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居里夫人的故事|THE story of Madame Curie

第一章　玛妮雅唱歌|Chapter I　Manya Singing

属类： 双语小说 【分类】儿童读物 -[作者: 王丈卜] 阅读：[5212]
作者是王丈卜。这本书主要介绍居里夫人伟大的一生以及艰苦条件下取得成果的故事。2020年4月，列入《教育部基础教育课程教材发展中心 中小学生阅读指导目录（2020年版）》
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怎么不行？如何不行？到底为什么不行？为什么不让玛妮雅读书？她最终还是把问题埋在了心里。她不愿意去问自己温柔美丽的母亲；她只会撑着自己倔强的小脑袋，百思不得其解，一缕金发后那双明亮的灰蓝色眼睛透出锐利的目光。

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总是这样！她自顾自地说：“我就不能读书吗？”一摸书，就肯定有人会说，“玛妮雅乖孩子，快去花园里玩玩吧”。或者“你可是一整天都没玩布娃娃了呢”。又或者“快用那些漂亮的新积木搭幢房子吧”。玛妮雅对他们这些小把戏早已了如指掌。她要是读书那就是淘气——但这只针对她一人而言，要换作是布朗尼娅那就完全不同了；然而事实上，布朗尼娅根本看不懂书，只有玛妮雅才能读懂。不过，她但凡从布朗尼娅手里抢来本书，那就是大错特错，尽管她并没有任何恶意，这可真让人摸不着头脑。有时候她们待在叔叔的果园里无事可做，布朗尼娅就会叫她一起玩字母卡片，于是两个人就躺在草地上，摆弄着卡片将字母拼成单词。从叔叔家回来后的某一天，爸爸问起了功课，对布朗尼娅说：“来看看你最近读书有没有长进。”布朗尼娅摊开书，开始拼单词，但却读得结结巴巴、磕磕绊绊。玛妮雅一把夺过书来放声朗读。“玛妮雅！”妈妈厉声喊道，又急又气，而爸爸则是一脸严肃，布朗尼娅也气鼓鼓的。玛妮雅别无选择，只能啜泣道：“对不起……玛妮雅不是故意的。”

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自从那天起，家里就彻底不让玛妮雅读书了，她站在妈妈的房间门前不知所措。布朗尼娅与约瑟夫和海拉一起玩堡垒对峙的游戏，于是整个早上玛妮雅都要不停地穿过长长的走廊给布朗尼娅运送“军备物资”。堡垒是用新积木块堆成的，这运送的“物资”中自然也包括积木块了，不一会儿玛妮雅就又热又累，游戏也就暂告一段落。休息时，玛妮雅看到了姐姐便跑去花园里。“若莎！若莎！”她边跑边叫道，然后两个人手牵着手一同走。若莎已经十二岁了，在他们四个小屁孩儿的眼里那就是大人了，四个孩子中约瑟夫、海拉、布朗尼娅已经年满八岁，而玛妮雅当时只有五岁，不过她四岁便开始读书识字了。正是因此才不让她读书，斯克沃多夫斯基夫妇不想让他们天资聪颖的小女儿过早承受压力，但夫妻俩却没想着要给玛妮雅解释这个原因。

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花园又大又平整，四周围墙环绕，草坪被踩得有些破败，但周围树木茂盛。花园里大部分地方都能让孩子们玩得尽兴，唯独出入花园时他们却要特别当心，因为要经过“怪人”叔叔家的窗户，这个花园坐落在男子中学里，斯克沃多夫斯基一家和怪人叔叔都住在学校里。即便是若莎，在经过怪人叔叔家的窗口时都是小心翼翼，放低声音悄悄告诉小妹妹要保持安静。

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尽管只有五岁，但玛妮雅懂得的事情可不少。她知道奥格尔是个怪人，因为有一群人将她的祖国一分为三并且出卖给外人，就像巨人与两个同类瓜分战利品一样，而奥格尔就是这群人中的一员。玛妮雅是波兰人，奥格尔是俄国人，是一所学校的校长，玛妮雅的爸爸就是那所学校的数学和物理老师。奥格尔要求学校里所有的波兰人，不分男女，举手投足都必须表现得和俄国人一样。玛妮雅知道和这样的人在一起必须时刻保持警惕、小心翼翼，不要被抓住把柄。

