第十个人

　　Lesson Ten 　The Tenth Man

　　就在第二天下午3点（闹钟上的时间），一个军官走进了牢房。这是他们几星期以来见到的第一位军官。他非常年轻，甚至小胡子的形状也显示出他不够老练，左边的胡子剃得重了点。

　　It was at three the next afternoon （alarm clock time） that an officer entered the cell； the first officer they had seen for weeks – and this one was very young， with inexperience even in the shape of his mustache which he had shaved too much on the left side.

　　他就像一个初次登台领奖的小学生一样窘迫不安，他说起话来粗鲁无礼，似乎要显示一种他并不具备的力量。

　　He was as embarrassed as a schoolboy making his first entry on a stage at a prize-giving， and he spoke abruptly so as to give the impression of a strength he did not possess.

　　他说道：“昨天夜间城里发生了几起谋杀，一名军事长官的副手、一位中士和一个骑自行车的女孩被杀。”他又说道：“我们不在乎女孩的死。法国男人杀死法国女人不关我们的事。”

　　He said， “There were murders last night in the town. The aide-de-camp of the military governor， a sergeant and a girl on a bicycle.” He added， “We don't complain about the girl. Frenchmen have our permission to kill Frenchwomen.”

　　很明显他事先仔细斟酌了他的讲话，但他的嘲弄做过了头，他的表演也很业余。

　　He had obviously thought up his speech carefully beforehand， but the irony was overdone and the delivery that of an amateur actor：

　　整个场面就像手势字谜游戏那样矫饰做作。

　　the whole scene was as unreal as a charade.

　　他接着说道：“你们知道自己为什么来这里，你们在这里好吃好喝，过着舒适的日子，而我们的人却在工作和战斗。不过现在你们必须付出代价了。不要怪我们，要怪你们自己的杀人凶手。我的命令是集中营里每十个人要有一个被枪决。你们有多少人？”“报数。”他厉声喝道人们闷闷不乐地照办了。“28，29，30.”人们知道不用数他也知道人数，这不过是他玩的把戏中不可省略的一句台词……

　　He said， “You know what you are here for， living comfortably， on fine rations， while our men work and fight. Well， now you've got to pay the hotel bill. Don't blame us. Blame your own murderers. My orders are that one man in every ten shall be shot in this camp. How many of you are there？” He shouted sharply， “Number off，” and sullenly they obeyed， “…… twenty-eight， twenty-nine， thirty.” They knew he knew without counting. This was just a line in his charade he couldn't sacrifice.

　　他说道：“那么，你们的名额是三个，我们并不关心是哪三个人。你们可以自己选择。死刑于明天早上7点执行。”

　　He said， “Your allotment then is three. We are quite indifferent as to which three. You can choose for yourselves. The funeral rites will begin at seven tomorrow morning.”

　　他玩的把戏结束了，人们可以听到他的脚步响亮地敲击着沥青路渐渐远去。

　　The charade was over： they could hear his feet striking sharply on the asphalt going away.

　　查维尔忽然很想知道他打的手势是什么字。要他们猜的是不是“夜间”，“姑娘”，“旁边”或“30”。不，不是。谜底肯定是“人质”。

　　Chavel wondered for a moment what syllable had been acted —“night，”“girl，”“aside，” or perhaps “thirty，” but it was of course the whole word—“hostage. ”

　　牢房里很长时间没人说话。后来一个叫克拉夫的阿尔萨斯人开口道：“好了，我们有人自愿吗？”

　　The silence went on a long time， and then a man called Krogh， an Alsatian， said， “Well， do we have to volunteer？”

　　“废话。”一个职员说道。他是一个上了年纪的戴着夹鼻眼镜的老头。他接着说道：“没人会自愿，我们必须抽签。除非有人认为应按年龄决定——最老的先死。”

　　“Rubbish，” said one of the clerks， a thin elderly man in pince-nez， “nobody will volunteer. We must draw lots.” He added， “Un-less it is thought that we should go by ages —the oldest first. ”

　　“不，不行。”另一个人说道，“那不公平。”

　　“No， no，” one of the others said， “that would be unjust. ”

　　“这是自然规律。”

　　“It's the way of nature.”

　　“那算什么自然规律。”又一个人说道，“我有个女儿，5岁时就死了。”

　　“Not even the way of nature，” another said. “1 had a child who died when she was five……”

　　“我们必须抽签。”市长坚定地说。

　　“We must draw lots，” the mayor said firmly.

