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2021年2月10日发(作者：高职扩招)

The

Shadow

影子

It is in the hot countries that the sun burns down in earnest, turning the people

there a deep mahogany-brown. In the hottest countries of all they are seared into

negroes, but it was not quite that hot in this country to which a man of learning

had

come

from

the

colder

north.

He

expected

to

go

about

there

just

as

he

had

at

home,

but he soon discovered that this was a mistake. He and other sensible souls had to

stay

inside.

The

shutters

were

drawn

and

the

doors

were

closed

all

day

long.

It

looked

just

as

if

everyone

were

asleep

or

away

from

home.

The

narrow

street

of

high

houses

where he lived was so situated that from morning till night the sun beat down on

it - unbearably!

To

this

young

and

clever

scholar

from

the

colder

north,

it

felt

as

if

he

were

sitting

in a blazing hot oven. It exhausted him so that he became very thin, and even his

shadow shrank much smaller than it had been at home. Only in the evenings, after

sundown, did the man and his shadow begin to recover.

This was really a joy to see. As soon as a candle was brought into the room, the

shadow

had

to

stretch

itself

to

get

its

strength

back.

It

stretched

up

to

the

wall,

yes, even along the ceiling, so tall did it grow. To stretch himself, the scholar

went

out

on

the

balcony.

As

soon

as

the

stars

came

out

in

the

beautifully

clear

sky,

he felt as if he had come back to life.

In warm countries each window has a balcony, and in all the balconies up and down

the street people came out to breathe the fresh air that one needs, even if one is

already

a

fine

mahogany- brown.

Both

up

above

and

down

below,

things

became

lively.

Tailors, shoemakers - everybody - moved out in the street. Chairs and tables were

brought

out,

and

candles

were

lighted,

yes,

candles

by

the

thousand.

One

man

talked,

another

sang,

people

strolled

about,

carriages

drove

by,

and

donkeys

trotted

along,

ting-a-ling-a-ling, for their harness had bells on it. There were church bells

ringing,

hymn

singing,

and

funeral

processions.

There

were

boys

in

the

street

firing

off Roman candles. Oh yes, it was lively as lively can be down in that street.

Only

one

house

was

quiet

-

the

one

directly

across

from

where

the

scholarly

stranger

lived. Yet someone lived there, for flowers on the balcony grew and thrived under

that hot sun, which they could not have done unless they were watered. So someone

must

be

watering

them,

and

there

must

be

people

in

the

house.

Along

in

the

evening,

as

a

matter

of

fact,

the

door

across

the

street

was

opened.

But

it

was

dark

inside,

at

least

in

the

front

room.

From

somewhere

in

the

house,

farther

back,

came

the

sound

of music. The scholarly stranger thought the music was marvelous, but it is quite

possible

that

he

only

imagined

this,

for

out

there

in

the

warm

countries

he

thought

everything was marvelous - except the sun. The stranger's landlord said that he

didn't know who had rented the house across the street. No one was ever to be seen

over there, and as for the music, he found it extremely tiresome. He said:

the selfsame piece. 'I'll play it right yet,' he probably says, but he doesn't, no

matter how long he tries.

One night the stranger woke up. He slept with the windows to his balcony open, and

as

the

breeze

blew

his

curtain

aside

he

fancied

that

a

marvelous

radiance

came

from

the balcony across the street. The colors of all the flowers were as brilliant as

flames.

In

their

midst

stood

a

maiden,

slender

and

lovely.

It

seemed

as

if

a

radiance

came from her too. It actually hurt his eyes, but that was because he had opened

them too wide in his sudden awakening.

One

leap,

and

he

was

out

of

bed.

Without

a

sound,

he

looked

out

through

his

curtains,

but the maiden was gone. The flowers were no longer radiant, though they bloomed

as fresh and fair as usual. The door was ajar and through it came music so lovely

and soft that one could really feel very romantic about it. It was like magic. But

who lived there? What entrance did they use? Facing the street, the lower floor of

the house was a row of shops, and people couldn't run through them all the time.

On another evening, the stranger sat out on his balcony. The candle burned in the

room behind him, so naturally his shadow was cast on the wall across the street.

Yes,

there

it

sat

among

the

flowers,

and

when

the

stranger

moved,

it

moved

with

him.

thought to himself.

stands

ajar,

and

if

my

shadow

were

clever

he'd

step

in,

have

a

look

around,

and

come

back to tell me what he had seen.

Well, aren't you going?

along now, but be sure to come back.

The

stranger

rose,

and

his

shadow

across

the

street

rose

with

him.

The

stranger

turned

around, and his shadow turned too. If anyone had been watching closely, he would

have seen the shadow enter the half-open balcony door in the house across the way

at

the

same

instant

that

the

stranger

returned

to

his

room

and

the

curtain

fell

behind

him.

Next

morning,

when

the

scholar

went

out

to

take

his

coffee

and

read

the

newspapers,

he said,

it really did go away last night, and it stayed away. Isn't that annoying?

What

annoyed

him

most

was

not

so

much

the

loss

of

his

shadow,

but

the

knowledge

that

there

was

already

a

story

about

a

man

without

a

shadow.

All

the

people

at

home

knew

that story. If he went back and told them his story they would say he was just

imitating the old one. He did not care to be called unoriginal, so he decided to

say nothing about it, which was the most sensible thing to do.

That evening he again went out on the balcony. He had placed the candle directly

behind

him,

because

he

knew

that

a

shadow

always

likes

to

use

its

master

as

a

screen,

but

he

could

not

coax

it

forth.

He

made

himself

short

and

he

made

himself

tall,

but

there was no shadow. It didn't come forth. He hemmed and he hawed, but it was no

use.

