The Cop and the Anthem

On his bench in Madison Square Soapy moved uneasily. When wild geese honk high of nights, and when women without sealskin coats grow kind to their husbands, and when Soapy moves uneasily on his bench in the park, you may know that winter is near at hand.

在麦迪逊广场的长椅上，苏比不安地挪动着身子。当野雁在夜里高声鸣叫，当没有海豹皮大衣穿的女人对丈夫也变得温柔起来，当苏比在公园的长椅上不安地挪动身子时，你便可知道，冬天已经不远了。

A dead leaf fell in Soapy’s lap. That was Jack Frost’s card. Jack is kind to the regular denizens of Madison Square, and gives fair warning of his annual call. At the corners of four streets he hands his pasteboard to the North Wind, footman of the mansion of All Outdoors, so that the inhabitants thereof may make ready.

一片枯叶落在苏比的膝头。那是杰克·弗罗斯特的名片。杰克对麦迪逊广场的常住居民一向厚道，总会提前发出他一年一度到访的警告。他在四条街道的转角处，把名片递给北风——那位“露天大宅”的跟班仆役，好让这宅子里的住户们及早准备。

Soapy’s mind became cognisant of the fact that the time had come for him to resolve himself into a singular Committee of Ways and Means to provide against the coming rigour. And therefore he moved uneasily on his bench.

苏比意识到，眼下正是他该组建起一个特别的“筹款委员会”，来对付即将到来的严寒的时候了。于是他在长椅上不安地挪动了身子。

The hibernatorial ambitions of Soapy were not of the highest. In them there were no considerations of Mediterranean cruises, of soporific Southern skies drifting in the Vesuvian Bay. Three months on the Island was what his soul craved. Three months of assured board and bed and congenial company, safe from Boreas and bluecoats, seemed to Soapy the essence of things desirable.

苏比的过冬雄心并不算太高远。这雄心里，没有地中海邮轮之类的念头，也没有在维苏威湾漂荡的、让人昏昏欲睡的南方晴空。他一心向往的，是在那座“小岛”上度过三个月。三个月安稳的食宿，加上意气相投的同伴，远离北风和警察，在苏比看来，正是最称心如意的事。

For years the hospitable Blackwell’s had been his winter quarters. Just as his more fortunate fellow New Yorkers had bought their tickets to Palm Beach and the Riviera each winter, so Soapy had made his humble arrangements for his annual hegira to the Island. And now the time was come.

多年来，那座殷勤好客的布莱克韦尔岛，一直是他过冬的落脚处。就像他那些更走运的纽约同胞们，每年冬天都要买票去棕榈滩和里维埃拉一样，苏比也早已为自己每年一度迁往那座小岛做好了简朴的安排。如今，时候到了。

On the previous night three Sabbath newspapers, distributed beneath his coat, about his ankles and over his lap, had failed to repulse the cold as he slept on his bench near the spurting fountain in the ancient square. So the Island loomed big and timely in Soapy’s mind. He scorned the provisions made in the name of charity for the city’s dependents. In Soapy’s opinion the Law was more benign than Philanthropy.

前一天夜里，他在那座古老广场里、靠近喷泉的长椅上过夜时，把三份星期日的报纸塞在大衣底下、裹在脚踝上、盖在膝头上，却仍未能挡住寒气。于是那座小岛在苏比心中显得格外庞大，也格外适逢其时。他对那些以慈善之名为城中受助者提供的种种安排嗤之以鼻。依苏比之见，法律远比慈善来得仁厚。

There was an endless round of institutions, municipal and eleemosynary, on which he might set out and receive lodging and food accordant with the simple life. But to one of Soapy’s proud spirit the gifts of charity are encumbered. If not in coin you must pay in humiliation of spirit for every benefit received at the hands of philanthropy. As Caesar had his Brutus, every bed of charity must have its toll of a bath, every loaf of bread its compensation of a private and personal inquisition. Wherefore it is better to be a guest of the law, which though conducted by rules, does not meddle unduly with a gentleman’s private affairs.

