领略原汁原味汉英对照经典名作
福尔摩斯谢幕演出
      It was nine o’clock at night upon the second of August—the most terrible August in the history of the world. One might have thought already that God’s curse hung heavy over a degenerate world, for there was an awesome hush and a feeling of vague expectation in the sultry and stagnant air. The sun had long set, but one bloodred gash like an open wound lay low in the distant west. Above, the stars were shining brightly, and below, the lights of the shipping glimmered in the bay. The two famous Germans stood beside the stone parapet of the garden walk, with the long, low, heavily gabled house behind them, and they looked down upon the broad sweep of the beach at the foot of the great chalk cliff on which Von Bork, like some wandering eagle, had perched himself four years before. They stood with their heads close together, talking in low, confidential tones. From below the two glowing ends of their cigars might have been the smouldering eyes of some malignant fiend looking down in the darkness.
      A remarkable man this Von Bork—a man who could hardly be matched among all the devoted agents of the Kaiser. It was his talents which had first recommended him for the English mission, the most important mission of all, but since he had taken it over those talents had become more and more manifest to the half-dozen people in the world who were really in touch with the truth. One of these was his present companion, Baron Von Herling, the chief secretary of the legation, whose huge 100-horse-power Benz car was blocking the country lane as it waited to waft its owner back to London.
      “So far as I can judge the trend of events, you will probably be back in Berlin within the week,” the secretary was saying. “When you get there, my dear Von Bork, I think you will be surprised at the welcome you will receive. I happen to know what is thought in the highest quarters of your work in this country.” He was a huge man, the secretary, deep, broad, and tall, with a slow, heavy fashion of speech which had been his main asset in his political career.
      Von Bork laughed.
      “They are not very hard to deceive,” he remarked. “A more docile, simple folk could not be imagined.”
      “I don’t know about that,” said the other thoughtfully. “They have strange limits and one must learn to observe them. It is that surface simplicity of theirs which makes a trap for the stranger. One’s first impression is that they are entirely soft. Then one comes suddenly upon something very hard, and you know that you have reached the limit and must adapt yourself to the fact. They have, for example, their insular conventions which simply must be observed.”
      “Meaning, ‘good form’ and that sort of thing?” Von Bork sighed as one who had suffered much.
      “Meaning British prejudice in all its queer manifestations.
      As an example I may quote one of my own worst blunders—I can afford to talk of my blunders, for you know my work well enough to be aware of my successes. It was on my first arrival. I was invited to a week-end gathering at the country house of a cabinet minister. The conversation was amazingly indiscreet.”
      Von Bork nodded. “I’ve been there,” said he dryly.
      “Exactly. Well, I naturally sent a résumé of the information to Berlin. Unfortunately our good chancellor is a little heavy-handed in these matters, and he transmitted a remark which showed that he was aware of what had been said. This, of course, took the trail straight up to me. You’ve no idea the harm that it did me. There was nothing soft about our British hosts on that occasion, I can assure you. I was two years living it down. Now you, with this sporting pose of yours—”
      “No, no, don’t call it a pose. A pose is an artificial thing.
      This is quite natural. I am a born sportsman. I enjoy it.”
      “Well, that makes it the more effective. You yacht against them, you hunt with them, you play polo, you match them in every game, your four-in-hand takes the prize at Olympia.
      I have even heard that you go the length of boxing with the young officers. What is the result? Nobody takes you seriously.
      You are a ‘good old sport,’ ‘quite a decent fellow for a German,’ a hard-drinking, night-club, knock-about-town, devil-may-care young fellow. And all the time this quiet country house of yours is the centre of half the mischief in England, and the sporting squire the most astute secret-service man in Europe. Genius, my dear Von Bork—genius!”
      “You flatter me, Baron. But certainly I may claim that my four years in this country have not been unproductive. I’ve never shown you my little store. Would you mind stepping in for a moment?”
      The door of the study opened straight on to the terrace. Von Bork pushed it back, and, leading the way, he clicked the switch of the electric light. He then closed the door behind the bulky form which followed him and carefully adjusted the heavy curtain over the latticed window. Only when all these precautions had been taken and tested did he turn his sunburned aquiline face to his guest.
       “Some of my papers have gone,” said he. “When my wife and the household left yesterday for Flushing they took the less important with them. I must, of course, claim the protection of the embassy for the others.”
       “Your name has already been filed as one of the personal suite. There will be no difficulties for you or your baggage. Of course, it is just possible that we may not have to go. England may leave France to her fate. We are sure that there is no binding treaty between them.”
      “And Belgium?”
      “Yes, and Belgium, too.”
      Von Bork shook his head. “I don’t see how that could be.There is a definite treaty there. She could never recover from such a humiliation.”


