他就象是一種不合情理、然而用起來卻頗著成效的、小型而內(nèi)容豐富的、舍非爾德式的機(jī)巧工具,外表——雖然稍微大些——象是一柄普通的小刀子;可是,那里面不但有大小不同的刀刃,而且還有螺旋鉆,拔瓶塞用的螺絲錐,鑷子,錐子,筆,尺,指甲銼子,山頭錐。因此,如果他那些上司想把木匠當(dāng)螺旋鉆用,他們只消打開他身上的那一個部分,就可以旋緊螺絲,或者如果要把他當(dāng)鑷子用,那只消提起他那兩條腿,就是一把鑷子。
Yet, as previously hinted, this omnitooled, open-and-shut carpenter, was, after all, no mere machine of an automaton. If he did not have a common soul in him, he had a subtle something that somehow anomalously did its duty. What that was, whether essence of quicksilver, or a few drops of hartshorn, there is no telling. But there it was; and there it had abided for now some sixty years or more. And this it was, this same unaccountable, cunning life-principle in him; this it was, that kept him a great part of the time soliloquizing; but only like an unreasoning wheel, which also hummingly soliloquizes; or rather, his body was a sentry-box and this soliloquizer on guard there, and talking all the time to keep himself awake.
然而,如上所述,這個萬能式的、可開可閉的木匠畢竟不完全是一架自動式的機(jī)器。如果說他身上并沒有普通的靈魂,那他可還有一種總在不規(guī)則地起著作用的微妙的東西。然而,那東西究竟是什么,是不是水銀精,還是幾滴鹿茸精,那可說不上來了。可是,一定有些什么東西,而且一定已經(jīng)在他身上居留達(dá)六十多年了。就是這種東西,他身上這種難解而機(jī)靈的生命要素;就是這種東西,這才使他大部分時間都在自言自語;不過,只象是一只不合規(guī)律的輪盤,還在獨(dú)自不停地嗡嗡叫;或者,更正確點(diǎn)說,他的身體就是個崗?fù)?,而這個自言自語者就在那里值班,老在自言自語,使他自己醒著不睡。