(单词翻译:单击)
听力文本
Our story today is called "The Boarded Window." It was written by Ambrose Bierce. Here is Shep O'Neal with the story. In 1830, only a few miles away from what is now the great city of Cincinnati, Ohio, lay a huge and almost endless forest. The area had a few settlements established by people of the frontier. Many of them had already left the area for settlements further to the west. But among those remaining was a man who had been one of the first people to arrive there. He lived alone in a house of logs surrounded on all sides by the great forest. He seemed a part of the darkness and silence of the forest, for no one had ever known him to smile or speak an unnecessary word. His simple needs were supplied by selling or trading the skins of wild animals in the town. His little log house had a single door. Directly opposite was a window. The window was boarded up. No one could remember a time when it was not. And no one knew why it had been closed. It surely was not because of the man's dislike of light and air. Sometimes, he could be seen lying in the sun on his doorstep. I imagine there are few people living today who ever knew the secret of that window. But I am one, as you shall see.
The man's name was said to be Murlock. He appeared to be seventy years old, but he was really fifty. Something other than years had been the cause of his aging. His hair and long, full beard were white. His gray, lifeless eyes were sunken. His face was wrinkled. He was tall and thin with drooping shoulders—like someone with many problems. I never saw him. These details I learned from my grandfather. He told me the man's story when I was a boy. He had known him when living nearby in that early day. One day Murlock was found in his cabin, dead. It was not a time and place for medical examiners and newspapers. I suppose it was agreed that he had died from natural causes or I should have been told, and should remember. I know only that the body was buried near the cabin, next to the burial place of his wife. She had died so many years before him that local tradition noted very little of her existence.
That closes the final part of this true story, except for the incident that followed many years later. With a fearless spirit I went to the place and got close enough to the ruined cabin to throw a stone against it. I ran away to avoid the ghost which every well-informed boy in the area knew haunted the spot. But there is an earlier part to this story supplied by my grandfather. When Murlock built his cabin he was young, strong and full of hope. He began the hard work of creating a farm. He kept a gun--a rifle—for hunting to support himself. He had married a young woman, in all ways worthy of his honest love and loyalty. She shared the dangers of life with a willing spirit and a light heart. There is no known record of her name or details about her. They loved each other and were happy. One day Murlock returned from hunting in a deep part of the forest. He found his wife sick with fever and confusion. There was no doctor or neighbor within miles. She was in no condition to be left alone while he went to find help. So Murlock tried to take care of his wife and return her to good health. But at the end of the third day she fell into unconsciousness and died.
From what we know about a man like Murlock, we may try to imagine some of the details of the story told by my grandfather. When he was sure she was dead, Murlock had sense enough to remember that the dead must be prepared for burial. He made a mistake now and again while performing this special duty. He did certain things wrong. And others which he did correctly were done over and over again. He was surprised that he did not cry — surprised and a little ashamed. Surely it is unkind not to cry for the dead. "Tomorrow," he said out loud, "I shall have to make the coffin and dig the grave; and then I shall miss her, when she is no longer in sight. But now -- she is dead, of course, but it is all right — it must be all right, somehow. Things cannot be as bad as they seem." He stood over the body of his wife in the disappearing light. He fixed the hair and made finishing touches to the rest. He did all of this without thinking but with care. And still through his mind ran a feeling that all was right -- that he should have her again as before, and everything would be explained.
Murlock had no experience in deep sadness. His heart could not contain it all. His imagination could not understand it. He did not know he was so hard struck. That knowledge would come later and never leave. Deep sadness is an artist of powers that affects people in different ways. To one it comes like the stroke of an arrow, shocking all the emotions to a sharper life. To another, it comes as the blow of a crushing strike. We may believe Murlock to have been affected that way. Soon after he had finished his work he sank into a chair by the side of the table upon which the body lay. He noted how white his wife's face looked in the deepening darkness. He laid his arms upon the table's edge and dropped his face into them, tearless and very sleepy. At that moment a long, screaming sound came in through the open window. It was like the cry of a lost child in the far deep of the darkening forest! But the man did not move. He heard that unearthly cry upon his failing sense, again and nearer than before. Maybe it was a wild animal or maybe it was a dream. For Murlock was asleep.
Some hours later, he awoke, lifted his head from his arms and listened closely. He knew not why. There in the black darkness by the side of the body, he remembered everything without a shock. He strained his eyes to see -- he knew not what. His senses were all alert. His breath was suspended. His blood was still as if to assist the silence. Who — what had awakened him and where was it! Suddenly the table shook under his arms. At the same time he heard, or imagined he heard, a light, soft step and then another. The sounds were as bare feet walking upon the floor! He was afraid beyond the power to cry out or move. He waited—waited there in the darkness through what seemed like centuries of such fear. Fear as one may know, but yet live to tell. He tried but failed to speak the dead woman's name. He tried but failed to stretch his hand across the table to learn if she was there. His throat was powerless. His arms and hands were like lead.
