V. Charlotte
The night seemed long. Wilbur's stomach was empty and his mind was full. And when your stomach is empty and your mind is full, it's always hard to sleep.
A dozen times during the night Wilbur woke and stared into the blackness, listening to the sounds and trying to figure out what time it was. A barn is never perfectly quiet. Even at midnight there is usually something stirring1.
He heard Templeton gnawing2 a hole in the grain bin. “That crazy rat!” thought Wilbur. “Why does he have to stay up all night, grinding3 his teeth and destroying people's property? Why can't he go to sleep, like any decent4 animal?”
Wilbur yawned and went back to sleep. In his dreams he heard again the voice saying,“I'll be a friend to you. Go to sleep—you'll see me in the morning.”
About half an hour before dawn, Wilbur woke and listened. The barn was dark. The sheep lay still. The goose was quiet. The cows were resting, the horses dozed. Templeton had quit work. Wilbur loved the barn when it was like this—calm and quiet, waiting for light.
Through a small window, a faint gleam appeared. One by one the stars went out. Wilbur could see the goose a few feet away. The sky lightened.
“Oh, beautiful day, it is here at last! Today I shall find my friend.”
Wilbur looked everywhere. He searched his pen thoroughly. He examined the window ledge5, stared up at the ceiling. But he saw nothing new. Finally he decided he would have to speak up.
“Attention, please!” he said in a loud, firm voice. “Will the party who addressed me at bedtime last night kindly make himself or herself known by giving a sign or signal?”
Wilbur paused and listened. All the other animals lifted their heads and stared at him. Wilbur blushed. But he was determined to get in touch with his unknown friend.
The sheep looked at each other in disgust.
“Stop your nonsense6, Wilbur!” said the oldest sheep. “If you have a new friend here, you are probably disturbing his rest. How can you be sure your friend is an early riser?”
“I beg everyone's pardon," whispered Wilbur. "I didn't mean to be objectionable7.”
He lay down meekly8 facing the door. He did not know it, but his friend was very near. And the old sheep was right—the friend was still asleep. Soon Lurvy appeared with slops9 for breakfast. Wilbur rushed out, ate everything in a hurry, and licked the trough10. And then, just as Wilbur was settling down for his morning nap, he heard again the thin voice that had addressed him the night before.
“Salutations11!” said the voice.
Wilbur jumped to his feet. “Salu-what?” he cried.
“Salutations!” said the voice.
“What are they, and where are you?” screamed Wilbur. “Please, please, tell me where you are. And what are salutations?”
“Salutations are greetings,” said the voice. “When I say ‘salutations,’ it's just my fancy way of saying hello or good morning. As for my whereabouts, that's easy. Look up here in the corner of the doorway! Here I am. Look, I'm waving!”
At last Wilbur saw the creature that had spoken to him in such a kindly way. Stretched across the upper part of the doorway was a big spider web, and hanging from the top of the web, head down, was a large grey spider. She had eight legs, and she was waving one of them at Wilbur in friendly greeting. “See me now?” she asked.
“Oh, yes indeed,” said Wilbur. “Yes indeed! How are you? Good morning! Salutations! Very pleased to meet you. What is your name, please? May I have your name?”
“My name,” said the spider,“ is Charlotte.”
“I think you're beautiful,” said Wilbur.
“Well, I am pretty,” replied Charlotte. “There's no denying that. Almost all spiders are rather nice-looking. I wish I could see you, Wilbur, as clearly as you can see me.”
“Why can't you?” asked the pig. “I'm right here.”
“Yes, but I'm near-sighted,” replied Charlotte. “I've always been dreadfully near-sighted. It's good in some ways, not so good in others. Watch me wrap up12 this fly.”
A fly had flown up and blundered into13 Charlotte's web and was tangled14 in the sticky threads. The fly was beating its wings furiously15, trying to break loose and free itself.
“First,” said Charlotte, “ I dive at him.” She plunged headfirst toward the fly. As she dropped, a tiny silken thread unwound16 from her end. “Next, I wrap him up.”She grabbed the fly, threw a few threads around it, and rolled it over and over, wrapping it so that it couldn't move.
Wilbur watched in horror. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, and although he detested flies, he was sorry for this one.
“There!”said Charlotte. “Now I knock him out, so he'll be more comfortable.” She bit the fly. “He can't feel a thing now. He'll make a perfect breakfast for me.”
“You mean you eat flies?” gasped Wilbur.
“Certainly. Flies, bugs, butterflies—anything that is careless enough to get caught in my web. Of course, I don't really eat them. I drink them—drink their blood. I love blood,” said Charlotte, and her pleasant, thin voice grew even thinner and more pleasant.
“Don't say that!” groaned Wilbur. “Please don't say things like that!”
