But after this the long days in prison for Clyde. Except for a weekly visit from his mother, who, once she wasentered upon her work, found it difficult to see him more often than that--traveling as she did in the next twomonths between Albany and Buffalo1 and even New York City--but without the success she had at first hoped for.
For in the matter of her appeal to the churches and the public--as most wearily (and in secret if not to Clyde)-andafter three weeks of more or less regional and purely2 sectarian trying, she was compelled to report theChristians at least were very indifferent--not as Christian4 as they should be. For as all, but more particularly theministers of the region, since they most guardedly and reservedly represented their congregations in everyinstance, unanimously saw it, here was a notorious and, of course, most unsavory trial which had resulted in aconviction with which the more conservative element of the country--if one could judge by the papers at least,were in agreement.
Besides who was this woman--as well as her son? An exhorter-- a secret preacher--one, who in defiance6 of all thetenets and processes of organized and historic, as well as hieratic, religious powers and forms (theologicalseminaries, organized churches and their affiliations7 and product--all carefully and advisedly and legitimatelybecause historically and dogmatically interpreting the word of God) choosing to walk forth8 and withoutordination after any fashion conduct an unauthorized and hence nondescript mission. Besides if she hadremained at home, as a good mother should, and devoted9 herself to her son, as well as to her other children--theircare and education--would this--have happened?
And not only that--but according to Clyde's own testimony10 in this trial, had he not been guilty of adultery withthis girl--whether he had slain12 her or not? A sin almost equal to murder in many minds. Had he not confessed it?
And was an appeal for a convicted adulterer--if not murderer (who could tell as to that?) to be made in a church?
No,--no Christian church was the place to debate, and for a charge, the merits of this case, however much eachChristian of each and every church might sympathize with Mrs. Griffiths personally--or resent any legal injusticethat might have been done her son. No, no. It was not morally advisable. It might even tend to implant13 in theminds of the young some of the details of the crime.
Besides, because of what the newspapers had said of her coming east to aid her son and the picture that sheherself presented in her homely14 garb15, it was assumed by most ministers that she was one of those erratic16 persons,not a constituent17 of any definite sect3, or schooled theology, who tended by her very appearance to cast contempton true and pure religion.
And in consequence, each in turn--not hardening his heart exactly--but thinking twice--and deciding no--theremust be some better way-- less troublesome to Christians5,--a public hall, perhaps, to which Christians, if properlyappealed to through the press, might well repair. And so Mrs. Griffiths, in all but one instance, rejected in thatfashion and told to go elsewhere--while in regard to the Catholics--instinctively--because of prejudice--as well asa certain dull wisdom not inconsistent with the facts--she failed even to so much as think of them. The mercies ofChrist as interpreted by the holder18 of the sacred keys of St. Peter, as she knew, were not for those who failed toacknowledge the authority of the Vicar of Christ.
And therefore after many days spent in futile19 knockings here and there she was at last compelled--and in no littledepression, to appeal to a Jew who controlled the principal moving picture theater of Utica--a sinful theater. Andfrom him, this she secured free for a morning address on the merits of her son's case--"A mother's appeal for herson," it was entitled--which netted her, at twenty-five cents per person--the amazing sum of two hundred dollars.
At first this sum, small as it was, so heartened her that she was now convinced that soon--whatever the attitude ofthe orthodox Christians--she would earn enough for Clyde's appeal. It might take time--but she would.
Nevertheless, as she soon discovered, there were other factors to be considered--carfare, her own personalexpenses in Utica and elsewhere, to say nothing of certain very necessary sums to be sent to Denver to herhusband, who had little or nothing to go on at present, and who, because of this very great tragedy in the family,had been made ill--so ill indeed that the letters from Frank and Julia were becoming very disturbing. It waspossible that he might not get well at all. Some help was necessary there.
And in consequence, in addition to paying her own expenses here, Mrs. Griffiths was literally20 compelled todeduct other reducing sums from this, her present and only source of income. It was terrible--considering Clyde'spredicament--but nevertheless must she not sustain herself in every way in order to win to victory? She could notreasonably abandon her husband in order to aid Clyde alone.
Yet in the face of this--as time went on, the audiences growing smaller and smaller until at last they constitutedlittle more than a handful--and barely paying her expenses--although through this process none-the-less shefinally managed to put aside--over and above all her expenses--eleven hundred dollars.
Yet, also, just at this time, and in a moment of extreme anxiety, Frank and Julia wiring her that if she desired tosee Asa again she had better come home at once. He was exceedingly low and not expected to live. Whereupon,played upon by these several difficulties and there being no single thing other than to visit him once or twice a week--as her engagements permitted--which she could do for Clyde, she now hastily conferred with Belknap andJephson, setting forth her extreme difficulties.
And these, seeing that eleven hundred dollars of all she had thus far collected was to be turned over to them,now, in a burst of humanity, advised her to return to her husband. Decidedly Clyde would do well enough for thepresent seeing that there was an entire year--or at least ten months before it was necessary to file the record andthe briefs in the case. In addition another year assuredly must elapse before a decision could be reached. And nodoubt before that time the additional part of the appeal fee could be raised. Or, if not--well, then--anyhow (seeinghow worn and distrait23 she was at this time) she need not worry. Messrs. Belknap and Jephson would see to it thather son's interests were properly protected. They would file an appeal and make an argument--and do whateverelse was necessary to insure her son a fair hearing at the proper time.
And with that great burden off her mind--and two last visits to Clyde in which she assured him of herdetermination to return as speedily as possible--once Asa was restored to strength again and she could see herway to financing such a return--she now departed only to find that, once she was in Denver once more, it was notso easy to restore him by any means.
