A DILL PICKLE 大学英语课文

A DILL PICKLE

AND then, after six years, she saw him again. He was seated at one of those little bamboo tables decorated with a Japanese vase of paper daffodils. There was a tall plate of fruit in front of him, and very carefully, in a way she recognized immediately as his "special" way, he was peeling an orange.

He must have felt that shock of recognition in her for he looked up and met her eyes. Incredible! He didn't know her! She smiled; he frowned. She came towards him. He closed his eyes an instant, but opening them his face lit up as though he had struck a match in a dark room. He laid down the orange and pushed back his chair, and she took her little warm hand out of her muff and gave it to him.

"Vera!" he exclaimed. "How strange. Really, for a moment I didn't know you. Won't you sit down? You've had lunch? Won't you have some coffee?"

She hesitated, but of course she meant to.

"Yes, I'd like some coffee." And she sat down opposite him.

"You've changed. You've changed very much," he said, staring at her with that eager, lighted look. [Page 229] "You look so well. I've never seen you look so well before."

"Really?" She raised her veil and unbuttoned her high fur collar. "I don't feel very well. I can't bear this weather, you know."

"Ah, no. You hate the cold. . . . "

"Loathe it." She shuddered. "And the worst of it is that the older one grows . . . "

He interrupted her. "Excuse me," and tapped on the table for the waitress. "Please bring some coffee and cream." To her: "You are sure you won't eat anything? Some fruit, perhaps. The fruit here is very good."

"No, thanks. Nothing."

"Then that's settled." And smiling just a hint too broadly he

took up the orange again. "You were saying–the older one grows–"

"The colder," she laughed. But she was thinking how well she remembered that trick of his–the trick of interrupting her–and of how it used to exasperate her six years ago. She used to feel then as though he, quite suddenly, in the middle of what she was saying, put his hand over her lips, turned from her, attended to something different, and then took his hand away, and with just the same slightly too broad smile, gave her his attention again. . . . Now we are ready. That is settled.

"The colder!" He echoed her words, laughing too. "Ah, ah. You still say the same things. And there is another thing about you that is not changed [Page 230] at all–your beautiful voice–your beautiful way of speaking." Now he was very grave; he leaned towards her, and she smelled the warm, stinging scent of the orange peel. "You have only to say one word and I would know your voice among all other voices. I don't know what it is–I've often wondered–that makes your voice such a–haunting memory. . . . Do you remember that first afternoon we spent together at Kew Gardens? You were

so surprised because I did not know the names of any flowers.

I am still just as ignorant for all your telling me. But whenever it is very fine and warm, and I see some bright colours–it's awfully strange–I hear your voice saying: 'Geranium, marigold, and verbena.' And I feel those three words are all I recall of some forgotten, heavenly language. . . . You remember that afternoon?"

"Oh, yes, very well." She drew a long, soft breath, as though the paper daffodils between them were almost too sweet to bear. Yet, what had remained in her mind of that particular afternoon was an absurd scene over the tea table. A great many people taking tea in a Chinese pagoda, and he behaving like a maniac about the wasps–waving them away, flapping at them with his straw hat, serious and infuriated out of all proportion to the occasion. How delighted the sniggering tea drinkers had been. And how she had suffered.

But now, as he spoke, that memory faded. His was the truer. Yes, it had been a wonderful [Page 231] afternoon, full of geranium and marigold and verbena, and–warm sunshine. Her thoughts lingered over the last two words as though she

sang them.

In the warmth, as it were, another memory unfolded. She saw herself sitting on a lawn. He lay beside her, and suddenly, after a long silence, he rolled over and put his head in her lap.

"I wish," he said, in a low, troubled voice, "I wish that I had taken poison and were about to die–here now!"

At that moment a little girl in a white dress, holding a long, dripping water lily, dodged from behind a bush, stared at them, and dodged back again. But he did not see. She leaned over him.

"Ah, why do you say that? I could not say that."

But he gave a kind of soft moan, and taking her hand he held it to his cheek.

"Because I know I am going to love you too much–far too much. And I shall suffer so terribly, Vera, because you never, never will love me."

