多酚
文章 發表由 多酚
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去年七夕的夜晚
相約在台北大稻埕
歡度音樂煙火節
舉杯喝下
大人說小孩不能喝的
來自星星的咖啡
天地開始旋轉
星光倒映在你我眼眸
台上唱什麼
一句也聽不懂
台下的人瘋了
煙火也瘋了
轉向朝我們發射
人人身上都冒煙
張口對彼此吐火
大家跳到河裏緊急避難
花火依舊向河面射出
牛郎織女從天上下來救火
慧星卻在此時撞上地球
為了在世界末日前說出那三個字
我們急著撥電話給心上人
到處都是
我愛你
沒人覺得不好意思
天上的星星卻害羞地墜落
掉到地上的星星
全都變成猩猩
把集會遊行的太陽花
當成香蕉吃光
都已經亂成這樣
來自星星的總統
還是不肯出來收拾
直到神獸姍姍來遲
將來自星星的猩猩
全部踢到海裏餵魚
才完成這場
深藍色的救贖
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尚青：沒想到「至理名言」：”現在”不讀書，“將來”會餓死。變成了
洛基：”現在”不讀書-----------”馬上”會餓死。
大家都知道：未來如果沒有了阿爾法、貝塔、伽瑪和歐米伽，很多數學題目都會解不出來，輕微可能導致電
腦當機，嚴重一點甚至會核電廠爆炸，所以這四名少女真的非常重要，一定不能讓她們餓死！
為了讓四名少女進行「不正常飲食」----不！是讓她們能夠看書看到飽，舉國上、下忙著進行ＹＷＣＡ「青年
愛國捐書運動」，國家圖書館一下子就「汗牛充棟」了。
雖然從全國各地送來的書很多，阿爾法、貝塔、伽瑪和歐米伽每天過著「不食人間煙火」的快樂讀書生活，
但還是不幸發生了「中毒」事件：原來先秦「各大出版社」的審查制度尚未臻完備，導致書中有許多「錯
誤」的知識，四名少女一讀就像白雪公主吃到毒蘋果一樣-----------直接暈了。這是史上頭一遭「讀書中毒」事
件，秦領熊只好請城堡二樓個個身懷絕技、武功高強的「九流十家」組成「閃亮豪華超級評書委員會」，對
「來路不明」的書籍嚴加審查，徹底杜絕「讀書中毒」事件。
以下是「來稿必退」的「有問題書籍」：
「酒」章算術：
這是一本強調「喝醉酒」後算數學的書，這萬萬不行！喝酒本身就不對了，在「喝到茫」的情況下，「算
錯」的機率非常高，無辜的少女讀了肯定「中毒」，所以這本書一定要「銷毀」，只留下正確的「九章算
術」流傳後世。（為了對得起國家民族：錯誤的知識就一定要徹底滅絕！）
中國「天體營」：
這是一群「有穿衣服」的學者想用觀察星象的方式，做出有關「太陽系」的報告，可惜觀察儀器不
夠先進，用「肉眼」只能稍微數一下天上的星星，所以必須退稿，如果書名改成「中國式露營」──如何正確
在野外觀察星星。錄取的機率可能會大些。
論「星巴客」對「孟母三遷」的影響：
理論上好像沒有什麼影響，實際上好像有一點關聯。大家都知道「星巴客」是一個不錯的讀書地方，很多明
星學校的學生都會在段考前集體到「星巴客」開「學術研討會」，如果在先秦時代就有「星巴客」的存在，
「孟母」就不必如此辛苦地搬家搬三次，為了尋求一個良好的讀書環境，帶孟子到「星巴客」讀書就行了。
當他看到明星學校的學生，自然就會「見賢思齊」、「耳濡目染」了。但是這種想法在先秦可能「太前
衛」，加上先秦還沒有「星巴客」，在實行上普遍存在著技術層面的問題，所以先暫時退稿，但不代表這種
「先進」的理論就是錯的，只是「時代」不允許。
傑森大戰佛萊迪：
描寫一群得了「上課自動昏迷死亡症」的青少年，因為在課堂上睡著，進而「謀殺」自己的超恐怖小說，原
來載面具的傑森和讓人作惡夢的佛萊迪都不是真正的兇手，在課堂上睡著才是真正的死因。為了怕四名少女
看完後不敢入睡，所以暫時退稿。都不能吃飯了，還讓她們晚上嚇得不敢睡覺，這會嚴重影響美少女的正常
發育，萬萬不行！
三民主義與三國志對後世思想體係的影響：
前者「催眠指數」頗高，適合在睡前閱讀，有治療失眠的神奇功效！後者「造神運動」很成功(關公廟及孔明
廟均香火鼎盛)，在電影、電視以及電玩方面對社會大眾更有著極深遠的影響：不但續集拍到爛，電玩更是打
到爆！
因為前者是國父的代表作又可以幫助睡眠，所以本書「審查」通過！
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尚青：為什麼我每次看到阿爾法、貝塔、伽瑪和歐米伽心情都會特別好。
洛基：因為你熱愛「數學」。
尚青：那你看到她們是什麼感覺？
洛基：我也覺得心情特別好。
尚青：那你熱愛「數學」嗎？
洛基：我熱愛「美少女四人組」。
尚青：為什麼我要熱愛「數學」，我也要熱愛「美少女四人組」。
洛基：你可以熱愛「數學」又熱愛「美少女四人組」，這樣並沒有「違憲」。
尚青：如果我熱愛「美少女四人組」，而「美少女四人組」不愛我，這樣她們有「違憲」嗎？
洛基：我不知道有沒有「違憲」，我只知道「美少女四人組」可以選擇單純的「不作為」．
尚青：什麼單純的「不作為」？
洛基：她們可以選擇單純的「不愛你」。
尚青：為什麼她們可以單純的「不愛我」。
洛基：她們有沒有愛你的「義務」？
尚青：沒有。
洛基：她們有沒有愛你的「可能」？
尚青：這我還不確定。
洛基：你既然認為她們沒有愛你的「義務」，又不確定她們有沒有愛你的「可能」，那你怎麼能期待她們有
愛你的「作為」呢？
尚青：不過我覺得我比你有「可能」。
洛基：為什麼？
尚青：因為你已經有女朋友了，你忘了藍波兒？
洛基：所以呢？
尚青：所以你有愛藍波兒的「義務」，也有愛藍波兒的「可能」，更要有愛藍波兒的「作為」。
洛基：那為什麼你比我有「可能」？
尚青：因為你不可能同時進行愛藍波兒的「作為」以及愛「美少女四人組」的「作為」。
洛基：為什麼不能同時進行？
尚青：因為你不可能同時出現在華華民國以及先秦。
洛基：但是我可以在先秦熱愛「美少女四人組」，回到華華民國再愛藍波 兒。
這樣有「違憲」嗎？
尚青：有。
洛基：為什麼？
尚青：因為你沒有做出藍波兒「期待的行為」。
洛基：什麼「期待的行為」？
尚青：只愛她一個呀！
洛基：愛情真的好深奧！而且一不小心就會「違憲」，還是不要碰的好， 這樣比較自 由。
尚青：還好我們可以單純欣賞「美少女四人組」。
洛基：對呀！不「違憲」又能渡過美好的一天。
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尚青：關於「裝死」，有一個人是「箇中翹楚」。
洛基：誰呀！
尚青：姜姜啊！而且「持續死亡」的時間很久，竟然長達５年。
洛基：我不知道有人可以「裝死」裝這麼久，何止是「箇中翹楚」，簡直是「裝死天后」。
尚青：更厲害的是她還換了名字變成歐米伽，看到秦領熊也不認得，甚至連以前的事也全部忘光了。
洛基：她會不會是跌落山谷的時候撞到頭所以得了失憶症。
尚青：一般人都會這麼想。
但是「政政」卻不這麼想。「少年包青天」又要開庭了。
為了方便「審理」，先不讓村長的兒子知道姜姜還「活著」。
政政：你犯了「殺人罪」自己知道嗎？
村長兒子：我不是「故意」的，頂多只能算是「過失」，所以不能定我的罪。
政政：你明明知道烤魚的旁邊是懸崖，根本是「故意」把姜姜踹下山崖。
村長兒子：但是我原本要踹的人不是她，是你，所以我不是「故意」的。
政政：你已經符合了「故意」犯的「主觀構成要件」該當，也就是具備了「知」與「欲」→「知」：知道我
和姜姜是人，且人掉下山崖會死。「欲」：將我踹下山崖。
只不過你「打擊錯誤」，你要踹的人是我，姜姜幫我擋下來，你因而失手波及無辜。所以你主觀上有踹人的
「故意」，客觀上也有踹人的「行為」，所以「故意殺人罪」成立。
這個時候，不知情的姜姜剛好「路過」。
村長兒子：姜姜不是已經死了嗎？難道她是鬼？如果姜姜沒有死？那我怎麼會有罪？
政政：你怎麼會沒有罪？姜姜雖然還活著，但是她現在根本就把我當陌生人，以前的事也完全不記得了，還
變成歐米伽。你把我的姜姜「破壞」成這樣，怎麼會沒罪？
政政不死心，又耐心地詢問了一次歐米伽：姜姜，妳真的不認得我了嗎？我是政政啊？以前我被人欺負時都
是妳出來救我的！
這個時候姜姜說出了「經典」偶像劇台詞：也許我真的不是姜姜，只是長得像而己！
到這裏，政政已經徹底「幻滅」，而「幻滅」是「成長」的開始。
雖然姜姜的「裝死」與「失蹤」令政政「幻滅」與「崩潰」，但是因為姜姜畢竟是「美少女四人組」的一
員，是「有實力」的「偶像派」美少女，在全國擁有廣大粉絲：
所以不論是「昏倒」（讀書中毒事件）還是令人崩潰的「裝死」、「失蹤」與「失憶」，全都成了最新「流
行」的劇碼，有的人還天天上演，甚至寫成一本書，書名是：每天回家老婆都在裝死（金石堂有賣這本書，
還出到第２集，不錯看）。這些橋段也很適合俊男、美女使用，因為異性緣太好了，難免有時另一半會產生
不必要的誤解，這時「昏到」、「裝死」、「失蹤」與「失憶」都會很好用，不信可以在家試試看！
如果「裝死」的不是你，你「剛好」是「觀眾」，先別急著生氣，保持冷靜，儘量「配合演出」：如果你能
「死得」更「徹底」、「死得」更「前衛」、「死得」更「超現實」，這樣你就成功了。
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最近政政對「物理」產生了極大的興趣，尤其是「斜拋運動」
政政：什麼是「斜拋運動」？
秦領熊：就是「等速直線運動」和「自由落體」的「合運動」。
政政：若改作「上拋」和「下拋」，斜拋運動也成立嗎？
潮男：不管怎麼拋都成立。
政政：那在什麼樣的情況下射程最遠、射得最高、飛行時間最短？
尚青：你可以實際做實驗，將各種傾角的斜拋運動記錄下來，就可以得到答案。
充滿實驗精神的政政立刻進行「全方位」以及「各種角度」的「斜拋運動」，只不過他拋的不是「物體」，
而是--------「村長的兒子」，而且他不是用「拋」的，他是用「踹」的，也是傳說中的「人體足球」。
洛基：不知道這個「人體足球」可以撐多久？呃～，我的意思是村長的兒子身體不知道夠不夠硬朗？
尚青：如果村長的兒子掛了，那這個「人體斜拋實驗」還要進行下去嗎？
洛基：很難說，不知道政政的「目的」是什麼？
尚青：他該不會是想知道「斜拋運動」與「失憶症」之間的關係吧！
洛基：我看還是要請歐米伽（姜姜）親自出馬才能解決這個難題。
由於歐米伽在「儀隊表演」方面受過「嚴格訓練」，所以她將「人體足球」向上拋之後，迅速接在手上３６
０度旋轉後，又再度向上拋接、旋轉，彷彿身懷「絕世武功」般輕而易舉。
尚青：到目前為止，「斜拋運動」做得最好的就是歐米伽，她的「物理」一定很好。
洛基：想必她己經算出斜拋運動傾角45度時射程最遠，所以每次都能算好時間準確無誤地拋接，並且完美地
將「人體足球」加以旋轉，接著進行下一次拋接。
尚青：我在歐米伽身上看到了「力」與「美」。
洛基：國慶閱兵時應該加入這項「特技表演」。
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黃小鴨之前世今生
不要問我從哪裡來 我的故鄉在遠方
為什麼流浪 流浪遠方 流浪
為了天空飛翔的小鳥 為了山間輕流的小溪
為了寬闊的草原 流浪遠方 流浪
還有還有 為了夢中的白鵝
不要問我從哪裡來 我的故鄉在遠方
為什麼流浪 為什麼流浪 遠方
為了我 夢中的白鵝
不要問我從哪裡來 我的故鄉在遠方
為什麼流浪 流浪遠方 流浪
黃小鴨：不要看我這麼”無辜”，只要我一出現，必定”殺很大”
尚青：你什麼「殺很大」？
黃小鴨：就是「全都殺」。
洛基：你什麼「全都殺」？
黃小鴨：就是全部都殺光，一個也不留。
尚青：你要怎麼殺。
黃小鴨：用我“無辜”的雙眼看著他們，他們就會在５秒鐘之內「自動爆破」。
秦領熊：沒錯，為了在「世界大戰」中一統江湖，黃小鴨是我最新研發的”殺人武器”。
我的「富國強兵」政策就靠「黃小鴨」了。
尚青：這個「強兵」“殺很大”我懂，可是「富國」要「拚經濟」不是嗎？
秦領熊：沒錯，「拚經濟」也是靠「黃小鴨」。
洛基：怎麼拚？
秦領熊：先「大量生產」，然後一隻賣５００元。
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尚青和洛基從法國羅希修道院遊學歸來後已經成功證明自己是史上第二沒時間概念的人。
為了將這種特殊生活發展到極致，成為無聊生命中的不可或缺，他們還是決定去一趟動物
園卻意外發現熊貓老大竟然會說人話，而且牠不是來自四川，牠的故鄉在秦嶺，是如假包
換、貨真價實的秦嶺熊貓。
尚青：請問熊貓老大，秦嶺熊貓和四川熊貓有什麼不同？
秦領熊：因為你沒有問對問題，所以我沒辦法正確回答你的蠢問題。
洛基：請問熊貓老大，我們該如何正確提問？
秦領熊：首先，你要問重點。
尚青：請問重點是什麼？
秦領熊：你應該問「我」和其他熊貓有什麼不同？而不是問秦嶺熊貓和四川熊貓有什麼不
同，畢竟會說人話的秦嶺熊貓只有我一隻；就像「熊麻吉」裏頭那隻「泰迪
熊」，並非所有玩具熊都是會說人話的「熊麻吉」。所以「秦領熊」專指富有人
性、能穿越時空、兼具「領袖」風範的「我」。
洛基：那您又是如何成為富有人性、能穿越時空、兼具「領袖」風範的「秦領熊」？
秦領熊：這就說來話長了，等我說完大概已經天亮了。
因為尚青和洛基三更半夜在動物園欄杆外陪「秦領熊」徹夜談心，於是熊貓老大決定娓娓
道出關於「牠」的故事。
在中國陝西省秦嶺山系南麓腹地的一個小村莊住著一個名叫「政政」的小男孩，有一天：