Then something most frightful happened. It seemed as if a heavy body was thrown against the table with a force that pushed against his chest. At the same time he heard and felt the fall of something upon the floor. It was so violent a crash that the whole house shook. A fight followed and a confusion of sounds impossible to describe. Murlock had risen to his feet. Extreme fear had caused him to lose control of his senses. He threw his hands upon the table. Nothing was there! There is a point at which fear may turn to insanity; and insanity incites to action. With no definite plan and acting like a madman, Murlock ran quickly to the wall. He seized his loaded rifle and without aim fired it. The flash from the rifle lit the room with a clear brightness. He saw a huge fierce panther dragging the dead woman toward the window. The wild animal's teeth were fixed on her throat! Then there was darkness blacker than before, and silence. When he returned to consciousness the sun was high and the forest was filled with the sounds of singing birds. The body lay near the window, where the animal had left it when frightened away by the light and sound of the rifle. The clothing was ruined. The long hair was in disorder. The arms and legs lay in a careless way. And a pool of blood flowed from the horribly torn throat. The ribbon he had used to tie the wrists was broken. The hands were tightly closed. And between the teeth was a piece of the animal's ear.
重点解析
1.board up 用板钉上；用木板封起来
I'd board up the windows if I were you.
如果我要是你的话，我就用木板把窗户钉上。
2.take care of 照看；照料
I felt that I was an orphan with no parents to take care of me, and that feeling pushed me to try to learn about what happened.
我觉得我是一个没有父母疼爱照顾的孤儿，这种感觉让我想要弄清楚，到底发生了什么。
3.die from 因伤致死；由于…而死
"Our family will not die from hunger, but cannot be fed with this wage level, " she said.
她说“我们家人不会饿死，但这个工资水平无法让我们过上好日子”。
4.next to 紧邻；在…旁边
He went over and sat down in a vacant chair next to Christine.
他走了过去，在克里斯丁旁边的一把空椅子上坐了下来。
参考译文