And in the meantime Clyde was left to cogitate24 on and make the best of a world that at its best was a kind ofinferno of mental ills--above which--as above Dante's might have been written--"abandon hope--ye who enterhere."The somberness of it. Its slow and yet searing psychic25 force! The obvious terror and depression--constant andunshakeable of those who, in spite of all their courage or their fears, their bravado26 or their real indifference27 (therewere even those) were still compelled to think and wait. For, now, in connection with this coldest and bitterestform of prison life he was in constant psychic, if not physical contact, with twenty other convicted characters ofvarying temperaments28 and nationalities, each one of whom, like himself, had responded to some heat or lust29 ormisery of his nature or his circumstances. And with murder, a mental as well as physical explosion, as the finaloutcome or concluding episode which, being detected, and after what horrors and wearinesses of mental as wellas legal contest and failure, such as fairly paralleled his own, now found themselves islanded--immured--in oneor another of these twenty-two iron cages and awaiting--awaiting what?
How well they knew. And how well he knew. And here with what loud public rages and despairs or prayers--attimes. At others--what curses--foal or coarse jests--or tales addressed to all--or ribald laughter--or sighings andgroanings in these later hours when the straining spirit having struggled to silence, there was supposedly rest forthe body and the spirit.
In an exercise court, beyond the farthermost end of the long corridor, twice daily, for a few minutes each time,between the hours of ten and five--the various inmates31 in groups of five or six were led forth--to breathe, to walk,to practice calisthenics--or run and leap as they chose. But always under the watchful32 eyes of sufficient guards tomaster them in case they attempted rebellion in any form. And to this it was, beginning with the second day, thatClyde himself was led, now with one set of men and now with another. But with the feeling at first strong in himthat he could not share in any of these public activities which, nevertheless, these others--and in spite of theirimpending doom--seemed willing enough to indulge in.
The two dark-eyed sinister34-looking Italians, one of whom had slain a girl because she would not marry him; theother who had robbed and then slain and attempted to burn the body of his father-in-law in order to get moneyfor himself and his wife! And big Larry Donahue--square-headed, square-shouldered--big of feet and hands, anoverseas soldier, who, being ejected from a job as night watchman in a Brooklyn factory, had lain for theforeman who had discharged him--and then killed him on an open common somewhere at night, but without theskill to keep from losing a service medal which had eventually served to betray and identify him. Clyde hadlearned all this from the strangely indifferent and non-committal, yet seemingly friendly guards, who were overthese cells by night and by day--two and two, turn about--who relieved each other every eight hours. And policeofficer Riordan of Rochester, who had killed his wife because she was determined35 to leave him--and now,himself, was to die. And Thomas Mowrer, the young "farmer" or farm hand, as he really was, whom Clyde onhis first night had heard moaning--a man who had killed his employer with a pitchfork--and was soon to dienow--as Clyde heard, and who walked and walked, keeping close to the wall--his head down, his hands behindhis back--a rude, strong, loutish36 man of about thirty, who looked more beaten and betrayed than as though he hadbeen able to torture or destroy another. Clyde wondered about him--his real guilt11.
Again Miller37 Nicholson, a lawyer of Buffalo of perhaps forty years of age who was tall and slim and decidedlysuperior looking--a refined, intellectual type, one you would have said was no murderer--any more than Clyde-tolook at, who, none-the-less was convicted of poisoning an old man of great wealth and afterwards attemptingto convert his fortune to his own use. Yet decidedly with nothing in his look or manner, as Clyde felt, at least,which marked him as one so evil--a polite and courteous38 man, who, noting Clyde on the very first morning of hisarrival here, approached and said: "Scared?" But in the most gentle and solicitous39 tone, as Clyde could hear andfeel, even though he stood blank and icy-- afraid almost to move--or think. Yet in this mood--and because he feltso truly done for, replying: "Yes, I guess I am." But once it was out, wondering why he had said it (so weak aconfession) and afterwards something in the man heartening him, wishing that he had not.
"Your name's Griffiths, isn't it?""Yes.""Well, my name's Nicholson. Don't be frightened. You'll get used to it." He achieved a cheerful, if wan41 smile.
But his eyes--they did not seem like that--no smile there.
"I don't suppose I'm so scared either," replied Clyde, trying to modify his first, quick and unintended confession40.
"Well, that's good. Be game. We all have to be here--or the whole place would go crazy. Better breathe a little.
Or walk fast. It'll do you good."He moved away a few paces and began exercising his arms while Clyde stood there, saying--almost loudly--soshaken was he still: "We all have to be or the whole place would go crazy." That was true, as he could see andfeel after that first night. Crazy, indeed. Tortured to death, maybe, by being compelled to witness these terribleand completely destroying--and for each--impending33 tragedies. But how long would he have to endure this? Howlong would he?
In the course of a day or two, again he found this death house was not quite like that either--not all terror--on the surface at least. It was in reality--and in spite of impending death in every instance, a place of taunt42 and jibe43 andjest--even games, athletics44, the stage--all forms of human contest of skill--or the arguments on every conceivabletopic from death and women to lack of it, as far at least as the general low intelligence of the group permitted.
For the most part, as soon as breakfast was over--among those who were not called upon to join the first groupfor exercise, there were checkers or cards, two games that were played--not with a single set of checkers or adeck of cards between groups released from their cells, but by one of the ever present keepers providing twochallenging prisoners (if it were checkers) with one checker-board but no checkers. They were not needed.
Thereafter the opening move was called by one. "I move from G 2 to E 1"--each square being numbered--eachside lettered. The moves checked with a pencil.
Thereafter the second party--having recorded this move on his own board and having studied the effect of it onhis own general position, would call: "I move from E 7 to F 5." If more of those present decided21 to join in this-eitheron one side or the other, additional boards and pencils were passed to each signifying his desire. ThenShorty Bristol, desiring to aid "Dutch" Swighort, three cells down, might call: "I wouldn't do that, Dutch. Wait aminute, there's a better move than that." And so on with taunts46, oaths, laughter, arguments, according to thevarying fortunes and difficulties of the game. And so, too, with cards. These were played with each man lockedin his cell, yet quite as successfully.
