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CHAPTER XIIFifty-twoIN the black prison of the Conciergerie, the doomed of the day awaited their fate. They were in number as the weeks of the year. Fifty-two were to roll that afternoon on the life-tide of the city to the boundless everlasting sea. Before their cells were quit of them, new occupants were appointed; before their blood ran into the blood spilled yesterday, the blood that was to mingle with theirs to-morrow was aly set apart. Two score and twelve were told off From the farmer-general of seventy, whose riches could not buy his life, to the seamstress of twenty, whose poverty and obscurity could not save her. Physical diseases, engendered in the vices and neglects of men, will seize on victims of all degrees; and the frightful moral disorder, born of unspeakable suffering, intolerable oppression, and heartless indifference, smote equally without distinction. Charles Darnay, alone in a cell, had sustained himself with no flattering delusion since he came to it from the Tribunal. In every line of the narrative he had heard, he had heard his condemnation. He had fully comprehended that no personal influence could possibly save him, that he was virtually sentenced by the millions, and that units could avail him nothing. Nevertheless, it was not easy, with the face of his beloved wife fresh before him, to compose his mind to what it must bear. His hold on life was strong, and it was very, very hard to loosen; by gradual efforts and degrees unclosed a little here, it clenched the tighter there; and when he brought his strength to bear on that hand and it yielded, this was closed again. There was a hurry, too, in all his thoughts, a turbulent and heated working of his heart, that contended against resignation. If for a moment, he did feel resigned, then his wife and child who had to live after him, seemed to protest and to make it a selfish thing. But, all this was at first. Before long, the consideration that there was no disgrace in the fate he must meet, and that numbers went the same road wrongfully, and trod it firmly every day, sprang up to stimulate him. Next followed the thought that much of the future peace of mind enjoyable by the dear ones, depended on his quiet fortitude. So, by degrees he calmed into the better state, when he could raise his thoughts much higher, and draw comfort down. Before it had set in dark on the night of his condemnation, he had travelled thus far on his last way. Being allowed to purchase the means of writing, and a light, he sat down to write until such time as the prison lamps should be extinguished. He wrote a long letter to Lucie, showing her that he had known nothing of her father's imprisonment, until he had heard of it from herself, and that he had been as ignorant as she of his father's and uncle's responsibility for that misery, until the paper had been . He had aly explained to her that his concealment from herself of the name he had relinquished, was the one condition--fully intelligible now--that her father had attached to their betrothal, and was the one promise he had still exacted on the morning of their marriage. He entreated her, for her father's sake, never to seek to know whether her father had become oblivious of the existence of the paper, or had had it recalled to him (for the moment, or for good), by the story of the Tower, on that old Sunday under the dear old plane-tree in the garden. If he had preserved any definite remembrance of it, there could be no doubt that he had supposed it destroyed with the Bastille, when he had found no mention of it among the relics of prisoners which the populace had discovered there, and which had been described to all the world. He besought her--though he added that he knew it was needless--to console her father, by impressing him through every tender means she could think of, with the truth that he had done nothing for which he could justly reproach himself, but had uniformly forgotten himself for their joint sakes. Next to her preservation of his own last grateful love and blessing, and her overcoming of her sorrow, to devote herself to their dear child, he adjured her, as they would meet in Heaven, to comfort her father. To her father himself he wrote in the same strain; but, he told her father that he expressly confided his wife and child to his care. And he told him this, very strongly, with the hope of rousing him from any despondency or dangerous retrospect towards which he foresaw he might be tending. To Mr. Lorry, he commended them all, and explained his worldly affairs. That done, with many