【#文档大全网# 导语】以下是®文档大全网的小编为您整理的《高中英语学习：双语版短篇小说-女房东-The Landlady》，欢迎阅读！
1. 双语版 The Landlady 女房东 Roald Dahl 罗尔德·达尔
Billy Weaver had travelled down from London on the slow afternoon train, with a change at Swindon on the way, and by the time he got to Bath it was about nine o’clock in the evening and the moon was coming up out of a clear starry sky over the houses opposite the station entrance. But the air was deadly cold and the wind was like a flat blade of ice on his cheeks.
比利·威弗乘午后的慢车从伦敦出外旅游，在斯温顿换了车，到达巴思时已是晚上九点来钟，可以看见车站出口对面的房屋笼罩在一片月色之中。天气异常冷，寒风象冰铲一样直刺脸孔。
‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘but is there a fairly cheap hotel not too far away from here?’ “对不起，”他说，“请问附近有便宜点的旅店吗？”
‘Try The Bell and Dragon,’ the porter answered, pointing down the road. ‘They might take you in. It’s about a quarter of a mile along on the other side.’
“到’铃和龙’那边看看吧，”门卫指着马路的尽头说，“那边也许有。往前走四分之一英里，马路对面就是。”
Billy thanked him and picked up his suitcase and set out to walk the quarter-mile to The Bell and Dragon. He had never been to Bath before. He didn’t know anyone who lived there. But Mr Greenslade at the Head Office in London had told him it was a splendid city. ‘Find your own lodgings,’ he had said, ‘and then go along and report to the Branch Manager as soon as you’ve got yourself settled.’
比利谢了门卫，拎着箱子开始朝“铃和龙旅店”的方向走那四分之一英里的路。他以前从未来过巴思，谁也不认识。不过伦敦总公司的格林斯雷德先生对他说，这是一座挺不错的城市。“找地方住下后，”他说，“就向分管经理报告。”
Billy was seventeen years old. He was wearing a new navy-blue overcoat, a new brown trilby hat, and a new brown suit, and he was feeling fine. He walked briskly down the street. He was trying to do everything briskly these days.
比利十七岁，身披一件崭新的海军蓝大衣，头上戴的棕色软毡帽和里面穿的棕色衣裤也
都是新的，他自我感觉很好。他步履轻松地顺马路往前走。这些日子里他做什么事都很轻松。
Briskness, he had decided, was the one common characteristic of all successful businessmen. 他认为轻松是所有成功的生意人的特点之一。总公司里的那些大老板时时都谈笑风生，轻松愉快。
The big shots up at Head Office were absolutely fantastically brisk all the time. They were amazing.There were no shops on this wide street that he was walking along, only a line of tall houses on each side, all of them identical. They had porches and pillars and four or five steps going up to their front doors, and it was obvious that once upon a time they had been very swanky residences. But now, even in the darkness, he could see that the paint was peeling from the woodwork on their doors and windows, and that the handsome white façades were cracked and blotchy from neglect.
他行走的这条宽阔的马路上没有店铺，两边只有一排排高大的房屋，全都一个模样，门廊、圆柱、四到五级通向前门的台阶，显然这虽一度住过非常富有的人家。不过现在即便在黑暗中，他也能看清门窗木框上剥落的油漆，漂亮的白色大门也已裂开缝隙，污渍斑驳。
Suddenly, in a downstairs window that was brilliantly illuminated by a street-lamp not six yards away, Billy caught sight of a printed notice propped up against the glass in one of the upper panes. It said BED AND BREAKFAST. There was a vase of pussy-willows, tall and beautiful, standing just underneath the notice.
忽然，比利在一扇显然是被六码外的路灯照亮的橱窗里，看见一块支撑着窗格玻璃的招牌，上面写着“提供住宿和早餐”招牌下面立着一只高大漂亮的插着毛绒绒柳条的花瓶。
He stopped walking. He moved a bit closer. Green curtains (some sort of velvety material) were hanging down on either side of the window. The pussy-willows looked wonderful beside them. He went right up and peered through the glass into the room, and the first thing he saw was a bright fire burning in the hearth. On the carpet in front of the fire, a pretty little dachshund was curled up asleep with its nose tucked into its belly. The room itself, so far as he could see in the half-darkness, was filled with pleasant furniture. There was a baby-grand piano and a big sofa and several plump armchairs; and in one corner he spotted a large parrot in a cage. Animals were usually a good sign in a place like this, Billy told himself; and all in all, it looked to him as though it would be a pretty decent house to stay in. Certainly it would be more comfortable than The Bell and Dragon.
他止住脚步，凑近过去。橱窗两侧都挂着绿色窗帘（象是天鹅绒的质料），在窗帘的衬托下，毛茸茸的柳条看上去十分动人。他透过橱窗玻璃朝屋里窥视，首先映入眼帘的是在壁
炉里熊熊燃烧的火苗。壁炉前面的地毯上，一只漂亮的德国小狗鼻子拱着腹部蜷成一团在睡觉。昏暗中可以看出房间里布置着雅致的家具，放着一架小型钢琴、一张大沙发和几把松软的坐椅。在一个角落的一只笼子里，还有一只大鹦鹉。在这种地方看见小动物，往往是好兆头，比利对自己说，总之这地方看起来会住得很舒服，肯定比“铃和龙旅店”舒服多啦。
On the other hand, a pub would be more congenial than a boarding-house. There would be beer and darts in the evenings, and lots of people to talk to, and it would probably be a good bit cheaper, too. He had stayed a couple of nights in a pub once before and he had liked it. He had never stayed in any boarding-houses, and, to be perfectly honest, he was a tiny bit frightened of them. The name itself conjured up images of watery cabbage, rapacious landladies, and a powerful smell of kippers in the living-room.
另外住小客店也要比住寄宿处有意思，到了晚上会有啤酒喝，会有掷镖游戏玩，还会有人聊天，而且房价恐怕也会便宜不少。他曾经在一家小客店住过几个晚上，留下了挺不错的回忆。他从未在寄宿处住过，老实说吧，对那种地方有点畏惧，光是寄宿处这名字本身就让人联想到稀稀的白菜，汤，贼抠的女房东和起居室里熏人的咸鱼味儿。
After dithering about like this in the cold for two or three minutes, Billy decided that he would walk on and take a look at The Bell and Dragon before making up his mind. He turned to go.
