神马作文网各位大哥帮我找找这篇文章吧open the window
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各位大哥帮我找找这篇文章吧open the window
小弟实在是找不见
小弟实在是找不见
是这个吗?
“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.”
Privately Framton Nuttel 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 favourite snipe-shooting ground they were all three engulfed
in a treacherous piece of bog. 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. 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. Framton 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.
“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 goodbye 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.
【参考译文】
敞开的窗户
“纳托先生,我姑妈很快就会下来”,说话人是一位十五岁的年轻小姐,看上去沉着自信,“现在我来陪您,请多包涵.”
弗雷顿·纳托目前需要接受神经衰弱的治疗,可是一个接着一个的拜访这样完全陌生的人真的会对他的神经有什么帮助吗?他现在比以往任何时候都更加怀疑这一点.
当时他正收拾行装准备来乡下静居,姐姐对他说：“我知道最后会是什么样子!到了那里你会把自己封闭起来,不跟任何人说一句话,而你的神经会因为抑郁不乐而变得更加糟糕.我还是要写一些引见信,把你介绍给那里所有我认识的人,在我的印象中,有些人还是很和善的.”
弗雷顿现在就要把这样一封引见信交给赛普顿夫人,不知道这位夫人是不是属于和善之流.
“您在这里认识很多人吗?”那位小姐开口问道,因为她发现他们这样沉默的交流时间过长了.
“几乎一个人都不认识,”弗雷顿答道,“四年前我的姐姐在这里住过一段时间,你也许知道,在教区长的家里,是她写的引见信让我认识这里的人.”
他说最后一句话时,语气中透露出说不出的后悔.
“那么您实际上对我姑妈是一无所知了?”年轻的小姐继续问道.
“只知道她的名字和地址,”来客承认,同时他又在暗自考虑,这位赛普顿夫人的丈夫是否还健在,因为房间里有些说不清的迹象表明这里是有男人居住的.
“三年前她的家里发生了一场悲剧,”那孩子接着说,“当时您的姐姐应该已经离开这里了.”
“悲剧?”弗雷顿觉得有些不可思议,不知为什么他觉得在这样的乡村静地是不会发生什么悲剧的.
“也许您会奇怪,为什么十月份的下午我们会将窗户大敞着,”那位小姐用手指着那扇宽敞的法式落地窗说.窗外是一片草坪.
“今年的十月天气不是很凉,”弗雷顿回答,“不过你的意思是说,这扇窗户跟那场悲剧有什么关系吗?”
“三年前的今天,她的丈夫和两个弟弟,就是穿过那扇窗户去打猎,但是一去无返.他们当时要去那块最适合猎射沙锥鸟的地方,但是在穿过野地的时候,三个人意想不到的全部陷进沼泽里.可怜的姑妈总是相信他们有一天会回来,他们三个,还有那条跟他们一块儿失踪的西班牙猎狗,会像从前一样从那扇窗户走进来.可怜的,亲爱的姑妈,她总是跟我提起当时他们出门的情景,她的丈夫胳膊上搭着一件白色雨衣,她最小的弟弟,罗尼,唱着“伯蒂,你为什么又蹦又跳?”“因为这首歌会让她心烦意乱,所以他就经常唱这个调子打趣她.你知道吗,在这样安静的夜晚,我有时也会觉得他们会从那扇窗子走进来,这种感觉让我浑身发怵.”
讲到这里,她停了下来,打了个寒颤.这时,那位姑妈匆匆走进房间,让弗雷顿松了一口气,她一进屋就不停的道歉说自己这么迟才下楼来.
“维拉没有让您觉得无聊吧?”她问道.
“她是位很有趣的小姐.”弗雷顿回答.
“希望您不会介意我把窗户开着,”赛普顿夫人轻快的说,“我丈夫和弟弟打猎以后回家,总是从这边进来.他们今天去沼泽地打沙锥鸟,回来的时候肯定会把我的地毯弄得脏兮兮的.男人都是这样子,对吧?”
