Lu Xun Complete Works/zh-ja/Ah Q

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中文 (原文)	日本語 (翻訳)
= 阿Q正传 =	= 阿Q正伝 (阿Q正传) =
鲁迅全集翻訳プロジェクトの一部。	魯迅 (ルーシュン, 1881–1936)
== 中文原文 ==	中国語から日本語への翻訳。
=== 第1節 ===	=== Section 1 ===
阿Ｑ正传⑴ 　　第一章　序 　　我要给阿Ｑ做正传，已经不止一两年了。但一面要做，一面又往回想，这足见我不是一个“立言”⑵的人，因为从来不朽之笔，须传不朽之人，于是人以文传，文以人传——究竟谁靠谁传，渐渐的不甚了然起来，而终于归接到传阿Ｑ，仿佛思想里有鬼似的。 　　然而要做这一篇速朽的文章，才下笔，便感到万分的困难了。第一是文章的名目。孔子曰，“名不正则言不顺”⑶。这原是应该极注意的。传的名目很繁多：列传，自传，内传⑷，外传，别传，家传，小传……，而可惜都不合。“列传”么，这一篇并非和许多阔人排在“正史”⑸里；“自传”么，我又并非就是阿Ｑ。说是“外传”，“内传”在那里呢？倘用“内传”，阿Ｑ又决不是神仙。“别传”呢，阿Ｑ实在未曾有大总统上谕宣付国史馆立“本传”⑹——虽说英国正史上并无“博徒列传”，而文豪迭更司⑺也做过《博徒别传》这一部书，但文豪则可，在我辈却不可。其次是“家传”，则我既不知与阿Ｑ是否同宗，也未曾受他子孙的拜托；或“小传”，则阿Ｑ又更无别的“大传”了。总而言之，这一篇也便是“本传”，但从我的文章着想，因为文体卑下，是“引车卖浆者流”所用的话⑻，所以不敢僭称，便从不入三教九流的小说家⑼所谓“闲话休题言归正传”这一句套话里，取出“正传”两个字来，作为名目，即使与古人所撰《书法正传》⑽的“正传”字面上很相混，也顾不得了。 　　第二，立传的通例，开首大抵该是“某，字某，某地人也”，而我并不知道阿Ｑ姓什么。有一回，他似乎是姓赵，但第二日便模糊了。那是赵太爷的儿子进了秀才的时候，锣声镗镗的报到村里来，阿Ｑ正喝了两碗黄酒，便手舞足蹈的说，这于他也很光采，因为他和赵太爷原来是本家，细细的排起来他还比秀才长三辈呢。其时几个旁听人倒也肃然的有些起敬了。那知道第二天，地保便叫阿Ｑ到赵太爷家里去；太爷一见，满脸溅朱，喝道： 　　“阿Ｑ，你这浑小子！你说我是你的本家么？” 　　阿Ｑ不开口。 　　赵太爷愈看愈生气了，抢进几步说：“你敢胡说！我怎么会有你这样的本家？你姓赵么？” 　　阿Ｑ不开口，想往后退了；赵太爷跳过去，给了他一个嘴巴。 　　“你怎么会姓赵！——你那里配姓赵！” 　　阿Ｑ并没有抗辩他确凿姓赵，只用手摸着左颊，和地保退出去了；外面又被地保训斥了一番，谢了地保二百文酒钱。知道的人都说阿Ｑ太荒唐，自己去招打；他大约未必姓赵，即使真姓赵，有赵太爷在这里，也不该如此胡说的。此后便再没有人提起他的氏族来，所以我终于不知道阿Ｑ究竟什么姓。 　　第三，我又不知道阿Ｑ的名字是怎么写的。他活着的时候，人都叫他阿Ｑｕｅｉ，死了以后，便没有一个人再叫阿Ｑｕｅｉ了，那里还会有“著之竹帛”⑾的事。若论“著之竹帛”，这篇文章要算第一次，所以先遇着了这第一个难关。我曾仔细想：阿Ｑｕｅｉ，阿桂还是阿贵呢？倘使他号月亭，或者在八月间做过生日，那一定是阿桂了；而他既没有号——也许有号，只是没有人知道他，——又未尝散过生日征文的帖子：写作阿桂，是武断的。又倘使他有一位老兄或令弟叫阿富，那一定是阿贵了；而他又只是一个人：写作阿贵，也没有佐证的。其余音Ｑｕｅｉ的偏僻字样，更加凑不上了。先前，我也曾问过赵太爷的儿子茂才⑿先生，谁料博雅如此公，竟也茫然，但据结论说，是因为陈独秀办了《新青年》提倡洋字⒀，所以国粹沦亡，无可查考了。我的最后的手段，只有托一个同乡去查阿Ｑ犯事的案卷，八个月之后才有回信，说案卷里并无与阿Ｑｕｅｉ的声音相近的人。我虽不知道是真没有，还是没有查，然而也再没有别的方法了。生怕注音字母还未通行，只好用了“洋字”，照英国流行的拼法写他为阿Ｑｕｅｉ，略作阿Ｑ。这近于盲从《新青年》，自己也很抱歉，但茂才公尚且不知，我还有什么好办法呢。 　　第四，是阿Ｑ的籍贯了。倘他姓赵，则据现在好称郡望的老例，可以照《郡名百家姓》⒁上的注解，说是“陇西天水人也”，但可惜这姓是不甚可靠的，因此籍贯也就有些决不定。他虽然多住未庄，然而也常常宿在别处，不能说是未庄人，即使说是“未庄人也”，也仍然有乖史法的。 　　我所聊以自慰的，是还有一个“阿”字非常正确，绝无附会假借的缺点，颇可以就正于通人。至于其余，却都非浅学所能穿凿，只希望有“历史癖与考据癖”的胡适之⒂先生的门人们，将来或者能够寻出许多新端绪来，但是我这《阿Ｑ正传》到那时却又怕早经消灭了。 　　以上可以算是序。	The True Story of Ah Q Chapter One: Preface For more than a year or two now, I have been wanting to write the true story of Ah Q. Yet on the one hand I wanted to write it, on the other I kept hesitating — which sufficiently proves that I am not the sort of person who "establishes lasting words." For since time immemorial, an immortal pen requires an immortal subject, and thus the man becomes immortal through his writing and the writing through the man — but who exactly makes whom immortal becomes gradually unclear, until one ends up back at Ah Q after all, as though a ghost were haunting one's thoughts. However, when one actually puts pen to paper for this perishable article, one encounters ten thousand difficulties from the very first stroke. The first concerns the title. Confucius said, "If the name is not right, the speech will not follow." This is indeed something that demands the greatest attention. There are many types of biography: collected biographies, autobiographies, esoteric biographies, unofficial biographies, supplementary biographies, family biographies, brief biographies... and unfortunately none of them fits. "Collected biography"? This piece is not ranked alongside many eminent persons in an official history. "Autobiography"? I am certainly not Ah Q. "Unofficial biography"? Then where is the "official" one? "Esoteric biography"? Ah Q was decidedly no immortal. "Supplementary biography"? Ah Q never received a presidential decree ordering the National History Bureau to compose his "standard biography" — though it is true that there is no "Collected Biography of Gamblers" in official English history, and the great author Dickens did write a "Supplementary Biography of a Gambler"; but what is permissible for a literary giant is not for the likes of us. Then "family biography"? I neither know whether I belong to Ah Q's clan nor have I been commissioned by any of his descendants. "Brief biography"? Ah Q has even less claim to any other "full biography." In sum, this piece is really a "standard biography," but given my lowly style — the language of "cart-pullers and soup-peddlers" — I dare not presume to call it that. So from the formula of those novelists who rank below even the Three Teachings and Nine Schools — "But enough of idle talk; let us return to the true story" — I have extracted the two characters meaning "true story" and used them as my title; even if this overlaps with the "True Transmission" in the ancients' True Transmission of Calligraphy, I can no longer help it. Second, by common convention a biography should begin: "Mr. So-and-so, styled So-and-so, a native of Such-and-such." But I do not even know Ah Q's surname. Once he appeared to be named Zhao, but the very next day this was already uncertain. It happened when Old Master Zhao's son passed the examination for xiucai, and the glad tidings were brought to the village amid the clanging of gongs. Ah Q, having just drunk two bowls of rice wine, began to dance about with joy, declaring that this was a credit to him too, for he and Old Master Zhao were originally of the same clan, and when you counted the generations carefully, he was actually three generations senior to the xiucai. At this point several bystanders did regard him with a certain respect. But who could have known that the very next day the village constable would summon Ah Q to Old Master Zhao's house? The old man no sooner laid eyes on him than his face turned purple with rage and he thundered: "Ah Q, you worthless wretch! Did you say I was a relative of yours?" Ah Q made no reply. Old Master Zhao grew angrier the longer he looked at him, strode forward a few steps, and said: "How dare you talk such nonsense! How could I possibly have a relative like you? Is your name Zhao?" Ah Q still said nothing and tried to retreat; but Old Master Zhao sprang forward and struck him across the face. "How could you be named Zhao! — You are not fit to be named Zhao!" Ah Q made no attempt to protest that he truly was named Zhao; he merely rubbed his left cheek and withdrew with the village constable, who then scolded him once more outside, after which Ah Q paid the constable two hundred wen for wine. Everyone who heard of it said Ah Q had been utterly absurd to go inviting a beating upon himself. He probably wasn't named Zhao at all, and even if he really were, with Old Master Zhao right there, he should not have made such a preposterous claim. From then on no one ever mentioned his clan again, and so I have never been able to discover Ah Q's true surname. Third, I also do not know how Ah Q's given name should be written. When he was alive, everyone called him Ah Quei; after his death, no one ever called him Ah Quei again — so how could there ever be a matter of "recording it on bamboo and silk"? This article is truly the first time he has been committed to writing, and so the very first obstacle presents itself. I pondered carefully: Ah Quei — is it written with the character 桂 (cassia) or 贵 (noble)? If he had borne the courtesy name "Moon Pavilion," or if his birthday had fallen in the eighth month, it would certainly be "cassia." But he had no courtesy name — perhaps he did, only no one knew — and he had never sent out invitations to a birthday celebration: writing "cassia" would be arbitrary. Again, if he had an elder or younger brother called "Ah Fu" (Wealth), then it would certainly be "noble." But he was all alone: there is no evidence for "noble" either. Other obscure characters pronounced "Quei" fit even less. I once asked Old Master Zhao's son, the learned Mr. Maocai, but even this erudite gentleman was at a loss, concluding only that it was because Chen Duxiu had used his magazine New Youth to promote foreign letters, causing the national heritage to decay beyond all verification. My last resort was to ask a fellow townsman to look up Ah Q's case file in the criminal records. Eight months later the reply came: there was no name in the records that sounded like "Ah Quei." Whether there truly was none, or whether no one had bothered to check, I do not know; nor were there any other avenues left. Fearing that the phonetic alphabet was not yet in general use, I had no choice but to employ "foreign letters" and write his name as "Ah Quei" in the spelling current in England, abbreviated to "Ah Q." This is almost slavish imitation of New Youth, and I am myself quite apologetic about it; but if even the eminent Mr. Maocai did not know, what better way could I possibly find? Fourth, there is the matter of Ah Q's native place. If his surname were indeed Zhao, then by today's fashion of boasting of one's ancestral district, one could follow the annotations in the Hundred Surnames by District and say he was "a native of Tianshui, Longxi." Unfortunately this surname is not at all reliable, and so his native place too remains unsettled. Although he mostly lived in Weizhuang, he often lodged elsewhere and cannot simply be called a "native of Weizhuang"; and even writing "native of Weizhuang" would still violate the rules of historiography. The one thing that consoles me is that the word "Ah" is perfectly correct, entirely free of forced interpretation or false borrowing, and may be confidently submitted to the learned for their approval. As for the rest, it all lies beyond the capacity of a shallow scholar to fathom; I can only hope that the disciples of Mr. Hu Shizhi, who professes "a passion for history and textual criticism," may in the future unearth many fresh clues. But by that time, I fear, this True Story of Ah Q of mine will long since have perished. The foregoing may serve as a preface.
=== 第2節 ===	=== Section 2 ===
第二章　优胜记略 　　阿Ｑ不独是姓名籍贯有些渺茫，连他先前的“行状”⒃也渺茫。因为未庄的人们之于阿Ｑ，只要他帮忙，只拿他玩笑，从来没有留心他的“行状”的。而阿Ｑ自己也不说，独有和别人口角的时候，间或瞪着眼睛道： 　　“我们先前——比你阔的多啦！你算是什么东西！” 　　阿Ｑ没有家，住在未庄的土谷祠⒄里；也没有固定的职业，只给人家做短工，割麦便割麦，舂米便舂米，撑船便撑船。工作略长久时，他也或住在临时主人的家里，但一完就走了。所以，人们忙碌的时候，也还记起阿Ｑ来，然而记起的是做工，并不是“行状”；一闲空，连阿Ｑ都早忘却，更不必说“行状”了。只是有一回，有一个老头子颂扬说：“阿Ｑ真能做！”这时阿Ｑ赤着膊，懒洋洋的瘦伶仃的正在他面前，别人也摸不着这话是真心还是讥笑，然而阿Ｑ很喜欢。 　　阿Ｑ又很自尊，所有未庄的居民，全不在他眼神里，甚而至于对于两位“文童”⒅也有以为不值一笑的神情。夫文童者，将来恐怕要变秀才者也；赵太爷钱太爷大受居民的尊敬，除有钱之外，就因为都是文童的爹爹，而阿Ｑ在精神上独不表格外的崇奉，他想：我的儿子会阔得多啦！加以进了几回城，阿Ｑ自然更自负，然而他又很鄙薄城里人，譬如用三尺三寸宽的木板做成的凳子，未庄人叫“长凳”，他也叫“长凳”，城里人却叫“条凳”，他想：这是错的，可笑！油煎大头鱼，未庄都加上半寸长的葱叶，城里却加上切细的葱丝，他想：这也是错的，可笑！然而未庄人真是不见世面的可笑的乡下人呵，他们没有见过城里的煎鱼！ 　　阿Ｑ“先前阔”，见识高，而且“真能做”，本来几乎是一个“完人”了，但可惜他体质上还有一些缺点。最恼人的是在他头皮上，颇有几处不知于何时的癞疮疤。这虽然也在他身上，而看阿Ｑ的意思，倒也似乎以为不足贵的，因为他讳说“癞”以及一切近于“赖”的音，后来推而广之，“光”也讳，“亮”也讳，再后来，连“灯”“烛”都讳了。一犯讳，不问有心与无心，阿Ｑ便全疤通红的发起怒来，估量了对手，口讷的他便骂，气力小的他便打；然而不知怎么一回事，总还是阿Ｑ吃亏的时候多。于是他渐渐的变换了方针，大抵改为怒目而视了。 　　谁知道阿Ｑ采用怒目主义之后，未庄的闲人们便愈喜欢玩笑他。一见面，他们便假作吃惊的说： 　　哙，亮起来了。” 　　阿Ｑ照例的发了怒，他怒目而视了。 　　“原来有保险灯在这里！”他们并不怕。 　　阿Ｑ没有法，只得另外想出报复的话来： 　　“你还不配……”这时候，又仿佛在他头上的是一种高尚的光容的癞头疮，并非平常的癞头疮了；但上文说过，阿Ｑ是有见识的，他立刻知道和“犯忌”有点抵触，便不再往底下说。 　　闲人还不完，只撩他，于是终而至于打。阿Ｑ在形式上打败了，被人揪住黄辫子，在壁上碰了四五个响头，闲人这才心满意足的得胜的走了，阿Ｑ站了一刻，心里想，“我总算被儿子打了，现在的世界真不像样……”于是也心满意足的得胜的走了。 　　阿Ｑ想在心里的，后来每每说出口来，所以凡是和阿Ｑ玩笑的人们，几乎全知道他有这一种精神上的胜利法，此后每逢揪住他黄辫子的时候，人就先一着对他说： 　　“阿Ｑ，这不是儿子打老子，是人打畜生。自己说：人打畜生！” 　　阿Ｑ两只手都捏住了自己的辫根，歪着头，说道： 　　“打虫豸，好不好？我是虫豸——还不放么？” 　　但虽然是虫豸，闲人也并不放，仍旧在就近什么地方给他碰了五六个响头，这才心满意足的得胜的走了，他以为阿Ｑ这回可遭了瘟。然而不到十秒钟，阿Ｑ也心满意足的得胜的走了，他觉得他是第一个能够自轻自贱的人，除了“自轻自贱”不算外，余下的就是“第一个”。状元⒆不也是“第一个”么？“你算是什么东西”呢！？ 　　阿Ｑ以如是等等妙法克服怨敌之后，便愉快的跑到酒店里喝几碗酒，又和别人调笑一通，口角一通，又得了胜，愉快的回到土谷祠，放倒头睡着了。假使有钱，他便去押牌宝⒇，一推人蹲在地面上，阿Ｑ即汗流满面的夹在这中间，声音他最响： 　　“青龙四百！” 　　“咳～～开～～啦！”桩家揭开盒子盖，也是汗流满面的唱。“天门啦～～角回啦～～！人和穿堂空在那里啦～～！阿Ｑ的铜钱拿过来～～！” 　　“穿堂一百——一百五十！” 　　阿Ｑ的钱便在这样的歌吟之下，渐渐的输入别个汗流满面的人物的腰间。他终于只好挤出堆外，站在后面看，替别人着急，一直到散场，然后恋恋的回到土谷祠，第二天，肿着眼睛去工作。 　　但真所谓“塞翁失马安知非福”①罢，阿Ｑ不幸而赢了一回，他倒几乎失败了。 　　这是未庄赛神②的晚上。这晚上照例有一台戏，戏台左近，也照例有许多的赌摊。做戏的锣鼓，在阿Ｑ耳朵里仿佛在十里之外；他只听得桩家的歌唱了。他赢而又赢，铜钱变成角洋，角洋变成大洋，大洋又成了叠。他兴高采烈得非常： 　　“天门两块！” 　　他不知道谁和谁为什么打起架来了。骂声打声脚步声，昏头昏脑的一大阵，他才爬起来，赌摊不见了，人们也不见了，身上有几处很似乎有些痛，似乎也挨了几拳几脚似的，几个人诧异的对他看。他如有所失的走进土谷祠，定一定神，知道他的一堆洋钱不见了。赶赛会的赌摊多不是本村人，还到那里去寻根柢呢？ 　　很白很亮的一堆洋钱！而且是他的——现在不见了！说是算被儿子拿去了罢，总还是忽忽不乐；说自己是虫豸罢，也还是忽忽不乐：他这回才有些感到失败的苦痛了。 　　但他立刻转败为胜了。他擎起右手，用力的在自己脸上连打了两个嘴巴，热剌剌的有些痛；打完之后，便心平气和起来，似乎打的是自己，被打的是别一个自己，不久也就仿佛是自己打了别个一般，——虽然还有些热剌剌，——心满意足的得胜的躺下了。 　　他睡着了。	Chapter Two: A Brief Account of Ah Q's Victories Not only were Ah Q's surname and native place somewhat obscure — even his former career was shrouded in mystery. For the people of Weizhuang, when it came to Ah Q, merely wanted him to do odd jobs and made fun of him; no one had ever paid attention to his "career." And Ah Q himself never spoke of it either, except when quarreling with others, when he would sometimes glare wide-eyed and say: "We were once — far grander than you! What are you, anyway!" Ah Q had no family and lived in the Tuguci Temple in Weizhuang; nor did he have a regular occupation, but merely hired himself out as a day laborer: when there was wheat to be cut, he cut wheat; when rice needed pounding, he pounded rice; when a boat needed steering, he steered the boat. If the work lasted for any length of time, he might stay at his temporary employer's house, but as soon as it was done he left. So when people were busy they still remembered Ah Q — but what they remembered was the laborer, not the "career"; and when they had nothing to do, even Ah Q was soon forgotten, to say nothing of his career. Only once did an old man commend him approvingly: "Ah Q is really a capable worker!" At that moment Ah Q was standing before him, bare-chested, gaunt, and listless, and the others could not tell whether the remark was sincere or mocking. But Ah Q was very pleased. Ah Q was, moreover, extremely proud. All the inhabitants of Weizhuang were beneath his notice, and he even regarded the two "literary apprentices" with an expression suggesting they were scarcely worth a smile. These literary apprentices, it should be explained, were men on their way to becoming xiucai; Old Master Zhao and Old Master Qian were greatly respected by the villagers not only for being wealthy but above all for being fathers of literary apprentices. Yet Ah Q alone refused to show them any special spiritual deference. He thought: My son will go far higher! Moreover, having been to town several times, Ah Q naturally became even more conceited. At the same time he thoroughly despised the townspeople. For example, a bench made of planks three and three-tenths inches wide: in Weizhuang people called it a "long bench," and so did he; but the townsfolk called it a "strip bench" — that was wrong and laughable! Or take fried bighead fish: in Weizhuang they added half-inch lengths of spring onion leaves, whereas the city folk added finely shredded onion — that, too, was wrong and laughable! And yet the people of Weizhuang were truly laughable country bumpkins who had never even seen the fried fish of the city! Ah Q had been "grand in former days," possessed superior knowledge, and furthermore "really could work" — so he was virtually a "perfect man." Unfortunately his physique still had a few defects. The most vexing were several patches of ringworm scars on his scalp, acquired nobody knew when. Although these were on his own body, Ah