Regret

Regret

Kate Chopin

Mamzelle

Auré

lie

possessed

a

good

strong

figure,

ruddy

cheeks,

hair

that

was

changing

from

brown

to

gray, and a determined eye. She wore a man's hat about

the

farm,

and

an

old

blue

army

overcoat

when

it

was

cold, and sometimes topboots.

Mamzelle

Auré

lie

had

never

thought

of

marrying.

She had never been in love. At the age of twenty she had

received

a

proposal,

which

she

had

promptly

declined,

and at the age of fifty she had not yet lived to regret it.

So she was quite alone in the world, except for her

dog Ponto, and the negroes who lived in her cabins and

worked her crops, and the fowls, a few cows, a couple of

mules,

her

gun

(

with

which

she

shot

chicken-hawks)

,

and her religion.

One

morning

Mamzelle

Auré

lie

stood

upon

her

gallery, contemplating, with arms akimbo, a small band

of very small children who, to all intents and purposes ,

might

have

fallen

from

the

clouds,

so

unexpected

and

bewildering was their coming, and so unwelcome. They

were

the

children

of

her

nearest

neighbor,

Odile,

who

was not such a near neighbor,

①

after all.

The

young

woman

had

appeared

but

five

minutes

before, accompanied by these four children. In her arms

she

carried

little

Elodie;

she

dragged

Ti

Nomme

by

an

unwilling

hand;

while

Marcé

line

and

Marcé

lette

followed with irresolute steps .

Her

face

was

red

and

disfigured

from

tears

and

excitement.

She

had

been

summoned

to

a

neighboring

parish

by

the

dangerous

illness

of

her

mother;

her

husband was away in Texas - it seemed to her a million

miles away; and Valsin

was

waiting with the

mule-cart

to drive her to the station.

“

It's

no

question,

Mamzelle

Auré

lie;

you

jus

’

got

to

keep

those

youngsters

fo

me

tell

I

come

back.

Dieu

sait, I would n botha you with em if it was any otha way

to do! Make em mine you, Mamzelle Auré

lie; don spare

em. Me, there, I

’

m half crazy between the chil

’

ren, an

’

L

é

on not home, an

’

maybe not even to

fine po

’

maman

alive encore!

”②

- a harrowing possibility which drove

Odile

to

take

a

final

hasty

and

convulsive

leave

of

her

disconsolate family.

She

left

them

crowded

into

the

narrow

strip

of

shade

on

the

porch

of

the

long,

low

house;

the

white

sunlight

was

beating

in

on

the

white

old

boards;

some

chickens were scratching in the grass at the

foot of the

steps,

and

one

had

boldly

mounted,

and

was

stepping

heavily,

solemnly,

and

aimlessly

across

the

gallery.

There

was

a

pleasant

odor

of

pinks

in

the

air,

and

the

sound

of

negroes'

laughter

was

coming

across

the

flowering cotton-field.

Mamzelle Auré

lie stood contemplating the children.

She looked with a critical eye upon Marcé

line, who had

been

left

staggering

beneath

the

weight

of

the

chubby

Elodie.

She

surveyed

with

the

same

calculating

air

Marcé

lette

mingling

her

silent

tears

with

the

audible

grief

and

rebellion

of

Ti

Nomme.

During

those

few

contemplative

moments

she

was

collecting

herself,

determining

upon

a

line

of

action

which

should

be

identical with a line of duty. She began by feeding them.

If

Mamzelle

Auré

lie< /p>

’

s

responsibilities

might

have

begun

and

ended

there,

they

could

easily

have

been

dismissed;

for

her

larder

was

amply

provided

against

an emergency of this nature. But little children are not

little

pigs;

they

require

and

demand

attentions

which

were

wholly

unexpected

by

Mamzelle

Auré

lie,

and

which she was ill prepared to give.

She was, indeed,

very inapt in her

management of

Odile's

children

during

the

first

few

days.

How

could

she

know

that

Marcé

lette

always

wept

when

spoken

to

in

a

loud

and

commanding

tone

of

voice?

It

was

a

peculiarity of Marcé

lette's. She became acquainted with

Ti

Nomme's

passion

for

flowers

only

when

he

had

plucked

all

the

choicest

gardenias

and

pinks

for

the

apparent

purpose

of

critically

studying

their

botanical

construction.

“

'Tain't

enough

to

tell

'im,

Mamzelle

Aurélie,”

Marcéline in structed her; “you

got to tie'im in a chair.

It's w'at maman all time do w'en he's bad: she tie 'im in

a

chair.”

The

chair

in

which

Mamzelle

Aurélie

tied

Ti

Nomme

was roomy and comfortable, and

he seized the

opportunity

to

take

a

nap

in

it,

the

afternoon

being

warm.

At night, when she ordered them one and all to bed

as

she

would

have

shooed

the

chickens

into

the

hen-house,

they

stayed

uncomprehending

before

her.

What

about

the

little

white

nightgowns

that

had

to

be

taken

from

the

pillowslip

in

which

they

were

brought

over, and shaken by some strong hand till they snapped

like ox-whips?

