Chapter 03

CHAPTER 03

TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an
open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom,
breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer
air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing
murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her
knitting--for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her
lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had
thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at
seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He
said: “Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?”
“What, a'ready? How much have you done?”
“It's all done, aunt.”
“Tom, don't lie to me--I can't bear it.”
“I ain't, aunt; it _is_ all done.”
Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for
herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of
Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence white-washed, and
not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a
streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said:

“Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a
mind to, Tom.” And then she diluted the compliment by adding, “But it's
powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and
play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you.”
She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took
him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him,
along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat
took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort.
And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he “hooked” a
doughnut.

Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway
that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and
the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a
hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties
and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect,
and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general
thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at
peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his
black thread and getting him into trouble.

Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the
back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach
of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the
village, where two “military” companies of boys had met for conflict,
according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these
armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two
great commanders did not condescend to fight in person--that being better
suited to the still smaller fry--but sat together on an eminence
and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through
aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and
hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged,
the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the
necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and
marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone.

As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new
girl in the garden--a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow
hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered
pan-talettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A
certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a
memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction;
he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor
little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had
confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest
boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time
she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done.

He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had
discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and
began to “show off” in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win
her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time;
but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic
performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending
her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it,
grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a
moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up,
right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she
disappeared.

The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and
then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as
if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction.
Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his
nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side,
in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his
bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped
away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a
minute--only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next
his heart--or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in
anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway.

He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, “showing
off,” as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom
comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some
window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode
home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions.

All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered “what
had got into the child.” He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and
did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his
aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said:
“Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it.”


“Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into
that sugar if I warn't watching you.”


Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity,
reached for the sugar-bowl--a sort of glorying over Tom which was
wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and
broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled
his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a
word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she
asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be
nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model “catch it.” He was
so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old
lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath
from over her spectacles. He said to himself, “Now it's coming!” And the
next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted
to strike again when Tom cried out:


“Hold on, now, what 'er you belting _me_ for?--Sid broke it!”


Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when
she got her tongue again, she only said:


“Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some
other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough.”


Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something
kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a
confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that.
So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart.
Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart
his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the
consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice
of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then,
through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured
himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching
one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and
die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured
himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and
his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how
her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back
her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would
lie there cold and white and make no sign--a poor little sufferer, whose
griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of
these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke;
and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked,
and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to
him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any
worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too
sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced
in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit
of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness
out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other.


He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate
places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river
invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated
the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could
only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the
uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower.
He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal
felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she
cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and
comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world?
This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he
worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and
varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing
and departed in the darkness.
About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to
where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain
of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the
fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under
that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him
down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his
hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower.
And thus he would die--out in the cold world, with no shelter over his
homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow,
no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And
thus _she_ would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would
she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted,
so untimely cut down?
The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy
calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains!
The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz
as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound
as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the
fence and shot away in the gloom.
Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his
drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he
had any dim idea of making any “references to allusions,” he thought
better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye.
Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental
note of the omission.

Chapter 3

湯姆出現(xiàn)在波麗姨媽面前時，姨媽正坐在里屋的窗邊。這個房間很舒服，它既是臥室和餐廳，也是客廳和書房17。窗子開著。夏日慵懶的氣息、愜意的寧靜、花朵的芬芳還有蜜蜂令人昏昏欲睡的嗡嗡聲都發(fā)揮著它們的效力，姨媽正邊織毛衣邊打盹兒呢。她唯一的伴兒，一只小貓，也趴在她腿上睡得正香。為了安全起見，姨媽把眼鏡架在灰白的頭頂。她以為湯姆肯定早就溜出去玩了，可現(xiàn)在他卻大大方方地主動出現(xiàn)在自己的勢力范圍內。姨媽大為驚訝。只聽湯姆說：
“姨媽，我現(xiàn)在能不能去玩兒了？”
“什么？這就想出去玩了？你的活兒干得怎么樣啦？”
“全做完啦，姨媽。”
“湯姆，不許對姨媽撒謊，我可受不了。”
“我沒撒謊，姨媽，真的都做完了?！?br />湯姆的話波麗姨媽壓根兒也不信。她要出去親眼瞧瞧，如果這番話有百分之二十是真的，她就已經很滿意了。當她看見整條刷好的柵欄，應該說是精心刷過、并且刷了不止一次、就連靠近地面的最底下一條都額外刷好的柵欄時，她的震驚無以言表。姨媽說：
“哈，真沒想到！不得不承認，湯姆，只要有心你還是可以干得很好的。”為了稀釋這份贊美，她又加上一句：“不過我還是得說，你有心的時候可真是太少了。行了，去玩兒吧。別忘了按時回家，要不我可得抽你。”

