姐,51。。。
轻松的小说阅读环境
Site Manager
双城记英文版 - Part 1 Chapter IV. THE PREPARATION
繁体
恢复默认
返回目录【键盘操作】左右光标键:上下章节;回车键:目录;双击鼠标:停止/启动自动滚动;滚动时上下光标键调节滚动速度。
  When the mail got successfully to Dover, in the course of the forenoon, the head drawer at the Royal George Hotel opened the coach-door as his custom was. He did it with some flourish of ceremony, for a mail journey from London in winter was an achievement to congratulate an adventurous traveller upon.By that time, there was only one adventurous traveller left to be congratulated: for the two others had been set down at their respective roadside destinations. The mildewy inside of the coach, with its damp and dirty straw, its disagreeable smell, and its obscurity, was rather like a larger dog-kennel. Mr. Lorry, the passenger, shaking himself out of it in chains of straw, a tangle of shaggy wrapper, flapping hat, and muddy legs, was rather like a larger sort of dog.“There will be a packet to Calais, tomorrow, drawer?”“Yes, sir, if the weather holds and the wind sets tolerable fair. The tide will serve pretty nicely at about two in the afternoon, sir. Bed, sir?”“I shall not go to bed till night; but I want a bedroom, and a barber.”“And then breakfast, sir? Yes, sir, That way, sir, if you please. Show Concord! Gentleman’s valise and hot water to Concord. Pull off gentleman’s boots in Concord. (You will find a fine sea-coal fire, sir.) Fetch barber to Concord. Stir about there, now, for Concord!”The Concord bed-chamber being always assigned to a passenger by the mail, and passengers by the mail being always heavily wrapped up from head to foot, the room had the odd interest for the establishment of the Royal George, that although but one kind of man was seen to go into it, all kinds and varieties of men came out of it. Consequently, another drawer, and two porters, and several maids and the landlady, were all loitering by accident at various points of the road between the Concord and the coffee-room, when a gentleman of sixty, formally dressed in a brown suit of clothes, pretty well worn, but very well kept, with large square cuffs and large flaps to the pockets, passed along on his way to his breakfast.The coffee-room had no other occupant, that forenoon, than the gentleman in brown. His breakfast-table was drawn before the fire, and as he sat, with its light shining on him, waiting for the meal, he sat so still, that he might have been sitting for his portrait.Very orderly and methodical he looked, with a hand on each knee, and a loud watch ticking a sonorous sermon under his flapped waistcoat, as though it pitted its gravity and longevity against the levity and evanescence of the brisk fire. He had a good leg, and was a little vain of it, for his brown stockings fitted sleek and close, and were of a fine texture; his shoes and buckles, too, though plain, were trim. He wore an odd little sleek crisp flaxen wig, setting very close to his head: which wig, it is to be presumed, was made of hair, but which looked far more as though it were spun from filaments of silk or glass. His linen, though not of a fineness in accordance with his stockings, was as white as the tops of the waves that broke upon the neighbouring beach, or the specks of sail that glinted in the sunlight far at sea. A face habitually suppressed and quieted, was still lighted up under the quaint wig by a pair of moist bright eyes that it must have cost their owner, in years gone by, some pains to drill to the composed and reserved expression of Tellson’s Bank. He had a healthy colour in his cheeks, and his face, though lined, bore few traces of anxiety. But, perhaps the confidential bachelor clerks in Tellson’s Bank were principally occupied with the cares of other people; and perhaps second-hand cares, like second-hand clothes, come easily off and on, Completing his resemblance to a man who was sitting for his portrait, Mr. Lorry dropped off to sleep. The arrival of his breakfast roused him, and he said to the drawer, as he moved his chair to it:“I wish accommodation prepared for a young lady who may come here at any time today. She may ask for Mr. Jarvis Lorry, or she may only ask for a gentleman from Tellson’s Bank. Please to let me know.”“Yes, sir. Tellson’s Bank in London, sir?”“Yes.”“Yes, sir. We have oftentimes the honour to entertain your gentlemen in their travelling backwards and forwards betwixt London and Paris, sir. A vast deal of travelling, sir, in Tellson and Company’s House.”“Yes. We are quite a French House, as well as an English one.”“Yes, sir. Not much in the habit of such travelling yourself, I think, sir?”“Not of late years. It is fifteen years since we—since I—came last from France.”“Indeed, sir? That was before my time here, sir. Before our people’s time here, sir. The George was in other hands at that time, sir.”“I believe so.”