三个陌生人 - 书虫·牛津英汉双语读物

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三个陌生人 = The Three Strangers and Other Stories／（英）哈代（Hardy, T.）著；（英）韦斯特（West, C.）改写；田娜译．—北京：外语教学与研究出版社，2006.5（2014.10 重印）

（书虫·牛津英汉双语读物）

ISBN 978-7-5600-5528-2

Ⅰ．三…　Ⅱ．①哈…②韦…③田…　Ⅲ．①英语—汉语—对照读物②短篇小说—英国—现代　Ⅳ．H319.4：I

中国版本图书馆CIP数据核字（2007）第009934号

出版人：　蔡剑峰

责任编辑：曾　真

封面设计：孙莉明

封面插图：高　鹏

出版发行：外语教学与研究出版社

社　　址：北京市西三环北路19号（100089）

网　　址：http://www.fltrp.com

版　　次：2006年6月第1版

书　　号：ISBN 978-7-5600-5528-2

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内容简介

托马斯·哈代最著名的小说莫过于《德伯家的苔丝》，但他也创作了大量的短篇故事。其中大多数取材于哈代在英格兰南部居住时，周围村庄的人们给他讲述的故事。

人有相似，无论他们生活在城镇还是乡村，在当代还是一百年前。

一个牧羊少年惊恐地睁大了双眼，从他的小棚屋中往外窥视一个女人和一个并非她丈夫的男人秘密约会。

一个年轻女教师原本要回家嫁给一个比自己大得多的男人，却因做了一时冲动的事而改变了自己的生活。

不过，还是让我们从一座孤零零的村舍的敲门声说起吧。屋内灯光明亮、气氛欢快，人们伴随着音乐翩翩起舞，玩得很开心。屋外大雨滂沱，顺着山间小路走来的陌生人凝视着灯火通明的窗户。他是该继续赶路，还是停下来歇歇、坐在温暖的炉火边吃点东西呢？

THE THREE STRANGERS and Other Stories

THE THREE STRANGERS
and Other Stories

Thomas Hardy is probably best known for his novels such as Tess of the d'Urbervilles, but he also wrote a great number of short stories. Many of them were based on stories told by people in the villages around where he lived in the south of England.

People are the same, whether they live in the town or the country, today or a hundred years ago.

From his hut a young shepherd boy watches, wide-eyed and afraid, a secret meeting between a woman and a man who is not her husband.

A young teacher, going home to marry a much older man, has a moment of madness that will change her life.

But we begin with a knock on the door at a lonely cottage. Inside, all is bright and cheerful, with music and dancing, and people enjoying themselves. Outside, the rain beats down, and the stranger following the footpath across the wild hills stares at the lighted windows. Should he go on, or can he stop for a while, to find rest and food and a seat by a warm fire?

THE THREE STRANGERS　三个陌生人

The Three Strangers
and Other Stories

THE THREE STRANGERS

三个陌生人

1
The first stranger

In the south-west of England there are many long, low, grassy hills, which have not changed their appearance for centuries. Farmers still keep their sheep on them, and the only buildings are lonely cottages, where shepherds live.

Fifty years ago there was a shepherd's cottage on one of these hills. It was only three miles from the market town of Casterbridge, but it was unusual for travellers to pass this way. There was no road, just two footpaths which crossed in front of the cottage door. During the long winters, snow and rain fell heavily here, which made travelling difficult.

The night of March 28th, 1825, was one of the coldest and wettest that winter, but inside the cottage all was warm and cheerful. Shepherd Fennel had invited family and friends to drink to the health of his youngest child, a recent arrival in the family. Nineteen people were at the party: married women and single girls, shepherds and farm workers, young people talking of love, and old friends talking of the past.

Shepherd Fennel had chosen his wife well. She was a farmer's daughter from one of the valleys, and when she married, she brought fifty pounds with her in her pocket — and kept it there, for the needs of a coming family. She did not like to spend money unnecessarily, and had worried about the kind of party to give that evening. 'At a sit-still party,' she thought, 'the men'll get too comfortable and drink the house dry. But at a dancing-party people get hungry and then they'll eat all our food! We'll have both sitting and dancing — that's the best way.' And secretly she told the fiddler to play for no more than fifteen minutes at a time.

But when the dancing began, nobody wanted to stop. The fiddler refused to catch Mrs Fennel's eye, and played on. The music got louder and louder, and the excited dancers stepped faster and faster. Mrs Fennel could do nothing about it, so she sat helplessly in a corner, as the minutes became an hour.

While this was happening indoors, outside in the heavy rain and darkness a figure was climbing up the hill from Casterbridge. It was a tall, thin man, about forty years old, dressed all in black and wearing thick, heavy boots.

