狄更斯雙語小說:《董貝父子》第43章Part4

Susan was too much softened to express her private opinion on the probability of Mrs Dombey's being in attendance on her husband, and silently withdrew. Florence left alone, soon hid her head upon her hands as she had often done in other days, and did not restrain the tears from coursing down her face. The misery of this domestic discord and unhappiness; the withered hope she cherished now, if hope it could be called, of ever being taken to her father's heart; her doubts and fears between the two; the yearning of her innocent breast to both; the heavy disappointment and regret of such an end as this, to what had been a vision of bright hope and promise to her; all crowded on her mind and made her tears flow fast. Her mother and her brother dead, her father unmoved towards her, Edith opposed to him and casting him away, but loving her, and loved by her, it seemed as if her affection could never prosper, rest where it would. That weak thought was soon hushed, but the thoughts in which it had arisen were too true and strong to be dismissed with it; and they made the night desolate.
Among such reflections there rose up, as there had risen up all day, the image of her father, wounded and in pain, alone in his own room, untended by those who should be nearest to him, and passing the tardy hours in lonely suffering. A frightened thought which made her start and clasp her hands - though it was not a new one in her mind - that he might die, and never see her or pronounce her name, thrilled her whole frame. In her agitation she thought, and trembled while she thought, of once more stealing downstairs, and venturing to his door.
She listened at her own. The house was quiet, and all the lights were out. It was a long, long time, she thought, since she used to make her nightly pilgrimages to his door! It was a long, long time, she tried to think, since she had entered his room at midnight, and he had led her back to the stair-foot!
With the same child's heart within her, as of old: even with the child's sweet timid eyes and clustering hair: Florence, as strange to her father in her early maiden bloom, as in her nursery time, crept down the staircase listening as she went, and drew near to his room. No one was stirring in the house. The door was partly open to admit air; and all was so still within, that she could hear the burning of the fire, and count the ticking of the clock that stood upon the chimney-piece.
She looked in. In that room, the housekeeper wrapped in a blanket was fast asleep in an easy chair before the fire. The doors between it and the next were partly closed, and a screen was drawn before them; but there was a light there, and it shone upon the cornice of his bed. All was so very still that she could hear from his breathing that he was asleep. This gave her courage to pass round the screen, and look into his chamber.
It was as great a start to come upon his sleeping face as if she had not expected to see it. Florence stood arrested on the spot, and if he had awakened then, must have remained there.
There was a cut upon his forehead, and they had been wetting his hair, which lay bedabbled and entangled on the pillow. One of his arms, resting outside the bed, was bandaged up, and he was very white. But it was not this, that after the first quick glance, and first assurance of his sleeping quietly, held Florence rooted to the ground. It was something very different from this, and more than this, that made him look so solemn in her eye
She had never seen his face in all her life, but there had been upon it - or she fancied so - some disturbing consciousness of her. She had never seen his face in all her life, but hope had sunk within her, and her timid glance had dropped before its stern, unloving, and repelling harshness. As she looked upon it now, she saw it, for the first time, free from the cloud that had darkened her childhood. Calm, tranquil night was reigning in its stead. He might have gone to sleep, for anything she saw there, blessing her.
Awake, unkind father! Awake, now, sullen man! The time is flitting by; the hour is coming with an angry tread. Awake!

