Smiley's People汉译9，整合1
已经翻译的三段，合起来稍微修改了一下Two seemingly unconnected events heralded the summons of Mr. George Smiley from his dubious retirement. The first had for its background Paris, and for a season the boiling month of August, when Parisians by tradition abandon their city to the scalding sunshine and the bus-loads of packaged tourists.
表面看来没有联系的两起事件，却预示本已退休，但似退非退的乔治·斯迈利先生将被重新征召出山。第一起事件发生的地点在巴黎，时间是酷热的八月。这时候，按照传统，巴黎人都离开了，将城市留给灼热的阳光和一车车的背包客。
On one of these August days—the fourth, and at twelve o’clock exactly, for a church clock was chiming and a factory bell had just preceded it—in a quartier once celebrated for its large population of the poorer Russian émigrés, a stocky woman of about fifty, carrying a shopping bag, emerged from the darkness of an old warehouse and set off, full of her usual energy and purpose, along the pavement to the bus-stop. The street was grey and narrow, and shuttered, with a couple of small hôtels de passe and a lot of cats. It was a place, for some reason, of peculiar quiet. The warehouse, since it handled perishable goods, had remained open during the holidays. The heat, fouled by exhaust fumes and unwashed by the slightest breeze, rose at her like the heat from a lift-shaft, but her Slavic features registered no complaint. She was neither dressed nor built for exertion on a hot day, being in stature very short indeed, and fat, so that she had to roll a little in order to get along. Her black dress, of ecclesiastical severity, possessed neither a waist nor any other relief except for a dash of white lace at the neck and a large metal cross, well fingered but of no intrinsic value, at the bosom. Her cracked shoes, which in walking tended outwards at the points, set a stern tattoo rattling between the shuttered houses. Her shabby bag, full since early morning, gave her a slight starboard list and told clearly that she was used to burdens. There was also fun in her, however. Her grey hair was gathered in a bun behind her, but there remained one sprightly forelock that flopped over her brow to the rhythm of her waddle. A hardy humour lit her brown eyes. Her mouth, set above a fighter’s chin, seemed ready, given half a reason, to smile at any time.
就在这八月的一天，四号中午，工厂刚打过下工铃，教堂的钟就紧接着敲响了，刚好十二点整，在巴黎的一个区（这个区一度因为有大量贫困的苏联流亡者而出名），一位大约五十上下的矮胖妇女，拎着购物袋，从一家阴暗的旧货栈出来，沿着人行道，和往常一样径直向公交车站走去。这条街上有几家不大的情侣酒店和许多猫，街道灰暗狭窄，两旁门窗紧闭。不知道为什么，这地方出奇地静。这家货栈因为经营易腐货物，假日也开门。这天几乎没有一丝风，热浪夹杂在恶臭的废气中，像电梯井里升上来的热气一样，不受阻碍地向她袭来，但她那张斯拉夫人的脸上却没有抱怨的表情。她的身材和衣着都不适合在大热天用力。她的体型着实又矮又胖，走路时有点摇摇晃晃。穿了一身黑色连衣裙，给人教会那样肃穆的感觉，除了领口处的一圈白色花边和胸前的一枚大大的金属十字架外，没有腰线或其他任何装饰。十字架被反复摩挲过，没有什么价值。脚上一双破鞋子，走路时破损的地方就向外翻出来，边走边发出单调沉重的咔哒咔哒声，好像军队的归营操。那只破旧的购物袋一大早就装得满满的，她身体也因此稍微向右倾斜，显然已习惯了背负重担。总的来说平淡无奇的一个人，不过，有的地方也很有意思。灰白的头发在脑后盘成一个发髻，一缕活泼的刘海搭在额头上，随着摇摆的步伐轻轻晃动。棕色的眼睛闪闪发亮，透着坚毅和幽默。下巴长得像个斗士，但似乎只要有一点点理由，她随时就会微笑。
Reaching her usual bus-stop, she put down her shopping bag and with her right hand massaged her rump just where it met the spine, a gesture she made often these days though it gave her little relief. The high stool in the warehouse where she worked every morning as a checker possessed no back, and increasingly she was resenting the deficiency. “Devil,” she muttered to the offending part. Having rubbed it, she began plying her black elbows behind her like an old town raven preparing to fly. “Devil,” she repeated. Then, suddenly aware of being watched, she wheeled round and peered upward at the heavily built man towering behind her.
到了平日去的公交车站，她放下购物袋，右手揉揉臀部和脊椎相连的地方。这是她近来的习惯动作，尽管没有什么止痛效果。作为货栈的一名验货员，她每天上午坐在高凳子上工作。高凳子没有靠背，对此她越来越有怨气。她揉着酸痛的部位，嘟哝着骂了声“该死的”。揉了一会，把胳膊肘弯到身后挥动几下，黑衣服也随着飘动，活像一只振翅欲飞的老乌鸦。“该死的”,她又骂了声。忽然，她意识到有人在注视着她，于是转过身来，抬头看着那个站在她身后，长得又高又魁梧的男子。
感谢分享，了解一下。
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