The Assessor of Success

Hastings Beauchamp Morley sauntered across Union Square with a pitying look at the hundreds that lolled upon the park benches. They were a motley lot, he thought; the men with stolid, animal, unshaven faces; the women wriggling and self-conscious, twining and untwining their feet that hung four inches above the gravelled walks.

黑斯廷斯·比彻姆·莫利溜溜达达地穿过联合广场，带着几分怜悯的神情望着公园长椅上懒洋洋躺着的那几百号人。他心想，这真是一群形形色色的杂牌军；男人们个个满脸呆滞、粗俗、胡子拉碴；女人们则扭扭捏捏、忸忸怩怩，把悬在碎石小径上方四英寸处的双脚一会儿盘起、一会儿又松开。

Were I Mr. Carnegie or Mr. Rockefeller I would put a few millions in my inside pocket and make an appointment with all the Park Commissioners (around the corner, if necessary), and arrange for benches in all the parks of the world low enough for women to sit upon, and rest their feet upon the ground. After that I might furnish libraries to towns that would pay for ’em, or build sanitariums for crank professors, and call ’em colleges, if I wanted to.

要是我是卡内基先生或是洛克菲勒先生，我就往内衣口袋里揣上几百万，然后约见所有的公园管理委员们（要是有必要的话，就在拐角处见面），安排在全世界所有公园里都摆上足够矮的长椅，好让女士们坐下的时候，脚能踏到地面上。做完这些之后，我或许还会给那些愿意出钱的城镇添置图书馆，或者给那些古怪的教授们盖几所疗养院，要是我乐意，也可以管它们叫大学。

Women’s rights societies have been laboring for many years after equality with man. With what result? When they sit on a bench they must twist their ankles together and uncomfortably swing their highest French heels clear of earthly support. Begin at the bottom, ladies. Get your feet on the ground, and then rise to theories of mental equality.

妇女权益团体多年来一直在为争取与男人平等而奋斗。结果如何呢？她们坐在长椅上的时候，还是得把脚踝绞在一起，别别扭扭地把自己那双高跟法国鞋悬空吊着，够不着一点脚踏实地的支撑。女士们，还是从最基本的地方做起吧。先让你们的脚踏到地面上，再去谈什么男女智力平等的高论。

Hastings Beauchamp Morley was carefully and neatly dressed. That was the result of an instinct due to his birth and breeding. It is denied us to look further into a man’s bosom than the starch on his shirt front; so it is left to us only to recount his walks and conversation.

黑斯廷斯·比彻姆·莫利穿戴得十分讲究、一丝不苟。这是他与生俱来、受家教熏陶所养成的一种本能。我们无从窥探一个人衬衫前襟浆得笔挺之下究竟藏着怎样的一颗心；所以，我们只能满足于讲讲他的行踪和言谈了。

Morley had not a cent in his pockets; but he smiled pityingly at a hundred grimy, unfortunate ones who had no more, and who would have no more when the sun’s first rays yellowed the tall paper-cutter building on the west side of the square. But Morley would have enough by then. Sundown had seen his pockets empty before; but sunrise had always seen them lined.

莫利口袋里一个子儿也没有；可他却带着怜悯的笑容，望着那上百个跟他一样一贫如洗、脏兮兮的可怜人，等到旭日的第一缕光芒把广场西侧那栋高高的裁纸刀式大楼染成金黄色时，他们照样还是身无分文。可到那时候，莫利口袋里可就不会缺钱了。他的口袋，日落时分空空如也的时候是有过的；可日出时分，却总归是满满当当的。

First he went to the house of a clergyman off Madison avenue and presented a forged letter of introduction that holily purported to issue from a pastorate in Indiana. This netted him $5 when backed up by a realistic romance of a delayed remittance.

他先去了麦迪逊大道附近一位牧师的家中，递上一封伪造的介绍信，那信上装模作样地声称是从印第安纳州某个教区寄来的。再配上一段有关汇款延误的煞有介事的动人故事，这一趟给他净赚了五块钱。

On the sidewalk, twenty steps from the clergyman’s door, a pale-faced, fat man huskily enveloped him with a raised, red fist and the voice of a bell buoy, demanding payment of an old score.

