第十三章（第8/15页）

"Let me push!" Said Connie, coming up behind.

“让我来推吧！”康妮说着，走到轮椅后面。

"No! Don't push!” He said angrily. "What's the good of the damned thing, if it has to be pushed! Put the stone under!”

“不用！别推！”克利福德愤怒地说道，“如果还要推，那这该死的东西还有什么用！”把石头垫在轮子底下就行！”

There was another pause, then another start; but more ineffectual than before.

稍作停顿，他再度发动轮椅，但情况没有丝毫好转。

"You MUST let me push," said she. "Or sound the horn for the keeper." "Wait!" She waited; and he had another try, doing more harm than good.

“你得让我推才行。”她说。“不然，就按喇叭，唤守林人过来帮忙。”“等等！”她等待着，他又尝试了一次，可情况变得更糟。

"Sound the horn then, if you won't let me push," she said. "Hell! Be quiet a moment!" She was quiet a moment: he made shattering efforts with the little motor.

“按喇叭吧，不然就让我来推。”她说。“见鬼！闭上嘴！”她沉默不语，他拼命折腾着那个小马达。

"You'll only break the thing down altogether, Clifford," she remonstrated; "besides wasting your nervous energy." "If I could only get out and look at the damned thing!" He said, exasperated. And he sounded the horn stridently. "Perhaps Mellors can see what's wrong.” They waited, among the mashed flowers under a sky softly curdling with cloud. In the silence a wood-pigeon began to coo roo-hoo hoo! roo-hoo hoo!

“你那样只会把机器搞坏，克利福德，”她提出抗议，“再说也是白费力气。”“要是我能下来，检查一下这可恶的东西就好了！”他怒不可遏地说。接着他按响喇叭，发出刺耳的声音。“或许梅勒斯能找出问题何在。”他们等待着，被碾烂的花朵散落在四周，天空中的云彩慢慢汇聚起来。周围一片寂静，突然间一只斑鸠咕咕地叫起来。咕咕咕咕！

Clifford shut her up with a blast on the horn.

克利福德猛然间按响喇叭，把那只斑鸠吓得不敢做声。

The keeper appeared directly, striding inquiringly round the corner. He saluted.

守林人仿佛从天而降，他绕过拐角，大踏步走上前来，询问到底发生了什么事。他向两人行礼。

"Do you know anything about motors?" Asked Clifford sharply.

“你会修马达吗？”克利福德劈头就问。

"I am afraid I don't. Has she gone wrong?” "Apparently!" snapped Clifford.

“我不会。轮椅出毛病了？”“明知故问！”克利福德呵斥着。

The man crouched solicitously by the wheel, and peered at the little engine.

守林人热心地蹲在轮椅旁边，仔细检查起小马达来。

"I'm afraid I know nothing at all about these mechanical things, Sir Clifford," he said calmly. "If she has enough petrol and oil—” "Just look carefully and see if you can see anything broken," snapped Clifford.

“我对机械方面的东西一窍不通，克利福德爵士。”他平静地说。“要是汽油足够的话——”“仔细看看有没有损坏的地方。”克利福德厉声说。

The man laid his gun against a tree, took off his coat, and threw it beside it. The brown dog sat guard. Then he sat down on his heels and peered under the chair, poking with his finger at the greasy little engine, and resenting the grease-marks on his clean Sunday shirt.

守林人把猎枪靠在树上，脱掉外套，扔在树边。那只棕色猎犬蹲伏在旁警戒着。接着，他蹲下身子，观察着轮椅的底部，手指轻触着油迹斑斑的马达，眼见自己洁净的礼拜日衬衫沾满油渍，让他心里颇感不悦。

"Doesn't seem anything broken," he said. And he stood up, pushing back his hat from his forehead, rubbing his brow and apparently studying.

“似乎没有损坏的地方。”他说。然后，他站起身来，把帽子往脑后推了推，磨蹭着额头，显然是正在苦思。

"Have you looked at the rods underneath?" Asked Clifford. "See if they are all right!"

“看到底部的杠杆了么？”克利福德问。“看看它们是否正常！”

The man lay flat on his stomach on the floor, his neck pressed back, wriggling under the engine and poking with his finger. Connie thought what a pathetic sort of thing a man was, feeble and small-looking, when he was lying on his belly on the big earth.

守林人趴在地上，头向后拧，在发动机下面蠕动着，手指戳戳这里，碰碰那里。康妮觉得，堂堂男子汉趴在地上，显得那样渺小，那样微不足道，简直就是条可怜虫。

"Seems all right as far as I can see," came his muffled voice.