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写在前面：我一开始看到标题的时候根本没明白什么意思，它是这样的【If Tom Hadnt Been Noble】，我开始理解成了《如果汤姆不是贵族》。我以为是一个/B的，就先没理会它。等看完了全站其他的短文，我就想到还是看看它吧，结果当看到文中出现了【Becky Thatcher】的时候，我马上想到了一个名著，马克·吐温的作品，《汤姆·索亚历险记》。由于我并没仔细看过它，所以并不能从场景中推测出来它，只有看到人名后，我才想到的。现在我们来介绍点背景知识。
背景知识：《汤姆·索亚历险记》是描述一个调皮的小男孩和他的海盗梦。他有很多朋友，哈克贝利·费恩等等。他们很想成为海盗，他们认为海盗才是很帅的，经过一系列的事件后，他们真的在一个海岛找到了大量的宝藏。这段内容节选自其中一个章节。杜宾斯先生的梦想是成为一名医生，但是人生不得志，他只能当一个乡村教师维持生计。但是他有一本医学书，他相当的爱护，视为珍宝一般，从来都是锁在讲桌里面的，而且不让学生们去翻看。所以学生们很好奇那究竟是一本什么样的书。有这么一次，老师匆忙出去的时候，忘记锁讲桌了。贝基发现了，好奇心的驱使让她打开了这本书，但当翻开第一页地时候，一幅人体穴位图映入了小姑娘的眼帘。裸体的男人形象，使小姑娘羞红了脸。就在这时候，汤姆突然从后面出现了。慌张的小姑娘赶紧合上了书，匆忙间撕坏了插图。然后就是接下来发生的一幕了。不过，原著里面在老师质问贝基的时候，汤姆挺身而出，承认书是自己撕毁的，然后挨了老师的鞭笞。
BTW：马克·吐温的幽默讽刺风格我是相当喜欢的，而篡改名著的事我更喜欢，所以就为大家献上了此篇。
“托马斯·索亚！”老师瞪着这个男生，威胁地吼道。“你撕破了我的医学书？”
“不是我，杜宾斯老师，”汤姆【汤姆=托马斯】答道。
教室里鸦雀无声，静的连根针掉到地上都能听见。寂静在延续，老师在每个人脸上搜寻着愧疚。
“本杰明·罗杰斯，书是你撕的吗？”
一个否定的答复。老师顿了一会儿。
“约瑟夫·哈帕，是你干的？”
又一个否定的答复。老师不急不忙地问着，汤姆开始感到不安。他偷偷地看向贝基·撒切尔，他已经不记得刚和她吵完架，只记得她撕破书的那一幕。她那金黄色的头发梳成两只长长的发辫，系着鲜艳的头带，配着褶边花格的连衣裙。在她的脸上，已找不到平时那红润的坦率，而只剩下苍白的麻木。她的眼睛死盯着书桌，在薄衫下，她耸着的双肩在述说着畏惧。汤姆好似看到了，她就是一只正在被猎枪指着的无助的兔子。他想，他应该做点什么，无论什么。迟早，杜宾斯老头会问到她——迟早，她表现出来的愧疚感会出卖了她，然后她会得到一次鞭笞，用那个杜宾斯老头的恐怖的桃木教鞭。
老师审视了每一个男生。稍加思索，他就转向了女生。汤姆想冲到贝基旁边，拉住她的手，一起逃出教室。然后他们俩永远离开这里，和汤姆的朋友们一起去当海盗。乔·哈帕和本·罗杰斯【乔=约瑟夫；本=本杰明】，他们都会很愉快的在一起，当然，还有哈克·费恩。贝基带着太阳帽站在汤姆的“风暴神”的甲板上，明亮的眼睛焕发着光彩。浪花飞溅在她金黄色的头发上，她微笑地唱着歌曲。这将是多么美妙啊！这是多么伟大的时刻——只有他们两个——海浪的声音在四周环绕，海盗旗在头顶随着微风摇曳，船压过浪花，全速驶向他们作为藏宝地的秘密的小岛。没有父母要他们做的哪些杂物！没有牧师要他们读的哪些经文！没有老师……
“艾美·劳伦斯！这书是你撕的吗？”
她严肃地摇了摇头。
“格雷西·米勒？”
同样也是摇头。
“苏珊·哈帕，是你干的吗？”
又是一个否认。下一个就该问到贝基·撒切尔了。汤姆十分紧张，他意识到情况不妙，吓得他从头到脚全身发抖。
