LESSON 26

THE TEACHER AND SICK SCHOLAR

教师和生病的学者

Shortly after the schoolmaster had arranged the forms and taken his seat behind his desk, a small white-headed boy with a sunburnt face appeared at the door, and, stopping there to make a rustic bow, came in and took his seat upon one of the forms. He then put an open book, astonishingly dog’s-eared, upon his knees, and, thrusting his hands into his pockets, began counting the marbles with which they were filled; displaying, in the expression of his face, a remarkable capacity of totally abstracting his mind from the spelling on which his eyes were fixed.

Soon afterward, another white-headed little boy came straggling in, and after him, a red-headed lad, and then one with a flaxen poll, until the forms were occupied by a dozen boys, or thereabouts, with heads of every color but gray, and ranging in their ages from four years old to fourteen years or more; for the legs of the youngest were a long way from the floor, when he sat upon the form; and the eldest was a heavy, good-tempered fellow, about half a head taller than the schoolmaster.

At the top of the first form—the post of honor in the school—was the vacant place of the little sick scholar; and, at the head of the row of pegs, on which those who wore hats or caps were wont to hang them, one was empty. No boy attempted to violate the sanctity of seat or peg, but many a one looked from the empty spaces to the schoolmaster, and whispered to his idle neighbor, behind his hand.

Then began the hum of conning over lessons and getting them by heart, the whispered jest and stealthy game, and all the noise and drawl of school; and in the midst of the din, sat the poor schoolmaster, vainly attempting to fix his mind upon the duties of the day, and to forget his little sick friend. But the tedium of his office reminded him more strongly of the willing scholar, and his thoughts were rambling from his pupils—it was plain.

None knew this better than the idlest boys, who, growing bolder with impunity, waxed louder and more daring; playing “odd or even” under the master’s eye; eating apples openly and without rebuke; pinching each other in sport or malice, without the least reserve; and cutting their initials in the very legs of his desk. The puzzled dunce, who stood beside it to say his lesson “off the book,” looked no longer at the ceiling for forgotten words, but drew closer to the master’s elbow, and boldly cast his eye upon the page; the wag of the little troop squinted and made grimaces (at the smallest boy, of course), holding no book before his face, and his approving companions knew no constraint in their delight. If the master did chance to rouse himself, and seem alive to what was going on, the noise subsided for a moment, and no eye met his but wore a studious and deeply humble look; but the instant he relapsed again, it broke out afresh, and ten times louder than before.

Oh! how some of those idle fellows longed to be outside, and how they looked at the open door and window, as if they half meditated rushing violently out, plunging into the woods, and being wild boys and savages from that time forth. What rebellious thoughts of the cool river, and some shady bathing place, beneath willow trees with branches dipping in the water, kept tempting and urging that sturdy boy, who, with his shirt collar unbuttoned, and flung back as far as it could go, sat fanning his flushed face with a spelling book, wishing himself a whale, or a minnow, or a fly, or anything but a boy at school, on that hot, broiling day.

Heat! ask that other boy, whose seat being nearest to the door, gave him opportunities of gliding out into the garden, and driving his companions to madness, by dipping his face into the bucket of the well, and then rolling on the grass,—ask him if there was ever such a day as that, when even the bees were diving deep down into the cups of the flowers, and stopping there, as if they had made up their minds to retire from business, and be manufacturers of honey no more. The day was made for laziness, and lying on one’s back in green places, and staring at the sky, till its brightness forced the gazer to shut his eyes and go to sleep. And was this a time to be poring over musty books in a dark room, slighted by the very sun itself? Monstrous!

The lessons over, writing time began. This was a more quiet time; for the master would come and look over the writer’s shoulder, and mildly tell him to observe how such a letter was turned up, in such a copy on the wall, which had been written by their sick companion, and bid him take it as a model. Then he would stop and tell them what the sick child had said last night, and how he had longed to be among them once again; and such was the poor schoolmaster’s gentle and affectionate manner, that the boys seemed quite remorseful that they had worried him so much, and were absolutely quiet; eating no apples, cutting no names, and making no grimaces for full two minutes afterward.

“I think, boys,” said the schoolmaster, when the clock struck twelve, “that I shall give you an extra half holiday this afternoon.” At this intelligence, the boys, led on and headed by the tall boy, raised a great shout, in the midst of which the master was seen to speak, but could not be heard. As he held up his hand, however, in token of his wish that they should be silent, they were considerate enough to leave off, as soon as the longest-winded among them were quite out of breath. “You must promise me, first,” said the schoolmaster, “that you’ll not be noisy, or at least, if you are, that you’ll go away first, out of the village, I mean. I’m sure you wouldn’t disturb your old playmate and companion.”

