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Chapter 19 In which Sophie expresses her feelings with weed-k_哈尔的移动城堡 Howl’s Moving Castle_双语小说



Howl opened the door toward the end of the afternoon and sauntered in, whistling. He seemed to have got over the mandrake root. It did not make Sophie feel any better to find he had not gone to Wales after all. She gave him her very fiercest glare.
“Merciful heavens!” Howl said. “I think that turned me to stone! What’s the matter?”
Sophie only snarled, “What suit are you wearing?”
Howl looked down at his black garments. “Does it matter?”
“Yes!” growled Sophie. “And don’t give me that about being in mourning! Which one is it really?”
Howl shrugged and held up one trailing sleeve as if he were not sure which it was. He stared at it, looking puzzled. The black color of it ran downward from his shoulder into the pointed, hanging tip. His shoulder and the top of his sleeve grew brown, then gray, while the pointed tip turned inkier and inkier, until Howl was wearing a back suit with one blue-and-silver sleeve whose end seemed to have been dipped in tar. “That one,” he said, and let the black spread back up to his shoulder again.
Sophie was somehow more annoyed than ever. She gave a wordless grump of rage.
“Sophie!” Howl said in his most laughing, pleading way.
The dog-man pushed open the yard door and shambled in. He never would let Howl talk to Sophie for long.
Howl stared at it. “You’ve got an Old English sheepdog now,” he said, as if he was glad of the distraction. “Two dogs are going to take a lot of feeding.”
“There’s only one dog,” Sophie said crossly. “He’s under a spell.”
“He is?” said Howl, and he set off toward the dog with a speed that showed he was quite glad to get away from Sophie. This of course was the last thing the dog-man wanted. He backed away. Howl pounced, and caught him by two handfuls of shaggy hair before he could reach the door. “So he is!” he said, and knelt down to look into what could be seen of the sheepdog’s eyes. “Sophie,” he said, “what do you mean by not telling me about this? This dog is a man! And he’s in a terrible state!” Howl whirled round on one knee, still holding the dog. Sophie looked into Howl’s glass-marble glare and realized that Howl was angry now, really angry.
Good. Sophie felt like a fight. “You could have noticed for yourself,” she said, glaring back, daring Howl to do his worst with green slime. “Anyway, the dog didn’t want-”
Howl was too angry to listen. He jumped up and hauled the dog across the tiles. “And so I would have done, if I hadn’t had things on my mind,” he said. “Come on. I want you in front of Calcifer.” The dog braced all four shaggy feet. Howl lugged at it, braced and sliding. “Michael!” he yelled.
There was a particular sound to that yell which brought Michael running.

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