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《女巫的面包》是欧？亨利的另一篇名篇。从艺术手法上看，他善于捕捉生活中令人啼笑皆非而富于哲理的戏剧性场景，用漫画般的笔触勾勒出人物的特点。作品情节的发展较快，在结尾时突然出现一个意料不到的结局，使读者惊愕之余，不能不承认故事合情合理，进而赞叹作者构思的巧妙。他的文字生动活泼，善于利用双关语、讹音、谐音和旧典新意，妙趣横生。他还以准确的细节描写，制造与再现气氛。
这篇小说至少告诉了我们做事情不能抱着一种幻想的态度，必须有充分的事实根据才能得出结论。理性是必须的，抛去理性的感情用事有时只能让我们像脱去了外壳的蜗牛一样，在前进中遍体鳞伤。
Miss Martha Meacham kept the little bakery[1]on the corner（the one where you go up three steps，and the bell tinkles when you open the door）。
Miss Martha was forty，her bank-book showed a credit of two thousand dollars，and she possessed two false teeth and a sympathetic heart.Many people have married whose chances to do so were much inferior to Miss Martha’s.
Two or three times a week a customer came in in whom she began to take an interest.He was a middle-aged man，wearing spectacles and a brown beard trimmed to a careful point.
He spoke English with a strong German accent.His clothes were worn and darned[2]in places，and wrinkled and baggy[3]in others.But he looked neat，and had very good manners.
He always bought two loaves of stale[4]bread.Fresh bread was five cents a loaf.Stale ones were two for five.Never did he call for anything but stale bread.
Once Miss Martha saw a red and brown stain on his fingers.She was sure then that he was an artist and very poor.No doubt he lived in a garret[5]，where he painted pictures and ate stale bread and thought of the good things to eat in Miss Martha’s bakery.
Often when Miss Martha sat down to her chops and light rolls and jam and tea she would sigh，and wish that the gentle-mannered artist might share her tasty meal instead of eating his dry crust in that draughty[6]attic.Miss Martha’s heart，as you have been told，was a sympathetic one.
In order to test her theory as to his occupation，she brought from her room one day a painting that she had bought at a sale，and set it against the shelves behind the bread counter.
It was a Venetian scene.A splendid marble palazzio[7]（so it said on the picture）stood in the foreground-or rather forewater.For the rest there were gondolas[8]（with the lady trailing[9]her hand in the water），clouds，sky，and chiaro-oscuro[10]in plenty.No artist could fail to notice it.
Two days afterward the customer came in.
“Two loafs of stale bread，if you blease.
“You haf here a fine bicture，madame，”he said while she was wrapping up the bread.
“Yes？”says Miss Martha，reveling[11]in her own cunning.“I do so admire art and”（no，it would not do to say“artists”thus early）“and paintings，”she substituted.“You think it is a good picture？”
“Der balance，”said the customer，is not in good drawing.Der bairspective of it is not true.Goot morning，madame.”
He took his bread，bowed，and hurried out.
Yes，he must be an artist.Miss Martha took the picture back to her room.
How gentle and kindly his eyes shone behind his spectacles！What a broad brow he had！To be able to judge perspective at a glance-and to live on stale bread！But genius often has to struggle before it is recognized.
What a thing it would be for art and perspective if genius were backed by two thousand dollars in bank，a bakery，and a sympathetic heart to -But these were day-dreams，Miss Martha.
Often now when he came he would chat for a while across the showcase.He seemed to crave Miss Martha’s cheerful words.
He kept on buying stale bread.Never a cake，never a pie，never one of her delicious Sally Lunns.
She thought he began to look thinner and discouraged.Her heart ached to add something good to eat to his meagre[12]purchase，but her courage failed at the act.She did not dare affront[13]him.She knew the pride of artists.
Miss Martha took to wearing her blue-dotted silk waist behind the counter.In the back room she cooked a mysterious compound of quince[14]seeds and borax[15].Ever so many people use it for the complexion.
One day the customer came in as usual，laid his nickel on the showcase，and called for his stale loaves.While Miss Martha was reaching for them there was a great tooting[16]and clanging，and a fire-engine came lumbering[17]past.
