有声双语经典雾都孤儿/(英国)查尔斯.狄更斯

第1章 众人鄙视，无人怜惜 在一个早被遗忘的日子里，一个小男孩出生在英格兰一个穷镇上的一所济贫院里。他的故事差一点还没开始就结束了。奥利弗生命的前几分钟险些成了他生命的*后几分钟。*后，他打了个喷嚏，放声大哭，这才缓缓地有了呼吸。贫穷的工人们知道又有一张嘴要养活了。 在奥利弗证明自己的肺活量时，一张苍白的脸从枕头上抬了起来。“死之前我要看看孩子。” 外科医生坐在壁炉边。“现在还没到说死的时候呢。”他说。 “上帝保佑，可不能让她死。”一个护士说。她把奥利弗放进女人的怀里。 母亲用她苍白的嘴唇吻吻奥利弗的额头，双手在他脸上摩挲了几下，然后倒在枕头上，死了。 “一切都结束了。”外科医生说，“没必要因为孩子哭闹来找我，给他喂点粥就行。”他停顿了一下，看着女人，“她从哪里来？长得挺漂亮。” 护士把孩子抱在怀里。“昨晚带到这儿来的。有人发现她躺在街上。鞋底磨破了，脚在流血。没人知道她要去哪里。” 护士用毯子把孩子裹好，放下休息。她知道他将会像所有出生在济贫院里的孩子一样，被众人鄙视，无人怜惜。 奥利弗大概十个月大的时候被送到了另一所济贫院，管事的是一个名叫曼太太的女人，她负责照看二十五个孩子。 千万别傻到以为曼太太爱孩子或者喜欢孩子。她接收这些孩子是因为有人付钱。其中一部分钱应该用来支付孩子们的吃穿开销。然而这个贪婪的女人把所有的钱都据为己有，奥利弗和其他孩子都习惯了空着肚子上床睡觉。 如果有人要来检查，曼太太会事先得到消息。只有这种时候，孩子们才能洗澡、打扮整齐，并吃上一顿饱饭。 奥利弗·特威斯特九岁的时候，济贫院的头头班布尔先生突然造访曼太太。 “奥利弗·特威斯特今天满九岁了，”班布尔先生说，“我们一直没能弄清楚他的父母是谁。” 曼太太惊奇地扬起手。“那他怎么会有名字的？” “我给他取的。”班布尔先生说，“我们照着字母表顺序给孩子取名。在他之前的孩子叫斯乌布尔，以字母S开头。现在轮到T了。所以我给他取名叫特威斯特。奥利弗年龄太大了，不适合待在这儿，是时候让他回到他出生的济贫院去了。我来带他走。” “我去把他带来。”曼太太说。她给奥利弗草草梳洗一番之后，把他带到了班布尔先生面前。 “奥利弗，给这位先生鞠个躬。”曼太太说。奥利弗很快地低了一下头。 “你要跟我走吗，奥利弗？”班布尔先生问。 奥利弗开口回答之前，看到曼太太晃着拳头警告他。奥利弗早就习惯了威胁。“她也跟我一起走吗？”他问。 “恐怕不会。”班布尔先生说。尽管奥利弗对离开曼太太并不感到难过，但看到她晃动的拳头，他还是马上装出悲伤的样子。 曼太太拥抱了男孩一千次，并给了他一片黄油面包，打发他走了。她不能让奥利弗到济贫院的时候看起来太饿。 大门在他们身后关闭，奥利弗突然感到一阵悲伤：他要离开自己仅有的朋友们了。 奥利弗随即被带到了济贫院由十个人组成的委员会面前。他们决定让奥利弗第二天立刻开始干活。 济贫院的生活很艰难，一日三餐被压缩成了一日一餐，只有节假日偶有例外。 男孩子们在一间很大的石厅里面吃饭，一只铜炉放在一边，厨子不停搅动着炉上的稀粥。根本没必要洗碗，因为男孩们会把它们舔得干干净净。 奥利弗和他的朋友们忍受了三个月缓慢饥饿的煎熬。有一天，新来了一个男孩，他不习惯挨饿。他父亲开了家小餐馆，后来去世了，男孩成了孤儿。 饥饿的折磨让男孩的眼神越来越疯狂。“如果没有更多食物，我会把你们其中一个吃掉！” 这吓坏了其他男孩，他们选出奥利弗去为这个男孩索要更多食物。奥利弗拿着自己的碗来到炉子前。“对不起，先生，我想多要一点。” 厨子是个凶巴巴的胖子。他不敢相信自己的耳朵。“你说什么？” “对不起，先生，”奥利弗重复道，“我想多要一点。” 厨子拿着长柄勺朝奥利弗的头上砸下去，并叫来了班布尔先生。班布尔得知奥利弗想多要点食物，简直吓坏了。这怎么能行？他把奥利弗带到委员会面前。 “他将来一定会被绞死！”其中一个人说。 委员们进行了热烈的讨论。奥利弗被关禁闭，第二天，门外贴上了一张告示，上面写着：任何将奥利弗·特威斯特带离教区之人都可以获得五英镑酬金。 可怜的奥利弗，他又要被打发走了。 CHAPTER 1 Despised by All, Pitied by None On a date long forgotten, in a poor town in England, a boy was born in a workhouse. There was almost no story to tell. For the first minutes of Oliver’s life were almost his last. His breaths came slowly until he finally sneezed and let out a long wail. This let the poor workers know that they had another mouth to feed. As Oliver gave proof of the power of his lungs, a pale face lifted from the pillow. “Let me see my child before I die.” The surgeon had been sitting by the fire. “You must not talk about dying yet,” he said. “Bless her dear heart,” said a nurse. She deposited Oliver in the woman’s arms. The mother pressed her pasty lips to Oliver’s forehead, passed her hands over his face, then fell back onto the pillow and died. “It’s all over,” said the surgeon. “You