通译双语文库:波兰吹号手第六章　吹号手的塔楼|VI. THE TOWER OF THE TRUMPETER

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波兰吹号手|Polish trumpeter

第六章　吹号手的塔楼|VI. THE TOWER OF THE TRUMPETER

属类：双语小说【分类】双语小说 -[作者: 埃里克-凯利] 阅读：[18215] 登录会员即可添加到文库收藏夹，方便以后查看

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坐落于克拉科夫的圣玛利亚教堂是中欧最为宏伟的建筑之一，即使在那些遥远的日子里，世界各地的人都要远道而来一睹它的壮丽风采。这座教堂现在正庄严地耸立在这座中世纪的老城，远处就能清晰地看到它的两座高塔，而红色的砖墙就和瓦维尔山的石基一样坚固结实。不过，从外部看来，它并不如更具贵族气派的瓦维尔大教堂那么引人注目。圣玛利亚教堂没有飞拱，也没有独特的哥特式装饰，外墙上看不到巨大的石头滴水嘴、雕花，甚至圣像，不过它优雅的外表展示了一种坚实和宏伟的力量。它和艳阳高照的法国的大教堂不同，没有轻柔的微风和灿烂阳光的爱抚，容不下精美的雕刻和纤细的高塔，它的外形看起来更像是一座坚固的堡垒，以便抵御从荒芜的干旱草原或者波罗的海吹来的席卷整个波兰的强劲风暴。真正吸引人们的是这座教堂绝美的内部装饰，那可谓是隐藏在石头之中的一颗华丽水晶。

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一家人来到新居的第一天，夜幕刚刚降临，安德鲁先生便带着约瑟夫去了这座教堂。安德鲁先生将铜号夹在右臂之下。当他们到达较高的那座塔楼下方时，教堂的守门人审视了他们一番，然后打开了一道通往塔楼的厚重小门。他们在黑暗中沿着狭窄的楼梯盘旋而上，最后来到一个平台，塔楼的主体便豁然出现。约瑟夫发现平台的右侧还有一扇门，通向一个小礼堂。后来他才知道，死刑犯人行刑前几个小时就待在那里。

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一个手提着灯笼的男人从上面向他们喊话，他们原地不动等着男人下来，这个人就是白天值班的吹号手，安德鲁先生就是要接替他在晚上守夜。那个男人下来后，亲吻了安德鲁先生的脸颊以示欢迎，然后简单介绍了他在塔楼的职责。他把灯笼和一把钥匙交到安德鲁先生手里，那把钥匙用来打开吹号手在高塔上的值班房间。他祝父子俩第一个晚上一切顺利，然后就顺着侧面的楼梯下到底层，出了教堂。父子俩开始登上通向塔顶的简易楼梯，这座简易楼梯由木梁固定，木梁的边缘搭着台阶，他们上楼的时候，就这样沿着塔内的墙壁盘旋而上。这楼梯又陡又窄，但是非常坚固，走在上面没有任何咯吱声。

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他们顺着楼梯爬啊爬，经过了五层由白色小水晶球镶嵌的玻璃窗，向上再向上，终于来到了吹号手工作的楼层。这个地方呈八角形，分成两部分，有一个供吹号手在整点之间取暖休息的小房间，房间周围是开放的空间，透过窗户可以瞭望整座城市。墙上挂着闲置的铜号，几根绳子和悬挂在矮塔上的大钟相连接，还有用来提示火情的红旗和灯笼。

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时刻关注火情是吹号手的职责。他同时也要监视城市附近的军情以及城里的任何骚动和骚乱，不过最主要的任务还是监视火情。大火已经给这座城市带来了太多的伤害，城里的建筑大多是木质的，即使正面有石墙，但房顶用的不是茅草就是软木头，有一点火星都能引起大火。当吹号手在塔楼上发现火情后，就要在面向火灾发生地点的窗口挂起红旗；如果是夜晚，就要挂起嵌着红玻璃的灯笼。

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如果出现任何威胁市民生命安全的危险，吹号手还要敲响警钟。在安德鲁先生一家来到克拉科夫的前一个月，这里的吹号手就因为察觉到针对提辛斯基一家的暴动而敲响了警钟。来年，煽动那场暴乱的四个人将在塔楼下方的广场被执行死刑，届时也要敲钟。可以说，这座塔楼就是克拉科夫的活动中心。

