The next evening, after my grandmother had given me my bath, she took me once again into
the living-room for another story.
"Tonight," the old woman said, "I am going to tell you how to recognise a witch when you
see one."
"Can you always be sure?" I asked.
"No," she said, "you can't. And that's the trouble. But you can make a pretty good guess."
She was dropping cigar ash all over her lap, and I hoped she wasn't going to catch on fire
before she'd told me how to recognise a witch.
"In the first place," she said, "a REAL WITCH is certain always to be wearing gloves when
you meet her."
"Surely not always," I said. "What about in the summer when it's hot?"
"Even in the summer," my grandmother said. "She has to. Do you want to know why?"
"Why?" I said.
"Because she doesn't have finger-nails. Instead of fingernails, she has thin curvy claws, like a
cat, and she wears the gloves to hide them. Mind you, lots of very respectable women wear gloves,
especially in winter, so this doesn't help you very much."
"Mamma used to wear gloves," I said.
"Not in the house," my grandmother said. "Witches wear gloves even in the house. They only
take them off when they go to bed."
"How do you know all this, Grandmamma?"
"Don't interrupt," she said. "Just take it all in. The second thing to remember is that a REAL
WITCH is always bald."
"Bald?" I said.
"Bald as a boiled egg," my grandmother said.
I was shocked. There was something indecent about a bald woman. "Why are they bald,
Grandmamma?"
"Don't ask me why," she snapped. "But you can take it from me that not a single hair grows
on a witch's head."
"How horrid2!"
"Disgusting," my grandmother said.
"If she's bald, she'll be easy to spot," I said.
"Not at all," my grandmother said. "A REAL WITCH always wears a wig3 to hide her
baldness. She wears a first-class wig. And it is almost impossible to tell a really first-class wig from
ordinary hair unless you give it a pull to see if it comes off."
"Then that's what I'll have to do," I said.
"Don't be foolish," my grandmother said. "You can't go round pulling at the hair of every lady
you meet, even if she is wearing gloves. just you try it and see what happens."
"So that doesn't help much either," I said.
"None of these things is any good on its own," my grandmother said. "It's only when you put
them all together that they begin to make a little sense. Mind you," my grandmother went on, "these
wigs4 do cause a rather serious problem for witches."
"What problem, Grandmamma?"
"They make the scalp itch1 most terribly," she said. "You see, when an actress wears a wig, or
if you or I were to wear a wig, we would be putting it on over our own hair, but a witch has to put it
straight on to her naked scalp. And the underneath5 of a wig is always very rough and scratchy. It sets
up a frightful6 itch on the bald skin. It causes nasty sores on the head. Wig-rash, the witches call it.
And it doesn't half itch."
"What other things must I look for to recognise a witch?" I asked.
"Look for the nose-holes," my grandmother said. "Witches have slightly larger nose-holes
than ordinary people. The rim7 of each nose-hole is pink and curvy, like the rim of a certain kind of
seashell."
"Why do they have such big nose-holes?" I asked.
"For smelling with," my grandmother said. "A REAL WITCH has the most amazing powers
of smell. She can actually smell out a child who is standing8 on the other side of the street on a pitch-
black night."
"She couldn't smell me," I said. "I've just had a bath."
"Oh yes she could," my grandmother said. "The cleaner you happen to be, the more smelly
you are to a witch."
"That can't be true," I said.
"An absolutely clean child gives off the most ghastly stench to a witch," my grandmother
said. "The dirtier you are, the less you smell."
"But that doesn't make sense, Grandmamma."
"Oh yes it does," my grandmother said. "It isn't the dirt that the witch is smelling. It is you.
The smell that drives a witch mad actually comes right out of your own skin. It comes oozing9 out of
your skin in waves, and these waves, stink-waves the witches call them, go floating through the air
and hit the witch right smack10 in her nostrils11. They send her reeling."
"Now wait a minute, Grandmamma..."
"Don't interrupt," she said. "The point is this. When you haven't washed for a week and your
skin is all covered over with dirt, then quite obviously the stink-waves cannot come oozing out nearly
so strongly."