“Why not? It's true, and I have to say what is true. I am not entirely happy about eating flies and bugs, but it's the way I'm made. I just naturally build a web and trap insects. Way back for thousands and thousands of years we spiders have been laying for flies and bugs.”
“It's cruel,” replied Wilbur.
“Well, you can't talk,” said Charlotte. “You have your meals brought to you. Nobody feeds me. I have to get my own living. I live by my wits. I have to be sharp and clever, lest I go hungry. I have to think things out, catch what I can, and take what comes. And furthermore,” said Charlotte, shaking one of her legs, “do you realize that if I didn't catch bugs and eat them, bugs would increase and multiply17 and get so numerous18 that they'd wipe out everything?”
“Really?” said Wilbur. “I wouldn't want that to happen. Perhaps your web is a good thing after all.”
The goose had been listening to this conversation and saying to herself. “There are a lot of things Wilbur doesn't know about life,” she thought. “He's really a very innocent19 little pig. He doesn't even know what's going to happen to him around Christmastime; he has no idea that Mr. Zuckerman and Lurvy are planning to kill him.”
Charlotte stood quietly over the fly, preparing to eat it. Wilbur lay down and closed his eyes. He was tired from his wakeful night and from the excitement of meeting someone for the first time.“Well,” he thought,“I've got a new friend, all right. But what a gamble20 friendship is! Charlotte is fierce21, cruel, scheming22, and bloodthirsty—everything I don't like. How can I learn to like her, even though she is pretty and, of course, clever?”
Wilbur was merely suffering the doubts and fears that often go with finding a new friend. In good time23 he was to discover that he was mistaken about Charlotte. Underneath her rather bold and cruel exterior24, she had a kind heart, and she was to prove loyal and true to the very end25.
第五章 夏洛
这一夜好像特别长。威伯肚子空空的，脑子却装得满满的。当你的肚子空空，可心事重重的时候，总是很难入睡的。
这一夜，威伯醒了很多次。醒了他就拼命朝黑暗中望着，听着动静，想弄明白几点钟了。谷仓从没完全安静的时候，甚至在半夜也总是有响动。
它听到坦普尔顿在粮仓里打洞的声音。“那只疯老鼠！”威伯想，“为什么他整夜在那儿磨牙，破坏人们的财产？为什么他不去睡觉，像任何一只正经的动物那样？”
威伯打了个哈欠，继续睡觉。梦里他又听到了那个声音：“我将成为你的朋友。去睡吧——明早你会看到我。”
大约在天亮前半小时，威伯醒了，开始倾听。谷仓还是黑黑的。绵羊静静地躺着。母鹅也很安静。牛在休息，马在打盹。坦普尔顿也不打洞了。威伯喜欢这时的谷仓——一切都那么静谧、安详，只等天亮。
一缕微光从小窗子里透了进来。星星一颗接一颗地消失了。威伯现在能看清几步远的母鹅了。天亮了。
“噢，美丽的白天，它终于来了！今天我将找到我的朋友。”