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安德鲁先生把钥匙插进了小房间的门锁，拉开门闩，进入里面的房间。约瑟夫跟在后面，发现这个房间虽然不大，但很舒适，里面有一张桌子、一张床、一个小炉子，墙上还挂着一只点燃的灯笼。桌旁的三张椅子由于空间的限制而紧紧地挤在一起。桌上放着一个巨大的沙漏，约瑟夫还是第一次见到这么大的沙漏呢。沙子细细地从上端的玻璃球流入下端的玻璃球，已经快流到标记着拉丁文数字“十”的位置了，表明马上就要十点了。这个沙漏里的沙子全部流完实际上需要十二个小时，上面的线条和拉丁文数字都是工匠在沙漏定型之后，但材质依旧发软的时候标记上去的。吹号手就以这个沙漏的时间为准。在教堂正殿的屋顶上，阳光照射的地方有一个巨大的日晷，用来校准每天正午的时间。塔楼的北墙上也挂着一台钟表，上面只有一个时针。这个时针由一片金属打造成人手造型——一只握着的拳头，四个手指弯曲，食指指向时钟的刻度。

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当沙子流到十点刻度时，安德鲁先生迅速走到塔楼的开放区域，解开缠绕在中心柱子上的绳子。这根绳子穿过地上的洞穴和楼下的圆木滑轮相连接，然后又绕过滑轮，穿过墙上的一个小孔连接到较矮的那座塔楼上。那个小孔以前是当有外敌侵袭时射箭用的。较矮的那座塔楼里，一个铁锤悬挂在大钟的上方，锤子的尾端和从小孔穿过的绳子相连。拉动绳子的时候，锤子就会下降；松动绳子的时候，这个铁锤就会在金属和皮质弹簧的牵引下，弹回原处。安德鲁先生拉了一下绳子——铁锤下降——砰！钟声响彻城市上空。他拉了一次又一次，直到大钟被敲响十次。

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然后，他走到离休息间门口不远的地方，打开一扇小玻璃窗，拿起铜号，开始吹奏《海那圣歌》。他开始是在西边，朝着老布楼的方向，能看到远处的克拉科夫大学。然后，他又走到另一扇窗口，朝着南方吹奏。之后，他又按照规定，分别朝着东方和北方吹奏。此时，整个城市已经是万家灯火，微风中带着刚被收割的新鲜青草的味道。从大学的方向传来一群人唱诵圣歌的声音。格罗兹卡街上传来嗒嗒的马蹄声，骑马的不知是住在城堡里的贵族仆人，还是皇家卫兵。巡夜人用长矛的尾部敲击着商店的大门，以确定没有粗心的学徒或者家仆忘了锁门。圣玛利亚教堂下方的墓园一片沉寂，白色的石碑在昏暗中呈现出一片黯淡的灰色。路的对面，点灯人正在点燃挂在布楼屋檐下的灯笼里的大根灯芯。星星一颗接一颗地出现在还有一抹蓝色的天空中，安德鲁刚刚吹奏的《海那圣歌》的音符就飘荡在这柔和的夜里。

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“真美妙啊！”约瑟夫感叹道。

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“是啊，孩子。”安德鲁也感叹道。借着此情此景，安德鲁向约瑟夫谈起了多年前鞑靼人占领教堂下方广场的那个早晨，讲述了那个在生命的最后一刻依旧坚守誓言的少年，还有后来的吹号手通过突然中断《海那圣歌》的结尾而向少年致敬的传统。

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约瑟夫听得心潮澎湃，眼里泛起了泪花，这一刻他比以往任何时候都深刻地意识到祖国是多么可爱，正是那些英勇的先人所做的努力才让这个国家如此伟大。他站在塔楼的小窗户前，静静地望着窗外，一想到多年前那个年轻生命的牺牲，他的眼泪就涌上眼眶，但当他想到年轻人的高尚行为，心中就备受鼓舞，升腾起一股自豪感，从而止住了眼泪。

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然后，父子俩回到了号手休息的房间。

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“今晚我给你带了这个，”安德鲁先生关上门，把铜号挂到墙上之后，对约瑟夫说道，“你可以了解一下教堂号手的职责。以防有一天我病了或者是受伤了——这都说不定——毕竟我现在有很多敌人。我已经宣誓每个小时都吹响号角，那可不是空口说说就完了，我刚才给你讲的那个故事就是证明。不论发生任何事情，都要按时吹响号角。所以，”他拿出一张羊皮纸，用一块木炭在上面画出几条线，“你要用心记住我画的这些音符。”

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“这是《海那圣歌》的乐谱，”他在羊皮纸上画了一阵，然后继续说，“曲调是这样的。”他哼起调子，一边指着羊皮纸上相应的音符。

