有声双语经典双城记/(英国)查尔斯.狄更斯

那是*好的时代，那是*坏的时代。那是光明的季节，那是黑暗的季节。那是希望的春天，那是绝望的冬天。 马儿们耷拉着脑袋踩在深深的泥泞中前行。它们正拉着多佛邮车上射手山。这是1775年11月的某个星期五的深夜。山坡、马具、泥泞和邮件让马儿们太过吃力，它们已经三次止步不前了。 一阵冷雾已经蔓延至山上，仿佛一个邪恶的精灵。三名乘客跟在邮车旁艰难地爬坡。借着邮车的灯光，他们只能看清楚前面几码远的路。在那个年代，旅客们都不与陌生人结伴，因为任何路人都有可能是强盗。 多佛邮车的守卫站着岗，手边放着一把上了子弹的大口径霰弹枪、六把还是八把上了子弹的手枪，还有一堆剑。 “乔！”车夫说道，“你看看几点啦，乔？” “十一点过十分。” “天哪！”车夫惊叫道，“还没有到射手山顶啊！赶紧拉吧！”他挥动鞭子发号施令。 领头的马下定决心往上拉，其他三匹马也跟着照做。*后一阵冲刺将邮车拉到了山顶。当马儿们再次停下来喘气的时候，守卫下了邮车。他打开车门让乘客们进去。 “嘿！乔！”车夫坐在座位上以警惕的口吻喊道。这两个人都侧耳静听。他们听到一匹马快速地奔上山的声音。 “嗖嗬！”守卫竭尽全力大声喊道，“那边的人！站住！不然我开枪了！” 马儿的奔跑迅速慢了下来，雾里传来一个男子的声音：“那是多佛邮车吗？” “不用你管！”守卫驳斥道，“你为什么要打听？” “如果是的话，我想找一名乘客。” “什么乘客？” “贾维斯·劳瑞先生。” 随后一名乘客表明这是他的名字。守卫、车夫和另外两名乘客都极不信任地看着他。 “你站在原地别动，”守卫对雾中的声音喊道，“叫劳瑞的请直接回话。” CHAPTER 1 The Period It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was the season of light. It was the season of darkness. It was the spring of hope. It was the winter of despair. The horses mashed their way through thick mud with drooping heads. They were pulling the Dover mail coach up Shooter’s Hill. It was late on a Friday night in November 1775. The hill, the harness, the mud, and the mail were all so heavy that the horses had already stopped three times. A cold mist had roamed up the hill like an evil spirit. Three passengers were plodding up the hill by the side of the mail. They could only see a few yards of road from the light of the coach lamps. In those days, travelers kept to themselves, for anyone on the road might be a robber. The guard of the Dover mail stood watch with a loaded blunderbuss, six or eight loaded pistols, and a pile of swords at hand. “Joe!” said the coachman. “What o’clock do you make it, Joe?” “Ten minutes past eleven.” “My blood!” exclaimed the coachman. “And not atop of Shooter’s yet! Get on with you!” He added the whip to emphasize his command. The lead horse made a determined scramble and the three other horses followed. This last burst carried the mail to the summit of the hill. When the horses stopped to breathe again, the guard got down off the coach. He opened the coach door to let the passengers back in. “Tst! Joe!” cried the coachman in a warning voice from his perch on the box. Both men listened. The sound of a galloping horse came fast and furious up the hill. “So-ho!” the guard sang out, as loud as he could roar. “You there! Stand! I shall fire!” The gallop quickly slowed and a man’s voice called from the mist. “Is that the Dover mail?” “Never you mind!” the guard retorted. “Why do you want to know?” “I want a passenger, if it is.” “What passenger?” “Mr. Jarvis Lorry.” One passenger showed in a moment that was his name. The guard, the coachman, and the two other passengers looked at him full of distrust.