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双城记英文版 - Part 2 Chapter IX. A DISSAPOINTMENT
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  Mr. Attorney-General had to inform the jury, that the prisoner before them, though young in years, was old in the treasonable practices which claimed the forfeit of his life. That this correspondence with the public enemy was not a correspondence of today, or of yesterday, or even of last year, or of the year before. That, it was certain the prisoner had, for longer than that, been in the habit of passing and re-passing between France and England, on secret business of which he could give no honest account. That, if it were in the nature of traitorous ways to thrive (which happily it never was), the real wickedness and guilt of his business might have remained undiscovered. That Providence, however, had put it into the heart of a person who was beyond fear and beyond reproach, to ferret out the nature of the prisoner’s schemes, and, struck with horror, to disclose them to his Majesty’s Chief Secretary of State and most honourable Privy Council. That, this patriot would be produced before them. That, his position and attitude were, on the whole, sublime. That, he had been the prisoner’s friend, but, at once in an auspicious and an evil hour detecting his infamy, had resolved to immolate the traitor he could no longer cherish in his bosom, on the sacred altar of his country. That, if statues were decreed in Britain, as in ancient Greece and Rome, to public benefactors, this shining citizen would assuredly have had one. That, as they were not so decreed, he probably would not have one. That, Virtue, as had been observed by the poets (in many passages which he well knew the jury would have, word for word, at the tips of their tongues; whereat the jury’s countenances displayed a guilty consciousness that they knew nothing about the passages), was in a manner contagious; more especially the bright virtue known as patriotism, or love of country. That, the lofty example of this immaculate and unimpeachable witness for the Crown to refer to whom however unworthily was an honour, had communicated itself to the prisoner’s servant, and had engendered in him a holy determination to examine his master’s table-drawers and pockets, and secrete his papers. That, he (Mr. Attorney-General) was prepared to hear some disparagement attempted of this admirable servant; but that, in a general way, he preferred him to his (Mr. Attorney-General’s) brothers and sisters, and honoured him more than his (Mr. Attorney-General’s) father and mother. That, he called with confidence on the jury to come and do likewise. That, the evidence of these two witnesses, coupled with the documents of their discovering that would be produced, would show the prisoner to have been furnished with lists of his Majesty’s forces, and of their disposition and preparation, both by sea and land, and would leave no doubt that he had habitually conveyed such information to a hostile power. That, these lists could not be proved to be in the prisoner’s handwriting; but that it was all the same; that, indeed, it was rather the better for the prosecution, as showing the prisoner to be artful in his precautions. That, the proof would go back five years, and would show the prisoner already engaged in these pernicious missions within a few weeks before the date of the very first action fought between the British troops and the Americans. That, for these reasons, the jury, being a loyal jury (as he knew they were), and being a responsible jury (as they knew they were), must positively find the prisoner Guilty, and make an end of him, whether they liked it or not. That, they never could lay their heads upon their pillows; that, they never could tolerate the idea of their wives laying their heads upon their pillows; that, they could never endure the notion of their children laying their heads upon their pillows; in short, that there never more could be, for them or theirs, any laying of heads upon pillows at all, unless the prisoner’s head was taken off. That head Mr. Attorney-General concluded by demanding of them, in the name of everything he could think of with a round turn in it, and on the faith of his solemn asseveration that he already considered the prisoner as good as dead and gone.When the Attorney-General ceased, a buzz arose in the court as if a cloud of great blue-flies were swarming about the prisoner, in anticipation of what he was soon to become. When toned down again, the unimpeachable patriot appeared in the witness-box.Mr. Solicitor-General then, following his leader’s lead, examined the patriot: John Barsad, gentleman, by name. The story of his pure soul was exactly what Mr. Attorney-General had described it to be—perhaps, if it had a fault, a little too exactly. Having released his noble bosom of its burden, he would have modestly withdrawn himself, but that the wigged gentleman with the papers before him, sitting not far from Mr. Lorry, begged to ask him a few questions. The wigged gentleman sitting opposite, still looking at the ceiling of the court.Had he ever been a spy himself? No, he scorned the base insinuation. What did he live upon? His property. Where was his property? He didn’t precisely remember where it was. What was it? No business of anybody’s. Had he inherited it? Yes, he had. From whom? Distant relatives. Very distant? Rather. Ever been in prison? Certainly not. Never in a debtor’s prison? Didn’t see what that had to do with it. Never in a debtor’s prison?