网站首页 (Homepage)                       欢   迎   访   问  谢  国  芳 (Roy  Xie) 的  个  人  主  页                    返回 (Return)
                    
Welcome to Roy  Xie's Homepage                   





                       ——
  外语解密学习法 逆读法(Reverse Reading Method)   解读法(Decode-Reading Method)训练范文 ——                 

解密目标语言:德语                                解密辅助语言:英语
              Language to be decoded:  German             Auxiliary Language :  English  

  
         
解密文本:《判决》  [奥] 卡夫卡 原著          
 
Das Urteil
 von  Franz Kafka

 

       The Judgment  
                                                                         by  Franz Kafka     
                                                                

           德汉对照(German & Chinese)                             德英对照(German & English)                           英汉对照(English & Chinese)


  


        It was a Sunday morning in the very height of spring. Georg Bendemann, a young merchant, was sitting in his own room on the first floor of one of a long row of small, ramshackle houses stretching beside the river which were scarcely distinguishable from each other in height and coloring. He had just finished a letter to an old friend of his who was now living abroad, had put it into its envelope in a slow and dreamy fashion, and with his elbows propped on the writing table was gazing out of the window at the river, the bridge, and the hills on the farther bank with their tender green.

He was thinking about his friend, who had actually run away to Russia some years before, being dissatisfied with his prospects at home. Now he was carrying on a business in St. Petersburg, which had flourished to begin with but had long been going downhill, as he always complained on his increasingly rare visits. So he was wearing himself out to no purpose in a foreign country, the unfamiliar full beard he wore did not quite conceal the face Georg had known so well since childhood, and his skin was growing so yellow as to indicate some latent disease. By his own account he had no regular connection with the colony of his fellow countrymen out there and almost no social intercourse with Russian families, so that he was resigning himself to becoming a permanent bachelor.

What could one write to such a man, who had obviously run off the rails, a man one could be sorry for but could not help. Should one advise him to come home, to transplant himself and take up his old friendships again - there was nothing to hinder him - and in general to rely on the help of his friends? But that was as good as telling him, and the more kindly the more offensively, that all his efforts hitherto had miscarried, that he should finally give up, come back home, and be gaped at by everyone as a returned prodigal, that only his friends knew what was what and that he himself was just a big child who should do what his successful and home-keeping friends prescribed. And was it certain, besides, that all the pain one would have to inflict on him would achieve its object? Perhaps it would not even be possible to get him to come home at all - he said himself that he was now out of touch with commerce in his native country - and then he would still be left an alien in a foreign land embittered by his friends' advice and more than ever estranged from them. But if he did follow their advice and then didn't fit in at home - not out of malice, of course, but through force of circumstances - couldn't get on with his friends or without them, felt humiliated, couldn't be said to have either friends or a country of his own any longer, wouldn't it have been better for him to stay abroad just as he was? Taking all this into account, how could one be sure that he would make a success of life at home?

For such reasons, supposing one wanted to keep up correspondence with him, one could not send him any real news such as could frankly be told to the most distant acquaintance. It was more than three years since his last visit, and for this he offered the lame excuse that the political situation in Russia was too uncertain, which apparently would not permit even the briefest absence of a small businessman while it allowed hundreds of thousands of Russians to travel peacefully abroad. But during these three years Georg's own position in life had changed a lot. Two years ago his mother had died, since when he and his father had shared the household together, and his friend had of course been informed of that and had expressed his sympathy in a letter phrased so dryly that the grief caused by such an event, one had to conclude, could not be realized in a distant country. Since that time, however, Georg had applied himself with greater determination to the business as well as to everything else.

Perhaps during his mother's lifetime his father's insistence on having everything his own way in the business had hindered him from developing any real activity of his own, perhaps since her death his father had become less aggressive, although he was still active in the business, perhaps it was mostly due to an accidental run of good fortune - which was very probable indeed - but at any rate during those two years the business had developed in a most unexpected way, the staff had had to be doubled, the turnover was five times as great; no doubt about it, further progress lay just ahead.

But Georg's friend had no inkling of this improvement. In earlier years, perhaps for the last time in that letter of condolence, he had tried to persuade Georg to emigrate to Russia and had enlarged upon the prospects of success for precisely Georg's branch of trade. The figures quoted were microscopic by comparison with the range of Georg's present operations. Yet he shrank from letting his friend know about his business success, and if he were to do it now retrospectively that certainly would look peculiar.

So Georg confined himself to giving his friend unimportant items of gossip such as rise at random in the memory when one is idly thinking things over on a quiet Sunday. All he desired was to leave undisturbed the idea of the home town which his friend must have built up to his own content during the long interval. And so it happened to Georg that three times in three fairly widely separated letters he had told his friend about the engagement of an unimportant man to an equally unimportant girl, until indeed, quite contrary to his intentions, his friend began to show some interest in this notable event.

