最后一课TheLastClass(5)

　　“I wonder if they are going to compel them to sing in German too！”

　　课文讲解完了，我们开始练习写字。这一天，阿麦尔先生为我们准备了许多崭新的字卡样，上面用美丽的圆体字写着：法兰西，阿尔萨斯，法兰西，阿尔萨斯。这些字帖卡片悬挂在我们课桌的金属杆上，就像许多小旗在教室里飘扬。该知道每个人都是那样聚精会神，教室里是那样寂静无声！只听得见笔尖在纸上的沙沙声。有一回，几只金龟子跑进了教室，但是谁也不去注意它们，连年龄最小的也不例外，他们正专心致志地练直杠笔划，仿佛这些笔划也是法语……学校的屋顶上，鸽子低声地咕咕地叫着，我一边听，一边寻思：“他们该不会强迫这些鸽子用德语唱歌吧？”

　　From time to time， when I raised my eyes from my paper. I saw Monsieur Hamel sitting motionless in his chair and staring at the objects about him as if he wished to carry away in his glance the whole of his little schoolhouse. Think of it！ For forty years he had been there in the same place， with his yard in front of him and his class just as it was！ But the benches and desks were polished and rubbed by use； the walnuts in the yard had grown， and the hop-vine which he himself had planted now festooned the windows even to the roof. What a heart-rending thing it must have been for that poor man to leave all those things， and to hear his sister walking back and forth in the room overhead， packing their trunks！ For they were to go away the next day—to leave the province forever.

　　我时不时地从书本上抬起眼睛，看见阿麦尔先生一动不动地坐在椅子上，注视着周围的一切东西，仿佛要把这个小小教室里的一切都装进目光里带走……可想而知！四十年来，他一直呆在这个地方，守着对面的院子和一直没有变样的教室。唯独教室里的凳子、课桌被学生磨光滑了；院子里的胡桃树长高了，他自己亲手种下的那棵啤酒花如今爬满了窗户，爬上了屋顶。这个可怜的人听到他妹妹在楼上的卧室里来来回回地收拾行李，想到自己就要告别眼前的一切，这对他来说是多么伤心难过的事啊！因为，他们明天就要动身了，永远离开自己的家乡。

　　However， he had the courage to keep the class to the end. After the writing， we had the lesson in history； then the little ones sang all together the ba， be， bi， bo， bu. Yonder， at the back of the room， old Hauser had put on his spectacles， and， holding his spelling-book in both hands， he spelled out the letters with them. I could see that he too was applying himself. His voice shook with emotion， and it was so funny to hear him， that we all longed to laugh and to cry. Ah！ I shall remember that last class.

　　他竟然还有勇气把我们的课上完。习字过后，我们上了历史课；接着小家伙们一起唱起了Ba　Be　Bi　Bo　Bu.教室后头，奥泽尔老人戴上了眼镜，两手捧着识字课本，跟我们一起拼读。我发现他也一样专心，他的声音由于激动而颤抖，听起来很滑稽，叫我们又想笑又想哭。噢！我将永远也不会忘记这最后的一课……

　　Suddenly the church clock struck twelve， then the Angelus rang. At the same moment， the bugles of the Prussians returning from drill blared under our windows. Monsieur Hamel rose， pale as death， from his chair. Never had he seemed to me so tall.