双城记——失望

2017-02-21 09:06:06   Tag:

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双城记——失望:检察长先生不得不告诉陪审团说,他们面前这个囚犯虽然年事尚轻,可他从事他将用性命抵偿的卖国勾当早已是个老手。这个大众公敌里通外国并不是自今日始,也不是自昨日始,甚至不是自去年或前年始。

A DISSAPOINTMENT 


Mr. Attorney-General had to inform the jury, that the prisoner before them, though young in years, was old in the treasonable practices which claimed the forfeit of his life. That this correspondence with the public enemy was not a correspondence of today, or of yesterday, or even of last year, or of the year before. That, it was certain the prisoner had, for longer than that, been in the habit of passing and re-passing between France and England, on secret business of which he could give no honest account. That, if it were in the nature of traitorous ways to thrive (which happily it never was), the real wickedness and guilt of his business might have remained undiscovered. That Providence, however, had put it into the heart of a person who was beyond fear and beyond reproach, to ferret out the nature of the prisoner’s schemes, and, struck with horror, to disclose them to his Majesty’s Chief Secretary of State and most honourable Privy Council. That, this patriot would be produced before them. That, his position and attitude were, on the whole, sublime. That, he had been the prisoner’s friend, but, at once in an auspicious and an evil hour detecting his infamy, had resolved to immolate the traitor he could no longer cherish in his bosom, on the sacred altar of his country. That, if statues were decreed in Britain, as in ancient Greece and Rome, to public benefactors, this shining citizen would assuredly have had one. That, as they were not so decreed, he probably would not have one. That, Virtue, as had Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics been observed by the poets (in many passages which he well knew the jury would have, word for word, at the tips of their tongues; whereat the jury’s countenances displayed a guilty consciousness that they knew nothing about the passages), was in a manner contagious; more especially the bright virtue known as patriotism, or love of country. That, the lofty example of this immaculate and unimpeachable witness for the Crown to refer to whom however unworthily was an honour, had communicated itself to the prisoner’s servant, and had engendered in him a holy determination to examine his master’s table-drawers and pockets, and secrete his papers. That, he (Mr. Attorney-General) was prepared to hear some disparagement attempted of this admirable servant; but that, in a general way, he preferred him to his (Mr. Attorney-General’s) brothers and sisters, and honoured him more than his (Mr. Attorney-General’s) father and mother. That, he called with confidence on the jury to come and do likewise. That, the evidence of these two witnesses, coupled with the documents of their discovering that would be produced, would show the prisoner to have been furnished with lists of his Majesty’s forces, and of their disposition and preparation, both by sea and land, and would leave no doubt that he had habitually conveyed such information to a hostile power. That, these lists could not be proved to be in the prisoner’s handwriting; but that it was all the same; that, indeed, it was rather the better for the prosecution, as showing the prisoner to be artful in his precautions. That, the proof would go back five years, and would show the prisoner already engaged in these pernicious missions within a few weeks before the date of the very first action fought between the British troops and the Americans. That, for these reasons, the jury, being a loyal jury (as he knew they were), and being a responsible jury (as they knew they were), must positively find the prisoner Guilty, and make an end of him, whether they liked it or not. That, they never could lay their heads upon their pillows; that, they never could tolerate the idea of their wives laying their heads upon their pillows; that, they could never endure the notion of their children laying their heads upon their pillows; in short, that there never more could be, for them or theirs, any laying of heads upon pillows at all, unless the prisoner’s head was taken off. That head Mr. Attorney-General concluded by demanding of them, in the name of everything he could think of with a round turn in it, and on the faith of his solemn asseveration that he already considered the prisoner as good as dead and gone. 


When the Attorney-General ceased, a buzz arose in the court as if a cloud of great blue-flies were swarming about the prisoner, in anticipation of what he was soon to become. When toned down again, the unimpeachable patriot appeared in the witness-box. 


Mr. Solicitor-General then, following his leader’s lead, examined the patriot: John Barsad, gentleman, by name. The story of his pure soul was exactly what Mr. Attorney-General had described it to be—perhaps, if it had a fault, a little too exactly. Having released his noble bosom of its burden, he would have modestly withdrawn himself, but that the wigged gentleman with the papers before him, sitting not far from Mr. Lorry, begged to ask him a few questions. The wigged gentleman sitting opposite, still looking at the ceiling of the court. 


Had he ever been a spy himself? No, he scorned the base insinuation. What did he live upon? His property. Where was his property? He didn’t precisely remember where it was. What was it? No business of anybody’s. Had he inherited it? Yes, he had. From whom? Distant relatives. Very distant? Rather. Ever been in prison? Certainly not. Never in a debtor’s prison? Didn’t see what that had to do with it. Never in a debtor’s prison?—Come, once again. Never? Yes. How many times? Two or three times. Not five or six? Perhaps. Of what profession? Gentleman. Ever been kicked? Might have been. Frequently? No. Ever kicked downstairs? Decidedly not; once received a kick on the top of the staircase and fell downstairs of his own accord. Kicked on that occasion for cheating at dice? Something to that effect was said by the intoxicated liar who committed the assault, but it was not true. Swear it was not true? Positively. Ever live by cheating at play? Never. Ever live by play? Not more than other gentlemen do. Ever borrow money of the prisoner? Yes. Ever pay him? No. Was not this intimacy with the prisoner, in reality a very slight one, forced upon the prisoner in coaches, inns, and packets? No. Sure he saw the prisoner with these lists? Certain. Knew no more about the lists? No. Had not procured them himself, for instance? No. Expect to get anything by this evidence? No. Not in regular government pay and employment, to lay traps? Oh dear no. Or to do anything? Oh dear no. Swear that? Over and again. No motives but motives of sheer patriotism? None whatever. 


