51(y)(7)
用你喜欢的方式阅读你喜欢的小说
双城记英文版 - Part 2 Chapter VIII. A SIGHT
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。
  “You know the Old Bailey well, no doubt?” said one of the oldest of clerks to Jerry the messenger. “Ye-es, sir,” returned Jerry, in something of a dogged manner. “I do know the Bailey.”“Just so. And you know Mr. Lorry.”“I know Mr. Lorry, sir, much better than I know the Bailey. Much better,” said Jerry, not unlike a reluctant witness at the establishment in question, “than I, as a honest tradesman, wish to know the Bailey.”“Very well. Find the door where the witnesses go in, and show the door-keeper this note for Mr. Lorry. He will then let you in.”“Into the court, sir?”“Into the court.”Mr. Cruncher’s eyes seemed to get a little closer to one another, and to interchange the inquiry, “What do you think of this?”“Am I to wait in the court, sir?” he asked, as the result of that conference.“I am going to tell you. The door-keeper will pass the note to Mr. Lorry, and do you make any gesture that will attract Mr. Lorry’s attention, and show him where you stand. Then what you have to do is, to remain there until he wants you.”“Is that all, sir?”“That is all. He wishes to have a messenger at hand. This is to tell him you are there.”As the ancient clerk deliberately folded and superscribed the note, Mr. Cruncher, after surveying him in silence until he came to the blotting-paper stage, remarked:“I suppose they’ll be trying Forgeries this morning?”“Treason!”“That’s quartering,” said Jerry. “Barbarous!”“It is the law,” remarked the ancient clerk, turning his surprised spectacles upon him. “It is the law.”“It’s hard in the law to spile a man, I think. It’s hard enough to kill him, but it’s werry hard to spile him, sir.”“Not at all,” returned the ancient clerk. “Speak well of the law. Take care of your chest and voice, my good friend, and leave the law to take care of itself. I give you that advice.”“It’s the damp, sir, what settles on my chest and voice,” said Jerry. “I leave you to judge what a damp way of earning a living mine is.”“Well, well,” said the old clerk; “we all have our various ways of gaining a livelihood. Some of us have damp ways, and some of us have dry ways. Here is the letter. Go along.”Jerry took the letter, and, remarking to himself with less internal deference than he made an outward show of, “You are a lean old one, too,” made his bow, informed his son, in passing, of his destination, and went his way.They hanged at Tyburn in those days, so the street outside Newgate had not obtained one infamous notoriety that has since attached to it. But, the gaol was a vile place, in which most kinds of debauchery and villainy were practised, and where dire diseases were bred, that came into court with the prisoners, and sometimes rushed straight from the dock at my Lord Chief Justice himself, and pulled him off the bench. It had more than once happened, that the Judge in the black cap pronounced his own doom as certainly as the prisoner’s, and even died before him. For the rest, the Old Bailey was famous as a kind of deadly inn-yard, from which pale travellers set out continually, in carts and coaches, on a violent passage into the other world: traversing some two miles and a half of public street and road, and shaming few good citizens, if any. So powerful is use, and so desirable to be good use in the beginning. It was famous, too, for the pillory, a wise old institution, that inflicted a punishment of which no one could foresee the extent; also, for the whipping-post, another dear old institution, very humanising and softening to behold in action; also, for extensive transactions in blood-money, another fragment of ancestral wisdom, systematically leading to the most frightful mercenary