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> 29salon > 有声读物 > 世界名著 > 柳林风声 >  第7课

柳林风声:The Piper at the Gates of Dawn 黎明前的笛声

所属教程:柳林风声

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2017年09月20日

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The Willow-Wren was twittering his thin little song, hidden himself in the dark selvedge of the river bank. Though it was past ten o’clock at night, the sky still clung to and retained some lingering skirts of light from the departed day; and the sullen heats of the torrid afternoon broke up and rolled away at the dispersing touch of the cool fingers of the short midsummer night. Mole lay stretched on the bank, still panting from the stress of the fierce day that had been cloudless from dawn to late sunset, and waited for his friend to return. He had been on the river with some companions, leaving the Water Rat free to keep a engagement of long standing with Otter; and he had come back to find the house dark and deserted, and no sign of Rat, who was doubtless keeping it up late with his old comrade. It was still too hot to think of staying indoors, so he lay on some cool dock-leaves, and thought over the past day and its doings, and how very good they all had been.

柳林鹪鹩躲在河岸边黑幽幽的树林里,唱着清脆的小曲。虽然已是晚十点过后,天光依旧留连不去,残留着白昼的余辉。午后酷热郁闷的暑气,在短短的仲夏夜清凉的手指触摸下,渐渐消散了。鼹鼠伸开四肢躺在河岸上,等着他的朋友回来。从天明到日落,天空万里无云,赤日炎炎,高温逼人,压得他到现在还气喘吁吁。他一直在河边和一些同伴游玩,让河鼠独自去水獭家赴一次安排已久的约会。他进屋时,看到屋里黑洞洞的,空无一人,不见河鼠的踪影。河鼠一定是和他的老伙伴呆在一起,迟迟不想回家。天气还太热,屋里呆不住,鼹鼠就躺在一些酸模叶子上,回味着这一天经历的种种事情,觉得特有意思。

The Rat’s light footfall was presently heard approaching over the parched grass. ‘O, the blessed coolness!’ he said, and sat down, gazing thoughtfully into the river, silent and pre-occupied.

过了一会,河鼠轻轻的脚步踏着晒干的草地由远而近。“啊,多凉快呀,太美了!”他说着坐了下来,若有所思地望着河水,一声不吭。

‘You stayed to supper, of course?’ said the Mole presently.

“你在那边吃过晚饭了吧?”鼹鼠问。

‘Simply had to,’ said the Rat. ‘They wouldn’t hear of my going before. You know how kind they always are. And they made things as jolly for me as ever they could, right up to the moment I left. But I felt a brute all the time, as it was clear to me they were very unhappy, though they tried to hide it. Mole, I’m afraid they’re in trouble. Little Portly is missing again; and you know what a lot his father thinks of him, though he never says much about it.’

“走不开呀,”河鼠说,“他们死活不放我走。你知道的,他们一向待人亲切,为我把一切都安排得周周到到,直到我离开为止。可我总觉得不是滋味,因为我看得出,尽管他们竭力掩盖,他们实际上很不开心。鼹鼠,他们恐怕是遇上麻烦了。小胖胖又丢了。你知道,他父亲是多么疼他,虽然他很少表示。”

‘What, that child?’ said the Mole lightly. ‘Well, suppose he is; why worry about it? He’s always straying off and getting lost, and turning up again; he’s so adventurous. But no harm ever happens to him. Everybody hereabouts knows him and likes him, just as they do old Otter, and you may be sure some animal or other will come across him and bring him back again all right. Why, we’ve found him ourselves, miles from home, and quite self-possessed and cheerful!’

“什么?那个孩子吗?”鼹鼠不在意地说。“就算走丢了,又有什么可担心的?他老是出去,走丢了,过后又回来了;他大爱冒险啦。不过他还从没出过什么差池。这一带所有的居民都认识他,喜欢他,就像他们喜欢老水獭一样。总有一天,不知哪只动物会遇上他,把他送回家的。你只管放心好啦。你瞧,咱们自己不是还曾在好几哩以外找到过他,他还挺得意,玩得开心着哩!”

‘Yes; but this time it’s more serious,’ said the Rat gravely. ‘He’s been missing for some days now, and the Otters have hunted everywhere, high and low, without finding the slightest trace. And they’ve asked every animal, too, for miles around, and no one knows anything about him. Otter’s evidently more anxious than he’ll admit. I got out of him that young Portly hasn’t learnt to swim very well yet, and I can see he’s thinking of the weir. There’s a lot of water coming down still, considering the time of the year, and the place always had a fascination for the child. And then there are—well, traps and things—YOU know. Otter’s not the fellow to be nervous about any son of his before it’s time. And now he IS nervous. When I left, he came out with me—said he wanted some air, and talked about stretching his legs. But I could see it wasn’t that, so I drew him out and pumped him, and got it all from him at last. He was going to spend the night watching by the ford. You know the place where the old ford used to be, in by-gone days before they built the bridge?’

“不错,可这回问题更严重,”河鼠沉重地说。“他没露面已经许多天了,水獭夫妇到处找遍了,还是不见他的影子。他们也问过方圆几哩的每只动物,可都说不知道他的下落。水獭显然是急坏了,虽然他不肯承认这一点、我从他那儿知道,胖胖游泳还没学到家,看得出,他担心会在那座河坝上出事。这个季节,那儿还有大量的水流出来,而且,那地方总是让小孩子着迷的。而且,那儿还有——呃,陷阱呀什么的——这你也知道。水獭不是那号过早为儿子担心的人,可现在他已经感到惶惶不安了。我离开他家时,他送我出来,说是想透透空气。伸伸腿脚。可我看得出来,不是那么回事,所以我拉他出来。一个劲追问;终于让他吐露了实情。原来,他是要去渡口边过夜。那地方你知道吗?就是在那座桥建起以前,那个老渡口那儿?”

‘I know it well,’ said the Mole. ‘But why should Otter choose to watch there?’

“知道,而且很熟悉,”鼹鼠说,“不过水獭为什么单挑那地方去守着呢?”

‘Well, it seems that it was there he gave Portly his first swimming-lesson,’ continued the Rat. ‘From that shallow, gravelly spit near the bank. And it was there he used to teach him fishing, and there young Portly caught his first fish, of which he was so very proud. The child loved the spot, and Otter thinks that if he came wandering back from wherever he is—if he IS anywhere by this time, poor little chap—he might make for the ford he was so fond of; or if he came across it he’d remember it well, and stop there and play, perhaps. So Otter goes there every night and watches—on the chance, you know, just on the chance!’

“嗯,像是因为那是他第一次教胖胖游泳的地方,”河鼠接着说。“那儿靠近河岸有一处浅水的沙嘴。那也是他经常教他钓鱼的地方。小胖胖的第一条鱼就是在那儿抓到的,为这他可得意哪。那孩子喜欢这地方,所以水獭想。要是那可怜的孩子还活着,在什么地方逛够了,他或许首先会回到他最喜欢的这个渡口来;要是他碰巧经过那里,想起这地方,他或许会停下来玩玩的。所以,水獭每晚都去那儿守候——抱着一线希望,只是一线希望!”

They were silent for a time, both thinking of the same thing—the lonely, heart-sore animal, crouched by the ford, watching and waiting, the long night through—on the chance.

他俩一时都沉默了,都在想着同样的心事——漫漫长夜里,那个孤独、忧伤的水獭,蹲在渡口边,守候着,等待着,只为了抱一线希望。

‘Well, well,’ said the Rat presently, ‘I suppose we ought to be thinking about turning in.’ But he never offered to move.

“得了,得了,”过了一会,河鼠说,“咱们该进屋睡觉了。”说归说,他却没有动弹。

‘Rat,’ said the Mole, ‘I simply can’t go and turn in, and go to sleep, and DO nothing, even though there doesn’t seem to be anything to be done. We’ll get the boat out, and paddle up stream. The moon will be up in an hour or so, and then we will search as well as we can— anyhow, it will be better than going to bed and doing NOTHING.’

“河鼠,”鼹鼠说,“不干点什么,我真没法回屋睡觉,虽说要干,像也没啥可干的。咱们干脆把船划出来,往上游去、再过个把钟头,月亮就升起来了,那时咱们就可以借着月光尽力搜索——起码,总比一事不干上床睡觉强呀。”

‘Just what I was thinking myself,’ said the Rat. ‘It’s not the sort of night for bed anyhow; and daybreak is not so very far off, and then we may pick up some news of him from early risers as we go along.’

“我也是这样想的、”河鼠说。“再说。这样的夜晚、也不是适合睡觉的夜晚。天很快就亮了,一路上,咱们还可以向早起的动物打听有关胖胖的消息。”

They got the boat out, and the Rat took the sculls, paddling with caution. Out in midstream, there was a clear, narrow track that faintly reflected the sky; but wherever shadows fell on the water from bank, bush, or tree, they were as solid to all appearance as the banks themselves, and the Mole had to steer with judgment accordingly. Dark and deserted as it was, the night was full of small noises, song and chatter and rustling, telling of the busy little population who were up and about, plying their trades and vocations through the night till sunshine should fall on them at last and send them off to their well-earned repose. The water’s own noises, too, were more apparent than by day, its gurglings and ‘cloops’ more unexpected and near at hand; and constantly they started at what seemed a sudden clear call from an actual articulate voice.

