词汇：often

adv. 常常，时常

相关场景

“What are we waiting on?” Lippy asked. “We’re three miles behind already.” Po Campo stood by the water’s edge, looking across the Platte to the south. He was thinking of his dead sons, killed by Blue Duck on the Canadian. He didn’t think often of his sons, but when he did, a feeling of sadness filled him, a feeling so heavy that it was an effort for him to move. Thinking of them in their graves in New Mexico made him feel disloyal, made him feel that he should have shot himself and been buried with them, for was it not the duty of a parent to stay with the children? But he had left, first to go south and kill his faithless wife, and now to the north, while Blue Duck, the killer, still rode free on the llano—unless someone had killed him, which Po Campo doubted. Lippy’s fears about Indians did not move him—the sight of flowing water moved him, stirring feelings in him which, though sad, were deep feelings. They made him want to sing his saddest songs.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Though he had been constantly jealous while she was traveling with Gus, at least she was there. In the evening he would often see her sitting outside the tent. He dreamed about her often—once had even dreamed that she was sleeping near him. In the dream she was so beautiful that he ached when he woke up. That Gus had seen fit to leave her on the Platte made him terribly irritable.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Talk ain’t everything,” she said—words she had often remembered with rue during years when Bob scarcely seemed to utter two words a month.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
It had been one-sided adoration, though, for Gus considered Bob one of the dullest men alive, and often said so. “Why are you marrying that dullard?” he asked her often.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“You ain’t women yet,” Clara said. “I’m the only one around here, and he better spruce up if he wants to keep on my good side.” July soon returned to work, but his demeanor had not greatly improved. He had little humor in him and could not be teased successfully, which was an irritant to Clara. She had always loved to tease and considered it an irony of her life that she was often drawn to men who didn’t recognize teasing even when she was inflicting it on them. Bob had never responded to teasing, or even noticed it, and her powers in that line had slowly rusted from lack of practice. Of course she teased the girls, but it was not the same as having a grown man to work on—she had often felt like pinching Bob for being so stolid. July was no better—in fact, he and Bob were cut from the same mold, a strong but unimaginative mold.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“She ought to have loved him,” Sally said.“Ought don’t count for as much as a gnat, when you’re talking about love,” Clara said. “She didn’t. You seen her. She didn’t even care for Martin. We’ve already given July and Martin more love than that poor woman ever gave them. I don’t say that to condemn her. I know she had her troubles, and I doubt she was often in her right mind. I’m sorry she had no more control of herself to run off from her husband and child and get killed.” She stopped, to let the girls work on the various questions a little. It interested her which they would pick as the main point.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I told you I like him,” Clara said. “I know people ain’t smart and often love those who don’t care for them. Up to a point, I’m tolerant of that. Then past a point, I’m not tolerant of it. I think it’s a sickness to grieve too much for those who never cared a fig for you.” Both of the girls were silent for a time.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Of course you boys are way too sober to be visiting whores,” he said. “You’ve got to beer up a little before you attempt the ladies.” “Why?” Newt asked. Though he knew whores were often to be found in saloons, he wasn’t aware that being drunk was required of their customers.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Don’t like it,” Deets said. “The light’s too thin.” Deets had a faraway look in his eye. It puzzled Call. The man had been cheerful through far harder times. Now Call would often see him sitting on his horse, looking south, across the long miles they had come. At breakfast, sometimes, Call would catch him staring into the fire the way old animals stared before they died—as if looking across into the other place. The look in Deets’s eyes unsettled Call so much that he mentioned it to Augustus. He rode over to the tent oneevening. Gus was sitting on a saddle blanket, barefoot, trimming his corns with a sharp pocketknife. The woman was not in sight, but Call stopped a good distance from the tent so as not to disturb her.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Newt had once seen a Mexican girl who had pulled up her skirt to wade in the Rio Grande. She wore nothing under the skirt. When she noticed he was watching she merely giggled. Often, after that, he had slipped down to the river when nothing much was happening, hoping to see her cross again. But he never had; that one glimpse was all he had to go on when it came to naked women. He had run it through his mind so many times it was hardly useful.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Newt didn’t know it, but Call, too, lived almost constantly with the thought of Jake Spoon. He felt half sick from thinking about it. He couldn’t concentrate on the work at hand, and often if spoken to he wouldn’t respond. He wanted somehow to move time backwards to a point where Jake could have been saved. Many times, in his thoughts, he managed to save Jake, usually by having made him stay with the herd. As the herd approached the Republican, Call’s thoughts were back on the Brazos, where Jake had been allowed to go astray.