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原文はProject Gutenberg、音声はLibriVoxで公開されているパブリックドメイン作品を出典としています。

『クリスマス・キャロル』英文/和訳 STAVE FOUR 下 墓石に刻まれた名前・色分け増量版

STAVE FOUR を、1段落が長くなりすぎないように細かく分け、重要語句・形容詞・副詞・熟語・情景語・心理語を多めに色分けした増量版です。

動作・変化 感情・心理 恐怖・死 場面・描写 精霊・超自然 金銭・社会 重要表現

The Phantom spread its dark robe before him for a moment, like a wing.

Then, withdrawing it, revealed a room by daylight, where a mother and her children were.

She was expecting someone with anxious eagerness.

She walked up and down the room, started at every sound, and looked out from the window.

She glanced at the clock, and tried in vain to work with her needle.

She could hardly bear the voices of her children in their play.

At length the long-expected knock was heard.

She hurried to the door, and met her husband.

He was a young man whose face was careworn and depressed.

Yet there was now a kind of serious delight in it, which he struggled to repress.

He sat down to the dinner that had been hoarding for him by the fire.

After a long silence, she faintly asked him what news there was.

“Is it good,” she said, “or bad?” “Bad,” he answered.

“We are quite ruined?” “No. There is hope yet, Caroline.”

“If he relents,” she said, amazed, “there is!”

“Nothing is past hope, if such a miracle has happened.”

“He is past relenting,” said her husband. “He is dead.”

She was a mild and patient creature, if her face spoke truth.

* * *

But she was thankful in her soul to hear it, and she said so with clasped hands.

She prayed forgiveness the next moment, and was sorry; but the first feeling had been the emotion of her heart.

“What the half-drunken woman said to me last night turns out to have been true,” said her husband.

“I tried to see him and obtain a week’s delay.”

“I thought it was a mere excuse to avoid me, but he was not only very ill, but dying, then.”

“To whom will our debt be transferred?” “I don’t know.”

“But before that time, we shall be ready with the money.”

“And even if we were not, it would be bad fortune indeed to find so merciless a creditor in his successor.”

“We may sleep to-night with light hearts, Caroline!”

Yes. Soften it as they would, their hearts were lighter.

The children’s faces were brighter, though they little understood what they had heard.

It was a happier house for this man’s death.

The only emotion that the Ghost could show him, caused by the event, was one of pleasure.

“Let me see some tenderness connected with a death,” said Scrooge.

“Or that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left just now, will be for ever present to me.”

The Ghost conducted him through several familiar streets.

As they went along, Scrooge looked here and there to find himself, but nowhere was he to be seen.

They entered poor Bob Cratchit’s house, the dwelling he had visited before.

* * *

They found the mother and the children seated round the fire.

Quiet. Very quiet.

The noisy little Cratchits were as still as statues in one corner.

They sat looking up at Peter, who had a book before him.

The mother and her daughters were engaged in sewing. But surely they were very quiet.

“And he took a child, and set him in the midst of them.”

Where had Scrooge heard those words? He had not dreamed them.

The boy must have read them out as he and the Spirit crossed the threshold.

Why did he not go on?

The mother laid her work upon the table, and put her hand up to her face.

“The colour hurts my eyes,” she said.

The colour? Ah, poor Tiny Tim!

“They’re better now again,” said Cratchit’s wife. “It makes them weak by candle-light.”

“I wouldn’t show weak eyes to your father, when he comes home, for the world.”

“It must be near his time.” “Past it rather,” Peter answered.

“But I think he has walked a little slower than he used, these few last evenings, mother.”

They were very quiet again.

At last she spoke in a steady, cheerful voice, that only faltered once.

* * *

“I have known him walk with—I have known him walk with Tiny Tim upon his shoulder very fast indeed.”

“And so have I,” cried Peter. “Often.”

“But he was very light to carry,” she resumed, “and his father loved him so, that it was no trouble.”

“And there is your father at the door!”

Little Bob in his comforter came in; he had need of it, poor fellow.

His tea was ready for him on the hob, and they all tried who should help him to it most.

Then the two young Cratchits got upon his knees and laid their little cheeks against his face.

It was as if they said, “Don’t mind it, father. Don’t be grieved!”

Bob was cheerful with them, and spoke pleasantly to all the family.

He praised the industry and speed of Mrs. Cratchit and the girls.

“Sunday! You went to-day, then, Robert?” said his wife.

“Yes, my dear,” returned Bob. “I wish you could have gone.”

“It would have done you good to see how green a place it is.”

“But you’ll see it often. I promised him that I would walk there on a Sunday.”

“My little, little child!” cried Bob. “My little child!”

He broke down all at once. He couldn’t help it.

