rip van winkle-第4章
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familiar haunts had disappeared。 Strange names were over the doors…
strange faces at the windows… every thing was strange。 His mind now
misgave him; he began to doubt whether both he and the world around
him were not bewitched。 Surely this was his native village; which he
had left but the day before。 There stood the Kaatskill mountains…
there ran the silver Hudson at a distance… there was every hill and
dale precisely as it had always been… Rip was sorely perplexed…
〃That flagon last night;〃 thought he; 〃has addled my poor head sadly!〃
It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own
house; which he approached with silent awe; expecting every moment
to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle。 He found the house gone
to decay… the roof fallen in; the windows shattered; and the doors off
the hinges。 A half…starved dog that looked like Wolf was skulking
about it。 Rip called him by name; but the cur snarled; showed his
teeth; and passed on。 This was an unkind cut indeed… 〃My very dog;〃
sighed poor Rip; 〃has forgotten me!〃
He entered the house; which; to tell the truth; Dame Van Winkle
had always kept in neat order。 It was empty; forlorn; and apparently
abandoned。 This desolateness overcame all his connubial fears… he
called loudly for his wife and children… the lonely chambers rang
for a moment with his voice; and then all again was silence。
He now hurried forth; and hastened to his old resort; the village
inn… but it too was gone。 A large rickety wooden building stood in its
place; with great gaping windows; some of them broken and mended
with old hats and petticoats; and over the door was painted; 〃The
Union Hotel; by Jonathan Doolittle。〃 Instead of the great tree that
used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore; there now was
reared a tall naked pole; with something on the top that looked like a
red night…cap; and from it was fluttering a flag; on which was a
singular assemblage of stars and stripes… all this was strange and
incomprehensible。 He recognized on the sign; however; the ruby face of
King George; under which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe; but
even this was singularly metamorphosed。 The red coat was changed for
one of blue and buff; a sword was held in the hand instead of a
sceptre; the head was decorated with a cocked hat; and underneath
was painted in large characters; GENERAL WASHINGTON。
There was; as usual; a crowd of folk about the door; but none that
Rip recollected。 The very character of the people seemed changed。
There was a busy; bustling; disputatious tone about it; instead of the
accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity。 He looked in vain for the
sage Nicholas Vedder; with his broad face; double chin; and fair
long pipe; uttering clouds of tobacco…smoke instead of idle
speeches; or Van Bummel; the schoolmaster; doling forth the contents
of an ancient newspaper。 In place of these; a lean; bilious…looking
fellow; with his pockets full of handbills; was haranguing
vehemently about rights of citizens… elections… members of congress…
liberty… Bunker's Hill… heroes of seventy…six… and other words;
which were a perfect Babylonish jargon to the bewildered Van Winkle。
The appearance of Rip; with his long grizzled beard; his rusty
fowling…piece; his uncouth dress; and an army of women and children at
his heels; soon attracted the attention of the tavern politicians。
They crowded round him; eyeing him from head to foot with great
curiosity。 The orator bustled up to him; and; drawing him partly
aside; inquired 〃on which side he voted?〃 Rip stared in vacant
stupidity。 Another short but busy little fellow pulled him by the arm;
and; rising on tiptoe; inquired in his ear; 〃Whether he was Federal or
Democrat?〃 Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend the question;
when a knowing; self…important old gentleman; in a sharp cocked hat;
made his way through the crowd; putting them to the right and left
with his elbows as he passed; and planting himself before Van
Winkle; with one arm akimbo; the other resting on his cane; his keen
eyes and sharp hat penetrating; as it were; into his very soul;
demanded in an austere tone; 〃what brought him to the election with
a gun on his shoulder; and a mob at his heels; and whether he meant to
breed a riot in the village?〃… 〃Alas! gentlemen;〃 cried Rip;
somewhat dismayed; 〃I am a poor quiet man; a native of the place;
and a loyal subject of the king; God bless him!〃
Here a general shout burst from the bystanders… 〃A tory! a tory! a
spy! a refugee! hustle him! away with him!〃 It was with great
difficulty that the self…important man in the cocked hat restored
order; and; having assumed a ten…fold austerity of brow; demanded
again of the unknown culprit; what he came there for; and whom he
was seeking? The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm;
but merely came there in search of some of his neighbors; who used
to keep about the tavern。
〃Well… who are they?… name them。〃
Rip bethought himself a moment; and inquired; 〃Where's Nicholas
Vedder?〃
There was a silence for a little while; when an old man replied;
in a thin piping voice; 〃Nicholas Vedder! why; he is dead and gone
these eighteen years! There was a wooden tombstone in the
church…yard that used to tell all about him; but that's rotten and
gone too。〃
〃Where's Brom Dutcher?〃
〃Oh; he went off to the army in the beginning of the war; some say
he was killed at the storming of Stony Point… others say he was
drowned in a squall at the foot of Antony's Nose。 I don't know… he
never came back again。〃
〃Where's Van Bummel; the schoolmaster?〃
〃He went off to the wars too; was a great militia general; and is
now in congress。〃
Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his home
and friends; and finding himself thus alone in the world。 Every answer
puzzled him too; by treating of such enormous lapses of time; and of
matters which he could not understand: war… congress… Stony Point;… he
had no courage to ask after any more friends; but cried out in
despair; 〃Does nobody here know Rip Van Winkle?〃
〃Oh; Rip Van Winkle!〃 exclaimed two or three; 〃Oh; to be sure!
that's Rip Van Winkle yonder; leaning against the tree。〃
Rip looked; and beheld a precise counterpart of himself; as he
went up the mountain: apparently as lazy; and certainly as ragged。 The
poor fellow was now completely confounded。 He doubted his own
identity; and whether he was himself or another man。 In the midst of
his bewilderment; the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was; and
what was his name?
〃God knows;〃 exclaimed he; at his wit's end; 〃I'm not myself… I'm
somebody else… that's me yonder… no… that's somebody else got into
my shoes… I was myself last night; but I fell asleep on the
mountain; and they've changed my gun; and every thing's changed; and
I'm changed; and I can't tell what's my name; or who I am!〃
The bystanders began now to look at each other; nod; wink
significantly; and tap their fingers against their foreheads。 There
was a whisper; also; about securing the gun; and keeping the old
fellow from doing mischief; at the very suggestion of which the
self…important man in the cocked hat retired with some
precipitation。 At this critical moment a fresh comely woman pressed
through the throng to get a peep at the gray…bearded man。 She had a
chubby child in her arms; which; frightened at his looks; began to
cry。 〃Hush; Rip;〃 cried she; 〃hush; you little fool; the old man won't
hurt you。〃 The name of the child; the air of the mother; the tone of
her voice; all awakened a train of recollections in his mind。 〃What is
your name; my good woman?〃 asked he。
〃Judith Gardenier。〃
〃And your father's name?〃
〃Ah; poor man; Rip Van Winkle was his name; but it's twenty years
since he went away from home with his gun; and never has been heard of
since… his dog came home without him; but whether he shot himself;
or was carried away by the Indians; nobody can tell。 I was then but
a little girl。〃
Rip had but one question more to ask; but he put it with a falterin