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第十個人

Lesson Ten 　The Tenth Man

就在第二天下午3點（鬧鐘上的時間），一個軍官走進了牢房。這是他們幾星期以來見到的第一位軍官。他非常年輕，甚至小胡子的形狀也顯示出他不夠老練，左邊的胡子剃得重了點。

It was at three the next afternoon （alarm clock time） that an officer entered the cell； the first officer they had seen for weeks – and this one was very young， with inexperience even in the shape of his mustache which he had shaved too much on the left side.

他就像一個初次登臺領獎的小學生一樣窘迫不安，他說起話來粗魯無禮，似乎要顯示一種他并不具備的力量。

He was as embarrassed as a schoolboy making his first entry on a stage at a prize-giving， and he spoke abruptly so as to give the impression of a strength he did not possess.

他說道：“昨天夜間城里發生了幾起謀殺，一名軍事長官的副手、一位中士和一個騎自行車的女孩被殺。”他又說道：“我們不在乎女孩的死。法國男人殺死法國女人不關我們的事。”

He said， “There were murders last night in the town. The aide-de-camp of the military governor， a sergeant and a girl on a bicycle.” He added， “We don't complain about the girl. Frenchmen have our permission to kill Frenchwomen.”

很明顯他事先仔細斟酌了他的講話，但他的嘲弄做過了頭，他的表演也很業余。

He had obviously thought up his speech carefully beforehand， but the irony was overdone and the delivery that of an amateur actor：

整個場面就像手勢字謎游戲那樣矯飾做作。

the whole scene was as unreal as a charade.

他接著說道：“你們知道自己為什么來這里，你們在這里好吃好喝，過著舒適的日子，而我們的人卻在工作和戰斗。不過現在你們必須付出代價了。不要怪我們，要怪你們自己的殺人兇手。我的命令是集中營里每十個人要有一個被槍決。你們有多少人？”“報數。”他厲聲喝道人們悶悶不樂地照辦了。“28，29，30.”人們知道不用數他也知道人數，這不過是他玩的把戲中不可省略的一句臺詞……

He said， “You know what you are here for， living comfortably， on fine rations， while our men work and fight. Well， now you've got to pay the hotel bill. Don't blame us. Blame your own murderers. My orders are that one man in every ten shall be shot in this camp. How many of you are there？” He shouted sharply， “Number off，” and sullenly they obeyed， “…… twenty-eight， twenty-nine， thirty.” They knew he knew without counting. This was just a line in his charade he couldn't sacrifice.

他說道：“那么，你們的名額是三個，我們并不關心是哪三個人。你們可以自己選擇。死刑于明天早上7點執行。”

He said， “Your allotment then is three. We are quite indifferent as to which three. You can choose for yourselves. The funeral rites will begin at seven tomorrow morning.”

他玩的把戲結束了，人們可以聽到他的腳步響亮地敲擊著瀝青路漸漸遠去。

The charade was over： they could hear his feet striking sharply on the asphalt going away.

查維爾忽然很想知道他打的手勢是什么字。要他們猜的是不是“夜間”，“姑娘”，“旁邊”或“30”。不，不是。謎底肯定是“人質”。

Chavel wondered for a moment what syllable had been acted —“night，”“girl，”“aside，” or perhaps “thirty，” but it was of course the whole word—“hostage. ”

牢房里很長時間沒人說話。后來一個叫克拉夫的阿爾薩斯人開口道：“好了，我們有人自愿嗎？”

The silence went on a long time， and then a man called Krogh， an Alsatian， said， “Well， do we have to volunteer？”

“廢話。”一個職員說道。他是一個上了年紀的戴著夾鼻眼鏡的老頭。他接著說道：“沒人會自愿，我們必須抽簽。除非有人認為應按年齡決定——最老的先死。”

“Rubbish，” said one of the clerks， a thin elderly man in pince-nez， “nobody will volunteer. We must draw lots.” He added， “Un-less it is thought that we should go by ages —the oldest first. ”

“不，不行。”另一個人說道，“那不公平。”

“No， no，” one of the others said， “that would be unjust. ”

“這是自然規律。”

“It's the way of nature.”

“那算什么自然規律。”又一個人說道，“我有個女兒，5歲時就死了。”

“Not even the way of nature，” another said. “1 had a child who died when she was five……”

“我們必須抽簽。”市長堅定地說。

“We must draw lots，” the mayor said firmly.