"I shall never have a bath again," I said.
"Just don't have one too often," my grandmother said. "Once a month is quite enough for a
sensible child."
It was at moments like these that I loved my grandmother more than ever.
"Grandmamma," I said, "if it's a dark night, how can a witch smell the difference between a
child and a grown-up?"
"Because grown-ups don't give out stink-waves," she said. "Only children do that."
"But I don't really give out stink-waves, do I?" I said. "I'm not giving them out at this very
moment, am I?"
"Not to me you aren't," my grandmother said. "To me you are smelling like raspberries and
cream. But to a witch you would be smelling absolutely disgusting."
"What would I be smelling of?" I asked.
"Dogs' droppings," my grandmother said.
I reeled. I was stunned12. "Dogs' droppings!" I cried. "I am not smelling of dogs' droppings! I
don't believe it! I won't believe it!"
"What's more," my grandmother said, speaking with a touch of relish13, "to a witch you'd be
smelling of fresh dogs' droppings."
"That simply is not true!" I cried. "I know I am not smelling of dogs' droppings, stale or
fresh!"
"There's no point in arguing about it," my grandmother said. "It's a fact of life."
I was outraged14. I simply couldn't bring myself to believe what my grandmother was telling
me.
"So if you see a woman holding her nose as she passes you in the street," she went on, "that
woman could easily be a witch."
I decided15 to change the subject. "Tell me what else to look for in a witch," I said.
"The eyes," my grandmother said. "Look carefully at the eyes, because the eyes of a REAL
WITCH are different from yours and mine. Look in the middle of each eye where there is normally a
little black dot. If she is a witch, the black dot will keep changing colour, and you will see fire and
you will see ice dancing right in the very centre of the coloured dot. It will send shivers running all
over your skin."
My grandmother leant back in her chair and sucked away contentedly16 at her foul17 black cigar. I
squatted18 on the floor, staring up at her, fascinated. She was not smiling. She looked deadly serious.
"Are there other things?" I asked her.
"Of course there are other things," my grandmother said. "You don't seem to understand that
witches are not actually women at all. They look like women. They talk like women. And they are
able to act like women. But in actual fact, they are totally different animals. They are demons19 in
human shape. That is why they have claws and bald heads and queer noses and peculiar20 eyes, all of
which they have to conceal21 as best they can from the rest of the world."
"What else is different about them, Grandmamma?"
"The feet," she said. "Witches never have toes."
"No toes!" I cried. "Then what do they have?"
"They just have feet," my grandmother said. "The feet have square ends with no toes on them
at all."
"Does that make it difficult to walk?" I asked.
"Not at all," my grandmother said. "But it does give them a problem with their shoes. All
ladies like to wear small rather pointed22 shoes, but a witch, whose feet are very wide and square at the
ends, has the most awful job squeezing her feet into those neat little pointed shoes."
"Why doesn't she wear wide comfy shoes with square ends?" I asked.
"She dare not," my grandmother said. "Just as she hides her baldness with a wig, she must
also hide her ugly witch's feet by squeezing them into pretty shoes."
"Isn't that terribly uncomfortable?" I said.
"Extremely uncomfortable," my grandmother said. "But she has to put up with it."
"If she's wearing ordinary shoes, it won't help me to recognise her, will it, Grandmamma?"
"I'm afraid it won't," my grandmother said. "You might possibly see her limping very slightly,
but only if you were watching closely."
"Are those the only differences then, Grandmamma?"
"There's one more," my grandmother said. "Just one more."
"What is it, Grandmamma?"
"Their spit is blue."
"Blue!" I cried. "Not blue! Their spit can't be blue!"
"Blue as a bilberry," she said.
"You don't mean it, Grandmamma! Nobody can have blue spit!"
"Witches can," she said.
"Is it like ink?" I asked.
"Exactly," she said. "They even use it to write with. They use those old-fashioned pens that
have nibs24 and they simply lick the nib23."