But Clyde did not care for cards--or for these jibing47 and coarse hours of conversation. There was for him--andwith the exception of the speech of one--Nicholson--alone, too much ribald and even brutal48 talk which he couldnot appreciate. But he was drawn49 to Nicholson. He was beginning to think after a time--a few days--that thislawyer--his presence and companionship during the exercise hour--whenever they chanced to be in the same set-couldhelp him to endure this. He was the most intelligent and respectable man here. The others were all sodifferent--taciturn at times--and for the most part so sinister, crude or remote.
But then and that not more than a week after his coming here--and when, because of his interest in Nicholson, hewas beginning to feel slightly sustained at least--the execution of Pasquale Cutrone, of Brooklyn, an Italian,convicted of the slaying50 of his brother for attempting to seduce51 his wife. He had one of the cells nearest thetransverse passage, so Clyde learned after arriving, and had in part lost his mind from worrying. At any rate hewas invariably left in his cell when the others--in groups of six--were taken for exercise. But the horror of hisemaciated face, as Clyde passed and occasionally looked in--a face divided into three grim panels by two guttersor prison lines of misery30 that led from the eyes to the corners of the mouth.
Beginning with his, Clyde's arrival, as he learned, Pasquale had begun to pray night and day. For already, beforethat, he had been notified of the approximate date of his death which was to be within the week. And after that hewas given to crawling up and down his cell on his hands and knees, kissing the floor, licking the feet of a brassChrist on a cross that had been given him. Also he was repeatedly visited by an Italian brother and sister freshfrom Italy and for whose benefit at certain hours, he was removed to the old death house. But as all nowwhispered, Pasquale was mentally beyond any help that might lie in brothers or sisters.
All night long and all day long, when they were not present, he did this crawling to and fro and praying, andthose who were awake and trying to read to pass the time, were compelled to listen to his mumbled52 prayers, theclick of the beads53 of a rosary on which he was numbering numberless Our Fathers and Hail Marys.
And though there were voices which occasionally said: "Oh, for Christ's sake--if he would only sleep a little"-stillon, on. And the tap of his forehead on the floor--in prayer, until at last the fatal day preceding the one onwhich he was to die, when Pasquale was taken from his cell here and escorted to another in the old death housebeyond and where, before the following morning, as Clyde later learned, last farewells, if any, were to be said.
Also he was to be allowed a few hours in which to prepare his soul for his maker54.
But throughout that night what a strange condition was this that settled upon all who were of this fatal room. Fewate any supper as the departing trays showed. There was silence--and after that mumbled prayers on the part ofsome--not so greatly removed by time from Pasquale's fate, as they knew. One Italian, sentenced for the murderof a bank watchman, became hysterical55, screamed, dashed the chair and table of his cell against the bars of hisdoor, tore the sheets of his bed to shreds56 and even sought to strangle himself before eventually he wasoverpowered and removed to a cell in a different part of the building to be observed as to his sanity57.
As for the others, throughout this excitement, one could hear them walking and mumbling58 or calling to theguards to do something. And as for Clyde, never having experienced or imagined such a scene, he was literallyshivering with fear and horror. All through the last night of this man's life he lay on his pallet, chasing phantoms59.
So this was what death was like here; men cried, prayed, they lost their minds--yet the deadly process was in noway halted, for all their terror. Instead, at ten o'clock and in order to quiet all those who were left, a cold lunchwas brought in and offered--but with none eating save the Chinaman over the way.
And then at four the following morning--the keepers in charge of the deadly work coming silently along the mainpassage and drawing the heavy green curtains with which the cells were equipped so that none might see the fatalprocession which was yet to return along the transverse passage from the old death house to the execution room.
And yet with Clyde and all the others waking and sitting up at the sound.
It was here, the execution! The hour of death was at hand. This was the signal. In their separate cells, many ofthose who through fear or contrition60, or because of innate61 religious convictions, had been recalled to some formof shielding or comforting faith, were upon their knees praying. Among the rest were others who merely walkedor muttered. And still others who screamed from time to time in an incontrollable fever of terror.
As for Clyde he was numb45 and dumb. Almost thoughtless. They were going to kill that man in that other room inthere. That chair--that chair that he had so greatly feared this long while was in there--was so close now. Yet histime as Jephson and his mother had told him was so long and distant as yet--if ever--ever it was to be--if ever-ever-But now other sounds. Certain walkings to and fro. A cell door clanking somewhere. Then plainly the doorleading from the old death house into this room opening--for there was a voice--several voices indistinct as yet.
Then another voice a little clearer as if some one praying. That tell-tale shuffling62 of feet as a procession movedacross and through that passage. "Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy.""Mary, Mother of Grace, Mary, Mother of Mercy, St. Michael, pray for me; my good Angel, pray for me.""Holy Mary, pray for me; St. Joseph, pray for me. St. Ambrose, pray for me; all ye saints and angels, pray for me.""St. Michael, pray for me; my good Angel, pray for me."It was the voice of the priest accompanying the doomed63 man and reciting a litany. Yet he was no longer in hisright mind they said. And yet was not that his voice mumbling too? It was. Clyde could tell. He had heard it toomuch recently. And now that other door would be opened. He would be looking through it--this condemnedman--so soon to be dead--at it--seeing it--that cap-- those straps64. Oh, he knew all about those by now though theyshould never come to be put upon him, maybe.
"Good-by, Cutrone!" It was a hoarse65, shaky voice from some near-by cell--Clyde could not tell which. "Go to abetter66 world than this." And then other voices: "Goodby, Cutrone. God keep you--even though you can't talkEnglish."The procession had passed. That door was shut. He was in there now. They were strapping67 him in, no doubt.