他们把船划出来,河鼠执桨,小心谨慎地划着。河心有一条狭长清亮的水流。隐隐反映出天空。但两岸的灌木或树丛投在水中的倒影。看上去却如同河岸一样坚实,因此鼹鼠在掌舵时就得相应地作出判断。河上虽然一片漆黑,杳无人迹.可夜空中还是充满了各种细小的声响,歌声、低语声、窸窸窣窣,表明那些忙碌的小动物还在活动。通宵干着他们各自的营生,直到初阳照到他们身上催他们回窝安息。河水本身的声音,也比白天来得响亮,那汩汩和“砰砰”声更显得突如其来,近在咫尺。时不时,会突然听到一声清晰的嗓音,把他们吓一跳。

The line of the horizon was clear and hard against the sky, and in one particular quarter it showed black against a silvery climbing phosphorescence that grew and grew. At last, over the rim of the waiting earth the moon lifted with slow majesty till it swung clear of the horizon and rode off, free of moorings; and once more they began to see surfaces—meadows wide-spread, and quiet gardens, and the river itself from bank to bank, all softly disclosed, all washed clean of mystery and terror, all radiant again as by day, but with a difference that was tremendous. Their old haunts greeted them again in other raiment, as if they had slipped away and put on this pure new apparel and come quietly back, smiling as they shyly waited to see if they would be recognised again under it.

地平线与天空泾渭分明;在一个特定地点,一片银色磷辉逐渐升高,扩大,衬得地平线格外黝黑。最后,在恭候已久的大地的边缘,月亮堂皇地徐徐升起,她摆脱了地平线,无羁无绊地悬在空中。这时,他们又看清了地面的一切——广阔的草地,幽静的花园,还有夹在两岸之间的整条河,全都柔和地展现在眼前,一扫神秘恐怖的色调,亮堂堂如同白昼,但又大大不同于白昼。他们常去的老地方,又在向他们打招呼,只是穿上了另一套衣裳,仿佛它们曾经偷偷溜走,换上一身皎洁的新装,又悄悄溜回来,含着微笑,羞怯地等着,看他们还认不认得出来。

Fastening their boat to a willow, the friends landed in this silent, silver kingdom, and patiently explored the hedges, the hollow trees, the runnels and their little culverts, the ditches and dry water-ways. Embarking again and crossing over, they worked their way up the stream in this manner, while the moon, serene and detached in a cloudless sky, did what she could, though so far off, to help them in their quest; till her hour came and she sank earthwards reluctantly, and left them, and mystery once more held field and river.

两个朋友把船系在一棵柳树上,上了岸,走进这静溢的银色王国,在树篱、树洞、隧道、暗渠、沟壑和干涸的河道里耐心搜寻。然后他们又登船,划到对岸去找。这样,他们来回划着,溯河而上。那轮皓月,静静地高悬在没云的夜空,尽管离得这样远,却尽力帮他们寻找。等到该退场的时辰到了,她才依依不舍地离开他们,沉入地下。神秘又一次笼罩了田野和河流。

Then a change began slowly to declare itself. The horizon became clearer, field and tree came more into sight, and somehow with a different look; the mystery began to drop away from them. A bird piped suddenly, and was still; and a light breeze sprang up and set the reeds and bulrushes rustling. Rat, who was in the stern of the boat, while Mole sculled, sat up suddenly and listened with a passionate intentness. Mole, who with gentle strokes was just keeping the boat moving while he scanned the banks with care, looked at him with curiosity.

然后,一种变化慢慢地出现,天边更加明朗。田野和树林更加清晰可辨,而且多少变了样子;笼罩在上面的神秘气氛开始退去。一只鸟突然鸣叫一声,跟着又悄无声息了。一阵轻风拂过,吹得芦苇和蒲草沙沙作响。鼹鼠在划桨,河鼠倚在船尾。他忽然坐直了身子,神情激动,聚精会神地侧耳倾听。鼹鼠轻轻地划着桨,让船缓缓向前移动,一面仔细审视着两岸。看到河鼠的那副神情,他不由好奇地望着他。

‘It’s gone!’ sighed the Rat, sinking back in his seat again. ‘So beautiful and strange and new. Since it was to end so soon, I almost wish I had never heard it. For it has roused a longing in me that is pain, and nothing seems worth while but just to hear that sound once more and go on listening to it for ever. No! There it is again!’ he cried, alert once more. Entranced, he was silent for a long space, spellbound.

“听不见啦!”河鼠叹了口气,又倒在座位上。“多美呀!多神奇呀!多新颖呀!可惜这么快就没了,倒不如压根儿没听见。这声音在我心里唤起了一种痛苦的渴望,恨不能再听到它,永远听下去,除了听它,别的什么似乎都没有意义了!它又来啦!”他喊道,又一次振奋起来。他听得入了迷,好半晌,不说一句话。

‘Now it passes on and I begin to lose it,’ he said presently. ‘O Mole! the beauty of it! The merry bubble and joy, the thin, clear, happy call of the distant piping! Such music I never dreamed of, and the call in it is stronger even than the music is sweet! Row on, Mole, row! For the music and the call must be for us.’

“声音又快没了,听不到了,”河鼠又说。”鼹鼠啊!它多美呀!远处那悠扬婉转的笛声,那纤细、清脆、欢快的呼唤!这样的音乐,我从来没有梦想过。音乐固然甜美,可那呼唤更加强烈!往前划,鼹鼠,划呀!那音乐和呼唤一定是冲着咱们来的!”

The Mole, greatly wondering, obeyed. ‘I hear nothing myself,’ he said, ‘but the wind playing in the reeds and rushes and osiers.’

鼹鼠非常惊讶,不过他还是听从了。他说,“我什么也没听到,除了芦苇、灯芯草和柳树里的风声。”

The Rat never answered, if indeed he heard. Rapt, transported, trembling, he was possessed in all his senses by this new divine thing that caught up his helpless soul and swung and dandled it, a powerless but happy infant in a strong sustaining grasp.

他的话,河鼠即便听到,也没回答。他心醉神迷,浑身颤栗,整个身心都被这件神奇的新鲜事物占有了。它用强有力的手。紧紧抓住了他的无力抗拒的心灵,摇着。抚着,像搂着一个柔弱但幸福的婴孩。

In silence Mole rowed steadily, and soon they came to a point where the river divided, a long backwater branching off to one side. With a slight movement of his head Rat, who had long dropped the rudder-lines, directed the rower to take the backwater. The creeping tide of light gained and gained, and now they could see the colour of the flowers that gemmed the water’s edge.

鼹鼠默默地划着船,不一会,他们来到了一处河道分岔的地方,一股长长的回水向一旁分流出去。河鼠早就放下了舵,这时,他把头轻轻一扬,示意鼹鼠向回水湾划去。天色将曙,他们已能辨别宝石般点缀着两岸的鲜花的颜色。

‘Clearer and nearer still,’ cried the Rat joyously. ‘Now you must surely hear it! Ah—at last—I see you do!’

“笛声越来越近,越来越清楚了,”河鼠欢喜地喊道。“这会儿你一定也听到了吧!啊哈!看得出来,你终于听到了!”

Breathless and transfixed the Mole stopped rowing as the liquid run of that glad piping broke on him like a wave, caught him up, and possessed him utterly. He saw the tears on his comrade’s cheeks, and bowed his head and understood. For a space they hung there, brushed by the purple loose-strife that fringed the bank; then the clear imperious summons that marched hand-in-hand with the intoxicating melody imposed its will on Mole, and mechanically he bent to his oars again. And the light grew steadily stronger, but no birds sang as they were wont to do at the approach of dawn; and but for the heavenly music all was marvellously still.

那流水般欢畅的笛声浪潮般向鼹鼠涌来。席卷了他,整个占有了他。他屏住呼吸,痴痴地坐着,忘掉了划桨。他看到了同伴脸颊上的泪,便理解地低下头去。有好一阵。他俩呆在那儿一动不动,任凭镶在河边的紫色珍珠草在他们身上拂来拂去。然后,伴随着醉人的旋律而来的,是又清晰又迫切的召唤,引得鼹鼠身不由己,又痴痴地俯身划起桨来。天更亮了,但是黎明时分照例听到的鸟鸣,却没有出现;除了那美妙的天籁,万物都静得出奇。

On either side of them, as they glided onwards, the rich meadow-grass seemed that morning of a freshness and a greenness unsurpassable. Never had they noticed the roses so vivid, the willow-herb so riotous, the meadow-sweet so odorous and pervading. Then the murmur of the approaching weir began to hold the air, and they felt a consciousness that they were nearing the end, whatever it might be, that surely awaited their expedition.

他们的船继续向前滑行,两岸大片丰美的草地,在那个早晨显得无比清新,无比青翠。他们从没见过这样鲜艳的玫瑰,这样丰茂的柳兰,这样芳香诱人的绣线菊。再往后,前面河坝的隆隆声已在空中轰鸣。他们预感到,远征的终点已经不远了。不管那是什么,它肯定正在迎候他们的到来。

A wide half-circle of foam and glinting lights and shining shoulders of green water, the great weir closed the backwater from bank to bank, troubled all the quiet surface with twirling eddies and floating foam-streaks, and deadened all other sounds with its solemn and soothing rumble. In midmost of the stream, embraced in the weir’s shimmering arm-spread, a small island lay anchored, fringed close with willow and silver birch and alder. Reserved, shy, but full of significance, it hid whatever it might hold behind a veil, keeping it till the hour should come, and, with the hour, those who were called and chosen.