村長的兒子狐假虎威、狗仗人勢地率領一群游手好閒、不知天高地厚的小孩想要給善良老
實的「政政」上一堂震撼教育，讓他見識一下人心的險惡以及社會的陰暗面。
村長的兒子：聽說你爸爸名叫「異人」，是不是「異於常人」的意思？
政政：你這話什麼意思？
村長的兒子：如果你爸爸「異於常人」，那你肯定也「正常」不到那裏去。
政政：做人不要太過份，不要以為你是村長的兒子就可以隨便侮辱人。
村長的兒子：對啊！我現在就是在侮辱你，怎麼樣，不行嗎？來人啊！給我把這個「異於
常人」的小雜種打到「正常」為止。
於是一陣亂七八糟的「拳打腳踢」降臨在無辜的小「政政」頭上，他被這群地頭蛇「霸
凌」了。誰叫他剛搬到這裏來？又誰讓他的爸爸名叫「異人」，叫「常人」不好嗎？要不
然「長人」也行啊！至少不用莫名其妙地被揍。
「快住手---------，不要再打了------！」就在小政政被這些壞孩子以多欺少打得鼻青臉腫的
時候，「正義之聲」出現了----------。
註：秦嶺大貓熊主要在海拔1300至3000米的中國陝西省秦嶺山系南麓腹地繁衍，中心活
動區域為佛坪國家級自然保護區，由此延伸至洋縣、周至、太白、寧陝、留壩等區域。據
2004年完成的中國全國第3次大貓熊調查數據顯示，約有273隻野生成年大貓熊於秦嶺存
活。
秦嶺大貓熊與較常見的「四川指名亞種」大貓熊（包括四川、甘肅繁殖地的大貓熊，下稱
「四川大貓熊」）於12000年前開始隔絕在不同的分佈區，出現各自的進化史和遺傳基因
上的差異。在遺傳學上，秦嶺大貓熊的遺傳基因更接近始貓熊，四川大貓熊則進化速度較
快。在外形上，秦嶺大貓熊有暗棕色胸斑、棕色腹毛，頭骨較小而頭圓、臼齒較大。這也
和四川大貓熊黑色胸斑、白色腹毛，頭骨較大而頭長、臼齒較小有顯著不同。
秦嶺大貓熊以箭竹、傘竹為主要食物。牠們面對的生存困難，包括來自自然界的競爭，例
如野豬群大量繁殖，與大貓熊爭食竹筍；外來樹種落葉松蠶食竹林生長地、竹樹開花
等。另外，人類活動例如林場開發也破壞其棲息地。佛坪國家級自然保護區與中國科學院
動物研究所正建設秦嶺大貓熊野外研究基地，以便進行保育工作。(以上轉載自wiki)
一個位天真可愛的小女孩姜姜帶著一隻秦嶺熊貓正在附近山林採草藥，看見好朋友政政被
村長的兒子欺負了，趕緊帶著草藥飛奔過來，這群欺善怕惡的壞孩子看見「秦嶺大熊貓」
的出現，頓時逃得無影無蹤。
姜姜：政政，你還好吧，對不起，我來晚了。說完連忙扶起被打成「狗頭包」的小政政。
政政：沒關係，我沒事！看見妳我就沒事了！政政雖然剛才被無辜地海扁一頓，但是看見
好朋友姜姜的出現，還是開心地笑了。
姜姜：來，這個給你吃！說完從背包拿出肉包子給已經餓了一整天的政政吃，又從水壺倒
出一杯水給早已經口乾舌燥的政政喝。
政政：謝謝妳，妳真是我的救星！
姜姜：別客氣，等你吃完了，我再幫你療傷！
只見秦領熊將草藥一分為二：拿起其中一份在掌心中搓啊搓，姜姜還在裏頭倒了幾滴蜂蜜，使牠順利揉成了
一顆綠色的大藥丸；又拿起另一份草藥用雙掌拍打成泥，對準了政政紅腫的臉頰「輕輕」敷了上去，可能有
點涼涼地，所以政政～啊～「張嘴」叫了一聲，姜姜馬上把蜂蜜藥丸「塞」進他嘴裏，內服外敷，政政的
「狗頭包」頓時消了不少，總算療傷完畢！
政政：那我身上的傷怎麼辦？
姜姜：當然是「熊抱」啊！
由「秦領幫」第16代掌門人「秦領熊」施展「獨門療傷」絕技--------「霹靂熊抱」：
就是秦領熊將受傷的政政抱住，再用深厚的「內力」運行到政政全身經脈，因此雖然只是抱住他，卻會因施
展內力而發出宛如「霹靂雷霆」般爆破的聲音，政政在溫暖的熊抱下非常自然地入睡了，而姜姜在一旁卻有
了一個新的點子！
又過了幾天--------------------------------------
村長的兒子又率眾在一處懸崖旁的溪水邊釣魚，但是釣了很久都沒有釣到半條魚。
村長的兒子：最近那個「不正常」的政政不曉得死到那裏去了，好久都沒有看到他了？
路甲：對啊！政政是不見人影，但是熊貓卻多了一隻，而且還是會「捉魚」的熊貓。
路乙：哪來會「捉魚」的熊貓？拜託一下，牠們是「吃素」的好不好？
路甲：那隻熊貓就在上游「捉魚」啊！不信我帶你去看！
村長的兒子：難怪我們在下游都釣不到魚，原來有「熊貓」搞破壞。牠還真有水準，知道去上游捉魚，真
的？假的？
大夥紛紛丟下釣桿朝上游走去，果然看見一隻熊貓在捉魚，身手敏捷，眼看肥美的魚兒都被牠捉光了。
一位可愛的小妹妹卻和另一隻熊貓在一旁升起火來，似乎正在烤魚，接下來這一幕立刻跌破眾人眼鏡：
只見烤魚的那隻熊貓竟然把自己的「頭」摘下來，露出政政的頭準備吃香噴噴的烤魚。
村長的兒子：原來政政是穿上「熊貓裝」，偽裝成秦嶺大熊貓，好教我們不敢欺負他，看我不把他
踹下山崖。
於是他立刻趁真正的熊貓在捉魚時，想要突襲政政，將他一腳踹下山崖。眼明手快的姜姜馬上幫政政擋了下
來，萬萬沒想到卻真的被村長的兒子一腳踹下了山崖。
政政哭著被媽媽帶回家，因為他們又要搬家了。但是媽媽不知道政政傷心的原因其實是姜姜------------。
又過了幾年----------------------------------------秦王「政」因為父王贏「異人」駕崩而即位，然而兒時在趙國當人
質時被欺負的情景卻時常浮現，尤其懷念捨命相救的好朋友-------------黎姜.
嬴政即位當年，由於年齡尚幼的關係，嬴政尊稱相國呂不韋為仲父主持國政。
秦始皇三年（西元前188年），有隕石落于東郡，墜地有聲，晝尚在，夜則尋覓無蹤，次晝又在，晝出夜沒，
怪哉。”
仲父：政兒，你現在已即位為王，應該好好研習經世治國之道，熊貓裝也可以脫下來了。
政政：仲父如能將前幾天落於東郡的隕石送給我才是“王道”
。
仲父：這顆“從天而降”的隕石足足有三層樓高，不知政兒要此「巨石」作何打算？
政政：我要用這顆「天上來的」石頭蓋一棟房子。（政兒的一棟城堡）
仲父：但是這顆“從天而降”的隕石有點怪，白天還在，晚上就被偷了，隔天早上又自動歸回。它如此「巨
大」，小偷根本沒本事偷，更不可能偷了又還回來，除非這塊石頭能自行移動。
政政：我已經注意這塊怪石很久了，我就是喜歡”它”這樣。
仲父：你喜歡”它”怎樣?
政政：我喜歡”它”的「自動自發」。自動”出現”又"自動”不見”。
我要用它蓋成「政兒的一棟城堡」。
仲父：～呃～，聽起來好像「工程」蠻浩大的，但是這顆怪石神出鬼沒的，你要在“它”身上蓋房子，恐怕
不是一件容易的事。
政政：可否請仲父將這顆石頭交給我審問？（我不知道政政原來是”少年包青天”）
以下是「政政審石奇案」：
政政：說～，你晚上都跑到那裏玩了？再不從實招來我讓秦領熊拿“流星錘”將你擊個粉碎。
隕石：我是時空旅行的「太陽能導航器」，白天吸收能源，晚上「時空旅行」。
政政：你說你是什麼「導航器」？
隕石：嚴格說來，我是一部超級電腦，是“外星探險鑑隊”做「時空旅行」時的「太陽能先鋒導航器」。
政政：那你為什麼不好好當導航器，自行脫隊墜落到我秦國？
隕石：遇到政變。由於外星鑑隊的副隊長密謀造反，為了使整個鑑隊脫離正常導航──他第一個下手的就是
我，使我從外太空隕落到這裏。
政政：既然這樣，你願不願意當我的城堡，我保證絕對不會離棄你。
隕石：你想在我身上蓋房子？我可是一部超級電腦吔！
政政：如果你怕遭到破壞，不如你自己動手吧！這樣我也省事！
於是超級電腦「太陽能導航器」“自動自發”地將自己「改造」成能「住人」的城堡─────其實它只是輸入
「太空船」的電腦程式，所以「政兒的一棟城堡」，應該說是「政兒的一艘太空船」。
有時”科技”也會來自“外太空”，完全是一個”不勞而獲”。
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
尚青：那這座「政兒的一棟（移動）城堡」 晚上都到那裏去了？
秦領熊：我們非要在這裏談嗎？
只見秦領熊一把推開了欄桿，從容地走出來，尚青和洛基一時反應不過來。
洛基：你------你-------怎麼走出來了？這個「門」沒有鎖嗎？
秦領熊：我願意來動物園「上班」，已經很給他們面子了，他們決定給我「特別待遇」。
現在是下班時間（三更半夜沒人來動物園觀賞動物），我們非要在這裏聊天嗎？
尚青：要不然去哪？星巴客現在也關了。
秦領熊：到我家吧！
於是秦領熊帶著尚青和洛基到停車場開車回家，途中經過夜市還外帶三份竹筍沙拉，最後車子停在郊區一棟
透天洋房前。
秦領熊下車按了一下電鈴，屋內卻發出女子淒厲的慘叫聲。
尚青：先不要進去，屋子裏發生謀殺案了！
洛基不相信又按了一次電鈴，這次卻聽到男子的慘叫聲。
尚青：看來這對男女是互砍了，熊貓老大，我們要不要報警！
秦領熊：拜託你們不要老土了好不好？這是最新的「驚聲尖叫」電鈴聲，還報警咧！
說完，門口立刻出現一位眼神呆滯的管家來開門。
管家：主人！您回來了！他的眼睛不但無神，而且還看錯方向，不知道是在跟誰說話？
尚青：你們家的「菲傭」很跩，連看都不看我們一眼！
秦領熊：他不是很跩，他是根本看不見。
洛基：他都看不見了，你還請他當菲傭。
秦領熊：他雖然皮膚黑了點，眼睛也不好，但是當管家以及幫我按摩還是可以的，而且他不是「菲傭」。
尚青：那他是什麼？
秦領熊：當然是「秦傭」啊！
洛基：那這個「秦傭」和「兵馬傭」有關係嗎？
秦領熊：沒有「絕對」的因果關係，只有「相對」的因果關係。
尚青：什麼「相對」的因果關係？
秦領熊：相對於威猛的「兵馬傭」，「秦傭」比較「宅」，所以適合當廚師、管家。
洛基：你還有「廚師」喔！他也看不見嗎？
秦領熊：他看得見，只是聽不到！
尚青：我明白了，熊貓老大是一個很有愛心的人，願意給弱勢族群就業機會專門收容聾啞殘障人 士。
秦領熊：呃～，其實「秦傭」還有一個好處。
洛基：什麼好處？
秦領熊：因為管家眼睛不好，看不見我給他多少薪水，這樣比較「省錢」。
尚青：如果你剛好不在家，那廚師和管家要如何溝通？畢竟一個是聾子，一個是瞎子。
秦領熊：當然無法溝通，所以才會「互砍」啊！開玩笑的！
管家：有的時候「家務」的複雜程度遠超過你們的想像，如果你們能回答我的問題，管家給你們當！
二樓有５個不同顏色的房間彼此相鄰，每個房間主人所主修的學派各不同，
這５人每人只喝一種飲料，只吃一種食物，只有一項專長，分別是：
一、法家住在紅房間
二、陰陽家會星座占星
三、儒家喝茶
四、綠房間在白房間左邊
五、綠房間主人喝咖啡
六、吃比薩的人會辯論
七、黃色房間主人會鍊金
八、住最中間房間的人喝牛奶
九、墨家住第一間房間
十、吃麵的人讀法律
問：那個學派混得最兇？
尚青：你問的問題和給的提示有「因果關係」嗎？
管家：這是「仿愛因斯坦題」，抱歉模仿的不好。
洛基：你的重點是什麼？
管家：我的重點是這五個人真的很難伺候。
尚青：那到底誰混得最兇？
管家：當然是小說家，因為他們都亂亂寫！
秦領熊：現在已經很晚了，如果要聊天還是到頂樓吧，這樣才不會吵到別人。
到了頂樓大家才發現：泡茶賞月的「夜貓子」還真不少，
尚青和洛基甚至看到兩個熟面孔------------潮男和麻豆（這次是「古裝版」）。
尚青走到麻豆面前說：你這樣實在太「明顯」了，充份「暴露」了你的「真實身份」。
麻豆：事到如今，我也沒有隱瞞的必要了，我其實是-------------
洛基：麻豆是「誰」相信大家都已經猜出來了，我好奇的是-------「設計師老板」其實是「古代人」。
潮男：那你說我是「誰」呀？
洛基：你是誰不重要，重點是有人能幫我翻完這篇「古文賞析」就謝天謝地了。這是我最後的機會，明天再
不交就零分了。
潮男：穿「古裝」不見得就會「古文」，就算我幫你把「古文」翻成「白話文」，你明天也不見得能順利交
給老師。
洛基：你先看看這篇「絕世千古邪惡美文」再說吧！
夫賢主者,必且能全道而行督責之術者也。督責之,則臣不敢不竭能以徇其主矣。此臣主之分定,上下之義明,則
天下賢不肖莫敢不盡力竭任以徇其君矣。是故主獨制於天下而無所制也。能窮樂之極矣,賢明之主也,可不察焉!
故申子曰「有天下而不恣睢,命之曰以天下為桎梏」者,無他焉,不能督責,而顧以其身勞於天下之民,若堯、禹然,
故謂之「桎梏」也。夫不能修申、韓之明術,行督責之道,專以天下自適也,而徒務苦形勞神,以身徇百姓,則是黔
首之役,非畜天下者也,何足貴哉!夫以人徇己,則己貴而人賤;以己徇人,則己賤而人貴。故徇人者賤,而人所徇者
貴,自古及今,未有不然者也。凡古之所為尊賢者,為其貴也;而所為惡不肖者,為其賤也。而堯、禹以身徇天下者
也,因隨而尊之,則亦失所為尊賢之心矣,夫可謂大繆矣。謂之為「桎梏」,不亦宜乎?不能督責之過也。
故韓子曰:「慈母有敗子而嚴家無格虜」者,何也?則能罰之加焉必也。故商君之法,刑棄灰於道者。夫棄灰,薄罪
也,而被刑,重罰也。彼唯明主為能深督輕罪。夫罪輕且督深,而況有重罪乎?故民不敢犯也。是故韓子曰「布帛
尋常,庸人不釋,鑠金百溢,盜蹠不搏」者,非庸人之心重,尋常之利深,而盜蹠之欲淺也;又不以盜蹠之行,為輕百鎰
之重也。搏必隨手刑,則盜蹠不搏百鎰;而罰不必行也,則庸人不釋尋常。是故城高伍丈,而樓季不輕犯也;泰山之
高百仞,而跛牧其上。夫樓季也而難伍丈之限,豈跛也而易百仞之高哉?峭塹之勢異也。明主聖王之所以能久
處尊位,長執重勢,而獨擅天下之利者,非有異道也,能獨斷而審督責,必深罰,故天下不敢犯也。今不務所以不犯,而
事慈母之所以敗子也,則亦不察於聖人之論矣。夫不能行聖人之術,則舍為天下役何事哉?可不哀邪!