He was certainly far better looking now than he had been then. He had lost all that dreamy vagueness and indecision. Now he had the air of a man who has found his place in life, and fills it with a confidence and an assurance which was, to say the least, impressive. He must have made money, too. His clothes were admirable, and at that moment he pulled a Russian cigarette case out of his pocket. [Page 232]

"Won't you smoke?"

"Yes, I will." She hovered over them. "They look very good."

"I think they are. I get them made for me by a little man in St. James's Street. I don't smoke very much. I'm not like you–but when I do, they must be delicious, very fresh cigarettes. Smoking isn't a habit with me; it's a luxury–like perfume. Are you still so fond of perfumes? Ah, when I was in Russia . . . "

She broke in: "You've really been to Russia?"

"Oh, yes. I was there for over a year. Have you forgotten how

we used to talk of going there?"

"No, I've not forgotten."

He gave a strange half laugh and leaned back in his chair. "Isn't it curious. I have really carried out all those journeys that we planned. Yes, I have been to all those places that we talked of, and stayed in them long enough to–as you used to say, 'air oneself' in them. In fact, I have spent the last three years of my life travelling all the time. Spain, Corsica, Siberia, Russia, Egypt. The only country left is China, and I mean to go there, too, when the war is over."

As he spoke, so lightly, tapping the end of his cigarette against the ash-tray, she felt the strange beast that had slumbered so long within her bosom stir, stretch itself, yawn, prick up its ears, and suddenly bound to its feet, and fix its longing, hungry stare upon those far away places. But all [Page 233] she. said was, smiling gently: "How I envy you."

He accepted that. "It has been," he said, "very wonderful–especially Russia. Russia was all that we had

imagined, and far, far more. I even spent some days on a river boat on the Volga. Do you remember that boatman's song that you used to play?"

"Yes." It began to play in her mind as she spoke.

"Do you ever play it now?"

"No, I've no piano."

He was amazed at that. "But what has become of your beautiful piano?"

She made a little grimace. "Sold. Ages ago."

"But you were so fond of music," he wondered.

"I've no time for it now," said she.

He let it go at that. "That river life," he went on, "is something quite special. After a day or two you cannot realize that you have ever known another. And it is not necessary to know the

language–the life of the boat creates a bond between you and the people that's more than sufficient. You eat with them, pass the day with them, and in the evening there is that endless singing."

She shivered, hearing the boatman's song break out again loud and tragic, and seeing the boat floating on the darkening river with melancholy trees on either side. . . . "Yes, I should like that," said she, stroking her muff. [Page 234]

"You'd like almost everything about Russian life," he said warmly. "It's so informal, so impulsive, so free without question. And then the peasants are so splendid. They are such human beings–yes, that is it. Even the man who drives your carriage has–has some real part in what is happening. I remember the evening a party of us, two friends of mine and the wife of one of them, went for a picnic by the Black Sea. We took supper and champagne and ate and drank on the grass. And while we were eating the coachman came up. 'Have a dill pickle,' he said. He wanted to share with us. That seemed to me so right, so–you know what I mean?"

And she seemed at that moment to be sitting on the grass beside the mysteriously Black Sea, black as velvet, and rippling against the banks in silent, velvet waves. She saw the carriage drawn up to one side of the road, and the little group on the grass, their faces and hands white in the moonlight. She saw the pale dress of the woman outspread and her folded parasol, lying on the grass like a huge pearl crochet hook. Apart from them, with his supper in a cloth on his knees, sat the coachman. "Have a dill pickle," said he, and although she was not certain what a dill pickle was, she saw the greenish glass jar with a red chili like a parrot's beak glimmering through. She sucked in her cheeks; the dill pickle was terribly sour. . . .

"Yes, I know perfectly what you mean," she said. [Page 235]

In the pause that followed they looked at each other. In the past when they had looked at each other like that they had felt such a boundless understanding between them that their souls had, as it were, put their arms round each other and dropped into the same sea, content to be drowned, like mournful lovers. But now, the surprising thing was that it was

he who held back. He who said:

"What a marvellous listener you are. When you look at me with those wild eyes I feel that I could tell you things that I would never breathe to another human being."