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“这个，”他说，“你一定要学会，接下来的一个星期你要好好学，下个礼拜的这个时候你得能把它写出来。不过，不要因此影响了你的学业，你要抽时间看。另外，如果可以，就默唱《海那圣歌》的曲调。等你学会了调子，我就教你吹号。这个任务并不难，不过要想吹得好，必须要足够努力。我会教你单音、双音还有三音，它们都是演奏小号的重中之重，就像文法是学术领域的根基一样。”

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约瑟夫把羊皮纸塞到了衣服里面。

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“现在，”安德鲁说道，“你赶快下楼回家吧。下去以后，把灯笼挂到底层的墙上，别忘了吹灭里面的灯芯。你母亲还等着你，她肯定觉得孤独呢。”

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“不会的，埃尔兹别塔和她在一起呢。”

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“上帝保佑那个孩子。不过，你还是赶紧走吧，夜深了，街上很危险，尽量和巡夜人同路，如果有人问你为什么这么晚还出来，你就说你父亲是塔楼的吹号手，你是回家去送信的。”

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约瑟夫下了楼，把熄灭的灯笼挂在了简易楼梯的底层，然后摸索着走到了塔楼的大门。他敲了一阵，然后看门人把他放了出去。刚出教堂大门，约瑟夫就像风一样开始奔跑，一直到了鸽子街才放慢了脚步。

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让他吃惊的是，给他开门的并不是那个看管院子的老妇人，而是她的儿子，他以前一直没有露过面。灯笼的光线照到他的脸上时，约瑟夫警觉地向后退了一步，他父亲和他说过老妇人和她的儿子住在一起，在他的想象中，那个儿子肯定是个年轻人，甚至是个小孩——他没想到眼前的这个人竟然长了一张中年人的脸。不过，与其用“人”来形容他，还不如用“怪物”一词更加恰当，因为他骨瘦如柴，背驼得不成样子；长长的头发遮挡着眼睛，双手瘦骨嶙峋，像爪子一样；他的脸颊凹陷，眼睛像是怕光似的藏在深深的眼窝里。他手里提着灯笼，走在约瑟夫的前面，像猫一样贴着墙壁，躲躲闪闪的，好像一直担心有人会从后面袭击他似的。

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在楼梯的底部，他停了下来。

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约瑟夫正要绕过他上楼梯，这个怪物突然举起一只手，按在了约瑟夫的肩膀上。约瑟夫听到了长指甲在他衣服上摩擦的声音——在那个可怕的瞬间，他仿佛感到那双手已经覆在了他的皮肤上。他的额头上冒出了冷汗。

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“你想要什么？”

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“一点，一点小钱。”男人悄悄说道。

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约瑟夫痛快地递给他一枚铜板。

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“好孩子，好孩子，”男人咕哝着，“上帝保佑你，保佑你。等你发财了，一定不要忘了斯塔斯。我叫斯塔斯，我就住在这里。”他说着，一边指着底楼敞着门的一个房间，但是约瑟夫根本没有在意，他的注意力完全被一束跳跃的火光所吸引，那是从四楼炼金术士阁楼的小窗户发出来的。那仅仅是一点点光亮，从那个打开的小窗户发出来——炼金术士通常紧闭那个窗户——一两秒钟之后就熄灭了，但是在那一个瞬间整个庭院和周围的建筑都被照亮了。

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“嘿，”男人指着上面说道，“他们会灵魂和身体的分离之术……知道吗？”在他说话的时候又出现一道光，比之前的更亮，持续时间也更长——“他们召唤来了恶魔，带来了地狱之火……炼金术士克鲁兹就是魔鬼的仆人，我们这个院子里还住着一个像魔鬼的人……你知道我说的是谁吧？”他突然把灯笼提到约瑟夫的面前，吓得男孩向后退了几步。“就是那个叫特林的学生！他会和魔鬼做交易，把灵魂都交给魔鬼。以为我没听见过他夜里在房间里叨叨咕咕，喊叫吟唱？他就是这座房子的诅咒……好了，我得睡觉了。祝你晚安。”说完，他便走进了那扇开着的房门里。

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One of the great sights of central Europe, even in those faraway days, which men came from all parts of the world to see, was the Church of Our Lady Mary in Krakow. Now, though this church rose majestically over the medieval city, its towers visible from afar, and its red brick walls as substantial and as solid as the very rock base of the Wawel Hill itself, it was not from the outside such an imposing sight as was its more aristocratic sister, the Wawel Cathedral. It lacked flying buttresses and distinct Gothic ornamentation, such as huge gargoyles and flowers and saints carved in stone, though its graceful form indicated a solid and magnificent strength. It was not a church such as one might gaze upon in sunny France, where the mild breezes and sweet sunshine permit delicate carvings and pinnacles upon the outside walls, but it was built like a solid fortress to withstand the mighty storms that sometimes sweep over Poland from the wild steppes or from the Baltic Sea. It was the interior of this church, however, that drew men to it, for within, it was a very miracle of beauty, a crystal hidden in a shapely stone.

