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第27章 一个古怪的梦 1（第1页）

第27章一个古怪的梦（1）

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马克·吐温MarkT>

马克·吐温（MarkTwain，1835—1910），美国幽默大师、小说家、著名演说家，19世纪后期美国现实主义文学的杰出代表。作品风格以幽默与讽刺为主，既富于独特的个人机智与妙语，又不乏深刻的社会洞察与剖析。主要的代表作品有《哈克贝利·费恩历险记》（长篇）、《百万英镑》（短篇）等。

Ihadasingulardream。Iseemedtobesittingonadoorstep（innoparticularcityperhaps）ruminating，aimeofobeabouttwelveoroneo'clock。Theweatherwasbalmyanddelicious。Therewasnohumansouevenafootstep。Therewasnosoundofanykindtoemphasizethedeadstillheoalhofadogiahefainteranswer。PresentlyupthestreetIheardabonyclag，awastheetsparty。Iallskeleton，hooded，andhalfatatteredandmoldyshroud，whoseshredsingabouttheribbylatticeworkofitsperson，swuhastatelystrideahegraygloomofthestarlight。Ithadabrokenaenitsshoulderandabuhinginitshaheclagwasthen；itarty'sjether，andhiselbowsknogagainsthissidesashewalked。ImaysayIrised。BeforeIythoughtsaerupoionsastoparitionmightporteheroneingfnizedhisclack-clack。Hehadtwo-thirdsofahisshoulder，aandheadboardsunderhisarm。Imightilywaopeerunderhishoodaohim，butwheurnedandsmiledupohhisoussodhisprojeashewentby，IthoughtIwouldainhim。Hewashardlygonewhehegagain，andanotheroheshadowyhalf-light。Thisonewasbendingunderaheavygravestone，anddraggingashabbyafterhimbyastritomehegavemeasteadylookforamomentortwo，andtheoaome，saying：

"Easethisdownforafellow，willyou？"

&hegravestoillitrestedontheground，andindoingsoborethe;JohnBaxteranhurst，"with"May，1839，"asthedateofhisdeath。Deceasedsatwearilydownbyme，andwipedhisosfrontalwithhismajormaxillary—chieflyfromformerhabitIjudged，forIotseethathebroughtairation。

"Itistoobad，toobad，"saidhe，drawioftheshroudabouthimandleaninghisjawpensivelyonhishahisleftfootuponhiskhisalywitharustynailwhichhegotoutofhis。

"Whatistoobad，friend？"

"，everything。IalmostwishIneverhaddied。"

"Yousurpriseme。Whydoyousaythis？Hasanythingg？Whatisthematter？"

"Matter！Lookatthisshrs。Lookatthisgravestoteredup。Lookatthatdisgracefulold。Allaman&#oingtoruiionbeforehiseyes，andaskhimifanythingiswrong？Fireandbrimsto;

"Calmyourself，calmyourself，"Isaid。"Itistoobad-itislytoobad，butthenIhadnotsupposedthatyouwouldmudsuchmatterssituatedasyouare。"

"Well，mydearsir，Idomindthem。Myprideishurt，andmypaired—destroyed，Imightsay。Iwillstatemycase—Iwillputittoyouinsuchawaythatyouprehendit，ifyouwillletme，"saidthepoorskeleton，tiltingthehoodofhisshroudback，asifheweregforadthusunsciouslygivinghimselfajauiveairverymuchatvariahegravecharacterofhispositioospeak—andirastwithhisdistressfulmood。

"Proceed，"saidI。

"Iresideintheshamefuloldgraveyardablockortwoaboveyouhere，inthisstreet—there，now，Ijustexpectedthatcartilagewouldletgo！—thirdribfromthebottom，friend，hitdofittomyspihastring，ifyouhavegotsugaboutyou，thoughabitofsilverleasanter，andmoredurableandbeipolished—tothiandgoihisway，justonatoftheindiffereofone'sposterity！"—andthepratedhisteethinawaythatgavemeawrendashiver—fortheeffectismightilyiheabsenufflingflesha;Iresideinthatoldgraveyard，ahesethirtyyears；ahingsaregedsilaidthisoldtiredframethere，andturretchedsleep，withadeliseuponmeofbeiher，andgrief，ay，anddoubt，andfear，foreverandever，ahfortableaisfatothesexton'swork，fromthestartlingclatterofhisfirstspadefulonmytillitdulledawaytothefaintpattingthatshapedtheroofofmynewhome-deliy！Iwishyoucouldtryittonight！"andoutofmyreveriedeceasedfetchedmearattlingslapwithabonyhand。