crimes that could be committed under Heaven. Altogether, the Old Bailey, at that date, was a choice illustration of the precept that “Whatever is, is right”; an aphorism that would be as final as it is lazy, did it not include the troublesome consequence, that nothing that ever was, was wrong.Making his way through the tainted crowd, dispersed up and down this hideous scene of action, with the skill of a man accustomed to make his way quietly, the messenger found out the door he sought, and handed in his letter through a trap in it. For, people then paid to see the play at the Old Bailey, just as they paid to see the play in Bedlam—only the former entertainment was much the dearer. Therefore, all the Old Bailey doors were well guarded—except, indeed, the social doors by which the criminals got there, and those were always left wide open.After some delay and demur, the door grudgingly turned on its hinges a very little way, and allowed Mr. Jerry Cruncher to squeeze himself into court.“What’s on?” he asked, in a whisper, of the man he found himself next to.“Nothing yet.”“What’s coming on?”“The Treason case.”“The quartering one, eh?”“Ah!” returned the man, with a relish; “he’ll be drawn on a hurdle to be half hanged, and then he’ll be taken down and sliced before his own face, and then his inside will be taken out and burnt while he looks on, and then his head will be chopped off, and he’ll be cut into quarters. That’s the sentence.”“If he’s found Guilty, you mean to say?” Jerry added, by way of proviso.“Oh! They’ll find him guilty,” said the other. “Don’t you be afraid of that.”Mr. Cruncher’s attention was here diverted to the door-keeper, whom he saw making his way to Mr. Lorry, with the note in his hand. Mr. Lorry sat at a table, among the gentlemen in wigs: not far from a wigged gentleman, the prisoner’s counsel, who had a great bundle of papers before him: and nearly opposite another wigged gentleman with his hands in his pockets, whose whole attention, when Mr. Cruncher looked at him then or afterwards, seemed to be concentrated on the ceiling of the court. After some gruff coughing and rubbing of his chin and signing with his hand, Jerry attracted the notice of Mr. Lorry, who had stood up to look for him, and who quietly nodded and sat down again.“What’s he got to do with the case?” asked the man he had spoken with.“Blest if I know,” said Jerry.“What have you got to do with it, then, if a person may inquire?”“Blest if I know that either,” said Jerry.The entrance of the Judge, and a consequent great stir and settling down in the court, stopped the dialogue. Presently, the dock became the central point of interest. Two gaolers, who had been standing there, went out, and the prisoner was brought in, and put to the bar.Everybody present, except the one wigged gentleman who looked at the ceiling, stared at him. All the human breath in the place, rolled at him, like a sea, or a wind, or a fire. Eager faces strained round pillars and corners, to get a sight of him; spectators in back rows stood up, not to miss a hair of him; people on the floor of the court, laid their hands on the shoulders of the people before them, to help themselves, at anybody’s cost, to a view of him, stood a-tiptoe, got upon ledges, stood upon next to nothing, to see every inch of him. Conspicuous among these latter, like an animated bit of the spiked wall of Newgate, Jerry stood: aiming at the prisoner the beery breath of a whet he had taken as he came along, and discharging it to mingle with the waves of other beer, and gin, and tea, and coffee, and what not, that flowed at him, and already broke upon the great windows behind him in an impure mist and rain.The object of all this staring and blaring, was a young man of about five and