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It was to this church, then, that Pan Andrew and Joseph wended their way after darkness fell on their first day in the new dwelling. Pan Andrew carried the trumpet under his right arm. Near the base of the higher tower a watchman spied them as they approached, and unlocked a small, heavy door that led to the tower stairs. They wentup a narrow staircase, winding about in the darkness, until it reached a platform where the interior of the tower loomed suddenly above them. Just at the right, as they began their ascent in the main body of the tower, was a door that led to a little chapel in which, as Joseph learned afterward, prisoners condemned to death spent their last hours on earth.

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A man carrying a lantern shouted to them from above; they waited then until he had descended—he was the day watchman whom Pan Andrew relieved. He paused to kiss Pan Andrew upon the cheek in welcome, and to speak a few words in explanation of his duties above. Then he placed in his hand the lantern and a key to the room, which the trumpeter was to occupy in the high tower. He wished them luck on their first night and then descended by the side staircase to the ground, where the watchman let him out. Joseph and his father in the meantime began to climb the steps of the scaffolding that led up into the tower. This scaffolding was held in place by crossbeams, and at its edge ran the steps, so built that as a man ascended he passed constantly from one of the four sides of the tower to another side. The staircase was steep and narrow, but very solid, so solid that the stairs did not creak as they ascended.

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They climbed and climbed, past five levels of windows glassed in with small white globes of solid crystal. Up and up went father and son, until they reached the level where there was a room for the watchman. This octagonal room was divided into two sections, one being the room where the trumpeter might keep warm between watches, the other being the open space around it, from which the turret windows looked out over the city. Here hung extra trumpets, here were the ropes, which connected with the great bell hanging inthe lower tower, and here were the red flags and the lanterns, which were hung out when a fire was perceived from the tower.

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For it was the duty of the trumpeter to watch constantly for fires. He was to watch also for troops approaching the city, for tumults or disturbances of any kind, but he was especially the guardian against fires. Conflagrations had done the city much harm in the past; many of the older buildings were of wood, although fronted with stone, and roofs were often of thatch or soft wood that easily caught fire from sparks. When a fire was discovered, the trumpeter or watchman, for he was both, hung a red flag from the window which faced the direction in which the blaze lay. At night he would hang out a lantern with a red glass front instead of the flag.

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It was his duty also to sound the alarm bell if any danger whatever came to threaten the lives of citizens. In the very month previous to the coming of Pan Andrew and his family to Krakow, the watchman had rung loud and long upon the bell to alarm the watch and the city when the riot against the Tenczynski family took place. In the coming year the bell was to be tolled at the execution, in the Town Square just below the tower, of the four men charged with causing the riot. The tower was indeed the very center of Krakow activity.

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Pan Andrew fitted his key to the lock of the door leading into the inner room and threw back the bolt. Entering after his father, Joseph found himself in a small comfortable room containing a table, a bed, a small stove, and a lighted lantern hanging on the wall. About the table were three chairs, wedged rather tightly because of the lack of space, and upon the table was a huge hourglass, one of the largest that Joseph had ever seen. The sand pouring through itin a fine stream had filled the lower section almost to a level graded on the glass with a Latin "X" to designate the tenth hour. The glass was in reality a twelve-hour glass, and lines and Latin numerals had been marked upon it just after the maker had blown it into shape, when the material was still soft. This was the trumpeter’s official clock. There was on the south side of the nave roof, where the sun touched at all hours of the day, a large sundial which was read each noon, and on the north wall of the tower was a clock with one hand. This hand, which indicated the hours, was in truth a hand—a piece of metal shaped like a double fist—with fingers curled and the index pointing out to the hours.

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When the sand had reached the level of the glass at which the "X" was cut, Pan Andrew hastened out to the open section of the tower and released a coil of rope that hung on a pillar in the center of the space. This rope ran down through a hole in the flooring, until it reached the level of the lower tower, when it swung about over a piece of round wood that served as a pulley

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and leaped from there to the lower tower through an aperture that was originally designed as a narrow window through which to shoot arrows in time of defense. In the lower tower the rope was connected with one end of an iron hammer that was suspended above the great bell. When the rope was pulled the hammer descended, but it sprang quickly back to its original position when the rope was loosed, a spring of twisted metal and leather serving to draw it back. Pan Andrew pulled once—the hammer descended—boom—the stroke of the bell sounded over the whole city. He pulled again and again until the full quota of ten strokes was made.