　　“只有这样才公正。”他坐在那里，双手依然紧贴在肚子上，遮挡着他的怀表，但是整个牢房里都能听见怀表清脆的滴答声。

　　“It is the only fair thing.” He sat with his hands still pressed over his stomach， hiding his watch， but all through the cell you could hear its blunt tick lock tick.

　　他接着又说道：“由未婚者抽签，已婚者除外，他们有责任。”

　　He added， “On the unmarried. The married should not be included. They have responsibilities…

　　“哈，哈！”皮埃尔说道，“我们明白了。为什么已婚者就应逃脱？他们的事儿已经做完了。当然，你结婚了吧？”

　　“Ha， ha，” Pierre said， “we see through that. Why should the married get off？ Their work's finished. You， of course， are married？”

　　“我的妻子不在了。”市长说，“我现在是未婚，你呢？”

　　“I have lost my wife，” the mayor said， “I am not married now. And you…”

　　“结了。”皮埃尔答道。

　　“Married，” Pierre said.

　　市长开始解下怀表。发现皮埃尔处境安全，他似乎更坚信作为怀表的主人自己必定是下一个牺牲者。

　　The mayor began to undo his watch； the discovery that his rival was safe seemed to confirm his belief that as the owner of time he was bound to be the next victim.

　　他环顾了每一个人，然后选择了查维尔。也许是因为只有他穿着西服背心适合戴表链。他说道：“查维尔先生，我想让你替我拿着怀表，万一……”

　　He looked from face to face and chose Chavel， perhaps because he was the only man with a waistcoat fit to take the chain. He said， “Monsieur Chavel， I want you to hold this watch for me in case…”

　　“你最好找别人吧！”查维尔说，“我还没结婚呢。”

　　“you'd better choose someone else，” Chavel said. “I am not married.”

　　那个老职员又开口了，“我结婚了，我有权说话。

　　The elderly clerk spoke again. He said， “I'm married. I've got the right to speak.

　　我们正把一切引向歧途。这不是我们最后一次抽签。如果这儿有一个特权阶层——那些最终将活着的人，大家想想，牢房里会是什么样子。你们其他人很快就会痛恨我们。你们害怕，而我们将不再担心。“

　　We are going the wrong way about all this. Everyone must draw lots. This isn't the last draw we shall have， and picture to yourselves what it will be like in this cell if we have a privileged class —the ones who are left to the end. The rest of you will soon begin to hate us. We shall be left out of your fear. . . “

　　“他说得对。”皮埃尔说。

　　“He's right，” Pierre said.

　　市长重新握紧了怀表，说道：“就照你们的主意办。要是能够这样征税的话……”他做了个绝望的手势。

　　The mayor refastened his watch. “Have it your own way，” he said. “But if the taxes were levied like this…” He gave a gesture of despair.

　　“我们如何抽签？”克拉夫问道。

　　“How do we draw？” Krogh asked.

　　查维尔答道：“最快的办法就是从一只鞋里抽出画有记号的纸条。”

　　Chavel said， “The quickest way would be to draw marked papers out of a shoe. . .”

　　克拉夫轻蔑地说：“那么快干吗？对于我们当中几个人来说这可是最后一次赌博了。我们蛮可以享受一番。我提议赌抛硬币。”

　　Krogh said contemptuously， “Why the quickest way？ This is the last gamble some of us will have. We may as well enjoy it. I say a coin.”

　　“这不好。”那个职员说，“抛硬币不是一个公平、合理的办法。”

　　“It won't work，” the clerk said. “You can't get a even chance with a coin.”

　　“惟一的办法就是抽签。”市长说道。

　　“The only way is to draw，” the mayor said.

　　职员开始为抽签做准备，为此他牺牲了一封家信。

　　The clerk prepared the draw， sacrificing for it one of his letters from home.

　　他很快地看了一遍信，然后把它撕成30张小纸条。

　　He read it rapidly for the last time， and then tore it into thirty pieces.

　　他用铅笔在其中三张上画上十字，然后把每张纸条都叠上。

　　On three pieces he made a cross in pencil， and then folded each piece.

　　他接着说：“克拉夫的鞋最大。”大家把纸条放在地下搅乱，然后装进了鞋子里。

　　“Krogh's got the biggest shoe，” he said. They shuffled the pieces on the floor and then dropped them into the shoe.

