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[分享]最后的藤叶(英语版)第五部分

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发表于 2011-5-19 01:15:00 | 显示全部楼层 |阅读模式
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  "Try to sleep," said Sue. "I must call Behrman up to be my model for the old hermit miner. I'll not be gone a minute. Don't try to move 'til I come back." fficeffice" />

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  Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath them. He was past sixty and had a Michael Angelo's Moses beard curling down from the head of a satyr along with the body of an imp. Behrman was a failure in art. Forty years he had wielded the brush without getting near enough to touch the hem of his Mistress's robe. He had been always about to paint a masterpiece, but had never yet begun it. For several years he had painted nothing except now and then a daub in the line of commerce or advertising. He earned a little by serving as a model to those young artists in the colony who could not pay the price of a professional. He drank gin to excess, and still talked of his coming masterpiece. For the rest he was a fierce little old man, who scoffed terribly at softness in any one, and who regarded himself as especial mastiff-in-waiting to protect the two young artists in the studio above.

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  Sue found Behrman smelling strongly of juniper berries in his dimly lighted den below. In one corner was a blank canvas on an easel that had been waiting there for twenty-five years to receive the first line of the masterpiece. She told him of Johnsy's fancy, and how she feared she would, indeed, light and fragile as a leaf herself, float away, when her slight hold upon the world grew weaker.

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  Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streaming, shouted his contempt and derision for such idiotic imaginings.

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  "Vass!" he cried. "Is dere people in de world mit der foolishness to die because leafs dey drop off from a confounded vine? I haf not heard of such a thing. No, I will not bose as a model for your fool hermit-dunderhead. Vy do you allow dot silly pusiness to come in der brain of her? Ach, dot poor leetle Miss Yohnsy."

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发表于 2011-5-21 05:54:00 | 显示全部楼层
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“你争取睡一会儿。”苏艾说,“我要去叫贝尔曼上来,替我做那个隐居的老矿工的模特儿。我去不了一分种。在我回来之前,千万别动。” fficeffice" />

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老贝尔曼是住在楼下底层的一个画家。他年纪六十开外,有一把像米开朗琪罗的摩西雕像上的胡子,从萨蒂尔似的脑袋上顺着小鬼般的身体卷垂下来。贝尔曼在艺术界是个失意的人。他耍了四十年的画笔,还是同艺术女神隔着相当距离,连她的长袍的边缘都没有摸到。他老是说就要画一幅杰作,可是始终没有动手。除了偶尔涂抹了一些商业画或广告画之外,几年没有画过什么。他替“艺术区”里那些雇不起职业模特儿的青年艺术家充当模特儿,挣几个小钱,他喝杜松子酒总是过量,老是唠唠叨叨地谈着他未来的杰作。此外,他还是个暴躁的小老头儿,极端瞧不起别人的温情,却认为自己是保护楼上两个青年艺术家的看家凶狗。

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苏艾在楼下那间灯光黯淡的小屋子里找到了酒气扑人的贝尔曼。角落里的画架上绷着一幅空白的画布,它在那儿静候杰作的落笔,已经有了二十五年。她把琼珊的想法告诉了他,又说她多么担心,惟恐那个虚弱得像枯叶一般的琼珊抓不住她同世界的微弱的牵连,真会撒手去世。

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老贝尔曼的充血的眼睛老是迎风流泪,他对这种白痴般的想法大不以为然,连讽带嘲地咆哮了一阵子。

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“什么话!”他嚷道,“难道世界上竟有这种傻子,因为可恶的藤叶落掉而想死?我活了一辈子也没有听到过这种怪事。不,我没有心思替你当那无聊的隐士模特儿。你怎么能让她脑袋里有这种傻念头呢?唉,可怜的小琼珊小_姐。”
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