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堂吉诃德|Don Quixote

Part 2 第46章|Part 2 Chapter 44

属类： 双语小说 【分类】世界名著 -[作者: 塞万提斯] 阅读：[44660]
《堂吉诃德》是一部幽默诙谐、滑稽可笑、充满了奇思妙想的长篇文学巨著。此书主要描写了一个有趣、可敬、可悲、喜欢自欺欺人的没落贵族堂吉诃德，他痴狂地迷恋古代骑士小说，以至于放弃家业，用破甲驽马装扮成古代骑士的样子，再雇佣农民桑乔作侍从，三次出征周游全国，去创建所谓的扶弱锄强的骑士业绩。他们在征险的生涯中闹出了许多笑话，到处碰壁受辱，堂吉诃德多次被打成重伤，有一次还被当成疯子关在笼子里遣送回乡。最后，他因征战不利郁郁寡欢而与世长辞，临终前他那一番貌似悔悟的话语让人匪夷所思又哭笑不得。
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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情意绵绵，却受到铃铛和猫的惊吓

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前面说到，伟大的唐吉诃德被阿尔蒂西多拉姑娘的歌声搅得心绪不宁。他虽然躺到了床上，却仿佛有跳蚤在身上无法入睡，一刻也不能安宁。可是时间在悄悄流逝，没有任何东西阻挡得住。时间从唐吉诃德身边溜过，很快就到了第二天早晨。唐吉诃德看见天亮了，便撇开柔软的羽被，并没有一丝困意。他穿上他的麂皮衣，又穿上旅行靴，以此遮掩那倒霉的袜子，又往身上被了件红色披风，往头上戴了一顶银带镶边的绿色天鹅绒帽子。他把那柄锋利的剑挂到皮肩带上，拿起一大串他时刻不离手的念珠，装模作样地一摇一晃向前厅走去。公爵和公爵夫人已穿戴整齐，正在前厅等着他。唐吉诃德经过一个长廊时发现阿尔蒂西多拉和她的朋友，也就是那另外一位姑娘，正特意在长廊上等着他呢。阿尔蒂西多拉一看到唐吉诃德就假装晕了过去。她的朋友立刻把她抱在自己腿上，并且马上要为她解开胸衣。

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唐吉诃德见状立刻走过来说道：

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“我知道这是怎么回事。”

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“可我不知道。”阿尔蒂西多拉的朋友说，“阿尔蒂西多拉是我们这儿身体最好的姑娘。自从我认识她以后，从没听她哼过一声。如果世界上的游侠骑士都是无情无义的东西，那就让他们都不得好死吧。请您走开，唐吉诃德大人，如果您在这儿，这个姑娘就不会醒来。”

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唐吉诃德说道：

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“姑娘，请你今晚在我的房间里放一把琴，我将尽力安抚这位心受创伤的姑娘。在爱情萌芽之际就及时让当事人醒悟，通常是最有效的补救办法。”

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唐吉诃德说完就走了，他不愿意让别人看见他在那儿。

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唐吉诃德刚刚走开，阿尔蒂西多拉就苏醒过来，对她的伙伴说道：

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“得往唐吉诃德的房间里放一把琴。他肯定会给咱们唱歌，而且唱得很不错。”

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她们把刚才的事和唐吉诃德要琴的事告诉了公爵夫人，公爵夫人非常高兴。她同公爵和姑娘们商量好，要同唐吉诃德开一个风趣而无恶意的玩笑。大家高高兴兴地等着天黑。那天，公爵和公爵夫人同唐吉诃德美美地聊了一天，白天像黑夜一样很快就过去了。公爵夫人还真的派了她的一名侍童去找特雷莎·潘萨，派的就是那个曾在森林里扮成被魔法改变了模样的杜尔西内亚的侍童。公爵夫人让侍童送去桑乔写给特雷莎·潘萨的那封信和桑乔要捎回家的一捆衣服，并且在回来以后把他在那儿遇到的事情详细讲述一遍。一切准备就绪，此时已是半夜十一点，唐吉诃德发现他的房间里有一把琴。他调了调琴弦，打开窗户，觉得花园里有人在走动，便试了一下琴弦，仔细调好音，用力清了清嗓子。虽然他是个哑嗓子，可还是自鸣得意地唱起了他当天编的这首歌：

