AN IMPORTANT PASSENGER ON THE TAURUS EXPRESS 金牛座快车上的重要乘客（上）

It was five o’clock on a winter’s morning in Syria.

这是叙利亚一个冬天的早晨5点钟。

Alongside the platform at Aleppo stood the train grandly designated in railway guides as the Taurus Express.

在阿勒颇的站台旁停着一列火车，在铁路指南上被庄严地称为金牛座快车。

It consisted of a kitchen and dining-car, a sleeping-car and two local coaches.

它由一节厨房和餐车、一节卧铺车和两节慢车组成。

By the step leading up into the sleeping-car stood a young French lieutenant, resplendent in uniform conversing, with a small man muffled up to the ears of whom nothing was visible but a pink-tipped nose and the two points of an upward-curled moustache.

在通往卧铺车厢的台阶旁，站着一位年轻的法国中尉，他穿着光彩夺目的军服，正在和一个小个子男子交谈，他的耳朵一直被蒙住，除了一个粉红色的尖鼻子和翘起的两口小胡子外，什么也看不见。

It was freezingly cold, and this job of seeing off a distinguished stranger was not one to be envied, but Lieutenant Dubosc performed his part manfully.

天气冷得要命，为一位尊贵的陌生人送行并不是一件值得羡慕的事，但杜波斯克中尉勇敢地完成了他的任务。

Graceful phrases fell from his lips in polished French.

他用流利的法语说了几句优美的话。

Not that he knew what it was all about.

虽然他不知道这是怎么回事。

There had been rumours, of course, as there always were in such cases.

当然，在这类事情中总是有传言的。

The General’s—his General’s—temper had grown worse and worse.

将军——他的将军——的脾气越来越坏了。

And then there had come this Belgian stranger—all the way from England, it seemed.

然后又来了一个陌生的比利时人——似乎是从英国远道而来的。

There had been a week—a week of curious tensity.

整整一个星期——一个紧张得出奇的星期。

And then certain things had happened.

然后发生了一些事情。

A very distinguished officer had committed suicide, another had suddenly resigned, anxious faces had suddenly lost their anxiety, certain military precautions were relaxed.

一个非常杰出的军官自杀了，另一个突然辞职了，焦虑的面孔突然失去了焦虑，某些军事预防措施放松了。

And the General, Lieutenant Dubosc’s own particular General, had suddenly looked ten years younger.

这位将军，杜波斯克中尉自己的将军，突然看起来年轻了十岁。

Dubosc had overheard part of a conversation between him and the stranger.

杜波斯无意中听到了他和陌生人之间的部分对话。

“You have saved us, mon cher,” said the General emotionally, his great white moustache trembling as he spoke.

“你救了我们，亲爱的，”将军激动地说，他那又大又白的胡子一边说一边颤抖着。

“You have saved the honour of the French Army—you have averted8 much bloodshed! How can I thank you for acceding9 to my request?

“你们挽救了法国*队军**的荣誉——你们避免了许多流血事件!我该怎样感谢你答应我的请求呢?

To have come so far—”

To which the stranger (by name M.Hercule Poirot)

走了这么远——” 这个陌生人(名字叫赫尔克里·波洛)

had made a fitting reply including the phrase—“But indeed, do I not remember that once you saved my life?” And then the General had made another fitting reply to that, disclaiming10 any merit for that past service; and with more mention of France, of Belgium, of glory, of honour and of such kindred things they had embraced each other heartily and the conversation had ended.

给出了一个恰当的回答，包括这句话——“但是，我真的不记得你曾经救过我的命吗?”然后将军又作了一个恰当的回答，否认过去的服役有任何功绩;接着，他们又谈到了法国、比利时、光荣、荣誉以及诸如此类的事情，他们热烈地拥抱在一起，谈话就此结束。

As to what it had all been about, Lieutenant Dubosc was still in the dark, but to him had been delegated the duty of seeing off M.Poirot

至于究竟发生了什么事，杜博斯克中尉还不知道，但是他被委派去送行先生。

by the Taurus Express, and he was carrying it out with all the zeal and ardour befitting a young officer with a promising13 career ahead of him.

他以一名前途无量的年轻军官应有的热情和热情执行任务。

“To-day is Sunday,” said Lieutenant Dubosc.

“今天是星期天，”杜博斯克中尉说。

“Tomorrow, Monday evening, you will be in Stamboul.”

It was not the first time he had made this observation.

“明天，星期一晚上，你要到伊斯坦布尔去。” 这不是他第一次观察到这种情况。

Conversations on the platform, before the departure of a train, are apt to be somewhat repetitive in character.

火车发车前站台上的对话，在性格上往往有些重复。

“That is so,” agreed M.Poirot.

“是这样的。”波洛。

“And you intend to remain there a few days, I think?”

“我想，你打算在那儿呆几天吧?” ”“是的。

“Mais oui.Stamboul, it is a city I have never visited.

我从来没有去过伊斯坦布尔。

It would be a pity to pass through—comme ?a.” He snapped his fingers descriptively.