且夫儉節仁義之人立於朝,則荒肆之樂輟矣;諫說論理之臣間於側,則流漫之志詘矣;烈士死節之行顯於世,則淫康
之虞廢矣。故明主能外此叁者,而獨操主術以制聽從之臣,而修其明法,故身尊而勢重也。凡賢主者,必將能拂世
磨俗,而廢其所惡,立其所欲,故生則有尊重之勢,死則有賢明之諡也。是以明君獨斷,故權不在臣也。然後能滅仁
義之塗,掩馳說之口,困烈士之行,塞聰揜明,內獨視聽,故外不可傾以仁義烈士之行,而內不可奪以諫說忿爭之辯。
故能犖然獨行恣睢之心而莫之敢逆。若此然後可謂能明申、韓之術,而脩商君之法。法脩術明而天下亂者,未之
聞也。故曰「王道約而易操」也。唯明主為能行之。若此則謂督責之誠,則臣無邪,臣無邪則天下安,天下安則主
嚴尊,主嚴尊則督責必,督責必則所求得,所求得則國家富,國家富則君樂豐。故督責之術設,則所欲無不得矣。群
臣百姓救過不給,何變之敢圖?若此則帝道備,而可謂能明君臣之術矣。雖申、韓複生,不能加也。
潮男的翻譯如下：
賢明的君主，一定是道法周全而能行督責之術的人。君主督責臣下，臣下就不敢不竭盡全能以事君主，君主
臣仆的名分可以由此確定，君上臣下的地位可以由此分明，天下無論賢達還是不肖，也就沒有人敢不殫精竭
慮地服從君主了。如此而來，君主獨斷制控天下而不受任何限制，窮盡享樂的境地至於無極。賢明的君主，
對此不可不體察洞明。
申子說：“擁有天下而不能放縱恣肆，可以說是以天下為桎梏。”之所以這樣說，沒有別的理由，由於
不能行督責之術驅使臣下，只能以身替代，不得不為天下之民受苦受累，宛若堯和禹一樣，自入於桎梏當
中。如果不能修煉申子和韓非的權術，不能施行督責的道法，不能制控天下以適應自己，反而去勞累身體，
苦痛精神，徇身百姓的話，只能說是黔首的仆役，而不是奴役天下的主人，毫無可貴之處可言。
使他人適從自己，自己尊貴而他人低賤；使自己適從他人，自己低賤而他人尊貴。所以說，適從他人
者，低賤也；被他人所適從者，高貴也。古往今來，沒有不是這樣的。古來凡是被尊賢的人，是因為他高
貴；古來凡是被鄙愚的人，是因為他低賤。堯和禹，是以自身適從天下，為天下所奴役的人，竟然被流俗尊
賢為聖人，真是失去了尊賢之所以尊賢的根本真義，可以說是大謬大誤。堯和禹的為人行事，是宛若桎梏般
的為人行事，以自戴腳鐐手銬比說，當是再貼切不過了。堯禹的自賤愚行，歸結為一句話，都是不能施行督
責之術的過錯。
韓非子說，“慈母膝下有敗家之子，嚴父之家無逆子悍奴”。之所以如此，是嚴懲必罰的結果。所以商
君之法規定，揚棄土灰於道路者，處以黥鼻之刑。揚棄土灰是輕罪，黥鼻之刑是重罰，商君仰賴明主在上，
所以能深行督責重罰輕罪。犯輕罪而有重罰，何況犯重罪？威懾之下，庶民哪裏敢稍許有所觸犯？
韓非子又說，丈余布帛，庸人不願放手；千兩黃金，盜跖不去攫取。之所以如此，不是庸人貪心重，盜
跖欲望淺，也不是布帛利益大，黃金被輕賤，而是攫取黃金必有斬手之刑，入手布帛未必有處罰相隨。城壁
高五丈，勇士樓季不敢輕易冒犯；泰山高百仞，跛羊牧食踐踏其上。之所以如此，難道是因為樓季困於五丈
城壁而犯難，跛羊反而以百仞泰山為平易嗎？之所以如此，是因為五丈城壁峭峻難以攀登，百仞泰山和緩可
以援行，取決於艱險之勢的不同。同樣的道理，明主聖王之所以能夠久處尊位，長執大權，一人獨擅天下之
利，沒有別的道理，只是因為能夠獨斷專行，精審於督責之術而使用重罰之刑，使天下不敢有所冒犯。如果
不致力於防止冒犯的要事，而是糾纏於慈母之所以導致敗家子的瑣事，則是沒有體察到聖人所論的精髓。若
不能專斷行聖人之術，反而舍身服事於天下，當是何等悲哀。
儉節仁義的人立於朝廷，荒唐放肆的歡樂止息；諫說辯理的諍臣近在身旁，散謾疏懶的心誌收斂；烈士
死節的行為彰顯於世，淫逸康樂的期待廢失。唯有明主能夠離棄這三種人，獨操主上之術以禦控順從之臣，
明法嚴察，所以能身位尊而權勢重。大凡被稱為賢主的人，必定是能夠迕世變俗、廢其所惡、立其所欲的
人，在世有尊重的權勢，死後有賢明的謚號。由是之故，明君獨斷，權不下臣，然後才能滅絕仁義之道，堵
塞諫說之口，困阻烈士之行，絕聽無視外界，專聽獨視內心，既不受仁義烈士之行的影響，也不被諫說爭辯
之辭所左右。如此才能煢然獨立，暢行恣肆享樂之心而無人敢於違忤，如此才可以說是修明了申子、韓非的
權術，商君的法令。法令修、權術明而天下亂的事情，古往今來沒有聽說過。
所以說，王道簡約而易於操作，唯有明主能夠實行。督責專精則臣無邪心，臣無邪心則天下安定，天下
安定則主上尊嚴，主上尊嚴則督責必成，督責必成則所求必得，所求必得則國家富強，國家富強則君主豐
樂。所以說，督責之權術設定，則欲求無不可以求得。督責設定之下，群臣百姓救過不及，哪裏還談得上圖
謀不軌？帝王之道如此齊備，則可以說是君臣之術明了，縱然申子、韓非復生，也不能超過於此。
秦領熊：這篇文章，行文老到深峻，論理緊湊有序，極盡阿諛逢迎之能事，全文巧妙引經據典，高明順意曲
解，以鏗鏘的氣勢，將白說黑，將黑說白，有理有據地為最高統治者提出一套兼顧個人享樂和專制
獨裁的督責方案。以政治道德而論，幾近邪惡；但是以文學成就而論，堪稱先秦散文的名章。
洛基：沒想到「設計師老板」的古文程度這麼好，我「明天」終於可以交作業了。
尚青：都已經「天亮」了，你應該說「今天」才對。
洛基：時間過得真快，我們應該回家準備上學了。
潮男：我花「這麼長」的時間幫你翻譯，不是為了讓你能「準時」交作業。
尚青：那你是為了什麼？
潮男：為了讓你回到「先秦」。
洛基：謝謝老板，讀完你精湛完美的翻譯，彷彿回到了「先秦」。
潮男：我的意思是你們現在「真的」回到了「先秦」。
秦領熊：這棟房子其實就是「政兒的移動城堡」。晚上「時空旅行」；白天「回到先秦」。
尚青：呃～，現在剛好是白天。所以我們已經在「不知不覺中」～
洛基：回到了「先秦」。
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to DEEP BLUE ！:)
秦領熊：今天「秦領幫」出任務穿的是「熊貓裝」，大家趕緊換上。
尚青：不會吧！才一回到「先秦」就要「出任務」。
秦領熊：趙國平原君的女兒也就是與政兒有婚約的公主被綁架了，我們要負責將她安全救回。
洛基：那我們要去那裏救公主？
秦領熊：先到趙國瞭解情況再說吧！於是大夥在換上「熊貓裝」後，隨著「政兒的移動城堡」來到了趙國。
平原君：為了「保護」我的獨生女，從小我就讓她與三名貼身婢女一起讀書受教育，連睡覺的房間也相連在
一起，所以綁匪根本搞不清楚那一位是公主，只好四位少女都綁走了，但是他們卻又放回了一位少女
以便要求贖金，沒想到竟放回了「真正」的公主。
公 主：那天情況是這樣的：我們四個人在睡夢中被矇上了眼睛帶到一處聞得到海風、聽得到海浪聲的地
方，綁匪要求我們說出自己的真正身份，但是卻被我們的「猜謎遊戲」耍了。我們四個人為了混淆視
聽，告訴綁匪我們的名字分別是阿爾法、貝塔、伽瑪和歐米伽四人中只有一位說真話，只有一位是公
主，並且即將嫁給秦王；一位是舞蹈家；一位是宮廷侍女；一位是豎笛演奏家。
阿爾法：貝塔無論如何也成不了無蹈家。
貝 塔：伽瑪是趙國的公主。
伽 瑪：歐米伽不會成為豎笛演奏家。
歐米伽：我即將嫁給秦王。
結果綁匪猜錯了「謎題」，反而放回真正的公主也就是我回趙國通風報信。
秦領熊：公主可以詳細描述一下當時的情景嗎？
公 主：這間小屋能聽到海浪的聲音，也聞得到海風鹹鹹的味道，我們雙手被綁著，天氣非常悶熱，不過到
了夜晚還是會有一點風吹進來，讓我覺得涼快些。
潮 男：如果是在海邊，那麼綁匪不是齊國人就是燕國人，因為只有這兩國才臨海。
現在是夏天，吹東南季風，首先吹到涼爽海風且不會被山脈阻擋的應該是齊國。
於是「政兒的移動城堡」又帶大家來到了齊國。但是在海邊卻找到了兩間相同的簡易小屋：
一間朝南，一間朝北。
秦領熊：照推斷，房子的座向應該是座北朝南，這樣才吹得到海風。於是大家衝進那間座北朝南的房子，果
然順利救出另外三名少女，而其中一名竟然是政兒兒時在趙國的好朋友------------姜姜。
好了，現在包括公主、姜姜共四名少女總算安全拯救回來了，但是-----------------
平原君：說，那些綁匪有沒有對妳們怎麼樣？
阿爾法：有。
平原君：真是禽獸不如的東西！
貝 塔：我們再也不能過正常人的生活了。
秦領熊：簡直是畜牲！
伽 瑪：每逢「月圓」-----------
潮 男：完了！她們被變成「狼人」了！
歐米伽：以及不是「月圓」-----------
尚青：那不就「每天」了嗎？
阿爾法：我們都會受到無盡的折磨-----------
洛基：太慘了！我實在聽不下去了！
平原君：妳們到底會受到什麼「折磨」?
貝 塔：我們會感到「飢渴」!
秦領熊：那就進食啊！
伽 瑪：我們對「一般」食物不再有任何食慾！
潮 男：完了！她們被變成「吸血鬼」了！
歐米伽：我們以後只能依賴「精神食糧」過活，就是靠「讀書」才能攝取養份。
阿爾法：而且「飢渴」的感覺會愈來愈強烈，永遠也吃不飽！
尚青：廢話，光靠「讀書」，肚子怎麼會飽！
洛基：那這種病還有沒有得救？
秦領熊：很不幸地，沒得救！
洛基：沒得救就是「絕症」囉！
秦領熊：對，差不多是「絕症」！
尚青：我不管，一定要想辦法救姜姜！
秦領熊：對了，妳們是怎麼變成這樣的？
阿爾法：綁匪讓一隻「食蟻獸」咬了我們每人一口後，就變成這樣了
潮男：「食蟻獸」不是吃螞蟻的嗎？怎麼會咬人呢？
貝 塔：當牠沒有「書」吃的時候就會「咬人」？
潮男：「食蟻獸」怎麼會「吃書」呢？
伽 瑪：因為這隻「食蟻獸」患有「深度近視」：牠把寫滿「字」的書，「看」成爬滿
「螞蟻」的紙，所以每天「吃書」，最後「基因」就突變了，變成「食識獸」，
牠咬了我們以後，我們就變成「食識人」了。
尚青：那這個「食識人」有什麼病徵？
秦領熊：她們在「不食人間煙火」的情況下每天靠「讀書」過活：
她們的心靈會愈來愈美！
她們的外表會愈來愈有氣質！
她們的智商會愈來愈高！
最後變成--------------
洛基：變成「藍波」嗎？
秦領熊：怎麼可能，當然是變成「仙女」。都不用「吃飯」了，最後當然就「成仙」了！
-
尚青和弱雞是兩個即將升二年級的國中生，從暑假到現在他們都在電腦前打遊戲對戰，今
天終於有機會走出房間，因為他們拿到了兩張免費”主題晚餐”的招待劵。
30分鐘後，他們來到了因為新開幕而免費招待晚餐的主題餐廳。不過它的位置有點偏僻，
離繁華的市中心有一段距離，它的隔壁是—-呃----------動物園，而這間餐廳的前身竟然是
-呃---------馬戲團。
這是一間外表搭著馬戲團帳蓬的主題餐廳，因為馬戲團團長將馬戲團連員工一起賣給了餐
廳老板。
弱雞：「記得小時候我們全家來這裏看過馬戲團表演。」
尚青：「難怪你路這麼熟，我本來還擔心找不到這間新開的餐廳，原來你小時候就來過
了。」
弱雞：「我一直認為看表演應該有正式的餐點吃，而不是只吃熱狗、爆米花之類的垃圾
食物。」
尚青：「你的意思是待會我們可以邊吃晚餐邊看馬戲團表演？」
弱雞：「而且這一切全都是免費的。」
尚青：「其實我比較想吃早餐。」
弱雞：「為什麼？」
尚青：「因為我早餐沒吃。」
弱雞：「你這樣真的很沒有時間概念，現在是晚上，你不能在晚餐時間吃早餐。」
尚青：「但是我媽說早餐沒吃直接吃晚餐對身體不好，會胃食道逆流。」
弱雞：「那你午餐吃了沒？」
尚青：「我從11：00起床後到現在都沒吃，不知道這樣算是早餐沒吃還是午餐沒吃？」
弱雞：「兄弟，麻煩你振作一點，看看你手上的免費招待券以及現在昏暗的天色，我們
只有一種選擇。」
尚青：「晚餐。」
弱雞：「對，沒錯，晚餐。」
於是兩人勇敢地走進了帳蓬，發現帳蓬內還有一扇門，門上貼了一張告示牌寫著：「請
著裝。」
弱雞：「『請著裝』是什麼意思？我們都有穿啊！」
尚青：「我也不是很瞭，可能有人沒穿衣服就來吃飯，真是太沒有概念了，連基本禮儀
都不懂，所以特別在門口提醒大家一定要穿衣服才能入內用餐，畢竟這是一間
高級的餐廳。」
弱雞：「說的也是，這種傷風敗俗的事情也做得出來。」
推開大門，這間由馬戲團變身的主題餐廳果然沒有令人失望：比一般餐廳更加寬廣的用餐
空間，華麗且挑高的巨型中央舞台，搭配令人目炫神迷的七彩燈光，彷彿神秘奇妙的夜宴
即將隆重登場！
尚青和弱雞在服務生的帶領下坐進了全餐廳視野最好的位置-------剛好就在舞台的正前
方。
這個時候突然有一位衣著時尚的潮男優雅現身，尚青以為他是服務生就問道：「先生，請
問餐點什麼時候送上來？」
潮男：「二位貴賓想必是第一次來吧？晚餐供應的是buffet(西式自助餐)，隨時都可以去
餐檯選取自已喜歡的菜色，不過『主題晚餐』的重點不是『晚餐』。」
弱雞：「那『重點』是什麼？」
尚青：「我知道了，重點是馬戲團表演。」
潮男：「那來的『馬戲團』表演？待會在舞台上表演的是『潮服』時裝秀。」
弱雞：「你怎麼知道？」
潮男：「因為我就是買下馬戲團的餐廳老板兼『潮服』時裝秀的設計師。還記得大門上
的告示牌寫著『請著裝』嗎？如果你們的穿著不符合時尚潮流，就必須從『潮
服』時裝秀中選購一套時尚『潮服』，下次來用餐就可以穿了。」
尚青：「什麼樣的穿著叫做不符合時尚潮流？」
潮男：「就像你們這樣。」
弱雞：「但是我們有穿啊！」
尚青：「招待券上不是說免費嗎？為什麼現在又要花錢買什麼『潮服』？」
潮男：「是『晚餐』免費，不是全部免費，天下沒有白吃的『晚餐』，懂嗎？既然你們
是第一次來，特別給你們優惠，買一送一，所以你們只要付一套『潮服』的錢就
可以帶 兩套回家。」
弱雞：「還好我媽有提醒我就算吃免錢，出門身上還是要帶錢。」
尚青：「幸好你有帶錢。」
於是尚青和弱雞在『潮服』時裝秀開始前匆忙選取了兩盤buffet後趕緊入座觀賞表演。
隨著表演開始，真正令人驚奇的事情發生了：另一位穿著建中制服的『尚青』出
現在舞台。
弱雞：「我不知道原來建中制服是『潮服』的一種，而且那個穿建中制服的麻豆(模特兒)長
得很像你。」
「何止像？簡直是一模一樣。」尚青忍不住問了潮男：「設計師老闆，可不可以請你解釋一下
『潮服』的定義？」
潮男：「只要是『我』設計的，通稱『潮服』。代表穿上它能引領時尚潮流。」
弱雞：「那『建中制服』是你設計的嗎？」
潮男：「沒錯，算你有眼光。」
尚青：「所以『建中制服』代表時尚潮流？」
潮男：「呃----------對某些人來說--------它代表了『一切』。」設計師語重心長地表示。
弱雞：「設計師老闆，我們決定了，尚青和我要買這套能「代表一切」的建中『潮服』。」
潮男：「有眼光。這是一個非常正確的選擇。」
弱雞：「設計師老闆，台上那位穿建中制服的麻豆(模特兒)和我朋友尚青長的很像吔！」
潮男：「哦～，你們注意到了。」
尚青：「我非常確定自已不是『雙胞胎』。」
潮男：「他不是你的『雙胞胎』。」
尚青：「那他是誰？」
「他是『未來的你』。」潮男決定揭曉這個「天大的秘密」：「你是不是做了什麼讓時間失序，打破時空法
則的事？」
「我只是沒吃早餐和午餐。」尚青困惑地說：「其實────。」
弱雞：「其實他甚至搞不清楚自己到底是沒吃早餐還是沒吃午餐？」
尚青：「謝了！兄弟。」
「你對『時間』感到困惑嗎？」潮男接著又說：「就是因為你的『困惑』才使得『未來的你』有機會來到
『現在』，導致時空失序。」
尚青：「兄弟，你相信他的鬼話嗎？」
弱雞：「設計師老闆，你這樣亂亂說，叫我們怎麼相信你。」
潮男：「尚青你有帶手機嗎？」
尚青：「有啊！」
「尚青，把你的手機關掉。」潮男接著又說：「弱雞，用你的手機打給尚青。」
弱雞：「他都關機了，你還讓我打給他？」
潮男：「不要懷疑，照做就是了。」
於是弱雞撥了尚青的號碼，然後微笑望著尚青，因為他認為潮男神精有問題。
但是手機響了，它千真萬確地響了，不過不是尚青的手機響，而是─────
由於他們的位置剛好在舞台的正前方，所以當麻豆（模特兒）的手機響時，
台下的尚青和弱雞全都魂飛魄散地聽得一清二楚。
弱雞：「呃～，手機響了吔，如果待會麻豆（模特兒）接了，我要說什麼？」
尚青：「我也不知道。」
潮男：「約他在後台化妝室見面。」
麻豆（模特兒）從容不迫地從制服口袋拿起手機接電話，就像擺pose般輕而易舉。
弱雞：「呃～，你好，我是弱雞，待會後台化妝室見。」說完驚魂未定地立即掛上電話。
台上的麻豆（模特兒）此時竟然望著他們微笑點頭，好像他早就認識他們一樣。
尚青：「大設計師，這一切該不會是你一手設計的吧？」
潮男：「我又不知道你的手機號碼，怎麼可能事先安排？」
弱雞：「說得也是。」
「那我們真的要在後台和他見面嗎？」尚青恐懼地說：「他真的是『未來的我』嗎？」
「又來了，就是因為你的恐懼和困惑才會擾亂時空讓『未來的你』有機可乘。」潮男接著又說：「記住，待
會在任何情況下一定要先『控制住場面』，不能讓『未來的你』為所欲為，這樣就能搞定一切，懂嗎？」
尚青：「不懂。」
「總之，『未來』掌握在你們自己手中，『現在』的你才能真正決定『未來』，祝你們好運！」
潮男語畢就「非常不負責任」地留下尚青和弱雞跑到別桌去哈啦了。
尚青：「原來早餐午餐不吃直接吃晚餐的下場不是胃食道逆流。」
弱雞：「而是會上建中。」
尚青：「看來我好像發明了什麼東西？」
弱雞：「搞不清楚自己沒吃早餐還是午餐算是一種發明嗎？」
尚青：「剛才老闆不是說我讓時空失序了嗎？我就是發明了這個。」
弱雞：「你先別高興，如果待會我們真的在後台見到『未來的你』，先看看他身上的建中制服有沒有繡學
號，如果────」
尚青：「如果沒有，就代表他騙人。」
弱雞：「對，沒錯。」
為了在任何情況下先「控制住場面」，尚青和弱雞做了「萬全」的準備：
一、先從「燈光」下手：一進門只要看見麻豆（未來的尚青），立刻將燈關掉。
二、再拿出事先準備的黑色不透光塑膠袋套住麻豆的頭，逼他說出實話。
