当前位置

： 趣味英语内容详情

《爱丽丝梦游仙境-1》第7章

18次大中小

Even if Alice had not known that they were going to the home of the March Hare, she might have been able to guess who lived in the unusual house they found at the end of a tangled, hidden path. It was not an ordinary house. The roof was thatched with thick brown fur instead of straw or shingles. The long chimneys sticking out the top were shaped like rabbit ears. The doorknob was a soft white tuft of fur—unmistakably a rabbit's tail. Rabbit feet poked up out of the ground in place of a picket fence, and as Alice peered at the house she realized that it was peering right back at her with large pink rabbit eyes where its windows should be.

"Who? What? Where?" the Hare cried, wringing his paws and whipping around so his long ears flapped.

The March Hare was seated around a long table in his front yard, presiding over a tea party with only two other guests.

And from the looks of it, the party had been dragging on for a very long time. The white tablecloth was stained and threadbare, with glimpses of the pale wood underneath peeking through the holes. The chairs stood at lopsided angles, as if waiting for guests who would never come. None of the pieces of the tea set matched; in front of the Hare, a blue willowware cup stood alongside a cracked white saucer and a pale green teapot. The rest of the set was an odd mixture of cracked pots and chipped cups, many of them tipped over next to ancient brown tea stains no one had ever bothered to try cleaning up.

Slumped in one of the chairs was a pale, morose man wearing a ragged, scorched top hat. His threadbare dark velvet coat hung loosely on his thin frame, and his eyes were lined with circles of exhaustion. He was staring blankly into space as Alice and the Cheshire Cat approached.

Alice realized that the third member of the tea party was the Dormouse, who had somehow gotten around ahead of Alice again. The gruesome, bloody eye of the Bandersnatch hung like a trophy at her waist. She scowled when she saw Alice emerge from the trees.

But the man, who was called the Mad Hatter, had another reaction entirely. At the sight of Alice, he bolted upright. His whole being seemed to brighten; even his clothes perked up. Transfixed, he moved toward her, stepping directly up onto and over the table, as that was the shortest route to reach her. Alice shivered a little as he came closer, staring at her intently. There was something in his face that made her anxious for him. She knew she couldn't possibly deserve the delighted look he was giving her.

"It's you," said the Mad Hatter. He reached toward her golden hair, then pulled his hand back before touching her.

"No, it's not," the Dormouse snapped. "McTwisp brought us the wrong Alice."

The Mad Hatter shook his head. "It's absolutely Alice! You're absolutely Alice! I'd know you anywhere. I'd know him anywhere."

This time he did touch her, seizing her hand and pulling her back to the table. He stepped right up onto a chair and led her over the table the way he had come. Alice tried not to step on any teacups as they walked across the tablecloth. On the other side, the Hatter plunked her down in the chair next to his. She fidgeted nervously under his rapt gaze.

"Well, as you can see, we're still having tea," the Hatter explained. "It's all because I was obliged to kill Time waiting for your return. You're terribly late, you know … naughty. Well, anyway."

"Sugar?" asked the March Hare.

"Time became quite offended and stopped altogether," the Hatter continued. "Not a tick ever since."

"Raspberry jam—my favorite," the March Hare interjected.

"Time can be funny in dreams," said Alice.

The Hatter gave her an odd look. "Yes, yes, of course. But now you're back, you see," he hurried on, "and we need to get on to the Frabjous Day!"

He seized the Hare's left paw and the Dormouse seized his right. All three of them raised their clasped hands in the air. "Frabjous Day!"

"Downal wyth Bluddy Behg Hid!" they chanted in unison. Then they all dropped their hands and looked at her expectantly.

"What?" Alice said, confused.

The Cheshire Cat rolled his eyes. He was lounging against the rabbit's-footfence, which occasionally twitched as if it found his presence rather irritating.

"Down with the Bloody Big Head," the cat translated for Alice. "Bloody Big Head being the Red Queen." He glanced around again, checking the trees with narrowed eyes.

"It's a secret language used by us," the Dormouse added. "The Underland Underground Resistance!" With a fierce expression, she raised her fist over her head.

The Cheshire Cat rolled his eyes again and wandered up to the table, sliding into one of the chairs in a graceful, feline way. He picked up a teapot with half its spout broken off and poured some tea into a delicate porcelain cup with faded butterflies painted on it.

"Come, come. We simply must commence with the slaying and such," the Mad Hatter said, leaning forward emphatically. "Therefore, it's high time for Time to forgive and forget! Or forget and forgive, whichever comes first. Or is in any case most convenient. I'm waiting."

