送交者: 田牛 于 2005-12-31, 00:59:40:
朱振武译《达•芬奇密码》第一百零三章中的误译
如果把书中的“我的上帝”（my lord）替换成“主教大人”或者其他合适的称呼，硬伤就去掉大半。
顺便谈个小常识，中国的天主教称上帝为“天主”，“主”，这也是天主教的名称由来。 基督教徒才称他们的上帝为“上帝”。这本书里写的基本上是天主教的恩怨。
本章有一个地方，没有在eBay买过东西的人可能会犯错：others unwittingly bid at auctions in which Teabing had placed specific lots. 朱振武的小组译成"其他人则会在并不知情的情况下，参加某些经提彬做过手脚的拍卖会的竞拍活动"是理解错误。
最后，两名法国警务人员的职务在中文版里被小朱的翻译组无缘无故地给“降职”了。贝祖•法希两名法国警务人员无缘无故地在中文版里被小朱的翻译组给降职了。在开头几章还是局长，在这里又干他的老本行-上尉了。杰罗姆•科莱在头一章还是上尉，在本章节里被打回原形，又是中尉啦。
结论：这些很明显是朱振武的学生翻译中的误译，本章还有些小瑕疵，表达有问题，不是理解问题。这些也证明先前有些网友的猜测，小朱没有把好关，组织能力不强，至少利用电脑纠错的意识不强。
《达•芬奇密码》第一百零三章
伦敦的太阳，直到快近黄昏时才从薄雾里探出头来，城市开始变得干燥起来了。贝祖•法希感到筋疲力尽，他从审讯室里出来，招了一辆的士。雷•提彬爵士一再咆哮着声称自己是清白的，然而从他关于圣杯、秘密文献，以及神秘团体的夸张性的描述看来，法希怀疑这位诡计多端的历史学家很可能正准备让他的律师以精神错乱为由为他进行辩护。
这是肯定无疑的，好一个精神错乱！法希心想。每逢紧要关头，提彬总能想出一些很巧妙的办法来开脱他的罪名。他曾经利用过罗马教廷和天主事工会，事实证明这两个组织完全是无辜的。他让一位狂热的修道士以及一名铤而走险的主教神不知人不觉地去从事那些见不得人的勾当。这还不算，他还把电子听音哨放在一个患有脑灰质炎的男人根本不可能接触到的地方。事实上，电子窃听器是由他的男仆雷米安放的，他是唯一知道提彬真实身份的人--不过如今这人已经因药物过敏致死，他可死得真是时候。
法希心想，人如果要干坏事，真是什么办法也想得出来。
科莱从维莱特庄园搜来的情报表明，提彬狡猾的程度甚至法希也前所未闻。这位英国历史学家成功地在巴黎一些要员的办公室里安置了窃听器，他竟然仿效希腊人，玩起 "特洛伊木马"的把戏来。被提彬盯上的一些人，都会收到他慷慨赠与的艺术品，其他人则会在并不知情的情况下，参加某些经提彬做过手脚的拍卖会的竞拍活动。就拿索尼埃来说吧，这位卢浮宫艺术博物馆的馆长，就收到过提彬邀他到维莱特庄园赴宴的请柬，说是要跟他讨论为在卢浮宫开辟新的达•芬奇展览厅筹措资金的可行性。索尼埃收到的请柬里还加了一则无伤大雅的附言，表达了他对据传是索尼埃造的骑士机器人的浓厚兴趣。提彬要索尼埃赴宴时将它带来，其用意再清楚不过。显然索尼埃也依此照办了，并把那骑士机器人放在一边，这就使得雷米•莱格鲁德有足够的时间趁人不注意时偷偷做一些手脚。
此刻，法希坐在计程车后面，闭上了眼睛。在回巴黎前，我还得去办一件事情。
圣玛丽医院的诊所里一屋温暖的阳光。
"你太让人敬佩了。"护士低头微笑着说。"这简直是奇迹。"
阿林加洛沙主教勉强地笑了笑："我有上帝一直在保佑我啊。"
护士停止了唠叨，抛下主教，一个人走了。阳光照在他的脸上，温暖而舒适。昨天晚上，是他生命中最黑暗的一段时光。
他有些垂头丧气地想起了塞拉斯，他的尸体是在公园里找到的。
孩子，请你原谅我吧。
阿林加洛沙主教本想让塞拉斯参与到他的辉煌计划当中来。然而昨天，阿林加洛沙主教接到贝祖•法希的电话，他向主教询问塞拉斯与一位被杀死在圣叙尔皮斯修道院里的修女之间明显存在的关系等事宜。阿林加洛沙主教意识到，那天晚上的形势已发生了可怕的转折。新增加了四宗谋杀案的消息使他由恐惧转而痛苦到极点。塞拉斯，你看你做的好事！由于无法跟那位教主取得联系，阿林加洛沙主教明白他已经被人抛弃，被人利用完了。要阻止这一连串他曾经起过推波助澜的可怕事件再次发生，唯一的办法就是向法希彻底坦白。而从那时起，他与法希就一心想赶在那位教主说服塞拉斯再度杀人之前将他逮住。
阿林加洛沙主教感到骨头都快散架了，他闭上眼，聆听电视上正在报导的著名的英国骑士，雷•提彬爵士被逮捕的消息。这位教主的真面目终于大白于天下了。提彬早就得到罗马教廷要与天主事工会断绝关系的风声，所以在实施计划的过程中，他选择了阿林加洛沙主教作为最佳赌注。不管怎么说，跟我这样一无所有的人比起来，还有谁更有可能会去盲目的找寻什么圣杯呢？不管是谁，一旦拥有了圣杯，他将从它那里获得巨大的力量。
雷•提彬狡猾地隐藏了他的真实身份--他操着足以以假乱真的法国口音，假装有颗虔诚的心灵，并勒索金钱--这其实是他根本不需要的东西。阿林加洛沙一向过于心急，竟没有丝毫怀疑。一旦找到了圣杯，那由此得到的奖赏，再加上罗马教廷分期还给天主事工会的款项，那么资金周转起来就灵便多了，所以两千万欧元的要价根本不值一提。盲人能看到他们想看的东西。当然，最让人感到侮辱的是，提彬竟然要求以梵蒂冈银行的无记名债券支付，这样，一旦某个环节出事，调查人员就会顺藤摸瓜追到罗马。
"我的上帝，看到你安然无恙，我真的很高兴。"
