目 录 上一节 下一节 
“不，不，他们不在罗，”警官本来想说句反话，可偏偏说中了。机灵鬼和查理·贝兹早就钻进遇到的头一个大杂院逃之夭夭。“喂，起来。” 'Don't hurt him,' said the old gentleman, compassionately. “您别伤着他了。”老绅士同情地说。 'Oh no, I won't hurt him,' replied the officer, tearing his jacket half off his back, in proof thereof. 'Come, I know you; it won't do. Will you stand upon your legs, you young devil?' “喔，不，我不会的。”警官答应着，一把便将奥立弗的外套几乎从背上扯了下来，以此作为证明。“哼，我可知道你们这一套，别想骗我。你倒是起不起来，你这小混蛋？” Oliver, who could hardly stand, made a shift to raise himself on his feet, and was at once lugged along the streets by the jacket-collar, at a rapid pace. The gentleman walked on with them by the officer's side; and as many of the crowd as could achieve the feat, got a little ahead, and stared back at Oliver from time to time. The boys shouted in triumph; and on they went. 奥立弗挣扎着爬起来，站都站不稳，当下便被人揪住外套衣领快步沿街拖走了。老绅士走在警官身边。这帮人当中，凡是有本事的都抢先几步，不时回过头来，看看奥立弗。孩子们发出胜利的欢呼声，朝前走去。 The offence had been committed within the district, and indeed in the immediate neighborhood of, a very notorious metropolitan police office. The crowd had only the satisfaction of accompanying Oliver through two or three streets, and down a place called Mutton Hill, when he was led beneath a low archway, and up a dirty court, into this dispensary of summary justice, by the back way. It was a small paved yard into which they turned; and here they encountered a stout man with a bunch of whiskers on his face, and a bunch of keys in his hand. 这桩案子发生在与首都警察局的一个赫赫有名的分局的辖区内，而且与这个分局近在咫尺。人群得到的满足仅仅是簇拥着奥立弗走过两三条街，到一个叫做玛当山的地方为止。他被人押着走过一条低矮的拱道，登上一个肮脏的天井，从后门走进即决裁判庭。这是一个石砌的小院，他们刚进去就迎面碰上一个满脸络腮胡，拎着一串钥匙的彪形大汉。 
“又是什么事啊？”他漫不经心地问。 'A young fogle-hunter,' replied the man who had Oliver in charge. “抓到一个摸包的。”看管奥立弗的警察答道。 'Are you the party that's been robbed, sir?' inquired the man with the keys. “先生，你就是被盗的当事人？”拎着钥匙的汉子又问。 'Yes, I am,' replied the old gentleman; 'but I am not sure that this boy actually took the handkerchief. I--I would rather not press the case.' “是的，我正是，”老绅士回答，“不过，我不能肯定就是这孩子偷走了手绢。我--我不想追究这事了。” 'Must go before the magistrate now, sir,' replied the man. 'His worship will be disengaged in half a minute. Now, young gallows!' “得先去见见推事再说，先生，”拎钥匙的汉子回答，“长官他马上就忙完了，过来，你这个小家伙，真该上绞架。” 
这番话是向奥立弗发出的一道邀请，他一边说一边打开门，要奥立弗进去，在里边一间石砌的牢房里，奥立弗浑身上下给搜了一通，结果什么也没搜出来，门又锁上了。 This cell was in shape and size something like an area cellar, only not so light. It was most intolably dirty; for it was Monday morning; and it had been tenanted by six drunken people, who had been locked up, elsewhere, since Saturday night. But this is little. In our station-houses, men and women are every night confined on the most trivial charges--the word is worth noting--in dungeons, compared with which, those in Newgate, occupied by the most atrocious felons, tried, found guilty, and under sentence of death, are palaces. Let any one who doubts this, compare the two. 这间牢房的形状和大小都有些像地窖，只是没那么亮，里边龌龊得叫人受不了。眼下是星期一上午，打星期六夜里开始，这里关过六个醉汉，现在都关到别的地方去了。不过，这不是什么问题。在我们的警察局里，每天夜里都有无数男男女女因为芝麻绿豆大的罪名--这个说法真不算一回事--就给关进了地牢，与此相比，新门监狱那些经过审讯、定罪、宣判死刑的最最凶暴残忍的在押重罪犯的囚室简直算得上宫殿了。让怀疑这一点的人，无论是谁，来比较一下吧。 The old gentleman looked almost as rueful as Oliver when the key grated in the lock. He turned with a sigh to the book, which had been the innocent cause of all this disturbance. 钥匙在锁孔里发出咔哒一声响，这时候，老绅士看上去几乎与奥立弗一样沮丧，他长叹了一口气，看了看手里的书，书是无辜的，然而所有的乱子又都是因它而起。 