一座大坝,从一岸到一岸,环抱着回水湾,形成一个宽阔明亮的半圆形绿色水坡。泡沫飞溅,波光粼粼,把平静的水面搅出无数的旋涡和带状的泡沫;它那庄严又亲切的隆隆声,盖过了所有别的声响。在大坝那闪光的臂膀环抱中,安卧着一个小岛,四周密密层层长着柳树、白桦和赤杨。它羞羞怯怯,隐而不露,但蕴意深长,用一层面纱把它要藏匿的东西遮盖起来,等待适当的时刻,才向那应召而来的客人坦露。

Slowly, but with no doubt or hesitation whatever, and in something of a solemn expectancy, the two animals passed through the broken tumultuous water and moored their boat at the flowery margin of the island. In silence they landed, and pushed through the blossom and scented herbage and undergrowth that led up to the level ground, till they stood on a little lawn of a marvellous green, set round with Nature’s own orchard-trees—crab-apple, wild cherry, and sloe.

两只动物怀着某种庄严的期待,毫不迟疑地把船划过那喧嚣动荡的水面,停舶在小岛鲜花似锦的岸边。他们悄悄上了岸,穿过花丛,芳香的野草和灌木林,踏上平地,来到一片绿油油的小草坪,草坪四周,环绕着大自然自己的果园——沙果树、野樱桃树、野刺李树。

‘This is the place of my song-dream, the place the music played to me,’ whispered the Rat, as if in a trance. ‘Here, in this holy place, here if anywhere, surely we shall find Him!’

“这是我的梦中歌曲之乡、是向我演奏的那首仙音之乡,”河鼠迷离恍惚地喃喃道。“要说在哪儿能找到‘他’,那就是在这块神圣的地方,我们将找到‘他’。”

Then suddenly the Mole felt a great Awe fall upon him, an awe that turned his muscles to water, bowed his head, and rooted his feet to the ground. It was no panic terror—indeed he felt wonderfully at peace and happy—but it was an awe that smote and held him and, without seeing, he knew it could only mean that some august Presence was very, very near. With difficulty he turned to look for his friend and saw him at his side cowed, stricken, and trembling violently. And still there was utter silence in the populous bird-haunted branches around them; and still the light grew and grew.

鼹鼠顿生敬畏之情,他全身肌肉变得松软,头低低垂下,双脚像在地上生了根。那并不是一种惶恐的感觉,实际上,他心情异常宁静快乐;那是一种袭上心头并且紧紧抓住他的敬畏感,虽然他看不见,心里却明白,一个宏伟神圣的存在物就近在眼前。他费力地转过身去找他的朋友,只见河鼠诚惶诚恐地站在他旁边,浑身剧烈地颤抖。四周,栖满了鸟雀的树枝上,依旧悄无声息。天色,也越来越亮了。

Perhaps he would never have dared to raise his eyes, but that, though the piping was now hushed, the call and the summons seemed still dominant and imperious. He might not refuse, were Death himself waiting to strike him instantly, once he had looked with mortal eye on things rightly kept hidden. Trembling he obeyed, and raised his humble head; and then, in that utter clearness of the imminent dawn, while Nature, flushed with fullness of incredible colour, seemed to hold her breath for the event, he looked in the very eyes of the Friend and Helper; saw the backward sweep of the curved horns, gleaming in the growing daylight; saw the stern, hooked nose between the kindly eyes that were looking down on them humourously, while the bearded mouth broke into a half-smile at the corners; saw the rippling muscles on the arm that lay across the broad chest, the long supple hand still holding the pan-pipes only just fallen away from the parted lips; saw the splendid curves of the shaggy limbs disposed in majestic ease on the sward; saw, last of all, nestling between his very hooves, sleeping soundly in entire peace and contentment, the little, round, podgy, childish form of the baby otter. All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered.

笛声现在虽已停止,但那种召唤,似仍旧那么强有力,那么刻不容缓;要不然,鼹鼠或许连抬眼看一看都不敢。他无法抵拒那种召唤,不能不用肉眼去看那隐蔽着的东西,哪怕一瞬间就要死去也在所不惜。他战战兢兢地抬起谦卑的头。就在破晓前那无比纯净的氛围里,大自然焕发着她那鲜艳绝伦的绯红,仿佛正屏住呼吸,等待这件大事——就在这一刻,鼹鼠直视那位朋友和救主的眼睛。他看到一对向后卷曲的弯弯的犄角,在晨光下发亮;他看到一双和蔼的眼睛,诙谐地俯视着他俩,慈祥的两眼间一只刚毅的鹰钩鼻。一张藏在须髯下的嘴,嘴角似笑非笑地微微上翘;一只筋肉隆起的臂,横在宽厚的胸前,修长而柔韧的手,仍握着那支刚离唇边的牧神之笛。毛蓬蓬的双腿线条优美,威严而安适地盘坐草地上;而偎依在老牧神的两蹄之间,是水獭娃娃那圆滚滚、胖乎乎、稚嫩嫩的小身子,他正安逸香甜地熟睡。就在这屏住呼吸心情紧张的一瞬间,他看到了呈现在晨曦中的这幅鲜明的景象。他活着看到了这一切,因为他还活着,他感到十分惊讶。

‘Rat!’ he found breath to whisper, shaking. ‘Are you afraid?’

“河鼠,”好不产易才缓过气来的鼹鼠,战战兢兢地低声说。“你害怕吗?”

‘Afraid?’ murmured the Rat, his eyes shining with unutterable love. ‘Afraid! Of HIM? O, never, never! And yet—and yet—O, Mole, I am afraid!’

“害怕?”河鼠的眼睛闪烁着难以言表的敬爱,低声喃喃道。“害怕?怕他?啊,当然不!当然不!不过——不过——我还是有点害怕!”

Then the two animals, crouching to the earth, bowed their heads and did worship.

说罢,两只动物匐匍在地上,低头膜拜起来。

Sudden and magnificent, the sun’s broad golden disc showed itself over the horizon facing them; and the first rays, shooting across the level water-meadows, took the animals full in the eyes and dazzled them. When they were able to look once more, the Vision had vanished, and the air was full of the carol of birds that hailed the dawn.

骤然间,对面的天边升起一轮金灿灿的太阳。最初的光芒,横穿平坦的水浸草地,直射他们的眼睛,晃得他们眼花缭乱。等到他们再看到东西时,那神奇的景象已经不见了,只听得空中回荡着百鸟欢呼日出的颂歌。

As they stared blankly in dumb misery deepening as they slowly realised all they had seen and all they had lost, a capricious little breeze, dancing up from the surface of the water, tossed the aspens, shook the dewy roses and blew lightly and caressingly in their faces; and with its soft touch came instant oblivion. For this is the last best gift that the kindly demi-god is careful to bestow on those to whom he has revealed himself in their helping: the gift of forgetfulness. Lest the awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth and pleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-lives of little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they should be happy and lighthearted as before.

他们茫茫然凝望着,慢慢地意识到,转瞬就失去了他们所看到的一切,一种说不出的怅惘袭上心头。这时,一阵忽忽悠悠的微风,飘过水面,摇着白杨树,晃着含露的玫瑰花,轻柔爱抚地吹拂到他们脸上,随着和风轻柔的触摸,顷刻间,他们忘掉了一切。这正是那位慈祥的半神为了关怀他显身相助的动物,送给他们的一件礼物——遗忘。为了不让那令人敬畏的印象久久滞留心头,给欢乐蒙上沉重的阴影,不让那段重大回忆萦回脑际,损害那些被他救出困境的小动物的后半生,让他们们还能像从前那样过得轻松愉快,他送给了他们这份礼物。

Mole rubbed his eyes and stared at Rat, who was looking about him in a puzzled sort of way. ‘I beg your pardon; what did you say, Rat?’ he asked.

鼹鼠揉了揉眼睛,愣愣地望着茫然回顾的河鼠。他问:“对不起,河鼠,你说什么来着?”

‘I think I was only remarking,’ said Rat slowly, ‘that this was the right sort of place, and that here, if anywhere, we should find him. And look! Why, there he is, the little fellow!’ And with a cry of delight he ran towards the slumbering Portly.

“我想我是说,”河鼠慢吞吞地回答,“这才是我们要找的地方,我们就应该在这里找到他。瞧!啊哈!他不就在那儿,那个小家伙!”河鼠高兴地喊了一声,向沉睡的胖胖跑去。

But Mole stood still a moment, held in thought. As one wakened suddenly from a beautiful dream, who struggles to recall it, and can re-capture nothing but a dim sense of the beauty of it, the beauty!Till that, too, fades away in its turn, and the dreamer bitterly accepts the hard, cold waking and all its penalties; so Mole, after struggling with his memory for a brief space, shook his head sadly and followed the Rat.

可是鼹鼠还怔怔地站了一会,想着心事。就像一个人突然从美梦中醒来,苦苦回忆这个梦。可又什么也想不起。只模模糊糊感到那个梦很美。美极了!随后,那点美的感觉也渐渐消失了。做梦的人只得悲哀地接受醒过来的冰冷严酷的现实;接受它的惩罚。鼹鼠正是这样,他苦苦回忆一阵之后,伤心地摇摇头,跟着河鼠去了。

Portly woke up with a joyous squeak, and wriggled with pleasure at the sight of his father’s friends, who had played with him so often in past days. In a moment, however, his face grew blank, and he fell to hunting round in a circle with pleading whine. As a child that has fallen happily asleep in its nurse’s arms, and wakes to find itself alone and laid in a strange place, and searches corners and cupboards, and runs from room to room, despair growing silently in its heart, even so Portly searched the island and searched, dogged and unwearying, till at last the black moment came for giving it up, and sitting down and crying bitterly.