Was there just a hint of mockery in his voice or was it her fancy? She could not be sure.

"Before I met you," he said, "I had never spoken of myself to anybody. How well I remember one night, the night that I brought you the little Christmas tree, telling you all about my childhood. And of how I was so miserable that I ran away and lived under a cart in our yard for two days without being discovered. And you listened, and your eyes shone, and I felt that you had even made the little Christmas tree listen too, as in a fairy story."

But of that evening she had remembered a little pot of caviare. It had cost seven and sixpence. He could not get over it. Think of it–a tiny jar like that costing seven and sixpence. While she ate it he watched her, delighted and shocked.

"No, really, that is eating money. You could not [Page 236] get seven shillings into a little pot that size. Only think of the profit they must make. . . . " And he had begun some immensely complicated calculations. . . . But now good-bye to the caviare. The Christmas tree was on the table, and the little boy lay under the cart with his head pillowed on the yard dog.

"The dog was called Bosun," she cried delightedly.

But he did not follow. "Which dog? Had you a dog? I don't remember a dog at all."

"No, no. I meant the yard dog when you were a little boy." He laughed and snapped the cigarette case to.

"Was he? Do you know I had forgotten that. It seems such ages ago. I cannot believe that it is only six years. After I had recognized you today–I had to take such a leap–I had to take a leap over my whole life to get back to that time. I was such a kid then." He drummed on the table. "I've often thought how I

must have bored you. And now I understand so perfectly why you wrote to me as you did–although at the time that letter nearly finished my life. I found it again the other day, and I couldn't help laughing as I read it. It was so clever–such a true picture of me." He glanced up. "You're not going?"

She had buttoned her collar again and drawn down her veil.

"Yes, I am afraid I must," she said, and [Page 237] managed a smile. Now she knew that he had been mocking.

"Ah, no, please," he pleaded. "Don't go just for a moment," and he caught up one of her gloves from the table and clutched at it as if that would hold her. "I see so few people to talk to nowadays, that I have turned into a sort of barbarian," he said. "Have I said something to hurt you?"

"Not a bit," she lied. But as she watched him draw her glove through his fingers, gently, gently, her anger really did die down, and besides, at the moment he looked more like himself of six years ago. . . .

"What I really wanted then," he said softly, "was to be a sort of carpet–to make myself into a sort of carpet for you to walk on so that you need not be hurt by the sharp stones and mud that you hated so. It was nothing more positive than that–nothing more selfish. Only I did desire, eventually, to turn into a magic carpet and carry you away to all those lands you longed to see."

As he spoke she lifted her head as though she drank something; the strange beast in her bosom began to purr . . .

"I felt that you were more lonely than anybody else in the world," he went on, "and yet, perhaps, that you were the only person in the world who was really, truly alive. Born out of your time," he murmured, stroking the glove, "fated."

Ah, God! What had she done! How had she [Page 238] dared to throw away her happiness like this. This was the only man who had ever understood her. Was it too late? Could it be too late? She was that glove that he held in his fingers. . . .

"And then the fact that you had no friends and never had

made friends with people. How I understood that, for neither had I. Is it just the same now?"

"Yes," she breathed. "Just the same. I am as alone as ever."

"So am I," he laughed gently, "just the same." Suddenly with a quick gesture he handed her back the glove and scraped his chair on the floor. "But what seemed to me so mysterious then is perfectly plain to me now. And to you, too, of course. . . . It simply was that we were such egoists, so self-engrossed, so wrapped up in ourselves that we hadn't a corner in our hearts for anybody else. Do you know," he cried, naive and hearty, and dreadfully like another side of that old self again, "I began studying a Mind System when I was in Russia, and I found that we were not peculiar at all. It's quite a well-known form of . . . "

She had gone. He sat there, thunder-struck, astounded beyond words. . . . And then he asked the waitress for his bill.

"But the cream has not been touched," he said. "Please do not charge me for it."

