1 The Other Minister

CHAPTER ONE The Other Minister It was nearing midnight and the Prime Minister was sitting alone in his office, reading a long memo that was slipping through his brain without leaving the slightest trace of meaning behind. He was waiting for a call from the president of a fardistant country, and between wondering when the wretched man would telephone, and trying to suppress unpleasant memories of what had been a very long, tiring and difficult week, there was not much space in his head for anything else. The more he attempted to focus on the print on the page before him, the more clearly the Prime Minister could see the gloating face of one of his political opponents. This particular opponent had

快到午夜了，首相一个人坐在办公室里，读着一份长长的备忘录，脑子里一闪而过，一点意义也没有留下。 他在等一个遥远国家的总统打来的电话。他一方面在想这个倒霉的人什么时候会打来电话，一方面又在竭力压抑对这漫长、劳累和艰难的一周的不愉快回忆，因此脑子里没有多少空间去想别的事情。 他越是想把注意力集中在面前那张纸上的字上，首相就越能清楚地看到他的一个政治对手幸灾乐祸的脸。 这个特别的对手

appeared on the news that very day, not only to enumerate all the terrible things that had happened in the last week (as though anyone needed reminding) but also to explain why each and every one of them was the government's fault. The Prime Minister's pulse quickened at the very thought of these accusations, for they were neither fair nor true. How on earth was his government supposed to have stopped that bridge collapsing? It was outrageous for anybody to suggest that they were not spending enough on bridges. The bridge was less than ten years old, and the best experts were at a loss to explain why it had snapped cleanly in two, sending a dozen cars into the watery depths of the river below. And how dared anyone suggest that it was lack of policemen that had resulted in those two very nasty and well-publicised murders? Or that the government should have somehow foreseen the freak hurricane in the West Country that had caused so much damage to both people and property? And was it his fault that one of his Junior Ministers, Herbert Chorley, had chosen this

当天就出现在新闻上，不仅列举了上周发生的所有可怕的事情（好像每个人都需要提醒似的），而且解释了为什么每一件事都是政府的错。 一想到这些指责，首相的脉搏就加快了，因为这些指责既不公平也不真实。 他的政府怎么能阻止那座桥倒塌呢？ 有人说他们在桥梁上的投入不够，这是令人愤慨的。 这座桥建成还不到十年，即使是最优秀的专家也无法解释为什么它突然断成两截，十几辆汽车掉入了下面的河水深处。 怎么会有人敢说，是警察的缺乏导致了那两起非常恶劣、广为人知的谋杀案？ 或者政府应该预见到西部国家的反常飓风造成了如此巨大的人员和财产损失？ 他的一位下级部长赫伯特·乔利选择了这一点，这是他的错吗

week to act so peculiarly that he was now going to be spending a lot more time with his family? 'A grim mood has gripped the country,' the opponent had concluded, barely concealing his own broad grin. And unfortunately, this was perfectly true. The Prime Minister felt it himself; people really did seem more miserable than usual. Even the weather was dismal; all this chilly mist in the middle of July… it wasn't right, it wasn't normal… He turned over the second page of the memo, saw how much longer it went on, and gave it up as a bad job. Stretching his arms above his head he looked around his office mournfully. It was a handsome room, with a fine marble fireplace facing the long sash windows, firmly closed against the unseasonable chill. With a slight shiver, the Prime Minister got up and moved over to the windows, looking out at the thin mist that was pressing itself against the glass. It was then, as he stood with his back to the room, that he heard a soft cough behind him.