This was very vexing, but in the hot countries everything grows most rapidly, and

in a week or so he noticed with great satisfaction that when he went out in the

sunshine a new shadow was growing at his feet. The root must have been left with

him.

In

three

weeks'

time

he

had

a

very

presentable

shadow,

and

as

he

started

north

again

it

grew

longer

and

longer,

until

it

got

so

long

and

large

that

half

of

it

would

have been quite sufficient.

The learned man went home and wrote books about those things in the world that are

true, that are good, and that are beautiful.

The

days

went

by

and

the

years

went

past,

many,

many

years

in

fact.

Then

one

evening

when

he

was

sitting

in

his

room

he

heard

a

soft

tapping

at

his

door.

in,

said

he, but no one came in.

He opened the door and was confronted by

a man so extremely

thin that it

gave

him a

strange feeling. However, the man was faultlessly dressed,

and looked like a person of distinction.

said

the

distinguished

visitor,

thought

you

wouldn't

recognize

me,

now

that

I've put real flesh on my body and wear clothes. I don't suppose you ever expected

to

see

me

in

such

fine

condition.

Don't

you

know

your

old

shadow?

You

must

have

thought

I'd

never

come

back.

Things

have

gone

remarkably

well

with

me

since

I

was

last

with

you.

I've thrived in

every way, and if I

have to buy

my freedom,

I can.

a bunch of valuable charms that hung from his watch, and fingered the massive gold

chain

he

wore

around

his

neck.

Ho!

how

his

fingers

flashed

with

diamond

rings

-

and

all this jewelry was real.

ordinary,

you

may

be

sure,

said

the

shadow.

you

are

no

ordinary

person

and I, as you know, have followed in your footsteps from childhood. As soon as you

thought me sufficiently experienced to strike out in the world for myself, I went

my way. I have been immeasurably successful. But I felt a sort of longing to see

you again before you die, as I suppose you must, and I wanted to see this country

again.

You

know

how

one

loves

his

native

land.

I

know

that

you

have

got

hold

of

another

shadow. Do I owe anything to either of you? Be kind enough to let me know.

Is

it

really

you?

said

the

scholar.

this

is

most

extraordinary!

I

would

never have imagined that one's own shadow could come back in human form.

anyone.

perfectly free. I am tremendously pleased to hear of your good luck! Sit down, my

old friend, and tell me a bit about how it all happened, and about what you saw in

that house across the street from us in the warm country.

promise that if you meet me anywhere you won't tell a soul in town about my having

been your shadow. I intend to become engaged, for I can easily support a family.

you

worry,

said

the

scholar.

won't

tell

anyone

who

you

really

are.

I

give

you my hand on it. I promise, and a man is as good as his word.

any other way.

It

was

really

remarkable

how

much

of

a

man

he

had

become,

dressed

all

in

black,

with

the finest cloth, patent-leather shoes, and an opera hat that could be pressed

perfectly

flat

till

it

was

only

brim

and

top,

not

to

mention

those

things

we

already

know about - those seals, that gold chain, and the diamond rings. The shadow was

well dressed indeed, and it was just this that made him appear human.

on the arm

of the scholar's new shadow, which lay at his feet like a

poodle dog. This was arrogance, perhaps, or possibly he was trying to make the new

shadow

stick

to

his

own

feet.

The

shadow

on

the

floor

lay

quiet

and

still,

and

listened

its best, so that it might learn how to get free and work its way up to be its own

master.

you

know

who

lived

in

the

house

across

the

street

from

us?

the

old

shadow

asked.

for three weeks, and it was as if I had lived there three thousand years, reading

all

that

has

ever

been

written.

That's

what

I

said,

and

it's

the

truth!

I

have

seen

it all, and I know everything.

large

cities.

Poetry!

Yes,

I

saw

her

myself,

for

one

brief

moment,

but

my

eyes

were

heavy

with

sleep.

She

stood

on

the

balcony,

as

radiant

as

the

northern

lights.

Tell

me! Tell me! You were on the balcony. You went through the doorway, and then -

I

was

in

the

anteroom,

said

the

shadow.

was

the

room

you

were

always

staring

at from across the way. There were no candles there, and the room was in twilight.

But the door upon door stood open in a whole series of brilliantly lit halls and

reception rooms. That blaze of lights would have struck me dead had I gone as far

as

the

room

where

the

maiden

was,

but

I

was

careful

-

I

took

my

time,

as

one

should.

saw

everything,

and

I

shall

tell

everything

to

you,

but

-

it's

not

that

I'm

proud

- but as I am a free man and well educated, not to mention my high standing and my

considerable fortune, I do wish you wouldn't call me your old friend.

are perfectly right, my dear sir, and I'll remember it. But now, my dear sir, tell

me of all that you saw.

did

the

innermost

rooms

look?

the

scholar

asked.

it

like

a

green

forest?

Was

it

like

a

holy

temple?

Were

the

rooms

like

the

starry

skies

seen

from

some

high

mountain?

was

there,

said

the

shadow.

didn't

quite

go

inside.

I

stayed

in

the

dark

anteroom,

but

my

place

there

was

perfect.

I

saw

everything,

and

I

know

everything.

I have been in the antechamber at the court of Poetry.

what

did

you

see?

Did

the

gods

of

old

march

through

the

halls?

Did

the

old

heroes

fight there? Did fair children play there and tell their dreams?

there was to be seen. Had you come over, it would not have made a man of you, as

it did of me. Also, I learned to understand my inner self, what is born in me, and

the relationship between me and Poetry. Yes, when I was with you I did not think

of such

things, but you

must remember how wonderfully I

always expanded

at sunrise

and

sunset.

And

in

the

moonlight

I

almost

seemed

more

real

than

you.

Then

I

did

not

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