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2017年10月21日 03:59:44来源:百家互动

There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers,他当然不会把克来伯和高尔放在眼里,因为这大厅里老师太多了。neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.双方都只能冲着对方捏捏指关节和拧拧眉头而已。I#39;d take you on anytime on my own,said Malfoy.我随时乐意奉陪!马尔夫说。Tonight, if you want. Wizard#39;s duel. Wands only — no contact.就今天晚上,怎么样?我们两人来一场巫师之间的决斗。只许用魔法杖,不准找帮手。What#39;s the matter? Never heard of a wizard#39;s duel before, I suppose?怎么样?我看你连什么是巫师之间的决斗都还不知道吧?Of course he has, said Ron, wheeling around. I#39;m his second, who#39;s yours?他当然知道。罗恩说,我就是他的替补,你的替补呢?是谁?Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.马尔夫看了看克来伯和高尔,心里对两人作了一番估量。Crabbe,he said. Midnight all right?克来伯是我的替补。他说,那么就约定半夜吧。We#39;ll meet you in the trophy room; that#39;s always unlocked.我们在纪念品展览室里见,那儿经常不上锁的。When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other.马尔夫走了之后,罗恩和哈利你眼看我眼。What is a wizard#39;s duel? Said Harry.什么是巫师之间的决斗?哈利问。And what do you mean, you#39;re my second?还有,为什么你说你是我的替补?Well, a second#39;s there to take over if you die,said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie.哦,所谓替补,就是在你战死之后接替你继续战斗的人。罗恩漫不经心地说,拿起他那块凉了的薄饼,一口塞进嘴里。。

  • Colleen was in a hurry, which made her driving even more careless than usual. Her boyfriend Simon had aly criticized her many times for failing to stop completely at stop signs. That’s what they call a “California, or rolling, stop,” he told her.“If the cops catch you sliding through a stop sign like that,” he said, wagging a finger at her, “they’ll give you a ticket for running a stop sign. That’s a moving violation. That means at least a 0 ticket, plus eight hours of driving school for another .”“I know, I know,” she replied. “But I never do it when they’re around, so how can they catch me?” Simon was about to tell her that cops have a habit of suddenly appearing out of nowhere, but Colleen told him to stop thinking so negatively. “You are bad luck,” she said. “When you talk like that, you make bad things happen.” He told her that life doesn’t work that way.Colleen was in a hurry because she needed to drop off a package at the post office. It had to get to New York by Wednesday. She exited the freeway and pulled up at the stop sign. One car was in front of her. Colleen looked to the right and to the left. No cars were coming. It was safe to pull out. She hit the gas pedal. Bang! The car in front of her was still sitting there. The driver was a young woman, who got out of her car, walked back to look at the damage to her new car, and started yelling at Colleen. Article/201104/131648。
  • CHAPTER XVThe Footsteps Die out for Ever ALONG the Paris streets, the death-carts rumble, hollow and harsh. Six tumbrils carry the day's wine to La Guillotine. All the devouring and insatiate Monsters imagined since imagination could record itself, are fused in the one realisation, Guillotine. And yet there is not in France, with its rich variety of soil and climate, a blade, a leaf, a root, a sprig, a peppercorn, which will grow to maturity under conditions more certain than those that have produced this horror. Crush humanity out of shape once more, under similar hammers, and it will twist itself into the same tortured forms. Sow the same seed of rapacious licence and oppression over again, and it will surely yield the same fruit according to its kind. Six tumbrils roll along the streets. Change these back again to what they were, thou powerful enchanter, Time, and they shall be seen to be the carriages of absolute monarchs, the equipages of feudal nobles, the toilettes of flaring Jezebels, the churches that are not my father's house but dens of thieves, the huts of millions of starving peasants! No; the great magician who majestically works out the appointed order of the Creator, never reverses his transformations. `If thou be changed into this shape by the will of God,' say the seers to the enchanted, in the wise Arabian stories, `then remain so! But, if thou wear this form through mere passing conjuration, then resume thy former aspect!' Changeless and hopeless, the tumbrils roll along. As the sombre wheels of the six carts go round, they seem to plough up a long crooked furrow among the populace in the streets. Ridges of faces are thrown to this side and to that, and the ploughs go steadily onward. So used are the regular inhabitants of the houses to the spectacle, that in many windows there are no people, and in some the occupation of the hands is not so much as suspended, while the eyes survey the faces in the tumbrils. Here and there, the inmate has visitors to see the sight; then he points his finger, with something of the complacency of a curator or authorised exponent, to this cart and to this, and seems to tell who sat here yesterday, and