胖胖醒来,快活地叽叽叫了一声。他看到父亲的两位朋友——他们过去常和他一起玩——高兴地扭动着身子。可是不一会,他脸上露出茫然的神色,转着圈儿寻找什么,鼻子里发出乞求般的哀鸣。他像一个在奶妈怀里甜甜入睡的小孩,醒来时,发现自己孤零零呆在一个陌生的地方,就到处寻觅。找遍了所有的屋角和柜橱,跑遍了所有的房间,心里越来越失望。胖胖坚持不懈地搜遍了整个小岛,最后他完全绝望了,坐在地上伤心地大哭起来。

The Mole ran quickly to comfort the little animal; but Rat, lingering, looked long and doubtfully at certain hoof-marks deep in the sward.

鼹鼠赶紧跑过去安慰这小动物,可河鼠却迟迟不动,满腹疑云地久久注视着草地上一些深深的蹄印。

‘Some—great—animal—has been here,’ he murmured slowly and thoughtfully; and stood musing, musing; his mind strangely stirred.

“有个——伟大的——动物——来过这里,”他若有所思地慢慢说;他站在那里,左思右想,心中翻腾得好生古怪。

‘Come along, Rat!’ called the Mole. ‘Think of poor Otter, waiting up there by the ford!’

“快来呀,河鼠!”鼹鼠喊。“想想可怜的老水獭吧,他还在渡口苦等呐!”

Portly had soon been comforted by the promise of a treat—a jaunt on the river in Mr. Rat’s real boat; and the two animals conducted him to the water’s side, placed him securely between them in the bottom of the boat, and paddled off down the backwater. The sun was fully up by now, and hot on them, birds sang lustily and without restraint, and flowers smiled and nodded from either bank, but somehow—so thought the animals—with less of richness and blaze of colour than they seemed to remember seeing quite recently somewhere—they wondered where.

他们答应胖胖,要带他好好玩一趟——乘河鼠先生的小船在河上游荡一番,胖胖的心立刻得到了安慰。两只动物领他来到水边,上了船,让他安安稳稳坐在两人当中,打起桨往回水湾下游划去。太阳已经升得老高,晒在身上暖洋洋的,鸟儿们无拘无束地纵情歌唱,两岸的鲜花冲他们频频点头微笑。可不知怎的——他们觉得——花儿的颜色,总比不上新近在什么地方见过的那样丰富多采,那样鲜艳夺目——那究竟是在哪儿呢?

The main river reached again, they turned the boat’s head upstream, towards the point where they knew their friend was keeping his lonely vigil. As they drew near the familiar ford, the Mole took the boat in to the bank, and they lifted Portly out and set him on his legs on the tow-path, gave him his marching orders and a friendly farewell pat on the back, and shoved out into mid-stream. They watched the little animal as he waddled along the path contentedly and with importance; watched him till they saw his muzzle suddenly lift and his waddle break into a clumsy amble as he quickened his pace with shrill whines and wriggles of recognition. Looking up the river, they could see Otter start up, tense and rigid, from out of the shallows where he crouched in dumb patience, and could hear his amazed and joyous bark as he bounded up through the osiers on to the path. Then the Mole, with a strong pull on one oar, swung the boat round and let the full stream bear them down again whither it would, their quest now happily ended.

又来到主河道了。他们掉转船头,逆流而上,朝水獭朋友正孤独守候的地点划去。快到那个熟悉的渡口时,鼹鼠把船划向岸边,把胖胖搀上岸,让他站在纤道上,命他开步走,又在他背上拍了拍,算是友好的道别,然后把船驶到中流。他们看着那个小家伙摇摇摆摆顺着纤道走去,一副满意又自得的神情。只见他猛地抬起嘴巴,蹒跚的步子一下子变成了笨拙的小步,脚步加快了,尖声哼哼着,扭动着身子,像是认出什么来了。他们向上游望去,只见老水獭一跃而起,纵身窜出他耐心守候的浅水滩,神情紧张又严肃。他连蹦带跳,跑上纤道,发出一连串又惊又喜的吼叫。这时,鼹鼠把一只桨重重地一划,掉转船头,听任那满荡荡的河水把他们随便冲向哪里,因为,他们的搜寻任务已经大功告成了。

‘I feel strangely tired, Rat,’ said the Mole, leaning wearily over his oars as the boat drifted. ‘It’s being up all night, you’ll say, perhaps; but that’s nothing. We do as much half the nights of the week, at this time of the year. No; I feel as if I had been through something very exciting and rather terrible, and it was just over; and yet nothing particular has happened.’

“河鼠,好奇怪。我感到疲乏极了,”鼹鼠有气无力地伏在桨上,由着船顺水漂流。“你也许会说,这是因为我们整宿没睡;可这并不算回事呀。每年这季节,我们每星期总有半数夜晚不睡觉的。不;我觉得像是刚刚经历过一件惊心动魄的大事件;可是,什么特别的事也没有发生呀。”

‘Or something very surprising and splendid and beautiful,’ murmured the Rat, leaning back and closing his eyes. ‘I feel just as you do, Mole; simply dead tired, though not body tired. It’s lucky we’ve got the stream with us, to take us home. Isn’t it jolly to feel the sun again, soaking into one’s bones! And hark to the wind playing in the reeds!’

“也可以说,是某种非常惊人的、光辉的、美好的事情。”河鼠仰靠着,闭上眼睛喃喃道。“我的感觉跟你一样,鼹鼠,简直疲乏得要命,但并不是身体疲倦。幸亏咱们是在河上,它可以把咱们送回家去。太阳又晒到身上,暖融融的,钻到骨头里去了,多惬意呀!听,风在芦苇丛里吹曲儿哩。”

‘It’s like music—far away music,’ said the Mole nodding drowsily.

“像音乐——遥远的音乐,”鼹鼠昏昏欲睡地点着头说。

‘So I was thinking,’ murmured the Rat, dreamful and languid. ‘Dance-music—the lilting sort that runs on without a stop—but with words in it, too—it passes into words and out of them again—I catch them at intervals—then it is dance-music once more, and then nothing but the reeds’ soft thin whispering.’

“我也这样想,”河鼠梦悠悠懒洋洋地说。“舞蹈音乐——那种节拍轻快又绵绵不绝的音乐——可是还带歌词——歌词忽而有,忽而没有——我断断续续能听到几句——这会儿又成了舞蹈音乐——这会儿什么也听不到了,只剩下芦苇细细的轻柔的窸窣声。”

‘You hear better than I,’ said the Mole sadly. ‘I cannot catch the words.’

“你耳朵比我好,”鼹鼠悲伤地说。“我听不见歌词。”

‘Let me try and give you them,’ said the Rat softly, his eyes still closed. ‘Now it is turning into words again—faint but clear—Lest the awe should dwell—And turn your frolic to fret—You shall look on my power at the helping hour—But then you shall forget! Now the reeds take it up—forget, forget, they sigh, and it dies away in a rustle and a whisper. Then the voice returns—

“我来试试把歌词念给你听,”河鼠闭着眼睛轻声说。“现在歌词又来了——声音很弱,但很清晰——‘为了不使敬畏长留心头——不使欢笑变为忧愁——只要在急需时求助于我的威力——过后就要把它忘记!’现在芦苇接茬又唱了——‘忘记吧,忘记,’声音越来越弱,变成了悄悄话。现在,歌词又回来了——

‘Lest limbs be reddened and rent—I spring the trap that is set—As I loose the snare you may glimpse me there—For surely you shall forget! Row nearer, Mole, nearer to the reeds! It is hard to catch, and grows each minute fainter.

“‘为了不使肢体红肿撕裂——我松开设下的陷阱——陷阱松开时,你们就能把我瞥见——因为你们定会忘记!’鼹鼠,把船划近些,靠近芦苇!歌词很难听清,而且越变越弱了。

‘Helper and healer, I cheer—Small waifs in the woodland wet—Strays I find in it, wounds I bind in it—Bidding them all forget! Nearer, Mole, nearer! No, it is no good; the song has died away into reed-talk.’

“‘我是救援者,我是治疗者,我鼓舞潮湿山林里的小小游子——我找到山林里迷路的小动物,为他们包扎伤口——嘱付他们把一切忘怀!’划近些,鼹鼠,再近些;不行,没有用;那歌声已经消失,化成了芦苇的低语。”

‘But what do the words mean?’ asked the wondering Mole.

“可是,这歌词是什么意思?”鼹鼠迷惑不解地问。

‘That I do not know,’ said the Rat simply. ‘I passed them on to you as they reached me. Ah! now they return again, and this time full and clear! This time, at last, it is the real, the unmistakable thing, simple—passionate—perfect----‘

“这我也不知道,”河鼠只简单地回答,“我听到什么,就告诉你什么。啊!歌声又回来了,这回很完整,很清楚!这回到底是真实的,绝对错不了,简单——热情——完美——”

‘Well, let’s have it, then,’ said the Mole, after he had waited patiently for a few minutes, half-dozing in the hot sun..

“那好,让咱听听,”鼹鼠说,他已经耐心等了几分钟,在炽热的阳光下、他都有点瞌睡了。

But no answer came. He looked, and understood the silence. With a smile of much happiness on his face, and something of a listening look still lingering there, the weary Rat was fast asleep.

