名著阅读

Mr Carker the Manager sat at his desk, smooth and soft as usual, reading those letters which were reserved for him to open, backing them occasionally with such memoranda and references as their business purport required, and parceling them out into little heaps for distribution through the several departments of the House. The post had come in heavy that morning, and Mr Carker the Manager had a good deal to do.
The general action of a man so engaged - pausing to look over a bundle of papers in his hand, dealing them round in various portions, taking up another bundle and examining its contents with knitted brows and pursed-out lips - dealing, and sorting, and pondering by turns - would easily suggest some whimsical resemblance to a player at cards. The face of Mr Carker the Manager was in good keeping with such a fancy. It was the face of a man who studied his play, warily: who made himself master of all the strong and weak points of the game: who registered the cards in his mind as they fell about him, knew exactly what was on them, what they missed, and what they made: who was crafty to find out what the other players held, and who never betrayed his own hand.
The letters were in various languages, but Mr Carker the Manager read them all. If there had been anything in the offices of Dombey and Son that he could read, there would have been a card wanting in the pack. He read almost at a glance, and made combinations of one letter with another and one business with another as he went on, adding new matter to the heaps - much as a man would know the cards at sight, and work out their combinations in his mind after they were turned. Something too deep for a partner, and much too deep for an adversary, Mr Carker the Manager sat in the rays of the sun that came down slanting on him through the skylight, playing his game alone.
And although it is not among the instincts wild or domestic of the cat tribe to play at cards, feline from sole to crown was Mr Carker the Manager, as he basked in the strip of summer-light and warmth that shone upon his table and the ground as if they were a crooked dial-plate, and himself the only figure on it. With hair and whiskers deficient in colour at all times, but feebler than common in the rich sunshine, and more like the coat of a sandy tortoise-shell cat; with long nails, nicely pared and sharpened; with a natural antipathy to any speck of dirt, which made him pause sometimes and watch the falling motes of dust, and rub them off his smooth white hand or glossy linen: Mr Carker the Manager, sly of manner, sharp of tooth, soft of foot, watchful of eye, oily of tongue, cruel of heart, nice of habit, sat with a dainty steadfastness and patience at his work, as if he were waiting at a mouse's hole.
At length the letters were disposed of, excepting one which he reserved for a particular audience. Having locked the more confidential correspondence in a drawer, Mr Carker the Manager rang his bell.
'Why do you answer it?' was his reception of his brother.
'The messenger is out, and I am the next,' was the submissive reply.
'You are the next?' muttered the Manager. 'Yes! Creditable to me! There!'
Pointing to the heaps of opened letters, he turned disdainfully away, in his elbow-chair, and broke the seal of that one which he held in his hand.
'I am sorry to trouble you, James,' said the brother, gathering them up, 'but - '
'Oh! you have something to say. I knew that. Well?'
Mr Carker the Manager did not raise his eyes or turn them on his brother, but kept them on his letter, though without opening it.
'Well?' he repeated sharply.
'I am uneasy about Harriet.'
'Harriet who? what Harriet? I know nobody of that name.'
'She is not well, and has changed very much of late.'
'She changed very much, a great many years ago,' replied the Manager; 'and that is all I have to say.
'I think if you would hear me -
'Why should I hear you, Brother John?' returned the Manager, laying a sarcastic emphasis on those two words, and throwing up his head, but not lifting his eyes. 'I tell you, Harriet Carker made her choice many years ago between her two brothers. She may repent it, but she must abide by it.'
'Don't mistake me. I do not say she does repent it. It would be black ingratitude in me to hint at such a thing,' returned the other. 'Though believe me, James, I am as sorry for her sacrifice as you.'
'As I?' exclaimed the Manager. 'As I?'
'As sorry for her choice - for what you call her choice - as you are angry at it,' said the Junior.
'Angry?' repeated the other, with a wide show of his teeth.
'Displeased. Whatever word you like best. You know my meaning. There is no offence in my intention.'
'There is offence in everything you do,' replied his brother, glancing at him with a sudden scowl, which in a moment gave place to a wider smile than the last. 'Carry those papers away, if you please. I am busy.