市里有无数市政或慈善机构，他大可以去投靠，换得一份合乎简朴生活标准的食宿。可对苏比这样心高气傲的人来说，慈善的施舍总是带着累赘。就算不用花钱，凡是从慈善家手中接受的每一份恩惠，也都要以精神上的屈辱作为代价。正如恺撒逃不过布鲁图斯一样，每一张慈善的床铺，也必得先付上一次沐浴的代价，每一块面包，也必得先接受一番私密而个人的盘问作为交换。所以，做法律的座上宾要强得多，法律虽然有条条框框，却不会过分干涉一位绅士的私事。

Soapy, having decided to go to the Island, at once set about accomplishing his desire. There were many easy ways of doing this. The pleasantest was to dine luxuriously at some expensive restaurant; and then, after declaring insolvency, be handed over quietly and without uproar to a policeman. An accommodating magistrate would do the rest.

苏比既已下定决心去那座小岛，便立刻着手实现这个愿望。要达成这个目的，办法有很多，也不难。最惬意的一种，是先到某家高档餐馆里大快朵颐一番，然后宣称自己身无分文，随即悄无声息地被交到一名警察手里。剩下的事，自有一位通情达理的地方法官来处理。

Soapy left his bench and strolled out of the square and across the level sea of asphalt, where Broadway and Fifth Avenue flow together. Up Broadway he turned, and halted at a glittering café, where are gathered together nightly the choicest products of the grape, the silkworm and the protoplasm.

苏比离开长椅，溜出广场，穿过百老汇与第五大道交汇处那片平坦如海的柏油路面。他转向百老汇，在一家灯火通明的咖啡馆前停下脚步，这家馆子每晚都汇聚着葡萄、蚕丝和原生质酿造出来的最上等产物。

Soapy had confidence in himself from the lowest button of his vest upward. He was shaven, and his coat was decent and his neat black, ready-tied four-in-hand had been presented to him by a lady missionary on Thanksgiving Day. If he could reach a table in the restaurant unsuspected success would be his. The portion of him that would show above the table would raise no doubt in the waiter’s mind.

苏比对自己从背心最底下那颗纽扣往上，都充满信心。他刮了脸，外套也算体面，那条整洁的黑色现成领带，是感恩节那天一位女传教士送给他的。只要他能不引人怀疑地走到餐厅里的一张桌子跟前，成功便唾手可得。露在桌面以上的那部分他，绝不会让侍者起半点疑心。

A roasted mallard duck, thought Soapy, would be about the thing—with a bottle of Chablis, and then Camembert, a demi-tasse and a cigar. One dollar for the cigar would be enough. The total would not be so high as to call forth any supreme manifestation of revenge from the café management; and yet the meat would leave him filled and happy for the journey to his winter refuge.

苏比心想，一只烤野鸭大概正合适——配上一瓶夏布利白葡萄酒，然后来点卡门贝尔奶酪、一杯浓缩咖啡和一支雪茄。雪茄花一块钱就够了。总账不会高到让餐馆管理层动了报复的雷霆之怒；可这一顿饭又足够让他吃得饱饱的、心满意足地踏上前往冬季栖身之所的旅程。

But as Soapy set foot inside the restaurant door the head waiter’s eye fell upon his frayed trousers and decadent shoes. Strong and ready hands turned him about and conveyed him in silence and haste to the sidewalk and averted the ignoble fate of the menaced mallard.

可苏比刚一踏进餐厅大门，领班侍者的目光便落在了他那磨损的裤子和破旧的鞋子上。几双有力而麻利的手把他转过身去，不声不响、匆匆忙忙地把他送到了人行道上，让那只岌岌可危的野鸭躲过了一场耻辱的命运。

Soapy turned off Broadway. It seemed that his route to the coveted island was not to be an epicurean one. Some other way of entering limbo must be thought of.

苏比转身离开百老汇。看来他通往那座心仪小岛的路子，注定不会是美食这条路。他得另想办法，才能进入那个“地狱边境”。

At a corner of Sixth Avenue electric lights and cunningly displayed wares behind plate-glass made a shop window conspicuous. Soapy took a cobblestone and dashed it through the glass. People came running around the corner, a policeman in the lead. Soapy stood still, with his hands in his pockets, and smiled at the sight of brass buttons.

