就这样，他白天偷偷地到顶楼上去看木木，到了晚上，就和她一起在阁楼里，而不是在干草棚里睡觉。只有到了深夜，他才带着她出去，在新鲜的空气里散步。
那天，他领着木木走了很久，正打算回去的时候，身后传来一阵沙沙声。木木竖起耳朵，咆哮着，跑到篱笆前，嗅了嗅，接着发出了尖利的吠声。也就在这时，女主人刚刚睡着，突然的狗叫声把她惊醒了，她吓得心怦怦直跳，几乎昏过去了：“又是那只狗，你们听听，那狗还在叫呢。”
管家大吃一惊，他恼羞成怒，立即吩咐把整个院子的人都叫起来，来处理这件事情。
这时，不幸的木木还在继续叫着，盖拉辛一直叫她离开，可她就是不听。盖拉辛回过头，看见屋里有灯光和人影晃动，感到出了大事，大祸临头了。于是他抱起木木跑到顶楼上，把自己和木木反锁在屋里。
在通往盖拉辛顶楼的狭窄楼梯上，坐着一个守卫，门口还有两个，手中拿着棍子。他们用拳头砸门，并叫嚷道：“开门！”
突然，门开了，盖拉辛站在那里，一动不动地望着他们。管家开始用手解释说是女主人坚持要把那狗弄走，叫哑巴立刻把狗交出来，否则他就要倒霉。盖拉辛用手指了指小狗，用手比画着，在自己的脖子上绕了一圈，好像是把一根绳索勒紧似的。这是声明他愿意自己担负处死木木的任务。
“好吧，行，”管家一面看，一面点着头，“也就这样吧。”
盖拉辛轻蔑地笑了笑，又拍了拍胸膛，然后“砰”地一声把门关上了。木木一直都在他身边站着，天真地摇着尾巴，露出一种询问的表情。
过了一个钟头，盖拉辛出来了，他穿上了最好的衣服，用一根绳子牵着木木。院子里所有的人，都默默地看着他。
盖拉辛带着木木，走进了一个小饭馆，要了一份带肉的菜汤，支着胳膊在桌子跟前坐下。木木在他的椅子旁边站着，用她那双机灵的眼睛，默默地望着自己的主人。她身上的毛是光溜溜的，谁都能看出，盖拉辛刚给她梳过。他捏了一点面包放在汤里，把肉弄碎，然后将盘子放在地上。
木木还是用她往常的那种姿势开始吃东西，她的嘴刚好只挨到食物。盖拉辛深情地望着她，望了很久，突然，他的眼泪滑落下来，一颗掉在木木的额头上，一颗掉在汤里，他痛苦地用手挡住了脸。
盖拉辛仍用绳子牵着木木，不慌不忙地走着。在半路上，他捡了两块砖头挟在腋下。
盖辛拉沿着河边走着，然后在两只绑在树桩的船前停了下来，他带着木木跳到一条船上，然后就开始拼命地划，一会儿就划出了几百米远，将莫斯科远远地甩在了后边。
他丢下桨，低头去靠近木木，木木也面对着他，坐在一块横板上。
最后，盖拉辛站了起来，脸上露出一种痛苦而愤怒的神色，将两块砖用绳子拴上，又打了一个活结，套在木木的脖子上，然后抱起木木，举到河面上，最后望了她一眼。木木信任地望着自己最亲近的主人，不但没有畏惧，还轻轻地摇着尾巴。
他把脸转过去，痛苦地皱着眉头，放开了手……
他既听不见木木掉入水中时那短促的惨叫，也听不见河水溅起的声音，对于他，所有的一切都是寂静无声的。
当他把眼睛睁开时，只见小小的浪花在河面上奔腾，碰在船弦上，飞溅开来，只有在船后面很远的地方，才有一个大圆圈，快速地向岸边扩散。
监视盖拉辛的园丁跑回家，向管家报告了所看到的一切。“他果然把她淹死了，太好了，现在可以放心了。”管家说。
深夜，一个高大的人影，背上扛着一个包袱，手里拿着一根棍子，匆匆往城外走去，他就是哑巴盖拉辛。
他义无反顾地，急急忙忙地走着，走向家的方向，走向自己的村庄，自己的祖国。
他挺起胸膛迈着大步，一双眼睛忧怨地注视着前方……
tremble [' trembl] v. 战栗；颤抖
The whole house trembled when the helicopter fly by.