As he tugged on one of his ears, the March Hare had a terribly anxious expression. He peered at his pocket watch, tapped its face, and listened to it for a moment. Then, to Alice's surprise, the Hare dunked the watch into his teacup, pulled it out, and listened to it again. Tiny droplets of tea splattered onto the Hare's furry white chest.

He gasped. "It's ticking again!"

"Ooh!" The Hatter squealed.

The Cheshire Cat made a disgusted face and set his teacup down. "All this talk of blood and slaying has put me off my tea."

"Wonderful flavor," said the March Hare.

"The entire world is falling to ruin, and poor Chessur's off his tea," the Mad Hatter said with thinly veiled hostility.

The Cat's tail lashed angrily. "What happened that day was not my fault!"

Suddenly enraged, the Hatter slammed both hands on the table. Cups and teapots went flying, and Alice just avoided getting hot tea spilled all over her skirt. She pushed her chair back from the table, alarmed by the Hatter's vehemence.

"You ran out on them to save your own skin!" the Hatter yelled at the Cat. "You guddler's scuttish pilgar lickering—" His speech disintegrated into wild, furious cursing, although it was all in a language Alice didn't know. "Shukem juggling slunking ur-pals. Bar lom muck egg brimni." But she didn't need to understand it to guess what he was expressing. His rage kept building, and the curses flew faster and faster, as if he couldn't stop himself. The Cheshire Cat slipped around the table and put his paws over Alice's ears.

"HATTER!" the Dormouse shouted.

The Mad Hatter jerked to a stop. He blinked, composing himself, and then sat down and picked up his teacup again. "Thank you," he said. "I'm fine." This elicited a snort from the Cheshire Cat.

"What's wrong with you, Tarrant?" he asked, letting go of Alice's ears and sitting in the chair on the other side of her. "You used to be the life of the party. You used to do the best Futterwacken in all of Witzend."

"Futter … ? What?" Alice echoed.

"Futterwacken," said the March Hare.

"It's a dance," the Dormouse explained impatiently.

"On the Frabjous Day, when the White Queen once again wears the crown," said the Mad Hatter, lifting his chin. "On that day, I shall Futterwacken … vigorously." At that moment, the Hare's house bent over and tapped the Hare on the shoulder. "The Knave!" The March Hare gasped.

"Uh-oh!" cried the Cheshire Cat.

"Urg. The Knave!" the Dormouse added.

The March Hare shouted. "Hide her! Hide her!"

"Good-bye," said the Cheshire Cat, then he immediately vanished into thin air. The Hatter grabbed a small bottle off the table and shoved it into Alice's hands. It looked ominously familiar. "Drink this quickly," he commanded.

"Oh, no," Alice said, remembering the room with the locked doors and the little glass bottle she'd found there. She tried to resist, but the March Hare and the Mad Hatter forced the liquid down her throat. Before she could even shriek in protest, she was six inches tall.

And the indignity wasn't over. The Mad Hatter picked her up and dropped her in the nearest teapot, which luckily was empty of tea. Alice stumbled to her knees on the cold porcelain floor. Her hands scrabbled at the smooth walls curving up on either side of her. The Hatter peeked in the top, and she saw his enormous hand descending with the teapot lid.

"Mind your head," he said, and then the sky disappeared. Alice sat down huffily and crossed her arms. It was dim except for a stream of light from the spout. She could hear their voices outside quite clearly.

Soon Stayne arrived with his two Red Knights, following the bloodhound's nose. The bloodhound headed straight for the table and began sniffing furiously.

"Well," sneered the Knave of Hearts, "if it's not my favorite trio of lunatics."

"Would you like to join us?" asked the Dormouse.

"You're all late for tea!" shouted the March Hare, flinging a teapot at them (fortunately, not the one with Alice in it).

The Knave didn't bother to dodge. The teapot clattered harmlessly onto the path beside him as he surveyed the table with disdain. "We're looking for the girl called Alice."

Inside the teapot, Alice shuddered. She couldn't see Stayne, but she didn't like the sound of him. Why was everyone here so interested in her? And why wouldn't this dream simply end?

"Speaking of the Queen," said the Hatter as if the Knave had said something else, "here's a little song we used to sing in her honor."

All three of them burst into song at the same time, although their tunefulness left a bit to be desired. "Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!" they blared. "How I wonder where you're at!"

