布里尔小姐

布里尔小姐

Miss Brill

尽管天气好极了——蓝天洒满金粉，大片大片如白葡萄酒般的光斑泼洒在公共公园各处——布里尔小姐还是很高兴自己决定带上了毛皮围巾。

Although it was so brilliantly fine—the blue sky powdered with gold and great spots of light like white wine splashed over the Jardins Publiques—Miss Brill was glad that she had decided on her fur.

空气静止不动，但当你张开嘴时，却有一股淡淡的凉意，就像轻啜一口冰水前感受到的凉气；不时还有一片落叶飘落——不知从何而来，自天而降。

The air was motionless, but when you opened your mouth there was just a faint chill, like a chill from a glass of iced water before you sip, and now and again a leaf came drifting—from nowhere, from the sky.

布里尔小姐抬起手摸了摸她的毛皮。亲爱的小东西！再次摸到它感觉真好。那天下午，她把它从盒子里拿出来，抖掉防蛀粉，仔细刷了一阵，又揉擦着让那对黯淡的小眼睛重新焕发生机。

Miss Brill put up her hand and touched her fur. Dear little thing! It was nice to feel it again. She had taken it out of its box that afternoon, shaken out the moth-powder, given it a good brush, and rubbed the life back into the dim little eyes.

“我身上到底发生了什么？”那对悲伤的小眼睛仿佛在问。噢，看到它们在红色的羽绒被上重新对着她眨眼，感觉真甜蜜！……不过那只用某种黑色复合材料做成的鼻子一点也不牢固。不知怎么的，它一定是碰了一下。

“What has been happening to me?” said the sad little eyes. Oh, how sweet it was to see them snap at her again from the red eiderdown!... But the nose, which was of some black composition, wasn’t at all firm. It must have had a knock, somehow.

没关系——等需要的时候——绝对必要的时候，抹一小点黑火漆就行了……调皮的小家伙！是的，她心里真的是这么觉得的。调皮的小家伙正好在她左耳边咬着自己的尾巴。

Never mind—a little dab of black sealing-wax when the time came—when it was absolutely necessary.... Little rogue! Yes, she really felt like that about it. Little rogue biting its tail just by her left ear.

她本可以解下它放在膝头轻轻抚摸。她感到双手和手臂有一阵刺痛感，不过她想，那是因为走路走得太久了。

She could have taken it off and laid it on her lap and stroked it. She felt a tingling in her hands and arms, but that came from walking, she supposed.

当她呼吸时，某种轻盈而忧伤——不，确切地说并不忧伤——某种温柔的东西似乎在她胸口轻轻涌动。

And when she breathed, something light and sad—no, not sad, exactly—something gentle seemed to move in her bosom.

今天下午出来的人不少，比上周日多得多。乐队的声音听起来也更响亮、更欢快。那是因为旺季已经开始了。

There were a number of people out this afternoon, far more than last Sunday. And the band sounded louder and gayer. That was because the Season had begun.

因为虽然乐队一年四季的星期天都在演奏，但到了淡季就完全不是那么回事了。那就像一个人在演奏，只有家人在听；要是在场没有陌生人，它就根本不在乎演奏得怎样。

For although the band played all the year round on Sundays, out of season it was never the same. It was like some one playing with only the family to listen; it didn’t care how it played if there weren’t any strangers present.

指挥不是也穿了一件新外套吗？她确信是新的。他用脚蹭着地面，像一只正要啼叫的公鸡一样扑闪着双臂；坐在绿色凉亭里的乐手们鼓起腮帮子，目不转睛地瞪着乐谱。

Wasn’t the conductor wearing a new coat, too? She was sure it was new. He scraped with his foot and flapped his arms like a rooster about to crow, and the bandsmen sitting in the green rotunda blew out their cheeks and glared at the music.

这时传来一段轻柔的“笛声”——真漂亮！——就像一串明亮的水珠。她确信这段旋律还会重复。果然重复了；她抬起头微笑起来。

Now there came a little “flutey” bit—very pretty!—a little chain of bright drops. She was sure it would be repeated. It was; she lifted her head and smiled.

只有两个人与她共坐这条“特别”的长椅：一位穿天鹅绒大衣的体面老先生，双手交叠握在一根巨大的雕花手杖上；还有一位高大的老妇人，挺直坐着，绣花围裙上放着一卷编织物。他们没有说话。

Only two people shared her “special” seat: a fine old man in a velvet coat, his hands clasped over a huge carved walking-stick, and a big old woman, sitting upright, with a roll of knitting on her embroidered apron. They did not speak.

这真让人失望，因为布里尔小姐总是盼着听人交谈。

This was disappointing, for Miss Brill always looked forward to the conversation.