a pretentious piazza； a few narrow streets and little palaces； perched； all pact and plete； on the top of a mountain； within an enclosure of walls hardly larger than an English kitchen garden。 But it was full of life and noise echoing all day and all night with the sounds of feet and voices。
The Cafe of the simple inn where they stayed was the meeting place of the notabilities of the little city； the Sindaco； the avvocato； the doctor； and a few others； and among them they noticed a beautiful； slim； talkative old man； with bright black eyes and snow…white hair—tall and straight and still with the figure of a youth； although the waiter told them with pride that the Conte was molto vecchio—would in fact be eighty in the following year。 He was the last of his family； the waiter added—they had once been great and rich people—but he had no descendants； in fact the waiter mentioned with placency； as if it were a story on which the locality3 prided itself； that the Conte had been unfortunate in love； and had never married。书包 网 。 想看书来
玫 瑰（3）
The old gentleman； however； seemed cheerful enough； and it was plain that he took an interest in the strangers； and wished to make their acquaintance。 This was soon effected by the friendly waiter； and after a little talk the old man invited them to visit his villa and garden which were just outside the walls of the town。 So the next afternoon； when the sun began to descend； and they saw in glimpses through doorways and windows； blue shadows beginning to spread over the brown mountains； they went to pay their visit。 It was not much of a place； a small； modernized； stucco villa4； with a hot pebbly garden； and in it a stone basin with torpid gold fish； and a statue of Diana and her hounds against the wall。 But what gave a glory to it was a gigantic rose…tree which clambered over the house； almost smothering the windows； and filling the air with the perfume of its sweetness。 Yet； it was a fine rose； the Conte said proudly when they praised it； and he would tell the Signora about it。 And as they sat there； drinking the wine he offered them； he alluded with the cheerful indifference of old age to his love affair； as though he took for granted that they had heard of it already。
“The lady lived across the valley there beyond that hill。 I was a young man then； for it was many years ago。 I used to ride over to see her； it was a long way； but I rode fast； for young men； as no doubt the Signora knows； are impatient。 But the lady was not kind； she would keep me waiting ； oh； for hours； and one day when I had waited very long I grew very angry； and as I walked up and down in the garden where she had told me she would see me； I broke one of her roses； broke a branch from it； and when I saw what I had done； I hid it inside my coat so； and when I came home I planted it； and the Signora sees how it has grown。 If the Signora admires it； I must give her a cutting to plant also in her garden； I am told the English have beautiful gardens that are green； and not burnt with the sun like ours。”
The next day； when their mended carriage had e up to fetch them； and they were just starting to drive away from the inn； the Conte’s old servant appeared with the rose…cutting neatly5 wrapped up； and the pliments and wishes for a buon viaggio from her master。 The town collected to see them depart； and the children ran after their carriage through the gate of the little city。 They heard a rush of feet behind them for a few moments； but soon they were far down toward the valley； the little town with all its noise and life was high above them on its mountain peak。
