英文
On the Western Circuit I
The man who played the disturbing part in the two quiet lives hereafter depicted—no great man, in any sense, by the way—first had knowledge of them on an October evening, in the city of Melchester. He had been standing in the Close, vainly endeavouring to gain amid the darkness a glimpse of the most homogeneous pile of mediaeval architecture in England, which towered and tapered from the damp and level sward in front of him. While he stood the presence of the Cathedral walls was revealed rather by the ear than by the eyes; he could not see them, but they reflected sharply a roar of sound which entered the Close by a street leading from the city square, and, falling upon the building, was flung back upon him.
He postponed till the morrow his attempt to examine the deserted edifice, and turned his attention to the noise. It was compounded of steam barrel-organs, the clanging of gongs, the ringing of hand-bells, the clack of rattles, and the undistinguishable shouts of men. A lurid light hung in the air in the direction of the tumult. Thitherward he went, passing under the arched gateway, along a straight street, and into the square.
He might have searched Europe over for a greater contrast between juxtaposed scenes. The spectacle was that of the eighth chasm of the Inferno as to colour and flame, and, as to mirth, a development of the Homeric heaven. A smoky glare, of the complexion of brass-filings, ascended from the fiery tongues of innumerable naphtha lamps affixed to booths, stalls, and other temporary erections which crowded the spacious market-square. In front of this irradiation scores of human figures, more or less in profile, were darting athwart and across, up, down, and around, like gnats against a sunset.
Their motions were so rhythmical that they seemed to be moved by machinery. And it presently appeared that they were moved by machinery indeed; the figures being those of the patrons of swings, see-saws, flyingleaps, above all of the three steam roundabouts which occupied the centre of the position. It was from the latter that the din of steam-organs came.
Throbbing humanity in full light was, on second thoughts, better than architecture in the dark. The young man, lighting a short pipe, and putting his hat on one side and one hand in his pocket, to throw himself into harmony with his new environment, drew near to the largest and most patronized of the steam circuses, as the roundabouts were called by their owners. This was one of brilliant finish, and it was now in full revolution. The musical instrument around which and to whose tones the riders revolved, directed its trumpet-mouths of brass upon the young man, and the long plate-glass mirrors set at angles, which revolved with the machine, flashed the gyrating personages and hobby horses kaleidoscopically into his eyes.
It could now be seen that he was unlike the majority of the crowd. A gentlemanly young fellow, one of the species found in large towns only, and London particularly, built on delicate lines, well, though not fashionably dressed, he appeared to belong to the professional class; he had nothing square or practical about his look, much that was curvilinear and sensuous. Indeed, some would have called him a man not altogether typical of the middle-class male of a century wherein sordid ambition is the master-passion that seems to be taking the time-honoured place of love.
The revolving figures passed before his eyes with an unexpected and quiet grace in a throng whose natural movements did not suggest gracefulness or quietude as a rule. By some contrivance there was imparted to each of the hobby-horses a motion which was really the triumph and perfection of roundabout inventiveness—a galloping rise and fall, so timed that, of each pair of steeds, one was on the spring while the other was on the pitch. The riders were quite fascinated by these equine undulations in this most delightful holiday-game of our times. There were riders as young as six, and as old as sixty years, with every age between. At first it was difficult to catch a personality, but by and by the observer's eyes centred on the prettiest girl out of the several pretty ones revolving.
It was not that one with the light frock and light hat whom he had been at first attracted by; no, it was the one with the black cape, grey skirt, light gloves and—no, not even she, but the one behind her; she with the crimson skirt, dark jacket, brown hat and brown gloves. Unmistakably that was the prettiest girl.
Having finally selected her, this idle spectator studied her as well as he was able during each of her brief transits across his visual field. She was absolutely unconscious of everything save the act of riding: her features were rapt in an ecstatic dreaminess; for the moment she did not know her age or her history or her lineaments, much less her troubles. He himself was full of vague latter-day glooms and popular melancholies, and it was a refreshing sensation to behold this young thing then and there, absolutely as happy as if she were in a Paradise.
