茵梦湖（德）台奥多.斯托姆

老人

在一个深秋的下午，一位穿着讲究的老人沿着街道慢慢走来。他好象是散步后回家的样子，因为在他那双老式的扣鞋上沾满了尘土。他的腋下夹着一根长长的金头手杖；他那对黑色的眼睛平静地环顾着四周，有时又向着那座躺卧在他面前的、沐浴在黄昏气息中的城市眺望。在这对眼睛里仿佛还隐藏着那已失去了的全部的青春，它们和那头雪白的头发形成了奇特的对照。——他看来是个外地人，尽管好些人禁不住要对这双严肃的眼睛看上几眼，但过路人中只有很少几个跟他打招呼。他最后站停在一所三角顶的高房子面前，再一次向那座城市瞥了一眼，随即进了门廊。随着门铃声响，屋子里有人把看得见门廊的小窗洞上的绿窗帷拉了开来，于是里面露出了一个老妇人的脸容。老人用手杖招呼她。“还用不着点灯！”他用一种稍带南方的口音说道。管家妇把窗帷重新放了下来。老人走过宽阔的门廊，然后经过一间起居室，那里靠墙立着几个放有花瓶的大橡木柜子；接着他又走进对面一扇门，来到了狭小的过道，这里有一道窄楼梯通向后面楼上的屋子。他慢慢地登了上去，到达上面后打开一道门，进到了一间大小适度的屋子里。这儿既安适又清静；墙的一面摆满了书架和书柜；另一面墙上挂了许多人物和风景画；铺有绿台布的桌子上放着好几本打开了的书，桌子前面有一把笨重的靠背椅，上面是红天鹅绒的靠垫。——老人把帽子和手杖放到角落里，随即在靠背椅上坐下。他交叉着两手，仿佛散步后在休息。当他这样坐着的时候，天色渐渐地黑了下来；后来有一道月光透过玻璃窗射到了墙上的画像上；这道光亮缓慢地移动的时候，老人的两眼情不自禁地跟随着它。现在它落到一张装在一个朴素的黑镜框里的小照片上。“伊利莎白！”老人低声唤道；随着这一声呼唤，时间就起了变化——

他回到了他的青年时代。

The Old Man

0ne afternoon in the late autumn a well-dressed old man was walking slowly down the street. He appeared to be returning home from a walk, for his buckle-shoes, which followed a fashion long since out of date, were covered with dust.

Under his arm he carried a long, gold-headed cane; his dark eyes, in which the whole of his long-lost youth seemed to have centred, and which contrasted strangely with his snow-white hair, gazed calmly on the sights around him or peered into the town below as it lay before him, bathed in the haze of sunset. He appeared to be almost a stranger, for of the passers-by only a few greeted him, although many a one involuntarily was compelled to gaze into those grave eyes.

At last he halted before a high, gabled house, cast one more glance out toward the town, and then passed into the hall. At the sound of the door-bell some one in the room within drew aside the green curtain from a small window that looked out on to the hall, and the face of an old woman was seen behind it. The man made a sign to her with his cane.

"No light yet!" he said in a slightly southern accent, and the housekeeper let the curtain fall again.

The old man now passed through the broad hall, through an inner hall, wherein against the walls stood huge oaken chests bearing porcelain vases; then through the door opposite he entered a small lobby, from which a narrow staircase led to the upper rooms at the back of the house. He climbed the stairs slowly, unlocked a door at the top, and landed in a room of medium size.

It was a comfortable, quiet retreat. One of the walls was lined with cupboards and bookcases; on the other hung pictures of men and places; on a table with a green cover lay a number of open books, and before the table stood a massive arm-chair with a red velvet cushion.

After the old man had placed his hat and stick in a corner, he sat down in the arm-chair and, folding his hands, seemed to be taking his rest after his walk. While he sat thus, it was growing gradually darker; and before long a moonbeam came streaming through the window- panes and upon the pictures on the wall; and as the bright band of light passed slowly onward the old man followed it involuntarily with his eyes.

Now it reached a little picture in a simple black frame. "Elisabeth!" said the old man softly; and as he uttered the word, time had changed: he was young again.

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