—Come, once again. Never? Yes. How many times? Two or three times. Not five or six? Perhaps. Of what profession? Gentleman. Ever been kicked? Might have been. Frequently? No. Ever kicked downstairs? Decidedly not; once received a kick on the top of the staircase and fell downstairs of his own accord. Kicked on that occasion for cheating at dice? Something to that effect was said by the intoxicated liar who committed the assault, but it was not true. Swear it was not true? Positively. Ever live by cheating at play? Never. Ever live by play? Not more than other gentlemen do. Ever borrow money of the prisoner? Yes. Ever pay him? No. Was not this intimacy with the prisoner, in reality a very slight one, forced upon the prisoner in coaches, inns, and packets? No. Sure he saw the prisoner with these lists? Certain. Knew no more about the lists? No. Had not procured them himself, for instance? No. Expect to get anything by this evidence? No. Not in regular government pay and employment, to lay traps? Oh dear no. Or to do anything? Oh dear no. Swear that? Over and again. No motives but motives of sheer patriotism? None whatever.The virtuous servant, Roger Cly, swore his way through the case at a great rate. He had taken service with the prisoner, in good faith and simplicity, four years ago. He had asked the prisoner, aboard the Calais packet, if he wanted a handy fellow, and the prisoner had engaged him. He had not asked the prisoner to take the handy fellow as an act of charity—never thought of such a thing. He began to have suspicions of the prisoner, and to keep an eye upon him, soon afterwards. In arranging his clothes, while travelling, he had seen similar lists in the prisoner’s pockets, over and over again. He had taken these lists from the drawer of the prisoner’s desk. He had not put them there first. He had seen the prisoner show these identical lists to French gentlemen at Calais, and similar lists to French gentlemen, both at Calais and Boulogne. He loved his country, and couldn’t bear it, and had given information. He had never been suspected of stealing a silver teapot; he had been maligned respecting a mustard-pot, but it turned out to be only a plated one. He had known the last witness seven or eight years; that was merely a coincidence. He didn’t call it a particularly curious coincidence; most coincidences were curious. Neither did he call it a curious coincidence that true patriotism was his only motive too. He was a true Briton, and hoped there were many like him.The blue-flies buzzed again, and Mr. Attorney-General called Mr. Jarvis Lorry.“Mr. Jarvis Lorry, are you a clerk in Tellson’s Bank?“I am.”“On a certain Friday night in November one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five, did business occasion you to travel between London and Dover by the mail?”“It did.”“Were there any other passengers in the mail?”“Two.”“Did they alight on the road in the course of the night?”“They did.”“Mr. Lorry, look upon the prisoner. Was he one of those two passengers?”“I cannot undertake to say that he was.”“Does he resemble either of those two passengers?”“Both were so wrapped up, and the night was so dark, and we were all so reserved, that I cannot undertake to say even that.”“Mr. Lorry, look again upon the prisoner. Supposing him wrapped up as those two passengers were, is there anything in his bulk and stature to render it unlikely that he was one of them?”“No.”“You will not swear, Mr. Lorry, that he was not one of them?”“No.”“So at least you say that he may have been one of them?”“Yes. Except that I remember them both to have been—like myself—timorous of highwaymen, and the prisoner has not a timorous air.”“Did you ever see a counterfeit of timidity, Mr. Lorry?”“I certainly have seen that.”“Mr. Lorry, look once more upon the prisoner. Have you seen him, to your certain knowledge, before?”“I have.”“When?”“I was returning from France a few days afterwards, and, at Calais, the prisoner came on board the packet-ship in which I returned, and made the voyage with me.”“At what hour did he come on board?”“At a little after midnight.”“In the dead of the night. Was he the only passenger who came on board at that untimely hour?”“He happened to be the only one.”“Never mind about ‘happening’, Mr. Lorry. He was the only passenger who came on board in the dead of the night?”“He was.”“Were you travelling alone, Mr. Lorry, or with any companion?”“With two companions. A gentleman and lady. They are here.”“They are here. Had you any conversation with the prisoner?”“Hardly any. The weather was stormy, and the passage long and rough, and I lay on a sofa, almost from shore to shore.”“Miss Manette!”The young lady, to whom all eyes had been turned before, and were now turned again, stood up where she had sat. Her father rose with her, and kept her hand drawn through his arm.“Miss Manette, look upon the prisoner.”To be confronted with such pity, and such earnest youth and beauty, was far more trying to the accused than to be confronted with all the crowd. Standing, as it were, apart with her on the edge of his grave, not all the staring curiosity that looked on, could, for the moment, nerve him to remain quite still. His hurried right hand parcelled out the herbs before him into imaginary beds of flowers in a garden; and his efforts to control and steady his breathing shook the lips from which the colour rushed to his heart. The buzz of the great flies was loud again.