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Luke, she’s got a fever,” Zwey said.“I ain’t a doctor,” Luke said. “We shouldn’t have left that house.” Zwey bathed her face with water, but it was like putting water on a stove, she was so hot. Zwey didn’t know what to do. A person so hot could die. He had seen much death, and very often it came with fever. He didn’t understand why she had had the baby if it was only going to make her so sick. While he was bathing her face, she sat up straight and looked at him, her eyes wide.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Don’t you wanta get up?” Sally asked. She had more of her father in her than Betsey had, and it bothered her a little to see her mother lazing in bed with the sun up. It seemed to her a little wrong—at least, her father had often complained about it.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
It seemed to her, after a month of it, that she was carrying Bob away with those sheets; he had already lost much weightand every morning seemed a little thinner to her. The large body that had lain beside her so many nights, that had warmed her in the icy nights, that had covered her those many times through the years and given her five children, was dribbling away as offal, and there was nothing she could do about it. The doctors in Ogallala said Bob’s skull was fractured; you couldn’t put a splint on a skull; probably he’d die. And yet he wasn’t dead. Often when she was cleaning him, bathing his soiled loins and thighs with warm water, the stem of life between his legs would raise itself, growing as if a fractured skull meant nothing to it. Clara cried at the sight—what it meant to her was that Bob still hoped for a boy. He couldn’t talk or turn himself, and he would never beat another horse, most likely, but he still wanted a boy. The stem let her know it, night after night, when all she came in to do was clean the stains from a dying body. She would roll Bob on his side and hold him there for a while, for his back and legs were developing terrible bedsores. She was afraid to turn him on his belly for fear he might suffocate, but she would hold him on his side for an hour, sometimes napping as she held him. Then she would roil him back and cover him and go back to her cot, often to lie awake half the night, looking at the prairies, sad beyond tears at the ways of things. There Bob lay, barely alive, his ribs showing more every morning, still wanting a boy. I could do it, she thought—would it save him if I did? I could go through it one more time—the pregnancy, the fear, the sore nipples, the worry—and maybe it would be a boy. Though she had borne five children, she sometimes felt barren, lying on her cot at night. She felt she was ignoring her husband’s last wish—that if she had any generosity she would do it for him. How could she lie night after night and ignore the strange, mute urgings of a dying man, one who had never been anything but kind to her, in his clumsy way. Bob, dying, still wanted her to make a little Bob. Sometimes in the long silent nights she felt she must be going crazy to think about such things, in such a way. And yet she came to dread having to go to him at night; it became as hard as anything she had had to do in her marriage. It was so hard that at times she wished Bob would go on and die, if he couldn’t get well. The truth was, she didn’t want another child, particularly not another boy. Somehow she felt confident she could keep her girls alive—but she lacked that confidence where boys were concerned. She remembered too well the days of icy terror and restless pain as she listened to Jim cough his way to death. She remembered her hatred of, and helplessness before, the fevers that had taken Jeff and Johnny. Not again, she thought—I won’t live that again, even for you, Bob. The memory of the fear that had torn her as her children approached death was the most vivid of her life: she could remember the coughings, the painful breathing. She never wanted to listen helplessly to such again.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Often she lay awake, listening, half expecting Bob to come back to himself and call her. More often what happened was that he fouled himself; and instead of hearing him she would smell him. Even so, she was glad it happened at night so she could change him without the girls seeing.
她经常醒着躺着，听着，一半期待鲍勃会回来给她打电话。更常见的情况是，他犯规了；而不是听到他，她会闻到他的味道。即便如此，她还是很高兴这件事发生在晚上，这样她就可以在女孩们看不见的情况下改变他。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
The winter before she had bought Cholo a buffalo coat, an action which shocked Bob. He had never heard of a married woman buying a Mexican cowboy an expensive coat. Then there was the piano. She had ordered that too, although it cost two hundred dollars and another forty to transport. And yet he had to admit he loved to see his girls sitting at the piano, trying to learn their fingering. And the buffalo coat had saved Cholo’s life when he was trapped in an April blizzard up on the Dismal River, Clara got her way, and her way often turned out to make sense—and yet Bob more and more felt that her way skipped him, somehow. She didn’t neglect him in any way that he could put his finger on, and the girls loved him, but there were many times when he felt left out of the life of his own family. He would never have said that to Clara—he was not good with words, and seldom spoke unless he was spoken to, unless it was about business. Watching his wife, he often felt lonely. Clara seemed to sense it and would usually come and try to be especially nice to him, or to get him laughing at something the girls had done—and yet he still felt lonely, even in their bed.
