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堂吉诃德|Don Quixote

Part 2 第15章|Part 2 Chapter 13

属类： 双语小说 【分类】世界名著 -[作者: 塞万提斯] 阅读：[44358]
《堂吉诃德》是一部幽默诙谐、滑稽可笑、充满了奇思妙想的长篇文学巨著。此书主要描写了一个有趣、可敬、可悲、喜欢自欺欺人的没落贵族堂吉诃德，他痴狂地迷恋古代骑士小说，以至于放弃家业，用破甲驽马装扮成古代骑士的样子，再雇佣农民桑乔作侍从，三次出征周游全国，去创建所谓的扶弱锄强的骑士业绩。他们在征险的生涯中闹出了许多笑话，到处碰壁受辱，堂吉诃德多次被打成重伤，有一次还被当成疯子关在笼子里遣送回乡。最后，他因征战不利郁郁寡欢而与世长辞，临终前他那一番貌似悔悟的话语让人匪夷所思又哭笑不得。
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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唐吉诃德由于战胜了如此勇敢的镜子骑士而傲慢自负，得意极了。他现在只等着从那个骑士嘴里得知他的夫人是否仍然受到魔法的控制。如果那个战败的骑士还算是骑士，就得回来告诉他有关杜尔西内亚的情况。不过，唐吉诃德的想法是这样，而镜子骑士的想法却如刚才说的那样，想先找个地方上点药膏。

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故事说参孙·卡拉斯科学士曾劝唐吉诃德继续进行其未竟的骑士事业，其实，他事先已同神甫和理发师商量了既能让唐吉诃德安安静静地待在家里，又不影响他那倒霉的征险想法。卡拉斯科提出一个建议，大家一致赞同，那就是干脆先把唐吉诃德放出去，因为让唐吉诃德留在家里几乎是不可能的；然后，参孙扮成游侠骑士的模样，在半路上与唐吉诃德交战。参孙肯定会打败唐吉诃德，这样事情就好办多了。在唐吉诃德战败后，学士骑士可以命令他返回自己的家乡，在家里待两年，不许再出来，除非是学士骑士另有吩咐。唐吉诃德战败后肯定会履行诺言，从而不违犯骑士界的规定。在家里的这段时间里，也许唐吉诃德会忘记自己的狂妄之念，或者找到治疗他的疯病的合适办法。

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卡拉斯科愿意充当骑士，而桑乔的一位老弟和邻居托梅·塞西亚尔，一位生性快活、头脑正常的人，则自告奋勇扮成侍从。参孙就像前面谈到的那样披挂了盔甲，而托梅·塞西亚尔则在自己的鼻子上安了个假鼻子，以免与他的老朋友碰面时被认出来。他们沿着唐吉诃德走过的路线行进。唐吉诃德路遇死神之车的时候，他们已几乎赶上唐吉诃德了。最后，他们在森林里追上了唐吉诃德，才发生了细心的读者前面已经看到的事情。要不是唐吉诃德突发奇想，认为学士并不是那个学士，这位打错了算盘的学士恐怕就永远也当不上教士了。托梅·塞西亚尔见他们的如意计划半路搁浅，对学士说道：

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“参孙·卡拉斯科大人，咱们真是罪有应得。人们常常想得容易，匆忙动手，结果却很难实现。唐吉诃德疯疯癫癫，咱们神志正常，结果他倒安然无恙地笑着走了，您却浑身是伤，满心忧愁。咱们现在得搞清楚，到底谁更算是疯子，是身不由己疯了的人，还是自愿充当疯子的人？”

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参孙回答说：

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“两种疯子之间的区别在于，身不由己疯了的人永远是疯子，而自愿充当疯子的人想不疯时就可以不疯。”

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“既然这样，”托梅·塞西亚尔说，“我自己想当您的侍从，属于自愿充当疯子的人。现在我不想再当疯子了，我要回家去。”

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“随你的便，”参孙说，“但不把唐吉诃德痛打一顿，就休想让我回家。我现在找他不是想让他恢复神志了，而是要找他报仇。我的肋骨还疼着呢，我不会饶了他。”

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两人说着话，来到一个正巧有正骨医生的村镇上。参孙在医生那儿治了自己的伤。托梅·塞西亚尔离开他回家了。参孙仍在考虑报仇的事。此时故事及时转向，让读者先拿唐吉诃德开开心再说吧。

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The knights and the squires made two parties, these telling the story of their lives, the others the story of their loves; but the history relates first of all the conversation of the servants, and afterwards takes up that of the masters; and it says that, withdrawing a little from the others, he of the Grove said to Sancho, “A hard life it is we lead and live, senor, we that are squires to knights-errant; verily, we eat our bread in the sweat of our faces, which is one of the curses God laid on our first parents.”

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“It may be said, too,” added Sancho, “that we eat it in the chill of our bodies; for who gets more heat and cold than the miserable squires of knight-errantry? Even so it would not be so bad if we had something to eat, for woes are lighter if there’s bread; but sometimes we go a day or two without breaking our fast, except with the wind that blows.”