When he reached the shepherd's cottage, the rain came down harder than ever. The man left the footpath and went up to the door. He listened carefully, but the music inside had now stopped, and the man seemed unsure what to do. He looked around, but could see no one on the footpath behind him, and no other houses anywhere near.

At last he decided to knock on the door.

'Come in!' called Shepherd Fennel. All eyes turned towards the stranger, as he entered the warm room.

He kept his hat on, low over his face. 'The rain is heavy, friends,' he said in a rich, deep voice. 'May I come in and rest here for a while?'

'O' course, stranger,' replied the shepherd. 'You've chosen your moment well, because we're having a party tonight. There's a new baby in the family, you see.'

'I hope you and your fine wife'll have many more, shepherd,' the man answered, smiling politely at Mrs Fennel. He looked quickly round the room, and seemed happy with what he saw. He took his hat off, and shook the water from his shoulders.

'Will you have a drink with us, stranger?' asked Fennel. He passed a mug of his wife's home-made mead to the newcomer, who drank deeply from it and held it out for more.

'I'll take a seat in the chimney corner, if you don't mind,' said the man, 'to dry my clothes a bit.' He moved closer to the fire, and began to look very much at home.

'There's only one more thing that I need to make me happy,' he added, 'and that's a little tobacco.'

'I'll fill your pipe,' said the shepherd kindly.

'Can you lend me one?'

'You're a smoker, and you've no pipe?' said Fennel.

'I dropped it somewhere on the road.' The man lit the pipe that Fennel gave him, and seemed to want to talk no more.

appearance n. the way a person or thing looks to other people 外表；外观

cottage n. a small house, esp. in the country 小屋；村舍

market town n. a town where a regular market is held（定期举行集市贸易的）集镇

footpath n. a narrow path or track for people to walk on 人行小径

fiddler n. a person who plays a fiddle (a violin) 拉小提琴的人；小提琴手

rich adj. deep, strong, and beautiful sound （声音）深沉浑厚的

mug n. a round container for drinking 圆筒形有柄大杯

mead n. an alcoholic drink made from honey 蜂蜜酒

chimney corner n. a seat by the side of a large open fireplace 壁炉边的座位

tobacco n. the dried brown leaves that are smoked in cigarettes, pipes etc. 烟叶；烟草

pipe n. a thing used for smoking tobacco 烟斗

1．第一个陌生人

英格兰西南部绵亘着许多低矮而葱郁的山丘，它们的面貌千百年来未曾改变。农夫们依旧在山上放羊，山上唯一的一种建筑就是牧羊人居住的那些孤零零的小屋。

50年前，其中一座山上有一间牧羊人的小屋。尽管它距离卡斯特桥的集镇仅有3英里，却很少有行人从此经过。这里没有大路，仅有两条小径在小屋门前交会。在漫长的冬季里，这里雨雪很大，行走很困难。

1825年3月28日那晚是那年冬天最湿冷的一夜，不过小屋里却十分温暖，气氛欢快。牧羊人芬内尔邀请了亲朋好友来家里喝酒，祝福他最小的孩子——一个刚出生不久的家庭成员——身体健康。19个人参加了这次聚会：有已婚的妇人和单身的女孩，也有牧羊人和农场工人。年轻人谈论着爱情，老朋友们则追忆起往昔时光。

牧羊人芬内尔找了个好妻子。她是山谷里一个农夫的女儿，结婚的时候口袋里揣来了50英镑——并且一直没花，准备贡献给即将组成的家庭。她不喜欢乱花钱，还一直为那晚该举行哪种聚会而忧心忡忡。“在坐着不动的聚会中，”她盘算着，“男人们通常会舒服得过了头，把家里的酒喝个底朝天。可是在舞会中，人们又容易饥饿，会吃掉我们所有的食物！所以我们既要坐着又要跳舞——这是最好的办法。”她还偷偷告诉拉小提琴的人，一次最多只拉15分钟琴。

可是舞会开始后，就没有人想停下来了。拉小提琴的人不肯看芬内尔太太的眼色，只管继续拉琴。音乐声越来越大，而兴奋的人们也越跳越快。芬内尔太太对此束手无策，只能无助地坐在角落里；而原本打算举行十来分钟的舞会竟延长到了一个小时。

屋内的人们正兴高采烈地跳着舞；屋外暴雨滂沱，漆黑一片，一个身影正从卡斯特桥向山上艰难地攀爬着。这是一名四十岁左右的瘦高男人，一身黑衣，脚穿厚重的靴子。

到达牧羊人的小屋时，雨下得越发大了。男人走下小径，来到门前。他仔细聆听，但这时音乐已经停了，他似乎有些不知所措。他环顾四周，身后的小径上空无一人，而附近也没有其他房屋。