湯姆的表現(xiàn)實在叫姨媽喜出望外，于是她把湯姆帶進儲藏室，給他挑了一只上好的蘋果，順便上了一課，教育他只有通過誠實勞動而不是淘氣胡鬧換來的果實才會格外珍貴和香甜。最后姨媽愉快地引用了一番《圣經》作為結語，而湯姆則順便“鉤”了一只甜甜圈。

湯姆連蹦帶跳走出儲藏室，看見希德正踏上屋外的樓梯，打算去二樓的里屋。泥巴團兒就在手邊，眨眼間便飛得滿天都是。希德遭到泥巴雨的狂轟濫炸，等波麗姨媽回過神來準備出手相救，已經有六七個泥巴團兒順利完成了任務。而湯姆早就翻過籬笆，跑得無影無蹤。家里倒是有一張大門，但通常情況下湯姆是來不及用的?，F(xiàn)在他心里舒坦了，總算是大仇得報，都怪希德多嘴講什么黑線，害得湯姆吃了苦頭。

湯姆避開大路，從姨媽家的牛棚后頭出去，走進一條泥濘的小胡同。他很快便逃脫了抓捕，不會挨罰了，于是他加緊步伐趕去村子里的空地，因為兩大“軍事陣營”要在那里決一死戰(zhàn)，這是早就約好的事情。湯姆是其中一個陣營的將軍，而喬·哈珀（湯姆的鐵哥們），則是另一幫的首領。這兩位偉大的指揮官不愿屈尊紆貴親臨戰(zhàn)場—那種事交給小嘍啰就好了，他們要一起坐在高處，通過副官發(fā)號施令，指揮戰(zhàn)場。戰(zhàn)斗漫長而艱苦，最終湯姆的軍隊大獲全勝。接下來雙方清點陣亡人數(shù)，交換戰(zhàn)俘，商量好下一次交戰(zhàn)的原因，再定好下次交戰(zhàn)的日期。之后士兵們列隊開走，湯姆自己打道回府。

他經過杰夫·撒切爾的家，看見花園里有一個新來的小女孩—是個藍眼睛的小美人兒，一頭金發(fā)扎成兩條長辮子，身穿潔白的夏日連衣裙，底下露出襯褲的蕾絲邊。這位剛剛得勝的戰(zhàn)斗英雄一槍未打便繳械投降。某位艾米·勞倫斯小姐立馬被他忘得一干二凈，連個影子都沒有留下。他曾經愛艾米愛得忘記了一切，他曾經認為這份愛情最最真摯和熱烈?，F(xiàn)在看來，這場可憐的小戀愛不過稍縱即逝。他曾經花了好幾個月想要贏得她的芳心，而她剛在一周前給予了回應。僅僅是七天前呀，那時候湯姆還是世界上最快樂、最驕傲的男孩，然而此刻，艾米就像結束拜訪的陌生人，立即被湯姆掃地出門了。