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爱情的力量

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常令人春心荡漾，

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造成它的就是

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人的悠闲游逛。

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缝缝补补，操劳耕作，

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终日奔忙，

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就是医治爱情饥渴的

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最好处方。

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深闺佳秀

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追求的是在结婚之日，

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贞操和人们的赞扬

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能成为她的嫁妆。

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游侠骑士

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和宫廷朝臣，

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总是同浪女调情，

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同正派的姑娘拜堂。

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也有些萍水相逢，

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野路鸳鸯，

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他们逢场作戏，

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分手便忘。

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突然降临的爱情

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今日到来明日忘，

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不会在人心中

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留下坚实的印象。

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画上再作画，

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徒劳一场。

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有了第一个心上人，

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便容不得旁人争抢。

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托博索的杜尔西内亚

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已经印在我心灵的空白画板上，

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留下了不可磨灭的

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肖像一张。

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爱情的忠贞

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最为宝贵，

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爱情由此升华，

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爱情由此高尚。

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唐吉诃德的歌谣就唱到这里。公爵、公爵夫人、阿尔蒂西多拉和城堡里几乎所有的人都在那儿听他唱。忽然，从唐吉诃德房间窗户正上方的阳台上垂下一条系着一百多个铃铛的绳子，接着又有人从上面放下一大口袋猫，猫的尾巴上都系着小铃铛。

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铃铛和猫叫的声音都很大，使得这场玩笑的组织者公爵和公爵夫人也吓了一跳。唐吉诃德更是吓得魂飞魄散。偏巧，有两三只猫从窗户掉进了唐吉诃德的房间里。它们在房间里东奔西窜，简直像闹鬼似的。猫把房间里的两支蜡烛扑灭了，然后到处乱跑，寻找逃走的出口。绳子一上一下铃声不止，城堡里的人大多数都不知实情，感到非常惊讶。唐吉诃德站起身，把剑伸到窗外，一边挥砍一边喊道：

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“滚出去，恶毒的魔法师！滚出去，会巫术的混蛋！我是曼查的唐吉诃德，任何罪恶的企图都对我无能为力！”

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唐吉诃德又转身对在他的房间内乱窜的那些猫乱刺一通。几只猫都跑到窗户那儿逃了出去，只有一只猫被唐吉诃德追得太急了，竟跳到了唐吉诃德的脸上，用爪子抓住唐吉诃德的鼻子乱咬，疼得唐吉诃德拼命大喊。公爵和公爵夫人听到了喊声，急忙跑到唐吉诃德的房间门前，用万能钥匙打开了房门，看见这位可怜的骑士正用尽全力把猫从自己的脸上往下拽。他们手持蜡烛走进来，看到了这场不同寻常的搏斗。公爵要上去帮助他把猫拽下来，唐吉诃德却大声说道：

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“谁也不要把它弄开！让我同这个魔鬼、这个巫师、这个魔法师徒手格斗吧！我要让它知道曼查的唐吉诃德到底是什么人！”

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可是，猫却不为这些威胁所动，依然嘶叫着紧抓不放。最后，还是公爵把猫拽了下来，扔出了窗户。

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唐吉诃德满脸是伤，鼻子也被抓出了一道道印痕。可是，唐吉诃德仍然为未能把这场同恶毒魔法师的激战进行到底而垂头丧气。有人为唐吉诃德拿来了阿帕里西奥油①，阿尔蒂西多拉用她极其白皙的双手为唐吉诃德的伤口包上了纱布。她一边包伤口，一边低声对唐吉诃德说：

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“无情的骑士，你遇到了这些晦气的事情皆因你冷若冰霜。但愿上帝让你的侍从桑乔忘了鞭笞自己的事情，让你心爱的杜尔西内亚永远摆脱不了魔法，让你永远不能与她共入洞房，至少在我活着的时候是这样，因为我喜欢你。”

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①一种治伤的药，是以其研制者的名字命名的。

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唐吉诃德听了一言不发，只是深深地叹了一口气，然后躺到了床上。他对公爵和公爵夫人表示感谢，说自己并不怕魔法师、混蛋猫和铃铛，但他知道他们是好心来救自己。公爵和公爵夫人让唐吉诃德好好休息，然后就离开了。他们为这场玩笑竟让唐吉诃德付出了如此沉痛的代价而深感内疚。唐吉诃德闭门在床上躺了五天，在此期间他又遇到了更为可笑的事情。不过，小说的作者现在暂时还不想叙述，且让我们先去看看正在热心而又滑稽地当总督的桑乔·潘萨吧。

