(单词翻译:单击)
听力文本
"The Romance of a Busy Broker" Pitcher, who worked in the office of Harvey Maxwell, broker, usually allowed his face to show no feeling. This morning he allowed his face to show interest and surprise when Mr. Maxwell entered. It was half past nine, and Mr. Maxwell was with his young lady secretary. "Good morning, Pitcher," said Maxwell. He rushed to his table as if he were going to jump over it, then began to look at the many, many letters and other papers waiting there for him. The young lady had been Maxwell's secretary for a year. She was very beautiful, and very different from most other secretaries. Her hair always looked plain and simple. She did not wear chains or jewels. Her dress was gray and plain, but it fitted her very well. On her small black- hat was the gold-green wing of a bird. On this morning she seemed to shine softly. Her eyes were dreaming but bright. Her face was warmly colored, and her expression was happy. Pitcher watched her. There was a question about her in his mind. She was different this morning. Instead of going straight to the room where she worked, she waited.
She seemed not to know what to do. Once she went over to Maxwell's table, near enough for him to see that she was there. The machine sitting at that table was no longer a man. It was a busy New York broker. "What is it? Anything?" asked Maxwell shortly. Papers lay like snow covering his table. His gray eyes looked at her as if she were another machine. "Nothing," answered the secretary, moving away with a little smile. "Mr. Pitcher," she said, "did Mr. Maxwell talk to you yesterday about getting another secretary?" "He did," Pitcher answered. "He told me to get another one. Several are coming to talk to us this morning. But it's now after nine and not one has appeared." "I will do the work as usual," said the young lady, "until someone comes to fill the place." And she went to her table. She took off the black hat with the gold-green bird wing and put it away as usual. If you have never seen a busy New York broker on a busy day, you know little about men at work. Every minute of a broker's hour is crowded. And this day was Harvey Maxwell's busy day. Beside his table stood a machine.
From this came a long, narrow, endless piece of paper, bringing him business news as soon as it happened. Men began to come into the office and speak to him. Some were happy, some were not, some were in a hurry, some were full of anger. Boys ran in and out with letters for him to read and answer at once. Pitcher's face now showed that he was alive. The other men who worked in the office jumped around like sailors during a storm. And there were storms in the business world, fearful storms. Every storm was felt in the broker's office. Maxwell moved his chair against the wall. Now he was like a dancer. He jumped from the machine to his table to the door and back again. In the middle of all this, he slowly realized that something had come near him. There was golden hair; there was a very large amount of it, high on a head. On top of the hair was a big hat covered with birds' wings. There was a long silver chain, hanging from a neck until it nearly touched the floor. And among all these things there was a young lady. Pitcher was beside her to explain. "Lady for that job as secretary," said Pitcher.
Maxwell turned half around, with his hands full of letters and paper from the machine. "What job?" he asked. "Job of secretary," Pitcher said again. "You told me yesterday to have someone sent here this morning." "You are losing your mind, Pitcher," said Maxwell. "Why should I tell you anything like that? Miss Leslie is a perfect secretary. She can keep the job as long as she wants it." To the young lady he said, "There is no job here." And to Pitcher he added this order: "Tell them not to send any more. And don't bring any more in here to see me." The silver chain left the office, hitting against chairs and tables with anger, as it went. Pitcher said to another man in the office that Maxwell was more forgetful every day. The rush of business grew wilder and faster. Maxwell was working like some fine, strong machine. He was working as fast as he could. He never had to stop to think. He was never wrong. He was always ready to decide and to act. He worked as a clock works. This was the world of business. It was not a human world, or the world of nature. When the dinner hour was near, things grew quieter.
Maxwell stood by his table with his hands full of papers and his hair hanging over his face. His window was open, for it was the time of year when the weather was beginning to turn warm. And through the window came a soft sweet smell of flowers. For a moment the broker was held there, without moving. For this smell of flowers belonged to Miss Leslie. It was hers and hers only. The smell seemed almost to make her stand there before him. The world of business grew smaller and smaller. And she was in the next room—twenty steps away. "I'll do it now," said Maxwell, half aloud. "I'll ask her now. I wonder why I didn't do it long ago." He rushed into the other room. He stopped beside the secretary. She looked up at him with a smile. Warm color came into her face, and her eyes were soft and kind. Maxwell's hands were still full of papers.