The virtuous servant, Roger Cly, swore his way through the case at a great rate. He had taken service with the prisoner, in good faith and simplicity, four years ago. He had asked the prisoner, aboard the Calais packet, if he wanted a handy fellow, and the prisoner had engaged him. He had not asked the prisoner to take the handy fellow as an act of charity—never thought of such a thing. He began to have suspicions of the prisoner, and to keep an eye upon him, soon afterwards. In arranging his clothes, while travelling, he had seen similar lists in the prisoner’s pockets, over and over again. He had taken these lists from the drawer of the prisoner’s desk. He had not put them there first. He had seen the prisoner show these identical lists to French gentlemen at Calais, and similar lists to French gentlemen, both at Calais and Boulogne. He loved his country, and couldn’t bear it, and had given information. He had never been suspected of stealing a silver teapot; he had been maligned respecting a mustard-pot, but it turned out to be only a plated one. He had known the last witness seven or eight years; that was merely a coincidence. He didn’t call it a particularly curious coincidence; most coincidences were curious. Neither did he call it a curious coincidence that true patriotism was his only motive too. He was a true Briton, and hoped there were many like him. 


The blue-flies buzzed again, and Mr. Attorney-General called Mr. Jarvis Lorry. 


“Mr. Jarvis Lorry, are you a clerk in Tellson’s Bank? 


“I am.” 


“On a certain Friday night in November one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five, did business occasion you to travel between London and Dover by the mail?” 


“It did.” 


“Were there any other passengers in the mail?” 


“Two.” 


“Did they alight on the road in the course of the night?” 


“They did.” 


“Mr. Lorry, look upon the prisoner. Was he one of those two passengers?” 



“I cannot undertake to say that he was.” 


“Does he resemble either of those two passengers?” 


“Both were so wrapped up, and the night was so dark, and we were all so reserved, that I cannot undertake to say even that.” 


“Mr. Lorry, look again upon the prisoner. Supposing him wrapped up as those two passengers were, is there anything in his bulk and stature to render it unlikely that he was one of them?” 


“No.” 


“You will not swear, Mr. Lorry, that he was not one of them?” 


“No.” 


“So at least you say that he may have been one of them?” 


“Yes. Except that I remember them both to have been—like myself—timorous of highwaymen, and the prisoner has not a timorous air.” 


“Did you ever see a counterfeit of timidity, Mr. Lorry?” 


“I certainly have seen that.” 


“Mr. Lorry, look once more upon the prisoner. Have you seen him, to your certain knowledge, before?” 


“I have.” 


“When?” 


“I was returning from France a few days afterwards, and, at Calais, the prisoner came on board the packet-ship in which I returned, and made the voyage with me.” 


“At what hour did he come on board?” 


“At a little after midnight.” 


“In the dead of the night. Was he the only passenger who came on board at that untimely hour?” 


“He happened to be the only one.” 


“Never mind about ‘happening’, Mr. Lorry. He was the only passenger who came on board in the dead of the night?” 


“He was.” 


“Were you travelling alone, Mr. Lorry, or with any companion?” 


“With two companions. A gentleman and lady. They are here.” 


“They are here. Had you any conversation with the prisoner?” 


“Hardly any. The weather was stormy, and the passage long and rough, and I lay on a sofa, almost from shore to shore.” 


“Miss Manette!” 


The young lady, to whom all eyes had been turned before, and were now turned again, stood up where she had sat. Her father rose with her, and kept her hand drawn through his arm. 


“Miss Manette, look upon the prisoner.” 


To be confronted with such pity, and such earnest youth and beauty, was far more trying to the accused than to be confronted with all the crowd. Standing, as it were, apart with her on the edge of his grave, not all the staring curiosity that looked on, could, for the moment, nerve him to remain quite still. His hurried right hand parcelled out the herbs before him into imaginary beds of flowers in a garden; and his efforts to control and steady his breathing shook the lips from which the colour rushed to his heart. The buzz of the great flies was loud again. 


“Miss Manette, have you seen the prisoner before?” 


“Yes, sir.” 


“Where?” 


“On board of the packet-ship just now referred to, sir, and on the same occasion.” 


“You are the young lady just now referred to?” 


“O! most unhappily, I am!” 


The plaintive tone of her compassion merged into the less musical voice of the Judge, as he said something fiercely: “Answer the questions put to you, and make no remark upon them.” 


“Miss Manette, had you any conversation with the prisoner on that passage across the Channel?” 


“Yes, sir.” 


“Recall it.” 


In the midst of a profound stillness, she faintly began: “When the gentleman came on board—” 


“Do you mean the prisoner?” inquired the Judge, knitting his brows. 


“Yes, my Lord.” 


“Then say the prisoner.” 


“When the prisoner came on board, he noticed that my father,” turning her eyes lovingly to him as he stood beside her, “was much fatigued and in a very weak state of health. My father was so reduced that I was afraid to take him out of the air, and I had made a bed for him on the deck near the cabin steps, and I sat on the deck at his side to take care of him. There were no other passengers that night, but we four. The prisoner was so good as to beg permission to advise me how I could shelter my father from the wind and weather, better than I had done. I had not known how to do it well, not understanding how the wind would set when we were out of the harbour. He did it for me. He expressed great gentleness and kindness for my father’s state, and I am sure he felt it. That was the manner of our beginning to speak together.” 


“Let me interrupt you for a moment. Had he come on board alone?” 


“No.” 


“How many were with him?” 


“Two French gentlemen.” 


“Had they conferred together?” 


“They had conferred together until the last moment, when it was necessary for the French gentlemen to be landed in their boat.” 


“Had any papers been handed about among them, similar to these lists?” 


“Some papers had been handed about among them, but I don’t know what papers.” 


“Like these in shape and size?” 


“Possibly, but indeed I don’t know, although they stood whispering very near to me: because they stood at the top of the cabin steps to have the light of the lamp that was hanging there; it was a dull lamp, and they spoke very low, and I did not hear what they said, and saw only that they looked at papers.” 


“Now, to the prisoner’s conversation, Miss Manette.” 


“The prisoner was as open in his confidence with me—which arose out of my helpless situation—as he was kind, and good, and useful to my father. I hope,” bursting into tears, “I may not repay him by doing him harm today.” 


Buzzing from the blue-flies. 