阿林加洛沙主教听出了门口那个沙哑的声音，然而那张脸看上去却让他深感意外--它神色严峻，轮廓分明，光溜的头发被拢到脑后，粗粗的脖子从黑色衣服里探出来。"你是法希上尉吧？"阿林加洛沙主教问道。从昨晚这位上尉对他的不幸遭遇表示同情与关切看来，阿林加洛沙主教还以为他是个远比眼前站着的要温和得多的人呢。
上尉走到床前，将一个熟悉的沉重的黑色公文包放到椅子上。"我想这肯定是你的吧。"
阿林加洛沙主教瞥了那个装满票券的公文包一眼，很快转移了视线，他只是感到羞辱。"是的……谢谢你！"他暂停下来，将手指伸进床单的空隙里来回绞弄着，然后继续说："上尉，我已经考虑很久了，想让你帮一个忙。"
"没问题。"
"塞拉斯在巴黎杀害的那些死者家庭--"他停顿了一下，以便能抑制住内心激动的心情。"我知道，无论多少钱也不能安抚他们受伤的心灵，然而，我还是希望你能帮我把公文包里的钱分发给他们--分发给那些死者的家庭。"
法希黑色的眼睛打量了他好一阵子。"我的上帝，你真是个善良的人。我会负责帮你了却心愿的。"
屋内一阵令人窒息的沉默。
电视屏幕上，一位瘦瘦的法国警官正在一幢向平面延伸的大厦前举行记者招待会。法希认出了那人是谁，于是他把注意力集中到电视屏幕上。
"科莱中尉，"英国广播公司的一位记者带着责难的语气说："据我所知，贝祖•法希上尉很少犯错误。就此事我虽没跟他谈过，但我知道他会怎样做。我怀疑他兴师动众到处追捕奈芙侦探与兰登先生的真实意图是为了引出真正的杀人凶手。"
在场的记者们面面相觑，惊讶不已。
克莱继续说道："我不知道兰登先生与奈芙小姐是不是一个愿打一个愿挨的参与者。法希上尉总能够坚持他那一贯具有创造性的做法。目前我可以向各位证实的是，上尉已经成功逮捕了应该承担责任的那个人，兰登先生与奈芙小姐两人是无辜的，并且两人都没受到伤害。"
法希的嘴角露出一丝淡淡的微笑，他转身对阿林加洛沙主教："科莱那家伙，真是个好人呐。"
一段时间过去了。终于，法希用手摸子摸前额。他一边将光溜溜的头发理到脑后，一边低头注视着阿林加洛沙主教。"我的上帝，在回巴黎之前，我还有最后一件事情没有处理呢。我要跟你谈你突然改道伦敦的那次飞行。你贿赂了驾驶员，让他改变航线。你这样做触犯了好几条国际法律呢。"
阿林加洛沙顿时有气无力地瘫倒在床上："我也是被逼急了啊。"
"我知道。我手下的人审问那个驾驶员时，他也是这么说的。"法希将手伸进口袋，摸出一枚紫石英戒指。戒指上手工雕制的教士冠，以及牧师杖嵌花，是那样的熟悉。
阿林加洛沙主教热泪盈眶，他接过戒指，戴到手指上。"你这人总是这么好。"他伸出手，紧紧抓住了法希的手，由衷地说："谢谢你。"
法希摆摆手，走到窗前，凝望着窗外这个城市，他的思绪显然已飞得很远很远。等他转过身，他流露出疑惑的神情："我的上帝，你以后有什么打算？"
就在前一天晚上，阿林加洛沙主教离开岗道尔夫堡之前，也有人问过他同样的问题。"我怀疑我以后要走的路，会和你一样捉摸不定呢。"
"是啊，"法希停了停："我想我很快就要退休了。"
阿林加洛沙主教微微笑了笑，说："上尉，只要你对上帝保持一点点信仰，也是能创造奇迹的，真的。"
It was late afternoon when the London sun broke through and the city began to dry. Bezu Fache felt weary as he emerged from the interrogation room and hailed a cab. Sir Leigh Teabing had vociferously proclaimed his innocence, and yet from his incoherent rantings about the Holy Grail, secret documents, and mysterious brotherhoods, Fache suspected the wily historian was setting the stage for his lawyers to plead an insanity defense.
Sure, Fache thought. Insane. Teabing had displayed ingenious precision in formulating a plan that protected his innocence at every turn. He had exploited both the Vatican and Opus Dei, two groups that turned out to be completely innocent. His dirty work had been carried out unknowingly by a fanatical monk and a desperate bishop. More clever still, Teabing had situated his electronic listening post in the one place a man with polio could not possibly reach. The actual surveillance had been carried out by his manservant, Remy—the lone person privy to Teabing's true identity—now conveniently dead of an allergic reaction.