湯姆偷偷地向新來的小天使投去愛慕的眼神。他發(fā)現(xiàn)女孩也注意到了自己，于是假裝不知道女孩的存在，開始一個勁兒地“耍寶”，想用各種各樣可笑的男孩子把戲贏得小姑娘的崇拜。他在女孩面前犯了好一陣子蠢。過了一會兒，他在表演一套非常危險的體操動作時偷眼一瞧，小姑娘卻準備進屋了。湯姆趕緊靠到柵欄上頭，做出哀怨的表情，希望女孩能多逗留一會兒。女孩在臺階上停了幾秒鐘，還是繼續(xù)朝大門走去。女孩的腳踏進門檻，只聽男孩大聲地嘆了口氣。不過他很快又喜上眉梢，因為女孩在進屋之前，將一朵三色堇18丟過了柵欄。

男孩跑上前，在離花朵幾步遠的地方停了下來。他手搭涼棚，突然望向大街，假裝在那個方向看見了什么好玩的事。接著他撿起一根稻草，使勁往后仰著頭，把草棍兒頂在鼻子上找平衡。就這樣，他不停地左挪右閃，經過一番不懈努力，離那朵三色堇好歹是越來越近。最后湯姆的赤腳總算碰到了小花，他用靈巧的腳趾頭捉住花朵，單腳起蹦，帶著寶貝消失在街角。不到一分鐘他又出現(xiàn)了—就在那一分鐘里，他已經把小花別在了外套里面，靠近心臟的位置—也有可能靠近的是胃，畢竟他并不精通解剖學，不過好在湯姆不怎么在意小細節(jié)。

現(xiàn)在湯姆折了回去，吊在柵欄上晃蕩，像剛才那樣使勁兒“耍寶”，直到夜幕降臨。小女孩再也沒有出現(xiàn)，不過湯姆自我安慰道，她肯定從窗戶里看到了自己。最后他不情不愿地趕回了家，可滿腦子還是姑娘的倩影。


晚飯的過程中湯姆顯得興奮異常，就連姨媽都奇怪“這孩子是著了什么魔”。因為拿土塊兒扔希德，湯姆被好一頓數(shù)落，但他壓根沒往心里去。他企圖在姨媽的眼皮子底下偷白糖，結果被打了手。湯姆抱怨道：

“姨媽，希德拿糖你就不打?！?br />“哼，希德可不像你這么折騰人。只要沒人看著，你就總打白糖的主意?！?br />姨媽起身去了廚房，而希德呢，有了免死金牌好不得意，竟然馬上把手伸進糖罐，像是故意在湯姆面前炫耀，弄得湯姆幾乎要發(fā)火。沒想到的是，希德手一滑，糖罐竟然掉下來摔得粉碎。湯姆欣喜若狂。不過即使如此，他還是管住了自己的舌頭，一句話沒講。他想，就算現(xiàn)在姨媽走進來，他也不會講一個字，他要安安靜靜地坐好，等姨媽問這是誰干的好事，然后他再站出來揭發(fā)。再也沒有比看模范兒童挨打更爽的事啦。老太太回來時，湯姆幾乎按捺不住勝利的喜悅。只見姨媽站在事故現(xiàn)場，眼鏡片后面放出兩道憤怒的閃電。湯姆心想，“好戲開場啦！”可下一秒鐘，他自己卻倒在了地上！眼看有力的大手高高揚起，準備再揍第二下，湯姆不禁大喊：