Dreading the moment when the inexorable stoker, grimily lurking behind the glittering rococo-work, should decide that this set of riders had had their pennyworth, and bring the whole concern of steam-engine, horses, mirrors, trumpets, drums, cymbals, and such-like to pause and silence, he waited for her every reappearance, glancing indifferently over the intervening forms, including the two plainer girls, the old woman and child, the two youngsters, the newly-married couple, the old man with a clay pipe, the sparkish youth with a ring, the young ladies in the chariot, the pair of journeyman-carpenters, and others, till his select country beauty followed on again in her place. He had never seen a fairer product of nature, and at each round she made a deeper mark in his sentiments. The stoppage then came, and the sighs of the riders were audible.
He moved round to the place at which he reckoned she would alight; but she retained her seat. The empty saddles began to refill, and she plainly was deciding to have another turn. The young man drew up to the side of her steed, and pleasantly asked her if she had enjoyed her ride.
“O yes!” she said, with dancing eyes. “It has been quite unlike anything I have ever felt in my life before!”
It was not difficult to fall into conversation with her. Unreserved—too unreserved—by nature, she was not experienced enough to be reserved by art, and after a little coaxing she answered his remarks readily. She had come to live in Melchester from a village on the Great Plain, and this was the first time that she had ever seen a steam-circus; she could not understand how such wonderful machines were made. She had come to the city on the invitation of Mrs. Harnham, who had taken her into her household to train her as a servant, if she showed any aptitude. Mrs. Harnham was a young lady who before she married had been Miss Edith White, living in the country near the speaker's cottage; she was now very kind to her through knowing her in childhood so well. She was even taking the trouble to educate her. Mrs. Harnham was the only friend she had in the world, and being without children had wished to have her near her in preference to anybody else, though she had only lately come; allowed her to do almost as she liked, and to have a holiday whenever she asked for it. The husband of this kind young lady was a rich winemerchant of the town, but Mrs. Harnham did not care much about him. In the daytime you could see the house from where they were talking. She, the speaker, liked Melchester better than the lonely country, and she was going to have a new hat for next Sunday that was to cost fifteen and ninepence.
Then she inquired of her acquaintance where he lived, and he told her in London, that ancient and smoky city, where everybody lived who lived at all, and died because they could not live there. He came into Wessex two or three times a year for professional reasons; he had arrived from Wintoncester yesterday, and was going on into the next county in a day or two. For one thing he did like the country better than the town, and it was because it contained such girls as herself.
Then the pleasure-machine started again, and, to the light-hearted girl, the figure of the handsome young man, the market-square with its lights and crowd, the houses beyond, and the world at large, began moving round as before, countermoving in the revolving mirrors on her right hand, she being as it were the fixed point in an undulating, dazzling, lurid universe, in which loomed forward most prominently of all the form of her late interlocutor. Each time that she approached the half of her orbit that lay nearest him they gazed at each other with smiles, and with that unmistakable expression which means so little at the moment, yet so often leads up to passion, heart-ache, union, disunion, devotion, overpopulation, drudgery, content, resignation, despair.
When the horses slowed anew he stepped to her side and proposed another heat. “Hang the expense for once,” he said. “I'll pay!”
She laughed till the tears came.
“Why do you laugh, dear?” said he.
“Because—you are so genteel that you must have plenty of money, and only say that for fun!” she returned.
“Ha-ha!” laughed the young man in unison, and gallantly producing his money she was enabled to whirl on again.
As he stood smiling there in the motley crowd, with his pipe in his hand, and clad in the rough pea-jacket and wideawake that he had put on for his stroll, who would have supposed him to be Charles Bradford Raye, Esquire, stuff-gownsman, educated at Wintoncester, called to the Bar at Lincoln's-Inn, now going the Western Circuit, merely detained in Melchester by a small arbitration after his brethren had moved on to the next county-town?