The customer hurried to the door to look，as any one will.Suddenly inspired，Miss Martha seized the opportunity.
On the bottom shelf behind the counter was a pound of fresh butter that the dairyman[18]had left ten minutes before.With a bread knife Miss Martha made a deep slash[19]in each of the stale loaves，inserted[20]a generous quantity of butter，and pressed the loaves tight again.
When the customer turned once more she was tying the paper around them.
When he had gone，after an unusually pleasant little chat，Miss Martha smiled to herself，but not without a slight fluttering[21]of the heart.
Had she been too bold？Would he take offense？But surely not.There was no language of edibles.Butter was no emblem of unmaidenly forwardness.
For a long time that day her mind dwelt on the subject.She imagined the scene when he should discover her little deception.
He would lay down his brushes and palette[22].There would stand his easel[23]with the picture he was painting in which the perspective was beyond criticism.
He would prepare for his luncheon of dry bread and water.He would slice into a loaf-ah！
Miss Martha blushed.Would he think of the hand that placed it there as he ate？Would he-The front door bell jangled viciously.Somebody was coming in，****** a great deal of noise.
Miss Martha hurried to the front.Two men were there.One was a young man smoking a pipe-a man she had never seen before.The other was her artist.
His face was very red，his hat was on the back of his head，his hair was wildly rumpled[24].He clinched[25]his two fists and shook them ferociously at Miss Martha.
“Dummkopf！”he shouted with extreme loudness；and then“Tausendonfer！”or something like it in German.
The young man tried to draw him away.
“I vill not go，”he said angrily，“else I shall told her.”
He made a bass drum of Miss Martha’s counter.
“You haf shpoilt me，”he cried，his blue eyes blazing behind his spectacles.“I vill tell you.You vas von meddingsome old cat！”
Miss Martha leaned weakly against the shelves and laid one hand on herblue-dotted silk waist.The young man took the other by the collar.
“Come on，”he said，“you’ve said enough.”He dragged the angry one out at the door to the sidewalk，and then came back.
“Guess you ought to be told，ma’am，”he said，”what the row is about.That’s Blumberger.He’s an architectural draftsman.I work in the same office with him.
“He’s been working hard for three months drawing a plan for a new city hall.It was a prize competition.He finished inking the lines yesterday.You know，a draftsman always makes his drawing in pencil first.When it’s done he rubs out the pencil lines with handfuls of stale bread crumbs.That’s better than India rubber.
“Blumberger’s been buying the bread here.Well，to-day-well，you know，ma’am，that butter isn’t-well，Blumberger’s plan isn’t good for anything now except to cut up into railroad sandwiches.”
Miss Martha went into the back room.She took off the blue-dotted silk waist and put on the old brown serge[26]she used to wear.Then she poured the quince seed and borax mixture out of the window into the ash can.
