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今日推荐：《美丽英文：那些触动我心扉的故事》 作者：李影。搜索书名开始观看吧～

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Chapter4浮生若梦的幻影
His tones were so grave that a hush fell upon the group.
“If you’ve had your three wishes it’s no good to you now then Morris,” said the old man at last. “What do you keep it for?”
The soldier shook his head. “Fancy I suppose,”he said slowly. “I did have some idea of selling it, but I don’t think I will. It has caused me enough mischief already. Besides, people won’t buy. They think it’s a fairy tale, some of them; and those who do think anything of it want to try it first and pay me afterward.”
“If you could have another three wishes,” said the old man, eyeing him keenly, “would you have them?”
“I don’t know,” said the other. “I don’t know.”
He took the paw, and dangling it between his forefinger and thumb, suddenly threw it upon the fire. White, with a slight cry, stooped down and snatched it off.
“Better let it burn,” said the soldier solemnly.
“If you don’t want it Morris,” said the other, “give it to me.”
“I won’t.” said his friend doggedly. “I threw it on the fire. If you keep it, don’t blame me for what happens. Pitch it on the fire like a sensible man.”
The other shook his head and examined his possesion closely. “How do you do it?” he inquired.
“Hold it up in your right hand, and wish aloud,” said the sergeant-major, “But I warn you of the consequences.”
“Sounds like the ‘Arabian Nights’,” said Mrs. White, as she rose and began to set the supper.
“Don’t you think you might wish for four pairs of hands for me?”
Her husband drew the talisman from his pocket, and all three burst into laughter as the Seargent-Major, with a look of alarm on his face, caught him by the arm.
“If you must wish,” he said gruffly, “Wish for something sensible.”
Mr. White dropped it back in his pocket, and placing chairs, motioned his friend to the table. In the business of supper the talisman was partly forgotten, and afterward the three sat listening in an enthralled fashion to a second installment of the soldier’s adventures in India.
“If the tale about the monkey’s paw is not more truthful than those he has been telling us,” said Herbert, as the door closed behind their guest, just in time to catch the last train, “we shan’t make much out of it.”
“Did you give anything for it, father?” inquired Mrs. White, regarding her husband closely.
“A trifle,” said he, colouring slightly, “He didn’t want it, but I made him take it. And he pressed me again to throw it away.”
“Likely,” said Herbert, with pretended horror. “Why, we’re going to be rich, and famous, and happy. Wish to be an emporer, father, to begin with; then you can’t be henpecked.”
He darted around the table, pursued by the maligned Mrs. White armed with an antimacassar.
Mr. White took the paw from his pocket and eyed it dubiously. “I don’t know what to wish for, and that’s a fact,” he said slowly. “It seems to me I’ve got all I want.”
“If you only cleared the house, you’d be quite happy, wouldn’t you!” said Herbert, with his hand on his shoulder. “Well, wish for two hundred pounds, then; that’ll just do it.”
His father, smiling shamefacedly at his own credulity, held up the talisman, as his son, with a solemn face, somewhat marred by a wink at his mother, sat down and struck a few impressive chords.
“I wish for two hundred pounds,” said the old man distinctly.
A fine crash from the piano greeted his words, interupted by a shuddering cry from the old man. His wife and son ran toward him.
“It moved,” he cried, with a glance of disgust at the object as it lay on the floor. “As I wished, it twisted in my hand like a snake.”
“Well, I don’t see the money,” said his son, as he picked it up and placed it on the table, “and I bet I never shall.”
“It must have been your fancy, father,” said his wife, regarding him anxiously.
He shook his head. “Never mind, though; there’s no harm done, but it gave me a shock all the same.”
They sat down by the fire again while the two men finished their pipes. Outside, the wind was higher than ever, and the old man started nervously at the sound of a door banging upstairs. A silence unusual and depressing settled on all three, which lasted until the old couple rose to retire for the rest of the night.
“I expect you’ll find the cash tied up in a big bag in the middle of your bed,” said Herbert, as he bade them goodnight, “and something horrible squatting on top of your wardrobe watching you as you pocket your illgotten gains.”
He sat alone in the darkness, gazing at the dying fire, and seeing faces in it. The last was so horrible and so simian that he gazed at it in amazement. It got so vivid that, with a little uneasy laugh, he felt on the table for a glass containig a little water to throw over it. His hand grasped the monkey’s paw, and with a little shiver he wiped his hand on his coat and went up to bed.
