http://www.cvh.ac.cn/gallery/photo/liubing/015/03000368.jpg译文  桃夭夭01" TITLE="榆树下的欲望~~~~~~~~ 译文  桃夭夭01" />

SCENE FOUR

 

Exterior of the farmhouse. It is just dawn. The front door at right is opened and Eben comes out and walks around to the gate. He is dressed in his working clothes. He seems changed. His face wears a bold and confident expression, he is grinning to himself with evident satisfaction. As he gets near the gate, the window of the parlor is heard opening and the shutters are flung back and Abbie sticks her head out. Her hair tumbles over her shoulders in disarray, her face is flushed, she looks at Eben with tender, languorous eyes and calls softly

 农场的外边。恰好是黄昏。右边的前门开着，伊登走出来向门口走去。他穿着工作服。他看起来变化了一些。他的表情是勇敢自信的。他自信满满露齿而笑。当他快到门口的时候，听到走廊的窗户开了，百叶窗被拉了上去，艾比伸出了她的脑袋。她的头发乱糟糟地垂在肩上，她的脸红红的，她温柔懒懒地看着他，轻声地喊着：

ABBIE--Eben. (as he turns--playfully) Jest one more kiss afore ye go. I'm goin' t' miss ye fearful all day.

艾比---伊登。（他打趣地转过身来）在你周之前摘亲我一下。我会想你想到哭的。

EBEN--An' me yew, ye kin bet! (He goes to her. They kiss several times. He draws away, laughingly) Thar. That's enuf, hain't it? Ye won't hev none left fur next time.

伊登--我亲你的话，

ABBIE--I got a million o' 'em left fur yew! (then a bit anxiously) D'ye r'ally love me, Eben?

EBEN--(emphatically) I like ye better'n any gal I ever knowed! That's gospel!

ABBIE--Likin' hain't lovin'.

EBEN--Waal then--I love ye. Now air yew satisfied?

ABBIE--Ay-eh, I be. (She smiles at him adoringly.)

EBEN--I better git t' the barn. The old critter's liable t' suspicion an' come sneakin' up.

ABBIE--(with a confident laugh) Let him! I kin allus pull the wool over his eyes. I'm goin' t' leave the shutters open and let in the sun 'n' air. This room's been dead long enuf. Now it's goin't' be my room!

EBEN--(frowning) Ay-eh.

ABBIE--(hastily) I meant--our room.

EBEN--Ay-eh.

ABBIE--We made it our'n last night, didn't we? We give it life--our lovin' did. (a pause)

EBEN--(with a strange look) Maw's gone back t' her grave. She kin sleep now.

ABBIE--May she rest in peace! (then tenderly rebuking) Ye oughtn't t' talk o' sad thin's--this mornin'.

EBEN--It jest come up in my mind o' itself.

ABBIE--Don't let it. (He doesn't answer. She yawns.) Waal, I'm a-goin' t' steal a wink o' sleep. I'll tell the Old Man I hain't feelin' pert. Let him git his own vittles.

EBEN--I see him comin' from the barn. Ye better look smart an' git upstairs.

ABBIE--Ay-eh. Good-by. Don't ferget me. (She throws him a kiss. He grins--then squares his shoulders and awaits his father confidently. Cabot walk slowly up from the left, staring up at the sky with a vague face.)

EBEN--(jovially) Mornin', Paw. Star-gazin' in daylight?

CABOT--Purty, hain't it?

EBEN--(looking around him possessively) It's a durned purty farm.

CABOT--I mean the sky.

EBEN--(grinning) How d'ye know? Them eyes o' your'n can't see that fur. (This tickles his humor and he slaps his thigh and laughs.) Ho-ho! That's a good un!

CABOT--(grimly sarcastic) Ye're feelin' right chipper, hain't ye? Whar'd ye steal the likker?

EBEN--(good-naturedly) 'Tain't likker. Jest life. (suddenly holding out his hand--soberly) Yew 'n' me is quits. Let's shake hands.

CABOT--(suspiciously) What's come over ye?

EBEN--Then don't. Mebbe it's jest as well. (a moment's pause) What's come over me? (queerly) Didn't ye feel her passin'--goin' back t' her grave?

CABOT--(dully) Who?

EBEN--Maw. She kin rest now an' sleep content. She's quits with ye.

CABOT--(confusedly) I rested. I slept good--down with the cows. They know how t' sleep. They're teachin' me.