“But I would hold a pretty wager, sir, that a House like Tellson and Company was flourishing, a matter of fifty, not to speak of fifteen years ago?”“You might treble that, and say a hundred and fifty, yet not be far from the truth.”“Indeed, sir!”Rounding his mouth and both his eyes, as he stepped backward from the table, the waiter shifted his napkin from his right arm to his left, dropping into a comfortable attitude, and stood surveying the guest while he ate and drank, as from an observatory or watchtower. According to the immemorial usage of waiters in all ages.When Mr. Lorry had finished his breakfast, he went out for a stroll on the beach. The little narrow, crooked town of Dover hid itself away from the beach, and ran its head into the chalk cliffs, like a marine ostrich. The beach was a desert of heaps of sea and stones tumbling wildly about, and the sea did what it liked, and what it liked was destruction. It thundered at the town, and thundered at the cliffs, and brought the coast down, madly. The air among the houses was of so strong a piscatory flavour that one might have supposed sick fish went up to be dipped in it, as sick people went down to be dipped into the sea. A little fishing was done in the port, and a quantity of strolling about by night, and looking seaward: particularly at those times when the tide made, and was near flood. Small tradesmen, who did no business whatever, sometimes unaccountably realised large fortunes, and it was remarkable that nobody in the neighbourhood could endure a lamplighter.As the day declined into the afternoon, and the air, which had been at intervals clear enough to allow the French coast to be seen, became again charged with mist and vapour, Mr. Lorry’s thoughts seemed to cloud too. When it was dark, and he sat before the coffee-room fire, awaiting his dinner as he had awaited his breakfast, his mind was busily digging, digging, digging, in the live red coals.A bottle of good claret after dinner does a digger in the red coals no harm, otherwise than as it has a tendency to throw him out of work. Mr. Lorry had been idle a long time, and had just poured out his last glassful of wine with as complete an appearance of satisfaction as is ever to be found in an elderly gentleman of a fresh complexion who has got to the end of a bottle, when a rattling of wheels came up the narrow street, and rumbled into the inn-yard.He set down his glass untouched. “This is Mam’selle!” he said.In a very few minutes the waiter came in to announce that Miss Manette had arrived from London, and would be happy to see the gentleman from Tellson’s.“So soon?”Miss Manette had taken some refreshment on the road, and required none then, and was extremely anxious to see the gentleman from Tellson’s immediately, if it suited his pleasure and convenience.The gentleman from Tellson’s had nothing left for it but to empty his glass with an air of stolid desperation, settle his odd little flaxen wig at the ears, and follow the waiter to Miss Manette’s apartment. It was a large, dark room, furnished in a funereal manner with black horsehair, and loaded with heavy dark tables.These had been oiled and oiled, until the two tall candles on the table in the middle of the room were gloomily reflected on every leaf; as if they were buried, in deep graves of black mahogany, and no light to speak of could be expected from them until they were dug out.The obscurity was so difficult to penetrate that Mr. Lorry, picking his way over the well-worn Turkey carpet, supposed Miss Manette to be, for the moment, in some adjacent room, until, having got past the two tall candles, he saw standing to receive him by the table between them and the fire, a young lady of not more than seventeen, in a riding-cloak, and still holding her straw travelling-hat by its ribbon in her hand. As his eyes rested on a short, slight, pretty figure, a quantity of golden hair, a pair of blue eyes that met his own with an inquiring look, and a forehead with a singular capacity (remembering how young and smooth it was), of lifting and knitting itself into an expression that was not quite one of perplexity, or wonder, or alarm, or merely of a bright fixed attention, though it included all the four expressions—as his eyes rested on these things, a sudden vivid likeness passed before him, of a child whom he had held in his arms on the passage across that very Channel, one cold time, when the hail drifted heavily and the sea ran high. The likeness passed away, like a breath along the surface of the gaunt pier-glass behind her, on the frame of which, a hospital procession of Negro cupids, several headless and all cripples, were offering black baskets of Dead Sea fruit to black divinities of the feminine gender—and he made his formal bow to Miss Manette.“Pray take a seat, sir.” In a very clear and pleasant young voice; a little foreign in its accent, but a very little indeed.