A Dead Woman’s Secret /by Guy de Maupassant
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/3090/3090-h/3090-h.htm#2H_4_0190
Chi̍t-ê Óng-seng Cha-bó͘ ê Pì-bi̍t | 一个往生查某 ê 秘密
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1. Yi ê kòe-sin khin-sang koh sûn-kiat
Hit-ê cha-bó͘ sí ê sî bô kan-khó͘, sí kah chin an-lêng, sī it-seng bô thang hiâm ê cha-bó͘ ê sí-hoat. Taⁿ yi tó tī bîn-chhn̂g, khùn thán chhiò, ba̍k-chiu kheh-kheh, piáu-chêng pêng-chēng, pe̍h-thâu-mo͘ se kah sù-sù sī-sī, bē-su tī sí chêng cha̍p hun-cheng chiah se hó-sè. Sí-chiá kui-ê chheⁿ-pe̍h ê bīn hiah-nī tìn-chēng, hiah-nī pêng-hô, hiah-nī pàng-sang, hō͘ lâng kám-kak sī siáⁿ-khoán tiⁿ-bi̍t ê lêng-hûn tòa kòe hit-ê sin-khu, chit-ê lāu lêng-hûn só͘ kòe ê sī siáⁿ-khoán an-lêng ê ji̍t-chí, chit-ê sī-tōa ê kòe-sin sī gōa-nī khin-sang koh sûn-kiat.
Kūi tī chhn̂g-piⁿ sī yin hāu-seⁿ (chi̍t-ê ū kian-tēng goân-chek ê tē-hng hoat-koaⁿ) hām yin cha-bó͘-kiáⁿ (Marguerite, lâng-lâng kiò yi Eulalie Siu-lú), lóng khàu kah chiâⁿ siong-sim. Chū in gín-á sî khai-sí, yi tō bú-chong in giâm-keh ê tō-tek kui-kí, kà-sī in bô loán-jio̍k ê sìn-gióng, bô thò-hia̍p ê chek-jīm. Taⁿ, hāu-seⁿ í-keng chiâⁿ-chò hoat-koaⁿ, kā hoat-lu̍t tòng-chò bú-khì, táⁿ-kek nńg-chiáⁿ ê lâng chi̍t-tiám-á to bē sim-nńg. Cha-bó͘-kiáⁿ, in-ūi siū-tio̍h chit-ê phok-sò͘ ka-têng ê bí-tek só͘ éng-hióng, tùi cha-po͘-lâng oàn-chheh, taⁿ í-keng chiâⁿ-chò kàu-hōe ê sin-niû.
In tùi ka-tī ê lāu-pē só͘ chai bô chē, kan-ta chai-iaⁿ i hō͘ in lāu-bú siong-sim, m̄-koh m̄-chai it-chhè ê sè-chiat.
Siu-lú tiu-tiu chim hit-ê óng-seng cha-bó͘ ê chhiú, ná chhiūⁿ-gê ê chhiú, ná khòe tī bîn-chhn̂g ê hit-ki tōa si̍p-jī-kè hiah pe̍h. Tī tn̂g-tn̂g sin-khu ê hit-pêng, lēng-gōa hit-ki chhiú khòaⁿ khí-lâi ká-ná iáu ân-ân kā phōe-toaⁿ la̍k-tiâu leh; phōe-toaⁿ iáu pó-liû sió-khóa jiâu-jiâu, kì-lo̍k tio̍h éng-kiú bē-tāng chìn-chêng ê chòe-āu tōng-chok.
Kúi-siaⁿ khin-khin ê khok-mn̂g, nn̄g-ê chheh-khùi teh khàu ê thâu taⁿ khí-lâi, tú-chiah khì chia̍h-àm ê bo̍k-su tńg-lâi. I ê bīn âng kì-kì, kiông boeh chhoán bô khùi, in-ūi ūi-tn̂g bô sóng-khoài; he sī in-ūi i ka-tī phàu chi̍t-poe kāu kapi lām brandi lâi lim, siūⁿ boeh án-ne lâi khek-ho̍k kúi-mê lâi ê phî-lô hām tú-boeh khai-sí ê chiú-lêng.
