mymaster同人小说

❶ 契诃夫短篇小说胖子与瘦子的英文原版

The police superintendent Otchumyelov is walking across the market square wearing a new overcoat and carrying a parcel under his arm. A red-haired policeman strides after him with a sieve full of confiscated gooseberries in his hands. There is silence all around. Not a soul in the square. . . . The open doors of the shops and taverns look out upon God’ world disconsolately, like hungry mouths; there is not even a beggar near them.
“So you bite, you damned brute?” Otchumyelov hears suddenly. “Lads, don’t let him go! Biting is prohibited nowadays! Hold him! ah . . . ah!”
There is the sound of a dog yelping. Otchumyelov looks in the direction of the sound and sees a dog, hopping on three legs and looking about her, run out of Pitchugin’s timber-yard. A man in a starched cotton shirt, with his waistcoat unbuttoned, is chasing her. He runs after her, and throwing his body forward falls down and seizes the dog by her hind legs. Once more there is a yelping and a shout of “Don’t let go!” Sleepy countenances are protruded from the shops, and soon a crowd, which seems to have sprung out of the earth, is gathered round the timber-yard.
“It looks like a row, your honour . . .” says the policeman.
Otchumyelov makes a half turn to the left and strides towards the crowd.
He sees the aforementioned man in the unbuttoned waistcoat standing close by the gate of the timber-yard, holding his right hand in the air and displaying a bleeding finger to the crowd. On his half-drunken face there is plainly written: “I’ll pay you out, you rogue!” and indeed the very finger has the look of a flag of victory. In this man Otchumyelov recognises Hryukin, the goldsmith. The culprit who has caused the sensation, a white borzoy puppy with a sharp muzzle and a yellow patch on her back, is sitting on the ground with her fore-paws outstretched in the middle of the crowd, trembling all over. There is an expression of misery and terror in her tearful eyes.
“What’s it all about?” Otchumyelov inquires, pushing his way through the crowd. “What are you here for? Why are you waving your finger . . .? Who was it shouted?”
“I was walking along here, not interfering with anyone, your honour,” Hryukin begins, coughing into his fist. “I was talking about firewood to Mitry Mitritch, when this low brute for no rhyme or reason bit my finger. . . . You must excuse me, I am a working man. . . . Mine is fine work. I must have damages, for I shan’t be able to use this finger for a week, may be. . . . It’s not even the law, your honour, that one should put up with it from a beast. . . . If everyone is going to be bitten, life won’t be worth living . . . .”
“H’m. Very good,” says Otchumyelov sternly, coughing and raising his eyebrows. “Very good. Whose dog is it? I won’t let this pass! I’ll teach them to let their dogs run all over the place!It’s time these gentry were looked after, if they won’t obey the regulations! When he’s fined, the blackguard, I’ll teach him what it means to keep dogs and such stray cattle! I’ll give him a lesson! . . . Yeldyrin,” cries the superintendent, addressing the policeman, “find out whose dog this is and draw up a report! And the dog must be strangled. Without delay! It’s sure to be mad. . . . Whose dog is it, I ask?”
“I fancy it’s General Zhigalov’s,” says someone in the crowd.
“General Zhigalov’s, h’m. . . . Help me off with my coat, Yeldyrin . . . it’s frightfully hot!It must be a sign of rain. . . . There’s one thing I can’t make out, how it came to bite you?” Otchumyelov turns to Hryukin. “Surely it couldn’t reach your finger. It’s a little dog, and you are a great hulking fellow!You must have scratched your finger with a nail, and then the idea struck you to get damages for it. We all know . . . your sort! I know you devils!”
“He put a cigarette in her face, your honour, for a joke, and she had the sense to snap at him. . . . He is a nonsensical fellow, your honour!”
“That’s a lie, Squinteye! You didn’t see, so why tell lies about it? His honour is a wise gentleman, and will see who is telling lies and who is telling the truth, as in God’s sight. . . . And if I am lying let the court decide. It’s written in the law. . . . We are all equal nowadays. My own brother is in the gendarmes . . . let me tell you . . . .”
“Don’t argue!”
“No, that’s not the General’s dog,” says the policeman, with profound conviction, “the General hasn’t got one like that. His are mostly setters.”
“Do you know that for a fact?”
“Yes, your honour.”
“I know it, too. The General has valuable dogs, thoroughbred, and this is goodness knows what! No coat, no shape. . . . A low creature. And to keep a dog like that! . . . where’s the sense of it. If a dog like that were to turn up in Petersburg or Moscow, do you know what would happen? They would not worry about the law, they would strangle it in a twinkling! You’ve been injured, Hryukin, and we can’t let the matter drop. . . . We must give them a lesson! It is high time. . . .!”
“Yet maybe it is the General’s,” says the policeman, thinking aloud. “It’s not written on its face. . . . I saw one like it the other day in his yard.”
“It is the General’s, that’s certain!” says a voice in the crowd.
“H’m, help me on with my overcoat, Yeldyrin, my lad . . . the wind’s getting up. . . . I am cold. . . .You take it to the General’s, and inquire there. Say I found it and sent it. And tell them not to let it out into the street. . . . It may be a valuable dog, and if every swine goes sticking a cigar in its mouth, it will soon be ruined. A dog is a delicate animal. . . . And you put your hand down, you blockhead. It’s no use your displaying your fool of a finger. It’s your own fault . . . .”
“Here comes the General’s cook, ask him . . . Hi, Prohor! Come here, my dear man! Look at this dog. . . . Is it one of yours?”
“What an idea! We have never had one like that!”
“There’s no need to waste time asking,” says Otchumyelov. “It’s a stray dog! There’s no need to waste time talking about it. . . . Since he says it’s a stray dog, a stray dog it is. . . . It must be destroyed, that’s all about it.”
“It is not our dog,” Prohor goes on. “It belongs to the General’s brother, who arrived the other day. Our master does not care for hounds. But his honour is fond of them . . . .”
“You don’t say his Excellency’s brother is here? Vladimir Ivanitch?” inquires Otchumyelov, and his whole face beams with an ecstatic smile. “‘Well, I never! And I didn’t know! Has he come on a visit?
“Yes.”
“Well, I never. . . . He couldn’t stay away from his brother. . . . And there I didn’t know! So this is his honour’s dog? Delighted to hear it. . . . Take it. It’s not a bad pup. . . . A lively creature. . . . Snapped at this fellow’s finger! Ha-ha-ha. . . . Come, why are you shivering? Rrr . . . Rrrr. . . . The rogue’s angry . . . a nice little pup.”
Prohor calls the dog, and walks away from the timber-yard with her. The crowd laughs at Hryukin.
“I’ll make you smart yet!” Otchumyelov threatens him, and wrapping himself in his greatcoat, goes on his way across the square.