可是没有回答。他揪了河鼠一眼、就明白了为什么没有回答。他看到,河鼠睑上带着快乐的微笑。还挂着一丝侧耳倾听的神情,困倦的河鼠沉沉睡熟了。


The Willow-Wren was twittering his thin little song, hidden himself in the dark selvedge of the river bank. Though it was past ten o’clock at night, the sky still clung to and retained some lingering skirts of light from the departed day; and the sullen heats of the torrid afternoon broke up and rolled away at the dispersing touch of the cool fingers of the short midsummer night. Mole lay stretched on the bank, still panting from the stress of the fierce day that had been cloudless from dawn to late sunset, and waited for his friend to return. He had been on the river with some companions, leaving the Water Rat free to keep a engagement of long standing with Otter; and he had come back to find the house dark and deserted, and no sign of Rat, who was doubtless keeping it up late with his old comrade. It was still too hot to think of staying indoors, so he lay on some cool dock-leaves, and thought over the past day and its doings, and how very good they all had been.

The Rat’s light footfall was presently heard approaching over the parched grass. ‘O, the blessed coolness!’ he said, and sat down, gazing thoughtfully into the river, silent and pre-occupied.

‘You stayed to supper, of course?’ said the Mole presently.

‘Simply had to,’ said the Rat. ‘They wouldn’t hear of my going before. You know how kind they always are. And they made things as jolly for me as ever they could, right up to the moment I left. But I felt a brute all the time, as it was clear to me they were very unhappy, though they tried to hide it. Mole, I’m afraid they’re in trouble. Little Portly is missing again; and you know what a lot his father thinks of him, though he never says much about it.’

‘What, that child?’ said the Mole lightly. ‘Well, suppose he is; why worry about it? He’s always straying off and getting lost, and turning up again; he’s so adventurous. But no harm ever happens to him. Everybody hereabouts knows him and likes him, just as they do old Otter, and you may be sure some animal or other will come across him and bring him back again all right. Why, we’ve found him ourselves, miles from home, and quite self-possessed and cheerful!’

‘Yes; but this time it’s more serious,’ said the Rat gravely. ‘He’s been missing for some days now, and the Otters have hunted everywhere, high and low, without finding the slightest trace. And they’ve asked every animal, too, for miles around, and no one knows anything about him. Otter’s evidently more anxious than he’ll admit. I got out of him that young Portly hasn’t learnt to swim very well yet, and I can see he’s thinking of the weir. There’s a lot of water coming down still, considering the time of the year, and the place always had a fascination for the child. And then there are—well, traps and things—YOU know. Otter’s not the fellow to be nervous about any son of his before it’s time. And now he IS nervous. When I left, he came out with me—said he wanted some air, and talked about stretching his legs. But I could see it wasn’t that, so I drew him out and pumped him, and got it all from him at last. He was going to spend the night watching by the ford. You know the place where the old ford used to be, in by-gone days before they built the bridge?’

‘I know it well,’ said the Mole. ‘But why should Otter choose to watch there?’

‘Well, it seems that it was there he gave Portly his first swimming-lesson,’ continued the Rat. ‘From that shallow, gravelly spit near the bank. And it was there he used to teach him fishing, and there young Portly caught his first fish, of which he was so very proud. The child loved the spot, and Otter thinks that if he came wandering back from wherever he is—if he IS anywhere by this time, poor little chap—he might make for the ford he was so fond of; or if he came across it he’d remember it well, and stop there and play, perhaps. So Otter goes there every night and watches—on the chance, you know, just on the chance!’

They were silent for a time, both thinking of the same thing—the lonely, heart-sore animal, crouched by the ford, watching and waiting, the long night through—on the chance.

‘Well, well,’ said the Rat presently, ‘I suppose we ought to be thinking about turning in.’ But he never offered to move.

‘Rat,’ said the Mole, ‘I simply can’t go and turn in, and go to sleep, and DO nothing, even though there doesn’t seem to be anything to be done. We’ll get the boat out, and paddle up stream. The moon will be up in an hour or so, and then we will search as well as we can— anyhow, it will be better than going to bed and doing NOTHING.’

‘Just what I was thinking myself,’ said the Rat. ‘It’s not the sort of night for bed anyhow; and daybreak is not so very far off, and then we may pick up some news of him from early risers as we go along.’

They got the boat out, and the Rat took the sculls, paddling with caution. Out in midstream, there was a clear, narrow track that faintly reflected the sky; but wherever shadows fell on the water from bank, bush, or tree, they were as solid to all appearance as the banks themselves, and the Mole had to steer with judgment accordingly. Dark and deserted as it was, the night was full of small noises, song and chatter and rustling, telling of the busy little population who were up and about, plying their trades and vocations through the night till sunshine should fall on them at last and send them off to their well-earned repose. The water’s own noises, too, were more apparent than by day, its gurglings and ‘cloops’ more unexpected and near at hand; and constantly they started at what seemed a sudden clear call from an actual articulate voice.

The line of the horizon was clear and hard against the sky, and in one particular quarter it showed black against a silvery climbing phosphorescence that grew and grew. At last, over the rim of the waiting earth the moon lifted with slow majesty till it swung clear of the horizon and rode off, free of moorings; and once more they began to see surfaces—meadows wide-spread, and quiet gardens, and the river itself from bank to bank, all softly disclosed, all washed clean of mystery and terror, all radiant again as by day, but with a difference that was tremendous. Their old haunts greeted them again in other raiment, as if they had slipped away and put on this pure new apparel and come quietly back, smiling as they shyly waited to see if they would be recognised again under it.

Fastening their boat to a willow, the friends landed in this silent, silver kingdom, and patiently explored the hedges, the hollow trees, the runnels and their little culverts, the ditches and dry water-ways. Embarking again and crossing over, they worked their way up the stream in this manner, while the moon, serene and detached in a cloudless sky, did what she could, though so far off, to help them in their quest; till her hour came and she sank earthwards reluctantly, and left them, and mystery once more held field and river.

Then a change began slowly to declare itself. The horizon became clearer, field and tree came more into sight, and somehow with a different look; the mystery began to drop away from them. A bird piped suddenly, and was still; and a light breeze sprang up and set the reeds and bulrushes rustling. Rat, who was in the stern of the boat, while Mole sculled, sat up suddenly and listened with a passionate intentness. Mole, who with gentle strokes was just keeping the boat moving while he scanned the banks with care, looked at him with curiosity.

‘It’s gone!’ sighed the Rat, sinking back in his seat again. ‘So beautiful and strange and new. Since it was to end so soon, I almost wish I had never heard it. For it has roused a longing in me that is pain, and nothing seems worth while but just to hear that sound once more and go on listening to it for ever. No! There it is again!’ he cried, alert once more. Entranced, he was silent for a long space, spellbound.

‘Now it passes on and I begin to lose it,’ he said presently. ‘O Mole! the beauty of it! The merry bubble and joy, the thin, clear, happy call of the distant piping! Such music I never dreamed of, and the call in it is stronger even than the music is sweet! Row on, Mole, row! For the music and the call must be for us.’

The Mole, greatly wondering, obeyed. ‘I hear nothing myself,’ he said, ‘but the wind playing in the reeds and rushes and osiers.’

The Rat never answered, if indeed he heard. Rapt, transported, trembling, he was possessed in all his senses by this new divine thing that caught up his helpless soul and swung and dandled it, a powerless but happy infant in a strong sustaining grasp.

In silence Mole rowed steadily, and soon they came to a point where the river divided, a long backwater branching off to one side. With a slight movement of his head Rat, who had long dropped the rudder-lines, directed the rower to take the backwater. The creeping tide of light gained and gained, and now they could see the colour of the flowers that gemmed the water’s edge.

‘Clearer and nearer still,’ cried the Rat joyously. ‘Now you must surely hear it! Ah—at last—I see you do!’

Breathless and transfixed the Mole stopped rowing as the liquid run of that glad piping broke on him like a wave, caught him up, and possessed him utterly. He saw the tears on his comrade’s cheeks, and bowed his head and understood. For a space they hung there, brushed by the purple loose-strife that fringed the bank; then the clear imperious summons that marched hand-in-hand with the intoxicating melody imposed its will on Mole, and mechanically he bent to his oars again. And the light grew steadily stronger, but no birds sang as they were wont to do at the approach of dawn; and but for the heavenly music all was marvellously still.

On either side of them, as they glided onwards, the rich meadow-grass seemed that morning of a freshness and a greenness unsurpassable. Never had they noticed the roses so vivid, the willow-herb so riotous, the meadow-sweet so odorous and pervading. Then the murmur of the approaching weir began to hold the air, and they felt a consciousness that they were nearing the end, whatever it might be, that surely awaited their expedition.

A wide half-circle of foam and glinting lights and shining shoulders of green water, the great weir closed the backwater from bank to bank, troubled all the quiet surface with twirling eddies and floating foam-streaks, and deadened all other sounds with its solemn and soothing rumble. In midmost of the stream, embraced in the weir’s shimmering arm-spread, a small island lay anchored, fringed close with willow and silver birch and alder. Reserved, shy, but full of significance, it hid whatever it might hold behind a veil, keeping it till the hour should come, and, with the hour, those who were called and chosen.

Slowly, but with no doubt or hesitation whatever, and in something of a solemn expectancy, the two animals passed through the broken tumultuous water and moored their boat at the flowery margin of the island. In silence they landed, and pushed through the blossom and scented herbage and undergrowth that led up to the level ground, till they stood on a little lawn of a marvellous green, set round with Nature’s own orchard-trees—crab-apple, wild cherry, and sloe.

