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on slipped away； trying to touch what was no longer tangible； struggling unhappily； undespairingly； toward that lost voice across the room。 这种表情过去以后、他激动地对黛西说开了，矢口否认一切，又为了没有人提出的罪名替自己辩护。但是他说得越多，她就越显得疏远，结果他只好不说了，唯有那死去的梦随着下午的消逝在继续奋斗，拼命想接触那不再摸得着的东西，朝着屋子那边那个失去的声音痛苦地但并不绝望地挣扎着。
The voice begged again to go。 那个声音又央求要走。
“PLEASE； Tom！ I can’t stand this any more。” 〃求求你，汤姆！我再也受不了啦。〃
Her frightened eyes told that whatever intentions； whatever courage； she had had； were definitely gone。 她惊惶的眼睛显示出来，不管她曾经有过什么意图，有过什么勇气，现在肯定都烟消云散了。
“You two start on home； Daisy；” said Tom。 “In Mr。 Gatsby’s car。” 〃你们两人动身回家，黛西，〃汤姆说，〃坐盖茨比先生的车子。〃
She looked at Tom； alarmed now； but he insisted with magnanimous scorn。 她看着汤姆，大为惊恐，但他故作宽大以示侮蔑，定要她去。
“Go on。 He won’t annoy you。 I think he realizes that his presumptuous little flirtation is over。” 〃走吧。他不会麻烦你的。我想他明白他那狂妄的小小的调情已经完了。〃
They were gone； without a word； snapped out； made accidental； isolated； like ghosts； even from our pity。 他们俩走掉了，一句话也没说，一转眼就消失了，变得无足轻重，孤零零的，像一对鬼影，甚至和我们的怜悯都隔绝了。
After a moment Tom got up and began wrapping the unopened bottle of whiskey in the towel。 过了一会汤姆站了起来，开始用毛巾把那瓶没打开的威士忌包起来。
“Want any of this stuff？ Jordan？ 。 。 。 Nick？” 〃来点儿这玩意吗？乔丹？尼克？〃
I didn’t answer。 我没搭腔。
“Nick？” He asked again。 〃尼克？〃他又问了一声。
“What？” 〃什么？〃
“Want any？” 〃来点儿吗？〃
“No 。 。 。 I just remembered that today’s my birthday。” 〃不要。。。。。。我刚才记起来今天是我的生日。〃
I was thirty。 Before me stretched the portentous； menacing road of a new decade。 我三十岁了。在我面前展现出一条新的十年的凶多吉少、咄咄逼人的道路。
It was seven o’clock when we got into the coupe with him and started for Long Island。 Tom talked incessantly； exulting and laughing； but his voice was as remote from Jordan and me as the foreign clamor on the sidewalk or the tumult of the elevated overhead。 Human sympathy has its limits； and we were content to let all their tragic arguments fade with the city lights behind。 Thirty—the promise of a decade of loneliness； a thinning list of single men to know； a thinning briefcase of enthusiasm； thinning hair。 But there was Jordan beside me； who； unlike Daisy； was too wise ever to carry wellforgotten dreams from age to age。 As we passed over the dark bridge her wan face fell lazily against my coat’s shoulder and the formidable stroke of thirty died away with the reassuring pressure of her hand。 等到我们跟他坐上小轿车动身回长岛时，已经是七点钟了。汤姆一路上话说个不停，得意洋洋，哈哈大笑，但他的声音对乔丹和我就好像人行道上嘈杂的人声和头顶上高架铁路轰隆隆的车声一样遥远、人类的同情心是有限度的，因此我们也乐于让他们那些可悲的争论和身后的城市灯火一道逐渐消失。三十岁…展望十年的孤寂，可交往的单身汉逐渐稀少，热烈的感'清逐渐稀薄，头发逐渐稀疏。但我身边有乔丹，和黛西大不一样，她少年老成，不会把早已忘怀的梦一年又一年还藏在心里。我们驶过黝黑的铁桥时她苍白的脸懒懒地靠在我上衣的肩上，她紧紧握住我的手，驱散了三十岁生日的巨大冲击。
So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight。 于是我们在稍微凉快一点的暮色中向死亡驶去。
The young Greek； Michaelis； who ran the coffee joint beside the ashheaps was the principal witness at the inquest。 He had slept through the heat until after five； when he strolled over to the garage； and found George Wilson sick in his office—really sick； pale as his own pale hair and shaking all over。 Michaelis advised him to go to bed； but Wilson refused； saying that he’d miss a lot of business if he did。 While his neighbor was trying to persuade him a violent racket broke out overhead。 那个年轻的希腊人米切里斯，在灰堆旁边开小咖啡馆的，是验尸时主要的见证人。那个大热大他一觉睡到五点以后才起来，溜到车行去，发觉乔治？威尔逊在他的办公室里病了…真的病了，面色和他本人苍白的头发一样苍白，浑身都在发抖。米切里斯劝他上床去睡觉，但威尔逊不肯，说那样就要错过不少生意。这位邻居正在劝服他的时候，楼上忽然大吵大闹起来。
