TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her knitting -- for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?"

"What, a'ready? How much have you done?"

"It's all done, aunt."

"Tom, don't lie to me -- I can't bear it."

"I ain't, aunt; it is all done."

Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said:

"Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you."

She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut.

Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble.

Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not condescend to fight in person -- that being better suited to the still smaller fry -- but sat together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone.

As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden -- a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done.

He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd  boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she disappeared.

The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a minute -- only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart -- or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway.

He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions.

All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said:

"Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it."

"Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you."

Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl -- a sort of glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried out:

"Hold on, now, what 'er you belting me for? -- Sid broke it!"

Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only said:

"Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough."

Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign -- a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other.

He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness.

About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die -- out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus she would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down?

The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains!

The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom.

Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye.

Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission

 汤姆来到波莉姨妈面前，她正坐在宽敞舒适的后面房间的一个敞开的窗户旁边。这间房
既是卧室、餐厅，又是图书馆。夏日芳香的空气，令人困倦的幽静，醉人的花香，还有催你
入眠的嗡嗡的蜜蜂叫声，都已产生了效应，她拿着针织物在那儿打盹——因为除了只猫没有
伴儿，而那猫又在她膝上睡着了。为了不打碎眼镜，她把它架在灰白的头顶上。她原以为汤
姆早就溜去玩了，现在见他居然听了她的话，毫不害怕地站在她面前，不免有些诧异。他问：
    “我现在可以去玩了吗？姨妈。”
    “怎么，想去玩了？你刷了多少了？”
    “姨妈，都刷好了。”
    “汤姆，不要再跟我撒谎了——我受不了。”
    “没有啊，姨妈，墙的确刷好了。”
    波莉姨妈对他的话不太相信。她要亲自去看一看。只要汤姆讲的话有百分之二十是真
的，她也就心满意足了。当她发现整个墙都已刷过了，不仅刷了而且是刷了一遍又一遍，甚
至连地上还抹了一块，她惊讶得无法形容。她说：
    “哎，真是怪事！简直叫人不可思议！汤姆，只要你想干的时候，你是挺能干的。”然
后又补了一句，这一句可冲淡了刚才的表扬。“我不得不说，你想干的时候实在是太少了。
好了，去玩吧，不过，别忘了到了该回来时就得回家，否则我会捶你一顿。”
    她为汤姆所取得的成绩而喜出望外，于是，她把他领到贮藏室，选了一个又大又好的苹
果递给了他。同时还教导他，如果别人对自己的款待是靠自己努力得来的，而不是靠什么不
道德的手段谋取的，那就格外有价值，有意味。在她背了《圣经》中的一句妙语格言作结束
语时，汤姆顺手牵羊偷了一块油炸面圈。
    然后，他就一蹦一跳地跑出来，正好看见希德在爬通向二楼后面房间的楼梯。地上的泥
块顺手可得，于是汤姆捡起泥块朝希德扔过去。这些土块像冰雹似的，在希德周围满天飞
舞。波莉姨妈还没有来得及静一静她那吃惊的神经，赶紧跑过来解围，这时候，已经有六七
块泥土打中了希德，而汤姆早已翻过栅栏逃之夭夭。栅栏上有大门，可是像平常一样汤姆急
着要出去，没有时间从门那里走。希德让波莉姨妈注意到他的黑线，让他吃了苦头，受了
罚，现在他已经对希德出了气，摆平了这件事，因此他心里觉得好受多了。
    汤姆绕过那一排房子，来到靠着他姨妈牛圈后面的一条泥泞巷子里。他很快就完全地溜
到抓不到也罚不着他的地方，匆忙赶到村里那块公共场地。在那里，两支由孩子们组成的
“军队”按事先的约定已集合起来，准备打仗。汤姆是其中一支部队的将军，他的知心好友
乔·哈帕则是另一支队伍的统帅，这两位总指挥不屑于亲自战斗——那更适合手下的军官战
士去打——而他们却在一个凸出的高地方坐在一块，让他们的随从副官去发号施令，指挥打
仗。经过一番长时间的艰苦奋战，汤姆的部队取得了辉煌的胜利。接着就是双方清点死亡人
数，交换战俘，谈妥下次交战条件，还约定好作战日期。一切结束之后，双方部队先列好队
形，然后开拔，而汤姆也就独自回家了。
    他走过杰夫·撒切尔家住的房子的时候，看见有一个新来的女孩子站在花园里——一个
漂亮可爱的蓝眼睛的小姑娘。金黄色的头发梳成两只长长的发辫，身上穿着白色的夏季上装
和宽松的长裤。这位刚戴上胜利花冠的战斗英雄一枪没打就束手投降了。一个叫艾美·劳伦
斯的姑娘立刻从他的心目中消失了而且不留一点痕迹，他原以为他爱她爱得发狂，而且他把
自己这种爱当作深情的爱慕，不过旁人看来那不过是一种可怜渺小、变幻无常的爱恋罢了。
为了获取她的欢心，他费了好几个月的工夫，可她答应他还不到一个星期。他只是在短短的
七天内当了一次世界上最幸福、最自豪的男孩子。可现在片刻之间，她就像一位拜访完毕，
告辞离去的稀客一般，从他心里离去了，消失了，被他忘得一干二净。
    他爱慕这位新来的天使并偷眼望她，直到看到她发现他为止。然后，他装着她好像不在
的样子，开始用各种各样可笑的孩子气的方法来炫耀自己，为的是赢得她的好感。他傻乎乎
地耍弄一阵子，然后一面做惊险的体操动作，一面眼往旁边瞟了一下，见那小姑娘正朝房子
走去。汤姆走到栅栏那儿，靠在栅栏上伤心，希望她再多留一阵子。她在台阶上稍作停留，
然后又朝门口走去。当她抬脚上门槛时，汤姆长叹了一声。即刻他脸上又露出喜色，因为她
在进去之前，向栅栏外面扔了一朵三色紫罗兰花。
    汤姆跑过去停在离花一两英尺的地方，然后用手罩在眼睛上方朝街上看去，仿佛发现那
边正发生了什么有趣的事情。随后他拎起一根草杆放在鼻子上，头尽量往后仰着，极力保持
着那草杆的平衡。于是，他吃力地左右移动着身体，慢慢地侧身朝那朵三色紫罗兰挪过去。
最后，他的光脚落在花上，用灵巧的脚趾头抓住了它，于是，他拿着他心爱的东西，在转弯
处消失得无影无踪了。他很快就把那花别在他上衣里面贴近他心脏的地方——也许是贴近他
的胃部，因为他不太懂解剖学，好在他也无所谓。
    他不久又回到了老地方，在栅栏附近逛来逛去，还像原先那样耍着花样，炫耀着自己，
直到天黑。虽然汤姆用一种希望安慰自己，希望她一定在窗子附近，并且已经注意到他的这
番殷勤，但是，她再也没露面。后来他终于极不情愿地朝家走去，他那可怜的脑瓜子里充满
了各种各样的幻想。
    整个吃晚饭期间，他始终情绪高昂。他姨妈不禁感到有些纳闷：“不知这孩子怎么回
事。”为了拿泥块砸希德的事，他挨了一顿臭骂，不过，对此他满不在乎。他当着姨妈的面