在寒风中瑟瑟发抖了两三分钟后，比利觉得还是先到“铃和龙”那儿看看后再作决定为好。他转身欲走。
And now a queer thing happened to him. He was in the act of stepping back and turning away from the window when all at once his eye was caught and held in the most peculiar manner by the small notice that was there. BED AND BREAKFAST, it Said. BED AND BREAKFAST, BED AND BREAKFAST, BED AND BREAKFAST. Each word was like a large black eye staring at him through the glass, holding him, compelling him, forcing him to stay where he was and not to walk away from that house, and the next thing he knew, he was actually moving across from the window to the front door of the house, climbing the steps that led up to it, and reaching for the bell.
奇怪的是他刚想离开橱窗，目光却被那块小招牌紧紧吸引住。“提供住宿和早餐”，招牌上写道，“提供住宿和早餐”，“提供住宿和早餐”，“提供住宿和早餐”.每个字都象是一只黑黑的大眼晴，透过玻璃窗注视他，吸引他，诱惑他，迫使他无法离开原来的位置，无法挪步离开这栋房屋。还不仅仅如此，接下来他鬼使神差地走向前门，跨上台阶，把手伸向门铃。
He pressed the bell. Far away in a back room he heard it ringing, and then at once – it must
have been at once because he hadn’t even had time to take his finger from the bell-button – the door swung open and a woman was standing there.
他揿下门铃，听见里面很远的一间屋子里响起铃声，可是就在刹那间——肯定是在刹那间，因为他的手指都还未来得及从按钮上缩回来——门却吱哑一声打开，现出了一位女人。
Normally you ring the bell and you have at least a half-minute’s wait before the door opens. But this dame was like a jack-in-the-box. He pressed the bell – and out she popped! It made him jump.
通常的情况是，你摁响了铃，等那么半分钟左右门才打开，可是这女人简直就象玩偶匣里的傀儡，他刚一摁铃——她就蹦了出来！把他吓了一跳。
She was about forty-five or fifty years old, and the moment she saw him, she gave him a warm welcoming smile.
她大约四十五到五十岁的光景，一见到他脸上就浮现出欢迎的笑容。
‘Please come in,’ she said pleasantly. She stepped aside, holding the door wide open, and Billy found himself automatically starting forward into the house. The compulsion or, more accurately, the desire to follow after her into that house was extraordinarily strong.
“请进来吧。”她愉快地说道，侧身把门打开。比利感到自己不由自主地走进了屋子，跟随她进去的那种本能，或者确切地说那种欲望，异常强烈。
‘I saw the notice in the window,’ he said, holding himself back. “我看见了橱窗上的招牌。” 他说，稳住自己。 ‘Yes, I know.’ “对，我知道。”
‘I was wondering about a room.’
“我正在找地方住。”“已经为你准备好了，亲爱的。”她说。
‘It’s all ready for you, my dear,’ she said. She had a round pink face and very gentle blue eyes. 她的脸蛋红润丰腴，一双蓝眼晴柔情似水。
‘I was on my way to The Bell and Dragon,’ Billy told her. ‘But the notice in your window just happened to catch my eye.’
“我正准备去’铃和龙’。”比利对她说，“刚好看见你橱窗里的招牌。” ‘My dear boy,’ she said, ‘why don’t you come in out of the cold?’ “亲爱的孩子，” 她说，“你干嘛还站在寒风里不动？”
‘How much do you charge?’ “要多少钱？”
‘Five and sixpence a night, including breakfast.’ “五块六一夜，包早餐。”
It was fantastically cheap. It was less than half of what he had been willing to pay. 真是便宜极啦，还不到他原来准备出的价的一半。
‘If that is too much,’ she added, ‘then perhaps I can reduce it just a tiny bit. Do you desire an egg for breakfast? Eggs are expensive at the moment. It would be sixpence less without the egg.’
“如果嫌贵，”她又补上一句，“还可以再便宜些。你早餐吃鸡蛋吗？鸡蛋现在可不便宜。不吃鸡蛋可以再便宜六毛钱。”
‘Five and sixpence is fine,’ he answered. ‘I should like very much to stay here.’ “五块六就五块六吧，我就住这儿。” ‘I knew you would. Do come in.’ “我知道你会的。进来吧。”
She seemed terribly nice. She looked exactly like the mother of one’s best school-friend welcoming one into the house to stay for the Christmas holidays. Billy took off his hat, and stepped over the threshold.
她显得格外殷勤，就好象最要好的同学的妈妈欢迎他前来过圣诞节。比利取下便帽，跨进门槛。
‘Just hang it there,’ she said, ‘and let me help you with your coat.’ “就挂在那儿吧，”她说，“我来帮你脱大衣。”
There were no other hats or coats in the hall. There were no umbrellas, no walking-sticks – nothing.
客厅里没有别的帽子和大衣。没有伞，也没有手杖——什么都没有。
‘We have it all to ourselves,’ she said, smiling at him over her shoulder as she led the way upstairs. ‘You see, it isn’t very often I have the pleasure of taking a visitor into my little nest.’
“这房子归我们所有，”她领他上楼时回过头对他粲然一笑，”瞧，我很少有机会带客人进我这个小巢。”
The old girl is slightly dotty, Billy told himself. But at five and sixpence a night, who gives a damn about that? ‘I should’ve thought you’d be simply swamped with applicants,’ he said politely.
这老姑娘有点神经兮兮的，比利心想。可是哪儿找得到五块六一夜这样的便宜事？“我原先以为客人会很多呢。”他彬彬有礼地说了一句。
‘Oh, I am, my dear, I am, of course I am. But the trouble is that I’m inclined to be just a teeny weeny bit choosy and particular – if you see what I mean.’
“哦，那当然，亲爱的，那当然，只是我这人比较挑剔——不知道你是否明白我的意思。” ‘Ah, yes.’ “噢，明白。”
‘But I’m always ready. Everything is always ready day and night in this house just on the off-chance that an acceptable young gentleman will come along. And it is such a pleasure, my dear, such a very great pleasure when now and again I open the door and I see someone standing there who is just exactly right.’ She was half-way up the stairs, and she paused with one hand on the stair-rail, turning her head and smiling down at him with pale lips. ‘Like you,’ she added, and her blue eyes travelled slowly all the way down the length of Billy’s body, to his feet, and then up again.