直升机飞过时，整座房子都在震颤。
choke [tuk] v. 窒息；阻塞
The pudding may choke a dog.
布丁可能会把狗噎死。
sufficient [s' fint] adj. 足够的；充分的
Allow sufficient time for your child to get up.
给孩子足够的时间让他们起床。
abruptly [' brptli] adv. 突然地
The bus stopped abruptly, nearly tipping me out of my bunk.
巴士突然停住，我差点儿从座位上摔下来。
他回到自己住的顶楼，把小狗放在床上，用自己的厚大衣把她盖好。
这只小狗和盖拉辛结下了不解之缘，彼此相依为命，形影不离。
他既听不见木木掉入水中时那短促的惨叫，也听不见河水溅起的声音。
She was in high spirits; she laughed and made jokes.
in high spirits：喜气洋洋（兴高采烈）
Then Stepan, seizing his chance, suddenly pounced on her, like a kite on a chicken.
pounce on：突然袭击（扑向）
父亲与狗的温情故事
The Old Man and the Dog
佚名 / Anonymous
Saying goodbye to Meg was the hardest thing I' ve ever done. She' d been part of my life for so long, always there when I needed her.
Throughout the last fifteen years, she' d been my closest friend, sharing my joy and sadness.
She' d seen me marry and divorce, have two children, lose my mother and nurse my father through a long illness. So much in one lifetime.
We buried her in her favourite corner of the garden, beneath the flowering cherry tree. Matthew made a little cross out of wood and Laura carefully printed her name in red crayon.
Friends are always full of good advice at times like that. Get another dog is one of the favourites—but you can' t replace a friend like that.
My father had been left almost helpless after a stroke. I' d nursed him back to health, but I was beginning to feel that we' d taken a step backwards.
A month after Meg' s passing, I took a tray into the garden for Dad. He liked to sit on the bench in the sunshine.
"Tea and biscuits, Dad." I said cheerfully.
He turned away, startled, but not before I' d seen the tear on his cheek.
"What a lovely day," I burbled, giving him time to compose himself.
"Yes Jill," he said at last. "It' s beautiful."
"Try to eat something, Dad."
He sighed and looked up at the sky.
"The children will be home from school soon." I smiled. "Then you' ll have a fight on your hands if you want a biscuit."
He chuckled softly and I had to swallow the lump which had risen in my throat.
"I love you, Dad." I rested my hand on his shoulder. "Please, don' t give up. "
"I don' t know what you mean." He shrugged.
"Yes, you do. You' ve fought every inch of the way, you were winning, too, but lately, it' s as if you' ve just given up."
He heaved a sigh and picked up a biscuit, nibbling at it before grinning at me.
Dad' s decline puzzled the doctor, too.
"I' m sorry. There' s nothing physically wrong with your father, apart from what' s left over from the stroke. And mentally, well, I really don' t think there' s anything to worry about there."
The doctor was right. Dad' s blood tests came back clear, and further tests showed nothing wrong. He should have been continuing to get better—but he wasn' t.
I tried all kinds of new meals to tempt his failing appetite. I ever persuaded him to come for a drive in the car, but as soon as we got home, he' d sink back into apathy and I' d think, I' m losing him again.
What made it so much harder to bear was the fact that I remembered him so well as a young man. He' d been so full of energy and life, carrying me on his shoulders, chasing me around the park and catching me up in his arms.
He' s set off for a walk and always, always, I' d run out of the house behind him. He' d had such a zest for life that it broke my heart to see him now, sitting out in the garden, a blanket over his knees, gazing miserably into space.
When he first came to live with us after the stroke, he' d been bed-ridden. I smiled as I remembered how Meg had finally got him up.
Dear Meg. She' d brought in a stick from the garden and trotted straight upstairs with it!
I followed her, wondering what on earth she was up to. She deposited the stick on Dad' s bed, then stepped back, wagging her tail like mad.
Dad lifted his head from the pillow.
"What' s this?"
She barked ever so softly and nudged the stick with her nose.
"For me?" Dad chuckled, reaching for it, but Meg was too quick and snatched the stick back.
It turned into a game. Every time Dad tried to touch her stick, she whipped it away. At last, she dropped it on the floor. This time, Meg let him pick it up.
"Jill!" Dad shouted. "Jill!"