尚青和弱雞像是逮捕重大罪犯的刑警般埋伏在後台化妝間的門口，在目睹麻豆進門後，確定化妝間內只有麻
豆一人，他們決定破門而入。
有的時候，就算做了萬全的準備，也是無法「控制住場面」，因為--------------------
一、他們找不到燈的開關，不能立刻將燈關掉，製造「混亂」的場面。
二、由於第一個關燈的步驟沒做好，使得用塑膠袋套頭的計畫也無法順利進行。
房間內的麻豆一看見尚青和弱雞，就像看見失散多年的兄弟，興奮得不得了。
麻豆：「謝天謝地，還好你們來了。」接著一把抱住尚青和弱雞。
面對麻豆「熱情」的擁抱，尚青和弱雞真的不知道該如何是好。
尚青：「呃～我們是來『控制住一切』的。」
弱雞：「你最好不要太囂張，沒有『現在』就沒有『未來』。說！你到底是誰？」
「兄弟，我是『尚青』啊！你不認得我了？」麻豆無辜地說。
「我現在問你一個問題，如果你答對了就證明你是我。」尚青接著問：「小時候爸媽帶我們到這裏玩是先去
動物園還是先來馬戲團？」
麻豆：「當然是先來馬戲團，直到熊貓住進動物園後，我才吵著要先去動物園看牠。」
這個時候房間突然漆黑一片───────────────────────
弱雞：「是誰把燈給關了？」三個人明明站在一起，完全沒有關燈的可能。
黑暗中有一團軟軟又溫溫的東西從外面抱住三個人。
「我們好像被什麼毛茸茸的東西控制住了？」尚青問：「你幹麻穿毛衣？」
麻豆：「我那有時間穿毛衣？我們被『熊抱』了啦！」
弱雞：「熊？那來的熊？馬戲團不是變餐廳了嗎？」
尚青：「這隻熊是不是你從『別的時空』帶來的？」
「牠從隔壁來的啦！化妝間剛好是馬戲團和動物園的交界。」麻豆接著又說：「牠先是吃了一盆開運竹，後
來又吞了幾把竹製的梳子，牠可能是肚子餓了。」
弱雞：「牠抱我們抱得這麼緊，是不是想把我們吃了？」
麻豆：「我沒有聽說過『熊貓』會吃人的。」
尚青：「那牠剛才在那裏？我和弱雞怎麼沒看見牠？」
麻豆：「牠一直都在這啊！牠剛才躲在窗簾後面，電燈開關就在那裏。可能是聽到你說小時候都去動物園看
牠，一時激動才抱住我們！」
弱雞：「那牠幹麻關燈？」
「害羞啊！」尚青說完就被熊貓拍了一下頭，叫道：「哦！是誰打我的頭？」
麻豆：「害羞還敢跑來這裏亂亂吃，我那把竹製防靜電的梳子很貴很難買吔！」
尚青：「總比你在台上亂亂走好吧，還接手機咧！」
實際上「暗中」控制一切的「熊貓老大」實在是聽不下去了，於是牠把尚青和麻豆的頭
在黑暗中非常用力地「互撞」了一下───────────────────。
「啊～頭好痛啊！」等到尚青早上醒來已經在自己的床上了，身上穿著繍了三條槓的「建中」制服，手裏不
知何時拿著一本名為「指南」的書。
翻開「指南」第一頁：如果你一覺醒來，發現自己來到了另一個時空，不要驚慌，這是有可能發生的。先照
一下鏡子看看自己的臉有沒有因為穿越時空而扭曲變形，眼睛、鼻子、嘴巴是不是還在原來的位置，如果
是，恭喜你！如果不是，請將它們調回來的位置，這樣下樓才不會嚇到爸媽。緊接者確定一下當天的西元年
份，搞清楚自已身處的時代非常重要。
尚青閤上「指南」，心想：真是看了等於沒看。
打開電腦，發現自己來到了西元2015年的暑假。整整跨越了2年。
尚青一下樓，尚媽看著自己的兒子，臉部表情充滿震驚與疑惑，說道：「你--------------
你怎麼------------------？」
尚青看見尚媽的表情以為自己的臉因穿越空而扭曲變形，嚇得趕緊照鏡子，發現自已還是「尚青」的帥哥，
這才鬆了一口氣。
「媽，我怎麼了嗎？」尚青問。
尚媽：「你把自己弄得壓力這麼大幹麻？看看你做了什麼？你為什麼要這樣對待你自己？」
「我做了什麼了？」尚青真的一頭霧水。
尚媽：「今天才『新生訓練』第一天，你把自己制服繡『三條槓』是怎麼回事？壓力不要這麼大嘛！放輕鬆
一點！」
有這種『反應過度』的媽媽，一不小心真的會被嚇死！
為了查明真相，尚青又上樓翻了「指南」這本書的第二頁：
如果你想讓自己對「時間」有概念，方法很簡單：只要使用「比較法」，找出比你更沒有時間概念的人，這
樣「相形之下」，你就比較有概念了。
尚青心想：又是廢話，想找出比我更沒有「時間概念」的人根本不可能。
於是他又翻了「指南」第三頁：
乾脆「好書」做到底，你去找一本名為「席維亞」的書，這本書的作者是史
上最沒有時間概念的人。只要找到這本書，你就可以成為史上「第二」沒時
間概念的人。
貼心小提示：在法國一處叫「羅希」的修道院，那裏可以找到這本書。
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
以下是「羅希」修道院內院長及修女「不對外公開」的「秘密」談話。
修女：最近很多人來問有關「席維亞」這本書，因為作者在書中提到了「羅希」修道院。
院長：蒙主恩寵！有人來總比沒有人來好。
修女：尤其是語法中沒有「未完成過去式」的外國人，英文翻譯無法完整詮釋這本書，
所以非拉丁語系的國家幾乎完全看不懂「席維亞」這本書。
院長：沒辦法，現在有很多「程度差」的人非常需要主的救贖。
修女：沒錯。
院長：那就幫他們開一個「研經班」吧！
修女：那這個「研經班」是要研讀「玫瑰經」還是研讀「席維亞」？
院長：需要「主的救贖」的就研讀「玫瑰經」；「程度差」的就研讀「席維亞」。
修女：那如果「程度差」又需要「主的救贖」呢？
院長：那就先研讀「玫瑰經」再研讀「席維亞」，多開幾個班，懂嗎？
修女：懂！
「研經班」附設的「文學賞析」暨「文法加強班」開課的第一天，修道院院長要大家自我介紹一下來這裏的
原因及目的。
尚青：「額~我們是來這裏搞清楚『未完成過去式的』。」
「什麼？」艾力克(知名樂團主唱)：「你的文法有問題嗎？」
「他不是文法有問題，他是對『時間』感到困惑。」洛基(原名弱雞)：「他懷疑未來的『他』取代了現在的
『他』。」
艾力克：「小朋友，年紀輕輕就把自己搞得這麼『複雜』不是一件好事！」
尚青：「那你是來幹麻的？大明星。」
艾力克(知名樂團主唱)：「開演唱會」。-------其實他是來應徵修道院「唱詩班」的。(他曾在小學時代參加過
唱詩班，後來不知道怎麼搞的，跑去組樂團)
尚青：「你那首暢銷金曲『但願不認識妳』是你個人親身經歷嗎？」
艾力克：「算是。」
洛基（原名弱雞）：「聽完你那首歌心情變得很沉重，害我好幾天沒辦法『耍寶』。」
尚青：「對呀，我原本以為『into the night』是全世界最悲慘的歌（尤其是黑人演唱版的，最後哀嚎了好
久），沒想到你這首更慘，足足比他多哀嚎了5分鐘。」
艾力克(知名樂團主唱)：「害你們心情不好我很抱歉，但我剛好是那個『主唱』，所以我的心情也好不到那
去。」
尚青：「對了，弱雞，你什麼時候改名叫『洛基』的？」
洛基：「從我變強開始！」
尚青：「那你為什麼不改名叫『藍波』。」
洛基：「因為我女朋友叫『藍波兒』！」
尚青：「沒想到短短兩年你的變化這麼大！」
修士：各位同學請注意，現在我要為各位簡單介紹一下「席維亞」這本書------------------------------------------
首先要告訴大家的是：這是一本非常不真實的書，像是一場夢中之夢，讀者非常容易在小說中迷失自已。因
為它是如此地美，吸引想要一探究竟的人一路癡迷地追尋下去。但是最後你會發現：
當你讀得愈多，分析得愈多，卻赫然驚覺自已又回到了原點，不知自已身在何處。
尚青：「我有點想回家了，如果讀這本小說會迷路的話，那要搞懂『未完成過去式』就更不可能了。」
洛基：「但是這樣你就不能當史上『第二沒時間概念』的人了，如果你不能證明『席維亞』的作者是
史上『第一沒時間概念』的人的話。」
希薇：「對呀，這樣半途而廢很沒有原則。」
尚青：「我的原則就是沒有任何原則。」
艾力克：「請問這種沒有『時間概念』又『沒有原則』的日子要如何進行下去？」
洛基： 「這種生活我們己經在不知不覺中徹底『進行』了1５年，謝天謝地！我們還活著。」
尚青：「這位同學，妳的名字『希薇』和『席維亞』有點像吔！」
希薇：「我本來叫『海倫』的，後來不知道怎麼搞的，就變成『希薇』了。」
艾力克：「妳爸媽不知道妳從『海倫』變成『希薇』嗎？」
希薇：「我非常懷疑我媽是因為『席維亞』這本書才把我的名字改成『希薇』的，但是她堅決否認。」
尚青：「為什麼？」
希薇：「她非常迷戀書中形容女主角的句子──『蒼白如夜，美如白畫』，所以就把我改成和『席維亞』名字
很像的『希薇』了。」
洛基：「『蒼白如夜，美如白晝』這是形容人的句子嗎？」
尚青：「不然呢？形容鬼喔！」
修士：「你們再這樣搞笑下去，可能沒辦法好好欣賞文學作品。」
洛基：「老師，你誤會我了。我的意思是『蒼白如夜，美如白晝』有點像是文謅謅的舞台劇台詞。」
修士：「沒錯，『席維亞』的作者是一個不折不扣的『劇場迷』，他迷戀的對象也確實是一名女演
員。」
以下是『席維亞』的英文版本：
I.
A WASTED NIGHT.
I passed out of a theatre where I was wont to appear nightly, in the proscenium boxes, in the attitude of suitor. Sometimes it was full, sometimes nearly empty; it mattered little to me, whether a handful of listless spectators occupied the pit, while antiquated costumes formed a doubtful setting for the boxes, or whether I made one of an audience swayed by emotion, crowned at every tier with flower-decked robes, flashing gems and radiant faces. The spectacle of the house left me indifferent, that of the stage could not fix my attention until at the second or third scene of a dull masterpiece of the period, a familiar vision illumined the vacancy, and by a word and a breath, gave life to the shadowy forms around me.
I felt that my life was linked with hers; her smile filled me with immeasurable bliss; the tones of her voice, so sweet and sonorous, thrilled me with love and joy. My ardent fancy endowed her with every perfection until she seemed to respond to all my raptures—beautiful as day in the blaze of the footlights, pale as night when their glare was lowered and rays from the chandelier above revealed her, lighting up the gloom with the radiance of her beauty, like those divine Hours with starry brows, which stand out against the dark background of the frescoes of Herculaneum.
For a whole year I had not sought to know what she might be, in the world outside, fearing to dim the magic mirror which reflected to me her image. Some idle gossip, it is true, touching the woman, rather than the actress, had reached my ears, but I heeded it less than any floating rumours concerning the Princess of Elis or the Queen of Trebizonde, for I was on my guard. An uncle of mine whose manner of life during the period preceding the close of the eighteenth century, had given him occasion to know them well, had warned me that actresses were not women, since nature had forgotten to give them hearts. He referred, no doubt, to those of his own day, but he related so many stories of his illusions and disappointments, and displayed so many portraits upon ivory, charming medallions which he afterwards used to adorn his snuff-boxes, so many yellow love-letters and faded tokens, each with its peculiar history, that I had come to think ill of them as a class, without considering the march of time.
We were living then in a strange period, such as often follows a revolution, or the decline of a great reign. The heroic gallantry of the Fronde, the drawing-room vice of the Regency, the scepticism and mad orgies of the Directory, were no more. It was a time of mingled activity, indecision and idleness, bright utopian dreams, philosophic or religious aspirations, vague ardour, dim instincts of rebirth, weariness of past discords, uncertain hopes,—an age somewhat like that of Peregrinus and Apuleius. The material man yearned for the roses which should regenerate him, from the hands of the fair Isis; the goddess appeared to us by night, in her eternal youth and purity, inspiring in us remorse for the hours wasted by day; and yet, ambition suited not our years, while the greedy strife, the mad chase in pursuit of honour and position, held us aloof from every possible sphere of activity. Our only refuge was the ivory tower of the poets whither we climbed higher and higher to escape the crowd. Upon the heights to which our masters guided us, we breathed at last the pure air of solitude, we quaffed oblivion in the golden cup of fable, we were drunk with poetry and love. Love, alas! of airy forms, of rose and azure tints, of metaphysical phantoms. Seen nearer, the real woman repelled our ingenuous youth which required her to appear as a queen or a goddess, and above all, inapproachable.
