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衡石量书
一
“
My aunt will come down very
soon, Mr. Nuttel,” said a very calm young lady
of fifteen years of age; “meanwhile you
must try to bear my company.”
Framton
Nuttel
tried
to
say
something
which
would
please
the
niece
now
present,
without annoying
the aunt
that was
about
to
come. He was supposed to
be
going through a cure for
his
nerves
; but he doubted
whether these polite visits to a
number
of total strangers would help much.
“
Do
you
know
many
of
the
people
round
here?”
asked
the
niece,
when
she
thought
that they had sat long enough in silence.
“Hardly one,” said Framton.
“My sister was staying here, you know, about four
years ago, and she gave me letters of
introduction to some of the people here.”
“
Then
you
know
almost
nothing
about
my
aunt?”
continued
the
calm
young
lady.
“Only
her
name
and
address;”
Framton
admitted.
He
was
wondering
whether
Mrs. Sappleton was married; perhaps she
had been married and her husband was dead.
But there was something of a man in the
room.
“Her
great
sorrow
came
just
three
years
ago,”
said
the
child.
“That
would
be
after your sister’s time.”
“
Her sorrow?” asked Framton.
“
You
may
wonder
why
we
keep
that
window
wide
open
on
an
October
afternoon,” said the niece, pointing to
a long window that opened like a door on to the
grass
outside.
“It is quite warm for the time of the
year,” said Framton; “but has that window
got anything to do with your aunt’s
sorrow?
”
“Out
through
that
window,
exactly
three
years
ago,
her
husband
and
her
two
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young
brothers went off for their day’s
shooting
. They never came
back. In crossing
the
country
to
the
shooting
-
ground,
they
were
all
three
swallowed
in
a
bog.
Their
bodies
were
never
found.”
Here
the
child’s
voice
lost
its
calm
sound
and
became
almost human. “Poor
aunt always thinks that they will come back
someday, they and
the little
brown
dog
that was lost with
them, and walk in at that window just as they
used to do. That is why the window is
kept open every evening till it is quite dark. Do
you know, sometimes on quiet evenings
like this, I almost get a strange feeling that
they will all walk in through the
window?”
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.” She rattled on cheerfully
about the shooting and the scarcity of birds, and
the prospects for duck in the winter.
To Framton it was all purely
horrible
. He made a
desperate
but
only
partially
successful
effort
to
change
the
topic;
he
was
conscious
that
his
hostess
was
giving
him
only
a
part
of
her
attention
and
her
eyes
were
constantly straying past him to the
open window and the lawn beyond.
Paragraph 1:
Then
suddenly Mrs. Sappleton brightened into alert
attention.
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Paragraph 2:
Framton wildly grabbed his hat and
stick; he ran out through the front door and
through the gate.
二
Once upon a sunny morning a man who sat
in a breakfast nook looked up from
his
scrambled eggs to see a white
unicorn
with a
golden horn
quietly cropping
the
roses in the
garden
. The man went up to
the bedroom where his
wife
was still asleep
and woke her.
one unfriendly eye and looked at
him.
a
mythical
beast
,
and turned
her back on him. The
man walked slowly
downstairs and out into the garden. The unicorn
was still there;
now he was browsing
among the tulips.
up a
lily
and gave it to
him. The
unicorn ate
it gravely. With a high
heart, because
there was a unicorn in
his garden, the man went upstairs and roused his
wife again.
booby
-
hatch
.
The man, who had never liked the
words
-
hatch,
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liked them even less on a shining
morning when there was a unicorn in the garden,
thought for a moment.
has a
golden horn in the middle of his
forehead,
garden
to
watch
the
unicorn;
but
the
unicorn
had
gone
away.
The
man
sat
down
among
the
roses
and went to
sleep.
As soon as the
husband
had gone out of the
house, the wife got up and dressed
as
fast as she could. She was very
excited
and there was a
gloat in her eye.
Paragraph
1:
She telephoned the police
and a psychiatrist; she told them to hurry to her
house and
bring a
strait
-
jacket.
Paragraph 2:
Just
as the police got her into the
strait
-
jacket, the husband
came back into the
house.
衡石量书
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Reference:
booby<
/p>
-
hatch
：精神病院
strait
-
jacket:
用来束缚精神病患者的约束衣
三
I
first
heard
this
tale
in
India,
where
is
told
as
if
true
--
though
any
naturalist
would
know
it
couldn't
be.
Later
someone
told
me
that
the
story
appeared
in
a
magazine
shortly
before
the
First
World
War.
That
magazine
story,
and
the
person
who wrote it, I have never been able to
track down.
The country is
India.
A colonial official
and his wife are giving a large
dinner
party
.
They
are
seated
with
their
guests
--
officers
and
their
wives,
and
a
visiting
American naturalist
--
in their spacious dining
room, which has a bare marble floor,
open rafters and wide glass doors
opening onto a veranda.
A
spirited discussion springs up between a young
girl who says that women have
outgrown
the
jumping
-
on
-
a
-
chair
-
at
-
the
-
sight
-
of
-
a
-
mouse
era
and
a
major
who
says
that they
haven't.
crisis
,
man may feel like it, he has
that ounce more of
self
-
control
than a woman has. And
that last ounce is what really
counts.
The American
does not join in the argument but
watches the other guests. As he
looks,
he sees a strange expression come over the face of
the
hostess
. She is staring
straight
ahead,
her
muscles
contracting
slightly.
She
motions
to
the
native
boy
standing behind her chair and whispers
something to him. The boy's eyes widen: he
quickly leaves the room.
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Of the
guests, none except the American notices this or
sees the boy place a bowl
of
milk
on the veranda just
outside the open doors.
The
American comes to
with
a
start.
In
India,
milk
in
a bowl
means
only one
thing
--
bait for a snake. He
realizes there must be a
cobra
in the room. He looks up at
the
rafters
--
the
likeliest
place
--
but
they
are
bare.
Three
corners
of
the
room
are
empty,
and
in
the
fourth
the
servants
are
waiting
to
serve
the
next
course.
There
is
only one place left
--
under
the
table
.
His
first
impulse
is
to
jump
back
and
warn
the
others,
but
he
knows
the
commotion would frighten the cobra into
striking.
Paragraph
1:
He
speaks
quickly,
the
tone
of
his
voice
so
commanding
that
it
silences
everyone.
Paragraph 2:
Screams ring out as he jumps to slam
the veranda doors safely shut.
衡石量书
衡石量书
四
Once upon a time there was an
island
where all the
feelings lived: Happiness,
Sadness,
Knowledge
, and all the others,
including
Love
. One day it
was announced to
all of the feelings
that the island was going to
sink
to the bottom of the
ocean. So all
the feelings prepared
their
boats
to
leave.
Love was the only one
that stayed. She wanted to preserve the island
paradise
until the last possible
moment. When the island was almost totally under,
love decided
it was time to
leave.
She began looking for
someone to ask for
help
.
Just then Richness was passing by in a
grand boat. Love asked,
come
with
you
on
your
boat?
Richness
answered,
sorry,
but
there
is
a
lot
of
silver and gold on my boat and there
would be no room for you anywhere.
Then
Love
decided
to
ask
Vanity
for
help
who
was
passing
by
in
a
beautiful
vessel. Love
cried
out
,
are all wet and will
damage my beautiful boat.
Next, Love saw Sadness
passing by
. Love said,
you.
Then,
Love
saw
Happiness.
Love
cried
out,
please
take
me
with
you.
overjoyed
that he didn't hear Love calling to
him.
Paragraph 1:
Love began to cry.
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Paragraph 2:
Love
then found Knowledge and asked,
五
The
young people
were going to
Florida
—
three
boys and three girls
—
and
when
they
boarded
the
bus
,
they
were
carrying
sandwiches
and
wine
in
paper
bags,
dreaming
of
golden
beaches
and
sea
tides
as
the
gray
cold
of
New
York
vanished
behind them.
As
the bus rumbled south, they began to notice
Vingo
. He sat in front of
them,
dressed in a plain,
ill
-
fitting suit, never
moving, his dusty face masking his age. He
chewed the inside of his lip a lot,
frozen into some personal cocoon of
silence.
Deep
into the night, outside Washington, the bus pulled
into a roadside restaurant,
and
everybody got off except Vingo. He sat rooted in
his seat, and the young people
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began to
wonder about him, trying to imagine his life:
perhaps he was a sea captain, a
runaway
from his wife, an old soldier going home. When
they went back to the bus,
one of the
girls sat beside him and introduced
herself.