“I kiss your hand, miss,” said Mr. Lorry, with the manners of an earlier date, as he made his formal bow again, and took his seat.“I received a letter from the Bank, sir, yesterday, informing me that some intelligence—or discovery—”“The word is not material, miss; either word will do.”“—respecting the small property of my poor father, whom I never saw—so long dead—” Mr. Lorry moved in his chair, and cast a troubled look towards the hospital procession of Negro cupids. As if they had any help for anybody in their absurd baskets!“—rendered it necessary that I should go to Paris, there to communicate with a gentleman of the Bank, so good as to be despatched to Paris for the purpose.”“Myself.”“As I was prepared to hear, sir.”She curtseyed to him (young ladies made curtseys in those days), with a pretty desire to convey to him that she felt how much older and wiser he was than she. He made her another bow.“I replied to the Bank, sir, that as it was considered necessary, by those who knew, and who are so kind as to advise me, that I should go to France, and that as I am an orphan and have no friend who could go with me, I should esteem it highly if I might be permitted to place myself, during the journey, under that worthy gentleman’s protection. The gentleman had left London, but I think a messenger was sent after him to beg the favour of his waiting for me here.”“I was happy,” said Mr. Lorry, “to be entrusted with the charge. I shall be more happy to execute it.”“Sir, I thank you indeed. I thank you very gratefully. It was told me by the Bank that the gentleman would explain to me the details of the business, and that I must prepare myself to find them of a surprising nature. I have done my best to prepare myself, and I naturally have a strong and eager interest to know what they are.”“Naturally,” said Mr. Lorry. “Yes—I—” After a pause, he added, again settling the crisp flaxen wig at the ears.“It is very difficult to begin.”He did not begin, but, in his indecision, met her glance. The young forehead lifted itself into that singular expression—but it was pretty and characteristic, besides being singular—and she raised her hand, as if with an involuntary action she caught at, or stayed some passing shadow.“Are you quite a stranger to me, sir?”“Am I not?” Mr. Lorry opened his hands, and extended them outwards with an argumentative smile.Between the eyebrows and just over the little feminine nose, the line of which was as delicate and fine as it was possible to be, the expression deepened itself as she took her seat thoughtfully in the chair by which she had hitherto remained standing. He watched her as she mused, and the moment she raised her eyes again, went on:“In your adopted country, I presume, I cannot do better than address you as a young English lady, Miss Manette?”“If you please, sir.”“Miss Manette, I am a man of business. I have a business charge to acquit myself of. In your reception of it, don’t heed me any more than if I was a speaking machine—truly, I am not much else. I will, with your leave, relate to you, miss, the story of one of our customers.”“Story!”He seemed wilfully to mistake the word she had repeated, when he added, in a hurry, “Yes, customers; in the banking business we usually call our connexion our customers. He was a French gentleman; a scientific gentleman; a man of great acquirements—a Doctor.”“Not of Beauvais?”“Why, yes, of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father, the gentleman was of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father, the gentleman was of repute in Paris. I had the honour of knowing him there. Our relations were business relations, but confidential. I was at that time in our French House, and had been—oh! Twenty years.”“At that time—I may ask, at what time, sir?”“I speak, miss, of twenty years ago. He married—an English lady—and I was one of the trustees. His affairs, like the affairs of many other French gentlemen and French families, were entirely in Tellson’s hands. In a similar way I am, or I have been, trustee of one kind or other for scores of our customers. These are mere business relations, miss; there is no friendship in them, no particular interest, nothing like sentiment. I have passed from one to another, in the course of my business life, just as I pass from one of our customers to another in the course of my business day; in short, I have no feelings; I am a mere machine. To go on—”“But this is my father’s story, sir; and I begin to think”—the curiously roughened forehead was very intent upon him—“that when I was left an orphan through my mother’s surviving my father only two years, it was you who brought me to England. I am almost sure it was you.”Mr. Lorry took the hesitating little hand that confidingly advanced to take his, and he put it with some ceremony to his lips. He then conducted the young lady straightway to her chair again, and, holding the chair-back with his left hand, and using his right hand by turns to rub his chin, pull his wig at the ears, or point what he said, stood looking down into her face while she sat looking up into his.