现代大学英语精读1课本内容

Lesson One Half a DayNaguib Mahfous1. I walked alongside my father, clutching his right hand. All my clothes were new: the black shoes, thegreen school uniform, and the red cap. They did not make me happy, however, as this was the day I was to be thrown into school for the first time.2. My mother stood at the window watching our progress, and I turned towards her from time to time,hoping she would help. We walked along a street lined with gardens, and fields planted with crops: pears, and date palms.3. "Why school ?" I asked my father. "What have I done ?"4. "I'm not punishing you, " he said, laughing. "School's not a punishment. It's a place that makes usefulmen out of boys. Don' t you want to be useful like your brothers?"5. I was not convinced. I did not believe there was really any good to be had in tearing me away from myhome and throwing me into the huge, high-walled building.6. When we arrived at the gate we could see the courtyard, vast and full of boys and girls. "Go in byyourself, " said my father, "and join them. Put a smile on your face and be a good example to others. "7. I hesitated and clung to his hand, but he gently pushed me from him. "Be a man, " he said. "Today youtruly begin life. You will find me waiting for you when it's time to leave. "8. I took a few steps. Then the faces of the boys and girls came into view. I did not know a single one ofthem, and none of them knew me. I felt I was a stranger who had lost his way. But then some boys began to glance at me in curiosity, and one of them came over and asked, "Who brought you?"9. "My father, " I whispered.10. "My father's dead, " he said simply.11. I did not know what to say. The gate was now closed. Some of the children burst into tears. The bell rang.A lady came along, followed by a group of men. The men began sorting us into ranks. We were formedinto an intricate pattern in the great courtyard surrounded by high buildings; from each floor we were overlooked by a long balcony roofed in wood.12. "This is your new home, "said the woman. "There are mothers and fathers here, too. Everything that isenjoyable and beneficial is here. So dry your tears and face life joyfully. "13. Well, it seemed that my misgivings had had no basis. From the first moments I made many friends andfell in love with many girls. I had never imagined school would have this rich variety of experiences.14. We played all sorts of games. In the music room we sang our first songs. We also had our firstintroduction to language. We saw a globe of the Earth, which revolved and showed the various continents and countries. We started learning numbers, and we were told the story of the Creator of the universe. We ate delicious food, took a little nap, and woke up to go on with friendship and love, playing and learning.15. Our path, however, was not totally sweet and unclouded. We had to be observant and patient. It was notall a matter of playing and fooling around. Rivalries could bring about pain and hatred or give rise tofighting. And while the lady would sometimes smile, she would often yell and scold. Even morefrequently she would resort to physical punishment.16. In addition, the time for changing one' s mind was over and gone and there was no question of everreturning to the paradise of home. Nothing lay ahead of us but exertion, struggle, and perseverance. Those who were able took advantage of the opportunities for success and happiness that presented themselves.17. The bell rang, announcing the passing of the day and the end of work. The children rushed toward thegate, which was opened again. I said goodbye to friends and sweethearts and passed through the gate. I looked around but found no trace of my father, who had promised to be there. I stepped aside to wait.When I had waited for a long time in vain, I decided to return home on my own. I walked a few steps, then came to a startled halt. Good Lord! Where was the street lined with gardens? Where had itdisappeared to? When did all these cars invade it? And when did all these people come to rest on itssurface? How did these hills of rubbish find their way to cover its sides? And where were the fields that bordered it? High buildings had taken over, the street was full of children, and disturbing noises shook the air. Here and there stood conjurers showing off their tricks or making snakes appear from baskets. Then there was a band announcing the opening of a circus, with clowns and weight lifters walking in front.18. Good God! I was in a daze. My head spun. I almost went crazy. How could all this have happened in halfa day, between early morning and sunset? I would find the answer at home with my father. But where wasmy home? I hurried towards the crossroads, because I remembered that I had to cross the street to reach our house, but the stream of cars would not let up. Extremely irritated, I wondered when I would be able to cross.19. I stood there a long time, until the young boy employed at the ironing shop on the corner came up to me.20. He stretched out his arm and said, "Grandpa, let me take you across."Lesson Two The Boy and the Bank OfficerPhilip Ross1. I have a friend who hates banks with a special passion. "A bank is just a store like a candy store or a grocerystore", he says . "The only difference is that a bank's goods happen to be money, which is yours in the first place. If banks were required to sell wallets and money belts, they might act less like churches."2. I began thinking about my friend the other day as I walked into a small, over lighted branch office on theWest Side. I had come to open a checking account.3. It was lunchtime and the only officer on duty was a fortyish black man with short, pressed hair, a pencilmustache, and a neatly pressed brown suit. Everything about him suggested a carefully dressed authority.4. This officer was standing across a small counter from a young white boy who was wearing a V-neckedsweater, khakis, and loafers. He had sandy hair, and I think I was especially aware of him because he looked more like a kid from a prep school than a customer in a West Side bank.5. The boy continued to hold my attention because of what happened next.6. He was holding an open