“不过我总是有备无患，这间屋子里样样都已准备妥当，只等机会到来，进来一位年轻的绅士。每当我打开门，看见一位合适的人站在门口，哦，亲爱的，我是多么快乐呀。”她已走到扶梯中央，这时停下来用手扶住栏杆，回过头动了动苍白的嘴唇，面含微笑凝视着他。“比如你。”她加上一句，蓝色的眼睛缓缓地浏览比利的身躯，从头浏览到脚，又从脚浏览到头。
On the first-floor landing she said to him, ‘This floor is mine.’ 走到二楼时她告诉他，“我住这层。”
They climbed up a second flight. ‘And this one is all yours,’ she said. ‘Here’s your room. I do hope you’ll like it.’ She took him into a small but charming front bedroom, switching on the light as she went in.
然后两人来到三楼。“这层你住。”她说，“这是你的房间，希望你喜欢。她领他走进一间小巧的卧室，进门时随手拧亮了电灯。
‘The morning sun comes right in the window, Mr Perkins. It is Mr Perkins, isn’t it?’ “早晨太阳会从窗子上升起，帕金斯先生。是帕金斯先生，对吗？” ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s Weaver.’ “ 不，”他答道，“我叫威弗。”
‘Mr Weaver. How nice. I’ve put a water-bottle between the sheets to air them out, Mr Weaver.
It’s such a comfort to have a hot water-bottle in a strange bed with clean sheets, don’t you agree? And you may light the gas fire at any time if you feel chilly.’
“威弗先生，多好听啊。我用热水瓶把床单熨得暖暖的，威弗先生。在一张铺着干净床单的陌生床上抱着暖瓶睡觉，多舒服啊，你说呢？如果还觉得冷，你随时都可以点上煤气取暖器。”
‘Thank you,’ Billy said. ‘Thank you ever so much.’ He noticed that the bedspread had been taken off the bed, and that the bedclothes had been neatly turned back on one side, all ready for someone to get in.
“谢谢，”比利说，“太谢谢了。”他注意到床罩己被取掉，被褥整整齐齐地铺开，仿佛随时都可能有人来住。
‘I’m so glad you appeared,’ she said, looking earnestly into his face. ‘I was beginning to get worried.’
“真高兴你能来，”她说，真诚之情溢于言表，“我都开始有点为你操心了。”
‘That’s all right,’ Billy answered brightly. ‘You mustn’t worry about me.’ He put his suitcase on the chair and started to open it.
“不要紧，” 比利快活地说，“不必为我操心。”他把手提箱搁在椅子上打开。 ‘And what about supper, my dear? Did you manage to get anything to eat before you came here?’
“晚饭想吃什么，亲爱的？你来之前吃过什么了吗？”
‘I’m not a bit hungry, thank you,’ he said. ‘I think I’ll just go to bed as soon as possible because tomorrow I’ve got to get up rather early and report to the office.’
“我一点不饿，谢谢。我想马上睡觉，因为明天一大早我还要给公司写报告。” ‘Very well, then. I’ll leave you now so that you can unpack. But before you go to bed, would you be kind enough to pop into the sitting-room on the ground floor and sign the book? Everyone has to do that because it’s the law of the land, and we don’t want to go breaking any laws at this stage of the proceedings, do we?’ She gave him a little wave of the hand and went quickly out of the room and closed the door.
“那么，好吧。我这就走，你慢慢收拾。不过你能不能在睡觉前来楼下起居室签个名呢？人人都得这样做，因为这是房产法规定的，事情已经到了这一步，我们可不想犯法，对不对？”她朝他做了个手势，之后走出房间掩上了门。
Now, the fact that his landlady appeared to be slightly off her rocker didn’t worry Billy in the least. After all, she was not only harmless – there was no question about that – but she was also quite obviously a kind and generous soul. He guessed that she had probably lost a son in the war, or something like that, and had never got over it.
这时比利对女房东的异常表现已经不再有任何担忧。不管怎么说，她并没有恶意——这一点是毫无疑问的，非但如此，她显然还是个大方而富于爱心的人。他心想，她可能在战争期间失去了儿子，或者碰上了什么类似的事，心灵的创伤一直未能愈合。
So a few minutes later, after unpacking his suitcase and washing his hands, he trotted downstairs to the ground floor and entered the living-room. His landlady wasn’t there, but the fire was glowing in the hearth, and the little dachshund was still sleeping in front of it. The room was wonderfully warm and cosy. I’m a lucky fellow, he thought, rubbing his hands. This is a bit of all right.
因此过了几分钟，他打开皮箱并洗过手后，匆匆下楼来到起居室。女房东不在，但是壁炉里炉火正旺，那只小狗仍然缩在壁炉前，睡得正香。屋里暖暖和和的，舒服极啦。我真幸运，他想，搓了搓双手。真是事事如意。
He found the guest-book lying open on the piano, so he took out his pen and wrote down his name and address. There were only two other entries above his on the page, and, as one always does with guest-books, he started to read them. One was a Christopher Mulholland from Cardiff. The other was Gregory W. Temple from Bristol.
他看见钢琴上摊开一本住宿登记簿，于是掏出笔在上面写下了自己的姓名和地址。在他的前面只有两位客人，他很自然地瞅了一眼。一位叫克里斯多夫·穆尔霍兰德，从加蒂夫来；另一位叫格里戈利·W·坦普尔，来自布里斯托。
That’s funny, he thought suddenly. Christopher Mulholland. It rings a bell. 奇怪，他忽然想。克里斯多夫。穆尔霍兰德。他好象记起了一件什么事情。 Now where on earth had he heard that rather unusual name before? 他以前在哪儿听说过这么个不同寻常的名字？
Was he a boy at school? No. Was it one of his sister’s numerous young men, perhaps, or a friend of his father’s? No, no, it wasn’t any of those. He glanced down again at the book.
是学校里的一个同学？不是。是姐姐的不计其数的男朋友当中的一个？或者爸爸的朋友？不是。不是。绝对不是。他又看了看登记簿。
Christopher Mulholland Gregory W. Temple 231 Cathedral Road, Cardiff 27 Sycamore Drive, Bristol
克里斯多夫·穆尔霍兰德，加蒂夫市凯瑟德雷尔路231 号 格里戈利·W·坦普尔，布里斯托市塞克莫大道27号
As a matter of fact, now he came to think of it, he wasn’t at all sure that the second name didn’t have almost as much of a familiar ring about it as the first.
