介绍:
微信公众平台：兔姐研习所 同步更新中英文对照文稿
Monsieur Aulard was not a morning person. The previous night he had been out drinking with some actors. Now, red-faced and snoring, he was fast asleep. It took him a few minutes to realize that the terrible banging sound was not coming from the inside of his head. The knocking just kept on, getting louder and more urgent. Finally, barefoot and shivering, Monsieur Aulard dragged himself out of his warm bed. His head felt like a rotten apple. The source of the noise was coming from the front door. He fumbled with the lock until he finally managed to open it. Two Yanns and two Têtus floated before him. They were swaying back and forth, overlapping each other. Something was missing from this unsettling picture.
“Where’s Topolain?” Têtu walked into the apartment, followed by Yann. Even half awake and with a thumping headache, Monsieur Aulard could see that the dwarf was in a bad way. “My dear friend, are you unwell?” He looked back at the door, expecting to see Topolain come panting up the stairs behind.
“Topolain’s dead,” said Têtu with a sob.
“Dead?” repeated Monsieur Aulard. “How can he be dead?”
“A bullet,”said Têtu, his face collapsing as tears appeared in his watery red eyes. “He was shot like a dog.”
“No, no, no! Mort bleu! Yann, speak to me, tell me this is a nightmare!” He grabbed hold of the boy’s flimsy coat so that the sleeve came away from the
armhole with an unforgiving ripping sound.
“Count Kalliovski shot him,” said Yann.
“But why?” Monsieur Aulard‘s teeth were beginning to chatter. He sat down heavily on an armchair whose horsehair insides were spilling out. It creaked alarmingly under the weight of his hangover. “The trick must have gone wrong. It must have been an accident.”
“It was no accident,” said Têtu. “The count tampered with the pistol.” “But why would Count Kalliovski murder a mere magician?”
It was the question Yann had been asking himself all the way back to Paris "Because,” said Têtu wearily, “Topolain recognized Kalliovski, and instead of keeping quiet he let his tongue get the better of him. Topolain knew him from a long time ago, when he was called by another name.”
Yann could see that if Kalliovski was a fraud he would want no one knowing it. Still, Têtu’s explanation raised more questions than it answered. Yann put a half-frozen pan of wine on the fire to boil, searched through the mess to find some glasses, and cleared the table as Têtu took one of the loaves from out of his jacket, where it sat before them like a golden brown sun. At the sight of the loaf, Monsieur Aulard’s attention wavered from his immediate grief. “Where did you get that?” he asked. “From the Marquis de Villeduval’s kitchen.” Têtu broke off a piece and handed it to him.
The hot wine and bread worked their magic on Monsieur Aulard. With a huge sigh he went to get dressed, reappearing with his wig placed lopsidedly on his head, his waistcoat buttons done up wrong, and his shirt hanging out. “I have a full house, all tickets sold and no performer!” “You’ll have to find someone else,” said Têtu. “Mort bleu,” said Monsieur Aulard. “I tell you, if I weren’t so kindhearted, I would have you two thrown onto the streets for your failure to protect Topolain. Why, he was one of the greatest magicians France has ever seen!” He wiped his eyes and, putting on his heavy outer coat and scarf, opened the front door, letting in a blast of icy wind from the stone stairwell.
“You can’t stay here, you know.”
"Don’t worry, we’ll soon be gone,” said Têtu. “Count Kalliovski is after us too. We had trouble getting out of the château alive.”
“Mort bleu! You know who he is too, don’t you?”
“Yes, for my sins, I do.”
“Who is he, then?”
“That,” said Têtu, closing his eyes, “would not be worth my life to tell you.”
Monsieur Aulard爱睡懒觉。前一天晚上，他和几个演员出去喝了大酒。现在，他面红耳赤的打着呼噜，很快就睡着了。他花了几分钟的时间才意识到那可怕的敲门声并不是来自梦里。敲门声持续着，而且越来越急促。最后，Aulard先生光着脚颤颤巍巍的从他温暖的床上爬起来。他感觉自己醉的像个烂苹果。噪音的是从前门传来的。他摸索着锁，终于把门打开了。他眼前漂浮着两个Yann和两个Têtu，他们在眼前相互重叠，来回摇摆。
“Topolain在哪?”Tetu走进公寓,Yann紧随其后。Aulard先生还在半睡半醒间，伴着剧烈的头痛，他看到眼前这个小矮人状况不太好。“我亲爱的伙计，你不舒服吗？”他回头看看门，希望看到Topolain气喘吁吁的跑上楼。
“他死了。”Tetu呜咽着。
“死了？”Aulard先生重复了一遍，“他怎么会死呢？！”
“一颗子弹。”Tetu水汪汪的红眼睛里流下了泪水：“他像只狗那样被枪打死了。”
“不不不！Yann，告诉我，告诉我这是个噩梦！”Aulard抓住Yann的薄外套，袖子被撕开了一个窟窿。
“伯爵kalliovski杀死了他。”Yann说。
“但这是为什么啊？”Aulard开始喋喋不休自言自语，他重重的坐到扶手椅上，“这肯定是魔术出了问题，这肯定是场意外……”
“这不是意外。”Tetu说，“伯爵篡改了手枪。”
“但是伯爵为什么要杀死一个魔术师呢？”
这也是Yann回巴黎的路上不断问自己的问题。“因为……”Tetu疲倦的说，“Topolain认出了伯爵kalliovski，为了让他永远闭嘴就只能杀死他。Topolain很早之前就认识伯爵了，当时伯爵叫另外一个名字。”
Yann明白，如果伯爵是个骗子的话，他肯定希望没有人会知道。不过，Tetu的解释让人产生更多的疑问。Yann把半锅葡萄酒放在火上煮着，在狼藉中找眼镜并清理了桌子，Tetu从夹克衫里掏出一块面包。Yann坐在他们面前像金色的太阳。看到面包，Aulard的注意力从刚才悲伤的情绪里转移出来：“你在哪儿拿的？”
“从Villeduval侯爵的厨房。”Tetu掰了一块面包递给Aulard。
喝完热红酒吃完面包，Aulard要继续魔术工作了。他重重的叹了口气，换了衣服，戴好他的假发，他的背心扣子扣错了，衬衫在外面露着。“我有这么大的房子，所有的门票都卖出去的，但是演不了了。”
“你得去找别人来演。”Tetu说。
“先生。”Aulard说，“我告诉你，如果我不是那么仁慈，我早让你俩扫地出门了，因为你俩没保护好Topolain。知道为什么吗？因为他是法国有史以来最伟大的魔术师。”他擦了擦眼睛，穿上厚外套系上围巾，打开门，刺骨的寒风顺着楼梯间钻进屋子。“你们不能呆在这儿了，懂吗？”
“别担心，我们马上走。”Tetu说，“伯爵kalliovski正在追杀我们。如果我们还活着的话，剧院就会有麻烦。”
“小矮子，你知道他是谁，对吗？”
“是的。因为我的罪孽，我知道他是谁。”
“那么，他是谁？”
“嗯……”Tetu闭上眼睛，说，“这个不值得我冒生命的危险告诉你。”
【文本翻译均为电台英伦好声音读给你听所有，转载请联系播主并注明】
大家还在听
