歐亨利短篇小說綠色之門（雙語朗讀歐）
2023-06-02 23:06:33
"The Furnished Room" . Restless, always moving, forever passing like time itself, are most of the people who live in these old red houses. This is on New York's West Side. The people are homeless, yet they have a hundred homes. They go from furnished room to furnished room. They are transients, transients forever—transients in living place, transients in heart and mind. They sing the song, "Home, Sweet Home," but they sing it without feeling what it means. They can carry everything they own in one small box. They know nothing of gardens. To them, flowers and leaves are something to put on a woman's hat. The houses of this part of the city have had a thousand people living in them. Therefore each house should have a thousand stories to tell. Perhaps most of these stories would not be interesting. But it would be strange if you did not feel, in some of these houses, that you were among people you could not see. The spirits of some who had lived and suffered there must surely remain, though their bodies had gone.
《帶家具出租的房間》。在紐約西區破舊的紅磚房一帶的地區，絕大多數居民都如同時光一樣動蕩不定、遷移不停、來去匆匆。正因為無家可歸，他們也可以說有上百個家。他們不時從這間客房搬到另一間客房，永遠都是那麼變幻無常——在居家上如此，在情感和理智上也無二致。他們口中唱著「家，甜美的家」，但卻體會不到歌曲的真情實感。他們的全部家當用個小紙盒一拎就走。他們對園藝一無所知，對他們而言，花和樹葉就是裝點女人帽子的飾物。這一帶有成百上千這種住客，這裡的每棟房子都可以述說出成百上千的故事。大多數故事可能幹癟乏味；不過，要說你在這些房屋中感受不到鬼魂存在的話，那才真是件怪事。一些曾在這裡苦難求生的人們，雖然他們的身體已經消亡，但靈魂一定還停留於此。
One evening a young man appeared, going from one to another of these big old houses, ringing the doorbell. At the twelfth house, he put down the bag he carried. He cleaned the dust from his face. Then he touched the bell. It sounded far, far away, as if it were ringing deep underground. The woman who owned the house came to the door. The young man looked at her. He thought that she was like some fat, colorless, legless thing that had come up from a hole in the ground, hungrily hoping for something, or someone, to eat. He asked if there was a room that he could have for the night. "Come in," said the woman. Her voice was soft, but for some reason he did not like it. "I have the back room on the third floor. Do you wish to look at it?" The young man followed her up. There was little light in the halls. He could not see where that light came from. The covering on the floor was old and ragged. There were places in the walls made, perhaps, to hold flowering plants. If this were true, the plants had died long before this evening. The air was bad; no flowers could have lived in it for long.
一天傍晚，有個青年男子在這些崩塌失修的紅磚大房中間轉悠尋覓，挨門挨戶按著門鈴。在第十二家門前，他把空噹噹的手提行李放在臺階上，揩去帽沿和額頭上的灰塵，然後按響了門鈴。鈴聲聽起來很遙遠，好像從地下深處響起一樣。女房東應聲出來開門。年輕人打量著她，她的模樣使他想起從地下洞穴中爬出的一隻無色、吃得過多的蛆蟲，尋找著可以充飢的房客。他問有沒有房間可以讓他過夜。「進來吧，」女房東說。她的聲音很輕柔，但年輕人卻感覺很不舒服。「三樓的裡屋還空著，想看看嗎？」年輕人跟她上了樓，不知從什麼地方投下一線微光照在過道上。腳下的地毯破爛不堪，牆上有些地方也許曾放過花花草草，果真如此的話，那些花草也早已死去。沒有花草能在這樣汙濁骯髒的空氣中生長。
"This is the room," said the woman in her soft, thick voice. "It's a nice room. Someone is usually living in it. I had some very nice people in it last summer. I had no trouble with them. They paid on time. The water is at the end of the hall. Sprowls and Mooney had the room for three months. You know them? Theater people. The gas is here. You see there is plenty of space to hang your clothes. It's a room everyone likes. If you don't take it, someone else will take it soon." "Do you have many theater people living here?" asked the young man. "They come and go. Many of my people work in the theater. Yes, sir, this is the part of the city where theater people live. They never stay long any place. They live in all the houses near here. They come and they go." The young man paid for the room for a week. He was going to stay there, he said, and rest. He counted out the money.
