Last year at Christmas time my wife, three boys and I were in France on our way from Paris to Nice.
去年，在圣诞节期间，我和我的妻子以及我们的三个孩子，从法国踏上由巴黎到尼斯的旅途。
For five wretched days everything had gone wrong.
由于接连五天的恶劣天气，旅途上一切很不顺心。
Our hotels were tourist traps, our rented car broke down; we were all restless and irritable in the crowded car.
我们下榻的旅馆尽是些敲诈勒索旅客的陷阱；我们租用的那辆汽车老是发生故障，在拥挤不堪的车子上大家个个显得烦躁不安。
On Christmas Eve, when we checked into a dingy hotel in Nice, there was no Christmas spirit in our hearts.
圣诞节前夕，我们住进了尼斯的一家旅店，这家旅店又脏又暗，我们打心眼里感觉不到丝毫的节日气氛。
It was raining and cold when we went out to eat.
我们外出就餐时，天正下着小雨，天气寒冷。
We found a drab little joint shoddily decorated for the holidays.
我们找到了一家死气沉沉的小餐馆。
It smelled greasy. Only five tables in the restaurant were occupied.
这家餐馆刚刚做了番粗劣的装潢。而我们一进门就闻到一股刺鼻的油污气味。
There were two German couples, two French families and an American sailor, by himself.
整个餐厅只有五张桌子有人就餐：两对德国夫妇，两户法国家庭和一名孑然一身的美国水手。
In the corner, a piano player listlessly played Christmas music.
在餐厅的一个角落里，有位钢琴师在无精打采地弹奏着圣诞乐曲。
I was too stubborn and too tired and miserable to leave.
我情绪低落，加之疲惫不堪，执意不愿离开这儿去找别的餐馆了。
I looked around the noticed that the other customers were eating in stony silence.
我环顾四周，见这里的顾客一个个沉默不语，只顾吃着、喝着，
The only person who seemed happy was the American sailor.
唯独那位美国水手看上去兴高采烈。
While eating he was writing a letter, and a half-smile lighted his face.
他一边吃着，一边写信，面带微笑，神采奕奕。
My wife ordered our meal in French.
我的妻子给我们叫来了法国式的饭菜，
The waiter brought us the wrong thing, I scolded my wife for being stupid.
而服务员给我们端来的却是别的东西。我斥责妻子尽干些蠢事，
She began to cry. The boys defended her, and I felt even worse.
她哭了起来。孩子们一个个都护着他们的妈妈，于是我的情绪变得更加糟糕。
Then at the table with the French family, on our left,
这时坐在我们左侧餐桌上的那家法国人，
the father slapped one of the children for some minor infraction, and the boy began to cry.
父亲因为一点鸡毛蒜皮小事动手打了他一个孩子一记耳光，那个小男孩哇哇大哭起来。
On our right, the German wife began berating her husband.
在我的右边，那个德国妇女不知因何缘故开始喋喋不休地数落、责骂起她的丈夫来。
All of us were interrupted by an unpleasant blast of cold air.
我们大家都因为一阵令人不快的气氛而心烦意乱。
Through the front door came an old French flower woman.
这时，从前门进来一个卖花的法国老太太。
She wore a dripping, tattered overcoat and shuffled along slowly.
她浑身湿透，衣衫褴褛，沿桌叫卖。
Flowers, monsieur? Only one franc. No one bought any.
买花吗，先生？一束才一个法郎哩。谁也没有搭理她。
Wearily she sat down at a table between the sailor and us.
她疲惫不堪，在水手和我们之间的那张餐桌旁边坐了下来，
To the waiter she said, a bowl of soup. I haven't sold a flower all afternoon.
对服务员说：请来碗汤吧。整整一下午，我连一朵花也不曾脱手。