There was a general murmur (and perhaps a very sincere one, for they were but boys) in the negative; and the tall boy, perhaps as sincerely as any of them, called those about him to witness, that he had only shouted in a whisper. “Then pray do n’t forget, there’s my dear scholars,” said the schoolmaster, “what I have asked you, and do it as a favor to me. Be as happy as you can, and do n’t be unmindful that you are blessed with health. Good-by, all.”

“Thank ’ee, sir,” and “Good-by, sir,” were said a great many times in a great variety of voices, and the boys went out very slowly and softly. But there was the sun shining and there were birds singing, as the sun only shines and the birds only sing on holidays and half holidays; there were the trees waving to all free boys to climb, and nestle among their leafy branches; the hay, entreating them to come and scatter it to the pure air; the green corn, gently beckoning toward wood and stream; the smooth ground, rendered smoother still by blending lights and shadows, inviting to runs and leaps, and long walks, nobody knows whither. It was more than boy could bear, and with a joyous whoop, the whole cluster took to their heels, and spread themselves about, shouting and laughing as they went. “ ’T is natural, thank Heaven!” said the poor schoolmaster, looking after them, “I am very glad they did n’t mind me.”

Toward night, the schoolmaster walked over to the cottage where his little friend lay sick. Knocking gently at the cottage door, it was opened without loss of time. He entered a room where a group of women were gathered about one who was wringing her hands and crying bitterly. “O dame!” said the schoolmaster, drawing near her chair, “is it so bad as this?” Without replying, she pointed to another room, which the schoolmaster immediately entered; and there lay his little friend, half-dressed, stretched upon a bed.

He was a very young boy; quite a little child. His hair still hung in curls about his face, and his eyes were very bright; but their light was of heaven, not of earth. The schoolmaster took a seat beside him, and, stooping over the pillow whispered his name. The boy sprung up, stroked his face with his hand, and threw his wasted arms around his neck, crying, that he was his dear, kind friend. “I hope I always was. I meant to be, God knows,” said the poor schoolmaster. “You remember my garden, Henry?” whispered the old man, anxious to rouse him, for dullness seemed gathering upon the child, “and how pleasant it used to be in the evening time? You must make haste to visit it again, for I think the very flowers have missed you, and are less gay than they used to be. You will come soon, very soon now, won’t you?”

The boy smiled faintly—so very, very faintly—and put his hand upon his friend’s gray head. He moved his lips too, but no voice came from them,—no, not a sound. In the silence that ensued, the hum of distant voices, borne upon the evening air, came floating through the open window. “What’s that?” said the sick child, opening his eyes. “The boys at play, upon the green.” He took a handkerchief from his pillow, and tried to wave it above his head. But the feeble arm dropped powerless down. “Shall I do it?” said the schoolmaster. “Please wave it at the window,” was the faint reply. “Tie it to the lattice. Some of them may see it there. Perhaps they’ll think of me, and look this way.”

He raised his head and glanced from the fluttering signal to his idle bat, that lay, with slate, and book, and other boyish property, upon the table in the room. And then he laid him softly down once more, and again clasped his little arms around the old man’s neck. The two old friends and companions—for such they were, though they were man and child—held each other in a long embrace, and then the little scholar turned his face to the wall and fell asleep.

The poor schoolmaster sat in the same place, holding the small, cold hand in his, and chafing it. It was but the hand of a dead child. He felt that; and yet he chafed it still, and could not lay it down.

From “The Old Curiosity Shop,” by Dickens.

【中文阅读】

老师安排好各年级的座位，在讲台后面的椅子上刚一落座，只见一位脸上晒得黝黑，长着一头淡黄色头发的小男孩闪身出现在门口。他停下脚步，土里土气地鞠了一躬后走进来，找到自己年级的座位坐了下来。他拿出一本没有封皮的书放在膝盖上，令人惊讶的是书的页脚折了起来，之后他两手插进衣袋，开始数里面装的弹子；他把玩着，脸上现出与他的眼神迥然不同的神情。

不一会儿，另一位长着一头淡黄头发的小孩也晃晃悠悠地走进教室，跟在他后面的是一位留着一头红发的小女孩，之后进来的孩子手里提着一只淡黄色投票箱。大约十二个男孩子按照所属年级陆续坐好，这些孩子头发的颜色除了灰色以外，什么颜色都有，按顺序排列年龄从四岁到十四岁，最小的孩子坐下时双腿与地板隔了很大一块距离；年龄最大的是个块头很大，性情颇为温和的孩子，要比老师足足高出半头。