“Miss Manette, it was I. And you will see how truly I spoke of myself just now, in saying I had no feelings, and that all the relations I hold with my fellow-creatures are mere business relations, when you reflect that I have never seen you since. No; you have been the ward of Tellson’s House since, and I have been busy with the other business of Tellson’s House since. Feelings! I have no time for them, no chance of them. I pass my whole life, miss, in turning an immense pecuniary Mangle.”After this odd description of his daily routine of employment, Mr. Lorry flattened his flaxen wig upon his head with both hands (which was most unnecessary, for nothing could be flatter than its shining surface was before), and resumed his former attitude.“So far, miss (as you have remarked), this is the story of your regretted father. Now comes the difference. If your father had not died when he did—Don’t be frightened! How you start!”She did, indeed, start. And she caught his wrist with both her hands.“Pray,” said Mr. Lorry, in a soothing tone, bringing his left hand from the back of the chair to lay it on the supplicatory fingers that clasped him in so violent a tremble: “pray control your agitation—a matter of business. As I was saying—” Her look so discomposed him that he stopped, wandered, and began anew:“As I was saying: if Monsieur Manette had not died; if he had suddenly and silently disappeared; if he had been spirited away; if it had not been difficult to guess to what dreadful place, though no art could trace him; if he had an enemy in some compatriot who could exercise a privilege that I in my own time have known the boldest people afraid to speak of in a whisper, across the water there; for instance, the privilege of filling up blank forms of the consignment of any one to the oblivion of a prison for any length of time; if his wife had implored the king, the queen, the court, the clergy, for any tidings of him, and all quite in vain;—then the history of your father would have been the history of this unfortunate gentleman, the Doctor of Beauvais.”“I entreat you to tell me more, sir.”“I will. I am going to. You can bear it?”“I can bear anything but the uncertainty you leave me in at this moment.”“You speak collectedly, and you—are collected. That’s good!” (Though his manner was less satisfied than his words.) “A matter of business. Regard it as a matter of business—business that must be done. Now if this doctor’s wife, though a lady of great courage and spirit, had suffered so intensely from this cause before her little child was born—”“The little child was a daughter, sir.”“A daughter. A—a—matter of business—don’t be distressed. Miss, if the poor lady had suffered so intensely before her little child was born, that she came to the determination of sparing the poor child the inheritance of any part of the agony she had known the pains of, by rearing her in the belief that her father was dead— No, don’t kneel! In Heaven’s name why should you kneel to me!”“For the truth. O dear, good, compassionate sir, for the truth!”“A—a matter of business. You confuse me, and how can I transact business if I am confused? Let us be clear-headed. If you could kindly mention now, for instance, what nine times ninepence are, or how many shillings in twenty guineas, it would be so encouraging. I should be so much more at my ease about your state of mind.”Without directly answering to this appeal, she sat so still when he had very gently raised her, and the hands that had not ceased to clasp his wrists were so much more steady than they had been, that she communicated some reassurance to Mr. Jarvis Lorry.“That’s right, that’s right. Courage! Business! You have business before you; useful business. Miss Manette, your mother took this course with you. And when she died—I believe brokenhearted— having never slackened her unavailing search for your father, she left you, at two years old, to grow to be blooming, beautiful, and happy, without the dark cloud upon you of living in uncertainty whether your father soon wore his heart out in prison, or wasted there through many lingering years.”As he said the words he looked down, with an admiring pity, on the flowing golden hair; as if he pictured to himself that it might have been already tinged with grey.“You know that your parents had no great possession, and that what they had was secured to your mother and to you. There has been no new discovery, of money, or of any other property; but—” He felt his wrist held closer, and he stopped. The expression in the forehead, which had so particularly attracted his notice, and which was now immovable, had deepened into one of pain and horror.