03-02-04-牙齿和爪子 [2]
有的钱，但是康拉丁不在乎。他非常害怕这只雪貂，可又全心全意地爱它。它是他精彩可怕的秘密。他给雪貂起了一个又古怪又好听的名字，它成了他的上帝。
姑妈每个星期天都去教堂。她带康拉丁一起去，但对康拉丁来说她的教堂和上帝毫无意义，而且似乎灰暗枯燥。真正的上帝住在小屋里，它的名字叫斯莱德尼·瓦什塔。
每个星期四，在小屋阴凉沉寂的黑暗中，康拉丁都给他的上帝带些礼物。他带来夏季的鲜花和秋天的果实，他给他的上帝编唱些古怪奇妙的歌曲。有时，在有某件重要事情发生的日子，康拉丁会带来特殊的礼物。他从厨房偷来盐并小心疼爱地放在雪貂箱子的前面。
有一天姑妈的牙疼得特别厉害。疼痛持续了三天。早上和晚上康拉丁都在他的上帝面前放点盐。最后他几乎相信是斯莱德尼·瓦什塔带来的牙疼。
过了一段时间，姑妈注意到康拉丁总是去小屋。
“在外面冷风里玩对他不好，”她说。她总是能找到一个理由不让康拉丁玩得开心。第二天早上吃早餐时，她告诉康拉丁她已经卖掉了那只鸡。她看着康拉丁苍白的脸，等着他哭或者生气。但是康拉丁一句话没说；没什么可说的。
可能姑妈觉得内疚了。那天下午喝茶时上了热黄油面包。烤面包平时是不让吃的。康拉丁喜欢吃，但是姑妈说吃烤面包对他不好。而且，烤面包对厨子来说太费事。康拉丁看着烤面包，平静地拿了一片面包和黄油。
“我想你喜欢烤面包，”姑妈生气地说。
“有时候是，”康拉丁说。
那天晚上在小屋里，康拉丁伤心地看着母鸡曾住过的那个空空的角落。于是，第一次，他让他的雪貂上帝为他做一件事。
“为我做一件事，斯莱德尼·瓦什塔，”他轻声地说。
他没有说出他的想法。斯莱德尼·瓦什塔终究是上帝，没有必要向上帝把什么事都说的一清二楚。然后，在看了那个空角落最后一眼之后，康拉丁回到了他憎恨的世界。
每天晚上在小屋和卧室里，康拉丁反复重复着那句话。
“为我做一件事，斯莱德尼·瓦什塔。”
因此康拉丁继续去小屋。姑妈发现后，又去小屋察看。
“你在那个锁着的箱子里养了什么？”她问。“我肯定你在那儿养了一只动物。这对你不好。”
康拉丁一言不发。
姑妈搜他的卧室，最后她终于找到了那个箱子的钥匙。她冲向小屋。这是一个寒冷的下午，康拉丁被禁止到外面去。从餐厅的窗户那儿康拉丁刚好能看见小屋的门。他站着等着。
他看见姑妈打开小屋房门进去了。现在，康拉丁想，她已经找到了箱子。她正在开箱子门，正在我的上帝居住的箱子里面摸索。
“为我做一件事，斯莱德尼·瓦什塔，”康拉丁轻声说。但是他说这话时没有抱什么希望。她会赢，他想，她总是赢。一会儿她就要从小屋出来，对他发号施令。会有人来拿走我的好上帝——再不是上帝了，只是木箱里的一只棕色雪貂。然后我的生活里就没有了重要的东西……医生是对的，我将生病死去。她将赢，她总是赢……在痛苦中，康拉丁开始唱他的上帝之歌：
斯莱德尼·瓦什塔上战场，他的思想鲜红牙齿雪亮。
敌人乞求和平，他将他们灭亡。
美丽的斯莱德尼·瓦什塔。
突然他停止歌唱，走近窗户。小屋的门还开着。慢慢地，非常慢地过了几分钟。康拉丁望着草地上的小鸟，数着它们，一只眼睛却总是看着那扇开着的门。毫无笑容的管家端着茶点进来，康拉丁还是站着、看着、等着。希望在增长，像心里一朵生病的小花。他又非常轻声地唱起了歌，希望又增长了。然后他看见了一个非常奇妙的东西。
从小屋出来一只又长又矮的黄棕色动物，它的嘴和脖于周围有湿红的血斑。
“斯莱德尼·瓦什塔！”康拉丁柔声说。雪貂上帝走向花园深处。它停顿片刻，然后悄悄地走进深远的草丛，永远地消失了。
“茶点好了，”管家说，“你姑妈在哪儿？”
“她下楼去小屋了，”康拉丁说。
于是，管家下楼去叫姑妈时，康拉丁从餐厅的壁柜里拿出面包叉。他坐在炉火旁给自己烤了一片面包。正当他烤着面包、在上面抹黄油时，康拉丁听着餐室外的吵闹声。先是尖叫声——那是管家，然后是厨子的喊叫声。一会儿传来几个人的脚步声。他们正往屋里拍个很沉的东西。
“谁去告诉那可怜的孩子？”管家说。
“哎，总得有人去，”厨子回答。当他们在争论的时候，康拉丁又给自己烤了一片面包。
■ The Story-Teller
It was a hot， airless afternoon． The train was slow and the next stop was nearly an hour away． The people in the train were hot and tired． There were three small children and their aunt， and a tall man， who was a bachelor． The bachelor did not know the little family，and he did not want to know them．
The aunt and the children talked， but it was not a real conversation． It was more like a battle with a small housefly which will not go away． When the aunt spoke to the children，she always began with 'Don't… 'When the children spoke to her， they always began with'Why…'The bachelor said nothing aloud．
The small boy opened his mouth and closed it again． It made an interesting little noise， so he did it again． Open．Close． Open． Close．
'Don't do that， Cyril，'said the aunt．' Come and look out of the window．'The boy closed his mouth and sat next to the window． He looked out at the green fields and trees．
