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:
伊迪丝华顿短篇小说
作者:佚名
章节:4 人气:0
摘要:作者:伊迪丝·华顿脱剑鸣译在我还是个小女孩,又回到纽约时,这座古老的都市对我最重要的莫过于我父亲的书屋。这时候。我才第一次能够如饥似渴地读起书来。一旦走出家门,走上那些简陋单调的街道,看不到一处像样的建筑或一座雄伟的教堂或华丽的宫殿,甚至看不到任何足以让人联想到历史的东西,这样的纽约能给一位熟视了无数美丽绝伦的建筑、无数地位显赫的古迹的孩子提供些什么景观呢?在我孩提时代的记忆当中, [点击阅读]
伦敦桥
作者:佚名
章节:124 人气:0
摘要:杰弗里。谢弗上校很喜欢他在萨尔瓦多的新生活。有人说这个巴西第三大城市非常迷人。这确实是个充满了欢乐的地方。他在瓜拉球巴海滩正对面租了一套豪华的六居室别墅。在这里,他每天喝着甘蔗甜酒和冰镇啤酒,间或去俱乐部打打网球。到了晚上,谢弗上校——这个绰号“鼬鼠”的变态杀手——就又操起了他的老本行,在这座老城阴暗狭窄、弯弯曲曲的街道上开始了狩猎。 [点击阅读]
伯特伦旅馆之谜
作者:佚名
章节:27 人气:0
摘要:在西郊地区中心,有一些小巷子,除了经验丰富的出租车司机以外,几乎没什么人知道。出租车司机们能胸有成竹地在里面游弋自如,然后得意洋洋地到达帕克巷、伯克利广场或南奥德利大巷。如果你从帕克大街拐上一条不知名的路,左右再拐几次弯,你就会发现自己到了一条安静的街道上,伯特伦旅馆就在你的右手边。伯特伦旅馆已经有很长的历史了。战争期间,它左右两边的房屋全都毁于一旦,但它却毫无损伤。 [点击阅读]
低地
作者:佚名
章节:16 人气:0
摘要:站台上,火车喷着蒸气,亲人们追着它跑过来。每一步,他们都高高扬起胳膊,挥舞。一个年轻的男人站在车窗后。窗玻璃的下沿到他的腋下。他在胸前持着一束白色碎花,神情呆滞。一个年轻女人把一个脸色苍白的孩子从火车站拽出去。女人是个驼背。火车开进战争。我啪的一声关掉电视。父亲躺在房间正中的棺材里。房间四壁挂满照片,看不到墙。一张照片中,父亲扶着一把椅子,他只有椅子的一半高。他穿着长袍,弯腿站着,腿上满是肉褶子。 [点击阅读]
你在天堂里遇见的五个人
作者:佚名
章节:27 人气:0
摘要:结局(1)这个故事讲的是一个名字叫爱迪的人,故事从结尾处爱迪死在阳光下开始。从结尾开始讲一个故事,似乎颇为奇怪。但是,所有的结尾亦是开端。我们只是当时不知道而已。爱迪生命中的最后一个小时,像大部分其它时间一样,是在“红宝石码头”——壮观的灰色大海边上的一个游乐场里度过的。 [点击阅读]
你好忧愁
作者:佚名
章节:18 人气:0
摘要:这种感情以烦恼而又甘甜的滋味在我心头索绕不去,对于它,我犹豫不决,不知冠之以忧愁这个庄重而优美的名字是否合适。这是一种如此全面,如此利己的感觉,以至我几乎为它感到羞耻,而忧愁在我看来总显得可敬。我不熟悉这种感觉,不过我还熟悉烦恼,遗憾,还稍稍地感受过内疚。今日,有什么东西像一层轻柔的、使人难受的丝绸在我身上围拢,把我与别人隔开。那年夏天,我对岁。我非常快乐。“别人”指的是我父亲和他的情妇艾尔莎。 [点击阅读]
侏罗纪公园
作者:佚名
章节:9 人气:0
摘要:在最初的不规则零散曲线中,几乎看不到基本数学结构的提示。||迈克尔·克莱顿几乎是乐园迈克。鲍曼一面开着那辆越野车穿过位于哥斯大黎加西海岸的卡沃布兰科生态保护区,一面兴高采烈地吹着口哨。这足七月一个阳光明媚的早晨,眼前路上的景色壮丽:路的一边是悬崖峭壁,从这儿可俯瞰热带丛林以及碧波万顷的太平洋。据旅游指南介绍,卡沃布兰科是一块朱经破坏的荒原,几乎是一个乐园。 [点击阅读]
侯爵夫人
作者:佚名
章节:5 人气:0
摘要:一R侯爵夫人可不是才智横溢的,尽管文学作品里,凡是上年级的妇女无不被写成谈吐妙趣横生。她对样样事都无知透顶,涉足上流社会对她也于事无补。据说饱经世故的妇女所特有的吐属有致、洞察入微和分寸得当,她也一概没有。恰好相反,她冒冒失失,唐突莽撞,直肠直肚,有时甚至厚皮涎脸。对于一个享乐时代的侯爵夫人,我能有的种种设想,她都统统给破坏了。 [点击阅读]
假戏成真
作者:佚名
章节:20 人气:0
摘要:接听电话的是波洛的能干秘书李蒙小姐。她把速记簿摆到一边去,拎起话筒,平淡的说,“屈拉法加8137。”赫邱里-波洛躺回直立的椅背上,闭起双眼。他的手指在桌缘上轻敲着,脑子里继续构思着原先正在口述的信文的优美段落。李蒙小姐手掩话筒,低声问说:“你要不要接听德文郡纳瑟坎伯打来的叫人电话?”波洛皱起眉头。这个地名对他毫无意义。“打电话的人叫什么名字?”他谨慎地问。李蒙小姐对着话筒讲话。 [点击阅读]
假曙光
作者:佚名
章节:9 人气:0
摘要:懒洋洋的七月天,空气中弥漫着干草、马鞭草和樨草的清香。阳台的桌子上,放着一只淡黄色的碗杯,里面漂浮着几枚大草霉,在几片薄荷叶的衬托下显得那么鲜红。那是一个乔治王朝时代的老碗杯周围棱角很多,折射出错综复杂的亮光,雷西的两只手臂正好刻印到狮子的双头之间。 [点击阅读]