"Can you notice the blue spit, Grandmamma? If a witch was talking to me, would I be able to
notice it?"
"Only if you looked carefully," my grandmother said.
"If you looked very carefully you would probably see a slight blueish tinge25 on her teeth. But it
doesn't show much."
"It would if she spat," I said.
"Witches never spit," my grandmother said. "They daren't."
I couldn't believe my grandmother would be lying to me. She went to church every morning
of the week and she said grace before every meal, and somebody who did that would never tell lies. I
was beginning to believe every word she spoke26.
"So there you are," my grandmother said. "That's about all I can tell you. None of it is very
helpful. You can still never be absolutely sure whether a woman is a witch or not just by looking at
her. But if she is wearing the gloves, if she has the large nose-holes, the queer eyes and the hair that
looks as though it might be a wig, and if she has a blueish tinge on her teeth--- if she has all of these
things, then you run like mad."
"Grandmamma," I said, "when you were a little girl, did you ever meet a witch?"
"Once," my grandmother said. "Only once."
"What happened?"
"I'm not going to tell you," she said. "It would frighten you out of your skin and give you bad
dreams."
"Please tell me," I begged.
"No," she said. "Certain things are too horrible to talk about."
"Does it have something to do with your missing thumb?" I asked.
Suddenly, her old wrinkled lips shut tight as a pair of tongs27 and the hand that held the cigar
(which had no thumb on it.) began to quiver very slightly.
I waited. She didn't look at me. She didn't speak. All of a sudden she had shut herself off
completely. The conversation was finished.
"Goodnight, Grandmamma," I said, rising from the floor and kissing her on the cheek.
She didn't move. I crept out of the room and went to my bedroom.
如何识别女巫
第二天晚上，姥姥给我洗好澡，又把我带到客厅里去讲她的故事。
“今天晚上，”我姥姥说，“我来告诉你，看见女巫怎样识别她。”
“你拿得准吗？”我问道。
“不，”她说，“不能。麻烦就在这里，但可以猜个八九不离十。”
她把雪茄烟灰弄得满膝盖上都是。我希望在她告诉我如何识别女巫之前，她的衣服可不
要烧起来。
“第一，”她说，“你看到真正的女巫时，她总是戴着手套。”
“绝不会总是的，”我说，“夏天那么热，怎么戴手套啊？”
“夏天也戴，”我姥姥说，“她也只能戴着。你想知道为什么吗？”
“为什么？”我说。
“因为她没有手指甲，只有薄薄的弯爪子，像猫那样。她得戴手套遮掩它们。告诉你，许
多尊贵的太太小姐都戴手套，特别在冬天，因此靠这个你很难识别。”
