试译了威尔基·柯林斯 Wilkie Collins的《无名氏》(No Name)

那天是1864年的3月4号，这栋位于西萨默塞特郡的乡间大宅名叫科瑞文，里头大厅上的钟表指着上午六点三十分。

这里静悄悄的。只有钟表沉稳的滴答声，以及那躺在餐厅门外地毯上大狗迟缓的鼻鼾声，打破了每天早上萦绕在大厅和楼梯上的那份神秘的宁静。楼上住了谁？让这间屋子揭露自己的答案吧；同时，也让那一个接一个从床上下来，走下楼梯的人，揭开自己的面纱。

当钟表转到六点四十五分时，大狗醒来了。它摇晃了一下，似乎想要甩掉睡眠的疲惫。它一直在等，但平时打开门让它出去的男佣还没到。于是，它只能在屋子的一楼不停地跑来跑去，从一扇门到另一扇门，然后又回到它的毛毯上。它带着极大的困惑，发出一声又一声的低吼，渴望着仍在睡觉的整个家庭的到来。

在大狗最后一声的叫声即将消失之际，那橡木楼梯发出了由缓慢下楼的脚步引起的，吱吱呀呀的响声。不到一会儿，第一个女侍者露面了。一块又黑又脏的羊毛披肩搭在她的肩膀上-三月份的清晨是挺阴冷的；而那常年患有风湿病的厨子也来了。

面对大狗的热情相迎，厨子以你能想象到的最敷衍的态度来对它。他开了大厅的门，让大狗出去。那是一个挺自然的早上：在一片广阔的草坪以及一片黑漆漆的冷杉种植园后面，冉冉升起的太阳穿过一堆乱糟糟的灰云向上升起；大滴的雨水稀稀拉拉地从中落下；那三月的风刮得房子像是在打颤一般，潮湿的树木疲倦地摇曳着。

七点的钟敲响了，家庭生活的迹象开始快速出现。

女佣下来了-她又高又瘦，春天的迹象在她那红扑扑的鼻子上显露出来。另一个侍女也跟着出来了-她年轻，机智，有点胖，也有点困。接着出来的是厨房帮佣-她正受着脸部神经痛的折磨，而且她也没想着要藏着掖着。最后，男佣郁闷地打着哈欠出现了-简直就像他昨晚那美好的睡眠被剥夺了一样。

仆人们在厨房炉火前集合时的谈话提到了最近发生的一件家庭事件，并开始讨论这个问题：男佣托马斯到底有没有看过前天晚上的，他的主人和两位小姐也在场的的克利夫顿的音乐会？是真的，托马斯有去听；而且是被聘请去看的。那个音乐会又吵又热，人们却在单子上最上面把这个音乐会评价为“壮丽堂皇”。但是，为了听这场音乐会而去搭16英里的火车，再加上那从凌晨一点半起程的19英里艰辛的陆路，到底值不值得？当然，这个问题只能留给他的主人和小姐们来决定。当时，他毫不犹豫地认为是不值得的。女仆们接连进行进一步询问，也没有得到任何其他信息。托马斯一首歌也不会哼，而且甚至连当时随便一条女士的裙子是怎样的也说不出来。他的听众因此也失望了，对他失去了兴趣。然后，厨房的闲聊便逐渐回复到了平常的状态。直到八点的钟敲响，把聚集在一起的仆人吓了一跳之后，他们便分头去干早上的活了。

以下为原文

THE hands on the hall-clock pointed to half-past six in the morning. The house was a country residence in West Somersetshire, called Combe-Raven. The day was the fourth of March, and the year was eighteen hundred and forty-six.

No sounds but the steady ticking of the clock, and the lumpish snoring of a large dog stretched on a mat outside the dining-room door, disturbed the mysterious morning stillness of hall and staircase. Who were the sleepers hidden in the upper regions? Let the house reveal its own secrets; and, one by one, as they descend the stairs from their beds, let the sleepers disclose themselves.

As the clock pointed to a quarter to seven, the dog woke and shook himself. After waiting in vain for the footman, who was accustomed to let him out, the animal wandered restlessly from one closed door to another on the ground- floor; and, returning to his mat in great perplexity, appealed to the sleeping family with a long and melancholy howl.

Before the last notes of the dog’s remonstrance had died away, the oaken stairs in the higher regions of the house creaked under slowly-descending footsteps. In a minute more the first of the female servants made her appearance, with a dingy woolen shawl over her shoulders—for the March morning was bleak; and rheumatism and the cook were old acquaintances.

Receiving the dog’s first cordial advances with the worst possible grace, the cook slowly opened the hall door and let the animal out. It was a wild morning. Over a spacious lawn, and behind a black plantation of firs, the rising sun rent its way upward through piles of ragged gray cloud; heavy drops of rain fell few and far between; the March wind shuddered round the corners of the house, and the wet trees swayed wearily.

Seven o’clock struck; and the signs of domestic life began to show themselves in more rapid succession.

The housemaid came down—tall and slim, with the state of the spring temperature written redly on her nose. The lady’s-maid followed—young, smart, plump, and sleepy. The kitchen-maid came next—afflicted with the face-ache, and making no secret of her sufferings. Last of all, the footman appeared, yawning disconsolately; the living picture of a man who felt that he had been defrauded of his fair night’s rest.

The conversation of the servants, when they assembled before the slowly lighting kitchen fire, referred to a recent family event, and turned at starting on this question: Had Thomas, the footman, seen anything of the concert at Clifton, at which his master and the two young ladies had been present on the previous night? Yes; Thomas had heard the concert; he had been paid for to go in at the back; it was a loud concert; it was a hot concert; it was described at the top of the bills as Grand; whether it was worth traveling sixteen miles to hear by railway, with the additional hardship of going back nineteen miles by road, at half-past one in the morning—was a question which he would leave his master and the young ladies to decide; his own opinion, in the meantime, being unhesitatingly, No. Further inquiries, on the part of all the female servants in succession, elicited no additional information of any sort. Thomas could hum none of the songs, and could describe none of the ladies’ dresses. His audience, accordingly, gave him up in despair; and the kitchen small-talk flowed back into its ordinary channels, until the clock struck eight and startled the assembled servants into separating for their morning’s work.