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Next he went to the side of the tower nearest the entrance to the little room and swung back a small glass window. Through this space he thrust the trumpet and began to play. It was on the West Side, the side toward the Cloth Hall, with the university in the distance. Then he moved to another window but one and began to play toward the south. Likewise he played toward the east, and finally toward the north, according to the instructions which he had received. Lights were twinkling now all over the city below him; the air was soft and smelled of the freshly cut grass which the peasants gather into piles. In the direction of the university a group of men were chanting a Hymn. A clashing of iron hoofs on the stones of Grodzka Street betokened the presence of some armed men, perhaps the servitors of some nobles’ houses at the castle, or perhaps members of the royal guard. Men of the night watch could be heard banging at doors of shops with the butts of their spears to be sure that no careless apprentice or servant had left the door ajar. Down below, in the graveyard, the white stones were just perceptible, dim and gray in the dusk; and over the way, the lamplighter was enkindling the huge wicks of the lamps that hung under the Cloth Hall roof. The stars were coming out, one after another, in the sky, where a touch of blue still lingered—across this world rang the notes of the hymn which Pan Andrew had just played exquisitely, the Heynal, or Hymn to the Holy Mother.

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It is wondrous sweet, said Joseph.

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It is so, my son, replied the father. Thereupon he told the boy of the morning, years before, when the square below them had been full of hostile Tartars; of the lad who had kept his oath, even with the last breath of life itself; and of the honor paid him from that day to this by the tower trumpeters who end the Heynal at the broken note.

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And Joseph, listening with eyes shining and heart throbbing, realized more at that moment than ever before how dear to him was his native land and all the customs that had been bequeathed by brave men and women who had made it great forever among all nations; it seemed as if tears were forcing themselves to his eyes as he thought of the sacrifice of that young life so many years before, but a thrill of pride drove back the tears when he thought of the nobility of the deed, as he stood silently gazing out of the little tower window.

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They re-entered the inner room.

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I have brought you here tonight, Pan Andrew explained when he had closed the door and hung the trumpet on the wall, "in order to instruct you in the duties of the trumpeter of this church. For there might come a time when I should be ill, or perhaps even wounded— who knows, since I have so many enemies? I have taken the oath that I will play this trumpet each hour, and that it is no vain oath you have learned from the story which I have just told you. The trumpet must be played, happen what will. Therefore"—he drew out a piece of parchment and sketched on it with a bit of charcoal a series of lines—"you are to learn by heart the notes which I sketch here."

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Here are the notes of the Heynal, he continued after he had worked silently some minutes upon his composition, "the tune goes like this." He hummed the melody and indicated on the parchment how each symbol represented a note.

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This, he said, "it is necessary to learn. Work upon it during the coming week, and at this time next week be able to write it out. Do not let it interfere with your work at the collegium but glance at it in spare time. Also, if you can, sing to yourself beneathyour breath the melody of the Heynal. When you have learned the melody, I will teach you to play it upon the trumpet. It is not a hard task, although perfection comes only after much effort. I will teach you single tongue and double tongue, and triple tongue, which is the queen of the trumpeter’s music, just as grammar is king of the scholastic kingdom."

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Joseph slipped the parchment inside his coat.

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And now, directed the father, "go down the stairs quickly and run with dispatch to our house. As you descend leave the lantern against the wall on the lowest tower level; be sure that you extinguish it. The mother is waiting and may be already lonely."

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Nay, I left her with Elzbietka.

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Bless the child. But, just the same, go with all speed, for city streets are dangerous at night. Keep close to the watchmen where possible, and if asked why you are out so late, reply that your father is trumpeter in the tower and that you are returning home with a message from him.

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Joseph descended; he left the extinguished lantern at the place where the steps begin to mount the scaffolding and felt his way down the stone steps to the tower door. There he rapped, until the watchman let him out. Once in the street he was off like the wind, until he found himself in the Street of the Pigeons.