“Miss Manette, if the prisoner does not perfectly understand that you give the evidence which it is your duty to give—which you must give—and which you cannot escape from giving—with great unwillingness, he is the only person present in that condition. Please to go on.” 


“He told me that he was travelling on business of a delicate and difficult nature, which might get people into trouble, and that he 


was therefore travelling under an assumed name. He said that this business had, within a few days, taken him to France, and might, at intervals, take him backwards and forwards between France and England for a long time to come.” 


“Did he say anything about America, Miss Manette? Be particular.” 


“He tried to explain to me how that quarrel had arisen, and he said that, so far as he could judge, it was a wrong and foolish one on England’s part. He added, in a jesting way, that perhaps George Washington might gain almost as great a name in history as George the Third. But there was no harm in his way of saying this: it was said laughingly, and to beguile the time.” 


Any strongly marked expression of face on the part of a chief actor in a scene of great interest to whom many eyes are directed, will be unconsciously imitated by the spectators. Her forehead was painfully anxious and intent as she gave this evidence, and, in the pauses when she stopped for the judge to write it down, watched its effect upon the counsel for and against. Among the lookers-on there was the same expression in all quarters of the court; insomuch, that a great majority of the foreheads there, might have been mirrors reflecting the witness, when the Judge looked up from his notes to glare at that tremendous heresy about George Washington. 


Mr. Attorney-General now signified to my Lord, that he deemed it necessary, as a matter of precaution and form, to call the young lady’s father, Doctor Manette. Who was called accordingly. 


“Doctor Manette, look upon the prisoner. Have you ever seen him before?” 


“Once. When he called at my lodgings in London. Some three years, or three years and a half ago.” 


“Can you identify him as your fellow-passenger on board the packet, or speak to his conversation with your daughter?” 


“Sir, I can do neither.” 


“Is there any particular and special reason for your being unable to do either?” 


He answered, in a low voice, “There is.” 


“Has it been your misfortune to undergo a long imprisonment, without trial, or even accusation, in your native country, Doctor Manette?” 


He answered, in a tone that went to every heart, “A long imprisonment.” 


“Were you newly released on the occasion in question?” 


“They tell me so.” 


“Have you no remembrance of the occasion?” 


“None. My mind is a blank, from some time—I cannot even say what time—when I employed myself, in my captivity, in making shoes, to the time when I found myself living in London with my dear daughter here. She had become familiar to me, when a gracious God restored my faculties; but, I am unable to say how she had become familiar. I have no remembrance of the process.” 


Mr. Attorney-General sat down, and the father and daughter sat down together. 


A singular circumstance then arose in the case. The object in hand being to show that the prisoner went down, with some fellow-plotter untracked, in the Dover mail on that Friday night in November five years ago, and got out of the mail in the night, as a blind, at a place where he did not remain, but from which he travelled back some dozen miles or more, to a garrison and dockyard, and there collected information; a witness was called to identify him as having been at the precise time required, in the coffee-room of an hotel, in that garrison-and-dockyard town, waiting for another person. The prisoner’s counsel was cross-examining this witness with no result, except that he had never seen the prisoner on any other occasion, when the wigged gentleman who had all this time been looking at the ceiling of the court, wrote a word or two on a little piece of paper, screwed it up, and tossed it to him. Opening this piece of paper in the next pause, the counsel looked with great attention and curiosity at the prisoner. 


“You say again you are quite sure that it was the prisoner?” 


The witness was quite sure. 


“Did you ever see anybody very like the prisoner?” 


Not so like (the witness said) as that he could be mistaken. 


“Look well upon that gentleman, my learned friend there,” pointing to him who had tossed the paper over, “and then look well upon the prisoner. How say you? Are they very like each other?” 


Allowing for my learned friend’s appearance being careless and slovenly if not debauched, they were sufficiently like each other to surprise, not only the witness, but everybody present, when they were thus brought into comparison. My Lord being prayed to bid my learned friend lay aside his wig, and giving no very gracious consent, the likeness became much more remarkable. My Lord inquired of Mr. Stryver (the prisoner’s counsel), whether they were next to try Mr. Carton (name of my learned friend) for treason? But, Mr. Stryver replied to my Lord, no; but he would ask the witness to tell him whether what happened once, might happen twice; whether he would have been so confident if he had seen this illustration of his rashness sooner, whether he would be so confident, having seen it; and more. The upshot of which, was, to smash this witness like a crockery vessel, and shiver his part of the case to useless lumber. 


Mr. Cruncher had by this time taken quite a lunch of rust off his fingers in his following of the evidence. He had now to attend while Mr. Stryver fitted the prisoner’s case on the jury, like a compact suit of clothes; showing them how the patriot, Barsad, was a hired spy and traitor, an unblushing trafficker in blood, and one of the greatest scoundrels upon earth since accursed Judas— which he certainly did look rather like. How the virtuous servant, Cly, was his friend and partner, and was worthy to be; how, the watchful eyes of those forgers and false swearers had rested on the prisoner as a victim, because some family affairs in France, he being of French extraction, did require him making those passages across the Channel—though what those affairs were, a consideration for others who were near and dear to him, forbade him, even for his life, to disclose. How the evidence that had been warped and wrested from the young lady, whose anguish in giving it they had witnessed, came to nothing, involving the mere little innocent gallantries and politeness likely to pass between any young gentleman and young lady so thrown together;—with the exception of that reference to George Washington, which was altogether too extravagant and impossible to be regarded in any other light than as a monstrous joke. How it would be a weakness in the government to break down in this attempt to practise for popularity on the lowest national antipathies and fears, and therefore Mr. Attorney-General had made the most of it; how, nevertheless, it rested upon nothing, save that vile and infamous character of evidence too often disfiguring such cases, and of which the State Trials of this country were full. But, there my Lord interposed (with as grave a face as if it had not been true), saying that he could not sit upon that Bench and suffer those allusions. 