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.在弗雷顿看来,没什么比这更可怕的了.弗雷顿意识到这位女主人大部分的注意力并不在他的身上,她的眼光不断的绕过他,朝那扇开着的窗和窗外的草坪望去.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!
“医生们一致认为我应该彻底休息,避免任何心理刺激,和任何形式的剧烈体力运动,”弗雷顿大声说道.
“是吗?”赛普顿夫人回答,声音听上去明明就是及时的盖住了一个哈欠.突然,她精神一振,脸上神采焕发,但并不是因为弗雷顿说的话.
“他们终于回来啦!”她大声说,“正好赶上下午茶.他们看上去简直从头脏到了脚!”
弗雷顿轻轻打了个寒颤,目光朝向维拉,那位侄女儿,望去,脸上的表情想表示他的理解和同情.但是那孩子正用惊呆了的目光直直的盯着那扇敞开的窗.一阵莫名的恐惧像冷气一样袭来,弗雷顿在椅子上迅速的转过身,朝同一个方向望去.
在慢慢变深的夜色中,有三个人正穿过草坪朝窗户走来：三个人胳膊上都挎着枪,其中一个人肩上还披了一件白色的外套,一条疲惫的棕色西班牙猎犬紧跟在他们脚边.他们悄无声息,离房子越来越近,接着一个年轻嘶哑的声音在夜色中唱道：“我说,伯蒂,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,在他没命向外奔逃的过程中,大厅的门、石子路的车道和庄园的大门,统统没有注意到.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.
“我们回来了,亲爱的,”那位身披白色雨衣的男人一边穿过窗子走进房间,一边说道,“浑身都是泥,还好衣服没怎么弄湿.刚才有个人看见我们走过来,就匆忙离开了,是谁呀?”
“一位十分不可思议的人,叫什么纳托先生,”赛普顿夫人说,“张口闭口就只知道说他的病情.看见你们回来了竟然连一句告辞或者抱歉的
话也不说,转身就走,不知道的还以为看见鬼了呢.”
“我想可能是因为那条猎狗吧,”她的侄女儿不动声色的说,“他刚才对我说他非常怕狗,有一次他被一群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小姐的拿手好戏.
“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.”
Privately Framton Nuttel 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 favourite snipe-shooting ground they were all three engulfed
in a treacherous piece of bog. 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. 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. Framton 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.
“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 goodbye 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.
【参考译文】
敞开的窗户
“纳托先生,我姑妈很快就会下来”,说话人是一位十五岁的年轻小姐,看上去沉着自信,“现在我来陪您,请多包涵.”
弗雷顿·纳托目前需要接受神经衰弱的治疗,可是一个接着一个的拜访这样完全陌生的人真的会对他的神经有什么帮助吗?他现在比以往任何时候都更加怀疑这一点.
当时他正收拾行装准备来乡下静居,姐姐对他说：“我知道最后会是什么样子!到了那里你会把自己封闭起来,不跟任何人说一句话,而你的神经会因为抑郁不乐而变得更加糟糕.我还是要写一些引见信,把你介绍给那里所有我认识的人,在我的印象中,有些人还是很和善的.”
弗雷顿现在就要把这样一封引见信交给赛普顿夫人,不知道这位夫人是不是属于和善之流.
“您在这里认识很多人吗?”那位小姐开口问道,因为她发现他们这样沉默的交流时间过长了.
“几乎一个人都不认识,”弗雷顿答道,“四年前我的姐姐在这里住过一段时间,你也许知道,在教区长的家里,是她写的引见信让我认识这里的人.”
他说最后一句话时,语气中透露出说不出的后悔.
“那么您实际上对我姑妈是一无所知了?”年轻的小姐继续问道.
“只知道她的名字和地址,”来客承认,同时他又在暗自考虑,这位赛普顿夫人的丈夫是否还健在,因为房间里有些说不清的迹象表明这里是有男人居住的.
“三年前她的家里发生了一场悲剧,”那孩子接着说,“当时您的姐姐应该已经离开这里了.”
“悲剧?”弗雷顿觉得有些不可思议,不知为什么他觉得在这样的乡村静地是不会发生什么悲剧的.