added sentences of grateful friendship and warm attachment, all was done. He never thought of Carton. His mind was so full of the others, that he never once thought of him. He had time to finish these letters before the lights were put out. When he lay down on his straw bed, he thought he had done with this world. But, it beckoned him back in his sleep, and showed itself in shining forms. Free and happy, back in the old house in Soho (though it had nothing in it like the real house), unaccountably released and light of heart, he was with Lucie again, and she told him it was all a dream, and he had never gone away. A pause of forgetfulness, and then lie had even suffered, and had come back to her, dead and at peace, and yet there was no difference in him. Another pause of oblivion, and he awoke in the sombre morning, unconscious where he was or what had happened, until it flashed upon his mind, `this is the day of my death' Thus, had he come through the hours, to the day when the fifty-two heads were to fall. And now, while he was composed, and hoped that he could meet the end with quiet heroism, a new action began in his waking thoughts, which was very difficult to master. He had never seen the instrument that was to terminate his life. How high it was from the ground, how many steps it had, where he would be stood, how he would be touched, whether the touching hands would be dyed red, which way his face would be turned, whether he would be the first, or might be the last: these and many similar questions, in no wise directed by his will, obtruded themselves over and over again, countless times. Neither were they connected with fear: he was conscious of no fear. Rather, they originated in a strange besetting desire to know what to do when the time came; a desire gigantically disproportionate to the few swift moments to which it referred; a wondering that was more like the wondering of some other spirit within his, than his own. The hours went on as lie walked to and fro, and the clocks struck the numbers he would never hear again. Nine cone for ever, ten gone for ever, eleven gone for ever, twelve coming on to pass away. After a hard contest with that eccentric action of thought which had last perplexed him, he had got the better of it. He walked up and down, softly repeating their names to himself. The worst of the strife was over. He could walk up and down, free from distracting fancies, praying for himself and for them. Twelve gone for ever. He had been apprised that the final hour was Three, and he knew he would be summoned some time earlier, inasmuch as the tumbrils jolted heavily and slowly through the streets. Therefore, he resolved to keep Two before his mind, as the hour, and so to strengthen himself in the interval that he might be able, after that time, to strengthen others. Walking regularly to and fro with his arms folded on his breast, a very different man from the prisoner, who had walked to and fro at La Force, he heard One struck away from him, without surprise. The hour had measured like most other hours. Devoutly thankful to Heaven for his recovered self-possession, he thought, `There is but another now,' and turned to walk again. Footsteps in the stone passage outside the door. He stopped. The key was put in the lock, and turned. Before the door was opened, or as it opened, a man said in a low voice, in English: `He has never seen me here; I have kept out of his way. Go you in alone; I wait near. Lose no time!' The door was quickly opened and closed, and there stood before him face to face, quiet, intent upon him, with the light of a smile on his features, and a cautionary finger on his lip, Sydney Carton. There was something so bright and remarkable in his look, that, for the first moment, the prisoner misdoubted him to be an apparition of his own imagining. But, he spoke, and it was his voice; he took the prisoner's hand, and it was his real grasp. `Of all the people upon earth, you least expected to see me?' he said. `I could not believe it to be you. I can scarcely believe it now. You are not'--the apprehension came suddenly into his mind--`a prisoner?' `No. I am accidentally possessed of a power over one of the keepers here, and in virtue of it I stand before you. I come from her--your wife, dear Darnay.' The prisoner wrung his hand. `I bring you a request from her.' `What is it?' `A most earnest, pressing, and emphatic entreaty, addressed to you in the most pathetic tones of the voice so dear to you, that you well remember.' The prisoner turned his face partly aside. `You have no time to ask me why I bring it, or what it