最后的藤叶（英语版）第二部分-外国语-服务器里的北京 - 老北京网

小白羊1117 发表于 2011-5-19 00:57:00

最后的藤叶（英语版）第二部分

That was in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called Pneumonia, stalked about the colony, touching one here and there with his icy fingers. Over on the east side this ravager strode boldly, smiting his victims by scores, but his feet trod slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown "places." <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p>
　　Mr. Pneumonia was not what you would call a chivalric old gentleman. A mite of a little woman with blood thinned by California zephyrs was hardly fair game for the red-fisted, short-breathed old duffer. But Johnsy he smote; and she lay, scarcely moving, on her painted iron bedstead, looking through the small Dutch window-panes at the blank side of the next brick house. <o:p></o:p>
　　One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hallway with a shaggy, grey eyebrow. <o:p></o:p>
　　"She has one chance in - let us say, ten," he said, as he shook down the mercury in his clinical thermometer. " And that chance is for her to want to live. This way people have of lining-u on the side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopoeia look silly. Your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind?" <o:p></o:p>
　　"She - she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day." said Sue. <o:p></o:p>
　　"Paint? - bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice - a man for instance?" <o:p></o:p>
　　"A man?" said Sue, with a jew's-harp twang in her voice. "Is a man worth - but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind." <o:p></o:p><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 宋体; FONT-SIZE: 18pt; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA">　　"Well, it is the weakness, then," said the doctor. "I will do all that science, so far as it may filter through my efforts, can accomplish. But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the

鼓楼人 发表于 2011-5-21 05:49:00

那是五月间的事。到了十一月，一个冷酷无情、肉眼看不见、医生管他叫“肺炎”的不速之客，在艺术区里潜蹑着，用他的冰冷的手指这儿碰碰那儿摸摸。在广场的东面，这个坏家伙明目张胆地走动着，每闯一次祸，受害的人总有几十个。但是，在这错综复杂、狭窄而苔藓遍地的“巷子”里，他的脚步却放慢了。 <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p>
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“肺炎先生”并不是你们所谓的扶弱济困的老绅士。一个弱小的女人，已经被加利福尼亚的西风吹得没有什么血色了，当然经不起那个有着红拳头，气吁吁的老家伙的赏识。但他竟然打击了琼珊；她躺在那张漆过的铁床上，一动也不动，望着荷兰式小窗外对面砖屋的墙壁。 <o:p></o:p>
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一天早晨，那位忙碌的医生扬扬他那蓬松的灰眉毛，招呼苏艾到过道上去。 <o:p></o:p>
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“依我看，她的病只有一成希望。”他说，一面把体温表里的水银甩下去。“那一成希望在于她自己要不要活下去。人们不想活，情愿照顾殡仪馆的生意，这种精神状态使医药一筹莫展。你的这位小_姐满肚子以为自己不会好了。她有什么心事吗？” <o:p></o:p>
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“她——她希望有一天能去画那不勒斯海湾。”苏艾说。 <o:p></o:p>
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“绘画？——别扯淡了！她心里有没有值得想两次的事情——比如说，男人？” <o:p></o:p>
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“男人？”苏艾像吹小口琴似地哼了一声说，“难道男人值得——别说啦，不，大夫，根本没有那种事。” <o:p></o:p>
<o:p> </o:p>“那么，一定是身体虚弱的关系。”医生说，“我一定尽我的力量，用科学所能达到的一切方法来治疗她。可是每逢我的病人开始盘算有多少辆马车送他出殡的时候，我就得把医药的治疗力量减去百分之五十。要是你能使她对冬季大衣的袖子式样发生兴趣，提出一个问题，我就可以保证，她恢复的机会准能从十分之一提高到五分之一。”

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最后的藤叶（英语版）第二部分