twenty, well-grown and well-looking, with a sunburnt cheek and a dark eye. His condition was that of a young gentleman. He was plainly dressed in black, or very dark grey, and his hair, which was long and dark, was gathered in a ribbon at the back of his neck; more to be out of his way than for ornament. As an emotion of the mind will express itself through any covering of the body, so the paleness which his situation engendered came through the brown upon his cheek, showing the soul to be stronger than the sun. He was otherwise quite self-possessed, bowed to the Judge, and stood quiet.The sort of interest with which this man was stared and breathed at, was not a sort that elevated humanity. Had he stood in peril of a less horrible sentence—had there been a chance of any one of its savage details being spared—by just so much would he have lost in his fascination. The form that was to be doomed to be so shamefully mangled, was the sight; the immortal creature that was to be so butchered and torn asunder, yielded the sensation. Whatever gloss the various spectators put upon the interest, according to their several arts and powers of self-deceit, the interest was, at the root of it, Ogreish.Silence in the court! Charles Darnay had yesterday pleaded Not Guilty to an indictment denouncing him (with infinite jingle and jangle) for that he was a false traitor to our serene, illustrious, excellent, and so forth, prince, our Lord the King, by reason of his having, on divers occasions, and by divers means and ways, assisted Lewis, the French King, in his wars against our said serene, illustrious, excellent, and so forth; that was to say, by coming and going, between the dominions of our said serene, illustrious, excellent, and so forth, and those of the said French Lewis, and wickedly, falsely, traitorously, and otherwise eviladverbiously, revealing to the said French Lewis what forces our said serene, illustrious, excellent, and so forth, had in preparation to send to Canada and North America. This much, Jerry, with his head becoming more and more spiky as the law terms bristled it, made out with huge satisfaction, and so arrived circuitously at the understanding that the aforesaid, and over and over again aforesaid, Charles Darnay, stood there before him upon his trial; that the jury were swearing in; and that Mr. Attorney-General was making ready to speak.The accused, who was (and who knew he was) being mentally hanged, beheaded, and quartered, by everybody there, neither flinched from the situation, nor assumed any theatrical air in it. He was quiet and attentive; watched the opening proceedings with a grave interest; and stood with his hands resting on the slab of wood before him, so composedly, that they had not displaced a leaf of the herbs with which it was strewn. The court was all bestrewn with herbs and sprinkled with vinegar, as a precaution against gaol air and gaol fever.Over the prisoner’s head there was a mirror, to throw the light down upon him. Crowds of the wicked and the wretched had been reflected in it, and had passed from its surface and this earth’s together. Haunted in a most ghastly manner that abominable place would have been, if the glass could ever have rendered back its reflections, as the ocean is one day to give up its dead. Some passing thought of the infamy and disgrace for which it had been reserved, may have struck the prisoner’s mind. Be that as it may, a change in his position making him conscious of a bar of light across his face, he looked up; and when he saw the glass his face flushed, and his right hand pushed the herbs away.It happened that the action turned his face to that side of the court which was on his left. About on a level with his eyes, there sat, in that corner