“也许您会奇怪,为什么十月份的下午我们会将窗户大敞着,”那位小姐用手指着那扇宽敞的法式落地窗说.窗外是一片草坪.
“今年的十月天气不是很凉,”弗雷顿回答,“不过你的意思是说,这扇窗户跟那场悲剧有什么关系吗?”
“三年前的今天,她的丈夫和两个弟弟,就是穿过那扇窗户去打猎,但是一去无返.他们当时要去那块最适合猎射沙锥鸟的地方,但是在穿过野地的时候,三个人意想不到的全部陷进沼泽里.可怜的姑妈总是相信他们有一天会回来,他们三个,还有那条跟他们一块儿失踪的西班牙猎狗,会像从前一样从那扇窗户走进来.可怜的,亲爱的姑妈,她总是跟我提起当时他们出门的情景,她的丈夫胳膊上搭着一件白色雨衣,她最小的弟弟,罗尼,唱着“伯蒂,你为什么又蹦又跳?”“因为这首歌会让她心烦意乱,所以他就经常唱这个调子打趣她.你知道吗,在这样安静的夜晚,我有时也会觉得他们会从那扇窗子走进来,这种感觉让我浑身发怵.”
讲到这里,她停了下来,打了个寒颤.这时,那位姑妈匆匆走进房间,让弗雷顿松了一口气,她一进屋就不停的道歉说自己这么迟才下楼来.
“维拉没有让您觉得无聊吧?”她问道.
“她是位很有趣的小姐.”弗雷顿回答.
“希望您不会介意我把窗户开着,”赛普顿夫人轻快的说,“我丈夫和弟弟打猎以后回家,总是从这边进来.他们今天去沼泽地打沙锥鸟,回来的时候肯定会把我的地毯弄得脏兮兮的.男人都是这样子,对吧?”
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.在弗雷顿看来,没什么比这更可怕的了.弗雷顿意识到这位女主人大部分的注意力并不在他的身上,她的眼光不断的绕过他,朝那扇开着的窗和窗外的草坪望去.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!
“医生们一致认为我应该彻底休息,避免任何心理刺激,和任何形式的剧烈体力运动,”弗雷顿大声说道.
“是吗?”赛普顿夫人回答,声音听上去明明就是及时的盖住了一个哈欠.突然,她精神一振,脸上神采焕发,但并不是因为弗雷顿说的话.
“他们终于回来啦!”她大声说,“正好赶上下午茶.他们看上去简直从头脏到了脚!”
弗雷顿轻轻打了个寒颤,目光朝向维拉,那位侄女儿,望去,脸上的表情想表示他的理解和同情.但是那孩子正用惊呆了的目光直直的盯着那扇敞开的窗.一阵莫名的恐惧像冷气一样袭来,弗雷顿在椅子上迅速的转过身,朝同一个方向望去.
在慢慢变深的夜色中,有三个人正穿过草坪朝窗户走来：三个人胳膊上都挎着枪,其中一个人肩上还披了一件白色的外套,一条疲惫的棕色西班牙猎犬紧跟在他们脚边.他们悄无声息,离房子越来越近,接着一个年轻嘶哑的声音在夜色中唱道：“我说,伯蒂,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,在他没命向外奔逃的过程中,大厅的门、石子路的车道和庄园的大门,统统没有注意到.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.
“我们回来了,亲爱的,”那位身披白色雨衣的男人一边穿过窗子走进房间,一边说道,“浑身都是泥,还好衣服没怎么弄湿.刚才有个人看见我们走过来,就匆忙离开了,是谁呀?”
“一位十分不可思议的人,叫什么纳托先生,”赛普顿夫人说,“张口闭口就只知道说他的病情.看见你们回来了竟然连一句告辞或者抱歉的
话也不说,转身就走,不知道的还以为看见鬼了呢.”
“我想可能是因为那条猎狗吧,”她的侄女儿不动声色的说,“他刚才对我说他非常怕狗,有一次他被一群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小姐的拿手好戏.