“But he has been—been found. He is alive. Greatly changed, it is too probable; almost a wreck, it is possible; though we will hope for the best. Still, alive. Your father has been taken to the house of an old servant in Paris, and we are going there: I, to identify him if I can: you, to restore him to life, love, duty, rest, comfort.”A shiver ran through her frame, and from it through his. She said, in a low, distinct, awe-stricken voice, as if she were saying it in a dream, “I am going to see his Ghost! It will be his Ghost—not him!”Mr. Lorry quietly chafed the hands that held his arm. “There, there, there! See now, see now! The best and the worst are known to you, now. You are well on your way to the poor wronged gentleman, and, with a fair sea voyage, and a fair land journey, you will be soon at his dear side.”She repeated in the same tone, sunk to a whisper, “I have been free, I have been happy, yet his Ghost has never haunted me!”“Only one thing more,” said Mr. Lorry, laying stress upon it as a wholesome means of enforcing her attention: “he has been found under another name; his own, long forgotten or long concealed. It would be worse than useless now to inquire which; worse than useless to seek to know whether he has been for years overlooked, or always designedly held prisoner. It would be worse than useless now to make any inquiries, because it would be dangerous. Better not to mention the subject, anywhere or in any way, and to remove him—for a while at all events—out of France. Even I, safe as an Englishman, and even Tellson’s, important as they are to French credit, avoid all naming of the matter. I carry about me, not a scrap of writing openly referring to it. This is a secret service altogether. My credentials, entries, and memoranda, are all comprehended in the one line, ‘Recalled to Life’; which may mean anything. But what is the matter! She doesn’t notice a word! Miss Manette!”Perfectly still and silent, and not even fallen back in her chair, she sat under his hand, utterly insensible; with her eyes open and fixed upon him, and with that last expression looking as if it were carved or branded into her forehead. So close was her hold upon his arm, that he feared to detach himself lest he should hurt her; therefore he called out loudly for assistance without moving.A wild-looking woman, whom even in his agitation, Mr. Lorry observed to be all of a red colour, and to have red hair, and to be dressed in some extraordinary tight-fitting fashion, and to have on her head a most wonderful bonnet like a Grenadier wooden measure, and good measure too, or a great Stilton cheese, came running into the room in advance of the inn servants, and soon settled the question of his detachment from the poor young lady, by laying a brawny hand upon his chest, and sending him flying back against the nearest wall.(“I really think this must be a man!” was Mr. Lorry’s breathless reflection, simultaneously with his coming against the wall.)“Why, look at you all!” bawled this figure, addressing the inn servants. “Why don’t you go and fetch things, instead of standing there staring at me? I am not so much to look at, am I? Why don’t you go and fetch things? I’ll let you know, if you don’t bring smelling-salts, cold water, and vinegar, quick, I will.”There was an immediate dispersal for these restoratives, and she softly laid the patient on a sofa, and tended her with great skill and gentleness: calling her “my precious!” and “my bird!” and spreading her golden hair aside over her shoulders with great pride and care.“And you in brown!” she said, indignantly turning to Mr. Lorry; “couldn’t you tell her what you had to tell her, without frightening her to death? Look at her, with her pale face and her cold hands. Do you call that being a Banker?”Mr. Lorry was so exceedingly disconcerted by a question so hard to answer, that he could only look on, at a distance, with much feebler sympathy and humility, while the strong woman, having banished the inn servants under the mysterious penalty of “letting them know” something not mentioned if they stayed there, staring, recovered her charge by a regular series of gradations, and coaxed her to lay her drooping head upon her shoulder.“I hope she will do well now,” said Mr. Lorry.“No thanks to you in brown, if she does. My darling pretty!”“I hope,” said Mr. Lorry, after another pause of feeble sympathy and humility, “that you accompany Miss Manette to France?”“A likely thing, too!” replied the strong woman. “If it was ever intended that I should go across salt water, do you suppose Providence would have cast my lot in an island?”This being another question hard to answer, Mr. Jarvis Lorry withdrew to consider it.