Some of our number held these platonic paradoxes in light esteem, and athwart our mystic reveries brandished at times the torch of the deities of the underworld, that names through the darkness for an instant with its train of sparks. Thus it chanced that on quitting the theatre with the sense of bitter sadness left by a vanished dream, I turned with pleasure to a club where a party of us used to sup, and where all depression yielded to the inexhaustible vivacity of a few brilliant wits, whose stormy gaiety at times rose to sublimity. Periods of renewal or decadence always produce such natures, and our discussions often became so animated that timid ones in the company would glance from the window to see if the Huns, the Turkomans or the Cossacks were not coming to put an end to these disputations of sophists and rhetoricians. "Let us drink, let us love, this is wisdom!" was the code of the younger members. One of them said to me: "I have noticed for some time that I always meet you in the same theatre. For which one do you go?" Which! why, it seemed impossible to go there for another! However, I confessed the name. "Well," said my friend kindly, "yonder is the happy man who has just accompanied her home, and who, in accordance with the rules of our club, will not perhaps seek her again till night is over."
With slight emotion I turned toward the person designated, and perceived a young man, well dressed, with a pale, restless face, good manners, and eyes full of gentle melancholy. He flung a gold piece on the card-table and lost it with indifference. "What is it to me?" said I, "he or another?" There must be someone, and he seemed worthy of her choice. "And you?" "I? I chase a phantom, that is all."
On my way out, I passed through the reading-room and glanced carelessly at a newspaper, to learn, I believe, the state of the stock market. In the wreck of my fortunes, there chanced to be a large investment in foreign securities, and it was reported that, although long disowned, they were about to be acknowledged;—and, indeed, this had just happened in consequence of a change in the ministry. The bonds were quoted high, so I was rich again.
A single thought was occasioned by this sudden change of fortune, that the woman whom I had loved so long, was mine, if I wished. My ideal was within my grasp, or was it only one more disappointment, a mocking misprint? No, for the other papers gave the same figures, while the sum which I had gained rose before me like the golden statue of Moloch.
"What," thought I, "would that young man say, if I were to take his place by the woman whom he has left alone?"
I shrunk from the thought, and my pride revolted. Not thus, not at my age, dare I slay love with gold! I will not play the tempter! Besides, such an idea belongs to the past. Who can tell me that this woman may be bought? My eyes glanced idly over the journal in my hand, and I noticed two lines: "Provincial Bouquet Festival. To-morrow the archers of Senlis will present the bouquet to the archers of Loisy." These simple words aroused in me an entirely new train of thought, stirring long-forgotten memories of provincial days, faint echoes of the artless joys of youth.
The horn and the drum were resounding afar in hamlet and forest; the young maidens were twining garlands as they sang, and binding nosegays with ribbon. A heavy wagon, drawn by oxen, received their offerings as it passed, and we, the children of that region, formed the escort with our bows and arrows, assuming the proud title of knights,—we did not know that we were only preserving, from age to age, an ancient feast of the Druids that had survived later religions and monarchies.
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II.
ADRIENNE.
I sought my bed, but not to sleep, and, lost in a half-conscious revery, all my youth passed before me. How often, in the border-land of dreams, while yet the mind repels their encroaching fancies, we are enabled to review in a few moments, the important events of a lifetime!
I saw a castle of the time of Henry IV., with its slate-covered turrets, its reddish front, jutting corners of yellow stone, and a stretch of green bordered by elms and lime-trees, through whose foliage, the setting sun shot its last fiery rays. Young girls were dancing in a ring on the lawn, singing quaint old tunes caught from their mothers, in a French whose native purity bespoke the old country of Valois, where for more than a thousand years had throbbed the heart of France. I was the only boy in the circle where I had led my young companion, Sylvie, a little maid from the neighboring hamlet, so fresh and animated, with her black eyes, regular features and slightly sun-burned skin. I loved but her, I had eyes but for her—till then! I had scarcely noticed in our round, a tall, beautiful blonde, called Adrienne, when suddenly, in following the figures of the dance, she was left alone with me, in the centre of the ring; we were of the same height, and they bade me kiss her, while the dance and song went whirling on, more merrily than before. When I kissed her, I could not forbear pressing her hand; her golden curls touched my cheek, and from that moment, a new feeling possessed me.
The fair girl must sing a song to reclaim her place in the dance, and we seated ourselves about her. In a sweet, penetrating voice, somewhat husky, as is common in that country of mists and fogs, she sang one of those old ballads full of love and sorrow, which always carry the story of an imprisoned princess, shut in a tower by her father, as a punishment for loving. At the end of every stanza, the melody died away in those quavering trills which enable young voices to simulate so well the tremulous notes of old women.
While she sang, the shadows of the great trees lengthened and the light of the young moon fell full upon her, as she stood apart from the rapt circle. The lawn was covered with rising clouds of mist that trailed its white wreaths over every blade of grass. We thought ourselves in Paradise. The song ended and no one dared break the stillness—at last I rose and ran to the gardens where some laurels were growing in large porcelain vases painted in monochrome. I plucked two branches which were twined into a crown, bound with ribbon, and I placed it upon Adrienne's brow, where its glossy leaves gleamed above her fair locks in the pale moonlight. She looked liked Dante's Beatrice, smiling at the poet as he strayed on the confines of the Blest Abodes.
Adrienne rose and, drawing up her slender figure, bowed to us gracefully and ran back to the castle; they said she was the child of a race allied to the ancient kings of France, that the blood of the Valois princes flowed in her veins. Upon this festal day, she had been permitted to join in our sports, but we were not to see her again, for on the morrow she would return to the convent of which she was an inmate.
When I rejoined Sylvie, I found her weeping because of the crown I had given to the fair singer. I offered to make another for her, but she would not consent, saying she did not merit it. I vainly tried to vindicate myself, but she refused to speak as we went the homeward way.
Paris soon recalled me to resume my studies, and I bore with me the two-fold memory of a tender friendship sadly broken, and of a love uncertain and impossible, the source of painful musings which my college philosophy was powerless to dispel.
Adrienne's face alone haunted me, a vision of glory and beauty, sweetening and sharing the hours of arduous study.
In the vacation of the following year, I learned that this lovely girl, who had but flitted past me, was destined by her family to a religious life.
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III.
RESOLVE.
These memories, recalled in my dreamy revery, explained everything. This hopeless passion for an actress, which took possession of me nightly from the hour when the curtain rose until I fell asleep, was born of my remembrance of Adrienne, the pale moon-flower, as she glided over the green, a rose-tinted vision enveloped in a cloud of misty whiteness. The likeness of a face long years forgotten was now distinctly outlined; it was a pencil-sketch, which time had blurred, developed into a painting, like the first drafts of the old masters which delight us in a gallery, the completed masterpiece being found elsewhere.
To fall in love with a nun in the guise of an actress!... suppose they were one and the same!—it is enough to drive one mad, a fatal mystery, drawing me on like a will o' the wisp flitting over the rushes of a stagnant pool. Let us keep a firm foothold on reality.
Sylvie, too, whom I loved so dearly, why had I forgotten her for three long years? She was a charming girl, the prettiest maiden in Loisy; surely she still lives, pure and good. I can see her window, with the creeper twining around the rose-bush, and the cage of linnets hanging on the left; I can hear the click of her bobbins and her favourite song:
La belle était assise
Près du ruisseau coulant....
(The maiden was sitting
Beside the swift stream.)
She is still waiting for me. Who would wed her, so poor? The men of her native village are sturdy peasants with rough hands and gaunt, tanned faces. I, the "little Parisian," had won her heart in my frequent visits near Loisy, to my poor uncle, now dead. For the past three years I have been squandering like a lord the modest inheritance left by him, which might have sufficed for a lifetime, and Sylvie, I know, would have helped me save it. Chance returns me a portion, it is not too late.
What is she doing now? She must be asleep.... No, she is not asleep; to-day is the Feast of the Bow, the only one in the year when the dance goes on all night.... She is there. What time is it? I had no watch.
Amongst a profusion of ornaments, which it was then the fashion to collect, in order to restore the local colour of an old-time interior, there gleamed with freshly polished lustre, one of those tortoise-shell clocks of the Renaissance, whose gilded dome, surmounted by a figure of Time, was supported by caryatides in the style of the Medici, resting in their turn upon rearing steeds. The historic Diana, leaning upon her stag, was in bas-relief under the face, where, upon an inlaid background, enameled figures marked the hours. The works, no doubt excellent, had not been put in motion for two centuries. It was not to tell the hour that I bought this time-piece in Touraine.
I went down to the porter's lodge to find that his clock marked one in the morning. "In four hours I can be at Loisy," thought I.
Five or six cabs were still standing on the Place du Palais Royal, awaiting the gamblers and clubmen. "To Loisy," I said to the nearest driver. "Where is it?" "Near Senlis, eight leagues distant." "I will take you to the posting station," said the cabman, more alert than I.
How dreary the Flanders road is by night! It gains beauty only as it approaches the belt of the forest. Two monotonous rows of trees, taking on the semblance of distorted figures, rise ever before the eye; in the distance, patches of verdure and cultivated land, bounded on the left by the blue hills of Montmorency, Ecouen and Luzarches. Here is Gonesse, an ordinary little town, full of memories of the League and the Fronde.
Beyond Louvres is a road lined with apple-trees, whose white blossoms I have often seen unfolding in the night, like stars of the earth—it is the shortest way to the village. While the carriage climbs the slope, let me recall old memories of the days when I came here so often.
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IV.
A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA.
Several years had passed, and only a childish memory was left me of that meeting with Adrienne in front of the castle. I was again at Loisy on the annual feast, and again I mingled with the knights of the bow, taking my place in the same company as of old. The festival had been arranged by young people belonging to the old families, who still own the solitary castles, despoiled rather by time than revolution, hidden here and there in the forest. From Chantilly, Compiègne and Senlis, joyous companies hastened to join the rustic train of archers. After the long parade through hamlet and village, after mass in the church, contests of skill and awarding of prizes, the victors were invited to a feast prepared upon an island in the centre of one of the tiny lakes, fed by the Nonette and the Thève. Boats, gay with flags, conveyed us to this island, chosen on account of an old temple with pillars, destined to serve as a banquet hall. Here, as in Hermenonville, the country side is sown with these frail structures, designed by philosophical millionaires, in accordance with the prevailing taste of the close of the eighteenth century. Probably this temple was originally dedicated to Urania. Three pillars had fallen, bearing with them a portion of the architrave, but the space within had been cleared, and garlands hung between the columns, quite rejuvenated this modern ruin, belonging rather to the paganism of Boufflers and Chaulieu than of Horace. The sail on the lake was perhaps designed to recall Watteau's "Voyage to Cythera," the illusion being marred only by our modern dress. The immense bouquet was borne from its wagon and placed in a boat, accompanied by the usual escort of young girls dressed in white, and this graceful pageant, the survival of an ancient custom, was mirrored in the still waters that flowed around the island, gleaming in the red sunlight with its hawthorn thickets and colonnades.
All the boats soon arrived, and the basket of flowers borne in state, adorned the centre of the table, around which we took our places, the most fortunate beside a young girl; to win this favour it was enough to know her relatives, which explains why I found myself by Sylvie, whose brother had already joined me in the march, and reproached me for neglecting to visit them. I excused myself by the plea that my studies kept me in Paris, and averred that I had come with that intention.
"No," said Sylvie, "I am sure he has forgotten me. We are only village folk, and a Parisian is far above us." I tried to stop her mouth with a kiss, but she still pouted, and her brother had to intercede before she would offer me her cheek with an indifferent air. I took no pleasure in this salute, a favour accorded to plenty of others, for in that patriarchal country where a greeting is bestowed upon every passing stranger, a kiss means only an exchange of courtesies between honest people.
To crown the enjoyment of the day, a surprise had been contrived, and, at the close of the repast, a wild swan, hitherto imprisoned beneath the flowers, soared into the air, bearing aloft on his powerful wings, a tangle of wreaths and garlands, which were scattered in every direction. While he darted joyously toward the last bright gleams of the sun, we tried to seize the falling chaplets, to crown our fair neighbours. I was so fortunate as to secure one of the finest, and Sylvie smilingly granted me a kiss more tender than the last, by which I perceived that I had now redeemed the memory of a former occasion. She had grown so beautiful that my present admiration was without reserve, and I no longer recognised in her the little village maid, whom I had slighted for one more skilled in the graces of the world. Sylvie had gained in every respect; her black eyes, seductive from childhood, had become irresistibly fascinating, and there was something Athenian in her arching brows, together with the sudden smile lighting up her quiet, regular features. I admired this classic profile contrasting with the mere prettiness of her companions. Her taper fingers, round, white arms and slender waist changed her completely, and I could not refrain from telling her of the transformation, hoping thus to hide my long unfaithfulness. Everything favoured me, the delightful influences of the feast, her brother's regard, the evening hour, and even the spot chosen by a tasteful fancy to celebrate the stately rites of ancient gallantry. We escaped from the dance as soon as possible, to compare recollections of our childhood and to gaze, side by side, with dreamy pleasure, upon the sunset sky reflected in the calm waters. Sylvie's brother had to tear us from the contemplation of this peaceful scene by the unwelcome summons that it was time to start for the distant village where she dwelt.
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V.
THE VILLAGE.
They lived at Loisy, in the old keeper's lodge, whither I accompanied them, and then turned back toward Montagny, where I was staying with my uncle. Leaving the highway to cross a little wood that divides Loisy from Saint S——, I plunged into a deep track skirting the forest of Hermenonville. I thought it would lead me to the walls of a convent, which I had to follow for a quarter of a league. The moon, from time to time, concealed by clouds, shed a dim light upon the grey rocks, and the heath which lay thick upon the ground as I advanced. Right and left stretched a pathless forest, and before me rose the Druid altars guarding the memory of the sons of Armen, slain by the Romans. From these ancient piles I discerned the distant lakelets glistening like mirrors in the misty plain, but I could not distinguish the one where the feast was held.
The air was so balmy, that I determined to lie down upon the heath and wait for the dawn. When I awoke, I recognized, one by one, the neighbouring landmarks. On the left stretched the long line of the convent of Saint S——, then, on the opposite side of the valley, La Butte aux Gens d'Armes, with the shattered ruins of the ancient Carlovingian palace. Close by, beyond the tree-tops, the crumbling walls of the lofty Abbey of Thiers, stood out against the horizon. Further on, the manor of Pontarmé, surrounded as in olden times, by a moat, began to reflect the first fires of dawn, while on the south appeared the tall keep of La Tournelle and the four towers of Bertrand Fosse, on the slopes of Montméliant.
The night had passed pleasantly, and I was thinking only of Sylvie, but the sight of the convent suggested the idea that it might be the one where Adrienne lived. The sound of the morning bell was still ringing in my ears and had probably awakened me. The thought came to me, for a moment, that by climbing to the top of the cliff, I might take a peep over the walls, but on reflection, I dismissed it as profane. The sun with its rising beams, put to flight this idle memory, leaving only the rosy features of Sylvie. "I will go and awaken her," I said to myself, and again I started in the direction of Loisy.
Ah, here at the end of the forest track, is the village, twenty cottages whose walls are festooned with creepers and climbing roses. A group of women, with red kerchiefs on their heads, are spinning in the early light, in front of a farmhouse, but Sylvie is not among them. She is almost a young lady, now she makes dainty lace, but her family remain simple villagers. I ran up to her room without exciting surprise, to find that she had been up for a long time, and was busily plying her bobbins, which clicked cheerfully against the square green cushion on her knees. "So, it is you, lazybones," she said with her divine smile; "I am sure you are just out of bed."
I told her how I had lost my way in the woods and had passed the night in the open air, and for a moment she seemed inclined to pity me.
"If you are not too tired, I will take you for another ramble. We will go to see my grand-aunt at Othys."
Before I had time to reply, she ran joyously to smooth her hair before the mirror, and put on her rustic straw hat, her eyes sparkling with innocent gaiety.