Alice buried her head in her hands. These were the people protecting her? What was she supposed to do if the Knave killed them or took them all prisoner? She'd be stuck in a teapot, six inches tall, and no one would ever think to look for her there. One day someone would buy the teapot from a stall in Portobello Road, and wouldn't they be surprised to find her dusty bones inside. Alice felt quite sorry for herself for a moment.

It's just a dream, she remembered. There's nothing to be scared of. It's just a dream.

Back outside, the song abruptly broke off as Stayne grabbed the Hatter around the neck. One Red Knight cracked the March Hare with his weapon, while the other seized a teapot (again, luckily not Alice's) and poured hot tea over the Dormouse's head. The Hare and the Dormouse yelped in pain.

"If you're hiding her, you'll lose your heads," growled the Knave.

"Already lost them," the Hatter said cheerfully, ignoring the thick hands around his neck. "All together now!"

The other two joined in for the rest of the song. "Up above the world you fly, like a tea tray in the sky!" They all started laughing crazily. "Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle!"

The Knave let go of the Hatter's neck and stalked around the table, looking disgusted.

Peering up the spout, Alice saw a large black nose appear. The bloodhound put his paws on the table, sniffing the teapot vigorously. The Hatter glanced at the Knave, who had turned his back for a moment. While the other two kept singing, the Hatter leaned down toward the bloodhound and took a chance.

"Downal wyth Bluddy Behg Hid," he whispered. He gave the teapot a significant look.

The bloodhound stopped dead. His large, sad eyes met the Hatter's haunted ones for a moment. Then the dog dropped to the ground and kept sniffing, pretending to catch a new trail. He hurried off into the woods again.

"Would you like some cream? Would you like a slice of Battenberg? "The March Hare said.

"Follow the bloodhound," snapped the Knave, ignoring him. He lingered suspiciously as the two Red Knights galloped after the hunting dog.

"Sugar? One lump or two?" the Dormouse offered.

"You're all mad," the Knave growled at the caterwauling partygoers.

"Pass the scones please," the Dormouse replied.

The Mad Hatter lifted the lid of Alice's teapot. "Pardon," he said. "One moment."

He produced a pair of milliner's scissors from his pocket and quickly whipped up a miniature ensemble for Alice out of the tea cozy, a doily, and a swatch of her old dress. By now it was far too enormous for her to even drag around after her. The Hatter handed the new outfit down to Alice and closed the lid again to give her some privacy.

A few moments later, there was a tiny knock on the lid. He opened it and let her out. Wearing the remade outfit, Alice had to admit it fit much better and was a lot more comfortable than the dress her mother had insisted on that morning, corset or no corset.

"Ooh. I like it!" the Hatter cooed.

"Good thing the bloodhound is one of us, or you'd be …" the Dormouse said, as she drew her finger across her throat with an ominous noise.

The March Hare was wringing his paws again. "Best take her to the White Queen," he suggested. "She'll be safe there. Spoon …"

The Hatter swept his hat off and put it on the table beside her. "Your carriage, m'lady."

Alice raised her eyebrows. She looked from the Hatter to the hat and back again. "The hat?" she asked.

"Of course. Anyone can go by horse or rail," he said blithely. "But the best way to travel is by hat. Have I made a rhyme?"

Alice climbed up and sat on the hat, trying not to show how nervous this made her. The Dormouse trotted over and sat on the hat, too, shoving Alice aside. "Ooh! I love travelling by hat," she said. But the Hatter was shaking his head.

"Sorry, Mally," he said. "Just Alice, please."

The Dormouse huffed, annoyed, and climbed off again. She glared jealously at Alice as the Hatter swung the hat and Alice up onto his head.

"Fairfarren, all!" the Hatter sang, and started off into the woods.

"Whatcha mean?" wailed the March Hare behind them.

Alice and the Hatter ducked as a teapot hurtled past them. She couldn't help thinking the Knave was right about these three. They were all quite mad.

And yet … she had no one else. Mad or not, it seemed she was stuck with them.