今天我们要讲的故事叫《钉紧的窗子》，作者安布罗斯·比尔斯，讲述人夏普·奥尼尔。1830年，距离俄亥俄州辛辛那提市几英里远的地方有一片漫无边际的森林。这个地区有一些住在边境的居民建立的定居点，他们中的许多人已经离开这个地方，到更远的西部定居。但在剩下的人中，有一位是首批到达这里的居民。他独自一人住在一个小木屋里，四周环绕着无边的森林。他像是融入到森林的黑暗寂静之中，没人知道他会微笑或也没人知道他会多说一句废话。他靠在镇上买卖野生动物皮毛维持简单的生活。他住的小木屋有一扇门，正对面是一扇窗户。窗户用木板钉紧了，一直都这样，没人知道为什么窗子被钉死了，肯定不是因为男人不喜欢阳光和空气。有时，能看到他躺在门前的台阶上晒太阳。我想现在已经很少有人知道那扇窗户的秘密了，但接下来你会发现，我就知道它的秘密。
据说那个男人叫默洛克，他看上去像70岁，但实际上只有50岁，让他衰老的并非是岁月的流逝。他长长的头发和胡须都是银白色的，一双毫无生气的灰眼睛深深地凹陷下去，脸上布满皱纹。他身材瘦高，耷拉着肩膀，好像全身上下都有毛病。我没见过他本人，是祖父告诉我他的这些特征。我还是小孩子时，他给我讲过这个人的故事。很早的时候，祖父住在这个男人家附近，所以认识他。有一天，人们发现默洛克死在自己的小木屋里。那时还不兴尸检，报刊对这种事也不关心。大家都认为他是自然死亡，也许我该当做他是自然死亡的，并谨记于心。我只知道他的尸体埋在小木屋附近，旁边就是他妻子的坟。他妻子比他去世得早，当地人很少提起到她。
这些都是真的，但多年后发生了一件事件。我怀着无所畏惧的精神，去到他住的地方，站在离小木屋很近的地方向它扔了块石头，然后赶紧跑开了，因为害怕撞到鬼，熟悉那里的每个男孩都知道小木屋闹鬼。不过，祖父给我讲过故事开头发生的事。默洛克建造这座小木屋时，年纪轻轻，身强力壮，对未来充满着希望。他办了一家农场，辛勤地工作。他还有一把步枪，可以打猎养活自己。他娶了一名年轻女子为妻，她深深地爱着他，对他忠贞不渝。她心怀愉悦之情，心甘情愿地与他共同面对生活中的种种危难。没人记载过她的名字或有关她的细枝末节。他们彼此相爱，生活得很开心。一天，默洛克从森林深处打猎回来后，发现妻子发着高烧，精神混乱。木屋周围几英里内都没有医生或邻居。他不能出去找人，而把她独自留在家中。所以默洛克竭尽全力照顾妻子，帮她恢复健康。但到了第三天晚上，她失去知觉，随后就咽气了。
从对默洛克的了解来看，我们可以试着想象我祖父讲的故事中的一些细节。默洛克在确信妻子去世时，肯定记得要将她埋葬，但他在完成这件特殊任务时又犯了一个错误。他肯定做错了什么，不过好在他也在重复做着那些对的事。他惊讶地发现自己没有哭，这令他感到些许惭愧，不为死者哭泣是不仁慈的。他大声说：“我明天得把棺材做好，挖个坟。从此再也看不到她了，我会很想念。但她已经死了，没事的，没事，事情并没有那么糟。”阳光渐渐隐去，他站在妻子的尸体旁为她弄头发，还整理了其他地方。他很小心地做着这些事，心里仍有一种感觉，一切都会好起来，他好想像以前一样再次拥有她，事情会水落石出的。
默洛克从未经历过如此沉痛的悲伤，简直难以自已。他完全想不明白，只是感到深深地受到重创。后来他才意识到是怎么回事。沉痛的悲伤以不同方式影响着不同的人，对某人来说它像一支箭，让所有感官都变得更加敏锐。而对另一个人来说就是毁灭性的打击。默洛克应该是第二种情况。他做完所有善后之事后，便坐到一张椅子上，旁边是那张放尸体的桌子。他注意到妻子的脸在黑暗中显得如此苍白。他把胳膊放在桌子边上，让脸埋在里面，没有眼泪，但感到非常困倦。就在这时，一声长长的尖叫声从打开的窗户传进来，像是一个迷失的孩子从黑暗的森林深处发出的叫喊！但默洛克没动。他在朦胧中又听到了那诡异的叫声，这次离得更近了。可能是动物在嚎叫，也可能只是个梦，默洛克就这样睡着了。
几个小时过后，他醒了，把头从胳膊上抬起来仔细地倾听，他不知道为什么要这么做。在一片漆黑之中，他站在尸体旁，这让他记起了所有的事。他眯起眼睛看——不知道那是什么。他的感官都警觉起来，屏住呼吸，鲜血仿佛在寂静中都停止流动。是谁——是什么唤醒了他，它在哪！突然，桌子在他的胳膊下颤抖起来。同时，他听到又或是在想象中听到一个轻快、柔和的脚步声，接着又一声。那声音就像赤脚在地板上行走一样！他吓得说不出话，动弹不得。他在黑暗中静静地等着，陷入极度的恐惧之中。恐惧的感觉真是难以描述，他试着叫出死去妻子的名字，但没能说出口。他试着把手伸过桌子，想知道她的尸体是否还躺在那里。他感到喉咙无力，胳膊和手像灌了铅一样沉。
然后最恐怖的事情发生了，似乎有一个沉重的身躯被推在桌子上，一股力量撞向他的胸部。他还听到并感觉到有东西掉在地板上。猛烈的撞击使整个房子都震动不已。接下来是一场打斗，混乱的声音难以形容。默洛克站起来，极度的恐惧使他失去了对感官的控制。他把手放在桌子上。尸体消失了！恐惧到达极限时会让人精神错乱，而错乱的精神会让人做出疯狂的举动。默洛克想都没想，像疯子一样快步跑到墙边，抓起装着子弹的步枪，没瞄准就开枪了。步枪开火的闪光照亮了房间，他看见一只凶猛的大黑豹把死去妻子的尸体拖向窗边。黑豹的牙牢牢咬住她的喉咙！随后木屋再次陷入一片漆黑，比之前更暗，寂静无声。当他恢复知觉时，太阳已经升得很高，森林里满是鸟儿鸣叫的歌声。妻子的尸体躺在窗户旁，黑豹被步枪开火的光和声音吓跑了。妻子尸体上穿的衣服全撕破了，长发乱成一团，四肢凌乱的伸着。喉咙被撕裂了，一滩血水从里面流出来。他之前用来系尸体手腕的带子也断了，那两只手紧紧地攥着。牙齿间咬着一块黑豹的耳朵。