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It is stated, they say, in the true original of this history, that when Cide Hamete came to write this chapter, his interpreter did not translate it as he wrote it — that is, as a kind of complaint the Moor made against himself for having taken in hand a story so dry and of so little variety as this of Don Quixote, for he found himself forced to speak perpetually of him and Sancho, without venturing to indulge in digressions and episodes more serious and more interesting. He said, too, that to go on, mind, hand, pen always restricted to writing upon one single subject, and speaking through the mouths of a few characters, was intolerable drudgery, the result of which was never equal to the author’s labour, and that to avoid this he had in the First Part availed himself of the device of novels, like “The Ill-advised Curiosity,” and “The Captive Captain,” which stand, as it were, apart from the story; the others are given there being incidents which occurred to Don Quixote himself and could not be omitted. He also thought, he says, that many, engrossed by the interest attaching to the exploits of Don Quixote, would take none in the novels, and pass them over hastily or impatiently without noticing the elegance and art of their composition, which would be very manifest were they published by themselves and not as mere adjuncts to the crazes of Don Quixote or the simplicities of Sancho. Therefore in this Second Part he thought it best not to insert novels, either separate or interwoven, but only episodes, something like them, arising out of the circumstances the facts present; and even these sparingly, and with no more words than suffice to make them plain; and as he confines and restricts himself to the narrow limits of the narrative, though he has ability; capacity, and brains enough to deal with the whole universe, he requests that his labours may not be despised, and that credit be given him, not alone for what he writes, but for what he has refrained from writing.

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And so he goes on with his story, saying that the day Don Quixote gave the counsels to Sancho, the same afternoon after dinner he handed them to him in writing so that he might get some one to read them to him. They had scarcely, however, been given to him when he let them drop, and they fell into the hands of the duke, who showed them to the duchess and they were both amazed afresh at the madness and wit of Don Quixote. To carry on the joke, then, the same evening they despatched Sancho with a large following to the village that was to serve him for an island. It happened that the person who had him in charge was a majordomo of the duke’s , a man of great discretion and humour — and there can be no humour without discretion — and the same who played the part of the Countess Trifaldi in the comical way that has been already described; and thus qualified, and instructed by his master and mistress as to how to deal with Sancho, he carried out their scheme admirably. Now it came to pass that as soon as Sancho saw this majordomo he seemed in his features to recognise those of the Trifaldi, and turning to his master, he said to him, “Senor, either the devil will carry me off, here on this spot, righteous and believing, or your worship will own to me that the face of this majordomo of the duke’s here is the very face of the Distressed One.”

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Don Quixote regarded the majordomo attentively, and having done so, said to Sancho, “There is no reason why the devil should carry thee off, Sancho, either righteous or believing — and what thou meanest by that I know not; the face of the Distressed One is that of the majordomo, but for all that the majordomo is not the Distressed One; for his being so would involve a mighty contradiction; but this is not the time for going into questions of the sort, which would be involving ourselves in an inextricable labyrinth. Believe me, my friend, we must pray earnestly to our Lord that he deliver us both from wicked wizards and enchanters.”

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“It is no joke, senor,” said Sancho, “for before this I heard him speak, and it seemed exactly as if the voice of the Trifaldi was sounding in my ears. Well, I’ll hold my peace; but I’ll take care to be on the look-out henceforth for any sign that may be seen to confirm or do away with this suspicion.”

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“Thou wilt do well, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “and thou wilt let me know all thou discoverest, and all that befalls thee in thy government.”

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Sancho at last set out attended by a great number of people. He was dressed in the garb of a lawyer, with a gaban of tawny watered camlet over all and a montera cap of the same material, and mounted a la gineta upon a mule. Behind him, in accordance with the duke’s orders, followed Dapple with brand new ass-trappings and ornaments of silk, and from time to time Sancho turned round to look at his ass, so well pleased to have him with him that he would not have changed places with the emperor of Germany. On taking leave he kissed the hands of the duke and duchess and got his master’s blessing, which Don Quixote gave him with tears, and he received blubbering.

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Let worthy Sancho go in peace, and good luck to him, Gentle Reader; and look out for two bushels of laughter, which the account of how he behaved himself in office will give thee. In the meantime turn thy attention to what happened his master the same night, and if thou dost not laugh thereat, at any rate thou wilt stretch thy mouth with a grin; for Don Quixote’s adventures must be honoured either with wonder or with laughter.