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Much to his surprise the entrance door was opened, not by the old woman who saw to the care of the building, but by her son, who up to this time had kept himself well out of sight. As the light from the lantern fell upon his face, Joseph drew back in alarm; when his father had mentioned the fact that the old woman was living with her son, Joseph had imagined that the son was a youth, or perhapsa boy—he did not expect to see a man who had the face of one of middle age. Yet the term "man" was less applicable to the son than was the word "creature," for he was lank and thin and bowed over uncannily; long wisps of hair fell about his eyes; his fingers were bony and claw like; his cheeks were sunken, and his eyes peered out of hollow caverns as if they feared the light. As he moved ahead of Joseph, with the lantern in his hand, he clung to the wall as does a cat, shunning open spaces and skulking as if always needing a rear defense.

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At the foot of the stairs he stopped.

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Joseph was about to pass him and begin the ascent when the creature raised one of his hands and passed it over the boy’s shoulder. Joseph heard the long nails scraping on his coat—in a horrible second it seemed as if he could feel them on his skin. The perspiration broke out on his forehead.

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What do you want?

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A little—little coin, whispered the man.

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Joseph handed him a piece of copper gladly.

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Good boy—good boy, the other mumbled, "bless thee, bless thee. And when you have much that jingles remember Stas. Stas I am, and here I sleep." He pointed at the door standing open on the lower floor, but Joseph’s eyes did not follow him. His attention was taken suddenly from Stas by a burst of flame that leaped like a live thing from the tiny window of the loft of the alchemist on the fourth floor. It was just a little flare—a small flame that issued through the opened shutter, which the alchemist usually kept closed—it died down in a second or even less, but for that instant it lighted up the whole court and the surrounding buildings.

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Hey, said the man, pointing upward, "there they have magic that takes a soul away from a body.... See"—there was another dash, brighter than the first and longer continued—"there be devils that come to earth with the fire of hell upon them.... Their servant is the alchemist Kreutz, and they have one among us here on earth that is more like them than like us.... You know whom I mean?" He swung the lantern close to Joseph’s face, the boy recoiling fearfully. "The student Tring! He it is that would deal with the devil and give him his soul. Have I not heard him at night as he lay awake in his room on the farther side of the court, mumbling and calling and singing? He it is who is the curse of this house....Well, I must sleep. A good night to you." And he went in through the open door.

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上页 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 下页

世界名著双语阅读：

傲慢与偏见小妇人鲁滨逊漂流记哈姆莱特名利场十日谈不平静的坟墓人性的枷锁飘诱拐杀死一只知更鸟黑骏马老人与海苏格兰玛丽女王朗读者故园风雨后董贝父子复活劝导斯泰尔斯庄园奇案无名的裘德童年血字的研究月亮和六便士永别了，武器英雄艾文荷败坏了哈德莱堡的人罪与罚纯真年代巴黎圣母院

古代小说：

大明正德皇游江南传大唐秦王词话粉妆楼红楼复梦济公全传九尾龟郡斋读书志兰花梦聊斋志异女仙外史品花宝鉴儒林外史水浒传无耻奴续济公传薛刚反唐雍正剑侠图于公案初刻拍案惊奇警世通言醒世恒言喻世明言封神演义西游记二十年目睹之怪现状今古奇观金瓶梅词话（万历本）

历史演义：

残唐五代史演义传东汉秘史后汉演义两晋演义民国演义上下卷明史演义清史演义三国演义说唐宋史演义元史演义赵太祖三下南唐民国演义

古代小说：

古汉语：

古文观止山海经

历史演义：

残唐五代史演义传东汉秘史后汉演义两晋演义民国演义上下卷明史演义清史演义三国演义说唐宋史演义元史演义赵太祖三下南唐民国演义

中国古诗词：

全唐诗

古汉语：

古文观止山海经

古代小说：

历史演义：

残唐五代史演义传东汉秘史后汉演义两晋演义民国演义上下卷明史演义清史演义三国演义说唐宋史演义元史演义赵太祖三下南唐民国演义

历史：

史记隋唐两朝志传唐书志传新元史资治通鉴高丽史清史稿汉书后汉书三国志晋书宋书南齐书梁书陈书魏书北齐书周书隋书南史北史全唐文旧唐书新唐书旧五代史新五代史宋史辽史金史元史

当代文学：

朝花夕拾而已集二心集彷徨1926年坟古小说钩沈故事新编　目录华盖集华盖集续编集外集集外集拾遗南腔北调集呐喊且介亭杂文且介亭杂文二集且介亭杂文末编三闲集伪自由书中国小说的历史的变迁中国小说史略准风月谈

其他文献：

三民主义

科技文献：

梦溪笔谈天工开物徐霞客游记

世界名著：

1984 八十天环游地球摆渡人邦斯舅舅北回归线变形记查泰莱夫人的情人大卫·科波菲尔第二十二条军规父与子钢铁是怎样炼成的哈姆莱特幻灭交际花盛衰记静静的顿河九三年理想国理智与情感麦田里的守望者曼斯菲尔德庄园牛虻匹克威克外传飘钦差大臣莎乐美失乐园汤姆叔叔的小屋瓦尔登湖我的大学羊皮卷