在距牧师家门口二十步远的人行道上，一个脸色苍白、身材肥胖的男人举着攥紧的通红拳头，用一种像浮标铃一般沙哑的嗓音，把他团团围住，逼他还一笔陈年旧账。

“Why, Bergman, man,” sang Morley, dulcetly, “is this you? I was just on my way up to your place to settle up. That remittance from my aunt arrived only this morning. Wrong address was the trouble. Come up to the corner and I’ll square up. Glad to see you. Saves me a walk.”

“哎呀，伯格曼老兄，”莫利用甜腻的嗓音唱起了戏，“是你呀？我这正打算去你那儿把账结清呢。我姑妈的那笔汇款今天早上才刚到。麻烦就出在地址寄错了。走，去拐角那儿，我把账给你结了。见到你真高兴。这下我倒省得再跑一趟了。”

Four drinks placated the emotional Bergman. There was an air about Morley when he was backed by money in hand that would have stayed off a call loan at Rothschilds’. When he was penniless his bluff was pitched half a tone lower, but few are competent to detect the difference in the notes.

灌了四杯酒下肚，这位感情用事的伯格曼便消了气。莫利手头有现钱撑腰的时候，浑身透着一股气派，就算是去罗斯柴尔德家借笔活期贷款，那股派头也能唬住人。等他身无分文的时候，那股虚张声势的调门就得压低半个音阶，可这其中的细微差别，能听得出来的人却没几个。

“You gum to mine blace and bay me to-morrow, Mr. Morley,” said Bergman. “Oxcuse me dat I dun you on der street. But I haf not seen you in dree mont’. Pros’t!”

“莫利先生，你明天来我这儿付钱吧，”伯格曼说道。“抱歉在街上跟你要账。可我都三个月没见着你了。干杯！”

Morley walked away with a crooked smile on his pale, smooth face. The credulous, drink-softened German amused him. He would have to avoid Twenty-ninth street in the future. He had not been aware that Bergman ever went home by that route.

莫利脸上带着一丝歪斜的笑意走开了，那张脸苍白而光滑。这个轻信人、又被酒灌得心软了的德国佬，让他觉得挺好玩。往后他得避开二十九街才行。他倒没料到伯格曼回家会走这条路。

At the door of a darkened house two squares to the north Morley knocked with a peculiar sequence of raps. The door opened to the length of a six-inch chain, and the pompous, important black face of an African guardian imposed itself in the opening. Morley was admitted.

在北边两个街区外一栋黑漆漆的房子门前，莫利用一套特别的敲门节奏敲了敲门。门开了一道六英寸链条的缝隙，一张神气活现、俨然自重的黑人门房的脸探了出来。莫利被放了进去。

In a third-story room, in an atmosphere opaque with smoke, he hung for ten minutes above a roulette wheel. Then downstairs he crept, and was out-sped by the important negro, jingling in his pocket the 40 cents in silver that remained to him of his five-dollar capital. At the corner he lingered, undecided.

在三楼一间烟雾缭绕、几乎看不清人影的房间里，他围着一张轮盘赌桌流连了十分钟。随后他蹑手蹑脚地下了楼，被那位神气十足的黑人赶出了门，口袋里叮当作响的，只剩下他那五块本钱里余下的四十美分银币。走到街角，他停下脚步，犹豫不决。

Across the street was a drug store, well lighted, sending forth gleams from the German silver and crystal of its soda fountain and glasses. Along came a youngster of five, headed for the dispensary, stepping high with the consequence of a big errand, possibly one to which his advancing age had earned him promotion. In his hand he clutched something tightly, publicly, proudly, conspicuously.

街对面有家药店，灯火通明，苏打水柜台上德国银器和玻璃器皿闪着光。这时走过来一个五岁的小男孩，正朝药房走去，脚步高高抬起，带着一副重任在身的架势，或许正是因为他年纪渐长，才被委以这样一桩差事。他手里紧紧攥着什么东西，攥得高调、自豪，生怕别人看不见。

Morley stopped him with his winning smile and soft speech.

莫利用他那副讨人喜欢的笑容和柔声细语拦住了他。

“Me?” said the youngster. “I’m doin’ to the drug ’tore for mamma. She dave me a dollar to buy a bottle of med’cin.”