Asking him what more he had to say--he who was no longer quite right in his mind. Now the straps must befastened on, surely. The cap pulled down. In a moment, a moment, surely-And then, although Clyde did not know or notice at the moment--a sudden dimming of the lights in this room--aswell as over the prison--an idiotic68 or thoughtless result of having one electric system to supply the death voltageand the incandescence69 of this and all other rooms. And instantly a voice calling:
"There she goes. That's one. Well, it's all over with him."And a second voice: "Yes, he's topped off, poor devil."And then after the lapse22 of a minute perhaps, a second dimming lasting70 for thirty seconds--and finally a thirddimming.
"There--sure--that's the end now.""Yes. He knows what's on the other side now."Thereafter silence--a deadly hush71 with later some murmured prayers here and there. But with Clyde cold andwith a kind of shaking ague. He dared not think--let alone cry. So that's how it was. They drew the curtains. Andthen--and then. He was gone now. Those three dimmings of the lights. Sure, those were the flashes. And after allthose nights at prayer. Those moanings! Those beatings of his head! And only a minute ago he had been alive-walkingby there. But now dead. And some day he--he!--how could he be sure that he would not? How could he?
He shook and shook, lying on his couch, face down. The keepers came and ran up the curtains--as sure andsecure in their lives apparently72 as though there was no death in the world. And afterwards he could hear themtalking--not to him so much--he had proved too reticent73 thus far--but to some of the others.
Poor Pasquale. This whole business of the death penalty was all wrong. The warden74 thought so. So did they. He was working to have it abolished.
But that man! His prayers! And now he was gone. His cell over there was empty and another man would be putin it--to go too, later. Some one--many--like Cutrone, like himself--had been in this one--on this pallet. He satup--moved to the chair. But he--they--had sat on that--too. He stood up--only to sink down on the pallet again.
"God! God! God! God!" he now exclaimed to himself--but not aloud--and yet not unlike that other man who hadso terrorized him on the night of his arrival here and who was still here. But he would go too. And all of theseothers--and himself maybe--unless-- unless.
He had seen his first man die.
可是在这以后，克莱德觉得在监狱里简直度日如年。只有他母亲每周来探望他一次。她一动手工作，就很难更经常地来看他……后来两个月里，她往返于奥尔巴尼与布法罗之间，甚至还到过纽约市，但结果并不成功，跟她当初所希望的大相径庭。因为，说到她向教会和公众呼吁一事，她真可以说是疲如奔命的了(如果说克莱德并不知道，那末只有她自己知道了)。经过三周来多多少少向各地区和纯粹各教派试探的结果，她不得不得出这么一个结论:
基督徒他们至少是漠不关心的……压根儿不象基督徒应具有的气度。因为，他们对此态度全都一个样，特别是当地的牧师，他们自以为事事都得极其谨小慎微，方可表达出他们会众的意见，因此，他们一致认为，这是一场臭名昭著。而且当然也是令人不快的。业已定罪结案了的审判……从国内比较保守的人的视角来看，或是从各报刊的言论来判断，至少也都是完全赞同的。
首先，这个女人，还有她的儿子，究竟都是些什么样的人呢?
一个自称劝人为善的……地下传教士……竟敢藐视有组织的。历史悠久。等级森严的神权及其体制(神学院。合法教会及其分支机构……对于圣言都是极其审慎，深思熟虑地加以诠释，而又由于符合传统教条，因此也就是合法的诠释)所规定的一切教义和方式方法，忽然灵机一动，擅自举办了未经任何神职授权，所以也就是莫名其妙的传道馆。再说，她要是也能象一位贤妻良母那样待在家里，一门心思扑在她的儿子和她的其他孩子上面……栽培教育他们……那末，上面谈到的这类事，难道还会发生吗?
除此以外……克莱德究竟有没有杀害了这个姑娘呢?
不过，不管怎么说，根据克莱德自己在受审时所作的证词，他不是已犯了跟这个姑娘通奸的罪吗?
这个罪在很多人心目中，几乎跟杀人罪同样严重。这个罪不是他自己也供认了吗?
替一个判定犯有通奸罪的人呼冤叫屈……即便此人不是杀人犯(这个有谁知道呢?
)，在教会里能这么乱来一气吗?
不……哪一个基督教堂都不能为辩论这个案子是非功过提供场所，入场听讲居然还要收费。这可要不得。哪怕是每个教堂里每个基督徒对格里菲思太太个人也许是深表同情……或是对她儿子可能受到的不公平判决表示愤慨，这也要不得。不，不。这从道德上来说，是极不可取的。因为年轻人的注意力，也许还会被犯罪的一些具体细节给吸引过去了。
再说，由于各报刊载过有关她去东部营救儿子的消息，还描述过她身上穿着稀奇古怪的那副德行，绝大多数牧师都认为她肯定是个宗教狂，决不是哪一个教派或是某个神学流派里的一员，以这副德行登上圣坛，就是为了亵渎真正纯洁的宗教。
因此，她所请求的每一个对象……尽管未必都是铁石心肠……却转念一想……觉得不行……一定还有什么别的好办法……对基督徒来说可以少一些麻烦……比方说，租一个大会堂，如果再请各报刊适当配合一下，本来还是可以从基督徒里招徕很多听众的。这样，格里菲思太太就到处(除了一处例外)碰壁，都叫她上别处求告去……至于向天主教徒寻求帮助……一来是出于她的偏见……二来由于她那种含糊不清。缺乏事实根据的不信任感……她脑子里压根儿连想都没有想过他们。她知道，根据掌管圣。彼得神圣钥匙的人解释，基督的仁慈，不是给那些不承认教皇权力的人的。
所以，她不知有多少天来到处敲门，到处碰壁。最后，她出于万般无奈，才不得不求助于一个犹太人……此人拥有尤蒂卡一家最大的电影院……真正罪恶的渊薮。得到他的允许，她可以在某天上午无偿借用这家电影院举行演讲会，讲讲她儿子这个案子的是非曲直，题为"一个母亲为自己儿子申辩"……入场券每位两角五分，使她净收入多达两百块美元之谱。这个数字尽管不算大，可是一开头就使她精神亢奋起来。她深信，不管那些正统的基督徒态度如何，她很快就能敛到一笔钱，足够克莱德上诉用的。也许还得花些时间……不过，这笔钱她准能敛到的。
但是没有多久，她发现，还有别的一些因素不得不考虑到……比方说，车费。她本人在尤蒂卡等地的开销，更不用说务必寄一些钱到丹佛她丈夫那里去。
这时，她丈夫已是一筹莫展，而且几乎活不下去了，再加上家里出了这一场特大悲剧，使他一病不起，病得越来越重了……看了弗兰克和朱丽娅的来信，总是让人牵肠挂肚的。也许他压根儿好不了。他那里少不得也要周济一点儿。
因此，除了她个人在这里的开销以外，格里菲思太太还不得不从眼前唯一收入的这笔钱里拿一些派别的用处。想一想克莱德身处绝境……真可怕，可是，为了赢得最后胜利，难道她还不应该千方百计地苦撑下去吗?