前一个冬天，她给乔洛买了一件水牛外套，这一举动震惊了鲍勃。他从未听说过一个已婚女人给墨西哥牛仔买昂贵的外套。然后是钢琴。她也订购了，尽管运输费用为200美元和40美元。然而，他不得不承认，他喜欢看到他的女儿们坐在钢琴前，试图学习她们的指法。当乔洛被困在迪马尔河上的四月暴风雪中时，水牛外套救了他的命，克拉拉如愿以偿，她的方式往往被证明是有道理的——然而鲍勃越来越觉得她的方式不知怎么地跳过了他。她没有以任何他能理解的方式忽视他，女孩们也爱他，但很多时候，他觉得自己被排除在自己家庭的生活之外。他永远不会对克拉拉这么说——他不善言辞，除非有人跟他说话，除非是关于生意，否则很少说话。看着妻子，他经常感到孤独。克拉拉似乎感觉到了，通常会来试着对他特别好，或者让他嘲笑女孩们做的事情——但他仍然感到孤独，即使在他们的床上。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
With her, it was different. He had never raised a hand to her, though she provoked him often, and deeply. Perhaps it was because he had never quite believed that she would marry him, or never quite understood why she had. The shadow of Augustus McCrae had hung over their courtship; Bob had never known why she chose him over the famous Ranger, or over any of the other men she could have had. In her day she had been the most sought-after girl in Texas, and yet she had married him, and followed him to the Nebraska plains, and stayed and worked beside him. It was hard country for women, Bob knew that. Women died, went crazy or left. The wife of their nearest neighbor, Maude Jones, had killed herself with a shotgun one morning, leaving a note which merely said, “Can’t stand listening to this wind no more.” Maude had had a husband and four children, but had killed herself anyway. For a time, Clara had taken in the children, until their grandparents in Missouri came for them. Len Jones, Maude’s husband, soon drank himself into poverty. He fell out of his wagon drunk one night and froze to death not two hundred yards from a saloon.
和她在一起，情况就不同了。他从未向她举手，尽管她经常深深地激怒他。也许是因为他从来没有完全相信她会嫁给他，或者从来没有完全理解她为什么会嫁给他。奥古斯特·麦克雷的影子笼罩着他们的求爱；鲍勃从来不知道她为什么选择他而不是著名的游侠，或者她本可以拥有的任何其他男人。在她那个时代，她是得克萨斯州最受欢迎的女孩，但她嫁给了他，跟着他去了内布拉斯加州平原，在他身边呆着工作。鲍勃知道，这对女人来说是个艰难的国家。女人死了，疯了，或者离开了。一天早上，他们最近的邻居莫德·琼斯的妻子用霰弹枪自杀，留下一张纸条，上面只写着：“再也受不了这风了。”莫德有一个丈夫和四个孩子，但还是自杀了。有一段时间，克拉拉收留了孩子们，直到他们在密苏里州的祖父母来接他们。莫德的丈夫伦琼斯很快就喝得酩酊大醉，陷入了贫困。一天晚上，他醉醺醺地从马车上掉下来，在离酒馆不到两百码的地方冻死了。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
And yet he loved the girls in his unspeaking way. His love mostly came out in awkwardness, for their delicacy frightened him. He was continually warning them about their health and trying to keep them wrapped up. Their recklessness almost stopped his heart at times—they were the kind of girls who would run out in the snow barefoot if they chose. He feared for them, and also feared the effect on his wife if one of them should die. Impervious to weather himself, he came to dread the winters for fear winter would take the rest of his family. Yet the girls proved as strong as their mother, whereas the boys had all been weak. It made no sense to Bob, and he was hoping if they could only have another boy, he would turn into the helper he needed.The only hand they had was an old Mexican cowboy named Cholo. The old man was wiry and strong, despite his age, and stayed mainly because of his devotion to Clara. It was Cholo, and not her husband, who taught her to love horses and to understand them. Cholo had pointed out to her at once that her husband would never break the mustang mare; he had urged her to persuade Bob to sell the mare unbroken, or else let her go. Though Bob had been a horse trader all his adult life, he had no real skill with horses. If they disobeyed him, he beat them—Clara had often turned her back in disgust from the sight of her husband beating a horse, for she knew it was his incompetence, not the horse’s, that was to blame for whatever incident had provoked the beating. Bob could not contain his violence when angered by a horse.