He left the room, and went upstairs into the room above, which was lighted cheerfully and hung with Christmas.

There was a chair set close beside the child, and signs of someone having been there lately.

* * *

Poor Bob sat down in it.

When he had thought a little and composed himself, he kissed the little face.

He was reconciled to what had happened, and went down again quite happy.

They drew about the fire, and talked; the girls and mother still working.

Bob told them of the extraordinary kindness of Mr. Scrooge’s nephew.

The nephew had met him in the street and asked what had happened to distress him.

“I am heartily sorry for it, Mr. Cratchit,” he had said, “and heartily sorry for your good wife.”

“By-the-bye, how he ever knew that I don’t know.”

“Knew what, my dear?” “Why, that you were a good wife,” replied Bob.

“Everybody knows that,” said Peter.

“If I can be of service to you in any way,” he said, “that’s where I live. Pray come to me.”

It was not for what he might do, Bob said, but for his kind way, that this was delightful.

“It really seemed as if he had known our Tiny Tim, and felt with us.”

“I’m sure he’s a good soul!” said Mrs. Cratchit.

“I shouldn’t be at all surprised if he got Peter a better situation.”

“And then,” cried one of the girls, “Peter will be keeping company with someone, and setting up for himself.”

“Get along with you!” retorted Peter, grinning.

“However and whenever we part from one another, we shall none of us forget poor Tiny Tim,” said Bob.

* * *

“Nor this first parting that there was among us.”

“Never, father!” cried they all.

“When we recollect how patient and how mild he was, we shall not quarrel easily among ourselves.”

“No, never, father!” they all cried again.

“ I am very happy,” said little Bob. “ I am very happy!”

Mrs. Cratchit kissed him, his daughters kissed him, and the two young Cratchits kissed him.

Peter and Bob shook hands. Spirit of Tiny Tim, thy childish essence was from God!

Spectre,” said Scrooge, “something informs me that our parting moment is at hand.”

“Tell me what man that was whom we saw lying dead.”

The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come conveyed him as before, though at a different time, he thought.

There seemed no order in these latter visions, save that they were in the Future.

They went into the resorts of business men, but the Spirit showed him not himself.

The Spirit went straight on until Scrooge begged it to tarry for a moment.

“This court,” said Scrooge, “is where my place of occupation is, and has been for a length of time.”

“I see the house. Let me behold what I shall be in days to come.”

The Spirit stopped; the hand was pointed elsewhere.

“The house is yonder,” Scrooge exclaimed. “Why do you point away?”

The inexorable finger underwent no change.

* * *

Scrooge hastened to the window of his office, and looked in.

It was an office still, but not his.

The furniture was not the same, and the figure in the chair was not himself.

The Phantom pointed as before.

He joined it once again, wondering why and whither he had gone.

They went on until they reached an iron gate.

A churchyard.

Here, then, the wretched man whose name he had now to learn lay underneath the ground.

It was walled in by houses, overrun by grass and weeds.

The growth there was the growth of vegetation’s death, not life.

It was choked up with too much burying. A worthy place!

The Spirit stood among the grave s, and pointed down to One.

Scrooge advanced towards it trembling.

The Phantom was exactly as it had been, but he dreaded a new meaning in its solemn shape.

“Before I draw nearer to that stone,” said Scrooge, “answer me one question.”

“Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of the things that May be only?”

Still the Ghost pointed downward to the grave by which it stood.

“Men’s courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead,” said Scrooge.

* * *

“But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!”

The Spirit was immovable as ever.

Scrooge crept towards it, trembling as he went.

Following the finger, he read upon the stone of the neglected grave his own name, EBENEZER SCROOGE.

“Am I that man who lay upon the bed?” he cried upon his knees.

The finger pointed from the grave to him, and back again.

“No, Spirit! Oh no, no!”

The finger still was there.

“ Spirit!” he cried, clutching at its robe, “hear me!”

“I am not the man I was.”

“I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse.”

“Why show me this, if I am past all hope?”

For the first time the hand appeared to shake.

“Good Spirit,” he pursued, “your nature intercedes for me, and pities me.”

“Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me by an altered life.”

The kind hand trembled.

“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.”

“I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future.”

* * *

The Spirit s of all Three shall strive within me.”

“I will not shut out the lessons that they teach.”

“Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!”

In his agony, he caught the spectral hand.

It sought to free itself, but he was strong in his entreaty, and detained it.

The Spirit, stronger yet, repulsed him.

Holding up his hands in a last prayer to have his fate reversed, he saw the Phantom change.

It shrunk, collapsed, and dwindled down into a bedpost.

クリスマス・キャロル

『クリスマス・キャロル』英文/和訳 STAVE IV 最後の精霊 上 『クリスマス・キャロル』英文/和訳 STAVE V 物語の結末