Yet Georg preferred to write about things like these rather than to confess that he himself had got engaged a month ago to a Fraulein Frieda Brandenfeld, a girl from a well-to-do family. He often discussed this friend of his with his fiancee and the peculiar relationship that had developed between them in their correspondence. 'So he won't be coming to our wedding,' said she, 'and yet I have a right to get to know all your friends.' 'I don't want to trouble him,' answered Georg, 'don't misunderstand me, he would probably come, at least I think so, but he would feel that his hand had been forced and he would be hurt, perhaps he would envy me and certainly he'd be discontented and without being able to do anything about his discontent he'd have to go away again alone. Alone - do you know what that means?' 'Yes, but may he not hear about our wedding in some other fashion?' 'I can't prevent that, of course, but it's unlikely, considering the way he lives.' 'Since your friends are like that, Georg, you shouldn't ever have got engaged at all.' 'Well, we're both to blame for that; but I wouldn't have it any other way now.' And when, breathing quickly under his kisses, she still brought out: 'All the same, I do feel upset,' he thought it could not really involve him in trouble were he to send the news to his friend. 'That's the kind of man I am and he'll just have to take me as I am,' he said to himself, 'I can't cut myself to another pattern that might make a more suitable friend for him.'

And in fact he did inform his friend, in the long letter he had been writing that Sunday morning, about his engagement, with these words: 'I have saved my best news to the end. I have got engaged to a Fraulein Frieda Brandenfeld, a girl from a well-to-do family, who only came to live here a long time after you went away, so that you're hardly likely to know her. There will be time to tell you more about her later, for today let me just say that I am very happy and as between you and me the only difference in our relationship is that instead of a quite ordinary kind of friend you will now have in me a happy friend. Besides that, you will acquire in my fiancee, who sends her warm greetings and will soon write you herself, a genuine friend of the opposite sex, which is not without importance to a bachelor. I know that there are many reasons why you can't come to see us, but would not my wedding be precisely the right occasion for giving all obstacles the go-by? Still, however that may be, do just as seems good to you without regarding any interests but your own.'

With this letter in his hand Georg had been sitting a long time at the writing table, his face turned toward the window. He had barely acknowledged, with an absent smile, a greeting waved to him from the street by a passing acquaintance.

At last he put the letter in his pocket and went out of his room across a small lobby into his father's room, which he had not entered for months. There was in fact no need for him to enter it, since he saw his father daily at business and they took their midday meal together at an eating house; in the evening, it was true, each did as he pleased, yet even then, unless Georg - as mostly happened - went out with friends or, more recently, visited his fiancee, they always sat for a while, each with his newspaper, in their common sitting room.

It surprised Georg how dark his father's room was even on this sunny morning. So it was overshadowed as much as that by the high wall on the other side of the narrow courtyard. His father was sitting by the window in a corner hung with various mementoes of Georg's dead mother, reading a newspaper which he held to one side before his eyes in an attempt to overcome a defect of vision. On the table stood the remains of his breakfast, not much of which seemed to have been eaten.

'Ah, Georg,' said his father, rising at once to meet him. His heavy dressing gown swung open as he walked and the skirts of it fluttered around him. -'My father is still a giant of a man,' said Georg to himself.

'It's unbearably dark here,' he said aloud.

'Yes, it's dark enough,' answered his father.

'And you've shut the window, too?'

'I prefer it like that.'

'Well, it's quite warm outside,' said Georg, as if continuing his previous remark, and sat down.

His father cleared away the breakfast dishes and set them on a chest.

'I really only wanted to tell you,' went on Georg, who had been vacantly following the old man's movements, 'that I am now sending the news of my engagement to St. Petersburg.' He drew the letter a little way from his pocket and let it drop back again.

'To St. Petersburg?' asked his father.

'To my friend there,' said Georg, trying to meet his father's eye. - In business hours he's quite different, he was thinking, how solidly he sits here with his arms crossed.

'Oh yes. To your friend,' said his father, with peculiar emphasis.

'Well, you know, Father, that I wanted not to tell him about my engagement at first. Out of consideration for him, that was the only reason. You know yourself he's a difficult man. I said to myself that someone else might tell him about my engagement, although he's such a solitary creature that that was hardly likely - I couldn't prevent that - but I wasn't ever going to tell him myself.'

'And now you've changed your mind?' asked his father, laying his enormous newspaper on the window sill and on top of it his spectacles, which he covered with one hand.

'Yes, I've been thinking it over. If he's a good friend of mine, I said to myself, my being happily engaged should make him happy too. And so I wouldn't put off telling him any longer. But before I posted the letter I wanted to let you know.'

'Georg,' said his father, lengthening his toothless mouth, 'listen to me! You've come to me about this business, to talk it over with me. No doubt that does you honor. But it's nothing, it's worse than nothing, if you don't tell me the whole truth. I don't want to stir up matters that shouldn't be mentioned here. Since the death of our dear mother certain things have been done that aren't right. Maybe the time will come for mentioning them, and maybe sooner than we think. There's many a thing in the business I'm not aware of, maybe it's not done behind my back - I'm not going to say that it's done behind my back - I'm not equal to things any longer, my memory's failing, I haven't an eye for so many things any longer. That's the course of nature in the first place, and in the second place the death of our dear mother hit me harder than it did you. - But since we're talking about it, about this letter, I beg you, Georg, don't deceive me. It's a trivial affair, it's hardly worth mentioning, so don't deceive me. Do you really have this friend in St. Petersburg?'