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“All that,” said he of the Grove, “may be endured and put up with when we have hopes of reward; for, unless the knight-errant he serves is excessively unlucky, after a few turns the squire will at least find himself rewarded with a fine government of some island or some fair county.”

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“I,” said Sancho, “have already told my master that I shall be content with the government of some island, and he is so noble and generous that he has promised it to me ever so many times.”

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“I,” said he of the Grove, “shall be satisfied with a canonry for my services, and my master has already assigned me one.”

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“Your master,” said Sancho, “no doubt is a knight in the Church line, and can bestow rewards of that sort on his good squire; but mine is only a layman; though I remember some clever, but, to my mind, designing people, strove to persuade him to try and become an archbishop. He, however, would not be anything but an emperor; but I was trembling all the time lest he should take a fancy to go into the Church, not finding myself fit to hold office in it; for I may tell you, though I seem a man, I am no better than a beast for the Church.”

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“Well, then, you are wrong there,” said he of the Grove; “for those island governments are not all satisfactory; some are awkward, some are poor, some are dull, and, in short, the highest and choicest brings with it a heavy burden of cares and troubles which the unhappy wight to whose lot it has fallen bears upon his shoulders. Far better would it be for us who have adopted this accursed service to go back to our own houses, and there employ ourselves in pleasanter occupations — in hunting or fishing, for instance; for what squire in the world is there so poor as not to have a hack and a couple of greyhounds and a fishingrod to amuse himself with in his own village?”

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“I am not in want of any of those things,” said Sancho; “to be sure I have no hack, but I have an ass that is worth my master’s horse twice over; God send me a bad Easter, and that the next one I am to see, if I would swap, even if I got four bushels of barley to boot. You will laugh at the value I put on my dapple — for dapple is the colour of my beast. As to greyhounds, I can’t want for them, for there are enough and to spare in my town; and, moreover, there is more pleasure in sport when it is at other people’s expense.”

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“In truth and earnest, sir squire,” said he of the Grove, “I have made up my mind and determined to have done with these drunken vagaries of these knights, and go back to my village, and bring up my children; for I have three, like three Oriental pearls.”

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“I have two,” said Sancho, “that might be presented before the Pope himself, especially a girl whom I am breeding up for a countess, please God, though in spite of her mother.”

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“And how old is this lady that is being bred up for a countess?” asked he of the Grove.

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“Fifteen, a couple of years more or less,” answered Sancho; “but she is as tall as a lance, and as fresh as an April morning, and as strong as a porter.”

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“Those are gifts to fit her to be not only a countess but a nymph of the greenwood,” said he of the Grove; “whoreson strumpet! what pith the rogue must have!”

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To which Sancho made answer, somewhat sulkily, “She’s no strumpet, nor was her mother, nor will either of them be, please God, while I live; speak more civilly; for one bred up among knights-errant, who are courtesy itself, your words don’t seem to me to be very becoming.”

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“O how little you know about compliments, sir squire,” returned he of the Grove. “What! don’t you know that when a horseman delivers a good lance thrust at the bull in the plaza, or when anyone does anything very well, the people are wont to say, ‘Ha, whoreson rip! how well he has done it!’ and that what seems to be abuse in the expression is high praise? Disown sons and daughters, senor, who don’t do what deserves that compliments of this sort should be paid to their parents.”

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“I do disown them,” replied Sancho, “and in this way, and by the same reasoning, you might call me and my children and my wife all the strumpets in the world, for all they do and say is of a kind that in the highest degree deserves the same praise; and to see them again I pray God to deliver me from mortal sin, or, what comes to the same thing, to deliver me from this perilous calling of squire into which I have fallen a second time, decayed and beguiled by a purse with a hundred ducats that I found one day in the heart of the Sierra Morena; and the devil is always putting a bag full of doubloons before my eyes, here, there, everywhere, until I fancy at every stop I am putting my hand on it, and hugging it, and carrying it home with me, and making investments, and getting interest, and living like a prince; and so long as I think of this I make light of all the hardships I endure with this simpleton of a master of mine, who, I well know, is more of a madman than a knight.”

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“There’s why they say that ‘covetousness bursts the bag,’” said he of the Grove; “but if you come to talk of that sort, there is not a greater one in the world than my master, for he is one of those of whom they say, ‘the cares of others kill the ass;’ for, in order that another knight may recover the senses he has lost, he makes a madman of himself and goes looking for what, when found, may, for all I know, fly in his own face.” “And is he in love perchance?” asked Sancho.

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“He is,” said of the Grove, “with one Casildea de Vandalia, the rawest and best roasted lady the whole world could produce; but that rawness is not the only foot he limps on, for he has greater schemes rumbling in his bowels, as will be seen before many hours are over.”