“瑞贝卡·撒切尔【瑞贝卡=贝基】！”（汤姆向她脸上瞟了一眼，见她吓得脸色苍白）——“是你撕……不，看着我的眼睛。”（她承认地举起手来）——“是你撕坏了这本书吗？”
这时，汤姆的脑海里雷电般闪出一个念头。还有机会！他要冲出去喊道，是他撕破这书的！不能再浪费时间了！他将要这么做，将要！但是他没做。然后，唯一的机会跑掉了。现在，贝基的命运已经被决定了。
“瑞贝卡··撒切尔？！？！？！”老师怒吼着。贝基掩面哭了起来。杜宾斯老师的态度转变的比暴风雨来的还要快，他冰冷地瞪视着这个哭得很可怜的女生。“上讲台来，撒切尔小姐！”他用严酷而可怕的声音命令道。贝基哭着走向讲台，恳求地看向正在把教鞭从墙上摘下来的杜宾斯老师。对上了贝基乞求的目光，他仍旧严厉地命令她提起裙子趴到讲桌上。
“哦，原谅我，老师，求你了！”贝基双手合在胸前哭求道。“我不是故意的！这是一个意外！求你了，杜宾斯老师！我以前从未在学校挨过鞭笞！”
“今天你就将会被狠狠地鞭打，撒切尔小姐！”他一边怒斥着，一边慢慢地走向讲台，在手里可怕地弯曲着教鞭。
收回眼泪之后，贝基蹲下双手握住了裙边。就在这一刻，她犹豫了，想到接下来的事，羞愧得脸红了起来。但当听到杜宾斯老师清咳了一声之后，她咬紧牙关，拉起了裙子，然后转向讲桌趴了下去。当她的裙子被蓬松地堆在腰上的时候，男生们窃笑着低声议论，他们直盯着，透过紧裹着的衬裤，呈现出优美线条的她的大腿和臀部。但是，当老师严厉地扫视之后，教室恢复了宁静。
杜宾斯老师还是面向着全班同学，做了个深呼吸，然后伸开右手量了量距离，又换了左手，直到教鞭轻轻地挂在了小女生那颤抖着的光滑亚麻衬裤上。贝基的神经早已因恐惧而绷紧了，当她那稍有保护的小屁股接触到教鞭的那一刻，她紧张地畏缩着并且不自觉地喘息着。
老师一言不发地缩回了他的胳膊，在半空中摇了一圈，然后潇洒地击落在贝基后面的两个小肉丘上。贝基的脸埋在了臂弯中，释放了一个因痛而生的尖叫声后，这声音又很快被淹没在凄惨的哭声中。杜宾斯老师没有继续，他给了她足够的时间来缓解第一鞭过后的疼痛。当每个学生看到这一幕的时候，都倒吸了一口凉气。贝基因疼痛而扭动着、颤抖着。尽管贝基以前真的没在学校受过鞭打，尽管她敬爱的老爸也没惩罚过她，但她对这种棍棒下的教育并不陌生。撒切尔太太，当她认为小瑞贝卡该要惩罚的时候，很乐意把贝基按在腿上，使用一个光滑的柳条鞭打她小女儿的光屁股。但她妈妈并没有，用这么坚硬的教鞭，使这么大的力气，鞭打过她。
汤姆有被杜宾斯老师鞭打过无数次了，他现在太能体会贝基的感受了——好像一块逐渐升温的金属条贴在了她敏感的皮肤上。老师又举起了手臂，然后教鞭又一次嗖地一声击打在了贝基华丽的衬裤上。小女生立刻尖叫了起来，声音急促而尖烈。
汤姆看得都快昏了过去。他的小爱人正在被鞭打，而他却对这一切无能为力。他很自责，后悔为什么刚才没有站出来。他咬牙切齿地看着杜宾斯老头，当那教鞭又一次在空中漫步后飞一样地落在贝基娇嫩的小屁股上的时候，他身体绷得更紧了，抓着桌子的手咔咔作响。接连着又是一声喊叫，那悲伤的哭泣声，让汤姆的心都碎了。透过她那薄薄的紧绷着的衬裤，能很清晰的看到一下下过后的鞭痕印在那里，横穿过小女生的两半屁股。汤姆在默默地祷告上帝让这一切尽快地结束吧，可惜杜宾斯老头只是停了一会儿，就又一次甩动他的胳膊平稳地击出了这一鞭。
嗖！教鞭划过空气。啪！教鞭击落在贝基的屁股上，微微地震了回来，这柔软的小屁股跟随着教鞭的击打而抖动着。汤姆向万能的主祈祷着，如果贝基能脱离苦海，他愿意戒掉烟，不再骂人和打架，只要上帝能施舍这小小的恩惠。杜宾斯老师坚持着无情地表演，用一个傲慢的眼神打量着这个尖叫的小女生。汤姆屏住呼吸，心都快从嗓子眼里跳了出来，他等待着，等待着上帝之手来阻止老师之手。随着一个轻蔑的哼声，杜宾斯老师抽回他的手臂，然后准确迅速地使劲抽打在贝基那被衬裤紧紧包裹着的小屁股。