‘This is the place of my song-dream, the place the music played to me,’ whispered the Rat, as if in a trance. ‘Here, in this holy place, here if anywhere, surely we shall find Him!’

Then suddenly the Mole felt a great Awe fall upon him, an awe that turned his muscles to water, bowed his head, and rooted his feet to the ground. It was no panic terror—indeed he felt wonderfully at peace and happy—but it was an awe that smote and held him and, without seeing, he knew it could only mean that some august Presence was very, very near. With difficulty he turned to look for his friend and saw him at his side cowed, stricken, and trembling violently. And still there was utter silence in the populous bird-haunted branches around them; and still the light grew and grew.

Perhaps he would never have dared to raise his eyes, but that, though the piping was now hushed, the call and the summons seemed still dominant and imperious. He might not refuse, were Death himself waiting to strike him instantly, once he had looked with mortal eye on things rightly kept hidden. Trembling he obeyed, and raised his humble head; and then, in that utter clearness of the imminent dawn, while Nature, flushed with fullness of incredible colour, seemed to hold her breath for the event, he looked in the very eyes of the Friend and Helper; saw the backward sweep of the curved horns, gleaming in the growing daylight; saw the stern, hooked nose between the kindly eyes that were looking down on them humourously, while the bearded mouth broke into a half-smile at the corners; saw the rippling muscles on the arm that lay across the broad chest, the long supple hand still holding the pan-pipes only just fallen away from the parted lips; saw the splendid curves of the shaggy limbs disposed in majestic ease on the sward; saw, last of all, nestling between his very hooves, sleeping soundly in entire peace and contentment, the little, round, podgy, childish form of the baby otter. All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered.

‘Rat!’ he found breath to whisper, shaking. ‘Are you afraid?’

‘Afraid?’ murmured the Rat, his eyes shining with unutterable love. ‘Afraid! Of HIM? O, never, never! And yet—and yet—O, Mole, I am afraid!’

Then the two animals, crouching to the earth, bowed their heads and did worship.

Sudden and magnificent, the sun’s broad golden disc showed itself over the horizon facing them; and the first rays, shooting across the level water-meadows, took the animals full in the eyes and dazzled them. When they were able to look once more, the Vision had vanished, and the air was full of the carol of birds that hailed the dawn.

As they stared blankly in dumb misery deepening as they slowly realised all they had seen and all they had lost, a capricious little breeze, dancing up from the surface of the water, tossed the aspens, shook the dewy roses and blew lightly and caressingly in their faces; and with its soft touch came instant oblivion. For this is the last best gift that the kindly demi-god is careful to bestow on those to whom he has revealed himself in their helping: the gift of forgetfulness. Lest the awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth and pleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-lives of little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they should be happy and lighthearted as before.

Mole rubbed his eyes and stared at Rat, who was looking about him in a puzzled sort of way. ‘I beg your pardon; what did you say, Rat?’ he asked.

‘I think I was only remarking,’ said Rat slowly, ‘that this was the right sort of place, and that here, if anywhere, we should find him. And look! Why, there he is, the little fellow!’ And with a cry of delight he ran towards the slumbering Portly.

But Mole stood still a moment, held in thought. As one wakened suddenly from a beautiful dream, who struggles to recall it, and can re-capture nothing but a dim sense of the beauty of it, the beauty!Till that, too, fades away in its turn, and the dreamer bitterly accepts the hard, cold waking and all its penalties; so Mole, after struggling with his memory for a brief space, shook his head sadly and followed the Rat.

Portly woke up with a joyous squeak, and wriggled with pleasure at the sight of his father’s friends, who had played with him so often in past days. In a moment, however, his face grew blank, and he fell to hunting round in a circle with pleading whine. As a child that has fallen happily asleep in its nurse’s arms, and wakes to find itself alone and laid in a strange place, and searches corners and cupboards, and runs from room to room, despair growing silently in its heart, even so Portly searched the island and searched, dogged and unwearying, till at last the black moment came for giving it up, and sitting down and crying bitterly.

The Mole ran quickly to comfort the little animal; but Rat, lingering, looked long and doubtfully at certain hoof-marks deep in the sward.

‘Some—great—animal—has been here,’ he murmured slowly and thoughtfully; and stood musing, musing; his mind strangely stirred.

‘Come along, Rat!’ called the Mole. ‘Think of poor Otter, waiting up there by the ford!’

Portly had soon been comforted by the promise of a treat—a jaunt on the river in Mr. Rat’s real boat; and the two animals conducted him to the water’s side, placed him securely between them in the bottom of the boat, and paddled off down the backwater. The sun was fully up by now, and hot on them, birds sang lustily and without restraint, and flowers smiled and nodded from either bank, but somehow—so thought the animals—with less of richness and blaze of colour than they seemed to remember seeing quite recently somewhere—they wondered where.

The main river reached again, they turned the boat’s head upstream, towards the point where they knew their friend was keeping his lonely vigil. As they drew near the familiar ford, the Mole took the boat in to the bank, and they lifted Portly out and set him on his legs on the tow-path, gave him his marching orders and a friendly farewell pat on the back, and shoved out into mid-stream. They watched the little animal as he waddled along the path contentedly and with importance; watched him till they saw his muzzle suddenly lift and his waddle break into a clumsy amble as he quickened his pace with shrill whines and wriggles of recognition. Looking up the river, they could see Otter start up, tense and rigid, from out of the shallows where he crouched in dumb patience, and could hear his amazed and joyous bark as he bounded up through the osiers on to the path. Then the Mole, with a strong pull on one oar, swung the boat round and let the full stream bear them down again whither it would, their quest now happily ended.

‘I feel strangely tired, Rat,’ said the Mole, leaning wearily over his oars as the boat drifted. ‘It’s being up all night, you’ll say, perhaps; but that’s nothing. We do as much half the nights of the week, at this time of the year. No; I feel as if I had been through something very exciting and rather terrible, and it was just over; and yet nothing particular has happened.’

‘Or something very surprising and splendid and beautiful,’ murmured the Rat, leaning back and closing his eyes. ‘I feel just as you do, Mole; simply dead tired, though not body tired. It’s lucky we’ve got the stream with us, to take us home. Isn’t it jolly to feel the sun again, soaking into one’s bones! And hark to the wind playing in the reeds!’

‘It’s like music—far away music,’ said the Mole nodding drowsily.

‘So I was thinking,’ murmured the Rat, dreamful and languid. ‘Dance-music—the lilting sort that runs on without a stop—but with words in it, too—it passes into words and out of them again—I catch them at intervals—then it is dance-music once more, and then nothing but the reeds’ soft thin whispering.’

‘You hear better than I,’ said the Mole sadly. ‘I cannot catch the words.’

‘Let me try and give you them,’ said the Rat softly, his eyes still closed. ‘Now it is turning into words again—faint but clear—Lest the awe should dwell—And turn your frolic to fret—You shall look on my power at the helping hour—But then you shall forget! Now the reeds take it up—forget, forget, they sigh, and it dies away in a rustle and a whisper. Then the voice returns—

‘Lest limbs be reddened and rent—I spring the trap that is set—As I loose the snare you may glimpse me there—For surely you shall forget! Row nearer, Mole, nearer to the reeds! It is hard to catch, and grows each minute fainter.

‘Helper and healer, I cheer—Small waifs in the woodland wet—Strays I find in it, wounds I bind in it—Bidding them all forget! Nearer, Mole, nearer! No, it is no good; the song has died away into reed-talk.’

‘But what do the words mean?’ asked the wondering Mole.

‘That I do not know,’ said the Rat simply. ‘I passed them on to you as they reached me. Ah! now they return again, and this time full and clear! This time, at last, it is the real, the unmistakable thing, simple—passionate—perfect----‘

‘Well, let’s have it, then,’ said the Mole, after he had waited patiently for a few minutes, half-dozing in the hot sun..

But no answer came. He looked, and understood the silence. With a smile of much happiness on his face, and something of a listening look still lingering there, the weary Rat was fast asleep.


柳林鹪鹩躲在河岸边黑幽幽的树林里,唱着清脆的小曲。虽然已是晚十点过后,天光依旧留连不去,残留着白昼的余辉。午后酷热郁闷的暑气,在短短的仲夏夜清凉的手指触摸下,渐渐消散了。鼹鼠伸开四肢躺在河岸上,等着他的朋友回来。从天明到日落,天空万里无云,赤日炎炎,高温逼人,压得他到现在还气喘吁吁。他一直在河边和一些同伴游玩,让河鼠独自去水獭家赴一次安排已久的约会。他进屋时,看到屋里黑洞洞的,空无一人,不见河鼠的踪影。河鼠一定是和他的老伙伴呆在一起,迟迟不想回家。天气还太热,屋里呆不住,鼹鼠就躺在一些酸模叶子上,回味着这一天经历的种种事情,觉得特有意思。

过了一会,河鼠轻轻的脚步踏着晒干的草地由远而近。“啊,多凉快呀,太美了!”他说着坐了下来,若有所思地望着河水,一声不吭。

“你在那边吃过晚饭了吧?”鼹鼠问。

“走不开呀,”河鼠说,“他们死活不放我走。你知道的,他们一向待人亲切,为我把一切都安排得周周到到,直到我离开为止。可我总觉得不是滋味,因为我看得出,尽管他们竭力掩盖,他们实际上很不开心。鼹鼠,他们恐怕是遇上麻烦了。小胖胖又丢了。你知道,他父亲是多么疼他,虽然他很少表示。”

“什么?那个孩子吗?”鼹鼠不在意地说。“就算走丢了,又有什么可担心的?他老是出去,走丢了,过后又回来了;他大爱冒险啦。不过他还从没出过什么差池。这一带所有的居民都认识他,喜欢他,就像他们喜欢老水獭一样。总有一天,不知哪只动物会遇上他,把他送回家的。你只管放心好啦。你瞧,咱们自己不是还曾在好几哩以外找到过他,他还挺得意,玩得开心着哩!”