或许您还会喜欢:
荒原追踪
作者:佚名
章节:20 人气:0
摘要:由于形势所迫,我同温内图分手了,他得去追捕杀人犯桑特。那时我并没料到,我得过几个月才能再见到我这位红种人朋友和结拜兄弟。因为事件以后的进展同我当时想象的完全不一样。我们——塞姆-霍金斯、迪克-斯通、威尔-帕克和我,一路真正的急行军后骑马到了南阿姆斯河流入雷德河的入口处,温内图曾把这条河称为纳基托什的鲍克索河。我们希望在这里碰上温内阁的一个阿帕奇人。遗憾的是这个愿望没有实现。 [点击阅读]
荒岛夺命案
作者:佚名
章节:39 人气:0
摘要:一部优秀的通俗小说不仅应明白晓畅,紧密联系社会现实和群众生活,而且应该成为社会文化的窗口,使读者可以从中管窥一个社会的政治、经济、历史、法律等方方面面的情况。美国小说家内尔森-德米勒于一九九七年写出的《荒岛夺命案》正是这样一部不可多得的佳作。作者以其超凡的叙事才能,将金钱、法律、谋杀、爱情、正义与邪恶的斗争等融为一炉,演释出一部情节曲折、扣人心弦而又发人深思的侦探小说。 [点击阅读]
荒漠甘泉
作者:佚名
章节:36 人气:0
摘要:《荒漠甘泉》1月1日“你们要过去得为业的那地,乃是有山,有谷,雨水滋润之地。是耶和华你神所眷顾的,从岁首到年终,耶和华你神的眼目时常看顾那地。”(申十一章十一至十二节)亲爱的读者,今天我们站在一个新的境界上,前途茫然。摆在我们面前的是一个新年,等待我们经过。谁也不能预知在将来的路程中有什么遭遇,什么变迁,什么需要。 [点击阅读]
莫普拉
作者:佚名
章节:32 人气:0
摘要:1846年①,当我在诺昂写《莫普拉》这部小说时,我记得,我刚刚为夫妇分居进行了辩护。在此之前,我曾同婚姻的弊端作过斗争,由于没有充分阐述自己的观点,也许让人以为我低估了婚姻的本质;然而在我看来,婚姻的道德原则恰恰是美好不过的——①原文如此,应为1836年。事实上,《莫普拉》这部小说由乔治-桑于1835年夏至1837年春写成,1837年4月至6月发表在《两世界杂志》上,同年出版单行本。 [点击阅读]
莫泊桑短篇小说集
作者:佚名
章节:28 人气:0
摘要:一我有十五年不到韦尔洛臬去了。今年秋末,为了到我的老友塞华尔的围场里打猎,我才重新去了一遭。那时候,他已经派人在韦尔洛臬重新盖好了他那座被普鲁士人破坏的古堡。我非常心爱那个地方,世上真有许多美妙的角落,教人看见就得到一种悦目的快感,使我们不由得想亲身领略一下它的美。 [点击阅读]
莫罗博士的岛
作者:佚名
章节:23 人气:0
摘要:1887年2月1日,“虚荣女士”号与一艘弃船相撞而失踪,出事地点大约在南纬1度,西经107度。1888年1月5日,即出事后的第十一个月零四天,我的叔叔爱德华·普伦狄克被一艘小船救起。方位在南纬5度3分,西经1ol度。小船的名字字迹模糊,但据推测应当是失踪的“吐根”号上的。我叔叔是个普通绅士,在卡亚俄码头登上“虚荣女士”号开始海上旅行。出事后人们以为他淹死了。 [点击阅读]
董贝父子
作者:佚名
章节:63 人气:0
