小说搜索     点击排行榜   最新入库
首页 » 双语小说 » 杀死一只知更鸟 To Kill a Mockingbird » Chapter 28
选择底色: 选择字号:【大】【中】【小】
Chapter 28

       The weather was unusually warm for the last day of October. We didn’t even needjackets. The wind was growing stronger, and Jem said it might be raining before we gothome. There was no moon. The street light on the corner cast sharp shadows on theRadley house. I heard Jem laugh softly. “Bet nobody bothers them tonight,” he said.

  Jem was carrying my ham costume, rather awkwardly, as it was hard to hold. I thought itgallant of him to do so.

  “It is a scary place though, ain’t it?” I said. “Boo doesn’t mean anybody any harm, butI’m right glad you’re along.” “You know Atticus wouldn’t let you go to the schoolhouse byyourself,” Jem said.

  “Don’t see why, it’s just around the corner and across the yard.”

  “That yard’s a mighty long place for little girls to cross at night,” Jem teased. “Ain’t youscared of haints?”

  We laughed. Haints, Hot Steams, incantations, secret signs, had vanished with ouryears as mist with sunrise. “What was that old thing,” Jem said, “Angel bright, life-in-death; get off the road, don’t suck my breath.”

  “Cut it out, now,” I said. We were in front of the Radley Place.

  Jem said, “Boo must not be at home. Listen.”

  High above us in the darkness a solitary mocker poured out his repertoire in blissfulunawareness of whose tree he sat in, plunging from the shrill kee, kee of the sunflowerbird to the irascible qua-ack of a bluejay, to the sad lament of Poor Will, Poor Will, PoorWill.

  We turned the corner and I tripped on a root growing in the road. Jem tried to help me,but all he did was drop my costume in the dust. I didn’t fall, though, and soon we wereon our way again.

  We turned off the road and entered the schoolyard. It was pitch black.

  “How do you know where we’re at, Jem?” I asked, when we had gone a few steps.

  “I can tell we’re under the big oak because we’re passin‘ through a cool spot. Carefulnow, and don’t fall again.”

  We had slowed to a cautious gait, and were feeling our way forward so as not to bumpinto the tree. The tree was a single and ancient oak; two children could not reach aroundits trunk and touch hands. It was far away from teachers, their spies, and curiousneighbors: it was near the Radley lot, but the Radleys were not curious. A small patch ofearth beneath its branches was packed hard from many fights and furtive crap games.

  The lights in the high school auditorium were blazing in the distance, but they blindedus, if anything. “Don’t look ahead, Scout,” Jem said. “Look at the ground and you won’tfall.”

  “You should have brought the flashlight, Jem.”

  “Didn’t know it was this dark. Didn’t look like it’d be this dark earlier in the evening. Socloudy, that’s why. It’ll hold off a while, though.”

  Someone leaped at us.

  “God almighty!” Jem yelled.

  A circle of light burst in our faces, and Cecil Jacobs jumped in glee behind it. “Ha-a-a,gotcha!” he shrieked. “Thought you’d be comin‘ along this way!”

  “What are you doin‘ way out here by yourself, boy? Ain’t you scared of Boo Radley?”

  Cecil had ridden safely to the auditorium with his parents, hadn’t seen us, then hadventured down this far because he knew good and well we’d be coming along. Hethought Mr. Finch’d be with us, though.

  “Shucks, ain’t much but around the corner,” said Jem. “Who’s scared to go around thecorner?” We had to admit that Cecil was pretty good, though. He had given us a fright,and he could tell it all over the schoolhouse, that was his privilege.

  “Say,” I said, “ain’t you a cow tonight? Where’s your costume?”

  “It’s up behind the stage,” he said. “Mrs. Merriweather says the pageant ain’t comin‘on for a while. You can put yours back of the stage by mine, Scout, and we can go withthe rest of ’em.”

  This was an excellent idea, Jem thought. He also thought it a good thing that Ceciland I would be together. This way, Jem would be left to go with people his own age.

  When we reached the auditorium, the whole town was there except Atticus and theladies worn out from decorating, and the usual outcasts and shut-ins. Most of thecounty, it seemed, was there: the hall was teeming with slicked-up country people. Thehigh school building had a wide downstairs hallway; people milled around booths thathad been installed along each side.

  “Oh Jem. I forgot my money,” I sighed, when I saw them.

  “Atticus didn’t,” Jem said. “Here’s thirty cents, you can do six things. See you later on.”

  “Okay,” I said, quite content with thirty cents and Cecil. I went with Cecil down to thefront of the auditorium, through a door on one side, and backstage. I got rid of my hamcostume and departed in a hurry, for Mrs. Merriweather was standing at a lectern infront of the first row of seats making last-minute, frenzied changes in the script.

  “How much money you got?” I asked Cecil. Cecil had thirty cents, too, which made useven. We squandered our first nickels on the House of Horrors, which scared us not atall; we entered the black seventh-grade room and were led around by the temporaryghoul in residence and were made to touch several objects alleged to be componentparts of a human being. “Here’s his eyes,” we were told when we touched two peeledgrapes on a saucer. “Here’s his heart,” which felt like raw liver. “These are his innards,”

  and our hands were thrust into a plate of cold spaghetti.

  Cecil and I visited several booths. We each bought a sack of Mrs. Judge Taylor’shomemade divinity. I wanted to bob for apples, but Cecil said it wasn’t sanitary. Hismother said he might catch something from everybody’s heads having been in the sametub. “Ain’t anything around town now to catch,” I protested. But Cecil said his mothersaid it was unsanitary to eat after folks. I later asked Aunt Alexandra about this, and shesaid people who held such views were usually climbers.

  We were about to purchase a blob of taffy when Mrs. Merriweather’s runnersappeared and told us to go backstage, it was time to get ready. The auditorium wasfilling with people; the Maycomb County High School band had assembled in front belowthe stage; the stage footlights were on and the red velvet curtain rippled and billowedfrom the scurrying going on behind it.

  Backstage, Cecil and I found the narrow hallway teeming with people: adults inhomemade three-corner hats, Confederate caps, Spanish-American War hats, andWorld War helmets. Children dressed as various agricultural enterprises crowdedaround the one small window.

  “Somebody’s mashed my costume,” I wailed in dismay. Mrs. Merriweather galloped tome, reshaped the chicken wire, and thrust me inside.

  “You all right in there, Scout?” asked Cecil. “You sound so far off, like you was on theother side of a hill.”