她断断乎不能为了营救克莱德，就把自己丈夫也扔下不管了。
可是，随着时间流逝，她的听众却越来越少了，到后来，充其量才不过十几个人……刚够她本人开销了……虽然通过这种方式，扣去她所有的开销，最后她还是积攒了一千一百块美元。
就在这时，也是正当她心焦如焚之际，弗兰克和朱丽娅给她打来电报，说如果她还想跟阿萨见上一面，最好马上回家来。他已是奄奄一息，要活恐怕没有指望的了。于是，好几件危难之事都冲着她而来;对于克莱德，现在她至多也只能每星期去探望他一次或两次……如果说她当时工作允许的话……那是她目前尽心尽力让克莱德得到的唯一乐趣……因此，她就赶紧找贝尔纳普和杰夫森商量，如何解决她现下碰到的那一大堆困难。
两位辩护律师眼看着她历经艰辛募集到一千一百块美元，即将悉数交给他们，现在居然人情味十足，撺掇她回到自己丈夫身边去。克莱德当然暂时还是相安无事，因为要在整整一年……或者至少十个月……以后，上诉法院才需要调集本案笔录和案情摘要。而且，肯定还得再经过一年时间，方才作出正式决定。毫无疑问，在这个时限以前，上诉费用的余缺部分一定能通通筹集到。要不然，哪怕这事完不成……嗯，得了……反正她也不用发愁了。贝尔纳普和杰夫森两位先生(看到她早已竭精殚虑，心神恍惚)一定会极力保护她儿子的权益。
他们会提出上诉的请求，进行申辩……并且办好其他一切必办的事项，保证他的儿子能在适当的时候得到公正的申诉机会。
她就这样心里如释重负似的，最后又去探望了克莱德两次，让他尽管放心，说她决心尽快赶回来的……只要阿萨体力一恢复，而且，回程费用，她也有了着落……于是，她就动身了。不料，她一回到丹佛，就发现倘要丈夫马上恢复健康，决不是那么容易的事。
这时，克莱德独自一人留在那里沉思默想，让自己尽量适应这里的生活……他努力往最好处争取，这里至多也只是一座精神地狱……在这地狱的门上，不妨可以写上但丁在《神曲》地狱篇里的这句话……"你们进这儿来的人啊……请把希望放在门外。"这里弥漫着一种阴森森的气氛。一种慢性的。但能撕裂心灵的力量!
这种一望可知的恐怖和沮丧……是怎么也甩脱不了地经常主宰着所有的犯人们……不管他们勇敢也好，害怕也好，喜好虚张声势也好，说真的无所谓也好(这种人确实有的是)，他们都得被迫在这里揣摸和等待。这时，由于处在这种特别冷酷。
辛酸的监狱生活环境里，克莱德就经常在心理上……如果说不是在肉体上……跟二十来个国籍不同。气质殊异的同监犯人接触;而这拨人里头每一个人，正如他自己一样，都对自己天性里某种狂热。好色，或是他生活际遇里的某种悲惨情况作出反应。而随着最后的结局，或称最后的插曲，就是作为精神上和肉体上的总爆发……谋杀……被人识破，于是，为了要在道德上和法律上自我卫护，先是斗争，继而失败，使自己饱受恐怖而又困顿不堪(对此克莱德已是相当熟悉的了)……如今他们发现自己都被关押在二十二个铁笼子里头的这一个或那一个里……仿佛在孤岛上……等待着……可是，他们等待着的是什么呢?
其实，他们心里很清楚。而他心里也很清楚。有的时候，他们就在这里狂怒和绝望猝然迸发，或是被祈祷弄得神魂颠倒，也有的时候……咒骂该死……净说一些粗鲁肮脏。不堪入耳的笑话……或是大声讲故事，让大伙儿都听得见……或是发出下流猥亵的狂笑……或是在深更半夜，正当疲惫的心灵好不容易才入了岑寂之境，肉体和灵魂似乎也应当休息的时候，却传来了一声声呻吟叹息。
长长的走廊尽头，有一个专供放风的院子。每天(在上午十点到下午五点之间)……两次，每次几分钟，将犯人分成五个一拨或六个一拨……都被押出来……吸吸空气，溜溜腿，做做柔软体操……或是跑跑步，蹦蹦跳跳，全随他们自己高兴。不过，总有相当多的狱警在旁监视，以防他们进行任何形式的反抗。克莱德从入狱后的第二天开始，也被押到院子里去，有时跟这拨人在一起，也有时候跟另一拨人在一起。开头，他坚决认为自己可不愿随大溜参加这类活动;不过，眼看着别的一些同监犯人……不管自己的末日已在临近了……好象还是挺乐意玩个痛痛快快。
有两个黑眼睛。阴险的意大利人:
一个是因为某个姑娘不肯嫁给他，就把她杀了;另一个先是抢了丈人的钱财，后来又把丈人杀了，并且还企图焚尸灭迹，为的是给自己和老婆捞钱发财!