Georg rose in embarrassment. 'Never mind my friends. A thousand friends wouldn't make up to me for my father. Do you know what I think? You're not taking enough care of yourself. But old age must be taken care of. I can't do without you in the business, you know that very well, but if the business is going to undermine your health, I'm ready to close it down tomorrow forever. And that won't do. We'll have to make a change in your way of living. But a radical change. You sit here in the dark, and in the sitting room you would have plenty of light. You just take a bite of breakfast instead of properly keeping up your strength. You sit by a closed window, and the air would be so good for you. No, Father! I'll get the doctor to come, and we'll follow his orders. We'll change your room, you can move into the front room and I'll move in here. You won't notice the change, all your things will be moved with you. But there's time for all that later, I'll put you to bed now for a little, I'm sure you need to rest. Come, I'll help you to take off your things, you'll see I can do it. Or if you would rather go into the front room at once, you can lie down in my bed for the present. That would be the most sensible thing.'

Georg stood close beside his father, who had let his head with its unkempt white hair sink on his chest.

'Georg,' said his father in a low voice, without moving.

Georg knelt down at once beside his father, in the old man's weary face he saw the pupils, overlarge, fixedly looking at him from the corners of the eyes.

'You have no friend in St. Petersburg. You've always been a leg-puller and you haven't even shrunk from pulling my leg. How could you have a friend out there! I can't believe it.'

'Just think back a bit, Father,' said Georg, lifting his father from the chair and slipping off his dressing gown as he stood feebly enough, 'it'll soon be three years since my friend came to see us last. I remember that you used not to like him very much. At least twice I kept you from seeing him, although he was actually sitting with me in my room. I could quite well understand your dislike of him, my friend has his peculiarities. But then, later, you got on with him very well. I was proud because you listened to him and nodded and asked him questions. If you think back you're bound to remember. He used to tell us the most incredible stories of the Russian Revolution. For instance, when he was on a business trip to Kiev, and ran into a riot, and saw a priest on a balcony who cut a broad cross in blood on the palm of his hand and held the hand up and appealed to the mob. You've told that story yourself once or twice since.'

Meanwhile Georg had succeeded in lowering his father down again and carefully taking off the woolen drawers he wore over his linen underpants and his socks. The not particularly clean appearance of his underwear made him reproach himself for having been neglectful. It should have certainly been his duty to see that his father had clean changes of underwear. He had not yet explicitly discussed with his bride-to-be what arrangements should be made for his father in the future, for they had both of them silently taken it for granted that the old man would go on living alone in the old house. But now he made a quick, firm decision to take him into his own future establishment. It almost looked, on closer inspection, as if the care he meant to lavish there on his father might come too late.

He carried his father to bed in his arms. It gave him a dreadful feeling to notice that while he took the few steps toward the bed the old man on his breast was playing with his watch chain. He could not lay him down on the bed for a moment, so firmly did he hang on to the watch chain.

But as soon as he was laid in bed, all seemed well. He covered himself up and even drew the blankets farther than usual over his shoulders. He looked up at Georg with a not unfriendly eye.

'You begin to remember my friend, don't you?' asked Georg, giving him an encouraging nod.

'Am I well covered up now?' asked his father, as if he were not able to see whether his feet were properly tucked in or not.

'So you find it snug in bed already,' said Georg, and tucked the blankets more closely around him.

'Am I well covered up?' asked the father once more, seeming to be strangely intent upon the answer.

'Don't worry, you're well covered up.'

'No!' cried his father, cutting short the answer, threw the blankets off with a strength that sent them all flying in a moment and sprang erect in bed. Only one hand lightly touched the ceiling to steady him.

'You wanted to cover me up, I know, my young sprig, but I'm far from being covered up yet. And even if this is the last strength I have, it's enough for you, too much for you. Of course I know your friend. He would have been a son after my own heart. That's why you've been playing him false all these years. Why else? Do you think I haven't been sorry for him? And that's why you had to lock yourself up in your office - the Chief is busy, mustn't be disturbed - just so that you could write your lying little letters to Russia. But thank goodness a father doesn't need to be taught how to see through his son. And now that you thought you'd got him down, so far down that you could set your bottom on him and sit on him and he wouldn't move, then my fine son makes up his mind to get married!'

Georg stared at the bogey conjured up by his father. His friend in St. Petersburg, whom his father suddenly knew too well, touched his imagination as never before. Lost in the vastness of Russia he saw him. At the door of an empty, plundered warehouse he saw him. Among the wreckage of his showcases, the slashed remnants of his wares, the falling gas brackets, he was just standing up. Why did he have to go so far away!

'But attend to me!' cried his father, and Georg, almost distracted, ran toward the bed to take everything in, yet came to a stop halfway.

'Because she lifted up her skirts,' his father began to flute, 'because she lifted her skirts like this, the nasty creature,' and mimicking her he lifted his shirt so high that one could see the scar on his thigh from his war wound, 'because she lifted her skirts like this and this you made up to her, and in order to make free with her undisturbed you have disgraced your mother's memory, betrayed your friend, and stuck your father into bed so that he can't move. But he can move, or can't he?'