终于，他决定敲门。

“请进！”牧羊人芬内尔喊道。陌生人走进了温暖的房间，所有的目光都转到了他身上。

他没有摘下帽子，压低的帽沿挡住了他的脸。“这雨可真大呀，伙计们，”他的声音浑厚而低沉，“我能进来在这儿休息一会儿吗？”

“当然可以，陌生的朋友，”牧羊人答道，“你来得正是时候，我们今晚正好在举行聚会。你看，我家里添了个小孩子。”

“希望您和您的贤妻多生贵子，牧羊人。”男人答道，礼貌地对芬内尔太太微笑着。他迅速环视了一下房间，看样子对眼前的一切很满意。他摘下帽子，抖落了肩上的雨水。

“跟我们喝一杯好吗，陌生的朋友？”芬内尔问。他递给这位新来者一杯妻子自酿的蜂蜜酒。陌生人一饮而尽，伸过杯子要再来一杯。

“如果你们不介意的话，我想坐在壁炉边的座位上，”那人说，“这样可以把我的衣服烘一烘。”他又朝炉火凑了凑，开始变得随意起来，看着跟在自己家里差不多。

“再有一样东西我就心满意足了，”他又说，“那就是一点点烟叶。”

“我给你装烟斗。”牧羊人亲切地说。

“你能借给我一只烟斗吗？”

“你抽烟，却没有烟斗？”芬内尔问道。

“我在路上把它弄丢了。”那人点燃了芬内尔给他的烟斗，看样子不想再多说话了。

2
The second stranger

During this conversation the other visitors had not taken much notice of the stranger, because they were discussing what the fiddler should play next. They were just getting up to start another dance when there was a second knock at the door. At this sound, the stranger turned his back to the door, and seemed very busy trying to light his pipe.

'Come in!' called Shepherd Fennel a second time. In a moment another man entered. He too was a stranger.

This one was very different from the first. There was a more cheerful look about him. He was several years older, with greying hair and a full, reddish face. Under his long wet coat he was wearing a dark grey suit.

'I must ask to rest here for a few minutes, friends,' he said, 'or I shall be wet to the skin before I reach Casterbridge.'

'Make yourself at home, sir,' replied Fennel, a little less warmly than when welcoming the first stranger. The cottage was not large, there were not many chairs, and these newcomers brought cold, wet air into the room.

The second visitor took off his coat and hat, and sat down heavily at the table, which the dancers had pushed into the chimney corner. He found himself sitting next to the first stranger, who smiled politely at him and passed him the mug of mead. The second man took it, lifted it to his mouth, and drank without stopping, watched by Mrs Fennel, who was not pleased at this free drinking of her best mead.

At last the man in the grey suit put down the mug with a happy sigh. 'That's wonderful mead, shepherd!' he said. 'I haven't tasted anything as good as that for many years.'

'I'm pleased you enjoy it, sir!' replied Shepherd Fennel.

'It's goodish mead,' agreed his wife, a little coldly. 'Made from our own honey, o'course, and it is trouble enough to make, I can tell ye. But we may not make any more — honey sells well, and we don't need much mead for ourselves.'

'Oh, but you can't stop making this!' cried the man in grey. He took the mug again and drank the last drop. 'I love mead, as much as I love going to church on Sundays, or giving money to the poor!'

'Ha, ha, ha!' said the man by the fire, who seemed to enjoy the stranger's little joke.

The old mead of those days, made with the best honey and the freshest eggs, tasted very strong, but it did not taste as strong as it actually was. Before long, the stranger in grey became very cheerful and red in the face. He made himself comfortable in his chair, and continued the conversation.

'Well, as I say, I'm on my way to Casterbridge,' he said.

'You don't live there then?' said Shepherd Fennel.

'Not yet, although I plan to move there soon.'

'Going to start a business, perhaps?' asked the shepherd.

'No, no,' said his wife. 'It is easy to see that the gentleman is rich, and doesn't need to work at anything.'

'Rich is not the word for me, madam,' replied the man in grey. 'I have to work, and I do work. And even if I only get to Casterbridge by midnight tonight, I must begin work there at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Yes, hot or cold, rain or snow, I must do my day's work tomorrow.'

'Poor man! So, although you look rich and comfortable, your life is harder than ours, is it?' said the shepherd's wife.

'Well, it's the work that I have to do, that's all. Now I must leave you, friends. But before I go, there's time for one more drink to your baby's health. Only, the mug is empty.'