I khòaⁿ khí-lâi pi-siong, he sī kek chhut-lâi ê pi-siong, in-ūi sí-bông sī bo̍k-su choán-chia̍h ê ki-hōe. I ná kiâⁿ óa, ná chin choan-gia̍p án-ne pí chi̍t-ê si̍p-jī-kè ê chhiú-sè: "Hó ah, koai gín-á! Taⁿ góa lâi pôe lín tō͘-kòe chòe-āu chit kúi tiám-cheng." M̄-koh Eulalie Siu-lú hut-jiân khiā khí-lâi. "Kám-un, sîn-hū, m̄-koh góa hām goán a-hiaⁿ siūⁿ boeh tan-to̍k pôe-phōaⁿ yi. Che sī goán chòe-āu khòaⁿ yi ê ki-hōe, goán hi-bōng boeh chò-hóe, kan-ta goán saⁿ-lâng, tō͘ ná chhin-chhiūⁿ sè-hàn ê sî, goán... goán... hām goán khó-liân ê lāu... lāu-bú..."
In-ūi pi-siong hām ba̍k-sái ê chó͘-gāi, hō͘ yi bô hoat-tō͘ koh kóng lo̍h-khì.
Bo̍k-su oa̍t-lú tìn-chēng, àⁿ-sin kiâⁿ chi̍t-ê lé, sim-lāi teh siūⁿ i ê bîn-chhn̂g. "Nā án-ne, tō chiàu lín ê ì-sù, koai gín-á." I kūi lo̍h-lâi, pí si̍p-jī-kè, kî-tó, liáu-āu tō khí-sin, tiām-tiām kiâⁿ chhut-khì, chhùi ná án-ne liām: "Yi sī chi̍t-ê sèng-jîn!"
In tan-to̍k lâu tī hia, hit-ê óng-seng ê cha-bó͘ hām yin nn̄g-ê gín-á. Chhàng tī o͘-iáⁿ tiong sî-cheng ê tit-tok siaⁿ, ē-tàng chheng-chhó͘ thiaⁿ tio̍h; ta-chháu hām chhiū-nâ ê tiⁿ bī, tòe jiû-jiû ê goe̍h-kng thàng kòe khui-khui ê thang-á phiau ji̍p-lâi. Tî-liáu ngó͘-jiân ê kap-á siaⁿ a̍h òaⁿ-kàu ê thâng-thōa siaⁿ, chit-tè thó͘-tē bô thiaⁿ-kìⁿ kî-thaⁿ ê siaⁿ-soeh. Chi̍t-ê bô-hān ê hô-pêng, chi̍t-ê sîn-sèng ê iu-ut, chi̍t-chióng tiām-tiām ê an-chēng, pau-ûi tio̍h chit-ê óng-seng ê cha-bó͘, ká-ná he sī yi chhoán chhut-lâi ê khùi teh an-tah tāi-chū-jiân pún-sin.
Hit-sî, hoat-koaⁿ iáu-sī kūi leh, i ê thâu tú tī phōe-toaⁿ, pi-siong ê khàu-siaⁿ in-ūi thàng-kòe phōe-toaⁿ hām thán-á kái-piàn siaⁿ-tiāu: "Mama, mama, mama!" Iá in sió-mōe, kō͘ hia̍h-thâu hiong-kông khok chhâ-thâu, ná-chhiūⁿ ti-bó-tian hoat-chok teh kiù-kin, bán-me̍h, koh khū-khū-chùn án-ne teh haiⁿ: "Iâ-so͘ ah, Iâ-so͘ ah, mama, Iâ-so͘ ah!" In nn̄g-lâng lóng cho-siū pi-siong ê hong-po̍k, chheh-khùi koh cha̍k-khùi.