“不错,可这回问题更严重,”河鼠沉重地说。“他没露面已经许多天了,水獭夫妇到处找遍了,还是不见他的影子。他们也问过方圆几哩的每只动物,可都说不知道他的下落。水獭显然是急坏了,虽然他不肯承认这一点、我从他那儿知道,胖胖游泳还没学到家,看得出,他担心会在那座河坝上出事。这个季节,那儿还有大量的水流出来,而且,那地方总是让小孩子着迷的。而且,那儿还有——呃,陷阱呀什么的——这你也知道。水獭不是那号过早为儿子担心的人,可现在他已经感到惶惶不安了。我离开他家时,他送我出来,说是想透透空气。伸伸腿脚。可我看得出来,不是那么回事,所以我拉他出来。一个劲追问;终于让他吐露了实情。原来,他是要去渡口边过夜。那地方你知道吗?就是在那座桥建起以前,那个老渡口那儿?”

“知道,而且很熟悉,”鼹鼠说,“不过水獭为什么单挑那地方去守着呢?”

“嗯,像是因为那是他第一次教胖胖游泳的地方,”河鼠接着说。“那儿靠近河岸有一处浅水的沙嘴。那也是他经常教他钓鱼的地方。小胖胖的第一条鱼就是在那儿抓到的,为这他可得意哪。那孩子喜欢这地方,所以水獭想。要是那可怜的孩子还活着,在什么地方逛够了,他或许首先会回到他最喜欢的这个渡口来;要是他碰巧经过那里,想起这地方,他或许会停下来玩玩的。所以,水獭每晚都去那儿守候——抱着一线希望,只是一线希望!”

他俩一时都沉默了,都在想着同样的心事——漫漫长夜里,那个孤独、忧伤的水獭,蹲在渡口边,守候着,等待着,只为了抱一线希望。

“得了,得了,”过了一会,河鼠说,“咱们该进屋睡觉了。”说归说,他却没有动弹。

“河鼠,”鼹鼠说,“不干点什么,我真没法回屋睡觉,虽说要干,像也没啥可干的。咱们干脆把船划出来,往上游去、再过个把钟头,月亮就升起来了,那时咱们就可以借着月光尽力搜索——起码,总比一事不干上床睡觉强呀。”

“我也是这样想的、”河鼠说。“再说。这样的夜晚、也不是适合睡觉的夜晚。天很快就亮了,一路上,咱们还可以向早起的动物打听有关胖胖的消息。”

他们把船划出来,河鼠执桨,小心谨慎地划着。河心有一条狭长清亮的水流。隐隐反映出天空。但两岸的灌木或树丛投在水中的倒影。看上去却如同河岸一样坚实,因此鼹鼠在掌舵时就得相应地作出判断。河上虽然一片漆黑,杳无人迹.可夜空中还是充满了各种细小的声响,歌声、低语声、窸窸窣窣,表明那些忙碌的小动物还在活动。通宵干着他们各自的营生,直到初阳照到他们身上催他们回窝安息。河水本身的声音,也比白天来得响亮,那汩汩和“砰砰”声更显得突如其来,近在咫尺。时不时,会突然听到一声清晰的嗓音,把他们吓一跳。

地平线与天空泾渭分明;在一个特定地点,一片银色磷辉逐渐升高,扩大,衬得地平线格外黝黑。最后,在恭候已久的大地的边缘,月亮堂皇地徐徐升起,她摆脱了地平线,无羁无绊地悬在空中。这时,他们又看清了地面的一切——广阔的草地,幽静的花园,还有夹在两岸之间的整条河,全都柔和地展现在眼前,一扫神秘恐怖的色调,亮堂堂如同白昼,但又大大不同于白昼。他们常去的老地方,又在向他们打招呼,只是穿上了另一套衣裳,仿佛它们曾经偷偷溜走,换上一身皎洁的新装,又悄悄溜回来,含着微笑,羞怯地等着,看他们还认不认得出来。

两个朋友把船系在一棵柳树上,上了岸,走进这静溢的银色王国,在树篱、树洞、隧道、暗渠、沟壑和干涸的河道里耐心搜寻。然后他们又登船,划到对岸去找。这样,他们来回划着,溯河而上。那轮皓月,静静地高悬在没云的夜空,尽管离得这样远,却尽力帮他们寻找。等到该退场的时辰到了,她才依依不舍地离开他们,沉入地下。神秘又一次笼罩了田野和河流。

然后,一种变化慢慢地出现,天边更加明朗。田野和树林更加清晰可辨,而且多少变了样子;笼罩在上面的神秘气氛开始退去。一只鸟突然鸣叫一声,跟着又悄无声息了。一阵轻风拂过,吹得芦苇和蒲草沙沙作响。鼹鼠在划桨,河鼠倚在船尾。他忽然坐直了身子,神情激动,聚精会神地侧耳倾听。鼹鼠轻轻地划着桨,让船缓缓向前移动,一面仔细审视着两岸。看到河鼠的那副神情,他不由好奇地望着他。

“听不见啦!”河鼠叹了口气,又倒在座位上。“多美呀!多神奇呀!多新颖呀!可惜这么快就没了,倒不如压根儿没听见。这声音在我心里唤起了一种痛苦的渴望,恨不能再听到它,永远听下去,除了听它,别的什么似乎都没有意义了!它又来啦!”他喊道,又一次振奋起来。他听得入了迷,好半晌,不说一句话。

“声音又快没了,听不到了,”河鼠又说。”鼹鼠啊!它多美呀!远处那悠扬婉转的笛声,那纤细、清脆、欢快的呼唤!这样的音乐,我从来没有梦想过。音乐固然甜美,可那呼唤更加强烈!往前划,鼹鼠,划呀!那音乐和呼唤一定是冲着咱们来的!”

鼹鼠非常惊讶,不过他还是听从了。他说,“我什么也没听到,除了芦苇、灯芯草和柳树里的风声。”

他的话,河鼠即便听到,也没回答。他心醉神迷,浑身颤栗,整个身心都被这件神奇的新鲜事物占有了。它用强有力的手。紧紧抓住了他的无力抗拒的心灵,摇着。抚着,像搂着一个柔弱但幸福的婴孩。

鼹鼠默默地划着船,不一会,他们来到了一处河道分岔的地方,一股长长的回水向一旁分流出去。河鼠早就放下了舵,这时,他把头轻轻一扬,示意鼹鼠向回水湾划去。天色将曙,他们已能辨别宝石般点缀着两岸的鲜花的颜色。

“笛声越来越近,越来越清楚了,”河鼠欢喜地喊道。“这会儿你一定也听到了吧!啊哈!看得出来,你终于听到了!”

那流水般欢畅的笛声浪潮般向鼹鼠涌来。席卷了他,整个占有了他。他屏住呼吸,痴痴地坐着,忘掉了划桨。他看到了同伴脸颊上的泪,便理解地低下头去。有好一阵。他俩呆在那儿一动不动,任凭镶在河边的紫色珍珠草在他们身上拂来拂去。然后,伴随着醉人的旋律而来的,是又清晰又迫切的召唤,引得鼹鼠身不由己,又痴痴地俯身划起桨来。天更亮了,但是黎明时分照例听到的鸟鸣,却没有出现;除了那美妙的天籁,万物都静得出奇。

他们的船继续向前滑行,两岸大片丰美的草地,在那个早晨显得无比清新,无比青翠。他们从没见过这样鲜艳的玫瑰,这样丰茂的柳兰,这样芳香诱人的绣线菊。再往后,前面河坝的隆隆声已在空中轰鸣。他们预感到,远征的终点已经不远了。不管那是什么,它肯定正在迎候他们的到来。

一座大坝,从一岸到一岸,环抱着回水湾,形成一个宽阔明亮的半圆形绿色水坡。泡沫飞溅,波光粼粼,把平静的水面搅出无数的旋涡和带状的泡沫;它那庄严又亲切的隆隆声,盖过了所有别的声响。在大坝那闪光的臂膀环抱中,安卧着一个小岛,四周密密层层长着柳树、白桦和赤杨。它羞羞怯怯,隐而不露,但蕴意深长,用一层面纱把它要藏匿的东西遮盖起来,等待适当的时刻,才向那应召而来的客人坦露。

两只动物怀着某种庄严的期待,毫不迟疑地把船划过那喧嚣动荡的水面,停舶在小岛鲜花似锦的岸边。他们悄悄上了岸,穿过花丛,芳香的野草和灌木林,踏上平地,来到一片绿油油的小草坪,草坪四周,环绕着大自然自己的果园——沙果树、野樱桃树、野刺李树。

“这是我的梦中歌曲之乡、是向我演奏的那首仙音之乡,”河鼠迷离恍惚地喃喃道。“要说在哪儿能找到‘他’,那就是在这块神圣的地方,我们将找到‘他’。”