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序号英文/音标中文解释更多操作

	medieval [ˌmedi’iːvl]	adj.中世纪的
	Cathedral [kə’θiːdrəl]	n.大教堂
	buttress [’bʌtrəs]	n.扶墙;拱壁
	ornamentation [ˌɔːnəmen’teɪʃn]	n.装饰;修饰
	graceful [’ɡreɪsfl]	adj.优雅的;得体的
	pinnacle [’pɪnəkl]	n.小尖塔;尖峰;高峰
	steppe [step]	n.(特指西伯利亚一带没有树木的)大草原;干草原
	Baltic [’bɔːltɪk]	adj.波罗的海的;波罗的语的
	dwell [dwel]	vi.居住;存在;冥想;详细阐述
	trumpet [’trʌmpɪt]	n.喇叭;喇叭声;喇叭手
	unlock [ˌʌn’lɒk]	v.开锁;开启;揭开;显露
	staircase [’steəkeɪs]	n.楼梯
	loom [luːm]	n.织布机
	chapel [’tʃæpl]	n.小礼拜堂;礼拜仪式;唱诗班;印刷厂工会;殡仪馆
	condemned [kən’demd]	adj.被责难的;被宣告有罪的,
	grind [ɡraɪnd]	v.磨;压迫;碾碎;磨得吱吱响;逐渐停顿
	scaffold [’skæfəʊld]	n.鹰架;绞刑台;脚手架
	ascend [ə’send]	v.上升;攀登
	past [pɑːst]	a. 过去的;
	tumult [’tjuːmʌlt]	n.骚乱;嘈杂声;烦乱
	disturbance [dɪ’stɜːbəns]	n.扰乱;骚动
	guardian [’ɡɑːdiən]	n.保护人;监护人
	conflagration [ˌkɒnflə’greɪʃən]	n.大火灾;大火;爆发
	blaze [bleɪz]	n. 火；火焰;
	Krakow [ˈkrɑːkɒf]	n.克拉科夫(波兰城市).
	wedge [wedʒ]	n.楔子;楔形物
	designate [’dezɪɡneɪt]	vt.指定;标明;把...定名为;选派
	numeral [’njuːmərəl]	adj.数字的;表示数字的
	curl [kɜːl]	n.卷曲;卷发;年轮;漩涡;【足】曲线球
	hasten [’heɪsn]	v.催促;赶快;加速
	coil [kɔɪl]	n.卷;圈;线圈
	pillar [’pɪlə(r)]	n.柱子;支柱;核心(人物)
	pulley [’pʊli]	n.滑车;滑轮;皮带轮
	aperture [’æpətʃə(r)]	n.孔;孔径
	hammer [’hæmə(r)]	n.锤子;榔头
	quota [’kwəʊtə]	n.限额;配额;定额
	thrust [θrʌst]	v.刺;插入;推挤
	twinkle [’twɪŋkl]	vi.闪耀;闪烁;眨眼;轻快移动
	chant [tʃɑːnt]	n.圣歌;赞美诗;旋律;喊叫
	hoof [huːf]	n. 蹄; 人的脚
	bang [bæŋ]	n.巨响;重击;刘海
	spear [spɪə(r)]	n.矛;标枪
	apprentice [ə’prentɪs]	n.学徒;见习生
	dusk [dʌsk]	n.黄昏;薄暮;幽暗
	wick [wɪk]	n.蜡烛芯;灯芯
	linger [’lɪŋɡə(r)]	vi.徘徊;逗留;消磨;漫步
	exquisite [ɪk’skwɪzɪt]	adj.精挑细选的;精致的;细腻的;强烈的
	oath [əʊθ]	n.誓言;誓约;咒骂语
	trumpeter [’trʌmpɪtə(r)]	n.小号手;号兵;鹤形鸟
	throb [θrɒb]	n.跳动，搏动，悸动
	customs [’kʌstəmz]	n.海关
	charcoal [’tʃɑːkəʊl]	n.木炭;炭笔
	hum [hʌm]	vi. (蜜蜂等)作嗡嗡声;
	melody [’melədi]	n.旋律;曲子;曲调;美妙的音乐
	triple [’trɪpl]	adj.三倍的
	grammar [’ɡræmə(r)]	n.语法
	parchment [’pɑːtʃmənt]	n.羊皮纸;仿羊皮纸
	dispatch [dɪ’spætʃ]	v.派遣;发送;迅速完成;处死
	extinguish [ɪk’stɪŋɡwɪʃ]	vt.熄灭;扑灭;消灭;使破灭;偿清
	felted [’feltɪd]	v. 把 ... 制成毡(使 ... 粘结)
	rap [ræp]	n. 轻敲，急拍；轻敲声，急拍声;
	applicable [ə’plɪkəbl]	adj.合适的
	wisp [wɪsp]	n.小束;一缕;瘦小的人
	bony [’bəʊni]	adj.如骨的;多骨的;瘦骨嶙峋的
	claw [klɔː]	n.爪;钳;螯;爪状物
	cavern [’kævən]	n.大洞穴
	shun [ʃʌn]	v.避开;回避;避免
	scrape [skreɪp]	v.刮掉;擦掉
	perspiration [ˌpɜːspə’reɪʃn]	n.汗水;流汗
	mumble [’mʌmbl]	v.喃喃而语;咕哝
	thee [ðiː]	pron.【古】你;汝;你自己
	jingle [’dʒɪŋɡl]	n.叮当声;广告歌
	loft [lɒft]	n.阁楼
	flare [fleə(r)]	n.闪光;闪光信号;【天】耀斑;(衣裙等)张开
	recoil [rɪ’kɔɪl]	v.退却;畏缩;弹回;报应
	fearful [’fɪəfl]	adj.担心的;可怕的;非常的
	curse [kɜːs]	n.诅咒;咒骂;祸端
	alchemist [’ælkəmɪst]	n.炼丹术士;炼金术士