who there the day before. Of the riders in the tumbrils, some observe these things, and all things on their last roadside, with an impassive stare; others, with a lingering interest in the ways of life and men. Some, seated with drooping heads, are sunk in silent despair; again, there are some so heedful of their looks that they cast upon the multitude such glances as they have seen in theatres, and in pictures. Several close their eyes, and think, or try to get their straying thoughts together. Only one, and he a miserable creature, of a crazed aspect, is so shattered and made drunk by horror, that he sings, and tries to dance. Not one of the whole number appeals by look or gesture, to the pity of the people. There is a guard of sundry horsemen riding abreast of the tumbrils, and faces are often turned up to some of them, and they are asked some question. It would seem to be always the same question, for, it is always followed by a press of people towards the third cart. The horsemen abreast of that cart, frequently point out one man in it with their swords. The leading curiosity is, to know which is he; he stands at the back of the tumbril with his head bent down, to converse with a mere girl who sits on the side of the cart, and holds his hand. He has no curiosity or care for the scene about him, and always speaks to the girl. Here and there in the long street of St. Honoré, cries are raised against him. If they move him at all, it is only to a quiet smile, as he shakes his hair a little more loosely about his face. He cannot easily touch his face, his arms being bound. On the steps of a church, awaiting the coming-up of the tumbrils, stands the Spy and prison-sheep. He looks into the first of them: not there. He looks into the second: not there. He aly asks himself, `Has he sacrificed me?' when his face clears, as he looks into the third. `Which is Evrémonde?' says a man behind him. `That. At the back there.' `With his hand in the girl's?' `Yes.' The man cries, `Down, Evrémonde To the Guillotine all aristocrats! Down, Evrémonde!' `Hush, hush!' the Spy entreats him, timidly. `And why not, citizen?' `He is going to pay the forfeit: it will be paid in five minutes more. Let him be at peace.' But the man continuing to exclaim, `Down, Evrémonde!' the face of Evrémonde is for a moment turned towards him. Evrémonde then sees the Spy, and looks attentively at him, and goes his way. The clocks are on the stroke of three, and the furrow ploughed among the populace is turning round, to come on into the place of execution, and end. The ridges thrown to this side and to that, now crumble in and close behind the last plough as it passes on, for all are following to the Guillotine. In front of it, seated in chairs, as in a garden of public diversion, are a number of women, busily knitting. On one of the foremost chairs, stands The Vengeance, looking about for her friend. `Thérèse!' she cries, in her shrill tones. `Who has seen her? Thérèse Defarge!' `She never missed before,' says a knitting-woman of the sisterhood. `No; nor will site miss now,' cries The Vengeance, petulantly. `Thérèse!' `Louder,' the woman recommends. Ay! Louder, Vengeance, much louder, and still site will scarcely hear thee. Louder yet, Vengeance, with a little oath or so added, and yet it will hardly bring her. Send other women up and down to seek her, lingering somewhere; and yet, although the messengers have done d deeds, it is questionable whether of their own wills they will go far enough to find her! `Bad Fortune!' cries The Vengeance, stamping her foot in the chair, `and here are the tumbrils! And Evrémonde will be despatched in a wink, and she not here! See her knitting in my hand, and her empty chair y for her. I cry with `vexation and disappointment!' As The Vengeance descends from her elevation to do it, the tumbrils begin to discharge their loads. The ministers of Sainte Guillotine are robed and y. Crash!--A head is held up, and the knitting-women who scarcely lifted their eyes to look at it a moment ago when it could think and speak, count One. The second tumbril empties and moves on; the third comes up. Crash--And the knitting-women, never faltering or pausing in their work, count Two. The supposed Evrémonde descends, and the seamstress is lifted out next after him. He has not relinquished her patient hand in getting out, but still holds it as he promised. He gently places her with her back to the crashing engine that constantly whirrs up and falls, and she looks into his face and thanks him. `But for you, dear stranger, I should not be so composed, for I am naturally a poor little thing, faint of heart; nor should I have been able to raise my thoughts to Him who was put to death, that we might have hope and comfort here to-day. I think