savings-account book and wearing an expression of open dismay. "But I don'tunderstand," he was saying to the officer. "I opened the account myself, so why can't I withdraw any money?"7. "I've already explained to you," the officer told him, "that a fourteen-year-old is not allowed to withdrawmoney without a letter from his parents."8. "But that doesn't seem fair," the boy said, his voice breaking. "It's my money, I put it in. It's my account."9. "I know it is," the officer said, "but those are the rules. Now if you'll excuse me."10. He turned to me with a smile. "May I help you, sir?"11. I didn't think twice. "I was going to open a new account," I said, "but after seeing what's going on here, I thinkI've changed my mind."12. "Excuse me?" he said.13. "Look," I said. "If I understand what's going on here correctly, what you're saying is that this boy is oldenough to deposit his money in your bank but he's not old enough to withdraw it. And since there doesn't seem to be any question as to whether it's his money or his account, the bank's so-called policy is clearly ridiculous."14. "It may seem ridiculous to you," he replied in a voice rising slightly in irritation, "but that is the bank's policyand I have no other choice but to follow the rules".15. The boy had stood hopefully next to me during this exchange, but now I was just as helpless. Suddenly Inoticed that the open savings book he continued to grasp showed a balance of about $100. It also showed that there had been a series of small deposits and withdrawals.16. I had my opening.17. "Have you withdrawn money before by yourself?" I asked the boy.18. "Yes," he said.19. I moved in for the kill.20. "How do you explain that?" I zeroed in on the officer. "Why did you let him withdraw money before, but notnow?"21. He looked annoyed. "Because the tellers were not aware of his age before and now they are. It's really verysimple".22. I turned to the boy with a shrug. "You're really getting cheated," I said. "You ought to get your parents tocome in here and protest."23. The boy looked destroyed. Silently, he put his savings book in a rear-pocket and walked out of the bank.24. The officer turned to me. "You know," he said, "you really shouldn't have interfered."25. "Shouldn't have interfered?" I shouted. "Well, it damn well seemed to me that he needed someone to representhis interests."26. "Someone was representing his interests," he said softly.27. "And who might that be?"28. "The bank."29. I couldn't believe what this idiot was saying. "Look," I concluded, "we're just wasting each other's time. Butmaybe you'd like to explain exactly how the bank was representing that boy's interests?"30. "Certainly," he said. "We were informed this morning that some neighborhood bully has been shaking this boydown for more than a month. The other guy was forcing him to take money out every week and hand it over.The poor kid was apparently too scared to tell anyone. That's the real reason he was so upset. He was afraid of what the other guy would do to him. Anyway, the police are on the case and they'll probably make an arrest today."31. "You mean there is no rule about being too young to withdraw money from a savings account?"32. "Not that I ever heard of. Now, sir, what can we do for you?"Lesson Three Message of the LandPira Sudham1. Yes, these are our rice fields. They belonged to my parents and forefathers. The land is more than threecenturies old. I'm the only daughter in our family and it was I who stayed with my parents till they died. My three brothers moved out to their wives' houses when they got married. My husband moved into our house as is the way with us in Esarn. I was then eighteen and he was nineteen. He gave me six children. Two died ininfancy from sickness. The rest, two boys and two girls, went away as soon as we could afford to buy jeans for them. Our oldest son got a job as a gardener in a rich man's home in Bangkok but later an employment agency sent him to a foreign land to work. My other son also went far away.2. One of our daughters is working in a textile factory in Bangkok, and the other has a job in a store. They comehome to see us now and then, stay a few days, and then they are off again. Often they send some money to us and tell us that they are doing well. I know this is not always true. Sometimes, they get bullied and insulted, and it is like a knife piercing my heart. It's easier for my husband. He has ears which don't hear, a mouth which doesn't speak, and eyes that don't see. He has always been patient and silent, minding his own life.3. All of them remain my children in spite of their long absence. Maybe it's fate that sent them away from us.Our piece of land is small, and it is no longer fertile, bleeding year after year and, like us, getting old andexhausted. Still my husband and I work on this land. The soil is not difficult to till when there is a lot of rain, but in a bad year, it's not only the ploughs that break but our hearts, too.4. No, we two haven't changed much, but the village has. In what way? Only ten years ago, you could barter forthings, but now it's all cash. Years ago, you could ask your neighbors to help build your house, reap the rice or dig a well. Now they'll do it only if you have money to pay them. Plastic things replace village crafts. Men used to make things with fine bamboo pieces, but no longer. Plastic bags litter the village. Shops have sprung up, filled with colorful plastic things and goods we have no use for. The young go away to towns and cities leaving us old people to work on the land. They think differently, I know, saying that the old are old-fashioned.All my life, I have never had to go to a hairdresser, or to paint my lips or nails. These rough fingers and toes are for working in the mud of our rice fields, not for looking pretty. Now young girls put on jeans, and look like boys and they think it is fashionable. Why, they are willing to sell their pig or water buffalo just to be able to buy a pair of jeans. In my day, if I were to put on a pair of trousers like they do now, lightning would strike me.5. I know, times have changed, but certain things should not change. We should offer food to the monks