“
We’re
going to Florida,” she said brightly. “I hear it’s
beautiful.”
“
It
is,” he said quietly, as if remembering something
he had tried to forget.
“
Want some wine?” she said.
He smiled and took a swig. He thanked her and
retreated again into his silence. After
a while, she went back to the others, and Vingo
nodded in sleep.
In the morning, they awoke outside
another restaurant, and this time Vingo went
in. The girl insisted that he join
them. He seemed very shy, and ordered black coffee
and
smoked
nervously
as
the
young
people
chattered
about
sleeping
on
beaches.
When they returned
to the bus, the girl sat with Vingo again, and
after a while, slowly
and
painfully,
he
told
his
story.
He
had
been
in
jail
in
New
York
for
the
past
four
years, and now he was going
home.
“
Are you
married?”
“
I
don’t know.”
“
You
don’t know?” she said.
“
Well, when I was in the can
I wrote to my
wife
,” he
said. “I told her that I was
going to
be away a long time, and that if she couldn’t
stand it, if the kids kept asking
questions, if it hurt too much, well,
she could
just
forget
me.
I’d understand. Get
a
new guy, I said
--
she’s a wonderful woman,
really something
--
and
forget about me.
I told her she didn't
have to write me. And she didn’t. Not for three
and a half years.”
“
And you’re going home now,
not knowing?”
“
Yeah,” he said shyly.
“Well, last week, when I was sure the parole was
coming
through, I wrote her again.
There’s a big oak tree just as you come into town.
I told
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her that if
she’d take me back, she should put a
yellow handkerchief
on
the
oak tree
,
and
I’d get off and come home. If she didn’t want me,
forget it
--
no
handkerchief, and
I would go on
through.
“
Wow,”
the girl said. “Wow.”
She
told the others, and soon all of them were in it,
caught up in the approach of
Vingo’s
home
town
,
looking
at
the
pictures
he
showed
them
of
his
wife
and
three
children
--
the
woman
handsome
in
a
plain
way,
the
children
still
unformed
in
the
cracked, much handled
snapshots.
Paragraph
1:
Now they were 20 miles
from the town.
Paragraph 2:
Vingo sat there stunned, looking at the
oak tree.
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六
Stuffy
Pete
took
his
seat
on
the
third
bench
to
the
right
as
you
enter
Union
Square from the east,
at the walk opposite the fountain. Every
Thanksgiving Day
for
nine years he had taken his seat there
promptly at 1 o'clock. But today Stuffy Pete's
appearance at the annual trysting place
seemed to have been rather the result of habit
than of the yearly hunger which, as the
philanthropists seem to think, afflicts the poor
at such extended intervals.
Certainly Pete was not
starving
. He had just come
from an unexpected feast. He
was
passing a red brick mansion near the beginning of
Fifth avenue, in which lived
two old
ladies of
old family
who
respected traditions. One of their traditional
habits
was to send a servant at the
gate to ask the first hungry wayfarer that came
along after
the hour of noon had
struck, and banquet him to a finish. Stuffy Pete
happened to pass
by on his way to the
park and enjoyed a free meal.
Pete was sitting on the bench for a
rest
and then his eyes suddenly
bulged out
fearfully for he
saw
the Old Gentleman
coming
across Fourth avenue toward him.
Every
Thanksgiving Day for nine years he had found
Stuffy Pete there, and had led
him to a
restaurant and watched him eat a big
dinner
.
The Old Gentleman was thin and tall and
sixty. He was dressed all in black,
and
wore the old
-
fashioned kind
of glasses that won't stay on your nose. His hair
was
whiter and thinner than it had been
last year, and he seemed to make more use of his
big, knobby cane with the crooked
handle.
morning,
said
the
Old
Gentleman.
am
glad
to
perceive
that
the
vicissitudes
of
another
year
have
spared
you
to
move
in
health
about
the
beautiful
world. For that
blessing alone this day of thanksgiving is well
proclaimed to each of
us. If you will
come with me, my man, I will provide you with a
dinner that should
make your physical
being accord with the mental.
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