到了家,等着他们。他暂时减轻的焦虑,现在又瞬间加大了。他感觉手臂、腿和胸膛都在颤抖——连续不断地颤动。他无法平静地呆着,坐也不是,站也不是。他的嘴很干,他时不时用舌头发出咔哒声的动作,好像想要将它从上鄂分开似的。

He attempted, to take luncheon, but could not eat. Then it occurred to him to seek courage in drink, and he sent for a decanter of rum, of which he swallowed, one after another, six small glasses.

他想吃午饭,但吃不进。于是他想喝点儿酒壮胆,便让人拿来一瓶朗姆酒,一杯接一杯地咽下去了六小杯。

A burning warmth, followed by a deadening of the mental faculties, ensued. He said to himself:

一阵燃烧的燥热的感觉接踵而至,接着就是一阵精神恍惚。他对自己说:

"I know how to manage. Now it will be all right!"

“我知道怎么处理。马上就好了!”

But at the end of an hour he had emptied the decanter, and his agitation was worse than ever. A mad longing possessed him to throw himself on the ground, to bite, to scream. Night fell.

可是一个小时过去了,他已经把这瓶酒喝完了,而他比以前任何时候都要焦虑。他疯狂地渴望在地上打滚、想咬、想尖叫。夜幕降临了。

A ring at the bell so unnerved him that he had not the strength to rise to receive his seconds.

一阵铃响使他如此不安,他简直没有力气站起来接待见证人。

He dared not even to speak to them, wish them good-day, utter a single word, lest his changed voice should betray him.

他甚至不敢和他们说话、向他们问好,说不出一个字,唯恐他们从他变调的声音里猜出他害怕。

"All is arranged as you wished," said the colonel. "Your adversary claimed at first the privilege of the offended part; but he yielded almost at once, and accepted your conditions. His seconds are two military men."

“一切都按照你的期望安排好了。”那位上校说。“你的对手开始提出他应当有被侮辱方的特权,但是他马上让步了,并且接受了你的条件。他的证人是两位军人。”

"Thank you," said the vicomte.

“谢谢你。”子爵说。

The marquis added:

那位侯爵接着说:

"Please excuse us if we do not stay now, for we have a good deal to see to yet. We shall want a reliable doctor, since the duel is not to end until a serious wound has been inflicted; and you know that bullets are not to be trifled with. We must select a spot near some house to which the wounded party can be carried if necessary. In fact, the arrangements will take us another two or three hours at least."

“请原谅我们现在就要走,因为我们还有很多事情要做。既然这场决斗不到受重伤不罢休,并且你知道那些子弹不是开玩笑的,所以我们要找个可靠的医生。我们必须选个靠近某个房子的场地,必要的时候把受伤的一方抬进去。事实上,这些安排至少还要再花我们两三个小时。”

The vicomte articulated for the second time:

这位子爵又说:

"Thank you."

“谢谢。”

"You're all right?" asked the colonel. "Quite calm?"

“你还好吗?”那位上校问。“还安定吗?”

"Perfectly calm, thank you."

“十分平静,谢谢。”

The two men withdrew.

这两个人退走了。

When he was once more alone he felt as though he should go mad. His servant having lighted the lamps, he sat down at his table to write some letters. When he had traced at the top of a sheet of paper the words: "This is my last will and testament," he started from his seat, feeling himself incapable of connected thought, of decision in regard to anything.

当他再次单独一个人的时候,他感觉像是要疯了。他的仆人已经点亮了灯。他在桌子旁坐下想写些信。他在一张纸的头上描摹下了这些字:“这是我的遗嘱”。他一下子从座位上站起来了,感觉自己无法连续思维,无法对任何事情做决定。

So he was going to fight! He could no longer avoid it. What, then, possessed him? He wished to fight, he was fully determined to fight, and yet, in spite of all his mental effort, in spite of the exertion of all his will power, he felt that he could not even preserve the strength necessary to carry him through the ordeal. He tried to conjure up a picture of the duel, his own attitude, and that of his enemy.