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第六章 吹号手的塔楼|VI. THE TOWER OF THE TRUMPETER

“真美妙啊！”约瑟夫感叹道。

然后，父子俩回到了号手休息的房间。

“这是《海那圣歌》的乐谱，”他在羊皮纸上画了一阵，然后继续说，“曲调是这样的。”他哼起调子，一边指着羊皮纸上相应的音符。

约瑟夫把羊皮纸塞到了衣服里面。

“现在，”安德鲁说道，“你赶快下楼回家吧。下去以后，把灯笼挂到底层的墙上，别忘了吹灭里面的灯芯。你母亲还等着你，她肯定觉得孤独呢。”

“不会的，埃尔兹别塔和她在一起呢。”

“上帝保佑那个孩子。不过，你还是赶紧走吧，夜深了，街上很危险，尽量和巡夜人同路，如果有人问你为什么这么晚还出来，你就说你父亲是塔楼的吹号手，你是回家去送信的。”

约瑟夫下了楼，把熄灭的灯笼挂在了简易楼梯的底层，然后摸索着走到了塔楼的大门。他敲了一阵，然后看门人把他放了出去。刚出教堂大门，约瑟夫就像风一样开始奔跑，一直到了鸽子街才放慢了脚步。

在楼梯的底部，他停了下来。

约瑟夫正要绕过他上楼梯，这个怪物突然举起一只手，按在了约瑟夫的肩膀上。约瑟夫听到了长指甲在他衣服上摩擦的声音——在那个可怕的瞬间，他仿佛感到那双手已经覆在了他的皮肤上。他的额头上冒出了冷汗。

“你想要什么？”

“一点，一点小钱。”男人悄悄说道。

约瑟夫痛快地递给他一枚铜板。

It is wondrous sweet, said Joseph.

They re-entered the inner room.

Here are the notes of the Heynal, he continued after he had worked silently some minutes upon his composition, "the tune goes like this." He hummed the melody and indicated on the parchment how each symbol represented a note.

Joseph slipped the parchment inside his coat.

And now, directed the father, "go down the stairs quickly and run with dispatch to our house. As you descend leave the lantern against the wall on the lowest tower level; be sure that you extinguish it. The mother is waiting and may be already lonely."

Nay, I left her with Elzbietka.

Bless the child. But, just the same, go with all speed, for city streets are dangerous at night. Keep close to the watchmen where possible, and if asked why you are out so late, reply that your father is trumpeter in the tower and that you are returning home with a message from him.

At the foot of the stairs he stopped.

Joseph was about to pass him and begin the ascent when the creature raised one of his hands and passed it over the boy’s shoulder. Joseph heard the long nails scraping on his coat—in a horrible second it seemed as if he could feel them on his skin. The perspiration broke out on his forehead.

What do you want?

A little—little coin, whispered the man.

Joseph handed him a piece of copper gladly.

第六章　吹号手的塔楼|VI. THE TOWER OF THE TRUMPETER