評論
打印
What do you think is going to happen? I asked.
“你想會發生什么事呢？”我問他。
I don't know. But I'm afraid.
“我不知道。但是我害怕。”
I shrugged my shoulders.
我聳了聳肩膀。
For all his pain, Dirk Stroeve remained a ridiculous object. He might have excited sympathy if he had grown worn and thin. He did nothing of the kind. He remained fat, and his round, red cheeks shone like ripe apples. He had great neatness of person, and he continued to wear his spruce black coat and his bowler hat, always a little too small for him, in a dapper, jaunty manner. He was getting something of a paunch, and sorrow had no effect on it. He looked more than ever like a prosperous bagman. It is hard that a man's exterior should tally so little sometimes with his soul. Dirk Stroeve had the passion of Romeo in the body of Sir Toby Belch. He had a sweet and generous nature, and yet was always blundering; a real feeling for what was beautiful and the capacity to create only what was commonplace; a peculiar delicacy of sentiment and gross manners. He could exercise tact when dealing with the affairs of others, but none when dealing with his own. What a cruel practical joke old Nature played when she flung so many contradictory elements together, and left the man face to face with the perplexing callousness of the universe.
盡管在這樣大的痛苦里，戴爾克·施特略夫的樣子仍然讓人看著發笑。如果他削瘦了、憔悴了，也許會引起人們同情的。但是他卻一點兒也不見瘦。他仍然是肥肥胖胖的，通紅的圓臉蛋象兩只熟透了的蘋果。他一向干凈、利落，現在他還是穿著那件整整齊齊的黑外套，一頂略小一些的圓頂硬禮帽非常灑脫地頂在頭上。他的肚子正在發胖，也一點兒沒受這次傷心事的影響。他比以往任何時候都更象一個生意興隆的商販了。有時候一個人的外貌同他的靈魂這么不相稱，這實在是一件苦不堪言的事。施特略夫就是這樣：他心里有羅密歐的熱情，卻生就一副托比·培爾契爵士（莎士比亞戲劇《第十二夜》中人物）的形體。他的稟性仁慈、慷慨，卻不斷鬧出笑話來：他對美的東西從心眼里喜愛，但自己卻只能創造出平庸的東西；他的感情非常細膩，但舉止卻很粗俗。他在處理別人的事務時很有手腕，但自己的事卻弄得一團糟。大自然在創造這個人的時候，在他身上揉捏了這么多相互矛盾的特點，叫他面對著令他迷惑不解的冷酷人世，這是一個多么殘忍的玩笑啊。