即使爱丽丝不知道他们正要去三月兔的家，她也可能猜到是谁住在这个不同寻常的房子里，房子坐落在一条杂乱隐秘的小径深处。这可不是普通的房子。屋顶盖着一层厚厚的棕色毛皮，而不是稻草或者木瓦。顶部伸出的一只长烟囱就像兔子的耳朵。门把手是一撮柔软的白色软毛——显然这是兔子的尾巴。原本插着尖木桩篱笆的地方冒出了许多兔子腿。爱丽丝盯着这座房子时，她发现房子也用一只粉红色的大大的兔眼盯着她，这双眼睛正好位于房子的窗户上。

“你是谁？想干什么？从哪儿来？”三月兔高声问道，它搓着自己的爪子，紧张地在屋里转来转去，不停地拍打着自己的长耳朵。

三月兔在前院的一张长桌前坐了下来，主持着一场得只有其他两位客人的茶话会。

看样子这场茶话会好像持续了很久很久。白色的桌布沾满污渍、破旧不堪，从破洞中都可以看到底下灰白的木头。椅子歪歪斜斜地摆放着，好像在等待永远也不会到来的客人。没有一套茶具是匹配的；三月兔面前，一个蓝色的印有垂柳图案的陶瓷杯旁边摆放着一个带有裂痕的白色茶托和一个浅绿色茶壶。其他的都是由带着裂痕的茶壶和带着缺口的茶杯拼凑出来的奇奇怪怪的茶具。许多都翻倒在一旁，留下一摊摊年代久远的棕色茶渍，似乎从来没人愿意把它清理干净。

一名面色苍白、神情忧郁的男子瘫坐在一把椅子上，头上戴着一顶破旧的烧焦了的高顶礼帽。那件破破烂烂的黑色天鹅绒外套松垮垮地挂在他瘦削的身体上。眼睛周围布满的黑眼圈表明了他的疲惫。爱丽丝和柴郡猫朝他们走来时，他正两眼发呆。

爱丽丝发现茶话会的第三位成员竟是睡鼠，她不知怎的又赶在了爱丽丝前头出现在这里。将大毛兽恐怖血腥的眼睛像战利品似的挂在她的腰间，看见爱丽丝从树后出现时，她不禁皱了皱眉。

但是这个叫疯帽子的男人，却有着截然不同的反应。一看到爱丽丝，他立马挺起身板，整个人似乎都活跃了起来，就连他的衣服看上去也更精神了。疯帽子一开始有点不知所措，然后直接踩到桌子上踏过去迎接爱丽丝，因为这是迎接爱丽丝的最短路线。当疯帽子慢慢靠近爱丽丝并目不转睛地盯着她时，爱丽丝倒有些害怕。他脸上露出的神情让爱丽丝有点为他担心，爱丽丝知道自己根本不值得疯帽子这般笑脸相迎。

“是你。”疯帽子打着招呼，他伸手想摸摸爱丽丝的金发，却又把手缩了回来。

“不，不是她，”睡鼠厉声说道，“白兔先生带来的是假爱丽丝。”

疯帽子摇摇头坚定地说：“绝对是真爱丽丝！你就是爱丽丝！化成灰我都能认出你，化成灰我都能认出来。”

这次他真的做到了，他拉起爱丽丝的手往回走。疯帽子径直跳上椅子，带着爱丽丝踏过桌子沿原路返回。从桌布上走过时，爱丽丝尽量避免踩到任何一个茶杯。来到桌子的另一端，疯帽子拉着爱丽丝一屁股坐到他旁边的椅子上。他痴迷的目光让爱丽丝坐立不安。

“噢，你都看见了，我们正喝茶呢。”疯帽子说，“因为要等你回来我得打发一下时间。你真是姗姗来迟，知道吗……小淘气，好啦，苦日子总算到头了。”

“要加糖吗？”三月兔问道。

“时间变得让人厌烦，完全停止了，”疯帽子接着说，“就连时针也不再嘀嗒了。”

“覆盆子果酱——我的最爱，”三月兔插了句话。

“梦境中的时间真有趣。”爱丽丝说道。

疯帽子向爱丽丝投去一个古怪的眼神。“是的，是的，那当然，但现在你回来了，”他急切地说道，“让我们一起迎接辉煌之日！”

疯帽子拉着三月兔的左爪，睡鼠拉着疯帽子的右手，他们三个将紧紧握在一起的手举向空中并高呼道：“辉煌之日！”

“打倒血腥大脑袋！”他们齐声呼喊道，然后放下手满怀期待地看着爱丽丝。

“什么？”困惑不解的爱丽丝问道。

柴郡猫骨碌碌地转着眼珠子。他懒洋洋地靠着兔子腿做成的篱笆。篱笆时不时地抽动两下，似乎柴郡猫让它挺不高兴。

“打倒血腥大脑袋，”柴郡猫向爱丽丝解释道，“血腥大脑袋就是红皇后。”他又朝四周扫了一眼，眯着眼睛确认树林里没人监视他们。

“这是我们之间的暗号，”睡鼠补充道，“地下世界的秘密抵抗！”她边说边将拳头高高地举过头顶，露出一副凶狠的表情。

柴郡猫又转了转眼珠，慢悠悠地来到桌边，以猫特有的优雅姿态悄悄溜到一把椅子上。他拿起一个断了半截壶嘴的茶壶往一个精致的陶瓷杯里倒了点茶，画在瓷杯上的蝴蝶都已经褪色了。

