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Lesson 9 part 1 Death of Jean
第九课 第一部分 珍之死
Christmas Eve, 11 A.M. 1909
1909年12月24日上午11时
Jean is dead!
珍死了!
Has any one ever tried to put upon paper all the little happenings connected with a dear one-happenings of the twenty-four hours preceding the sudden and unexpected death of that dear one? Would a book contain them? Would two books contain them? I think not. They pour into the mind in a flood. They are little things that have been always happening every day, and were always so unimportant and easily forgettable before--but now! Now, how different! How precious they are, how dear, how unforgettable, how pathetic, how sacred, how clothed with dignity!
有谁尝试过把和一位亲爱的人相关的所有小事都写在纸上-记下在这位亲爱之人出乎意料的突然死亡之前的24小时内发生的所有事情？一本书能写得下吗？两本书能写得下吗? 我想不能。这些小事像潮水般涌上心头。这些天天都会发生的日常小事往往如此微不足道，过去总是轻而易举地被人遗忘-可是现在! 现在是多么不一样啊!这些事是多么珍贵，多么亲切，多么令人难忘，多么催人泪下，多么神圣，多么庄严啊!
Last night Jean all flushed with splendid health, and I the same from the wholesome effects of my Bermuda holiday, strolled hand in hand from the dinner-table and sat down in the library and chatted, and planned, and discussed, cheerily and happily (and how unsuspectingly! )- until nine, then went upstairs, Jean's friendly German dog following. At my door Jean said, "I can't kiss you good night, father. I have a cold. and you could catch it."I bent and kissed her hand. She was moved-I saw it in her eyes-and she impulsively kissed my hand in return. Then with the usual gay "Sleep well, dear!" from both, we parted.
昨天晚上珍还满面红光，全身洋溢着健康的光彩。我也一样。我刚从百慕大度假归来，这次度假对我身体大有益处。我们手拉着手，从饭桌边走到书房，坐下来闲聊，制订计划，进行讨论，那么高兴，那么欢畅（并且那么的毫无预感!)-我们一直聊到9点钟，之后才上楼，珍的那条友好的德国狗跟在后头。到了我的房门口，珍说:"今晚我不能吻您跟您道晚安了，爸爸。我伤风了，那样会传给你的。"我弯下腰，亲了亲她的手，她很感动-我从她的眼睛里看出来了-她激动地回吻了我的手，然后我们像往常一样高兴地说"睡个好觉，亲爱的"，说完就分开了。
At half past seven this morning I woke, and heard voices outside my door. I said to myself, "Jean is starting on her usual horseback flight to the station for the mail." Then Katy entered, stood quaking and gasping at my bedside a moment, then found her tongue:
今天早上7点半我一觉醒来，听到房门外有说话声。我寻思着，"珍又要骑马去车站寄信了。"接着凯蒂走了进来，站在我床边，全身颤抖，喘不上气，之后才说出话来：
"Miss Jean is dead!"
"珍小姐死了！"
Possibly I know now what the soldier feels when a bullet crashes through his heart.
现在我可能知道子弹穿透战士心脏时的感觉了。
In her bedroom there she lay, the fair young creature, stretched upon the floor and covered with a sheet. And looking so placid, so natural, and as if asleep. We knew what had happened. She was an epileptic: she had been seized with a convulsion and heart failure in her bath. The doctor had to come several miles. His efforts, like our previous ones, failed to bring her back to life.
在她的浴室里，她躺在那里，我美丽的年轻姑娘，直挺挺地躺在地板上，上面盖了一床被单。她看起来是那么平静，那么自然，仿佛睡着了一样。我们知道发生了什么事。她患有癫病: 洗澡时突发惊厥，心力衰竭。医生得从几英里外赶来。他的种种努力，跟我们在这之前的努力一样，没能让她活过来。
It is noon, now. How lovable she looks, how sweet and how tranquil. It is a noble face, and full of dignity; and that was a good heart that lies there so still.
现在已是正午。她看上去是多么可爱， 多么甜美。多么安详啊! 那是一幅高贵的面容，写满了尊严;而且，静静地躺在那里的是一颗美丽的心灵。
