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In the silence that ensued, the hum of distant voices, borne upon the evening air, came floating through the open window.
一切隨即趨于沉寂，遠處的人聲隨著晚風飄進了敞開著的窗戶。
"What's that?" said the sick child, opening his eyes. "The boys at play, upon the green."
“那是什么？”病孩子問道，張開他的眼睛。“孩子們在草地上打球。”
He took a handkerchief from his pillow, and tried to wave it above his head.
他從枕頭底下取出一塊手巾，想在頭上揮舞一下。
But the feeble arm dropped powerless down.
但是軟弱的胳臂沒力氣地放了下來。
"Shall I do it?" said the schoolmaster. "Please wave it at the window," was the faint reply.
“讓我來好不好？”教師說。“請你在窗口一揮，”他有氣無力地答道，
"Tie it to the lattice. Some of them may see it there. Perhaps they'll think of me, and look this way."
“把它系在窗格子上。他們會有人看見的。也許他們想到我，就會向這面望望。”
He raised his head and glanced from the fluttering signal to his idle bat, that lay, with slate, and book, and other boyish property, upon the table in the room.
他抬起頭來，從那飄展的信號望到他那根和石板、書本以及其他玩具一起放在桌子上空閑著的球棒。
And then he laid him softly down once more, and again clasped his little arms around the old man's neck.
然后他又輕輕地倒了來問那小女孩子是否還在那里，因為他看不到她。她走向前來，緊握住那只伸在被單外面沒有抗拒力量的手。
The two old friends and companions—for such they were, though they were man and child—held each other in a long embrace,
兩位老朋友和老伙伴——盡管是一位成人一位小孩，他們的確是老朋友呢——擁抱了很長時間，
and then the little scholar turned his face to the wall and fell asleep.
然后那位小學生轉過臉對著墻壁，睡著了。
The poor schoolmaster sat in the same place, holding the small, cold hand in his, and chafing it.
可憐的教師還坐在原來的地方，握著那只又小又冷的手，摩擦著。
It was but the hand of a dead child.
那只是一只死去的孩子的手。
He felt that; and yet he chafed it still, and could not lay it down.
他感覺到了。但是他還在不停地摩掌，不肯把它放下來。
