(单词翻译:单击)
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And now, the weekly VOA Special English program of American stories.
Our story today is called "A Municipal Report." It was written by O. Henry and first published in nineteen-oh-four. Here is Shep O'Neal with the story.
It was raining as I got off the train in Nashville, Tennessee -- a slow, gray rain. I was tired so I went straight to my hotel.
A big, heavy man was walking up and down in the hotel lobby. Something about the way he moved made me think of a hungry dog looking for a bone. He had a big, fat, red face and a sleepy expression in his eyes. He introduced himself as Wentworth Caswell -- Major Wentworth Caswell -- from "a fine southern family." Caswell pulled me into the hotel's barroom and yelled for a waiter. We ordered drinks. While we drank, he talked continually about himself, his family, his wife and her family. He said his wife was rich. He showed me a handful of silver coins that he pulled from his coat pocket.
By this time, I had decided that I wanted no more of him. I said good night.
I went up to my room and looked out the window. It was ten o'clock but the town was silent. "A nice quiet place," I said to myself as I got ready for bed. Just an ordinary, sleepy southern town."
I was born in the south myself. But I live in New York now. I write for a large magazine. My boss had asked me to go to Nashville. The magazine had received some stories and poems from a writer in Nashville, named Azalea Adair. The editor liked her work very much. The publisher asked me to get her to sign an agreement to write only for his magazine.
I left the hotel at nine o'clock the next morning to find Miss Adair. It was still raining. As soon as I stepped outside I met Uncle Caesar. He was a big, old black man with fuzzy gray hair.
Uncle Caesar was wearing the strangest coat I had ever seen. It must have been a military officer's coat. It was very long and when it was new it had been gray. But now rain, sun and age had made it a rainbow of colors. Only one of the buttons was left. It was yellow and as big as a fifty cent coin.
Uncle Caesar stood near a horse and carriage. He opened the carriage door and said softly, "Step right in, sir. I'll take you anywhere in the city."
"I want to go to eight-sixty-one Jasmine Street," I said, and I started to climb into the carriage. But the old man stopped me. "Why do you want to go there, sir? "
"What business is it of yours?" I said angrily. Uncle Caesar relaxed and smiled. "Nothing, sir. But it's a lonely part of town. Just step in and I'll take you there right away."
Eight-sixty-one Jasmine Street had been a fine house once, but now it was old and dying. I got out of the carriage.
"That will be two dollars, sir," Uncle Caesar said. I gave him two one-dollar bills. As I handed them to him, I noticed that one had been torn in half and fixed with a piece of blue paper. Also, the upper right hand corner was missing.
Azalea Adair herself opened the door when I knocked. She was about fifty years old. Her white hair was pulled back from her small, tired face. She wore a pale yellow dress. It was old, but very clean.
Azalea Adair led me into her living room. A damaged table, three chairs and an old red sofa were in the center of the floor.
Azalea Adair and I sat down at the table and began to talk. I told her about the magazine's offer and she told me about herself. She was from an old southern family. Her father had been a judge.
Azalea Adair told me she had never traveled or even attended school. Her parents taught her at home with private teachers. We finished our meeting. I promised to return with the agreement the next day, and rose to leave.
At that moment, someone knocked at the back door. Azalea Adair whispered a soft apology and went to answer the caller. She came back a minute later with bright eyes and pink cheeks. She looked ten years younger. "You must have a cup of tea before you go," she said. She shook a little bell on the table, and a small black girl about twelve years old ran into the room.
Azalea Aair opened a tiny old purse and took out a dollar bill. It had been fixed with a piece of blue paper and the upper right hand corner was missing. It was the dollar I had given to Uncle Caesar. "Go to Mister Baker's store, Impy," she said, "and get me twenty-five cents' worth of tea and ten cents' worth of sugar cakes. And please hurry."
The child ran out of the room. We heard the back door close. Then the girl screamed. Her cry mixed with a man's angry voice. Azalea Adair stood up.
Her face showed no emotion as she left the room. I heard the man's rough voice and her gentle one. Then a door slammed and she came back into the room.
"I am sorry, but I won't be able to offer you any tea after all," she said. "It seems that Mister Baker has no more tea. Perhaps he will find some for our visit tomorrow."
We said good-bye. I went back to my hotel.
Just before dinner, Major Wentworth Caswell found me. It was impossible to avoid him. He insisted on buying me a drink and pulled two one-dollar bills from his pocket. Again I saw a torn dollar fixed with blue paper, with a corner missing. It was the one I gave Uncle Caesar. How strange, I thought. I wondered how Caswell got it.
Uncle Caesar was waiting outside the hotel the next afternoon. He took me to Miss Adair's house and agreed to wait there until we had finished our business.
Azalea Adair did not look well. I explained the agreement to her. She signed it. Then, as she started to rise from the table, Azalea Adair fainted and fell to the floor. I picked her up and carried her to the old red sofa. I ran to the door and yelled to Uncle Caesar for help. He ran down the street.
Five minutes later, he was back with a doctor.
