因为知道玛拉德太太的心脏有毛病，所以人们尽可能婉转地告知她丈夫的死讯。
It was her sister Josephine who told her，in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing.
是她姐姐约瑟芬吞吞吐吐、半遮半掩地暗示了她。
Her husband" s friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Maitard"s name leading the list of "killed".He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram，and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.
她丈夫的朋友理查德也在场，就在她旁边。当火车事故的消息传来时，他正在报馆里，而布兰特里·玛拉德的名字就列在“死亡”名单的第一个。紧接其后的电报，使他在最短的时间里确认了消息的真实性，他急忙赶来，力图赶在那些朋友之前。
She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance. She wept at once,with sudden,wild abandonment,in her sister"s arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her.
她没有像别的女人那样，带着麻木的神情接受这个消息。她立刻就哭了起来，近似绝望地扑到她姐姐的怀里。当这暴风雨般的悲伤过后，她独自回到自己的房间里，不让任何人跟着她。
There stood, facing the open window,a comfortable,roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul.
窗户是开着的，对面放着一把舒服宽大的扶手椅。她筋疲力尽地坐了下来，这种疲惫不仅折磨着她的身体，似乎也侵入了她的灵魂。
She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air.
透过窗户，她看到屋前广场上的树梢在新春的气息中随风摇摆。空气中弥漫着芬芳的雨的气息。一个小贩在下面的街道上叫卖着他的货物。远处传来缥缈的歌声，还有无数的麻雀在房檐上叽叽喳喳地叫个不停。
In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which someone was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.
对着窗口的西边的天空上，朵朵白云层层叠叠地堆积着，间或露出一结结蔚蓝的天空。
There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window.
她把头靠在椅背上，非常平静。偶尔也会呜咽一两声，就像小孩子哭着睡着了，但在梦中还会继续呜咽一样。
She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair，quite motionless，except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams.
她还很年轻，有着一张姣好平静的脸，脸上的表情显示着一种压抑，甚至是一种力量。但是现在，她的目光有些阴郁，呆呆地凝望着远处白云间的给给蓝天。这并不是匆匆的一瞥，而是一种长久的深思熟虑。
She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes,whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought.
有种东西正向她靠近，而她正恐惧地等待着。那是什么?她不知道。那东西太微妙太难以捉摸了，她说不清楚。但是她能感觉得到，它正在空中蔓延，穿过弥漫于空气中的声音、气味和颜色慢慢地向她靠近。
There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know, it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds,the scents,the color that filled the air.
现在，她的内心骚动不安。她开始认识到那种向她步步逼近并渐渐控制她的感觉是什么了。她挣扎着想靠自己的意志把它击退—可这意志却和她那白哲纤弱的双手一样软弱无力。
Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her,and she was striving to beat it back with her will-as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been.
她放弃了反抗，从她微微张开的双唇间喃喃地溢出了一个词，她屏住呼吸一遍又一遍地重复着:“自由，自由，自由!”曾经茫然的目光和恐惧的眼神已经逐渐退去。现在，她的目光透着机敏，炯炯有神。她的心跳加快，沸腾的热血温暖了身体的每一个部位，使她感觉到身心完全地放松了。
When she abandoned herself，a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under her breath." "free, free, free!" The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.
她没有停下来问自己，是不是有一种邪恶的快感在控制着她。一种清清楚楚的、兴奋的感觉让她根本无暇顾及此事。
She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous Joy that held her. A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial.
她知道，当她看到丈夫那双温柔亲切的双手变得僵硬，那张从不会对她吝啬爱意的脸变得毫无表情、灰白如纸的时候，她肯定还会哭的。但在这痛苦之外，她看到了长远的未来，那些只属于她自己的岁月。而她张开双臂迎接那些岁月的到来。
She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind，tender hands folded in death;the face that had never looked save with love upon her,fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment along procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome.
在未来的岁月里，她不再为别人而活着，而只为她自己。那时，她不必再盲目地屈从于任何专横的意志。人们总是认为他们有权把个人的意志强加于他人。无论其动机是善良的还是残酷的，她突然感到这种做法绝不亚于犯罪。
There would be no one to live for her during those coming years, she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to impose a private will upon a fellow creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination.
当然，她是爱过他的——有时候是爱他的。但更多的时候她不爱他。那又有什么关系呢!有了独立的意志——她突然意识到这是她身上烈的一种冲动。在这种自信面前，爱情，那未解的谜团，算得了什么!“自由了!身心都自由了!”她不停地低声说。
And yet she had loved him一sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What could love，the unsolved mystery, count for in face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being! "Free! Body and soul free!”she kept whispering.
约瑟芬跪在紧闭的门外，嘴唇对着钥匙孔，苦苦地哀求着让她进去。“露易丝，开开门!求求你啦，开开门——你这样会得病的。你干什么呢，露易丝?看在上帝的份儿上，开开门吧!”
Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhole,imploring for admission. "Louise,open the door beg; open the door一you will make yourself. What are you doing, Louise? For heaven"s sake open the door."
“走开。我不会让自己生病的。”不会的，她正陶醉在窗外那不息的生命里。
“Go away. I am not making myself”No, she was drinking in a very elixir of life through that open window.
她的想象像脱组的野马一样狂奔着。她想象着未来的日子，春天，夏天，那些所有属于她自己的日子。她飞快地轻声向上帝祈祷着让生命长一点。而就在昨天，她还觉得生命太长了。
Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days，and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.
最后，她终于在姐姐的一再请求下，打开了门。她眼神里充满了胜利的激情，她丝毫没有意识到自己表现得就像一位胜利女神。她紧搂着姐姐的腰，一起走下楼去。理查德正站在楼下等着她们。
She arose at length and opened the door to her sister" s importunities. There was a feverish triumph in her eyes,and she carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. She clasped her sister"s waist,and together they descended the stairs. Richards stood waiting for them at the bottom.
有人用钥匙打开大门。进来的是布兰特里·玛拉德，虽略显旅途劳顿，但泰然自若地提着他的大旅行包和伞。事发当时他离现场很远，根本就不知道发生了车祸。他惊愕地站在那里，听着约瑟芬的尖叫，看着理查德飞快地移动着，想挡住他，不让他妻子看见他。
Someone was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard who entered, a little travel-stained,composedly carrying his gripsack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of accident，and did not know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine"s piercing cry, at Richards"s quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife.
但是理查德还是太晚了。
But Richards was too late.
医生来了，他们说她死于心脏病——说她是死于极度高兴。
When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease一of joy that kills.
作者介绍:
凯特·肖邦(1851-1904)出生于美国圣路易斯。她在快四十岁的时候出版了第一本小说。主要作品有《一双丝袜》、《觉醒》等。在十九世纪末，肖邦试图直白地描写女性与男性、儿童的关系及她们本身性欲中的感受和情绪。这一点被认为是冒犯了当时上流社会的读者。那些挑战传统社会行为的作品，如《一小时的故事》，常常遭到杂志编辑的拒绝。然而半个多世纪后，女权主义评论家却大力提倡。
《一个小时的故事》精炼地概述了在一个小时里，玛拉德夫人对一偶发事件的反应。故事的主人公玛拉德夫人患有心脏病，当她听到丈夫在一场车祸中丧生之后，先是痛不欲生，失声痛哭，但独自回到房间后，她竟很快从悲痛中恢复了过来，有了“自由”的喜悦。等她再从房间里走出来的时候，她感受到了新生。但此时，逃过一劫的玛拉德先生出现在门口，玛拉德夫人心脏病突发，倒地猝死。