  “You don’t sound any nearer,” I said.

  The band played the national anthem, and we heard the audience rise. Then the bassdrum sounded. Mrs. Merriweather, stationed behind her lectern beside the band, said:

  “Maycomb County Ad Astra Per Aspera.” The bass drum boomed again. “That means,”

  said Mrs. Merriweather, translating for the rustic elements, “from the mud to the stars.”

  She added, unnecessarily, it seemed to me, “A pageant.”

  “Reckon they wouldn’t know what it was if she didn’t tell ‘em,” whispered Cecil, whowas immediately shushed.

  “The whole town knows it,” I breathed.

  “But the country folks’ve come in,” Cecil said.

  “Be quiet back there,” a man’s voice ordered, and we were silent.

  The bass drum went boom with every sentence Mrs. Merriweather uttered. Shechanted mournfully about Maycomb County being older than the state, that it was a partof the Mississippi and Alabama Territories, that the first white man to set foot in thevirgin forests was the Probate Judge’s great-grandfather five times removed, who wasnever heard of again. Then came the fearless Colonel Maycomb, for whom the countywas named.

  Andrew Jackson appointed him to a position of authority, and Colonel Maycomb’smisplaced self-confidence and slender sense of direction brought disaster to all whorode with him in the Creek Indian Wars. Colonel Maycomb persevered in his efforts tomake the region safe for democracy, but his first campaign was his last. His orders,relayed to him by a friendly Indian runner, were to move south. After consulting a tree toascertain from its lichen which way was south, and taking no lip from the subordinateswho ventured to correct him, Colonel Maycomb set out on a purposeful journey to routthe enemy and entangled his troops so far northwest in the forest primeval that theywere eventually rescued by settlers moving inland.

  Mrs. Merriweather gave a thirty-minute description of Colonel Maycomb’s exploits. Idiscovered that if I bent my knees I could tuck them under my costume and more or lesssit. I sat down, listened to Mrs. Merriweather’s drone and the bass drum’s boom andwas soon fast asleep.

  They said later that Mrs. Merriweather was putting her all into the grand finale, thatshe had crooned, “Po-ork,” with a confidence born of pine trees and butterbeansentering on cue. She waited a few seconds, then called, “Po-ork?” When nothingmaterialized, she yelled, “Pork!”

  I must have heard her in my sleep, or the band playing Dixie woke me, but it waswhen Mrs. Merriweather triumphantly mounted the stage with the state flag that I choseto make my entrance. Chose is incorrect: I thought I’d better catch up with the rest ofthem.

  They told me later that Judge Taylor went out behind the auditorium and stood thereslapping his knees so hard Mrs. Taylor brought him a glass of water and one of his pills.

  Mrs. Merriweather seemed to have a hit, everybody was cheering so, but she caughtme backstage and told me I had ruined her pageant. She made me feel awful, but whenJem came to fetch me he was sympathetic. He said he couldn’t see my costume muchfrom where he was sitting. How he could tell I was feeling bad under my costume I don’tknow, but he said I did all right, I just came in a little late, that was all. Jem wasbecoming almost as good as Atticus at making you feel right when things went wrong.

  Almost—not even Jem could make me go through that crowd, and he consented to waitbackstage with me until the audience left.

  “You wanta take it off, Scout?” he asked.

  “Naw, I’ll just keep it on,” I said. I could hide my mortification under it.

  “You all want a ride home?” someone asked.

  “No sir, thank you,” I heard Jem say. “It’s just a little walk.”

  “Be careful of haints,” the voice said. “Better still, tell the haints to be careful of Scout.”

  “There aren’t many folks left now,” Jem told me. “Let’s go.”

  We went through the auditorium to the hallway, then down the steps. It was still blackdark. The remaining cars were parked on the other side of the building, and theirheadlights were little help. “If some of ‘em were goin’ in our direction we could seebetter,” said Jem. “Here Scout, let me hold onto your—hock. You might lose yourbalance.”

  “I can see all right.”

  “Yeah, but you might lose your balance.” I felt a slight pressure on my head, andassumed that Jem had grabbed that end of the ham. “You got me?”

  “Uh huh.”

  We began crossing the black schoolyard, straining to see our feet. “Jem,” I said, “Iforgot my shoes, they’re back behind the stage.”

  “Well let’s go get ‘em.” But as we turned around the auditorium lights went off. “Youcan get ’em tomorrow,” he said.

  “But tomorrow’s Sunday,” I protested, as Jem turned me homeward.

  “You can get the Janitor to let you in… Scout?”

  “Hm?”

  “Nothing.”

  Jem hadn’t started that in a long time. I wondered what he was thinking. He’d tell mewhen he wanted to, probably when we got home. I felt his fingers press the top of mycostume, too hard, it seemed. I shook my head. “Jem, you don’t hafta—”

  “Hush a minute, Scout,” he said, pinching me.

  We walked along silently. “Minute’s up,” I said. “Whatcha thinkin‘ about?” I turned tolook at him, but his outline was barely visible.

  “Thought I heard something,” he said. “Stop a minute.”

  We stopped.

  “Hear anything?” he asked.

  “No.”

  We had not gone five paces before he made me stop again.

  “Jem, are you tryin‘ to scare me? You know I’m too old—”

  “Be quiet,” he said, and I knew he was not joking.

  The night was still. I could hear his breath coming easily beside me. Occasionallythere was a sudden breeze that hit my bare legs, but it was all that remained of apromised windy night. This was the stillness before a thunderstorm. We listened.

  “Heard an old dog just then,” I said.

  “It’s not that,” Jem answered. “I hear it when we’re walkin‘ along, but when we stop Idon’t hear it.”

  “You hear my costume rustlin‘. Aw, it’s just Halloween got you…”

  I said it more to convince myself than Jem, for sure enough, as we began walking, Iheard what he was talking about. It was not my costume.

  “It’s just old Cecil,” said Jem presently. “He won’t get us again. Let’s don’t let him thinkwe’re hurrying.”

  We slowed to a crawl. I asked Jem how Cecil could follow us in this dark, looked to melike he’d bump into us from behind.

  “I can see you, Scout,” Jem said.

  “How? I can’t see you.”

  “Your fat streaks are showin‘. Mrs. Crenshaw painted ’em with some of that shiny stuffso they’d show up under the footlights. I can see you pretty well, an‘ I expect Cecil cansee you well enough to keep his distance.”