鼹鼠顿生敬畏之情,他全身肌肉变得松软,头低低垂下,双脚像在地上生了根。那并不是一种惶恐的感觉,实际上,他心情异常宁静快乐;那是一种袭上心头并且紧紧抓住他的敬畏感,虽然他看不见,心里却明白,一个宏伟神圣的存在物就近在眼前。他费力地转过身去找他的朋友,只见河鼠诚惶诚恐地站在他旁边,浑身剧烈地颤抖。四周,栖满了鸟雀的树枝上,依旧悄无声息。天色,也越来越亮了。

笛声现在虽已停止,但那种召唤,似仍旧那么强有力,那么刻不容缓;要不然,鼹鼠或许连抬眼看一看都不敢。他无法抵拒那种召唤,不能不用肉眼去看那隐蔽着的东西,哪怕一瞬间就要死去也在所不惜。他战战兢兢地抬起谦卑的头。就在破晓前那无比纯净的氛围里,大自然焕发着她那鲜艳绝伦的绯红,仿佛正屏住呼吸,等待这件大事——就在这一刻,鼹鼠直视那位朋友和救主的眼睛。他看到一对向后卷曲的弯弯的犄角,在晨光下发亮;他看到一双和蔼的眼睛,诙谐地俯视着他俩,慈祥的两眼间一只刚毅的鹰钩鼻。一张藏在须髯下的嘴,嘴角似笑非笑地微微上翘;一只筋肉隆起的臂,横在宽厚的胸前,修长而柔韧的手,仍握着那支刚离唇边的牧神之笛。毛蓬蓬的双腿线条优美,威严而安适地盘坐草地上;而偎依在老牧神的两蹄之间,是水獭娃娃那圆滚滚、胖乎乎、稚嫩嫩的小身子,他正安逸香甜地熟睡。就在这屏住呼吸心情紧张的一瞬间,他看到了呈现在晨曦中的这幅鲜明的景象。他活着看到了这一切,因为他还活着,他感到十分惊讶。

“河鼠,”好不产易才缓过气来的鼹鼠,战战兢兢地低声说。“你害怕吗?”

“害怕?”河鼠的眼睛闪烁着难以言表的敬爱,低声喃喃道。“害怕?怕他?啊,当然不!当然不!不过——不过——我还是有点害怕!”

说罢,两只动物匐匍在地上,低头膜拜起来。

骤然间,对面的天边升起一轮金灿灿的太阳。最初的光芒,横穿平坦的水浸草地,直射他们的眼睛,晃得他们眼花缭乱。等到他们再看到东西时,那神奇的景象已经不见了,只听得空中回荡着百鸟欢呼日出的颂歌。

他们茫茫然凝望着,慢慢地意识到,转瞬就失去了他们所看到的一切,一种说不出的怅惘袭上心头。这时,一阵忽忽悠悠的微风,飘过水面,摇着白杨树,晃着含露的玫瑰花,轻柔爱抚地吹拂到他们脸上,随着和风轻柔的触摸,顷刻间,他们忘掉了一切。这正是那位慈祥的半神为了关怀他显身相助的动物,送给他们的一件礼物——遗忘。为了不让那令人敬畏的印象久久滞留心头,给欢乐蒙上沉重的阴影,不让那段重大回忆萦回脑际,损害那些被他救出困境的小动物的后半生,让他们们还能像从前那样过得轻松愉快,他送给了他们这份礼物。

鼹鼠揉了揉眼睛,愣愣地望着茫然回顾的河鼠。他问:“对不起,河鼠,你说什么来着?”

“我想我是说,”河鼠慢吞吞地回答,“这才是我们要找的地方,我们就应该在这里找到他。瞧!啊哈!他不就在那儿,那个小家伙!”河鼠高兴地喊了一声,向沉睡的胖胖跑去。

可是鼹鼠还怔怔地站了一会,想着心事。就像一个人突然从美梦中醒来,苦苦回忆这个梦。可又什么也想不起。只模模糊糊感到那个梦很美。美极了!随后,那点美的感觉也渐渐消失了。做梦的人只得悲哀地接受醒过来的冰冷严酷的现实;接受它的惩罚。鼹鼠正是这样,他苦苦回忆一阵之后,伤心地摇摇头,跟着河鼠去了。

胖胖醒来,快活地叽叽叫了一声。他看到父亲的两位朋友——他们过去常和他一起玩——高兴地扭动着身子。可是不一会,他脸上露出茫然的神色,转着圈儿寻找什么,鼻子里发出乞求般的哀鸣。他像一个在奶妈怀里甜甜入睡的小孩,醒来时,发现自己孤零零呆在一个陌生的地方,就到处寻觅。找遍了所有的屋角和柜橱,跑遍了所有的房间,心里越来越失望。胖胖坚持不懈地搜遍了整个小岛,最后他完全绝望了,坐在地上伤心地大哭起来。

鼹鼠赶紧跑过去安慰这小动物,可河鼠却迟迟不动,满腹疑云地久久注视着草地上一些深深的蹄印。

“有个——伟大的——动物——来过这里,”他若有所思地慢慢说;他站在那里,左思右想,心中翻腾得好生古怪。

“快来呀,河鼠!”鼹鼠喊。“想想可怜的老水獭吧,他还在渡口苦等呐!”

他们答应胖胖,要带他好好玩一趟——乘河鼠先生的小船在河上游荡一番,胖胖的心立刻得到了安慰。两只动物领他来到水边,上了船,让他安安稳稳坐在两人当中,打起桨往回水湾下游划去。太阳已经升得老高,晒在身上暖洋洋的,鸟儿们无拘无束地纵情歌唱,两岸的鲜花冲他们频频点头微笑。可不知怎的——他们觉得——花儿的颜色,总比不上新近在什么地方见过的那样丰富多采,那样鲜艳夺目——那究竟是在哪儿呢?

又来到主河道了。他们掉转船头,逆流而上,朝水獭朋友正孤独守候的地点划去。快到那个熟悉的渡口时,鼹鼠把船划向岸边,把胖胖搀上岸,让他站在纤道上,命他开步走,又在他背上拍了拍,算是友好的道别,然后把船驶到中流。他们看着那个小家伙摇摇摆摆顺着纤道走去,一副满意又自得的神情。只见他猛地抬起嘴巴,蹒跚的步子一下子变成了笨拙的小步,脚步加快了,尖声哼哼着,扭动着身子,像是认出什么来了。他们向上游望去,只见老水獭一跃而起,纵身窜出他耐心守候的浅水滩,神情紧张又严肃。他连蹦带跳,跑上纤道,发出一连串又惊又喜的吼叫。这时,鼹鼠把一只桨重重地一划,掉转船头,听任那满荡荡的河水把他们随便冲向哪里,因为,他们的搜寻任务已经大功告成了。

“河鼠,好奇怪。我感到疲乏极了,”鼹鼠有气无力地伏在桨上,由着船顺水漂流。“你也许会说,这是因为我们整宿没睡;可这并不算回事呀。每年这季节,我们每星期总有半数夜晚不睡觉的。不;我觉得像是刚刚经历过一件惊心动魄的大事件;可是,什么特别的事也没有发生呀。”

“也可以说,是某种非常惊人的、光辉的、美好的事情。”河鼠仰靠着,闭上眼睛喃喃道。“我的感觉跟你一样,鼹鼠,简直疲乏得要命,但并不是身体疲倦。幸亏咱们是在河上,它可以把咱们送回家去。太阳又晒到身上,暖融融的,钻到骨头里去了,多惬意呀!听,风在芦苇丛里吹曲儿哩。”

“像音乐——遥远的音乐,”鼹鼠昏昏欲睡地点着头说。

“我也这样想,”河鼠梦悠悠懒洋洋地说。“舞蹈音乐——那种节拍轻快又绵绵不绝的音乐——可是还带歌词——歌词忽而有,忽而没有——我断断续续能听到几句——这会儿又成了舞蹈音乐——这会儿什么也听不到了,只剩下芦苇细细的轻柔的窸窣声。”

“你耳朵比我好,”鼹鼠悲伤地说。“我听不见歌词。”

“我来试试把歌词念给你听,”河鼠闭着眼睛轻声说。“现在歌词又来了——声音很弱,但很清晰——‘为了不使敬畏长留心头——不使欢笑变为忧愁——只要在急需时求助于我的威力——过后就要把它忘记!’现在芦苇接茬又唱了——‘忘记吧,忘记,’声音越来越弱,变成了悄悄话。现在,歌词又回来了——

“‘为了不使肢体红肿撕裂——我松开设下的陷阱——陷阱松开时,你们就能把我瞥见——因为你们定会忘记!’鼹鼠,把船划近些,靠近芦苇!歌词很难听清,而且越变越弱了。

“‘我是救援者,我是治疗者,我鼓舞潮湿山林里的小小游子——我找到山林里迷路的小动物,为他们包扎伤口——嘱付他们把一切忘怀!’划近些,鼹鼠,再近些;不行,没有用;那歌声已经消失,化成了芦苇的低语。”

“可是,这歌词是什么意思?”鼹鼠迷惑不解地问。

“这我也不知道,”河鼠只简单地回答,“我听到什么,就告诉你什么。啊!歌声又回来了,这回很完整,很清楚!这回到底是真实的,绝对错不了,简单——热情——完美——”

“那好,让咱听听,”鼹鼠说,他已经耐心等了几分钟,在炽热的阳光下、他都有点瞌睡了。

可是没有回答。他揪了河鼠一眼、就明白了为什么没有回答。他看到,河鼠睑上带着快乐的微笑。还挂着一丝侧耳倾听的神情,困倦的河鼠沉沉睡熟了。

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