在第六大道的一个拐角上，霓虹灯和玻璃橱窗里精心陈列的商品，把一家店铺的橱窗照得十分显眼。苏比捡起一块鹅卵石，朝玻璃猛地砸了过去。人们纷纷从拐角处跑来，一名警察领头在前。苏比站在原地不动，双手插在口袋里，望着那身铜纽扣笑了起来。

“Where’s the man that done that?” inquired the officer excitedly.

“干这事的人在哪儿？”警官激动地问道。

“Don’t you figure out that I might have had something to do with it?” said Soapy, not without sarcasm, but friendly, as one greets good fortune.

“你就没想过我可能跟这事有点关系？”苏比说道，语气里带着几分讥讽，却又透着几分亲切，仿佛在迎接一件好事似的。

The policeman’s mind refused to accept Soapy even as a clue. Men who smash windows do not remain to parley with the law’s minions. They take to their heels. The policeman saw a man half way down the block running to catch a car. With drawn club he joined in the pursuit. Soapy, with disgust in his heart, loafed along, twice unsuccessful.

警察压根没把苏比当成什么线索。砸橱窗的人是不会留在原地跟法律的差役闲扯的。他们只会撒腿就跑。警察瞧见半条街外有个男人正跑着去追一辆电车。他抡起警棍，加入了追赶的行列。苏比心里憋着一肚子的窝火，慢悠悠地溜达开去，这已是第二次落空了。

On the opposite side of the street was a restaurant of no great pretensions. It catered to large appetites and modest purses. Its crockery and atmosphere were thick; its soup and napery thin. Into this place Soapy took his accusive shoes and telltale trousers without challenge. At a table he sat and consumed beefsteak, flapjacks, doughnuts and pie. And then to the waiter he betrayed the fact that the minutest coin and himself were strangers.

街对面有一家不太起眼的餐馆，专门招揽食量大、钱包瘪的顾客。这里的碗碟和气氛都显得厚实，汤和台布却都单薄得很。苏比穿着那双出卖他身份的鞋子和那条泄露他底细的裤子，畅通无阻地走了进去。他在一张桌子边坐下，吃了牛排、薄煎饼、甜甜圈和馅饼。随后他向侍者透了底——他身上连最小的一枚硬币也没有。

“Now, get busy and call a cop,” said Soapy. “And don’t keep a gentleman waiting.”

“行了，赶紧去叫个警察来，”苏比说道。“别让一位绅士久等。”

“No cop for youse,” said the waiter, with a voice like butter cakes and an eye like the cherry in a Manhattan cocktail. “Hey, Con!”

“你可用不上警察，”侍者说道，声音像黄油蛋糕一样腻，眼神却像曼哈顿鸡尾酒里的樱桃一样冷。“喂，康！”

Neatly upon his left ear on the callous pavement two waiters pitched Soapy. He arose, joint by joint, as a carpenter’s rule opens, and beat the dust from his clothes. Arrest seemed but a rosy dream. The Island seemed very far away. A policeman who stood before a drug store two doors away laughed and walked down the street.

两名侍者干净利落地把苏比往坚硬的人行道上一摔，正摔在他左耳朵上。他一节一节地站起身，像木匠的折尺展开一样，拍打掉衣服上的尘土。被捕仿佛成了一场遥不可及的美梦。那座小岛似乎变得无比遥远。两家门面之外，一名警察正站在一家药店前，笑了笑，便沿街走开了。

Five blocks Soapy travelled before his courage permitted him to woo capture again. This time the opportunity presented what he fatuously termed to himself a “cinch.” A young woman of a modest and pleasing guise was standing before a show window gazing with sprightly interest at its display of shaving mugs and inkstands, and two yards from the window a large policeman of severe demeanour leaned against a water plug.

苏比走了五个街区，才鼓起勇气再次尝试自投罗网。这一回的机会，被他自作聪明地认定是个“十拿九稳”的好机会。一位举止端庄、模样讨人喜欢的年轻女子正站在一家橱窗前，兴致勃勃地望着橱窗里陈列的剃须杯和墨水台，离橱窗两码远的地方，一名神情严肃的高大警察正靠在一个消防栓上。

It was Soapy’s design to assume the role of the despicable and execrated “masher.” The refined and elegant appearance of his victim and the contiguity of the conscientious cop encouraged him to believe that he would soon feel the pleasant official clutch upon his arm that would insure his winter quarters on the right little, tight little isle.