Kek-tōng ê sim-chêng chiām-chiām pêng-chēng lo̍h-lâi, taⁿ in khai-sí tiām-tiām lâu ba̍k-sái, ná-chhiūⁿ hái-iûⁿ tiong tōa hong-hō͘ kòe-liáu ê pêng-chēng.
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1. 她 ê 過身輕鬆 koh 純潔
彼个查某死 ê 時無艱苦, 死甲真安寧, 是一生無通嫌 ê 查某 ê 死法. 今她倒 tī 眠床, 睏坦笑, 目睭瞌瞌, 表情平靜, 白頭毛梳甲四四序序, 袂輸 tī 死前十分鐘才梳好勢. 死者規个青白 ê 面 hiah-nī 鎮靜, hiah-nī 平和, hiah-nī 放鬆, 予人感覺是啥款甜蜜 ê 靈魂蹛過彼个身軀, 這个老靈魂所過 ê 是啥款安寧 ê 日子, 這个序大 ê 過身是 gōa-nī 輕鬆 koh 純潔.
跪 tī 床邊是姻後生 (一个有堅定原則 ê 地方法官) 和姻查某囝 (Marguerite, 人人叫她 Eulalie 修女), 攏哭甲誠傷心. 自 in 囡仔時開始, 她 tō 武裝 in 嚴格 ê 道德規矩, 教示 in 無軟弱 ê 信仰, 無妥協 ê 責任. 今, 後生已經成做法官, kā 法律當做武器, 打擊軟汫 ê 人一點仔 to 袂心軟. 查某囝, 因為受著這个樸素家庭 ê 美德所影響, 對查埔人怨慼, 今已經成做教會 ê 新娘.
In 對家己 ê 老爸所知無濟, 干焦知影伊予 in 老母傷心, 毋過毋知一切 ê 細節.
修女 tiu-tiu 唚彼个往生查某 ê 手, ná 象牙 ê 手, ná 蹶 tī 眠床 ê 彼支大十字架 hiah 白. Tī 長長身軀 ê 彼爿, 另外彼支手看起來敢若猶絚絚 kā 被單搦牢 leh; 被單猶保留小可皺皺, 記錄 tio̍h 永久袂動進前 ê 最後動作.
幾聲輕輕 ê 硞門, 兩个 chheh 氣 teh 哭 ê 頭 taⁿ 起來, 拄才去食暗 ê 牧師轉來. 伊 ê 面紅 kì-kì, 強欲喘無氣, 因為胃腸無爽快; 彼是因為伊家己泡一杯厚 kapi 濫 brandi 來啉, 想欲 án-ne 來克服幾暝來 ê 疲勞和拄欲開始 ê 守靈.
伊看起來悲傷, 彼是激出來 ê 悲傷, 因為死亡是牧師賺食 ê 機會. 伊 ná 行倚, ná 真專業 án-ne 比一个十字架 ê 手勢: "好 ah, 乖囡仔! 今我來陪恁度過最後這幾點鐘." 毋過 Eulalie 修女忽然徛起來. "感恩, 神父, 毋過我和阮阿兄想欲單獨陪伴她. 這是阮最後看她 ê 機會, 阮希望欲做伙, 干焦阮三人, tō͘ ná 親像細漢 ê 時, 阮... 阮... 和阮可憐 ê 老... 老母..."
因為悲傷和目屎 ê 阻礙, 予她無法度 koh 講落去.
牧師越愈鎮靜, àⁿ 身行一个禮, 心內 teh 想伊 ê 眠床. "若 án-ne, tō 照恁 ê 意思, 乖囡仔." 伊跪落來, 比十字架, 祈禱, 了後 tō 起身, 恬恬行出去, 喙 ná án-ne 念: "她是一个聖人!"
In 單獨留 tī 遐, 彼个往生 ê 查某和姻兩个囡仔. 藏 tī 烏影中時鐘 ê tit-tok 聲, 會當清楚聽著; 焦草和樹林 ê 甜味, 綴柔柔 ê 月光迵過開開 ê 窗仔飄入來. 除了偶然 ê 蛤仔聲 a̍h 晏到 ê 蟲豸聲, 這塊土地無聽見其他 ê 聲說. 一个無限 ê 和平, 一个神聖 ê 幽鬱, 一種恬恬 ê 安靜, 包圍著這个往生 ê 查某, 敢若彼是她喘出來 ê 氣 teh 安搭大自然本身.