还有那大个儿拉里。多纳休……方头。方肩，大手。大脚，当过大兵，还派往海外去过，原在布鲁克林某厂担任值夜警卫，后来被工头开除了，于是，他就伺机要干掉那个工头。有一天夜里，他在某某地方果然把那工头杀了，但不小心把一枚战时服役的奖章失落在地上，经过追查，终于确认是他所干的。所有这些，克莱德都是从狱警那儿听说的。那些狱警对待犯人简直出奇地无动于衷，但总的看来似乎还算友好，他们分日夜两班看管这些牢房，每班两人轮值，每八小时换一班。还有罗切斯特的警官赖尔登，因为妻子坚决要离弃他，他就把她杀了……而现下他本人就得自己来偿命了。还有那个托马斯。莫勒，是个年轻的"农场主"，其实，他充其量仅仅是个雇农罢了。
克莱德入狱的头一个晚上，就听见他呻吟哭泣过……他用干草杈把他的雇主给戳死了……现在眼看着就得自己来偿命了，克莱德是听人这么说的。此人一个劲儿在牢房里踱来踱去，紧贴着墙根，耷拉着脑袋，两手撂在背后……是一个粗鲁无礼。身强力壮的乡巴佬，年纪大约三十岁光景。瞧他那副德行，仿佛挨过揍。被人家撵了出来似的，很难想象他竟然是个折磨人。杀害人的凶手。克莱德瞅着他暗自纳闷……他真的有罪吗?
此外还有米勒。尼科尔森，是布法罗的一位律师，年龄约莫在四十岁左右，细高个儿，论外貌显然卓尔超群……属于有教养的知识分子类型。乍一看，谁都一定会说他不是杀人犯，就象克莱德一样……但他还是被定了罪，说他毒死某巨富老翁后，企图将其财产占为己有。不过，依克莱德看，至少从他的模样或是态度上，一点儿看不出此人竟是如此十恶不赦……其实，他倒是个谦逊有礼的人。克莱德入狱后头一个早晨，尼科尔森一见他，就走过去说:
"害怕了吧?
"不过，此人说话的语气非常温柔而又体贴，这克莱德一听也感觉得到，尽管他站在那里面色煞白，浑身冰冷……骇怕得几乎不敢动一动……甚至连想都不敢想一想。可是，克莱德一是心里诚惶诚恐……二是因为他感到自己确实完蛋了，就回答说:
"是的，我想好象自己是害怕的。"殊不知这话一说出口，他就暗自忖度，他干吗偏要这么说(如此低三下四地直言不讳)，后来，尼科尔森身上的某种东西给他鼓了气，所以，他就对自己刚才的答话感到后悔了。
"你叫格里菲思，是吧?
""是的。""哦，我叫尼科尔森。别害怕。很快你就会习惯的。
"他尽管脸上毫无血色，还是勉强露出一丝笑容。不过，他眼里似乎压根儿不含笑意。
"我想，我也并不是挺害怕的，"克莱德回答说，竭力想修正一下刚才他无意之中脱口而出的真心话。
"哦，那敢情好。散散心吧。我们在这儿都得这么轻松轻松……要不然差不多人人都要疯了。最好尽量多呼吸一点儿新鲜空气。撒腿快步走一会儿。这样对你有好处。"他就迈开腿往外走了几步，让自己胳膊活动活动。这时，克莱德伫立在那儿，自言自语……声音简直很响……尽管他还是那么发颤:
"我们在这儿都得这么轻松轻松，要不然差不多人人都要疯了。"这话倒是千真万确的。他在狱中过了头一夜以后，就看见了，感受到了。真的……你简直快疯了。也许把你折磨死了。因为你被迫亲眼目睹了这些骇人的。心肝俱裂的……而且对每个人来说……日益逼近的悲剧。不过，这一切他还得忍受多久呀?
他又能忍受多久呢?
一两天后，他又觉得这座死牢也并不象他开头想象的那样……至少表面上说……不全是一片恐怖。实际上……即使每一个同监犯人死期已是迫在眉睫，这里仍然是嬉笑。嘲讽，乃至于游戏之地……并对所有能想到的题目，从死亡到女人。运动。舞台进行抬杠……通过人类各种不同形式的俏皮话(或则正好缺少这种俏皮话)相互竟争，而这一切照例又是跟他们知识层次普通低下相适应的。
如今，早饭一开过，没有被叫出去参加头一拨放风的人，往往就下棋或玩纸牌……那是这里绝无仅有的两种消遣……这并不是说让他们从牢房里放出来，按组发给一副棋子。棋盘，或是一副纸牌;而是由一刻儿也不离岗的狱警把棋盘发给两名对弈(如果是下棋的话)的犯人，每人一块，但是棋子不发给。他们对弈时是不需要棋子的。于是，由一个人先开局说，"我从Ｇ２跳到Ｅ１"……每一格都标出号码……每一边也都有字母。每走一步棋，都用铅笔记下来。
接着，对手先在自己的棋盘上把这一着棋记下来，琢磨一下这对自己全局影响如何，然后大声说:
"我从Ｆ７跳到Ｆ５。"如果在场还有别人乐意加入，不管他们加入的是哪一方，狱警就会另外发给他们一人一块棋盘。一支铅笔。
那时，只听见乐意帮助跟他隔开三间牢房的"荷兰佬"斯威戈特的小矮子布里斯托尔大声说:
"我才不同意这么走，荷兰佬。且慢，且慢，好棋还在后头哩。"棋就这么继续对弈下去，并且根据这盘棋变化莫测的胜败得失，时而嬉笑，时而怒骂，时而赌咒，时而抬杠。玩纸牌也是这样。每个人照例都关在自己牢房里玩，居然还玩兴不减哩。
不过，克莱德不喜欢玩纸牌……也不喜欢整天价净是粗鲁嘲笑乱扯淡。他觉得……除尼科尔森一人外……周围人们说的净是下流猥亵，甚至粗野的脏话，他听了简直刺耳。不过话又说回来，他自己却被尼科尔森深深吸引住了。过了一些时候……一两天光景……他开始揣想，放风时有他在场，只要他们碰巧在同一拨里有这个律师，跟他作伴聊聊天，就可以帮他顶住这一切。在同监犯人里头就数尼科尔森最有真知灼见。最受人们尊敬。其他的犯人都跟他大不一样……有时一声不吭……更多时间是那么阴险。粗鄙，或是那么冷漠无情。