苏比打算扮演那种令人不齿、遭人唾骂的“搭讪流氓”的角色。他这位“受害者”举止优雅得体，附近又恰好站着那位一丝不苟的警察，这让他满心以为，用不了多久，他就能感受到那双官家的手愉快地扣上他的手臂，稳稳地把他送往那座虽小却安稳的岛屿。

Soapy straightened the lady missionary’s ready-made tie, dragged his shrinking cuffs into the open, set his hat at a killing cant and sidled toward the young woman. He made eyes at her, was taken with sudden coughs and “hems,” smiled, smirked and went brazenly through the impudent and contemptible litany of the “masher.” With half an eye Soapy saw that the policeman was watching him fixedly. The young woman moved away a few steps, and again bestowed her absorbed attention upon the shaving mugs. Soapy followed, boldly stepping to her side, raised his hat and said:

苏比整了整那位女传教士送的现成领带，把缩进袖口的衬衫袖头拽了出来，把帽子斜戴出一副风流劲儿，斜着身子凑向那位年轻女子。他向她抛媚眼，忽然假装咳嗽，“嗯哼”作声，又是微笑又是假笑，恬不知耻地把那套“搭讪流氓”厚颜无耻的把戏演了个遍。苏比用眼角瞥见，那警察正目不转睛地盯着他。年轻女子挪开几步，又重新把全部心思放回到那些剃须杯上。苏比跟了上去，大胆地凑到她身边，摘下帽子说道：

“Ah there, Bedelia! Don’t you want to come and play in my yard?”

“哎呀，这不是贝迪莉亚吗！要不要来我的院子里玩玩？”

The policeman was still looking. The persecuted young woman had but to beckon a finger and Soapy would be practically en route for his insular haven. Already he imagined he could feel the cozy warmth of the station-house. The young woman faced him and, stretching out a hand, caught Soapy’s coat sleeve.

警察还在盯着看。这位备受骚扰的年轻女子只消勾一勾手指，苏比便几乎可以说是踏上了前往那座岛屿避难所的路了。他已经能想象出警局里那份温暖惬意的滋味。年轻女子转过身来，伸出手，一把抓住了苏比的衣袖。

“Sure, Mike,” she said joyfully, “if you’ll blow me to a pail of suds. I’d have spoke to you sooner, but the cop was watching.”

“行啊，帅哥，”她欢欢喜喜地说道，“只要你请我喝上一杯啤酒。我本想早点搭理你，可那警察一直盯着呢。”

With the young woman playing the clinging ivy to his oak Soapy walked past the policeman overcome with gloom. He seemed doomed to liberty.

那年轻女子像藤蔓缠着橡树一般紧紧挽着他，苏比就这样满心沮丧地从警察身边走了过去。他似乎注定要与自由为伴了。

At the next corner he shook off his companion and ran. He halted in the district where by night are found the lightest streets, hearts, vows and librettos. Women in furs and men in greatcoats moved gaily in the wintry air. A sudden fear seized Soapy that some dreadful enchantment had rendered him immune to arrest. The thought brought a little of panic upon it, and when he came upon another policeman lounging grandly in front of a transplendent theatre he caught at the immediate straw of “disorderly conduct.”

到了下一个街角，他甩开那位同伴，撒腿跑开了。他停在这样一处地界：入夜之后，这里满是最轻浮的街道、最轻浮的心、最轻浮的誓言和最轻浮的剧本台词。裹着皮草的女人和穿着大衣的男人，正在这冬日的空气中兴高采烈地走动着。苏比忽然生出一阵恐惧，仿佛什么可怕的魔法让他对被捕产生了免疫。这念头带来了几分恐慌，等他看见另一名警察正气派十足地倚在一家富丽堂皇的剧院前时，他立刻抓住了“扰乱治安”这根救命稻草。

On the sidewalk Soapy began to yell drunken gibberish at the top of his harsh voice. He danced, howled, raved and otherwise disturbed the welkin.

苏比在人行道上，用他那沙哑的嗓音扯着嗓子大喊起醉汉的胡话来。他又跳又叫，又是咆哮又是胡言乱语，把整片天空都搅得不得安宁。

The policeman twirled his club, turned his back to Soapy and remarked to a citizen.