彼時, 法官猶是跪 leh, 伊 ê 頭拄 tī 被單, 悲傷 ê 哭聲因為迵過被單和毯仔改變聲調: "Mama, mama, mama!" Iá in 小妹, kō͘ 額頭兇狂硞柴頭, 若像豬母癲發作 teh 糾筋, 挽脈, koh khū-khū 顫 án-ne teh 哼: "耶穌 ah, 耶穌 ah, mama, 耶穌 ah!" In 兩人攏遭受悲傷 ê 風暴, chheh 氣 koh cha̍k 氣.
激動 ê 心情漸漸平靜落來, 今 in 開始恬恬流目屎, 若像海洋中大風雨過了 ê 平靜.
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1.
The woman had died without pain, quietly, as a woman should whose life had been blameless. Now she was resting in her bed, lying on her back, her eyes closed, her features calm, her long white hair carefully arranged as though she had done it up ten minutes before dying. The whole pale countenance of the dead woman was so collected, so calm, so resigned that one could feel what a sweet soul had lived in that body, what a quiet existence this old soul had led, how easy and pure the death of this parent had been.
Kneeling beside the bed, her son, a magistrate with inflexible principles, and her daughter, Marguerite, known as Sister Eulalie, were weeping as though their hearts would break. She had, from childhood up, armed them with a strict moral code, teaching them religion, without weakness, and duty, without compromise. He, the man, had become a judge and handled the law as a weapon with which he smote the weak ones without pity. She, the girl, influenced by the virtue which had bathed her in this austere family, had become the bride of the Church through her loathing for man.
They had hardly known their father, knowing only that he had made their mother most unhappy, without being told any other details.
The nun was wildly-kissing the dead woman's hand, an ivory hand as white as the large crucifix lying across the bed. On the other side of the long body the other hand seemed still to be holding the sheet in the death grasp; and the sheet had preserved the little creases as a memory of those last movements which precede eternal immobility.
A few light taps on the door caused the two sobbing heads to look up, and the priest, who had just come from dinner, returned. He was red and out of breath from his interrupted digestion, for he had made himself a strong mixture of coffee and brandy in order to combat the fatigue of the last few nights and of the wake which was beginning.
He looked sad, with that assumed sadness of the priest for whom death is a bread winner. He crossed himself and approaching with his professional gesture: “Well, my poor children! I have come to help you pass these last sad hours.” But Sister Eulalie suddenly arose. “Thank you, father, but my brother and I prefer to remain alone with her. This is our last chance to see her, and we wish to be together, all three of us, as we—we—used to be when we were small and our poor mo—mother——”
Grief and tears stopped her; she could not continue.
Once more serene, the priest bowed, thinking of his bed. “As you wish, my children.” He kneeled, crossed himself, prayed, arose and went out quietly, murmuring: “She was a saint!”
They remained alone, the dead woman and her children. The ticking of the clock, hidden in the shadow, could be heard distinctly, and through the open window drifted in the sweet smell of hay and of woods, together with the soft moonlight. No other noise could be heard over the land except the occasional croaking of the frog or the chirping of some belated insect. An infinite peace, a divine melancholy, a silent serenity surrounded this dead woman, seemed to be breathed out from her and to appease nature itself.
Then the judge, still kneeling, his head buried in the bed clothes, cried in a voice altered by grief and deadened by the sheets and blankets: “Mamma, mamma, mamma!” And his sister, frantically striking her forehead against the woodwork, convulsed, twitching and trembling as in an epileptic fit, moaned: “Jesus, Jesus, mamma, Jesus!” And both of them, shaken by a storm of grief, gasped and choked.
The crisis slowly calmed down and they began to weep quietly, just as on the sea when a calm follows a squall.
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