讀點好英文:Araby 阿拉比

Araby 阿拉比

[愛爾蘭]詹姆斯·喬伊斯（James Joyce）

《阿拉比》是詹姆斯·喬伊斯小說集《都柏林人》中一篇反映少年心理變化的短篇小說。小說講述了一個都柏林少年對同伴的姐姐產(chǎn)生了朦朧的愛情，在經(jīng)過漫長而又焦急的等待之后，最終愛情幻想以破滅而告終。

Every morning I lay on the floor in the front parlor watching her door. The blind was pulled down to within an inch of the sash so that I could not be seen.When she came out on the doorstep my heart leaped.I ran to the hall, seized my books and followed her.I kept her brown figure always in my eye and, when we came near the point at which our ways diverged, I quickened my pace and passed her.This happened morning after morning.I had never spoken to her, except for a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.

Her image accompanied me even in places the most hostile to romance. On Saturday evenings when my aunt went marketing I had to go to carry some of the parcels.We walked through the flaring streets, jostled by drunken men and bargaining women, amid the curses of laborers, the shrill litanies of shop boys who stood on guard by the barrels of pigs'cheeks, the nasal chanting of street singers, who sang a come-all-you about O'Donovan Rossa, or a ballad about the troubles in our native land.These noises converged in a single sensation of life for me:I imagined that I bore my chalice safely through a throng of foes.Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand.My eyes were often full of tears（I could not tell why）and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom.I thought little of the future.I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration.But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.

One evening I went into the back drawing room in which the priest had died. It was a dark rainy evening and there was no sound in the house.Through one of the broken panes I heard the rain impinge upon the earth, the fine incessant needles of water playing in the sodden beds.Some distant lamp or lighted window gleamed below me.I was thankful that I could see so little.All my senses seemed to desire to veil themselves and, feeling that I was about to slip from them, I pressed the palms of my hands together until they trembled, murmuring:“O lov e!O lov e!”many times.

At last she spoke to me. When she addressed the first words to me I was so confused that I did not know what to answer.She asked me was I going to Araby.I forgot whether I answered yes or no.It would be a splendid bazaar, she said;she would love to go.

“And why can't you?”I asked.

While she spoke she turned a silver bracelet round and round her wrist. She could not go, she said, because there would be a retreat that week in her convent.Her brother and two other boys were fighting for their caps and I was alone at the railings.She held one of the spikes, bowing her head towards me.The light from the lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there and, falling, lit up the hand upon the railing.It fell over one side of her dress and caught the white border of a petticoat, just visible as she stood at ease.

“It's well for you,”she said.

“If I go,”I said,“I will bring you something.”

What innumerable follies laid waste my waking and sleeping thoughts after that evenin g!I wished to annihilate the tedious intervening days. I chafed against the work of school.At night in my bedroom and by day in the classroom her image came between me and the page I strove to read.The syllables of the word Araby were called to me through the silence in which my soul luxuriated and cast an Eastern enchantment over me.I asked for leave to go to the bazaar on Saturday night.My aunt was surprised and hoped it was not some Freemason affair.I answered few questions in class.I watched my master's face pass from amiability to sternness;he hoped I was not beginning to idle.I could not call my wandering thoughts together.I had hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed to me child's play, ugly monotonous child's play.

On Saturday morning I reminded my uncle that I wished to go to the bazaar in the evening. He was fussing at the hall stand, looking for the hat brush, and answered me curtly:“Yes, boy, I know.”

As he was in the hall I could not go into the front parlor and lie at the window. I left the house in bad humor and walked slowly towards the school.The air was pitilessly raw and already my heart misgave me.