「就是這間，」女房東用柔和而粗啞的聲音說道。「房間很不錯，難得有空的時候。今年夏天這兒還住過一些特別講究的人。他們從不找麻煩，都按時付房租。自來水在過道盡頭。斯普勞和穆尼住了三個月，她們是演員。也許你聽說過她們吧？煤氣開關在這兒，瞧這壁櫥也很寬敞，能掛下你所有的衣物。這房間人人見了都喜歡，從來沒長時間空過。」 「你這兒住過很多演戲的？」年輕人問。「他們這個來，那個去。我的很多房客都在劇院幹活。對了，先生，這一帶劇院集中，演戲的人從不在一個地方長住。到這兒附近住過的也不少。他們這個來，那個去。」 他租下了房間，預付了一個星期的租金。他說他很累，想馬上住下來。他點清了租金。
The room was all ready, she said. He would find everything that he needed. As she moved away he asked his question. He had asked it already a thousand times. It was always there, waiting to be asked again. "A young girl—Eloise Vashner—do you remember her? Has she ever been in this house? She would be singing in the theater, probably. A girl of middle height, thin, with red-gold hair and a small dark spot on her face near her left eye." "No, I don't remember the name. Theater people change names as often as they change their rooms. They come and they go. No, I don't remember that one." No. Always no. He had asked his question for five months, and the answer was always no. Every day he questioned men who knew theater people. Had she gone to them to ask for work? Every evening he went to the theaters. He went to good theaters and to bad ones. Some were so bad that he was afraid to find her there. Yet he went to them, hoping.
她說房間早就準備好了，東西都是現成的。女房東離開時，他又一次，這已經是第一千次了，把掛在舌尖的問題提了出來。「有個姑娘叫埃洛伊絲·瓦西納小姐，你記得房客中有過這個人嗎？她多半是在臺上唱歌的。她個子中等，身材苗條，金紅色的頭髮，左眼邊長了顆黑痣。」 「不，我記不得這個名字。那些搞演出的，換名字跟換房間一樣快，來來去去的，我想不起這個名字了。」 不。總是不。五個月不間斷地打聽詢問，千篇一律地否定回答。白天去詢問那些認識演員的人，問她是否曾找他們謀過職。晚上則到劇院去尋找，名角兒會演的劇院去找過，下流的音樂廳也找過，有些地方實在太過汙穢，他甚至害怕在那類地方找到她，但他還是抱著一線希望去找過。
He who had loved her best had tried to find her. She had suddenly gone from her home. He was sure that this great city, this island, held her. But everything in the city was moving, restless. What was on top today, was lost at the bottom tomorrow. The furnished room received the young man with a certain warmth. Or it seemed to receive him warmly. It seemed to promise that here he could rest. There was a bed and there were two chairs with ragged covers. Between the two windows there was a looking-glass about twelve inches wide. There were pictures on the walls. The young man sat down in a chair, while the room tried to tell him its history. The words it used were strange, not easy to understand, as if they were words of many distant foreign countries. There was a floor covering of many colors, like an island of flowers in the middle of the room. Dust lay all around it.
他對她獨懷真情，一心要找到她。他確信，自她突然離家出走之後，這座水流環繞的大城市一定把她蒙在了某個角落。但這座城市變化不定，今天還浮在上層的東西到了明天就被覆蓋在下面。這間客房以假惺惺的熱情迎接著新至的客人，似乎向他承諾可以在這裡休息。房間裡有一張床和兩把椅子，上面蓋著破布。窗戶間放著一碼寬的廉價穿衣鏡、牆上還掛著幾幅畫。年輕人坐在一把椅子上，客房則如巴比倫通天塔的一個套間，儘管稀裡糊塗扯不清楚，仍然竭力把曾在這裡留宿過的房客的故事向他細細講來。地上鋪了一張雜色地毯，像一座豔花盛開的小島，四周滿是灰塵。
There was bright wall-paper on the wall. There was a fireplace. On the wall above it, some bright pieces of cloth were hanging. Perhaps they had been put there to add beauty to the room. This they did not do. And the pictures on the walls were pictures the young man had seen a hundred times before in other furnished rooms. Here and there around the room were small objects forgotten by others who had used the room. There were pictures of theater people, something to hold flowers, but nothing valuable. One by one the little signs grew clear. They showed the young man the others who had lived there before him. In front of the looking-glass there was a thin spot in the floor covering. That told him that women had been in the room. Small finger marks on the wall told of children, trying to feel their way to sun and air.