And he stood up quite unsupported and kicked his legs out. His insight made him radiant.

Georg shrank into a corner, as far away from his father as possible. A long time ago he had firmly made up his mind to watch closely every least movement so that he should not be surprised by any indirect attack, a pounce from behind or above. At this moment he recalled this long-forgotten resolve and forgot it again, like a man drawing a short thread through the eye of a needle.

'But your friend hasn't been betrayed after all!' cried his father, emphasizing the point with stabs of his forefinger. 'I've been representing him here on the spot.'

'You comedian!' Georg could not resist the retort, realized at once the harm done and, his eyes starting in his head, bit his tongue back, only too late, till the pain made his knees give.

'Yes, of course I've been playing a comedy! A comedy! That's a good expression! What other comfort was left to a poor old widower? Tell me - and while you're answering me be you still my living son - what else was left to me, in my back room, plagued by a disloyal staff, old to the marrow of my bones? And my son strutting through the world, finishing off deals that I had prepared for him, bursting with triumphant glee, and stalking away from his father with the closed face of a respectable businessman! Do you think I didn't love you, I, from whom you are sprung?'

Now he'll lean forward, thought Georg, what if he topples and smashes himself! These words went hissing through his mind.

His father leaned forward but did not topple. Since Georg did not come any nearer, as he had expected, he straightened himself again.

'Stay where you are, I don't need you! You think you have strength enough to come over here and that you're only hanging back of your own accord. Don't be too sure! I am still much the stronger of us two. All by myself I might have had to give way, but your mother has given me so much of her strength that I've established a fine connection with your friend and I have your customers here in my pocket!'

'He has pockets even in his shirt!' said Georg to himself, and believed that with this remark he could make him an impossible figure for all the world. Only for a moment did he think so, since he kept on forgetting everything.

'Just take your bride on your arm and try getting in my way! I'll sweep her from your very side, you don't know how!'

Georg made a grimace of disbelief. His father only nodded, confirming the truth of his words, toward Georg's corner.

'How you amused me today, coming to ask me if you should tell your friend about your engagement. He knows it already, you stupid boy, he knows it all! I've been writing to him, for you forgot to take my writing things away from me. That's why he hasn't been here for years, he knows everything a hundred times better than you do yourself, in his left hand he crumples your letters unopened while in his right hand he holds up my letters to read through!'

In his enthusiasm he waved his arm over his head. 'He knows everything a thousand times better!' he cried.

'Ten thousand times!' said Georg, to make fun of his father, but in his very mouth the words turned into deadly earnest.

'For years I've been waiting for you to come with some such question! Do you think I concern myself with anything else? Do you think I read my newspapers? Look!' and he threw Georg a newspaper sheet which he had somehow taken to bed with him. An old newspaper, with a name entirely unknown to Georg.

'How long a time you've taken to grow up! Your mother had to die, she couldn't see the happy day, your friend is going to pieces in Russia, even three years ago he was yellow enough to be thrown away, and as for me, you see what condition I'm in. You have eyes in your head for that!'

'So you've been lying in wait for me!' cried Georg.

His father said pityingly, in an offhand manner: 'I suppose you wanted to say that sooner. But now it doesn't matter.' And in a louder voice: 'So now you know what else there was in the world besides yourself, till now you've known only about yourself! An innocent child, yes, that you were, truly, but still more truly have you been a devilish human being! - And therefore take note: I sentence you now to death by drowning!'

Georg felt himself urged from the room, the crash with which his father fell on the bed behind him was still in his ears as he fled. On the staircase, which he rushed down as if its steps were an inclined plane, he ran into his charwoman on her way up to do the morning cleaning of the room. 'Jesus!' she cried, and covered her face with her apron, but he was already gone. Out of the front door he rushed, across the roadway, driven toward the water. Already he was grasping at the railings as a starving man clutches food. He swung himself over, like the distinguished gymnast he had once been in his youth, to his parents' pride. With weakening grip he was still holding on when he spied between the railings a motor-bus coming which would easily cover the noise of his fall, called in a low voice: 'Dear parents, I have always loved you, all the same,' and let himself drop.

At this moment an unending stream of traffic was just going over the bridge.

Back to Franz Kafka stories index.










 