欧？亨利
玛莎？米查姆小姐是街角上那家小面包店的老板娘（那种店铺门口有三级台阶，你推门进去时，门上的小铃就会响起来）。
玛莎小姐今年四十岁了，她有两千元的银行存款，两枚假牙和一颗多情的心。结过婚的女人真不少，但同玛莎小姐一比，她们的条件可差得远啦。
有一个顾客每星期来两三次，玛莎小姐逐渐对他产生了好感。他是个中年人，戴眼镜，棕色的胡子修剪得整整齐齐的。
他说英语时带很重的德国口音。他的衣服有的地方磨破了，经过织补，有的地方皱得不成样子。但他的外表仍旧很整洁，礼貌又十分周全。
这个顾客老是买两个陈面包。新鲜面包是五分钱一个，陈面包五分钱却可以买两个。除了陈面包以外，他从来没有买过别的东西。
有一次，玛莎小姐注意到他手指上有一块红褐色的污迹。她立刻断定这位顾客是艺术家，并且非常突出。毫无疑问，他准是住阁楼的人物，他在那里画画，啃啃陈面包，呆想着玛莎小姐面包店里各式各样好吃的东西。
玛莎小姐坐下来吃肉排、面包卷、果酱和喝红茶的时候，常常会好端端地叹起气来，希望那个斯文的艺术家能够分享她的美味的饭菜，不必待在阁楼里啃硬面包。玛莎小姐的心，我早就告诉过你们了，是多情的。
为了证实她对这个顾客的职业猜测得是否正确，她把以前拍买来的一幅绘画从房间里搬到外面，搁在柜台后面的架子上。
那是一幅威尼斯风景。一座壮丽的大理石宫殿（画上这样标明）矗立在画面的前景―或者不如说，前面的水景上。此外，还有几条小平底船（船上有位水手把手伸到水面，带出了一道浪迹），有云彩、苍穹和许多明暗烘托的笔触。艺术家是不可能不注意到的。
两天后，那个顾客来了。
“两个陈面包，劳驾。”
“夫人，你这幅画不错。”她用纸把面包包起来的时候，顾客说道。
“是吗？”玛莎小姐说，她看到自己的计谋得逞了，便大为高兴。“我最爱好艺术和……”（不，这么早就说“艺术家”是不妥的）“和绘画。”她改口说。“你认为这幅画不错吗？”
“宫殿，”顾客说，“画得不太好。透视法用得不真实。再见，夫人。”
他拿起面包，欠了欠身，匆匆走了。
是啊，他准是一个艺术家。玛莎小姐把画搬回房间里。
他眼镜后面的目光是多么温柔和善啊！他的前额有多么宽阔！一眼就可以判断透视法―却靠陈面包过活！不过天才在成名之前，往往要经过一番奋斗。
假如天才有两千元银行存款、一家面包店和一颗多情的心作为后盾，艺术和透视法将能达到多么辉煌的成就啊―但这只是白日梦罢了，玛莎小姐。
最近一个时间他来的时候往往隔着货柜聊一会儿。他似乎渴望着同玛莎小姐的愉快的谈话。
他一直买陈面包。从没有买过蛋糕、馅饼，或是她店里的可口的甜菜点。
她觉得他仿佛瘦了一点，精神也有点颓唐。她很想在他买的寒酸的食物里加上一些好吃的东西，只是鼓不起勇气来。她不敢冒失。她了解艺术家高傲的心理。
玛莎小姐在店堂里的时候，也穿起那件蓝点子的绸背心来了。她在后房熬了一种神秘的温棒子和棚砂的混合物。有许多人用这种汁水美容。
一天，那个顾客又像平时那样来了，把五分镍币往柜台上一放，买他的陈面包。玛莎小姐去拿面包的当儿，外面响起一阵嘈杂的喇叭声和警钟声，一辆救火车隆隆驶过。
顾客跑到门口去张望，遇到这种情况，谁都会这样做的。玛莎小姐突然灵机一动，抓住了这个机会。
柜台后面最低的一格架子里放着一磅新鲜黄油，送牛奶的人拿来还不到十分钟。玛莎小姐用切面包的刀子把两个陈面包都拉了一条深深的口子，各塞进一大片黄油，再把面包按紧。
顾客再进来时，她已经把面包用纸包好了。
他们分外愉快地扯了几句。顾客走了，玛莎小姐情不自禁地微笑起来，可是心头不免有点着慌。
她是不是太大胆了呢？他会不高兴吗？绝对不会的。食物并不代表语言。黄油并不象征有失闺秀身份的冒失行为。
那天，她的心思老是在这件事上打转。她揣摩着他发现这场小骗局时的情景。
他会放下画笔和调色板。画架上支着他正在画的图画，那幅画的透视法一定是无可指摘的。
