The woman where I get my bread recommended me. “卖我面包的那个女人把我介绍去的。

He'd told her he was looking out for someone to paint him. 他同她说过，要找一个人给他画像。

I've got to give her twenty francs. 我得给她二十法郎介绍费。”

What's he like? “是怎样一个人？”

Splendid. He's got a great red face like a leg of mutton, and on his right cheek there's an enormous mole with long hairs growing out of it. “太了不起了。一张大红脸象条羊腿。右脸上有一颗大痣，上面还长着大长毛。”

Strickland was in a good humour, and when Dirk Stroeve came up and sat down with us he attacked him with ferocious banter. 思特里克兰德这天情绪很好，当戴尔克·施特略夫走来同我们坐在一起时，思特里克兰德马上冷嘲热讽地对他大肆攻击起来。

He showed a skill I should never have credited him with in finding the places where the unhappy Dutchman was most sensitive. 他惯会寻找这位不幸的荷兰人的痛处，技巧的高超实在令我钦佩。

Strickland employed not the rapier of sarcasm but the bludgeon of invective. 他这次用的不是讥刺的细剑，而是谩骂的大棒。

The attack was so unprovoked that Stroeve, taken unawares, was defenceless. 他的攻击来得非常突然。施特略夫被打得个措手不及，完全失掉防卫能力。

He reminded you of a frightened sheep running aimlessly hither and thither.  象一只受了惊的小羊，没有目的地东跑西窜，

He was startled and amazed. At last the tears ran from his eyes. 张皇失措，晕头转向。最后，泪珠扑簌簌地从他眼睛里滚出来。

And the worst of it was that, though you hated Strickland, and the exhibition was horrible, it was impossible not to laugh. 这件事最糟糕的地方在于，尽管你非常恼恨思特里克兰德，尽管你感到这出戏很可怕，你还是禁不住要笑起来。

Dirk Stroeve was one of those unlucky persons whose most sincere emotions are ridiculous. 有一些人很不幸，即使他们流露的是最真挚的感情也令人感到滑稽可笑，戴尔克·施特略夫正是这样一个人。

But after all when I look back upon that winter in Paris, my pleasantest recollection is of Dirk Stroeve. 但是尽管如此，在我回顾我在巴黎度过的这个冬天时，戴尔克·施特略夫还是给我留下了最愉快的回忆。

There was something very charming in his little household. 他的小家庭有一种魅力，

He and his wife made a picture which the imagination gratefully dwelt upon, and the simplicity of his love for her had a deliberate grace. 他同他的妻子是一幅叫你思念不置的图画；他对自己妻子的纯真的爱情使人感到是娴雅而高尚的。