  I would show Cecil that we knew he was behind us and we were ready for him. “CecilJacobs is a big wet he-en!” I yelled suddenly, turning around.

  We stopped. There was no acknowledgement save he-en bouncing off the distantschoolhouse wall.

  “I’ll get him,” said Jem. “He-y!”

  Hay-e-hay-e-hay-ey, answered the schoolhouse wall. It was unlike Cecil to hold out forso long; once he pulled a joke he’d repeat it time and again. We should have been leaptat already. Jem signaled for me to stop again.

  He said softly, “Scout, can you take that thing off?”

  “I think so, but I ain’t got anything on under it much.”

  “I’ve got your dress here.”

  “I can’t get it on in the dark.”

  “Okay,” he said, “never mind.”

  “Jem, are you afraid?”

  “No. Think we’re almost to the tree now. Few yards from that, an‘ we’ll be to the road.

  We can see the street light then.” Jem was talking in an unhurried, flat toneless voice. Iwondered how long he would try to keep the Cecil myth going.

  “You reckon we oughta sing, Jem?”

  “No. Be real quiet again, Scout.”

  We had not increased our pace. Jem knew as well as I that it was difficult to walk fastwithout stumping a toe, tripping on stones, and other inconveniences, and I wasbarefooted. Maybe it was the wind rustling the trees. But there wasn’t any wind andthere weren’t any trees except the big oak.

  Our company shuffled and dragged his feet, as if wearing heavy shoes. Whoever itwas wore thick cotton pants; what I thought were trees rustling was the soft swish ofcotton on cotton, wheek, wheek, with every step.

  I felt the sand go cold under my feet and I knew we were near the big oak. Jempressed my head. We stopped and listened.

  Shuffle-foot had not stopped with us this time. His trousers swished softly and steadily.

  Then they stopped. He was running, running toward us with no child’s steps.

  “Run, Scout! Run! Run!” Jem screamed.

  I took one giant step and found myself reeling: my arms useless, in the dark, I couldnot keep my balance.

  “Jem, Jem, help me, Jem!”

  Something crushed the chicken wire around me. Metal ripped on metal and I fell to theground and rolled as far as I could, floundering to escape my wire prison. Fromsomewhere near by came scuffling, kicking sounds, sounds of shoes and flesh scrapingdirt and roots. Someone rolled against me and I felt Jem. He was up like lightning andpulling me with him but, though my head and shoulders were free, I was so entangledwe didn’t get very far.

  We were nearly to the road when I felt Jem’s hand leave me, felt him jerk backwardsto the ground. More scuffling, and there came a dull crunching sound and Jemscreamed.

  I ran in the direction of Jem’s scream and sank into a flabby male stomach. Its ownersaid, “Uff!” and tried to catch my arms, but they were tightly pinioned. His stomach wassoft but his arms were like steel. He slowly squeezed the breath out of me. I could notmove. Suddenly he was jerked backwards and flung on the ground, almost carrying mewith him. I thought, Jem’s up.

  One’s mind works very slowly at times. Stunned, I stood there dumbly. The scufflingnoises were dying; someone wheezed and the night was still again.

  Still but for a man breathing heavily, breathing heavily and staggering. I thought hewent to the tree and leaned against it. He coughed violently, a sobbing, bone-shakingcough.

  “Jem?”

  There was no answer but the man’s heavy breathing.

  “Jem?”

  Jem didn’t answer.

  The man began moving around, as if searching for something. I heard him groan andpull something heavy along the ground. It was slowly coming to me that there were nowfour people under the tree.

  “Atticus…?”

  The man was walking heavily and unsteadily toward the road.

  I went to where I thought he had been and felt frantically along the ground, reachingout with my toes. Presently I touched someone.

  “Jem?”

  My toes touched trousers, a belt buckle, buttons, something I could not identify, acollar, and a face. A prickly stubble on the face told me it was not Jem’s. I smelled stalewhiskey.

  I made my way along in what I thought was the direction of the road. I was not sure,because I had been turned around so many times. But I found it and looked down to thestreet light. A man was passing under it. The man was walking with the staccato stepsof someone carrying a load too heavy for him. He was going around the corner. He wascarrying Jem. Jem’s arm was dangling crazily in front of him.

  By the time I reached the corner the man was crossing our front yard. Light from ourfront door framed Atticus for an instant; he ran down the steps, and together, he and theman took Jem inside.

  I was at the front door when they were going down the hall. Aunt Alexandra wasrunning to meet me. “Call Dr. Reynolds!” Atticus’s voice came sharply from Jem’s room.

  “Where’s Scout?”

  “Here she is,” Aunt Alexandra called, pulling me along with her to the telephone. Shetugged at me anxiously. “I’m all right, Aunty,” I said, “you better call.”

  She pulled the receiver from the hook and said, “Eula May, get Dr. Reynolds, quick!”

  “Agnes, is your father home? Oh God, where is he? Please tell him to come over hereas soon as he comes in. Please, it’s urgent!”

  There was no need for Aunt Alexandra to identify herself, people in Maycomb kneweach other’s voices.

  Atticus came out of Jem’s room. The moment Aunt Alexandra broke the connection,Atticus took the receiver from her. He rattled the hook, then said, “Eula May, get me thesheriff, please.”

  “Heck? Atticus Finch. Someone’s been after my children. Jem’s hurt. Between hereand the schoolhouse. I can’t leave my boy. Run out there for me, please, and see if he’sstill around. Doubt if you’ll find him now, but I’d like to see him if you do. Got to go now.

  Thanks, Heck.”

  “Atticus, is Jem dead?”

  “No, Scout. Look after her, sister,” he called, as he went down the hall.

  Aunt Alexandra’s fingers trembled as she unwound the crushed fabric and wire fromaround me. “Are you all right, darling?” she asked over and over as she worked me free.

  It was a relief to be out. My arms were beginning to tingle, and they were red withsmall hexagonal marks. I rubbed them, and they felt better.

  “Aunty, is Jem dead?”

  “No—no, darling, he’s unconscious. We won’t know how badly he’s hurt until Dr.

  Reynolds gets here. Jean Louise, what happened?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She left it at that. She brought me something to put on, and had I thought about itthen, I would have never let her forget it: in her distraction, Aunty brought me myoveralls. “Put these on, darling,” she said, handing me the garments she most despised.

  She rushed back to Jem’s room, then came to me in the hall. She patted me vaguely,and went back to Jem’s room.

