雙語(yǔ)讀電影 《愛(ài)麗絲夢(mèng)游仙境-1》第15章 :有時(shí)候我會(huì)忘了這一切都是場(chǎng)夢(mèng)

Down in the depths of the Red Queen’s dungeons, the Hatter was slumped on the floor of a cold cell, staring off into space. Mallymkun was trapped inside a large birdcage hanging from the ceiling. She clung to the wiry iron bars and gazed at him, but he was beyond her reach at the moment, both physically and emotionally.
She peered into the cell across the way, where a female bloodhound named Bielle was pacing around her shivering pups, trying desperately to warm them. Mallymkun was fairly certain she recognized her as Bayard’s wife, but Bielle was too upset to stop and talk with the Dormouse long enough to confirm it.
Just then, the clomp of heavy footsteps on the dungeon stairs announced the arrival of Stayne and his Red Knights. Bielle whirled and stared at the approaching guards, although they ignored her and her pups.
“Hatter!” barked the Knave, banging on the bars of the cage. There was no response. The Hatter continued to stare blindly into space.
One of the Knights reached through the bars and prodded the Hatter with his truncheon. When there was still no response, the Knight offered, “He’s gone off the deep end.” This was the usual opinion of the Hatter, so it surprised no one.
“Pity,” said the Knave. He folded his arms and smirked. “It is a bore to behead a madman. No weeping, no begging …” He cast a meaningful look at the dogs in the opposite cage. Bielle hurled herself against the bars, her large brown eyes pleading.
“Why are you keeping us here?” she cried. “We’ve done nothing wrong!”
“Madam, blame your husband,” Stayne said with a snort. “He left you here to rot.”
“You lie!” howled the bloodhound, throwing herself at the bars with new fury and snarling at the Knights. Stayne jumped back out of her reach, and in an instant, the Hatter was up and at the bars, seizing Stayne and pulling him back against the cage. His arm went around Stayne’s neck, and he began to squeeze, choking the life out of him.
There was madness in the Hatter’s eyes, and he clearly felt no pain as Stayne struggled. Finally Stayne staggered free, gasping.
The Knave clawed at his neck, struggling for air, and when he could finally breathe, he pointed at the Hatter with hatred in his eyes. “Your head comes off at dawn! And that one, too!” He jabbed a finger toward the Dormouse.
The Hatter shrugged and spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
“Have a pleasant night,” he sneered, then spun on his heel and led his Knights out of the dungeon.
The unspoken words were clear to the prisoners: It will be your last.
The White Queen escorted Alice out of the castle to the topiary garden. Alice felt restless and worried. As horrible as it was, she wished she were back at the Red Queen’s castle, just so she could know what was happening with the Hatter. Was he still alive? Were they beating him again? What did he think of her escaping and leaving him to suffer whatever punishment the Queen would throw at him?
Guilt tugged at her heart as she rounded a curve in the hedge maze. Just ahead, lit up by the moonlight, she spotted a topiary mushroom, neat curves and edges sliced out of the shrubbery. A telltale plume of smoke was rising from the top.
“Absolem?” Alice asked, walking up to it.
The large blue Caterpillar raised his head from his hookah and peered at her. “Who are you?” he asked through a cloud of smoke.
Alice nearly smiled. “I thought we’d settled this. I’m Alice … but not that one.”
“How do you know?” Absolem asked serenely. He blew smoke in her face and she coughed, waving it away.
“You said so yourself,” she pointed out.
“I said you were Not Hardly Alice,” he corrected her. “But you’re much more her now. In fact, you’re Almost Alice.”
“Even so,” said Alice, shaking her head, “I couldn’t slay the Jabberwocky if my life depended on it.”
“It will,” the Caterpillar said matter-of-factly.
“So I suggest you keep the Vorpal Sword on hand when the Frabjous Day arrives.”
Fed up and curious, Alice reached out and poked the Caterpillar’s jiggly blue belly. His eyes nearly popped out with surprise.
“No touching!” he yelped. “There’s no touching!”
“You seem so real,” Alice said thoughtfully. “Sometimes I forget that this is all a dream.”
The Caterpillar blew smoke in her face again, as if he thought that was the only appropriate response to such a remark.
“Will you stop doing that!” Alice protested, waving the smoke away. Absolem began to chuckle, sending ripples of mirth along his entire round body. She could still hear him chuckling as the smoke enveloped him, hiding him from view, and she turned to walk back into the night.
Back in the Red Queen’s dungeon, the Hatter was dusting off his hat and trying to get his sad clothes to perk up. He didn’t want to go to his execution looking like a disheveled mess.
“I’ve always admired that hat,” purred a smooth voice from outside the bars.
The Hatter looked up and saw the Cheshire Cat lounging against the stone wall. His eyes narrowed. “Hello, Chess.”
The Cat’s tail whisked back and forth. He stroked one of his long whiskers and studied the Hatter’s efforts to rehabilitate his outfit. “Since you won’t be needing it anymore,” he said after a moment, “would you consider bequeathing it to me?”
The Hatter touched his beloved hat and raised his chin with dignity. “How dare you! It is a formal execution. I want to look my best, you know.”
The Cheshire Cat fell silent for another minute. Finally he sighed. “It’s a pity about all this. I was looking forward to seeing you Futterwacken.”
“I was rather good at it, was I not?” said the Hatter ruefully.
The Cheshire Cat’s feline eyes glowed intently. “I really do love that hat,” he purred. “I would wear it to all the finest occasions.”
His eyes met the Hatter’s, and they stared at each other for a long, thoughtful moment.
Hours later, the Hatter and the Dormouse, their heads bowed in resignation, were marched out of the cell and down the long walk to the executioner’s platform. A crowd was gathered in the outside courtyard to watch them pass, including the White Rabbit and the Tweedles, who stared at the prisoners with glum faces. The Queen watched from a high balcony, ignoring the misery on the faces of the crowd.
“I love a morning execution. Don’t you?” the Queen said.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the courtiers responded all together.
The Hatter stepped forward first, pushing the Dormouse behind him. The burly executioner loomed over them both, his face hidden by the usual thick executioner’s mask. The Hatter rested his head on the beheading stone. The executioner reached for the Hatter’s tophat, and the Hatter leaned away from him.
“I’d like to keep it on,” he mumbled.
The executioner shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said. “As long as I can get at your neck.” The executioner moved the hat’s ribbons away from the Hatter’s neck.
“I’m right behind you,” the Dormouse squeaked bravely.
“Off with his head!” the Red Queen bellowed.
The White Rabbit covered his eyes. “I can’t watch,” he moaned.
The executioner raised his sword high into the air. The morning sun gleamed off the sharp edge. A frightened hush fell over the crowd, and in the silence they could all hear the zip of the sword as it flashed down, followed by a CLANG as it hit the stone where the Hatter’s neck had been.
Everyone gasped, including the Queen and Stayne.
The Hatter’s head …
… had disappeared.

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