狄更斯的小说特点 狄更斯双语小说:《董贝父子》第41章Part10

狄更斯双语小说:《董贝父子》第41章Part10  

'Upon my honour
Dombey
I don't think we could do better
' says Cousin Feenix. 'It's on the spot
you see
and a very cheerful place.'
'And when
' hints Mr Dombey
'would it be convenient?'
'I shall make a point
' says Cousin Feenix
'of pledging myself for any day you think best. I shall have great pleasure (melancholy pleasure
of course) in following my poor aunt to the confines of the - in point of fact
to the grave
' says Cousin Feenix
failing in the other turn of speech.
'Would Monday do for leaving town?' says Mr Dombey.
'Monday would suit me to perfection
' replies Cousin Feenix. Therefore Mr Dombey arranges to take Cousin Feenix down on that day
and presently takes his leave
attended to the stairs by Cousin Feenix
who says
at parting
'I'm really excessively sorry
Dombey
that you should have so much trouble about it;' to which Mr Dombey answers
'Not at all.'
At the appointed time
Cousin Feenix and Mr Dombey meet
and go down to Brighton
and representing
in their o selves
all the other mourners for the deceased lady's loss
attend her remains to their place of rest. Cousin Feenix
sitting in the mourning-coach
recognises innumerable acquaintances on the road
but takes no other notice of them
in decorum
than checking them off aloud
as they go by
for Mr Dombey's information
as 'Tom Johnson. Man with cork leg
from White's. What
are you here
Tommy? Foley on a blood mare. The Smalder girls' - and so forth. At the ceremony Cousin Feenix is depressed
observing
that these are the occasions to make a man think
in point of fact
that he is getting shaky; and his eyes are really moistened
when it is over. But he soon recovers; and so do the rest of Mrs Skewton's relatives and friends
of whom the Major continually tells the club that she never did wrap up enough; while the young lady with the back
who has so much trouble with her eyelids
says
with a little scream
that she must have been enormously old
and that she died of all kinds of horrors
and you mustn't mention it.
So Edith's mother lies unmentioned of her dear friends
who are deaf to the waves that are hoarse with repetition of their mystery
and blind to the dust that is piled upon the shore
and to the white arms that are beckoning
in the moonlight
to the invisible country far away. But all goes on
as it was wont
upon the margin of the unknown sea; and Edith standing there alone
and listening to its waves
has dank weed cast up at her feet
to strew her path in life withal.