❷ 求sherlock同人txt。邮箱[email protected]文越多越好，重口程度无下限。因为我喜欢手机看文没有随缘账号

不好意思打扰了，可以求问文包吗？真的很喜欢福华可是好多文都找不到(ಥ_ಥ)[email protected]

❸ 【英语强人系列】原创小说片段翻译,多谢捧场,谢谢!

您这小说的开头以前我倒是看过，也没见有下文啊

那年那月
The Year It All Happened

时光的指针倒退地指向了1976年，那是个黑暗的一年。
It could be dated back to 1976, a year of darkness.

唐山大地震，伟人的离去，对每个人的心灵都是沉重的打击。然而这种沉重的气氛依旧没有离去的意思，而且也把这种氛围带到了一个山城。
Everyone suffered from a series of heavy blows---from Tangshan Earthquake to the decease of great ones. A solemn and still mood spread among people with as little disturbance or change of mien. There was no exceptance for Fuxin, a small town surrounded by hills.

阜新，东北某个小城镇，10月份，那里的天气已经进入深秋天许久了，那天月昏星暗，黑黢黢的，到处看不到一点亮光，路旁的树叶子在黑暗中发出“沙沙”的响声。不道哪里来的猫头鹰在个黑暗的角落里叫唤着，听起来真有些令人毛骨悚然。
The tiny town of Fuxin, a typical small city in Northeast China, lay amidst all the darkness of an October night. Late autumn arrived there even earlier. The sky was dense with cloud, not a diffused light from some fragment of a moon could be seen. Rustling of leaves carried on the air all around the road and an owl, from somewhere in darkness, let out creepy screams.

空气也忽然变得森凉。黑色的乌云象跑马一样的翻滚着。惊雷就象从脚底下打过来，一道道闪电，就象要把天劈开一样。亿万道电光在云端疾走，交锋，搏斗，激起一片震天动地的雷声，仿佛要把这座山城炸开。一场暴雨随时等候着雷公的派遣。
All of a sudden chilly air spilled over the horizon. Dark cloud was rolling madly across the sky, then a sound of thunder seemed to come from beneath. The whole sky was cleaved by thunderbolts wrestling and roaring through the cloud edges. And the mountain town, almost split apart by the wrath of His Mightiness, awaited the storm that might come in no time.