现在他要花更多的时间和家人在一起了。 “一种严峻的气氛笼罩着这个国家，”对手总结道，几乎不掩饰自己灿烂的笑容。 不幸的是，这完全是真的。 首相自己也感觉到了。人们看起来确实比平时更痛苦。 就连天气也很阴沉；他把备忘录翻到第二页，看到还没完没了，就觉得这是一件糟糕的工作，于是放弃了。 他把双臂举过头顶，伤心地环顾了一下办公室。 这是一个漂亮的房间，一个精美的大理石壁炉正对着长长的窗扇，窗扇紧闭着，挡住了不合时宜的寒气。 首相微微打了个寒战，站起身来，走到窗前，望着窗外压在玻璃上的薄雾。 就在这时，当他背对着房间站着的时候，他听到身后传来一阵轻微的咳嗽声。

He froze, nose-to-nose with his own scaredlooking reflection in the dark glass. He knew that cough. He had heard it before. He turned, very slowly, to face the empty room. 'Hello?' he said, trying to sound braver than he felt. For a brief moment he allowed himself the impossible hope that nobody would answer him. However, a voice responded at once, a crisp, decisive voice that sounded as though it were reading a prepared statement. It was coming– as the Prime Minister had known at the first cough– from the froglike little man wearing a long silver wig who was depicted in a small and dirty oilpainting in the far corner of the room. 'To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Urgent we meet. Kindly respond immediately. Sincerely, Fudge.' The man in the painting looked enquiringly at the Prime Minister. 'Er,' said the Prime Minister, 'listen… it's not a very good time for me… I'm waiting for a telephone call, you see… from the president of–'

他僵住了，鼻子对着鼻子，在黑暗的镜子里看到了自己惊恐的影子。 他知道那咳嗽。他以前听过。 他慢慢地转过身来，面对空荡荡的房间。 “喂?他说，努力让自己听起来比实际更勇敢。 有那么一瞬间，他让自己抱有不可能的希望，希望没有人会回答他。 然而，立刻有一个声音回应了，一个清脆、果断的声音，听起来像是在宣读一份事先准备好的声明。 这是——正如首相在第一次咳嗽时所知道的——那个戴着长长的银色假发、长得像青蛙的小个子男人发出的声音，他被画在房间远处角落里一幅又小又脏的油画上。 “给麻瓜首相。 我们急着见面。请立即回复。 真诚,软糖。画中的人疑惑地看着首相。 “嗯，”首相说，“听着……现在对我来说不是一个好时机……我在等一个电话，你知道……是某某总统打来的……”

'That can be rearranged,' said the portrait at once. The Prime Minister's heart sank. He had been afraid of that. 'But I really was rather hoping to speak–' 'We shall arrange for the president to forget to call. He will telephone tomorrow night instead,' said the little man. 'Kindly respond immediately to Mr Fudge.' 'I… oh… very well,' said the Prime Minister weakly. 'Yes, I'll see Fudge.' He hurried back to his desk, straightening his tie as he went. He had barely resumed his seat, and arranged his face into what he hoped was a relaxed and unfazed expression, when bright green flames burst into life in the empty grate beneath his marble mantelpiece. He watched, trying not to betray a flicker of surprise or alarm, as a portly man appeared within the flames, spinning as fast as a top. Seconds later, he had climbed out on to a rather fine antique rug, brushing ash from the sleeves of his long pinstriped cloak, a lime-green bowler hat in his hand.

“那是可以重新安排的，”画像立刻说。 首相的心一沉。 他一直担心这一点。 “但是我真的很希望能说——”“我们会安排院长忘记来访的。 “他改在明天晚上打电话，”小个子男人说。 “请立即回复福吉先生。“我……哦……很好。”首相虚弱地说。 “好，我去见福吉。”他匆匆回到办公桌前，边走边整理领带。 他刚坐回座位，摆出一副他所希望的轻松、镇定的表情，大理石壁炉下面的空壁炉里就冒出了明亮的绿色火焰。 他看着，尽量不流露出一丝惊讶或惊恐，只见一个胖乎乎的男人出现在火焰中，像陀螺一样飞快地旋转着。 几秒钟后，他爬到一块相当精致的古董地毯上，掸去细条纹斗篷袖子上的灰，手里拿着一顶青绿色的圆顶礼帽。