【荆棘鸟】第二章 11

 Murder her, really murder her, take the double chins and squeeze .... Down went his tools, off came his apron 1; he walked to her quickly.

  "What's the matter, dear?" he asked, bending over until her face was level with his own. The smell of vomit 2 rose from her like a miasma 3, but he crushed his impulse to turn away.
  "Oh, Fruh-Fruh-Frank!" she wailed 4, her face twisting up and her tears undammed at last. She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him passionately 5, weeping in the curiously 6 silent, painful way all the Cleary children did once they were out of infancy 7. It was horrible to watch, and not something soft words or kisses could heal.
  When she was calm again he picked her up and carried her to a pile of sweet-smelling hay near Mr. Robertson's mare 8; they sat there together and let the horse lip at the edges of their straw bed, lost to the world. Meggie's head was cradled on Frank's smooth bare chest, tendrils of her hair flying around as the horse blew gusty 9 breaths into the hay, snorting with pleasure. 
  Frank had got used to her smell and didn't mind it any more; he reached out a hand and absently stroked the mare's nose, pushing it away when it got too inquisitive 10.
  "We're poor, Meggie, that's the main reason. The nuns 11 always hate poor pupils. After you've been in Sister Ag's moldy 12 old school a few days you'll see it's not only the Clearys she takes it out on, but the Marshalls and the MacDonalds as well. We're all poor.
  Now, if we were rich and rode to school in a big carriage like the O'Briens, they'd be all over us like a rash. But we can't donate organs to the church, or gold vestments to the sacristy, or a new horse and buggy to the nuns. So we don't matter. They can do what they like to us. "I remember one day Sister Ag was so mad at me that she kept screaming at me, "Cry, for the love of heaven! Make a noise, Francis Cleary! If you'd give me the satisfaction of hearing you bellow 13, I wouldn't hit you so hard or so often!"
  "That's another reason why she hates us; it's where we're better than the Marshalls and the MacDonalds. She can't make the Clearys cry. We're supposed to lick her boots. 
 

干掉，干掉她，真的干掉她，卡住她的双下巴，送她见阎王……他放下手里的工具，解下了围裙，快步向她走去。
    “怎么了，乖乖？”他弯下腰，和她脸对着脸，问道。他从她的身上闻到一股像瘴气似的呕吐味，可是他抑制住了自己想转过身去的冲动。
    “哦，弗一弗一弗兰克！”她呜咽着，脸蛋儿扭歪了，泪水终于夺眶而出。她张开双臂搂住他的脖子，激动地贴在他的身上，叫人难以理解地痛苦地饮泣着；克利里家的孩子们一过幼年就都是这样的。它使人不忍目睹，其伤痛不是几句宽慰的话和几个亲吻所能解除的。
    在她重新平静下来以后，他把她抱了起来，放在罗伯逊先生的母马的一堆发着甜味的干草上。他们一起坐在那里，让马唇轻轻地触动着他们的草铺的边缘，把一切都置之脑后。梅吉的头紧紧的依偎的弗兰克那光滑、裸露的胸膛上，她愉快地哼哼着，卷发随着马儿喷到稻草上的一阵阵的鼻息而飘动着。
    “她干嘛让我们全都挨藤条呀，弗兰克？”梅吉问道，“我跟她说了，那是我的错。”
    弗兰克已经习惯她身上的那股味儿，不再在意了。他伸出一只手来心不在焉地摸着那母马的鼻子，当它兴头上来的时候，就又将它推开。
    “我们穷，梅吉，这是主要的原因，修女们总是恨穷学生的。你只要在阿加莎嬷嬷那所破烂学校里再呆上几天，你就会看到，她不仅拿克利里家的孩子撒气，而且也拿马歇尔家和麦克唐纳家的孩子撒气，我们都是穷人呐。”要是我们有钱，像奥布里恩散家那样驾着大马车去上学，她们就会跟着我们的屁股转了。可是我们捐不起风琴给教堂，捐不起金法衣给圣器收藏室，或者把一匹马和一辆新的轻便马车送给修女们。因此，我们就什么都算不上了。他们想对咱们想怎么着就怎么着。
    “记得有一天，阿加莎嬷嬷冲我撒疯，她一个劲儿地尖叫：‘为了对上苍的爱，你哭吧！闹吧！弗兰西斯·克利里！要是你能哭得叫我满意，我打你就不会打得那么狠，那么多了！’”“这是她恨我们的另一个原因：这正是我们比马歇尔和麦克唐纳家强的地方，那就是她没法叫克利里家的人哭。她认为我们该舔她的靴子、拍她的马屁的。我告诉过孩子们，不论哪一个克利里家的孩子挨了藤条，哪怕是呜咽了一声，我都要和他说道说道。