“我？”小男孩说道。“我要去药店给妈妈买东西。她给了我一块钱，让我去买瓶药水。”

“Now, now, now!” said Morley. “Such a big man you are to be doing errands for mamma. I must go along with my little man to see that the cars don’t run over him. And on the way we’ll have some chocolates. Or would he rather have lemon drops?”

“哎呀哎呀哎呀！”莫利说道。“你这么小的年纪，就能替妈妈跑腿办事了，真是个大人物呢。我得陪着我这位小大人一块儿走，看好了别让车撞着他。路上咱们再买点巧克力吃。要不他更想吃柠檬糖？”

Morley entered the drug store leading the child by the hand. He presented the prescription that had been wrapped around the money.

莫利牵着孩子的手走进了药店。他递上了那张裹着钱一起带来的处方笺。

On his face was a smile, predatory, parental, politic, profound.

他脸上挂着一副笑容，既贪婪，又带着几分“慈父”般的做派，既圆滑，又深藏心机。

“Aqua pura, one pint,” said he to the druggist. “Sodium chloride, ten grains. Fiat solution. And don’t try to skin me, because I know all about the number of gallons of H2O in the Croton reservoir, and I always use the other ingredient on my potatoes.”

“纯净水，一品脱，”他对药剂师说道。“氯化钠，十格令。配成溶液。别想蒙我，我可清楚克罗顿水库里究竟有多少加仑水呢，而且我平常都是拿另外那种原料来腌土豆的。”

“Fifteen cents,” said the druggist, with a wink after he had compounded the order. “I see you understand pharmacy. A dollar is the regular price.”

“十五美分，”药剂师配好药之后眨了眨眼说道。“看得出您懂点药理。正常这价钱是一块钱。”

“To gulls,” said Morley, smilingly.

“那是唬外行的价钱，”莫利笑着说道。

He settled the wrapped bottle carefully in the child’s arms and escorted him to the corner. In his own pocket he dropped the 85 cents accruing to him by virtue of his chemical knowledge.

他把那瓶包好的药水小心翼翼地安放到孩子怀里，一直送他走到街角。他自己口袋里则装进了凭着他这份“化学知识”赚来的八十五美分。

“Look out for the cars, sonny,” he said, cheerfully, to his small victim.

“小心车子，孩子，”他乐呵呵地对这个小小的受害者说道。

Two street cars suddenly swooped in opposite directions upon the youngster. Morley dashed between them and pinned the infantile messenger by the neck, holding him in safety. Then from the corner of his street he sent him on his way, swindled, happy, and sticky with vile, cheap candy from the Italian’s fruit stand.

两辆有轨电车忽然从两个相反的方向朝这个小男孩冲了过来。莫利一个箭步冲到两车之间，一把揪住这位小小信使的脖领子，把他拽到了安全地带。随后，从他所在的那个街角，他打发这个孩子继续上路，孩子被骗了钱，却依旧欢欢喜喜，嘴角还沾着从意大利人水果摊上买来的、劣质又廉价的糖果。

Morley went to a restaurant and ordered a sirloin and a pint of inexpensive Chateau Breuille. He laughed noiselessly, but so genuinely that the waiter ventured to premise that good news had come his way.

莫利去了一家餐馆，点了一份西冷牛排和一品脱不太贵的布莱伊城堡葡萄酒。他无声地笑着，可笑得那样真切，连侍者都忍不住揣测，是不是有什么好消息降临到了他头上。

“Why, no,” said Morley, who seldom held conversation with any one. “It is not that. It is something else that amuses me. Do you know what three divisions of people are easiest to over-reach in transactions of all kinds?”

“哦，不是，”莫利答道，他平常很少跟人闲聊。“不是那回事。是别的事让我觉得好笑。你知道这世上有哪三类人，在各种买卖交易当中，是最容易上当受骗的吗？”

“Sure,” said the waiter, calculating the size of the tip promised by the careful knot of Morley’s tie; “there’s the buyers from the dry goods stores in the South during August, and honeymooners from Staten Island, and”—

“那还用说，”侍者一边答道，一边打量着莫利那条系得一丝不苟的领带，估摸着他会给多少小费；“南方那些八月份来的干货店买手，还有从史坦顿岛来的度蜜月的新人，还有”——

“Wrong!” said Morley, chuckling happily. “The answer is just—men, women and children. The world—well, say New York and as far as summer boarders can swim out from Long Island—is full of greenhorns. Two minutes longer on the broiler would have made this steak fit to be eaten by a gentleman, Francois.”

