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15 \Don't be so silly. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were ten to one! Try to take some soup now, and let Sudie go and buy port wine for her sick child.\ “噢，我从没听说过这种胡说八道。常青藤叶子跟你病好不好有什么关系？别这么傻。对了，大夫上午跟我说，你的病十有八九就快好了。快喝些汤，让苏迪给她生病的孩子去买些波尔图葡萄酒来。”

16 \needn't get any more wine,\said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. \before it gets dark. Then I'll go, too. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of thinking. I want to turn loose my hold on everything, and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves.\ “你不用再去买酒了，”约翰西说道，两眼一直盯着窗外。“又掉了一片。不，我不想喝汤。这一下只剩下4片了。我要在天黑前看到最后一片叶子掉落。那时我也就跟着走了。我都等腻了。也想腻了。我只想撇开一切, 飘然而去，就像那边一片可怜的疲倦的叶子。” 17 \be gone a minute.\

“快睡吧，”苏说。“我得叫贝尔曼上楼来给我当老矿工模特儿。我去去就来。” 18 Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath them. He was past sixty and had a long white beard curling down over his chest. Despite looking the part, Behrman was a failure in art. For forty years he had been always about to paint a masterpiece, but had never yet begun it. He earned a little by serving as a model to those young artists who could not pay the price of a professional. He drank gin to excess, and still talked of his coming masterpiece. For the rest he was a fierce little old man, who mocked terribly at softness in any one, and who regarded himself as guard dog to the two young artists in the studio above. 老贝尔曼是住在两人楼下底层的一个画家。他已年过六旬，银白色蜷曲的长髯披挂胸前。贝尔曼看上去挺像艺术家，但在艺术上却没有什么成就。40年来他一直想创作一幅传世之作，却始终没能动手。他给那些请不起职业模特的青年画家当模特挣点小钱。他没节制地喝酒，谈论着他那即将问世的不朽之作。要说其他方面，他是个好斗的小老头，要是谁表现出一点软弱，他便大肆嘲笑，并把自己看成是楼上画室里两位年轻艺术家的看护人。 19 Sue found Behrman smelling strongly of gin in his dimly lighted studio below. In one corner was a blank canvas on an easel that had been waiting there for twenty-five years to receive the first line of the masterpiece. She told him of Johnsy's fancy, and how she feared she would, indeed, light and fragile as a leaf herself, float away, when her slight hold upon the world grew weaker. Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streaming, shouted his contempt for such foolish imaginings. 苏在楼下光线暗淡的画室里找到了贝尔曼，他满身酒味刺鼻。屋子一角的画架上支着一张从未落过笔的画布，在那儿搁了25年，等着一幅杰作的起笔。苏把约翰西的怪念头跟他说了，并说约翰西本身就像一片叶子又瘦又弱，她害怕要是她那本已脆弱的生存意志再软下去的话，真的会凋零飘落。老贝尔曼双眼通红，显然是泪涟涟的，他大声叫嚷着说他蔑视这种傻念头。

20 \off from a vine? I have never heard of such a thing. Why do you allow such silly ideas to come into that head of hers? God! This is not a place in which one so good as Miss Johnsy should lie sick. Some day I will paint a masterpiece, and we shall all go away. Yes.\

“什么！”他嚷道。“世界上竟然有这么愚蠢的人，因为树叶从藤上掉落就要去死？我听都没听说过这等事。你怎么让这种傻念头钻到她那个怪脑袋里？天哪！这不是一个像约

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翰西小姐这样的好姑娘躺倒生病的地方。有朝一日我要画一幅巨作，那时候我们就离开这里。真的。”

21 Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down, and motioned Behrman into the other room. In there they peered out the window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other for a moment without speaking. A persistent, cold rain was falling, mingled with snow. Behrman, in his old blue shirt, took his seat as the miner on an upturned kettle for a rock.

