The Night Storm
夜间的风暴
Charles Dickens
查尔斯·狄更斯
One wintry evening a keen north wind arose as it grew dark, and night came on with black and dismal looks. A bitter storm of sleet, dense and ice-cold, swept the wet streets, and rattled on the trembling windows. Sing-boards, shaken past endurance in their creaking frames, fell crashing on the pavement; old tottering chimneys reeled and staggered in the blast; and many a steeple rocked again that night, as though the earth were troubled.
一个冬天的傍晚，当天色渐渐暗下来时，刮起了凛冽的北风，接着夜晚带着阴沉忧郁的脸色降临了。刺骨的暴风夹着密集而寒冷的雨雪，扫过湿漉滤的街道，打得颐抖的窗子格格作响。在吱吱嘎嘎的框架里被摇撼得再也支撑不住了的招牌，哗啦啦跌落在人行道上；旧烟囱在风中晃动震颤，摇摇欲坠，那天夜里许多教堂的尖塔又摇晃起来，仿佛大地在动荡不安。
It was not a time for those, who could by any means get light and warmth, to brave the fury of the weather. In coffee-houses of the better sort, guests crowded round the fire, forgot to be political, and told each other with a secret gladness that the blast grew fiercer every minute. Each humble tavern by the waterside had its group of uncouth figures round the hearth, who talked of vessels foundering at sea, and all the hands lost; related many a dismal tale of shipwreck and drowned men, and hoped that some they knew were safe, and shook their heads in doubt. In private dwellings, children clustered near the blaze; listening with timid pleasure to tales of ghosts and goblins, and tall figures clad in white standing by besides, and people who had gone to sleep in old churches and being overlooked had found themselves alone there at the dead hour of the night, until they shuddered at the thought of the dark roooms up-stairs, yet loved to hear the wind moan too, and hoped it would continue bravely. From time to time these happy in-door people stopped to listen, or one held up his finger and cried, “Hark!” And then above the rumbling in the chimney, and the fast pattering on the glass, was heard a wailing, rushing sound, which shook the walls as though a giant’s hand were on them; then a hoarse roar as if the sea had risen; then such a whirl and tumult that the air seemed mad and then, with a lengthened howl, the waves of wind swept on, and left a moment’s interval of rest.
对于那些可以有点办法得到光明和温暖的人，这可不是出门去冒这样狂烈的风暴的时候。在比较象样的小饭馆里，顾客们团团围着烤火，他们把政治搁在一边，怀着暗暗的高兴互相诉说大风正一刻比一刻刮得更加凶猛。海滨的每一家简随的小旅会也都各自有它们的粗卤的顾客在炉火周围谈论着海上沉舟和全体船员无一生还的故事，叙述着一个又一个关于海滩和水面死的悲惨传说，同时希望其中他们所熟悉的那几个人平安无事，却又摇着头表示怀疑。在私人住宅里，孩子们聚集在熊熊的炉火旁，胆怯地但又兴致勃勃地听着故事，这些故事讲的尽是鬼怪呀，身材高大、穿着白衣、站在床边的人形呀，还有什么在旧教堂里有些人做礼拜时睡着了，没有被人注意到，润深夜一觉醒来，发现只剩下他们孤单单几个人在那儿。他们听着这些故事，一直听到当他们一想到楼上黑魆感的房间就会不寒而慄，可是他们却也爱听大风鸣咽地悲叹，并希望它能继续猛烈地吹下去。这些身在室内的幸运儿时而静下来侧耳倾听或者有人会竖起手指大喊一声说，“听！”于是在烟囱里的轰轰声和窗玻璃上急骤的啪啫啪嗒声之上，听到了一个奔腾呼啸的声音，这声音摇撼着墙壁，犹如一个巨人在用手推动它们；然后是嘶哑的咆哮声，仿佛大海已经涌起；接着听到一阵回荡骚动的声音，仿佛空气发了疯；之后是一阵阵大风嚎着滚滚扫过，留下了暂时的宁静。
Cheerily, though there were none abroad to see it, shone the May-pole Tavern light that evening Blessings on the deep-red, ruby-glowing-red, old curtains of the window, blending into one rich stream of brightness, fire an candle, meat, drink, and company, and gleaming like a jovial eye upon the bleak waste out of doors! Within, what carpet like its crunching sand, what music merry as its crackling logs, what perfume like its kithen’s dainty breach, what weather genial as its hearty warmth! Blessings on the old house, how sturdily it stood! How did the vexed wind chafe and roar about its stalwart roof; how did it pant and strive with its wide chimneys, which still poured forth from their hospitable throats great clouds of smoke, and puffed defiance in its face; how, above all, did it drive and rattle at the casement, emulous to extinguish that cheerful glow, which would not be put down and seemed the brighter for the conflict.
那天晚上虽然屋外并没有人看见，“五月柱”旅馆的灯光喜气洋洋地照耀着。忽而呈暗红色，忽而又变为明丽的红宝石色的旧窗帘是多么有福啊；因为它把炉火和烛光，酒和肉以及人群，融合成一股色彩缤纷的光流，而它自己却象一只充满欢乐的眼睛，对着户外凄凉萧瑟的荒野熠熠发光。在旅馆内部，有什么地毯能赛过它的嘎吱嘎吱响的泥沙地，有什么音乐能象它的晔哔卜卜爆响的木柴那样欢乐，有什么香味及得上它厨房里佳肴美馔的气味那样诱人，有什么气候比得上这里热情亲切、温暖似春！这栋旧房子是有福的，它巍然屹立着！任那恼怒的大风在它的结实的屋顶上暴跳如雷；任它气地与宽大的烟囱拼搏，烟肉照旧通过它们的宽广的喉咙大口大口地喷吐出浓烟，对风表示蔑视。那风又是怎样使出最大的劲冲着窗子猛吹，把窗子摇得咯噔咯噔响，一心要扑灭那团欢乐的火光呀！这才是它的首要目标。那团火光却不仅没有被扑灭，反而因为这场格斗而显得更加明亮欢快。