Q apparently considered them unworthy of mention, for he avoided the word "ringworm" and all words sounding like it; later this prohibition was extended to "shiny" and "bright," and eventually even "lamp" and "candle." Whenever one of these taboo words was uttered, whether intentionally or not, Ah Q would flush scarlet over every one of his scars with fury, size up his opponent — if the fellow was slow of tongue he would curse him, if the fellow was weak of body he would hit him. But somehow or other, it was usually Ah Q who came off worst. So he gradually changed his tactics and for the most part contented himself with glowering. Yet who could have foreseen that after Ah Q adopted the policy of glowering, the idlers of Weizhuang took even greater delight in teasing him? The moment they caught sight of him, they would pretend to be startled and say: "Look, it's getting bright!" Ah Q flared up as usual and glowered at them. "So there's a safety lamp here!" They were not in the least afraid. Ah Q had no recourse but to think of some other retort: "You don't even deserve..." At that moment it was as though the ringworm on his head were a kind of noble, luminous crown rather than ordinary ringworm; but as noted above, Ah Q was a man of discernment, and he immediately realized that this was somewhat at odds with his own taboo, so he said no more. The idlers would not let up, however, and kept provoking him until at last it came to blows. Ah Q was beaten in form: he was seized by his yellow queue and had his head knocked against the wall four or five times. Only then did the idlers depart, satisfied and victorious. Ah Q stood still for a moment and thought: "Well, I've been beaten by my sons — the world today is really going to the dogs..." And off he went too, satisfied and victorious. What Ah Q thought to himself he soon began saying aloud, and so practically everyone who teased him learned of this method of spiritual victory. Thenceforth, whenever they had him by the yellow queue, they would forestall him by saying: "Ah Q, this isn't a son beating his father — it's a man beating a beast. Say it yourself: A man beats a beast!" Ah Q, gripping the root of his queue with both hands, his head tilted to one side, would say: "Beating a worm, is it? I'm a worm — will you let go now?" But worm though he was, the idlers would not let him go; they still knocked his head five or six times against the nearest available surface, and only then departed satisfied and victorious, convinced that Ah Q had really caught it this time. Yet not ten seconds later Ah Q too departed, satisfied and victorious. He felt himself to be the first man capable of "self-deprecation," and if you subtracted the "self-deprecation," what remained was still "first." Wasn't the zhuangyuan also "first"? "What are you, anyway!" After vanquishing his enemies by such admirable methods, Ah Q would cheerfully run to the wine shop, drink a few bowls, joke and bicker with the others, win yet another victory, and return merrily to the Tuguci Temple, where he would lay his head down and promptly fall asleep. If he had money, he would go gambling. A crowd of men squatted on the ground, and Ah Q would squeeze in among them, perspiration streaming down his face, his voice the loudest of all: "Blue Dragon, four hundred!" "Ahhh — open!" the banker would sing, equally drenched in sweat. "Heaven's Gate — the corner back! Man-and-Passage empty! Ah Q's coppers, hand them over!" "Passage, one hundred — one hundred fifty!" Under such chanting, Ah Q's coppers gradually passed into the waistbands of other perspiring fellows. In the end he had to squeeze out of the crowd, stand behind the others, and worry on their behalf until the game broke up, after which he would wander reluctantly back to the Tuguci Temple and go to work the next day with swollen eyes. But as the saying goes, "When the old man at the frontier lost his horse, who could tell it was not a blessing?" — for one day Ah Q had the misfortune of winning, and he was very nearly undone. It was the evening of the village god's festival in Weizhuang. That evening there was, as usual, a theatrical performance, and near the stage, also as usual, many gambling stands. The drums and gongs of the performance sounded to Ah Q's ears as though they were ten miles away; he heard nothing but the chanting of the banker. He won and won again: coppers turned to silver dimes, dimes to silver dollars, dollars mounted into a pile. He was ecstatic: "Heaven's Gate, two dollars!" He could not tell who had started fighting with whom or why. Curses, blows, footsteps — a confused uproar raged about his befuddled head until he at last scrambled to his feet. The gambling stand was gone, the people were gone, and in several places on his body something seemed to hurt rather badly, as though he had taken a few punches and kicks. Several people stared at him in astonishment. He stumbled back to the Tuguci Temple as if in a daze, collected himself, and discovered that his pile of silver dollars had vanished. The gamblers at the festival usually came from other villages — where was he to go looking for the culprits? What a fine, shining pile of silver dollars! And they had been his — and now they were gone! To tell himself that his sons had taken them was no real comfort; to call himself a worm was no comfort either: this time he truly felt the pain of defeat. But almost at once he turned defeat into victory. He raised his right hand and dealt himself two resounding slaps across the face. It stung quite fiercely. After that he calmed down: it was as though the one who struck and the one who was struck were two different people — before long it actually felt as though he had struck somebody else — and in spite of a lingering sting, he lay down satisfied, victorious. He fell asleep.
=== 第3節 ===	=== Section 3 ===
第三章　续优胜记略 　　然而阿Ｑ虽然常优胜，却直待蒙赵太爷打他嘴巴之后，这才出了名。 　　他付过地保二百文酒钱，愤愤的躺下了，后来想：“现在的世界太不成话，儿子打老子……”于是忽而想到赵太爷的威风，而现在是他的儿子了，便自己也渐渐的得意起来，爬起身，唱着《小孤孀上坟》③到酒店去。这时候，他又觉得赵太爷高人一等了。 　　说也奇怪，从此之后，果然大家也仿佛格外尊敬他。这在阿Ｑ，或者以为因为他是赵太爷的父亲，而其实也不然。未庄通例，倘如阿七打阿八，或者李四打张三，向来本不算口碑。一上口碑，则打的既有名，被打的也就托庇有了名。至于错在阿Ｑ，那自然是不必说。所以者何？就因为赵太爷是不会错的。但他既然错，为什么大家又仿佛格外尊敬他呢？这可难解，穿凿起来说，或者因为阿Ｑ说是赵太爷的本家，虽然挨了打，大家也还怕有些真，总不如尊敬一些稳当。否则，也如孔庙里的太牢④一般，虽然与猪羊一样，同是畜生，但既经圣人下箸，先儒们便不敢妄动了。 　　阿Ｑ此后倒得意了许多年。 　　有一年的春天，他醉醺醺的在街上走，在墙根的日光下，看见王胡在那里赤着膊捉虱子，他忽然觉得身上也痒起来了。这王胡，又癞又胡，别人都叫他王癞胡，阿Ｑ却删去了一个癞字，然而非常渺视他。阿Ｑ的意思，以为癞是不足为奇的，只有这一部络腮胡子，实在太新奇，令人看不上眼。他于是并排坐下去了。倘是别的闲人们，阿Ｑ本不敢大意坐下去。但这王胡旁边，他有什么怕呢？老实说：他肯坐下去，简直还是抬举他。 　　阿Ｑ也脱下破夹袄来，翻检了一回，不知道因为新洗呢还是因为粗心，许多工夫，只捉到三四个。他看那王胡，却是一个又一个，两个又三个，只放在嘴里毕毕剥剥的响。 　　阿Ｑ最初是失望，后来却不平了：看不上眼的王胡尚且那么多，自己倒反这样少，这是怎样的大失体统的事呵！他很想寻一两个大的，然而竟没有，好容易才捉到一个中的，恨恨的塞在厚嘴唇里，狠命一咬，劈的一声，又不及王胡的响。 　　他癞疮疤块块通红了，将衣服摔在地上，吐一口唾沫，说： 　　“这毛虫！” 　　“癞皮狗，你骂谁？”王胡轻蔑的抬起眼来说。 　　阿Ｑ近来虽然比较的受人尊敬，自己也更高傲些，但和那些打惯的闲人们见面还胆怯，独有这回却非常武勇了。这样满脸胡子的东西，也敢出言无状么？ 　　“谁认便骂谁！”他站起来，两手叉在腰间说。 　　“你的骨头痒了么？”王胡也站起来，披上衣服说。 　　阿Ｑ以为他要逃了，抢进去就是一拳。这拳头还未达到身上，已经被他抓住了，只一拉，阿Ｑ跄跄踉踉的跌进去，立刻又被王胡扭住了辫子，要拉到墙上照例去碰头。 　　“‘君子动口不动手’！”阿Ｑ歪着头说。 　　王胡似乎不是君子，并不理会，一连给他碰了五下，又用力的一推，至于阿Ｑ跌出六尺多远，这才满足的去了。 　　在阿Ｑ的记忆上，这大约要算是生平第一件的屈辱，因为王胡以络腮胡子的缺点，向来只被他奚落，从没有奚落他，更不必说动手了。而他现在竟动手，很意外，难道真如市上所说，皇帝已经停了考⑤，不要秀才和举人了，因此赵家减了威风，因此他们也便小觑了他么？ 　　阿Ｑ无可适从的站着。 　　远远的走来了一个人，他的对头又到了。这也是阿Ｑ最厌恶的一个人，就是钱太爷的大儿子。他先前跑上城里去进洋学堂，不知怎么又跑到东洋去了，半年之后他回到家里来，腿也直了，辫子也不见了，他的母亲大哭了十几场，他的老婆跳了三回井。后来，他的母亲到处说，“这辫子是被坏人灌醉了酒剪去了。本来可以做大官，现在只好等留长再说了。”然而阿Ｑ不肯信，偏称他“假洋鬼子”，也叫作“里通外国的人”，一见他，一定在肚子里暗暗的咒骂。 　　阿Ｑ尤其“深恶而痛绝之”的，是他的一条假辫子。辫子而至*诩伲褪敲挥*了做人的资格；他的老婆不跳第四回井，也不是好女人。 　　这“假洋鬼子”近来了。 　　秃儿。驴……”阿Ｑ历来本只在肚子里骂，没有出过声，这回因为正气忿，因为要报仇，便不由的轻轻的说出来了。 　　不料这秃儿却拿着一支黄漆的棍子——就是阿Ｑ所谓哭丧棒⑥——大蹋步走了过来。阿Ｑ在这刹那，便知道大约要打了，赶紧抽紧筋骨，耸了肩膀等候着，果然，拍的一声，似乎确凿打在自己头上了。 　　“我说他！”阿Ｑ指着近旁的一个孩子，分辩说。 　　拍！拍拍！ 　　在阿Ｑ的记忆上，这大约要算是生平第二件的屈辱。幸而拍拍的响了之后，于他倒似乎完结了一件事，反而觉得轻松些，而且“忘却”这一件祖传的宝贝也发生了效力，他慢慢的走，将到酒店门口，早已有些高兴了。 　　但对面走来了静修庵里的小尼姑。阿Ｑ便在平时，看见伊也一定要唾骂，而况在屈辱之后呢？他于是发生了回忆，又发生了敌忾了。 　　“我不知道我今天为什么这样晦气，原来就因为见了你！”他想。 　　他迎上去，大声的吐一口唾沫： 　　“咳，呸！” 　　小尼姑全不睬，低了头只是走。阿Ｑ走近伊身旁，突然伸出手去摩着伊新剃的头皮，呆笑着，说： 　　“秃儿！快回去，和尚等着你……” 　　“你怎么动手动脚……”尼姑满脸通红的说，一面赶快走。 　　酒店里的人大笑了。阿Ｑ看见自己的勋业得了赏识，便愈加兴高采烈起来： 　　“和尚动得，我动不得？”他扭住伊的面颊。 　　酒店里的人大笑了。阿Ｑ更得意，而且为了满足那些赏鉴家起见，再用力的一拧，才放手。 　　他这一战，早忘却了王胡，也忘却了假洋鬼子，似乎对于今天的一切“晦气”都报了仇；而且奇怪，又仿佛全身比拍拍的响了之后轻松，飘飘然的似乎要飞去了。 　　“这断子绝孙的阿Ｑ！”远远地听得小尼姑的带哭的声音。 　　“哈哈哈！”阿Ｑ十分得意的笑。 　　“哈哈哈！”酒店里的人也九分得意的笑。	Chapter Three: A Continuation of Ah Q's Victories Although Ah Q was frequently victorious, he did not actually become famous until after he received a slap from Old Master Zhao. Having paid the village constable two hundred wen for wine, he lay down in a rage. Later he thought: "The world today is really going to the dogs — sons beating fathers..." Then suddenly he thought of Old Master Zhao's majesty — and since the old man was now his son — he gradually became pleased with himself, got up, and went singing "The Little Widow Visits the Grave" toward the wine shop. By this time he actually felt that Old Master Zhao was a cut above everyone else. Strange to say, from that day onward everybody did seem to treat him with rather more respect. In Ah Q's view this was naturally because he was Old Master Zhao's father, but in reality the explanation was otherwise. In Weizhuang, the rule was that if Ah Seven beat Ah Eight, or Li Four beat Zhang Three, it was never considered noteworthy. Only when something became the talk of the village was the one who delivered the beating famous, and the one beaten became famous too — by association, so to speak. That the fault lay with Ah Q went without saying. And why? Because Old Master Zhao could not possibly be wrong. But if Ah Q was in the wrong, why did everyone treat him with more respect? This is hard to explain. Perhaps, if one ventures an interpretation, it was because Ah Q had claimed to be of the same clan as Old Master Zhao, and although he had been beaten, people still feared there might be some truth in it, and thought it prudent to show a little more respect. Otherwise, it was like the grand sacrificial ox in the Confucian temple: although it was, like pigs and sheep, merely livestock, once the Sage had set his chopsticks upon it, the scholars of later ages dared not touch it. After this, Ah Q had quite a contented existence for many years. One spring day he was staggering tipsily down the street when he saw Wang Hu sitting bare-chested in the sunshine against a wall, hunting for lice. He suddenly felt itchy all over. This Wang Hu was both mangy and bearded, and everyone called him "Mangy-Bearded Wang," but Ah Q dropped the word "mangy" — while despising him utterly. In Ah Q's view, mange was nothing remarkable; it was only the full beard that was truly bizarre and unworthy of regard. So he sat down beside him. With any other idler, Ah Q would not have dared sit down so casually, but next to Wang Hu — what was there to be afraid of? Frankly, the very fact that he deigned to sit beside him was already doing the fellow a favor. Ah Q too pulled off his ragged jacket and searched it for a while, but whether because it had been freshly washed or because he was careless, after long effort he found only three or four. Wang Hu, meanwhile, was finding one after another — two, then three in succession — and popping them between his lips with a satisfying crackle. At first Ah Q was disappointed, then indignant. Even the despicable Wang Hu had so many, while he himself had so few — what a disgrace! He searched desperately for one or two big ones but found none; with great difficulty he caught a medium-sized one, clamped it furiously between his thick lips, and bit down hard — crack — but it was not as loud as Wang Hu's. All his scars flushed red. He flung his jacket to the ground, spat, and said: "You lousy caterpillar!" "Mangy cur, who are you cursing?" Wang Hu looked up contemptuously. Although Ah Q had recently gained somewhat more respect and had grown prouder, he was still timid when he met the habitual brawlers. Only this time he was uncommonly brave. How dare such a hairy creature be impudent? "If the cap fits, wear it!" He stood up, hands on hips. "Are your bones itching for a beating?" Wang Hu also stood up and put on his jacket. Ah Q, thinking he was trying to flee, rushed forward and swung a fist. But before the blow could land, Wang Hu had seized it. One pull, and Ah Q stumbled forward; the next instant Wang Hu had grabbed his queue and was about to slam his head against the wall in the customary fashion. "'A gentleman fights with words, not with fists!'" said Ah Q, his head tilted. Wang Hu apparently was no gentleman. He paid no attention, knocked Ah Q's head against the wall five times running, then shoved him so hard that he flew over six feet. Only then did Wang Hu depart in satisfaction. In Ah Q's memory, this was probably the first great humiliation of his life, because Wang Hu, with his repulsive beard, had always been the butt of Ah Q's ridicule — it was the other man who had been mocked, never he! To say nothing of being struck. And now the fellow had actually struck him — utterly unheard of! Could the rumors in the marketplace really be true, that the Emperor had abolished the examinations, that xiucai and juren were no longer needed, and that the Zhao family's prestige had consequently declined — which was why people dared to look down on him? Ah Q stood there at a complete loss. A man was approaching from a distance: yet another of his enemies. This was the person Ah Q detested most — the eldest son of Old Master Qian. This fellow had previously gone to the city to attend a foreign-style school, then for some reason had gone off to Japan, and had returned after half a year — with straight legs but without a queue. His mother had wept a dozen times, and his wife had tried to throw herself down the well three times. Later his mother told everyone: "His queue was cut off by scoundrels after they got him drunk. He could have become a high official; now he can only wait for it to grow back." But Ah Q refused to believe this; he stubbornly called him the "Bogus Foreign Devil" and also "a man in league with foreigners," and whenever he saw him, he would silently curse him. What Ah Q "detested with particular vehemence" was the man's false queue. When a queue was actually false, one had forfeited the right to be considered human; and if his wife did not jump down the well a fourth time, she was no decent woman either. This "Bogus Foreign Devil" drew near. "Baldy. Donkey..." Ah Q had always muttered such curses only to himself, never aloud. But this time — because he was in a fury and thirsting for revenge — the words slipped out in a whisper. But the bald one came striding up with a yellow stick — which Ah Q called the "mourning staff" — in his hand. In that instant Ah Q knew he was about to be beaten. He hastily tensed every muscle, hunched his shoulders, and waited. Sure enough — smack — it seemed to have landed squarely on his head. "I was talking about him!" Ah Q pointed at a child standing nearby. Smack! Smack, smack! In Ah Q's memory this was probably the second great humiliation of his life. But after the smacking had stopped, something seemed to have been settled, and he actually felt rather relieved. Moreover, the heirloom treasure of "forgetting" took effect: he walked on slowly, and by the time he was nearly at the wine shop door, he was already in good spirits. But coming toward him was the little nun from the Convent of Quiet Self-Cultivation. Even in ordinary times Ah Q would have spat at and cursed her on sight — and how much more so after a humiliation! Memory and hostility surged up together. "No wonder I've had such bad luck today — it's all because I ran into you!" he thought. He went up to her and spat loudly: "Bah! Pah!" The little nun paid no attention whatsoever and walked on with lowered head. Ah Q stepped up beside her, suddenly reached out and rubbed her freshly shaved scalp, grinning foolishly, and said: "Baldy! Go back quickly, the monk is waiting for you..." "How dare you touch me..." The nun turned crimson and hurried on. The men in the wine shop roared with laughter. Seeing that his feat had won their appreciation, Ah Q grew even more elated: "If the monk can touch her, why can't I?" He pinched her cheek. The men in the wine shop roared with laughter again. Ah Q, more and more delighted, gave her cheek another hard twist — for the benefit of the connoisseurs — and only then let go. After this battle, he had forgotten all about Wang Hu and the Bogus Foreign Devil; it was as though he had avenged every bit of "bad luck" that day. And strangely, his whole body felt lighter than it had after the "smack, smack" — he was positively floating, as if about to fly away. "You heirless scoundrel, you Ah Q!" He heard the little nun's half-weeping voice in the distance. "Ha ha ha!" Ah Q laughed with the greatest satisfaction. "Ha ha ha!" The men in the wine shop laughed with nine-tenths satisfaction.