“好了，好了。我们只需要砍掉她的脑袋就行了。”疯帽子往前倾着身子慷慨激昂地说。“因此，是时候让时间去宽恕并遗忘过去了！或者是遗忘和宽恕，不管哪个先哪个后。总之怎么顺口怎么说。我等着呢。”

疯帽子正拽着自己的一只耳朵，三月兔的脸上露出极其焦虑的神情。他死死地盯着自己的怀表，拍了拍表壳，然后放到耳朵边听了一会儿。然而让爱丽丝感到吃惊的是，三月兔竟然把怀表泡到茶杯里，然后掏出来又放在耳边听。几滴茶水溅到他毛茸茸的白色胸膛上。

他惊讶地倒吸了一口气。“它又开始嘀嗒了！”

“噢！”疯帽子高兴地尖叫起来。

柴郡猫摆出一副厌恶的表情，放下了茶杯，说：“这些砍啊杀啊的话题真让我倒胃口。”

“味道不错。”三月兔说。

“整个世界正遭受着毁灭，可怜的妙妙猫都没胃口喝茶了。”疯帽子说道，他的语气中带着几分不加掩饰的敌意。

柴郡猫生气地甩着它的尾巴说：“那天发生的事情又不是我的错！”

疯帽子瞬间被激怒了，他的双手重重地拍着桌子。桌上的茶杯和茶壶都震了起来，爱丽丝极力避免滚烫的茶水洒到她裙子上。爱丽丝把椅子从桌边推开，疯帽子的愤怒让她大惊失色。

“当时你抛弃大家，只顾自己逃命！”疯帽子朝柴郡猫咆哮道，“你这个白痴笨蛋自私鬼可怜虫——”尽管这些话爱丽丝一点也没听懂，但疯帽子的言辞中充斥着疯狂、愤怒的咒骂。“只会耍杂的大骗子，你这个无耻的懦夫！”但爱丽丝并不需要弄明白这些，也无须猜测他想表达的意思。他越来越愤怒，咒骂也变得越来越快，好像他无法控制自己停下来。柴郡猫悄悄地溜到桌旁用爪子捂住爱丽丝的耳朵。

“疯帽子！”睡鼠大喊了一声。

疯帽子猛地顿住了。他眨了眨眼，让自己平静下来，然后坐下来重新端起了自己的茶杯。“谢谢，”他说，“我很好。”听到这话的柴郡猫轻蔑地哼了一声。

“你怎么了，塔兰特？”柴郡猫问道，他将捂住爱丽丝耳朵的爪子松开，然后坐到爱丽丝另一侧的椅子上。“你曾经是舞会的焦点，能跳出全奥特兰最棒的福特韦根舞。”

“福特……？什么？”爱丽丝重复道。

“福特韦根舞。”三月兔回答。

“是一种舞蹈。”睡鼠不耐烦地解释。

“在辉煌之日，当白皇后再次戴上皇冠的时候。”疯帽子抬起下巴说道。“那天，我要尽情地跳一次福特韦根舞……”此时，三月兔的房子正在往下倾，轻轻地碰了碰他的肩膀。 “红骑士！”三月兔惊恐得倒吸了一口凉气，大叫道。

“糟糕！”柴郡猫惊呼。

“快走，是红骑士！”睡鼠接着说。

三月兔大叫起来：“把她藏起来！把她藏起来！”

“拜拜。”话音刚落，柴郡猫就立刻消失得无影无踪。疯帽子抓起桌上一个小瓶子塞到爱丽丝手中。这看起来很熟悉，但这可不是个好兆头。“快喝了它！”疯帽子命令道。

“噢，不，”爱丽丝拒绝道，她想起那个满是紧锁的门的大厅，还有在那儿找到的一个小玻璃瓶。她想要抗拒，但三月兔和疯帽子强行将药水灌进她的喉咙。还没来得及等她发出抗议的尖叫声，她就已经缩小到六英寸高了。