“只有這樣才公正。”他坐在那里，雙手依然緊貼在肚子上，遮擋著他的懷表，但是整個牢房里都能聽見懷表清脆的滴答聲。

“It is the only fair thing.” He sat with his hands still pressed over his stomach， hiding his watch， but all through the cell you could hear its blunt tick lock tick.

他接著又說道：“由未婚者抽簽，已婚者除外，他們有責任。”

He added， “On the unmarried. The married should not be included. They have responsibilities…

“哈，哈！”皮埃爾說道，“我們明白了。為什么已婚者就應逃脫？他們的事兒已經做完了。當然，你結婚了吧？”

“Ha， ha，” Pierre said， “we see through that. Why should the married get off？ Their work's finished. You， of course， are married？”

“我的妻子不在了。”市長說，“我現在是未婚，你呢？”

“I have lost my wife，” the mayor said， “I am not married now. And you…”

“結了。”皮埃爾答道。

“Married，” Pierre said.

市長開始解下懷表。發現皮埃爾處境安全，他似乎更堅信作為懷表的主人自己必定是下一個犧牲者。

The mayor began to undo his watch； the discovery that his rival was safe seemed to confirm his belief that as the owner of time he was bound to be the next victim.

他環顧了每一個人，然后選擇了查維爾。也許是因為只有他穿著西服背心適合戴表鏈。他說道：“查維爾先生，我想讓你替我拿著懷表，萬一……”

He looked from face to face and chose Chavel， perhaps because he was the only man with a waistcoat fit to take the chain. He said， “Monsieur Chavel， I want you to hold this watch for me in case…”

“你最好找別人吧！”查維爾說，“我還沒結婚呢。”

“you'd better choose someone else，” Chavel said. “I am not married.”

那個老職員又開口了，“我結婚了，我有權說話。

The elderly clerk spoke again. He said， “I'm married. I've got the right to speak.

我們正把一切引向歧途。這不是我們最后一次抽簽。如果這兒有一個特權階層——那些最終將活著的人，大家想想，牢房里會是什么樣子。你們其他人很快就會痛恨我們。你們害怕，而我們將不再擔心。“

We are going the wrong way about all this. Everyone must draw lots. This isn't the last draw we shall have， and picture to yourselves what it will be like in this cell if we have a privileged class —the ones who are left to the end. The rest of you will soon begin to hate us. We shall be left out of your fear. . . “

“他說得對。”皮埃爾說。

“He's right，” Pierre said.

市長重新握緊了懷表，說道：“就照你們的主意辦。要是能夠這樣征稅的話……”他做了個絕望的手勢。

The mayor refastened his watch. “Have it your own way，” he said. “But if the taxes were levied like this…” He gave a gesture of despair.

“我們如何抽簽？”克拉夫問道。

“How do we draw？” Krogh asked.

查維爾答道：“最快的辦法就是從一只鞋里抽出畫有記號的紙條。”

Chavel said， “The quickest way would be to draw marked papers out of a shoe. . .”

克拉夫輕蔑地說：“那么快干嗎？對于我們當中幾個人來說這可是最后一次賭博了。我們蠻可以享受一番。我提議賭拋硬幣。”

Krogh said contemptuously， “Why the quickest way？ This is the last gamble some of us will have. We may as well enjoy it. I say a coin.”

“這不好。”那個職員說，“拋硬幣不是一個公平、合理的辦法。”

“It won't work，” the clerk said. “You can't get a even chance with a coin.”

“惟一的辦法就是抽簽。”市長說道。

“The only way is to draw，” the mayor said.

職員開始為抽簽做準備，為此他犧牲了一封家信。

The clerk prepared the draw， sacrificing for it one of his letters from home.

他很快地看了一遍信，然后把它撕成30張小紙條。

He read it rapidly for the last time， and then tore it into thirty pieces.

他用鉛筆在其中三張上畫上十字，然后把每張紙條都疊上。

On three pieces he made a cross in pencil， and then folded each piece.

他接著說：“克拉夫的鞋最大。”大家把紙條放在地下攪亂，然后裝進了鞋子里。

“Krogh's got the biggest shoe，” he said. They shuffled the pieces on the floor and then dropped them into the shoe.