=== 第4節 ===	=== Section 4 ===
第四章　恋爱的悲剧 　　有人说：有些胜利者，愿意敌手如虎，如鹰，他才感得胜利的欢喜；假使如羊，如小鸡，他便反觉得胜利的无聊。又有些胜利者，当克服一切之后，看见死的死了，降的降了，“臣诚惶诚恐死罪死罪”，他于是没有了敌人，没有了对手，没有了朋友，只有自己在上，一个，孤另另，凄凉，寂寞，便反而感到了胜利的悲哀。然而我们的阿Ｑ却没有这样乏，他是永远得意的：这或者也是中国精神文明冠于全球的一个证据了。 　　看哪，他飘飘然的似乎要飞去了！ 　　然而这一次的胜利，却又使他有些异样。他飘飘然的飞了大半天，飘进土谷祠，照例应该躺下便打鼾。谁知道这一晚，他很不容易合眼，他觉得自己的大拇指和第二指有点古怪：仿佛比平常滑腻些。不知道是小尼姑的脸上有一点滑腻的东西粘在他指上，还是他的指头在小尼姑脸上磨得滑腻了？…… 　　“断子绝孙的阿Ｑ！” 　　阿Ｑ的耳朵里又听到这句话。他想：不错，应该有一个女人，断子绝孙便没有人供一碗饭，……应该有一个女人。夫“不孝有三无后为大”⑦，而“若敖之鬼馁而”⑧，也是一件人生的大哀，所以他那思想，其实是样样合于圣经贤传的，只可惜后来有些“不能收其放心”⑨了。 　　“女人，女人！……”他想。 　　“……和尚动得……女人，女人！……女人！”他又想。 　　我们不能知道这晚上阿Ｑ在什么时候才打鼾。但大约他从此总觉得指头有些滑腻，所以他从此总有些飘飘然；“女……”他想。 　　即此一端，我们便可以知道女人是害人的东西。 　　中国的男人，本来大半都可以做圣贤，可惜全被女人毁掉了。商是妲己⑩闹亡的；周是褒姒弄坏的；秦……虽然史无明文，我们也假定他因为女人，大约未必十分错；而董卓可是的确给貂蝉害死了。 　　阿Ｑ本来也是正人，我们虽然不知道他曾蒙什么明师指授过，但他对于“男女之大防”㈠却历来非常严；也很有排斥异端——如小尼姑及假洋鬼子之类——的正气。他的学说是：凡尼姑，一定与和尚私通；一个女人在外面走，一定想引诱野男人；一男一女在那里讲话，一定要有勾当了。为惩治他们起见，所以他往往怒目而视，或者大声说几句“诛心”㈡话，或者在冷僻处，便从后面掷一块小石头。 　　谁知道他将到“而立”㈢之年，竟被小尼姑害得飘飘然了。这飘飘然的精神，在礼教上是不应该有的，——所以女人真可恶，假使小尼姑的脸上不滑腻，阿Ｑ便不至于被蛊，又假使小尼姑的脸上盖一层布，阿Ｑ便也不至于被蛊了，——他五六年前，曾在戏台下的人丛中拧过一个女人的大腿，但因为隔一层裤，所以此后并不飘飘然，——而小尼姑并不然，这也足见异端之可恶。 　　“女……”阿Ｑ想。 　　他对于以为“一定想引诱野男人”的女人，时常留心看，然而伊并不对他笑。他对于和他讲话的女人，也时常留心听，然而伊又并不提起关于什么勾当的话来。哦，这也是女人可恶之一节：伊们全都要装“假正经”的。 　　这一天，阿Ｑ在赵太爷家里舂了一天米，吃过晚饭，便坐在厨房里吸旱烟。倘在别家，吃过晚饭本可以回去的了，但赵府上晚饭早，虽说定例不准掌灯，一吃完便睡觉，然而偶然也有一些例外：其一，是赵大爷未进秀才的时候，准其点灯读文章；其二，便是阿Ｑ来做短工的时候，准其点灯舂米。因为这一条例外，所以阿Ｑ在动手舂米之前，还坐在厨房里吸烟旱。 　　吴妈，是赵太爷家里唯一的女仆，洗完了碗碟，也就在长凳上坐下了，而且和阿Ｑ谈闲天： 　　“太太两天没有吃饭哩，因为老爷要买一个小的……” 　　“女人……吴妈……这小孤孀……”阿Ｑ想。 　　“我们的少奶奶是八月里要生孩子了……” 　　女人……”阿Ｑ想。 　　阿Ｑ放下烟管，站了起来。 　　“我们的少奶奶……”吴妈还唠叨说。 　　“我和你困觉，我和你困觉！”阿Ｑ忽然抢上去，对伊跪下了。 　　一刹时中很寂然。 　　“阿呀！”吴妈楞了一息，突然发抖，大叫着往外跑，且跑且嚷，似乎后来带哭了。 　　阿Ｑ对了墙壁跪着也发楞，于是两手扶着空板凳，慢慢的站起来，仿佛觉得有些糟。他这时确也有些忐忑了，慌张的将烟管插在裤带上，就想去舂米。蓬的一声，头上着了很粗的一下，他急忙回转身去，那秀才便拿了一支大竹杠站在他面前。 　　“你反了，……你这……” 　　大竹杠又向他劈下来了。阿Ｑ两手去抱头，拍的正打在指节上，这可很有些痛。他冲出厨房门，仿佛背上又着了一下似的。 　　“忘八蛋！”秀才在后面用了官话这样骂。 　　阿Ｑ奔入舂米场，一个人站着，还觉得指头痛，还记得“忘八蛋”，因为这话是未庄的乡下人从来不用，专是见过官府的阔人用的，所以格外怕，而印象也格外深。但这时，他那“女……”的思想却也没有了。而且打骂之后，似乎一件事也已经收束，倒反觉得一无挂碍似的，便动手去舂米。舂了一会，他热起来了，又歇了手脱衣服。 　　脱下衣服的时候，他听得外面很热闹，阿Ｑ生平本来最爱看热闹，便即寻声走出去了。寻声渐渐的寻到赵太爷的内院里，虽然在昏黄中，却辨得出许多人，赵府一家连两日不吃饭的太太也在内，还有间壁的邹七嫂，真正本家的赵白眼，赵司晨。 　　少奶奶正拖着吴妈走出下房来，一面说： 　　“你到外面来，……不要躲在自己房里想……” 　　“谁不知道你正经，……短见是万万寻不得的。”邹七嫂也从旁说。 　　吴妈只是哭，夹些话，却不甚听得分明。 　　阿Ｑ想：“哼，有趣，这小孤孀不知道闹着什么玩意儿了？”他想打听，走近赵司晨的身边。这时他猛然间看见赵大爷向他奔来，而且手里捏着一支大竹杠。他看见这一支大竹杠，便猛然间悟到自己曾经被打，和这一场热闹似乎有点相关。他翻身便走，想逃回舂米场，不图这支竹杠阻了他的去路，于是他又翻身便走，自然而然的走出后门，不多工夫，已在土谷祠内了。 　　阿Ｑ坐了一会，皮肤有些起粟，他觉得冷了，因为虽在春季，而夜间颇有余寒，尚不宜于赤膊。他也记得布衫留在赵家，但倘若去取，又深怕秀才的竹杠。然而地保进来了。 　　“阿Ｑ，你的妈妈的！你连赵家的用人都调戏起来，简直是造反。害得我晚上没有觉睡，你的妈妈的！……” 　　如是云云的教训了一通，阿Ｑ自然没有话。临末，因为在晚上，应该送地保加倍酒钱四百文，Ｑ正没有现钱，便用一顶毡帽做抵押，并且订定了五条件： 　　一明天用红烛——要一斤重的——一对，香一封，到赵府上去赔罪。 　　二赵府上请道士祓除缢鬼，费用由阿Ｑ负担。 　　三阿Ｑ从此不准踏进赵府的门槛。 　　四吴妈此后倘有不测，惟阿Ｑ是问。 　　五阿Ｑ不准再去索取工钱和布衫。 　　阿Ｑ自然都答应了，可惜没有钱。幸而已经春天，棉被可以无用，便质了二千大钱，履行条约。赤膊磕头之后，居然还剩几文，他也不再赎毡帽，统统喝了酒了。但赵家也并不烧香点烛，因为太太拜佛的时候可以用，留着了。那破布衫是大半做了少奶奶八月间生下来的孩子的衬尿布，那小半破烂的便都做了吴妈的鞋底。	Chapter Four: The Tragedy of Love It is said that some victors wish their enemies to be like tigers or eagles — only then do they feel the exhilaration of triumph. Were their foes like sheep or chicks, they would find victory dull. And other victors, after conquering all, when the dead are dead and the vanquished have submitted, crying "Your servant trembles with fear and deserves death, deserves death!" — they suddenly find themselves without enemies, without rivals, without friends, alone at the summit, solitary, desolate, forlorn — and feel instead the melancholy of victory. Yet our Ah Q was free of such infirmities; he was perpetually satisfied — which perhaps furnishes further proof that China's spiritual civilization surpasses that of the entire world. Behold — he was floating along as if about to fly away! But this particular victory left him feeling rather peculiar. He floated along for half the day, floated into the Tuguci Temple, and by rights should have lain down and begun to snore. But that night he could hardly close his eyes: his thumb and forefinger seemed somehow strange — they felt smoother than usual. Had something smooth from the little nun's face stuck to his fingers, or had his fingers rubbed themselves smooth on the little nun's cheek...? "You heirless scoundrel, you Ah Q!" These words were still ringing in Ah Q's ears. He thought: Quite right, I ought to have a woman; without offspring there is no one to offer even a bowl of rice... Yes, he ought to have a woman. For "of the three forms of unfilial conduct, the gravest is to have no descendants," and if "the ghosts of the Ruoao clan go hungry," that too is a great sorrow of human life. His thoughts, it must be said, were entirely in accord with the sacred scriptures and wise traditions — only unfortunately they later ran somewhat out of control. "Women, women!..." he thought. "...If the monk can... women, women!... women!" he thought again. We cannot know at what hour Ah Q began to snore that night. But from then on, his fingertips probably always felt a little smooth, and so he floated along at all times. "Woman..." he thought. From this alone we can see that women are pernicious creatures. Most men in China could originally have become sages and worthies, had not women ruined them all. The Shang dynasty was destroyed because of Daji; the Zhou dynasty was undone because of Baosi; the Qin... although history is silent on the point, we may safely assume it was likewise because of a woman — probably not far wrong; and Dong Zhuo was most certainly brought to ruin by Diaochan. Ah Q too was originally an upright man. Although we do not know what eminent teacher may have instructed him, he had always been rigorous about the "great barrier between the sexes," and he possessed ample righteous indignation against heresy — against little nuns and Bogus Foreign Devils and the like. His theory was: every nun is certainly having an affair with a monk; when a woman walks about outside, she certainly intends to seduce strange men; when a man and a woman are talking somewhere, there is certainly something illicit going on. To punish such offenders he would glower at them, shout a few "heart-probing" remarks, or, when in a secluded spot, throw a small stone at them from behind. Who could have imagined that as he approached his "thirtieth year," a little nun would set him floating! This floating was impermissible according to the rites — further proof of how abominable women are! Had the little nun's face not been so smooth, Ah Q would not have been bewitched; and had the little nun worn a cloth over her face, he would not have been bewitched either. Five or six years earlier he had pinched a woman's thigh in the crowd beneath the stage — but there had been a layer of trouser cloth between them, so he had not floated afterward at all. The little nun was quite different — which showed once more the wickedness of heresy. "Woman..." Ah Q thought. He kept a sharp eye on the women whom he believed "certainly intended to seduce strange men," but none of them smiled at him. He listened attentively to the women who spoke to him, but none of them mentioned anything suggestive of "illicit goings-on." Ah, this too was one of the abominable traits of women: they all played the "false prude." One day Ah Q had been pounding rice all day at Old Master Zhao's. After supper he sat in the kitchen smoking his pipe. In other households he could have gone home after supper, but the Zhao household ate early. Although the rule was that no lamps were to be lit after dinner and everyone went straight to bed, there were occasional exceptions: first, before young Master Zhao obtained the xiucai degree, he was allowed to read his essays by lamplight; second, when Ah Q came to work as a day laborer, he was allowed to pound rice by lamplight. Because of this exception, Ah Q sat in the kitchen smoking his pipe before beginning his work. Wu Ma, the only maidservant in Old Master Zhao's household, had finished washing the dishes and sat down on the long bench as well, chatting idly with Ah Q: "The mistress hasn't eaten for two days — it's because the master wants to buy a concubine..." "Woman... Wu Ma... this little widow..." Ah Q thought. "Our young mistress is expecting a child in the eighth month..." "Woman..." Ah Q thought. Ah Q put down his pipe and stood up. "Our young mistress..." Wu Ma was still chattering. "I want to sleep with you! I want to sleep with you!" Ah Q suddenly rushed forward and knelt before her. For a moment there was utter silence. "Oh my!" Wu Ma froze for an instant, then began trembling all over, gave a great shriek, and ran outside, crying and wailing as she went. Ah Q knelt facing the wall, also dumbstruck. Then, propping himself on the empty bench, he slowly stood up, feeling vaguely that something had gone wrong. He was genuinely flustered now, and hastily tucked his pipe into his waistband, intending to start pounding rice. Bang — a tremendous blow struck him on the head. He whirled around: the xiucai was standing before him with a thick bamboo pole. "You rebel, you..." The bamboo pole swung down at him again. Ah Q raised both hands to protect his head — smack, right on the knuckles, and that really hurt. He burst through the kitchen door; on his back he seemed to receive yet another blow. "You turtle's egg!" the xiucai cursed after him in Mandarin. Ah Q fled to the rice-pounding shed and stood there alone, still feeling the pain in his fingers and still remembering "turtle's egg" — for this was an expression the country folk of Weizhuang never used; it was reserved for persons of rank who had been in the presence of officials, and was therefore especially terrifying and especially memorable. But by now his thoughts of "women..." had vanished. After the beating, the matter seemed concluded, and he actually felt quite unburdened, so he set about pounding rice. After a while he grew warm and took off his shirt. As he was taking off his shirt, he heard a great commotion outside. Ah Q had always loved a spectacle, so he followed the noise. He made his way to the inner courtyard of the Zhao house. Although it was growing dark, he could make out many people: the entire Zhao family, including the mistress who had not eaten for two days, plus the neighbor Mrs. Zou Seven, the genuine clansman Zhao White-eye, and Zhao Sichen. The young mistress was dragging Wu Ma out of the servants' quarters, saying: "Come outside... don't hide in your room and brood..." "Everyone knows you're a decent woman... you mustn't think of doing anything rash," Mrs. Zou Seven chimed in soothingly. Wu Ma only wept, interspersing a few words that were barely audible. Ah Q thought: "Well, this is amusing — what sort of scene is the little widow putting on?" He edged closer to Zhao Sichen to listen. Just then he caught sight of young Master Zhao charging toward him with a thick bamboo pole in his hand. The sight of it brought the sudden realization that he himself had been beaten, and that this commotion had something to do with it. He spun around and tried to flee back to the rice-pounding shed, but the bamboo pole blocked his path. So he spun around again and quite naturally slipped out through the back door; in no time he was back in the Tuguci Temple. Ah Q sat for a while and broke out in gooseflesh; he felt cold, for although it was spring, the nights were still quite chilly — not exactly the weather for going bare-chested. He also remembered that his shirt was still at the Zhaos', but if he went to retrieve it he would have to face the xiucai's bamboo pole. Then the village constable arrived. "Ah Q, blast you! You even molest the Zhaos' servants — that's downright rebellion! I can't sleep tonight because of you, blast you!..." Having delivered a lengthy lecture of this sort, Ah Q naturally had nothing to say. In the end, since it was nighttime, the constable demanded double wine money — four hundred wen. Ah Q had no cash, so he put up a felt cap as security and agreed to five conditions: First: The next day he must bring a pair of red candles — each weighing one jin — and a bundle of incense to the Zhao house to offer his apologies. Second: The Zhao family will engage a Daoist priest to exorcise the ghost of a hanging victim; the costs to be borne by Ah Q. Third: Ah Q is henceforth forbidden to cross the threshold of the Zhao house. Fourth: Should Wu Ma come to any harm in the future, Ah Q alone will be held responsible. Fifth: Ah Q may not demand his outstanding wages or his shirt. Ah Q naturally agreed to everything, but he had no money. Fortunately it was already spring and the quilt could be dispensed with; he pawned it for two thousand coppers and fulfilled the terms of the agreement. After kowtowing bare-chested, he actually had a few coins left, but instead of redeeming his felt cap, he drank them all away. The Zhaos, for their part, did not burn the incense or light the candles either, since the mistress could use them when worshipping Buddha, and kept them. The torn shirt was largely made into diaper linings for the child the young mistress was expecting in the eighth month; and the remaining small scraps Wu Ma turned into shoe soles.