Mr. Stryver then called his few witnesses, and Mr. Cruncher had next to attend while Mr. Attorney-General turned the whole suit of clothes Mr. Stryver had fitted on the jury, inside out: showing how Barsad and Cly were even a hundred times better than he had thought them, and the prisoner a hundred times worse. Lastly, came my Lord himself, turning the suit of clothes, now inside out, now outside in, but on the whole decidedly trimming and shaping them into grave-clothes for the prisoner. 


And now, the jury turned to consider, and the great flies swarmed again. 


Mr. Carton, who had so long sat looking at the ceiling of the court, changed neither his place nor his attitude, even in this excitement. While his learned friend, Mr. Stryver, massing his papers before him, whispered with those who sat near, and from time to time glanced anxiously at the jury; while all the spectators moved more or less, and grouped themselves anew; while even my Lord himself arose from his seat, and slowly paced up and down his platform, not unattended by a suspicion in the minds of the audience that his state was feverish; this one man sat leaning back, with his torn gown half off him, his untidy wig put on just as it happened to light on his head after its removal, his hands in his pockets, and his eyes on the ceiling as they had been all day. Something especially reckless in his demeanour, not only gave him a disreputable look, but so diminished the strong resemblance he undoubtedly bore to the prisoner (which his momentary earnestness, when they were compared together, had strengthened), that many of the lookers-on, taking note of him now, said to one another they would hardly have thought the two were so alike. Mr. Cruncher made the observation to his next neighbour, and added, “I’d hold a half a guinea that he don’t get no law-work to do. Don’t look like the sort of one to get any, do he?” 


Yet, this Mr. Carton took in more of the details of the scene than he appeared to take in; for now, when Miss Manette’s head dropped upon her father’s breast, he was the first to see it, and to say audibly: “Officer! look to that young lady. Help the gentleman to take her out. Don’t you see she will fall!” 


There was much commiseration for her as she was removed, and much sympathy with her father. It had evidently been a great distress to him, to have the days of his imprisonment recalled. He had shown strong internal agitation when he was questioned, and that pondering or brooding look which made him old, had been upon him, like a heavy cloud, ever since. As he passed out, the jury, who had turned back and paused a moment, spoke, through their foreman. 


They were not agreed, and wished to retire. My Lord (perhaps with George Washington on his mind) showed some surprise that they were not agreed, but signified his pleasure that they should retire under watch and ward, and retired himself. The trial had lasted all day, and the lamps in the court were now being lighted. It began to be rumoured that the jury would be out a long while. The spectators dropped off to get refreshment, and the prisoner withdrew to the back of the dock, and sat down. 


Mr. Lorry, who had gone out when the young lady and her father went out, now reappeared, and beckoned to Jerry: who, in the slackened interest, could easily get near him. 


“Jerry, if you wish to take something to eat, you can. But, keep in the way. You will be sure to hear when the jury come in. Don’t be a moment behind them, for I want you to take the verdict back to the bank. You are the quickest messenger I know, and you will get to Temple Bar long before I can.” 


Jerry had just enough forehead to knuckle, and he knuckled it in acknowledgment of this communication and a shilling. Mr. Carton came up at the moment, and touched Mr. Lorry on the arm. 


“How is the young lady?” 


“She is greatly distressed; but her father is comforting her, and she feels the better for being out of court.” 


“I’ll tell the prisoner so. It won’t do for a respectable bank gentleman like you to be seen speaking to him publicly, you know.” 


Mr. Lorry reddened as if he were conscious of having debated the point in his mind, and Mr. Carton made his way to the outside of the bar. The way out of court lay in that direction, and Jerry followed him, all eyes, ears, and spikes. 


“Mr. Darnay!” 


The prisoner came forward directly. 


“You will naturally be anxious to hear of the witness, Miss Manette. She will do very well. You have seen the worst of her agitation.” 


“I am deeply sorry to have been the cause of it. Could you tell her so for me, with my fervent acknowledgments?” 



“Yes, I could. I will, if you ask it.” 


Mr. Carton’s manner was so careless as to be almost insolent. He stood, half turned from the prisoner, lounging with his elbow against the bar. 


“I do ask it. Accept my cordial thanks.” 


“What,” said Carton, still only half turned towards him, “do you expect, Mr. Darnay?” 


“The worst.” 


“It’s the wisest thing to expect, and the likeliest. But I think their withdrawing is in your favour.” 


Loitering on the way out of court not being allowed, Jerry heard no more: but left them—so like each other in feature, so unlike each other in manner—standing side by side, both reflected in the glass above them. 


An hour and a half limped heavily away in the thief-and-rascal crowded passages below, even though assisted off with mutton pies and ale. The hoarse messenger, uncomfortably seated on a form after taking that refection, had dropped into a doze, when a loud murmur and a rapid tide of people setting up the stairs that led to the court, carried him along with them. 


“Jerry! Jerry!” Mr. Lorry was already calling at the door when he got there. 


“Here, sir! It’s a fight to get back again. Here I am, sir!” 


Mr. Lorry handed him a paper through the throng. “Quick! Have you got it?” 


“Yes, sir!” 


Hastily written on the paper was the word “ACQUITTED.” 


“If you had sent the message, ‘Recalled to Life,’ again,” muttered Jerry, as he turned, “I should have known what you meant, this time.” 


He had no opportunity of saying, or so much as thinking, anything else, until he was clear of the Old Bailey; for, the crowd came pouring out with a vehemence that nearly took him off his legs, and a loud buzz swept into the street as if the baffled blue-flies were dispersing in search of other carrion. 