结果他发现，第二个名字和第一个名字一样，也仿佛与某件事情有关联。 ‘Gregory Temple?’ he said aloud, searching his memory. ‘Christopher Mulholland?…’ “格里戈利·坦普尔？”他一边读出声来，一边搜索记忆。“克里斯多夫·穆尔霍兰德……” ‘Such charming boys,’ a voice behind him answered, and he turned and saw his landlady sailing into the room with a large silver tea-tray in her hands. She was holding it well out in front of her, and rather high up, as though the tray were a pair of reins on a frisky horse.
“多可爱的两个孩子呀！”他的身后响起了一个声音。他回头，看见女房东端着一只银茶盘步态优雅地走了进来。她把茶盘端得高高的，盘子仿佛成了套在一匹烈马上的笼头。
‘They sound somehow familiar,’ he said. “他们的名字好熟。”他说。 ‘They do? How interesting.’ “是吗？真有意思。”
‘I’m almost positive I’ve heard those names before somewhere. Isn’t that queer? Maybe it was in the newspapers. They weren’t famous in any way, were they? I mean famous cricketers or footballers or something like that?’
“我敢肯定以前在哪里见过这些名字，你说怪不怪。可能是在报纸上。他们不是名人，对吧，我是说棒球明星、足球明星那种人？”
‘Famous,’ she said, setting the tea-tray down on the low table in front of the sofa. ‘Oh no, I don’t think they were famous. But they were extraordinarily handsome, both of them, I can promise you that. They were tall and young and handsome, my dear, just exactly like you.’
“名人，”她把茶盘搁到沙发前的茶几上，“哦，不，我想也们不是名人。不过他们都特别漂亮，两人都漂亮，真的。他俩都很修长，年轻而英俊，亲爱的，就象你一样。”
Once more, Billy glanced down at the book. ‘Look here,’ he said, noticing the dates. ‘This last entry is over two years old.’
比利再次去看登记簿。“你看，”他注意到了日期，后面这位是两年前登记的。 ‘It is?’ “是吗？”
‘Yes, indeed. And Christopher Mulholland’s is nearly a year before that – more than three years ago.’
“是，绝对是。克里斯多夫·穆尔霍兰德又更早一年——到现在已经三年多了。” ‘Dear me,’ she said, shaking her head and heaving a dainty little sigh. ‘I would never have thought it. How time does fly away from us all, doesn’t it, Mr Wilkins?’
“天哪，”她摇摇头轻叹一声，“我都没去想过。时光过得真快啊，是不是，威尔金斯先生？”
‘It’s Weaver,’ Billy said. ‘W-e-a-v-e-r.’ “我叫威弗，”比利说道，“威——弗。”
‘Oh, of course it is!’ she cried, sitting down on the sofa. ‘How silly of me. I do apologize. In one ear and out the other, that’s me, Mr Weaver.’
“哦，当然啦！”她叫道，在沙发上坐了下来。“瞧我多傻。向你道歉。一个耳朵进一个耳朵出，我就这副德性，威弗先生。”
‘You know something?’ Billy said. ‘Something that’s really quite extraordinary about all this?’ “你知道什么事情吗？”比利问，“关于这方面的事？” ‘No, dear, I don’t.’ “不，亲爱的，不知道。”
‘Well, you see – both of these names, Mulholland and Temple, I not only seem to remember each one of them separately, so to speak, but somehow or other, in some peculiar way, they both appear to be sort of connected together as well. As though they were both famous for the same sort of thing, if you see what I mean – like… well… like Dempsey and Tunney, for example, or Churchill and Roosevelt.’
“ 嗯，你瞧——这两个名字，穆尔霍兰德和坦普尔，老实说分开我一个也记不住，但是合起来就好象跟一件什么事情有关。他俩好象因为同一类事情而出名，你懂我的意思吗？——就好象……嗯……就好象丹普西与塔尼，比方说吧，或者罗斯福与丘吉尔。”
‘How amusing,’ she said, ‘but come over here now, dear, and sit down beside me on the sofa and I’ll give you a nice cup of tea and a ginger biscuit before you go to bed.’
“那多有意思呀，”她说，“过来吧，亲爱的，就坐在我身边好了，在你去睡之前我要给你尝尝好香好香的茶，还有姜汁饼干。”
‘You really shouldn’t bother,’ Billy said. ‘I didn’t mean you to do anything like that.’ He stood by the piano, watching her as she fussed about with the cups and saucers. He noticed that she had small, white, quickly moving hands, and red finger-nails.
“你真不用费心，”比利说，“我没叫你这样做。”他站在钢琴旁，看着她忙忙碌碌地摆开茶杯和碟子。他注意到她的手小巧白嫩，动作灵活，指甲盖涂得猩红。
‘I’m almost positive it was in the newspapers I saw them,’ Billy said. ‘I’ll think of it in a second. I’m sure I will.’
“我敢肯定是在报纸上看到的，”比利说，“我再想一想。肯定能想出来。”
There is nothing more tantalizing than a thing like this which lingers just outside the borders of one’s memory. He hated to give up.
没有什么比差一点就能想起什么事情更让人恼火了。他不愿放弃。
‘Now wait a minute,’ he said. ‘Wait just a minute. Mulholland… Christopher Mulholland… wasn’t that the name of the Eton schoolboy who was on a walking-tour through the West Country, and then all of a sudden…’
“等等，”他说，“请稍微等一等。穆尔霍兰德……克里斯多夫·穆尔霍兰德……是不是那个伊顿公学的男孩，他徒步穿过西部乡村，后来忽然间……”
‘Milk?’ she said. ‘And sugar?’ “奶？”她问，“还是糖？” ‘Yes, please. And then all of a sudden…’ “行，谢谢。后来忽然间……”
‘Eton schoolboy?’ she said. ‘Oh no, my dear, that can’t possibly be right because my Mr Mulholland was certainly not an Eton schoolboy when he came to me. He was a Cambridge undergraduate. Come over here now and sit next to me and warm yourself in front of this lovely fire. Come on. Your tea’s all ready for you.’ She patted the empty place beside her on the sofa, and she sat there smiling at Billy and waiting for him to come over.