他入狱才过去了一星期，他对尼科尔森刚刚感兴趣，开始觉得自己至少稍微坚定些，这时却突然得知布鲁克林的巴斯夸尔。卡特龙尼就要行刑了。原来此人把自己兄弟杀死了(因为后者企图诱奸他的妻子)，结果被判处死刑。巴斯夸尔住的那间牢房，离横穿而过的走廊最近，克莱德入狱后才知道，由于担惊受怕，此人已经有些神经错乱了。每当别人(六个人一拨)提出来放风时，他却照例被留在自己牢房里。可是，克莱德走过那里，偶尔往里头张望一下，见他那张瘦削的脸看起来怪可怕的，从眼睛到嘴角边，被两道深沟，亦即狱中苦难的皱纹，一分为龇牙咧嘴的三大块。
克莱德后来知道，从他入狱的那一天起，巴斯夸尔就已经开始日夜祈祷了。
因为在这以前早已把下周以内行刑的大致日期通知了他。打这以后，他就开始让自己两手。两膝匍伏在地，在牢房里爬来爬去，老是吻地板，舔基督背十字架的铜像的脚。他有一对兄妹刚从意大利来，一连好几次看望他，所以在一定的时间里他就被带到老死牢去跟兄妹晤面。不过，正如大伙儿现下窃窃私语所说，巴斯夸尔早已神经错乱，兄妹他们也无能为力了。
整天整夜，只要不跟兄妹们晤面，他就是那样在牢房里爬来爬去，嘴里咕哝着祷告。那些夜不成寐，原想看书消磨时间的同监犯人，硬着头皮不得不听他含糊不清地一面祈祷。一面拨动念珠的声响。与此同时，他还一遍又一遍，不知其数地呼唤圣父和万福马利亚。
虽然偶尔有些人会说:
"啊，谢天谢地，哪怕是他能睡上一会儿也好。"可他还是照样不断地念。还有他在祈祷时让额角磕响地板的声音……就这样一直到行刑的前一天，巴斯夸尔这才从自己牢房移押到老死牢里另一间牢房去。克莱德后来知道，在转天清早以前，如果说有人来看他，那就去老死牢那里跟他最后诀别。此外，还给了他一两个钟头时间，让他的灵魂做好准备去见创世主。
可是这一天，整整一个通宵，关在这座致命的监狱里的所有犯人，都给吓懵了。晚餐很少有人吃得下，从收走的餐盘就可以说明。牢房里一片沉寂……在这以后，有好几个人在含糊不清地祈祷……他们知道自己也不会多久就得到跟巴斯夸尔同样的命运了。有一个意大利人，因为杀过银行里的一个门卫被判处死刑，现在歇斯底里大发作，一个劲儿大声尖叫，把自己牢房里桌子椅子往钉上铁条的牢门上猛摔，并把铁床上被单撕得稀碎，甚至还想把自己掐死。后来，他终于被制服了，移押到另一个牢房去，因为他神志不清，需要特别监护。
至于别的一些犯人，在这慌乱的时刻，人们可以听见他们一直在牢房里踱来踱去，含糊不清地祈祷，或是招呼狱警给他们做点什么事。至于克莱德，他从来没有经历过或是想象过会有这种场面，简直惊恐得浑身上下瑟瑟发颤。巴斯夸尔一生中这个最后一夜，克莱德就躺在自己小床上，彻夜通宵驱散骇人的恶梦。唉，在这里，死……原来就是这样的:
人们号叫，祈祷，他们都疯狂了，尽管他们还是惊恐万状，死这个骇人的进程决没有停止不前。十点钟，为了让还活着的犯人安静下来，送来了一顿冷餐……不过除了克莱德对面那个中国人以外，谁都没有动过。
转天凌晨四点钟，监狱里专管这一骇人任务的人，一声不响沿着那条宽敞走廊过来，把各个牢门口深绿色厚门帘一一放下来，莫让有人看见这一死亡的行列从老死牢出来，顺着横穿而过的走廊向行刑室走去。殊不知克莱德和所有其他犯人一听见声音就全都醒了，一下子坐了起来。
该是行刑的时候啦!
死亡的时辰已敲响了。这是一个信号。各个牢房里很多犯人，或是骇怕，或是后悔，或是与生俱有的宗教感情，又一次想到从信仰中给自己寻求庇护和安慰，就两膝下跪，开始祈祷起来。另有一些犯人，只是在牢房里踱来踱去，或是给自己咕哝着些什么。还有一些犯人，由于一阵抑制不住的恐惧，不时大声尖叫着。
至于克莱德，他已经僵化，一气不吭，几乎失去了知觉。就在此刻，行刑室那儿，他们要把那个人杀死了。那张电椅……许久以来简直让他吓破了胆的那张电椅，就在那儿……如今日益逼近了。不过，据他母亲和杰夫森告诉他，都说他的时间还很长。很长呢……如果……如果要到的话……如果……如果……这时却又传来别的一些声音了。是谁在走来走去的脚步声。不知是在敲哪儿的一道牢门。接着，显然是从老死牢通往这里的那道门打开了……因为现在听得见有一个声音……还有几个声音，只是不太清晰罢了。随后是另一个声音，比较清晰些，仿佛有人在祈祷。这队行列经过那走廊时，传来了脚步在地上拖曳的声音，仿佛是在警告在押犯人似的:
"主啊，可怜可怜我们吧。基督啊，可怜可怜我们吧。""马利亚，慈悲的圣母，马利亚，仁慈的圣母，圣。米迦勒，为我祈祷吧;我的好天使，为我祈祷吧。""圣母马利亚，为我祈祷吧;圣。约瑟，为我祈祷吧。圣。安布罗斯，为我祈祷吧;所有的圣徒和天使，为我祈祷吧。""圣。米迦勒，为我祈祷，我的好天使，为我祈祷吧。"这是来自即将被处决的犯人身边那位牧师的声音，是在朗诵启应祷文。据说，此人早已方寸大乱了。可他不是也在喃喃自语吗?