=== 第5節 ===	=== Section 5 ===
第五章　生计问题 　　阿Ｑ礼毕之后，仍旧回到土谷祠，太阳下去了，渐渐觉得世上有些古怪。他仔细一想，终于省悟过来：其原因盖在自己的赤膊。他记得破夹袄还在，便披在身上，躺倒了，待张开眼睛，原来太阳又已经照在西墙上头了。他坐起身，一面说道，“妈妈的……” 　　他起来之后，也仍旧在街上逛，虽然不比赤膊之有切肤之痛，却又渐渐的觉得世上有些古怪了。仿佛从这一天起，未庄的女人们忽然都怕了羞，伊们一见阿Ｑ走来，便个个躲进门里去。甚而至于将近五十岁的邹七嫂，也跟着别人乱钻，而且将十一的女儿都叫进去了。阿Ｑ很以为奇，而且想：“这些东西忽然都学起小姐模样来了。这娼妇们……” 　　但他更觉得世上有些古怪，却是许多日以后的事。其一，酒店不肯赊欠了；其二，管土谷祠的老头子说些废话，似乎叫他走；其三，他虽然记不清多少日，但确乎有许多日，没有一个人来叫他做短工。酒店不赊，熬着也罢了；老头子催他走，噜苏一通也就算了；只是没有人来叫他做短工，却使阿Ｑ肚子饿：这委实是一件非常“妈妈的”的事情。 　　阿Ｑ忍不下去了，他只好到老主顾的家里去探问，——但独不许踏进赵府的门槛，——然而情形也异样：一定走出一个男人来，现了十分烦厌的相貌，像回复乞丐一般的摇手道： 　　“没有没有！你出去！” 　　阿Ｑ愈觉得稀奇了。他想，这些人家向来少不了要帮忙，不至于现在忽然都无事，这总该有些蹊跷在里面了。他留心打听，才知道他们有事都去叫小Ｄｏｎ㈣。这小Ｄ，是一个穷小子，又瘦又乏，在阿Ｑ的眼睛里，位置是在王胡之下的，谁料这小子竟谋了他的饭碗去。所以阿Ｑ这一气，更与平常不同，当气愤愤的走着的时候，忽然将手一扬，唱道： 　　“我手执钢鞭将你打！㈤……” 　　几天之后，他竟在钱府的照壁前遇见了小Ｄ。“仇人相见分外眼明”，阿Ｑ便迎上去，小Ｄ也站住了。 　　“畜生！”阿Ｑ怒目而视的说，嘴角上飞出唾沫来。 　　“我是虫豸，好么？……”小Ｄ说。 　　这谦逊反使阿Ｑ更加愤怒起来，但他手里没有钢鞭，于是只得扑上去，伸手去拔小Ｄ的辫子。小Ｄ一手护住了自己的辫根，一手也来拔阿Ｑ的辫子，阿Ｑ便也将空着的一只手护住了自己的辫根。从先前的阿Ｑ看来，，小Ｄ本来是不足齿数的，但他近来挨了饿，又瘦又乏已经不下于小Ｄ，所以便成了势均力敌的现象，四只手拔着两颗头，都弯了腰，在钱家粉墙上映出一个蓝色的虹形，至于半点钟之久了。 　　“好了，好了！”看的人们说，大约是解劝的。 　　“好，好！”看的人们说，不知道是解劝，是颂扬，还是煽动。 　　然而他们都不听。阿Ｑ进三步，小Ｄ便退三步，都站着；小Ｄ进三步，阿Ｑ便退三步，又都站着。大约半点钟，——未庄少有自鸣钟，所以很难说，或者二十分，——他们的头发里便都冒烟，额上便都流汗，阿Ｑ的手放松了，在同一瞬间，小Ｄ的手也正放松了，同时直起，同时退开，都挤出人丛去。 　　“记着罢，妈妈的……”阿Ｑ回过头去说。 　　“妈妈的，记着罢……”小Ｄ也回过头来说。 　　这一场“龙虎斗”似乎并无胜败，也不知道看的人可满足，都没有发什么议论，而阿Ｑ却仍然没有人来叫他做短工。 　　有一日很温和，微风拂拂的颇有些夏意了，阿Ｑ却觉得寒冷起来，但这还可担当，第一倒是肚子饿。棉被，毡帽，布衫，早已没有了，其次就卖了棉袄；现在有裤子，却万不可脱的；有破夹袄，又除了送人做鞋底之外，决定卖不出钱。他早想在路上拾得一注钱，但至今还没有见；他想在自己的破屋里忽然寻到一注钱，慌张的四顾，但屋内是空虚而且了然。于是他决计出门求食去了。 　　他在路上走着要“求食”，看见熟识的酒店，看见熟识的馒头，但他都走过了，不但没有暂停，而且并不想要。他所求的不是这类东西了；他求的是什么东西，他自己不知道。 　　未庄本不是大村镇，不多时便走尽了。村外多是水田，满眼是新秧的嫩绿，夹着几个圆形的活动的黑点，便是耕田的农夫。阿Ｑ并不赏鉴这田家乐，却只是走，因为他直觉的知道这与他的“求食”之道是很辽远的。但他终于走到静修庵的墙外了。 　　庵周围也是水田，粉墙突出在新绿里，后面的低土墙里是菜园。阿Ｑ迟疑了一会，四面一看，并没有人。他便爬上这矮墙去，扯着何首乌藤，但泥土仍然簌簌的掉，阿Ｑ的脚也索索的抖；终于攀着桑树枝，跳到里面了。里面真是郁郁葱葱，但似乎并没有黄酒馒头，以及此外可吃的之类。靠西墙是竹丛，下面许多笋，只可惜都是并未煮熟的，还有油菜早经结子，芥菜已将开花，小白菜也很老了。 　　阿Ｑ仿佛文童落第似的觉得很冤屈，他慢慢走近园门去，忽而非常惊喜了，这分明是一畦老萝卜。他于是蹲下便拔，而门口突然伸出一个很圆的头来，又即缩回去了，这分明是小尼姑。小尼姑之流是阿Ｑ本来视若草芥的，但世事须“退一步想”，所以他便赶紧拔起四个萝卜，拧下青叶，兜在大襟里。然而老尼姑已经出来了。 　　“阿弥陀佛，阿Ｑ，你怎么跳进园里来偷萝卜！……阿呀，罪过呵，阿唷，阿弥陀佛！……” 　　“我什么时候跳进你的园里来偷萝卜？”阿Ｑ且看且走的说。 　　“现在……这不是？”老尼姑指着他的衣兜。 　　“这是你的？你能叫得他答应你么？你……” 　　阿Ｑ没有说完话，拔步便跑；追来的是一匹很肥大的黑狗。这本来在前门的，不知怎的到后园来了。黑狗哼而且追，已经要咬着阿Ｑ的腿，幸而从衣兜里落下一个萝卜来，那狗给一吓，略略一停，阿Ｑ已经爬上桑树，跨到土墙，连人和萝卜都滚出墙外面了。只剩着黑狗还在对着桑树嗥，老尼姑念着佛。 　　阿Ｑ怕尼姑又放出黑狗来，拾起萝卜便走，沿路又捡了几块小石头，但黑狗却并不再现。阿Ｑ于是抛了石块，一面走一面吃，而且想道，这里也没有什么东西寻，不如进城去…… 　　待三个萝卜吃完时，他已经打定了进城的主意了。	Chapter Five: The Problem of Making a Living After Ah Q had completed his ceremonies of atonement, he returned as usual to the Tuguci Temple. The sun went down, and gradually the world began to seem a little strange. He thought hard and finally realized the reason: it was because he was bare-chested. He remembered that he still had his torn jacket, threw it on, and lay down. When he opened his eyes, the sun was already shining on the west wall. He sat up and muttered: "Damn it..." After getting up he strolled through the streets as usual. Although it was not as bad as the chill of being bare-chested, the world still seemed gradually more peculiar. As though from this day on, every woman in Weizhuang had suddenly become obsessed with modesty: the moment they saw Ah Q approaching, they all disappeared behind their doors. Even the nearly fifty-year-old Mrs. Zou Seven scrambled inside with the rest and dragged her eleven-year-old daughter in with her. Ah Q found this exceedingly strange and thought: "These women are all suddenly playing the fine lady. The trollops..." But the world grew still stranger many days later. First, the wine shop would no longer extend credit. Second, the old man who looked after the Tuguci Temple started muttering tiresome things, as if trying to get him to leave. Third — he could not remember exactly how many days it had been, but it was certainly many — not a single person came to hire him for odd jobs. He could endure the wine shop's refusing credit; he could brush off the old man's nagging with a torrent of words. But that no one came to call him for work — that gave Ah Q an empty belly, and that was truly a most "damn" state of affairs. Ah Q could stand it no longer and went to his old employers to inquire — only the Zhao threshold was forbidden. But everywhere the situation was strange: invariably a man came out, wearing an extremely annoyed expression, and waved him away as one would a beggar: "Nothing, nothing! Out with you!" Ah Q found this increasingly mystifying. He thought: These households always needed help; it was impossible that they suddenly had nothing to do. Something must be behind all this. He made careful inquiries and learned that they were now all hiring Little D. This Little D was a penniless wretch, even thinner and more feeble, and in Ah Q's eyes ranked even below Wang Hu. Who could have imagined that this fellow would steal his livelihood! Ah Q's anger this time was of a different order from the usual. As he strode furiously through the streets, he suddenly raised his hand and sang: "With my steel mace I'll beat you down!..." A few days later he actually met Little D in front of the spirit screen of the Qian residence. "When enemies meet, their eyes are especially sharp" — Ah Q advanced upon him, and Little D stood still. "Beast!" said Ah Q, glowering, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth. "I'm a worm, all right?..." said Little D. This humility only made Ah Q angrier. Since he had no steel mace at hand, he pounced on Little D and tried to pull his queue. Little D guarded his own queue root with one hand and grabbed at Ah Q's with the other; Ah Q likewise shielded his own root with his free hand. From the standpoint of the old Ah Q, Little D was scarcely worth his notice, but now that Ah Q had been going hungry and was as thin and feeble as Little D, the contest became a stalemate. Four hands tugged at two heads, both men bent at the waist, casting a blue arc upon the white wall of the Qian house — for a good half hour. "Enough, enough!" said the spectators — probably trying to mediate. "Good, good!" said the spectators — whether mediating, praising, or egging them on was impossible to tell. But neither listened. Ah Q advanced three steps and Little D retreated three steps — then both stood still. Little D advanced three steps and Ah Q retreated three steps — and both stood still again. After about half an hour — Weizhuang seldom had a striking clock, so it was hard to tell, perhaps twenty minutes — smoke began to rise from their hair and sweat to drip from their foreheads. Ah Q's hands loosened; at the very same instant Little D's hands also loosened. They straightened up simultaneously, stepped back simultaneously, and squeezed their way out of the crowd. "Remember this, damn you..." said Ah Q, turning his head. "Damn you, remember this..." said Little D, also turning his head. This "battle of the dragon and the tiger" appeared to have produced neither victor nor vanquished. Whether the spectators were satisfied no one knew; at any rate no one expressed any opinion. And still no one came to hire Ah Q. One very mild day, when a gentle breeze was blowing with almost a hint of summer, Ah Q nonetheless felt cold. That was still bearable; the worst of it was his hunger. The quilt, the felt cap, the shirt — all had long since gone; then he had sold his padded coat. Now he still had trousers, but those could on no account be removed; and his torn jacket, except as a gift for making shoe soles, was certainly unsalable. He had hoped to find some money on the road, but so far none had appeared; he had hoped to discover some money suddenly in his shack, and looked around frantically, but the shack was bare and empty. So he resolved to go out and forage. He walked along the road "foraging": there was the familiar wine shop, there were the familiar steamed buns. But he walked past them all, did not pause, and desired none of them. What he sought was not that sort of thing; what exactly he sought, he himself did not know. Weizhuang was not a large village; before long he had walked through it. Outside the village were mostly paddy fields, the fresh green of young rice seedlings stretching as far as the eye could see, with a few round moving black dots here and there — farmers plowing. Ah Q had no eye for this pastoral idyll; he simply walked on, for he knew instinctively that it had nothing to do with his "path of foraging." But at length he arrived at the wall of the Convent of Quiet Self-Cultivation. Around the convent too there were paddy fields; the white wall jutted out from the fresh green, and behind the low earthen wall lay a vegetable garden. Ah Q hesitated for a moment, looked in all directions — no one was in sight. So he clambered over the low wall, clutching at the vines of the he-shou-wu plant — but the earth kept crumbling and Ah Q's feet kept trembling. Finally he seized a branch of the mulberry tree and jumped inside. It was luxuriantly green within, but there appeared to be no rice wine, no steamed buns, nor any other edibles. By the west wall stood bamboo with many shoots, but unfortunately they were all uncooked. The rapeseed had already gone to seed, the mustard was about to flower, and the Chinese cabbage had grown old. Ah Q felt as wronged as a candidate who has failed his examination. He walked slowly toward the garden gate, then suddenly gave a start of delight: unmistakably a patch of old radishes! He squatted down and began pulling. Suddenly a very round head poked out of the doorway — and instantly withdrew. It was clearly the little nun. Little nuns and their like Ah Q normally treated as so much grass. But one had to "think one step back," so he hastily pulled up four radishes, twisted off the greens, and bundled them into the front of his jacket. But by then the old nun had already come out. "Amitabha! Ah Q, how can you climb into the garden and steal radishes!... Oh, what a sin, oh, Amitabha!..." "When did I climb into your garden and steal radishes?" said Ah Q, walking and looking around as he spoke. "Now — aren't those them?" The old nun pointed at his jacket front. "Are they yours? Will they answer when you call? You..." Before Ah Q could finish, he broke into a run. A very large, fat black dog was chasing him — it had originally been at the front gate and had somehow gotten into the back garden. The black dog snarled and gave chase, and was about to seize Ah Q's leg when fortunately a radish fell from his jacket; the dog was startled and paused briefly, and Ah Q had already scrambled up the mulberry tree, across the earthen wall, and tumbled out on the other side, radishes and all. Only the black dog remained, barking at the mulberry tree, while the old nun went on with her prayers. Fearing the nun might release the black dog again, Ah Q picked up his radishes and took to his heels, collecting a few small stones along the way. But the black dog did not reappear. Ah Q threw away the stones, walked on, ate as he walked, and thought: There's nothing to be found here either — I'd better go to town... By the time the three radishes were finished, his mind was firmly made up to go to town.