警察转了转警棍，背对着苏比，对旁边一位市民说道：

“’Tis one of them Yale lads celebratin’ the goose egg they give to the Hartford College. Noisy; but no harm. We’ve instructions to lave them be.”

“这是耶鲁的小子们在庆祝把哈特福德学院打了个零蛋呢。吵是吵，可没什么害处。上头吩咐让他们随便闹去。”

Disconsolate, Soapy ceased his unavailing racket. Would never a policeman lay hands on him? In his fancy the Island seemed an unattainable Arcadia. He buttoned his thin coat against the chilling wind.

苏比灰心丧气地停下了这场徒劳无功的喧闹。难道就没有一个警察肯来抓他吗？在他的幻想里，那座小岛仿佛成了一个遥不可及的世外桃源。他把单薄的外套扣紧，抵挡着刺骨的寒风。

In a cigar store he saw a well-dressed man lighting a cigar at a swinging light. His silk umbrella he had set by the door on entering. Soapy stepped inside, secured the umbrella and sauntered off with it slowly. The man at the cigar light followed hastily.

在一家雪茄店里，他看见一位衣着体面的男子正就着一盏摇曳的灯点雪茄。这人进门时把他的丝绸雨伞放在了门边。苏比走进店里，拿起那把伞，慢悠悠地踱着步子走了出来。那位在灯下点雪茄的男子急忙追了上来。

“My umbrella,” he said, sternly.

“我的伞，”他厉声说道。

“Oh, is it?” sneered Soapy, adding insult to petit larceny. “Well, why don’t you call a policeman? I took it. Your umbrella! Why don’t you call a cop? There stands one on the corner.”

“哦，是吗？”苏比冷笑一声，在这桩小小的盗窃之上又添了一份羞辱。“那你怎么不叫个警察来？是我拿的。你的伞！你怎么不叫警察？那边拐角上就站着一个呢。”

The umbrella owner slowed his steps. Soapy did likewise, with a presentiment that luck would again run against him. The policeman looked at the two curiously.

伞的主人放慢了脚步。苏比也照样放慢脚步，心里隐隐预感到，运气又要跟他作对了。警察好奇地打量着这两个人。

“Of course,” said the umbrella man—“that is—well, you know how these mistakes occur—I—if it’s your umbrella I hope you’ll excuse me—I picked it up this morning in a restaurant—If you recognise it as yours, why—I hope you’ll—”

“当然，”那位伞的主人说道——“也就是说——嗯，您知道这种误会是怎么发生的——我——如果这确实是您的伞，还请您多多包涵——我今天早晨是在一家餐馆里捡到的——如果您认出这是您的东西，那么——我希望您能——”

“Of course it’s mine,” said Soapy, viciously.

“这当然是我的，”苏比恶狠狠地说道。

The ex-umbrella man retreated. The policeman hurried to assist a tall blonde in an opera cloak across the street in front of a street car that was approaching two blocks away.

这位前伞主退了开去。警察急忙赶去帮一位披着歌剧斗篷的高个金发女郎过马路，因为两个街区外有辆电车正开过来。

Soapy walked eastward through a street damaged by improvements. He hurled the umbrella wrathfully into an excavation. He muttered against the men who wear helmets and carry clubs. Because he wanted to fall into their clutches, they seemed to regard him as a king who could do no wrong.

苏比朝东走过一条被市政改建工程弄得坑坑洼洼的街道。他怒气冲冲地把伞扔进了一处地基坑里。他一边走一边咒骂那些戴着头盔、拿着警棍的家伙。因为他一心想落入他们手里，他们却偏偏把他当成了一位为所欲为、绝无过错的君王一般看待。

At length Soapy reached one of the avenues to the east where the glitter and turmoil was but faint. He set his face down this toward Madison Square, for the homing instinct survives even when the home is a park bench.