在一年级座位的把头——学校的荣誉座位——是专为生病的小学者留的空座位；在高年级那一排座位的把头，坐的是那些戴帽子或习惯戴软帽的孩子，其中有一个没戴帽子。没有哪个孩子企图冒犯座位或顺序的神圣，不过其中有个孩子偷偷瞧着老师，跟身后相邻闲得无聊的孩子耳语着什么。

接下来，学生们开始上课，嗡嗡地背诵课文，有的在小声开玩笑和偷偷玩游戏，嘈杂声和拖长语调读课文的声音交织在一起。这位可怜的老师置身于嘈杂的声音中间，徒劳地竭力聚精会神，尽自己的本分，强迫自己忘掉那位生病的小朋友。但是，教室里单调乏味的气氛令他禁不住更加想念那位专注的小学者，他的思绪早已离开眼前这些学生——脑海里一片空白。

这些最懒惰的孩子当然会钻空子，他们晓得老师不惩罚他们而愈发胆大妄为，大声说话，在老师眼皮底下玩“猜单双游戏”；旁若无人地吃苹果，而不会受到申斥；互相之间推推搡搡，恶意嬉闹，连最起码的防护措施也没有；在老师书桌的桌腿上刻上每个学生名字的第一个字母。那个令老师伤透脑筋的笨家伙站在书桌旁说，上他的课根本不用“看书”，他不再因为忘了词儿盯着天花板，而是凑到老师眼皮底下，胆大包天地盯着那一页。这个小调皮鬼斜着眼睛做出种种怪相（当然冲着年龄最小的男孩子），他的面前没有书本遮着，观众大表赞成，乐不可支。要是老师猛然醒悟过来，觉察到他们在做什么的话，嘈杂声便立刻沉下去，他所碰到的目光全都流露出一种很用功和十分谦逊的神情。但是，待他一恢复原状，嘈杂声又重新爆起，比以前高了十倍。

啊，这些懒家伙多想遛到外面去啊！他们心急如焚地注视着敞开着的门窗，仿佛他们在盘算猛然冲出去，跑到树林子里，从此就会变成野孩子和野蛮人似的。一想到那清凉的河水，还有垂到水面上的细柳庇荫能洗澡的大池子，他们便心猿意马了。那个强壮的男孩子更是心急难耐，他的衬衫领扣敞开着，好像马上就要脱掉的样子，坐在那里不停地用一本拼音读本扇着涨红的脸，心想自己要是能变成一条鲸鱼多好啊，哪怕是一条小鱼也好啊，一只苍蝇也行，不论什么都好，只要不是待在学校里动也动不了，忍受酷暑的煎熬。

天儿太热了！这可以问问那个坐在门口的学生，他的座位离门口最近，使他有机会溜到花园去，待他把脸浸到盛满井水的桶里，然后在草地上舒舒服服打个滚儿回来，简直快把他的伙伴们气得发疯了。这么热的天，甚至连蜜蜂都要飞到花蕊里藏起来，好像它们决定退休，都不再做酿蜜的工作了。这样的天气人注定要懒惰倦怠，躺在草地上，仰望天空，直到五彩斑斓刺目的光线强迫他闭上眼睛，昏昏欲睡。蛮不成这是憋闷在太阳不愿意光顾的黑屋子里，苦读乏味的书本的时候吗？简直荒唐透顶！

上完正课，写字时间开始了。这是更加寂静难耐的时刻。教师走来走去，他常常来到写字者的背后端详着，然后温和地告诉他，要看看那张字母表笔画是如何下笔的，这张字母表是那个生病的学生临摹的，作为范本挂在墙上。然后他停下脚步告诉他们，昨天晚上那个生病的孩子说了些什么，他是多么渴望重新和他们一起；可怜的教师那种又温柔又可亲的态度令他们颇为感动，这些孩子似乎懊悔不该让他那么不省心，就这样大家全都安静下来。谁也不吃苹果了，没人再用小刀刻名字了，也不再挤眉弄眼扮鬼脸了，足足持续了两分钟之久。

“我想，孩子们，”教师说，这时钟敲了十二下，“今天下午我要额外放半天假。”听了这个消息，以高个子学生为首的男孩子们，大声喊叫起来，教师似乎在说些什么，可是听不清。然而，在他举起手示意大家保持安静的时候，他们都很配合，待那些气最长的没声音了，教室里便安静下来。“你们首先得答应我”教师说道，“不要再吵闹，就是要吵闹的话，至少得到远远的地方去玩耍，我的意思是你们要到村子外面去。我相信你们不会去惊扰那个和你们在一起玩的伙伴吧。”