=== 第6節 ===	=== Section 6 ===
第六章　从中兴到末路 　　在未庄再看见阿Ｑ出现的时候，是刚过了这年的中秋。人们都惊异，说是阿Ｑ回来了，于是又回上去想道，他先前那里去了呢？阿Ｑ前几回的上城，大抵早就兴高采烈的对人说，但这一次却并不，所以也没有一个人留心到。他或者也曾告诉过管土谷祠的老头子，然而未庄老例，只有赵太爷钱太爷和秀才大爷上城才算一件事。假洋鬼子尚且不足数，何况是阿Ｑ：因此老头子也就不替他宣传，而未庄的社会上也就无从知道了。 　　但阿Ｑ这回的回来，却与先前大不同，确乎很值得惊异。天色将黑，他睡眼蒙胧的在酒店门前出现了，他走近柜台，从腰间伸出手来，满把是银的和铜的，在柜上一扔说，“现钱！打酒来！”穿的是新夹袄，看去腰间还挂着一个大搭连，沉钿钿的将裤带坠成了很弯很弯的弧线。未庄老例，看见略有些醒目的人物，是与其慢也宁敬的，现在虽然明知道是阿Ｑ，但因为和破夹袄的阿Ｑ有些两样了，古人云，“士别三日便当刮目相待”㈥，所以堂倌，掌柜，酒客，路人，便自然显出一种凝而且敬的形态来。掌柜既先之以点头，又继之以谈话： 　　“豁，阿Ｑ，你回来了！” 　　“回来了。” 　　“发财发财，你是——在……” 　　“上城去了！” 　　这一件新闻，第二天便传遍了全未庄。人人都愿意知道现钱和新夹袄的阿Ｑ的中兴史，所以在酒店里，茶馆里，庙檐下，便渐渐的探听出来了。这结果，是阿Ｑ得了新敬畏。 　　据阿Ｑ说，他是在举人老爷家里帮忙。这一节，听的人都肃然了。这老爷本姓白，但因为合城里只有他一个举人，所以不必再冠姓，说起举人来就是他。这也不独在未庄是如此，便是一百里方圆之内也都如此，人们几乎多以为他的姓名就叫举人老爷的了。在这人的府上帮忙，那当然是可敬的。但据阿Ｑ又说，他却不高兴再帮忙了，因为这举人老爷实在太“妈妈的”了。这一节，听的人都叹息而且快意，因为阿Ｑ本不配在举人老爷家里帮忙，而不帮忙是可惜的。 　　据阿Ｑ说，他的回来，似乎也由于不满意城里人，这就在他们将长凳称为条凳，而且煎鱼用葱丝，加以最近观察所得的缺点，是女人的走路也扭得不很好。然而也偶有大可佩服的地方，即如未庄的乡下人不过打三十二张的竹牌㈦，只有假洋鬼子能够叉“麻酱”，城里却连小乌龟子都叉得精熟的。什么假洋鬼子，只要放在城里的十几岁的小乌龟子的手里，也就立刻是“小鬼见阎王”。这一节，听的人都赧然了。 　　“你们可看见过杀头么？”阿Ｑ说，“咳，好看。杀革命党。唉，好看好看，……”他摇摇头，将唾沫飞在正对面的赵司晨的脸上。这一节，听的人都凛然了。但阿Ｑ又四面一看，忽然扬起右手，照着伸长脖子听得出神的王胡的后项窝上直劈下去道： 　　“嚓！” 　　王胡惊得一跳，同时电光石火似的赶快缩了头，而听的人又都悚然而且欣然了。从此王胡瘟头瘟脑的许多日，并且再不敢走近阿Ｑ的身边；别的人也一样。 　　阿Ｑ这时在未庄人眼睛里的地位，虽不敢说超过赵太爷，但谓之差不多，大约也就没有什么语病的了。 　　然而不多久，这阿Ｑ的大名忽又传遍了未庄的闺中。虽然未庄只有钱赵两姓是大屋，此外十之九都是浅闺，但闺中究竟是闺中，所以也算得一件神异。女人们见面时一定说，邹七嫂在阿Ｑ那里买了一条蓝绸裙，旧固然是旧的，但只化了九角钱。还有赵白眼的母亲，——一说是赵司晨的母亲，待考，——也买了*患⒆哟┑*大红洋纱衫，七成新，只用三百大钱九二串㈧。于是伊们都眼巴巴的想见阿Ｑ，缺绸裙的想问他买绸裙，要洋纱衫的想问他买洋纱衫，不但见了不逃避，有时阿Ｑ已经走过了，也还要追上去叫住他，问道： 　　“阿Ｑ，你还有绸裙么？没有？纱衫也要的，有罢？” 　　后来这终于从浅闺传进深闺里去了。因为邹七嫂得意之余，将伊的绸裙请赵太太去鉴赏，赵太太又告诉了赵太爷而且着实恭维了一番。赵太爷便在晚饭桌上，和秀才大爷讨论，以为阿Ｑ实在有些古怪，我们门窗应该小心些；但他的东西，不知道可还有什么可买，也许有点好东西罢。加以赵太太也正想买一件价廉物美的皮背心。于是家族决议，便托邹七嫂即刻去寻阿Ｑ，而且为此新辟了第三种的例外：这晚上也姑且特准点油灯。 　　油灯干了不少了，阿Ｑ还不到。赵府的全眷都很焦急，打着呵欠，或恨阿Ｑ太飘忽，或怨邹七嫂不上紧。赵太太还怕他因为春天的条件不敢来，而赵太爷以为不足虑：因为这是“我”去叫他的。果然，到底赵太爷有见识，阿Ｑ终于跟着邹七嫂进来了。 　　“他只说没有没有，我说你自己当面说去，他还要说，我说……”邹七嫂气喘吁吁的走着说。 　　“太爷！”阿Ｑ似笑非笑的叫了一声，在檐下站住了。 　　“阿Ｑ，听说你在外面发财，”赵太爷踱开去，眼睛打量着他的全身，一面说。“那很好，那很好的。这个，……听说你有些旧东西，……可以都拿来看一看，……这也并不是别的，因为我倒要……” 　　“我对邹七嫂说过了。都完了。” 　　“完了？”赵太爷不觉失声的说，“那里会完得这样快呢？” 　　“那是朋友的，本来不多。他们买了些，……” 　　“总该还有一点罢。” 　　“现在，只剩了一张门幕了。” 　　“就拿门幕来看看罢。”赵太太慌忙说。 　　“那么，明天拿来就是，”赵太爷却不甚热心了。“阿Ｑ，你以后有什么东西的时候，你尽先送来给我们看，……” 　　“价钱决不会比别家出得少！”秀才说。秀才娘子忙一瞥阿Ｑ的脸，看他感动了没有。 　　“我要一件皮背心。”赵太太说。 　　阿Ｑ虽然答应着，却懒洋洋的出去了，也不知道他是否放在心上。这使赵太爷很失望，气愤而且担心，至于停止了打呵欠。秀才对于阿Ｑ的态度也很不平，于是说，这忘八蛋要提防，或者不如吩咐地保，不许他住在未庄。但赵太爷以为不然，说这也怕要结怨，况且做这路生意的大概是“老鹰不吃窝下食”，本村倒不必担心的；只要自己夜里警醒点就是了。秀才听了这“庭训”㈨，非常之以为然，便即刻撤消了驱逐阿Ｑ的提议，而且叮嘱邹七嫂，请伊千万不要向人提起这一段话。 　　但第二日，邹七嫂便将那蓝裙去染了皂，又将阿Ｑ可疑之点传扬出去了，可是确没有提起秀才要驱逐他这一节。然而这已经于阿Ｑ很不利。最先，地保寻上门了，取了他的门幕去，阿Ｑ说是赵太太要看的，而地保也不还并且要议定每月的孝敬钱。其次，是村人对于他的敬畏忽而变相了，虽然还不敢来放肆，却很有远避的神情，而这神情和先前的防他来“嚓”的时候又不同，颇混着“敬而远之”的分子了。 　　只有一班闲人们却还要寻根究底的去探阿Ｑ的底细。阿Ｑ也并不讳饰，傲然的说出他的经验来。从此他们才知道，他不过是一个小脚色，不但不能上墙，并且不能进洞，只站在洞外接东西。有一夜，他刚才接到一个包，正手再进去，不一会，只听得里面大嚷起来，他便赶紧跑，连夜爬出城，逃回未庄来了，从此不敢再去做。然而这故事却于阿Ｑ更不利，村人对于阿Ｑ的“敬而远之”者，本因为怕结怨，谁料他不过是一个不敢再偷的偷儿呢？这实在是“斯亦不足畏也矣”㈩。	Chapter Six: From Renaissance to Ruin When Ah Q was next seen in Weizhuang, it was shortly after the Mid-Autumn Festival of that year. Everyone was astonished and said: Ah Q is back! Then they cast their minds back: where had he actually been? On his previous trips to town Ah Q had always excitedly told everyone about them, but this time he had not, and so no one had paid attention. Perhaps he had told the old temple keeper, but in Weizhuang the rule was: only when Old Master Zhao, Old Master Qian, or the xiucai went to town was it considered an event. The Bogus Foreign Devil already didn't count — to say nothing of Ah Q. And so the old man did not spread the news, and Weizhuang's society remained unaware. But Ah Q's return this time was fundamentally different from before and truly astonishing. As darkness fell, he appeared before the wine shop with sleepy eyes, walked up to the counter, pulled a fistful of silver and copper coins from his waistband, flung them jingling on the counter, and said: "Cash! Bring wine!" He was wearing a new jacket, and at his waist there hung what appeared to be a large money pouch, so heavy that it pulled his waistband into a deep curve. In Weizhuang the rule was: when you saw a somewhat striking personage, it was better to err on the side of respect. Although they could plainly see it was Ah Q, he looked somewhat different from the Ah Q in the ragged jacket. As the ancients said, "When you have not seen a scholar for three days, you should look upon him with new eyes"; and so the waiter, the proprietor, the patrons, and the passers-by all naturally assumed an expression of deference and attention. The proprietor began with a nod, then with conversation: "Well, Ah Q, you're back!" "Back." "Made your fortune, made your fortune! You were — at..." "In town!" This news spread through all of Weizhuang the next day. Everyone wanted to know the story of Ah Q's renaissance — the cash and the new jacket — and so, in the wine shop, the teahouse, and under the temple eaves, the details gradually emerged. The result was that Ah Q acquired a new kind of respect. According to Ah Q, he had been working in the household of Mr. Juren. At this the listeners became reverential. This Mr. Juren's real surname was Bai, but since he was the only juren in the entire town, no surname was needed — when you said "Mr. Juren," it was he. This was the case not only in Weizhuang but within a radius of a hundred li, and many people virtually regarded "Mr. Juren" as his real name. To work in such a household was naturally respectable. But according to Ah Q, he had grown discontented there, because Mr. Juren was really too "damn." At this the listeners sighed with both regret and satisfaction, for Ah Q was not really qualified to work in Mr. Juren's household, and his leaving was a pity. According to Ah Q, his return also had to do with his dissatisfaction with the city folk — specifically their calling the long bench a "strip bench" and using shredded spring onion to fry fish; in addition, his latest observations had revealed further defects: the way city women walked was not especially appealing either. There were, however, occasional things worthy of admiration: whereas the country folk of Weizhuang only played with thirty-two bamboo tiles, and only the Bogus Foreign Devil knew how to play mahjong, in the city even the little brats played with consummate skill. All the Bogus Foreign Devil had to do was fall into the hands of one of those ten-year-old city urchins, and it would be "the imp meets the King of Hell." At this the listeners were abashed. "Have you ever seen an execution?" said Ah Q. "Ah, what a sight! Executing revolutionaries. My, what a grand spectacle..." He shook his head and spat his spittle squarely into the face of Zhao Sichen, who stood opposite him. The listeners shuddered. Ah Q looked around, suddenly raised his right hand, and brought it chopping down on the back of Wang Hu's neck — Wang Hu had been craning forward, listening with rapt attention: "Chop!" Wang Hu jumped with fright; simultaneously, quick as lightning, he pulled his head in. The listeners shivered and were at the same time delighted. From that day on, Wang Hu went about in a daze for many days and dared not go near Ah Q; the others did the same. Ah Q's standing in the eyes of Weizhuang's residents now — though one would not quite dare say it surpassed Old Master Zhao's — could be described as nearly equal to it without much risk of error. Before long, however, Ah Q's great name spread even to the women's quarters of Weizhuang. Although the village had only the two great houses of Qian and Zhao, and nine out of ten dwellings were merely "humble chambers," chambers they were nonetheless, and so this counted as a marvel. When the women met, they were certain to say: Mrs. Zou Seven had bought a blue silk skirt from Ah Q — old, to be sure, but for only nine jiao. And the mother of Zhao White-eye — some said Zhao Sichen's mother, which remains to be verified — had also bought a dark red jacket of foreign cloth, seven-tenths new, for only three hundred coppers at ninety-two per hundred. And so they all gazed eagerly, longing to see Ah Q; those who needed silk skirts wanted to ask him for silk skirts, those who wanted foreign cloth jackets wanted to buy foreign cloth jackets. Not only did they no longer run away when they saw him — sometimes, even after Ah Q had walked past, they would chase after him, calling: "Ah Q, have you still got silk skirts? No? A foreign cloth jacket would do too — have you?" Eventually this spread from the humble chambers to the inner chambers. For Mrs. Zou Seven, proud of her purchase, had brought the blue skirt to Mrs. Zhao for inspection; Mrs. Zhao had told Old Master Zhao about it and praised it warmly. At the dinner table that evening, Old Master Zhao discussed the matter with the xiucai: Ah Q was really rather peculiar; they should keep a closer watch on the doors and windows. But perhaps he still had some things worth buying? Moreover, Mrs. Zhao just happened to be looking for a cheap fur vest. The family council therefore resolved to send Mrs. Zou Seven at once to find Ah Q, and for this purpose a third exception was specially created: that evening oil lamps were to be permitted. The oil had burned down considerably, but Ah Q still had not come. The entire Zhao household grew impatient: they yawned, they blamed Ah Q for being unreliable, or they reproached Mrs. Zou Seven for not pressing hard enough. Mrs. Zhao even feared he did not dare come because of the conditions imposed in spring. But Old Master Zhao thought this unlikely: after all, it was he who had sent for the man. And indeed — Old Master Zhao's foresight proved correct: at last Ah Q came in with Mrs. Zou Seven. "He just kept saying there was nothing left. I told him to come and say so himself, but he still tried to..." Mrs. Zou Seven said, panting as she walked. "Sir!" called Ah Q with a half-smile, and stood still under the eaves. "Ah Q, I hear you've been making money out there," said Old Master Zhao, pacing back and forth and surveying him from head to foot. "Very good, very good. Now then... I hear you still have a few old things... you might bring them all over for us to see... not that there's any special reason, I just want to..." "I already told Mrs. Zou. It's all gone." "Gone?" Old Master Zhao could not suppress an exclamation. "How can it be gone so fast?" "It belonged to friends, there wasn't much to begin with. They bought some of it..." "There must still be a little left." "Now there's just one door curtain." "Well, bring the door curtain to have a look at, then," said Mrs. Zhao hastily. "All right, bring it tomorrow then," said Old Master Zhao, already less enthusiastic. "Ah Q, whenever you have anything in future, bring it to us first..." "The price will certainly be no less than what others offer!" said the xiucai. The xiucai's wife quickly glanced at Ah Q's face to see whether he was moved. "I want a fur vest," said Mrs. Zhao. Although Ah Q agreed, he shuffled out listlessly, and it was unclear whether he had taken this to heart. Old Master Zhao was deeply disappointed, vexed and worried, and even stopped yawning. The xiucai was also dissatisfied with Ah Q's attitude and said that the good-for-nothing bore watching; perhaps they should instruct the village constable not to let him live in Weizhuang. But Old Master Zhao disagreed: that could create enmity, and besides, people in this line of business generally followed the rule that "the hawk does not prey near its own nest" — there was nothing to fear from the home village; one simply had to be more alert at night. The xiucai, hearing this "fatherly instruction," heartily agreed and immediately withdrew his proposal to expel Ah Q; he also urged Mrs. Zou Seven not to breathe a word of this conversation to anyone. But the very next day, Mrs. Zou Seven took her blue skirt to have it dyed black and simultaneously spread the word about Ah Q's suspicious activities — though she did, to be fair, not mention the part about the xiucai wanting to expel him. This alone, however, was very damaging to Ah Q. First, the village constable came and took his door curtain; Ah Q protested that Mrs. Zhao wanted to see it, but the constable would not return it, and moreover wanted to negotiate a monthly protection fee. Second, the villagers' attitude toward him shifted: although they did not yet dare be rude, they clearly kept their distance — and this distance was different from the earlier fear of his "Chop!"; it was distinctly mixed with an element of "respectful avoidance." Only a handful of idlers still wanted to get to the bottom of Ah Q's story. Ah Q made no attempt to hide it and told of his experiences with evident pride. Only then did they learn that he had been merely a minor player: he could not even climb over walls, let alone crawl through holes, but merely stood outside the hole receiving the goods. One night, just as he had taken a bundle and was reaching back in, he suddenly heard loud shouting inside. He took to his heels and fled all night, over the city wall and back to Weizhuang, and never dared go again. But this story proved even more damaging: the villagers had "respectfully kept their distance" out of fear of making an enemy, but now it turned out he was merely a thief who did not dare steal anymore. Truly, "he too was no longer to be feared."