'There is something in that boy's face,' said the old gentleman to himself as he walked slowly away, tapping his chin with the cover of the book, in a thoughtful manner; 'something that touches and interests me. CAN he be innocent? He looked like--Bye the bye,' exclaimed the old gentleman, halting very abruptly, and staring up into the sky, 'Bless my soul!--where have I seen something like that look before?' “那孩子长相上有一种什么东西，”老绅士若有所思地缓步踱到一边，用书的封皮敲击着自己的下颚，自言自语地说，“某种触动我、吸弓我的东西。他会不会是无辜的呢？他似乎有些像--这个，这个，”老绅士骤然停住了，两眼凝视着天空，紧接着又高声说道，“天啦--我从前在哪儿见过的，跟他的长相很相似？” After musing for some minutes, the old gentleman walked, with the same meditative face, into a back anteroom opening from the yard; and there, retiring into a corner, called up before his mind's eye a vast amphitheatre of faces over which a dusky curtain had hung for many years. 'No,' said the old gentleman, shaking his head; 'it must be imagination. 老绅士沉吟了半晌，带着同样苦苦思索的神色走进后边一间面向院子的接待室，默默地走到一个角落，将多年来一直掩藏在沉沉大幕后边的无数张面孔唤回到心目中。“不，”他摇了摇头说，“这一定是想像。” 
他又一次回顾这些面孔。他已经将它们召唤到了眼前，要把遮挡了它们如此之久的这层幕布重新拉上可不是件容易的事。一张张面孔，有亲友的，也有仇敌的，还有许多几乎已经完全不认识的面孔也不期而至地挤在人群中。往昔如花似玉的少女而今已到了风烛残年。有几张脸长眠在地下，已经变了样，可是心灵超越了死亡，使它们依旧像昔日一样美好，呼唤着当年炯炯的目光，爽朗的笑貌，透过躯壳的灵魂之光仿佛在娓娓低语，黄土底下的美虽然已面目全非，但却得到了升华，她超脱尘世，只是为了成为一盏明灯，在通往天国的路途上洒下一道柔和清丽的光辉。 But the old gentleman could recall no one countenance of which Oliver's features bore a trace. So, he heaved a sigh over the recollections he awakened; and being, happily for himself, an absent old gentleman, buried them again in the pages of the musty book. 老绅士到底没有想起谁的相貌与奥立弗有些相像。他长叹一声，向自己唤醒过来的往事告别，幸好他只是有些恍榴。老绅士把这一切重新埋进那本书的宇里行间，那本帮不上什么忙的书。 He was roused by a touch on the shoulder, and a request from the man with the keys to follow him into the office. He closed his book hastily; and was at once ushered into the imposing presence of the renowned Mr. Fang. 有人碰了一下他的肩膀，他顿时醒悟过来，拎钥匙的汉子要老绅士随他一道进法庭去。他赶紧合上书，当下便被领去拜见声威赫赫的范昂先生。 The office was a front parlour, with a panelled wall. Mr. Fang sat behind a bar, at the upper end; and on one side the door was a sort of wooden pen in which poor little Oliver was already deposited; trembling very much at the awfulness of the scene. 法庭是一间带有格子墙的前厅。范昂先生坐在上首的一道栏杆后边，可怜的小奥立弗已经给安顿在门边的木栅栏里，叫这副场面吓得浑身发抖。 Mr. Fang was a lean, long-backed, stiff-necked, middle-sized man, with no great quantity of hair, and what he had, growing on the back and sides of his head. His face was stern, and much flushed. If he were really not in the habit of drinking rather more than was exactly good for him, he might have brought action against his countenance for libel, and have recovered heavy damages. 范昂先生很瘦，中等身材，腰板细长，脖子不大灵便。他头发不多，大都长在后脑勺和头的两侧。面容严厉而又红得过头了些。如果他确确实实没有饮酒无度的习惯，他完全可以起诉自己的长相犯有诽谤罪敲它一大笔损失费。 
老绅士毕恭毕敬地鞠了一躬，朝推事的写字台走过去，递上一张名片，说道：“先生，这是我的姓名和住址。”说罢，他退后两步，又彬彬有礼地点了一下头，静候对方提问。 Now, it so happened that Mr. Fang was at that moment perusing a leading article in a newspaper of the morning, adverting to some recent decision of his, and commending him, for the three hundred and fiftieth time, to the special and particular notice of the Secretary of State for the Home Department. He was out of temper; and he looked up with an angry scowl. 范昂先生那功夫刚好正在研读当天早报上登载的一篇社论，文章谈到了他最近作出的一次裁决，第三百五十次提请内政大臣对他特别加以注意。他火透了，抬起头来的时候满脸的不高兴。 'Who are you?' said Mr. Fang. “你是谁？”范昂先生发话道。 The old gentleman pointed, with some surprise, to his card. 老绅士带着几分惊愕，指了指自己的名片。 'Officer!' said Mr. Fang, tossing the card contemptuously away with the newspaper. 'Who is this fellow?' “警官，”范昂先生傲慢地用报纸把名片挑开，“这家伙是谁？” 
“先生，我的名字么，”老先生拿出了绅士风度，“我名叫布朗罗，先生。请允许我问一声长官大名，长官居然倚仗执法者的身份，无缘无故地羞辱一个正派人。”布朗罗先生说着，眼睛在法庭里扫了一周，好像是在寻找一个能给他以圆满答复的人似的。
| 