是的，是他的声音。克莱德听得出来。这个声音近来他听得太多了。此刻，那另一道门就要开了。他要从门口往里头张望……这个犯人……马上就要死了……他会看见……这一切……他会看见……那顶盔帽……那些带子。啊，所有这些东西是什么样儿的，现在他全知道了，虽说这些东西也许永远不会戴到他身上。
"再见了，卡特龙尼!
"这是来自附近牢房里一个粗鄙发颤的声音……克莱德不能断定是哪一间的。"到极乐世界去吧。"随后是另外一些声音，说:
"再见了，卡特龙尼。上帝保佑你……哪怕是你不会说英语。"这一行列走过去了。那道门关上了。他已关在那里头了。毫无疑问，此刻正在给他拴上带子了。问他还有什么话要说……其实，他早已不省人事了。现在，想必带子都已拴紧了。那顶盔帽也给拉下来了。只要一眨眼，一眨眼，当然罗……当时克莱德虽然并不知道，也没有注意……这个牢房里所有灯光，乃至于整座监狱的灯光突然一暗。不知是哪个白痴或是毫无头脑的人竟然想得出来，让行刑的电椅跟整座监狱的照明合用同一个电源。于是，马上有一个声音在嚷嚷:
"开闸了。这下子，嘿，他就完蛋了。"另一个声音说:
"是啊，最后断气了，倒霉鬼。"也许过了一分钟吧，灯又一次暗下来，暗了三十秒钟……最后第三次暗下来。
"得了……现在准是……全完了。""是啊。那边世界究竟是怎样的，现在他可亲眼看到啦。"随后是一片沉寂……死一般的沉寂。只听见到处有人在喃喃自语地祈祷。
可是克莱德浑身冰凉，好象得了疟疾直发颤。他连想都不敢想……更不用说哭号了。反正照例都是这个样子的。先是让门帘拉下来了。然后……然后。巴斯夸尔连影儿也没了。电灯暗了三次。当然罗，那是通上电了。这么多天来他夜夜还在祈祷呢。如此呻吟号叫!
如此狠命地往地上磕头!
一分钟前，他还活着……从走廊那儿走过。可现在他死了。有朝一日他……他!
……他怎能担保说他就不会这样呢?
难道说他自己能担保?
他俯伏在小床上，脸儿朝下，浑身不断在抖索。监狱管理人员过来了，把门帘拉了起来……显然他们活得很平静。很安稳，好象世界上压根儿就没有死亡这等事似的。稍后，他听见有人在走廊里说话……不是跟他在说话……他至今一直保持缄默……仅仅是跟他贴邻的人说说话。
可怜的巴斯夸尔!
死刑这一大套，压根儿就是要不得的。典狱长就是这么想的。他们也是这么想的。典狱长正在为废除死刑做出努力哩。
可是那个卡特龙尼呀!
他的祈祷!
现在他连影儿也没有了。那儿他的牢房空了，别人马上就会被安置进去……不过这个人早晚也得走。在这间牢房里，早先就有人……很多很多的人……有如卡特龙尼一样，有如他自己一样……在这儿待过……躺在这张小床上。他站了起来……坐到椅子上。可是，他……他们……也曾经在那张椅子上面坐过呀。他站了起来……只好还是倒在小床上。"天哪!
天哪!
天哪!
天哪!
天哪!
"现在他自言自语地重复念叨着……不过声音不大……但是，跟他入狱后头一天晚上把他吓倒的那个犯人的声音并没有什么两样。而现在那个犯人还在这里，不过，很快他也要去了。而且，所有这些人……也许还包括他自己在内，都会是这样的……除非……除非……克莱德终于第一次看到了犯人是怎样服死刑的。
收听单词发音 |
1
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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sect
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| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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affiliations
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| n.联系( affiliation的名词复数 )；附属机构；亲和性；接纳 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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implant
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| vt.注入，植入，灌输 | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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erratic
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| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
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constituent
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| n.选民；成分，组分；adj.组成的，构成的 | |
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holder
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| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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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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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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distrait
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| adj.心不在焉的 | |
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cogitate
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| v.慎重思考，思索 | |
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psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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temperaments
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| 性格( temperament的名词复数 )； （人或动物的）气质； 易冲动； （性情）暴躁 | |
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lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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loutish
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| adj.粗鲁的 | |
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miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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jibe
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| v.嘲笑，与...一致，使转向；n.嘲笑，嘲弄 | |
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athletics
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| n.运动，体育，田径运动 | |
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numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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taunts
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| 嘲弄的言语，嘲笑，奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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jibing
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| v.与…一致( jibe的现在分词 )；（与…）相符；相匹配 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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slaying
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| 杀戮。 | |
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seduce
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| vt.勾引，诱奸，诱惑，引诱 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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abetter
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| n.教唆者，怂恿者 | |
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strapping
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| adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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incandescence
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| n.白热，炽热；白炽 | |
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lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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71
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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warden
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| n.监察员，监狱长，看守人，监护人 | |
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