现代大学英语3课件

Lesson Ten Diogenes and Alexander I．Teaching Objectives: After learning this unit, students are supposed to: 1. get familiar with the rules of word formation ; 2. get familiar with some grammatical points; 3. retell the text as a whole; 4. have a thorough understanding of the whole text: Diogenes and Alexander 5. get a list of the new words and expressions and be able to use them freely in writing and daily conversation; II.Listening and speaking activities 1.Listen to the recording of the text and fill in the blanks about the main ideas of the article. 2. Talk about this passage with your friends ,and talk about what you think of Diogenes. III. Reading Comprehension and Language Activities 1. Pre-reading discussions: 1) What do you think of the person who lying on the street , shoeless, bearded, half-naked ? ? 2) Are you a cynic person?. 2. Background knowledge : 1) Cynic and Cynicism (愤世疾俗者与犬儒主义) ： The Oxford English Dictionary describes a cynic as a person “ disposed to find fault “ and as one who “shows a disposition to disbelieve in the sincerity or goodness of human motives and actions, and is wont to express this by sneers and sarcasm.”In short ,the cynic is “a sneering fault-finder” The ancient school of Cynicism was founded in the fourth century BC by Antisthenes. The Cynics urged both men and women to follow a way of life in harmony with nature and to reject all unnecessary civilized luxuries. They also rejected all social conventions ,customs and laws. 2)Diogenes （第欧根尼） Diogenes was a famous Cynic philosopher living during the time of Plato ( the 4th century BC ). Having to flee from Sinope because of charges against him and his father for debasing the public coin , Diogenes went to Athens where he studied under comforts of civilized life , and lived an extremely ascetic lifestyle. Later on the captured by pirates and sold into slavery in Crete to Xeniades, who was so impressed by the philosopher that he made him the teacher of his children . He is said to have died of old age in the same year as Alexander the Great in 323 BC. 3. Text analysis: Part One (para.1-10) Description of Diogenes as a beggar, a philosopher and a missionary, his lifestyle and doctrine: Cynicism. Part Two (para.11-12) Description of Alexander the Conqueror, who was the greatest man of the time . Part Three(para.13-17) The dramatic encounter of the two , revealing that only these two men

大学英语精读1课文翻译

大学英语精读1课文翻译 Unit1 Some Strategies or Learning English 学习英语绝非易事。它需要刻苦和长期努力。 虽然不经过持续的刻苦努力便不能期望精通英语，然而还是有各种有用的学习策略可以用来使这一任务变得容易一些。以下便是其中的几种。 1. 不要以完全同样的方式对待所有的生词。你可曾因为简直无法记住所学的所有生词而抱怨自己的记忆力太差？其实，责任并不在你的记忆力。如果你一下子把太多的生词塞进头脑，必定有一些生词会被挤出来。你需要做的是根据生词日常使用的频率以不同的方式对待它们。积极词汇需要经常练习，有用的词汇必须牢记，而在日常情况下不常出现的词只需见到时认识即可。你会发现把注意力集中于积极有用的词上是扩大词汇量最有效的途径。 2．密切注意地道的表达方式。你可曾纳闷过，为什么我们说 "我对英语感兴趣"是"I'm interested in English"，而说"我精于法语"则是"I'm good at French"？你可曾问过自己，为什么以英语为母语的人说"获悉消息或秘密"是"learn the news or secret"，而"获悉某人的成功或到来"却是"learn of someone's success or arrival"？这些都是惯用法的例子。在学习英语时，你不仅必须注意词义，还必须注意以英语为母语的人在日常生活中如何使用它。 3．每天听英语。经常听英语不仅会提高你的听力，而且有助你培养说的技能。除了专为课程准备的语言磁带外，你还可以听英语广播，看英语电视和英语电影。第一次听录好音的英语对话或语段，你也许不能听懂很多。先试着听懂大意，然后再反复地听。你会发现每次重复都会听懂更多的东西。 4．抓住机会说。的确，在学校里必须用英语进行交流的场合并不多，但你还是可以找到练习讲英语的机会。例如，跟你的同班同学进行交谈可能就是得到一些练习的一种轻松愉快的方式。还可以找校园里以英语为母语的人跟他们随意交谈。或许练习讲英语最容易的方式是高声朗读，因为这在任何时间，任何地方，不需要搭档就可以做到。例如，你可以看着图片或身边的物件，试着对它们详加描述。你还可以复述日常情景。在商店里购物或在餐馆里吃完饭付过账后，假装这一切都发生在一个讲英语的国家，试着用英语把它表演出来。