"Miss Leslie," he began quickly, "I have only a moment. I want to say something in that moment. Will you be my wife? I haven't had time to make love to you in the usual way. But I really do love you. Talk quick, please. I have to get back to my work." "Oh, what are you talking about?" cried the young lady. She rose to her feet and looked at him, round-eyed. "Don't you understand?" said Maxwell. "I want you to marry me. I love you, Miss Leslie. I wanted to tell you. So I took this moment when I wasn't too busy. But they're calling me now. Tell them to wait a minute, Pitcher. Won't you, Miss Leslie?" The secretary acted very strangely. At first she seemed lost in surprise. Then tears began to run from her wondering eyes. And then she smiled through her tears, and one of her arms went around the broker's neck. "I know now," she said, softly. "It's this business. It has put every-thing else out of your head. I was afraid at first. Don't you remember, Harvey? We were married last evening at eight, in the Little Church around the Corner."
重点解析
1.seemed to 似乎是 似乎
The evidence seemed to incriminate him.
证据似乎显示他有罪。
2.At first 起先，首先；最初
At first I wasn't aware that he was ill.
开始我没有察觉到他有病。
3.took off 起飞
The plane took off from the airport and headed south towards Hong Kong.
飞机从机场起飞往南向香港飞去。
4.as usual 像往常一样；照例
I found her on the seashore,dreaming away as usual.
我在海滨找到了她，像往常一样她又在那儿发呆。
5.get back to 重新回到
They just want to get back to work.
他们只是想重新回到工作中去。
参考译文
《证券经纪人的浪漫故事》皮彻曾在经纪人哈维·马克斯韦尔的办公室工作，他通常不让自己的脸上流露出任何感情。今早，麦克斯韦尔先生进来时，皮彻露出了感兴趣和惊讶的表情。早上9点半，证券经纪人哈维•马克斯韦尔在年轻女速记员的陪同下来到办公室。马克斯韦尔只随口道了声“早上好”，便径直走向办公桌，匆忙得好像想一步跨过桌面，随后就一头扎进一大堆等着他处理的信件和电报中。年轻女郎给马克斯韦尔当速记员已经有一年了。她异常秀美动人，绝非草草几笔就能简单描述。她不愿采用华丽诱人的庞巴杜式发型，不戴项链、手镯等任何装饰物。她的灰色衣服素净朴实，但却生动地勾勒出她那玲珑的身材。她精巧的黑色无边帽上插了根艳绿色金刚鹦鹉毛。今天早上，她春风满面，温柔而羞涩。她的眼波流转，双颊桃红妖娆，满面乐容，又略带一丝回味。皮彻看着她，发现今天她的举止也有点儿异样。她没有直接到里间自己的办公室去，而是滞留在外间办公室，犹豫着好像拿不定主意似的。她慢慢蹭到马克斯韦尔桌边，离他很近，足以让他意识到她的存在。
坐在办公桌前的他已经不再是个常人，而是一个繁忙的纽约证券经纪人，“嘿，怎么啦？有事？”马克斯韦尔问。那些拆开的信件堆了满满一桌，就像演戏用的假雪。他锐利的灰蓝色眼睛盯着她，毫无人情味儿，像一台机器。“没什么。”速记员回答说，然后微笑着走开了。“皮彻先生，”她说，“马克斯韦尔先生昨天提没提过另外雇一名速记员的事？”“提过，”皮彻说，“他吩咐我另外找一个。今天上午有几个来面试。现在已经9点45了，可还没有一个人露面哩。”“那我还是照常工作好啦，”年轻女郎说，“等有人替补再说。”说完她马上走到自己的办公桌边，在老地方挂起那顶插有金刚鹦鹉毛的黑色无边帽。如果没有目睹到曼哈顿经纪人在生意高峰时刻的那股紧张劲儿，那么谁搞人类学研究就有极大缺陷。证券经纪人的时间分分秒秒都被挤得满满当当。今天又恰好是哈维•马克斯韦尔的大忙天。他的桌子旁边放着一台机器。忽停忽动地吐出卷纸，一有消息就给他带来商业新闻。人们开始涌入办公室，隔着扶手栏杆朝他大喊大叫，有的欣喜若狂，有的激动不已，有的横眉竖眼，有的满怀恶意，信童拿着信件和电报跑进跑出。
连皮彻的脸也舒张开来，显得生机勃勃。办公室的职员们忙得跳来跳去，就像与风暴搏斗的水手。证券交易所里风云变幻，这些自然力的剧动在经纪人办公室中微观再现。马克斯韦尔把椅子掀到墙边，如踢踏舞演员般敏捷地处理业务，时而从自动收录器跳向电话，时而从桌前跳到门口，在这中间，他慢慢地意识到有什么东西靠近了他。这时，他突然注意到一头高高卷起的金发，上面是顶微微抖动的鹅绒帽和鸵毛羽饰，一串大如山核桃的珠子垂近地板，尾端还吊了一个银鸡心。这一大套东西装饰在一个沉着镇定的年轻女子身上。旁边皮彻正准备引荐她，替她作解释。“这位小姐是从速记员介绍所过来应聘的。”皮彻说。马克斯韦尔侧过身子，手上捏了一把文件和行情纸带。“应聘什么？”他皱起眉头问。“速记员，”皮彻说，“昨天是你叫我打电话，让他们今天上午送一个过来面试。”“你搞糊涂了吧，皮彻？”马克斯韦尔说，“我干吗给你下这个命令？莱丝丽这一年工作表现得十全十美。只要她愿意，这份工作就是她的。小姐，这儿没有空缺。皮彻，通知事务所，取消要人申请，叫他们别再送人过来。”银鸡心离开了办公室。
一路上都愤愤不平，大摇大摆，把桌椅沙发碰得乒乒乓乓。皮彻忙里偷闲地跟簿记员说，“老太爷”一天比一天心不在焉，多事健忘。业务处理越来越紧张，节奏越来越快。经纪人工作起来就像一架高速运转、精密复杂、强壮有力、绷紧到了最大限度的机器，运转至最快速度，精确无误，坚决果断，行动时机的选择就像时钟一样准确无误。在股票、证券、贷款、抵押、保证金、债券这样一个金融世界里，人际感情或自然本性毫无落脚之地。午餐时间逐渐临近，喧嚣之中也慢慢出现片刻暂息。马克斯韦尔站在办公桌边，手上捏满了电报和备忘录，右耳上夹了支钢笔，几撮头发零乱地披在脑门上。窗户敞开着，已经苏醒的春天送来了一丝丝的暖意。一丝悠悠的，也许是失散的香气透过窗户飘了进来。这是紫丁香幽微、甜美的芳菲。刹那间，经纪人怔住了。因为这香气是莱丝丽小姐所独有的气息。这股芳香唤醒了他心中她的容貌，栩栩如生，几乎伸手可及。金融世界转瞬间缩成一点。而她就在他的隔壁房，仅仅20步。“天哪，怎么我没早点儿意识到？我现在就得去，”马克斯韦尔压低嗓子说，“我现在就去跟她说。”他飞快地冲进里间的办公室，像个卖空头的人急于想要得到补足那样，他径直冲向速记员的办公桌。
她抬起头，笑盈盈地看着他，脸上泛出了淡淡红晕，眼睛里闪动着温柔和坦率。马克斯韦尔一支胳膊撑在桌上，手上依然握满了文件，“莱丝丽小姐，”他仓促地说，“我只能呆一小会儿趁这个时候跟你说件事。你愿意做我的妻子吗？我没时间以常人的方式向你求爱，但我确确实实爱你。请快速回答我，因为那些人又在抢购太平洋联合公司的股票。”“喔，你在说什么呀？”年轻女郎惊诧不已。她站起身，直愣愣地看着他，眼睛瞪得圆圆的。“你不懂？”马克斯韦尔倔头倔脑地说，“我爱你，莱丝丽小姐。我要你嫁给我。我早就想告诉你，手头的事情稍微松了些，我才抽空过来。又有人在打电话找我。皮彻，叫他们等一下。答应我好吗，莱丝丽小姐？”速记员的神态叫人莫名其妙。起初，她好像惊愕万分；继而，泪水涌出了她迷惘的眼睛；其后，泪眼又发出欢笑的光芒；最后，她又满脸柔情地搂住经纪人的脖子。“现在我懂了，”她亲切地说，“是这生意让你忘记了一切。刚才我还吓了一大跳。哈维，你不记得了吗？昨天晚上8点，我们已经在街上拐角处的小教堂结过婚了。”