“伊顿公学的男孩？”她问，“哦，不，亲爱的，根本不可能，因为我的穆尔霍兰德先生来这儿时根本就不是什么伊顿公学的男孩，他是牛津大学的学生。过来这儿，坐到我身边来吧，烤烤火暖和暖和。过来吧。茶已经为你准备好了。”她拍了拍身边的空位置，笑吟吟
地看着比利，等他过去。
He crossed the room slowly, and sat down on the edge of the sofa. She placed his teacup on the table in front of him.
他慢慢走了过去，在沙发边缘坐下。她把茶杯放到他面前的茶几上。 ‘There we are,’ she said. ‘How nice and cosy this is, isn’t it?’ “这下好啦，”她说，“真舒服，是不是？”
Billy started sipping his tea. She did the same. For half a minute or so, neither of them spoke. But Billy knew that she was looking at him. Her body was half-turned towards him, and he could feel her eyes resting on his face, watching him over the rim of her teacup. Now and again, he caught a whiff of a peculiar smell that seemed to emanate directly from her person. It was not in the least unpleasant, and it reminded him – well, he wasn’t quite sure what it reminded him of. Pickled walnuts? New leather? Or was it the corridors of a hospital?
比利开始小口啜茶。她也一样。有那么一两分钟，两人都一言未发。但是比利知道她一直在看着自己，她的身体迎向他，他可以感觉到她的目光停留在他的脸上，越过杯口注视着他。他不时闻到一丝似乎从她那儿飘过来的奇特的气味，不能说不好闻，让他联想起——嗯，他也不清楚联想起什么。酸胡桃？新制皮革？或是医院的走廊？
‘Mr Mulholland was a great one for his tea,’ she said at length. ‘Never in my life have I seen anyone drink as much tea as dear, sweet Mr Mulholland.’
“穆尔霍兰德先生喝起茶来可厉害啦，”她终于开口说，“我这一辈子都未见过象可爱的穆尔霍兰德先生那样能喝茶的人。”
‘I suppose he left fairly recently,’ Billy said. He was still puzzling his head about the two names. He was positive now that he had seen them in the newspapers – in the headlines.
“我想他最近才离开吧。”比利说。他仍旧对这两个名字感到纳闷。他现在已经可以肯定在报纸上见过这两个名字，而且是在标题上。
‘Left?’ she said, arching her brows. ‘But my dear boy, he never left. He’s still here. Mr Temple is also here. They’re on the third floor, both of them together.’
“离开？”她感到有点惊讶，“可是我亲爱的孩子，他从来就没离开呀。他还在这儿，坦普尔先生也在这儿，他们住在三楼，两人住在一块儿。”
Billy set down his cup slowly on the table, and stared at his landlady. She smiled back at him, and then she put out one of her white hands and patted him comfortingly on the knee. ‘How old are
you, my dear?’ she asked.
比利缓缓把杯子搁到茶几上，盯住他的女房东。她朝他回报以微笑，接着伸出一只雪白的小手，轻轻拍拍他的膝头。“你多大了，亲爱的？”她问。
‘Seventeen.’ “十七。”
‘Seventeen!’ she cried. ‘Oh, it’s the perfect age! Mr Mulholland was also seventeen. But I think he was a trifle shorter than you are, in fact I’m sure he was, and his teeth weren’t quite so white. You have the most beautiful teeth, Mr Weaver, did you know that?’
“十七！”她惊叫，“哦，多妙的年龄，穆尔霍兰德也是十七，但是我想他要比你矮一点，肯定要矮一点，牙也没你的白。你的牙是最漂亮的，威弗先生，你知道吗？”
‘They’re not as good as they look,’ Billy said. ‘They’ve got simply masses of fillings in them at the back.’
“不象看起来的那么好，”比利有点不好意思，“里面补过。”
‘Mr Temple, of course, was a little older,’ she said, ignoring his remark. ‘He was actually twenty-eight. And yet I never would have guessed it if he hadn’t told me, never in my whole life. There wasn’t a blemish on his body.’
“坦普尔先生要大一点，”她继续说，没有理会他，“他有二十八岁了。可是假如他不告诉我，我绝不会猜到，一辈子也猜不到。他身上一块疤也没有。”
‘A what?’ Billy said. “一块什么？”比利问。 ‘His skin was just like a baby’s.’ “他的皮肤就象婴儿的一样嫩。”
There was a pause. Billy picked up his teacup and took another sip of his tea, then he set it down again gently in its saucer. He waited for her to say something else, but she seemed to have lapsed into another of her silences. He sat there staring straight ahead of him into the far corner of the room, biting his lower lip.
一阵沉默。比利端起茶杯，又啜了一口，然后小心放回茶盘。他等着她说点什么，可她仿佛又陷入沉思。他咬了咬下唇，注视着屋子远处的角落。
‘That parrot,’ he said at last. ‘You know something? It had me completely fooled when I first saw it through the window from the street. I could have sworn it was alive.’
“那只鹦鹉，”他打破了沉默，说，“你知道吗？在我站在街上往橱窗里张望时，确实把我骗了。我以为它是活的。”
‘Alas, no longer.’ “天哪，怎么会这样。”
‘It’s most terribly clever the way it’s been done,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t look in the least bit dead. Who did it?’
“做得真是太逼真了，”他说，“一点也不象死的。谁做的？” ‘I did.’ “我。” ‘You did?’ “你？”
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘And you have met my little Basil as well?’ She nodded towards the dachshund curled up so comfortably in front of the fire.
“当然。”她说，“没看见小贝塞尔吗？”她朝蜷缩在壁炉前酣睡的那只小狗点了点头。 Billy looked at it. And suddenly, he realized that this animal had all the time been just as silent and motionless as the parrot. He put out a hand and touched it gently on the top of its back. The back was hard and cold, and when he pushed the hair to one side with his fingers, he could see the skin underneath, greyish-black and dry and perfectly preserved.
比利拾头望去。他猛然意识到，那只小动物也象鹦鹉一样一直一动也没动过。他伸出手轻轻摸了摸它的背，背部又硬又冷。等他用手指把毛翻至一侧，他看见毛下的皮肤呈浅黑色，非常干燥，保存得很好。
‘Good gracious me,’ he said. ‘How absolutely fascinating.’ He turned away from the dog and stared with deep admiration at the little woman beside him on the sofa. ‘It must be most awfully difficult to do a thing like that.’
