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Jacques said, "Pierre, your horse, Joseph, did not wake up this morning. He was very old, Pierre, he was twenty-five and that is like being seventy-five for a man."
雅克说：“皮埃尔，你的马，约瑟夫，今天早上没有醒来。他太老了，皮埃尔，他已经25岁了，就像七十五岁的人一样老了。”
"Yes," Pierre said, slowly. "Yes, I am seventy-five. And I cannot see Joseph again."
“是的，”皮埃尔慢慢地说，“是的。我七十五岁了。我再也看不见约瑟夫了。”
"Of course you can," Jacques soothed. "He is over in his stall, looking very peaceful. Go over and see him."
“当然可以，”杰克斯安慰道，“他在马厩里，看上去很平静。去看看他吧。”
Pierre took one step forward, then turned. "No... no... you don't understand, Jacques."
皮埃尔抬腿走了一步，然后转过身。“不……不……你不明白，雅克。”
Jacques clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll find another horse just as good as Joseph. Why, in a month you'll teach him to know your route as well as Joseph did. Well..."
雅克拍拍他的肩膀。“我们会找到另外一匹与约瑟夫一样好的马的。你在一个月内就能教会他认识你的路线，会像约瑟夫做得一样好的。嗯……”
The look in Pierre's eyes stopped him. For years Pierre had worn a heavy cap, the peak of which came low over his eyes, keeping the bitter morning wind out of them. Now Jacques looked into Pierre's eyes and he saw something which startled him. He saw a dead, lifeless look in them. The eyes were mirroring the grief that was in Pierre's heart and his soul. It was as though his heart and soul had died.
皮埃尔的眼神阻止了他。多年来，皮埃尔一直戴着一顶厚帽子，帽檐低低地压在他的眼睛上，遮挡着凌厉的晨风。现在，雅克看着皮埃尔的眼睛，他看到了一些令他震惊的东西。他看见一张死人般的、死气沉沉的脸。眼睛里折射着皮埃尔内心和灵魂深处的悲痛，好像他的内心和灵魂已经死了。