  A car stopped in front of the house. I knew Dr. Reynolds’s step almost as well as myfather’s. He had brought Jem and me into the world, had led us through every childhooddisease known to man including the time Jem fell out of the treehouse, and he hadnever lost our friendship. Dr. Reynolds said if we had been boil-prone things would havebeen different, but we doubted it.

  He came in the door and said, “Good Lord.” He walked toward me, said, “You’re stillstanding,” and changed his course. He knew every room in the house. He also knewthat if I was in bad shape, so was Jem.

  After ten forevers Dr. Reynolds returned. “Is Jem dead?” I asked.

  “Far from it,” he said, squatting down to me. “He’s got a bump on the head just likeyours, and a broken arm. Scout, look that way—no, don’t turn your head, roll your eyes.

  Now look over yonder. He’s got a bad break, so far as I can tell now it’s in the elbow.

  Like somebody tried to wring his arm off… Now look at me.”

  “Then he’s not dead?”

  “No-o!” Dr. Reynolds got to his feet. “We can’t do much tonight,” he said, “except try tomake him as comfortable as we can. We’ll have to X-ray his arm—looks like he’ll bewearing his arm ‘way out by his side for a while. Don’t worry, though, he’ll be as good asnew. Boys his age bounce.”

  While he was talking, Dr. Reynolds had been looking keenly at me, lightly fingering thebump that was coming on my forehead. “You don’t feel broke anywhere, do you?”

  Dr. Reynolds’s small joke made me smile. “Then you don’t think he’s dead, then?”

  He put on his hat. “Now I may be wrong, of course, but I think he’s very alive. Showsall the symptoms of it. Go have a look at him, and when I come back we’ll get togetherand decide.”

  Dr. Reynolds’s step was young and brisk. Mr. Heck Tate’s was not. His heavy bootspunished the porch and he opened the door awkwardly, but he said the same thing Dr.

  Reynolds said when he came in. “You all right, Scout?” he added.

  “Yes sir, I’m goin‘ in to see Jem. Atticus’n’them’s in there.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Mr. Tate.

  Aunt Alexandra had shaded Jem’s reading light with a towel, and his room was dim.

  Jem was lying on his back. There was an ugly mark along one side of his face. His leftarm lay out from his body; his elbow was bent slightly, but in the wrong direction. Jemwas frowning.

  “Jem…?”

  Atticus spoke. “He can’t hear you, Scout, he’s out like a light. He was coming around,but Dr. Reynolds put him out again.”

  “Yes sir.” I retreated. Jem’s room was large and square. Aunt Alexandra was sitting ina rocking-chair by the fireplace. The man who brought Jem in was standing in a corner,leaning against the wall. He was some countryman I did not know. He had probablybeen at the pageant, and was in the vicinity when it happened. He must have heard ourscreams and come running.

  Atticus was standing by Jem’s bed.

  Mr. Heck Tate stood in the doorway. His hat was in his hand, and a flashlight bulgedfrom his pants pocket. He was in his working clothes.

  “Come in, Heck,” said Atticus. “Did you find anything? I can’t conceive of anyone low-down enough to do a thing like this, but I hope you found him.”

  Mr. Tate sniffed. He glanced sharply at the man in the corner, nodded to him, thenlooked around the room—at Jem, at Aunt Alexandra, then at Atticus.

  “Sit down, Mr. Finch,” he said pleasantly.

  Atticus said, “Let’s all sit down. Have that chair, Heck. I’ll get another one from thelivingroom.”

  Mr. Tate sat in Jem’s desk chair. He waited until Atticus returned and settled himself. Iwondered why Atticus had not brought a chair for the man in the corner, but Atticusknew the ways of country people far better than I. Some of his rural clients would parktheir long-eared steeds under the chinaberry trees in the back yard, and Atticus wouldoften keep appointments on the back steps. This one was probably more comfortablewhere he was.

  “Mr. Finch,” said Mr. Tate, “tell you what I found. I found a little girl’s dress—it’s outthere in my car. That your dress, Scout?”

  “Yes sir, if it’s a pink one with smockin‘,” I said. Mr. Tate was behaving as if he wereon the witness stand. He liked to tell things his own way, untrammeled by state ordefense, and sometimes it took him a while.

  “I found some funny-looking pieces of muddy-colored cloth—”

  “That’s m’costume, Mr. Tate.”

  Mr. Tate ran his hands down his thighs. He rubbed his left arm and investigated Jem’smantelpiece, then he seemed to be interested in the fireplace. His fingers sought hislong nose.

  “What is it, Heck?” said Atticus.

  Mr. Tate found his neck and rubbed it. “Bob Ewell’s lyin‘ on the ground under that treedown yonder with a kitchen knife stuck up under his ribs. He’s dead, Mr. Finch.”