=== 第7節 ===	=== Section 7 ===
第七章　革命 　　宣统三年九月十四日（⒈）——即阿Ｑ将搭连卖给赵白眼的这一天——三更四点，有一只大乌篷船到了赵府上的河埠头。这船从黑魆魆中荡来，乡下人睡得熟，都没有知道；出去时将近黎明，却很有几个看见的了。据探头探脑的调查来的结果，知道那竟是举人老爷的船！ 　　那船便将大不安载给了未庄，不到正午，全村的人心就很动摇。船的使命，赵家本来是很秘密的，但茶坊酒肆里却都说，革命党要进城，举人老爷到我们乡下来逃难了。惟有邹七嫂不以为然，说那不过是几口破衣箱，举人老爷想来寄存的，却已被赵太爷回复转去。其实举人老爷和赵秀才素不相能，在理本不能有“共患难”的情谊，况且邹七嫂又和赵家是邻居，见闻较为切近，所以大概该是伊对的。 　　然而谣言很旺盛，说举人老爷虽然似乎没有*椎剑从幸环獬ば牛驼约遗帕*“转折亲”。赵太爷肚里一轮，觉得于他总不会有坏处，便将箱子留下了，现就塞在太太的床底下。至于革命党，有的说是便在这一夜进了城，个个白盔白甲：穿着崇正皇帝的素（⒉）。 　　阿Ｑ的耳朵里，本来早听到过革命党这一句话，今年又亲眼见过杀掉革命党。但他有一种不知从那里来的意见，以为革命党便是造反，造反便是与他为难，所以一向是“深恶而痛绝之”的。殊不料这却使百里闻名的举人老爷有这样怕，于是他未免也有些“神往”了，况且未庄的一群鸟男女的慌张的神情，也使阿Ｑ更快意。 　　“革命也好罢，”阿Ｑ想，“革这伙妈妈的命，太可恶！太可恨！……便是我，也要投降革命党了。” 　　阿Ｑ近来用度窘，大约略略有些不平；加以午间喝了两碗空肚酒，愈加醉得快，一面想一面走，便又飘飘然起来。不知怎么一来，忽而似乎革命党便是自己，未庄人却都是他的俘虏了。他得意之余，禁不住大声的嚷道： 　　“造反了！造反了！” 　　未庄人都用了惊惧的眼光对他看。这一种可怜的眼光，是阿Ｑ从来没有见过的，一见之下，又使他舒服得如六月里喝了雪水。他更加高兴的走而且喊道： 　　“好，……我要什么就是什么，我欢喜谁就是谁。 　　得得，锵锵！ 　　悔不该，酒醉错斩了郑贤弟， 　　悔不该，呀呀呀…… 　　得得，锵锵，得，锵令锵！ 　　我手执钢鞭将你打……” 　　赵府上的两位男人和两个真本家，也正站在大门口论革命。阿Ｑ没有见，昂了头直唱过去。 　　“得得，……” 　　“老Ｑ，”赵太爷怯怯的迎着低声的叫。 　　“锵锵，”阿Ｑ料不到他的名字会和“老”字联结起来，以为是一句别的话，与己无干，只是唱。“得，锵，锵令锵，锵！” 　　“老Ｑ。” 　　“悔不该……” 　　“阿Ｑ！”秀才只得直呼其名了。 　　阿Ｑ这才站住，歪着头问道，“什么？” 　　“老Ｑ，……现在……”赵太爷却又没有话，“现在……发财么？” 　　“发财？自然。要什么就是什么……” 　　“阿……Ｑ哥，像我们这样穷朋友是不要紧的……”赵白眼惴惴的说，似乎想探革命党的口风。 　　“穷朋友？你总比我有钱。”阿Ｑ说着自去了。 　　大家都怃然，没有话。赵太爷父子回家，晚上商量到点灯。赵白眼回家，便从腰间扯下搭连来，交给他女人藏在箱底里。 　　阿Ｑ飘飘然的飞了一通，回到土谷祠，酒已经醒透了。这晚上，管祠的老头子也意外的和气，请他喝茶；阿Ｑ便向他要了两个饼，吃完之后，又要了一支点过的四两烛和一个树烛台，点起来，独自躺在自己的小屋里。他说不出的新鲜而且高兴，烛火像元夜似的闪闪的跳，他的思想也迸跳起来了： 　　“造反？有趣，……来了一阵白盔白甲的革命党，都拿着板刀，钢鞭，炸弹，洋炮，三尖两刃刀，钩镰枪，走过土谷祠，叫道，‘阿Ｑ！同去同去！’于是一同去。…… 　　“这时未庄的一伙鸟男女才好笑哩，跪下叫道，‘阿Ｑ，饶命！’谁听他！第一个该死的是小Ｄ和赵太爷，还有秀才，还有假洋鬼子，……留几条么？王胡本来还可留，但也不要了。…… 　　“东西，……直走进去打开箱子来：元宝，洋钱，洋纱衫，……秀才娘子的一张宁式床（⒊）先搬到土谷祠，此外便摆了钱家的桌椅，——或者也就用赵家的罢。自己是不动手的了，叫小Ｄ来搬，要搬得快，搬得不快打嘴巴。…… 　　“赵司晨的妹子真丑。邹七嫂的女儿过几年再说。假洋鬼子的老婆会和没有辫子的男人睡觉，吓，不是好东西！秀才的老婆是眼胞上有疤的。……吴妈长久不见了，不知道在那里，——可惜脚太大。” 　　阿Ｑ没有想得十分停当，已经发了鼾声，四两烛还只点去了小半寸，红焰焰的光照着他张开的嘴。 　　“荷荷！”阿Ｑ忽而大叫起来，抬了头仓皇的四顾，待到看见四两烛，却又倒头睡去了。 　　第二天他起得很迟，走出街上看时，样样都照旧。他也仍然肚饿，他想着，想不起什么来；但他忽而似乎有了主意了，慢慢的跨开步，有意无意的走到静修庵。 　　庵和春天时节一样静，白的墙壁和漆黑的门。他想了一想，前去打门，一只狗在里面叫。他急急拾了几块断砖，再上去较为用力的打，打到黑门上生出许多麻点的时候，才听得有人来开门。 　　阿Ｑ连忙捏好砖头，摆开马步，准备和黑狗来开战。但庵门只开了一条缝，并无黑狗从中冲出，望进去只有一个老尼姑。 　　“你又来什么事？”伊大吃一惊的说。 　　“革命了……你知道？……”阿Ｑ说得很含胡。 　　“革命革命，革过一革的，……你们要革得我们怎么样呢？”老尼姑两眼通红的说。 　　“什么？……”阿Ｑ诧异了。 　　“你不知道，他们已经来革过了！” 　　“谁？……”阿Ｑ更其诧异了。 　　“那秀才和洋鬼子！” 　　阿Ｑ很出意外，不由的一错愕；老尼姑见他失了锐气，便飞速的关了门，阿Ｑ再推时，牢不可开，再打时，没有回答了。 　　那还是上午的事。赵秀才消息灵，一知道革命党已在夜间进城，便将辫子盘在顶上，一早去拜访那历来也不相能的钱洋鬼子。这是“咸与维新”（⒋）的时候了，所以他们便谈得很投机，立刻成了情投意合的同志，也相约去革命。他们想而又想，才想出静修庵里有一块“皇帝万岁万万岁”的龙牌，是应该赶紧革掉的，于是又立刻同到庵里去革命。因为老尼姑来阻挡，说了三句话，他们便将伊当作满政府，在头上很给了不少的棍子和栗凿。尼姑待他们走后，定了神来检点，龙牌固然已经碎在地上了，而且又不见了观音娘娘座前的一个宣德炉（⒌）。 　　这事阿Ｑ后来才知道。他颇悔自己睡着，但也深怪他们不来招呼他。他又退一步想道： 　　“难道他们还没有知道我已经投降了革命党么？”	Chapter Seven: Revolution On the fourteenth day of the ninth month of the third year of Xuantong — that is, the same day Ah Q sold his money pouch to Zhao White-eye — at about three in the morning, a large black-canopied boat pulled up at the Zhao family's river landing. The boat glided in from the pitch-black darkness; the villagers were sound asleep and noticed nothing. When it departed near dawn, however, quite a few people saw it. Inquisitive investigations revealed: it was actually Mr. Juren's boat! That boat brought great unrest to Weizhuang. Before noon the whole village was in an uproar. The boat's mission was supposed to be a strict secret of the Zhao household, but in the teahouses and wine shops people said: the revolutionaries are about to enter the city, and Mr. Juren is fleeing to the countryside for refuge! Only Mrs. Zou Seven disagreed, saying they were merely a few old trunks that Mr. Juren had wanted to store, but Old Master Zhao had sent them back. In fact, Mr. Juren and Xiucai Zhao had never been on good terms, and in theory they could not have shared any "common adversity"; moreover, Mrs. Zou Seven, being a neighbor of the Zhaos, had closer knowledge — so she was probably right. But rumors flourished: Mr. Juren, though he had not been able to leave his trunks, had nevertheless left a letter tracing his kinship to the Zhaos through some "roundabout connection." Old Master Zhao mulled it over and decided that it could do him no harm, so he kept the trunks — they were pushed under the mistress's bed. As for the revolutionaries — it was said they entered the city that very night, all in white helmets and white armor: they wore mourning for Emperor Chongzhen. Ah Q's ears had long since heard the phrase "revolutionaries," and this year he had even seen revolutionaries executed with his own eyes. But he held a conviction, the source of which he himself could not identify: that revolution meant rebellion, and rebellion meant trouble for him — and so he had always "detested and loathed them with every fiber of his being." Yet who could have imagined that even Mr. Juren, famous a hundred li around, was so afraid of them? Ah Q could not help feeling somewhat "fascinated," and besides, the panicked expressions of the Weizhuang men and women pleased him greatly. "Revolution? Maybe that's not so bad," thought Ah Q. "Revolt against this whole damned lot — quite right! Utterly abominable! Downright hateful!... Yes, I should go over to the revolutionaries myself." Ah Q had lately been short of cash and was probably somewhat discontented; moreover, he had drunk two bowls of wine on an empty stomach at noon and had gotten drunk all the faster. As he thought and walked, he began to float again. Suddenly it seemed as though he himself were a revolutionary and all the people of Weizhuang his prisoners. In his elation he cried out: "Rebellion! Rebellion!" The people of Weizhuang all looked at him with frightened eyes. Such pitiable looks Ah Q had never seen; at first sight he felt as comfortable as if drinking snow-water in June. He grew even more elated and cried out as he walked: "Good... Whatever I want is mine; whoever I fancy is mine. Dong-dong, clang-clang! Had I only not slain Brother Zheng in my drunken rage, Had I only not, ah ah ah... Dong-dong, clang-clang, dong, clang-ling-clang! With my steel mace I'll beat you down!..." The two Zhao men and two genuine clansmen were standing at the main gate discussing the revolution. Ah Q did not notice them; he held his head high and sang straight past. "Dong-dong..." "Old Q," said Old Master Zhao, timidly and in a low voice, stepping forward to meet him. "Clang-clang," Ah Q had not expected his name to be linked with the word "Old"; he took it for some other phrase that had nothing to do with him, and went on singing. "Dong, clang, clang-ling-clang, clang!" "Old Q." "Had I only not..." "Ah Q!" The xiucai had no choice but to call him by name. Only then did Ah Q stop, tilt his head, and ask: "What?" "Old Q... right now..." But Old Master Zhao had run out of words. "Right now... are you making money?" "Making money? Naturally. Whatever I want is mine..." "Ah... Brother Q, poor friends like us don't need to worry, do we?..." said Zhao White-eye apprehensively, as though trying to sound out the revolutionaries' intentions. "Poor friends? You've always got more than me." So saying, Ah Q walked off. They all stood crestfallen and speechless. Old Master Zhao and his son discussed the matter until lamplight. Zhao White-eye went home and detached the money pouch from his belt; his wife had to hide it at the bottom of the chest. Ah Q floated about for a while and returned to the Tuguci Temple; by now the wine had worn off completely. That evening the old temple keeper was also unexpectedly friendly and offered him tea; Ah Q asked him for two flatbreads, ate them, then demanded a partly used four-liang candle and a wooden candlestick, lit the candle, and lay down alone in his little room. He felt indescribably fresh and happy; the candlelight danced as on Lantern Festival night, and his thoughts leaped as well: "Rebellion? How interesting... Here comes a troop of revolutionaries in white helmets and white armor, all carrying broadswords, steel maces, bombs, rifles, three-pointed double-edged swords, and hooked lances. They pass the Tuguci Temple and call: 'Ah Q! Come with us, come with us!' And then we all go together... "Then the bunch of birds-and-women of Weizhuang will look pretty silly, kneeling and begging: 'Ah Q, spare us!' Who cares about them! The first to go is Little D, then Old Master Zhao, and the xiucai, and the Bogus Foreign Devil... Spare a few? Wang Hu could be spared, I suppose, but no — not him either... "Things... walk right in and open the trunks: gold ingots, silver dollars, foreign cloth shirts... The xiucai's wife's Ningbo bed goes first to the Tuguci Temple; then the Qians' furniture — or maybe I'll just use the Zhaos'. No need to lift a finger myself — I'll have Little D do the carrying. And he'd better be quick about it, or there'll be a slap in the face... "Zhao Sichen's sister is really ugly. Mrs. Zou Seven's daughter — we'll talk about that in a few years. The Bogus Foreign Devil's wife sleeps with a man who has no queue — ugh, she's no good! The xiucai's wife has a scar on her eyelid... Wu Ma — I haven't seen her for ages, who knows where she is — pity about her big feet." Before Ah Q had quite finished his plan, he was already snoring. The four-liang candle had burned down barely half an inch, and its red flickering light illuminated his gaping mouth. "Ho ho!" Ah Q suddenly cried out, raised his head and looked around in alarm; when he saw the four-liang candle, he laid his head back down and went to sleep again. The next morning he got up very late; when he went out into the street, everything was the same as before. He was still hungry. He thought hard, but nothing came to mind. Then he seemed suddenly to have hit upon an idea: he set off slowly, walking with vague purpose toward the Convent of Quiet Self-Cultivation. The convent was as quiet as in spring: white walls and a black gate. He thought for a moment, went up, and knocked. A dog barked inside. He quickly picked up a few pieces of broken brick, went up again, and knocked more forcefully. Not until the black gate was pocked all over with marks from his knocking did he hear someone come to open it. Ah Q quickly readied his bricks, spread his legs in a fighting stance, and prepared to do battle with the black dog. But the convent gate opened only a crack; no black dog came charging out — peering in, he saw only the old nun. "What do you want this time?" she said in alarm. "Revolution!... Did you know?..." said Ah Q somewhat indistinctly. "Revolution, revolution, another revolution... How much more are you going to revolutionize us?" said the old nun, her eyes red-rimmed. "What?..." Ah Q was taken aback. "Don't you know? They've already been here to revolutionize!" "Who?..." Ah Q was even more taken aback. "The xiucai and the Foreign Devil!" This Ah Q had not expected; involuntarily he was startled. Seeing his fighting spirit waver, the old nun slammed the gate shut with lightning speed; Ah Q pushed, but it would not budge; he knocked again, but no answer came. That had been earlier in the morning. Xiucai Zhao, who had a sharp nose for news, no sooner learned that the revolutionaries had entered the city during the night than he coiled his queue on top of his head and went first thing in the morning to call on Qian, the Foreign Devil, with whom he had never been on good terms. This was the time when "all were to share in the renewal," and so they hit it off splendidly, instantly becoming like-minded comrades who resolved to revolutionize together. They thought and thought and finally hit upon the idea that in the Convent of Quiet Self-Cultivation there was a wooden tablet inscribed "Long live the Emperor, long, long live him" — that ought to be revolutionized at once. So they went together to the convent to revolutionize. When the old nun tried to stop them and said three sentences, they treated her as a representative of the Manchu government and dealt her quite a few blows with sticks and knuckles on the head. After they left, the nun collected herself, took stock, and found that the dragon tablet lay in pieces on the floor — and moreover, the Xuande-era incense burner in front of the Guanyin statue had vanished. Ah Q learned of all this only afterward. He greatly regretted having been asleep, but also bore them a deep grudge for not having come to fetch him. He took one more step back in his thinking and reflected: "Can it be that they still don't know I've already gone over to the revolutionaries?"