When I came home to dinner my uncle had not yet been home. Still it was early.I sat staring at the clock for some time and, when its ticking began to irritate me, I left the room.I mounted the staircase and gained the upper part of the house.The high cold empty gloomy rooms liberated me and I went from room to room singing.From the front window I saw my companions playing below in the street.Their cries reached me weakened and indistinct and, leaning my forehead against the cool glass, I looked over at the dark house where she lived.I may have stood there for an hour, seeing nothing but the brown-clad figure cast by my imagination, touched discreetly by the lamplight at the curved neck, at the hand upon the railings and at the border below the dress.

When I came downstairs again I found Mrs. Mercer sitting at the fire.She was an old garrulous woman, a pawnbroker's widow, who collected used stamps for some pious purpose.I had to endure the gossip of the tea table.The meal was prolonged beyond an hour and still my uncle did not come.Mrs.Mercer stood up to go:she was sorry she couldn't wait any longer, but it was after eight o'clock and she did not like to be out late, as the night air was bad for her.When she had gone I began to walk up and down the room, clenching my fists.My aunt said:

“I'm afraid you may put off your bazaar for this night of Our Lord.”

At nine o'clock I heard my uncle's latchkey in the hall door. I heard him talking to himself and heard the hall stand rocking when it had received the weight of his overcoat.I could interpret these signs.When he was midway through his dinner I asked him to give me the money to go to the bazaar.He had forgotten.

“The people are in bed and after their first sleep now,”he said.

I did not smile. My aunt said to him energetically:

“Can't you give him the money and let him go?You've kept him late enough as it is.”

My uncle said he was very sorry he had forgotten. He said he believed in the old saying:“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”He asked me where I was going and, when I had told him a second time he asked me did I know The Arab's Farewell to His Steed.When I left the kitchen he was about to recite the opening lines of the piece to my aunt.

I held a florin tightly in my hand as I strode down Buckingham Street towards the station. The sight of the streets thronged with buyers and glaring with gas recalled to me the purpose of my journey.I took my seat in a third-class carriage of a deserted train.After an intolerable delay the train moved out of the station slowly.It crept onward among ruinous houses and over the twinkling river.At Westland Row Station a crowd of people pressed to the carriage doors;but the porters moved them back, saying that it was a special train for the bazaar.I remained alone in the bare carriage.In a few minutes the train drew up beside an improvised wooden platform.I passed out on to the road and saw by the lighted dial of a clock that it was ten minutes to ten.In front of me was a large building which displayed the magical name.

每天早晨，我躺在前客廳的地板上，望著她家的門，百葉窗拉下來，只留不到一英寸的縫隙，那樣別人就看不見我了。當(dāng)她出現(xiàn)在臺階上時，我的心就怦怦跳。我沖到過道里，抓起書就跑，跟在她后面。我緊盯著她穿著棕色衣服的身影?？斓讲砺房跁r，我便加快腳步超過她。每天早晨都是如此。除了隨便招呼一下之外，我從沒跟她講過話?？墒牵拿挚偰茏屛仪榫w激動。

她的樣子甚至在最不浪漫的場合也陪伴著我。每逢周末傍晚，我都要跟姑姑上街買東西，替她拎包兒，我們穿行在五光十色的大街上，被醉鬼和討價還價的婆娘們擠來擠去，周圍一片喧囂：勞工們的詛咒，站在一桶桶豬頭肉旁守望的伙計的尖聲叫嚷，街頭賣唱的用濃重的鼻音哼著的關(guān)于奧唐納萬·羅沙的《大伙兒都來》，或一支關(guān)于愛爾蘭動亂的歌謠。在我看來，這些噪聲匯合成一片熙熙攘攘的眾生相。我仿佛感到自己正端著圣餐杯，在一群對頭中間穿過。有時，在莫名其妙地做禱告或唱贊美詩時，她的名字幾乎從我嘴里脫口而出，我時常熱淚盈眶（自己也說不清為什么）。有時，一股沸騰的激情從心底涌起，流入胸中。我很少想到前途。我不知道自己究竟會不會同她說話，要是說了，怎么向她傾訴我那迷茫的愛慕。這時，我的身子好似一架豎琴，她的音容笑貌宛如撥弄琴弦的纖指。