The doctor examined Miss Adair and turned to the old black driver. "Uncle Caesar," he said, "run to my house and ask my wife for some milk and some eggs. Hurry!"
Then the doctor turned to me. "She does not get enough to eat," he said. "She has many friends who want to help her, but she is proud. Misses Caswell will accept help only from that old black man. He was once her family's slave."
"Misses Caswell." I said in surprise. "I thought she was Azalea Adair."
"She was," the doctor answered, "until she married Wentworth Caswell twenty years ago. But he's a hopeless drunk who takes even the small amount of money that Uncle Caesar gives her."
After the doctor left I heard Caesar's voice in the other room. "Did he take all the money I gave you yesterday, Miss Azalea?" "Yes, Caesar," I heard her answer softly. "He took both dollars."
I went into the room and gave Azalea Adair fifty dollars. I told her it was from the magazine. Then Uncle Caesar drove me back to the hotel.
A few hours later, I went out for a walk before dinner. A crowd of people were talking excitedly in front of a store. I pushed my way into the store.
Major Caswell was lying on the floor. He was dead.
Someone had found his body on the street. He had been killed in a fight. In fact, his hands were still closed into tight fists. But as I stood near his body, Caswell's right hand opened. Something fell from it and rolled near my feet. I put my foot on it, then picked it up and put it in my pocket.
People said they believed a thief had killed him. They said Caswell had been showing everyone that he had fifty dollars. But when he was found, he had no money on him.
I left Nashville the next morning. As the train crossed a river I took out of my pocket the object that had dropped from Caswell's dead hand. I threw it into the river below.
It was a button. A yellow button...the one from Uncle Caesar's coat.
You have just heard the story "A Municipal Report."? It was written by O. Henry and adapted for Special English by Dona de Sanctis. Your narrator was Shep O'Neal. This is Susan Clark. Join us again next time for another American story on the Voice of America.
重点解析
1.as soon as 一...就...
As soon as we found this out, we closed the ward
我们一发现此事就关闭了病房。
2.insist on 坚持
We'll insist on discussing this issue.
我们将抓住这个问题不放。
3.after all 毕竟
This, after all, is one way of doing it.
这不失为一个办法。
4.I put my foot on it, then picked it up and put it in my pocket.
pick up 捡起
Anthony picked himself up and set off along the track.
安东尼自己慢慢爬起来，又开始沿着跑道跑下去。
5.He showed me a handful of silver coins that he pulled from his coat pocket.
a handful of 少数
I'd taken a handful of uppers.
我吃了几片兴奋剂。
6.At that moment, someone knocked at the back door.
knock at 打
There had been a knock at the door and when she opened it she locked herself out