“我們按姓氏的字母順序抽簽。”市長說。

“We'll draw in alphabetical order，” the mayor said.

“從Z開始抽。”查維爾說道。他的安全感開始動搖了。他急切想喝點什么，用手指從嘴唇上撕下一小塊干皮。

“Z first，” Chavel said. His feeling of security was shaken. He wanted a drink badly. He picked at a dry piece of skin on his lip.

“就按你說的辦。”卡車司機說道，“有人排在維爾森前面嗎？我先抽。”

“As you wish，” the lorry driver said. “Anybody beat Voisin？ Here goes.

他用手在鞋子里小心地掏，就像是要掏到他心里想要的那張。

“He thrust his hand into the shoe and made careful excavations as though he had one particular scrap of paper in mind.

他抽出一張，打開，怔怔地看著，然后說了聲：“完了。”他坐下來，摸出一支香煙放到嘴里，卻忘了點火。

He drew one out， opened it， and gazed at it with astonishment. He said， “This is it.” He sat down and felt for a cigarette， but when he got it between his lips he forgot to light it.

查維爾心中充滿了巨大而又令他感到羞恥的快樂。

Chavel was filled with a huge and shameful joy.

看來自己得救了。剩下二十九個人抽簽，而只有兩張帶有記號的紙條。

It seemed to him that already he was saved —twenty - nine men to draw and only two marked papers left.

抽中死簽的可能性突然變得對他有利，從10比1變成了14比1.經營蔬菜水果的商人也抽了一張，然后漫不經心、毫無表情地示意自己平安無事。

The chances had suddenly grown in his favor from ten to one to—fourteen to one： the greengrocer had drawn a slip and indicated carelessly and without pleasure that he was safe.

的確，從抽第一張簽時人們就忌諱任何喜形于色的表現，一個人不能以任何寬慰的舉動去嘲弄注定要死的人。

Indeed from the first draw any mark of pleasure was taboo： one couldn't mock the condemned man by any sign of relief.

查維爾胸中有一種隱隱約約的不安——還不是恐懼，像是一種壓抑感。

Again a dull disquiet —ii couldn't yet be described as a fear—exended its empire over Chavel's chest.

當第六個人抽到空白紙條時，他發現自己在打哈欠；當第十個人——就是大家稱作雅維耶的那個人抽完簽后，他的心中又充滿了某中怨憤的情緒。現在抽中死簽的機會同開始時一樣了。

It was like a constriction： he found himself yawning as the sixth man drew a blank slip， and a sense of grievance nagged at his mind when the tenth man bad drawn—it was the one they called Janvier—and the chances were once again the same as when the draw started.

有的人抽出他們手指碰到的第一張紙條；有的人似乎懷疑命運企圖將某一張紙條強加于他們，所以他們剛剛從鞋里抽出一張，就又扔回去，再另換一張。

Some men drew the first slip which touched their fingers； others seemed to suspect tha t fate was trying to force on them a particular slip and when they bad drawn one a little way from the shoe would let it drop again and choose another.

時間過得很慢，令人難以置信。那個叫做維爾森的人靠墻坐著，嘴里叼著仍未點燃的香煙，對一切都不再在意。

Time passed with incredible slowness， and the man called Voisin sat against the wall with the unlighted cigarette in his mouth paying them no attention at all.

就在生存的機會逐漸變小，抽中死簽的可能性達到八分之一時，一個叫做勒諾特的上年紀的職員抽中了第二張死簽。

The chances had narrowed to one in eight when the elderly clerk —his name was Lenotre—drew the second slip.

他清了清喉嚨，戴上夾鼻眼鏡，好像要確認自己沒有看錯。“喂，維爾森先生，我能加入嗎？”他帶著淡淡的微笑說道。

He cleared his throat and put on his pince-nez as though he had to make sure he was not mistaken. “Ah， Monsieur Voisin，” he said with a thin undecided smile， “May I join you？”

令人難以琢磨的機會再次以絕對對查維爾有利的優勢朝他走來，抽中死簽的可能性只有十五分之一，可他這次卻沒有絲毫欣慰，他被普通百姓所具有的勇氣所震撼，他想讓這一切盡快結束，就像一副撲克玩得太久了，他只希望有人離開牌桌，結束牌局。

This time Chavel felt no joy even though the elusive odds were back again overwhelmingly in his favor at fifteen to one； he was daunted by the courage of common men. He wanted the whole thing to be over as quickly as possible： like a game of cards which has gone on too long， he only wanted someone to make a move and break up the table.