“等一下，干嗎打我呀？是希德摔壞的！”
姨媽的手停在半空，她愣住了。湯姆等著她安慰自己，結果姨媽開口時卻說：
“哼！要我說呀，教訓教訓你總沒錯。趁我不在的時候，你的壞事干得還不夠嗎？”
說完這話，姨媽有點良心不安。她想添幾句軟話，可又覺得那等于是承認自己做錯了，管教孩子的時候可絕不能認錯呀。于是她什么也沒說，只一味地忙手頭的活兒，其實心里很不自在。湯姆縮在角落里生悶氣。他知道姨媽已經在心里向他認錯了，想到這一點，盡管還是生氣，卻也心滿意足。不過他不想表現(xiàn)出來，也不打算看姨媽一眼。他知道，那雙眼睛正不時投來渴望的目光，并且還含著淚水，但他拒絕與之對視。他想象自己正躺在床上，病得快死了，姨媽坐在床邊乞求他的原諒，可他卻把臉別過去對著墻，到死都沒說出那句話。哼，那時姨媽會是什么感覺？他又想象人們把他從河里撈出來運回家。他已經死了，卷發(fā)濕透，可憐的小手一動不動，破碎的心終于安息。波麗姨媽會不會撲到他身上，會不會淚如雨下？她會乞求上帝，讓我的小男孩回來吧！我再也不打他了！可湯姆蒼白冰冷地躺在地上，再也活不過來了。受苦受難的小可憐，他總算解脫啦。湯姆做著凄美的白日夢，醞釀著感情，很快就開始吞聲哭泣，嗓子發(fā)緊；他的雙眼逐漸蒙上一層水霧，輕輕一眨便奪眶而出，順著鼻尖流下。湯姆盡情享受著難過的感覺，絕不容許世俗的歡樂前來打擾；此刻的悲傷可以說是神圣不可侵犯。然而就在這時，表姐瑪麗卻手舞足蹈地走了進來。她在鄉(xiāng)下待了一個星期，簡直感到度日如年，此時回到家的懷抱令她滿心歡喜。只見瑪麗哼著小調，陽光燦爛地踏進家門，湯姆卻帶著一片愁云慘霧站起身，從另一張門里走了出去。

湯姆遠離熟悉的小伙伴，為了配合現(xiàn)在的心情，專門找了一處僻靜的地方。河中有一條木筏在向他招手，于是他坐上木筏，望著寬闊的河面發(fā)呆。這一刻，他希望自己能就地淹死。最好一下就死掉，沒有痛苦，不必經歷大自然設計的那一套難受的流程。這時他想起那朵小花。他拿了出來?；ǘ湟呀浻职櫽挚菸?，更是大大增添了悲劇的色彩。他想，“她”若是知道了，會為自己難過嗎？她會哭嗎？會因為沒能及時地給自己一個安慰的擁抱而感到遺憾嗎？還是說，她會和這空虛的世間一樣，冷漠地轉過臉去？這個畫面帶來一陣令人舒爽的痛苦感覺，湯姆不禁變著法兒地在腦海中反復回味，直到再也咂摸不出滋味來才罷手。最后他站起身，嘆口氣，在黑暗中離去。

差不多九點半或十點，湯姆沿著空無一人的街道來到了不知名女神的家門口。他停下腳步，四周一點聲音也沒有。二樓的窗戶拉著窗簾，燭光隱約可見。那就是女神所在的方位么？湯姆翻越籬笆，躡手躡腳地穿過花園，來到窗戶底下。他抬起頭，深情地、久久地凝望。然后他躺在了窗戶底下，面孔朝天，雙手放在胸前，緊握那朵枯萎的小花。他即將這樣死去—飄零在冷漠的人世間，無家可歸，無處可藏，沒有一雙善良的小手為他拂去眉間死亡的濕氣，當巨大的痛苦來襲，也沒有一張關愛的面孔能俯身給予他憐憫。當早晨愉快地來臨，她將看見窗外的這一切。啊！她會為這具可憐的、失去生命的軀體流下哪怕一小滴眼淚嗎？她會因為目睹朝氣蓬勃的年輕生命被無情地摧毀和永遠地切斷，發(fā)出哪怕一聲嘆息嗎？

窗戶開了，一個女傭刺耳的講話聲褻瀆了這神圣的寧靜，緊接著，一大桶水把這位殉情者的遺體澆了個透心涼！

這位英雄差點被嗆死，他一躍而起，噴了好幾下鼻子才緩過來。只聽得“嗖”的一聲，仿佛空中劃過一顆子彈，伴著幾句含含糊糊的罵人話，接著是玻璃打碎的聲音，隱約可見一個小小的身影跳過柵欄，一溜煙消失在夜色中。

沒過多久，湯姆已經脫個精光躺上了床，正借著小蠟燭頭的光亮檢查濕透的衣服。這時希德醒了。他本想諷刺湯姆幾句，可是立即打消了這個念頭，因為湯姆的眼神看起來相當危險。

湯姆懶得做禱告，直接睡了過去，這筆賬被希德暗暗記在了心里。