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It is recorded, then, that as soon as Sancho had gone, Don Quixote felt his loneliness, and had it been possible for him to revoke the mandate and take away the government from him he would have done so. The duchess observed his dejection and asked him why he was melancholy; because, she said, if it was for the loss of Sancho, there were squires, duennas, and damsels in her house who would wait upon him to his full satisfaction.

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“The truth is, senora,” replied Don Quixote, “that I do feel the loss of Sancho; but that is not the main cause of my looking sad; and of all the offers your excellence makes me, I accept only the good-will with which they are made, and as to the remainder I entreat of your excellence to permit and allow me alone to wait upon myself in my chamber.”

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“Indeed, Senor Don Quixote,” said the duchess, “that must not be; four of my damsels, as beautiful as flowers, shall wait upon you.”

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“To me,” said Don Quixote, “they will not be flowers, but thorns to pierce my heart. They, or anything like them, shall as soon enter my chamber as fly. If your highness wishes to gratify me still further, though I deserve it not, permit me to please myself, and wait upon myself in my own room; for I place a barrier between my inclinations and my virtue, and I do not wish to break this rule through the generosity your highness is disposed to display towards me; and, in short, I will sleep in my clothes, sooner than allow anyone to undress me.”

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“Say no more, Senor Don Quixote, say no more,” said the duchess; “I assure you I will give orders that not even a fly, not to say a damsel, shall enter your room. I am not the one to undermine the propriety of Senor Don Quixote, for it strikes me that among his many virtues the one that is pre-eminent is that of modesty. Your worship may undress and dress in private and in your own way, as you please and when you please, for there will be no one to hinder you; and in your chamber you will find all the utensils requisite to supply the wants of one who sleeps with his door locked, to the end that no natural needs compel you to open it. May the great Dulcinea del Toboso live a thousand years, and may her fame extend all over the surface of the globe, for she deserves to be loved by a knight so valiant and so virtuous; and may kind heaven infuse zeal into the heart of our governor Sancho Panza to finish off his discipline speedily, so that the world may once more enjoy the beauty of so grand a lady.”

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To which Don Quixote replied, “Your highness has spoken like what you are; from the mouth of a noble lady nothing bad can come; and Dulcinea will be more fortunate, and better known to the world by the praise of your highness than by all the eulogies the greatest orators on earth could bestow upon her.”

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“Well, well, Senor Don Quixote,” said the duchess, is nearly supper-time, and the duke is is probably waiting; come let us go to supper, and retire to rest early, for the journey you made yesterday from Kandy was not such a short one but that it must have caused you some fatigue.”

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“I feel none, senora,” said Don Quixote, “for I would go so far as to swear to your excellence that in all my life I never mounted a quieter beast, or a pleasanter paced one, than Clavileno; and I don’t know what could have induced Malambruno to discard a steed so swift and so gentle, and burn it so recklessly as he did.”

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“Probably,” said the duchess, “repenting of the evil he had done to the Trifaldi and company, and others, and the crimes he must have committed as a wizard and enchanter, he resolved to make away with all the instruments of his craft; and so burned Clavileno as the chief one, and that which mainly kept him restless, wandering from land to land; and by its ashes and the trophy of the placard the valour of the great Don Quixote of La Mancha is established for ever.”

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Don Quixote renewed his thanks to the duchess; and having supped, retired to his chamber alone, refusing to allow anyone to enter with him to wait on him, such was his fear of encountering temptations that might lead or drive him to forget his chaste fidelity to his lady Dulcinea; for he had always present to his mind the virtue of Amadis, that flower and mirror of knights-errant. He locked the door behind him, and by the light of two wax candles undressed himself, but as he was taking off his stockings — O disaster unworthy of such a personage! — there came a burst, not of sighs, or anything belying his delicacy or good breeding, but of some two dozen stitches in one of his stockings, that made it look like a window-lattice. The worthy gentleman was beyond measure distressed, and at that moment he would have given an ounce of silver to have had half a drachm of green silk there; I say green silk, because the stockings were green.

