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內容簡介

《莫泊桑中短篇小說選》是莫泊桑是在小說創作上的傑作成就。莫泊桑是世界上數一數二的短篇小說大師，本書精選瞭《羊脂球》、《項鏈》、《春天》等經典名篇，集中體現瞭莫泊桑中短篇小說的取材廣泛性，涵蓋瞭當時法國社會生活的方方麵麵。他經常揭露和譴責統治階級的腐朽沒落，同情和贊揚下層社會的勞動人民。

作者簡介

莫泊桑，全名是居伊·德·莫泊桑(Guy de Maupassant 1850--1893)，19世紀後半期法國優秀的批判現實主義作傢曾拜法國著名作傢福樓拜為師。一生創作瞭6部長篇小說和350多篇中短篇小說他的文學成就以短篇小說為突齣是與契訶夫和歐?亨利並列的世界三大短篇小說巨匠之一對後世産生極大影響。譯者：青閏（1965～），河南武陟人。本名宋金柱，常用筆名聽泉、宣碧。現供職於焦作大學翻譯中心。擅長雙語互譯。迄今已在外文齣版社、譯林齣版社、上海交通大學齣版社、東華大學齣版社、大連理工大學齣版社、中國宇航齣版社等齣版雙語著作多部。另在《世界文學》《譯林》《當代外國文學》《英語世界》等重要報刊發錶譯文和論文多篇。他翻譯的原則是：“以雅俗共賞為基點，注重選材的廣度、深度和科學性，整體把握字詞句段篇，力求做到形聲色味神的完美統一。”

精彩書評

一輩子讀過經典和沒讀過經典的人生整個都不一樣，我不敢勸你們讀一輩子的經典，但是希望你們至少認認真真讀幾本經典。
——馬　原

這些書之所以被稱為經典，乃是它可以chaoyue時間、年齡、語言和族群而成為人類心靈成長的營養。商務印書館是信譽極好的齣版機構，相信這套書能帶給讀者莫大的閱讀驚喜。
——方　方

對於學生們來說，應該是用兩隻眼睛讀書，一隻眼睛看書上的文字，另一隻眼睛看文字的背後。這樣纔會在“經典”引導下，建立自己的思想。
——北　村

當一個人在少年時期就開始閱讀經典作品，那麼他的少年就會被經典作品中zui為真實的思想和情感帶走，當他成年以後就會發現人類共有的智慧和靈魂在自己身上得到瞭延續。
——餘　華 著名評

目錄

Simon’s Papa / 西濛的爸爸 1
My Uncle Jules / 我的叔叔於勒 12
Father Milon / 米隆老爹 22
Two Friends / 兩個朋友 31
The Piece of String / 一截細繩 41
On the River / 在河上 50
The Prisoners / 俘虜 58
The Wardrobe / 衣櫥 72
The Umbrella / 雨傘 81
In the Wood / 樹林裏 92
Happiness / 幸福 98
The Diamond Necklace / 鑽石項鏈 106
A Duel / 一場決鬥 117
A Stroll / 散步 124
The Blind Man / 盲人 132
The Relic / 聖骨 137
The Wolf / 狼 144
The Devil / 魔鬼 152
Mademoiselle Fifi / 菲菲小姐 161
That Costly Ride / 騎馬的代價 176
Clair de Lune / 月光 186
The Little Cask / 小酒桶 193
The False Gems / 珠寶 201
A Coup d’Etat / 一次政變 210
Mademoiselle Pearl / 珍珠小姐 224
Boule de Suif / 羊脂球 244