大家小声说着（也许是很诚恳的，因为他们毕竟还是孩子）；那个高个子学生，大概也和别的学生一样诚恳，叫那些环绕在他身边的孩子们替他作证，他只不过小声喊来着。“那么就请不要忘记，那才是我喜欢的好学生呢，”他们的先生教师说道，“我对你们说的话，希望你们能做到。你们尽情地玩去吧，但是不要忘记，只有身体健康才最重要，上帝保佑你们平安。同学们，再见！”

“谢谢您，先生”和“再会，先生”，这两句话用不同的声音说了许多遍，然后孩子们轻手轻脚地慢慢走出教室。这时，阳光还是那样明媚，小鸟还在唧唧喳喳地歌唱，仿佛阳光只是在假日才明媚，小鸟只是在假日才放开歌喉似的；树木也向无忧无虑的孩子们招手，要他们爬上去，依偎它们浓密繁茂的枝头；干草堆恳求他们走到近前，在清新纯净的空气将其摊开；绿油油的稻谷温柔地向树林和小溪示意；笼罩着光与影的大地显得更加光滑平整，邀请他们到上面跑、跳或漫步呢，没有人晓得自己要去哪里。既然如此，还有哪个男孩子能够保持矜持，随着一声高喊，这一群人撒腿便跑，向四面八方散开，一边跑还一边叫着，快活地大笑着。“这是再自然不过的事情，感谢上帝！”可怜的教师说，目送着他们走远。“我很高兴他们没把我的话放在心上。”

傍晚时分，教师来到一个农舍前，屋子里面他的那位小朋友卧病在床。教师轻轻地敲了敲门，门马上就开了。他走进一间屋子，里面一小堆妇女围绕着一个比他们年龄稍长的人，她哭得很惨，坐在椅子上吻她的手，前仰后合地摇动着。“啊，婆婆！”教师说着，走近她的座椅，“怎么糟到这种程度了？”老妇人没有回答，指了指另一个房间，他连忙走了进去。他的那位小朋友半披着衣服，平躺在一张床上。

他是一位十分幼小的男孩——简直就是一个婴儿。头发卷曲地垂在他的脸上，眼睛很明亮，但是那是来自天国的光辉，不是人间所有。教师傍着他的身子坐下，把头低到枕头边上低声唤着他的小名。男孩子一跃而起，用手摸着他的脸，又伸出瘦弱的胳臂抱住他的脖子，喊叫着说，他是他亲爱的、慈祥的朋友。“我希望我永远是。我是要做你的好朋友的，上帝知道”可怜的教师说道，“你记得那花园吧，亨利？”教师低声说，急于要把他唤醒，因为一种沉闷似乎在向他进行包围，“黄昏的时候是多么令人愉快呀！你一定要赶快再去那里看看，我觉得鲜花都因为见不到你而难过，也不及先前那么美丽了。你不久就会来的，亲爱的，不久就会来的，是不是啊”

男孩子有气无力地微笑了——简直柔弱极了——并且把手放在他朋友斑白的头发上面。他的嘴唇也在张动，但是没有说话——不，连声音也没有了。一切随即趋于沉寂，远处的人声随着晚风飘进了敞开着的窗户。“那是什么？”病孩子问道，张开他的眼睛。“孩子们在草地上打球。”他从枕头底下取出一块手巾，想在头上挥舞一下。但是软弱的胳臂没力气地放了下来。“让我来好不好？”教师说。“请你在窗口一挥，”他有气无力地答道，“把它系在窗格子上。他们会有人看见的。也许他们想到我，就会向这面望望。”

他抬起头来，从那飘展的信号望到他那根和石板、书本以及其他玩具一起放在桌子上空闲着的球棒。然后他又轻轻地倒了来问那小女孩子是否还在那里，因为他看不到她。她走向前来，紧握住那只伸在被单外面没有抗拒力量的手。两位老朋友和老伙伴——尽管是一位成人一位小孩，他们的确是老朋友呢——拥抱了很长时间，然后那位小学生转过脸对着墙壁，睡着了。

可怜的教师还坐在原来的地方，握着那只又小又冷的手，摩擦着。那只是一只死去的孩子的手。他感觉到了。但是他还在不停地摩掌，不肯把它放下来。

（选自狄更斯《老古玩店》）