　　“我们按姓氏的字母顺序抽签。”市长说。

　　“We'll draw in alphabetical order，” the mayor said.

　　“从Z开始抽。”查维尔说道。他的安全感开始动摇了。他急切想喝点什么，用手指从嘴唇上撕下一小块干皮。

　　“Z first，” Chavel said. His feeling of security was shaken. He wanted a drink badly. He picked at a dry piece of skin on his lip.

　　“就按你说的办。”卡车司机说道，“有人排在维尔森前面吗？我先抽。”

　　“As you wish，” the lorry driver said. “Anybody beat Voisin？ Here goes.

　　他用手在鞋子里小心地掏，就像是要掏到他心里想要的那张。

　　“He thrust his hand into the shoe and made careful excavations as though he had one particular scrap of paper in mind.

　　他抽出一张，打开，怔怔地看着，然后说了声：“完了。”他坐下来，摸出一支香烟放到嘴里，却忘了点火。

　　He drew one out， opened it， and gazed at it with astonishment. He said， “This is it.” He sat down and felt for a cigarette， but when he got it between his lips he forgot to light it.

　　查维尔心中充满了巨大而又令他感到羞耻的快乐。

　　Chavel was filled with a huge and shameful joy.

　　看来自己得救了。剩下二十九个人抽签，而只有两张带有记号的纸条。

　　It seemed to him that already he was saved —twenty - nine men to draw and only two marked papers left.

　　抽中死签的可能性突然变得对他有利，从10比1变成了14比1.经营蔬菜水果的商人也抽了一张，然后漫不经心、毫无表情地示意自己平安无事。

　　The chances had suddenly grown in his favor from ten to one to—fourteen to one： the greengrocer had drawn a slip and indicated carelessly and without pleasure that he was safe.

　　的确，从抽第一张签时人们就忌讳任何喜形于色的表现，一个人不能以任何宽慰的举动去嘲弄注定要死的人。

　　Indeed from the first draw any mark of pleasure was taboo： one couldn't mock the condemned man by any sign of relief.

　　查维尔胸中有一种隐隐约约的不安——还不是恐惧，像是一种压抑感。

　　Again a dull disquiet —ii couldn't yet be described as a fear—exended its empire over Chavel's chest.

　　当第六个人抽到空白纸条时，他发现自己在打哈欠；当第十个人——就是大家称作雅维耶的那个人抽完签后，他的心中又充满了某中怨愤的情绪。现在抽中死签的机会同开始时一样了。

　　It was like a constriction： he found himself yawning as the sixth man drew a blank slip， and a sense of grievance nagged at his mind when the tenth man bad drawn—it was the one they called Janvier—and the chances were once again the same as when the draw started.

　　有的人抽出他们手指碰到的第一张纸条；有的人似乎怀疑命运企图将某一张纸条强加于他们，所以他们刚刚从鞋里抽出一张，就又扔回去，再另换一张。

　　Some men drew the first slip which touched their fingers； others seemed to suspect tha t fate was trying to force on them a particular slip and when they bad drawn one a little way from the shoe would let it drop again and choose another.

　　时间过得很慢，令人难以置信。那个叫做维尔森的人靠墙坐着，嘴里叼着仍未点燃的香烟，对一切都不再在意。

　　Time passed with incredible slowness， and the man called Voisin sat against the wall with the unlighted cigarette in his mouth paying them no attention at all.

　　就在生存的机会逐渐变小，抽中死签的可能性达到八分之一时，一个叫做勒诺特的上年纪的职员抽中了第二张死签。

　　The chances had narrowed to one in eight when the elderly clerk —his name was Lenotre—drew the second slip.

　　他清了清喉咙，戴上夹鼻眼镜，好像要确认自己没有看错。“喂，维尔森先生，我能加入吗？”他带着淡淡的微笑说道。

　　He cleared his throat and put on his pince-nez as though he had to make sure he was not mistaken. “Ah， Monsieur Voisin，” he said with a thin undecided smile， “May I join you？”

　　令人难以琢磨的机会再次以绝对对查维尔有利的优势朝他走来，抽中死签的可能性只有十五分之一，可他这次却没有丝毫欣慰，他被普通百姓所具有的勇气所震撼，他想让这一切尽快结束，就像一副扑克玩得太久了，他只希望有人离开牌桌，结束牌局。

　　This time Chavel felt no joy even though the elusive odds were back again overwhelmingly in his favor at fifteen to one； he was daunted by the courage of common men. He wanted the whole thing to be over as quickly as possible： like a game of cards which has gone on too long， he only wanted someone to make a move and break up the table.