His politeness was so much more cutting than his wrath, that the Junior went to the door. But stopping at it, and looking round, he said:
'When Harriet tried in vain to plead for me with you, on your first just indignation, and my first disgrace; and when she left you, James, to follow my broken fortunes, and devote herself, in her mistaken affection, to a ruined brother, because without her he had no one, and was lost; she was young and pretty. I think if you could see her now - if you would go and see her - she would move your admiration and compassion.'
The Manager inclined his head, and showed his teeth, as who should say, in answer to some careless small-talk, 'Dear me! Is that the case?' but said never a word.
经理卡克先生坐在办公桌前，像平日一样，脸孔光滑，皮肤柔嫩，正阅读着那些正等待他去拆开的信件，有时还按照信件业务内容的要求写上批注和指示，并把它们区分成几个小堆，以便分送到公司的各个不同部门。这天早上收到大量信件，经理卡克先生有许多工作要做。
从事于这种工作的人的动作——看着手中的一叠公文，把它们分成几个不同的部分，拿起另一叠公文，皱着眉头，噘着嘴唇，研究着它们的内容——轮流不断地处理，分类，思考着——，很容易使人联想到这与玩牌的人有某些奇异的相似之处。经理卡克先生的脸孔完全符合这个想法。这是一个精心研究纸牌的人的脸孔：他使自己成为行家能手，完全懂得怎样打牌是上算，怎样打牌是失策；他把所有在他面前打出来的牌都记在心上，准确无误地知道哪些牌已经打出来了。哪些牌还没有打了，它们能搭配成什么；他巧妙地推算出其他人手上有些什么牌，但却从不泄露他自己手上的牌。
信件是用各种语言写的，但是经理卡克先生把它们全都看过。如果董贝父子公司的办公室中有什么东西他·不·能看的话，那就好像一副牌中缺少了一张似的。他差不多匆匆溜上一眼就把一个信件看过，然后一边看一边把一封信和另一封信分在一起，把一件业务和另一件业务搭配在一起，同时在小堆上增添上新的材料，这很像一个看一眼就能把好多牌认出来的人，在配牌之后，就在心中设想好它们如何组合一样。作为打牌的搭档来说，他是有些太狡猾了；作为打牌的对手来说，他是太老奸巨猾了，经理卡克先生就这样坐在从天窗斜照到他身上的阳光中，独自玩着他的纸牌。
一长条夏日的阳光照射到桌子和地面，桌子和地面仿佛是一个弯曲的日晷仪，坐在阳光中取暖的经理卡克先生本人是这个日晷议上唯一的身形；虽然不论野猫还是家猫都没有玩牌的天性，但这时候的经理卡克先生却从头到脚都很像是只猫。他的头发和连鬓胡子一直缺乏色泽，在明亮的阳光中就比平时更加显得暗淡，更加像那沙色的玳瑁猫身上的毛了；他的长长的指甲削得漂亮、尖利；他生性厌恶任何细小的污点，所以不时停下来注视着正在落下的微尘，把它们从他光滑的手上或光亮的亚麻布衣服上拂去；经理卡克先生态度狡猾，牙齿锐利，脚步柔软，眼睛机警，舌头油滑，心地残酷，服装漂亮，他就这样极为坚定和耐心地坐在那里工作，仿佛他正在一个耗子洞口守候着似的。
终于他把所有的信件都处理完了，只有一封他留着准备仔细阅读。经理卡克先生把比较机密的信件都锁到一个抽屉里以后，按了一下铃。
