The-Story-of-An-Hour参考译文.doc

The-Story-of-An-Hour参考译文.doc

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   KnowingthatMrs.Mallardwasafflictedwithahearttrouble,greatcarewastakentobreaktoherasgentlyaspossiblethenewsofherhusband'sdeath.

ItwashersisterJosephinewhotoldher,inbrokensentences;veiledhintsthatrevealedinhalfconcealing.Herhusband'sfriendRichardswasthere,too,nearher.Itwashewhohadbeeninthenewspaperofficewhenintelligenceoftherailroaddisasterwasreceived,withBrentlyMallard'snameleadingthelistof"killed."Hehadonlytakenthetimetoassurehimselfofitstruthbyasecondtelegram,andhadhastenedtoforestallanylesscareful,lesstenderfriendinbearingthesadmessage.

Shedidnothearthestoryasmanywomenhaveheardthesame,withaparalyzedinabilitytoacceptitssignificance.Sheweptatonce,withsudden,wildabandonment,inhersister'sarms.Whenthestormofgriefhadspentitselfshewentawaytoherroomalone.Shewouldhavenoonefollowher.

Therestood,facingtheopenwindow,acomfortable,roomyarmchair.Intothisshesank,presseddownbyaphysicalexhaustionthathauntedherbodyandseemedtoreachintohersoul.

Shecouldseeintheopensquarebeforeherhousethetopsoftreesthatwereallaquiverwiththenewspringlife.Thedeliciousbreathofrainwasintheair.Inthestreetbelowapeddlerwascryinghiswares.Thenotesofadistantsongwhichsomeonewassingingreachedherfaintly,andcountlesssparrowsweretwitteringintheeaves.

Therewerepatchesofblueskyshowinghereandtherethroughthecloudsthathadmetandpiledoneabovetheotherinthewestfacingherwindow.

Shesatwithherheadthrownbackuponthecushionofthechair,quitemotionless,exceptwhenasobcameupintoherthroatandshookher,asachildwhohascrieditselftosleepcontinuestosobinitsdreams.

Shewasyoung,withafair,calmface,whoselinesbespokerepressionandevenacertainstrength.Butnowtherewasadullstareinhereyes,whosegazewasfixedawayoffyonderononeofthosepatchesofbluesky.Itwasnotaglanceofreflection,butratherindicatedasuspensionofintelligentthought.

Therewassomethingcomingtoherandshewaswaitingforit,fearfully.Whatwasit?

Shedidnotknow;itwastoosubtleandelusivetoname.Butshefeltit,creepingoutofthesky,reachingtowardherthroughthesounds,thescents,thecolorthatfilledtheair.

Nowherbosomroseandfelltumultuously.Shewasbeginningtorecognizethisthingthatwasapproachingtopossessher,andshewasstrivingtobeatitbackwithherwill--aspowerlessashertwowhiteslenderhandswouldhavebeen.

Whensheabandonedherselfalittlewhisperedwordescapedherslightlypartedlips.Shesaiditoverandoverunderherbreath:

"free,free,free!

"Thevacantstareandthelookofterrorthathadfolloweditwentfromhereyes.Theystayedkeenandbright.Herpulsesbeatfast,andthecoursingbloodwarmedandrelaxedeveryinchofherbody.

Shedidnotstoptoaskifitwereorwerenotamonstrousjoythatheldher.Aclearandexaltedperceptionenabledhertodismissthesuggestionastrivial.

Sheknewthatshewouldweepagainwhenshesawthekind,tenderhandsfoldedindeath;thefacethathadneverlookedsavewithloveuponher,fixedandgrayanddead.Butshesawbeyondthatbittermomentalongprocessionofyearstocomethatwouldbelongtoherabsolutely.Andsheopenedandspreadherarmsouttotheminwelcome.

Therewouldbenoonetoliveforduringthosecomingyears;shewouldliveforherself.Therewouldbenopowerfulwillbendinghersinthatblindpersistencewithwhichmenandwomenbelievetheyhavearighttoimposeaprivatewilluponafellow-creature.Akindintentionoracruelintentionmadetheactseemnolessacrimeasshelookeduponitinthatbriefmomentofillumination.

Andyetshehadlovedhim--sometimes.Oftenshehadnot.Whatdiditmatter!

Whatcouldlove,theunsolvedmystery,countforinfaceofthispossessionofself-assertionwhichshesuddenlyrecognizedasthestrongestimpulseofherbeing!

"Free!

Bodyandsoulfree!

"shekeptwhispering.

Josephinewaskneelingbeforethecloseddoorwithherlipstothekeyhole,imploringforadmission."Louise,openthedoor!

Ibeg,openthedoor--youwillmakeyourselfill.WhatareyoudoingLouise?

Forheaven'ssakeopenthedoor."

"Goaway.Iamnotmakingmyselfill."No;shewasdrinkinginaveryelixiroflifethroughthatopenwindow.

Herfancywasrunningriotalongthosedaysaheadofher.Springdays,andsummerdays,andallsortsofdaysthatwouldbeherown.Shebreathedaquickprayerthatlifemightbelong.Itwasonlyyesterdayshehadthoughtwithashudderthatlifemightbelong.

Shearoseatlengthandopenedthedoortohersister'simportunities.Therewasafeverishtriumphinhereyes,andshecarriedherselfunwittinglylikeagoddessofVicto