因此他将要去决斗!他将无法避免。那么,他得到了什么呢?他希望决斗,完全坚定地要去决斗,然而,不管他心理上多么努力,不管他多么全力使劲,他感觉自己仍然无法鼓起所需的力量去迎接决斗的折磨。他试图设想决斗的场面、他自己的态度、及对手的态度。

Every now and then his teeth chattered audibly. He thought he would read, and took down Chateauvillard's Rules of Dueling . Then he said:

可听见他的牙齿时不时在打战。他想看书,于是他拿起了夏都维亚写的《决斗条例》。然后他自言自语:

"Is the other man practiced in the use of the pistol? Is he well known? How can I find out?"

“对方是不是常用手枪练习?他有名吗?我怎么能知道?”

He remembered Baron de Vaux's book on marksmen, and searched it from end to end. Georges Lamil was not mentioned. And yet, if he were not an adept, would he have accepted without demur such a dangerous weapon and such deadly conditions?

他想起了巴龙·德·沃克斯的关于手枪射击手的书,然后他从头看到尾。里面没有提到乔治·拉米尔的名字。但是,如果他不是一个熟练的射击手的话,他怎么会毫无反对地接受如此危险的武器和如此致命的条件呢?

He opened a case of Gastinne Renettes which stood on a small table, and took from it a pistol. Next he stood in the correct attitude for firing, and raised his arm. But he was trembling from head to foot, and the weapon shook in his grasp.

他打开了放在小桌子上的一个G.R.名牌枪厂的盒子,拿出一支手枪。然后他按照一个射手的正确姿势站好,举起了手臂。但是他从头到脚都在颤抖,紧紧地抓着枪摇动着。

Then he said to himself:

然后他对自己说:

"It is impossible. I cannot fight like this."

“这不可能。我不能像这样去决斗。”

He looked at the little black, death-spitting hole at the end of the pistol; he thought of dishonor, of the whispers at the clubs, the smiles in his friends' drawing-rooms, the contempt of women, the veiled sneers of the newspapers, the insults that would be hurled at him by cowards.

他从枪的末端看着这黑洞洞的小深孔,想到了耻辱、俱乐部里的窃窃私语、他的朋友的画室里的嘲笑、女人们的鄙视、新闻报纸上隐晦的嘲笑、一些懦夫向他投来的辱骂。

He still looked at the weapon, and raising the hammer, saw the glitter of the priming below it. The pistol had been left loaded by some chance, some oversight. And the discovery rejoiced him, he knew not why.

他一直看着武器,抬起枪上的击锤,看到了下面闪亮的雷管。由于某种偶然的机会、某种疏忽,这把手枪已经上好了子弹。他竟然有一种隐约的高兴,不知道为什么。

If he did not maintain, in presence of his opponent, the steadfast bearing which was so necessary to his honor, he would be ruined forever. He would be branded, stigmatized as a coward, hounded out of society! And he felt, he knew, that he could not maintain that calm, unmoved demeanor. And yet he was brave, since the thought that followed was not even rounded to a finish in his mind; but, opening his mouth wide, he suddenly plunged the barrel of the pistol as far back as his throat, and pressed the trigger.

如果他不能在他的对手面前保持为了维护名誉所必要的高雅举止,他一辈子就都被毁了。他将被玷污为懦夫,打下这种烙印,被社会所离弃!他知道他不能保持这种镇定及不变的举止,他感觉到了这一点。但是他曾经勇敢过,当他心里拂过的这些想法还没有稳妥的结果时,他已经张开了嘴巴,突然用手枪的枪管伸进了他的喉咙深部,然后按下了扳机。

When the valet, alarmed at the report, rushed into the room he found his master lying dead upon his back. A spurt of blood had splashed the white paper on the table, and had made a great crimson stain beneath the words:

当他的仆人被枪声惊动冲进房间的时候,发现他的主人已经仰面朝天躺着死了。一滴血溅到桌子上那张白纸上,在这几个字下面形成了一个大红点:

"This is my last will and testament."

“这是我的遗嘱。” SNVRf5vX7aSw+IkDFJG+SuhGQqrV9sHScy/PHRM9chU6GfLbfWHhRrnynLO2MCi2

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