TO BE READ AT DUSK(黄昏之读)

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TO BE READ AT DUSK

by Charles Dickens

TO BE READ AT DUSK

One, two, three, four, five. There were five of them.

Five couriers, sitting on a bench outside the convent on the summit of

the Great St. Bernard in Switzerland, looking at the remote heights,

stained by the setting sun as if a mighty quantity of red wine had been

broached upon the mountain top, and had not yet had time to sink into the

snow.

This is not my simile. It was made for the occasion by the stoutest

courier, who was a German. None of the others took any more notice of

it than they took of me, sitting on another bench on the other side of the

convent door, smoking my cigar, like them, and - also like them - looking

at the reddened snow, and at the lonely shed hard by, where the bodies of

belated travellers, dug out of it, slowly wither away, knowing no

corruption in that cold region.

The wine upon the mountain top soaked in as we looked; the mountain

became white; the sky, a very dark blue; the wind rose; and the air turned

piercing cold. The five couriers buttoned their rough coats. There

being no safer man to imitate in all such proceedings than a courier, I

buttoned mine.

The mountain in the sunset had stopped the five couriers in a

conversation. It is a sublime sight, likely to stop conversation. The

mountain being now out of the sunset, they resumed. Not that I had

heard any part of their previous discourse; for indeed, I had not then

broken away from the American gentleman, in the travellers' parlour of the

convent, who, sitting with his face to the fire, had undertaken to realise to

me the whole progress of events which had led to the accumulation by the

Honourable Ananias Dodger of one of the largest acquisitions of dollars

ever made in our country.

'My God!' said the Swiss courier, speaking in French, which I do not

hold (as some authors appear to do) to be such an all- sufficient excuse for

a naughty word, that I have only to write it in that language to make it

innocent; 'if you talk of ghosts - '

'But I DON'T talk of ghosts,' said the German.

'Of what then?' asked the Swiss.

TO BE READ AT DUSK

'If I knew of what then,' said the German, 'I should probably know a

great deal more.'

It was a good answer, I thought, and it made me curious. So, I moved

my position to that corner of my bench which was nearest to them, and

leaning my back against the convent wall, heard perfectly, without

appearing to attend.

'Thunder and lightning!' said the German, warming, 'when a certain

man is coming to see you, unexpectedly; and, without his own knowledge,

sends some invisible messenger, to put the idea of him into your head all

day, what do you call that? When you walk along a crowded street - at

Frankfort, Milan, London, Paris - and think that a passing stranger is like

your friend Heinrich, and then that another passing stranger is like your

friend Heinrich, and so begin to have a strange foreknowledge that

presently you'll meet your friend Heinrich - which you do, though you

believed him at Trieste - what do you call THAT?'

'It's not uncommon, either,' murmured the Swiss and the other three.

'Uncommon!' said the German. 'It's as common as cherries in the

Black Forest. It's as common as maccaroni at Naples. And Naples

reminds me! When the old Marchesa Senzanima shrieks at a card- party

on the Chiaja - as I heard and saw her, for it happened in a Bavarian

family of mine, and I was overlooking the service that evening - I say,

when the old Marchesa starts up at the card-table, white through her rouge,

and cries, "My sister in Spain is dead! I felt her cold touch on my back!"

- and when that sister IS dead at the moment - what do you call that?'

'Or when the blood of San Gennaro liquefies at the request of the

clergy - as all the world knows that it does regularly once a-year, in my

native city,' said the Neapolitan courier after a pause, with a comical look,

'what do you call that?' 'THAT!' cried the German. 'Well, I think I

know a name for that.'

'Miracle?' said the Neapolitan, with the same sly face.

The German merely smoked and laughed; and they all smoked and

laughed.

'Bah!' said the German, presently. 'I speak of things that really do

happen. When I want to see the conjurer, I pay to see a professed one,

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摘要：

TOBEREADATDUSK1TOBEREADATDUSKbyCharlesDickensTOBEREADATDUSK2One,two,three,four,five.Therewerefiveofthem.Fivecouriers,sittingonabenchoutsidetheconventonthesummitoftheGreatSt.BernardinSwitzerland,lookingattheremoteheights,stainedbythesettingsunasifamightyquantityofredwinehadbeenbroacheduponthemountain...

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