everyday, go to the temple regularly. Young people tend to leave these things to old people now, and that's a shame.6. Why, only the other day I heard a boy shout and scream at his mother. If that kind of thing had happenedwhen I was young, the whole village would have condemned such an ungrateful son, and his father would surely have given him a good beating.7. As for me, I wouldn't change, couldn't change even if I wanted to. Am I happy or unhappy? This question hasnever occurred to me. Life simply goes on. Yes, this bag of bones dressed in rags can still plant and reap rice from morning till dusk. Disease, wounds, hardship and scarcity have always been part of my life. I don'tcomplain.8. The farmer: My wife is wrong. My eyes do see—they see more than they should. My ears do hear—they hearmore than is good for me. I don't talk about what I know because I know too much. I know for example, greed, anger, and lust are the root of all evils.9. I am at peace with the land and the conditions of my life. But I feel a great pity for my wife. I have beenforcing silence upon her all these years, yet she has not once complained of anything.10. I wanted to have a lot of children and grandchildren around me but now cities and foreign lands have attractedmy children away and it seems that none of them will ever come back to live here again. To whom shall I give these rice fields when I die? For hundreds of years this strip of land has belonged to our family. I know every inch of it. My children grew up on it, catching frogs and mud crabs and gathering flowers. Still the land could not tie them down or call them back. When each of them has a pair of jeans, they are off like birds on the wing.11. Fortunately, my wife is still with me, and both of us are still strong. Wounds heal over time. Sickness comesand goes, and we get back on our feet again. I never want to leave this land. It's nice to feel the wet earth as my fingers dig into the soil, planting rice, to hear my wife sighing, "Old man, if I die first, I shall become a cloud to protect you from the sun." It's good to smell the scent of ripening rice in November. The soft cool breeze moves the sheaves, which ripple and shimmer like waves of gold. Yes, I love this land and I hope one of my children comes back one day to live, and gives me grandchildren so that I can pass on the land's secretmessages to them.Lesson Four The Midnight VisitorRobert Arthur1. Ausable did not fit the description of any secret agent Fowler had ever read about. Following him down thecorridor of the gloomy French hotel where Ausable had a room, Fowler felt disappointed. It was a small room on the sixth floor and hardly a setting for a romantic figure.2. Ausable was, for one thing, fat. Very fat. And then there was his accent. Though he spoke French andGerman passably, he had never altogether lost New England accent he had brought to Paris from Bostontwenty years ago.3. "You are disappointed," Ausable said wheezily over his shoulder. "You were told that I was a secret agent, aspy, dealing in espionage and danger. You wished to meet me because you are a writer, young and romantic.You thought you would have mysterious figures in the night, the crack of pistols, drugs in the wine."4. "Instead, you have spent a dull evening in a French music hall with a sloppy fat man who, instead of havingmessages slipped into his hand by dark-eyed beauties, gets only an ordinary telephone call making anappointment in his room. You have been bored!" The fat man chuckled to himself as he unlocked the door of his room and stood aside to let his frustrated guest enter.5. "You are disillusioned," Ausable told him. "But take cheer, my young friend. Before long you will see a paper,a quite important paper for which several men and women have risked their lives, come to me in thenext-to-last step of its journey into official hands. Some day soon that paper may well affect the course ofhistory. There is drama in that thought, don't you think?" As he spoke, Ausable closed the door behind him.Then he switched on the light.6. And as the light came on, Fowler had his first real thrill of the day. For halfway across the room, a smallautomatic pistol in his hand, stood a man.7. Ausable blinked a few times.8. "Max," he wheezed, "you gave me quite a start. I thought you were in Berlin. What are you doing in myroom?"9. Max was slender, not tall, and with a face that suggested the look of a fox. Except for the gun, he did not lookvery dangerous.10. "The report," he murmured. "The report that is being brought to you tonight concerning some new missiles. Ithought I would take it from you. It will be safer in my hands than in yours."11. Ausable moved to an armchair and sat down heavily. "I'm going to raise the devil with the management thistime; I am angry," he said grimly. "This is the second time in a month that somebody has gotten into my room off that confounded balcony!" Fowler's eyes went to the single window of the room. It was an ordinary window, against which now the night was pressing blackly.12. "Balcony?" Max asked curiously. "No, I had a passkey. I did not know about the balcony. It might have savedme some trouble had I known about it."13. "It's not my balcony," explained Ausable angrily. "It belongs to the next apartment." He glanced explanatorilyat Fowler. "You see," he said, "this room used to be part of a large unit, and the next room through that door there used to be the living room. It had the balcony, which extends under my window now. You can get onto itfrom the empty room next door, and somebody did, last month. The management promised to block it off. But they haven't."14. Max glanced at Fowler, who was standing stiffly a few feet from Ausable, and waved the gun with acommanding gesture. "Please sit down," he said. "We have a wait of half an hour, I think."15. "Thirty-one minutes," Ausable said moodily. "The appointment was for twelvethirty. I wish I knew how youlearned about the report, Max."16. The little spy smiled evilly. "And we wish we knew how your people got the report. But, no harm has beendone. I will get it back tonight. What is that? Who is at the door?"17. Fowler jumped at the sudden knocking at the door. Ausable