然而，他以一种不说话的方式爱着这些女孩。他的爱大多是在尴尬中流露出来的，因为它们的微妙让他害怕。他不断地提醒他们注意自己的健康，并试图让他们保持健康。他们的鲁莽有时几乎让他心跳停止——她们是那种如果愿意，会光着脚在雪地里跑出来的女孩。他为他们担心，也担心如果他们中的一个死了，会对他的妻子产生影响。他对天气毫不知情，开始害怕冬天，因为担心冬天会带走他的家人。然而，事实证明，女孩们和他们的母亲一样强壮，而男孩们都很虚弱。这对鲍勃来说毫无意义，他希望如果他们能再要一个男孩，他就能成为他需要的帮手。他们仅有的一只手是一位名叫乔洛的墨西哥老牛仔。这位老人虽然年纪大了，但又瘦又壮，留下来主要是因为他对克拉拉的忠诚。是乔洛，而不是她的丈夫，教会了她爱马和理解马。乔洛立刻向她指出，她的丈夫永远不会折断那匹野马；他催促她说服鲍勃把母马完好无损地卖掉，否则就放了她。虽然鲍勃成年后一直是一名马贩子，但他对马没有真正的技能。如果他们不服从他，他就会打他们——克拉拉经常因为看到丈夫打马而厌恶地转过身去，因为她知道，无论是什么事件引发了殴打，都是他的无能，而不是马的无能。鲍勃被马激怒时，忍不住大发雷霆。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
He was a large man, over two hundred pounds, and it took all her strength to move him and clean him every day—he had no control over bowels or bladder. Day after day Clara removed the soiled bedclothes, stuffing them in a washtub she filled beforehand from the cistern. She never let the girls see or help her with the operation; she supposed Bob would die in time, and she didn’t want his daughters to feel disgust for him, if she could prevent it. She only sent them in once a day to bathe his face, hoping that the sight of them would bring him out of his state.“Is Daddy going to die?” Betsey often asked. She had been only one when Johnny, her last brother, had died, and had no memories of death, just a great curiosity about it.
他是个大块头，体重超过两百磅，她每天都要用尽全力来移动他和清洁他——他无法控制自己的肠道或膀胱。克拉拉日复一日地脱下脏兮兮的床上用品，把它们塞进她事先从水箱里装满的洗衣盆里。她从不让女孩们看到或帮助她做手术；她以为鲍勃会及时死去，如果她能阻止的话，她不想让他的女儿们对他感到厌恶。她每天只派她们来洗一次他的脸，希望看到她们能让他摆脱这种状态。“爸爸会死吗？”贝茜经常问。当她最后一个哥哥约翰尼去世时，她是唯一一个，对死亡没有记忆，只是对它非常好奇。
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I’ll settle you when I come back, Jasper,” he said. “You’ve provoked me once too often.” “Hell, you better run for the border, then, Jas,” Soupy Jones said. “With a top hand like Dish after you, you won’t stand a chance.” Dish had to mount holding the plate, which was awkward, but no one offered to help.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
When he finally stood up he was indecisive. He didn’t know if he should go in and thank Jennie, or just slip away and continue the search for Elmira. He had an urge to just ride on out into the dark country. He didn’t feel right in a town anymore. The crowds of happy cowboys just made him feel more lonesome somehow. On the plains, with nobody in sight, he wasn’t reminded so often of how cut off he felt.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Yes,” July said. “That’s the Ellie. I was hoping you had news of her. I don’t know where she is.” “Well, she moved to Missouri,” Jennie said. “Then we heard she married a sheriff from Arkansas, but I didn’t put no stock in that kind of rumor. I can’t imagine Ellie staying married to no sheriff.” “She didn’t,” July said. “She run off while I was chasing Jake Spoon, and I got three people killed since I started looking for her.” Jennie looked at the young man more closely. She had noticed right off that he was drunk, but drunks were an everyday sight and she had not looked close. The man seemed very young, which is why she had taken him for a cowboy. They were mostly just boys. But this man didn’t have the look of a cowboy once she looked close. He had a solemn face and sad eyes, the saddest she had looked into for a while. On the basis of the eyes he was an unlikely man for Ellie to have married—Ellie liked her laughs. But then people often did unlikely things.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Let’s get going, cowboy,” she said. “You can’t do nothing sitting there.” “Get going where?” he asked, taken by surprise. No one had ever called him “cowboy” before, but it was a natural mistake. He had taken off his sheriff’s star for a few days—a precaution he often took in a strange town.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Lorena didn’t say anything. She felt so sleepy that she could hardly sit up, and after a moment she leaned against Gus and shut her eyes. He put his arms around her. His arms were warm and the sun on her face was warm. Sleep had pulled at her so much lately that it seemed she was never fully awake, but it didn’t matter so long as Gus was there to talk to her and sleep close beside her. If he was there she could let go and slide into sleep. He didn’t mind. Often she would rest in his arms, while he held forth, talking almost to himself, for she only half heard. Only when she thought of coming to a town did she feel worried. She stayed in her sleeps as long as she could, so as not to have to worry about the towns.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
While he was pondering what his next move might be, a hard-looking crew showed up in the saloon where he was playing. It consisted of three brothers—the Suggs brothers. Dan Suggs was the oldest and most talkative. The younger two, Ed and Roy, were sullen and restless, always watching the doors to see who might be coming in. Dan had no interest in doors, or any apparent concern other than a need to have his whiskey glass filled rather often. All three were scraggly- bearded men.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