《我的叔叔于勒》，來自法國短篇小說巨匠莫泊桑。他擅長從日常瑣碎的生活中提取片段，配合他細致的刻畫和樸實的筆觸，從而諷刺和抨擊了社會現(xiàn)象，引人深思。《我的叔叔于勒》便是莫泊桑先生的代表作之一，通過從“我”的角度出發(fā)，在緩緩的故事講述中，揭露人與人之間的變態(tài)關(guān)系。
承蒙大家的喜歡，今天繼續(xù)打卡，閱讀《我的叔叔于勒》part4。 ?part3可以參考昨天的打卡
"My mother hesitated on account of the expense, but my two sisters immediately accepted. My mother said in a provoked manner:
"'I am afraid that they will hurt my stomach. Offer the children some, but not too much, it would make them sick.' Then, turning toward me, she added:
"'As for Joseph, he doesn't need any. Boys shouldn't be spoiled.'
"However, I remained beside my mother, finding this discrimination unjust. I watched my father as he pompously conducted my two sisters and his son-in-law toward the ragged old sailor.
"The two ladies had just left, and my father showed my sisters how to eat them without spilling the liquor. He even tried to give them an example, and seized an oyster. He attempted to imitate the ladies, and immediately spilled all the liquid over his coat. I heard my mother mutter:
"'He would do far better to keep quiet.'
"But, suddenly, my father appeared to be worried; he retreated a few steps, stared at his family gathered around the old shell opener, and quickly came toward us. He seemed very pale, with a peculiar look.
In a low voice he said to my mother:
'It's extraordinary how that man opening the oysters looks like Jules.'
"Astonished, my mother asked:
"'What Jules?'
"My father continued:
"'Why, my brother. If I did not know that he was well off in America, I should think it was he.'
"Bewildered, my mother stammered:
"'You are crazy! As long as you know that it is not he, why do you say such foolish things?'
"But my father insisted:
"'Go on over and see, Clarisse! I would rather have you see with your own eyes.'
"She arose and walked to her daughters. I, too, was watching the man. He was old, dirty, wrinkled, and did not lift his eyes from his work.
"My mother returned. I noticed that she was trembling. She exclaimed quickly:
"'I believe that it is he. Why don't you ask the captain? But be very careful that we don't have this rogue on our hands again!'
"My father walked away, but I followed him. I felt strangely moved.
"The captain, a tall, thin man, with blond whiskers, was walking along the bridge with an important air as if he were commanding the Indian mail steamer.
"My father addressed him ceremoniously, and questioned him about his profession, adding many compliments:
"'What might be the importance of Jersey? What did it produce? What was the population? The customs? The nature of the soil?' etc., etc.
"'You have there an old shell opener who seems quite interesting. Do you know anything about him?'
"The captain, whom this conversation began to weary, answered dryly:
"'He is some old French tramp whom I found last year in America, and I brought him back. It seems that he has some relatives in Havre, but that he doesn't wish to return to them because he owes them money. His name is Jules--Jules Darmanche or Darvanche or something like that. It seems that he was once rich over there, but you can see what's left of him now.'
"My father turned ashy pale and muttered, his throat contracted, his eyes haggard.
"'Ah! ah! very well, very well. I'm not in the least surprised. Thank you very much, captain.'