“妈妈就一向戴手套。”我说。
“在家里不戴。”我姥姥说，“可女巫连在房子里也戴。她们只有上了床才不戴。”
“这些你是怎么知道的，姥姥？”
“不要打断我的话，”她说，“听着就是了。第二件事是要记住：真正的女巫都是秃子。”
“秃子？”我说。
“秃得像只煮鸡蛋。”我姥姥说。
我吃了一惊。一个秃头女人太不像样了。“她们为什么会是秃子啊，姥姥？”
“别问为什么。”她厉声说，“但你记住，女巫头上连一根头发也不长。”
“那么可怕！”
“恶心。”我姥姥说。
“她既然是秃子，那很容易认出来。”我说。
“根本不容易，”我姥姥说，“真正的女巫总是戴上假发遮住她的秃头。那是第一流的假
发。第一流的假发和真头发根本分不出来，除非你去拉它，看看能不能把它拉下来。”
“那我就去拉它。”我说。
“别说傻话了，”我姥姥说，“你不能碰到每一位太太都去拉她的头发，哪怕她是戴着手套
的。你就拉拉看吧，看会闹出什么事情来。”
“这么说，这也没有用。”我说。
“所有这些事分开来看毫无用处，”我姥姥说，“只有把它们合在一起看才有点意思。告诉
你，”我姥姥说下去，“这种假发给女巫带来很大的麻烦。”
“什么麻烦啊，姥姥？”
“它使头皮痒得厉害。”她说，“你知道，演员戴假发，或你我戴假发，是把假发戴在自己
的头发上面的，而女巫是直接戴在她的光头皮上。假发底部总是很粗糙，这就使光头皮发痒
了，又痒又痛。女巫称之为‘假发疹’。它痒得非同小可。”
“识别女巫我还必须注意什么呢？”我问道。
“注意鼻孔，”我姥姥说，“女巫的鼻孔比平常人的大，边上粉红色，弯弯曲曲，像贝壳的
边。”
“她们为什么要那么大的鼻孔呢？”我问道。
“为了嗅气味呀，”我姥姥说，“真正的女巫有最厉害的嗅觉能力。在漆黑的夜里她能嗅出
马路对面的孩子味。”
“她嗅不出我来，”我说，“我刚洗了澡。”
“噢，她能把你嗅出来，”我姥姥说，“越干净女巫嗅起来气味越大。”
“这不可能。”我说。
“完全干净的孩子女巫嗅上去最臭，”我姥姥说，“倒是越肮脏气味越少。”
“这话毫无道理，姥姥。”
“有道理。”我姥姥说，“女巫要嗅的不是脏，而是你。女巫追寻的正是你皮肤里透出来的
气味。它像波浪似的冒出来，这种波浪女巫称之为臭气波。它通过空气传到她的鼻孔里。它
们使她头晕。”
“等一等，姥姥……”
“别打断我的话，”她说，“主要的一点就在这里。如果你一个星期不洗澡，皮肤上全是脏
东西，臭气波显然就不那么强烈了。”
“那我再也不洗澡了。”我说。
“只要少洗点就行，”我姥姥说，“对于一个聪明的孩子，一个月洗一次就很够了。”
姥姥说出这种话的时候，我更爱她了。
“姥姥，”我说，“黑夜里女巫怎么能嗅出是孩子还是大人呢？”
“因为大人不发出臭气波，”她说，“只有孩子才发出来。”
“我不会发出臭气波吧？”我说，“此时此刻，我并不发出臭气波吧？”
“对我来说是这样。”我姥姥说，“对我来说你只发出草莓和奶油的香气。但对女巫来说你
的气味可能糟透了。”
“会嗅出我什么气味呢？”我问道。
“狗屎气味。”我姥姥说。
我的头都晕了。我愣住了。“狗屎！”我叫道，“我不发出狗屎气味！我不相信！我不能相
信！”
“不仅如此，”我姥姥口气里带点刺地说，“对女巫来说，你的气味是新鲜狗屎的气味。”
“简直不可能！”我叫道，“我知道我的气味不可能是狗屎的气味，不管是陈狗屎还是新鲜
狗屎！”
“争也没用，”我姥姥说，“这是事实。”
我生气了。我简直不能相信我姥姥对我说的话。
“因此，如果你看见一个女人在街上经过你身边时捏着鼻子，”她说下去，“那女人就有可
能是个女巫。”
我决定改变话题。“再讲点我在女巫身上要注意的别的东西吧。”我说。
“眼睛，”我姥姥说，“仔细看眼睛，因为真正的女巫的眼睛和你我的不同。只要看眼睛当
中通常是小黑点的那个地方，如果是女巫，这个点子一直在变色。你在这点子正中央可以看
到火和冰在跳动。它们使你浑身起鸡皮疙瘩。”
我姥姥向后靠在椅子上，满意地吸着她那支难闻的黑雪茄烟。我跪在地板上抬头看她，
愣住了。她不是在微笑。她看上去极其严肃。
“还有别的吗？”我问她。
“当然有，”我姥姥说，“你似乎不明白，女巫实际上根本不是女人。她们样子像女人。她
们说话像女人。她们一举一动扮女人。但实际上她们是完全不同的动物。她们是装扮成人的
恶魔，所以她们有爪子、秃头、怪鼻子和怪眼睛，这些东西她们要尽力遮掩住不让人知道。”
“她们还有什么特别的地方呢，姥姥？”
“脚，”她说，“女巫的脚没有脚趾。”
“没有脚趾！”我叫起来，“那她们有什么？”
“她们就只有脚，”我姥姥说，“脚是方头的，上面根本没有脚趾。”
“走起路来有两样吗？”我问道。
“完全没有两样。”我姥姥说，“但这使她们的鞋子很成问题。所有的太太小姐都爱穿细巧
的尖头皮鞋，但女巫的脚前面又宽又方，把它们挤进尖头小鞋里去真是苦不堪言。”
“那她为什么不穿宽大舒服的方头皮鞋呢？”我问。
“她不敢，”我姥姥说，“就像用假发掩盖秃头一样，她必须遮盖她那难看的女巫脚，硬把
它们挤到漂亮的鞋子里去。”
“那不是难受得要命吗？”我说。
“难受到极点了，”我姥姥说，“但她只好忍着。”
“要是她穿普通鞋子，我就认不出她来了，对吗，姥姥？”
“恐怕是认不出来了，”我姥姥说，“你可能看到她走路有点儿瘸，但要非常仔细地看才能