means; I have no time to tell you. You must comply with it--take off those boots you wear, and draw on these of mine.' There was a chair against the wall of the cell, behind the prisoner. Carton, pressing forward, had aly, with the speed of lightning, got him down into it, and stood over him, barefoot. `Draw on these boots of mine. Put your hands to them; put your will to them. Quick!' `Carton, there is no escaping from this place; it never can be done. You will only die with me. It is madness.' `It would be madness if I asked you to escape; but do I? When I ask you to pass out at that door, tell me it is madness and remain here. Change that cravat for this of mine, that coat for this of mine. While you do it, let me take this ribbon from your hair, and shake out your hair like this of mine!' With wonderful quickness, and with a strength both of will and action, that appeared quite supernatural, he forced all these changes upon him. The prisoner was like a young child in his hands. `Carton! Dear Carton! It is madness. It cannot be accomplished, it never can be done, it has been attempted, and has always failed. I implore you not to add your death to the bitterness of mine. `Do I ask you, my dear Darnay, to pass the door? When I ask that, refuse. There are pen and ink and paper on this table. Is your hand steady enough to write?' `It was when you came in. `Steady it again, and write what I shall dictate. Quick, friend, quick!' Pressing his hand to his bewildered head, Darnay sat down at the table. Carton, with his right hand in his breast, stood close beside him. `Write exactly as I speak.' `To whom do I address it?' `To no one.' Carton still had his hand in his breast. `Do I date it?' `No.' The prisoner looked up, at each question. Carton, standing over him with his hand in his breast, looked down. ```If you remember,''' said Carton, dictating, ```the words that passed between us, long ago, you will ily comprehend this when you see it. You do remember them, I know. It is not in your nature to forget them.''' He was drawing his hand from his breast; the prisoner chancing to look up in his hurried wonder as he wrote, the hand stopped, closing upon something. `Have you written ``forget them!'' Carton asked. `I have. Is that a weapon in your hand?' `No; I am not armed.' `What is it in your hand?' `You shall know directly. Write on; there are but a few words more.' He dictated again. ```I am thankful that the time has come, when I can prove them. That I do so is no subject for regret or grief.''' As he said these words with his eyes fixed on the writer, his hand slowly and softly moved down close to the writer's face. The pen dropped from Darnay's fingers on the table, and he looked about him vacantly. `What vapour is that?' he asked. `Vapour?' `Something that crossed me?' `I am conscious of nothing; there can be nothing here. Take up the pen and finish. Hurry, hurry!' As if his memory were impaired, or his faculties disordered, the prisoner made an effort to rally his attention. As he looked at Carton with clouded eyes and with an altered manner of breathing, Carton--his hand again in his breast--looked steadily at him. `Hurry, hurry !` The prisoner bent over the paper, once more. ```If it had been otherwise;''' Carton's hand was again watchfully and softly stealing down; ```I never should have used the longer opportunity. If it had been otherwise;''' the hand was at the prisoner's face; ```I should but have had so much the more to answer for. If it had been otherwise---''' Carton looked at the pen and saw it was trailing off into unintelligible signs. Carton's hand moved back to his breast no more. The prisoner sprang up with a reproachful look, but Carton's hand was close and firm at his nostrils, and Carton's left arm caught him round the waist. For a few seconds he faintly struggled with the man who had come to lay down his life for him; but, within a minute or so, he was stretched insensible on the ground. Quickly, but with hands as true to the purpose as his heart was, Carton dressed himself in the clothes the prisoner had laid aside, combed back his hair, and tied it with the ribbon the prisoner had worn. Then, he softly called, `Enter there! Come in!' and the Spy presented himself. `You see?' said Carton, looking up, as he kneeled on one knee beside the insensible figure, putting the paper in the breast: `is your hazard very great?' `Mr. Carton,' the Spy answered, with a timid snap of his fingers, `my hazard is not that, in the thick of business here, if you are true to the whole of your bargain.' `Don't fear me. I will be true to the death.' `You must