中文
西巡路上 一
这位扰乱了下文所描述的两位女子平静生活的男子——顺便说一句，无论从哪个角度看，他都不是什么大人物——第一次认识她们是在十月的一个傍晚，在梅尔切斯特镇。他先是站在围庭里，面前高高的塔楼与锥形尖顶在潮湿又平整的草地上拔地而起；他徒劳地试图在黑暗中一窥这全英格兰最统一的中世纪建筑群落的风貌。[1]他站在那里，更多是靠耳朵而非眼睛分辨出教堂的高墙；虽然看不见它们，但有一阵喧闹声从市镇广场沿街传到围庭，再撞上这栋建筑，并清晰地反弹回他的耳朵里。
他决定推迟到次日再来参观这座现已空无一人的宏伟建筑，把注意力转到了喧闹声上去。噪声里混杂着洪亮的汽笛风琴声、咣当咣当的敲锣声、叮叮咚咚的手摇铃声、啪嗒啪嗒的拨浪鼓声，以及人群含糊不清的呼喊声。喧嚣声所在处有一片火红的光笼罩在空中。他朝着那个方向穿过拱门，沿一条笔直的街道，走进了市镇广场。
寻遍全欧洲，他也不一定能找到比眼前反差更强烈的景象。单就色彩与火焰来看，这简直就是在地狱的第八层；[2]但若论欢乐程度，可说是超越了荷马史诗里描绘的天堂。宽敞的广场被帐篷、货摊和其他临时搭建的摊位塞得满满当当，摊位上挂着无数轻油灯，带着烟尘的黄铜色刺目光芒正从这些灯吐出的火舌上升起来。在这片光芒前有数十个人影，差不多都只能看见轮廓，正前前后后冲、上上下下蹿，或转着圈儿飞，就像是夕阳下飞舞的蚊蚋一般。
他们的动作节奏感极强，简直像是被机器驱动一样。不过很快就看出他们确实是被机器所驱动；这些人影便是乘客，正在荡秋千、坐跷跷板、玩弹跳板，以及乘坐位于最中心的三台蒸汽旋转木马。汽笛风琴的喧闹声正是从那儿发出来的。
年轻人转念一想，辉煌灯火中生气勃勃的人群还是好过黑夜暗影中的建筑。他点燃一根短烟斗，把帽子歪向一侧，一只手插进口袋里，好让自己跟新环境显得更融洽一些，然后走近那台最大、乘客最多的“蒸汽马戏团”，旋转木马的老板是这么称呼它们的。这台“马戏团”做工精美绝伦，现在正在全力旋转。骑手们围绕着汽笛风琴，随着奏出的乐曲旋转着，铜管的喇叭口正对着年轻男子。跟着机器旋转的还有以不同角度安装的长长的玻璃镜子，像万花筒一般把旋转的人和摇动的木马投射到他的眼中。
现在可以看出他跟在场的大部分人都不一样。这是个很绅士的年轻人，是只有在大城市，特别是伦敦，才会见到的一类人。身形秀美，穿着虽不时髦却很得体，看上去应该是专业人士阶层；从相貌上看，他曲线柔和、非常俊美，完全不是那种无聊乏味又务实的人。说实在的，有些人可能会觉得他不算是典型的中产阶级男性；在这个世纪，卑鄙无耻、野心勃勃才是主流的追求，而且已然取代了爱情在过去的宝贵地位。
旋转的人影在他眼前经过，带着出乎意料的祥和与优雅；本来这些人平日的举止根本谈不上祥和与优雅。经过精巧的设计，可说是旋转木马设计史上的巨大成就与完美之作，每一匹木马被赋予的动作——奔腾跃起或降落——的时间都掌握得刚刚好：每一对骏马中一匹在准备起跳时，另一匹则在顶端俯冲。这是我们这个时代最令人欢欣的假日游戏；这种跑马般的起起伏伏让乘客们都深深着迷。这些人中最小的只有六岁，最大的已有六十岁了，中间各个年龄都有。乍一看很难看清某个具体的人，不过慢慢地，这位旁观者的目光逐渐落在了旋转着的几个漂亮姑娘中最漂亮的那个身上。
不是最开始吸引他的穿浅色上衣戴浅色帽子的那个。不，应该是那个穿黑色披肩、灰色裙子、戴浅色手套和——不，也不是她，是她后头的那个；她穿着大红裙子、深色上衣，戴着棕色帽子和手套。没错，最漂亮的姑娘就是她。
最终选定这一个之后，无所事事的旁观者便抓住每一次她划过他视野的短暂时机细细观察她。她除了骑马之外已经浑然忘我：她的面容带着沉浸在狂喜的梦幻中的表情；这一刻她忘记了自己的年龄、过往、相貌，也不记得自己的种种烦忧。而他本人则满怀时下流行的情绪——朦胧的惆怅与抑郁，眼见这年轻鲜活的生命如此快活如同身在天堂，顿觉神清气爽。