失望


检察长先生不得不告诉陪审团说,他们面前这个囚犯虽然年事尚轻,可他从事他将用性命抵偿的卖国勾当早已是个老手。这个大众公敌里通外国并不是自今日始,也不是自昨日始,甚至不是自去年或前年始。早在很久以前该犯已在法国和英国之间频繁往来,而对其间所从事的活动从来无法交代。若是卖国行为也能兴旺(所幸此事决无可能),该犯行为的真正邪恶与罪孽便不致受到揭露。所幸上帝昭示了一个人,使他不惧艰险,不畏非难,了解到该犯阴谋的性质,为此感到骇然,便向国王陛下的国务总监和最光辉的枢密院进行了揭发。这位爱国志士即将出庭作证。此人的立场和态度确属崇高伟大。他原是囚犯的朋友,却在那吉祥也不吉祥的时刻发现了罪犯的无耻勾当,于是下决心将他难以继续敬爱下去的奸贼送上了祖国神圣的祭坛。检察官说,若是英国也像古希腊和古罗马一样,存在为有功于大众之人竖立雕像的制度,一座雕像肯定已为这位光辉的公民竖立。可由于此类规定暂付阙如,这雕像他看来已难以获得了。正如诗人所云,美德可能以一定的方式传染(检察长深知此类章节颇多,陪审团诸公可以一字不差地从舌尖流出。可此时陪审团却露出内疚之状,表明他们并不知道这类段落),而为人们称作爱国主义,亦即对邦国之爱的光辉品德传染性尤强。因此这位证人,这位一尘不染、无懈可击、忠于王室的崇高典范,这位无论在什么卑微琐屑的情况下谈到都会令人肃然起敬的人物跟囚犯的仆人取得了联系,启发他下定了崇高的决心去检查他主人的桌子抽屉和衣服口袋,并藏起了他的文件。检察长说,他知道有人对这位可敬的仆人可能有所责难,但是一般说来他却看重那仆人甚于自己的兄弟姐妹,尊重那仆人甚于自己的生身父母。他满怀信心地号召陪审团也持跟他相同的态度。他说这两个证人的证词和他们已发现而且即将出示的文件即将表明该犯持有记载国王陛下兵力及其海陆军部署与准备的文件,而且将毋庸置疑地证明他经常将此类情报递交给一个敌对的强国。虽然这些文件尚无法确证为该犯笔迹,却也无伤大局,因为它更足以说明该犯之老谋深算,早已预留地步,因之尤应受到制裁。他说证据将从五年前提起,该项证据将表明该犯早在英国部队与北美公民第一次开火之前数周已在从事此类罪恶活动。综上所述,深信忠于王室、忠于职责的陪审团诸公自会积极肯定该犯罪无可逭,应予处死,无论他们对杀人持何种态度。检察官说,若不砍掉该犯的头,陪审团诸公便会寝不安枕,也不能容忍他们的夫人们晏然高卧,也不能容忍他们的孩子们晏然高卧。简而言之,无论是陪审团诸公3故撬堑募胰说耐范冀哟擞牢弈眨薹ò舱怼<觳斐は壬诜⒀越崾毕蚺闵笸潘饕歉鋈送贰K运芟氲降囊磺惺挛锏拿迦隙ǎ惨运宰约旱淖辖崧鄣淖孕湃隙ǎ焊梅钙涫狄咽歉子位辍3


检察长发言一停,法庭里便扬起一片嗡嗡的声音,仿佛有一大群绿头苍蝇正围着囚犯乱飞,等着看他马上变成就要变成的东西。这阵喧哗过去,那无懈可击的爱国志士已经登上了证人席。


副检察长先生于是跟随他上司的榜样询问了爱国志士:此人是约翰·巴萨先生。他那纯洁的灵魂的故事跟检察长先生所描写的完全一样,若是有缺点的话,也许是描写得太精确了一点。在他卸下他那高贵的心胸中的重负之后,他原可以谦抑地退场的,可是坐在罗瑞先生身边不远、面前放了一大摞文件的戴假发的先生却要求对他提出几个问题。此时坐在他对面的另一个戴假发的先生仍然在望着法庭的天花板。


他自己做过密探么?没有,他对这种卑鄙的暗示嗤之以鼻。他靠什么过活?靠他的财产。他的财产在哪儿?他记不清楚。是什么财产?那不关任何人的事。是继承来的么?是的,继承来的。从谁继承来的?一个远亲。很远么?有些远。坐过牢么?肯定没有。从没有因债务坐过牢么?不知道此事与案件有何关系。从没有因债务坐过牢么?一一来,再回答一次。从没坐过牢么?坐过。多少次?两三次。不是五六次么?也许是。什么职业?绅士。被人踢过么?可能。常挨踢么?不。被踢下过楼梯么?肯定没有。有一回在楼梯顶上挨过踢,是自己滚下楼梯的。是因为掷骰子做假么?踢我的醉汉说过这类的话,但那话不可靠。能发誓不是真的么?肯定能。曾经靠赌博作弊为生么?从来没有。曾经靠赌博为生么?不比别的绅士们厉害。向这位囚犯借过钱么?借过。还过么?没有。,跟这囚犯之间那点疏远的友谊是在马车上、旅馆里和邮船上硬攀上的么?不是。他肯定见到囚犯带着这些文件么?肯定。对文件再也不知道别的了么?不知道。比如,自己没设法去弄到么?没有。预计从这次做证你能得到好处么?没有这种想法。不是受雇于政府、接受正规津贴、陷害他人么?啊,天啦,不。或者是别的什么?啊,天啦,不。能发誓么?可以一再发誓。除了纯粹的爱国主义之外别无动机么?并无其他任何动机。


道德高尚的仆人罗杰·克莱很快就完成了宣誓仪式。他四年前开始朴实、单纯地为该囚犯工作。在加莱邮船上他问囚犯是否需要一个勤杂工,囚犯就雇用了他。并不是要求囚犯怜悯而雇用的--想也没想过这样的事。他开始对囚犯产生了怀疑,然后就监视他。他在旅行中整理囚犯衣物时曾在口袋里多次见过类似的文件。曾经从囚犯抽屉里取出过这些文件。不是事先放进去的。他,在加莱见过囚犯把这几份文件给法国人看过。在加莱和波伦那又曾见他把同样的文件给法国人看过。他热爱祖国,不禁义愤填膺,于是告发了他。从没有涉嫌盗窃过一个银茶壶。曾经因为一个芥末壶遭过冤枉,那壶其实是镀银的。他认识刚才那个证人已经七八年,完全出于巧合。他并没说是特别出奇的巧合。大部分的巧合都有些出奇。真正的爱国主义也是他唯一的动机。他并不把这叫作出奇的巧合。他是个真正的不列颠人,但愿许多人都能像他一样。


绿头苍蝇又发出嗡嗡声。检察长先生传唤贾维斯·罗瑞先生。


“贾维斯·罗瑞先生,你是台尔森银行的职员么?”