已是十月的最后一天,可天气却出奇地暖和,连甲克衫也用不着穿。风渐渐大了,杰姆说,我们回家以前可能会下雨,天上没有月亮。
拐角处的路灯在拉德利家的墙壁上投下轮廓鲜明的阴影。我听见杰姆短促地笑一声说:“今晚肯定没人打扰他们。”杰姆拿着我的火腿戏装,十分艰难地走着,因为那东西不好拿。我心想,他这样做还象个当哥哥的。“这地方有点吓人,你说是吗?”我对他说,“虽然布?拉德和不会害人,你~道来我还是十分高兴。”
“你知道,阿迪克斯不让你独自去学校。”杰姆说。
“我不明白这是为什么,只需要拐一个弯,再过一片空地就到了。”
“那片空地要让小姑娘晚上去走,可算很长很长的路了。”杰姆取笑我,“你不怕鬼吗?”
我们俩都笑了。鬼,热气,符咒,秘密信号,这些东西随着我们年龄的增长都消失了,好象晨雾随着太阳升起而消失一样。“那些东西是怎么说的,”杰姆说,“光明的守护神,我活得比死还难过;别挡我的路,别吸我的气。”
“别说了。”我叫道。已经到了拉德利家门前。
杰姆说:“布肯定没在家,你听。”
在头顶上漆黑的夜空中,一只孤独的反舌鸟一点也不知道自己栖息在谁家的树上,欢乐地模仿百鸟的啁瞅,从葵花鸟尖利的叽叽声,蓝背桎鸟烦躁的呱呱声,直到怪鸱的凄惋韵啼哭声。
转过街角,我不慎绊了一下长在路上的树根,踉跄了几步。杰姆想来扶住我,可是手还没有挨到我就把我的戏装掉在地上。不过我没有摔倒。不一会儿,我们又上路了。
转弯离开大路,进了校园,一片漆黑。
“怎样辨别现在是在哪儿,杰姆?”走了几步,我问。
“现在一定在大橡树下,因为这个地方清凉。当心别又摔倒了。”
我们放慢了脚步,小心地摸索前进,生怕撞在树干上,那是一棵古老曲橡树,孤孤单单的,两个小菝合抱着树干还碰不到手。这里离老师的住处很远,离好奇的邻居也很远,倒是相当靠近拉德利家的地界。不过拉德利家的人一点也不好奇。大树的树枝下那一小块地由于孩子们经常在那儿打架,偷偷地掷骰子,变得硬邦邦的了。
远处中学礼堂里灯火通明,尽管灯光从远处射来,还是照花了我们的眼睛。“别往前望,斯各特,”杰姆说,“往下看就不会摔倒。”
“你要是带了手电筒就好了,杰姆。”
“先头不知道天这么黑。天刚黑时看不出会这么漆黑。也难怪,这么厚的云层。不过暂时不会下雨就是了。”
有个人一下子蹿到我们面前。
“天啊!”杰姆叫起来。
一圈亮光猛地照射在我们脸上,塞西尔?雅各布在这道亮光后面欢乐地跳着。
“哈哈,抓列你们了!”他尖声叫道,“就知道你们会从这儿走J”
“你一个人在这儿干吗,伙计?你不怕布?拉德利吗?”
塞西尔早就平安地和他爸爸妈妈一道乘车到了礼堂,没看见我们,就一个人冒险走到这儿,断定我们一定会从这儿走。不过他原以为芬奇先生会和我们一起来的。
“嗬,学校这么近,一拐弯就到了。”杰妈说,“谁怕走这拐角处来着?”我们必须承认,塞西尔挺好,虽然他真把我们吓了一大跳,而且他会在学校里到处讲这件事,可这也只好由他去。
“喂,”我说,“你今晚不是要演奶牛吗?你的戏装呢?”
“放在后台上。”他说,“梅里韦瑟太太说,庆典这一会儿还不会开始。你可以把你的也放到后台去,挨着我的放就是。斯各特,我们可以和其他人一道去玩玩。”
杰姆觉得这真是个好主意。同时他认为塞西尔和我在一起也是件好事。这样,他就可以和他一般大的人一起玩了。
我们进了礼堂。嗬,全城的人,除了阿迪克斯、几位下午布置礼堂秀得精疲力竭的妇女和那些通常在外流浪的人阻及卧病不出门的人,其余都在这儿呢。似乎全县大多数的人都在这儿:大厅里挤满了打扮得漂漂亮亮的乡下人。学校这幢房子的楼下有宽阔的过道,过道两边临时搭起了各式各样的货摊子,拥挤的人群在这些摊子周围,转来转去。
“哦,杰姆,我忘记带钱来了。”看到那些摊子,我叹气说。
“阿迪克斯可没忘记拿钱给你,”杰姆说着,“这三角钱是给你的,拿去吧,每次用五分,你可以分六次用.回头见.”
。好。”我说。有了塞西尔作伴,还有这三角钱,我心里茭滋滋的。我和塞西尔走到礼堂前面,穿过一道侧门,来到后台。我把火腿戏装搁下就连忙出来了。梅里韦瑟太太站在第一排坐位前一个放讲稿的小讲台旁,忙乱地对她的脚本作演出前最后曲修改。
“你有多少钱?”我问塞西尔。他说他也有三角钱,刚好跟我一样多。我们首先各自拿出五分钱镍币进了“恐怖宫”,可是在里面一点也不觉得恐怖;我们又进了漆黑的七年级教室,临时装扮的食尸鬼领着我们转了一圈,让我们摸着假设为人体组成部分的各种物品。我们摸到放在一只盘子里的两颗剥了皮的葡萄时,有人告诉我们说:“这是眼睛。”接着j兑:“这是心脏。”那心脏摸起来象没煮过的猪肝。接着又说:“这些是内脏,”我们双手插进了一盘冷面条。
我和塞西尔到了几个货摊子,一人买了一袋泰勒法官太太家制的软糖。我想去玩咬苹果游戏,但塞西尔说那不卫生。他妈说,玩那种游戏每个人的头都伸到同一个盆里,可能染上什么病。“现在,城里没有流行什么传染病啊。”我提出不同的意见。但是塞西尔说,他妈说了,别人咬了后再去咬不卫生。后来,我问亚历山德拉姑妈,她说,有这种看法的人通常是些想向上爬的人。,
我们正打算一人买一块太妃糖时,梅里韦瑟太太派人跑来叫我们到后台去,演出就要开始了。人们渐渐涌入礼堂。梅科姆县立中学乐队聚集在前台下,戏台的脚灯亮了,柔软的大红幕布后面人来人往,弄得幕布象涟漪和波涛一样的晃动。
后台上,我和塞西尔发现那狭窄的过道上挤满了人:大人们有的戴着家制的三角帽,有的戴着南部邦联帽,有的戴着美西战争帽,有的戴世界大战钢盔。儿童们装扮成五花八门的农产品,聚集在唯一的小窗前。