“Miss Manette, have you seen the prisoner before?”“Yes, sir.”“Where?”“On board of the packet-ship just now referred to, sir, and on the same occasion.”“You are the young lady just now referred to?”“O! most unhappily, I am!”The plaintive tone of her compassion merged into the less musical voice of the Judge, as he said something fiercely: “Answer the questions put to you, and make no remark upon them.”“Miss Manette, had you any conversation with the prisoner on that passage across the Channel?”“Yes, sir.”“Recall it.”In the midst of a profound stillness, she faintly began: “When the gentleman came on board—”“Do you mean the prisoner?” inquired the Judge, knitting his brows.“Yes, my Lord.”“Then say the prisoner.”“When the prisoner came on board, he noticed that my father,” turning her eyes lovingly to him as he stood beside her, “was much fatigued and in a very weak state of health. My father was so reduced that I was afraid to take him out of the air, and I had made a bed for him on the deck near the cabin steps, and I sat on the deck at his side to take care of him. There were no other passengers that night, but we four. The prisoner was so good as to beg permission to advise me how I could shelter my father from the wind and weather, better than I had done. I had not known how to do it well, not understanding how the wind would set when we were out of the harbour. He did it for me. He expressed great gentleness and kindness for my father’s state, and I am sure he felt it. That was the manner of our beginning to speak together.”“Let me interrupt you for a moment. Had he come on board alone?”“No.”“How many were with him?”“Two French gentlemen.”“Had they conferred together?”“They had conferred together until the last moment, when it was necessary for the French gentlemen to be landed in their boat.”“Had any papers been handed about among them, similar to these lists?”“Some papers had been handed about among them, but I don’t know what papers.”“Like these in shape and size?”“Possibly, but indeed I don’t know, although they stood whispering very near to me: because they stood at the top of the cabin steps to have the light of the lamp that was hanging there; it was a dull lamp, and they spoke very low, and I did not hear what they said, and saw only that they looked at papers.”“Now, to the prisoner’s conversation, Miss Manette.”“The prisoner was as open in his confidence with me—which arose out of my helpless situation—as he was kind, and good, and useful to my father. I hope,” bursting into tears, “I may not repay him by doing him harm today.”Buzzing from the blue-flies.“Miss Manette, if the prisoner does not perfectly understand that you give the evidence which it is your duty to give—which you must give—and which you cannot escape from giving—with great unwillingness, he is the only person present in that condition. Please to go on.”“He told me that he was travelling on business of a delicate and difficult nature, which might get people into trouble, and that he was therefore travelling under an assumed name. He said that this business had, within a few days, taken him to France, and might, at intervals, take him backwards and forwards between France and England for a long time to come.”“Did he say anything about America, Miss Manette? Be particular.”“He tried to explain to me how that quarrel had arisen, and he said that, so far as he could judge, it was a wrong and foolish one on England’s part. He added, in a jesting way, that perhaps George Washington might gain almost as great a name in history as George the Third. But there was no harm in his way of saying this: it was said laughingly, and to beguile the time.”Any strongly marked expression of face on the part of a chief actor in a scene of great interest to whom many eyes are directed, will be unconsciously imitated by the spectators. Her forehead was painfully anxious and intent as she gave this evidence, and, in the pauses when she stopped for the judge to write it down, watched its effect upon the counsel for and against. Among the lookers-on there was the same expression in all quarters of the court; insomuch, that a great majority of the foreheads there, might have been mirrors reflecting the witness, when the Judge looked up from his notes to glare at that tremendous heresy about George Washington.Mr. Attorney-General now signified to my Lord, that he deemed it necessary, as a matter of precaution and form, to call the young lady’s father, Doctor Manette. Who was called accordingly.“Doctor Manette, look upon the prisoner. Have you ever seen him before?”“Once. When he called at my lodgings in London. Some three years, or three years and a half ago.”“Can you identify him as your fellow-passenger on board the packet, or speak to his conversation with your daughter?”“Sir, I can do neither.”“Is there any particular and special reason for your being unable to do either?”He answered, in a low voice, “There is.”“Has it been your misfortune to undergo a long imprisonment, without trial, or even accusation, in your native country, Doctor Manette?”He answered, in a tone that went to every heart, “A long imprisonment.”“Were you newly released on the occasion in question?”“They tell me so.”“Have you no remembrance of the occasion?”