be, Mr. Carton, if the tale of fifty-two is to be right. Being made right by you in that dress, I shall have no fear. `Have no fear! I shall soon be out of the way of harming you, and the rest will soon be far from here, please God! Now, get assistance and take me to the coach.' `You?' said the Spy nervously. `Him, man, with whom I have exchanged. You go out at the gate by which you brought me in? `Of course.' `I was weak and faint when you brought me in, and I am fainter now you take me out. The parting interview has overpowered me. Such a thing has happened here, often, and too often. Your life is in your own hands. Quick! Call assistance!' `You swear not to betray me?' said the trembling Spy, as he paused for a last moment. `Man, man!' returned Carton, stamping his foot; `have I sworn by no solemn vow aly, to go through with this, that you waste the precious moments now? Take him yourself to the court-yard you know of, place him yourself in the carriage, show him yourself to Mr. Lorry, tell him yourself to give him no restorative but air, and to remember my words of last night, and his promise of last night, and drive away!' The Spy withdrew, and Carton seated himself at the table, resting his forehead on his hands. The Spy returned immediately, with two men. `How, then?' said one of them, contemplating the fallen figure. `So afflicted to find that his friend has drawn a prize in the lottery of Sainte Guillotine?' `A good patriot,' said the other, `could hardly have been more afflicted if the Aristocrat had drawn a blank.' They raised the unconscious figure, placed it on a litter they had brought to the door, and bent to carry it away. `The time is short, Evrémonde,' said the Spy, in a warning Voice. `I know it well,' answered Carton. `Be careful of my friend, I entreat you, and leave me. `Come, then, my children,' said Barsad. `Lift him, and come away!' The door closed, and Carton was left alone. Straining his powers of listening to the utmost, he listened for any sound that might denote suspicion or alarm. There was none. Keys turned, doors clashed, footsteps passed along distant passages: no cry was raised, or hurry made, that seemed unusual. Breathing more freely in a little while, he sat down at the table, and listened again until the clock struck Two. Sounds that he was not afraid of, for he divined their meaning, then began to be audible. Several doors were opened in succession, and finally his own. A gaoler, with a list in his hand, looked in, merely saying, `Follow me, Evrémonde!' and he followed into a large dark room, at a distance. It was a dark winter day, and what with the shadows within, and what with the shadows without, he could but dimly discern the others who were brought there to have their arms bound. Some were standing; some seated. Some were lamenting, and in restless motion; but, these were few. The great majority were silent and still, looking fixedly at the ground. As he stood by the wall in a dim corner, while some of the fifty-two were brought in after him, one man stopped in passing, to embrace him, as having a knowledge of him. It thrilled him with a great d of discovery; but the man went on. A very few moments after that, a young woman, with a slight girlish form, a sweet spare face in which there was no vestige of colour, and large widely opened patient eyes, rose from the seat where he had observed her sitting, and came to speak to him. `Citizen Evrémonde,' she said, touching him with her cold hand. `I am a poor little seamstress, who was with you in La Force. He murmured for answer: `True. I forget what you were accused of?' `Plots. Though the just Heaven knows I am innocent of any. Is it likely? Who would think of plotting with a poor little weak creature like me?' The forlorn smile with which she said it, so touched him, that tears started from his eyes. `I am not afraid to die, Citizen Evrémonde, but I have done nothing. I am not unwilling to die, if the Republic which is to do so much good to us poor, will profit by my death; but I do not know how that can be, Citizen Evreémonde. Such a poor weak little creature!' As the last thing on earth that his heart was to warm and soften to, it warmed and softened to this pitiable girl. `I heard you were released, Citizen `Evrémonde. I hoped it was true?' `It was. But, I was again taken and condemned.' `If I may ride with you, Citizen Evrémonde, will you let me hold your hand? I am not afraid, hut I am little and weak, and it will give me more courage.' As the patient eyes were lifted to his face, he saw a sudden doubt in them, and then astonishment. He pressed the