摘要:我敢于大胆地相信,正确地观察人们的性格是一种罕见的才能(或习惯)。根据我的经验,我甚至发现,即使是正确地观察人们的面孔也决不是人们普遍都具有的才能(或习惯)。人们在判断中,两个极为寻常发生的错误就是把羞怯与自大混同——这确实是个很寻常的错误——,以及不了解固执的性格是在与它自身永远不断的斗争中存在的;这两种错误我想都是由于缺乏前一种才能(或习惯)所产生的。 [点击阅读]
葬礼之后
作者:佚名
章节:25 人气:0
摘要:老蓝斯坎伯拖着蹒跚的脚步,一个房间接一个房间地,逐一拉起房里的百叶窗。他那粘湿的双眼,不时地望向窗外,挤出了满脸的皱纹。他们就快要从火葬场回来了。他老迈的脚步加快了些。窗子这么多。“思德比府邸”是一幢维多利亚女王时代的哥德式大建筑。每个房间的窗帘都是豪华锦缎或天鹅绒,有些墙面上仍旧系挂着丝绸,尽管这些都已年久褪色。 [点击阅读]
蒙面女人
作者:佚名
章节:19 人气:0
摘要:赫尔克里。波洛在他面前将信整齐地放成一摞。他拿起最上面的一封,琢磨了一会儿上面的地址,然后用放在早餐桌上的专用裁纸刀将信封背面纵向裁开,将里面的东西拿出来。在里面还有一个信封,用紫色的蜡仔细地封好,上面有“亲启保密”的字样。赫尔充里。波洛那鸡蛋形的脸上的眉毛向上扬了扬。他喃喃道;“耐心点,这就来了!”又一次用上了那把裁纸刀。这一次信封里出来了一封信-字迹颤巍巍的,又长又尖。好些字重重地画上了线。 [点击阅读]
蓝色特快上的秘密
作者:佚名
章节:36 人气:0
摘要:将近子夜时分,一个人穿过协和广场(巴黎最大的广场,位于塞纳河右岸,城西北部。译注)。他虽然穿着贵重的皮毛大衣,还是不难使人看出他体弱多病,穷困潦倒。这个人长着一副老鼠的面孔。谁也不会认为这样一个身体虚弱的人在生活中会起什么作用。但正是他在世界的一个角落里发挥着他的作用。此时此刻,有一使命催他回家。但在回家之前,他还要做一件交易。而那一使命和这一交易是互不相干的。 [点击阅读]
蓝色长廊之谜
作者:佚名
章节:17 人气:0
摘要:男子已经意识朦胧。女子只能模模糊糊地感觉到周围的景物,或许刚才猛地受到了撞击,才失去了知觉。这一撞非同小可,驾驶座上已空无一人,车子正缓缓地向路边滑动,挡风玻璃的前端已接近没有护栏的路边。女子双眼模糊,她在潜意识里想到,男子曾经告诉过她这一带的悬崖有两百米深。如果车子照此滑落下去——而此时那位男子却困在副驾驶席上神志不清。 [点击阅读]
藏金潭夺宝
作者:佚名
章节:17 人气:0
摘要:圣诞!这是两个多么可亲、多么令人神往的字眼!我是说,无论是过去还是现在,无论在哪个民族或哪个时代的语汇里,再也没有第二个如此深奥如此神圣的字眼,圣诞是年年都会到来的普普通通的节庆日子,是全家快乐的团聚、小孩充满喜悦的日子。有的人从内心深处发出真诚的呼唤:“过去和现在的耶稣基督,你永远在我们心中!”有的人情不自禁地亮起歌喉或至少让他的孩子们唱起欢乐颂:世界走向毁灭时,基督诞生到世界。 [点击阅读]
Copyright© 2006-2019. All Rights Reserved.