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Here Cide Hamete exclaimed as he was writing, “O poverty, poverty! I know not what could have possessed the great Cordovan poet to call thee ‘holy gift ungratefully received.’ Although a Moor, I know well enough from the intercourse I have had with Christians that holiness consists in charity, humility, faith, obedience, and poverty; but for all that, I say he must have a great deal of godliness who can find any satisfaction in being poor; unless, indeed, it be the kind of poverty one of their greatest saints refers to, saying, ‘possess all things as though ye possessed them not;’ which is what they call poverty in spirit. But thou, that other poverty — for it is of thee I am speaking now — why dost thou love to fall out with gentlemen and men of good birth more than with other people? Why dost thou compel them to smear the cracks in their shoes, and to have the buttons of their coats, one silk, another hair, and another glass? Why must their ruffs be always crinkled like endive leaves, and not crimped with a crimping iron?” (From this we may perceive the antiquity of starch and crimped ruffs.) Then he goes on: “Poor gentleman of good family! always cockering up his honour, dining miserably and in secret, and making a hypocrite of the toothpick with which he sallies out into the street after eating nothing to oblige him to use it! Poor fellow, I say, with his nervous honour, fancying they perceive a league off the patch on his shoe, the sweat-stains on his hat, the shabbiness of his cloak, and the hunger of his stomach!”

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All this was brought home to Don Quixote by the bursting of his stitches; however, he comforted himself on perceiving that Sancho had left behind a pair of travelling boots, which he resolved to wear the next day. At last he went to bed, out of spirits and heavy at heart, as much because he missed Sancho as because of the irreparable disaster to his stockings, the stitches of which he would have even taken up with silk of another colour, which is one of the greatest signs of poverty a gentleman can show in the course of his never-failing embarrassments. He put out the candles; but the night was warm and he could not sleep; he rose from his bed and opened slightly a grated window that looked out on a beautiful garden, and as he did so he perceived and heard people walking and talking in the garden. He set himself to listen attentively, and those below raised their voices so that he could hear these words:

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“Urge me not to sing, Emerencia, for thou knowest that ever since this stranger entered the castle and my eyes beheld him, I cannot sing but only weep; besides my lady is a light rather than a heavy sleeper, and I would not for all the wealth of the world that she found us here; and even if she were asleep and did not waken, my singing would be in vain, if this strange AEneas, who has come into my neighbourhood to flout me, sleeps on and wakens not to hear it.”

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“Heed not that, dear Altisidora,” replied a voice; “the duchess is no doubt asleep, and everybody in the house save the lord of thy heart and disturber of thy soul; for just now I perceived him open the grated window of his chamber, so he must be awake; sing, my poor sufferer, in a low sweet tone to the accompaniment of thy harp; and even if the duchess hears us we can lay the blame on the heat of the night.”

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“That is not the point, Emerencia,” replied Altisidora, “it is that I would not that my singing should lay bare my heart, and that I should be thought a light and wanton maiden by those who know not the mighty power of love; but come what may; better a blush on the cheeks than a sore in the heart;” and here a harp softly touched made itself heard. As he listened to all this Don Quixote was in a state of breathless amazement, for immediately the countless adventures like this, with windows, gratings, gardens, serenades, lovemakings, and languishings, that he had read of in his trashy books of chivalry, came to his mind. He at once concluded that some damsel of the duchess’s was in love with him, and that her modesty forced her to keep her passion secret. He trembled lest he should fall, and made an inward resolution not to yield; and commending himself with all his might and soul to his lady Dulcinea he made up his mind to listen to the music; and to let them know he was there he gave a pretended sneeze, at which the damsels were not a little delighted, for all they wanted was that Don Quixote should hear them. So having tuned the harp, Altisidora, running her hand across the strings, began this ballad:

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O thou that art above in bed,

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Between the holland sheets,

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A-lying there from night till morn,

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With outstretched legs asleep;

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O thou, most valiant knight of all The famed Manchegan breed, Of purity and virtue more Than gold of Araby; Give ear unto a suffering maid, Well-grown but evil-starr’d, For those two suns of thine have lit A fire within her heart.

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Adventures seeking thou dost rove,

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To others bringing woe;

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Thou scatterest wounds, but, ah, the balm To heal them dost withhold!

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Say, valiant youth, and so may God Thy enterprises speed, Didst thou the light mid Libya’s sands Or Jaca’s rocks first see?

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Did scaly serpents give thee suck?

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Who nursed thee when a babe?

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Wert cradled in the forest rude,

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Or gloomy mountain cave?

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O Dulcinea may be proud,

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That plump and lusty maid;

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For she alone hath had the power A tiger fierce to tame.

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And she for this shall famous be From Tagus to Jarama, From Manzanares to Genil, From Duero to Arlanza.

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Fain would I change with her, and give A petticoat to boot, The best and bravest that I have, All trimmed with gold galloon.

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Would I on thee bestow!

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What damask breeches make for thee;

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