偷糖吃，结果被她用指关节敲了一顿。他说：
    “姨妈，希德拿糖吃，您怎么不打他呀。”
    “噢，希德可不像你这样磨人。要不是我看得紧，你恨不得钻到糖堆里不出来。”
    过了一会，她走到厨房去了；希德因为得到了特权，非常高兴，伸手去拿糖罐——这是
故意对汤姆表示得意的一种举动，令汤姆非常难受。可是，希德手一滑，糖罐子掉到地上摔
碎了。汤姆简直高兴得要命。但他闭着嘴，一言不发。他心里想他还是什么不说为好，就这
么静静地坐着，等他姨妈进来，问这是谁闯的祸，那时他再说出来。看那个模范“宠儿”吃
苦头，那真是最大快人心的事。当老太太走进来，站在那儿望着地上的破碎的罐子，从眼镜
上面放射出愤怒的火花，他真是高兴到了极点，几乎按捺不住了。他暗自想：“有好戏看
了！”可是想不到自己反倒被打翻在地上！那只有力的巴掌举起来正要再打他时，汤姆忍不
住大声叫起来：
    “住手啊，你凭什么这么狠打我？——是希德打碎了糖罐！”
    波莉姨妈住了手，愣了一会儿，汤姆指望她会讲些好话哄他。可是，她开口只说了这么
几句：
    “唉！我觉得你挨这下子也不屈。刚才，我不在的时候，说不定你又干了些别的胆大妄
为的淘气事。”
    然后她就受到了良心的谴责，非常想讲几句爱抚体贴的话，可是她断定这么一来，就会
被认为她是在认错，这可是规矩所不容的。于是，她一声不吭，忙这忙那，可心乱如麻。汤
姆坐在角落处生着气，心里越想越难受，他知道在姨妈心里，她正向他求得谅解，也就因为
有这种感觉，虽然闷闷不乐但仍感到满足。他不肯挂出求和的信号，对别的表示也不去理
睬。他知道有两道渴望的目光透过泪帘不时地落在他身上，可是他偏不肯表示他已经看出
来。他想象着自己躺在那儿病了，快要不行了，他姨妈俯身弯腰看着他，恳求他讲一两句饶
恕她的话，可是他转过脸去冲着墙，没说原谅她就死去了。啊，那时她会觉得怎么样呢？他
又想象着自己淹死了，被人从河里救起抬回家来，头上的小卷发都湿透了，他那伤透了的心
得到了安息。她会多么伤心地扑到他身上，眼泪雨点般地落下来，嘴里不住地祈求上帝把她
的孩子还给她，保证将永远、永远不再虐待他了！但是，他却躺在那里浑身冰凉，脸色惨
白，毫无动静——一个可怜的人，一个受苦受难的人，终于结束了一切烦恼。他越想就越伤
心。后来，为了嗓子不哽塞住，只好把泪水往肚子里咽。他的眼睛被泪水蒙住了，只要眼睛
一眨，泪水就会淌出来，顺着鼻尖往下掉。他从这种悲伤中获得了无限的安慰和快意，所以
这时如果有什么庸俗的愉快或者什么无聊的欢乐来搅乱他的心境的话，他是绝不能忍受的。
因为他这种快慰非常圣洁，不该遭到玷污。所以，一会儿之后当他的表姐玛丽手舞足蹈地跑
进来的时候，他马上就避开了她。她到乡下去作客，只住了一星期，仿佛时隔三秋似的，她
现在又看到自己的家，真是高兴极了。但是，当她唱着歌欢快地从一扇门走进来的时候，汤
姆却站起身来乘着阴云暗影从另一扇门溜出去了。
    他避开平常孩子们经常玩耍出没的地方，专找适合他此时心情的僻静地方。河里的一条
木筏吸引了他，于是，他就在木筏的最外边坐下来，凝视着那单调、茫茫一片的河水，同时
又希望自己不经过老天安排的那番痛苦的过程，就一下子不知不觉地淹死。接着，他又想起
了他的花，他把花拿出来，那花已经揉皱了，枯萎了，这更大大增加他凄凉而又幸福的情
调。他不知道，要是她了解此事，她会不会同情他，她会哭吗？会希望有权抱住他的脖子安
慰他吗？还是，她会不会像这个空洞乏味的世界一样，冷漠地掉头不管呢？这种想象给他带
来一种苦中有甜的感受，于是，他在脑海里一遍又一遍地重复着这种幻想，反复地多角度地
想象着，直到索然无味为止。最后，他终于叹息着站起来，在黑暗中离去。
    大约在９点半或１０点左右，他沿着那条没有行人的大街走着，来到那位他“爱慕的不
知姓名的人”住的地方。他停下来，竖起耳朵听了一会儿，却什么声音都没有听到。二楼窗
户的帘子上映出昏暗的烛光。那位圣洁的人儿在那儿吗？他爬过栅栏，穿过花草，悄悄地一
直走到窗户下面才站住。他抬起头来，充满深情地望着窗子，看了很久。然后他在窗下仰卧
在地上，双手合在胸前，捧着那朵可怜的、已经枯萎了的花。他情愿就这样死去——在这冷
酷无情的世界上，当死神降临的时候，他这无家可归的人儿头上没有一丝遮盖，没有亲友的
手来抹去他额上临死的汗珠，也没有慈爱的面孔贴近他来表示惋惜。就这样，当她早晨心情
愉快地推开窗户，向外看时，一定会看见他的。哦！她会不会对他那可怜的、没有气息的身
体落下哪怕是一小滴的泪珠呢？看见一位前途无量的年轻的生命这样无情地被摧残，这样过
早地夭折，她会轻微地长叹一声吗？
    窗帘卷了起来，一个女仆的说话声打破了那圣洁的寂静，随即就是一股洪水“哗”地一
声泼下来，把这位躺在地上的殉情者的遗体浇得透湿！
    这位被水浇得透不过气来的英雄猛地从地上爬起来，喷了喷鼻子，舒服了些。随后，只
见有个什么东西混杂着一声轻轻的咒骂声，嗖地一声在空中划过，接下来就听到一阵打碎玻
璃的声音，之后，就见一个小小的、模糊的人影翻过栅栏，在朦胧的夜色中箭一般地飞跑了。
    不久以后，汤姆脱光衣服上床睡觉。他正借着蜡烛的光亮检查那被泼得透湿的衣服时，
希德醒了。他原本有点幸灾乐祸的想法，想要“指桑骂槐”地说几句俏皮话，可是他还是改
变了主意，没有出声，因为他看到汤姆眼睛里含有一股杀机。
    汤姆连睡前祷告也没做就上床就睡觉了。希德在心里却记下了汤姆偷了一次懒