精彩書摘

Noon had just struck. The school door opened and the youngsters darted out, jostling each other in their haste to get out quickly. But instead of promptly dispersing and going home to dinner as usual, they stopped a few paces off, broke up into knots, and began whispering.
The fact was that, that morning, Simon, the son of La Blanchotte, had, for the first time, attended school.
They had all of them in their families heard talk of La Blanchotte; and, although in public she was welcome enough, the mothers among themselves treated her with a somewhat disdainful compassion, which the children had imitated without in the least knowing why.
As for Simon himself, they did not know him, for he never went out, and did not run about with them in the streets of the village, or along the banks of the river. And they did not care for him; so it was with a certain delight, mingled with considerable astonishment, that they met and repeated to each other what had been said by a lad of fourteen or fifteen who appeared to know all about it, so sagaciously did he wink. “You know—Simon—well, he has no papa.”
Just then La Blanchotte’s son appeared in the doorway of the school. He was seven or eight years old, rather pale, very neat, with a timid and almost awkward manner.
He was starting home to his mother’s house when the groups of his schoolmates, whispering and watching him with the mischievous and heartless eyes of children bent upon playing a nasty trick, gradually closed in around him and ended by surrounding him altogether. There he stood in their midst, surprised and embarrassed, not understanding what they were going to do with him. But the lad who had brought the news, puffed up with the success he had met with already, demanded: “What is your name?”
He answered: “Simon.”
“Simon what?” retorted the other.
The child, altogether bewildered, repeated: “Simon.”
The lad shouted at him: “One is named Simon something—that is not a name—Simon indeed.”
The child, on the brink of tears, replied for the third time: “My name is Simon.”
The urchins began to laugh. The triumphant tormentor cried: “You can see plainly that he has no papa.”
A deep silence ensued. The children were dumfounded by this extraordinary, impossible, monstrous thing—a boy who had not a papa; they looked upon him as a phenomenon, an unnatural being, and they felt that hitherto inexplicable contempt of their mothers for La Blanchotte growing upon them.
As for Simon, he had leaned against a tree to avoid falling, and he remained as if prostrated by an irreparable disaster. He sought to explain, but could think of nothing to say to refute this horrible charge that he had no papa. At last he shouted at them quite recklessly: “Yes, I have one.”
“Where is he?” demanded the boy.
Simon was silent, he did not know. The children roared, tremendously excited; and those country boys, little more than animals, experienced that cruel craving which prompts the fowls of a farmyard to destroy one of their number as soon as it is wounded. Simon suddenly espied a little neighbor, the son of a widow, whom he had seen, as he himself was to be seen, always alone with his mother.
“And no more have you,” he said; “no more have you a papa.”
“Yes,” replied the other, “I have one.”
“Where is he?” rejoined Simon.
“He is dead,” declared the brat, with superb dignity; “he is in the cemetery, is my papa.”
A murmur of approval rose among the little wretches as if this fact of possessing a papa dead in a cemetery had caused their comrade to grow big enough to crush the other one who had no papa at all. And these boys, whose fathers were for the most part bad men, drunkards, thieves, and who beat their wives, jostled each other to press closer and closer, as though they, the legitimate ones, would smother by their pressure one who was illegitimate.
The boy who chanced to be next Simon suddenly put his tongue out at him with a mocking air and shouted at him: “No papa! No papa!”
Simon seized him by the hair with both hands and set to work to disable his legs with kicks, while he bit his cheek ferociously. A tremendous struggle ensued between the two combatants, and Simon found himself beaten, torn, bruised, rolled on the ground in the midst of the ring of applauding schoolboys. As he arose, mechanically brushing with his hand his little blouse all covered with dust, some one shouted at him: “Go and tell your papa.”
Then he felt a great sinking at his heart. They were stronger than he was, they had beaten him, and he had no answer to give them, for he knew well that it was true that he had no papa. Full of pride, he attempted for some moments to struggle against the tears which were choking him. He had a feeling of suffocation, and then without any sound he commenced to weep, with great shaking sobs.
A ferocious joy broke out among his enemies, and, with one accord, just like savages in their fearful festivals, they took each other by the hand and danced round him in a circle, repeating as a refrain: “No papa! No papa!”
But suddenly Simon ceased sobbing. He became ferocious. There were stones under his feet; he picked them up and with all his strength hurled them at his tormentors. Two or three were struck and rushed off yelling, and so formidable did he appear that the rest became panic-stricken. Cowards, as the mob always is in presence of an exasperated man, they broke up and fled.
Left alone, the little fellow without a father set off running toward the fields, for a recollection had been awakened in him which determined his soul to a great resolve. He made up his mind to drown himself in the river.
He remembered, in fact, that eight days before, a poor devil who begged for his livelihood had thrown himself into the water because he had no more money. Simon had been there when they fished him out again; and the wretched man, who usually seemed to him so miserable, and ugly, had then struck him as being so peaceful with his pale cheeks, his long drenched beard, and his open eyes full of calm. The bystanders had said: “He is dead.” And some one had said: “He is quite happy now.”
……
莫泊桑中短篇小說選（英漢雙語） 下載 mobi epub pdf txt 電子書

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