“错了！”莫利开心地笑了起来。“答案很简单——男人、女人和小孩。这世界——好吧，就说纽约，再加上那些能从长岛游到岸边的避暑客们吧——满世界都是些没见过世面的愣头青。弗朗索瓦，这块牛排要是在烤架上再多烤两分钟，才配得上一位绅士享用呢。”

“If yez t’inks it’s on de bum,” said the waiter, “Oi’ll”—

“您要是觉得这不够格，”侍者说道，“那我就”——

Morley lifted his hand in protest—slightly martyred protest.

莫利抬起手，表示抗议——带着几分做出牺牲状的抗议意味。

“It will do,” he said, magnanimously. “And now, green Chartreuse, frappe and a demi-tasse.”

“将就将就吧，”他大度地说道。“再来一杯冰镇的绿色查特酒，还有一杯浓缩咖啡。”

Morley went out leisurely and stood on a corner where two tradeful arteries of the city cross. With a solitary dime in his pocket, he stood on the curb watching with confident, cynical, smiling eyes the tides of people that flowed past him. Into that stream he must cast his net and draw fish for his further sustenance and need. Good Izaak Walton had not the half of his self-reliance and bait-lore.

莫利不紧不慢地走了出去，站在城里两条商业大道交汇的一个街角。口袋里只剩一枚孤零零的一角硬币，他站在路边，带着自信、玩世不恭又满脸笑意的眼神，望着眼前潮水般涌过的人群。他必须把网撒进这股人流里，捞几条鱼上来，好维持自己往后的生计和需求。就连那位大名鼎鼎的艾萨克·沃尔顿，论起自信和识饵的本事，也及不上他的一半。

A joyful party of four—two women and two men—fell upon him with cries of delight. There was a dinner party on—where had he been for a fortnight past?—what luck to thus run upon him! They surrounded and engulfed him—he must join them—tra la la—and the rest.

一群欢天喜地的人——两男两女——欣喜若狂地扑上前来。有一场晚宴正等着他呢——他这两周都跑到哪儿去了？——能这样撞见他，真是运气！他们把他团团围住，把他淹没在人群里——他必须加入他们——啦啦啦——诸如此类。

One with a white hat plume curving to the shoulder touched his sleeve, and cast at the others a triumphant look that said: “See what I can do with him?” and added her queen’s command to the invitations.

一位帽子上插着弯垂到肩头的白色羽饰的女子碰了碰他的衣袖，又朝其他人投去一个得意洋洋的眼神，仿佛在说：“瞧我把他给拿下了？”接着又以女王般的口吻，加上了自己的一份邀请。

“I leave you to imagine,” said Morley, pathetically, “how it desolates me to forego the pleasure. But my friend Carruthers, of the New York Yacht Club, is to pick me up here in his motor car at 8.”

“我只好由着你们去想象，”莫利带着几分伤感说道，“不能一同赴宴，我心里有多失望。可我那位纽约游艇俱乐部的朋友卡拉瑟斯，八点钟要开车来这儿接我呢。”

The white plume tossed, and the quartet danced like midges around an arc light down the frolicsome way.

那顶白色羽饰的帽子晃了晃，这四人便像围着弧光灯打转的飞虫一般，欢快地舞着步子沿路走远了。

Morley stood, turning over and over the dime in his pocket and laughing gleefully to himself. “‘Front,’” he chanted under his breath; “‘front’ does it. It is trumps in the game. How they take it in! Men, women and children—forgeries, water-and-salt lies—how they all take it in!”

莫利站在原地，把口袋里的那枚一角硬币翻来覆去地摩挲着，独自兴高采烈地笑了起来。“‘派头’，”他压低声音哼唱道，“‘派头’才是关键。这是这场游戏里的王牌。他们竟然全都上当了！男人、女人、小孩——伪造的信件、掺水加盐的谎言——他们竟然全都信了！”

An old man with an ill-fitting suit, a straggling gray beard and a corpulent umbrella hopped from the conglomeration of cabs and street cars to the sidewalk at Morley’s side.