work-worn, hunger-worn young fingers, and touched his lips. `Are you dying for him?' she whispered. `And his wife and child. Hush! Yes.' `O you will let me hold your brave hand, stranger?' `Hush! Yes, my poor sister; to the last. The same shadows that are falling on the prison, are falling, in that same hour of the early afternoon, on the Barrier with the crowd about it, when a coach going out of Paris drives up to be examined. `Who goes here? Whom have we within? Papers!' The papers are handed out, and . `Alexandre Manette. Physician. French. Which is he?' This is he; this helpless, inarticulately murmuring, wandering old man pointed out. `Apparently the Citizen-Doctor is not in his right mind? The Revolution-fever will have been too much for him?' Greatly too much for him. `Hah! Many suffer with it. Lucie. His daughter. French. Which is she?' This is she. `Apparently it must be. Lucie, the wife of Evrémonde; is it not'." It is. `Hah! Evrémonde has an assignation elsewhere. Lucie, her child. English. This is she?' She and no other. `Kiss me, child of Evrémonde. Now, thou hast kissed a good Republican; something new in thy family; remember it! Sydney Carton. Advocate. English. Which is he?' He lies here, in this corner of the carriage. He, too, is pointed out. `Apparently the English advocate is in a swoon?' It is hoped he will recover in the fresher air. It is represented that he is not in strong health, and has separated sadly from a friend who is under the displeasure of the Republic. `Is that all? It is not a great deal, that! Many are under the displeasure of the Republic, and must look out at the little window. Jarvis Lorry. Banker. English. Which is he?' `I am he. Necessarily, being the last.' It is Jarvis Lorry who has replied to all the previous questions. It is Jarvis Lorry who has alighted and stands with his hand on the coach door, replying to a group of officials. They leisurely walk round the carriage and leisurely mount the box, to look at what little luggage it carries on the roof; the country-people hanging about, press nearer to the coach doors and greedily stare in; a little child, carried by its mother, has its short arm held out for it, that it may touch the wife of an aristocrat who has gone to the Guillotine. `Behold your papers, Jarvis Lorry, countersigned.' `One can depart, citizen?' `One can depart. Forward, my postilions! A good journey!' `I salute you, citizens.--And the first danger passed!' These are again the words of Jarvis Lorry, as he clasps his hands, and looks upward. There is terror in the carriage, there is weeping, there is the heavy breathing of the insensible traveller. `Are we not going too slowly? Can they not be induced to go faster?' asks Lucie, clinging to the old man. `It would seem like flight, my darling. I must not urge them too much; it would rouse suspicion.' `Look back, look back, and see if we are pursued!' `The road is clear, my dearest. So far, we are not pursued.' Houses in twos and threes pass by us, solitary farms, ruinous buildings, dye-works, tanneries, and the like, open country, avenues of leafless trees. The hard uneven pavement is under us, the soft deep mud is on either side. Sometimes, we strike into the skirting mud, to avoid the stones that clatter us and shake us; sometimes we stick in ruts and sloughs there. The agony of our impatience is then so great, that in our wild alarm and hurry we are for getting out and running--hiding--doing anything but stopping. Out of the open country, in again among ruinous buildings, solitary farms, dye-works, tanneries, and the like, cottages in twos and threes, avenues of leafless trees. Have these men deceived us, and taken us back by another road? Is not this the same place twice over? Thank Heaven, no. A village. Look back, look back, and see if we are pursued! Hush! the posting-house. Leisurely, our four horses are taken out; leisurely, the coach stands in the little street, bereft of horses, and with no likelihood upon it of ever moving again; leisurely, the new horses come into visible existence, one by one; leisurely, the new postilions follow, sucking and plaiting the lashes of their whips; leisurely, the old postilions count their money, make wrong additions, and arrive at dissatisfied results. All the time, our overfraught hearts are beating at a rate that would far outstrip the fastest gallop of the fastest horses ever foaled. At length the new postilions are in their saddles, and the old are left behind. We are through the village, up the hill, and down the hill, and on the low watery grounds. Suddenly)', the postilions exchange speech with