茶花女翻译最好的版本（世界经典原著英文版在线欣赏）

茶花女翻译最好的版本（世界经典原著英文版在线欣赏）第二章 Chapter 2THE sale was due to be held on the 16th. An interval of one day had been left between the viewing and the sale in order to give the upholsterers enough time to take down the hangings curtains and so forth. I was at that time recently returned from my travels. It was quite natural that no one had told me about Marguerite's death for it was hardly one of those momentous news-items

飞歌按语：

《茶花女》是法国著名作家亚历山大·小仲马的代表作。故事讲述了一个青年人与巴黎上流社会一位交际花曲折凄婉的爱情故事。作品通过一个妓女的爱情悲剧，揭露了法国七月王朝上流社会的糜烂生活。对贵族资产阶级的虚伪道德提出了血泪控诉。在法国文学史上，这是第一次把妓女作为主角的作品。

第一章 Chapter 1

IT is my considered view that no one can invent fictional characters without first having made a lengthy study of people just as it is impossible for anyone to speak a language that has not been properly mastered. Since I am not yet of an age to invent I must make do with telling a tale. I therefore invite the reader to believe that this story is true. All the characters who appear in it with the exception of the heroine are still living. I would further add that there are reliable witnesses in Paris for most of the particulars which I bring together here and they could vouch for their accuracy should my word not be enough. By a singular turn of events I alone was able to write them down since I alone was privy to the very last details without which it would have been quite impossible to piece together a full and satisfying account. It was in this way that these particulars came to my knowledge. On the 12th day of March 1847 in the rue Laffitte I happened upon a large yellow notice announcing a sale of furniture and valuable curios. An estate was to be disposed of the owner having died. The notice did not name the dead person but the sale was to be held at 9 rue d'Antin on the 16th between noon and five o'clock. The notice also stated that the apartments and contents could be viewed on the 13th and 14th. I have always been interested in curios. I promised myself I would not miss this opportunity if not of actually buying then at least of looking. The following day I directed my steps towards 9 rue d'Antin. It was early and yet a good crowd of visitors had already gathered in the apartment? men for the most part but also a number of ladies who though dressed in velvet and wearing Indian shawls and all with their own elegant broughams standing at the door were examining the riches set out before them with astonished even admiring eyes. After a while I quite saw the reason for their admiration and astonishment for having begun myself to look around I had no difficulty in recognizing that I was in the apartment of a kept woman. Now if there is one thing that ladies of fashion desire to see above all else ?and there were society ladies present ? it is the rooms occupied by those women who have carriages which spatter their own with mud every day of the week who have their boxes at the Opera or the Theatre-Italien just as they do and Indeed next to theirs and who display for all Paris to see the insolent opulence of their beauty diamonds and shameless conduct. The woman in whose apartments I now found myself was dead: the most virtuous of ladies were thus able to go everywhere even into the bedroom. Death had purified the air of this glittering den of iniquity and in any case they could always say if they needed the excuse that they had done no more than come to a sale without knowing whose rooms these were. I had read the notices they had wanted to view what the notices advertised and mark out their selections in advance. It could not have been simpler ?though this did not prevent them from looking through these splendid things for traces of the secret life of a courtesan of which they had doubtless been given very strange accounts. Unfortunately the mysteries had died with the goddess and in spite of their best endeavours these good ladies found only what had been put up for sale since the time of death and could detect nothing of what had been sold while the occupant had been alive. But there was certainly rich booty to be had. The furniture was superb. Rosewood and Buhl-work pieces Severs vases and blue china porcelain Dresden figurines satins velvet and lace everything in fact. I wandered from room to room in the wake of these inquisitive aristocratic ladies who had arrived before me. They went into a bedroom hung with Persian fabrics and I was about to go in after them when they came out again almost immediately smiling and as it were put to shame by this latest revelation. The effect was to make me even keener to see inside. It was the dressing-room complete down to the very last details in which the dead woman's profligacy had seemingly reached its height. On a large table standing against one wall ?it measured a good six feet by three ?shone the finest treasures of Aucoc and Odiot. It was a magnificent collection and among the countless objects each so essential to the appearance of the kind of woman in whose home we had gathered there was not one that was not made of gold or silver. But it was a collection that could only have been assembled piece by piece and clearly more than one love had gone into its making. I who was not the least put out by the sight of the dressing-room of a kept woman spent some time agreeably inspecting its contents neglecting none of them and I noticed that all these magnificently wrought implements bore different initials and all manner of coronets. As I contemplated all these things each to my mind standing for a separate prostitution of the poor girl I reflected that God had been merciful to her since He had not suffered her to live long enough to undergo the usual punishment but had allowed her to die at the height of her wealth and beauty long before the coming of old age that first death of courtesans. Indeed what sadder sight is there than vice in old age especially in a woman? It has no dignity and is singularly unattractive. Those everlasting regrets not for wrong turnings taken but for wrong calculations made and money foolishly spent are among the most harrowing things that can be heard. I once knew a former woman of easy virtue of whose past life there remained only a daughter who was almost as beautiful as the mother had once been or so her contemporaries said. This poor child to whom her mother never said 'You are my daughter' except to order her to keep her now that she was old just as she had been kept when she was young this wretched creature was called Louise and in obedience to her mother she sold herself without inclination or passion or pleasure rather as she might have followed an honest trade had it ever entered anyone's head to teach her one. The continual spectacle of debauchery at so tender an age compounded by her continuing ill- health had extinguished in the girl the knowledge of good and evil which God had perhaps given her but which no one had ever thought to nurture. I shall always remember that young girl who walked along the boulevards almost every day at the same hour. Her mother was always with her escorting her as assiduously as a true mother might have accompanied her daughter. I was very young in those days and ready enough to fall in with the easy morality of the times. Yet I recall that the sight of such scandalous chaperoning filled me with contempt and disgust. Add to all this that no virgin's face ever conveyed such a feeling of innocence nor any comparable expression of sadness and suffering. You would have said it was the image of Resignation itself. And then one day the young girl's face lit up. In the midst of the debauches which her mother organized for her it suddenly seemed to this sinful creature that God had granted her one happiness. And after all why should God who had made her weak and helpless abandon her without consolation to struggle on beneath the oppressive burden of her life? One day then she perceived that she was with child and that part of her which remained pure trembled with joy. The soul finds refuge in the strangest sanctuaries. Louise ran to her mother to tell her the news that had filled her with such happiness. It is a shameful thing to have to say ?but we do not write gratuitously of immorality here we relate a true incident and one perhaps which we would be better advised to leave untold if we did not believe that it is essential from time to time to make public the martyrdom of these creatures who are ordinarily condemned without a hearing and despised without trial ? it is we say a matter for shame but the mother answered her daughter saying that as things stood they scarcely had enough for two and that they would certainly not have enough for three; that such children serve no useful purpose; and that a pregnancy is so much time wasted. The very next day a midwife (of whom we shall say no more than that she was a friend of the mother)called to see Louise who remained for a few days in her bed from which she rose paler and weaker than before. Three months later some man took pity on her and undertook her moral and physical salvation. But this latest blow had been too great and Louise died of the after effects of the miscarriage she had suffered. The mother still lives. How? God alone knows. This story had come back to me as I stood examining the sets of silver toilet accessories and I must have been lost in thought for quite some time. For by now the apartment was empty save for myself and a porter who from the doorway was eyeing me carefully lest I should try to steal anything. I went up to this good man in whom I inspired such grave anxieties. 'Excuse me ' I said 'I wonder if you could tell me the name of the person who lived here?' 'Mademoiselle Marguerite Gautier.' I knew this young woman by name and by sight. 'What!' I said to the porter. 'Marguerite Gautier is dead?' 'Yes sir.' 'When did it happen?' 'Three weeks ago I think.' 'But why are people being allowed to view her apartment?' 'The creditors thought it would be good for trade. People can get the effect of the hangings and the furniture in advance. Encourages people to buy you understand.' 'So she had debts then?' 'Oh yes sir! Lots of'em.' 'But I imagine the sale will cover them?' 'Over and above.' 'And who stands to get the balance?' 'The family.' 'She had a family?' 'Seems she did.' 'Thank you very much.' The porter now reassured as to my intentions touched his cap and I left. 'Poor girl ' I said to myself as I returned home 'she must have died a sad death for in her world people only keep their friends as long as they stay fit and well.' And in spite of myself I lamented the fate of Marguerite Gautier. All this will perhaps seem absurd to many people but I have a boundless forbearance towards courtesans which I shall not even trouble to enlarge upon here. One day as I was on my way to collect a passport from the prefecture I saw down one of the adjacent streets a young woman being taken away by two policemen. Now I have no idea what she had done. All I can say is that she was weeping bitterly and clasping to her a child only a few months old from which she was about to be separated by her arrest. From that day until this I have been incapable of spurning any woman on sight.

第二章 Chapter 2

THE sale was due to be held on the 16th. An interval of one day had been left between the viewing and the sale in order to give the upholsterers enough time to take down the hangings curtains and so forth. I was at that time recently returned from my travels. It was quite natural that no one had told me about Marguerite's death for it was hardly one of those momentous news-items which friends always rush to tell anybody who has just got back to the capital city of News. Marguerite had been pretty but the greater the commotion that attends the sensational lives of these women the smaller the stir once they are dead. They are like those dull suns which set as they have risen: they are unremarkable. News of their death when they die young reaches all their lovers at the same instant for in Paris the lovers of any celebrated courtesan see each other every day. A few reminiscences are exchanged about her and the lives of all and sundry continue as before without so much as a tear. For a young man of twenty-five nowadays tears have become so rare a thing that they are not to be wasted on the first girl who comes along. The most that may be expected is that the parents and relatives who pay for the privilege of being wept for are indeed mourned to the extent of their investment. For my own part though my monogram figured on none of Marguerite's dressing-cases the instinctive forbearance and natural pity to which I have just admitted led me to dwell on her death for much longer than it perhaps warranted. I recalled having come across Marguerite very frequently on the Champs-Elysees where she appeared assiduously each day in a small blue brougham drawn by two magnificent bays and I remembered having also remarked in her at that time an air of distinction rare in women of her kind and which was further enhanced by her truly exceptional beauty. When these unfortunate creatures appear in public they are invariably escorted by some companion or other. Since no man would ever consent to flaunt by day the predilection he has for them by night and because they abhor solitude they are usually attended either by less fortunate associates who have no carriages of their own or else by elderly ladies of refinement who are not the least refined and to whom an interested party may apply without fear should any information be required concerning the woman they are escorting. It was not so with Marguerite. She always appeared alone on the Champs- Elysees riding in her own carriage where she sat as unobtrusively as possible enveloped on winter days in a large Indian shawl and in summer wearing the simplest dresses. And though there were many she knew along her favourite route when she chanced to smile at them her smile was visible to them alone. A Duchess could have smiled no differently. She did not ride from the Rond- Point down to the entrance to the Champs-Elysees as do ?and did ?all her sort. Her two horses whisked her off smartly to the Bois de Boulogne. There she alighted walked for an hour rejoined her brougham and returned home at a fast trot. These circumstances which I had occasionally observed for myself now came back to me and I sorrowed for this girl's death much as one might regret the total destruction of a beautiful work of art. For it was impossible to behold beauty more captivating than Marguerite's. Tall and slender almost to a fault she possessed in the highest degree the art of concealing this oversight of nature simply by the way she arranged the clothes she wore. Her Indian shawl with its point reaching down to the ground gave free movement on either side to the flounced panels of her silk dress while the thick muff which hid her hands and which she kept pressed to her bosom was encompassed by folds so skillfully managed that even the most demanding eye would have found nothing wanting in the lines of her figure. Her face a marvel was the object of her most fastidious attentions. It was quite small and as Musset might have said her mother had surely made it so to ensure it was fashioned with care. Upon an oval of indescribable loveliness place two dark eyes beneath brows so cleanly arched that they might have been painted on; veil those eyes with lashes so long that when lowered they cast shadows over the pink flush of the cheeks; sketch a delicate straight spirited nose and nostrils slightly flared in a passionate aspiration towards sensuality; draw a regular mouth with lips parting gracefully over teeth as white as milk; tint the skin with the bloom of peaches which no hand has touched ?and you will have a comprehensive picture of her entrancing face. Her jet-black hair naturally or artfully waved was parted over her forehead in two thick coils which vanished behind her head just exposing the lobes of her ears from which hung two diamonds each worth four or five thousand francs. Exactly how the torrid life she led could possibly have left on Marguerite's face the virginal even childlike expression which made it distinctive is something which we are forced to record as a fact which we cannot comprehend. Marguerite possessed a marvelous portrait of herself by Vidal the only man whose pencil strokes could capture her to the life. After her death this portrait came into my keeping for a few days and the likeness was so striking that it has helped me to furnish details for which memory alone might not have sufficed. Some of the particulars contained in the present chapter did not become known to me until some time later but I set them down here so as not to have to return to them once the narrative account of this woman's life has begun. Marguerite was present at all first nights and spent each evening in the theatre or at the ball. Whenever a new play was performed you could be sure of seeing her there with three things which she always had with her and which always occupied the ledge of her box in the stalls: her opera- glasses a box of