终于，苏比走到了东边的一条大道上，这里的喧嚣和灯光都已渐渐微弱下去。他转身朝麦迪逊广场走去，因为归巢的本能，即便家不过是公园里的一张长椅，依旧还在他心里发挥着作用。

But on an unusually quiet corner Soapy came to a standstill. Here was an old church, quaint and rambling and gabled. Through one violet-stained window a soft light glowed, where, no doubt, the organist loitered over the keys, making sure of his mastery of the coming Sabbath anthem. For there drifted out to Soapy’s ears sweet music that caught and held him transfixed against the convolutions of the iron fence.

可就在一个格外安静的街角，苏比却停下了脚步。这里有座古老的教堂，样式古朴，屋顶起伏，带着尖尖的山墙。一扇镶着紫罗兰色玻璃的窗户里，透出柔和的灯光，想必是那位管风琴师正流连在琴键上，反复练习着即将到来的礼拜日圣歌，务求万无一失。因为一阵悠扬的乐声正飘进苏比的耳中，紧紧攫住了他，让他呆立在铁栅栏那弯弯曲曲的花纹前，动弹不得。

The moon was above, lustrous and serene; vehicles and pedestrians were few; sparrows twittered sleepily in the eaves—for a little while the scene might have been a country churchyard. And the anthem that the organist played cemented Soapy to the iron fence, for he had known it well in the days when his life contained such things as mothers and roses and ambitions and friends and immaculate thoughts and collars.

月亮高悬天际，皎洁而安详；来往的车辆和行人都寥寥无几；麻雀在屋檐下睡意惺忪地啁啾着——一时间，这景象竟仿佛是乡间教堂墓地的一角。而那位管风琴师弹奏的圣歌，把苏比牢牢地钉在了铁栅栏前，因为在他生命中还拥有母亲、玫瑰、抱负、朋友，以及种种纯洁的念头和洁白的衣领的那些日子里，他曾对这首曲子再熟悉不过了。

The conjunction of Soapy’s receptive state of mind and the influences about the old church wrought a sudden and wonderful change in his soul. He viewed with swift horror the pit into which he had tumbled, the degraded days, unworthy desires, dead hopes, wrecked faculties and base motives that made up his existence.

苏比此刻那颗易于感触的心，再加上这座古老教堂周遭种种氛围的交相作用，竟在他灵魂深处激起了一场骤然而奇妙的转变。他猛然间以一种惊惧的目光，望见了自己坠入的这个深渊——那些堕落的日子、那些卑劣的欲望、那些破灭的希望、那些废弃的才能，还有那些构成他这段人生的低劣动机。

And also in a moment his heart responded thrillingly to this novel mood. An instantaneous and strong impulse moved him to battle with his desperate fate. He would pull himself out of the mire; he would make a man of himself again; he would conquer the evil that had taken possession of him. There was time; he was comparatively young yet; he would resurrect his old eager ambitions and pursue them without faltering. Those solemn but sweet organ notes had set up a revolution in him.

与此同时，他的心也在这一瞬间，对这种崭新的心境激动地作出了回应。一股突如其来的强烈冲动，驱使他要与自己那走投无路的命运一搏。他要把自己从泥沼里拔出来；他要重新做回一个堂堂正正的人；他要战胜那已经掌控了他的邪念。时间还来得及；他终归还算年轻；他要重新唤起自己当年那份热切的抱负，坚定不移地去追寻它。那庄重而甜美的风琴声，已在他心中掀起了一场革命。

To-morrow he would go into the roaring downtown district and find work. A fur importer had once offered him a place as driver. He would find him to-morrow and ask for the position. He would be somebody in the world. He would—

明天他就要走进那喧嚣的市中心，去找一份工作。有位皮草进口商曾经答应给他一个车夫的差事。明天他就要去找那人，求他这份工作。他要在这世上做出一番名堂来。他要——

Soapy felt a hand laid on his arm. He looked quickly around into the broad face of a policeman.

苏比觉得有只手搭在了他的胳膊上。他猛地回头一看，正对上一名警察那张宽阔的脸。

“What are you doin’ here?” asked the officer.

“你在这儿干什么？”那警官问道。

“Nothin’,” said Soapy.

“没干什么，”苏比说道。

“Then come along,” said the policeman.

“那就跟我走一趟吧，”警察说道。

“Three months on the Island,” said the Magistrate in the Police Court the next morning.

第二天早晨，警察法庭上的地方法官宣判道：“到岛上去关三个月。”