有一天，薄暮時分，我踅到教士死亡的畫室。那是一個漆黑的雨夜，屋子里一片沉寂。透過破碎的玻璃窗，我聽到雨密密麻麻地瀉在土地上，如針般的細(xì)雨在濕透了的泥地上不斷跳躍。遠(yuǎn)處，有路燈的光或是哪一家窗口透出來的光在下面閃爍。我慶幸自己的視線模糊。我的全部感官似乎都想隱蔽起來，我覺得自己快要失去知覺了，于是把雙手緊緊地合在一起，以致手都顫抖了，同時嘴里還喃喃自語：“啊，愛！啊，愛！”

她終于跟我說話了。她一開口，我就慌亂不堪，呆在那兒，不知道說什么好。她問我去不去阿拉比。我記不得是怎么回答的。她說那兒的集市一定很熱鬧，她很想去呢。

“為啥不去呢？”我問。

她不斷地轉(zhuǎn)動著手腕上的銀鐲子說，她不能去，因為這星期女修道院里要做靜修。這時，她的弟弟正在和兩個男孩搶帽子。我獨自站在欄桿旁。她手中握著一株薰衣草，低著頭，湊近我。門對面，街燈的光照著她白嫩的脖子，照亮了她披垂的頭發(fā)，也照亮了她扶在欄桿上的手。她從容地站在那里，燈光使她衣服的一邊清晰可見，顯出了她裙子的白色鑲邊。

“你真該去看看?！彼f。

“要是我去的話，”我說，“一定會給你捎點什么的?！?/p>

從那時起，數(shù)不清的愚蠢的怪念頭充塞在我白天的幻想和夜半的夢中！但愿出發(fā)之前那段乏味的日子快點過去。學(xué)校里的功課使我煩躁。每當(dāng)夜晚在寢室里或白天在教室中讀書時，她的形象便閃現(xiàn)在書頁之間。阿拉比的音節(jié)在靜謐中向我召喚，我的心靈沉溺在寂靜中，四周彌漫著迷人的東方氣息。我要求星期六晚上要到阿拉比的集市去。我姑姑聽了后大吃一驚，懷疑我跟共濟會有什么勾搭。在課堂上，我很少能回答得出問題。我看著老師的臉從和藹到嚴(yán)峻。他說，希望你不要變懶。我成天神思恍惚。生活中的正經(jīng)事使我厭煩，它們使我的愿望不能盡快實現(xiàn)，所以在我看來，這些正經(jīng)事就像小孩子的游戲，單調(diào)乏味的小孩子游戲。

星期六早晨，我對姑父說晚上我要到集市去。他正在前廳的衣帽架那里手忙腳亂地找帽刷子，漫不經(jīng)心地說：“行，孩子，我知道了?！?/p>

他待在過道里，我沒法兒去前客廳，就躺在窗邊了。我悻悻地走出家門，去上學(xué)。那刺骨的陰冷，使我心里一陣陣忐忑不安。

當(dāng)我放學(xué)回家時，姑父還沒回來。時間還早呢。我呆呆地坐著，嘀嗒嘀嗒的鐘聲讓我心煩意亂，我便走出房間，登上樓梯，走到樓上。那些高敞的空房間，寒冷而陰沉，卻使我無拘無束。我唱起歌來，從一個房間跑到另一個房間。透過正面的玻璃窗，我看見伙伴們在街上玩。他們的喊聲隱隱約約傳到我耳邊。我把前額貼在冰冷的玻璃窗上，望著她家。大約一個小時過去了，我還站在那兒，什么都沒看見，腦海中全是她那穿著棕色衣服的身影，街燈的光朦朧地照亮呈曲線的脖子、扶在欄桿上的手以及裙子下擺的鑲邊。