“有人把我的戏装给压扁了。”我吃惊地哭着说。梅里韦瑟太太飞跑过来,把戏装的铁丝整理好,套在我身上。
“在里面舒服吗,斯各特?”塞西尔说:“你的声音昕起来很远,好象你在山的那边讲话。”
“你的声音听来也不近。”我说。
乐队演奏国歌,我们听见观众起立。然后嘣嘣地响起了大鼓的声音。梅里韦瑟太太站在乐队的侧面放讲稿的小讲台后。她高声说道:“梅科姆县;排除万难上天堂。”随即再次响起了大鼓的声音。这一句话原是拉丁文,梅里韦瑟太太为乡下人翻译了。她又补充道,“这是一曲庆典音乐。”我认为她没有必要补充这么一句。
“我想,她不解释,观众可能听不懂。”塞西尔低声说。立刻有人“嘘”的一声要他静下来。
“全城的人都懂。”我轻声说。
“但是观众中有很多乡下人。”塞西尔说。
“那边的孩子,安静一点。”一个男人命令道。我们不出声了。梅里韦瑟太太每讲一句,大鼓响一阵。她哀婉动人地说,梅科姆县的历史比亚拉巴马州更悠久,原来处于密西西比准州和亚拉巴马准州之间;在这一片原始森林内留下第一个脚印的白人是遗嘱法官的曾祖的五代祖,再也没听见人家谈起过他了。然后,她说到英勇无畏的梅科姆上校,这个县就是以他的名字命名的。
安德鲁?杰克逊让梅科姆上校担任一个权威性的职务,不料他过于自信,缺乏辨别方向酌能力,结果使他麾下所有的兵士在和克里克印第安人交战中遭了灾难。梅科姆上枝坚持不懈地努力在这个地区推行民主,可是他的第一次战役也就是他的最后一次。一位友好的印第安传令兵带来上级指示,命令他向南转移。但他根据树苔来判别哪边是南方。虽然一些下级军官大胆提出他的方向错误,可是他不接受意见。梅科姆上校出发时的目的是要赶走敌人,但不幸迷失方向,把部队带进了东北原始森林,最后多亏向内地迁徙的居民把他们搭救出来。
梅里韦瑟太太滔滔不绝地描述了梅科姆上校的功绩,足足说了三十分钟。我发现,我把膝盖弯曲起来可以缩进戏装里,勉强坐下,于是我坐下来,听着梅里韦瑟太太低沉的说话声和大鼓的敲击声,一会儿就酣睡起来了.。
后来,别人告诉我,梅里韦瑟太太要尽最大的努力来结束这场演出了,她看见扮演松树和利马豆的两个角色一听信号就出了台,就满有把握地低声叫了一声;“猪——肉,”等了几秒钟,提高嗓门叫了一声:“猪——肉?”但仍然没有动静,她高叫起来:“猪肉!”
要么是在睡梦中听见了她的喊声,要么是乐队演奏的“迪克西”唤醒了我,梅里韦瑟太太昂首阔步地挥舞亚拉巴马州州旗登上舞台时,我选定了出台的时间——不,说“选定”不对,我想,我是匆匆忙忙赶上其他人的。
后来听别人说,泰勒法官笑得只好走到礼堂后面,站着使劲地拍着膝盖。泰勒太太连忙递给他一杯水和一颗药丸。
梅里韦瑟太太看来十分成功,所有的人都在喝彩,但是她在后台拉住我,说我把她的庆典节目给搅坏了,弄得我好难为情。但杰姆来叫我时,却对我十分同情。他说从他坐的地方看不清我穿的戏装。我不明白他怎么知道我穿着戏装很难受。不过他说,我演得挺不错,只是出场稍晚了点,别的没什么。杰姆现在几乎变得象阿迪克斯一样,你出了差错,他总是使你不感到尴尬。礼堂里观众纷纷离去,挤得水泄不通,杰姆无法带我出去,同意和我一块儿在后台等太伙儿都走了再走。
“你想脱掉戏装吗,斯各特?”杰姆问。
“不,就这样穿着算了,”我说。这样可以遮住我懊丧的面孔。
“你们想坐车回去吗?”有人间。
“不,谢谢您。”我听见杰姆说,“我们离家不远。”
“要当心鬼啊!”那声音说,“不过最好还是告诉鬼当心斯各特。”
“人不多了,走吧。”杰姆对我说。
我们穿过礼堂来到过道上,又走下台阶,外面仍然一片漆黑。有几辆车还没定,可是停在礼堂的那一侧,车灯帮不了我们什么忙。“要是这些汽车走我们这条路,我们就会看得清楚些。”杰姆说,“斯各特,让我抓住你的…?”这个火腿上的躁关节,要不,你可能会走不稳。”
“我看得见。”
“知道,但是你可能站不稳。”我感觉头上有轻微的压力。猜想杰姆一定抓住了火腿的那一头。“抓住了吗?”
“嗯。”
要走到操场上了,一片漆黑,我们睁大眼睛瞧着脚下的道路。
“杰姆,”我忽然说,“我忘记拿鞋子了,在后台上。”
“哎哟,那我们回去拿吧。”但是我们一转身,礼堂的电灯熄灭了。“明天可以拿到的。”他说。
“但是明天是星期天啊,”杰姆拉着我转过身时,我分辩说。
“可以叫看门人让你进去……斯各特?”
“嗯?”
“没什么。”
杰姆好久没有这样了,耪不知道他这会儿在想什么。他想告诉我就会告诉我的,可能回家会告诉我。我可以感觉到他的手指头按在我的戏裟的顶端,似乎按得太重了。我摇晃丁一下脑袋。“杰姆,用不着……”
“安静一分钟,斯各特。”他捏了我一下说。
我们静悄悄地走着。“一分钟列了,”我说,“你在想什么?”我转过来瞅着他,但看不清他的轮廓。
“我好象听见什么声音。”他说,“停一下。”
我们停止了脚步。
“听到什么吗?”他问我。
“没有啊。”
还没走上五步,他又叫我停下来。
“杰姆,你想吓我?你知道,我已经大到……”
“别作声,”他喝道。我这才知道他不是闹着玩的。
黑夜一片沉寂。我可以听见他均匀的呼吸。偶尔一阵微风拂过我光着的腿,但这还只是预示晓上有大风。这是暴风雨来临前的沉寂。我们静静地听着。
“刚才我听见了一只老狗的声音。”我说。
“那不是,”杰姆回答说,“有种声音,我们一走就听得见,不走就听不见了。”
。那是我的戏装发出的塞率声。噢,是万圣节前夕迷住了你……”
这样说与其是要使杰姆相信,不如说是为了给我自已壮胆,因为我一抬腿就真的听到了他说的那种声音,决不是我的戏装发出的。
