51(y)(7)
用你喜欢的方式阅读你喜欢的小说
汤姆·索亚历险记 - Chapter 11
繁体
恢复默认
返回目录【键盘操作】左右光标键:上下章节;回车键:目录;双击鼠标:停止/启动自动滚动;滚动时上下光标键调节滚动速度。
  CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not.A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff potter -- so the story ran. And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon potter washing himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that potter had at once sneaked off -- suspicious circumstances, especially the washing which was not a habit with potter. It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that he would be captured before night.All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them."poor fellow!" "poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is here."Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!""Who? Who?" from twenty voices."Muff potter!""Hallo, he's stopped! -- Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!"people in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away -- he only looked doubtful and perplexed."Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon -- didn't expect any company."The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears."I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it.""Who's accused you?" shouted a voice.This shot seemed to carry home. potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed:"Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never --""Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff.potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said:"Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get --" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em -- it ain't any use any more."Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that."Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody said."I couldn't help it -- I couldn't help it," potter moaned. "I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell to sobbing again.Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face.They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master.Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked:"It was within three feet of Muff potter when it done it."Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said:"Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time."Tom blanched and dropped his eyes."It's a bad sign," said Aunt polly, gravely. "What you got on your mind, Tom?""Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee."And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so -- I'll tell!' Tell what? What is it you'll tell?"Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said:"Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it."Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself.It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness -- and that was strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience.Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience.The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present.
或许您还会喜欢:
福尔赛世家三部曲2:骑虎
作者:佚名
章节:43 人气:0
摘要:有两家门第相当的巨族,累世的宿怨激起了新争。——《罗米欧与朱丽叶》第一章在悌摩西家里人的占有欲是从来不会停止不前的。福尔赛家人总认为它是永远固定的,其实便是在福尔赛族中,它也是通过开花放萼,结怨寻仇,通过严寒与酷热,遵循着前进的各项规律;它而且脱离不了环境的影响,就如同马铃薯的好坏不能脱离土壤的影响一样。 [点击阅读]
福尔赛世家三部曲3:出租
作者:佚名
章节:34 人气:0
摘要:这两个仇人种下的灾难的祸根使一对舛运的情人结束掉生命。——《罗米欧与朱丽叶》第一章邂逅一九二○年五月十二号的下午,索米斯从自己住的武士桥旅馆里出来,打算上考克街附近一家画店看一批画展,顺便看看未来派的“未来”。他没有坐车。自从大战以来,只要有办法可想,他从来不坐马车。 [点击阅读]
秘密花园
作者:佚名
章节:27 人气:0
摘要:玛丽·伦诺克斯被送到米瑟斯韦特庄园她舅舅那里,每个人都说没见过这么别扭的小孩。确实是这样。她的脸蛋瘦削,身材单薄,头发细薄,一脸不高兴。她的头发是黄色的,脸色也是黄的,因为她在印度出生,不是生这病就是得那病。她父亲在英国政府有个职务,他自己也总是生病。她母亲是个大美人,只关心宴会,想着和社交人物一起寻欢作乐。 [点击阅读]
空中疑案
作者:佚名
章节:26 人气:0
摘要:9月的太阳烤得布尔歇机场发烫。乘客们穿过地下通道,登上飞往克罗伊登的“普罗米修斯”号航班,飞机再过几分钟就要起飞了。简-格雷落在了后面,她匆忙在16号座位上坐定。一些乘客已经通过中门旁的洗手间和餐厅,来到前舱。过道对面,一位女士的尖嗓音压过了其他乘客的谈话声。简微微撅了撅嘴,她太熟悉这声音了。“天啊,真了不起。……你说什么?……哦,对……不,是派尼特。 [点击阅读]
窄门
作者:佚名
章节:8 人气:0
摘要:第一章“你们尽力从这窄门进来吧。”——《路加福音》第13章24节。我这里讲的一段经历,别人可能会写成一部书,而我倾尽全力去度过,耗掉了自己的特质,就只能极其简单地记下我的回忆。这些往事有时显得支离破碎,但我绝不想虚构点儿什么来补缀或通连:气力花在涂饰上,反而会妨害我讲述时所期望得到的最后的乐趣。 [点击阅读]
笑面人
作者:佚名
章节:15 人气:0
摘要:维克多-雨果于一八○二年二月二十六日诞生在法国东部伯桑松城。雨果的父亲,西吉斯贝尔-雨果,本是法国东部南锡一个木工的儿子,法国大革命时他是共和国军队的上尉,曾参加过意大利和西班牙战争,在拿破仑时期晋升为将级军官。雨果从童年起就在不停的旅游中度过,他的父亲西吉斯贝尔-雨果把妻子和孩子从一个驻扎地带到另一个驻扎地。 [点击阅读]
等待戈多
作者:佚名
章节:14 人气:0
摘要:这是一部两幕剧。第一幕,主人公流浪汉爱斯特拉冈(简称戈戈),和弗拉基米尔(简称狄狄),出现在一条村路上,四野空荡荡的,只有一棵光秃秃的树。他们自称要等待戈多,可是戈多是谁?他们相约何时见面?连他们自己也不清楚。但他们仍然苦苦地等待着。 [点击阅读]
纯真年代
作者:佚名
章节:36 人气:0
摘要:作者:蒲隆美国文学批评家菲利普·拉赫夫把美国文学中典雅和粗犷这两种不同的流派形象地称为“苍白脸和红皮肤”。这两种流派不仅写作风格相异,而且题材也不同:“苍白脸”多写上流社会,“红皮肤”则多写下层民众。当然两派作家的家庭出身和社会经历也大相径庭。 [点击阅读]
罗杰疑案
作者:佚名
章节:27 人气:0
摘要:弗拉尔斯太太于16日晚(星期四)离世而去。17日(星期五)早晨八点就有人来请我去。我也帮不了什么忙,因为她已死了好几个小时了。九点过几分我就回到了家。我取出钥匙打开了前门,故意在大厅里磨蹭了一会,不慌不忙地把帽子和风衣挂好,这些都是我用来抵御初秋晨寒的东西。说老实话,我当时的心情非常沮丧忧愁。我并不想装模作样地认为,我能够预料今后几周将要发生的事。 [点击阅读]
罪与罚
作者:佚名
章节:50 人气:0
摘要:在彼得堡贫民区一家公寓的五层楼斗室里,住着一个穷大学生拉斯柯尔尼科夫。他正在经历着一场痛苦而激烈的思想斗争——他要确定自己是属于可以为所欲为的不平凡的人,还是只配做不平凡的人的工具的普通人。他原在法律系就学,因交不起学费而被迫辍学,现在靠母亲和妹妹从拮据的生活费中节省下来的钱维持生活。他已经很久没有交房租了。近来,房东太太不仅停止供给他伙食,而且催租甚紧。这时他遇见了小公务员马尔美拉陀夫。 [点击阅读]