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How did you manage that? I asked.
“你怎么弄到這筆買賣的？”我問他。
The woman where I get my bread recommended me. He'd told her he was looking out for someone to paint him. I've got to give her twenty francs.
“賣我面包的那個女人把我介紹去的。他同她說過，要找一個人給他畫像。我得給她二十法郎介紹費。”
What's he like?
“是怎樣一個人？”
Splendid. He's got a great red face like a leg of mutton, and on his right cheek there's an enormous mole with long hairs growing out of it.
“太了不起了。一張大紅臉象條羊腿。右臉上有一顆大痣，上面還長著大長毛。”
Strickland was in a good humour, and when Dirk Stroeve came up and sat down with us he attacked him with ferocious banter. He showed a skill I should never have credited him with in finding the places where the unhappy Dutchman was most sensitive. Strickland employed not the rapier of sarcasm but the bludgeon of invective. The attack was so unprovoked that Stroeve, taken unawares, was defenceless. He reminded you of a frightened sheep running aimlessly hither and thither. He was startled and amazed. At last the tears ran from his eyes. And the worst of it was that, though you hated Strickland, and the exhibition was horrible, it was impossible not to laugh. Dirk Stroeve was one of those unlucky persons whose most sincere emotions are ridiculous.
思特里克蘭德這天情緒很好，當戴爾克·施特略夫走來同我們坐在一起時，思特里克蘭德馬上冷嘲熱諷地對他大肆攻擊起來。他慣會尋找這位不幸的荷蘭人的痛處，技巧的高超實在令我欽佩。他這次用的不是譏刺的細劍，而是謾罵的大棒。他的攻擊來得非常突然。施特略夫被打得個措手不及，完全失掉防衛(wèi)能力。象一只受了驚的小羊，沒有目的地東跑西竄，張皇失措，暈頭轉向。最后，淚珠撲簌簌地從他眼睛里滾出來。這件事最糟糕的地方在于，盡管你非常惱恨思特里克蘭德，盡管你感到這出戲很可怕，你還是禁不住要笑起來。有一些人很不幸，即使他們流露的是最真摯的感情也令人感到滑稽可笑，戴爾克·施特略夫正是這樣一個人。
But after all when I look back upon that winter in Paris, my pleasantest recollection is of Dirk Stroeve. There was something very charming in his little household. He and his wife made a picture which the imagination gratefully dwelt upon, and the simplicity of his love for her had a deliberate grace.
但是盡管如此，在我回顧我在巴黎度過的這個冬天時，戴爾克·施特略夫還是給我留下了最愉快的回憶。他的小家庭有一種魅力，他同他的妻子是一幅叫你思念不置的圖畫；他對自己妻子的純真的愛情使人感到是嫻雅而高尚的。