of the Judge’s bench, two persons upon whom his look immediately rested; so immediately, and so much to the changing of his aspect, that all the eyes that were turned upon him, turned to them.The spectators saw in the two figures, a young lady of little more than twenty, and a gentleman who was evidently her father; a man of a very remarkable appearance in respect of the absolute whiteness of his hair, and a certain indescribable intensity of face: not of an active kind, but pondering and self-communing. When this expression was upon him, he looked as if he were old; but when it was stirred and broken up—as it was now, in a moment, on his speaking to his daughter—he became a handsome man, not past the prime of life.His daughter had one of her hands drawn through his arm, as she sat by him, and the other pressed upon it. She had drawn close to him, in her dread of the scene, and in her pity for the prisoner. Her forehead had been strikingly expressive of an engrossing terror and compassion that saw nothing but the peril of the accused. This had been so very noticeable, so very powerfully and naturally shown, that starers who had had no pity for him were touched by her; and the whisper went about, “Who are they?”Jerry, the messenger, who had made his own observations, in his own manner, and who had been sucking the rust off his fingers in his absorption, stretched his neck to hear who they were. The crowd about him had pressed and passed the inquiry on to the nearest attendant, and from him it had been more slowly pressed and passed back; at last it got to Jerry:“Witnesses.”“For which side?”“Against.”“Against what side?”“The prisoner’s.”The Judge, whose eyes had gone in the general direction, recalled them, leaned back in his seat, and looked steadily at the man whose life was in his hand, as Mr. Attorney-General rose to spin the rope, grind the axe, and hammer the nails into the scaffold.
或许您还会喜欢:
父与子
作者:佚名
章节:30 人气:2
摘要:《父与子》描写的是父辈与子辈冲突的主题。这一冲突在屠格涅夫笔下着上了时代的色彩。 [点击阅读]
狼穴巨款
作者:佚名
章节:47 人气:2
摘要:1945年3月。北海上刮着凛烈的寒风。在纳粹德国一个秘密潜艇基地里,一艘潜艇固定在巨大的墩柱上。流线型的舰首在晨曦中显得轮廓格外明晰。在潜艇的腰部有一块跳板,一长队孩子正踏着跳板登上潜艇。他们彼此手挽手走着、仰起脸看着这艘奇怪的黑色船舶。有个人拿着名单在核对孩子们的名字。在潜艇的瞭望塔里,站着一个纳粹海军军官和一个穿黑大衣的高个子男人。 [点击阅读]
猫知道
作者:佚名
章节:8 人气:2
摘要:第一章“再把地图拿来给我看一看,悦子。”站在拐角处向左右两侧张望的哥哥说。我从提包皮中取出一张已经被翻看得满是皱纹的纸片。“说得倒轻巧,很不容易!牧村这家伙画的地图,怎么这么差劲!”哥哥一边嘟嚷着,一边用手背抹去额头顶的汗。就在这时,右边路程走过来一个人。这是一个穿着淡青色衬衫。夹着一半公文包皮的青年男子。 [点击阅读]
癌病船
作者:佚名
章节:27 人气:2
摘要:第一章处女航一父母及幼小的弟弟、妹妹,四个人正围着一个在梳妆的少女淌眼泪。这是一套两间的公寓住房。父母住一间,三个孩子住一间。当然不可能让每个人都有一张桌子。孩子们每天在这狭小的房间里埋头苦读。大女儿夕雨子,已经十三岁了。但她却无法继续学习下去。她得了白血病。开始时觉得浑身无力,低烧不退。父母整天忙于自身的工作,无暇顾及自己孩子。父亲大月雄三,是个出租汽车司机。 [点击阅读]
红龙
作者:佚名
章节:54 人气:2
摘要:1威尔·格雷厄姆让克劳福德坐在房子与海之间的野餐桌旁,然后递给他一杯冰茶。杰克·克劳福德看着这幢外表漂亮的老式房子。银白色的木料衬着明媚的阳光。“我真应该当你卸职的时候在玛若森就找到你,”杰克说,“你肯定不愿意在这儿谈这件事。”“这事我在哪儿都不愿意谈,杰克。既然你坚持要说,好,我们就来谈谈。 [点击阅读]
老人与海
作者:佚名
章节:9 人气:2
摘要:1961年7月2日,蜚声世界文坛的海明威用自己的猎枪结束了自己的生命。整个世界都为此震惊,人们纷纷叹息这位巨人的悲剧。美国人民更是悲悼这位美国重要作家的陨落。欧内斯特·米勒尔·海明威(1899—1961年),美国小说家。1899年7月21日,海明威出生在美国伊利诺伊州芝加哥郊外橡树园镇一个医生的家庭。 [点击阅读]
肖申克的救赎
作者:佚名
章节:37 人气:2
摘要:肖申克的救赎献给拉斯和弗洛伦斯·多尔我猜美国每个州立监狱和联邦监狱里,都有像我这样的一号人物,不论什么东西,我都能为你弄到手。无论是高级香烟或大麻(如果你偏好此道的话),或弄瓶白兰地来庆祝儿子或女儿高中毕业,总之差不多任何东西……我的意思是说,只要在合理范围内,我是有求必应;可是很多情况不一定都合情合理的。我刚满二十岁就来到肖申克监狱。 [点击阅读]
邦斯舅舅
作者:佚名
章节:32 人气:2
摘要:一谈及巴尔扎克,人们首先会想到他的《高老头》、《欧叶妮·格朗台》、《幻灭》,而《邦斯舅舅》恐怕就要稍逊一筹了。然而,我们却读到了也许会令中国读者意外的评论。安德烈·纪德曾这样写道:“这也许是巴尔扎克众多杰作中我最喜欢的一部;不管怎么说,它是我阅读最勤的一部……我欣喜、迷醉……”他还写道:“不同凡响的《邦斯舅舅》,我先后读了三、四遍,现在我可以离开巴尔扎克了,因为再也没有比这本书更精彩的作品了。 [点击阅读]
4号解剖室
作者:佚名
章节:9 人气:2
摘要:外面一片漆黑,我恍恍忽忽地不知自己昏迷了多长时间。慢慢地我听到一阵微弱而富有节奏的声音,这是只有轮子才能发出的嘎吱嘎吱声。丧失意识的人在黑暗中是听不到这么细微的声响的。因此我判断自己已经恢复了知觉,而且我从头到脚都能感受到外界的存在。我还闻到了一种气味——不是橡胶就是塑料薄膜。 [点击阅读]
一个人的好天气
作者:佚名
章节:40 人气:2
摘要:正文第1节:春天(1)春天一个雨天,我来到了这个家。有间屋子的门楣上摆着一排漂亮的镜框,里面全是猫的照片。再往屋里一看,从左面墙开始,隔过中间窗户,一直转到右面墙的一半,又挂了快一圈儿猫的照片,我懒得去数多少张了。照片有黑白的,也有彩色的;有的猫不理睬我,有的猫死盯着我。整个房间就像个佛龛,令人窒息。我呆呆地站在门口。"这围脖真好看哪。 [点击阅读]