【作者小课堂】
威廉·威马克·雅各布斯（W.W.Jacobs，1863—1943），英国著名小说家，生于伦敦，毕业于伯克拜克大学。他是一个多产的小说家，写过大量的讽刺小说和恐怖小说。这篇著于1901年的《猴爪》是他的主要代表作，曾被多次改编为电影和剧本，斯蒂芬·金的小说《宠物公墓》深受其影响。
“小心许愿，因为你不知道它将如何实现。”
——佚名
屋外，夜晚冰凉而湿润，但金链花别墅小客厅的百叶窗却开着，屋里透出明亮的炉火光。父亲和儿子在屋里下国际象棋；父亲认为这个游戏彻底靠运气，于是把国王置于不必要的险境，就连坐在壁炉边静静织毛衣的白发老妇人都忍不住惊呼起来。
“你听，外面的风声可真大。”怀特先生说。当他发现自己犯了致命错误，已成落地棋时，只好故作和善地希望儿子不要发现。
“我听到了。”儿子说。他面无表情地盯住棋盘，察看片刻，然后伸出一只手。“将！”
“他今晚大概不会来了。”父亲说着，手悬停在棋盘上方。
“呵呵，将死啦！”儿子说。
“这是到目前为止最糟糕的生活环境，”怀特先生突然激动地高声抱怨起来，“在所有恶劣而泥泞的偏远住地中，这里是最糟糕的。小路如沼泽，大道像河沟。我真纳闷，人们究竟是怎么想的。我猜，由于这一带只有两间房可出租，所以人们也就不在乎了。”
“没关系，亲爱的，”妻子安慰他说，“说不定你下一盘能赢呢。”
怀特先生猛地抬起头，恰好看见母亲和儿子在互递眼色。他不好意思再说下去，灰白的胡子下面藏着一抹坏笑。
这时，有人砰地推开院门，迈着沉重的脚步走进屋来。“他来了。”赫伯特·怀特说。
好客的老头赶忙站起来，打开客厅门。随后，门口传来了他向客人致以问候的声音。客人还问起了他的近况，于是怀特太太轻呼“嘘，嘘”。丈夫进屋时，身后跟着一个高大健壮的男人，他眼睛明亮、面色红润，怀特太太轻咳了两声。
“这是莫里斯军士长。”怀特先生向家人介绍了这位来客。
莫里斯跟大家握了手，在主人在壁炉边给他准备好的椅子上坐了下来。他高兴地看着主人拿出威士忌和平底酒杯，又在壁炉架上摆出一把小铜壶。
第三杯酒下肚之后，莫里斯的眼睛变得闪闪发亮，开始跟大家交谈起来。一家人远远地望着这位客人，对他产生了浓厚的兴趣。莫里斯在椅子上耸起宽阔的双肩，讲述异国风光和他的英勇事迹，讲述战争、瘟疫和奇人异事。
“21年前，”怀特先生对妻子和儿子点点头说，“他离开的时候，还是个瘦瘦的年轻仓货员。如今，再看看他。”
“现在的样子也没什么不好。”怀特太太礼貌地说。
“我也想去印度，”老头说，“你懂的，就想去那儿转一转。”
“还是在家更好。”莫里斯摇着头说。他放下空酒杯，轻叹一声，又摇了摇头。
“我很想瞧瞧那些老神庙、托钵僧和杂技演员。”老头说。“莫里斯，你是不是在前几天说过，要告诉我一件有关猴爪或别的什么东西的事吗，是什么呀？”
“没什么，”莫里斯赶紧说，“至少，也没什么好听的。”
“猴爪？”怀特太太好奇地凑过来。
“呃，那是个或许被你们称为魔幻的东西。”莫里斯立即回答。
三个听众迫不及待地探过身子想要听个究竟。客人茫然地把空酒杯举到唇边，随后又放下去。主人马上为他斟满了酒。
“瞧，”莫里斯一边说，一边在衣袋里摸索，“它就是个普通的小猴爪，只是被风干了。”
他从衣袋里掏出那个东西，举在手中。怀特太太厌恶地扭过头，她的儿子却把它接了过来，好奇地检查着。
“它有什么魔力？”怀特先生问。他从儿子手里拿过猴爪，打量片刻，随后把它放在桌子上。
“一个老僧人给它下了魔咒，”莫里斯说，“他是个非常神圣的人。他想通过猴爪来证明人生全凭命运支配，凡是企图干预命运的人，都不会有好收场。他给这个猴爪下过魔咒之后，猴爪就可以分别满足三个人的愿望，但每人只能许三次愿。”
他的表情如此严肃认真，让这三位听众意识到他们的轻笑声让他感到不快。
“那么，先生，您为什么不许三个愿望呢？”赫伯特·怀特机灵地问道。
莫里斯盯着他。中年人打量不知天高地厚的小青年时，一般都爱用这种眼光。“我许了。”他平静地回答，布满斑痕的脸变得苍白起来。
“那你的三个愿望都实现了？”怀特太太问。
“是的。”莫里斯说，酒杯碰到他坚硬的牙齿，发出轻微的撞击声。
“还有人许过愿吗？”老妇人问道。
“嗯，第一个人也许了三个愿望，”莫里斯回答。“我不知道他的前两个愿望是什么，但他的第三个愿望是死亡。这就是我得到这个猴爪的原因。”
他的声音非常低沉，大家变得鸦雀无声。
“莫里斯，要是你许了三次愿，结果又对你没什么好处，”最后，老头说，“那你还留着它干什么呢？”
莫里斯摇摇头。“我估计，这大概是出于一种怪癖，”他慢慢地说。“我的确曾想把它卖掉，可我不会这么做。它已经给我带来够多的灾难了。再说，别人也不会买。一部分人以为它就是个童话故事；而那些多少有些相信的人想要先试一试，再付钱给我。”
“如果你还能许三个愿，”老头热切地盯着他，说道，“你还会许愿吗？”
“我不知道，”他说，“我不知道。”
莫里斯拿起猴爪，用食指和大拇指捏住它，摇晃几下，突然把它扔进壁炉里。怀特轻轻叫了一声，弯下腰，把猴爪取了出来。
“最好烧掉它。”莫里斯一脸严肃地说。
“莫里斯，如果你不想要它，”老头说，“就把它给我吧。”