Hardly the handiwork of someone lacking mental faculties, Fache thought.
The information coming from Collet out of Chateau Villette suggested that Teabing's cunning ran so deep that Fache himself might even learn from it. To successfully hide bugs in some of Paris's most powerful offices, the British historian had turned to the Greeks. Trojan horses. Some of Teabing's intended targets received lavish gifts of artwork, others unwittingly bid at auctions in which Teabing had placed specific lots. In Sauniere's case, the curator had received a dinner invitation to Chateau Villette to discuss the possibility of Teabing's funding a new Da Vinci Wing at the Louvre. Sauniere's invitation had contained an innocuous postscript expressing fascination with a robotic knight that Sauniere was rumored to have built. Bring him to dinner, Teabing had suggested. Sauniere apparently had done just that and left the knight unattended long enough for Remy Legaludec to make one inconspicuous addition.
Now, sitting in the back of the cab, Fache closed his eyes. One more thing to attend to before I return to Paris.
The St. Mary's Hospital recovery room was sunny.
“You've impressed us all,” the nurse said, smiling down at him. “Nothing short of miraculous.”
Bishop Aringarosa gave a weak smile. “I have always been blessed.”
The nurse finished puttering, leaving the bishop alone. The sunlight felt welcome and warm on his face. Last night had been the darkest night of his life.
Despondently, he thought of Silas, whose body had been found in the park.
Please forgive me, my son.
Aringarosa had longed for Silas to be part of his glorious plan. Last night, however, Aringarosa had received a call from Bezu Fache, questioning the bishop about his apparent connection to a nun who had been murdered in Saint-Sulpice. Aringarosa realized the evening had taken a horrifying turn. News of the four additional murders transformed his horror to anguish. Silas, what have you done! Unable to reach the Teacher, the bishop knew he had been cut loose. Used. The only way to stop the horrific chain of events he had helped put in motion was to confess everything to Fache, and from that moment on, Aringarosa and Fache had been racing to catch up with Silas before the Teacher persuaded him to kill again.
