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As yet my flight, I was sure, was undiscovered.
而且可以肯定，我的逃跑还没有被发现。
I could go back and be his comforter -- his pride; his redeemer from misery, perhaps from ruin.
我可以回去，成为他的安慰者--他的骄傲，他的拯救者，免除他的悲苦，也许还有毁灭。
Oh, that fear of his self-abandonment -- far worse than my abandonment -- how it goaded me!
呵，我担心他自暴自弃--比我自己的要担心的多--这多么强烈地刺激着我！
It was a barbed arrow-head in my breast; it tore me when I tried to extract it;
这是插入我胸膛带倒钩的箭头，我想把它拔出来，它却撕裂着我，
it sickened me when remembrance thrust it farther in.
而记忆进一步将它往里推去，我疼痛难忍。
Birds began singing in brake and copse: birds were faithful to their mates; birds were emblems of love.
小鸟在矮树丛和灌木林中开始歌唱。鸟儿忠于它们的伙伴，是爱的标志。
What was I? In the midst of my pain of heart and frantic effort of principle, I abhorred myself.
而我又是什么呢？在内心的疼痛和狂热地恪守原则之中，我讨厌我自己。
I had no solace from self-approbation: none even from self-respect.
我没有从自责中找到安慰，甚至连自尊中也找不到它。
I had injured -- wounded -- left my master. I was hateful in my own eyes.
我已经损害--伤害--离开了我的主人。在我自个儿眼中我也是可憎的。
Still I could not turn, nor retrace one step. God must have led me on.
但我不能回去，甚至后退一步。上帝得继续领我向前。
As to my own will or conscience, impassioned grief had trampled one and stifled the other.
至于我自己的意志或良心，充满激情的忧伤已经把一个扼杀，使另一个窒息。
I was weeping wildly as I walked along my solitary way: fast, fast I went like one delirious.
我一面在路上孤独地走着，一面嚎啕大哭，越走越快，就像发了狂。
A weakness, beginning inwardly, extending to the limbs, seized me, and I fell:
一种虚弱从内心开始扩向四肢，攫住了我，我摔了一交。
I lay on the ground some minutes, pressing my face to the wet turf.
我在地上躺了一会，把脸埋在潮湿的草地上，
I had some fear -- or hope -- that here I should die:
我有些担心--或者说是希望--我会死在这儿。
but I was soon up; crawling forwards on my hands and knees,
但我马上就起来了，先是四脚四手往前爬了一阵，
and then again raised to my feet -- as eager and as determined as ever to reach the road.
随后再次站了起来--像以往那么急切和坚决地走到了大路上。
