自译 契诃夫短篇小说 谎言(4)

“英子，别哭了。”他开口道，“听我说句话。我有件事想问你。算了，你还是先静静吧，等你静下来我再问……”他又坐了回去，默默沉思着。窗边那凄惨、哀求、像小女孩一样的哭声绵绵不休。叶自珍等不下去了，他叹了口气，走出客厅，来到阳阳的房间。孩子仍躺在床上，眼神涣散地呆望着。叶大夫坐到床边，给孩子把了把脉。
“Misha, does your head ache?” he asked.
“头还疼吗，阳阳？”他问道。
Misha answered, not at once: “Yes. I keep dreaming.”
阳阳过了一会儿才回答道：“疼。我老做梦。”
“What do you dream?”
“你梦见什么了？”
“All sorts of things. . . .”
“好多东西……”
The doctor, who did not know how to talk with weeping women or with children, stroked his burning head, and muttered:
叶自珍不知道女人哭了该怎么哄，也不会和孩子说话。他摸了摸阳阳滚烫的额头，低语道：
“Never mind, poor boy, never mind.... One can’t go through life without illness.... Misha, who am I — do you know me?”
“没事的，孩子，没事……谁一辈子还没个病呢……阳阳，你认得我吗？你看看我是谁？”
Misha did not answer.
阳阳没有回答。
“Does your head ache very badly?”
“头疼得厉害吗？”
“Ve-ery. I keep dreaming.”
“疼，疼。我老是做梦。”
After examining him and putting a few questions to the maid who was looking after the sick child, the doctor went slowly back to the drawing-room. There it was by now dark, and Olga Ivanovna, standing by the window, looked like a silhouette.
叶大夫做了一番检查，向照顾阳阳的女佣问了问情况，又缓缓回到了客厅。客厅里已经是漆黑一片，万紫英仍守在窗边，宛如一幅剪影。
“Shall I light up?” asked Tsvyetkov.