sweets and a bunch of camellias. For twenty-five days in every month the camellias were white and for five they were red. No one ever knew the reason for this variation in colour which I mention but cannot explain and which those who frequented the theatres where she was seen most often and her friends too had noticed as I had. Marguerite had never been seen with any flowers but camellias. Because of this her florist Madame Barjon had finally taken to calling her the Lady of the Camellias and the name had remained with her. Like all who move in certain social circles in Paris I knew further that Marguerite had been the mistress of the most fashionable young men that she admitted the fact openly and that they themselves boasted of it. Which only went to show that loves and mistress were well pleased with each other. However for some three years previously ever since a visit she had made to Bagneres she was said to be living with just one man an elderly foreign duke who was fabulously wealthy and had attempted to detach her as far as possible form her old life. This she seems to have been happy enough to go along with. Here is what I have been told of the matter. In the spring of 1842 Marguerite was so weak so altered in her looks that the doctors had ordered her to take the waters. She accordingly set out for Bagneres. Among the other sufferers there was the Duke's daughter who not only had the same complaint but a face so like Marguerite's that they could have been taken for sisters. The fact was that the young Duchess was in the tertiary stage of consumption and only days after Marguerite's arrival she succumbed. One morning the Duke who had remained at Bagneres just as people will remain on ground where a piece of their heart lies buried caught sight of Marguerite as she turned a corner of a gravel walk. It seemed as though he was seeing the spirit of his dead child and going up to her he took both her hands embraced her tearfully and without asking who she was begged leave to call on her and to love in her person the living image of his dead daughter. Marguerite alone at Bagneres with her maid and in any case having nothing to lose by compromising herself granted the Duke what he asked. Now there were a number of people at Bagneres who knew her and they made a point of calling on the Duke to inform him of Mademoiselle Gautier's true situation. It was a terrible blow for the old man for any resemblance with his daughter stopped there. But it was too late. The young woman had become an emotional necessity his only pretext and his sole reason for living. He did not reproach her he had no right to but he did ask her if she felt that she could change her way of life and in exchange for this sacrifice offered all the compensations she could want. She agreed. It should be said that at this juncture Marguerite who was by nature somewhat highly strung was seriously ill. Her past appeared to her to be one of the major causes of her illness and a kind of superstition led her to hope that God would allow her to keep her beauty and her health in exchange for her repentance and conversion. And indeed the waters the walks healthy fatigue and sleep had almost restored her fully by the end of that summer. The Duke accompanied Marguerite to Paris where he continued to call on her as at Bagneres. This liaison of which the true origin and true motive were known to no one gave rise here to a great deal of talk since the Duke known hitherto as an enormously wealthy man now began to acquire a name for the prodigality. The relationship between the old Duke and the young woman was put down to the salacity which is frequently found in rich old men. People imagined all manner of things except the truth. The truth was that the affection of this father for Marguerite was a feeling so chaste that anything more than a closeness of hearts would have seemed incestuous in his eyes. Never once had he said a single word to her that his daughter could not have heard. The last thing we wish is to make our heroine seem anything other than what she was. We shall say therefore that as long as she remained at Bagneres the promise given to the Duke had not been difficult to keep and she had kept it. But once she was back in Paris it seemed to her accustomed as she was to a life of dissipation balls and even orgies that her new-found solitude broken only by the periodic visits of the Duke would make her die of boredom and the scorching winds of her former life blew hot on both her head and her heart. Add to this that Marguerite had returned from her travels more beautiful than she had ever been that she was twenty years old and that her illness subdued but far from conquered continued to stir in her those feverish desires which are almost invariably a result of consumptive disorders. The Duke was therefore sadly grieved the day his friends constantly on the watch for scandalous indiscretions on the part of the young woman with whom he was they said compromising himself called to inform him indeed to prove to him that at those times when she could count on his not appearing she was in the habit of receiving other visitors and that these visitors often stayed until the following morning. When the Duke questioned her Marguerite admitted everything and without a second thought advised him not to concern himself with her any more saying she did not have the strength to keep faith with the pledges she had given and adding that she had no wish to go on receiving the liberalities of a man whom she was deceiving. The Duke stayed away for a week but this was as long as he could manage. One week later to the day he came and implored Marguerite to take him back promising to accept her as she was provided that he could see her and swearing that he would die before he uttered a single word of reproach. This was how things stood three months after Marguerite's return that is in November or December 1842.