“是。”


“一干七百七十五年十一月的一个星期五晚上你是否曾坐邮车出差,从伦教去过多佛?”


“去过。”


“车厢里还有别的乘客么?”


“有两个。”


“他们是在夜里中途下车的么?”


“是的。”


“罗瑞先生,你看看囚犯,是不是那两个旅客之一?”


“我不能负责说他是。”


“他像不像两个旅客之一?”


“两个人都裹得严严实实,夜又很黑,而我们大家又都很封闭,我连像不像也不能负责肯定。”


“罗瑞先生,你再看看囚犯。假如他也像那两个旅客一样把自己裹起来,他的个头和身高像不像那两人?,”


“不像。”


“你不愿发誓说他不是那两人之一么,罗瑞先生?”


“不愿。”


“因此你至少是说他有可能是两人之一么?”


“是的。只是我记得那两人那时都胆小怕事,害怕强盗,跟我一样。可是这位囚犯却没有胆小怕事的神气。”,


“你看见过假装胆小怕事的么,罗瑞先生?”


“肯定见过。”


“罗瑞先生,你再看看囚犯。你以前肯定见过他么?”


“见过。”


“什么时候?”


“那以后几天我从法国回来,这个囚徒在加莱上了我坐的那条邮船,跟我同船旅行。”,


“他几点钟上的船?”


“半夜过后不久。”


“是夜静更深的时候。在那个不方便的时刻上船的只有他一个人么?”


“碰巧只有他一个。”


“别管碰巧不碰巧,在那夜静更深的时候上船的只有他一个,是么?”


“是的。”


“你是一个人在旅行么,罗瑞先生?有没有人同路?”


“有两个人同路,一位先生和一位小姐。两人现在都在这儿。”


“都在这儿。你跟囚犯说过话么?”


“没大说话。那天有暴风雨,船很颠簸,路又长,我几乎全程都是躺在沙发上过的。”


“曼内特小姐!”


以前众人用眼睛搜寻的小姐,现在又受到了众人注意。她从座位上站了起来,她的父亲也随之站了起来--他不愿她松开挽住他胳膊的手。


“曼内特小姐,看看这个囚犯。”


对被告说来,面对这样真诚的青春与美丽,面对这样的怜恤之情是比面对在场的整个人群还要困难的。他仿佛是站在坟墓的边沿跟她遥遥相对。这时带着好奇心注视着他的全部目光也无法给他保持安静的力量。他那忙碌的右手把手边草药组合到了一起,组成了想象中花圃里的花朵;他想控制住呼吸的努力使他的嘴唇颤抖起来,血液也从嘴唇涌向心里。大苍蝇的嗡嗡声再度扬起。


“曼内特小姐,你以前见过这个囚犯么?”


“见过,先生。”


“在哪儿?”


“在刚才谈起的那艘邮船上,先生,在同一个时候。”


“你就是刚才提到的那位小姐么?”


“啊!很不幸,是的!”


她出于同情而发出的哀伤调子跟法官那不如她悦耳的声音混到了一起。法官带了几分严厉说:“问你什么,回答什么,别发表意见。”


“曼内特小姐,在越过海峡的时候你跟囚犯说过话么?”


“说过,先生。”


“回忆一下。”


她在深沉的寂静中用微弱的声音说:


“那位先生上船时--”


“你是指这个囚犯么?”法官皱着眉头问。


“是的,大人。”


“你就叫他囚犯吧!”


“那囚犯上船时注意到我的父亲很疲劳,很虚弱,”说时她深情地转过头望着站在她身边的父亲,“我的父亲疲惫不堪,我怕他缺少了空气,便在船舱阶梯旁的甲板上给他搭了个铺,自己坐在他身边的甲板上侍候他。那天晚上除了我们四个人之外再也没有别的乘客。那善良的囚犯请求我接受他的主意。他告诉我要如何重新安排才能使我的父亲比刚才少受风雨侵袭--我不知道该怎么做,也不懂得我们出港之后风雨如何,全靠了他的安排。是他帮了我的忙。他对我父亲的病表现了极大的关注与善心,我相信他是出自真情。我俩就像这样交谈了起来。”


“我插一句嘴。他是一个人上船的么?”


“不是。”


“有几个人跟他在一起?”


“两个法国人。”


“他们在一起谈话么?”


“他们一直在一起谈话,直到最后一刻两个法国人要乘小船上岸时才停止。”


“他们之间传递过像这些文件一样的文件么?”


“是传递过一些文件,但我不知道是什么。”


“跟这些文件的大小和形状相同么?”


“可能,不过我确实不知道,虽然他们就在我身边很近的地方低声说话:因为他们站在船舱楼梯的顶上,就着头顶的灯光;灯光很弱,他们的声音很低,我听不清他们的话,只见他们看过一些稿件。”


“好,你谈谈你同囚犯的谈话吧,曼内特小姐。”


“囚犯对我说话无所保留,因为我处境很困难。同样,他对我父亲也很关心,很善意,很有帮助。”她哭出了眼泪。“我希望今天不致用伤害来报答他。”


绿头苍蝇又发出嗡嗡之声。


“曼内特小姐,出庭作证是你的义务,你必须作证,不能逃避。若是囚犯不能完全理解你非常不愿意作证的心情,不理解你的也就只有他一个。请继续下去。”


“他告诉我他在为一件很微妙、很棘手、很可能给别人带来灾祸的事奔走,因此旅行时使用了假名。他说他为这事几天前去了法国,而且可能还要在法国和英国之间断断续续来往很久。”


“他谈到美国的事么,曼内特小姐?说确切一点。”