“又是塞西尔那个家伙,”过了一会儿,杰姆说,“这一回他休想吓住我们,我们慢些走,不要让他以为我们是慌慌张张的。”
我们放慢脚步,缓缓而行。我问杰姆天色这么黑,塞西尔怎么可能跟踪我们。我看他会从后面撞到我们身上的。
“我可以看见你,斯各特。”杰姆说。
“怎么看得见?我看不见你。”
“你这火腿上的肥肉条纹清清楚楚。克伦肖太太在上面涂了闪光的东西,使它在脚灯下特别显眼。我看你看得相当清楚。我想塞西尔也看得清,所以他和我们可以保持一定的距离。”
我想让塞西尔明白,我们知道他跟在后面,在等着他来吓我们,我突然转身高声叫道:“塞西尔?雅各布真讨厌!”
我们停住脚步。没听见入回答,只听见远处学校的墙壁传回来一声“讨厌”。
“我要打死他,”杰姆说,“嘿!”
嘿——嘿——嘿,学校的墙壁发出连续的回声。
雅各布不会这么久一直沉住气啊。他这个人一个玩笑开着了就会连续开下去。要是他,他早就窜到我们跟前来了。这时杰姆示意要我停下来。
他低声说:“你能把戏装脱掉吗,斯各特?”
“我想能,不过我身上没穿什么衣服。”
“你的衣服在我这儿。”
“黑魑魈的我穿不上。”
“好吧,”他说,“那就别脱了。”
“杰姆,你害怕了吗?”
“没有。我们快到大橡树下了。一会儿就要上公路了,到了公路就有路灯了。”杰姆慢条斯理地、平平淡淡地说。我不知道他到底要把塞西尔这个谜保持多久。
“杰姆,你看我们应该唱歌不?”
“不,斯各特,这回真的安静下来昕一听。”
我们没有加快脚步,因为我们都清楚地知道,走快是困准的,要么会碰伤脚趾,要么会绊在石头上,或者遇上其他麻烦,况且我当时赤着脚。树叶沙沙作响,可能是由于风吹吧,可是这当儿没有风,这儿除了大橡树外也没有别的树。
我们酌尾随者拖着脚步慢吞吞地跟着,好象穿着一双笨重的鞋子。不管是谁,反正是穿着厚厚的棉布裤。我原来以为是橡树枝摇晃的沙沙声,其实是棉布裤腿间轻柔的摩擦声。嗖、嗖、嗖,一步一响。
我感到脚下的沙土渐渐变凉了,知道来到了大橡树底下。杰姆按了按我的头,我们一起停下来听着。
那拖着走的脚步这次没有随我们一道停止。他的裤子嗖嗖地不断发出轻柔的声音。突然声音停止了。他飞跑过来,大步大步地朝我们飞跑过来,不是小孩子的脚步声。
“陕跑,斯各特,快跑!快跑i”杰姆尖叫着。
我抬腿猛跨了一步后就趔趄起来,胳膊裹在戏装里,不听使唤,在漆黑中我保持不住身体的平衡……
“杰姆,杰姆!拉我一把,杰姆!”
什么东西猛击裹着我身子的铁丝网,金属劈在金属上。我摔倒在地,尽我的力气一连打了几个滚,身子乱动,想挣扎出铁丝的羁绊。从不远的地方传来格斗的声音,拳打脚赐的声音,鞋子和身体在地上和树根上摩擦的声音。有谁滚到了我身边,我一摸,是杰姆。他闪电般地迅速站起,同时把我一把拉起。但是,尽管我的头部和肩膀摆脱了铁丝的束缚,身子却仍然被缠绕着,我们没有移动几步。
几乎走到公路时,我感到杰姆的手松了,他身子朝后颠踬了一下,摔倒在地上。又是一阵紧张的搏斗声,突然传来沉闷的嘎扎一响,杰姆惨叫了一声。
我朝着杰姆叫的方向跑去,一头撞到一个男人松软酌腹部上,那人“哼”了一声,想抓住我的双臂,但是我的双臂仍被铁丝紧紧地缠绕着。他的腹部松软,可是胳膊却钢铁般有力,他死死地抓住我,我气都慢慢儿地接不上来了,我完全不能动弹了。突然他被人朝后猛拉一下,砰地一声跌倒在地,几乎把我也带倒。我想,是杰姆站起来了。
有时候,一个人的脑子会变得十分迟钝。我惊骇不已,站在那儿呆若木鸡。搏斗的声音渐渐平息了,有人呼哧呼哧地喘息,黑夜又陷入了一片沉寂。
一片沉寂。但是有个人在不停地大声喘气,走起路来摇摇晃晃。我看见他走到大树跟前,靠在树上,拼命地又是咳嗽,又是抽噎,直咳得垒身发抖。
“杰姆吗?”
没人回答,只听见那个人呼哧呼哧的喘息声。
“杰姆J’
杰姆没有回答。
那个人开始转动起来,象是要找什么东西。我听见他哼了一声,在地上拖起一个什么沉重的东西。这时,我渐渐意识到大树下面一共有四个人。
“阿迪克斯……?”
那个人迈着沉重的步子踉踉跄跄地走向公路。我走到我认为他刚才呆过的地方,伸出脚趾挨着地面发疯似的探索着。一会儿,脚触到了一个什么人。
“杰姆?”
我脚趾碰到了裤子、皮带扣、钮扣和一件我辨认不出的东西,还有衣领和面孔。面孔上刺丛般的胡茬使我知道那不是杰姆。接着,我嗅到一股陈威士忌酒味。
我朝着我认为是公路的方向走去。心里没有一点把握,因为我已经不知在这里转了多少圈了。不久,我发现了公路,朝路灯望去,有人在灯下经过。他时断时续地向前走,好象是背着一个他承受不了的负担。他走到拐角处了,背的是杰姆,只见杰姆的一只胳膊悬在那人胸前摇摆得非常厉害。
我走到拐角处时,那人已进了我家的院子。阿迪克斯的身影在前门灯光里晃动了一下,跑下台阶,跟那人一道把杰姆抬进了屋。
我进门时,他们正朝过厅的那一端走去。亚历山德拉姑妈迎上前来。“打电话给雷纳兹医生f”阿迪克斯严峻的声音从杰姆的房里传来,“斯各特呢?”?
“在这儿,”亚历山德拉姑妈高声回答,拉着我一起到电话机旁,焦急不安地用力拉着我。我说:“我没事,姑妈,快打电话吧。”
她从架子上取下听筒,说;“尤拉?梅,请接雷纳兹医生,快!”
“艾格尼丝,你爸爸在家吗?天哪,哪儿去啦?回来就叫他快来,有急事!”
亚历山德拉姑妈没有必要通报自己酌姓名,梅科姆镇的人没有听不出对方声音的。
阿迪克斯从杰姆房里出来。姑妈把电话一挂断,阿迪克斯就从她手中拿过话筒,他嘎啦嘎啦地揿着挂钩,说;“尤拉,梅,请接司法官。”
