大学英语（第三册）复习（原文及全文翻译）——Unit 6 - A Day‘s Wait（一天的等待）

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Unit 6 - A Day's Wait

Ernest Hemingway's story is about an incident that happens between a father and his son. The small boy's misunderstanding of the difference in measuring temperature on a Fahrenheit and a Celsius Scale causes him to believe that he is dying of a high fever. However, the father doesn't realize it until very late that day……

A Day's Wait

Ernest Hemingway

He came into the room to shut the windows while we were still in bed and I saw he looked ill. He was shivering, his face was white, and he walked slowly as though it ached to move.

"What's the matter, Schatz?"

"I've got a headache."

"You better go back to bed."

"No. I'm all right."

"You go to bed. I'll see you when I'm dressed."

But when I came downstairs he was dressed, sitting by the fire, looking a very sick and miserable boy of nine years. When I put my hand on his forehead I knew he had a fever.

"You go up to bed," I said, "You're sick."

"I'm all right," he said.

When the doctor came he took the boy's temperature.

"What's is it?" I asked him.

"One hundred and two."

Downstairs, the doctor left three different medicines in different colored capsules with instruction for giving them. One was to bring down the fever, another a purgative, the third to overcome an acid condition. The germs of influenza can only exist in an acid condition, he explained. He seemed to know all about influenza and said there was nothing to worry about if the fever did not go above one hundred and four degrees. This was a light epidemic of flu and there was no danger if you avoided pneumonia.

Back in the room I wrote the boy's temperature down and made a note of the time to give the various capsules.

"Do you want me to read to you?"

"All right. If you want to, " said the boy. His face was very white and there were dark areas under his eyes. He lay still in the bed and seemed very detached from what was going on.

I read aloud from Howard Pyle's Book of pirates; but I could see he was not following what I was reading.

"How do you feel, Schatz?" I asked him.

"Just the same, so far," he said.

I sat at the foot of the bed and read to myself while I waited for it to be time to give another capsule. It would have been natural for him to go to sleep, but when I looked up he was looking at the foot of the bed, looking very strangely.

"Why don't you try to sleep? I'll make you up for the medicine."

"I'd rather stay awake."

After a while he said to me, "You don't have to stay in here with me, Papa, if it bothers you."

"It doesn't bother me."

"No, I mean you don't have to stay if it's going to bother you."

I though perhaps he was a little lightheaded and after giving him the prescribed capsules at eleven o'clock I went out for a while. It was a bright, cold day, the ground covered with a sleet that had frozen so that it seemed as if all the bare trees, the bushes, the cut brush and all the grass and the bare ground had been varnished with ice, I took the young Irish setter for a walk up the road and along a frozen creek, but it was difficult to stand or walk on the glassy surface and the red dog slipped and slithered and I fell twice, hard, once dropping my gun and having it slide away over the ice.

We flushed a covey of quail under a high clay bank with overhanging brush and I killed two as they went out of sight over the top of the blank. Some of the covey lit in trees, but most of them scattered into brush piles and it was necessary to jump on the ice-coated mounds of brush several times before they would flush. Coming out while you were poised unsteadily on the icy, springy brush they made difficult shooting and I killed two, missed five, and started back pleased to have found a covey close to the house and happy there were so many left to find on another day.

At the house they said the boy had refused to let anyone come into the room.

"You can't come in," he said. "You mustn't get what I have."

I went up to him and found him in exactly the position I had left him, white-faced, but with the tops of his cheeks flushed by the fever, staring still, as he had stared, at the foot of the bed.

I took his temperature.

"What is it?"

"Something like a hundred," I said. It was one hundred and two and four tenths.

"It was a hundred and two," he said.

"Who said so?"

"The doctor."

"Your temperature is all right," I said. "It's nothing to worry about."

"I don't worry," he said, "but I can't keep from thinking."

"Don't think," I said. "Just take it easy."

"I'm taking it easy," he said and looked straight ahead, He was evidently holding tight onto himself about something.

"Take this with water."

"Do you think it will do any good?"

"Of course it will."

I sat down and opened the Pirate book and commenced to read, but I could see he was not following, so I stooped.

"About what time do you think I'm going to die?" he asked.

"What?"

"About how long will it be before I die?"

"You aren't going die. What's the matter with you? "

"Oh, yes, I am, I heard him say a hundred and two."

"People don't die with a fever of one hundred and two. That's a silly way to talk."

"I know they do. At school in France the boys told me you can't live with forty-four degrees. I've got a hundred and two."

He had been waiting to die all day, ever since nine o'clock in the morning.