animated gesticulation, and the horses-are pulled up, almost on their haunches. We are pursued. `Ho! Within the carriage there. Speak then!' `What is it?' asks Mr. Lorry, looking out at window. `How many did they say? `I do not understand you.' ` At the last post. How many to the Guillotine to-day?' `Fifty-two.' `I said so! A brave number! My fellow-citizen here would have it forty-two; ten more heads are worth having. The Guillotine goes handsomely. I love it. Hi forward. Whoop!' The night comes on dark. He moves more; he is beginning to revive, and to speak intelligibly; he thinks they are still together; he asks him, by his name, what he has in his hand. D pity us, kind Heaven, and help us! Look out, look out, and see if we are pursued. The wind is rushing after us, and the clouds are flying after us, and the moon is plunging after us, and the whole wild night is in pursuit of us; but, so far we are pursued by nothing else. 相关名著: 有声名著之傲慢与偏见 有声名著之儿子与情人 有声名著之红与黑 有声名著之了不起的盖茨比 有声名著之歌剧魅影 有声名著之远大前程 有声名著之巴斯史维尔猎犬 有声名著之吸血鬼 有声名著之野性的呼唤 有声名著之黑骏马 有声名著之海底两万里 有声名著之秘密花园 有声名著之化身士 有声名著之螺丝在拧紧 有声名著之三个火手更多名著gt;gt; Article/200905/71046。

A Republican US senator, Lance Dreyer, held a press conference yesterday. He thanked the media for showing up, and then protested that he was not gay and had never been gay. He said he had never been involved in any way with a man. He said that he had hired a lawyer to help him defend his good name. Furthermore, Dreyer said, he had no plans of resigning. Then, instead of allowing the two dozen media members, including TV and radio reporters, to ask questions, he simply got in his car and left. His remarks made headlines on all the local and national TV shows.In June, Dreyer had been arrested in an airport rest room by a plain-clothes detective. Because of complaints from the public that gay men had been having sex in the rest room, the city’s vice squad went into action. The detective, Thad Grey, would sit in a stall and wait for men to suggest having sex with him.Dreyer entered the rest room and sat in the stall just to the left of the detective. Dreyer’s right foot edged closer and closer to Grey’s stall. When his foot was under the divider, he started tapping his foot. Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Grey repeated the seven taps in the same pattern. Then Dreyer tapped with his knuckle on the dividing wall. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Grey repeated the signal. Then Dreyer put his right hand under the dividing wall and gave the thumbs-up signal. Grey gave the same signal back, and then walked into Dreyer’s stall and arrested him for soliciting sex in a public facility.Dreyer pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor charge of “disorderly conduct.” He denied that his actions were signals for sex. He said that he was merely signaling that he had no toilet paper in his stall. Article/201104/133711。

Eggs are great. Where would we be without them? They are so useful. I can’t imagine life or cooking without them. There are many ways of cooking eggs for breakfast – fried eggs, scrambled eggs, boiled eggs, etc. There are even many ways of “cooking” these. You can have a runny or hard fried egg or even have it sunny side up. You can have soft or hard-boiled eggs and fluffy scrambled eggs. There are also many things to put on top of eggs – mayonnaise, ketchup, salt, soy sauce. Each country has something different. I like cooking with eggs. I particularly like breaking them. I can now do it with one hand, without breaking the yolk. Sometimes it gets messy and the egg white starts dripping down your arm. Article/201104/132231。

Teacher: Here are two birds, one is a swallow, and the other is a sparrow. Now who can tell us which is which? Student: I cannot point out, but I know the answer. Teacher: Please tell us. Student: The swallow is beside the sparrow and the sparrow is beside the swallow.老师:这儿有两只鸟,一只是燕子,另一只是麻雀。谁能指出哪只是燕子,哪只是麻雀呢?学生:我指不出来,但我知道。老师:请说说看。学生:燕子旁边的是麻雀,麻雀旁边的是燕子。 Article/200804/36106。

He wiped sweat of his face. It had to be at least ninety degrees right now. He pulled off the last board and pushed at the glass window he uncovered. It opened with an eerie, creak. "Let me go in first," he said, " just so I can make sure it is safe."  He turned on his stomach and pushed himself in the window. Right as he did the window slammed shut. I ran over to it and pushed it. It wouldn't open. I couldn't even see him in there. It was completely dark. I took out my flashlight and shined it up to the window, but that wasn't any good. I threw my whole weight against the window, but nothing would make it open. Alex had taken the crowbar inside with him, so I could try breaking the window. Besides, the glass was way to thick.  I heard a scream from inside, then a cry. It was Alex! I started screaming and crying. Then I turned and ran. Through the forest, and all the way to my house. Article/200906/73609。