当再一次听到贝基疼痛的嚎叫，汤姆心里恨恨地骂着那没用的上帝。如果是寡妇道格拉斯或者是他波莉姨妈的祷告，上帝也许会听的，但是汤姆这个坏小子的罪行累累，他的承诺在天国是不会被重视的。
挥舞着佩剑，泰然地站在他那海盗船的甲板上，海盗船长汤姆·索亚，这西班牙海上的复仇者，高昂着头带着轻蔑的微笑。佩剑连连刺向脸色苍白的老师，逼退着他上了搭板。在老师颤抖着的脚下，巨大凶猛的鲨鱼正在海面上盘旋着。它们咬动着尖利的牙齿，无情地注视着上面的午餐。在汤姆的所有忠实的船员的哄闹和喝彩声中，贝基站在最高的船舳上，平静地记录着她最厌恶的人的这一刻。已经到了搭板的末端了，胆小的老师吓得不停地乞求汤姆原谅他。他一直厚颜无耻地道歉说，他不应该在学校鞭打她，不应该冒犯瑞贝卡·撒切尔小姐的尊严。（他强调道，他甚至连给她舔鞋都不配。）然后他一直赌咒发誓道，如果汤姆可以饶他一命，他愿意用自己的余生来当牛做马来补偿对她照成的伤害。“闭嘴，你这狗东西！”汤姆打断了他的话。“我很乐意让你成为鲨鱼的午餐！葬身海底吧！！！”说完这些话，汤姆提剑猛刺了过去。随着来势退了一步，然后伸臂格挡，现在他站在了搭板的边缘摇摇欲坠。然后随着一声胆怯地尖叫，他跳入了大海，然后……
啪！教鞭在一次落在了贝基可爱的衬裤上，疼痛使她哭号着。趴在老师讲台桌上的贝基，现在是尽情地哭泣着、喊叫着、喘息着，每一鞭落下时，都赶走了一部分他的镇定和尊严。相等狠地一鞭过后，她的腿弯曲了一下。汤姆很担心，怕她突然跪坐在了地板上，而使杜宾斯老头更加愤怒，以至于她要挨上更多的鞭笞。“坚强点，贝基！”汤姆祈祷着。“你可以挺过来的！”他不停地在心里默默鼓励她，希望她能鼓起勇气挺过来。杜宾斯老师也看到了这些，他十分生气地考虑着，这是不是他的学生的公然的挑衅，不愿意继续完成这次惩罚。紧张的一瞬间过后，贝基扒住了讲桌的后边缘，慢慢地把身体拉回了原位。
老师脸色有些缓和，这一幕好像勾起了他心中一丝的仁慈。然而，他还是凝着眉、咬着牙，抬起了教鞭，给了那哭得可怜的贝基的满是鞭痕并且肿胀着的屁股一下轻抽。一道疼痛突然流过全身，一声近乎绝望地尖叫过后，她尽力地收缩着屁股上的肌肉来缓解这一下所带来的疼痛。杜宾斯老师一边甩着教鞭，一边观察了一会儿这个痛苦的小女生。然后，汤姆欣慰地看到杜宾斯老头把教鞭挂了回去。贝基依旧趴在那里，以那个姿势晃动着她的小屁股，不停地哭喊着。透过她那薄薄的衬裤，能清楚地看到七条伤痕交叉地印在那里，贯穿了她红肿的屁股。
几分钟过后，当贝基的哭声稍缓，老师扶过她的双肩来，让她面向全班同学站着。尽管她低着头，汤姆仍就看到了她哭得红肿的双眼，和凌乱的头发挂在满是泪痕的脸颊上。杜宾斯老师紧握着她的胳膊，强迫她在全班同学面前站上一会，让大家知道行为不端的下场。贝基抽泣着，用另一只手轻轻地揉着屁股，想尽量让这被狠狠地鞭打了一顿的屁股从疼痛中缓解出来。
最后，老师放开了握住贝基的手，让她回到座位上。她仍旧呜咽着，慢慢地蹭向她的座位，害羞地避开全班同学盯视的目光，垂着头来掩盖她满是泪痕地面颊。贝基小心翼翼地尝试坐下来，当她那满是鞭痕且疼痛的屁股挨上凳子的时候，她激灵了一下。不理会周围的同学发出的窃笑和非议声，她笔直地坐在那里，抄起粉笔和石板，等待着下午的课开讲。
"Thomas Sawyer!" thundered the schoolmaster, fixing the boy with a menacing glare, "did you tear my medical book?!"