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玛妮雅知道的还不止这些：尽管她生活在城市里，但她清楚地知道乡下是个景色秀丽、充满欢乐的地方。在乡下，人来人往、热闹非凡，有自己的叔叔婶婶、堂兄弟姐妹；在乡下，可以在溪流里划船涉水，可以捏泥巴然后在太阳光下烤干做成“美味的泥巴蛋糕”。乡下还有一株古老的椴树，他们七个堂兄弟姐妹可以坐在上面，尽情地嚼着从清爽绿叶下摘下的醋栗果。玛妮雅一来，他们便将她举上弯弯曲曲的树枝上乘凉，给她摘果子吃。七月里玛妮雅简直就是个玩疯了的小农夫。

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她还很了解自己的妈妈。她知道妈妈爱她远胜一切。妈妈温柔美丽、歌声动人，玛妮雅对此深信不疑。每晚睡前，妈妈都会抚摸玛妮雅的秀发和额头，虽然不是亲吻脸庞，但玛妮雅很喜欢这种特殊的亲密方式。晚上，全家人都会围跪在圆桌旁祷告“保佑妈妈快点好起来”，玛妮雅却从未想过这样做是因为妈妈生病了，也没联想到这就是妈妈不能亲吻她的原因。

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玛妮雅出生于1867年11月7日，取名玛丽雅，不过大家都唤她玛妮雅或玛妮莎，或者更亲昵地称呼她一个特别的小名安丘佩秋，因为波兰人特别喜欢昵称。若莎有时候会坐在花园里给玛妮雅讲个关于安丘佩秋的长长的故事，若莎讲故事讲得比别人都好，还会经常编一些有趣的小短剧，自编自演给弟弟妹妹看，她一个人扮演所有角色。若莎演得惟妙惟肖，看得玛妮雅时而哈哈大笑，时而胆战心惊，都搞不清自己到底生活在哪个国家，周围的邻居是什么样的人，故事里的人物又是谁。

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回到家，她们看见爸爸已经下了课，正坐在书房里，书房是家里面积最大且欢乐最多的地方。两个人轻手轻脚地走进书房，看见妈妈正坐在那里给玛妮雅缝鞋，剪刀咔嚓咔嚓作响，裁过硬硬的皮革。蜡线刺啦刺啦在皮革层间穿梭、拉紧，小锤头叮当叮当地敲在按扣上。斯克沃多夫斯卡夫人白皙纤瘦的双手灵巧敏捷，即便是做这样费劲儿的活儿也游刃有余——不过她也必须这样，因为五个孩子一年就能穿坏好多双皮鞋。

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爸爸整晚都在谈论奥格尔，平常也经常会提起他。奥格尔对这个家庭影响很深，而且以后还会更深。奥格尔最近严厉地批评了一个波兰男孩，就因为他犯了一个俄语语法错误，但俄语可是世界上最难学的语言之一。斯克沃多夫斯基先生又没忍住，替学生解围道：“奥格尔先生，尽管您是土生土长的俄国人，但您也会犯语法错误呀。”奥格尔没有立刻反驳。他皱着眉，瞪着眼，但最终还是忍住了怒火，准备留着以后一起算账。

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玛妮雅在爸爸的书房里踱来踱去，挺着自己笔直的小鼻子，沉浸在自己的想法里，小心翼翼地摆弄着喜欢的小玩意儿，怕吵到哥哥姐姐，他们都在爸爸那张平整的大书桌上做作业呢。玛妮雅对挂在墙上的那幅精美的主教画像丝毫提不起兴趣；据说这幅画出自名家之手，但并不对玛妮雅的胃口。她喜欢桌子上那座钟表，能一直聚精会神地盯着表面，听着响亮的嘀嗒声。她的手指在色彩明丽的西西里桌子那光滑的大理石板上有节奏地划来划去；她也喜欢这张桌子，但不喜欢它上面的诸如蓝色塞勒夫杯子之类的东西。她格外留心地从一旁走过，以免碰到这个易碎的物件。而其他的宝贝就没有这么娇气；它们更结实也更神秘，有又长又难懂的可爱名字——这挂在墙上的气压计，爸爸每天都会在孩子们的注视下认真检查；玻璃橱柜里还摆着精致的天平、矿物质和金箔验电器。“那些……？”玛妮雅有天问道。

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“那些是什么？”爸爸用一本正经却又略加调侃的语气打断了玛妮雅，“那些是物理仪器。”

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爸爸并没有想到！玛妮雅自己也从没想过，日后她与物理仪器之间会结下怎样的不解之缘，但她当时确实喜欢上了这个发音独特的名词，边跑边唱道：

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“物——理——仪——器，物——理——仪——器……”

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WHY not? Why not? Why not? Why shouldn’t Manya be allowed to read? She didn’t ask the question. She would not think of asking her gentle, beautiful mother why not; she only puzzled her own little stubborn head where a pair of bright, grey-blue eyes looked penetratingly out from under a shock of yellow hair.