威伯四处搜寻。他把窝里查了个遍。他检查了窗台，又望了望天花板。却什么新发现都没有。最后他只好决定喊话了。
“请注意！”他用坚定的口气大声说，“请在昨晚临睡前友好地和我谈话的那位先生或女士给我打一个手势，或者发个信号！”
威伯停下来，听了听。别的动物都抬起头瞪着他。威伯脸红了。但他还是决心找出这位陌生的朋友。
绵羊们互相交流着厌恶的表情。
“别乱叫了，威伯！”最老的绵羊说，“如果你在这里真有个新朋友，你就是在妨碍他休息。你能肯定你的朋友喜欢早起吗？”
“各位，请原谅，”威伯声音低了下来，“我并不想打扰别人。”
他脸朝门乖乖地躺下来。他不知道，其实他的朋友就在附近。老羊说得对——这位朋友还在睡觉。不久鲁维来给威伯送早饭了。威伯冲出去急忙把食物吃光，还把食槽舔了个遍。接下来，就在威伯打算躺下来打个早盹时，他又听见昨夜那个声音。
“敬礼！”那声音说。
威伯跳了起来。“敬——什么？”他问。
“敬礼！”那声音重复道。
“这个词是什么意思，你又在哪儿？”威伯尖叫起来，“求求你，求求你告诉我你在哪儿。什么是敬礼？”
“敬礼是句问候语，”那声音说，“我说‘敬礼’，就等于对你说‘你好’或‘你早’。我喜欢用这种方式表达。至于我在哪儿，那很容易。抬头朝门框上面看！我在这儿。看，我在挥手呢！”
威伯终于找到了如此友善地和自己交谈的动物。门框上方结了一张大蜘蛛网，一只大灰蜘蛛正倒挂在网的高处。她长着八条腿，正用其中的一条腿友好地向威伯致意呢。“现在看见我啦？”她问。
“噢，确实看见了。”威伯说，“确实看见了！你好！早上好！敬礼！很高兴认识你。请问芳名？我可以问你的名字吗？”
“我的名字嘛，”蜘蛛说，“叫夏洛。”
“我觉得你真漂亮。”威伯说。
“谢谢，你说得对！”夏洛回答，“那是毫无疑问的。几乎所有的蜘蛛都长得相当好看。我希望能看清你，威伯，就像你能看清我一样。”
“你为什么看不清我？”小猪问，“我就在这儿呀。”
“是的，不过我近视，”夏洛回答，“我近视得厉害。这对我既有好处，也有坏处。你看我来抓这只苍蝇。”
一只苍蝇飞起来，误撞到夏洛的网上，被粘粘的蜘蛛丝缠住了。苍蝇拼命拍打翅膀，想要挣脱。
“首先，”夏洛说，“我要靠近他。”她头朝下往苍蝇爬去。在她往下荡的时候，一根细丝从她尾部抽了出来。“接着，我要把他捆住。”她抓住苍蝇，吐出几根丝捆住他，丝越绕越密，直到裹得苍蝇一动也不能动。
威伯惊恐地看着这一切。他几乎不敢相信所看到的场面，尽管他也憎恨苍蝇，可还是为这只苍蝇感到难过。
“好了！”夏洛说，“现在我要把他弄晕，好叫他舒服些。”她咬了苍蝇一口。“他现在毫无知觉了，”她说，“他将是我的美味早餐了。”
“你是说你吃苍蝇？”威伯喘了起来。
“当然。苍蝇、小虫、蝴蝶——任何粗心地撞到我网上的东西我都吃。当然，我不是真的吃掉他们。我是喝他们——喝他们的血。我喜欢喝血。”夏洛说。她的声音听起来越来越清脆，越来越快活了。
“别再说下去！”威尔伯呻吟道，“请不要讲这件事儿了！”
“为什么不？这是真的，我说的是真的。虽然我也不愿意吃苍蝇和小虫子，但那是我的生存方式。我生来就会织网捕食昆虫。千百万年前，我们蜘蛛就靠捕食苍蝇和虫子为生了。”
“这很残忍，”威伯回答。
“噢，你不能这么说，”夏洛说，“你有人给你送饭吃。可没人喂我啊。我得自己谋生。我靠自己的本事过活。为了避免挨饿，我只好变得又敏捷又聪明。我不得不想方设法，能捉什么捉什么，来什么捉什么。再说，”夏洛说着，挥起一条腿儿，“你知道如果我不抓小虫子吃，他们就会增多、繁殖，直到多得足以毁灭一切吗？”
“真的？”威尔伯说，“我可不想发生这种事。可能你的网真是个好东西吧。”
一直听着这场对话的母鹅嘎嘎自语：“对于生活，威伯不懂的还多着呢。”她想，“他真是一头天真的小猪。他甚至都不知道圣诞节会发生什么事儿；他根本就不知道，祖克曼先生和鲁维正在密谋杀掉他。”
夏洛在苍蝇上方静静待了一会儿，准备去吃它了。威伯躺下来闭上眼。昨晚没睡好，再加上首次遇到新朋友的激动，使他感到分外疲倦。“好啦，”他想，“我有一个新朋友，真不错。可这是多危险的友谊啊！夏洛凶猛、残忍、狡诈、嗜血——样样我都不喜欢。虽然她是那么可爱，当然，也很聪明，可我怎么能让自己去试着喜欢她呢？”
威伯像那些初交新朋友的人一样，被猜疑和恐惧困扰着。以后他就会发现自己误解了夏洛。在夏洛可怕冷漠的外表下，有着一颗善良的心，以后发生的事情将证明她对朋友的忠诚，每一刻都是如此。
1. stirring adj. 忙碌的，活跃的
stir v. 移动，活动
2. gnaw v. 咬，啃
3. grind v. 磨，碾
4. decent adj. 正派的
5. window ledge 窗台
6. nonsense n. 胡话，废话
7. objectionable adj. 惹人讨厌的
8. meekly adv. 温顺地
9. slop n. （喂猪的）食物
10. trough n. 饲料槽
11. salutation n. 敬礼，打招呼
12. wrap up 缠绕，包围
13. blunder into 慌张撞上
14. tangled adj. 缠成一团的
15. furiously adv. 猛烈地
16. unwind v. 解开，展开
17. multiply v. 繁殖
18. numerous adj. 无数的
19. innocent adj. 天真的，无知的
20. gamble n. 冒险
21. fierce adj. 凶猛的
22. scheming adj. 诡计多端的
23. in good time 不久以后
24. exterior n. 外表
25. to the very end 至死，一直到底