“Of course she won’t hit Boyd. She never did beat Boyd much because he’s the oldest and besides he’s the runt of the litter,” said Stuart, proud of his six feet two. “That’s why we left him at home to explain things to her. God’lmighty, Ma ought to stop licking us! We’re nineteen and Tom’s twenty-one, and she acts like we’re six years old.”

“她从来没有打过博伊德。这不仅因为他年龄最大，还是因为他是个矮子，”斯图尔特这样说，对自己那六英尺的个头儿自豪。"这是我们为什么把他留在家里去向妈交代一切的原因。老天爷明白，我们都１９了，汤姆２１了，可她还把我们当六岁孩子看待。妈应当不再打我们！”

“Will your mother ride the new horse to the Wilkes barbecue tomorrow?”“She wants to, but Pa says he’s too dangerous. And, anyway, the girls won’t let her. They said they were going to have her go to one party at least like a lady, riding in the carriage.”　“I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow,” said Scarlett. “It’s rained nearly every day for a week. There’s nothing worse than a barbecue turned into an indoor picnic.”“Oh, it’ll be clear tomorrow and hot as June,” said Stuart. “Look at Oat sunset I never saw one redder. You can always tell weather by sunsets.”

“你母亲明天会骑那匹新买来的马去参加威尔克斯家的野宴？”“她想骑的，但是爷说骑那匹太危险了。而且，无论如何，姑娘不会同意她骑。她们说，要让她至少像个贵妇人那样乘坐马车去参加宴会。”“希望明天别下雨，”思嘉说。"一星期几乎天天下雨。要是把野宴改成家餐，那才是扫兴不过的事呢。”“唔，明天准晴，还会像六月天那样炎热，”斯图尔特说。 “你看那落日，我还从没过比这更红的太阳呢。用落日来判断天气，往往是不会错的。”

They looked out across the endless acres of Gerald O’Hara’s newly plowed cotton fields toward the red horizon. Now that the sun was setting in a welter of crimson behind tin lulls across the Flint River, the warmth of the April day was ebbing into a faint but balmy chill.

他们都朝远方望去，越过奥哈拉家无边无际的新翻耕的棉花地，直到红红的地平线上。如今太阳在弗林特河对岸的群山后面一起汹涌的红霞中缓缓降落，四月白天的温暖也渐渐消退，隐隐透出丝丝的凉意。

　　
Spring had come early that year, with warm quick rains and sudden frothing of pink peach blossoms and dogwood dappling with white stars the dark river swamp and far-off hills. Already the plowing was nearly finished, and the bloody glory of the sunset colored the fresh-cut furrows of red Georgia clay to even redder hues. The moist hungry earth, waiting upturned for the cotton seeds, showed pinkish on the sandy tops of furrows, vermilion and scarlet and maroon where shadows lay along the sides of the trenches. The whitewashed brick plantation house seemed an island set in a wild red sea, a sea of spiraling, curving, crescent billows petrified suddenly at the moment when the pink-tipped waves were breaking into surf. For here were no long, straight furrows, such as could be seen in 【打印本页】【关闭窗口】