麦克道尔神父在室内踱来踱去,默念着祷告词;有时他会嘟哝出声来,接着又深深地抽口粗气。他是个身材魁梧的老神父,满头银发,除了头顶上那块胎红的秃斑。他的耳朵有一只不灵,红润的面孔上交织着许多纤细的红色脉纹。一连听了几个小时的忏悔,他显得疲倦了;在这个教堂里,他比其他神父听的忏悔要多。那些陷入麻烦的少女,那些性情粗野但时有悔悟的青年,都愿意向麦克道尔忏悔,因为没有什么事能使他震惊,使他激动或真正气愤起来,甚至对于那些自认为罪过深重的人,他也和蔼可亲。 Father McDowell paced up and down the room, meditating on the prayer word; sometimes he muttered, then plunged deeply. He was a burly old priest with silver hair, except for the reddish bald spot on his head. There was an unblinking ear in his ears, and many slender red veins interweaved on the rosy faces. He was tired after listening to repentance for a few hours in a row; in this church he was more penitent than the other priests listened to. Those troubled girls, those youthful but contrite young men, are willing to repent to McDowell, for nothing can astonish him, make him agitated or truly angry, even for those who think they are sinful He is also amiable.