"No, Mr. Dobbins," replied Tom.
There was not a sound. One could have heard an aphid sneeze. The stillness continued; the schoolmaster searched face after face for signs of guilt.
"Benjamin Rogers," did you tear this book?"
A denial. Another pause.
"Joseph Harper, did you?"
Another denial. Toms uneasiness grew under the slow torture of these proceedings. When he stole a glance across the room at Becky Thatcher, the sight of her tore at his heart, making him forget all about the quarrel theyd had earlier that afternoon. Her soft golden-yellow hair was plaited into two long pigtails, each tied with a gay satin bow which matched her frilly gingham dress. But her normally rosy open-faced countenance was now pale and expressionless, her eyes stared fixedly at her benchtop, her small shoulders hunched with dread beneath her summer frock. Tom had once seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did – with a gun leveled at its head. He wished there were something, anything he could do. It was only a matter of time before Mr. Dobbins asked Becky the same portentous question — only a matter of time before the guilt in her eyes betrayed her, condemning her to a thrashing with Mr. Dobbins dreaded hickory switch!
The schoolmaster scanned the ranks of boys — considered awhile, then turned to the girls. Tom imagined himself leaping to his feet, rushing to Beckys side, seizing the frightened girl by her pretty little hand, and fleeing together from the one room schoolhouse. The two of them would run away forever and Tom and his friends would support her by being pirates! Joe Harper and Ben Rogers could join the jolly crew, and Huck Finn, of course. And oh, what a pretty sight Becky would be, standing on the forecastle of Toms ship, the "Spirit of the Storm," with her sunbonnet pulled back, bright blue eyes alight, a smile on her face and a song on her lips as the wind and salt spray tossed her golden tresses. How grand it would be to hold hands — just the two of them — surrounded by the sounds of the surf, the Jolly Roger rippling in the breeze overhead, the creak of timbers underfoot, the crashing of the ship through the salty swells under full sail towards their secret island and their buried treasure. No parents to make them do chores! No ministers to make them squirm through interminable sermons! No school masters to-
"Amy Lawrence!" Did you tear this book?"
A solemn shake of her head.
"Gracie Miller?"
The same sign.
"Susan Harper, did you do this?"
Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation.
"Rebecca Thatcher!" [Tom glanced at her face — it was white with terror] — "did you tear — no, look at me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] — "did you tear this book?!"
A thought shot like lightning through Toms brain. There was still a chance! He would leap to his feet and shout that he had torn it! There was no time to lose! He would do it, he would! Yet his limbs did not obey — his words lay stifled in his throat. The moment passed. The noble opportunity slipped away. Now Beckys fate was sealed.
"REBECCA THATCHER?!?!?!" thundered the schoolmaster. Instead of answering, Becky covered her face and burst into tears. Like a stormcloud, Mr. Dobbins mien darkened as he regarded the wretched tearful child with an icy stare. "GO TO THE FRONT OF THE CLASS, MISS THATCHER!" he commanded, in a voice both grim and terrible. Weeping, Becky obeyed, looking beseechingly at Mr. Dobbins as he walked to the wall and took hold of the supple switch from its peg. Turning to face Beckys imploring eyes, he sternly ordered her to lift her skirts and bend across his desk.