Our way, at first, lay along the banks of the Thève, through meadows sprinkled with daisies and buttercups; then we skirted the woods of Saint Lawrence, sometimes crossing streams and thickets to shorten the road. Blackbirds were whistling in the trees, and tomtits, startled at our approach, flew joyously from the bushes.
Now and then we spied beneath our feet the periwinkles which Rousseau loved, putting forth their blue crowns amid long sprays of twin leaves, a network of tendrils which arrested the light steps of my companion. Indifferent to the memory of the philosopher of Geneva, she sought here and there for fragrant strawberries, while I talked of the New Heloise, and repeated passages from it, which I knew by heart.
"Is it pretty?" she asked.
"It is sublime."
"Is it better than Auguste Lafontaine?"
"It is more tender."
"Well, then," said she, "I must read it. I will tell my brother to bring it to me the next time he goes to Senlis."
I went on reciting portions of the Heloise, while Sylvie picked strawberries.
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VI.
OTHYS.
When we had left the forest, we found great tufts of purple foxglove, and Sylvie gathered an armful, saying it was for her aunt who loved to have flowers in her room.
Only a stretch of level country now lay between us and Othys. The village church-spire pointed heavenward against the blue hills that extend from Montméliant to Dammartin. The Thève again rippled over the stones, narrowing towards its source, where it forms a tiny lake which slumbers in the meadows, fringed with gladiolus and iris. We soon reached the first houses where Sylvie's aunt lived in a little cottage of rough stone, adorned with a trellis of hop-vine and Virginia creeper. Her only support came from a few acres of land which the village folk cultivated for her, now her husband was dead. The coming of her niece set the house astir.
"Good morning, aunt; here are your children!" cried Sylvie; "and we are very hungry." She kissed her aunt tenderly, gave her the flowers, and then turned to present me, saying, "He is my sweetheart."
I, in turn, kissed the good aunt, who exclaimed, "He is a fine lad! why, he has light hair!" "He has very pretty hair," said Sylvie. "That does not last," returned her aunt; "but you have time enough before you, and you are dark, so you are well matched."
"You must give him some breakfast," said Sylvie, and she went peeping into cupboards and pantry, finding milk, brown bread and sugar which she hastily set upon the table, together with the plates and dishes of crockery adorned with staring flowers and birds of brilliant plumage. A large bowl of Creil china, filled with strawberries swimming in milk, formed the centrepiece, and after she had raided the garden for cherries and goose-berries, she arranged two vases of flowers, placing one at each end of the white cloth. Just then, her aunt made a sensible speech: "All this is only for dessert. Now, you must let me set to work." She took down the frying-pan and threw a fagot upon the hearth. "No, no; I shall not let you touch it," she said decidedly to Sylvie, who was trying to help her. "Spoiling your pretty fingers that make finer lace than Chantilly! You gave me some, and I know what lace is."
"Oh, yes, aunt, and if you have some left, I can use it for a pattern."
"Well, go look upstairs; there may be some in my chest of drawers."
"Give me the keys," returned Sylvie.
"Nonsense," cried her aunt; "the drawers are open." "No; there is one always locked." While the good woman was cleaning the frying-pan, after having passed it over the fire to warm it, Sylvie unfastened from her belt a little key of wrought steel and showed it to me in triumph.
I followed her swiftly up the wooden staircase that led to the room above. Oh youth, and holy age! Who could sully by an evil thought the purity of first love in this shrine of hallowed memories? The portrait of a young man of the good old times, with laughing black eyes and rosy lips, hung in an oval gilt frame at the head of the rustic bed. He wore the uniform of a gamekeeper of the house of Condé; his somewhat martial bearing, ruddy, good-humoured face, and powdered hair drawn back from the clear brow, gave the charm of youth and simplicity to this pastel, destitute, perhaps, of any artistic merit Some obscure artist, bidden to the hunting parties of the prince, had done his best to portray the keeper and his bride who appeared in another medallion, arch and winning, in her open bodice laced with ribbons, teasing with piquant frown, a bird perched upon her finger. It was, however, the same good old dame, at that moment bending over the hearth-fire to cook. It reminded me of the fairies in a spectacle who hide under wrinkled masks, their real beauty revealed in the closing scene when the Temple of Love appears with its whirling sun darting magic fires.
"Oh, dear old aunt!" I exclaimed, "how pretty you were!"
"And I?" asked Sylvie, who had succeeded in opening the famous drawer which contained an old-fashioned dress of taffeta, so stiff that the heavy folds creaked under her touch. "I will see if it fits me," she said; "I shall look like an old fairy!" "Like the fairy of the legends, ever young," thought I.
Sylvie had already unfastened her muslin gown and let it fall to her feet. She bade me hook the rich robe which clung tightly to her slender figure.
"Oh, what ridiculous sleeves!" she cried; and yet, the lace frills displayed to advantage her bare arms, and her bust was outlined by the corsage of yellow tulle and faded ribbon which had concealed but little the vanished charms of her aunt.
"Come, make haste!" said Sylvie. "Do you not know how to hook a dress?" She looked like the village bride of Greuze. "You ought to have some powder," said I. "We will find some," and she turned to search the drawers anew. Oh! what treasures, what sweet odours, what gleams of light from brilliant hues and modest ornaments! Two mother-of-pearl fans slightly broken, some pomade boxes covered with Chinese designs, an amber necklace and a thousand trifles, among them two little white slippers with sparkling buckles of Irish diamonds. "Oh! I will put them on," cried Sylvie, "if I find the embroidered stockings."
A moment more, and we were unrolling a pair of pink silk stockings with green clocks; but the voice of the old aunt, accompanied by the hiss of the frying-pan, suddenly recalled us to reality. "Go down quickly," said Sylvie, who refused to let me help her finish dressing. Her aunt was just turning into a platter the contents of the frying-pan, a slice of bacon and some eggs. Presently, I heard Sylvie calling me from the staircase. "Dress yourself as soon as possible," and, completely attired herself, she pointed to the wedding clothes of the gamekeeper, spread out upon the chest. In an instant I was transformed into a bridegroom of the last century. Sylvie waited for me on the stairs, and we went down, arm in arm. Her aunt gave a cry when she saw us. "Oh, my children!" she exclaimed, beginning to weep and then smiling through her tears. It was the image of her own youth, a cruel, yet charming vision. We sat beside her, touched, almost saddened, but soon our mirth came back, for after the first surprise, the thoughts of the good old dame reverted to the stately festivities of her wedding day. She even recalled the old-fashioned songs chanted responsively from one end of the festal board to the other, and the quaint nuptial hymn whose strains attended the wedded pair when they withdrew after the dance. We repeated these couplets with their simple rhymes, flowery and passionate as the Song of Solomon. We were bride and bridegroom the space of one fair summer morn.
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VII
CHAÂLIS.
It is four o'clock in the morning; the road winds through a hollow and comes out on high ground; the carriage passes Orry, then La Chapelle. On the left is a road that skirts the forest of Hallate. Sylvie's brother took me through there one evening in his covered cart, to attend some local gathering on the Eve of Saint Bartholomew, I believe. Through the woods, along unfrequented ways, the little horse sped as if hastening to a witches' sabbath. We struck the highway again at Mont-l'Évêque, and a few moments later pulled up at the keeper's lodge of the old abbey of Chaâlis—Chaâlis, another memory!
This ancient retreat of the emperors offers nothing worthy of admiration, save its ruined cloisters with their Byzantine arcades, the last of which are still mirrored in the lake—crumbling fragments of the abodes of piety, formerly attached to this demesne, known in olden times as "Charlemagne's farms." In this quiet spot, far from the stir of highways and cities, religion has retained distinctive traces of the prolonged sojourn of the Cardinals of the House of Este during the time of the Medici; a shade of poetic gallantry still lingers about its ceremonial, a perfume of the Renaissance breathing beneath the delicately moulded arches of the chapels decorated by Italian artists. The faces of saints and angels outlined in rose tints upon a vaulted roof of pale blue produce an effect of pagan allegory, which recalls the sentimentality of Petrarch and the weird mysticism of Francesco Colonna. Sylvie's brother and I were intruders in the festivities of the evening. A person of noble birth, at that time proprietor of the demesne, had invited the neighbouring families to witness a kind of allegorical spectacle in which some of the inmates of the convent close by were to take part. It was not intended to recall the tragedies of Saint Cyr, but went back to the first lyric contests, introduced into France by the Valois princes. What I saw enacted resembled an ancient mystery. The costumes, consisting of long robes, presented no variety save in colour, blue, hyacinth or gold. The scene lay between angels on the ruins of the world. Each voice chanted one of the glories of the now extinct globe, and the Angel of Death set forth the causes of its destruction. A spirit rose from the abyss, holding a flaming sword, and convoked the others to glorify the power of Christ, the conqueror of bell. This spirit was Adrienne, transfigured by her costume as she was already by her vocation. The nimbus of gilded cardboard encircling her angelic head seemed to us a circle of light; her voice had gained in power and compass, and an infinite variety of Italian trills relieved with their bird-like warbling the stately severity of the recitative.
In recalling these details, I come to the point of asking myself, "Are they real or have I dreamed them?" Sylvie's brother was not quite sober that evening. We spent a few minutes in the keeper's house, where I was much impressed by a cygnet displayed above the door, and within there were tall chests of carved walnut, a large clock in its case and some archery prizes, bows and arrows, above a red and green target. A droll-looking dwarf in a Chinese cap, holding a bottle in one hand and a ring in the other, seemed to warn the marksmen to take good aim. I think the dwarf was cut out of sheet-iron. Did I really see Adrienne as surely as I marked these details? I am, however, certain that it was the son of the keeper who conducted us to the hall where the representation took place; we were seated near the door behind a numerous company who seemed deeply moved. It was the feast of Saint Bartholomew—a day strangely linked with memories of the Medici, whose arms, impaled with those of the House of Este, adorned these old walls. Is it an obsession, the way these memories haunt me? Fortunately the carriage stops here on the road to Plessis; I leave the world of dreams and find myself with only a fifteen-minutes walk to reach Loisy by forest paths.
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VIII
THE BALL AT LOISY.
I entered the ball of Loisy at that sad yet pleasing hour when the lights flicker and grow dim at the approach of dawn. A faint bluish tinge crept over the tops of the lime-trees, sunk in shadow below. The rustic flute no longer contended so gayly with the trills of the nightingale. The dancers all looked pale, and among the dishevelled groups I distinguished with difficulty any familiar faces. Finally, I recognized a tall girl, Sylvie's friend Lise.
"We have not seen you for a long time, Parisian," said she.
"Yes; a long time."
"And you come so late?"
"By coach."
"And you traveled slowly!"
"I came to see Sylvie; is she still here?"
"She will stay till morning; she loves to dance."
In a moment I was beside her; she looked tired, but her black eyes sparkled with the same Athenian smile as of old. A young man stood near her, but she refused by a gesture to join the next country-dance, and he bowed to her and withdrew.
It began to grow light, and we left the ball hand in hand. The flowers hung lifeless and faded in Sylvie's loosened tresses, and the nosegay at her bosom dropped its petals on the crumpled lace made by her skilful hands. I offered to walk home with her; it was broad day, but the sky was cloudy. The Thève murmured on our left, leaving at every curve a little pool of still water where yellow and white pond-lilies blossomed, and lake star-worts, like Easter daisies, spread their delicate broidery. The plain was covered with hay-ricks whose fragrance seemed wafted to my brain, affecting me as the fresh scent of the woods and hawthorn thickets had done in the past. This time neither of us thought of crossing the meadows.
"Sylvie," said I, "you no longer love me."
She sighed. "My friend," she continued, "you must console yourself, since things do not happen as we wish in this world. You once mentioned the New Heloise; I read it, and shuddered when I found these words, at the beginning: 'Any young girl who reads this book is lost.' However, I kept on, trusting in my discretion. Do you remember the day we put on the wedding clothes, at my aunt's house? The engravings in the book also represented lovers dressed in olden costumes, so that to me you were Saint-Preux and I was Julie. Ah! why did you not come back then? But they said you were in Italy. You must have seen there far prettier girls than I!"
"Not one, Sylvie, with your expression or the pure lines of your profile. You do not know it, but you are a nymph of antiquity. Besides, the woods here are as beautiful as those about Rome. There are granite masses yonder, not less sublime, and a cascade which falls from the rocks like that of Terni. I saw nothing there to regret here."
"And in Paris?" she asked.
"In Paris—" I shook my head, but did not answer. Suddenly I remembered the vain shadow which I had pursued so long. "Sylvie," cried I, "let us stop here, will you?"
I threw myself at her feet, and with hot tears I confessed my irresolution and fickleness; I evoked the fatal spectre that haunted my days.
"Save me!" I implored, "I come back to you forever."
She turned toward me with emotion, but at this moment our conversation was interrupted by a loud burst of laughter, and Sylvie's brother rejoined us with the boisterous mirth always attending a rustic festival, and which the abundant refreshments of the evening had stimulated beyond measure. He called to the gallant of the ball, who was concealed in a thicket, but hastened to us. This youth was little firmer on his feet than his companion, and appeared more embarrassed by the presence of a Parisian than by Sylvie. His candid look and awkward deference prevented any dislike on my part, on account of his dancing so late with Sylvie at the ball; I did not consider him a dangerous rival.
"We must go in," said Sylvie to her brother. "We shall meet again soon," she said, as she offered me her cheek to kiss, at which the lover was not offended.
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IX.
HERMENONVILLE.
Not feeling inclined to sleep, I walked to Montagny to revisit my uncle's house. Sadness fell upon me at the first glimpse of its yellow front and green shutters. Everything looked as before, but I was obliged to go to the farmer's to obtain the key. The shutters once open, I surveyed with emotion the old furniture, polished from time to time, to preserve its lustre, the tall cupboard of walnut, two Flemish paintings said to be the work of an ancient artist, our ancestor, some large prints after Boucher, and a whole series of framed engravings representing scenes from "Emile" and the "New Heloise" by Moreau; on the table was the dog, now stuffed and mounted, that I remembered alive, as the companion of my forest rambles, perhaps the last "Carlin," for it had belonged to that breed now extinct.
"As for the parrot," said the farmer, "he is still alive, and I took him home with me."
The garden offered a magnificent picture of the growth of wild vegetation, and there in a corner was the plot I had tended as a child. A shudder came over me as I entered the study, which still contained the little library of choice books, familiar friends of him who was no more, and where upon his desk lay antique relics, vases and Roman medals found in the garden,—a local collection, the source of much pleasure to him.
"Let us go to see the parrot," I said to the farmer. The parrot clamoured for his breakfast, as in his best days, and gave me a knowing look from his round eye peering out from the wrinkled skin, like the wise glances of the old.
Full of sad thoughts awakened by my return to this cherished spot, I felt that I must again see Sylvie, the only living tie which bound me to that region, and once more I took the road to Loisy. It was the middle of the day, and I found them all asleep, worn out by the night of merry-making. It occurred to me that it might divert my thoughts to stroll to Hermenonville, a league distant, by the forest road. It was fine summer weather, and on setting out I was delighted by the freshness and verdure of the path which seemed like the avenue of a park. The green branches of the great oaks were relieved by the white trunks and rustling leaves of the birches. The birds were silent, and I heard no sound but the woodpecker tapping the trees to find a hollow for her nest. At one time I was in danger of losing my way, the characters being wholly effaced on the guide-posts which served to distinguish the roads. Passing the Desert on the left, I came to the dancing-ring where I found the benches of the old men still in place. All the associations of ancient philosophy, revived by the former owner of the demesne, crowded upon me, at the sight of this picturesque realisation of "Anacharsis" and "Emile."
When I caught sight of the waters of the lake sparkling through the branches of willows and hazels, I recognised a spot which I had often visited with my uncle. Here stands to this day, sheltered by a group of pines, the Temple of Philosophy which its founder had not the good fortune to complete. It is built in the form of the temple of the Tiburtine Sibyl, and displays with pride the names of all the great thinkers from Montaigne and Descartes to Rousseau. This unfinished structure is now but a ruin around which the ivy twines its graceful tendrils, while brambles force their way between its disjointed steps. When but a child, I witnessed the celebrations here, where young girls, dressed in white, came to receive prizes for scholarship and good conduct. Where are the roses that girdled the hillside? Hidden by brier and eglantine, they are fast losing all traces of cultivation. As for the laurels, have they been cut down, according to the old song of the maidens who no longer care to roam the forest? No! these shrubs from sweet Italy have withered beneath our unfriendly skies. Happily, the privet of Virgil still thrives as if to emphasize the words of the Master, inscribed above the door, Rerum cognoscere causas. Yes! like so many others, this temple crumbles, and man, weary or thoughtless, passes it by, while indifferent nature reclaims the soil for which art contended, but the thirst for knowledge is eternal, the mainspring of all power and activity.