'Why is that man taking those sheep out of that field？'he asked suddenly．
'Perhaps he's taking them to another field where there is more grass，'said the aunt． It was not a very good answer，and the boy knew it．
'But there is lots of grass in that field，' he said．'The field is full of grass， Aunt． Why doesn't the man leave his sheep in that field？'
'I suppose the grass in the other field is better， ' answered the aunt．
'Why is it better？'asked Cyril at once．
'Oh， look at those cows！'cried the aunt． There were cows in nearly all the fields along the railway line． Cyril did not look at the cows． He wanted an answer to his question．
'Why is the grass in the other field better？' he said again．
The bachelor gave them an angry look． The aunt saw him． He's a hard， unkind man， she thought． He doesn't like children． She searched for a suitable answer to Cyril's question， but could not find one．
The smaller girl began to say some words from a song：
'On the road to Mandalay， where the happy children play，'she began．
Then she stopped． She could not remember any more words， so she said the first words again， quietly but very clearly． Then she said them again． And again． And again．
The bachelor looked angrily at the girl， and then at the aunt．
'Come here and sit down quietly，'the aunt said quickly to the children．'I'm going to tell you a story．'
The children moved slowly towards the aunt's seat
姑妈每个星期天都去教堂。她带康拉丁一起去，但对康拉丁来说她的教堂和上帝毫无意义，而且似乎灰暗枯燥。真正的上帝住在小屋里，它的名字叫斯莱德尼·瓦什塔。
每个星期四，在小屋阴凉沉寂的黑暗中，康拉丁都给他的上帝带些礼物。他带来夏季的鲜花和秋天的果实，他给他的上帝编唱些古怪奇妙的歌曲。有时，在有某件重要事情发生的日子，康拉丁会带来特殊的礼物。他从厨房偷来盐并小心疼爱地放在雪貂箱子的前面。
有一天姑妈的牙疼得特别厉害。疼痛持续了三天。早上和晚上康拉丁都在他的上帝面前放点盐。最后他几乎相信是斯莱德尼·瓦什塔带来的牙疼。
过了一段时间，姑妈注意到康拉丁总是去小屋。
“在外面冷风里玩对他不好，”她说。她总是能找到一个理由不让康拉丁玩得开心。第二天早上吃早餐时，她告诉康拉丁她已经卖掉了那只鸡。她看着康拉丁苍白的脸，等着他哭或者生气。但是康拉丁一句话没说；没什么可说的。
可能姑妈觉得内疚了。那天下午喝茶时上了热黄油面包。烤面包平时是不让吃的。康拉丁喜欢吃，但是姑妈说吃烤面包对他不好。而且，烤面包对厨子来说太费事。康拉丁看着烤面包，平静地拿了一片面包和黄油。
“我想你喜欢烤面包，”姑妈生气地说。
“有时候是，”康拉丁说。
那天晚上在小屋里，康拉丁伤心地看着母鸡曾住过的那个空空的角落。于是，第一次，他让他的雪貂上帝为他做一件事。
“为我做一件事，斯莱德尼·瓦什塔，”他轻声地说。
他没有说出他的想法。斯莱德尼·瓦什塔终究是上帝，没有必要向上帝把什么事都说的一清二楚。然后，在看了那个空角落最后一眼之后，康拉丁回到了他憎恨的世界。
每天晚上在小屋和卧室里，康拉丁反复重复着那句话。
“为我做一件事，斯莱德尼·瓦什塔。”
因此康拉丁继续去小屋。姑妈发现后，又去小屋察看。
“你在那个锁着的箱子里养了什么？”她问。“我肯定你在那儿养了一只动物。这对你不好。”
康拉丁一言不发。
姑妈搜他的卧室，最后她终于找到了那个箱子的钥匙。她冲向小屋。这是一个寒冷的下午，康拉丁被禁止到外面去。从餐厅的窗户那儿康拉丁刚好能看见小屋的门。他站着等着。
他看见姑妈打开小屋房门进去了。现在，康拉丁想，她已经找到了箱子。她正在开箱子门，正在我的上帝居住的箱子里面摸索。
“为我做一件事，斯莱德尼·瓦什塔，”康拉丁轻声说。但是他说这话时没有抱什么希望。她会赢，他想，她总是赢。一会儿她就要从小屋出来，对他发号施令。会有人来拿走我的好上帝——再不是上帝了，只是木箱里的一只棕色雪貂。然后我的生活里就没有了重要的东西……医生是对的，我将生病死去。她将赢，她总是赢……在痛苦中，康拉丁开始唱他的上帝之歌：
斯莱德尼·瓦什塔上战场，他的思想鲜红牙齿雪亮。
敌人乞求和平，他将他们灭亡。
美丽的斯莱德尼·瓦什塔。
突然他停止歌唱，走近窗户。小屋的门还开着。慢慢地，非常慢地过了几分钟。康拉丁望着草地上的小鸟，数着它们，一只眼睛却总是看着那扇开着的门。毫无笑容的管家端着茶点进来，康拉丁还是站着、看着、等着。希望在增长，像心里一朵生病的小花。他又非常轻声地唱起了歌，希望又增长了。然后他看见了一个非常奇妙的东西。