两人上了楼，约翰西已经睡着了。苏放下窗帘，示意贝尔曼去另一个房间。在那儿两人惶惶不安地凝视着窗外的常青藤。接着两人面面相觑，哑然无语。外面冷雨夹雪，淅淅沥沥。贝尔曼穿着破旧的蓝色衬衣, 坐在充当矿石的倒置的水壶上，摆出矿工的架势。

22 When Sue awoke from an hour's sleep the next morning she found Johnsy with dull, wide-open eyes staring at the drawn green shade. 第二天早上，只睡了一个小时的苏醒来看到约翰西睁大着无神的双眼，凝望着拉下的绿色窗帘。

23 \ “把窗帘拉起来；我要看，”她低声命令道。 24 Wearily Sue obeyed.

苏带着疲倦，遵命拉起窗帘。

25 But, Lo! after the beating rain and fierce wind that had endured through the night, there yet stood out against the brick wall one ivy leaf. It was the last on the vine. Still dark green near its stem, but with its edges colored yellow, it hung bravely from a branch some twenty feet above the ground. 可是，瞧！经过一整夜的急风骤雨，竟然还存留一片常青藤叶，背靠砖墙，格外显目。这是常青藤上的最后一片叶子。近梗部位仍呈暗绿色，但边缘已经泛黄了，它无所畏惧地挂在离地20多英尺高的枝干上。

26 \wind. It will fall today, and I shall die at the same time.\

“这是最后一片叶子，”约翰西说。“我以为夜里它肯定会掉落的。我晚上听到大风呼啸。今天它会掉落的，叶子掉的时候，也是我死的时候。”

27 The day wore away, and even through the twilight they could see the lone ivy leaf clinging to its stem against the wall. And then, with the coming of the night the north wind was again loosed. 白天慢慢过去了，即便在暮色黄昏之中，他们仍能看到那片孤零零的常青藤叶子，背靠砖墙，紧紧抱住梗茎。尔后，随着夜幕的降临，又是北风大作。

28 When it was light enough Johnsy, the merciless, commanded that the shade be raised. 等天色亮起，冷酷无情的约翰西命令将窗帘拉起。 29 The ivy leaf was still there. 常青藤叶依然挺在。

30 Johnsy lay for a long time looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was stirring her chicken soup over the gas stove.

约翰西躺在那儿，望着它许久许久。接着她大声呼唤正在煤气灶上搅鸡汤的苏。 31 \show me how wicked I was. It is a sin to want to die. You may bring me a little soup now, and some milk with a little port in it and -- no; bring me a hand-mirror first, and then pack some pillows about me, and I will sit up and watch you cook.\

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“我一直像个不乖的孩子，苏迪，”约翰西说。“有一种力量让那最后一片叶子不掉，好让我看到自己有多坏。想死是一种罪过。你给我喝点汤吧，再来点牛奶，稍放一点波尔图葡萄酒――不，先给我拿面小镜子来，弄几个枕头垫在我身边，我要坐起来看你做菜。” 32 An hour later she said: 一个小时之后，她说：

33 \ “苏迪，我真想有一天去画那不勒斯海湾。”

34 The doctor came in the afternoon, and Sue had an excuse to go into the hallway as he left. 下午大夫来了，他走时苏找了个借口跟进了过道。

35 \ “现在是势均力敌，”大夫说着，握了握苏纤细颤抖的手。

36 \his name is -- some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man, and the attack is acute. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital today to be made more comfortable.\

“只要精心照料，你就赢了。现在我得去楼下看另外一个病人了。贝尔曼，是他的名字――记得是个什么画家。也是肺炎。他年老体弱，病来势又猛。他是没救了。不过今天他去了医院，照料得会好一点。”

37 The next day the doctor said to Sue: \care now -- that's all.\

第二天，大夫对苏说：“她脱离危险了。你赢了。注意饮食，好好照顾，就行了。” 38 And that afternoon Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay and put one arm around her. 当日下午，苏来到约翰西的床头，用一只手臂搂住她。