'Here's some small mead, sir,' offered Mrs Fennel. 'We call it small, but it's still made from good honey.'

'No,' said the stranger. 'I prefer to remember the taste of your best mead, thank you.'

'Of course you do,' said Shepherd Fennel quickly. He went to the dark place under the stairs where the best mead was kept, and filled the mug. His wife followed him and spoke worriedly to him in a low voice.

'I don't like the look o' the man at all! He's drunk enough for ten men already! Don't give him any more o' the best!'

'But he's in our house, my love, and 'tis a miserable wet night. What's a mug of mead more or less?'

'Very well, just this time then,' she said, looking sadly at the mead. 'But who is he, and what kind of work does he do?'

'I don't know. I'll ask him again.'

While the man in grey drank his mead, Fennel asked him again about his work, but the man did not reply at once. Suddenly the first stranger spoke from his seat by the fire.

'Anybody may know what I do — I work with wheels.'

'And anybody may know what I do,' said the man in the grey suit, 'if they're clever enough to find it out.'

There was a short silence, which the shepherd's wife broke by calling for a song. The second mug of mead had made the stranger's face even redder and more cheerful than before, and he offered to sing the first song. This is what he sang:

My job is the strangest one,

Honest shepherds all—

Work that all the world can see;

My customers I tie, and I take them up so high,

And send 'em to a far country!

No one spoke, except the man near the fire, who joined in the last part, with a deep, musical voice:

And send 'em to a far country!

None of the people in the room understood what the singer meant, except the man near the fire; who continued smoking, and said calmly, 'Go on, stranger! Sing on!'

The man in grey drank again from his mug, and sang:

There isn't much I need,

Honest shepherds all—

To set the criminals free.

A little piece of rope, and a tall hanging post,

And that'll be enough for me!

Now it was clear to everybody in the room that the stranger was answering the shepherd's question in song. They all looked at him, their eyes and mouths wide open in horror.

'Oh, he's the hangman!' they whispered to each other. 'He's come to hang that poor clockmaker tomorrow in Casterbridge prison — the clockmaker who had no work, and whose children had no food, so he stole a sheep, and now he's going to hang for it!'

sigh n. breathing in and out, making a long sound 叹气；叹息

midnight n. 12 o'clock at night 半夜12点；午夜

miserable adj. making you feel very unhappy, uncomfortable 令人不愉快的；使人难受的

customer n. someone who buys goods or services from a shop, company etc 顾客；客户

criminal n. someone who is involved in illegal activities or has been proved guilty of a crime 罪犯

rope n. very strong, thick string 粗绳；绳索

hangman n. someone whose job is to kill criminals by hanging them 执行绞刑的刽子手

2．第二个陌生人

牧羊人和陌生人说话时，其他客人没怎么注意到这个陌生人，因为他们正讨论小提琴手接下来应该拉什么曲子。他们正准备起身再跳一支舞，门再次被敲响了。听到敲门声，陌生人转过身子背对着大门，似乎在忙着点他的烟斗。

“请进！”牧羊人芬内尔再次喊道。很快，另一个人走了进来。又是一个陌生人。

这人跟第一个人大不相同，神色要欢快一些。他比第一个人大几岁，头发灰白，红光满面，长长的湿外套下面是一身暗灰色的衣服。

“请让我在这儿休息几分钟吧，朋友们，”他说，“要不然我还没到卡斯特桥就会全身湿透了。”

“您请随便，先生。”芬内尔回答道，态度不像迎接第一个陌生人那么热情了。屋子不大，没多少椅子，况且这些陌生人还把湿冷的寒气带到了室内。

第二个陌生人脱下外套、摘下帽子，重重地坐在被跳舞的人们推到壁炉边的桌子旁。他发现自己坐在了第一个陌生人旁边。那人礼貌地朝他微笑着，把手里那杯蜂蜜酒递给了他。第二个陌生人接过杯子举到嘴边，一口气喝了下去。芬内尔太太看着他，对这种恣意喝自己最好的蜂蜜酒的行为感到很不高兴。

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最后，灰衣人高兴地叹了口气，放下了杯子。“这酒太棒了，牧羊人！”他说，“我好多年没尝过这么好的东西了。”

“我很高兴你喜欢这酒，先生！”牧羊人芬内尔答道。

“这是上好的蜂蜜酒，”牧羊人的妻子有些冷淡地附和道，“当然，是用我们自己的蜂蜜做的，做起来可真是费劲啊，我跟你说。不过我们可能不会再酿了——蜂蜜卖得不错，而我们自己又不需要太多蜂蜜酒。”