Here are the poplars of the island and the empty tomb of Rousseau. O Sage! thou gavest us the milk of the strong and we were too weak to receive it! We have forgotten thy lessons which our fathers knew, and we have lost the meaning of thy words, the last faint echoes of ancient wisdom! Still, let us not despair, and like thee, in thy last moments, let us turn our eyes to the sun!
I revisited the castle, the quiet waters about it, the cascade which complains among the rocks, the causeway that unites the two parts of the village with the four dove-cotes that mark the corners, and the green that stretches beyond like a prairie, above which rise wooded slopes; the tower of Gabrielle is reflected from afar in the waters of an artificial lake studded with ephemeral blossoms; the scum is seething, the insects hum. It is best to escape the noxious vapours and seek the rocks and sand of the desert and the waste lands where the pink heath blooms beside green ferns. How sad and lonely it all seems! In by-gone days, Sylvie's enchanting smile, her merry pranks and glad cries enlivened every spot! She was then a wild little creature with bare feet and sun-burned skin, in spite of the straw hat whose long strings floated loosely amid her dark locks. We used to go to the Swiss farm to drink milk, and they said: "How pretty your sweetheart is, little Parisian!" Ah! no peasant lad could have danced with her in those days! She would have none but me for her partner, at the yearly Feast of the Bow.
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X.
BIG CURLY-HEAD
I went back to Loisy and they were all awake. Sylvie was dressed like a young lady, almost in the fashion of the city. She led me up to her room with all her old simplicity. Her bright eyes smiled as charmingly as ever, but the decided arch of her brows made her at times look serious. The room was simply decorated, but the furniture was modern: a mirror in a gilt frame had replaced the old-fashioned looking-glass where an idyllic shepherd was depicted offering a nest to a blue and pink shepherdess; the four-post bed, modestly hung with flowered chintz, was succeeded by a little walnut couch with net curtains; canaries occupied the cage at the window where once there were linnets. I was impatient to leave this room, where nothing spoke to me of the past. "Shall you make lace to-day?" I asked Sylvie. "Oh, I do not make lace now; there is no demand for it here, and even at Chantilly the factory is closed." "What is your work then?" She brought forward, from the corner of the room, an iron tool which resembled a long pair of pincers.
"What is that?"
"It is called the machine and is used to hold the leather in place while the gloves are sewed."
"Then you are a glove-maker, Sylvie?"
"Yes, we work here for Dammartin; it pays well now, but I shall not work to-day; let us go wherever you like." I glanced towards Othys, but she shook her head, and I understood that the old aunt was no more. Sylvie called a little boy and bade him saddle an ass. "I am still tired from yesterday," she said, "but the ride will do me good; let us go to Chaâlis."
We set out through the forest, followed by the boy armed with a branch. Sylvie soon wished to stop, and I kissed her as I led her to a seat. Our conversation could no longer be very intimate. I had to talk of my life in Paris, my travels.... "How can anyone go so far?" she demanded. "It seems strange to me, when I look at you."
"Oh! of course,"
"Well, admit that you were not so pretty in the old days."
"I cannot tell."
"Do you remember when we were children and you the tallest?"
"And you the wisest?"
"Oh! Sylvie!"
"They put us on an ass, one in each pannier."
"And we said thee and thou to each other? Do you remember how you taught me to catch crawfish under the bridges over the Nonette and the Thève?"
"Do you remember your foster-brother who pulled you out of the water one day?"
"Big Curly-head? It was he who told me to go in."
I made haste to change the subject, because this recollection had brought vividly to mind the time when I used to go into the country, wearing a little English coat which made the peasants laugh. Sylvie was the only one who liked it, but I did not venture to remind her of such a juvenile opinion. For some reason, my mind turned to the old aunt's wedding clothes in which we had arrayed ourselves, and I asked what had become of them.
"Oh! poor aunt," cried Sylvie; "she lent me her gown to wear to the carnival at Dammartin, two years ago, and the next year she died, dear, old aunt!" She sighed and the tears came, so I could not inquire how it chanced that she went to a masquerade, but I perceived that, thanks to her skill, Sylvie was no longer a peasant girl. Her parents had not risen above their former station, and she lived with them, scattering plenty around her like an industrious fairy.
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XI.
RETURN.
The outlook widened when we left the forest and we found ourselves near the lake of Chaâlis. The galleries of the cloister, the chapel with its pointed arches, the feudal tower and the little castle which had sheltered the loves of Henry IV. and Gabrielle, were bathed in the crimson glow of evening against the dark background of the forest.
"Like one of Walter Scott's landscapes, is it not?" said Sylvie. "And who has told you of Walter Scott?" I inquired. "You must have read much in the past three years! As for me, I try to forget books, and what delights me, is to revisit with you this old abbey where, as little children, we played hide and seek among the ruins. Do you remember, Sylvie, how afraid you were when the keeper told us the story of the Red Monks?"
"Oh, do not speak of it!"
"Well then, sing me the song of the fair maid under the white rose-bush, who was stolen from her father's garden."
"Nobody sings that now."
"Is it possible that you have become a musician?"
"Perhaps."
"Sylvie, Sylvie, I am positive that you sing airs from operas!"
"Why should you complain?"
"Because I loved the old songs and you have forgotten them."
Sylvie warbled a few notes of a grand air from a modern opera.... She phrased!
We turned away from the lakeside and approached the green bordered with lime-trees and elms, where we had so often danced. I had the conceit to describe the old Carlovingian walls and to decipher the armorial bearings of the House of Este.
"And you! How much more you have read than I, and how learned you have become!" said Sylvie. I was vexed by her tone of reproach, as I had all the way been seeking a favourable opportunity to resume the tender confidences of the morning, but what could I say, accompanied by a donkey and a very wide-awake lad who pressed nearer and nearer for the pleasure of hearing a Parisian talk? Then I displayed my lack of tact, by relating the vision of Chaâlis which I recalled so vividly. I led Sylvie into the very hall of the castle where I had heard Adrienne sing. "Oh, let me hear you!" I besought her; "let your loved voice ring out beneath these arches and put to flight the spirit that torments me, be it angel or demon!" She repeated the words and sang after me:
"Anges, descendez promptement
au fond du purgatoire...."
(Angels descend without delay
To dread abyss of purgatory.)
"It is very sad!" she cried.
"It is sublime! An air from Porpora, I think, with words translated in the present century."
"I do not know," she replied.
We came home through the valley, following the Charlepont road which the peasants, without regard to etymology, persistently called Châllepont. The way was deserted, and Sylvie, weary of riding, leaned upon my arm, while I tried to speak of what was in my heart, but, I know not why, could find only trivial words or stilted phrases from some romance that Sylvie might have read. I stopped suddenly then, in true classic style, and she was occasionally amazed by these disjointed rhapsodies. Having reached the walls of Saint S—— we had to look well to our steps, on account of the numerous stream-lets winding through the damp marshes.
"What has become of the nun?" I asked suddenly.
"You give me no peace with your nun! Ah, well! it is a sad story!" Not a word more would Sylvie say.
Do women really feel that certain words come from the lips rather than the heart? It does not seem probable, to see how readily they are deceived, and what an inexplicable choice they usually make—there are men who play the comedy of love so well! I never could accustom myself to it, although I know some women lend themselves wittingly to the deception. A love that dates from childhood is, however, sacred, and Sylvie, whom I had seen grow up, was like a sister to me; I could not betray her. Suddenly, a new thought came to me. "At this very hour, I might be at the theatre. What is Aurélie (that was the name of the actress) playing to-night? No doubt the part of the Princess in the new play. How touching she is in the third act! And in the love scene of the second with that wrinkled actor who plays the lover!"
"Lost in thought?" said Sylvie; and she began to sing:
"A Dammartin l'y a trots belles filles:
L'y en a z'une plus belle que le jour...."
(At Dammartin there are three fair maids,
And one of them is fairer than day.)
"Little tease!" I cried, "you know you remember the old songs."
"If you would come here oftener, I would try to remember more of them," she said; "but we must think of realities; you have your affairs at Paris, I have my work here; let us go in early, for I must rise with the sun to-morrow."
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XII.
FATHER DODU.
I was about to reply, to fall at her feet and offer her my uncle's house which I could purchase, as the little estate had not been apportioned among the numerous heirs, but just then we reached Loisy, where supper awaited us and the onion-soup was diffusing its patriarchal odour. Neighbours had been invited to celebrate the day after the feast, and I recognised at a glance Father Dodu, an old wood-cutter who used to amuse or frighten us, in the evenings by his stories. Shepherd, carrier, gamekeeper, fisherman and even poacher, by turns, Father Dodu made clocks and turnspits in his leisure moments. For a long time he acted as guide to the English tourists at Hermenonville, and while he recounted the last moments of the philosopher, would lead them to Rousseau's favourite spots for meditation. He was the little boy employed to classify the herbs and gather the hemlock twigs from which the sage pressed the juice into his cup of coffee. The landlord of the Golden Cross contested this point and a lasting feud resulted. Father Dodu had once borne the reproach of possessing some very innocent secrets, such as how to cure cows by saying a rhyme backwards and making the sign of the cross with the left foot, but he had renounced these superstitions—thanks, he declared, to his conversations with Jean Jacques.
"That you, little Parisian?" said Father Dodu; "have you come to carry off our pretty girls?"
"I, Father Dodu?"
"You take them into the woods when the wolf is away!"
"Father Dodu, you are the wolf."
"I was as long as I could find sheep, but at present I meet only goats, and they know how to take care of themselves! As for you, why, you are all rascals in Paris. Jean Jacques was right when he said, 'Man grows corrupt in the poisonous air of cities.'"
"Father Dodu, you know very well that men become corrupt everywhere."
"Father Dodu began to roar out a drinking song, and it was impossible to stop him at a questionable couplet that everyone knew by heart. Sylvie would not sing, in spite of our entreaties, on the plea that it was no longer customary to sing at table. I bad already noticed the lover of the ball, seated at her left, and his round face and tumbled hair seemed familiar. He rose and stood behind me, saying, "Have you forgotten me, Parisian?" A good woman who came back to dessert after serving us, whispered in my ear: "Do you not recognize your foster-brother?" Without this warning, I should have made myself ridiculous. "Ah, it is Big Curly-head!" I cried; "the very same who pulled me out of the water." Sylvie burst out laughing at the recollection.
"Without considering," said the youth em-bracing me, "that you had a fine silver watch and on the way home you were more concerned about it than yourself, because it had stopped. You said, 'the creature is drowned does not go tick-tack; what will Uncle say?'" "A watch is a creature," said Father Dodu; "that is what they tell children in Paris!"
Sylvie was sleepy, and I fancied there was no hope for me. She went upstairs, and as I kissed her, said: "Come again to-morrow." Father Dodu remained at table with Sylvain and my foster-brother, and we talked a long time over a bottle of Louvres ratafia.
"All men are equal," said Father Dodu between glasses; "I drink with a pastry-cook as readily as with a prince."
"Where is the pastry-cook?" I asked.
"By your side! There you see a young man who is ambitious to get on in life."
My foster-brother appeared embarrassed and I understood the situation. Fate had reserved for me a foster-brother in the very country made famous by Rousseau, who opposed putting children out to nurse! I learned from Father Dodu that there was much talk of a marriage between Sylvie and Big Curly-head, who wished to open a pastry-shop at Dammartin. I asked no more. Next morning the coach from Nanteuil-le-Haudouin took me back to Paris.
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XIII
AURÉLIE.
To Paris, a journey of five hours! I was impatient for evening, and eight o'clock found me in my accustomed seat Aurélie infused her own spirit and grace into the lines of the play, the work of a contemporary author evidently inspired by Schiller. In the garden scene she was sublime. During the fourth act, when she did not appear, I went out to purchase a bouquet of Madame Prevost, slipping into it a tender effusion signed An Unknown, "There," thought I, "is something definite for the future," but on the morrow I was on my way to Germany.
Why did I go there? In the hope of com-posing my disordered fancy. If I were to write a book, I could never gain credence for the story of a heart torn by these two conflicting loves. I had lost Sylvie through my own fault, but to see her for a day, sufficed to restore my soul. A glance from her had arrested me on the verge of the abyss, and henceforth I enshrined her as a smiling goddess in the Temple of Wisdom. I felt more than ever reluctant to present myself before Aurélie among the throng of vulgar suitors who shone in the light of her favour for an instant only to fall blinded.
"Some day," said I, "we shall see whether this woman has a heart."
One morning I learned from a newspaper that Aurélie was ill, and I wrote to her from the mountains of Salzburg, a letter so filled with German mysticism that I could hardly hope for a reply, indeed I expected none. I left it to chance or ... the unknown.
Months passed, and in the leisure intervals of travel I undertook to embody in poetic action the life-long devotion of the painter Colonna to the fair Laura who was constrained by her relatives to take the veil. Something in the subject lent itself to my habitual train of thought, and as soon as the last verse of the drama was written, I hastened back to France.
Can I avoid repeating in my own history, that of many others? I passed through all the ordeals of the theatre. I "ate the drum and drank the cymbal," according to the apparently meaningless phrase of the initiates at Eleusis, which probably signifies that upon occasion we must stand ready to pass the bounds of reason and absurdity; for me it meant to win and possess my ideal.
Aurélie accepted the leading part in the play which I brought back from Germany. I shall never forget the day she allowed me to read it to her. The love scenes had been arranged expressly for her, and I am positive that I rendered them with feeling. In the conversation that followed I revealed myself as the "Unknown" of the two letters. She said: "You are mad, but come again; I have never found anyone who knew how to love me."
Oh, woman! you seek for love ... but what of me?
In the days which followed I wrote probably the most eloquent and touching letters that she ever received. Her answers were full of good sense. Once she was moved, sent for me and confessed that it was hard for her to break an attachment of long standing. "If you love me for myself alone, then you will understand that I can belong to but one."
Two months later, I received an effusive letter which brought me to her feet—in the meantime, someone volunteered an important piece of information. The handsome young man whom I had met one night at the club had just enlisted in the Turkish cavalry.
Races were held at Chantilly the next season, and the theatre troupe to which Aurélie belonged gave a performance. Once in the country, the company was for three days subject to the orders of the director. I had made friends with this worthy man, formerly the Dorante of the comedies of Marivaux and for a long time successful in lovers' parts. His latest triumph was achieved in the play imitated from Schiller, when my opera-glass had discovered all his wrinkles. He had fire, however, and being thin, produced a good effect in the provinces. I accompanied the troupe in the quality of poet, and persuaded the manager to give performances at Senlis and Dammartin. He inclined to Compiègne at first, but Aurélie was of my opinion. Next day, while arrangements with the local authorities were in progress, I ordered horses and we set out on the road to Commelle to breakfast at the castle of Queen Blanche. Aurélie, on horseback, with her blonde hair floating in the wind, rode through the forest like some queen of olden times, and the peasants were dazzled by her appearance. Madame de F—— was the only woman they had ever seen so imposing and so graceful. After breakfast we rode down to the villages like Swiss hamlets where the waters of the Nonette turn the busy saw-mills. These scenes, which my remembrance cherished, interested Aurélie, but did not move her to delay. I had planned to conduct her to the castle near Orry, where I had first seen Adrienne on the green. She manifested no emotion. Then I told her all; I revealed the hidden spring of that love which haunted my dreams by night and was realized in her. She listened with attention and said: "You do not love me! You expect me to say 'the actress and the nun are the same'; you are merely arranging a drama and the issue of the plot is lacking. Go! I no longer believe in you."
Her words were an illumination. The unnatural enthusiasm which had possessed me for so long, my dreams, my tears, my despair and my tenderness,—could they mean aught but love? What then is love?
Aurélie played that night at Senlis, and I thought she displayed a weakness for the director, the wrinkled "young lover" of the stage. His character was exemplary, and he had already shown her much kindness.
One day, Aurélie said to me: "There is the man who loves me!"
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XIV.
THE LAST LEAF.