needn’t send for me if the baby cries. Just feed it gruel.” He paused and looked at the woman. “Where did she come from? She was quite pretty.” The nurse scooped the baby into her arms. “She was brought here last night. She was found lying in the street. Her soles were worn through. Her feet bloodied. Where she was walking to nobody knows.” The nurse wrapped the baby in a blanket. She put him down to rest. She knew he’d be despised by all and pitied by none. Just like all the people of the workhouses were. When Oliver was about ten months old, he was sent to another workhouse. This workhouse was run by a woman named Mrs. Mann. Mrs. Mann was in charge of twenty-five children. Do not be fooled into thinking Mrs. Mann loved—or even liked—children. She took them in because she was paid to do so. Part of her payment was to feed and clothe the children. Being a greedy woman, she kept all the money for herself. Oliver and the others got used to going to bed with empty bellies. Word would come to Mrs. Mann when an inspection was to take place. It was only at these times the children were bathed, spruced up, and given a full meal. When Oliver Twist was nine, the head of the workhouse, Mr. Bumble, paid a surprise visit to Mrs. Mann. “Oliver Twist is nine today,” said Mr. Bumble. “We never did figure out who his father or mother were.” Mrs. Mann raised her hands in astonishment. “How does he have any name at all?” “I named him,” said Mr. Bumble. “We name the children in alphabetical order. The child before him was Swubble. Then a T was due. So, I named him Twist. Oliver is too old to stay here. It’s time he moved back to the house he was born into. I’ve come to take him.” “I’ll fetch him myself,” said Mrs. Mann. After a quick cleaning of his outer layer, Oliver was brought before Mr. Bumble. “Make a bow to the man, Oliver,” Mrs. Mann said. Oliver quickly bowed his head. “Will you come with me, Oliver?” asked Mr. Bumble. Before he answered, Oliver saw Mrs. Mann shaking her fist as a warning to the young boy. Oliver was used to her threats. “Will she be going with me?” he asked. “I’m afraid not,” said Mr. Bumble. Although Oliver was not sad to be leaving Mrs. Mann, he quickly pretended to be sad at the sight of her shaking fist. Mrs. Mann shoved him off with a thousand embraces and a piece of bread and butter. She couldn’t have Oliver appearing too hungry when he arrived at the workhouse. As the gate closed behind them, Oliver felt a sudden sadness in leaving behind the only friends he had ever known.