第三人(节选)
Graham Greene
格雷厄姆·格林
Somewhere behind the cake stall a man was whistling, and Martins knew the tune. He turned and waited. Was it fear or excitement that made his heart beat—or just the memories that tune ushered in, for life had always quickened when Harry came, came just as he came now, as though nothing much had happened, nobody had been lowered into a grave or found with cut throat in a basement, came with his amused, deprecating, take-it-or-leave-it manner—and of course one always took it.
蛋糕摊后有个人在吹着口哨,马丁斯熟悉这个曲子。他转过身来等待着。是什么让他的心怦怦直跳,是恐惧,是激动,或者仅仅是那首曲子唤起了他对往事的回忆?因为每当哈里一来,生活节奏便会加快。每次来都和这次一样,仿佛什么事情都不曾发生,没有人被埋进坟墓或是被发现在地下室里被割断了喉咙。他来了,看上去很高兴,玩世不恭,一副爱理不理的样子——当然总会有人理他。
"Harry."
“哈里!”
"Hullo, Rollo."
“你好,罗洛!”
Don't picture Harry Lime as a smooth scoundrel. He wasn't that. The picture I have of him on my files is an excellent one: he is caught by a street photographer with his stocky legs apart, big shoulders a little hunched, a belly that has known too much good food for too long, on his face a look of cheerful rascality, a geniality, a recognition that his happiness will make the world's day. Now he didn't make the mistake of putting out a hand that might have been rejected, but instead just patted Martins on the elbow and said, "How are things?"
不要把哈里·莱姆想象成一个处事圆滑的无赖。他并不是那样的人。我的档案夹里有一张他的照片,照得很棒:这是一位街头摄影师抓拍到的,哈里叉开着粗壮的双腿,宽阔的肩膀微微耸起,腆起长期享用美味佳肴的肚子,脸上一副兴高采烈的流氓神情,一副友好的样子,仿佛觉得他的幸福将使世人的生活生色不少似的。现在他没有冒失地把手伸过来,害怕那样会遭到拒绝,所以只是拍了拍马丁斯的胳膊肘说近来怎么样?”
We've got to talk, Harry.
“我们得谈谈,哈里。”
Of course.
“当然。”
Alone.
“单独谈谈。”
We couldn't be more alone than here.
“这儿没有别人。”
He had always known the ropes, and even in the smashed pleasure park he knew them, tipping the woman in charge of the Wheel, so that they might have a car to themselves.
他素谙做事的规则,甚至在这个破败的游乐场里他也熟知其中的一些门道。他给了那个看管摩天轮的妇女一点小费,这样他们就可以独自占用一个座舱。