“他向我解释了那场纠纷的来龙去脉,而且说,照他当时的判断,是英国错了,而且很愚蠢。他还开玩笑说乔治·华盛顿也许会名标青史,跟乔治三世②不相上下。不过他说这话时并无恶意,说时还在笑,为了打发时间而已。”


在众目睽睽之下的动人演出中,主要演员那引人注目的面部表情是会在不知不觉之中受到观众模仿的。那姑娘提出这些证词时前额痛苦地紧锁,很着急,很紧张,暂停说话等待法官记录时也注意观察律师是否赞成她的话。这时法庭各个角落的观众也流露出同样的表情。而在法官从他的记录中抬起头来对有关乔治·华盛顿的离经叛道之论表示憎恶时,证人脸上的表情也立即反映到在场的绝大部分人的额头上。


检察长此时向法宫大人表示,为了预防意外,也为了形式上的需要,他认为应当要求这位小姐的父亲曼内特医生作证。于是曼内特医生被要求出了庭。


“曼内特医生,你看看囚犯。你以前见过他么?”


“见过一次。他到我伦敦的寓所来看过我。那大约是三年或三年半以前。”


“你能认出他就是跟你一起乘过邮船的旅客么?你对他跟你女儿的谈话有什么看法?”


“对两个问题我都无法回答,大人。”


“你无法回答有什么确切的特别的原因么?”


他低声回答说,“有。”


“你在你出生的国家曾经遭到过不幸,未经审判,甚至未经控告就受到了长期监禁,是么,曼内特医生?”


他回答的口气打动了每一颗心,“受过长期监禁。”


“刚才谈到的那个时候你是刚刚放出来么?”


“他们是那样告诉我的。”


“你对当时情况已经没有记忆了么?”


“没有了。从某个时候起--我甚至说不清是什么时候--从我坐牢时让自己学着做鞋起,到我发现自己已在伦敦,跟现在在我身边的我亲爱的女儿住在一起为止,我心里是一片空白。仁慈的上帝让我的官能恢复时,我女儿跟我已很熟悉;可我连她是怎样跟我熟悉起来的也说不清了。那整个过程我都没有记忆。”


检察长坐下,父女俩也坐下。


此时这件案子却出现了一个离奇的变化。此案的目的是要证明五年前那个十一月的星期五囚犯跟某个尚待追查的同案犯一起乘邮车南下,两人晚间一同下了车,到了某处,但未停留(目的是造成假象),却又立即折返十多英里,来到某个要塞和造船厂搜集情报。一个证人出庭确认四犯曾在那个时刻在那个要塞和造船厂所在的城市某旅店的咖啡馆里等待另一个人。囚犯的辩护律师反复盘问了这位证人,却只发现他在其它时候从没有见过囚犯,此外便一无所得。这时那位戴着假发一直望着法庭天花板的先生却在一张小纸条上写了几个字,卷了卷,扔给了律师。律师抓住空隙读完纸条后很仔细很好奇地把囚犯观察了一会儿。


“你再次重申你有把握那人就是这个囚犯么?”


证人表示很有把握。


“你见过样子很像这个囚犯的人么?”


证人说,再像他也不会认错。


“你仔细看看我的有学识的朋友,那边那位先生,”律师指着扔过纸条的人说,“然后再仔细看看囚犯。你觉得怎么样?他们俩是不是非常相像?”


除了我这位有学问的朋友有点不修边幅(如果不算是有失体面的话)之外,他和囚犯确实是一模一祥。把两人一比较,不但叫那证人大吃了一惊,就是在场所有的人也都大吃了一惊。众人要求法宫命令“那有学问的朋友”取下假发。那人不太高兴地同意了。这一来,两人之间的相似更显得惊人了。法官询问斯特莱佛(囚犯的律师)下面是否要求以叛国罪审问卡尔顿(那是我那位有学问的朋友的名字)。斯特莱佛先生回答说不必了,但他要请证人说明:发生过一次的事是否会发生第二次?若是他早一些见到他的鲁莽轻率的证明,他是否还会那么深信不疑?在他已经见到他的鲁莽轻率的证明之后,他是否仍然那么深信不疑?会不会更加深信不疑?盘问的结果是把那证词像瓦罐一样砸了个粉碎,也把证人在本案中所表演的角色驳了个体无完肤。


克朗彻先生听到这儿时,已从他的指头上啃下了可以当一顿饭吃的铁锈。现在他得听斯特莱佛先生把囚犯的案情裁作一套紧身衣穿到陪审团身上了。斯特莱佛先生向陪审团指出,那爱国志士巴萨是个受人雇用的密探和奸细,是个做人血买卖从不脸红的家伙,是个自从受诅咒的犹大以来最无耻的流氓--而他的长相也的确像犹大。他指出,那位道德高尚的仆人克莱是巴萨当之无愧的朋友和搭挡。这两位作伪证发伪誓的家伙看中了囚犯,想把他当作牺牲品,因为他是法国血统,在法国有一些家务要求他在海峡两岸往来奔波。至于是什么家务,因为关系到他某些亲友的利益他宁死也不肯透露。而他们从这位小姐那儿逼出来的、受到歪曲的证词其实毫无意义(诸位已经看到她提供证词时所受到的痛苦),那不过是像这样萍水相逢的青年男女之间小小的殷勤礼貌的活动而已--只有对华盛顿的提法例外,那话很出格,很狂妄,可也只能看作一个过分的玩笑。如果政府竟想借最卑下的民族对立情绪和畏惧心理做文章来进行压制,树立威信(检察长先生对此曾大加渲染),那恐怕只会成为政府的一种弱点。可惜这种做法除了证词那邪恶的不光彩的性质只会歪曲这类案件的形象之外全无根据。它只能使我国的国事审判里充满了这类案件。他才说到这儿,法官已板起面孔,好像这话纯属无稽之谈,他不能坐在法官席上对这类含沙射影的言论充耳不闻。