“为什么是·你应声前来？”他这样接待他的哥哥。
“信差出去了。除了他，就数我的职位最低了，”这是恭顺的回答。
“除了他，就数你的职位最低了？”经理卡克低声说道，“不错！这是我的莫大光荣！那里！”
他指着那一堆拆开的信件，在扶手椅中不屑一顾地转开身子，把手上拿着的那封信的封印撕破。
“对不起，我不打搅你了，詹姆士，”他的哥哥收集着信件，说道，“不过——”
“哦，你想跟我说话，我早知道这点。唔？”
经理卡克先生没有把眼睛抬起来，也没有把它们转向他的哥哥，而是继续停留在那封信上，虽然他还没有把它展开。
“唔？”他尖刻地重复了一声。
“我为哈里特感到不安。”
“哈里特是谁？哪一位哈里特？我不认识叫这名字的人。”
“她身体不好，最近变化很大。”
“她好多年以前就变化很大，”经理回答道，“这就是我所要说的一切。”
“我想如果你肯听我说一说——”
“为什么我要听你说，约翰哥哥？”经理回答道，他在最后四个字上加上讽刺的强调语气，同时把头一仰，但没有抬起眼睛。“我告诉你，哈里特·卡克好多年以前就已在她的两个兄弟之间作出了选择。她可以后悔这一点，但是她必须继续坚持下去。”
“别误会了我的意思。我不是说她真的后悔了。我要是暗示这样的事，我真是极大的忘恩负义了，”那一位回答道，“虽然，请相信我，詹姆士，我和你一样为她作出的牺牲而难过。”
“和我一样？”经理喊道，“和我一样吗？”
“我为她的选择——为你所说的她的选择而难过，就和你为它而发怒一样，”职位低的那一位说道。
“发怒？”另一位露出宽阔的牙齿，重复道。
“不高兴。你爱用什么字眼都可以。你明白我的意思。我没有冒犯你的意图。”
“你不论做什么事情都在冒犯我。”他的弟弟突然绷着脸、皱着眉头向他怒目而视，回答道；片刻之后又露出了比先前更宽阔的微笑。“劳驾你，把这些公文拿走吧。我忙着。”
他的礼貌比愤怒尖刻得多，所以职位低的那一位就向门口走去。但是他在门口停住，向四周看了一下，说道：
“当你第一次正当地表示愤怒和我第一次蒙受耻辱的时候，哈里特曾经徒劳地试图在你面前为我求情；后来她离开了你，詹姆士，来分担我的不幸的命运；在她用错了的感情的影响下，她把她自己献身给一位身败名裂的弟弟，因为没有她他就没有什么人了，他就会死去；那时候她年轻，漂亮。我想如果你现在看到她——如果你肯去看她的话，她会引起你的钦佩和怜悯的。”
经理低着头，露出牙齿，似乎想要回答无足轻重的什么闲聊似地说一句，“哎呀，这是真的吗？”可是他却一句话也没有说。
背景阅读

本书简介：
《董贝父子》是狄更斯最重要的作品之一，发表于1848年。小说描写了董贝父子公司的盛衰史。董贝是个贪得无厌的大资本家，妻子儿女都成了他追逐利润的工具和摆设。公司经理卡克尔是个奸诈小人，骗取了董贝的信任后又一手造成了他的破产。在现实的教训中，董贝的思想发生了转变。最后，虽然他已无法重整家业，却成全了真正的家庭幸福。

作者简介：

英国小说家查尔斯·约翰·赫芬姆·狄更斯（Charles John Huffam Dickens，1812年2月7日~1870年6月9日） 英国维多利亚时期的著名小说家，他的作品至今依然盛行，并对英国文学发展起到重要影响。 狄更斯1812年出生于英国朴次茅斯（Portsmouth），是海军职员约翰·狄更斯和伊丽莎白·巴洛所生的第二个孩子。狄更斯5岁时全家就迁居占松（Chatham），10岁时又搬到康登镇（Camden Town）。 小时候狄更斯曾经在一所私立学校接受过一段时间的教育，但是12岁时，狄更斯的父亲就因债务问题而入狱，狄更斯也因此被送到伦敦一家鞋油场当学徒，每天工作10个小时。或许是由于这段经历，使得狄更斯的作品更关注底层社会劳动人民的生活状态。 不过后来由于父亲继承了一笔遗产而令家庭经济状况有所好转，狄更斯也才有机会重新回到学校。15岁时他从威灵顿学院毕业，随后进入一家律师行工作，后来又转入报馆，成为一名报导国会辩论的记者。狄更斯并没有接受很多的正规教育，基本上是靠自学成才。