牆上貼著鮮豔的壁紙，屋裡還有個壁爐。壁爐上方的牆面上掛著一些明亮的布，可能是為了裝點房間，但顯然沒有達到預期的效果。掛在牆上的照片，年輕人在其他房間裡已經見過一百次了。房間裡到處都是以前的房客遺忘的零碎物品，戲院演員的照片，還有花瓶，但沒有什麼值錢的。漸漸地，密碼的筆形變得清晰可辨，前前後後居住過這間客房的人留下的細小痕跡一一展現在年輕人眼前。梳妝檯前那片地毯上有個地方已經磨被得很薄了，意味著成群的漂亮女人曾在上面邁步。牆上的小指紋表明小孩子曾曾在此努力摸索通向陽光和空氣之路。
A larger spot on the wall made him think of someone, in anger, throwing something there. Across the looking-glass, some person had written the name, "Marie." It seemed to him that those who had lived in the furnished room had been angry with it, and had done all they could to hurt it. Perhaps their anger had been caused by the room's brightness and its coldness. For there was no true warmth in the room. There were cuts and holes in the chairs and in the walls. The bed was half broken. The floor cried out as if in pain when it was walked on. People for a time had called this room "home," and yet they had hurt it. This was a fact not easy to believe. But perhaps it was, strangely, a deep love of home that was the cause. The people who had lived in the room perhaps never knew what a real home was. But they knew that this room was not a home. Therefore their deep anger rose up and made them strike out.
一團濺開的汙跡，是某個人在盛怒下將物品砸在牆上的見證。在穿衣鏡的鏡面上，有人刻出「瑪麗」這個名字。看來，客房留宿人也許是受到客房那俗豔的冷漠所驅使，曾在狂怒中輾轉反側，並把一腔憤懣傾洩在這個房間上。椅子和牆面上有鑿痕和凹洞；半張床是壞的，走路時，地板似乎是在哀怨地發出尖叫。那些傷害這個房間的人，居然就是曾一度把它稱之為家的人。這真是令人難以置信。然而，也許正是這屢戀家的本性才是根源。住在這的房客們也許從來不知道真正的家是什麼樣子，但他們知道這個房間不是他們的家，從而點燃了他們胸中的沖天怒火。
The young man in the chair allowed these thoughts to move one by one, softly, through his mind. At the same time, sounds and smells from other furnished rooms came into his room. He heard someone laughing, laughing in a manner that was neither happy nor pleasant. From other rooms he heard a woman talking too loudly; and he heard people playing games for money; and he heard a woman singing to a baby, and he heard someone weeping. Above him there was music. Doors opened and closed. The trains outside rushed noisily past. Some animal cried out in the night outside. And the young man felt the breath of the house. It had a smell that was more than bad; it seemed cold and sick and old and dying. Then suddenly, as he rested there, the room was filled with the strong, sweet smell of a flower, small and white, named mignonette. The smell came so surely and so strongly that it almost seemed like a living person entering the room. And the man cried aloud: "What, dear?" as if he had been called.