just smiled, "That will be the police," he said. "Ithought that such an important paper should have a little extra protection. I told them to check on me to make sure everything was all right."18. Max bit his lip nervously. The knocking was repeated.19. "What will you do now, Max?" Ausable asked. "If I do not answer the door, they will enter anyway. The dooris unlocked. And they will not hesitate to shoot."20. Max's face was black with anger as he backed swiftly toward the window; with his hand behind him, heopened the window and put his leg out into the night. "Send them away!" he warned. "I will wait on thebalcony. Send them away or I'll shoot and take my chances!"21. The knocking at the door became louder and a voice was raised. "Mr. Ausable! Mr. Ausable!"22. Keeping his body twisted so that his gun still covered the fat man and his guest, the man at the window swunghis other leg up and over the window sill.23. The doorknob turned. Swiftly Max pushed with his left hand to free himself and drop to the balcony. And thenas he dropped, he screamed once, shrilly.24. The door opened and a waiter stood there with a tray, a bottle and two glasses. "Here is the drink you ordered,sir." He set the tray on the table, uncorked the bottle, and left the room.25. White faced and shaking, Fowler stared after him. "But... but... what about... the police?" he stammered.26. "There never were any police." Ausable sighed. "Only Henry, whom I was expecting."27. "But what about the man on the balcony?" Fowler began.28. "No," said Ausable, "he won't return."Lesson Five The Nightingale and the RoseOscar Wilde1"She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses," cried the young Student; "but in all my garden there is no red rose."2From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.3"No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched."4"Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars, and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow."5"The Prince gives a ball tomorrow night," murmured the young Student, "and my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will have no heed of me, and my heart will break."6"Here indeed is the true lover," said the Nightingale. Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds and dearer than fine opals.7"The musicians will sit in their gallery," said the young Student, "and play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her"; and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.8"Why is he weeping?" asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.9"Why, indeed?" said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.10"Why, indeed?" whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.11"He is weeping for a red rose," said the Nightingale.12 "For a red rose?" they cried; "how very ridiculous!" and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright. But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student's sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.13 Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.14 In the center of the grass-plot stood a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it. "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."15 But the Tree shook its head.16 "My roses are white," it answered; "as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want."17 So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.18 "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." But the Tree shook its head.19 "My roses are yellow," it answered; "as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student's window, and perhaps he will give you what you want."20 So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student's window.21 "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song." But the Tree shook its head.22 "My roses are red," it answered, "as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coralthat wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year."23 "One red rose is all I want," cried the Nightingale, "only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?"24 "There is a way," answered the Tree; "but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you."25 "Tell it to me," said the Nightingale, "I am not afraid."26 "If you want a red rose," said the Tree, "you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's-blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine."27 "Death is a great price to pay for a red rose," cried the Nightingale, "and life is very dear to all. Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?"28 So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.29 The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes. "Be happy," cried the Nightingale, "be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover."30 The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him. But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches. "Sing me one last song," he whispered; "I shall feel very lonely when you are gone."31 So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.32 When she had finished her song the Student got up.33 "She has form," he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove - "That cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style without any sincerity. And he went into his room, and lay down on his bed, and after a time, fell asleep.34 And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.35 She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the top-most spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song.36 But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."37 So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.38 And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart so the rose's heart remained white.39 And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. "Press closer, little Nightingale," cried the Tree, "or the Day will come before the rose is finished."40 So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.41 And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.42 But the Nightingale's voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.43 Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold。