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'What do ye want?' he asked.
“你要什么？”他问道。
'I've come here with a letter for Mr Ebenezer Balfour of Shaws. Is he here?'
“我带来一封给埃比尼泽·鲍尔弗·肖先生的信。他在吗？”
'Who is it from?' asked the man with the gun.
“谁的？”持枪的男人问道。
'That's none of your business,' I replied, getting angry.
“那与你无关。”我答道，变得生气了。
'Well, put the letter down by the door, and leave.'
“好，把信放到门边，走。”
'I will not!' I answered sharply. 'I'm going to give it to Mr Balfour himself. The letter introduces me to him.'
“我不！”我厉声答道，“我准备把信交给鲍尔弗先生本人。这封信把我引荐给他。”
'Who are ye then?' was the next question.
“那么，你是谁？”这是下一个问题。
'I'm not ashamed of my name. It's David Balfour.'
“我才不为我自己的名字而感到害臊呢。我叫戴维·鲍尔弗。”
The man almost dropped his gun. After a long while, he asked in a changed voice, 'Is your father dead?' I was too surprised to answer, but he continued, 'Aye, he must be dead, and that's why ye have come. Well, man, I'll let ye in,' and he disappeared from the window.
那个男人差一点把他的枪扔了。过了好一阵子，他才变了腔道问道：“你父亲去世了吗？”我因太惊讶了而回答不出来，但他继续道：“对，他一定是死了，那也是你来的原因。好吧，伙计，我会让你进来，”并从窗户那儿消失了。
Now the door was unlocked, and a voice from the darkness said, 'Go into the kitchen and touch nothing.' I obeyed, while the man locked the heavy door carefully again. I found myself in the emptiest kitchen that I had ever seen. There was a fire, but no other light. On the table was a bowl of porridge and a glass of water, in front of the only chair. Around the walls were several locked chests. There was no other furniture. The man who now appeared in the kitchen was small, mean-looking and white-faced, between fifty and seventy years old, and wearing a dirty old nightshirt. The worst thing about him was that he could neither take his eyes away from me, nor look straight into my face.
门现在打开了，黑暗中有个声音说道：“到厨房来，不准碰任何东西。”我照着他说的做了，与此同时那个男人小心翼翼地又把那扇沉沉的门锁上了。我发现自己站在我所见过的最空荡荡的厨房里。那儿有一堆火，但除此以外再没有别的光线了。唯一的一把椅子前的桌子上面放着一碗粥和一杯水。墙的四周摆放着几个锁着的柜子。除此以外，没有别的什么家具。现在在厨房里出现的那个男人身材矮小，形象猥琐，脸色苍白，约在五十岁到七十岁之间，穿着一件脏兮兮的旧睡衣。最糟糕的是他既不把视线从我身上移开，也不直视我的脸。
'If ye're hungry,' he said, 'ye can eat that porridge. It's grand food, porridge! Let me see the letter!'
“如果你饿了，”他说道，“你可以吃那碗粥。粥，可是好东西！让我看看信！”
'It's for Mr Balfour, not you,' I replied.
“信是给鲍尔弗先生的，不是给你的，”我说道。
'And who do ye think I am? Give me Alexander's letter! Ye may not like me or my house or my porridge, but I'm your born uncle, Davie, my man!'
“那么你以为我是谁啊？把亚历山大的信给我！你可能不喜欢我、不喜欢我的房子或者不喜欢我的粥，但我是你的亲伯伯，戴维，我的伙计！”
This was the end of all my hopes. I was too tired and miser able to speak, so I silently gave him the letter, and sat down to eat the porridge.
我所有的希望破灭了。我因太劳累、太难受而什么话也说不出来，于是我默默地把信交给他并坐下来喝粥。
'Your father's been dead a long time?' he asked, giving me a quick look from his sharp eyes.
“你父亲死了很久了？”他一边问，一边用他那双厉害的眼睛飞快地扫视我。
'Three weeks, sir,' I said.
“三周了，先生，”我道。
'He was a secretive man, Alexander was. Perhaps he didn't talk much about me? Or about the house of Shaws?'
“他是个爱遮遮掩掩的人，对，亚历山大是。也许他没有怎么说起过我？或说起过肖家这房子？”
'I never knew he had a brother, sir, or ever heard the name of Shaws.'
“我从不知道他有一个兄弟，先生，也没听说过肖这个名字。”
'To think of that!' he replied. 'A strange man!' But he seemed very pleased, and began to look at me with more inter est. Soon he jumped up and said, 'We're going to get on well, Davie! What's mine is yours, man, and what's yours is mine. Blood's thicker than water, and there's only ye and me of the name of Balfour. Now I'll show ye to your bed.'
“想想看！”他回答道，“真是一个奇怪的人！”但是他看起来很高兴，并且也开始更饶有兴趣地打量着我。不一会儿他跳起身来，说道：“我们将会合得来的，戴维！我的就是你的，伙计，你的也是我的。血浓于水，鲍尔弗家只有你和我两个人。现在我要把你带到睡觉处去。”
He took me up some dark stairs and showed me into a room. I could not see anything.
他带着我上了黑黝黝的楼梯，把我带到一个房间里。我什么也看不到。
'Can I have a light, sir?' I asked.
“我能有盏灯吗，先生？”我问道。
'No, ye can't. No lights in this house! I'm afraid of fires, ye see. Good night to ye, Davie, my man. 'And before I had time to reply, he pulled the door shut and locked it from the outside. The room was very cold, but luckily I had my plaid with me, so I covered myself with it like a blanket, and soon fell asleep.
“不，你不能。这房子里不准有灯！你明白我怕火。晚安，戴维，我的伙计。”我还没有来得及回答，他已把门关上并从外面锁上了。房间里很冷，但幸运的是我随身带着肩巾，于是我用它像用毯子一样地把自己盖起来，很快我便睡着了。