他会拿起干面包和清水当午饭。他会切开一个面包想到这里，玛莎小姐的脸上泛起了红晕。他吃面包的时候；会不会想到那只把黄油塞在里面的手呢。他会不会前门上的铃铛恼人地响了。有人闹闹嚷嚷地走进来。
玛莎小姐赶到店堂里去。那儿有两个男人。一个是叼着烟斗的年轻人―她以前从没见过，另一个就是她的艺术家。
他的脸涨得通红，帽子推到后脑勺上，头发揉得乱蓬蓬的。他捏紧拳头，狠狠地朝玛莎小姐摇晃。竟然向玛莎小姐摇晃。
“Dummkop！（笨蛋！）”他拉开嗓子嚷道，接着又喊了一声Tausendonfer！（五雷轰顶的！）或者类似的德国话。
年轻的那个竭力想把他拖开。
“我不走，”他怒气冲冲地说，“我非跟她讲个明白不可。”
他擂鼓似地敲着玛莎小姐的柜台。
“你把我给毁啦。”他嚷道，他的蓝眼睛几乎要在镜片后面闪出火来。“我对你说吧。你是个讨厌的老猫！”
玛莎小姐虚弱无力地倚在货架上，一手按着那件蓝点子的绸背心。年轻人抓住同伴的衣领。
“走吧，”他说，“你也骂够啦。”他把那个暴跳如雷的人拖到门外，自己又回来了。
“夫人，我认为应当把这场吵闹的原因告诉你，”他说，“那个人姓布卢姆伯格。他是建筑图样设计师。我和他在一个事务所里工作。
“他在绘制一份新市政厅的平面图，辛辛苦苦地干了三个月。准备参加有奖竞赛。他昨天刚上完墨。你明白，制图员总是先用铅笔打底稿的。上好墨之后，就用面包屑擦去铅笔印。陈面包比擦字橡皮好得多。
“布卢姆伯格一向在你这里买面包。嗯，今天―嗯，你明白，夫人，里面的黄油可不―嗯，布卢姆伯格的图样成了废纸。只能裁开来包三明治啦。”
玛莎小姐走进后房。她脱下蓝点子的绸背心，换上那件穿旧了的棕色哗叽衣服。接着，她把温棒子和硼砂煎汁倒在窗外的垃圾箱里。
作者简介
About the Author
O.Henry：欧亨利，见《带家具出租的房间》。
V
词汇扫雷
ocabulary
1.bakery：面包店，面包房
2.darn：织补
3.baggy：松垂的
4.stale：不新鲜的，味道变坏的
5.garret：阁楼
6.draughty：通风的，漏风的
7.palazzio：宫殿
8.gondola或gondolas：刚朵拉，威尼斯最常见的一种船，身长，两头上翘。
9.trail：（使某物）被拖在后面
10.chiaro-oscuro：一种艺术手法，使明暗调配和谐
11.revel：陶醉，得意
12.meagre：微薄的
13.affront：泰然面对，勇敢地面对
14.quince：温柏
15.borax：硼酸
16.toot：嘟嘟声
17.lumber：隆隆驶过
18.dairyman：奶厂人员，乳品加工者
19.slash：斜线
20.insert：塞进，插进
21.flutter：快速跳动，怦怦乱跳
22.palette：调色板
23.easel：画架
24.rumpled：凌乱的
25.clinch：互相紧紧扭住
26.serge：小方块纹哔叽
小编点评
故事讲的是一个画家总是去一家面包店买陈面包，这家面包店的女服务员觉得他很可怜吃不起好的面包而开始同情他，渐渐地对他产生了好感。后来有一次画家又来买陈面包，女服务员便在陈面包里夹了果酱。她很开心，认为自己做了件很了不起的事。后来画家冲进面包店，指着女服务员的鼻子发疯似地谩骂。不久画家的朋友来向她解释，画家在设计一张很重要的市政厅图纸，陈面包当橡皮用效果很好，而那果酱把他的图纸毁了。
欧？亨利的短篇小说行文简洁流畅，语言幽默风趣，内容蕴涵讽刺意味，结尾往往出人意料，故被称为“欧？亨利式的结尾”。而《女巫的面包》正是一篇比较典型的欧？亨利式小说，面包店女店员的自作多情被作者刻画的入木三分。结尾处“心上人”的暴怒形象更给人留下了深刻印象。他并不是玛莎小姐想象中的艺术家，像其他芸芸众生一样，他只不过是个同样追名逐利的匠人罢了。