“赫克吗?我是阿迪克斯?芬奇。有人追肴我的孩子行凶。杰姆受伤了。在从学校回家的路上。我不能离开孩子。请替我去看看他是不是还在附近。只怕不在了。如果你找到他,我倒想看看,马上去。谢谢,赫克。”
“阿迪克斯,杰姆死了吗?”
。没有,斯各特。照看着她,妹妹。”他穿过过厅时叫道。
亚历山德拉姑妈手指颤抖着,把我身上压扁揉破了的铁丝和布解开。她一面解,一面不断地重复问着:“宝贝,不疼吧?”
解开之后舒服多了。我的胳膊开始感到刺痛,上面布满六角形的红色斑痕。我揉了揉,觉得好一点儿。
“姑妈,杰姆死了吗?”
“没有……没有,宝贝,他昏过去了。究竟伤势重不重,得等雷纳兹医生来才知道。琼?路易斯,是怎么回事?”
“我不知道。”
她没有追根究底,拿来件什么东西叫我穿上。她心神烦乱,把我的背带裤给拿来了。要是我当时意识到这一点,我就会叫她永远忘不了。“穿上吧,亲爱的。”她把她最鄙夷的背带裤递给我说。
她匆匆走到杰姆房间里去,一会儿又出来回到我身旁,茫然地拍拍我的肩膀,又到杰姆房间里去了。
一辆汽车停在屋前。我对雷纳兹医生的脚步声跟对爸爸的一样熟悉。雷纳兹医生曾把我和杰姆接到这人世间来,曾使我们安全度过每一种人类知道的童年疾病,包括杰姆从树上小屋摔下来的那一次。他一直跟我们要好,但是他说,要是我们老是生疖子的话,情况就会不…样了。不过我们对他的话表示怀疑。
他进门就说:。天哪!”又向我走过来说:“你还没倒下。”然后转身进杰姆的房间。他知道我们家每问房间。他也知道,我身体不好,杰姆就好不了。
过了很久很久,雷纳兹医生出来了。“杰姆死了吗?”我问道。
“死不了。”他说着,对我蹲下来。“他头上肿了一块,象你头上一样,还断了只胳膊。斯各特,看着那边——不,头不要转过去,只转动眼珠。好,现在看那边。杰姆的胳膊断得很厉害。据我看是手肘断了,好象有人想拧掉他的胳膊……好,望着我。”
“那么他没有死?”
“没——有!”雷纳兹医生站起来。“今晚没什么可做的,只是尽力让他感觉舒服点。我们要给他的胳膊照X光——看来一时他得把胳膊吊在一边。不过,不要紧的,他会好起来的。这么大年纪的小伙子好得快。”
他说话时紧紧盯着我,手指轻揉着逐渐出现在我前额上的肿块。“你没觉得身上有什么地方折断了吧?”
雷纳兹医生这一个小玩笑使我笑了起来。“那么,您认为他没有死罗?”
他戴上帽子。“当然,我的话可能不对,但是我认为他活得好好的。没有任何死的征兆。去看看他吧。等我回来,大家就碰头作出决定。”
雷纳兹医生步履轻快,赫克?塔特先生却不然,他沉甸甸的靴子使走廊都得活受罪。他不熟练地推开门,说了雷纳兹医生进门时所说的同样的话,又补充说:“你好吧,斯各特?”
“很好,先生,我要进去看看杰姆。阿迪克斯他们都在里面。”
“一块进去吧。”塔特先生说。
亚历山德拉姑妈用一条毛巾掩着杰姆的台灯,室内光线暗淡。杰姆仰卧在床上,在他的一边脸上有块难看的伤痕,左臂向外摊着,肘关节有点儿弯曲,但却是向外边弯。他双眉紧锁。
“杰姆……”,阿迪克斯说:“他听不见,斯各特。他象灯一样,暂时熄灭了。他本来快醒了,但雷纳兹医生使他又昏过去了。”
“好吧,爸爸。”我退了几步。杰姆的房间四四方方,挺宽敞的。亚历山德拉姑妈坐在壁炉旁的摇椅上。那个背杰姆进来的人倚着墙站在墙角里。他是个我不认识的乡下人,他可能参加了今晚的庆典,事情发生时可能在近旁。他一定是听见我们叫喊跑来搭救我们的。
阿迪克斯站在杰姆床前。?
赫克?塔特先生站在门口,手拿帽子,裤袋里鼓鼓囊囊地装着手电筒。他身穿工作服。
“进来吧,赫克。”阿迪克斯说,“发现了什么吗?我想不出谁竟这样卑鄙,千出这样的事情。但是我希望你已弄清了是谁。”
塔特先生吸了吸鼻予,敏锐的眼睛瞥了屋角里的人一眼,对他点了点头,‘环顾了一下四周的人——杰姆、亚历山德拉姑妈,最后,眼光落在阿迪克斯身上。
“坐吧,芬奇先生。”他以令人愉快的口吻说。
阿迪克斯说:“大家都坐F吧。赫克,你坐那张椅子。我到客厅去再搬张椅子来。”
塔特先生坐在杰姆桌旁的椅子上。他等了等,直到阿迪克斯回来坐好。我不理解为什么阿迪克斯不给那站在墙角如人搬一张椅子。不过,阿迪克斯对于乡下人的习性比我了解得多。他的乡下当事人中有的喜欢把他们的长耳马拴在后院苦楝树上,阿迪克斯常和他们!生后面台阶上接治事情。这一位说不定站在墙角里还觉得舒服些。
“芬奇先生,”塔特先生说话了,“告诉你发现了什么吧。发现一件小姑娘的连衣裙一现在搁在车里。是你的吗,斯各特?”
“是的,先生,是水红色带褶饰的。”我说。塔特先生那模样似乎是站在证入席上发言。他喜欢按自己的方式讲话,既不受原告的影响,也不受被告的影响。这样,有时就要拖延老半天。‘
“还发现一些奇怪的褐色布片……”
“那是我的戏装,塔特先生。”
塔特先生用双手擦擦大腿,又揉了揉左臂,端详着杰姆的壁炉架,好象对壁炉发生了兴趣,然后把手指伸向他那长长的鼻子。
“还有什么,赫克?”阿迪克斯问道。
塔特先生用手在他曲脖子上揉一揉,说:“鲍勃-尤厄尔躺在那棵大树底下,下肋间插着一把厨房里用的刀,没气了,芬奇先生。”



欢迎访问英文小说网http://novel.tingroom.com

©英文小说网 2005-2010

有任何问题,请给我们留言,管理员邮箱:tinglishi@gmail.com  站长QQ :点击发送消息和我们联系56065533

鲁ICP备05031204号