汤姆.索亚历险记(五):汤姆.索亚历险记

　　The successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar’s heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom’s mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it.
　　In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert―though why, is a mystery: for neither the hymn―book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth―a fence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleigh-runners―an effect patiently and laboriously produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after this fashion:
　　“Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There―that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window―I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere ―perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good.” And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all.
　　The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters’ voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude.
　　A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare―the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter’s wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too―he could not meet Amy Lawrence’s eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was “showing off” with all his might―cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces―in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy―the memory of his humiliation in this angel’s garden―and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now.
　　The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters’ speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage―no less a one than the county judge―altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon―and they wondered what kind of material he was made of―and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away―so he had travelled, and seen the world―these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house―which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings:
　　“Look at him, Jim! He’s a going up there. Say―look! he’s a going to shake hands with him―he is shaking hands with him! By jings, don’t you wish you was Jeff?”
　　Mr. Walters fell to “showing off,” with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian “showed off” ―running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers “showed off”―bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers “showed off” with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline―and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times(with much seeming vexation). The little girls“showed off” in various ways, and the little boys “showed off” with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur―for he was “showing off,” too.
　　There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters’ ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough―he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind.
　　得奖的同学在当时显得那样的伟大，那样的光荣，以致每个在场的学生心里都产生新的野心，这种野心往往要持续一两个星期之久。汤姆内心可能从来没有真正渴望过获得这种奖品，不过，毫无疑问，许多天以来他的全部身心都在渴望得到随着这种奖励而来的光彩和荣誉。
　　等到一定的时候，校长在布道台前面站了起来，他手里拿着一本合上的圣诗，食指夹在书页中间，叫大家静下来，听他讲道。主日学校的校长开始他那简短的开场白时，手中总少不了要拿着一本圣诗，就像歌手参加音乐会时站在演唱台，开始独唱的时候一样，手中也少不了要拿本乐谱――虽然谁也不知道为什么要这样。因为无论圣诗也好，乐谱也好，台上受罪的那个人从来都不会用得上这些的。这位校长是个35岁的瘦子，蓄着沙滩色的山羊胡和沙滩色的短头发；他穿着一副硬挺挺的衣服领子，领边几乎顶到他耳边，两个尖尖的领角顺着脖子弯过来，齐到他的嘴角――就像一堵围墙似的，逼着他只能往前方看，每当他要看旁边的时候，就不得不把整个身子都转过来；他的下巴托在一条宽大的领结上面，那个领结就像一张支票那样又宽又长，周围还带有花边。他的靴子头尖尖的，向上翘着，这在当时非常时髦，好像雪橇下面翘起来的滑刀一样――这种时新式样是年青人耐心地、吃力地一连几个钟头地坐着把脚趾拼命顶着墙的结果。华尔特先生态度非常庄重，心地虔诚而实在。他对宗教方面的事情和场所非常尊敬，把它们和世俗方面的事分得清清楚楚。因此尽管没有意识到，但他却养成了主日学校讲话时一种特别的语调，这种语调在平常的日子里是绝对听不到的。他就用这种语调开始说起来：
　　“孩子们，现在我要你们都尽量地、端端正正地坐起来，集中注意力听我讲一两分钟的话。对――做得好。好小孩子们就该这样做。我看见一个小姑娘在向窗外看――我想她一定认为我是在外面的某个地方――也许想着我在给树上的小鸟作演讲吧，（一阵嘻嘻哈哈的喝彩声。）我想告诉你们看到这么多聪明的、干干净净的小脸儿聚集在这样的地方，听话、学好，我心里是多么的高兴。”等等、等等诸如此类的话。下面讲的话我就不必一一写下了。反正是些千佛一面大家都熟悉的东西。
　　华尔特先生的演说到后面三分之一时受到了一些干扰，因为一些坏孩子又打起架来或搞别的小动作，满堂都在扭头讲悄悄话。连玛丽和希德这样巍然屹立，不易摧毁的“中流砥柱”也受到了冲击。随着华尔特先生的声音突然终止，课堂里的一切吵闹声也都随之嘎然止住，大家突然静下来，以此来表达对演说结束的感激之情。
　　刚才那阵子的窃窃私语主要是由一件多少有些稀罕的事情引起的――那就是来了几位来访者：有撒切尔律师，他由一个非常衰弱的老人陪伴；一位文雅、肥胖、满头铁灰色头发的中年绅士；还有一位贵夫人，她无疑是那位绅士的太太。这位夫人手里还牵着一个小孩。汤姆心里一直很不安，心里充满了烦恼和忧愁；而且还受到良心的谴责――他不敢正视艾美・劳伦斯的眼睛，她那含情的注目简直使他受不了。可是当他看见这位新来的小女孩，他的心里立刻燃起了幸福的火焰。接着他就拚命地卖弄炫耀――打别人的耳光，揪头发，做鬼脸――总而言之，凡是可能引起女孩注意，获取她欢心和赞赏的把戏，他都用了。想到在这个小天使家花园受到的那种非人的待遇，他高兴的劲头凉了一截，不过快得就像留在沙滩上的印迹一样，被幸福的浪潮一冲，就被冲得一干二净。
　　这几位来访者被请到最上席就座，华尔特先生刚刚结束讲话，就向全校师生介绍了这几位贵宾。那位中年人原来是个不平凡的大人物――竟是县上的法官――他是这些孩子们所见过的最威严的人物――他们很想知道他是由什么做的――他们一方面很想听听他吼叫两声，可是另一方面又相当害怕他吼叫。他是离这儿十二里远的康士坦丁堡镇人――因此他是出过远门、见过世面的人――他那双眼睛曾见过县上的法庭――据说那所房子的屋顶是用锡皮做的。想到这些，他让人觉得畏惧，这从他那令人难忘的沉默和一排排瞪着的眼睛可以看得出来。这就是了不起的撒切尔大法官，是他们镇上律师的哥哥。杰夫・撒切尔立即走上前，和这位大人物亲近，真让全校师生羡慕、嫉妒。听大家切切私语，他就像听见音乐一般，心情舒畅。
　　“吉姆，你看！他上讲台了。嘿――瞧！他要和他握手啦――他真的和他握手了！哎呀，你不希望自己就是杰夫吗？”
　　华尔特先生开始“出风头”了，他一副官样，到处发号施令，表示意见，给予指导，忙得他不亦乐乎。只要他发现目标，免不了都要唠叨几句。图书管理员也“卖弄”了一番――他手里抱着许多本书，嘴里咕咕哝哝，到处跑动，忙个不停。他这种举动起码让那位小权威人物开心。年轻的女教师们也“炫耀”了一番――亲切地弯下腰看着那些刚被打过耳光的学生，伸出漂亮的手指对着那些不听话的孩子以示警告，或者和蔼可亲地拍拍那些乖孩子。年轻的男教师们也“出了一番风头”，他们小声地骂一骂学生，还用别的表示享有权威和重视校规的方式表现了自己――所有男男女女的教师们都在布道台旁的图书室那儿找到可干的事情。这种事情只干一次就可以了，他们却反复干了两三次（表面上装出很着急的样子）。 小姑娘们也用各种方式“卖弄”，男孩子“卖弄”得更是劲头十足，于是，空中满是乱飞的纸团，教室里互相扭打的声音不断。尤其是，那位坐在台上的大人，面带庄严的微笑，一副高高在上的样子，望着全场，这种优越感令其陶然――因为他自己也在“炫耀”啊。
　　这时候只差一件事情，就能使华尔特先生狂喜到极点，那就是他非常想有一个机会给某个学生颁发一本《圣经》，借以展示一下自己。有几个学生拥有一些黄色票，可没有一个够数的――他在几个明星学生中间转了一圈，问了问。假如，这时候能叫那个德国血统曾经出色过的学生脑子健全起来，再能表演一回，他真情愿付出所有的一切。

推荐访问:汤姆 历险记 汤姆索亚历险记1-35章 汤姆索亚历险记概括