一个衣服不合身、灰白胡子乱蓬蓬、拿着一把粗大雨伞的老人，从一堆出租马车和有轨电车中间挤出来，跳上人行道，来到莫利身边。

“Stranger,” said he, “excuse me for troubling you, but do you know anybody in this here town named Solomon Smothers? He’s my son, and I’ve come down from Ellenville to visit him. Be darned if I know what I done with his street and number.”

“陌生人，”他说道，“打搅您了，抱歉。您可认得这城里有个叫所罗门·斯默瑟斯的人吗？他是我儿子，我这是从埃伦维尔赶来看他的。真是活见鬼，我把他家的街名门牌号给弄丢了。”

“I do not, sir,” said Morley, half closing his eyes to veil the joy in them. “You had better apply to the police.”

“我不认识，先生，”莫利说道，眯起眼睛，遮掩住眼中的喜色。“您最好去找警察问问。”

“The police!” said the old man. “I ain’t done nothin’ to call in the police about. I just come down to see Ben. He lives in a five-story house, he writes me. If you know anybody by that name and could”—

“警察！”老人说道。“我又没干什么惊动警察的事。我就是来看看本的。他说他住在一栋五层楼的房子里。您要是认得这个名字，能不能”——

“I told you I did not,” said Morley, coldly. “I know no one by the name of Smithers, and I advise you to”—

“我说了我不认识，”莫利冷冷地说道。“我不认识什么叫斯米瑟斯的人，我劝您”——

“Smothers not Smithers,” interrupted the old man hopefully. “A heavy-set man, sandy complected, about twenty-nine, two front teeth out, about five foot”—

“是斯默瑟斯，不是斯米瑟斯，”老人满怀希望地打断道。“身材壮实，浅黄色皮肤，大约二十九岁，两颗门牙掉了，个头大约五英尺”——

“Oh, ‘Smothers!’” exclaimed Morley. “Sol Smothers? Why, he lives in the next house to me. I thought you said ‘Smithers.’”

“哦，是‘斯默瑟斯’啊！”莫利喊道。“索尔·斯默瑟斯？咦，他就住在我家隔壁呀。我还当您说的是‘斯米瑟斯’呢。”

Morley looked at his watch. You must have a watch. You can do it for a dollar. Better go hungry than forego a gunmetal or the ninety-eight-cent one that the railroads—according to these watchmakers—are run by.

莫利看了看自己的表。你总得有块表才行。一块钱就能弄到一块。宁可挨饿，也不能没有一块灰钢表，或者那种铁路公司——照那些钟表匠的说法——都靠它来运行的九毛八分钱的表。

“The Bishop of Long Island,” said Morley, “was to meet me here at 8 to dine with me at the Kingfishers’ Club. But I can’t leave the father of my friend Sol Smothers alone on the street. By St. Swithin, Mr. Smothers, we Wall street men have to work! Tired is no name for it! I was about to step across to the other corner and have a glass of ginger ale with a dash of sherry when you approached me. You must let me take you to Sol’s house, Mr. Smothers. But, before we take the car I hope you will join me in”—

“长岛的主教，”莫利说道，“本该八点在这儿跟我碰头，一起去翠鸟俱乐部吃晚饭的。可我总不能把我朋友索尔·斯默瑟斯的父亲一个人扔在街上不管。凭圣斯威辛的名义起誓，斯默瑟斯先生，我们这些华尔街的人可真是辛苦啊！用‘累’这个字都不足以形容！您找上我的时候，我正打算过马路，去对面喝一杯加了点雪莉酒的姜汁汽水呢。斯默瑟斯先生，您可得让我送您去索尔家才行。不过，在咱们上车之前，我希望您能赏光跟我一起”——

An hour later Morley seated himself on the end of a quiet bench in Madison Square, with a twenty-five-cent cigar between his lips and $140 in deeply creased bills in his inside pocket. Content, light-hearted, ironical, keenly philosophic, he watched the moon drifting in and out amidst a maze of flying clouds. An old, ragged man with a low-bowed head sat at the other end of the bench.

一个钟头之后，莫利在麦迪逊广场一条僻静长椅的一头坐了下来，嘴里叼着一支二十五美分的雪茄，内衣口袋里揣着一百四十美元皱巴巴的钞票。他心满意足、轻松愉快，带着几分讥诮、几分深刻的哲思，望着那轮明月在一团团飞驰的云朵间时隐时现。长椅的另一头，坐着一个衣衫褴褛、低垂着头的老人。

Presently the old man stirred and looked at his bench companion. In Morley’s appearance he seemed to recognize something superior to the usual nightly occupants of the benches.