“I’ve got my wife locked in up there；” explained Wilson calmly。 “She’s going to stay there till the day after tomorrow； and then we’re going to move away。” 〃我把我老婆锁在上面，〃威尔逊平静地解释说，〃她要在那儿一直待到后人，然后我们就搬走。〃
Michaelis was astonished； they had been neighbors for four years； and Wilson had never seemed faintly capable of such a statement。 Generally he was one of these wornout men： when he wasn’t working； he sat on a chair in the doorway and stared at the people and the cars that passed along the road。 When any one spoke to him he invariably laughed in an agreeable； colorless way。 He was his wife’s man and not his own。 米切里斯大吃一惊。他们做了四年邻居，威尔逊从来不像是一个能说出这种话来的人。通常他总是一个筋疲力尽的人：不干活的时候，他就坐在门口一把椅子上，呆呆地望着路上过往的人和车辆。不管谁跟他说话一他总是和和气气、无精打采地笑笑。他听他老婆支使，自己没有一点主张。
So naturally Michaelis tried to find out what had happened； but Wilson wouldn’t say a word—instead he began to throw curious； suspicious glances at his visitor and ask him what he’d been doing at certain times on certain days。 Just as the latter was getting uneasy； some workmen came past the door bound for his restaurant； and Michaelis took the opportunity to get away； intending to e back later。 But he didn’t。 He supposed he forgot to； that’s all。 When he came outside again； a little after seven； he was reminded of the conversation because he heard Mrs。 Wilson’s voice； loud and scolding； downstairs in the garage。 因此，米切里斯很自然地想了解发生了什么事，但威尔逊一个字也不肯说相反地，他却用古怪的、怀疑的目光端详起这位客人来，并且盘问他某些日子某些时间在干什么。正在米切里斯逐渐感到不自在的时候，有几个工人从门口经过，朝他的餐馆走去，他就乘机脱身，打算过一会再回来。但是他并没有再来。他想他大概忘了，并没别的原因。L点过一点他再到外面来，才想起了这番谈话，因为他听见威尔逊太太在破口大骂，就在楼下车行里。
“Beat me！” he heard her cry。 “Throw me down and beat me； you dirty little coward！” 〃你打我！〃他听见她嚷嚷，〃让你推，让你打吧，你这个肮脏没种的鸟东西！〃
A moment later she rushed out into the dusk； waving her hands and shouting—before he could move from his door the business was over。 过了一会她就冲出门来向黄昏中奔去，一面挥手一面叫喊…他还没来得及离开自己的门口，事情就已经发生了。
The “death car。” as the newspapers called it； didn’t stop； it came out of the gathering darkness； wavered tragically for a moment； and then disappeared around the next bend。 Michaelis wasn’t even sure of its color—he told the first policeman that it was light green。 The other car； the one going toward New York； came to rest a hundred yards beyond； and its driver hurried back to where Myrtle Wilson； her life violently extinguished； knelt in the road and mingled her thick dark blood with the dust。 那辆〃凶车〃这是报纸上的提法停都没停车于从苍茫暮色中出现，出事后悲惨地犹疑了片刻，然后在前面一转弯就不见了。马弗罗？米切里斯连车子的颜色都说不准他告诉第一个警察说是浅绿色。另一辆车，开往纽约的那一辆，开到一百码以外停了下来，开车的赶快跑回出事地点，茉特尔？威尔逊在那里跪在公路当中，死于非命，她那发黑的浓血和尘上混合在一起。
Michaelis and this man reached her first； but when they had torn open her shirtwaist； still damp with perspiration； they saw that her left breast was swinging loose like a flap； and there was no need to listen for the heart beneath。 The mouth was wide open and ripped at the corners； as though she had choked a little in giving up the tremendous vitality she had stored so long。 米切里斯和这个人最先赶到她身旁，但等他们把她汗湿的衬衣撕开时，他们看见她左边的乳房已经松松地耷拉着，因此也不用再去听那下面的心脏了。她的嘴大张着，嘴角撕破了一点，仿佛她在放出储存了一辈子的无比旺盛的精力的时候噎了一下。
We saw the three or four automobiles and the crowd when we were still some distance away。 我们离那儿还有一段距离就看见三四辆汽车和一大群人。
“Wreck！” said Tom。 “That’s good。 Wilson’ll have a l