要是从这儿经过，那就太可惜了。”他形容地打了个响指。

“Nothing presses—I shall remain there as a tourist for a few days.”

“La Sainte Sophie, it is very fine,” said Lieutenant Dubosc, who had never seen it.

“没什么要紧的事——我要在那儿做几天游客。” “圣索菲，非常好，”从来没有见过它的杜波斯中尉说。

A cold wind came whistling down the platform.

一阵冷风从站台上呼啸而下。

Both men shivered.

两人都打了个寒颤。

Lieutenant Dubosc managed to cast a surreptitious glance at his watch.

杜博斯克中尉偷偷地看了一眼手表。

Five minutes to five—only five minutes more!

Fancying that the other man had noticed his glance, he hastened once more into speech.

差五分钟到五分钟——再多五分钟! 他以为对方注意到了他的目光，便又急忙说了起来。

“There are few people travelling this time of year,” he said, glancing up at the windows of the sleeping-car above them.

“每年这个时候旅行的人很少，”他说，抬头看了看他们上方卧铺车厢的窗户。

“That is so,” agreed M.Poirot.

“是这样的。”波洛

“Let us hope you will not be snowed up in the Taurus!”

“That happens?”

“It has occurred, yes.

“希望你不会被雪困在金牛座里!” “发生了什么?” “是的，确实发生过。

Not this year, as yet.”

“Let us hope, then,” said M.Poirot.

今年还没有。” “那么，让我们希望吧。”波洛。

“The weather reports from Europe, they are bad.

“来自欧洲的天气预报很糟糕。

“Very bad.

“非常糟糕。

In the Balkans there is much snow.”

“In Germany, too, I have heard.”

“Eh bien,” said Lieutenant Dubosc hastily as another pause seemed to be about to occur.

巴尔干半岛的雪很多。” “我听说在德国也是这样。” “嗯，好吧。”迪博斯克中尉急忙说，似乎又要停顿了。

“Tomorrow evening at seven-forty you will be in Constantinople.”

“明天晚上7点40分，您将到达君士坦丁堡。”

“Yes,” said M.Poirot, and went on desperately “La Sainte Sophie, I have heard it is very fine.”

“Magnificent, I believe.”

Above their heads the blinds of one of the sleeping-car compartments was pushed aside and a young woman looked out.

“是的。”波洛绝望地接着说:“圣索菲娅，我听说那儿很好。”

“我想，很了不起。”

在他们头顶上，一节卧铺车厢的窗帘被拉开了，一位年轻女子向外张望。

Mary Debenham had had little sleep since she left Baghdad on the preceding Thursday.

玛丽·德本汉姆自从上个星期四离开巴格达后就没怎么睡过觉。

Neither in the train to Kirkuk, nor in the Rest House at Mosul, nor last night on the train had she slept properly.

无论是在去基尔库克的火车上，还是在摩苏尔的休息所，还是昨晚在火车上，她都没有睡好。

Now, weary of lying wakeful in the hot stuffiness of her overheated compartment15, she got up and peered out.

现在，她厌倦了睡不着觉地躺在过热的车厢里，站起身来向外张望。

This must be Aleppo.

这里一定是阿勒颇。

Nothing to see, of course.

当然，没什么可看的。

Just a long, poorly lighted platform with loud, furious altercations in Arabic going on somewhere.

只有一个又长又暗的站台，在某处用阿拉伯语大声而激烈地争吵着。

Two men below her window were talking French.

窗下有两个男人在说法语。

One was a French officer, the other was a little man with enormous moustaches.

一个是法国军官，另一个是留着大胡子的小个子男人。

She smiled faintly.

她微微一笑。

She had never seen anyone quite so heavily muffled up.

她从来没有见过谁被裹得这么紧。

It must be very cold outside.

外面一定很冷。

That was why they heated the train so terribly.

这就是为什么他们把火车加热得那么厉害。

She tried to force the window down lower, but it would not go.

她试图把窗户往下拉，但就是拉不动。

The Wagon Lit conductor had come up to the two men.

列车长走到这两个人面前。

The train was about to depart, he said.

火车就要开了，他说。

Monsieur had better mount.

先生还是上马吧。

The little man removed his hat.

小个子男人摘下帽子。

What an egg-shaped head he had! In spite of her preoccupations Mary Debenham smiled.

他长了个蛋形的脑袋!玛丽·德本纳姆虽然心事重重，却笑了。

A ridiculous-looking little man.

一个看起来很可笑的小个子男人。

The sort of little man one could never take seriously.

那种小个子，谁也不会把他当回事。

Lieutenant Dubosc was saying his parting speech.

杜博斯克中尉正在做告别演说。

He had thought it out beforehand and had kept it till the last minute.

他事先想好了，一直保留到最后一刻。

It was a very beautiful, polished speech.

这是一篇非常优美、精心修饰的演讲。

Not to be outdone,

不甘示弱的

M.Poirot replied in kind.

波洛以牙还牙。

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