        那是一个美好的春天,星期日上午,乔治贝登曼,这个年青的商人坐在他家二楼的房间里,这座低矮的房子是属于简易建筑。这些简易房子沿着河道向前伸展,模式一样,只是在高度和颜色方面有所区别。乔治贝登曼正写完了一封信,这封信是他写给在国外的年青时代的朋友的,他好玩似的,磨磨蹭蹭地封好了信,然后他将肘关节搁在桌子上,看着窗外的河流,桥梁和对岸的高地,岸上已显示出一种嫩绿的颜色。他回想起他的这位朋友,当时是如何不满意留在家里发展,几年前就逃离家庭,合法地前往俄国。他在彼得堡开了一家商店,开始好过一段时间,但接着很长时间以来似乎不景气。如同他的这位朋友在越来越少的拜访中向贝登曼诉说的那样。这样,他在国外的一切辛苦均属徒劳了。
  他朋友的脸自孩提时代起他就是很熟悉的,不过朋友的外国式的络腮胡子并没有将他的面部衬托出一种美感来,他的黄皮肤似乎透露出他正在发展的病情。如他所述,他跟同胞们在那里的居住区没有一种正常的联系,和当地的居民也没有社交上的往来,以致如今还是一个单身。
  对这样一个人写信,应该写些什么呢?
  像他这样一个公开固执的人,一个令人惋惜的人,一个使人无法帮助的人,应该劝他重返故里,恢复一切旧交——那是不成问题的——以取得朋友们的帮助吗?这样做,越是出于爱护他的好心,越是伤害了他的感情,如此而已。这样劝说就意味着他在国外的尝试失败了,他还得依靠国内的亲友,他还得像吃回头草的马一样被大家目瞪口呆地惊奇一番。倘若回国,只有他的朋友们或许还理解他一些,他就得像一个大小孩一样追随那些在家发展,事业有成的朋友了。还有一点不能肯定,他所遭受的痛苦有一个目的吗?也许根本不可能将他劝回来——他自己就说过,他对故土的情况已经陌生——所以,他虽处境艰难,仍然留在外国,劝他回国的建议使他愁眉苦脸,和朋友们更加疏远。不过如果他真的接受建议,他在这里是不会被压垮的,当然,不是讲主观愿望,而是实事求是。他不生活在朋友之中,就无法明白这点,就会不好意思,就觉得真的不再有祖国,不再有朋友了;回来对他没有什么好处,所以他还留在国外,是这么回事吗?在这种情况下,能设想他回来后会好好干么?
  由于上述原因,如果还要和他保持诚实的书信来往,就不要对他打官腔,像一些无耻之徒对只有泛泛之交的熟人所做的那样。这位朋友其实只有三年多一点的时间不在国内。他解释说,这是由于当时的俄国政治情况不稳定,这种不稳定使得一个小商人不宜于离开俄国,而正在这个时候,俄国人成千上万地在全世界大转悠,我朋友的这种解释只能说是一种应急的托辞。
  在这三年中,乔治却发生了很大的变化。两年以前乔治的母亲去世,自那以后他和他年迈的父亲一起生活,对此乔治的朋友是知道的,他在一封信里曾以枯燥的语言表示过慰问。语言枯燥的原因可能在于国外对丧事进行慰问是不可想象的事情。从那时起,乔治像处理其它事情一样,也以较大的决心对他的公司进行振作。当他母亲在世时,父亲在公司里总是一个人说了算,也许正因为这样,父亲曾阻止过乔治进行自己的活动。母亲去世以后,父亲仍然在公司里工作,尽管如此,或许工作上变得冷淡一些了,——或许是时来运转吧——都只是或许而已。公司在最近两年有了出乎意料的发展。员工增加了一倍,营业额翻了五倍,毫无疑问,公司还将继续发展。
  朋友并不知道乔治的变化。起先,他给乔的慰问信中,也就是最后一封信中,曾劝说乔治到俄罗斯去发展,即到彼得堡去开一家分公司。分公司的规模很小,乔治目前认可这种规模。但当时乔治不想向他朋友报告他在业务上的发展,如果他现在补充叙述一下,那就真是会让他朋友惊奇一番的。
  但乔治的信只局限于过去一些零乱堆砌的回忆。诸如回想起某个宁静的星期天之类,他只是信笔挥洒过去的事情,这都是长期以来故土给他的朋友留下的印象,朋友对这些印象是很满意的。乔治对朋友还报道了一个冷漠的男人和冷漠的姑娘的婚约,乔治和朋友的信,往返之间路隔千里,但乔治三次提到此事,以致朋友对乔治在信中的观点开始产生了兴趣。
  乔治宁愿写这些事情而不想谈自己的经历。其实就在一个月以前他和一个富裕的名叫付丽达勃兰登非尔德的小姐订了婚,他经常和未婚妻谈论这位朋友,以及他们之间特殊的通信联系,未婚妻说:“他根本不会来参加我们的婚礼,我有权认识你所有的朋友。”
  “我不想打扰他。”乔治回答:“我了解,他或许会来,至少我是这样认为的。但他有点被迫,并且感到有损于自己,或许他会嫉妒我,肯定不满意,但又无力消除这种不满,于是重新孤独地回去,孤独地,——你知道孤独是什么吗?是的,那我们可不可以用其它方式让他知道我们结婚的事?”“我不反对这样做,但以他的那种生活方式,这不一定行得通。”
  “如果你有这样的朋友真不应该和我订婚。”“是的,这是我们两个人的责任。但我现在并不想另有打算。”这时乔治吻着她,她有些喘气,但还接着说:“这事使我伤心。”但他认为,给朋友写信好办。“我赞成,他必须容忍我。”他自言自语地说,“赞成我和他的友谊,恐怕除我本人外,再没有第二个人更合适了。”