"Oh spare me, Sir, I beg of you!" cried Becky, clasping her hands to her bossum. "I meant no harm! It was an accident! Please, Mr. Dobbins! Ive never been whipped before in school!"
"You shall be well whipped today, Miss Thatcher!" snapped the schoolmaster, striding slowly to the side of his desk, grimly flexing the rod as he spoke.
Swallowing back tears, Becky knelt, and in each hand, gathered the full skirt of her frock and the two lace-trimmed petticoats beneath. For just a moment, she hesitated, still kneeling, her face reddening with shame at what she knew she must now do. But when Mr. Dobbins cleared his throat ominously, she bit her lip, and, with a rustling armload of skirts on either side, hoisted them all above her waist as she turned her back to the class and bent down across the desk. Titters and murmurs ran through the boys side of the room as the pupils gazed at Beckys knee length white embroidered pantalettes stretched snugly across her shapely thighs and buttocks, all framed by the fluffy heap of her skirts. But a stern glance from the schoolmaster silenced the room in an instant.
Still facing the class, Mr. Dobbins took a deep brea
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th, let it out, and then measured his distance by extending his right arm, switch in hand, until the rod lightly rested on the seat of the trembling little girls sheer linen undergarment. Becky, her body already bowstring tense from anxiety, flinched and gasped involuntarily at the touch of that terrible, limber switch against her thinly clad fundaments.
Without a word, the schoolmaster drew back his arm across his chest and swung the switch swiftly and smartly to strike with a sharp snap across both mounds of Beckys trembling posterior. Becky, her face buried in her arms, let out a shrill squeal of pain which quickly dissolved into miserable tears. Mr. Dobbins paused, giving his first stroke ample time to smart, while each student watched wide eyed, holding his or her breath, and Becky squirmed, shuddered and sobbed from the sting. Although Becky had indeed never before been whipped at school, and although her adoring father never punished her, Becky was no stranger to the discipline of the rod. Mrs. Thatcher, when she deemed Mistress Rebecca deserving, was not averse to turning Becky across her knee and applying, to the bare skin her daughters upturned bottom, vigorous strokes with a light willow switch cut from the tree in the front yard of the Thatchers stately home. But never had Mama thrashed Becky with a switch quite so stout, or with an arm nearly so strong!
Tom, who had been flogged by Mr. Dobbins on countless occasions, knew all too well how Becky felt at that moment: as if a searing strip of glowing hot metal were pressing against her sensitive skin. Again, the master drew back his arm, and again the slender rod swished through the air to strike the seat of Beckys dainty pantalettes. The little girl shrieked at first, then her voice cracked as she broke into heaving sobs of redoubled urgency.
Tom thought he might swoon as he watched this painful spectacle unfold. His beloved was being whipped, and to his shame, he was powerless to protect her. Silently he upbraided himself; why hadnt he spoken up when there was still a chance? Tom gritted his teeth, gripped the edges of his desk with his hands and braced himself as Mr. Dobbins slowly drew back the switch and laid yet another backhanded cut across the soft summits of Beckys bottom. Again she let out a cry of anguish followed by heartrending, weeping sobs. Through the thin, taut fabric of her undergarment, the raised ridge of a welt from the first lash of the rod could be clearly seen across both cheeks of the poor little girls burning buttocks, and the weal from the second stroke was beginning to rise as well. The master paused, then drew back his arm once more, poised to inflict another stroke, while tom inwardly prayed that it would be the last.
Swish! went the stick through the air. Snap! came the report as it rebounded off Beckys backside, the soft flesh of her buttocks shuddering from the impact. Tom made a last impassioned mental plea to the Almighty to end Beckys ordeal now, promising he never again chew tobacco or use cuss words or cut up during Sunday school if only God would grant this boon. Mr. Dobbins stood impassively, regarding the bawling little girl with a haughty eye. Tom held his breath, his heart pounding in his ears, as he waited for the Hand of the Lord to stay the hand of the schoolmaster. With a disdainful sniff, Mr. Dobbins drew back his arm and, with swift, punitive precision, lashed the two oval prominences of Beckys bottom as severely as before.
Its no use, thought Tom bitterly, as Becky howled with pain and his prayer went unanswered. Perhaps if the Widow Douglas or his Aunt Polly or someone like that were praying, God would listen; clearly the petition of a sinner such as himself carried no weight in the Court of Heaven.