在一瞬间，雨犹如瓢泼一样从天而降，雨由小到大，整个山城在暴雨的密网里挣扎地摇摆着，好象要把几年的污垢洗掉的。在汇成水流的大路上激起了泡沫和水花，狂风又把水花吹成了尘雾，巨大的雨气象个大罩子一样把城镇彻底盖严。
The storm came at a moment, not so powerful at the beginning but soon becomes a torrent. It pounded against the town in such a steady wash that all the dirt and filth that sullied the town for years seemed to be cleaned away. The road became a bubbling and splashing stream. Flung capriciously by a rising gust, the storm cloaked the town tightly like an enormous and foggy garment.

罗家大院，当地一个大家族，此时正处于悲伤中。
Luo family's compound, the dwelling place of one of the largest local clan, was now in great sorrow.

罗积仁，一个老实本分的庄稼汉，五十多岁了，个子不高的，身体逐渐衰退了，长年的风吹日晒，使他的脸色呈献古铜色，眼睛也过早地失去了年轻人那样的光彩，业已模糊了。
A simple-minded peasant of medium size, Luo Jiren was already in his fifties. His health was declining and his face bronzed by the sun. He got cloudy eyes earlier than his peers, indicating he was no longer young.

经过早年的闯关东，在这个普通的城镇中找到了自己的一份天地，后来结婚了，又有了四个孩子，但后来他发现那时的城里的钱也不好赚，他就远走他乡了，只是每年过年的时候，把钱带回来，给全家人补给的。
He was among the settlers heading for Manchuria when he was young. Later he found his right place in this plain-looking town, got married and had four children. Then, knowing he could not make himself a successful breadwinner in the town, he turned to other places, and returned only at each turn of years, contributing the revenue to maintain his family's living.

可能是性格原因，他从不对外人说他究竟是做什么的，和他外出的乡亲也没有看到他干什么的，但从他家的青砖小瓦房，过年的吃的虽不是大鱼大肉的，但荤素的搭配也都可以看出，这个农村来的庄稼汉是个赚钱高手。罗老汉的品行和他的名字一样，对别人都很仁慈的。经常救济那些困难的人们。他的口碑很好的，因此大伙说起他来无不挑大拇指的。
Luo had never mentioned about his occupation, nor could his fellow villagers feature it out. This might be explained from his nature. But this clodhopper surely knew well how to make money. His family lived in a tile-roofed house built of blue bricks. Though by no means a feast of fat things, His dinner on New Year‘s Eve never lacked of meat dishes. Luo's behavior was also true to his name. He was kind to people, ready to lend a hand to those in trouble, and enjoyed a good reputition among his neighborhood.

“老天却喜欢捉弄本分人”。由于积劳成疾，1976年的这一年，他彻底病倒了，基本不能起床了。除了老大以外，其他的三个儿女和老婆轮流地伺候着他，但医疗那时不发达，只能把他生还的希望留给下个世界。
As the saying goes "Only the Good die young", Luo burnt himself out completely in 1976. When he was ill in bed, his wife and three children, except for his eldest son, looked after him in turn. However for the very limited medical services he could receive then, what he could do was just planning for his next-life.

临终前，罗老汉将老婆丁婉叫到身旁，叮嘱她一切。叫孩子们都先出去了。随后罗老汉说完了最后一句话，离开这个人世，阳光和雨露陪伴了他整整五十五年。但都在最后一散而去了。
Before he breathed his last, Luo spoke of his arrangement to Ding Wan, his wife. Then he told his children to go out and uttered his last words. He bid farewell forever to the grace of God, at the age of 55.

全家都在哭泣，四个孩子哭声交织在一起，欲与雷声试比高的。老天也在陪他们哭泣着。
The whole family was crying. The thunder echoed with his four children, as if God was willing to join them.

在外人看来，罗老汉的离去给罗家蒙上了一层神秘的色彩，关于他的种种传说众说纷纭。而罗老汉的临终之言只有丁氏知道，但她却将老头的嘱托深埋心底了，儿女们问什么，她都说，过去了不想再回忆了，也许老太太想将秘密带到棺材里去了，除此之外无人再知晓了。
For outsiders, Luo family had been rendered a mystical one for his last words. Rumors of all versions arose. Ding Wan, as the only one who knew the truth, decided to keep it as a secret. She told her children that she had no desire to recall the past whatever they asked about. The secret might remain an engima upon her death, since no one else knew about it.

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