从小屋出来一只又长又矮的黄棕色动物，它的嘴和脖于周围有湿红的血斑。
“斯莱德尼·瓦什塔！”康拉丁柔声说。雪貂上帝走向花园深处。它停顿片刻，然后悄悄地走进深远的草丛，永远地消失了。
“茶点好了，”管家说，“你姑妈在哪儿？”
“她下楼去小屋了，”康拉丁说。
于是，管家下楼去叫姑妈时，康拉丁从餐厅的壁柜里拿出面包叉。他坐在炉火旁给自己烤了一片面包。正当他烤着面包、在上面抹黄油时，康拉丁听着餐室外的吵闹声。先是尖叫声——那是管家，然后是厨子的喊叫声。一会儿传来几个人的脚步声。他们正往屋里拍个很沉的东西。
“谁去告诉那可怜的孩子？”管家说。
“哎，总得有人去，”厨子回答。当他们在争论的时候，康拉丁又给自己烤了一片面包。
■ The Story-Teller
It was a hot， airless afternoon． The train was slow and the next stop was nearly an hour away． The people in the train were hot and tired． There were three small children and their aunt， and a tall man， who was a bachelor． The bachelor did not know the little family，and he did not want to know them．
The aunt and the children talked， but it was not a real conversation． It was more like a battle with a small housefly which will not go away． When the aunt spoke to the children，she always began with 'Don't… 'When the children spoke to her， they always began with'Why…'The bachelor said nothing aloud．
The small boy opened his mouth and closed it again． It made an interesting little noise， so he did it again． Open．Close． Open． Close．
'Don't do that， Cyril，'said the aunt．' Come and look out of the window．'The boy closed his mouth and sat next to the window． He looked out at the green fields and trees．
'Why is that man taking those sheep out of that field？'he asked suddenly．
'Perhaps he's taking them to another field where there is more grass，'said the aunt． It was not a very good answer，and the boy knew it．
'But there is lots of grass in that field，' he said．'The field is full of grass， Aunt． Why doesn't the man leave his sheep in that field？'
'I suppose the grass in the other field is better， ' answered the aunt．
'Why is it better？'asked Cyril at once．
'Oh， look at those cows！'cried the aunt． There were cows in nearly all the fields along the railway line． Cyril did not look at the cows． He wanted an answer to his question．
'Why is the grass in the other field better？' he said again．
The bachelor gave them an angry look． The aunt saw him． He's a hard， unkind man， she thought． He doesn't like children． She searched for a suitable answer to Cyril's question， but could not find one．
The smaller girl began to say some words from a song：
'On the road to Mandalay， where the happy children play，'she began．
Then she stopped． She could not remember any more words， so she said the first words again， quietly but very clearly． Then she said them again． And again． And again．
The bachelor looked angrily at the girl， and then at the aunt．
'Come here and sit down quietly，'the aunt said quickly to the children．'I'm going to tell you a story．'
The children moved slowly towards the aunt's seat