Brandishing his cutlass, and poised on the gunwale of his jolly ship, Pirate Captain Thomas Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main, threw back his head and let out a scornful laugh. Jabbing with his sword he forced the ashenfaced schoolmaster to walk the plank one step further. Below the trembling teachers feet, the sea churned with enormous, famished sharks. Their gnashing saw-toothed jaws and gazed upwards with pitiless, dark eyes at their next meal. Perched on the poopdeck, Becky stood, noting impassively the final moments of her tormentor, while Toms loyal crew hooted and cheered him on. Now only an inch from the end of the plank, the cowardly schoolmaster turned and for the hundredth time, begged Tom to spare him. For the hundredth time, he apologized abjectly for having offended the dignity of Miss Rebecca Thatcher, (whose shoes, he emphasized, he was unfit even to lick), by whipping her at school. For the hundredth time he vowed to devote the remainder of his years to atoning, in every way possible, for the outrage he had inflicted upon her person, if only Tom would let him live to accomplish this task. "Avast, ye swab!" cried Tom, cutting him off in mid sentence, "Ye shall be food for the fishies, me hearty! Welcome to Davy Jones Locker!!!" With those words, Tom lunged with his cutlass, causing the man to flinch backwards in fright. Flailing with his arms, he teetered on the outermost brink of the plank. Then with a last craven scream of terror, he plunged downward into the sea, and-
Snap! went the rod once again across the seat of Beckys pretty pantalettes, as she cried out bitterly from the sting. Stretched across the schoolmasters desk, Becky was wailing and crying as hard as she could by now, gasping for breath between each wail, every trace of dignity and composure gone. After that last awful tick of the switch, her legs appeared to have weakened and Tom feared that she might slump to her knees on the floor, an act which would provoke the schoolmasters fury and earn her still further stripes. Be strong, Becky! thought Tom, you can do it! as he strained to send her mental encouragement, willing her to find the strength to endure. Mr. Dobbins brow knit grimly as he watched to see if his young charge would indeed defy him by failing to remain in position during punishment. After several tense seconds, Becky gripped the far side of the desk and haltingly pulled herself forward and back into position.
The schoolmasters features relaxed somewhat, as if toying with the idea of mercy. But then his brows knit, he set his jaw, drew back the rod, and gave the wretched, bawling Becky still another hard lick across her swollen, welted seat. A shudder went through her body, and beneath the fabric of her undergarment her thighs and buttocks clenched and unclenched spasmodically as she let out yet another desperate wail of pain. Mr. Dobbins folded his arms and, with a detached air, stood watching the suffering little girl for some time. Then, to Toms immense relief, he turned and restored the switch to its peg on the wall while Becky continued to cry frantically, her slim little body shaking with sobs, still bent across his desk with the skirts of her frock and petticoats still piled up around her middle. Clearly visible through the delicate fabric of her pantalettes, seven straight switch marks crisscrossed the rounded surfaces of her inflamed bottom.
A minute passed. When Beckys tears began to diminish somewhat, the schoolmaster placed his hands on Beckys shoulders and guided her into a standing position facing the class. Though she hung her head, Tom could see that her eyes were red and puffy, and her hair disheveled, with stray golden wisps having come loose from their plaits to lie pasted across her flushed, tear soaked cheeks. Mr. Dobbins held her firmly by one arm, forcing her to stand awhile before her classmates, as an example to all who might consider misbehaving in his classroom. As she sniffed and sobbed, Becky gingerly massaged the seat of her dress with her free hand, trying her best to soothe the throbbing sting of a well whipped bottom cushioned beneath several layers of clothing.
At last, the schoolmaster released his hold on Beckys arm and order her back to her seat. Still weeping softly, she obeyed, making her shamefaced way up the aisle towards her bench, wishing fervently that every eye in the room were not on her. Hanging her head to hide her blushing tear streaked face from her classmates, Becky slowly sat down at her place, wincing as she carefully eased her weight onto her welted, smarting buttocks. Ignoring the glances and whispers of her neighbors, she sat up straight, and with all the dignity she could muster, took up her chalk and slate, and waited for the afternoons lessons to begin.
我觉得罗切斯特打简爱的话会很有爱
园丁 发表于 2010-2-3 14:02
相当赞同，我第一次看到那段的时候，真的以为要写JANE挨打呢，结果跳过去了。
不过"punish her body to save her soul"，真的让我联想了很多。
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