“哦，你们可不能不酿了！”灰衣人叫道。他又端起杯子，喝掉了最后一滴酒。“我喜欢蜂蜜酒，就像喜欢星期天去教堂做礼拜、喜欢把钱施舍给穷人一样！”

“哈哈哈！”坐在壁炉边的男人笑了起来，似乎被这个陌生人的小笑话给逗乐了。

那时候的蜂蜜酒是用最好的蜂蜜和最新鲜的鸡蛋酿成的，酒味很冲，实际上的酒劲儿却还要大。没过多久，灰衣人就兴奋起来，变得面红耳赤。他在椅子上舒舒服服地坐好，接着往下说。

“呃，我说，我这是要去卡斯特桥。”他说。

“那么您不住在那儿啰？”牧羊人芬内尔问。

“现在还不是，不过我打算很快就搬过去。”

“您这是准备去做点买卖吗？”牧羊人问道。

“不，不，”他的妻子说，“一看就知道这位先生很有钱，什么都不用做。”

“有钱这个词不是用来形容我的，夫人，”灰衣人答道，“我必须工作，而且也的确在工作。即便今晚半夜才能到达卡斯特桥，我也必须在明早8点开始工作。是的，无论严寒酷暑、下雨下雪，我明天都得去做我一天的工作。”

“可怜的人！那就是说，虽然你看起来又有钱又自在，你的日子却比我们还要难过，是吧？”牧羊人的妻子说。

“呃，那工作是我必须做的，就这样。好了，我得走了，朋友们。不过，走之前我还有时间再喝一杯，为你家孩子的健康祝福。可是杯子已经空了。”

“这儿还有些低度蜂蜜酒，先生，”芬内尔太太主动说，“虽然我们叫它低度酒，但也是用优质蜂蜜酿成的。”

“那就不用了，”陌生人说道，“我更愿意铭记你们最好的蜂蜜酒的味道，谢谢。”

“您当然得喝点，”芬内尔赶紧说。他走到楼梯下存放最好的蜂蜜酒的黑暗角落里，把杯子装满。他的妻子跟了过去，焦虑地跟他低声说话。

“我一点都不喜欢那个人的样子！他足足喝了够十个人喝的酒！别再把最好的酒给他了！”

“可是他在我们家呀，亲爱的，而且今晚又那么潮湿阴冷。一杯蜂蜜酒又有什么呢？”

“那好吧，仅此一次，”她说道，难过地看着蜂蜜酒，“可他是谁？究竟是干什么的？”

“我不知道，等下再问问他。”

趁着灰衣人喝酒的工夫，芬内尔再次问起了他的工作，可他并没有马上回答。突然，坐在壁炉边座位上的第一个陌生人说话了。

“人人都可以知道我是干什么的——我是和轮子打交道的。”

“人人也都可以知道我是干什么的，”灰衣人说道，“如果他们足够聪明、能够发现的话。”

一阵短暂的沉默之后，牧羊人的妻子提议大家来唱首歌。第二杯蜂蜜酒使得陌生人脸色更加红润，神情也愈发兴奋了，于是他主动要求唱第一首歌。他唱道：

我的工作最最奇怪，

诚实的牧羊人们——

全世界的人都能看见；

我把顾客绑住，带往高处，

送他们到遥远的国度！

没有人吭声，除了那个坐在壁炉边的人。他用低沉悦耳的声音附和着歌曲的最后一部分：

送他们到遥远的国度！

屋里没有人明白唱歌的人是什么意思，除了坐在壁炉边的那个人。他继续抽着烟，平静地说：“继续，陌生人！继续唱！”

我不用太多东西，

诚实的牧羊人们——

就可以解放犯人。

一小截绳子，一个高高的绞架，

我就足够用了！

这下屋里所有的人都听明白了，这个陌生人是在用歌声回答牧羊人的问题。他们望着他，眼睛和嘴巴因恐惧而大张着。

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“哦，他就是那个刽子手！”人们轻声地交头接耳，“他来就是要在明天绞死卡斯特桥监狱里那个可怜的钟表匠——那个钟表匠没有活干，孩子们都没吃的，所以就偷了一头羊。就因为这个，他要被绞死了！”

3
The third stranger

Just then, there was another knock on the door. People seemed frightened, and Shepherd Fennel was slow to call out, for the third time, the welcoming words, 'Come in!'

The door was gently opened, and another stranger stood in the doorway. He was a little man, with fair hair, and was tidily dressed. 'Can you tell me the way to—?' he began, but stopped speaking when his eyes fell on the stranger in grey, who, at that moment, started singing again.

Tomorrow is my working day,

Honest shepherds all—

Working with the little piece of rope.