"You poor Schatz," I said. "Poor old Schatz. It's like miles and kilometers. You aren't going to die. That's different thermometer. On that thermometer thirty-seven is normal. On this kind it's ninety-eight."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," I said, "It's like miles and kilometers. You know, like how many kilometers we make when we do seventy miles in the car?"

"Oh," he said.

But his gaze at the foot of the bed relaxed slowly. The hold over himself relaxed too, finally, and the next day it was very slack and he cried very easily at little things that were of no importance.

参考译文——一天的等待

欧内思特·海明威

他走进我们房间关窗户的时候，我们还没起床。我见他一幅病容，全身哆嗦，脸色苍白，步履艰难，好像每迈一步都会引起疼痛。

“怎么啦，宝贝？”

“我头痛。”

“你最好再回床上去躺一会儿。”

“不，我没事儿。”

“你先去躺一会儿，我穿好衣服就去看你。”

可是当我下楼时，他已经穿好了衣服，坐在炉边。他才9岁啊，看上去病得很厉害，一幅招人可怜的样子。我用手摸摸他的额头，知道他发烧了。

“你到楼上去躺着，”我说，“你病了。”

“我没病，”他说。

医生来后，量了孩子的体温。

“多少度？”我问医生。

“102度。”

下楼后，医生留下三种药，胶囊的颜色各不相同，并下了医嘱。第一种是退烧药，另一种是泻药，第三种能解酸。他解释说，流感细菌只生存于酸性环境中。他好像对流感很有研究，还说，不烧到104度就不用担心。这是轻度流感，只要不引起肺炎没有什么危险。

我回到房里记下了孩子的体温，还记下了各种药物的服用时间。

“要不要给你念点什么听啊？”

“好吧，你要是想念就念吧，”孩子说。他的脸色十分苍白，眼窝下方有黑晕。躺在床上一动也不动，看上去对身边发生的一切都没有兴致。

我给他念霍华德·派尔的《海盗故事》，但看得出他并没有听。

“你感觉怎么样，宝贝？”我问他。

“到目前为止，还是老样子。”他说。

我坐在床脚。干脆自顾自地读了起来，我得等时间一到再给他服另一种药。按理说，他该睡过去了。但是，当我抬起头时，却看到他两眼盯着床脚，神情异常。

“你为什么不睡一会儿呢？到吃药的时候我会叫醒你的。”

“我宁愿醒着。”

过了一会，他对我说：“你不必在这里陪我，爸爸，要是这事让你烦恼的话。”

“没什么可烦恼的。”

“不，我是说要是这事将会给你带来烦恼的话，你就不必在这里陪我。”

我想，他大概有些神志不清了。我按规定十一点时给他服了药。随后，便出去了一会儿。

那天天气很晴朗，也很寒冷，地面上覆盖的一层冻雨已经结成了冰。那光秃秃的落叶树木，那灌木丛，还有砍下的树枝，以及所有的草坪和空地都像涂了一层冰。我带着那条幼小的爱尔兰猎犬出去逛逛。我们走上公路，又沿着一条冰封的小溪往前走。但在那玻璃般光滑的冰面上，无论是站立还是行走，都很困难。红毛狗一路上连哧溜带滑，我自己也重重地摔倒了两次，其中一次连猎枪也摔掉了，在冰上滑出去老远。

高高的土堤上长着倒垂下来的灌木丛，我们从灌木丛下面哄起一群鹌鹑。就在它们快要越过堤岸飞离视野时我击落了两只。有几只鹌鹑落在了树上，但大部分飞散了，钻进了灌木丛。它们得在裹了一层冰的树冠上跳上几跳，才能起飞。你在这些又滑又颤的树丛上摇摇晃晃尚未立稳，它们却飞了出来，使你很难瞄准。但我还是击落了两只，另有五只没有击中。动身返回时，我心情很愉快，因为在离家不远的地方又发现了一群鹌鹑，猎获了两只，还剩下许多，改日可再来猎取。

回到家里听说孩子不让任何人进他的房间。

“你们不能进来，”他说，“你们绝不能染上我这种病。”

我来到他身边，发现他还像我离开时那样躺着，脸色苍白，但脸颊上烧出了两朵红晕，眼睛依然一动不动地盯着床脚。

我给他量了体温。

“多少度？”

“大约100度，”我说。实际上是102.4度。

“原先是102度，”他说。

“谁说的？”

“医生。”

“你的体温没啥问题，”我说，“根本不用担心。”

“我倒不担心，”他说，“可我就是不能不想。”

“不要想了，”我说。“放心好了。”