39 \today in the hospital. He was ill only two days. He was found on the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were wet through and icy cold. They couldn't imagine where he had been on such a terrible night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted, and a ladder that had been dragged from its place, and some scattered brushes, and a palette with green and yellow colors mixed on it, and -- look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never fluttered or moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it's Behrman's masterpiece -- he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell.\

“我跟你说件事，小白鼠，”她说。“贝尔曼先生今天在医院里得肺炎去世了。他得病才两天。发病那天上午人家在楼下他的房间里发现他疼得利害。他的鞋子衣服都湿透了，冰冷冰冷的。他们想不出那么糟糕的天气他夜里会去哪儿。后来他们发现了一个灯笼，还亮着，还有一个梯子被拖了出来，另外还有些散落的画笔，一个调色板，和着黄绿两种颜色，――看看窗外，宝贝儿，看看墙上那最后一片常青藤叶子。它在刮风的时候一动也不动，你没有觉得奇怪吗？啊，亲爱的，那是贝尔曼的杰作――最后一片叶子掉落的那天夜里他画上了这片叶子。”

He did not trust the woman to trust him. And he did not trust the woman not to trust him. And he did not want to be mistrusted now.

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他不敢相信这个女人居然会信任自己。他也不认为这个女人就不信任自己。不过,现在他不想失去

别人对自己的信任。

Unit7 Text A Life of a Salesman一个推销员的生活

小汤姆 ? 霍尔曼

Making a living as a door-to-door salesman demands a thick skin, both to protect against the weather and against constantly having the door shut in your face. Bill Porter puts up with all this and much, much more.

干挨家挨户上门推销这一营生得脸皮厚,这是因为干这一行不仅要经受风吹日晒,还要承受一次又

一次的闭门羹。比尔 ? 波特忍受着这一切,以及别的种种折磨。

Life of a Salesman Tom Hallman Jr.

1 The alarm rings. It's 5:45. He could linger under the covers, listening to the radio and a weatherman who

predicts rain. People would understand. He knows that.

闹钟响了。是清晨5??45。他可以在被子里再躺一会儿,听听无线电广播。天气预报员预报有雨。

人们会理解的。这点他清楚。

2 A surgeon's scar cuts across his lower back. The fingers on his right hand are so twisted that he can't tie his

shoes. Some days, he feels like surrendering. But his dead mother's challenge echoes in his soul. So, too, do the

voices of those who believed him stupid, incapable of living independently. All his life he's struggled to prove

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them wrong. He will not quit.

他的下背有一道手术疤痕。他右手的手指严重扭曲,连鞋带都没法系。有时,他真想放弃不干了。

可在他内心深处,一直回响着已故老母的激励, 还有那些说他蠢,说他不能独立生活的人的声音。他一生

都在拚命去证明他们错了。他决不能放弃不干。

3 And so Bill Porter rises. 于是比尔?波特起身了。

4 He takes the first unsteady steps on a journey to Portland's streets, the battlefield where he fights alone for

his independence and dignity. He's a door-to-door salesman. Sixty-three years old. And his enemies -- a crippled

body that betrays him and a changing world that no longer needs him -- are gaining on him.

他摇摇晃晃迈出了去波特兰大街的头几步,波特兰大街是他为独立与尊严而孤身搏杀的战场。他是

个挨家挨户上门推销的推销员,今年63 岁。他的敌人――辜负他的残疾的身体和一个不再需要他的变化

着的世界――正一步一步把他逼向绝境。

5 With trembling hands he assembles his weapons: dark slacks, blue shirt and matching jacket, brown tie, tan

raincoat and hat. Image, he believes, is everything.

他用颤抖的双手收拾行装??深色宽松裤,蓝衬衣和与之相配的茄克衫,褐色领带,土褐色雨衣和帽

子。在他看来,形象就是一切。

6 He stops in the entryway, picks up his briefcase and steps outside. A fall wind has kicked up. The