夺魂蜡像 The Waxwork (3)
He just waited for you to take your eyes off him, and then made his move. "That's what they all do. I know it!" he thought. "It's too much!" He started to get up from his chair. He must leave immediately. He couldn't stay all night with a lot of murderers, moving about when he wasn't looking!
"I can leave now," he thought. "I've got a lot to write about. A good story - ten good stories! The Morning Times isn't going to know how long I stayed here. They aren't interested. But the watchman is going to laugh if he sees me leaving so early."
But this was too hard. It was bad that the waxworks moved behind your back. But it was worse that they could breathe. Or was it just his breathing? These figures seemed to be doing what children do in a lesson: talking, laughing and playing when the person giving the lesson turns his back.
"There I go again," he thought. "I must think about other things. I'm Raymond
Hewson. I live and breathe. These figures round me aren't living. They can't move and speak as I can. They're only made of wax. They just stand there for old ladies and little boys to look at."
He had the feeling that Bourdette's eyes were on him again. He must have a look. He half-turned and then pulled his chair right round. Now, they were face to face. As he spoke, his words seemed to fly back at him from the darkest corners of the room.
"You moved, you little animal!" he screamed. "Yes you did. I saw you!"
Then he sat, looking in front of him, not moving, cold with fear. Dr Bourdette moved his little body slowly and carefully. He got down from his stand and sat right in front of Hewson. Then he smiled and said in good English, "Good evening. I did not know that I was going to have a friend here tonight. You cannot move or speak now until I tell you. But you can hear me quite easily, I know. Something tells me that you are - let's say, a little afraid of me. Make no mistake, sir. I am not one of these poor dead figures suddenly turned into a living thing. Oh no. I am Dr Bourdette in person."
他就是等你把视线从他身上挪开时移动。“他们全都这样做。我就知道!”休森想,“我受够了!”他从椅子上站起来,要立即离开。这么多的谋杀犯总是在他不留意时趁机移动呢,他可不能和他们待上一整晚!
他想:“我现在可以走了。我已经得到很多写作的素材了。可以写出一个精彩的故事,甚至十个精彩的故事!《早晨时报》不会知道我在这里逗留了多长时间。他们也没兴趣知道。但是守夜人看到我这么早就走,会取笑我的。”
但是留在这里真是令人痛苦难熬啊。那些蜡像在你背后做小动作已经够糟糕的了,更糟糕的是他们会呼吸。或许那只是他自己的呼吸声?这些蜡像就像是在耍学生上课时经常做的把戏:当授课人员转身背对他们时,他们就说话啊,嬉笑啊,玩耍啊。
“我怎么又胡思乱想了!”他想,“我要想想其它的事情才行。我是雷蒙德•休森。我是有血有肉的,会呼吸的。我周围的这些蜡像只是死物。他们不能像我一样会动会说话。他们只是由蜡做成的。他们只是站在那里给老妇人和小孩子欣赏。”
他突然觉得布尔多特博士的目光又落到了他身上。他必须看一看是不是真的。他先转动上身,然后把椅子转过来。现在,他们面对面了。当他说话时,他自己的话音似乎从展厅最阴森的角落反弹回来。
“你动了!你这小畜生!”他尖叫起来,“你确实动了,我看到你动了!”
然后,他跌坐下来,直勾勾地望着前方,动弹不得,恐惧战栗。布尔多特博士的矮小身体慢慢地、小心地动了起来。他从展台上走了下来,在休森的面前坐下。然后他笑了笑,用流利的英语说:“晚上好。我想不到今晚会有个朋友在这里陪我。现在,没有我的命令,你不能动或说话。但是我知道,你能毫不吃力地听到我说的话。出于某些原因,我觉得你……比如说,有些怕我。先生,别弄错了,我不是这其中一座可怜的死物蜡像突然变成的真人。不,不是的。我可是布尔多特博士本人啊。”
(编辑:twinx)