  事实上他在星期日上午写的那封信中已向他的朋友报告了他订婚的事。谈到这件事的时候,他说了如下的话:“最后我向你报告一个最好的消息,我已和付丽达勃兰登菲尔德小姐订婚,她家庭富有,她是在长期旅行之后才定居在我们这里的,你不可能认识她,反正以后我有机会向你详细谈到她。我现在很幸福,在我们彼此的关系中仅就这方面而言是发生了一些变化,作为你的朋友,我原本是平常的,现在则是幸福的,我的这种变化就足以使你高兴了。我的未婚妻向你真诚地问候,以后她还要向你亲自写信,她会成为你的真诚的女友,这对于一个单身汉来说不是完全没有意义的事情。我知道你百事缠身,不可能来看望我们,但是参加我们的婚礼不正是你摆脱杂事的一个良机吗?当然,你不要考虑太多,还是按你自己的主意行事。”
  乔治手里拿着这封信,长时间地坐在桌子旁边,脸对着窗口。一个熟人从大街过来向他打招呼,乔治还给他的只是一个几乎难以察觉的笑容。
  他终于将信放进口袋里,从他房里出来,经过一个小的过道走进他父亲的房间。几个月来他已经没有在父亲的这房间里呆过了。平常,父亲也不勉强他进来。他和他父亲的接触经常是在公司里进行的,而且他们天天在一个饭馆里共进午餐。至于晚餐,则各人随意。但要不是乔治事多,经常和朋友们在一起,或者去看望未婚妻的话,他们父子还是常常一起坐在客厅各看各的报纸。乔治很惊奇地看到,甚至在今天上午这样阳光灿烂的日子里,他父亲房间的光线也这样暗淡。对面耸立着的一堵窄狭的院墙挡住了阳光,父亲坐在房间一角的窗口旁边。在这个角落里装饰了许多纪念品,以怀念已经去世的母亲。父亲手里拿着的报纸偏向侧面,以便调节眼力,桌子上放着剩下的早餐,看来父亲并未吃多少。
  “啊!乔治。”父亲说着,立即迎面走来。沉重的睡衣在走路时敞开着,下面的衣摆在他周围飘动着。——“我的父亲还总是一个巨人,”他想。
  “这里真是太暗,”然后他说。
  “是的,够暗了。”父亲回答说。
  “你把窗户也关上了吗?”
  “我喜欢这样。”
  “外面已经很暖和了。”他像追怀过去一样,并且坐下。父亲收拾餐具,放在一个柜上。
  乔治不再注意他父亲的动作,继续说:
  “我想告诉你,我已经把订婚的事告诉彼得堡了。”他在口袋里将信捏了一下,又放下了。
  “为什么告诉彼得堡?彼得堡?”父亲问。
  “告诉我的朋友。”乔治说,并探索父亲的眼光。——“在公司里,他可是另外一回事。”他想,“他在这里多么大度啊!两臂交叉在胸前。”
  “啊,给你的朋友。”父亲说这话时加重了语气。
  “你可是知道的,父亲,起先我并没有透露订婚的事。考虑到,并不是出于别的原因,你自己知道,他是一个难以对付的人,我是说,虽然他和外界交往很少,不大可能知道我们的情况,但他还是有可能从别的渠道了解到我的婚约,这我无法阻挡。可是就我本心而言,他不宜知道我们的事。”
  “而你现在又另有想法了吗?”父亲问,并将报纸搁在窗台上,眼镜又放在报纸上手正盖住眼镜。
  “是的,我重新考虑过,如果他是我的好朋友,我是说,我的幸福的婚事对他来说也是一种幸福。所以我不再犹豫了,我就把这事情写信告诉他。然而我发信以前还是给你说一下。”
  “乔治,”父亲说,将他无牙的嘴拉宽。“听着,你是为了这事来我这里讨主意的,你当然是出于好心。但这是小事一桩,不足挂齿。如果你不把全部事情的真情实况告诉我,我就不会管公司业务以外的事。自你母亲去世以后出现了一些不愉快的事情。也许她应该来了,或许她来得比我们想象的要早些。在公司,有些事我已经管不着了,这我知道——我现在根本就不想管,这一点,外人并不知道——我现在精力不够,记忆力衰退,我无力顾及所有事情,一方面这是自然规律,另外,老太太去世以后给我的打击之深超过了你。——但是因为我们现在涉及到这件事情,涉及到这封信。乔治,你不要骗我,这是件小事情,不值一提,所以你不要骗我,在彼得堡你真的有这么一个朋友吗?”
  乔治尴尬地站起来,“我们不要谈朋友了,一千个朋友也替代不了我父亲,你知道我是怎么想的吗?你对自己爱护得不够,年龄大了应该得到合理的照顾。你在我的公司里是不可缺少的,这一点你知道得很清楚。但如果公司繁忙的业务影响到你的健康,那是不行的,我明天还是这样说,永远这样说。我们必须给你安排另一种生活方式彻底改变你的生活,你坐在黑暗之中,在房间里,你本来应该有充足的阳光,你胡乱用点早饭,而不是按规定加强营养;你坐在关着的窗户旁边,而空气流通对你有好处。不行,我的父亲,我要请医生来,我们将按他的指示办事,我们要更换你的房间,你应该住到前面房子里,我搬到这里。不再另打主意。一切有人料理,料理一切,我们还有时间,现在你就在床上躺一会儿,你绝对需要休息,就这样,我可以帮你换房间,你会明白我能办到,要么你现在就到前房去。你就在我床上躺一会。再说,你是很明智的。”