然后斯特莱佛先生要求他的几个证人出席作了证。再以后克朗彻先生便听见副检察长先生把斯特莱佛先生为陪审团剪裁的衣服整个儿地翻了过来;他表示巴萨和克莱甚至比他估计的还要好一百倍,而囚犯则要坏一百倍。最后,法官大人发言,他把这件衣服时而翻了过来,时而又翻了过去,总而言之,肯定是把它整个儿重新剪裁了一次,做成了一件给囚犯穿的尸衣。


现在,陪审团开始考虑案情,大苍蝇又发出嗡嗡之声。


即使在这样的波澜起伏的情况之下,一直望着法庭天花板的卡尔顿先生仍然没有挪一挪身子,或改一改态度。在他那学识渊博的朋友斯特莱佛整理着面前的文件、跟他身边的人低声交谈,而且不时焦灼地望望陪审团的时候;在所有的观众都多少走动走动、另行组成谈话圈子的时候;甚至在连我们的检察官也离开了座位,在台上缓缓地踱来踱去,未必不使观众怀疑他很紧张的时候,这位先生仍然靠在椅背上没有动。他那拉开的律师长袍一半敞着,零乱的假发还是脱下后随手扣上的样子。他双手抄在口袋里,两眼仍然像那一整天那样死死盯住天花板。他有一种特别马虎的神态,不但看去显得不受人尊重,而且大大降低了他跟囚犯之间毫无疑问的相似程度(刚才大家把他俩做比较时,他暂时的认真态度曾强化了相似的印象),因此许多观众现在都注意到了他,并交换意见说他们刚才怎么会认为他们俩那么相像呢。克朗彻先生对他身边的人就是这样说的。他还说,“我可以用半个金币打赌,这人是得不到法律工作做的。他那副模样就不像,是么?”


然而这位卡尔顿先生所注意到的现场细节却比表面看去要多一些,因为这时曼内特小姐的头耷拉到了她爸爸胸口上,而这事竟被他第一个看到了,并且清清楚楚地说:“长官,注意一下那位小姐。帮助那位先生扶她出去。你还看不出她快要昏倒了么!”


在那姑娘被扶出去的时候,许多人都表示怜惜,也对她的父亲深表同情。重新提起他的牢狱生活显然使老人痛苦不堪。在他受到查问时,他表现了强烈的内心激动,从此以后一团浓重的乌云就笼罩了他,他一直在呆呆地想着,露出一副衰迈憔悴之相。他出场后,陪审团重新坐定,过了一会儿,它的团长开始发言。


陪审团意见不统一,希望退庭。法官大人(心里也许还想着乔治·华盛顿)对他们竟然会意见分歧表示意外,并指出他们退席后要受到监视与保护,然后自己便退了庭。审判已经进行了一天,法庭已经点上了灯。有人传说陪审团要退场很久。观众们纷纷出场去吃点心,囚犯也退到被告席背后坐下。


陪同那位小姐和她爸爸离开法庭的罗瑞先生此时又出现了。他向杰瑞做了个手势。这时众人兴趣已经降低,杰瑞毫不费力就挤到了他的身边。


“杰瑞,如果你打算吃点点心,现在可以去吃。可是别走远了。陪审团回来之后你一定要好找才行。不要比他们晚回,因为我要你立即把判决带回银行。你是我所认识的最快的信使,赶回法学院大门比我要快多了。”


杰瑞的头发下勉强露出了一点额头可以敲敲。他便用指关节敲了敲额头,表示接受了任务,也接受了一个先令。这时卡尔顿先生走了过来,碰了碰罗瑞先生的手臂。


“小姐怎么样?”


“她很难受;她爸爸在安慰她,出了法庭之后她好过了一些。”


“我可以把这话告诉囚犯。像你这样体面的银行人员公开跟他说话是不行的,这你知道。”


罗瑞先生脸红了,好像意识到他确曾有过这样的内心斗争。卡尔顿先生到被告席去了。法庭出口正在那个方向。杰瑞跟在他身后,他的眼睛、耳朵、连满头铁蒺藜苇蒂全都集中到了他的身上。


“达尔内先生!”


囚犯径直走了过来。


“你当然急于听到证人曼内特小姐的情况。她马上就会好的。她最激动的时候就是你见到她的时候。”,


“我让她难受了,我深感抱歉。你能把我这话向她转达么?还有,对她的一片苦心我也衷心感谢。”


“可以。如果你提出要求,我愿意转达。”


卡尔顿先生一副满不在乎的神气,几乎有点无礼。他半个身子背着囚犯站着,手肘懒懒地靠在被告席上。


“那我就提出要求。请接受我衷心的谢意。”


“那么你,”卡尔顿说,仍然半个身子背着他,“你等待的是什么呢?”


“最不幸的后果。”


“这是最明智的希望,也是最可能的后果,不过,我认为陪审团退席会对你有利。”


在法庭附近的路上停留是不允许的,因此杰瑞再也没有听见别的。他离开了这两个长相那么相同、态度却那么不同的人。那肩并肩站着的两个人,都反映在头上的镜子里。


在下面那挤满了小偷和流氓的通道里,尽管有羊肉馅饼和麦酒的帮助,一个半钟头也好不容易才打发过去。那沙喉咙的信使吃完便餐便在长凳上很不舒服地坐下,打起盹来。这时一阵高声的嗡嗡和一股疾走的人潮挤向法庭和楼梯,也把他席卷而去。


“杰瑞!杰瑞!”他赶到时罗瑞先生已经在门口叫他。


“这儿,先生!挤回来简直像打仗呢。我在这儿,先生!”


罗瑞先生在人群中塞给他一张纸条。“快,拿好了么?”


“拿好了,先生!”


纸条上匆匆地写了几个字:“无罪释放。”


“即使你送的消息又是‘死人复活,,”杰瑞转过身自言自语,“我也会懂得你的意思的。”


在他挤出老贝勒之前没有机会再说什么,甚至没有机会再想什么,因为人群早已洪水似地拼命往外挤,几乎把他挤倒在地上。一股人声鼎沸的人流卷过大街,仿佛那些失望的绿头苍蝇又分头,寻找别的尸体去了。



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