Feeling bone weary, Aringarosa closed his eyes and listened to the television coverage of the arrest of a prominent British knight, Sir Leigh Teabing. The Teacher laid bare for all to see. Teabing had caught wind of the Vatican's plans to disassociate itself from Opus Dei. He had chosen Aringarosa as the perfect pawn in his plan. After all, who more likely to leap blindly after the Holy Grail than a man like myself with everything to lose? The Grail would have brought enormous power to anyone who possessed it.
Leigh Teabing had protected his identity shrewdly—feigning a French accent and a pious heart, and demanding as payment the one thing he did not need—money. Aringarosa had been far too eager to be suspicious. The price tag of twenty million euro was paltry when compared with the prize of obtaining the Grail, and with the Vatican's separation payment to Opus Dei, the finances had worked nicely. The blind see what they want to see. Teabing's ultimate insult, of course, had been to demand payment in Vatican bonds, such that if anything went wrong, the investigation would lead to Rome.
“I am glad to see you're well, My Lord.”
Aringarosa recognized the gruff voice in the doorway, but the face was unexpected—stern, powerful features, slicked-back hair, and a broad neck that strained against his dark suit. “Captain Fache?” Aringarosa asked. The compassion and concern the captain had shown for Aringarosa's plight last night had conjured images of a far gentler physique.
The captain approached the bed and hoisted a familiar, heavy black briefcase onto a chair. “I believe this belongs to you.”
Aringarosa looked at the briefcase filled with bonds and immediately looked away, feeling only shame. “Yes… thank you.” He paused while working his fingers across the seam of his bedsheet, then continued. “Captain, I have been giving this deep thought, and I need to ask a favor of you.”
“Of course.”
“The families of those in Paris who Silas…” He paused, swallowing the emotion. “I realize no sum could possibly serve as sufficient restitution, and yet, if you could be kind enough to divide the contents of this briefcase among them… the families of the deceased.”
Fache's dark eyes studied him a long moment. “A virtuous gesture, My Lord. I will see to it your wishes are carried out.”
A heavy silence fell between them.
On the television, a lean French police officer was giving a press conference in front of a sprawling mansion. Fache saw who it was and turned his attention to the screen.
“Lieutenant Collet,” a BBC reporter said, her voice accusing. “Last night, your captain publicly charged two innocent people with murder. Will Robert Langdon and Sophie Neveu be seeking accountability from your department? Will this cost Captain Fache his job?”
Lieutenant Collet's smile was tired but calm. “It is my experience that Captain Bezu Fache seldom makes mistakes. I have not yet spoken to him on this matter, but knowing how he operates, I suspect his public manhunt for Agent Neveu and Mr. Langdon was part of a ruse to lure out the real killer.”
The reporters exchanged surprised looks.
Collet continued. “Whether or not Mr. Langdon and Agent Neveu were willing participants in the sting, I do not know. Captain Fache tends to keep his more creative methods to himself. All I can confirm at this point is that the captain has successfully arrested the man responsible, and that Mr. Langdon and Agent Neveu are both innocent and safe.”
Fache had a faint smile on his lips as he turned back to Aringarosa. “A good man, that Collet.”
Several moments passed. Finally, Fache ran his hand over his forehead, slicking back his hair as he gazed down at Aringarosa. “My Lord, before I return to Paris, there is one final matter I'd like to discuss—your impromptu flight to London. You bribed a pilot to change course. In doing so, you broke a number of international laws.”
Aringarosa slumped. “I was desperate.”
“Yes. As was the pilot when my men interrogated him.” Fache reached in his pocket and produced a purple amethyst ring with a familiar hand-tooled mitre-crozier applique.
Aringarosa felt tears welling as he accepted the ring and slipped it back on his finger. “You've been so kind.” He held out his hand and clasped Fache's. “Thank you.”
Fache waved off the gesture, walking to the window and gazing out at the city, his thoughts obviously far away. When he turned, there was an uncertainty about him. “My Lord, where do you go from here?”
Aringarosa had been asked the exact same question as he left Castel Gandolfo the night before. “I suspect my path is as uncertain as yours.”
“Yes.” Fache paused. “I suspect I will be retiring early.”
Aringarosa smiled. “A little faith can do wonders, Captain. A little faith.”