坐在椅子上的年輕人任這些思緒繚繞心間。與此同時，樓中飄來活靈活現的聲音和氣味。他聽見一個房間傳來吃吃地竊笑，發出笑聲的人似乎並不開心愉快；別的房間傳來女人高聲講話的聲音，骰子的格格聲，催眠曲和嗚嗚抽泣；樓上傳來音樂聲。不知什麼地方的門砰砰嘭嘭地開了又關；架空電車不時地隆隆駛過；還有動物在月夜中哀嚎。他呼吸到這座房子的氣息。味道很難聞，是一種陰冷、腐舊的黴臭味兒。他就這樣歇著，突然，房間裡充滿木犀草濃烈的芬芳。它乘風而至，鮮明無誤，香馥沁人，活脫脫如來訪的佳賓。年輕人忍不住大叫：「什麼？親愛的？」好像有人在喊他似地。
He jumped up and turned around. The rich smell was near, and all around him. He opened his arms for it. For a moment he did not know where he was or what he was doing. How could anyone be called by a smell? Surely it must have been a sound. But could a sound have touched him? "She has been in this room," he cried, and he began to seek some sign of her. He knew that if he found any small thing that had belonged to her, he would know that it was hers. If she had only touched it, he would know it. This smell of flowers that was all around him—she had loved it and had made it her own. Where did it come from? The room had been carelessly cleaned. He found many small things that women had left. Something to hold their hair in place. Something to wear in the hair to make it more beautiful. A piece of cloth that smelled of another flower. A book. Nothing that had been hers.
他一躍而起，四下張望。濃香撲鼻而來，把他包裹其中。他伸出手臂擁抱香氣。剎那間，他的全部感覺都攪混在一起。人怎麼可能被香味斷然喚起呢？喚起他的肯定是聲音。難道這就是曾撫摸過他的聲音嗎？「她在這個房間住過，」他大聲說，開始搜尋她的徵跡。因為他確信能辨認出屬於她的或是她觸摸過的任何微小的東西。這沁人肺腑的木犀花香，她所喜愛、唯她獨有的芬芳，究竟是從哪兒來的？房間只馬馬虎虎收拾過。他發現了一些女人用的東西，小髮夾和小髮飾。他還找到一塊帶有另一種花香的布和一本書，但都不是她的。
And he began to walk around the room like a dog hunting a wild animal. He looked in corners. He got down on his hands and knees to look at the floor. He wanted something that he could see. He could not realize that she was there beside, around, against, within, above him, near to him, calling him. Then once again he felt the call. Once again he answered loudly: "Yes, dear!" and turned, wild-eyed, to look at nothing. For he could not yet see the form and color and love and reaching arms that were there in the smell of white flowers. Oh, God! Where did the smell of flowers come from? Since when has a smell had a voice to call? So he wondered, and went on seeking. He found many small things, left by many who had used the room. But of her, who may have been there, whose spirit seemed to be there, he found no sign. And then he thought of the owner.
隨後他在房間裡四處搜尋，像一條獵狗東嗅西聞，掃視四壁，趴在地上仔細查看地板。試圖找到一個可見的、但他還未發現的跡象，以證明她就在房間裡，就在他旁邊、周圍、對面、心中、上面，近在咫尺，呼喚著他。他又感到了那呼喚之聲，他再次大聲回答「我在這兒，親愛的！」然後轉過身子，目瞪口呆，一片漠然，因為他在木犀花香中還察覺不出形式、色彩、愛情和張開的雙臂。唔，上帝啊，那芳香是從哪兒來的？從什麼時候起香味開始具有呼喚之力？就這樣他不停地四下摸索。他發現許許多多房客留下物品，但那個似乎曾在這裡住過、其幽靈好像仍然徘徊於此的她，他卻絲毫痕跡也未發現。這時他記起了女房東。
He ran from the room, with its smell of flowers, going down and to a door where he could see a light. She came out. He tried to speak quietly. "Will you tell me," he asked her, "who was in my room before I came here?" "Yes, sir. I can tell you again. It was Sprowls and Mooney, as I said. It was really Mr. and Mrs. Mooney, but she used her own name. Theater people do that." "Tell me about Mrs. Mooney. What did she look like?" "Black-haired, short and fat. They left here a week ago." "And before they were here?" "There was a gentleman. Not in the theater business. He didn't pay. Before him was Mrs. Crowder and her two children. They stayed four months. And before them was old Mr. Doyle. His sons paid for him. He had the room six months. That is a year, and further I do not remember." He thanked her and went slowly back to his room. The room was dead. The smell of flowers had made it alive, but the smell of flowers was gone. In its place was the smell of the house. His hope was gone. He sat looking at the yellow gaslight. Soon he walked to the bed and took the covers. He began to tear them into pieces. He pushed the pieces into every open space around windows and door. No air, now, would be able to enter the room. When all was as he wished it, he put out the burning gaslight. Then, in the dark, he started the gas again, and he lay down thankfully on the bed.