蘇珊的心情已經變得十分溫柔，所以對董貝夫人是不是可能在照料她的丈夫，她不想說出她的看法，於是就一聲不響地離開了。當弗洛倫斯獨自留下的時候，她立刻像在其他日子裏時常做的那樣，用手捂着臉，讓眼淚任情地流下來。家庭不和睦和不幸福帶來了不幸；她曾經懷着希望（如果這可以稱爲希望的話），有朝一日能贏得她父親的喜愛，如今這希望已經破滅了；她對她父親和伊迪絲之間的關係懷着懷疑與恐懼；她純潔的心胸同時嚮往着他們兩人；過去在她心中曾經展現過一幅光明的希望與前途的美景，如今這樣的結局又在她心中產生了沉痛的失望與惋惜；所有這一切都一齊涌集到她的心頭，使她的眼淚簌簌地流了下來。她的母親和弟弟死了；她的父親對她漠不關心；伊迪絲反對和拋棄她的父親，但卻愛她並被她所愛；她覺得，她的愛不論落在什麼地方，似乎都不會給她帶來幸福。這個淡弱的思想很快就被她壓了下去，但是產生這個思想的其它思想是太真實、太強烈了，要驅除它們是不可能的，這些思想使夜變得淒涼。
她父親的形象在這些思念中間出現了，就像整天都曾出現過的那樣；他受了傷，身上疼痛，現在躺在他自己的房間裏，在孤獨寂寞中，忍受着痛苦，度過緩慢的時光；那些應該是對他最親近的人卻沒有他身旁照料他。一個使她害怕的思想--他可能死去，再也看不到她，再也不喊她的名字了--使她驚懼，並使她把手緊緊握着；雖然它並不是第一次出現在她心中，但它使她渾身震顫。她在激動的心情中想到再一次偷偷地跑下樓去，並大膽地走到他的門口，當她想到這一點的時候，她哆嗦着。
她在她自己的房間門口聽着。公館裏靜悄悄的，所有的燈光都熄滅了。她想到，自從她過去常到他房門口去作夜間的參拜以來，到現在已經是很久很久的時間了！她又想到，自從她在半夜裏走進他的房間，他把她送到樓梯底以來，到現在已經是很久很久的時間了！
弗洛倫斯現在是豆蔻年華的美麗少女，但是與她父親仍和幼兒時代一樣生疏；現在她懷着一顆和過去同樣的孩子的心，甚至帶着同一雙孩子的可愛的、膽怯的眼睛，披着同樣散開的頭髮，邊走邊聽，偷偷地下了樓，走近他的房間。公館中沒有一個人在走動。爲了讓空氣進去，房門半開着；房間裏面十分寂靜，她可以聽到爐火的燃燒聲，還可以數出壁爐架上時鐘的嘀嗒聲。
她往裏面探望。房間裏，女管家用一條毯子裹着身子，正在壁爐前的一張安樂椅裏熟睡。隔壁房間的門半掩着，門前立着一座屏風；可是那裏有燈光，照射在他的牀的靠背上。一切都很寂靜，她可以從他的呼吸聲中知道他睡着了。這使她鼓起勇氣，繞過屏風，往他的臥室裏探望。
她看到那睡着的臉孔時，大大地吃了一驚，彷彿她事前沒有預料到會看到它似的。弗洛倫斯被吸引住，就地站在那裏一動不動；如果他這時醒過來的話，那麼她也一定會繼續站在那裏的。
他的前額上有一個傷口，他們把他的頭髮沾溼了，頭髮骯髒、錯亂地披散在枕頭上。他的一條胳膊擱在被子外面，用繃帶包紮着。他的臉色十分蒼白。可是，弗洛倫斯迅速地看了他一眼，確信他安靜地睡着之後，使她站着不動的，並不是這些景象。在她的眼中，使他看去那麼莊嚴的，是與這完全不同、比這具有更多意義的某種東西。
她一生中沒有一次看到他的臉時，他的臉上不是因爲知道有她在跟前而表露出（或是她想象那樣表露出）煩惱不安的神色的；她一生中沒有一次看到他的臉時，她的希望不在心中消沉的；在他臉孔那嚴厲的、毫無愛意的、令人望而生畏的生硬神色面前，她的膽怯的眼光沒有一次不低垂下來的。現在當她看着他的時候，她第一次看到他的臉上不再籠罩着那塊使她的童年暗淡無光的陰雲。寂靜的、安寧的夜代替了它。她看到這臉上的一切表情，心想，他可能已睡去了，同時還在祝福她呢。
醒來吧，冷酷的父親！醒來吧，怏怏不樂的人！時間正在飛逝，鐘點正踏着怒氣衝衝的步伐來臨了。醒來吧！