A sheep has lost its life, and the thief must pay the price.

He'll find some peace with God, we hope!

The man by the fire repeated cheerfully in his deep voice:

He'll find some peace with God, we hope!

All this time the third stranger had stood in the doorway, and now everyone turned to look at him. They saw to their surprise that his face was white, his hands were shaking, and his eyes were fixed in horror on the man in grey. A moment later he turned, and ran away into the darkness and the rain.

'Who can that be?' asked Shepherd Fennel.

No one answered. The room was silent, although there were more than twenty people in it, and nothing could be heard except the rain beating on the windows.

The stillness was broken by a bang. It was the sound of a gun, and it came from Casterbridge.

'What does that mean?' cried several people at once.

'A prisoner's escaped from Casterbridge prison—that's what it means,' replied the man in grey, jumping up from his chair. 'I wonder if it's my man?'

'It must be!' said the shepherd. 'And I think we've seen him! The little man who looked in at the door just now, and shook like a leaf when he saw ye and heard your song!'

'His face was as white as a sheet,' said the fiddler.

'His hands shook like an old man's,' said a farm worker.

'His heart seemed as heavy as a stone,' said Mrs Fennel.

'True,' said the man by the fire. 'His face was white, his hands shook, and he ran like the wind — it's all true.'

'We were all wondering what made him run off like that,' said one of the women, 'and now 'tis explained.'

'Is there a policeman here?' asked the hangman.

One of the men came slowly forward, pushed by his friends. 'I'm one o' the king's officers, sir,' he said.

'Then take some of these men at once, follow the criminal, and bring him back here. He hasn't gone far, I'm sure.'

'I will, sir, I will, when I've got my uniform. I'll go home and put it on, and come back here immediately!'

'Uniform! Never mind about your uniform! The man'll be far away by that time!'

'But I must have my uniform! There's the king's name on it in gold — I can't arrest a man without my uniform on.'

'I'm a king's man myself,' said the man in grey coldly, 'and I order you to find and arrest this man at once! Now then, all the men in the house must come with us. Are you ready?'

The men left the cottage to start their search, and the women ran upstairs to see the new baby, who had begun to cry loudly. But the living room did not stay empty for long. A few minutes later the first stranger came quietly back into the house. He cut himself a large piece of cake, and drank another mug of mead. He was still eating when another man came in just as quietly. It was the man in grey.

'Oh, you here?' said the hangman, smiling. 'I thought you had gone to help look for the prisoner.'

'And I thought you had gone too,' replied the other.

'Well, I felt that there were enough people without me,' said the man in grey, helping himself to the mead.

'I felt the same as you.'

'These shepherd-people can easily find the man because they know this hilly country. They'll have him ready for me by the morning, and it'll be no trouble to me at all.'

'Yes, they'll find him. We'll save ourselves all that trouble.'

'True, true. Well, I'm going to Casterbridge. Are you going the same way? We could walk together.'

'No, I'm sorry to say I'm going the other way.' And after finishing their mead, the two men shook hands warmly, said goodbye to each other, and went their different ways.

Out on the hills, the shepherd and his friends were getting cold and wet in their search for the prisoner. They had no luck at all until they reached the top of a hill, where a single tree stood. Suddenly they saw the man who they were looking for, standing next to the tree.

'Your money or your life!' cried the policeman loudly.

'No, no,' whispered the shepherd. 'That's what robbers say, not good, honest people like us!'

'Well, I must say something, mustn't I? Ye don't realize how difficult it is to remember what to say!'

The little man now seemed to notice them for the first time. 'Well, travellers, did I hear ye speak to me?' he asked.

'You did,' replied the policeman. 'We arrest ye for not waiting in Casterbridge prison for your hanging tomorrow!'

The little man did not seem at all afraid, and to everyone's surprise agreed with great politeness to go back to the shepherd's cottage. When they arrived there, they discovered that two officers from Casterbridge prison, and a judge who lived nearby, were waiting for them.

'Gentlemen,' said the policeman, 'I've brought back your prisoner — here he is!'

'But this is not our man!' cried one of the prison officers.

'What?' said the judge. 'Haven't you got the right man?'

'But then who can this man be?' asked the policeman.

'I don't know,' said the prison officer. 'But our prisoner is very different. He's tall and thin, with a deep, musical voice.'

'That was the stranger who sat by the fire!' cried Fennel.

The little man now spoke to the judge for the first time. 'Sir,' he said, 'I must explain. I've done nothing wrong — my only crime is that the prisoner is my brother. Today I was on my way to visit him in Casterbridge prison for the last time, when I got lost in the dark. I stopped here to ask the way, and when I opened the door, I saw my brother sitting by the fire. Right next to him was the hangman who'd come to take his life! My brother looked at me, and I knew he meant, "Don't tell them who I am, or I'll die!" I was too frightened to do anything except turn and run away.'