他跑下樓，來到透出一縫光線的門前。她應聲開門出來。他竭盡全力，克制住激動之情。「請告訴我，」他哀求道，「我來之前誰住過那個房間？」 「好的，先生。我可以再說一遍。以前住的是斯普勞和穆尼夫婦，我已經說過，穆尼夫婦，但斯普勞小姐用她自己的名字，演戲的都這麼做。」「斯普勞小姐是哪種女人，我是說，她長相如何？」「黑髮、小個子、胖胖的，他們一個星期前搬走的。」「在他們之前誰住過？」「有個男人，不是演員。他還欠著我房租呢。在他以前是克勞德夫人和她兩個孩子，住了四個月；再以前是多伊爾老先生，房租是他兒子付的。他住了六個月。都是一年以前的事了，再往前我就記不起來了。」他謝了她，慢騰騰地走回房間。房間死氣沉沉。曾為它注入生機的香氣已經消失，代之而來的是發黴陳腐的臭氣。希望破滅了，他坐在椅子上看著煤氣燈的黃光。稍許，他走到床邊，把床單撕成長條，然後把布條塞進門窗周圍的每條縫隙中。現在，沒有空氣可以進到房間中了。一切收拾得嚴實緊扎後，他關掉煤氣燈，又在黑暗中把煤氣打開，最後感激不盡地躺到床上。
It was Mrs. McCool's night to go and get them something cold to drink. So she went and came back, and sat with Mrs. Purdy in one of those rooms underground where the women who own these old houses meet and talk. "I have a young man in my third floor back room this evening," said Mrs. Purdy, taking a drink. "He went up to bed two hours ago." "Is that true, Mrs. Purdy?" said Mrs. McCool. It was easy to see that she thought this was a fine and surprising thing. "You always find someone to take a room like that. I don't know how you do it. Did you tell him about it?" "Rooms," said Mrs. Purdy, in her soft thick voice, "are furnished to be used by those that need them. I did not tell him, Mrs. McCool.""You are right, Mrs. Purdy. It's the money we get for the rooms that keeps us alive. You have the real feeling for business. There are many people who wouldn't take a room like that if they knew. If you told them that someone had died in the bed, and died by their own hand, they wouldn't enter the room." "As you say, we have our living to think of," said Mrs. Purdy. "Yes, it is true. Only one week ago I helped you there in the third floor back room. She was a pretty little girl. And to kill herself with the gas! She had a sweet little face, Mrs. Purdy." "She would have been called beautiful, as you say," said Mrs. Purdy, "except for that dark spot she had growing by her left eye. Do fill up your glass again, Mrs. McCool."
今晚輪到麥克庫爾夫人拿罐子去打酒，她取酒回來，和珀迪夫人在一個地下幽會場所坐下來聊天。這是女房東們聚會的地方。「今晚我把三樓裡間租出去了，房客是個年輕人，」珀迪夫人說著喝了一口酒。「兩個鐘頭前他就上床了。」 「真有啊，珀迪夫人，」麥克庫爾夫人說，羨慕不已。「那種房間你都租得出去，可真是奇蹟。那你給他說那件事了嗎？」「房間裡有家具，」珀迪夫人用她柔和而粗啞的聲音說，「就是為了租出去。我沒給他說那事兒，麥克庫爾夫人。」「可不是嘛，珀迪夫人。我們就是靠出租房子過活。你的生意經沒錯。如果知道這個房間裡有人自殺，死在床上，誰還會來租它呢。」「當然嘛，我們總得活下去啊，」珀迪夫人說。「沒錯，這話不假。一個星期前我才幫你把三樓裡間收拾規整。那個漂亮的姑娘擰開煤氣自殺了！她那小臉蛋兒多甜啊，珀迪夫人。」「可不是嘛，都說她長得俏，」珀迪夫人說。「只是她左眼邊的痣長得不好看。再來一杯，麥克庫爾夫人。」