外面有敲门声，她去开门，结果把自己反锁在了外面。
参考译文
苏珊·克拉克：现在，您收听到的是VOA慢速英语节目，美国故事。
我们的故事名叫《市政报告》，于1904年首次发表，作者欧·亨利。演播谢普·奥尼尔。
谢普·奥尼尔：我在田纳西州纳什维尔下火车的时候，天正下着雨--那辆火车灰头土脸，慢的要死。由于旅途劳顿，我直接回了旅馆。
一个大块头在旅馆大堂里走来走去。他走路的样子就像一只找骨头吃的饿狗。他的大脸又肥又红，睡眼朦胧。他自称Wentworth Caswell——Wentworth Caswell少校——来自“南方，家境良好”。Caswell把我拉到饭店的酒吧间，扯开嗓子叫服务员。我们点了点喝的。喝酒时，他继续说着关于他自己和他妻子以及他们双方家庭的一些事情。他说他的妻子很有钱。说着从口袋里掏出银币给我看。
这时，我决定要走。我说了晚安。
我上楼来到我的房间，从窗子向外看。已经是晚上十点了，镇子上静静的。“一个非常美好而又安静的地方，”我自言自语道。我已经准备上床了。这里就是一个平常而又安静的南方小镇。
我本人出生在北方。但我现居纽约，为一家大杂志社工作。老板要我来这，因为杂志社收到了一位名叫Azalea Adair的纳什维尔人写来的故事。编辑很喜欢她的作品。杂志社要我请她签署一份独家供稿的协议。
第二天早上九点钟我离开了旅馆，去找Adair女士。雨还在下。我刚一出门就遇见了Caesar叔叔。他个子很高，是位年老的黑人，胡子灰白而又杂乱。
我从没见过这么诡异的打扮。那一定是位军官的衣服。这件大衣很长，新的时候是灰色的。但是经过风吹雨淋，已经变得色彩不一。纽扣只剩下一个，黄色的，有五十美分硬币那么大。
Caesar叔叔站在一辆马车旁。他打开马车门，轻轻地说，“进来，先生。你想去哪里，我都能带你去。”
“我想去Jasmine街861号，”我说着就登上马车。但是他阻止了我。“你为什么想去那，先生？”
“你是做什么的？”我生气地说。Caesar叔叔放松了一下，笑了。“没什么，先生。只是那里很偏僻。上车吧，我带你去。”
Jasmine街861号曾经修葺很好，但是现在旧了，死气沉沉。我走出马车。
“两美元，先生，”Caesar叔叔说。我给了他两个一美元。当我递给他的时候，我注意到有一个已经坏成两半然后用蓝纸沾起来的。还有右上角已经没有了。
我敲门，Azalea Adair开了门。她大约五十岁。她花白的头发从那又小又倦的脸上垂下来。她穿了一件黄色的衣服，已经有些褪色。衣服很旧但很干净。
Azalea Adair把我领到起居室。地板中央放着一台破旧的桌子，三把椅子和一件旧的红沙发。
Azalea Adair和我在桌边坐下，开始交谈。我告诉她杂志社的提议，她告诉我关于她自己的事情。她来自一个南方家庭。父亲曾是一名法官。
Azalea Adair告诉我她从没上过学，也从未远行。她父母请家教在家中教她。我们结束了谈话。我答应第二天带着协议再来，然后就站起来告辞了。
就在这个时侯，有人敲后门。Azalea Adair轻轻地说了声抱歉就去开门了。几分钟后她回来了，眼发亮脸发红。看起来年轻了十岁。“走之前再喝一杯茶吧，”她说。她摇了摇桌子上的铃，一个十二岁左右的黑人小女孩跑进了房间。
Azalea Aair打开一个小钱包，拿出一美元。外面包了一层蓝纸，右上教已经没有了。那是我给Caesar叔叔的一美元。“去Baker先生的商店，Lmpy。”她说，“买25美分的茶和10美分的糖果。请快一点。”
孩子跑出房间。我们听到关后门的声音。就在那时我们听到了小女孩的喊叫声，她的叫喊混杂着一个男人生气的声音。Azalea Adair站起来，面无表情的离开了房间。我听到男人粗重的声音和她轻柔的声音混在一起。然后有扇门砰地关上，她回到房间。
“对不起，我没法请你喝茶了，”她说。“似乎Baker那儿没有茶了。可能明天碰面时会有吧。”
我们互道再见。我回到旅馆。
就在晚饭前，Wentworth Caswell少校找到我。我躲不过他。他坚持请我喝一杯，从他口袋里拿出两个一美元。我又一次看到了那张缺了一角的包着蓝纸的钱，它还是我给Caesar叔叔的那一美元。多么奇怪，我想。我想知道Caswell是怎么得到的。
第二天下午，Caesar叔叔在旅馆外面等着。他把我送到Adair家里，并答应一直等到我们谈完事情。
Azalea Adair看起来不太好。我把协议向她做了解释。她签了。然后，就在她从椅子上站起来的时候，Azalea Adair虚弱地倒在了地上。我把她扶起来，放到旧沙发上。我跑向门，把Caesar叔叔喊过来帮忙。他跑向街道。过了五分钟，他找来了一个医生。
医生给Adair做了检查，转向了那个年老的黑司机。“Caesar叔叔，”他说，“跑到我家去问我妻子要一些牛奶和鸡蛋。快点！”
然后，医生转过头对我说，“她吃的太少，”他说。“有很多朋友想要帮她，但是她自尊的不肯接受。Caswell太太只接受那个黑人的帮助。他曾是他们家的奴隶。”
“Caswell太太。”我惊奇地说道。“我以为她是Caswell。”
“她是，”医生说，“直到二十年前她和Wentworth Caswell结婚。但是他是一个令人失望的酒鬼，甚至会拿Caesar叔叔给她的钱。”
医生走后我听到Caesar的声音在另一间房间响起。“我昨天给你的所有钱，他都拿走了吗，Azalea太太？”“是的，Caesar，”我听到她轻轻地说。“他拿走了那两美元。”
我走进那个房间，给了Azalea Adair五十美元。我告诉她这是杂志社给她的钱。然后Caesar叔叔把我带回了旅馆。
几个小时后，要吃晚饭了，我出去散了一会儿步。有一群人在一个商店前激动地议论。我赶紧走过去。Caswell少校躺在地上。他已经死了。
有人在街上发现了他的尸体。他是在搏斗中被杀死的。实际上他的手还攥成拳头状。当我靠近他的尸体时，Caswell的右手伸开了。有些东西从手里掉出来滚到了我的脚下。我用脚压住它，然后捡起来放进了我的口袋里。
人们说他们相信杀死他的是一个小偷。Caswel向人们展示他有五十美元。但是人们发现他的时候，他身无分文。
第二天早上我离开了纳什维尔。火车穿过一条河流的时候，我从口袋里拿出了从Caswell手里掉出的东西。我把它丢进了河里。
那是一枚纽扣。黄色的纽扣…来自Caesar上衣的那枚纽扣。
苏珊·克拉克：您刚刚收听到的故事是《市政报告》，作者欧·亨利。桑克蒂斯将它改编成VOA慢速英语节目。演播谢普·奥尼尔。我是苏珊·克拉克，欢迎您下次继续收听我们的节目。
译文为可可英语翻译，未经授权请勿转载！