看出来。”
“不同的地方就这些了吗，姥姥？”
“还有一样，”我姥姥说，“只有一样了。”
“还有一样什么，姥姥？”
“她们吐的口水是蓝色的。”
“蓝色的！”我叫道，“不会是蓝色的！她们的口水不可能是蓝色！”
“蓝得和越橘的颜色一样。”她说。
“你这话不是真的，姥姥！没有人会有蓝色的口水！”
“女巫有。”她说。
“像蓝墨水一样吗？”我问。
“一模一样，”她说，“她们甚至用它写字。她们写字用带笔尖的老式钢笔，舔舔笔尖就能
写了。”
“蓝色口水看得出来吗，姥姥？女巫跟我说话，我能看到它吗？”
“只有仔细看才行。”我姥姥说。“如果仔细看，可能看到她的牙齿上有淡淡的蓝色痕迹，
但看不大清楚。”
“她吐口水就能看出来了。”我说。
“女巫从来不吐口水，”我姥姥说，“她们不敢吐。”
我不能相信我姥姥会对我说谎。一星期七天她天天早晨都上礼拜堂，每顿饭前都要祷
告，这样做的人是不会说谎的。我开始相信她说的每个字了。
“好了，”我姥姥说，“我能告诉你的就是这些，没有一条靠得住。看到女巫你仍旧无法断
定她是不是女巫。不过如果她所有的特征都一应俱全—戴手套，有大鼻孔和怪眼睛，头发像
是假的，牙齿上有蓝色痕迹—那么你最好还是拼命逃走。”
“姥姥，”我说，“你小时候碰到过女巫吗？”
“碰到过一次，”我姥姥说，“仅仅一次。”
“出什么事了？”
“我不告诉你。”她说，“说出来会把你吓坏的，会使你做噩梦的。”
“请你告诉我吧。”我求她。
“不，”她说，“有些事情说出来太可怕了。”
“它和你少了一个大拇指有什么关系吗？”我问道。
她打皱的嘴唇忽然紧闭得像一把钳子，拿着雪茄烟的手（那只手少了个大拇指）开始微
微颤动。
我等着。她不看我。她不说话。她一下子完全住了口。我们的谈话到此结束。
“晚安，姥姥。”我从地板上站起来，吻着她的脸颊说。
她一动不动。我溜出客厅回到我的卧室去了。
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
itch
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| n.痒，渴望，疥癣；vi.发痒，渴望 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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3
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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4
wigs
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| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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5
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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7
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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8
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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9
oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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nib
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| n.钢笔尖；尖头 | |
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nibs
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| 上司，大人物； 钢笔尖，鹅毛管笔笔尖( nib的名词复数 )； 可可豆的碎粒； 小瑕疵 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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tongs
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| n.钳；夹子 | |
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