EBEN--(suddenly jovial again) Good fur the cows! Waal--ye better git t' work.

CABOT--(grimly amused) Air yew bossin' me, ye calf?

EBEN--(beginning to laugh) Ay-eh! I'm bossin' yew. Ha-ha-ha! See how ye like it! Ha-ha-ha! I'm the prize rooster o' this roost. Ha-ha-ha! (He goes off toward the barn laughing)

CABOT--(looks after him with scornful pity) Soft-headed. Like his Maw. Dead spit 'n' image. No hope in him! (He spits with contemptuous disgust.) A born fool! (then matter-of-factly) Waal--I'm gittin' peckish. (He goes toward door.)

 

(The Curtain Falls)

 

 

PART III

 

SCENE ONE

 

A night in late spring the following year. The kitchen and the two bedrooms upstairs are shown. The two bedrooms are dimly lighted by a tallow candle in each. Eben is sitting on the side of the bed in his room, his chin propped on his fists, his face a study of the struggle he is making to understand his conflicting emotions. The noisy laughter and music from below where a kitchen dance is in progress annoy and distract him. He scowls at the floor.

In the next room a cradle stands beside the double bed.

In the kitchen all is festivity. The stove has been taken down to give more room to the dancers. The chairs, with wooden benches added, have been pushed back against the walls. On these are seated, squeezed in tight against one another, farmers and their wives and their young folks of both sexes from the neighboring farms. They are all chattering and laughing loudly. They evidently have some secret joke in common. There is no end of winking, of nudging, of meaning nods of the head toward Cabot who, in a state of extreme hilarious excitement increased by the amount he has drunk, is standing near the rear door where there is a small keg of whisky and serving drinks to all the men. In the left corner, front, dividing the attention with her husband, Abbie is sitting in a rocking chair, a shawl wrapped about her shoulders. She is very pale, her face is thin and drawn, her eyes are fixed anxiously on the open door in rear as if waiting for someone.

The musician is tuning up his fiddle, seated in the far right corner. He is a lanky young fellow with a long, weak face. His pale eyes blink incessantly and he grins about him slyly with a greedy malice.

 

ABBIE--(suddenly turning to a young girl on her right) Whar's Eben?

YOUNG GIRL--(eying her scornfully) I dunno, Mrs. Cabot. I hain't seen Eben in ages. (meaningly) Seems like he's spent most o' his time t' hum since yew come.

ABBIE--(vaguely) I tuk his Maw's place.

YOUNG GIRL--Ay-eh. So I've heerd. (She turns away to retail this bit of gossip to her mother sitting next to her. Abbie turns to her left to a big stoutish middle-aged man whose flushed face and starting eyes show the amount of "likker" he has consumed.)

ABBIE--Ye hain't seen Eben, hev ye?

MAN--No, I hain't. (Then he adds with a wink) If yew hain't, who would?

ABBIE--He's the best dancer in the county. He'd ought t' come an' dance.

MAN--(with a wink) Mebbe he's doin' the dutiful an' walkin' the kid t' sleep. It's a boy, hain't it?

ABBIE--(nodding vaguely) Ay-eh--born two weeks back--purty's a picter.

MAN--They all is--t' their Maws. (then in a whisper, with a nudge and a leer) Listen, Abbie--if ye ever git tired o' Eben, remember me! Don't fergit now! (He looks at her uncomprehending face for a second--then grunts disgustedly.) Waal--guess I'll likker agin. (He goes over and joins Cabot, who is arguing noisily with an old farmer over cows. They all drink.)

ABBIE--(this time appealing to nobody in particular) Wonder what Eben's a-doin'? (Her remark is repeated down the line with many a guffaw and titter until it reaches the fiddler. He fastens his blinking eyes on Abbie.)

FIDDLER--(raising his voice) Bet I kin tell ye, Abbie, what Eben's doin'! He's down t' the church offerin' up prayers o' thanksgivin'. (They all titter expectantly.)

A MAN--What fur? (another titter)

FIDDLER--'Cause unto him a--(he hesitates just long enough)--brother is born! (A roar of laughter. They all look from Abbie to Cabot. She is oblivious, staring at the door. Cabot, although he hasn't heard the words, is irritated by the laughter and steps forward, glaring about him. There is an immediate silence.)