　　勒诺特在维尔森身边靠墙坐下，他翻过纸条，背面是信中的一点内容，“是你妻子的？”维尔森问道。“是我女儿的。”勒诺特答道，“请原谅。”他起身走到自己的铺盖处，抽出一本便笺，回到维尔森身边开始写起来。他不慌不忙，认认真真地写下一串纤细而清晰的字迹。

　　。 Lenotre， sitting down against the wall next to Voisin， turned the slip over： on the back was a scrap of writing.

　　Your-wife？“ Voisin said.

　　“My daughter，” Lenotre said. “Excuse me.” He went over to his roll of bedding and drew out a writing pad. Then he sat down next to Voisin and began to write， carefully， without hurry， a thin legible hand.

　　这时中死签的概率又回到了10比1.

　　The odds were back to ten to one.

　　从那时起，对查维尔来说，抽中死签的可能性似乎以一种不可避免的可怕趋势发生着变化。

　　From that point the odds seemed to move toward Chavel with a dreadful inevitability：

　　9比1，8比1，抽中死签的可能性好像指向了他。

　　nine to one， eight to one； they were like a pointing finger.

　　剩下的人抽得越来越快，越来越随便。

　　The men who were left drew more quickly and more carelessly：

　　在查维尔看来，他们似乎都知道了某种秘密，知道他会抽到死签。

　　they seemed to Chavel to have some inner information —to know that he was the one.

　　轮到他抽签时，只剩下了3张纸，留给他的机会这么少，在他看来真是不公平。

　　When his time came to draw there were only three slips left ， and it appeared to Chavel a monstrous injustice that there were so few choices left for him.

　　他从鞋中抽出一张，接着又认定这是同伴的意志强加给他的，一定有十字。于是他把它放回去，另抽了一张。

　　He drew one out of the shoe and then feeling certain that this one had been willed on him by his companions and contained the penciled cross he threw it back and snatched another.

　　“律师，你偷看了。”剩下的两个人中有一个大声说道，但另一个让他安静下来。

　　“You looked， lawyer，” one of the two men exclaimed， but the other quieted him.

　　“他没有偷看，他抽到的是有记号的。”

　　“He didn't look. He's got the marked one now.”

　　“不，不。”查维尔把纸条扔到地上，开始大叫：“我从来就没有同意，你们不能让我替别人去死。”

　　“No，” Chavel said， “no.” He threw the slip upon the ground and cried， “I never consented to the draw. You can't make me die for the rest of you. . . ”

　　大家惊讶地看着他，但并没有敌意。

　　They watched him with astonishment but without enmity.

　　他是一个出身高贵的人。人们没有用自己的标准去衡量他，因为他属于一个别人难以理解的阶层。人们甚至没有把他的行为与胆怯联系起来。

　　He was a gentleman. They didn't judge him by their own standards： he belonged to an unaccountable class and they didn't at first even attach the idea of cowardice to his actions.

　　“听我说，”查维尔一边哀求，一边举起那张纸条。大家既惊奇又好奇地看着他。“谁接受这张纸条，我就给他10万法郎。”

　　“Listen，” Chavel implored them. He held out the slip of paper and they all watched him with compassionate curiosity. “I'll give a hundred thousand francs to anyone who'll take this.”

　　他快速移动着小步地从一个人面前走到另一个人面前，朝每一个人展示那张小纸条，好像是拍卖会上的服务员。

　　He took little rapid steps from one man to another， showing each man the bit of paper as if he were an attendant at an auction.

　　“10万法郎。”他恳求道。人们感到震惊，同样又感到一丝怜悯：他是他们之中惟一的有钱人，这是与众不同之处。

　　“A hundred thousand francs，” he implored， and they watched him with a kind of shocked pity： he was the only rich man among them and this was a unique situation.

　　人们无法去比较，只能认定这就是他那个阶层的特点，这犹如一个在异国港口下船就餐的旅游者能从一个碰巧与他同桌的狡猾商人身上总结出该国的国民性格。

　　They had no means of comparison and assumed that this was a characteristic of his class， just as a traveler stepping off the liner at a foreign port for luncheon sums up a nation's character forever in the wily businessman who happens to share the table with him.