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“There’s no road so smooth but it has some hole or hindrance in it,” said Sancho; “in other houses they cook beans, but in mine it’s by the potful; madness will have more followers and hangers-on than sound sense; but if there be any truth in the common saying, that to have companions in trouble gives some relief, I may take consolation from you, inasmuch as you serve a master as crazy as my own.”

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“Crazy but valiant,” replied he of the Grove, “and more roguish than crazy or valiant.”

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“Mine is not that,” said Sancho; “I mean he has nothing of the rogue in him; on the contrary, he has the soul of a pitcher; he has no thought of doing harm to anyone, only good to all, nor has he any malice whatever in him; a child might persuade him that it is night at noonday; and for this simplicity I love him as the core of my heart, and I can’t bring myself to leave him, let him do ever such foolish things.”

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“For all that, brother and senor,” said he of the Grove, “if the blind lead the blind, both are in danger of falling into the pit. It is better for us to beat a quiet retreat and get back to our own quarters; for those who seek adventures don’t always find good ones.”

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Sancho kept spitting from time to time, and his spittle seemed somewhat ropy and dry, observing which the compassionate squire of the Grove said, “It seems to me that with all this talk of ours our tongues are sticking to the roofs of our mouths; but I have a pretty good loosener hanging from the saddle-bow of my horse,” and getting up he came back the next minute with a large bota of wine and a pasty half a yard across; and this is no exaggeration, for it was made of a house rabbit so big that Sancho, as he handled it, took it to be made of a goat, not to say a kid, and looking at it he said, “And do you carry this with you, senor?”

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“Why, what are you thinking about?” said the other; “do you take me for some paltry squire? I carry a better larder on my horse’s croup than a general takes with him when he goes on a march.”

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Sancho ate without requiring to be pressed, and in the dark bolted mouthfuls like the knots on a tether, and said he, “You are a proper trusty squire, one of the right sort, sumptuous and grand, as this banquet shows, which, if it has not come here by magic art, at any rate has the look of it; not like me, unlucky beggar, that have nothing more in my alforjas than a scrap of cheese, so hard that one might brain a giant with it, and, to keep it company, a few dozen carobs and as many more filberts and walnuts; thanks to the austerity of my master, and the idea he has and the rule he follows, that knights-errant must not live or sustain themselves on anything except dried fruits and the herbs of the field.”

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“By my faith, brother,” said he of the Grove, “my stomach is not made for thistles, or wild pears, or roots of the woods; let our masters do as they like, with their chivalry notions and laws, and eat what those enjoin; I carry my prog-basket and this bota hanging to the saddle-bow, whatever they may say; and it is such an object of worship with me, and I love it so, that there is hardly a moment but I am kissing and embracing it over and over again;” and so saying he thrust it into Sancho’s hands, who raising it aloft pointed to his mouth, gazed at the stars for a quarter of an hour; and when he had done drinking let his head fall on one side, and giving a deep sigh, exclaimed, “Ah, whoreson rogue, how catholic it is!”

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“There, you see,” said he of the Grove, hearing Sancho’s exclamation, “how you have called this wine whoreson by way of praise.”

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“Well,” said Sancho, “I own it, and I grant it is no dishonour to call anyone whoreson when it is to be understood as praise. But tell me, senor, by what you love best, is this Ciudad Real wine?”

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“O rare wine-taster!” said he of the Grove; “nowhere else indeed does it come from, and it has some years’ age too.”

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“Leave me alone for that,” said Sancho; “never fear but I’ll hit upon the place it came from somehow. What would you say, sir squire, to my having such a great natural instinct in judging wines that you have only to let me smell one and I can tell positively its country, its kind, its flavour and soundness, the changes it will undergo, and everything that appertains to a wine? But it is no wonder, for I have had in my family, on my father’s side, the two best wine-tasters that have been known in La Mancha for many a long year, and to prove it I’ll tell you now a thing that happened them. They gave the two of them some wine out of a cask, to try, asking their opinion as to the condition, quality, goodness or badness of the wine. One of them tried it with the tip of his tongue, the other did no more than bring it to his nose. The first said the wine had a flavour of iron, the second said it had a stronger flavour of cordovan. The owner said the cask was clean, and that nothing had been added to the wine from which it could have got a flavour of either iron or leather. Nevertheless, these two great wine-tasters held to what they had said. Time went by, the wine was sold, and when they came to clean out the cask, they found in it a small key hanging to a thong of cordovan; see now if one who comes of the same stock has not a right to give his opinion in such like cases.”

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“Therefore, I say,” said he of the Grove, “let us give up going in quest of adventures, and as we have loaves let us not go looking for cakes, but return to our cribs, for God will find us there if it be his will.”

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“Until my master reaches Saragossa,” said Sancho, “I’ll remain in his service; after that we’ll see.”

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The end of it was that the two squires talked so much and drank so much that sleep had to tie their tongues and moderate their thirst, for to quench it was impossible; and so the pair of them fell asleep clinging to the now nearly empty bota and with half-chewed morsels in their mouths; and there we will leave them for the present, to relate what passed between the Knight of the Grove and him of the Rueful Countenance.

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