you were sent to me by Heaven. `Or you to me,' says Sydney Carton. `Keep your eyes upon me, dear child, and mind no other object.' `I mind nothing while I hold your hand. I shall mind nothing when I let it go, if they are rapid.' `They will be rapid. Fear not!' The two stand in the fast-thinning throng of victims, but they speak as if they were alone. Eye to eye, voice to voice, hand to hand, heart to heart, these two children of the Universal Mother, else so wide apart and differing, have come together on the dark highway, to repair home together, and to rest in her bosom. `Brave and generous friend, will you let me ask you one last question? I am very ignorant, and it troubles me--just a little.' `Tell me what it is.' `I have a cousin, an only relative and an orphan, like myself, whom I love very dearly. She is five years younger than I, and she lives in a farmer's house in the south country. Poverty parted us, and she knows nothing of my fate--for I cannot writ--and if I could, how should I tell her! It is better as it is.' `Yes, yes; better as it is.' `What I have been thinking as we came along, and what I am still thinking now, as I look into your kind strong face which gives me so much support, is this:--if the Republic really does good to the poor, and they come to be less hungry, and in all ways to suffer less, she may live a long time: she may even live to be old.' `What then, my gentle sister?' `Do you think:' the uncomplaining eyes in which there is so much endurance, fill with tears, and the lips part a little more and tremble: `that it will seem long to me, while I wait for her in the better land where I trust both you and I will be mercifully sheltered?' `It cannot be, my child; there is no Time there, and no trouble there.' `You comfort me so much! I am so ignorant. Am I to kiss you now? Is the moment come?' `Yes.' She kisses his lips; he kisses hers; they solemnly bless each other. The spare hand does not tremble as he releases it; nothing worse than a sweet, bright constancy is in the patient face. She goes next before him-is gone; the knitting-women count Twenty-Two. `I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.' The murmuring of many voices, the upturning of many faces, the pressing on of many footsteps in the outskirts of the crowd, so that it swells forward in a mass, like one great heave of water, all flashes away. Twenty-Three. They said of him, about the city that night, that it was the peacefullest man's face ever beheld there. Many added that he looked sublime and prophetic. One of the most remarkable sufferers by the same axe--a woman--Had asked at the foot of the same scaffold, not long before, to be allowed to write down the thoughts that were inspiring her. If he had given an utterance to his, and they were prophetic, they would have been these: `I see Barsad, and Cly, Defarge, The Vengeance, the Juryman, the Judge, long ranks of the new oppressors who have risen on the destruction of the old, perishing by this retributive instrument, before it shall cease out of its present use. I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people' rising from this abyss, and, in their struggles to be truly free, in their triumphs and defeats, through long long years to come, I see the evil of this time and of the previous time of which this is the natural birth, gradually making expiation for itself and wearing out. `I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy, in that England which I shall see no more. I see Her with a child upon her bosom, who bears my name. I see her father, aged and bent, but otherwise restored, and faithful to all men in his healing office, and at peace. I see the good old man, so long their friend, in ten years' time enriching them with all he has, and passing tranquilly to his reward. `I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. I see her, an old woman, weeping for me on the anniversary of this day. I see her and her husband, their course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and I know that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other's soul, than I was in the souls of both. `I see that child who lay upon her bosom and who bore my name, a man winning his way up in that path of life which once was mine. I see him winning it so well, that my name is made illustrious there by the light of his. I see the blots I threw upon it, faded away. I see him, foremost of just judges and honoured men, bringing a boy of my name, with a forehead that I know and golden hair, to this place--then fair to look upon, with not a trace of this day's disfigurement--and I hear him tell the child my story, with a tender and a faltering voice. `It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.' -----THE END----- 相关名著: 有声名著之傲慢与偏见 有声名著之儿子与情人 有声名著之红与黑 有声名著之了不起的盖茨比 有声名著之歌剧魅影 有声名著之远大前程 有声名著之巴斯史维尔猎犬 有声名著之吸血鬼 有声名著之野性的呼唤 有声名著之黑骏马 有声名著之海底两万里 有声名著之秘密花园 有声名著之化身士 有声名著之螺丝在拧紧 有声名著之三个火手更多名著gt;gt; Article/200905/71305。