他担心藏在这亮闪闪的洛可可式机器背后那个脏兮兮的添煤工会觉得时间已到，这批客人乘坐的时间已值回一个便士的票价，然后毫不留情把整个蒸汽机，连同木马、镜子、小号、锣鼓、铙钹等等都停下来；于是他等待着她的每一次出现，中间那些身影则漫不经心一瞥而过，包括两个相貌逊色得多的姑娘、一个带着孩子的老妇人、两个少年、一对新婚夫妇、叼着陶土烟斗的老头、一个戴着戒指的英俊小伙、坐在战车里的年轻淑女们、两个熟手木匠，等等，直到他心仪的那位乡村美人随后再次出现。他从未见过比这更美的自然造物，每转一圈她就勾起他更深的情绪。接着木马停了下来，乘客们的叹息声清晰可闻。
他绕到她可能会下马的位置去，但她却在座位上没动。空了的马鞍上慢慢又被新来的人填满，看来她是想要再坐一轮。年轻人走到她的坐骑旁，友善地问她玩得是否开心。
“哦，是的！”她眉飞色舞地回答，“我有生以来从没有过这样的感觉呢！”
跟她搭话并不难。她生性毫不拘谨——太过不拘谨了，加上涉世未深，还不懂得怎样巧妙地有所保留；稍加哄劝，她便欣然与他对答起来。她来自大平原上的一个小村庄，[3]现在居住在梅尔切斯特，这是她生平第一次见到蒸汽马戏团，她完全不懂这奇妙的机器是怎么造出来的。她来到城里是应哈汉姆太太的邀请，到她家来接受训练当女仆，假如她能学得会的话。哈汉姆太太是一位年轻女士，出嫁前的闺名是伊迪丝·怀特，住在离她家不远的地方；哈汉姆太太是看着她长大的，因此对她非常和蔼，甚至还不辞劳苦亲自教她读书写字。哈汉姆太太是她在这个世界上唯一的朋友，还没有孩子，所以总是要她做伴而不要其他人，虽然她才刚来不久。放任她几乎是想做什么就做什么，只要她开口要求，就可以随时放假。这位仁慈的年轻夫人的丈夫是镇上一位富有的红酒商，不过哈汉姆太太并不怎么喜欢他。白天里从现在谈话的位置就能看到他们家的房子。比起偏僻的乡下，她更喜欢梅尔切斯特；下个礼拜天她会有一顶新帽子啦，要花十五先令九便士呢。
接着她询问这位新认识的朋友住在何处，他告诉她在伦敦，那座古老而烟雾缭绕的城市。假如要住，就应该住在伦敦；如果不能住在那儿，这辈子简直就白活了。他因为工作原因每年会来威塞克斯两三次；他昨天刚从温顿塞斯特过来，过两天就会去下一个县。有一个原因让他比起城市更喜欢乡下，那就是因为这里有像她这样的姑娘。
说话间那架予人欢乐的机器又开动了，在这个欢快的姑娘眼里，英俊的青年男子、灯火通明人声鼎沸的集市广场、远处的房屋，乃至整个世界都一如之前再次转动起来；在她右手边的镜子里这一切又都在反向旋转，她是固定不动的中心，周围是起起伏伏、绚烂夺目、光怪陆离的宇宙；其间最显眼的便是刚才与她搭话的那个人的身形。每次她转到离他最近的那半边轨道时他们便会微笑着对视，一副会心的表情。那表情在当时并无深意，却常常预示着日后的激情涌动、心痛难耐、分分合合、执迷不悟、儿女成群、做牛做马、心满意足、逆来顺受、心灰意冷。
等木马再次慢下来时他走到她身边，建议她再来一轮。“这次你不用管票钱了，”他说，“我来付吧！”
她笑到眼泪都出来了。
“你笑什么呢，亲爱的？”他问。
“因为——你看起来很体面，一定很有钱，你这样说只是一时兴起！”她回答说。
“哈哈！”年轻人也应声笑起来，同时殷勤地掏出钱，让她再次旋转起来。
当他手持烟斗、身着出门散步时穿戴的粗呢外套和宽边软帽，微笑着站在斑驳的人群中时，谁能想到他就是查尔斯·布拉德福特·雷伊先生呢？他是一名初级律师，在温顿塞斯特念书，又在林肯会馆获得律师资格，[4]现正跟随巡回法庭在西区定期巡回，他的同伴们已去往下一个市镇了，而他因为一桩小仲裁案需在梅尔切斯特做短暂逗留。[5]