勒諾特在維爾森身邊靠墻坐下，他翻過紙條，背面是信中的一點內容，“是你妻子的？”維爾森問道。“是我女兒的。”勒諾特答道，“請原諒。”他起身走到自己的鋪蓋處，抽出一本便箋，回到維爾森身邊開始寫起來。他不慌不忙，認認真真地寫下一串纖細而清晰的字跡。

。 Lenotre， sitting down against the wall next to Voisin， turned the slip over： on the back was a scrap of writing.

Your-wife？“ Voisin said.

“My daughter，” Lenotre said. “Excuse me.” He went over to his roll of bedding and drew out a writing pad. Then he sat down next to Voisin and began to write， carefully， without hurry， a thin legible hand.

這時中死簽的概率又回到了10比1.

The odds were back to ten to one.

從那時起，對查維爾來說，抽中死簽的可能性似乎以一種不可避免的可怕趨勢發生著變化。

From that point the odds seemed to move toward Chavel with a dreadful inevitability：

9比1，8比1，抽中死簽的可能性好像指向了他。

nine to one， eight to one； they were like a pointing finger.

剩下的人抽得越來越快，越來越隨便。

The men who were left drew more quickly and more carelessly：

在查維爾看來，他們似乎都知道了某種秘密，知道他會抽到死簽。

they seemed to Chavel to have some inner information —to know that he was the one.

輪到他抽簽時，只剩下了3張紙，留給他的機會這么少，在他看來真是不公平。

When his time came to draw there were only three slips left ， and it appeared to Chavel a monstrous injustice that there were so few choices left for him.

他從鞋中抽出一張，接著又認定這是同伴的意志強加給他的，一定有十字。于是他把它放回去，另抽了一張。

He drew one out of the shoe and then feeling certain that this one had been willed on him by his companions and contained the penciled cross he threw it back and snatched another.

“律師，你偷看了。”剩下的兩個人中有一個大聲說道，但另一個讓他安靜下來。

“You looked， lawyer，” one of the two men exclaimed， but the other quieted him.

“他沒有偷看，他抽到的是有記號的。”

“He didn't look. He's got the marked one now.”

“不，不。”查維爾把紙條扔到地上，開始大叫：“我從來就沒有同意，你們不能讓我替別人去死。”

“No，” Chavel said， “no.” He threw the slip upon the ground and cried， “I never consented to the draw. You can't make me die for the rest of you. . . ”

大家驚訝地看著他，但并沒有敵意。

They watched him with astonishment but without enmity.

他是一個出身高貴的人。人們沒有用自己的標準去衡量他，因為他屬于一個別人難以理解的階層。人們甚至沒有把他的行為與膽怯聯系起來。

He was a gentleman. They didn't judge him by their own standards： he belonged to an unaccountable class and they didn't at first even attach the idea of cowardice to his actions.

“聽我說，”查維爾一邊哀求，一邊舉起那張紙條。大家既驚奇又好奇地看著他。“誰接受這張紙條，我就給他10萬法郎。”

“Listen，” Chavel implored them. He held out the slip of paper and they all watched him with compassionate curiosity. “I'll give a hundred thousand francs to anyone who'll take this.”

他快速移動著小步地從一個人面前走到另一個人面前，朝每一個人展示那張小紙條，好像是拍賣會上的服務員。

He took little rapid steps from one man to another， showing each man the bit of paper as if he were an attendant at an auction.

“10萬法郎。”他懇求道。人們感到震驚，同樣又感到一絲憐憫：他是他們之中惟一的有錢人，這是與眾不同之處。

“A hundred thousand francs，” he implored， and they watched him with a kind of shocked pity： he was the only rich man among them and this was a unique situation.

人們無法去比較，只能認定這就是他那個階層的特點，這猶如一個在異國港口下船就餐的旅游者能從一個碰巧與他同桌的狡猾商人身上總結出該國的國民性格。

They had no means of comparison and assumed that this was a characteristic of his class， just as a traveler stepping off the liner at a foreign port for luncheon sums up a nation's character forever in the wily businessman who happens to share the table with him.