CABOT--What're ye all bleatin' about--like a flock o' goats? Why don't ye dance, damn ye? I axed ye here t' dance--t' eat, drink an' be merry--an' thar ye set cacklin' like a lot o' wet hens with the pip! Ye've swilled my likker an' guzzled my vittles like hogs, hain't ye? Then dance fur me, can't ye? That's fa'r an' squar', hain't it? (A grumble of resentment goes around but they are all evidently in too much awe of him to express it openly.)

FIDDLER--(slyly) We're waitin' fur Eben. (a suppressed laugh)

CABOT--(with a fierce exultation) T' hell with Eben! Eben's done fur now! I got a new son! (his mood switching with drunken suddenness) But ye needn't t' laugh at Eben, none o' ye! He's my blood, if he be a dumb fool. He's better nor any o' yew! He kin do a day's work a'most up t' what I kin--an' that'd put any o' yew pore critters t' shame!

FIDDLER--An' he kin do a good night's work, too! (a roar of laughter)

CABOT--Laugh, ye damn fools! Ye're right jist the same, Fiddler. He kin work day an' night too, like I kin, if need be!

OLD FARMER--(from behind the keg where he is weaving drunkenly back and forth--with great simplicity) They hain't many t' touch ye, Ephraim--a son at seventy-six. That's a hard man fur ye! I be on'y sixty-eight an' I couldn't do it. (a roar of laughter in which Cabot joins uproariously)

CABOT--(slapping him on the back) I'm sorry fur ye, Hi. I'd never suspicion sech weakness from a boy like yew!

OLD FARMER--An' I never reckoned yew had it in ye nuther, Ephraim. (There is another laugh.)

CABOT--(suddenly grim) I got a lot in me--a hell of a lot--folks don't know on. (turning to the fiddler) Fiddle 'er up, durn ye! Give 'em somethin' t' dance t'! What air ye, an ornament? Hain't this a celebration? Then grease yer elbow an' go it!

FIDDLER--(seizes a drink which the old farmer holds out to him and downs it) Here goes! (He starts to fiddle "Lady of the Lake." Four young fellows and four girls form in two lines and dance a square dance. The fiddler shouts directions for the different movements, keeping his words in the rhythm of the music and interspersing them with jocular personal remarks to the dancers themselves. The people seated along the walls stamp their feet and clap their hands in unison. Cabot is especially active in this respect. Only Abbie remains apathetic, staring at the door as if she were alone in a silent room.)

FIDDLER--Swing your partner t' the right! That's it, Jim! Give her a b'ar hug! Her Maw hain't lookin'. (laughter) Change partners! That suits ye, don't it, Essie, now ye got Reub afore ye? Look at her redden up, will ye? Waal, life is short an' so's love, as the feller says. (laughter)

CABOT--(excitedly, stamping his foot) Go it, boys! Go it, gals!

FIDDLER--(with a wink at the others) Ye're the spryest seventy-six ever I sees, Ephraim! Now if ye'd on'y good eyesight . . . ! (Suppressed laughter. He gives Cabot no chance to retort but roars) Promenade! Ye're walkin' like a bride down the aisle, Sarah! Waal, while they's life they's allus hope, I've heerd tell. Swing your partner to the left! Gosh A'mighty, look at Johnny Cook high-steppin'! They hain't goin' t' be much strength left fur howin' in the corn lot t'morrow. (laughter)

CABOT--Go it! Go it! (Then suddenly, unable to restrain himself any longer, he prances into the midst of the dancers, scattering them, waving his arms about wildly.) Ye're all hoofs! Git out o' my road! Give me room! I'll show ye dancin'. Ye're all too soft! (He pushes them roughly away. They crowd back toward the walls, muttering, looking at him resentfully.)

FIDDLER--(jeeringly) Go it, Ephraim! Go it! (He starts "Pop, Goes the Weasel," increasing the tempo with every verse until at the end he is fiddling crazily as fast as he can go.)