“我的老天，”他叫道，“简直太绝了。”他转过身，用钦佩的眼光看着身边的这位小妇人。”做成这样一定很难。”
‘Not in the least,’ she said. ‘I stuff all my little pets myself when they pass away. Will you have another cup of tea?’
“一点也不。”她微微一笑，说，“我的小宠物死后，都由我亲手制成标本。你再喝点茶好吗？”
‘No, thank you,’ Billy said. The tea tasted faintly of bitter almonds, and he didn’t much care for it.
“不喝了，谢谢。”比利说。茶略微有点杏仁的苦味，不过他没在意。” ‘You did sign the book, didn’t you?’ “你登记过了，是吗？” ‘Oh, yes.’ “是的。”
‘That’s good. Because later on, if I happen to forget what you were called, then I can always come down here and look it up. I still do that almost every day with Mr Mulholland and Mr… Mr…’
“那就好。因为以后假如我忘了你叫什么，我就可以下来查一查。直到现在我差不多每天都还要来看看穆尔霍兰德先生和那个……那个什么先生。”
‘Temple,’ Billy said. ‘Gregory Temple. Excuse my asking, but haven’t there been any other guests here except them in the last two or three years?’
“坦普尔，”比利提醒她，“格里戈利·坦普尔。请原谅我这样问你，在最近的两三年里，除了他俩，就再也没有过别的什么客人吗？”
Holding her teacup high in one hand, inclining her head slightly to the left, she looked up at him Out of the corners of her eyes and gave him another gentle little smile.
她一手端着茶杯，脑袋略略一偏，从眼角注视着他，依旧含着温存的微笑。 ‘No, my dear,’ she said. ‘Only you.’ “没有，亲爱的，”她说，“只有你。”
2. 纯英文版
The Landlady By Roald Dahl
Billy Weaver had travelled down from London on the slow afternoon train, with a change at Swindon on the way, and by the time he got to Bath it was about nine o’clock in the evening and the moon was coming up out of a clear starry sky over the houses opposite the station entrance. But the air was deadly cold and the wind was like a flat blade of ice on his cheeks.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘but is there a fairly cheap hotel not too far away from here?’
‘Try The Bell and Dragon,’ the porter answered, pointing down the road. ‘They might take you in. It’s about a quarter of a mile along on the other side.’
Billy thanked him and picked up his suitcase and set out to walk the quarter-mile to The Bell and Dragon. He had never been to Bath before. He didn’t know anyone who lived there. But Mr Greenslade at the Head Office in London had told him it was a splendid city. ‘Find your own lodgings,’ he had said, ‘and then go along and report to the Branch Manager as soon as you’ve got yourself settled.’
Billy was seventeen years old. He was wearing a new navy-blue overcoat, a new brown trilby hat, and a new brown suit, and he was feeling fine. He walked briskly down the street. He was trying to do everything briskly these days. Briskness, he had decided, was the one common characteristic of all successful businessmen. The big shots up at Head Office were absolutely fantastically brisk all the time. They were amazing.
There were no shops on this wide street that he was walking along, only a line of tall houses on each side, all of them identical. They had porches and pillars and four or five steps going up to their front doors, and it was obvious that once upon a time they had been very swanky residences. But now, even in the darkness, he could see that the paint was peeling from the woodwork on their doors and windows, and that the handsome white façades were cracked and blotchy from neglect.
Suddenly, in a downstairs window that was brilliantly illuminated by a street-lamp not six yards away, Billy caught sight of a printed notice propped up against the glass in one of the upper panes. It said BED AND BREAKFAST. There was a vase of pussy-willows, tall and beautiful, standing just underneath the notice.
He stopped walking. He moved a bit closer. Green curtains (some sort of velvety material) were hanging down on either side of the window. The pussy-willows looked wonderful beside them. He went right up and peered through the glass into the room, and the first thing he saw was a bright fire burning in the hearth. On the carpet in front of the fire, a pretty little dachshund was curled up asleep with its nose tucked into its belly. The room itself, so far as he could see in the half-darkness, was filled with pleasant furniture. There was a baby-grand piano and a big sofa and several plump armchairs; and in one corner he spotted a large parrot in a cage. Animals were usually a good sign in a place like this, Billy told himself; and all in all, it looked to him as though it would be a pretty decent house to stay in. Certainly it would be more comfortable than The Bell and Dragon.
On the other hand, a pub would be more congenial than a boarding-house. There would be beer and darts in the evenings, and lots of people to talk to, and it would probably be a good bit cheaper, too. He had stayed a couple of nights in a pub once before and he had liked it. He had never stayed in any boarding-houses, and, to be perfectly honest, he was a tiny bit frightened of them. The name itself conjured up images of watery cabbage, rapacious landladies, and a powerful smell of kippers
in the living-room.
After dithering about like this in the cold for two or three minutes, Billy decided that he would walk on and take a look at The Bell and Dragon before making up his mind. He turned to go.
And now a queer thing happened to him. He was in the act of stepping back and turning away from the window when all at once his eye was caught and held in the most peculiar manner by the small notice that was there. BED AND BREAKFAST, it Said. BED AND BREAKFAST, BED AND BREAKFAST, BED AND BREAKFAST. Each word was like a large black eye staring at him through the glass, holding him, compelling him, forcing him to stay where he was and not to walk away from that house, and the next thing he knew, he was actually moving across from the window to the front door of the house, climbing the steps that led up to it, and reaching for the bell.
He pressed the bell. Far away in a back room he heard it ringing, and then at once – it must have been at once because he hadn’t even had time to take his finger from the bell-button – the door swung open and a woman was standing there.
Normally you ring the bell and you have at least a half-minute’s wait before the door opens. But this dame was like a jack-in-the-box. He pressed the bell – and out she popped! It made him jump.
She was about forty-five or fifty years old, and the moment she saw him, she gave him a warm welcoming smile.
‘Please come in,’ she said pleasantly. She stepped aside, holding the door wide open, and Billy found himself automatically starting forward into the house. The compulsion or, more accurately, the desire to follow after her into that house was extraordinarily strong.
‘I saw the notice in the window,’ he said, holding himself back. ‘Yes, I know.’
‘I was wondering about a room.’