=== 第8節 ===	=== Section 8 ===
第八章　不准革命 　　未庄的人心日见其安静了。据传来的消息，知道革命党虽然进了城，倒还没有什么大异样。知县大老爷还是原官，不过改称了什么，而且举人老爷也做了什么——这些名目，未庄人都说不明白——官，带兵的也还是先前的老把总（⒍）。只有一件可怕的事是另有几个不好的革命党夹在里面捣乱，第二天便动手剪辫子，听说那邻村的航船七斤便着了道儿，弄得不像人样子了。但这却还不算大恐怖，因为未庄人本来少上城，即使偶有想进城的，也就立刻变了计，碰不着这危险。阿Ｑ本也想进城去寻他的老朋友，一得这消息，也只得作罢了。 　　但未庄也不能说是无改革。几天之后，将辫子盘在顶上的逐渐增加起来了，早经说过，最先自然是茂才公，其次便是赵司晨和赵白眼，后来是阿Ｑ。倘在夏天，大家将辫子盘在头顶上或者打一个结，本不算什么稀奇事，但现在是暮秋，所以这“秋行夏令”的情形，在盘辫家不能不说是万分的英断，而在未庄也不能说无关于改革了。 　　赵司晨脑后空荡荡的走来，看见的人大嚷说， 　　“豁，革命党来了！” 　　阿Ｑ听到了很羡慕。他虽然早知道秀才盘辫的大新闻，但总没有想到自己可以照样做，现在看见赵司晨也如此，才有了学样的意思，定下实行的决心。他用一支竹筷将辫子盘在头顶上，迟疑多时，这才放胆的走去。 　　他在街上走，人也看他，然而不说什么话，阿Ｑ当初很不快，后来便很不平。他近来很容易闹脾气了；其实他的生活，倒也并不比造反之前反艰难，人见他也客气，店铺也不说要现钱。而阿Ｑ总觉得自己太失意：既然革了命，不应该只是这样的。况且有一回看见小Ｄ，愈使他气破肚皮了。 　　小Ｄ也将辫子盘在头顶上了，而且也居然用一支竹筷。阿Ｑ万料不到他也敢这样做，自己也决不准他这样做！小Ｄ是什么东西呢？他很想即刻揪住他，拗断他的竹筷，放下他的辫子，并且批他几个嘴巴，聊且惩罚他忘了生辰八字，也敢来做革命党的罪。但他终于饶放了，单是怒目而视的吐一口唾沫道“呸！” 　　这几日里，进城去的只有一个假洋鬼子。赵秀才本也想靠着寄存箱子的渊源，亲身去拜访举人老爷的，但因为有剪辫的危险，所以也中止了。他写了一封“黄伞格”（⒎）的信，托假洋鬼子带上城，而且托他给自己绍介绍介，去进自由党。假洋鬼子回来时，向秀才讨还了四块洋钱，秀才便有一块银桃子挂在大襟上了；未庄人都惊服，说这是柿油党的顶子（⒏），抵得一个翰林（⒐）；赵太爷因此也骤然大阔，远过于他儿子初隽秀才的时候，所以目空一切，见了阿Ｑ，也就很有些不放在眼里了。 　　阿Ｑ正在不平，又时时刻刻感着冷落，一听得这银桃子的传说，他立即悟出自己之所以冷落的原因了：要革命，单说投降，是不行的；盘上辫子，也不行的；第一着仍然要和革命党去结识。他生平所知道的革命党只有两个，城里的一个早已“嚓”的杀掉了，现在只剩了一个假洋鬼子。他除却赶紧去和假洋鬼子商量之外，再没有别的道路了。 　　钱府的大门正开着，阿Ｑ便怯怯的躄进去。他一到里面，很吃了惊，只见假洋鬼子正站在院子的中央，一身乌黑的大约是洋衣，身上也挂着一块银桃子，手里是阿Ｑ曾经领教过的棍子，已经留到一尺多长的辫子都拆开了披在肩背上，蓬头散发的像一个刘海仙（⒑）。对面挺直的站着赵白眼和三个闲人，正在必恭必敬的听说话。 　　阿Ｑ轻轻的走近了，站在赵白眼的背后，心里想招呼，却不知道怎么说才好：叫他假洋鬼子固然是不行的了，洋人也不妥，革命党也不妥，或者就应该叫洋先生了罢。 　　洋先生却没有见他，因为白着眼睛讲得正起劲： 　　“我是性急的，所以我们见面，我总是说：洪哥（⒒）！我们动手罢！他却总说道Ｎｏ！——这是洋话，你们不懂的。否则早已成功了。然而这正是他做事小心的地方。他再三再四的请我上湖北，我还没有肯。谁愿意在这小县城里做事情。……” 　　“唔，……这个……”阿Ｑ候他略停，终于用十二分的勇气开口了，但不知道因为什么，又并不叫他洋先生。 　　听着说话的四个人都吃惊的回顾他。洋先生也才看见： 　　“什么？” 　　“我……” 　　“出去！” 　　“我要投……” 　　“滚出去！”洋先生扬起哭丧棒来了。 　　赵白眼和闲人们便都吆喝道：“先生叫你滚出去，你还不听么！” 　　阿Ｑ将手向头上一遮，不自觉的逃出门外；洋先生倒也没有追。他快跑了六十多步，这才慢慢的走，于是心里便涌起了忧愁：洋先生不准他革命，他再没有别的路；从此决不能望有白盔白甲的人来叫他，他所有的抱负，志向，希望，前程，全被一笔勾销了。至于闲人们传扬开去，给小Ｄ王胡等辈笑话，倒是还在其次的事。 　　他似乎从来没有经验过这样的无聊。他对于自己的盘辫子，仿佛也觉得无意味，要侮蔑；为报仇起见，很想立刻放下辫子来，但也没有竟放。他游到夜间，赊了两碗酒，喝下肚去，渐渐的高兴起来了，思想里才又出现白盔白甲的碎片。 　　有一天，他照例的混到夜深，待酒店要关门，才踱回土谷祠去。 　　拍，吧～～！ 　　他忽而听得一种异样的声音，又不是爆竹。阿Ｑ本来是爱看热闹，爱管闲事的，便在暗中直寻过去。似乎前面有些脚步声；他正听，猛然间一个人从对面逃来了。阿Ｑ一看见，便赶紧翻身跟着逃。那人转弯，阿Ｑ也转弯，那人站住了，阿Ｑ也站住。他看后面并无什么，看那人便是小Ｄ。 　　“什么？”阿Ｑ不平起来了。 　　“赵……赵家遭抢了！”小Ｄ气喘吁吁的说。 　　阿Ｑ的心怦怦的跳了。小Ｄ说了便走；阿Ｑ却逃而又停的两三回。但他究竟是做过“这路生意”，格外胆大，于是躄出路角，仔细的听，似乎有些嚷嚷，又仔细的看，似乎许多白盔白甲的人，络绎的将箱子抬出了，器具抬出了，秀才娘子的宁式床也抬出了，但是不分明，他还想上前，两只脚却没有动。 　　这一夜没有月，未庄在黑暗里很寂静，寂静到像羲皇（⒓）时候一般太平。阿Ｑ站着看到自己发烦，也似乎还是先前一样，在那里来来往往的搬，箱子抬出了，器具抬出了，秀才娘子的宁式床也抬出了，……抬得他自己有些不信他的眼睛了。但他决计不再上前，却回到自己的祠里去了。 　　土谷祠里更漆黑；他关好大门，摸进自己的屋子里。他躺了好一会，这才定了神，而且发出关于自己的思想来：白盔白甲的人明明到了，并不来打招呼，搬了许多好东西，又没有自己的份，——这全是假洋鬼子可恶，不准我造反，否则，这次何至于没有我的份呢？阿Ｑ越想越气，终于禁不住满心痛恨起来，毒毒的点一点头：“不准我造反，只准你造反？妈妈的假洋鬼子，——好，你造反！造反是杀头的罪名呵，我总要告一状，看你抓进县里去杀头，——满门抄斩，——嚓！嚓！”	Chapter Eight: Barred from the Revolution The hearts of Weizhuang grew calmer by the day. According to the news that filtered in, although the revolutionaries had entered the city, nothing had changed very much. The district magistrate was still in his post, only his title had been altered, and Mr. Juren too now held some sort of office — the Weizhuang folk could not quite make out these titles — and the military commander was still the same old batong. There was only one alarming development: several unsavory revolutionaries had mixed themselves in and started making trouble; by the second day they had begun cutting off queues. It was said that Qi Jin, the boatman from the neighboring village, had fallen victim to them and now looked thoroughly inhuman. But this was not yet a great cause for alarm, since the people of Weizhuang seldom went to town, and even those who might have wished to changed their plans at once to avoid this danger. Ah Q too had originally intended to go to town to see his old friends; when he heard the news, he also abandoned the idea. But even in Weizhuang one could not say there had been no reform. Several days later, more and more people began coiling their queues on top of their heads. As already mentioned, Mr. Maocai was first, followed by Zhao Sichen and Zhao White-eye, and then Ah Q. In summer it would have been nothing unusual to wind one's queue on top of one's head or tie it in a knot; but now it was late autumn, and so this "practicing summer customs in autumn" represented, for the queue-coilers, an extraordinary act of courage — and for Weizhuang it could not be said to have been unrelated to reform. When Zhao Sichen came walking along with the back of his head bare and fluttering, people who saw him shouted: "Look, a revolutionary!" Ah Q heard this and was very envious. Although he had long known the great news that the xiucai had coiled up his queue, it had never occurred to him that he could do the same. Only when he saw Zhao Sichen did the idea of imitation strike him, and he resolved to put it into practice. With a bamboo chopstick he coiled his queue on top of his head, hesitated for a long time, and only then ventured out. He walked through the street; people looked at him but said nothing. Ah Q was at first displeased, then indignant. Lately he had become very quick-tempered. Actually, his life was no harder than before the rebellion, people were polite to him, and the shops did not demand cash. But Ah Q felt that he was being unfairly neglected: since there had been a revolution, things ought not simply to go on as before. Moreover, one day he caught sight of Little D, and that made him even angrier. Little D had also coiled his queue on top of his head, and with a bamboo chopstick at that. Ah Q had never imagined he would dare do such a thing, and he absolutely could not allow it! What was Little D, anyway? He wanted nothing more than to seize him by the head, snap his chopstick, pull down his queue, and give him several slaps — a small punishment for forgetting his place and daring to play the revolutionary. But in the end he let him go and merely spat a furious gob of spittle after him: "Pah!" During these days only one person went to the city: the Bogus Foreign Devil. Xiucai Zhao had wanted to call on Mr. Juren in person on the strength of the stored trunks, but refrained because of the danger of having his queue cut off. He wrote a letter in the courteous "Yellow Parasol" format and gave it to the Bogus Foreign Devil to take to the city; at the same time he asked him to arrange an introduction to the Freedom Party. When the Bogus Foreign Devil returned, he collected four silver dollars from the xiucai; in exchange, the xiucai now sported a silver peach on his lapel. All Weizhuang was awed and admiring: this was the badge of the "Sesame Oil Party," equivalent to the rank of Hanlin! Old Master Zhao's prestige consequently soared, far surpassing what it had been when his son first passed the xiucai examination. He therefore looked down on everything, and when he saw Ah Q, regarded him with considerable disdain. Ah Q was already discontented and felt perpetually slighted. When he heard about the silver peach, he instantly understood why he was being slighted: to make revolution it was not enough simply to announce one's defection; coiling up one's queue was not enough either. The first step was to make contact with the revolutionaries. The only revolutionaries he had ever known in his life were two: the one in the city had long since been "chopped" and executed; now only the Bogus Foreign Devil remained. There was no other course but to hurry to the Bogus Foreign Devil for advice. The gate of the Qian residence stood wide open, and Ah Q crept timidly inside. Once within he received a great shock: the Bogus Foreign Devil was standing in the middle of the courtyard, dressed all in black — apparently foreign clothing — with a silver peach pinned to his chest and a stick in his hand that Ah Q knew only too well. His queue, more than a foot long, had been unbraided and hung loose over his shoulders; with his wild hair he looked like Liu Hai the Immortal. Facing him in rigid attention stood Zhao White-eye and three idlers, listening with the greatest deference. Ah Q crept up and took his place behind Zhao White-eye. He wanted to greet the man but did not know what to say: "Bogus Foreign Devil" was obviously out of the question now; "Foreigner" was not right either; "Revolutionary" was not right either — perhaps he should say "Mr. Foreign." But Mr. Foreign had not yet noticed him, for he was holding forth with raised eyes and full enthusiasm: "I am an impatient man, and so whenever we meet I always say: Brother Hong! Let's get to work! But he always says: No! — that's an English word which you wouldn't understand. Otherwise we'd have succeeded long ago. But this is precisely what shows how careful he is. He has invited me three and four times to go to Hubei, but I haven't agreed yet. Who wants to work in this little county town..." "Er... well..." Ah Q waited for a brief pause and at last summoned up courage to speak — but for some reason he did not call him "Mr. Foreign" after all. All four listeners turned around in alarm. Mr. Foreign too now saw him for the first time: "What?" "I..." "Get out!" "I want to join—" "Get out!" Mr. Foreign raised the mourning staff. Zhao White-eye and the idlers shouted: "The gentleman says get out — don't you hear?" Ah Q threw his arm over his head and fled involuntarily through the door; Mr. Foreign did not pursue him. He ran a good sixty paces before slowing down. But then sorrow welled up inside him: Mr. Foreign would not let him make revolution; there was no other path left. From now on he could not possibly hope for people in white helmets and white armor to come and call for him. All his ambitions, aspirations, hopes, and prospects for the future were wiped out at a single stroke. That the idlers would spread the word and give Little D and Wang Hu and the rest cause for mockery was, comparatively, a minor matter. It seemed to him that he had never experienced such utter emptiness. He found even his coiled queue meaningless and contemptible; out of spite he wanted to let it down at once, but he did not actually do so. He wandered until nightfall; at a wine shop he managed to get two bowls of wine on credit, drank them, and gradually cheered up; only then did fragments of white helmets and white armor resurface in his thoughts. One day, as was his custom, it was already late at night and the wine shop was about to close when he sauntered back toward the Tuguci Temple. Bang, ba-a-a! He suddenly heard a strange sound — not firecrackers. Ah Q had always loved spectacles and was always ready to poke his nose into other people's business; he followed the noise through the darkness. Ahead of him there seemed to be footsteps. Just as he was listening more carefully, someone came running toward him from the opposite direction. Ah Q saw him and instantly broke into a run in the same direction. The man turned a corner; Ah Q turned the corner. The man stopped; Ah Q stopped. He looked behind him — nothing there. He looked at the man — it was Little D. "What?" Ah Q grew annoyed. "Zhao... the Zhao house has been robbed!" said Little D, panting. Ah Q's heart pounded. Little D said his piece and vanished. Ah Q fled, stopped, turned back — two, three times. But since he himself had once been "in that line of business," he had extra courage. So he ventured around the street corner and listened: there seemed to be shouting. He looked more carefully: there seemed indeed to be many people in white helmets and white armor, filing along carrying trunks, carrying furniture, carrying the xiucai's wife's Ningbo bed — but it was not clearly visible. He wanted to go forward, but his feet would not move. There was no moon that night; Weizhuang lay in deep darkness, still — as still as in the time of the primordial Emperor Fuxi. Ah Q stood watching until he himself grew restless. Everything seemed the same as before — things were being carried back and forth: trunks out, furniture out, the xiucai's wife's Ningbo bed out... so much that he could hardly believe his own eyes. But he decided not to go any closer and returned to his temple. The Tuguci Temple was blacker still. He shut the great gate and groped his way to his room. After lying there for a good while, he at last collected his thoughts and began to reflect upon himself: the men in white helmets and white armor had plainly been there, yet they had not come to greet him; they had carried off many fine things, and none of it was for him — this was all the fault of the Bogus Foreign Devil, who had barred him from the revolution. Otherwise — how could he have been left out this time? The more Ah Q thought about it, the angrier he became, until at last he could no longer contain his bitterness. He nodded his head viciously: "Bar me from revolution, and then revolt yourself? Damn Bogus Foreign Devil! — All right, you revolt! Revolt is a capital crime — I'll report you, and they'll drag you off to the county seat and chop off your head — exterminate your whole clan — chop! Chop!"
