How fared it with him then? Were there not the brilliant particles of a halo in the air about his head! So etherealised by spirit as he was, and so apotheosised by worshipping admirers, did his footsteps, in the procession, really tread upon the dust of earth?
那么他本人又如何呢？他头上的空中不是有光环在光芒四射吗？他既然被神灵感化得如此空灵，为崇拜者奉若神明，他那在队伍中移动着的脚步，当真是踏在尘埃之上吗？

As the ranks of military men and civil fathers moved onward, all eyes were turned towards the point where the minister was seen to approach among them. The shout died into a murmur, as one portion of the crowd after another obtained a glimpse of him. How feeble and pale he looked, amid all his triumph! The energy- or say, rather, the inspiration which had held him up, until he should have delivered the sacred message that brought its own strength along with it from heaven- was withdrawn, now that it had so faithfully performed its office. The glow, which they had just before beheld burning on his cheek, was extinguished, like a flame that sinks down hopelessly among the late-decaying embers. It seemed hardly the face of a man alive, with such a deathlike hue; it was hardly a man with life in him, that tottered on his path so nervelessly, yet tottered, and did not fall!
军人和文官的队伍向前行进的时候，所有的目光全都投向牧师在大队中慢慢走来的方向。随着人群中一部分又一部分的人瞥见了他的身影，欢呼声渐渐乎息为一种喃喃声。他在大获全胜之际，看起来是多么虚弱和苍白啊！他的精力——或者毋宁说，那个支撑着他传达完神圣的福音并由上天借此赋予他该福音本身的力量的神启——在他忠诚地克尽厥责之后，已经被撤回去了。人们刚才看到的在他面颊上烧灼的红光已经黯淡，犹如在余烬中无可奈何地熄灭的火焰。他脸色那样死灰，实在不象一个活人的面孔；他那样无精打采地踉跄着，实在不象一个体内尚有生命的人；然而他还在跌跌撞撞地前进着，居然没有倒下！

One of his clerical brethren- it was the venerable John Wilson- observing the state in which Mr. Dimmesdale was left by the retiring wave of intellect and sensibility, stepped forward hastily to offer his support. The minister tremulously, but decidedly, repelled the old man's arm. He still walked onward, if that movement could be so described, which rather resembled the wavering effort of an infant, with its mother's arms in view, outstretched to tempt him forward. And now, almost imperceptible as were the latter steps of his progress, he had come opposite the well-remembered and weather-darkened scaffold, where, long since, with all that dreary lapse of time between, Hester Prynne had encountered the world's ignominious stare. There stood Hester, holding little Pearl by the hand! And there was the scarlet letter on her breast! The minister here made a pause; although the music still played the stately and rejoicing march to which the procession moved. It summoned him onward- onward to the festival!- but here he made a pause.
他的一位担任教职的兄弟，就是年长的约翰，威尔逊，观察到了丁梅斯代尔先生在智慧和敏感退潮之后陷入的状态，慌忙迈步上前来搀扶他。而丁梅斯代尔牧师却哆里哆嗦地断然推开了那老人的胳臂。他还继续朝前“走”着——如果我们还把那种动作说成是“走”的话，其实更象一个婴儿看到了母亲在前面伸出双手来鼓励自己前进时那种播摇晃晃的学步。此时，牧师已经茫茫然，不知移步迈向何方，他来到了记忆犹新的那座因风吹日晒雨淋而发黑的刑台对面，在相隔许多凄风苦雨的岁月之前，海丝特·白兰曾经在那上面遭到世人轻辱的白眼。现在海丝特就站在那儿，手中领着小珠儿！而红字就在她胸前！牧师走到这里停下了脚步，然而，音乐依然庄严地演奏着，队伍合着欢快的进行曲继续向前移动。乐声召唤他向前进，乐声召唤他去赴宴！但是他却停了下来。