“None. My mind is a blank, from some time—I cannot even say what time—when I employed myself, in my captivity, in making shoes, to the time when I found myself living in London with my dear daughter here. She had become familiar to me, when a gracious God restored my faculties; but, I am unable to say how she had become familiar. I have no remembrance of the process.”Mr. Attorney-General sat down, and the father and daughter sat down together.A singular circumstance then arose in the case. The object in hand being to show that the prisoner went down, with some fellow-plotter untracked, in the Dover mail on that Friday night in November five years ago, and got out of the mail in the night, as a blind, at a place where he did not remain, but from which he travelled back some dozen miles or more, to a garrison and dockyard, and there collected information; a witness was called to identify him as having been at the precise time required, in the coffee-room of an hotel, in that garrison-and-dockyard town, waiting for another person. The prisoner’s counsel was cross- examining this witness with no result, except that he had never seen the prisoner on any other occasion, when the wigged gentleman who had all this time been looking at the ceiling of the court, wrote a word or two on a little piece of paper, screwed it up, and tossed it to him. Opening this piece of paper in the next pause, the counsel looked with great attention and curiosity at the prisoner.“You say again you are quite sure that it was the prisoner?”The witness was quite sure.“Did you ever see anybody very like the prisoner?”Not so like (the witness said) as that he could be mistaken.“Look well upon that gentleman, my learned friend there,” pointing to him who had tossed the paper over, “and then look well upon the prisoner. How say you? Are they very like each other?”Allowing for my learned friend’s appearance being careless and slovenly if not debauched, they were sufficiently like each other to surprise, not only the witness, but everybody present, when they were thus brought into comparison. My Lord being prayed to bid my learned friend lay aside his wig, and giving no very gracious consent, the likeness became much more remarkable. My Lord inquired of Mr. Stryver (the prisoner’s counsel), whether they were next to try Mr. Carton (name of my learned friend) for treason? But, Mr. Stryver replied to my Lord, no; but he would ask the witness to tell him whether what happened once, might happen twice; whether he would have been so confident if he had seen this illustration of his rashness sooner, whether he would be so confident, having seen it; and more. The upshot of which, was, to smash this witness like a crockery vessel, and shiver his part of the case to useless lumber.Mr. Cruncher had by this time taken quite a lunch of rust off his fingers in his following of the evidence. He had now to attend while Mr. Stryver fitted the prisoner’s case on the jury, like a compact suit of clothes; showing them how the patriot, Barsad, was a hired spy and traitor, an unblushing trafficker in blood, and one of the greatest scoundrels upon earth since accursed Judas— which he certainly did look rather like. How the virtuous servant, Cly, was his friend and partner, and was worthy to be; how, the watchful eyes of those forgers and false swearers had rested on the prisoner as a victim, because some family affairs in France, he being of French extraction, did require him making those passages across the Channel—though what those affairs were, a consideration for others who were near and dear to him, forbade him, even for his life, to disclose. How the evidence that had been warped and wrested from the young lady, whose anguish in giving it they had witnessed, came to nothing, involving the mere little innocent gallantries and politeness likely to pass between any young gentleman and young lady so thrown together;—with the exception of that reference to George Washington, which was altogether too extravagant and impossible to be regarded in any other light than as a monstrous joke. How it would be a weakness in the government to break down in this attempt to practise for popularity on the lowest national antipathies and fears, and therefore Mr. Attorney-General had made the most of it; how, nevertheless, it rested upon nothing, save that vile and infamous character of evidence too often disfiguring such cases, and of which the State Trials of this country were full. But, there my Lord interposed (with as grave a face as if it had not been true), saying that he could not sit upon that Bench and suffer those allusions.Mr. Stryver then called his few witnesses, and Mr. Cruncher had next to attend while Mr. Attorney-General turned the whole suit of clothes Mr. Stryver had fitted on the jury, inside out: showing how Barsad and Cly were even a hundred times better than he had thought them, and the prisoner a hundred times worse. Lastly, came my Lord himself, turning the suit of clothes, now inside out, now outside in, but on the whole decidedly trimming and shaping them into grave-clothes for the prisoner.And now, the jury turned to consider, and the great flies swarmed again.Mr. Carton, who had so long sat looking at the ceiling of the court, changed neither his place nor his attitude, even in this excitement. While his learned friend, Mr. Stryver, massing his papers before him, whispered with those who sat near, and from time to time glanced anxiously at the jury; while all the spectators moved more or less, and grouped themselves anew; while even my Lord himself arose from his seat, and