In the silence that ensued, the hum of distant voices, borne upon the evening air, came floating through the open window.
一切随即趋于沉寂，远处的人声随着晚风飘进了敞开着的窗户。
"What's that?" said the sick child, opening his eyes. "The boys at play, upon the green."
“那是什么？”病孩子问道，张开他的眼睛。“孩子们在草地上打球。”
He took a handkerchief from his pillow, and tried to wave it above his head.
他从枕头底下取出一块手巾，想在头上挥舞一下。
But the feeble arm dropped powerless down.
但是软弱的胳臂没力气地放了下来。
"Shall I do it?" said the schoolmaster. "Please wave it at the window," was the faint reply.
“让我来好不好？”教师说。“请你在窗口一挥，”他有气无力地答道，
"Tie it to the lattice. Some of them may see it there. Perhaps they'll think of me, and look this way."
“把它系在窗格子上。他们会有人看见的。也许他们想到我，就会向这面望望。”
He raised his head and glanced from the fluttering signal to his idle bat, that lay, with slate, and book, and other boyish property, upon the table in the room.
他抬起头来，从那飘展的信号望到他那根和石板、书本以及其他玩具一起放在桌子上空闲着的球棒。
And then he laid him softly down once more, and again clasped his little arms around the old man's neck.
然后他又轻轻地倒了来问那小女孩子是否还在那里，因为他看不到她。她走向前来，紧握住那只伸在被单外面没有抗拒力量的手。
The two old friends and companions—for such they were, though they were man and child—held each other in a long embrace,
两位老朋友和老伙伴——尽管是一位成人一位小孩，他们的确是老朋友呢——拥抱了很长时间，
and then the little scholar turned his face to the wall and fell asleep.
然后那位小学生转过脸对着墙壁，睡着了。
The poor schoolmaster sat in the same place, holding the small, cold hand in his, and chafing it.
可怜的教师还坐在原来的地方，握着那只又小又冷的手，摩擦着。
It was but the hand of a dead child.
那只是一只死去的孩子的手。
He felt that; and yet he chafed it still, and could not lay it down.
他感觉到了。但是他还在不停地摩掌，不肯把它放下来。