‘It’s all ready for you, my dear,’ she said. She had a round pink face and very gentle blue eyes. ‘I was on my way to The Bell and Dragon,’ Billy told her. ‘But the notice in your window just happened to catch my eye.’
‘My dear boy,’ she said, ‘why don’t you come in out of the cold?’ ‘How much do you charge?’
‘Five and sixpence a night, including breakfast.’
It was fantastically cheap. It was less than half of what he had been willing to pay.
‘If that is too much,’ she added, ‘then perhaps I can reduce it just a tiny bit. Do you desire an egg for breakfast? Eggs are expensive at the moment. It would be sixpence less without the egg.’
‘Five and sixpence is fine,’ he answered. ‘I should like very much to stay here.’ ‘I knew you would. Do come in.’
She seemed terribly nice. She looked exactly like the mother of one’s best school-friend welcoming one into the house to stay for the Christmas holidays. Billy took off his hat, and stepped over the threshold.
‘Just hang it there,’ she said, ‘and let me help you with your coat.’
There were no other hats or coats in the hall. There were no umbrellas, no walking-sticks – nothing.
‘We have it all to ourselves,’ she said, smiling at him over her shoulder as she led the way upstairs. ‘You see, it isn’t very often I have the pleasure of taking a visitor into my little nest.’
The old girl is slightly dotty, Billy told himself. But at five and sixpence a night, who gives a
damn about that? ‘I should’ve thought you’d be simply swamped with applicants,’ he said politely.
‘Oh, I am, my dear, I am, of course I am. But the trouble is that I’m inclined to be just a teeny weeny bit choosy and particular – if you see what I mean.’
‘Ah, yes.’
‘But I’m always ready. Everything is always ready day and night in this house just on the off-chance that an acceptable young gentleman will come along. And it is such a pleasure, my dear, such a very great pleasure when now and again I open the door and I see someone standing there who is just exactly right.’ She was half-way up the stairs, and she paused with one hand on the stair-rail, turning her head and smiling down at him with pale lips. ‘Like you,’ she added, and her blue eyes travelled slowly all the way down the length of Billy’s body, to his feet, and then up again.
On the first-floor landing she said to him, ‘This floor is mine.’
They climbed up a second flight. ‘And this one is all yours,’ she said. ‘Here’s your room. I do hope you’ll like it.’ She took him into a small but charming front bedroom, switching on the light as she went in.
‘The morning sun comes right in the window, Mr Perkins. It is Mr Perkins, isn’t it?’ ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s Weaver.’
‘Mr Weaver. How nice. I’ve put a water-bottle between the sheets to air them out, Mr Weaver. It’s such a comfort to have a hot water-bottle in a strange bed with clean sheets, don’t you agree? And you may light the gas fire at any time if you feel chilly.’
‘Thank you,’ Billy said. ‘Thank you ever so much.’ He noticed that the bedspread had been taken off the bed, and that the bedclothes had been neatly turned back on one side, all ready for someone to get in.
‘I’m so glad you appeared,’ she said, looking earnestly into his face. ‘I was beginning to get worried.’
‘That’s all right,’ Billy answered brightly. ‘You mustn’t worry about me.’ He put his suitcase on the chair and started to open it.
‘And what about supper, my dear? Did you manage to get anything to eat before you came here?’
‘I’m not a bit hungry, thank you,’ he said. ‘I think I’ll just go to bed as soon as possible because tomorrow I’ve got to get up rather early and report to the office.’
‘Very well, then. I’ll leave you now so that you can unpack. But before you go to bed, would you be kind enough to pop into the sitting-room on the ground floor and sign the book? Everyone has to do that because it’s the law of the land, and we don’t want to go breaking any laws at this stage of the proceedings, do we?’ She gave him a little wave of the hand and went quickly out of the room and closed the door.
Now, the fact that his landlady appeared to be slightly off her rocker didn’t worry Billy in the least. After all, she was not only harmless – there was no question about that – but she was also quite obviously a kind and generous soul. He guessed that she had probably lost a son in the war, or something like that, and had never got over it.
So a few minutes later, after unpacking his suitcase and washing his hands, he trotted downstairs to the ground floor and entered the living-room. His landlady wasn’t there, but the fire was glowing in the hearth, and the little dachshund was still sleeping in front of it. The room was wonderfully warm and cosy. I’m a lucky fellow, he thought, rubbing his hands. This is a bit of all right.
He found the guest-book lying open on the piano, so he took out his pen and wrote down his name and address. There were only two other entries above his on the page, and, as one always does with guest-books, he started to read them. One was a Christopher Mulholland from Cardiff. The other was Gregory W. Temple from Bristol.
That’s funny, he thought suddenly. Christopher Mulholland. It rings a bell. Now where on earth had he heard that rather unusual name before?
Was he a boy at school? No. Was it one of his sister’s numerous young men, perhaps, or a friend of his father’s? No, no, it wasn’t any of those. He glanced down again at the book.
Christopher Mulholland 231 Cathedral Road, Cardiff Gregory W. Temple 27 Sycamore Drive, Bristol
As a matter of fact, now he came to think of it, he wasn’t at all sure that the second name didn’t have almost as much of a familiar ring about it as the first.
‘Gregory Temple?’ he said aloud, searching his memory. ‘Christopher Mulholland?…’
‘Such charming boys,’ a voice behind him answered, and he turned and saw his landlady sailing into the room with a large silver tea-tray in her hands. She was holding it well out in front of her, and rather high up, as though the tray were a pair of reins on a frisky horse.
‘They sound somehow familiar,’ he said. ‘They do? How interesting.’
‘I’m almost positive I’ve heard those names before somewhere. Isn’t that queer? Maybe it was in the newspapers. They weren’t famous in any way, were they? I mean famous cricketers or footballers or something like that?’
‘Famous,’ she said, setting the tea-tray down on the low table in front of the sofa. ‘Oh no, I don’t think they were famous. But they were extraordinarily handsome, both of them, I can promise you that. They were tall and young and handsome, my dear, just exactly like you.’
Once more, Billy glanced down at the book. ‘Look here,’ he said, noticing the dates. ‘This last entry is over two years old.’
‘It is?’
‘Yes, indeed. And Christopher Mulholland’s is nearly a year before that – more than three years ago.’