What about the tub of

water which had

to

be

brought

and

set

in

the

middle

of

the

floor,

in

which the little tired, dusty, sunbrowned feet had every

one

to

be

washed

sweet

and

clean?

And

it

made

Marcé

line and Marcé

lette laugh merrily

- the idea that

Mamzelle

Auré

lie

should

for

a

moment

have

believed

that

Ti Nomme could

fall asleep without being told the

story of Croque-mitaine or Loupgarou*(the bogey-man),

or

both;

or

that

Elodie

could

fall

asleep

at

all

without

being rocked and sung to.

“

I

tell

you,

Aunt

Ruby,”Mamzelle

Aurélie

informed

her

cook

in

confidence;

“me,

I'd

rather

manage

a

dozen

plantation

than

fo'chil'ren.

It's

terrassent! Bonté! Don't talk to me about chil'ren!”

“'Tain' ispected sich

as you would know airy thing

'bout

'em,

Mamzelle

Auré

lie.

I

see

dat

plainly

yistiddy

w'en

I

spy

dat

li'le

chile

playin'

wid

yo 'baskit

o

'keys.

You

don't

know

dat

makes

chillun

grow

up

hard- headed,

to

play

wid

keys?

Des

like

it

make

'em

teeth hard to look in a lookin'-glass.

Them's the things

you got to know in the

raisin'an'manigement o'chillun.

③

”

Mamzelle

Auré

lie

certainly

did

not

pretend

or

aspire to such subtle and far-reaching knowledge on the

subject

as

Aunt

Ruby

possessed,

who

had

“raised

five

an'

bared (buried) six” in her day. She was glad enough

to learn a few little mother-tricks to serve the moment's

need.

Ti

Nomme's

sticky

fingers

compelled

her

to

unearth

white

aprons

that

she

had

not

worn

for

years,

and she had to accustom herself to his moist kisses - the

expressions

of

an

affectionate

and

exuberant

nature.

She got down her sewing-basket, which she seldom used,

from

the

top

shelf

of

the

armoire,

and

placed

it

within

the

ready

and

easy

reach

which

torn

slips

and

buttonless

waists

demanded.

It

took

her

some

days

to

become

accustomed

to

the

laughing,

the

crying,

the

chattering that echoed through the house and around it

all day long. And it was not the first or the second night

that she could sleep comfortably with little Elodie's hot,

plump

body

pressed

close

against

her,

and

the

little

one's warm breath beating her cheek like the fanning of

a bird's wing .

But at the end of two weeks Mamzelle Auré

lie had

grown

quite

used

to

these

things,

and

she

no

longer

complained.

It was also at the end of two weeks that Mamzelle

Auré

lie,

one

evening,

looking

away

toward

the

crib

where

the cattle

were

being

fed,

saw

Valsin's

blue

cart

turning

the

bend

of

the

road.

Odile

sat

beside

the

mulatto,

upright

and

alert.

As

they

drew

near,

the

young

woman's

beaming

face

indicated

that

her

homecoming was a happy one.

But

this

coming,

unannounced

and

unexpected,

threw

Mamzelle

Auré

lie

into

a

flutter

that

was

almost

agitation. The children had to be gathered.

Where was

Ti Nomme? Yonder in the shed, putting an edge on his

knife at the grindstone. And Marcé

line and Marcé

lette?

Cutting

and

fashioning

doll-rags

in

the

corner

of

the

gallery. As for Elodie, she was safe enough in Mamzelle

Auré

lie's

arms;

and

she

had

screamed

with

delight

at

sight

of

the

familiar

blue

cart

which

was

bringing

her

mother back to her.

The

excitement

was

all

over,

and

they

were

gone.

How still it was when they were gone! Mamzelle Auré

lie

stood upon the gallery, looking and listening. She could

no longer see the cart; the red sunset and the bluegray

twilight

had

together

flung

a

purple

mist

across

the

fields and road that hid it

from her

view. She could no

longer

hear

the

wheezing

and

creaking

of

its

wheels .

But s he could still faintly hear the shrill, glad voices of

the children.

She

turned

into

the

house.

There

was

much

work

awaiting

her,

for

the

children

had

left

a

sad

disorder

behind

them;

but

she

did

not

at

once

set

about

④

the

task

of

righting

it.

Mamzelle

Aur

é

lie

seated

herself

beside

the

table.

She

gave

one

slow

glance

through

the

room,

into

which

the

evening

shadows

were

creeping

and

deepening

around

her

solitary

figure.

She

let

her

head fall down upon her bended arm, and began to cry.

Oh,

but

she

cried!

Not

softly,

as

women

often

do.

She

cried like a man, with sobs that seemed to tear her very

soul. She did not notice Ponto licking her hand.

【注

释】

(

带

*

号者为作者原注

)

①

该句中前一个

near

表示距离

,

后一个表示关系。

②

to

fine

po'

maman

alive

encore:

应作

to

find

poor

mother alive still

③

这段话中的非正规英语与正规英语对照如下

:

ispected - expected , sich - such , airy - any , dat - that ,

yistiddy

- yesterday , w'en - when , wid - with , chillun - children

④

set about:

着手干

...

* 1.

天知道。