  乔治刚站在父亲的身边,父亲这时满头蓬松的白发落在胸前。
  “乔治,”父亲站着没动,小声地说。乔治立刻跪在父亲身边,他看着父亲疲倦的脸,觉得他眼角中直愣愣的瞳孔特别的大。“你说有朋友在彼得堡,你本是一个总喜欢开玩笑的人,连对我也不稍事收敛,你怎么会有一个朋友在那里呢?我一点都不相信。”
  “你回想一下,父亲。”乔治说,把父亲从沙发上扶起,他站着,还是相当无力。这时,乔治替他父亲脱掉睡衣。“我朋友来看我们时距今已经过去快三年了,我还记得,你当时并不特别喜欢他。在你跟前我至少有两次否认他是我的朋友。尽管如此,他有两次坐在我的房间里,你不喜欢他,我完全可以理解,他有些怪僻;但其后你和他聊过一回,很谈得来。你听他讲话,既点头又提问,当时我对此还很得意。要是你想一想,你肯定能回忆起来,他当时还谈起过俄国革命的一些难以置信的故事。例如他在一次商业旅行到基辅时,在一次混乱中他看到一个牧师站在阳台上,用带血的十字架刺伤手掌,举起这个受伤的手,呼吁群众,你还将这个故事到处传说。”这时,乔治得以让父亲重新坐下,将他麻织裤衩上的罩裤和毛裤小心地脱了下来。在看到他的不怎么特别干净的背心时,他就责怪父亲疏忽,要给父亲更换一件背心,这肯定也是他乔治的责任。他还没有明显给未婚妻谈到如何安排他父亲的事,因为他们暗暗地定下了父亲应该留在老房子里。然而现在他忽然决定要将他父亲一起搬到他自己未来的新居去,但如果仔细观察一下,这种对父亲的照料似乎来得太晚了。他抱着父亲上床,这时他有一种可怕的感觉,他抱着向床前走了几步,这时他注意到,父亲在抚弄他胸口的表链,他不能立刻将父亲搁在床上,表链牢牢地系在自己身上。
  他躺在床上,似乎一切都很好,他自己盖好被子,甚至特别将被子拉到肩上,他朝上望着乔治,眼神并非不友好。
  “对吗?你想起了他吧?”乔治问,并且鼓励似地朝他点了点头。
  “我现在盖好了吗?”父亲问,好像他看不到下面,不知脚是否盖得够。
  “你喜欢在床上。”乔治说,给他周围的被子盖好。
  “我盖好了吗?”父亲再次问,似乎特别注意乔治的回答。
  “安静点!你的被子盖好了。”
  “没有!”父亲叫起来,乔治的话被碰了回来。
  父亲将被子一掀。转瞬之间被子立刻全部掀开了。父亲在床上用劲站起来了。
  只是他将一只手撑着天花板,“我不知道,你要给我盖好被子,你这个饭桶,但是我的被子还没有盖好,这也是我最后的力量,但足以对付你了呢,绰绰有余。也许我认识你的朋友,他说不定还是我中意的儿子呢!在这个问题上,你也一直骗了他几年,究竟为什么呢?你以为我没有为他哭泣过吗!你把自己关在办公室,谁也不可以打扰你,经理忙着呢——就是为的写这封到俄国的骗人的信,幸亏无人启发父亲,以便看透儿子。如同你认为的那样,你已经打败了他,他败到如此程度,你的屁股坐在他头上,他一动一动。这时,我的公子决定结婚了。”
  乔治这时看到了他父亲一副可怕的形象,父亲忽然如此了解彼得堡的朋友,这位朋友,还从来没有这样感动过他。乔治看着他消失在遥远的俄罗斯,他看见他站在空荡的被抢光的商店的门边,所有货架犹如一片废墟,他就站在这废墟之中,货物撕碎了,煤气灯支架掉落了,他还站在这一堆废物之中,为什么要去那么远的地方啊!
  “看着我。”父亲叫喊起来。乔治几乎是心不在焉地向床前跑去,去抓住一切,但半路上停顿了。
  “因为她撩起了裙子。”父亲说话开始温和起来。
  “因为她撩起了裙子,这只令人讨厌的笨鹅。”父亲卷上他的睡衣,卷得如此之高。
  以致显露大腿上战争年代留下的疤痕。“因为她把裙子撩得老高,老高,你已经跟她粘上了,毫无阻拦地满意她了。这玷污了对母亲的怀念,出卖了朋友,把父亲搁在床上,使他不得动弹,但是他能不能动弹呢?”他完全身手自如地站起来了,甩着腿,他由于自己的明智而兴高采烈。
  乔治站在角落里,离他父亲尽可能的远,他决心对一切进行仔细的观察,以备无论怎样绕弯子也不致于遭到从背后来的、上面来的各种袭击而惊慌失措。他现在忽而又想起了他忘记好久的决定,忘记了,如同用一根短线穿过针眼一样,断了线。
  “朋友没有被出卖!”父亲叫喊道。父亲的食指摇来晃去,这加强了他说话的分量。“我就是他在此地的代表。”“你耍花招,”乔治不得不喊出来,但他立刻意识到这是一种损失,但已经迟了。他咬住舌头,眼睛直愣愣的,他咬住舌头痛得跌倒了。
  “是的,我当然是耍了花招,花招这是个很好的词!“你对于年老的鳏夫,你的父亲,你还有什么别的安慰吗?说呀!回答的此时此刻,你还是我的活生生的儿子呀——给我留下什么呢?让不老实的人在我房间里跟踪我,直到我剩一把老骨头吗?而我的儿子则满世界地欢呼。关闭公司,这我已经准备好了。你由于消遣而翻了跟斗。板着一副诚实君子的面孔到你父亲跟前来。我已经不喜欢你了,从我这里出去吧,你认为呢?”