  • “你头一个想法就错了。她们除了希望他幸福以外,还有许多别的打算;她们会希望他更有钱有势;她们会希望他跟一个出身高贵、亲朋显赫的阔女人结婚。”;I must think your language too strong in speaking of both, ; replied Jane; ;and I hope you will be convinced of it by seeing them happy together. But enough of this. You alluded to something else. You mentioned TWO instances. I cannot misunderstand you, but I entreat you, dear Lizzy, not to pain me by thinking THAT PERSON to blame, and saying your opinion of him is sunk.We must not be so y to fancy ourselves intentionally injured. We must not expect a lively young man to be always so guarded and circumspect. It is very often nothing but our own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy admiration means more than it does. ;;And men take care that they should. ;;If it is designedly done, they cannot be justified; but I have no idea of there being so much design in the world as some persons imagine. ;;I am far from attributing any part of Mr. Bingley#39;s conduct to design, ; said Elizabeth; ;but without scheming to do wrong, or to make others unhappy, there may be error, and there may be misery. Thoughtlessness, want of attention to other people#39;s feelings, and want of resolution, will do the business. ;;And do you impute it to either of those?;;Yes; to the last. But if I go on, I shall displease you by saying what I think of persons you esteem. Stop me whilst you can. ;;You persist, then, in supposing his sisters influence him?;;Yes, in conjunction with his friend. ;;I cannot believe it. Why should they try to influence him? They can only wish his happiness; and if he is attached to me, no other woman can secure it. ;;Your first position is false. They may wish many things besides his happiness; they may wish his increase of wealth and consequence; they may wish him to marry a girl who has all the importance of money, great connections, and pride. ;;Beyond a doubt, they DO wish him to choose Miss Darcy, ; replied Jane; ;but this may be from better feelings than you are supposing. They have known her much longer than they have known me; no wonder if they love her better. But, whatever may be their own wishes, it is very unlikely they should have opposed their brother#39;s. What sister would think herself at liberty to do it, unless there were something very objectionable? If they believed him attached to me, they would not try to part us; if he were so, they could not succeed. By supposing such an affection, you make everybody acting unnaturally and wrong, and me most unhappy. Do not distress me by the idea. I am not ashamed of having been mistaken--or, at least, it is light, it is nothing in comparison of what I should feel in thinking ill of him or his sisters. Let me take it in the best light, in the light in which it may be understood. ;Elizabeth could not oppose such a wish; and from this time Mr. Bingley#39;s name was scarcely ever mentioned between them. Article/201109/154615。
  • If the Dream is Big Enough(I)---为了心中的梦想(一)I used to watch her from my kitchen widow, she seemed so small as she muscled her way through the crowd of boys on the playground.The school was across the street from our home and I would often watch the kids as they played during recess.A sea of children, and yet tome, she stood out from them all.I remember the first day I saw her playing basketball. I watched in wonder as she ran circles around the other kids.She managed to shoot jump shots just over their heads and into the net.The boys always tried to stop her but no one could.I began to notice her at other times, basketball in hand, playing alone,She would practice dribbling and shooting over and over again, sometimes until dark.One day I asked her why she practiced so much. She looked directly in my eyes and without a moment of hesitation she said,“I want to go to college. The only way I can go is if I get a scholarship.I like basketball. i decided that if I were good enough, I would get a scholarship. I am going to play college basketball.I want to be the best. My Daddy told me if the dream is big enough, the facts don't count.”Then she smiled and ran towards the court to recap the routine I had seen over and over again.Well, I had to give it to her - she was determined I watched her through those junior high years and into high school.Every week, she led her varsity team to victory. Article/200904/18066。
  • An Absolute Zero 零分Student: I don't think I deserve an absolute zero. Professor: Neither do I, but it is the lowest mark that I am allowed to give.学生:我认为我不应该得零分。教授:我也这么认为,但这是允许我打的最低分数。 Article/200804/36098。
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