=== 第9節 ===	=== Section 9 ===
第九章　大团圆 　　赵家遭抢之后，未庄人大抵很快意而且恐慌，阿Ｑ也很快意而且恐慌。但四天之后，阿Ｑ在半夜里忽被抓进县城里去了。那时恰是暗夜，一队兵，一队团丁，一队警察，五个侦探，悄悄地到了未庄，乘昏暗围住土谷祠，正对门架好机关枪；然而阿Ｑ不冲出。许多时没有动静，把总焦急起来了，悬了二十千的赏，才有两个团丁冒了险，逾垣进去，里应外合，一拥而入，将阿Ｑ抓出来；直待擒出祠外面的机关枪左近，他才有些清醒了。 　　到进城，已经是正午，阿Ｑ见自己被搀进一所破衙门，转了五六个弯，便推在一间小屋里。他刚刚一跄踉，那用整株的木料做成的栅栏门便跟着他的脚跟阖上了，其余的三面都是墙壁，仔细看时，屋角上还有两个人。 　　阿Ｑ虽然有些忐忑，却并不很苦闷，因为他那土谷祠里的卧室，也并没有比这间屋子更高明。那两个也仿佛是乡下人，渐渐和他兜搭起来了，一个说是举人老爷要追他祖父欠下来的陈租，一个不知道为了什么事。他们问阿Ｑ，阿Ｑ爽利的答道，“因为我想造反。” 　　他下半天便又被抓出栅栏门去了，到得大堂，上面坐着一个满头剃得精光的老头子。阿Ｑ疑心他是和尚，但看见下面站着一排兵，两旁又站着十几个长衫人物，也有满头剃得精光像这老头子的，也有将一尺来长的头发披在背后像那假洋鬼子的，都是一脸横肉，怒目而视的看他；他便知道这人一定有些来历，膝关节立刻自然而然的宽松，便跪了下去了。 　　“站着说！不要跪！”长衫人物都吆喝说。 　　阿Ｑ虽然似乎懂得，但总觉得站不住，身不由己的蹲了下去，而且终于趁势改为跪下了。 　　“奴隶性！……”长衫人物又鄙夷似的说，但也没有叫他起来。 　　“你从实招来罢，免得吃苦。我早都知道了。招了可以放你。”那光头的老头子看定了阿Ｑ的脸，沉静的清楚的说。 　　“招罢！”长衫人物也大声说。 　　“我本来要……来投……”阿Ｑ胡里胡涂的想了一通，这才断断续续的说。 　　“那么，为什么不来的呢？”老头子和气的问。 　　“假洋鬼子不准我！” 　　“胡说！此刻说，也迟了。现在你的同党在那里？” 　　“什么？……” 　　“那一晚打劫赵家的一伙人。” 　　“他们没有来叫我。他们自己搬走了。”阿Ｑ提起来便愤愤。 　　“走到那里去了呢？说出来便放你了。”老头子更和气了。 　　“我不知道，……他们没有来叫我……” 　　然而老头子使了一个眼色，阿Ｑ便又被抓进栅栏门里了。他第二次抓出栅栏门，是第二天的上午。 　　大堂的情形都照旧。上面仍然坐着光头的老头子，阿Ｑ也仍然下了跪。 　　老头子和气的问道，“你还有什么话说么？” 　　阿Ｑ一想，没有话，便回答说，“没有。” 　　于是一个长衫人物拿了一张纸，并一支笔送到阿Ｑ的面前，要将笔塞在他手里。阿Ｑ这时很吃惊，几乎“魂飞魄散”了：因为他的手和笔相关，这回是初次。他正不知怎样拿；那人却又指着一处地方教他画花押。 　　“我……我……不认得字。”阿Ｑ一把抓住了笔，惶恐而且惭愧的说。 　　“那么，便宜你，画一个圆圈！” 　　阿Ｑ要画圆圈了，那手捏着笔却只是抖。于是那人替他将纸铺在地上，阿Ｑ伏下去，使尽了平生的力气画圆圈。他生怕被人笑话，立志要画得圆，但这可恶的笔不但很沉重，并且不听话，刚刚一抖一抖的几乎要合缝，却又向外一耸，画成瓜子模样了。 　　阿Ｑ正羞愧自己画得不圆，那人却不计较，早已掣了纸笔去，许多人又将他第二次抓进栅栏门。 　　他第二次进了栅栏，倒也并不十分懊恼。他以为人生天地之间，大约本来有时要抓进抓出，有时要在纸上画圆圈的，惟有圈而不圆，却是他“行状”上的一个污点。但不多时也就释然了，他想：孙子才画得很圆的圆圈呢。于是他睡着了。 　　然而这一夜，举人老爷反而不能睡：他和把总呕了气了。举人老爷主张第一要追赃，把总主张第一要示众。把总近来很不将举人老爷放在眼里了，拍案打凳的说道，“惩一儆百！你看，我做革命党还不上二十天，抢案就是十几件，全不破案，我的面子在那里？破了案，你又来迂。不成！这是我管的！”举人老爷窘急了，然而还坚持，说是倘若不追赃，他便立刻辞了帮办民政的职务。而把总却道，“请便罢！”于是举人老爷在这一夜竟没有睡，但幸第二天倒也没有辞。 　　阿Ｑ第三次抓出栅栏门的时候，便是举人老爷睡不着的那一夜的明天的上午了。他到了大堂，上面还坐着照例的光头老头子；阿Ｑ也照例的下了跪。 　　老头子很和气的问道，“你还有什么话么？” 　　阿Ｑ一想，没有话，便回答说，“没有。” 　　许多长衫和短衫人物，忽然给他穿上一件洋布的白背心，上面有些黑字。阿Ｑ很气苦：因为这很像是带孝，而带孝是晦气的。然而同时他的两手反缚了，同时又被一直抓出衙门外去了。 　　阿Ｑ被抬上了一辆没有蓬的车，几个短衣人物也和他同坐在一处。这车立刻走动了，前面是一班背着洋炮的兵们和团丁，两旁是许多张着嘴的看客，后面怎样，阿Ｑ没有见。但他突然觉到了：这岂不是去杀头么？他一急，两眼发黑，耳朵里〔口皇〕的一声，似乎发昏了。然而他又没有全发昏，有时虽然着急，有时却也泰然；他意思之间，似乎觉得人生天地间，大约本来有时也未免要杀头的。 　　他还认得路，于是有些诧异了：怎么不向着法场走呢？他不知道这是在游街，在示众。但即使知道也一样，他不过便以为人生天地间，大约本来有时也未免要游街要示众罢了。 　　他省悟了，这是绕到法场去的路，这一定是“嚓”的去杀头。他惘惘的向左右看，全跟着马蚁似的人，而在无意中，却在路旁的人丛中发见了一个吴妈。很久违，伊原来在城里做工了。阿Ｑ忽然很羞愧自己没志气：竟没有唱几句戏。他的思想仿佛旋风似的在脑里一回旋：《小孤孀上坟》欠堂皇，《龙虎斗》里的“悔不该……”也太乏，还是“手执钢鞭将你打”罢。他同时想手一扬，才记得这两手原来都捆着，于是“手执钢鞭”也不唱了。 　　“过了二十年又是一个……”阿Ｑ在百忙中，“无师自通”的说出半句从来不说的话。 　　“好！！！”从人丛里，便发出豺狼的嗥叫一般的声音来。 　　车子不住的前行，阿Ｑ在喝采声中，轮转眼睛去看吴妈，似乎伊一向并没有见他，却只是出神的看着兵们背上的洋炮。 　　阿Ｑ于是再看那些喝采的人们。 　　这刹那中，他的思想又仿佛旋风似的在脑里一回旋了。四年之前，他曾在山脚下遇见一只饿狼，永是不近不远的跟定他，要吃他的肉。他那时吓得几乎要死，幸而手里有一柄斫柴刀，才得仗这壮了胆，支持到未庄；可是永远记得那狼眼睛，又凶又怯，闪闪的像两颗鬼火，似乎远远的来穿透了他的皮肉。而这回他又看见从来没有见过的更可怕的眼睛了，又钝又锋利，不但已经咀嚼了他的话，并且还要咀嚼他皮肉以外的东西，永是不近不远的跟他走。 　　这些眼睛们似乎连成一气，已经在那里咬他的灵魂。 　　“救命，……” 　　然而阿Ｑ没有说。他早就两眼发黑，耳朵里嗡的一声，觉得全身仿佛微尘似的迸散了。 　　至于当时的影响，最大的倒反在举人老爷，因为终于没有追赃，他全家都号啕了。其次是赵府，非特秀才因为上城去报官，被不好的革命党剪了辫子，而且又破费了二十千的赏钱，所以全家也号啕了。从这一天以来，他们便渐渐的都发生了遗老的气味。 　　至于舆论，在未庄是无异议，自然都说阿Ｑ坏，被枪毙便是他的坏的证据：不坏又何至于被枪毙呢？而城里的舆论却不佳，他们多半不满足，以为枪毙并无杀头这般好看；而且那是怎样的一个可笑的死囚呵，游了那么久的街，竟没有唱一句戏：他们白跟一趟了。。	Chapter Nine: The Grand Finale After the Zhao house was robbed, most people in Weizhuang felt at once gratified and alarmed; Ah Q too felt at once gratified and alarmed. But four days later, Ah Q was seized in the middle of the night and taken to the county town. It happened to be a dark night. A squad of soldiers, a squad of village militia, a squad of policemen, and five detectives crept silently into Weizhuang, surrounded the Tuguci Temple in the darkness, and set up a machine gun directly facing the gate. But Ah Q did not come charging out. When nothing happened for a long time, the batong grew anxious and offered a reward of twenty thousand coppers; only then did two militiamen dare to scale the wall. Combining forces from inside and outside, they burst in and dragged Ah Q out. Not until they had hauled him past the machine gun outside the temple did he begin to come to his senses. By the time they reached the town, it was already noon. Ah Q found himself being steered into a dilapidated government building; after five or six turns he was pushed into a small cell. The moment he stumbled, the barred door of solid timber slammed shut behind his heels. The remaining three walls were masonry; when he looked more carefully, he discovered two other persons in a corner. Although Ah Q was somewhat uneasy, he was not terribly distressed: after all, his bedroom in the Tuguci Temple had been no better than this cell. The other two appeared to be country folk as well, and they gradually struck up a conversation. One said that Mr. Juren wanted to collect his grandfather's long-overdue rent; the other did not know what he was there for. When they asked Ah Q, he answered forthrightly: "Because I wanted to make revolution." That afternoon he was dragged through the barred door again and taken to the main hall. At the far end sat an old man with a clean-shaven head. Ah Q suspected he was a monk; but when he saw a row of soldiers standing below and more than a dozen persons in long gowns on either side — some with clean-shaven heads like the old man, some with hair a foot long flowing down their backs like the Bogus Foreign Devil — all with fierce expressions and angry eyes fixed on him, he knew that this person must carry some authority. His knees went limp of their own accord, and he knelt down. "Stand up and speak! Don't kneel!" cried the long-gowned figures. Ah Q seemed to understand, but somehow felt unsteady on his feet; involuntarily he squatted, and finally settled down on his knees after all. "The slave mentality!..." said the long-gowned figures contemptuously, but they did not make him get up. "Tell the truth and spare yourself suffering. I know everything already. Confess and you will be released." The shaven-headed old man fixed his eyes on Ah Q's face and spoke calmly and distinctly. "Confess!" the long-gowned figures also cried loudly. "I originally wanted to... come and join—" Ah Q thought in a befuddled way for a moment, then spoke haltingly. "Then why didn't you come?" asked the old man amiably. "The Bogus Foreign Devil wouldn't let me!" "Nonsense! In any case it's too late now. Where are your accomplices?" "What?..." "The gang that robbed the Zhao house that night." "They didn't come to get me. They carried everything off themselves." Ah Q became indignant at the recollection. "Where did they go? Tell us and you will be released." The old man grew more amiable still. "I don't know... they didn't come to get me..." But the old man gave a signal with his eyes, and Ah Q was pushed behind the barred door again. The second time he was pulled out was the following morning. Everything in the main hall was the same. The shaven-headed old man still sat at the far end, and Ah Q once again knelt down. The old man asked amiably: "Have you anything else to say?" Ah Q thought. No. "No," he answered. Then one of the long-gowned figures brought a sheet of paper and a writing brush before Ah Q and tried to press the brush into his hand. Ah Q was terrified almost out of his wits: his hand and a writing brush — this was the very first time in his life. The man pointed to a place on the paper and told him to make his mark. "I... I can't read," said Ah Q, clutching the brush in terror and shame. "Very well then — just draw a circle!" Ah Q tried to draw a circle, but the hand holding the brush would only tremble. So the man spread the paper on the ground; Ah Q bent down and summoned every ounce of his strength to draw a circle. He was afraid of being laughed at and was determined to make it round. But the wretched brush was not only heavy but disobedient: just as the line was about to close, it wobbled and bulged outward — resulting in the shape of a melon seed. Ah Q was mortified that his circle was not round, but the man had already whisked away the paper and the brush, and several people pushed him behind the barred door a second time. The second time behind the bars he was not particularly distressed. He felt that being a man between heaven and earth, one probably had to be dragged in and out sometimes, and sometimes had to draw circles on paper. Only that his circle was not round — that he considered a blot on his "record." But before long he was at peace again: Only a greenhorn draws a perfectly round circle! And so he fell asleep. But that night it was Mr. Juren who could not sleep: he had quarreled with the batong. Mr. Juren insisted that the first priority was recovering the stolen goods; the batong insisted that the first priority was making a public example. The batong had recently stopped showing Mr. Juren much respect and pounded the table: "Punish one to warn a hundred! Look at this: I've been a revolutionary for less than twenty days, and there have already been over a dozen robbery cases, none of them solved — where does that leave my face? When a case is solved, you come and quibble. This won't do! This is my affair!" Mr. Juren was cornered but stood firm: if the stolen goods were not recovered, he would immediately resign his position as assistant civil administrator. The batong said: "Suit yourself!" And so Mr. Juren did not sleep that entire night; fortunately, the next day he did not resign either. The third time Ah Q was dragged through the barred door was the morning after Mr. Juren's sleepless night. He was taken to the main hall; the familiar shaven-headed old man still sat at the far end, and Ah Q once again knelt down as usual. The old man asked amiably: "Have you anything more to say?" Ah Q thought. No. "No," he answered. Then many long-gowned and short-coated figures suddenly put a white vest of cotton cloth on him, with black characters written on it. Ah Q was deeply upset, for this looked like mourning, and mourning meant bad luck. At the same time his hands were bound behind his back, and he was dragged straight out of the government building. Ah Q was hoisted onto an open cart; several short-coated men climbed up with him. The cart set off at once. In front marched a troop of soldiers bearing rifles and a troop of militiamen; on both sides pressed crowds of gaping spectators; what was behind, Ah Q could not see. But suddenly a thought struck him: wasn't this the way to the execution ground? He panicked; his eyes went black, his ears rang, and he felt he was about to faint. Yet he did not quite faint: though sometimes anxious, he was sometimes calm too. It occurred to him vaguely that between heaven and earth, a man was probably meant, sometimes, to lose his head. He recognized the road, and this surprised him: why were they not heading for the execution ground? He did not know that he was being paraded through the streets for public exhibition. But even had he known, it would have been all the same: he would merely have concluded that between heaven and earth, a man was probably meant, sometimes, to be paraded through the streets for exhibition. He realized it: this was the roundabout route to the execution ground; this was certainly the "chop" and the beheading. He gazed distractedly to left and right: people were following him like ants, and in the crowd along the roadside he caught sight of — Wu Ma. Long time no see; she was working in the city now. Ah Q suddenly felt ashamed that he had shown so little spirit: he had not even sung a few lines from an opera! His thoughts whirled through his brain like a cyclone: "The Little Widow Visits the Grave" was too plain; "Had I only not..." from the "Dragon and Tiger Combat" was too limp; but "With my steel mace I'll beat you down" — yes, that! At the same moment he tried to raise his hand in a grand gesture, then remembered that both hands were tied. And so he did not sing "the steel mace" either. "In twenty years I shall be another..." In the midst of all the commotion, Ah Q brought out, "without teacher or master," the first half of a sentence he had never uttered before. "Bravo!!!" From the crowd there rose a howl like the baying of jackals and wolves. The cart kept moving forward; Ah Q turned his eyes amid the cheering to look at Wu Ma, but she appeared never to have noticed him at all, and was only staring in fascination at the rifles on the soldiers' backs. Ah Q then turned his gaze to the cheering spectators. In that split second his thoughts once again whirled through his brain like a cyclone. Four years ago he had encountered a starving wolf at the foot of a hill. It had followed him at a constant distance, neither nearer nor farther, wanting to eat his flesh. He had been nearly frightened to death, but fortunately he had a woodcutter's hatchet in his hand, and with this to bolster his courage he had managed to hold out until he reached Weizhuang. But he had never forgotten those wolf eyes — savage and cowardly at once, glinting like two will-o'-the-wisps, seeming to bore through his very skin from afar. And now he saw eyes more terrifying than any he had ever seen — dull yet sharp, eyes that had not only chewed up his words but sought to chew up something beyond his skin and flesh, and that followed him at a constant distance, neither nearer nor farther. These eyes seemed to merge into one and were already gnawing at his soul. "Help!..." But Ah Q never said it. His eyes had long since gone black, his ears were ringing, and he felt his whole body scattering like dust. As for the repercussions of this event, the greatest fell, paradoxically, upon Mr. Juren, because the stolen goods were never recovered, and his whole family wailed. The second greatest fell upon the Zhao house: not only had the xiucai had his queue cut off by disreputable revolutionaries when he went to the city to file a report, but the family had also spent twenty thousand coppers in reward money; so they too wailed as one. From that day on, they all gradually took on the manner of loyalists of the old regime. As for public opinion: in Weizhuang it was unanimous — naturally Ah Q was bad, and his being shot was proof of his badness: if he hadn't been bad, why would he have been shot? Public opinion in the city, however, was less favorable: most people were dissatisfied, finding that a shooting was not nearly as fine a spectacle as a beheading; and besides, what a laughable condemned man — paraded through the streets for so long and he hadn't even sung a single line from an opera! They had followed the procession for nothing.