现代大学英语第三册第一单元(精)

MoreWork on the Text Ⅱ Vocabulary 1. Translate. (P14 1 From English into Chinese. (1学校教职员工 (10青春期 (2政治上的成熟 (11种族偏见 (3成长过程中的变化 (12每天工作日程 (4认同危机 (13伦理道德观念 (5恋爱关系 (14处理日常生活的能力 (6遗传工程 (15历史背景 (7学术生活 (16异性 (8偶然事件 (17感情上的支持 (9民族认同 (18生活方式 2 From Chinese into English. (1 to pursue an education (10 to drag one's feet (2 to acquire knowledge (11 to evaluate the result (3 to handle the case (12 to process knowledge (4 to define the word (13 to perform one's duty (5 to select one's major (14 to narrow the gap

(6 to resent the treatment (15 to expand business (7 to establish their identity (16 to expect better results (8 to frustrate the students (17 to assemble cars (9 to declare war (18 to present facts 2. Give synonyms and antonyms of the following. (P15 1 Give synonyms. (1 objective, purpose, end (7 choice (2 to happen (8 to choose/to pick or pick out (3 to increase/to enlarge/to grow/to develop (9 main/chief/principal/leading (4 to try/to attempt/to make an effort (10 belief (5 clear (11 strong feeling (6 magazine (12 to get/to gain/to obtain 2 Give antonyms. (1 masculine (9 to exclude (2 immature (10 disapproval (3 independence (11 mistrust/distrust

全新版大学英语综合教程2课文原文及翻译

One way of summarizing the American position is to state that we value originality and independence more than the Chinese do. The contrast between our two cultures can also be seen in terms of the fears we both harbor. Chinese teachers are fearful that if skills are not acquired early, they may never be acquired; there is, on the other hand, no comparable hurry to promote creativity. American educators fear that unless creativity has been acquired early, it may never emerge; on the other hand, skills can be picked up later. However, I do not want to overstate my case. There is enormous creativity to be found in Chinese scientific, technological and artistic innovations past and present. And there is a danger of exaggerating creative breakthroughs in the West. When any innovation is examined closely, its reliance on previous achievements is all too apparent (the "standing on the shoulders of giants" phenomenon). But assuming that the contrast I have developed is valid, and that the fostering of skills and creativity are both worthwhile goals, the important question becomes this: Can we gather, from the Chinese and American extremes, a superior way to approach education, perhaps striking a better balance between the poles of creativity and basic skills?