She had planted the rose at home； where it had grown and flourished in a wonderful manner； and every June the great mass of leaves and shoots still broke out into a passionate splendour of scent and crimson colour； as if in its root and fibres there still burnt the anger and thwarted desire of that Italian lover。 Of course the old Conte must have died many years ago； she had forgotten his name； and had even forgotten the name of the mountain city that she had stayed in； after first seeing it twinkling at dawn in the sky； like a nest of stars。
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晚 夏（1）
＇美国＇欧内斯特·海明威
那年晚夏，我们住在乡间的一栋房子里，隔着河流和平原可以望见高山。河床里的鹅卵石和圆石，在阳光的照耀下干燥白皙，清澈的河水湍急地流过，河道里一汪蔚蓝。部队沿着房子向大路挺进，扬起滚滚尘土，覆盖了树叶和枝干。那年树叶落得早，我们看着部队行进在路上，所过之处，尘土飞扬。微风吹得树叶纷然而落，士兵们踏过的路上只剩下哗哗的落叶，一眼望去白晃晃、空荡荡的。
平原上的庄稼长势良好，有许多果园；而平原外的山峦，则是满目褐黄，光秃秃一片。山谷里战斗正打得紧，夜里我们还能看到炮火。黑暗中，这番情景酷似夏季的闪电，只是现在夜里凉快些，人们觉察不到夏天暴风雨来临前的那种闷热罢了。
有时在夜色中，我们能听见部队从窗下走过，摩托牵引机拖着大炮发出的声响声声入耳。夜里的交通颇为繁忙，路上有很多驮着弹药箱的骡子，运送士兵的灰色卡车，还有一种开得略缓慢的卡车，运载的东西被帆布盖着。白天也有用牵引车运送的重炮，翠绿的树枝遮盖着长长的炮管，郁郁葱葱、繁茂的枝条和葡萄藤把整个车身都覆盖了。朝北望是片山谷，山谷后面有一片栗树林，林子后面，也就是在河的这一边，又有一座高山。这座高山里也曾经发生过交战，只是没有成功。一到秋天，雨水就连绵而至，山上栗树的叶子掉得精光，只剩下赤裸的树枝，还有那被雨水打得漆黑的树干。葡萄园中也是枯枝败叶，稀疏光秃；乡里的每一样东西都是湿润的，目光所至，皆是一片萧瑟的秋意。雾气弥漫着河流，浮云在山涧萦绕，路上卡车驶过处泥浆飞溅，士兵们顶着湿漉漉的披肩，浑身都是烂泥；他们的来福枪也被淋湿了，每个人身前的皮带都挂着两个灰皮子弹盒，里面排满了又长又窄的毫米口径的子弹，鼓鼓囊囊地被盖在披肩下，走在路上，乍一看，他们就像是一群怀胎六月的妇人。
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本篇选自海明威著名小说《永别了，武器》。文章看似在描绘生动的夏天，通过对河床里的鹅卵石、清澈的溪水、平原上的庄稼、以及夜色中的摩托牵引机拖着大炮发出的声响等景致的描写，实则把第一次世界大战后迷惘的一代人的悲观、怀疑、绝望表现得淋漓尽致。这一代人的身体和心灵大多遭到无可挽回的创伤，他们怀疑一切、厌恶一切，鄙视高谈阔论，厌恶理智，几乎否定一切传统价值。在这种环境下诞生的人物，往往有一种紧张的对立感，甚至在全景的描写中，如溪水、鹅卵石、高山、大河等等，也可以明显地感觉到。
Late Summer
Ernest Hemingway
In the late summer of that year we lived in a house in a Village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains。 In the bed of the river there were pebbles1 and boulders； dry and white in the sun； and the water was clear and swiftly moving and blue in the channels。 Troops went by the house and down the road and the dust they raised powdered the leaves of the trees。 The trunks of the trees too were dusty and the leaves fell early that year and we saw the troops marching along the road and the dust rising and leaves； stirred by the breeze； falling and the soldiers marching find afterward the road bare and white except for the leaves。
The plain was rich with crops； there were many orchards2 of fruit trees and beyond the plain the mountains were brown and bare。 There was fighting in the mountains and at night we could see the flashes from the artillery。 In the dark it was like summer lightning； but the nights were cool and there was not the feeling of a storm ing。
晚 夏（2）
Sometimes in the dark we heard the troops marching under the window and guns going past pulled by motor…tractors3。 There was much traffic at night and many mules on the roads with boxes of ammunition4 on each side of their pack…saddles and gray motor…trucks that carried men； and other trucks with loads covered with canvas that moved slower in the traffic。 There were big guns too that passed in the day drawn by tractors； the long barrels of the guns covered with green branches and green leafy branches and vines laid over the tractors。 To the north we could look across a valley and see a forest of chestnut5 trees and behind it another mountain on this side of the river。 There was fighting for that mountain too； but it was not successful； and in the fall when the rains came the leaves all fell from the chestnut trees and the branches were bare and the trunks black with rain。 The vineyards were thin and bare； branched too and all the country wet and brown and dead with the autumn。 There were mists over the river