  “他要是倒下,会先向前倾斜的。”乔治心里想,这句话已经冒入脑海,父亲向前倾斜,但并未倒下来。因为乔治没有向他父亲前面靠,如同他所预料的,父亲又站起来了。
  “不要动,就地站着,我不需要你。你以为你还有力量到这儿来,不要过来了,因为你愿意这样,你没有搞错,我还是很强壮的,要是我孤单一人,也许我还会退让,但是你母亲给了我力量,我和你的朋友保持了良好的联系,你的顾客联系网在我口袋里。”
  “在他衬衫上还有口袋。”乔治心里想,他觉得他父亲的这一番话可以置他于死地。这事情他只想了一会儿,他总是把什么事都忘记。
  “去和你的那个婆娘缠到一起去吧,反对我吧。我把她从身边扫掉,你毫无办法。”
  乔治作了一个鬼脸,好像他不相信,父亲仅仅点了点头,然而,他所说的一切是真情实况,向着乔治所站的那一角宣布了。
  “你今天可来找我谈话,当你来的时候,你问我是否要写信将婚事告诉你的朋友。其实,你的朋友他一切都知道,蠢家伙,他什么都知道!我已经给他写过信,因为你忘记了将我的文房四宝拿走。虽然他几年来没有到我们这里,但他了解的情况比你本人要多。你写给他的信,他不看,揉成纸团放在左手里,而他的右手却捧着我的信在读。”由于激动,他的手臂在头上摇晃着。“他知道的事千倍于你!”他叫喊着。
  “千倍于我!”乔治嘲笑他父亲,但话还未出口,声音已经消失掉了。
  “几年来,我已注意到,你会带着这个问题找我的,你认为,还有别的问题折磨我吗?你以为我在看报纸吗?这里!”他将一张报纸扔过来。这是压在床下的一张旧报纸,上面有一个乔治完全不认识的名字。
  “在你成熟以前你犹豫了多久啊!母亲是要死去的,她看不到这种快乐的日子。朋友在俄罗斯毁灭了,还是三年以前他就因黄热病而被驱逐,我呢?如你所见,我就是这个样子。
  你可是有眼睛啊!”
  “你对我进行伏击!”乔治叫喊起来。
  父亲同情地补充说:“你本应说这话,但现在通不过了,”接着又大声地说:“现在你知道了,除你之外,还存在点什么,以前你只知道你自己,你原本是一个天真的小孩,但你原本又是一个魔鬼似的人物!我现在就判决你们的死刑,判决你从此消失。”乔治感到自己是从房间里被撵出来的,父亲在他自己背后往床上重重地一击,这一击的声音在他耳朵里回响。
  在楼梯上,他下台阶时,犹如在一块倾斜的平板上赶路一样,一下碰到了他的女佣,她正要去收拾房子。“我的天啊!”她用围裙捂着脸,但他已经逃走了。他从大门外一跳,越过车道直奔大河,作为一个优秀的体操运动员,他一跃而上,如同一个乞丐一样牢牢地抓住了桥上的栏杆。他本来就是优秀体操运动员,这在他年青时代就曾经是他父母的骄傲。他吊在栏杆上,手变得越来越软弱无力,但他仍然坚持着,在大桥的栏杆柱子之间,他看到一辆汽车轻松地驶过,汽车的喧嚣声可能要淹没他落水的悲壮之举。他轻声地叫道:“我的亲爱的爸爸妈妈,我可是一直爱着你们的啊!”然后落入水中。
  在这一瞬间,来往的交通从未中断。








          只看德语(German Only)                                                  只看英语(English Only)                                                只看汉语(Chinese Only)


网站首页 (Homepage)                                   前页(Previous Page)                                             下页(Next Page                                     返回 (Return)

 

          分类:              国芳多语对照文库 >> 德语-英语-汉语 >> 卡夫卡 >> 短篇小说      
    Categories:  Xie's Multilingual Corpus >> German-English-Chinese >> Kafka  >>  Short Novel               
                                        
    

 

 



                              Copyright 2001-2012 by Guofang Xie.    All Rights Reserved. 

                   谢国芳(Roy Xie)版权所有  2001-2012.   一切权利保留。
浙ICP备11050697号