中文翻译
      时间是八月二日，晚上九点。这是世界历史上最可怕的一个八月，周遭的一切凝神敛息，闷热凝滞的空气中弥漫着一种模模糊糊的预感，让人油然想到，上帝的诅咒马上就会降临这个堕落的世界。
      太阳早已落山，远远的西方却低低地横亘着一抹殷红的残霞，宛如一道未愈的伤口。上方是熠熠生辉的群星，下方则是海湾里来往船只的闪烁灯火。两位著名的德国人伫立在花园小径的石栏旁边，身后是一座又长又矮、山墙林立的房屋。他俩正在俯瞰下方的宽广海滩，所在的地方则是一堵白垩巨崖的顶端，四年之前，冯•博克把自己的家安在了这里，如同一只离群孤栖的老鹰。两个人把脑袋凑在一起，正在窃窃私语。他俩都在吸雪茄，若是你从下方往上看，两个红光闪烁的雪茄烟头就像是一双烟焰缭绕的恶魔之眼，正在透过黑暗俯视着你。
这个冯•博克非同小可，堪称是德国皇帝麾下所有忠诚间谍之中最出色的人物。他的才干让他获得了最重要的一项谍报任务，也就是前来英国刺探情报，不但如此，在那些真正了解内情的人看来，自从他接受这项任务之后，他的才干更有了越来越突出的体现。
      世上只有六个人洞悉内情，其中之一就是他眼下的同伴、德国公使馆首席秘书冯•赫林男爵。此时此刻，男爵那辆形体巨大的一百马力奔驰轿车停在一旁，把那条乡间小路堵了个严严实实，正等着把它的主人送回伦敦。
      “根据我对形势的判断，十之八九，你本周就得回柏林去，”秘书说道，“回去之后，亲爱的冯•博克，我看你一定会为他们给你准备的礼遇感到惊奇。最高当局对你在英国的工作有些什么评价，我也是略有所闻的。”秘书是个大块头，又高又壮，主要的政治资本则是他那种慢条斯理、一本正经的说话方式。
      冯•博克笑了起来。
      “要骗他们并不难，”他如是说道，“比他们还要驯良单纯的民族，你连想都想不出来。”
      “我倒不这么觉得，”对方若有所思地说道，“他们有一些古怪的规矩，你必须得学会遵守。外乡人往往会着他们的道，就是因为他们这种表面上的单纯。乍一看，你会觉得他们温和之极。接下来，你却会突然撞上某种十分坚硬的东西，这时你才会恍然大悟，你已经触到了他们的底线，只能设法适应头破血流的现实。举例说吧，他们有一些坐井观天的岛民习俗，不遵守是绝对不行的。”
“您指的是‘举止得体’之类的东西吗？”冯•博克叹了一口气，似乎是在这些方面吃过不少苦头。
      “我指的是所有那些千奇百怪的英国式偏见。为了说明这一点，我打算拿我自己栽的一个大跟头来做例子——我并不害怕谈论自己栽的跟头，因为你非常了解我的工作，看得到我的成就。事情发生在我刚来英国的时候，一位内阁大臣请我去他的乡间别墅参加周末聚会，聚会期间的谈话随意得叫人吃惊。”
      冯•博克点了点头。“我也去过那里，”他干巴巴地说了一句。
      “没错。呃，聚会结束之后，我自然就把席间搜集到的情报整理成一份摘要，发给了柏林方面。不巧的是，我们那位可敬的总理在这些事情上有点儿毛手毛脚，不小心说漏了嘴，表明他知道聚会期间的谈话内容。当然喽，他的话直接把火引到了我的身上。
      你根本想象不到，那件事情对我造成了多么大的伤害。我可以跟你打包票，那一次，我们那些英国主人的态度一点儿都不温和。我花了两年的时间才摆脱那件事情的影响。你倒好，端着你这副运动员的姿态——”
      “不，不对，您不能把这叫做‘姿态’。姿态是装出来的，我这可是天性的流露。我生来就擅长运动，而且乐在其中。”
      “是啊，这样一来，效果就更好啦。你跟他们赛艇，跟他们一起打猎、打马球，哪一项运动都不落在他们后面，你的四驾马车也在奥林匹亚夺得了大奖。我甚至听人说过，你居然跟那些年青的军官打起了拳击赛。结果呢？谁也不把你当回事，都觉得你是个‘运动行家’、‘德国人当中的君子’，还是个酗酒成性、夜夜笙歌、满城乱窜、没心没肺的小伙子。与此同时，你这座宁静的乡间别墅一直是英格兰半数破坏活动的中心，而你这个爱好运动的乡绅也一直是全欧洲最精明的秘密特工。天才啊，亲爱的冯•博克——真是天才！”
      “您过奖了，男爵。不过，我确实可以说一句，我在英国的四年并不是一事无成。我还没领您参观过我那个小小的仓库呢，您愿意进屋待会儿吗？”
书房的门正对着露台。冯•博克推开房门，率先走进房间，“咔嗒”一声摁亮电灯，把身后的大块头秘书让了进去，然后就关上房门，把格子窗上的厚重帘帷拉得严严实实。他做好了所有这些预防措施，跟着又检查了一遍，这才把他那张鹰隼一般的黝黑脸庞转向了客人。
      “我的一部分文件已经不在这儿了，”他说道，“昨天，我妻子和家里的其他人一起去了弗卢辛，带走了不太重要的一些文件。当然喽，我必须要求使馆为剩下的这些文件提供保护。”
      “我们已经把你列入了随员名单，你和你的行李都不会遇上什么麻烦。当然，赶巧了的话，咱们兴许也不是非走不可。英国没准儿会让法国自生自灭，因为我们确切地知道，英法两国并没有签订什么有约束力的条约。”
      “比利时也是这样吗？”
      “没错，比利时也是这样。”
      冯•博克摇了摇头。“我觉得这怎么也不可能。有一个明明白白的条约摆在那里，英国要是在这样的羞辱面前忍气吞声，那就永远也抬不起头啦。”

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