听英文名着可以耳朵怀孕 | 里昂读《了不起的盖茨比》- 023

听英文名著可以耳朵怀孕

里昂读《了不起的盖茨比》

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　　At nine o’clock, one morning late in July, Gatsby’s gorgeous car lurched up the rocky drive to my door and gave out a burst of melody from its three-noted horn. It was the first time he had called on me, though I had gone to two of his parties, mounted in his hydroplane, and, at his urgent invitation, made frequent use of his beach.

七月末一天早上九点钟，盖茨比的华丽汽车沿着岩石车道一路颠到我门口停下，它那三个音符的喇叭发出一阵悦耳的音调。这是他第一次来看我，虽然我已经赴过两次他的晚会，乘过他的水上飞机，而且在他热情邀请之下时常借用他的海滩。

　　“Good morning, old sport. You’re having lunch with me to-day and I thought we’d ride up together.”

"早啊，老兄。你今天要和我一同吃午饭，我想我们就同车进城吧。"

　　He was balancing himself on the dashboard of his car with that resourcefulness of movement that is so peculiarly American—that comes, I suppose, with the absence of lifting work or rigid sitting in youth and, even more, with the formless grace of our nervous, sporadic games. This quality was continually breaking through his punctilious manner in the shape of restlessness. He was never quite still; there was always a tapping foot somewhere or the impatient opening and closing of a hand.

他站在他车子的挡泥板上，保持着身体的平衡，那种灵活的动作是美国人所特有的--我想这是由于年轻时候不干重活的缘故，更重要的是由于我们各种紧张剧烈的运动造成姿势自然而优美。这个特点不断地以坐立不安的形式突破他那拘谨的举止而流露出来。他一刻也不安静，总是有一只脚在什么地方轻轻拍着，要不然就是有一只手在不耐烦地一开一合。

　　He saw me looking with admiration at his car.

他瞧出我用赞赏的目光看着他的汽车。

　　“It’s pretty, isn’t it, old sport?” He jumped off to give me a better view. “Haven’t you ever seen it before?”

"这车子很漂亮，是不是，老兄？"他跳了下来，好让我看清楚一些，"你以前从来没看到过它吗？"

　　I’d seen it. Everybody had seen it. It was a rich cream color, bright with nickel, swollen here and there in its monstrous length with triumphant hat-boxes and supper-boxes and tool-boxes, and terraced with a labyrinth of wind-shields that mirrored a dozen suns. Sitting down behind many layers of glass in a sort of green leather conservatory, we started to town.

我看到过，大都看到过。车子是瑰丽的奶油色的，镀镍的地方闪光耀眼，车身长得出奇，四处鼓出帽子盒、大饭盒和工具盒，琳琅满目，还有层层叠叠的挡风玻璃反映出十来个太阳的光辉。我们在温室似的绿皮车厢里许多层玻璃后面坐下，向城里进发。

　　I had talked with him perhaps half a dozen times in the past month and found, to my disappointment, that he had little to say: So my first impression, that he was a person of some undefined consequence, had gradually faded and he had become simply the proprietor of an elaborate road-house next door.

过去一个月里，我大概跟他交谈过五六次。使我失望的是，我发现他没有多少话可说。因此我最初以为他是一位相当重要的人物的印象，已经渐渐消失，他只不过是隔壁一家豪华的郊外饭店的老板。

　　And then came that disconcerting ride. We hadn’t reached West Egg village before Gatsby began leaving his elegant sentences unfinished and slapping himself indecisively on the knee of his caramel-colored suit.

接着就发生了那次使我感到窘迫的同车之行。我们还没到西卵镇，盖茨比就开始把他文雅的句子说到一半就打住，同时犹疑不决地用手拍着他酱色酉装的膝盖。

　　“Look here, old sport,” he broke out surprisingly. “What’s your opinion of me, anyhow?”

"我说，老兄，"他出其不意地大声说，"你到底对我是怎么个看法？"

　　 A little overwhelmed, I began the generalized evasions which that question deserves.

我有点不知所措，就开始说一些含糊其词的话来搪塞。

　　“Well, I’m going to tell you something about my life,” he interrupted. “I don’t want you to get a wrong idea of me from all these stories you hear.”

"得啦，我来给你讲讲我自己的身世吧，"他打断了我的话。"你听到这么多闲话，我不希望你从中得到一个对我的错误看法。"

　　So he was aware of the bizarre accusations that flavored conversation in his halls.

原来他知道那些给他客厅里的谈话增添风趣的离奇的流言蜚语。

　　“I’ll tell you God’s truth.” His right hand suddenly ordered divine retribution to stand by. “I am the son of some wealthy people in the Middle West—all dead now. I was brought up in America but educated at Oxford, because all my ancestors have been educated there for many years. It is a family tradition.”

"上帝作证，我要跟你说老实话。"他的右手突然命令上天的惩罚做好准备。"我是中西部一个有钱人家的儿子--家里人都死光了。我是在美国长大的，可是在牛津受的教育，因为我家祖祖辈辈都是在牛津受教育的。这是个家庭传统。"

　　He looked at me sideways—and I knew why Jordan Baker had believed he was lying. He hurried the phrase “educated at Oxford,” or swallowed it, or choked on it, as though it had bothered him before. And with this doubt, his whole statement fell to pieces, and I wondered if there wasn’t something a little sinister about him, after all.

他斜着眼朝我望望--我这才明白为什么乔丹·贝克曾认为他撒谎。他把"在牛津受的教育"这句话匆匆带了过去，或者含糊其词，或者半吞半吐，仿佛这句话以前就使他犯嘀咕。有了这个疑点，他的整个自述就站不住脚了，因此我猜疑他终究是有点什么不可告人之处。

　　“What part of the Middle West?” I inquired casually.

"中西部什么地方？"我随便一问。

　　“San Francisco.”

"旧金山①。"

　　①旧金山在西部海岸，不属中西部。

　　“I see.”

"哦，是这样。"

　　“My family all died and I came into a good deal of money.”

"我家里人都死光了，因此我继承了很多钱。"

　　His voice was solemn, as if the memory of that sudden extinction of a clan still haunted him. For a moment I suspected that he was pulling my leg, but a glance at him convinced me otherwise.

他的声音很严肃，仿佛想起家族的突然消亡犹有余痛似的。有一会儿我怀疑他在捉弄我，但是看了他一眼后，我便相信不是那么回事。

　　“After that I lived like a young rajah in all the capitals of Europe—Paris, Venice, Rome—collecting jewels, chiefly rubies, hunting big game, painting a little, things for myself only, and trying to forget something very sad that had happened to me long ago.”

"后来我就像一个年轻的东方王公那样到欧洲各国首都去当寓公--巴黎、威尼斯、罗马--收藏以红宝石为主的珠宝也好，打打狮子老虎也好，画点儿画也罢，不过是为了自己消遣，同时尽量想忘掉好久以前一件使我非常伤心的事。"

　　With an effort I managed to restrain my incredulous laughter. The very phrases were worn so threadbare that they evoked no image except that of a turbaned “character.” leaking sawdust at every pore as he pursued a tiger through the Bois de Boulogne.

我好不容易才忍住不笑出来，因为他的话令人难以置信。他的措词本身那么陈腐，以致在我脑子里只能是这样的形象：一个裹着头巾的傀儡戏里的"角色"，在布龙公园①追着打老虎，一面跑一面从身子里每个孔洞里往外漏木屑。

　　①在巴黎郊外，有大片森林。