他惶惑地意识到，在他沉溺于削制弓体的时候，

　　he had forgotten what he had sworn to himself he would constantly remember–poor Linda,

　　竟然忘记了自己发过誓要随时记住的东西——可怜的琳妲，

　　and his own murderous unkindness to her, and those loathsome twins, swarming like lice across the mystery of her death,

　　自己对妲那凶狠的冷酷，还有那些在她死亡的神秘环境里像虱子一样爬来爬去的讨厌的多生子。

　　insulting, with their presence, not merely his own grief and repentance, but the very gods themselves.

　　他们的存在不仅侮辱着他的哀伤和悔恨，而且侮辱了神明。

　　He had sworn to remember, he had sworn unceasingly to make amends.

　　他曾经发誓要记住这些，而且要不断做出补偿。

　　And there was he, sitting happily over his bow-stave, singing, actually singing. …

　　可现在他却在削制弓体的时候竞唱起歌来了，的确唱了……

　　He went indoors, opened the box of mustard, and put some water to boil on the fire.

　　他进了屋子，打开齐末盒，放进了一些水，在火上煮了起来。

　　Half an hour later, three Delta-Minus landworkers from one of the Puttenham Bokanovsky Groups happened to be driving to Elstead and,

　　半小时以后，从帕特南同一波坎诺夫斯基小组来的三个德尔塔减农民到爱尔丝特去，

　　at the top of the hill, were astonished to see a young man standing 0utside the abandoned lighthouse stripped to the waist and hitting himself with a whip of knotted cords.

　　偶然看见一个年轻人在山顶上废弃的灯塔外面，光着上身，用一根打结的绳子鞭打着自己。

　　His back was horizontally streaked with crimson, and from weal to weal ran thin trickles of blood.

　　背上横着猩红的鞭痕，一条条鞭痕滴着缕缕的鲜血。

　　The driver of the lorry pulled up at the side of the road and, with his two companions, stared open-mouthed at the extraordinary spectacle.

　　卡车司机在路边停了车，跟他的两个同伴一起搭拉了下巴，盯着看这个罕见的奇景。

　　One, two three–they counted the strokes.

　　一、二。三，他们数着。

　　After the eighth, the young man interrupted his self-punishment to run to the wood's edge and there be violently sick.

　　打到第八鞭年轻人停止了自我惩戒，跑到树林边去，猛烈地呕吐起来，

　　When he had finished, he picked up the whip and began hitting himself again. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve …

　　呕吐完了，回来又抓起鞭子狠打。九、十、十、十二……

　　"Ford!" whispered the driver. And his twins were of the same opinion.

　　“福帝！”驾驶员低声说，他的弟兄们也有同感。

　　"Fordey!" they said.

　　“福帝呀！”他们都说。