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It was always like that! She had only to say: “Mayn’t I read?” or to put out a hand towards a book and someone would be sure to say: “Manya dear, run into the garden” or “You haven’t been to see your doll all day” or “Build me a house with those lovely new blocks.” Manya knew all their wiles. Reading was naughty—naughty for her, but not for Bronia; and yet she could read and Bronia couldn’t. It was very puzzling and apparently all the fault of the day when she had snatched a book from Bronia. She hadn’t meant anything wrong. Bronia had asked her to play with the cardboard letters when they had nothing to do in their uncle’s orchard except lie on the grass and move the bits of cardboard into words. Then one day, after they came home, their father had said to Bronia: “Let’s see how the reading has got on.” Bronia had stood with the open book, spelling the words and stumbling over them. So Manya had seized it from her and read! “Manya!” her mother had exclaimed, surprised and shocked and her father had looked solemn while Bronia had sulked. There had been nothing for Manya to do but to cry and sob out: “Beg pardon... Manya didn’t mean it.”

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Since that day no reading had been allowed, so Manya stood hesitating at her mother’s door wondering what she should do. All morning she had been carrying ammunition for Bronia across the long dormitory floor in the great war against Joseph’s and Hela’s fort. The fort was built of the new blocks and the ammunition consisted of blocks also and she had grown too hot and tired, so that game had been stopped as far as she was concerned. There was nothing for it but to find her elder sister and go into the garden. “Zosia!… Zosia!” she called through the house and the two went off hand in hand. Zosia was twelve and almost grown up in the eyes of the other four, who were Joseph, Hela, Bronia, aged eight, and Manya. Manya was four when she learned to read and five on the day we are talking about, which explains why she was not allowed to read. Monsieur and Madame Sklodovski did not want their clever little girl pressed. But it had not occurred to them to tell her the reason.

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The garden was big, level and walled in, with a rather worn grass patch and lots of trees. In much of it they could play to their hearts’ content, but they had to be careful what they did on their way out and in, because they had to pass the windows of an Ogre. The garden belonged to the boys’ High School, and in the school both the Sklodovskis and the Ogre lived. Even Zosia was nervous when she had to pass those windows and lowered her voice to a whisper, telling her little sister to be quite silent while they tip-toed past.

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Although she was only five, Manya already knew quite a number of things. She knew that the ogre was an ogre because he belonged to the people who had cut her own country into three parts and shared them out, like a giant dividing his spoil with two other giants. She was a Polish child and the ogre was the Russian Director of the school in which her father taught Mathematics and Physics. He was there to see that all the Polish men, women and children pretended properly to be Russian and Manya knew that with such people you had to be on your guard, careful and quiet so as not to be caught.

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There was another thing that Manya knew very well: the country was a lovely place, though she lived in the town. In the country there were crowds and crowds and uncles and aunts and cousins; there was a stream to paddle in and mud to make mud pies and plenty of sun to cook the delectable cakes. There was the old lime tree that seven cousins sat in, eating gooseberries from cool cabbage leaves. When she appeared they would hoist her up to their crooked perch and make a collection for her from each of the seven cabbage leaves. In July, Manya was a wild little peasant.

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Then there was her mother. Manya knew that she loved her more than anything else in the world. She was very beautiful, so it was not surprising that Manya thought so, or that she loved her beautiful singing. She loved, too, her mother’s odd little way of stroking her hair and her forehead when she went to bed, instead of kissing her and when, in the evening all the family knelt around the table and prayed “Pray God make our mother better,” Manya never supposed it was because her mother was ill or that that had anything to do with not being kissed.

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Manya had been born on November the 7th, 1867, and named Marya, but she was more often called Manya or Manyusia—or oftenest of all, a strange pet name, Anciupecio, for in Poland they love nicknames. Zosia had spent the time in the garden telling her a long story about Anciupecio, because Zosia told stories better than anybody else and often made up gay little plays which she acted for her brother and sisters, taking all the parts herself. So real were those plays that Manya used to laugh and shudder by turns and not be quite sure in which country she lived or who were the people next door or who the people in the story.