然而这种无理的举动并没有结束。接着，疯帽子拎起爱丽丝把她扔进一个离自己最近的茶壶，幸好里面没有茶水。爱丽丝绊倒在冰冷的瓷壶底部。她的双手在光滑的、两边弯曲向上的壶壁上一阵摸索。疯帽子从壶口往里瞥了一眼，爱丽丝看见他的大手同茶壶盖一起往下落。

“小心你的脑袋！”疯帽子刚说完就盖上了壶盖，爱丽丝什么也看不见了。她双手抱臂气呼呼地坐了下来。除了从壶嘴里透进来一缕微弱的光线外，壶内一片昏暗。她能清楚地听到茶壶外面的声响。

不一会儿，斯塔亚尼连同他的两名红骑士跟着猎犬赶了过来。猎犬径直奔向餐桌，开始用力地嗅着。

“哇，”黑骑士嘲讽道，“这不是最招人喜欢的疯子三剑客嘛。”

“要加入我们吗？”睡鼠问道。

“你来晚了！你们喝个茶都迟到！”三月兔大吼，顺手抓起一只茶壶朝他们扔去（幸好不是装着爱丽丝的那只）。

红骑士丝毫不用躲闪。朝他扔来的茶壶掠过了他，在一旁的小径上被摔得粉碎，发出清脆的咔嗒声。他不屑地审视着餐桌说道：“我们在找一个叫爱丽丝的女孩。”

茶壶里，爱丽丝吓得直哆嗦。她看不见斯塔亚尼，但她一点儿也不喜欢他的声音。为什么这里的每一个人都对她这么感兴趣？为什么这个梦就是不能结束呢？

“提起红皇后，”疯帽子突然说道，好像黑骑士之前说了些别的什么，“我们倒是有一首小曲儿来歌颂她。”

他们三人同时唱起歌来，尽管几乎没人喜欢他们的歌声。“小小蝙蝠眨眼睛，到处不见你踪影！”他们高声唱道。

爱丽丝将头深深埋进手臂里。这些都是保护自己的人吗？如果黑骑士杀了他们或者把他们通通抓走，自己又该怎么办？如果真的是这样，她就会以六英寸的身高被困在这个茶壶里，谁也不会想到来这儿找她。某天有人从波托贝洛大街的货摊上买下这个茶壶，却发现里面装着她布满灰尘的骨骸，难道他们不感到惊讶吗？此刻，爱丽丝替自己感到深深的惋惜。

她牢记着：这只是梦境。没什么好怕的，这只是一场梦。

茶壶外面，斯塔亚尼一把勒住疯帽子的脖子，歌声戛然而止。一名红骑士用武器钳制住三月兔，另一名红骑士抓起一个茶壶（幸好不是那个茶壶，爱丽丝又逃过一劫），将滚烫的茶水倒在睡鼠的头上。三月兔和睡鼠发出痛苦的尖叫声。

“如果你把她藏起来，你可是会掉脑袋的！”黑骑士怒喝道。

“我早就没脑袋了。”疯帽子欢呼雀跃地说，毫不在乎勒住他脖子的那个粗壮的手臂。“现在一起唱！”

另外两个小伙伴和他一起接着往下唱：“高高在上把翅展，好似空中一茶盘！一闪一闪亮晶晶，一闪一闪亮晶晶！”他们唱着唱着就开始狂笑不止。

黑骑士斯塔亚尼松开疯帽子的脖子，带着厌恶的表情，昂首阔步地绕着桌子走了一圈。

透过壶嘴，爱丽丝抬头看见一只黑色的大鼻子正在向她靠近。猎犬将爪子搭在桌上，拼命地嗅着茶壶。疯帽子扫了一眼此时正背对着自己的黑骑士。当另外两个小伙伴继续唱着歌时，疯帽子趁机弯下腰靠近猎犬。

“别做他们的帮凶。”疯帽子小声说道，说完便意味深长地看了一眼那只茶壶。

听到这句话，猎犬僵住了。他悲伤的大眼睛和疯帽子焦虑不安的眼神撞上了。然后这条猎犬低下头将鼻子贴近地面继续嗅着，假装在搜寻新的线索。随后他又匆匆忙忙地跑进树林里。

“来点奶油吗？来块巴腾堡蛋糕吗？”三月兔问。

“跟着猎犬。”黑骑士看也不看三月兔，高声呵斥道。两个红骑士跟着猎犬疾驰而去时，他还满腹狐疑地在那儿逗留了一会儿。

“要糖吗？一块还是两块？”睡鼠提议。