不多时，那老人动了动身子，望向坐在长椅另一头的这位同伴。从莫利的模样看，他仿佛看出了几分与寻常那些夜里占据长椅的人不一样的气质。

“Kind sir,” he whined, “if you could spare a dime or even a few pennies to one who”—

“好心的先生，”他哀声恳求道，“您能不能匀出一角钱，哪怕是几个铜板给我这样一个……”——

Morley cut short his stereotyped appeal by throwing him a dollar.

莫利打断了他这套千篇一律的求告，扔给了他一块钱。

“God bless you!” said the old man. “I’ve been trying to find work for”—

“上帝保佑您！”老人说道。“我一直在想法子找份工作，好……”——

“Work!” echoed Morley with his ringing laugh. “You are a fool, my friend. The world is a rock to you, no doubt; but you must be an Aaron and smite it with your rod. Then things better than water will gush out of it for you. That is what the world is for. It gives to me whatever I want from it.”

“工作！”莫利用他那响亮的笑声应和道。“你真是个傻瓜，朋友。这世界对你来说，无疑是一块顽石；可你得学摩西的哥哥亚伦，用你的手杖去敲打它。这样，比水还要好的东西，才会为你涌流出来。这世界本就是为此而存在的。凡是我想要的，它都会给我。”

“God has blessed you,” said the old man. “It is only work that I have known. And now I can get no more.”

“上帝保佑了您，”老人说道。“我这辈子只懂得干活。可如今我也找不到活干了。”

“I must go home,” said Morley, rising and buttoning his coat. “I stopped here only for a smoke. I hope you may find work.”

“我得回家了，”莫利说道，站起身来，扣好外套的纽扣。“我在这儿停下来，不过是抽支烟罢了。但愿你能找到活干。”

“May your kindness be rewarded this night,” said the old man.

“但愿您今晚的善心能得到报偿，”老人说道。

“Oh,” said Morley, “you have your wish already. I am satisfied. I think good luck follows me like a dog. I am for yonder bright hotel across the square for the night. And what a moon that is lighting up the city to-night. I think no one enjoys the moonlight and such little things as I do. Well, a good-night to you.”

“哦，”莫利说道，“你的心愿已经实现啦。我心满意足。我觉得好运简直就像条狗似的紧跟着我。我今晚就住广场对面那家灯火通明的酒店。今晚这月亮把整座城市照得多亮啊。我想，没有谁能像我这样，懂得欣赏月光和这些小小的美好事物了。好了，祝你晚安。”

Morley walked to the corner where he would cross to his hotel. He blew slow streams of smoke from his cigar heavenward. A policeman passing saluted to his benign nod. What a fine moon it was.

莫利走到街角，准备穿过马路，回他的酒店去。他仰头朝天空缓缓喷出一缕缕雪茄烟。一名路过的警察向他和善的点头礼致了个敬。这月色可真美啊。

The clock struck nine as a girl just entering womanhood stopped on the corner waiting for the approaching car. She was hurrying as if homeward from employment or delay. Her eyes were clear and pure, she was dressed in simple white, she looked eagerly for the car and neither to the right nor the left.

钟敲响九点的时候，一个刚刚步入成年的姑娘在街角停下，等着一辆驶来的电车。她行色匆匆，仿佛正从工作地点或者什么耽搁了她的地方往家赶。她的眼睛清澈而纯净，穿着一身朴素的白色衣裙，急切地张望着电车的方向，眼睛既不往左看，也不往右看。

Morley knew her. Eight years before he had sat on the same bench with her at school. There had been no sentiment between them—nothing but the friendship of innocent days.

莫利认得她。八年前，他曾和她同坐在学校里的同一条长椅上。他们之间没有半点风花雪月——不过是那些天真岁月里纯粹的友情罢了。

But he turned down the side street to a quiet spot and laid his suddenly burning face against the cool iron of a lamp-post, and said dully:

可他转身拐进一条僻静的小街，把那张忽然涨得发烫的脸，贴在一根冰凉的铁路灯柱上，闷声说道：

“God! I wish I could die.”

“上帝啊！我真希望自己能死了才好。”