Such are the fancies that charm and beguile us in the morning of life! I have tried to set them down here, in a disconnected fashion, but many hearts will understand me. One by one our illusions fall like husks, and the kernel thus laid bare is experience. Its taste is bitter, but it yields an acrid flavour that invigorates,—to use an old-fashioned simile. Rousseau says that the aspect of nature is a universal consolation. Sometimes I seek again my groves of Clarens lost in the fog to the north of Paris, but now, all is changed! Hermenonville, the spot where the ancient idyl blossomed again, transplanted by Gessner, thy star has set, the star that glowed for me with two-fold lustre. Blue and rose by turns, like the changeful Aldebaran, it was formed by Adrienne and Sylvie, the two halves of my love. One was the sublime ideal, the other, the sweet reality. What are thy groves and lakes and thy desert to me now? Othys, Montagny, Loiseaux, poor neighbouring hamlets, and Chaâlis now to be restored, you guard for me no treasures of the past. Occasionally, I feel a desire to return to those scenes of lonely musing, where I sadly mark the fleeting traces of a period when affectation invaded nature; sometimes I smile as I read upon the granite rocks certain lines from Boucher, which I once thought sublime, or virtuous maxims inscribed above a fountain or a grotto dedicated to Pan. The swans disdain the stagnant waters of the little lakes excavated at such an expense. The time is no more when the hunt of Condé swept by with its proud riders, and the forest-echoes rang with answering horns! There is to-day no direct route to Hermenonville, and sometimes I go by Creil and Senlis, sometimes by Dammartin.
It is impossible to reach Dammartin before night, so I lodge at the Image of Saint John. They usually give me a neat room hung with old tapestry, with a glass between the windows. This room shows a return to the fashion for bric-à-brac which I renounced long ago. I sleep comfortably under the eider-down covering used there. In the morning, when I throw open the casement wreathed with vines and roses, I gaze with rapture upon a wide green landscape stretching away to the horizon, where a line of poplars stand like sentinels. Here and there the villages nestle guarded by their protecting church-spires. First Othys, then Eve and Ver; Hermenonville would be visible beyond the wood, if it had a belfry, but in that philosophic spot the church has been neglected. Having filled my lungs with the pure air of these uplands, I go down stairs in good humour and start for the pastry-cook's. "Helloa, big Curly-head!" "Helloa, little Parisian!" We greet each other with sly punches in the ribs as we did in childhood, then I climb a certain stair where two children welcome my coming. Sylvie's Athenian smile lights up her classic features, and I say to myself: "Here, perhaps, is the happiness I have missed, and yet...."
Sometimes I call her Lotty, and she sees in me some resemblance to Werther without the pistols, which are out of fashion now. While Big Curly-head is busy with the breakfast, we take the children for a walk through the avenues of limes that border the ruins of the old brick towers of the castle. While the little ones practise with their bows and arrows, we read some poem or a few pages from one of those old books all too short, and long forgotten by the world.
I forgot to say that when Aurélie's troupe gave a performance at Dammartin, I took Sylvie to the play and asked her if she did not think the actress resembled someone she knew.
"Whom, pray?"
"Do you remember Adrienne?"
She laughed merrily, in reply. "What an idea!"
Then, as if in self-reproach, she added with a sigh: "Poor Adrienne! she died at the convent of Saint S—— about 1832."
尚青：「呃～，這篇『閱讀測驗』有點長！」
希薇：「我們老師說遇到不太會的英文閱讀測驗，先看題目以後把文章全部讀一遍。非常快速(大概花五分鐘)
遇到不會的字直接跳過，重點是：要用手指去指每一個字，邊讀邊掃過去這樣子。讀完你可能覺得不
知道他在幹嘛，但是再看題目以後就會知道答案了。」
洛基：「老師，您還沒給閱讀測驗的題目吔！」
「難怪我完全看不懂」艾力克：「原來是因為題目還沒給！」
修士：「＠＃％＆＊～，天啊！這不是閱讀測驗！」
尚青：「我記得『克漏字』不是長這樣。」
艾力克：「難道這是『劇本』？」
洛基：「恭喜你突破『盲點』了。」
修士：「我很高興你們能有這層領悟，看來你們不是完全看不懂，的確有學者認為“席維亞”『舞台劇』的
成份很重」
「大家有沒有發現這間教室很像『劇場』？」尚青：「還有舞台和布幕！」
「你不是第一個這麼說的人。」修士：「我們剛搬進來時也這麼認為，做為修道院，這棟建築太華麗了。」
艾力克：「難怪很多人到這裏詢問『席維亞』，這裏以前會不會是『劇院』？」
修士：「這個問題可能要問院長，我不是第一個搬進來的人。不過這棟建築在我們搬進來之前就存在了。」
希薇：「但是這個『劇本』的『獨白』也太多了吧！」
尚青：「那不是『獨白』，那是『內心戲』。」
洛基：「是嗎？那你『演』一下『內心戲』給我看看！」
希薇：「光是她『蒼白如夜，美如白晝』就很難演。」
尚青：「呃～，那不是用「演」的，那是用「看」的。例如：找一個看起來『蒼白如夜，美如白晝』
的女演員來詮釋這個角色。」
艾力克：「老師只是說“席維亞”『舞台劇』的成份很重，沒說這本小說一定是『劇本』. 至少我就沒看過
有那個導演成功將 “席維亞” 改拍成電影的。」
洛基：「沒錯，難度真的很高，畢竟要將『獨白』在觀眾面前呈現成『內心戲』不是一件容易的事。」
尚青：「但是我好想演演看，尤其這位作者和我一樣很沒『時間概念』，這些搞不清楚『過去那一段時間』
的『獨白』好像是為我設計的，我真的感同身受，很有親切感。」
為了讓尚青「演演看」，將「沒有時間概念」的生活「繼續進行」下去，順便證明尚青是史上『第二沒時間
概念』的人。大家也只好勇敢地「搏命」配合演出很可能會在小說中「迷失自已」、至今沒有導演敢拍的
「席維亞」。
PS：由於英文不具備「未完成過去式」，所以很難翻譯出著名的「劇場之夜」也就是「席維亞」
第一章的第 一句：
I passed out of a theatre where I was wont to appear nightly, in the proscenium boxes.
我當時正從一座劇院走出來，而夜復一夜，我都會在其中一個舞台包廂現身。
這翻譯雖然有點長，但是原文(法文)「未完成過去式」動詞的「持續性」和「重複性」至少都表達出來了。
從第一章開頭五小段的６０個動詞裏：「未完成過去式」就用了５３個，這就是為什麼作者造成「時間失
序」的原因，因為它表示動詞「過去未完成」的狀態：它將我們從正在說話的「此刻」移到「先前一段時
間」，但是並沒有確切告我們到底是什麼時候，並且持續多久。一位年輕人從劇院裏走出來，決定前從往羅
希的舞會，而在路途中，他竟然又回憶起「以前某次」前往羅希的路程。由於作者在「回憶的夢境」和「找
尋真實」兩者之間掙扎，所以這個時候「現實」很容易和「回憶」混淆在一起，讀者完全不知道自己到底身
處故事中的「那一段」情節，因此會有「迷路」的感覺，就算翻回前面重看，也是徒勞無功。
為了成功地將「夢境」與「現實」混淆在一起，使觀眾看了之後「神精錯亂」地逃出劇院；呃～，不，是產
生夢幻迷離的「氤氳」效果，尚青決定挑戰最難演的「羅希舞會」。(以下要求完全照書上吩咐)
場景：位於羅希的一處草原空地（實際上是修道院的教室舞台）
燈光：由洛基負責史上難度最高的劇場燈光效果（這簡直是特技）：
一、女演員出場時首先要有「成排的」腳燈照亮。
二、接著是頭頂上的分枝吊燈。
三、舞會進行時夕陽西下的餘暉要具有背景布幔的效果。
四、當女主角唱歌時，她所在的位置要有被頭上「月亮大燈」孤立起來的感覺。
(也就是所謂「聚光燈」的效果，並且確保女主角退到後台前能向觀眾優雅行禮)
五、最後要讓幾棵菩提樹的根基逐漸隱進黑暗，而同時讓樹梢染上帶藍的光，直到整個場景被清晨蒼白的晨
曦淹沒為止。(筆者非常懷疑洛基能否完成此項「不可能的任務」)
音效：由艾力克負責指導女主角邊走邊唱地優雅現身。
武術指導：由樂團鼓手aben負責指導修士組成「羅希射箭隊」，不但要拉弓射箭，還要充滿「神話聯想」。
如果男女主角不會跳舞的話，可能還要指導如何跳舞。
男主角：尚青
女主角：希薇
以下是第一次排演的順台詞：
男主角：啊!火炬遠不及妳的明亮；妳皎然懸在暮天的頰上，
像黑奴耳邊璀璨的珠環；妳是天上明珠降落人間！
瞧妳隨著女伴進退周旋，像鴉群中一頭白鴿蹁躚。
我要等舞闌後追隨左右，握一握妳那纖纖的素手。
我從前的戀愛是假非真，今晚才遇見絕世的佳人
女主角：幸福的夜啊！我怕我只是在晚上做了一個夢,這樣美滿的事不會是真實的。
修士：等一下，這不是“莎士比亞”「羅密歐與茱麗葉」的台詞嗎？
尚青：沒辦法，「席維亞」這本小說只著重演「內心戲」的「獨白」以及劇場「燈光」、「場景」的安排，
幾乎沒給什麼男女主角的「對白」，為了營造舞台劇氣氛只好朗讀了“莎士比亞”文謅謅的台詞了。
修士：你這樣對得起社會大眾嗎？
尚青：要不然我改唸”瓊瑤阿姨”連續劇的台詞。
修士：你不會自已編嗎？
以下是”第二次”順台詞：
女主角：你那模稜兩可的敘事策略，真是如假包換的曖昧不明，一個前來羅希的「你」竟又回憶起另一
從前的「你」，你到底認同那一個「你」？從頭到尾也交待不清，甚至還多了「另一個」敘事者出
來幫「你」混淆視聽，你這樣對得起「如墜五里霧」的迷惑讀者嗎？
男主角：妳在第一章是「蒼白如夜，美如白晝」的女演員奧慧麗雅，到了第二章成了金髮高窕、
具備瓦洛瓦家族血統、榮光和美麗幻象的艾德希安，等到第四章又變成擁有雅典式優雅、
令人不可抗拒、如神般美麗、彷彿「遠古藝術品」的席維亞，三人就像狡黠的藝術女伶般
「不可狹近」又俐落機靈，每當我一靠近，妳就隨時準備變成「另一種東西」。
修士：卡～，這是「批鬥大會」嗎？你們在「審問」誰？作者又不在這裏？
尚青：我們只是說出真心話，這個作者不只對「時間」超級沒概念。
希薇：而且對「女人」也不是普通沒概念，每次他逃避自已心愛的女子嘗試接近另一個，卻又發現後者和他
想要躲開的那個人相似，最後這三名女子終於成功地永遠令他「混淆不清」，彷彿這三個人是同一個
人。
修士：所以你們認為「男主角」就是「作者」？
希薇：不然咧？還會有別人嗎？
洛基：恭喜妳，又突破「盲點」了！也許作者真的是「別人」呢？
修士：書中先後出現的「三位」女主角會不會其實真的是「同一個」人？
洛基：啊！太好了！又出現一個新的「盲點」！
尚青：我其實有一喜歡這樣「逆向操作」，把「席維亞」當作推理小說來「破解」。
艾力克：但是這本書的「疑難雜症」實在是太多了，給的「線索」又太少，真是「先天不足」又
「後天失調」。
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有一個猶太人的領袖來請教耶穌說：「良善的老師，我該做什麼才能夠得到永恆的生命呢？」
耶穌問他：「你為什麼稱我為良善的呢？除了上帝以外，再也沒有良善的了。你一定曉得戒命所規定的：『不可姦淫；不可殺人；不可偷竊；不可做假証；要孝敬父母。』」
那個人回答：「這一切誡命我從小都遵守了。」
耶穌聽見這話，再對他說：「你還缺少一件，去賣掉你所有的產業，把錢捐給窮人，你就會有財富積存在天上；然後來跟從我。」那個人一聽見這話，很不開心，因為他很富有。
耶穌看見這種情形，就說：「有錢人要成為上帝國的子民多麼難啊！有錢人要成為上帝國的子民比駱駝穿過針眼還要難！」
聽見這話的人就問：「這樣說來，誰能得救呢？」
耶穌說：「人所不能的，上帝都能。」
這時候，彼得說：「你看，我們已經撇下我們的家來跟從你了。」
耶穌說：「是的，我告訴你們，凡是為上帝的國而撇下自己的房屋、妻子、兄弟、父母，或兒女的，一定要在今世得到更多，並且在來世享受永恆的生命。」
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1.下次如果覺得自己了不起時,試試行在水上。
If you think you are so great, try walk on the water.
2.當魔鬼提起你的過去時,請提醒牠的未來。
If Satan mentioned about your past, remind him his future.
3.你不是幸運,是蒙福。
You are not lucky, you are blessed.
4.若想要真正活著,得先徹底死去。
If you really want to live, you have to die thoroughly first.
5.機會也許只敲一次門,但試探卻總是在按門鈴。
Opportunity might knock only once, yet temptation is always pressing the doorbell.
6.我們常在強壯時,忘了神。
When we are strong, we always forget about our God.
7.那些只在星期天呼喚"天父"的人,在一星期餘下的日子?活得像孤兒。
Those who only call upon "Heavenly Father" on Sunday, the rest of the week, they are like orphans.
8.不要以自我為中心,要以基督為中心。
Do not focus on yourself, focus on Christ.
9.沒有基督,沒有平安;認識基督,得到平安。
No Christ, no peace; know Christ, know peace)
10.為什麼我們不常向朋友提起神？因為我們不常向神提起我們的朋友。
Why we seldom mention to our friends about God? because we seldom tell God about our friends.
11.當把你的一切獻給基督,因為祂把祂的一切都給了你。
You should give everything of yours to Christ as He gave you everything He has already .
12.你現在所追求的,值得基督為它死嗎？(好問題…)
What you want to own, worth Christ to die for it?
13.使你向神靠近的人,是你真正的朋友。
Those who lead you toward God, are your real friends.
14.神愛我們,不是因為我們是怎樣一個人,而是因為祂是怎樣一位神。
God loves us, not because what kind of people we are, but He is thatkind of God.
15.神的應許像夜空的星星。夜越深,星星的光芒越亮。
Gods promises are like the stars in the sky, the darker the night is, the more shine the stars are.
16.沒有基督的生命,是無望的盡頭。有基督的生命,是無盡的盼望。
A life without Christ is no hope. A life with Christ has hope without ending
17.我雖不知道未來掌管著什麼,但我知道誰掌管著未來。
Although I do not know what future will handle. But I do know who is handling the future.
18.把你的重擔交給主,讓它留在主那?。
Give your burden to Lord & leave it there with Him.
19.不要畏懼明天,因為上帝已在那?。
Do not be afraid of Tomorrow, because God is already there.
20.當你除了神,一無所有時,你將知道神就是你全部的需要。
If you have nothing else besides God, then you will know God is all you need.
21.放手交給上帝,別再向神講述你的風暴有多大,當向風暴講述你的神有多大。
Do not tell God how big is your problem, just leave it to Him. Do tell your problem how great is your God.
22.能夠滿足人心的,是造人心的那一位。
The only one who can satisfy your heart is the one who created it.
23.請常常保持著你心中的光,因為你不知道,誰會藉著這光走出黑暗。
Please keep the light in your heart, because you do not know who will use this light to get out of the darkness.
24.當我們只顧工作的時候,我們獨自工作;當我們祈禱的時候,神工作。
If we care only about work, we work ourselves alone. When we startpraying, God works
.
25.神無所不在,所以我們可以隨處禱告。
God is everywhere, so we can pray everywhere, anywhere.
26.一個沒有需要的人永遠見不到神跡。
If one has no need, he will never see miracle.
27.敬拜提醒我們生命的價值,但世界卻使我們忘記它。
Worship remind us the value of our life, yet the world let us forget about it.
修道生活實際體驗
在 個人創作集散地
發表於 · 此內容已被編輯, ,由 多酚
基督教的現代中文譯本版本
我們在天上的父親：
願人都尊崇你的聖名；
願你在世上掌權；願你的旨
意實現在地上，如同實現在天上。
賜給我們今日所需的飲食。
饒恕我們對你的虧負，正如我們饒恕了虧負我們的人。
不要讓我們遭受承擔不起的考驗，要救我們脫離那邪惡者的手。
因為國度、權柄、榮耀都屬於你，直到永遠。阿們。