‘Dear me,’ she said, shaking her head and heaving a dainty little sigh. ‘I would never have thought it. How time does fly away from us all, doesn’t it, Mr Wilkins?’
‘It’s Weaver,’ Billy said. ‘W-e-a-v-e-r.’
‘Oh, of course it is!’ she cried, sitting down on the sofa. ‘How silly of me. I do apologize. In one ear and out the other, that’s me, Mr Weaver.’
‘You know something?’ Billy said. ‘Something that’s really quite extraordinary about all this?’ ‘No, dear, I don’t.’
‘Well, you see – both of these names, Mulholland and Temple, I not only seem to remember each one of them separately, so to speak, but somehow or other, in some peculiar way, they both appear to be sort of connected together as well. As though they were both famous for the same sort of thing, if you see what I mean – like… well… like Dempsey and Tunney, for example, or Churchill and Roosevelt.’
‘How amusing,’ she said, ‘but come over here now, dear, and sit down beside me on the sofa and I’ll give you a nice cup of tea and a ginger biscuit before you go to bed.’
‘You really shouldn’t bother,’ Billy said. ‘I didn’t mean you to do anything like that.’ He stood
by the piano, watching her as she fussed about with the cups and saucers. He noticed that she had small, white, quickly moving hands, and red finger-nails.
‘I’m almost positive it was in the newspapers I saw them,’ Billy said. ‘I’ll think of it in a second. I’m sure I will.’
There is nothing more tantalizing than a thing like this which lingers just outside the borders of one’s memory. He hated to give up.
‘Now wait a minute,’ he said. ‘Wait just a minute. Mulholland… Christopher Mulholland… wasn’t that the name of the Eton schoolboy who was on a walking-tour through the West Country, and then all of a sudden…’
‘Milk?’ she said. ‘And sugar?’
‘Yes, please. And then all of a sudden…’
‘Eton schoolboy?’ she said. ‘Oh no, my dear, that can’t possibly be right because my Mr Mulholland was certainly not an Eton schoolboy when he came to me. He was a Cambridge undergraduate. Come over here now and sit next to me and warm yourself in front of this lovely fire. Come on. Your tea’s all ready for you.’ She patted the empty place beside her on the sofa, and she sat there smiling at Billy and waiting for him to come over.
He crossed the room slowly, and sat down on the edge of the sofa. She placed his teacup on the table in front of him.
‘There we are,’ she said. ‘How nice and cosy this is, isn’t it?’
Billy started sipping his tea. She did the same. For half a minute or so, neither of them spoke. But Billy knew that she was looking at him. Her body was half-turned towards him, and he could feel her eyes resting on his face, watching him over the rim of her teacup. Now and again, he caught a whiff of a peculiar smell that seemed to emanate directly from her person. It was not in the least unpleasant, and it reminded him – well, he wasn’t quite sure what it reminded him of. Pickled walnuts? New leather? Or was it the corridors of a hospital?
‘Mr Mulholland was a great one for his tea,’ she said at length. ‘Never in my life have I seen anyone drink as much tea as dear, sweet Mr Mulholland.’
‘I suppose he left fairly recently,’ Billy said. He was still puzzling his head about the two names. He was positive now that he had seen them in the newspapers – in the headlines.
‘Left?’ she said, arching her brows. ‘But my dear boy, he never left. He’s still here. Mr Temple is also here. They’re on the third floor, both of them together.’
Billy set down his cup slowly on the table, and stared at his landlady. She smiled back at him, and then she put out one of her white hands and patted him comfortingly on the knee. ‘How old are you, my dear?’ she asked.
‘Seventeen.’
‘Seventeen!’ she cried. ‘Oh, it’s the perfect age! Mr Mulholland was also seventeen. But I think he was a trifle shorter than you are, in fact I’m sure he was, and his teeth weren’t quite so white. You have the most beautiful teeth, Mr Weaver, did you know that?’
‘They’re not as good as they look,’ Billy said. ‘They’ve got simply masses of fillings in them at the back.’
‘Mr Temple, of course, was a little older,’ she said, ignoring his remark. ‘He was actually twenty-eight. And yet I never would have guessed it if he hadn’t told me, never in my whole life. There wasn’t a blemish on his body.’
‘A what?’ Billy said.
‘His skin was just like a baby’s.’
There was a pause. Billy picked up his teacup and took another sip of his tea, then he set it down again gently in its saucer. He waited for her to say something else, but she seemed to have lapsed into another of her silences. He sat there staring straight ahead of him into the far corner of the room, biting his lower lip.
‘That parrot,’ he said at last. ‘You know something? It had me completely fooled when I first saw it through the window from the street. I could have sworn it was alive.’
‘Alas, no longer.’
‘It’s most terribly clever the way it’s been done,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t look in the least bit dead. Who did it?’
‘I did.’ ‘You did?’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘And you have met my little Basil as well?’ She nodded towards the dachshund curled up so comfortably in front of the fire. Billy looked at it. And suddenly, he realized that this animal had all the time been just as silent and motionless as the parrot. He put out a hand and touched it gently on the top of its back. The back was hard and cold, and when he pushed the hair to one side with his fingers, he could see the skin underneath, greyish-black and dry and perfectly preserved.
‘Good gracious me,’ he said. ‘How absolutely fascinating.’ He turned away from the dog and stared with deep admiration at the little woman beside him on the sofa. ‘It must be most awfully difficult to do a thing like that.’
‘Not in the least,’ she said. ‘I stuff all my little pets myself when they pass away. Will you have another cup of tea?’
‘No, thank you,’ Billy said. The tea tasted faintly of bitter almonds, and he didn’t much care for it.
‘You did sign the book, didn’t you?’ ‘Oh, yes.’
‘That’s good. Because later on, if I happen to forget what you were called, then I can always come down here and look it up. I still do that almost every day with Mr Mulholland and Mr… Mr…’
‘Temple,’ Billy said. ‘Gregory Temple. Excuse my asking, but haven’t there been any other guests here except them in the last two or three years?’
Holding her teacup high in one hand, inclining her head slightly to the left, she looked up at him Out of the corners of her eyes and gave him another gentle little smile.
‘No, my dear,’ she said. ‘Only you.’
本文来源：https://www.wddqxz.cn/ae8a00d2f51fb7360b4c2e3f5727a5e9856a2725.html
2022-07-06