爱丽丝很不喜欢她挨得那么紧,首先,公爵夫人十分难看;其次,她的高度正好把下巴顶在爱丽丝的肩膀上,而这是个叫人很不舒的尖下巴。然而爱丽丝不愿意显得粗野,只得尽量地忍受着。 Tut, tut, child!' said the Duchess. `Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it.' And she squeezed herself up closer to Alice's side as she spoke. Alice did not much like keeping so close to her: first, because the Duchess was VERY ugly; and secondly, because she was exactly the right height to rest her chin upon Alice's shoulder, and it was an uncomfortably sharp chin. However, she did not like to be rude, so she bore it as well as she could. `The game's going on rather better now,' she said, by way of keeping up the conversation a little. `'Tis so,' said the Duchess: `and the moral of that is--"Oh, 'tis love, 'tis love, that makes the world go round!"' `Somebody said,' Alice whispered, `that it's done by everybody minding their own business!' `Ah, well! It means much the same thing,' said the Duchess, digging her sharp little chin into Alice's shoulder as she added, `and the moral of THAT is--"Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves."' Article/201103/127967。

#39;I can#39;t take that,#39;she said. #39; It#39;s not modern English money. #39;;我不要那个。;她说,;这不是现行的英国货币。;They went from shop to shop, but no one wanted to take their gold. #39; It#39;s because our hands are dirty and we look untidy. People think we#39;ve stolen the gold,#39;Anthea said.他们去了一个又一个商店,可是没有人要他们的金子。;这是因为我们的手脏,我们自己看起来也不整洁。人们认为这金子是我们偷的。;安西娅说。And it was worse when they tried to buy a horse and car-riage. Cyril showed the man his gold, and the man called to his son, #39;Send for the police!#39;当他们试图买一辆马套四轮马车时,事情就更糟了。西里尔把他的金币给那人看,那人朝他的儿子喊:;叫警察来!;#39; It#39;s our money,#39; said Cyril angrily. #39;We#39;re not thieves. #39;;这是我们的钱,;西里尔气愤地说,;我们不是贼。;#39; Where did you get it from then?#39; said the man.;那你从什么地方搞到它的?;那人说。#39; A sand-fairy gave it to us,#39;said Jane. #39; He gives us a wish a day and they all come true. #39;;一个沙精给我们的。;简说,;他每天为我们实现一个愿望,而且都实现了。;The man shook his head slowly. #39; Oh dear, oh dear,#39;he said. #39;Stealing, and then telling stories about it. #39;那人慢慢地摇摇头。;天啊,天啊,;他说,;偷东西,然后又编故事。;Just then a policeman arrived and when he heard about the gold, he said to the four children, #39;Come with me. I#39;m taking you to the police station!#39;这时警察来了,听了金币的事他对这四个孩子说:;跟我走。我带你们去警察局!;The children were angry and unhappy, but the policeman walked along the road behind them and they couldn#39;t escape. They held their heads down because they did not want anyone to see them, and suddenly Robert ran into someone. #39; Robert,what have you done now?#39; a voice cried . It was Martha and Baby!孩子们很生气,很不快。可是警察沿路跟在他们后边,他们逃跑不了。他们低着头,因为不愿让别人看到。突然罗伯特撞到了人身上。;罗伯特,你们干什么去了?;一个声音喊道。原来是马莎和小弟弟!The policeman explained everything to Martha, and Cyril had to take the gold out of his pocket and show it to her.警察对马莎解释了这一切。西里尔只得从兜里拿出金子给她看。#39; I can#39;t see anything;just two very dirty hands,#39; she said. #39; There#39;s no gold there. What are you talking about?#39;;我什么也没看见;;只是两只脏手。;她说,;没有金子。你在说些什么呀?;And then the children remembered that Martha couldn#39;t see the wishes.于是孩子们记起马莎是看不出这些许愿的事的。It was getting dark when they arrived at the police station. The policeman explained about the gold and the Inspector said, #39; Well, let#39;s see it. #39;到警察局时,天快黑了。警察解释了金子的事,巡长说:;好吧,让我们看看。;Cyril put his hands into his pockets--but they were empty! The others put their hands into their pockets. They were empty, too! Of course, all the fairy gold went when the sun went down!西里尔把手伸进兜里;;可兜里是空的!其他孩子把手伸进兜里,也都是空的!当然了,太阳一落下山去所有这些变出来的金币就没有了!#39; How did they do that?#39; cried the policeman.;他们是怎么搞的?;那警察叫起来。Martha was very angry with him. #39; I told you that there wasn#39;t any gold,#39;she shouted. #39; You#39;ll be in trouble for this. Saying that these poor little children are thieves!#39;马莎很生他的气。;我告诉过你没有什么金子。;她喊道,;你会为此触霉头的。竟然说这些可怜的小孩子是小偷!;But she was very angry with the children too. #39; What were you doing in town alone?#39;she said to them outside the police station.可她也很生孩子们的气。;你们自己在城里干什么呢?;在警察局外她对他们说。And she took them home and sent them to bed early.她把孩子们带回家,早早地就叫他们睡觉了。 Article/201203/175138。

How many? 还有多少?Teacher: If you had five chocolate bars, and your younger sister asked you for one, how many would you have left? Terry: Five!老师:假如你有五块巧克力,你问你要一块,你还剩几块?特里:还剩五块! Article/200804/36097。