slowly paced up and down his platform, not unattended by a suspicion in the minds of the audience that his state was feverish; this one man sat leaning back, with his torn gown half off him, his untidy wig put on just as it happened to light on his head after its removal, his hands in his pockets, and his eyes on the ceiling as they had been all day. Something especially reckless in his demeanour, not only gave him a disreputable look, but so diminished the strong resemblance he undoubtedly bore to the prisoner (which his momentary earnestness, when they were compared together, had strengthened), that many of the lookers-on, taking note of him now, said to one another they would hardly have thought the two were so alike. Mr. Cruncher made the observation to his next neighbour, and added, “I’d hold a half a guinea that he don’t get no law-work to do. Don’t look like the sort of one to get any, do he?”Yet, this Mr. Carton took in more of the details of the scene than he appeared to take in; for now, when Miss Manette’s head dropped upon her father’s breast, he was the first to see it, and to say audibly: “Officer! Look to that young lady. Help the gentleman to take her out. Don’t you see she will fall!”There was much commiseration for her as she was removed, and much sympathy with her father. It had evidently been a great distress to him, to have the days of his imprisonment recalled. He had shown strong internal agitation when he was questioned, and that pondering or brooding look which made him old, had been upon him, like a heavy cloud, ever since. As he passed out, the jury, who had turned back and paused a moment, spoke, through their foreman.They were not agreed, and wished to retire. My Lord (perhaps with George Washington on his mind) showed some surprise that they were not agreed, but signified his pleasure that they should retire under watch and ward, and retired himself. The trial had lasted all day, and the lamps in the court were now being lighted. It began to be rumoured that the jury would be out a long while. The spectators dropped off to get refreshment, and the prisoner withdrew to the back of the dock, and sat down.Mr. Lorry, who had gone out when the young lady and her father went out, now reappeared, and beckoned to Jerry: who, in the slackened interest, could easily get near him.“Jerry, if you wish to take something to eat, you can. But, keep in the way. You will be sure to hear when the jury come in. Don’t be a moment behind them, for I want you to take the verdict back to the bank. You are the quickest messenger I know, and you will get to Temple Bar long before I can.”Jerry had just enough forehead to knuckle, and he knuckled it in acknowledgment of this communication and a shilling. Mr. Carton came up at the moment, and touched Mr. Lorry on the arm.“How is the young lady?”“She is greatly distressed; but her father is comforting her, and she feels the better for being out of court.”“I’ll tell the prisoner so. It won’t do for a respectable bank gentleman like you to be seen speaking to him publicly, you know.”Mr. Lorry reddened as if he were conscious of having debated the point in his mind, and Mr. Carton made his way to the outside of the bar. The way out of court lay in that direction, and Jerry followed him, all eyes, ears, and spikes.“Mr. Darnay!”The prisoner came forward directly.“You will naturally be anxious to hear of the witness, Miss Manette. She will do very well. You have seen the worst of her agitation.”“I am deeply sorry to have been the cause of it. Could you tell her so for me, with my fervent acknowledgments?”“Yes, I could. I will, if you ask it.”Mr. Carton’s manner was so careless as to be almost insolent. He stood, half turned from the prisoner, lounging with his elbow against the bar.“I do ask it. Accept my cordial thanks.”“What,” said Carton, still only half turned towards him, “do you expect, Mr. Darnay?”“The worst.”“It’s the wisest thing to expect, and the likeliest. But I think their withdrawing is in your favour.”Loitering on the way out of court not being allowed, Jerry heard no more: but left them—so like each other in feature, so unlike each other in manner—standing side by side, both reflected in the glass above them.An hour and a half limped heavily away in the thief-and-rascal crowded passages below, even though assisted off with mutton pies and ale. The hoarse messenger, uncomfortably seated on a form after taking that refection, had dropped into a doze, when a loud murmur and a rapid tide of people setting up the stairs that led to the court, carried him along with them.“Jerry! Jerry!” Mr. Lorry was already calling at the door when he got there.“Here, sir! It’s a fight to get back again. Here I am, sir!”Mr. Lorry handed him a paper through the throng. “Quick! Have you got it?”“Yes, sir!”Hastily written on the paper was the word “ACQUITTED.”“If you had sent the message, ‘Recalled to Life,’ again,” muttered Jerry, as he turned, “I should have known what you meant, this time.”He had no opportunity of saying, or so much as thinking, anything else, until he was clear of the Old Bailey; for, the crowd came pouring out with a vehemence that nearly took him off his legs, and a loud buzz swept into the street as if the baffled blue- flies were dispersing in search of other carrion.
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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]
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