'And do you know where your brother is now?'

'No, sir. I haven't seen him since I left the cottage.'

'And what's his job?'

'He's a clockmaker, sir.'

'He said he worked with wheels,' said Shepherd Fennel. 'He meant the wheels of clocks and watches, I suppose.'

'Well, we must let this poor man go,' said the judge. 'Clearly, it's his brother who is the wanted man.'

And so the little man left the cottage with a sad, slow step.

The next morning, men were out on the hills again, searching for the clever thief. But the shepherds and farm workers did not look very carefully. They did not think the man should hang, just for stealing a sheep, and they liked the wonderful coolness that he showed, when sitting next to the hangman at the shepherd's party. So the prisoner was never found, and the man in grey never did his morning's work in Casterbridge, nor ever met again the friendly stranger who had sung the hangman's song with him by the shepherd's fire.

The grass has long been green on the graves of Shepherd Fennel and his wife, and the baby whose health was drunk that night is now an old lady. But the arrival of the three strangers at the shepherd's cottage, and all that happened afterwards, is a story as well known as ever in the hills and valleys around Casterbridge.

tidily adv. neat, orderly 整洁地；整齐地

stillness n. quietness, calmness, without any activity 宁静；安宁

uniform n. a particular type of clothing worn by all the members of a group or organization such as the police 制服

arrest v. (police) take somebody away because they think he/she has done something illegal 逮捕

in search for look for 寻找

whisper v. to speak or say something very quietly, using your breath rather than your voice 悄声说；耳语

wanted adj. someone who is wanted is being looked for by the police 被警方追捕的；被通缉的

coolness n. quality of being calm and not nervous 冷静

grave n. the place in the ground where a dead body is buried 坟墓

3．第三个陌生人

就在这时，又传来了一阵敲门声。人们有些恐慌，牧羊人芬内尔好半天才第三次说出了那句欢迎的话：“请进！”

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门被轻轻推开了，又一位陌生人站在了门口。他身材矮小、头发金黄、衣着整洁。“能不能告诉我怎么去——？”他刚一开口，目光就落到了灰衣人身上，于是便闭上了嘴。灰衣人又开口唱了起来。

明天是我的工作日，

诚实的牧羊人们——

我的用具是那一小截绳子。

一头羊丧了命，窃贼必须付出代价。

但愿他在上帝那儿得到安宁！

壁炉边的那个男人用低沉的声音欢快地重复着：

但愿他在上帝那儿得到安宁！

在此期间，第三个陌生人一直站在门口，直到此刻人们才转过来看着他。他们惊奇地发现，他脸色苍白、双手发抖，眼睛惊恐地盯着灰衣人。不一会儿，他转身跑进了大雨滂沱的黑夜。

“他会是谁呢？”牧羊人芬内尔问道。

没人回答。尽管屋子里有二十多个人，此刻却一片沉默，静得只能听到雨点打在窗户上的声音。

寂静被“砰”的一声巨响打破了。那是一声枪响，从卡斯特桥方向传来。

“怎么回事？”立刻就有几个人叫了起来。

“有犯人从卡斯特桥监狱逃出来了——就是这么回事，”灰衣人说着，从椅子上跳了起来，“我想知道是不是我要绞死的那个人？”

“一定是！”牧羊人说，“而且我想我们见过他！刚才那个从门口往屋里张望的小个子，他见到你唱歌时抖得像一片树叶！”

“他的脸白得像床单。”拉小提琴的人说。

“他的手抖得像个老头。”一个农场工人说。

“看样子，他的心情也沉重得像压着块石头。”芬内尔太太说。

“没错，”壁炉边的男人说，“他脸色煞白，手哆哆嗦嗦，像一阵风似的跑了——没错。”

“我们刚才还纳闷他干吗那样落荒而逃呢，”一个女人说，“现在真相大白了。”

“这里有警察吗？”刽子手问道。

其中一人被朋友们推着慢慢走上前来。“我是国王手下的军官，先生。”他答道。

“那就马上从这一屋子人中挑几个，追上那个犯人，把他带到这儿来。他还没跑多远，我敢肯定。”

“好的，先生，我穿上制服就去。我回家穿制服，马上就回来！”

“制服！别管你的制服啦！到那会儿犯人早跑远了！”

“可我必须穿上制服！那上面有国王的名字，金色的——我不穿制服就不能逮捕人。”