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When they reached the house, they found that their father had. just finished school and was sitting in his study, the largest, happiest room in the house. The two entered very quietly. There sat their mother making a pair of shoes for Manya. creak, creak went the scissors, cutting through the hard leather. Snap, snap crackled the waxed thread as it tightened and grew taut between the layers, and clack, clack tapped the hammer on the nails. Madame Sklodovski’s thin white hands were nimble and cunning even at such hard work as that—and they needed to be, because five children wear out a mighty deal of shoe leather in a year.

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That evening their father was talking about the Ogre. He often talked about him. The Ogre meant much to the family and was going to mean more. He had recently punished a Polish boy savagely for making a grammatical mistake in Russian, which is one of the hardest of foreign languages, and Monsieur Sklodovski had not been able to resist the temptation of saying: “But you too, sir, though you are a Russian by birth, sometimes make a grammatical mistake in that language.” The Ogre did not at once retort. He glowered and scowled, but he saved up his revenge for another year.

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Manya wandered round her father’s room, straight little nose in the air, dreamily thinking her own thoughts, touching her pet ornaments, keeping carefully from disturbing her brother and sisters, who were doing their homework around their father’s big, flat-topped desk. Manya was not at all interested in the splendid picture of a bishop which hung on the wall; it was said to be by a famous painter, but that was not the kind of thing she liked. She loved the clock on the desk and stayed a long time peering into its face and listening to its loud tick, tock. Then she ran her fingers daintily along the smooth marble top of the many-coloured Sicilian table; she liked that too, but not the whatnot with its blue Sèvres cup. She drew herself carefully away from that as the thing was breakable and something terrible might happen if she touched it. Not so the next treasures; they were more friendly and more mysterious with lovely, long, incomprehensible names—the barometer hanging on the wall which her father examined and tapped so seriously every day under the children’s watchful eyes; the glass cupboard containing glass tubes and delicate balances and minerals and a goldleaf electroscope. “What... ?” Manya began one day.

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“What are those?” interrupted her father in a solemn, teasing voice, “Those are physical apparatus.”

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Little did he think…! Little did Manya think what was going to happen to her and physical apparatus, but she liked the odd sounding words and ran off chanting:

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Phys-ˇ-cˇal áp-pˇar-á-tús.

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Phys-ˇ-cˇal áp-pˇar-á-tús.

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序号 英文/音标 中文解释 更多操作

stubborn

[’stʌbən]

adj.顽固的;倔强的;难对付的

penetrating

[’penɪtreɪtɪŋ]

adj.敏锐的;尖锐的;穿透的;有洞察力的

wile

[waɪl]

n.诡计;阴谋;欺骗

snatch

[snætʃ]

n.抢夺;一阵;一点点

orchard

[’ɔːtʃəd]

n.果园

solemn

[’sɒləm]

adj.庄严的;严肃的;隆重的

sulk

[sʌlk]

v.不高兴;愠怒;生气

fort

[fɔːt]

n.堡垒;要塞

Madame

[’mædəm]

n.夫人

past

[pɑːst]

a. 过去的;

ogre

[’əʊɡə(r)]

n.食人魔鬼;怪物

gooseberry

[’ɡʊzbəri]

n.醋栗树;醋栗;不知趣的第三者

hoist

[hɔɪst]

v.升起;升高;举起

crook

[krʊk]

n.钩;曲柄杖;弯曲;骗子

nickname

[’nɪkneɪm]

n. 绰号; 昵称

crackle

[’krækl]

v.发劈啪声

wax

[wæks]

n.蜡;蜂蜡

hammer

[’hæmə(r)]

n.锤子;榔头

cunning

[’kʌnɪŋ]

adj.狡猾的;有眼光的;精巧的;可爱的

savage

[’sævɪdʒ]

a. 野蛮的，未开化的;

grammatical

[ɡrə’mætɪkl]

adj.语法的;合乎文法的

retort

[rɪ’tɔːt]

v.反驳;回嘴;反击

glower

[’ɡlaʊə(r)]

v.怒目而视

scowl

[skaʊl]

n.愁容;皱眉

dreaminess

[’driːmi]

adj.梦幻般的;心不在焉的;不切实际的;轻柔的

disturbance

[dɪ’stɜːbəns]

n.扰乱;骚动

tick

[tɪk]

n. 【口语】片刻；刹那间;

barometer

[bə’rɒmɪtə(r)]

n.气压计;晴雨表

tease

[tiːz]

n.揶揄者;戏弄

chant

[tʃɑːnt]

n.圣歌;赞美诗;旋律;喊叫

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