CABOT--(starts to dance, which he does very well and with tremendous vigor. Then he begins to improvise, cuts incredibly grotesque capers, leaping up and cracking his heels together, prancing around in a circle with body bent in an Indian war dance, then suddenly straightening up and kicking as high as he can with both legs. He is like a monkey on a string. And all the while he intersperses his antics with shouts and derisive comments.) Whoop! Here's dancin' fur ye! Whoop! See that! Seventy-six, if I'm a day! Hard as iron yet! Beatin' the young 'uns like I allus done! Look at me! I'd invite ye t' dance on my hundredth birthday on'y ye'll all be dead by then. Ye're a sickly generation! Yer hearts air pink, not red! Yer veins is full o' mud an' water! I be the on'y man in the county! Whoop! See that! I'm a Injun! I've killed Injuns in the West afore ye was born--an' skulped 'em too! They's a arrer wound on my backside I c'd show ye! The hull tribe chased me. I outrun 'em all--with the arrer stuck in me! An' I tuk vengeance on 'em. Ten eyes fur an eye, that was my motter. Whoop! Look at me! I kin kick the ceilin' off the room! Whoop!

FIDDLER--(stops playing--exhaustedly) God A'mighty, I got enuf. Ye got the devil's strength in ye.

CABOT--(delightedly) Did I beat yew, too? Waal, ye played smart. Hev a swig. (He pours whisky for himself and fiddler. They drink. The others watch Cabot silently with cold, hostile eyes. There is a dead pause. The fiddler rests. Cabot leans against the keg, panting, glaring around him confusedly. In the room above, Eben gets to his feet and tiptoes out the door in rear, appearing a moment later in the other bedroom. He moves silently, even frightenedly, toward the cradle and stands there looking down at the baby. His face is as vague as his reactions are confused, but there is a trace of tenderness, of interested discovery. At the same moment that he reaches the cradle, Abbie seems to sense something. She gets up weakly and goes to Cabot.)

ABBIE--I'm goin' up t' the baby.

CABOT--(with real solicitation) Air ye able fur the stairs? D'ye want me t' help ye, Abbie?

ABBIE--No. I'm able. I'll be down agen soon.

CABOT--Don't ye git wore out! He needs ye, remember--our son does! (He grins affectionately, patting her on the back. She shrinks from his touch.)

ABBIE--(dully) Don't--tech me. I'm goin'--up. (She goes. Cabot looks after her. A whisper goes around the room. Cabot turns. It ceases. He wipes his forehead streaming with sweat. He is breathing pantingly.)

CABOT--I'm a-goin' out t' git fresh air. I'm feelin' a mite dizzy. Fiddle up thar! Dance, all o' ye! Here's likker fur them as wants it. Enjoy yerselves. I'll be back. (He goes, closing the door behind him.)

FIDDLER--(sarcastically) Don't hurry none on our account! (A suppressed laugh. He imitates Abbie.) Whar's Eben? (more laughter)

A WOMAN--(loudly) What's happened in this house is plain as the nose on yer face! (Abbie appears in the doorway upstairs and stands looking in surprise and adoration at Eben who does not see her.)

A MAN--Ssshh! He's li'ble t' be listenin' at the door. That'd be like him. (Their voices die to an intensive whispering. Their faces are concentrated on this gossip. A noise as of dead leaves in the wind comes from the room. Cabot has come out from the porch and stands by the gate, leaning on it, staring at the sky blinkingly. Abbie comes across the room silently. Eben does not notice her until quite near.)

EBEN--(starting) Abbie!

ABBIE--Ssshh! (She throws her arms around him. They kiss--then bend over the cradle together.) Ain't he purty?--dead spit 'n' image o' yew!

EBEN--(pleased) Air he? I can't tell none.

ABBIE--E-zactly like!

EBEN--(frowningly) I don't like this. I don't like lettin' on what's mine's his'n. I been doin' that all my life. I'm gittin' t' the end o' b'arin' it!

ABBIE--(putting her finger on his lips) We're doin' the best we kin. We got t' wait. Somethin's bound t' happen. (She puts her arms around him.) I got t' go back.

EBEN--I'm goin' out. I can't b'ar it with the fiddle playin' an' the laughin'.

ABBIE--Don't git feelin' low. I love ye, Eben. Kiss me. (He kisses her. They remain in each other's arms.)

CABOT--(at the gate, confusedly) Even the music can't drive it out--somethin'. Ye kin feel it droppin' off the elums, climbin' up the roof, sneakin' down the chimney, pokin' in the corners! They's no peace in houses, they's no rest livin' with folks. Somethin's always livin' with ye. (with a deep sigh) I'll go t' the barn an' rest a spell. (He goes wearily toward the barn.)

FIDDLER--(tuning up) Let's celebrate the old skunk gittin' fooled! We kin have some fun now he's went. (He starts to fiddle "Turkey in the Straw." There is real merriment now. The young folks get up to dance.)