我再下樓時，看見當(dāng)鋪老板的遺孀莫塞太太坐在火爐邊。她為了某種虔誠的目的在收集用過的郵票。我陪著她吃茶點，捺著性子聽她嚼舌。開飯的時間早已過了一個小時，姑父還沒回來。莫塞太太站起身來說對不起，不能久等，八點多了，她不愿在外面待得太晚，夜里的風(fēng)她受不了。她走后，我在屋里踱來踱去，緊攥著拳頭。姑姑說：

“興許你今晚去不成了，改天再去集市吧?！?/p>

九點，我忽然聽見姑父用鑰匙開過道門的聲音。接著聽見他在自言自語，聽到掛衣服時衣架的晃蕩聲。我很明白這些舉動的含義。晚飯吃到一半，我跟他要錢到集市去。他已把這件事忘得一干二凈了。

“人們早已睡了一覺了?！彼f。

我沒笑。姑姑大聲地說：

“還不給錢讓他去？他等的時間已經(jīng)夠長啦！”

他說非常抱歉，忘了這件事。然后又說他很欣賞那句老話：“只工作不玩，聰明孩子也變傻。”他又問我去哪兒，于是我又說了一遍。他問我知不知道《阿拉伯人向駿馬告別》。我走出廚房時，他正要給姑姑背誦那故事的開場白。

我緊緊攥著一枚兩先令硬幣，沿著白金漢大街大步走向火車站。街上熙熙攘攘，盡是買東西的人，煤氣燈的照耀如同白晝，這景象提醒我快到集市去。我在一列空蕩蕩的火車的三等車廂里找了個座位?；疖囘t遲不開，叫人等得惱火，過了好久才緩慢地駛出車站，爬行在沿途傾圮的房屋中間，駛過一條閃閃發(fā)亮的河流。在威斯特蘭羅車站，來了一大群乘客，直擁向車廂門。列車員說，這是直達(dá)集市的專車，這才把他們擋回去。我獨自坐在空蕩蕩的車廂里。幾分鐘后，火車停在一個臨時用木頭搭起的月臺旁。我下車走到街上。有一口鐘被亮光照著，我瞅了一眼：9:50。我的面前矗立著一座高大的建筑物，上面是那魅人的名字。

First love is only a little foolishness and a lot of curiosity.

——George Bernard Shaw

初戀就是一點點笨拙外加許許多多好奇。

——英國劇作家 蕭伯納

實戰(zhàn)提升

作者介紹

詹姆斯·喬伊斯（1882—1941），他自小就顯露出在音樂、宗教、哲學(xué)及語言文學(xué)方面的才能，并開始詩歌、散文習(xí)作。他諳熟歐洲大陸作家作品，受易卜生影響尤深，并漸漸表現(xiàn)出對人類精神世界特殊的感悟及對家庭篤信的宗教和自己生活環(huán)境中的習(xí)俗、傳統(tǒng)的叛逆。詹姆斯·喬伊斯是20世紀(jì)最偉大的作家之一，他的作品及“意識流”思想對全世界產(chǎn)生了巨大的影響。

單詞注解

figure[5fi^E]n.外形；數(shù)量；金額

converge[kEn5vE:dV]v.會合；趨于會合

tremble[5trembl]v.發(fā)抖；震顫

convent[5kCnvEnt]n.修女會；女修道院

enchantment[in5tFB:ntmEnt]n.魅力，迷人之處

endure[in5djuE]v.忍耐，忍受

interpret[in5tE:prit]v.解釋，說明，詮釋

recite[ri5sait]v.背誦；朗誦；當(dāng)眾吟誦

magical[5mAdVikEl]adj.魔術(shù)的，魔法的

名句大搜索

她說那兒的集市一定很熱鬧，她很想去呢。

然后又說他很欣賞那句老話：“只工作不玩，聰明孩子也變傻?！?/p>

在威斯特蘭羅車站，來了一大群乘客，直擁向車廂門。