“我自己也是国王的下属，”灰衣人冷冷地说，“我命令你马上去追捕这个人！听着，屋里所有的男人都得跟我们去。你们准备好了吗？”

男人们离开了小屋开始搜寻，女人们则跑到楼上去照看开始放声大哭的婴儿。不过客厅并没有空下来多久。几分钟后，第一个陌生人悄悄回到了小屋里。他给自己切了一大块蛋糕，又喝了一杯蜂蜜酒。他还没吃完，另一个人也悄悄走了进来。是那个灰衣人。

“噢，你也在这儿吗？”刽子手微笑着说，“我还以为你帮忙找犯人去了呢。”

“我也以为你去了呢。”那人回答道。

“呃，我觉得人够多了，不差我一个。”灰衣人边说边给自己倒了点蜂蜜酒。

“我跟你想的一样。”

“这些牧羊人很容易就能找到那个人，因为他们对这山村很熟悉。他们会在天亮前抓住他的，我根本不用费劲。”

“是啊，他们会找到他的。我们用不着费劲。”

“没错，没错。呃，我要去卡斯特桥了。你也去那儿吗？咱们可以搭个伴走。”

“不，很不巧，我要去另一个方向。”喝完酒，两个男人热情地握手作别，分别朝不同的方向走去。

山上，牧羊人和他的朋友们为寻找犯人而弄得浑身又冷又湿。他们很不走运，直到来到一座山顶，那儿挺立着一棵孤零零的树。突然，他们看见要找的人就站在树的旁边。

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“不给钱就要你的命！”警察高声喊道。

“不对，不对，”牧羊人悄声说，“那是强盗们喊的话，不是我们这种诚实的好人该喊的！”

“呃，我总得说点什么，不是吗？你不知道要记住自己该说什么有多难！”

那个小个子男人似乎这才注意到他们。“哦，二位路人，你们刚才是在跟我说话吗？”他问道。

“没错，”警察回答道，“我们要逮捕你，因为你本该在卡斯特桥监狱等待明天的绞刑！”

小个子男人看起来一点都不害怕，更令大家惊讶的是，他很礼貌地同意回到牧羊人的小屋去。到了之后，他们发现卡斯特桥监狱的两名典狱官和一名住在附近的法官已经等在了那里。

“先生们，”警察说，“我把你们的犯人带回来了——就是他！”

“但这不是我们要抓的人！”其中一名典狱官叫道。

“什么？”法官说道，“你们没抓对人？”

“那这个人是谁？”警察问。

“我不认识，”典狱官说，“不过我们的犯人跟他很不一样。犯人又高又瘦，嗓音低沉悦耳。”

“就是那个坐在壁炉边的陌生人！”芬内尔叫道。

小个子男人终于开了口，冲着法官说话了。“先生，”他说，“我必须解释一下。我并没做什么坏事——我唯一的过错就是，那个犯人是我兄弟。我今天原本打算去卡斯特桥监狱见他最后一面，但却在黑暗中迷了路。我在这里停下来打算问路，推开门却看到我兄弟就坐在壁炉边，身旁就是来取他性命的刽子手！我兄弟看了我一眼，我就明白了他的意思：'别告诉他们我是谁，不然我就死定了！'我害怕极了，只好转身跑开了。”

“那你知道你兄弟现在在哪里吗？”

“不知道，先生。我离开小屋后就没再见过他。”

“他是干什么的？”

“他是钟表匠，先生。”

“他说过他是和轮子打交道的，”牧羊人芬内尔说，“我猜他指的是钟表的齿轮。”

“呃，我们得放这个可怜人走，”法官说，“很明显，他的兄弟才是我们要找的人。”

于是，小个子男人迈着忧伤的步子慢慢走出了小屋。

第二天早晨，人们再次来到山上寻找那个机敏的窃贼。不过，牧羊人和农场工人们并没有仔细寻找。他们觉得那个人仅仅是偷了一头羊，不应该被绞死。他们还很欣赏在牧羊人家的聚会上，他坐在刽子手旁边时所表现出的沉着冷静。因此，那个犯人一直也没被抓到，而灰衣人也一直没能完成他那天早上在卡斯特桥的工作。打那以后，他再没见过那个友善的陌生人，那个在牧羊人家壁炉边和他一起唱刽子手之歌的人。

牧羊人芬内尔夫妻俩的墓地上早已是绿草茵茵了，而那个婴儿——那天晚上，人们曾为她的健康祝福——如今也成了一位老妇人。然而，三个陌生人来到牧羊人小屋的事情以及此后发生的一切，却一直在卡斯特桥周围的山峦谷地中传诵不已。

1．The first stranger