[实用参考]大学英语精读第三版第四册课文及课文翻译.doc

Unit1 Twocollege-ageboPs,unawarethatmakingmonePusuallPinvolveshardwork,aretemptedbPanadvertis ementthatpromisesthemaneasPwaPtoearnalotofmoneP.TheboPssoonlearnthatifsomethingseemstog oodtobetrue,itprobablPis. 一个大学男孩，不清楚赚钱需要付出艰苦的劳动，被一份许诺轻松赚大钱的广告吸引了。男孩们很快就明白，如果事情看起来好得不像真的，那多半确实不是真的。BIGBUCKSTHEEASPWAP轻轻松松赚大钱"Pououghttolookintothis,"Isuggestedtoourtwocollege-agesons."ItmightbeawaPtoavoidtheindignitP ofhavingtoaskformonePallthetime."Ihandedthemsomemagazinesinaplasticbagsomeonebadhungon ourdoorknob.AmessageprintedonthebagofferedleisurelP,lucrativework("BigBuckstheEasPWaP!")o fdeliveringmoresuchbags. “你们该看看这个，”我向我们的两个读大学的儿子建议道。“你们若想避免因为老是向人讨钱而有失尊严的话，这兴许是一种办法。”我将挂在我们门把手上的、装在一个塑料袋里的几本杂志拿给他们。塑料袋上印着一条信息说，需要招聘人投递这样的袋子，这活儿既轻松又赚钱。（“轻轻松松赚大钱!”） "Idon'tmindtheindignitP,"theolderoneanswered.“我不在乎失不失尊严，”大儿子回答说。"Icanlivewithit,"hisbrotheragreed.“我可以忍受，”他的弟弟附和道。"Butitpainsme,"Isaid，"tofindthatPoubothhavebeenpanhandlingsolongthatitnolongerembarrassesPou."“看到你们俩伸手讨钱讨惯了一点也不感到尴尬的样子，真使我痛心，”我说。TheboPssaidthePwouldlookintothemagazine-deliverPthing.Pleased,Ilefttownonabusinesstrip.BPmi dnightIwascomfortablPsettledinahotelroomfarfromhome.Thephonerang.ItwasmPwife.Shewantedt oknowhowmPdaPhadgone.孩子们说他们可以考虑考虑投递杂志的事。我听了很高兴，便离城出差去了。午夜时分，我已远离家门，在一家旅馆的房间里舒舒服服住了下来。电话铃响了，是妻子打来的。她想知道我这一天过得可好。 "Great!"Ienthused."HowwasPourdaP?"Iinquired.“好极了!”我兴高采烈地说。“你过得怎么样?”我问道。 "Super!"Shesnapped."Justsuper!Andit'sonlPgettingstarted.Anothertruckjustpulledupoutfront."“棒极了!”她大声挖苦道。“真棒!而且这还仅仅是个开始。又一辆卡车刚在门前停下。”"Anothertruck?"“又一辆卡车?” "Thethirdonethisevening.ThefirstdeliveredfourthousandMontgomerPWards.Thesecondbroughtfour thousandSears,Roebucks.Idon'tknowwhatthisonehas,butI'msureitwillbefourthousandofsomething.S incePouareresponsible,IthoughtPoumightliketoknowwhat'shappening.“今晚第三辆了。第一辆运来了四千份蒙哥马利-沃德百货公司的广告；第二辆运来四千份西尔斯-罗伯克百货公司的广告。我不知道这一辆装的啥，但我肯定又是四千份什么的。既然这事是你促成的，我想你或许想了解事情的进展。” WhatIwasbeingblamedfor,itturnedout,wasanewspaperstrikewhichmadeitnecessarPtohand-deliverth eadvertisinginsertsthatnormallPareincludedwiththeSundaPpaper.ThecompanPhadpromisedourboPs $600fordeliveringtheseinsertsto4,000housesbPSundaPmorning.我之所以受到指责，事情原来是这样：由于发生了一起报业工人罢工，通常夹在星期日报纸里的广告插页，必须派人直接投送出去。公司答应给我们的孩子六百美金，任务是将这些广告插页在星期天早晨之前投递到四千户人家去。 "Pieceofcake!"ouroldercollegesonhadshouted.“不费吹灰之力!”我们上大学的大儿子嚷道。"SiGhundredbucks!"Hisbrotherhadechoed,"Andwecandothejobintwohours!"“六百块!”他的弟弟应声道，“我们两个钟点就能干完!” "BoththeSearsandWardadsarefournewspaper-sizepages,"mPwifeinformedme."TherearethirtP-twot housandpagesofadvertisingonourporch.Evenaswespeak,twobigguPsarecarrPingarmloadsofpaperup thewalk.Whatdowedoaboutallthis?"“西尔斯和沃德的广告通常都是报纸那么大的四页，”妻子告诉我说，“现在我们门廊上堆着三万二千页广告。就在我们说话的当儿，两个大个子正各抱着一大捆广告走过来。这么多广告，我们可怎么办?”"JusttelltheboPstogetbusP,"Iinstructed."TheP'recollegemen.TheP'lldowhatthePhavetodo."“你让孩子们快干，”我指示说。“他们都是大学生了。他们自己的事得由他们自己去做。”AtnoonthefollowingdaPIreturnedtothehotelandfoundanurgentmessagetotelephonemPwife.Hervoic

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