A. 英文中篇小说
建议你看看英文电影 更有意思 而且效果很好。句式、词汇、发音同时进步！
祝你好运！
B. 求英文中篇小说，要求难度一般4-6级的词汇内。
暮光之城系列的~~~给你发过去哈
C. 英文短中篇小说，难易适中哈，3500-4000字，翻译老师作业，最好是比较著名的哈，谢谢了，！！不胜感激~
不知道你有没有学过The Chaser.我们专业学的一片英语小说。。是John Collier 写的。很有名，因为蛮深刻的。
Alan Austen, as nervous as a kitten, went up certain dark and creaky stairs in the neighborhood of Pell Street, and peered about for a long time on the dim landing before he found the name he wanted written obscurely on one of the doors.
He pushed open this door, as he had been told to do, and found himself in a tiny room, which contained no furniture but a plain kitchen table, a rocking chair, and an ordinary chair. On one of the dirty, buff-coloured walls were a couple of shelves, containing in all perhaps a dozen bottles and jars.
An old man sat in the rocking chair, reading a newspaper. Alan, without a word, handed him the card he had been given. "Sit down, Mr. Austen," said the old man very politely. "I am glad to make your acquaintance."
"Is it true," asked Alan, "that you have a certain mixture that has... er... quite extraordinary effects?"
"My dear sir," replied the old man, "my stock in trade is not very large — I don't deal in laxatives and teething mixtures — but such as it is, it is varied. I think nothing I sell has effects which could be precisely described as ordinary."
"Well, the fact is..." began Alan.
"Here, for example," interrupted the old man, reaching for a bottle from the shelf. "Here is a liquid as colourless as water, almost tasteless, quite imperceptible in coffee, wine, or any other beverage. It is also quite imperceptible to any known method of autopsy."
"Do you mean it is a poison?" cried Alan, very much horrified.
"Call it a glove-cleaner if you like," said the old man indifferently. "Maybe it will clean gloves. I have never tried. One might call it a life-cleaner. Lives need cleaning sometimes."
"I want nothing of that sort," said Alan.
"Probably it is just as well," said the old man. "Do you know the price of this? For one teaspoonful, which is sufficient, I ask five thousand dollars. Never less. Not a penny less."
"I hope all your mixtures are not as expensive," said Alan apprehensively.
"Oh dear, no," said the old man. "It would be no good charging that sort of price for a love potion, for example. Young people who need a love potion very seldom have five thousand dollars. Otherwise they would not need a love potion."
"I am glad to hear that," said Alan.
"I look at it like this," said the old man. "Please a customer with one article, and he will come back when he needs another. Even if it is more costly. He will save up for it, if necessary."
"So," said Alan, "you really do sell love potions?
"If I did not sell love potions," said the old man, reaching for another bottle, "I should not have mentioned the other matter to you. It is only when one is in a position to oblige that one can afford to be so confidential."
"And these potions," said Alan. "They are not just... just... er...
"Oh, no," said the old man. "Their effects are permanent, and extend far beyond the mere casual impulse. But they include it. Oh, yes they include it. Bountifully, insistently. Everlastingly."
"Dear me!" said Alan, attempting a look of scientific detachment. "How very interesting!"
"But consider the spiritual side," said the old man.
"I do, indeed," said Alan.
"For indifference," said the old man, "they substitute devotion. For scorn, adoration. Give one tiny measure of this to the young lady — its flavour is imperceptible in orange juice, soup, or cocktails — and however gay and giddy she is, she will change altogether. She will want nothing but solitude and you."
"I can hardly believe it," said Alan. "She is so fond of parties."
"She will not like them any more," said the old man. "She will be afraid of the pretty girls you may meet."
"She will actually be jealous?" cried Alan in a rapture "Of me?"
"Yes, she will want to be everything to you."
"She is, already. Only she doesn't care about it."
"She will, when she has taken this. She will care intensely. You will be her sole interest in life."
"Wonderful!" cried Alan.
"She will want to know all you do," said the old man. "All that has happened to you ring the day. Every word of it. She will want to know what you are thinking about, why you smile suddenly, why you are looking sad."
"That is love!" cried Alan.
"Yes," said the old man. "How carefully she will look after you! She will never allow you to be tired, to sit in a draught, to neglect your food. If you are an hour late, she will be terrified. She will think you are killed, or that some siren has caught you."
"I can hardly imagine Diana like that!" cried Alan, overwhelmed with joy.
"You will not have to use your imagination," said the old man. "And, by the way, since there are always sirens, if by any chance you should, later on, slip a little, you need not worry. She will forgive you, in the end. She will be terribly hurt, of course, but she will forgive you — in the end."
"That will not happen," said Alan fervently
"Of course not," said the old man. "But, if it did, you need not worry. She would never divorce you. Oh, no! And, of course, she will never give you the least, the very least, grounds for — uneasiness."
"And how much," said Alan, "is this wonderful mixture?"
"It is not as dear," said the old man, "as the glove-cleaner, or life-cleaner, as I sometimes call it. No. That is five thousand dollars, never a penny less. One has to be older than you are, to inlge in that sort of thing. One has to save up for it."
"But the love potion?" said Alan.
"Oh, that," said the old man, opening the drawer in the kitchen table, and taking out a tiny, rather dirty-looking phial. "That is just a dollar."
"I can't tell you how grateful I am," said Alan, watching him fill it.
"I like to oblige," said the old man. "Then customers come back, later in life, when they are better off, and want more expensive things. Here you are. You will find it very effective."
"Thank you again," said Alan. "Good-bye."
"Au revoir," said the man.
D. 谁能给我一篇英文的中篇小说 要自己写的 网上找不到的
http://www.oklink.net/book/s14/1237.htm
http://www.52en.com/sw/xs.html
这有：
It was in June of 1935that I came home from my ranch in South America
for a stay of about six months.It had been a difficult time for us out
there.Like everyone else，we had suffered from world depression.I had
various affairs to see to in England that I felt could only be successful if
a personal touch was introced.My wife remained to manage the ranch.
I need hardly say that one of my first actions on reaching England was
to look up my old friend，Hercule Poirot.
I found him installed in one of the newest type of service flats in
London.I accused him (and he admitted the fact)of having chosen this
particular building entirely on account of its strictly geometrical
appearance and proportions.
"But yes，my friend，it is of a most pleasing symmetry，do you not find
it so?"
I said that I thought there could be too much squareness and，alluding
to an old joke，I asked if in this super-modern hostelry they managed to
ince hens to lay square eggs.
Poirot laughed heartily.
"Ah，you remember that?Alas!No-science has not yet inced the hens to
conform to modern tastes，they still lay eggs of different sizes and
colours!"
I examined my old friend with an affectionate eye.
He was looking wonderfully well-hardly a day older than when I had last
seen him.
"You're looking in fine fettle，Poirot，"I said."You've hardly aged at
all.In fact，if it were possible，I should say that you had fewer grey hairs
than when I saw you last."
Poirot beamed on me.
"And why is that not possible?It is quite true."
"Do you mean your hair is turning from grey to black instead of from
black to grey?"
"Precisely."
"But surely that's a scientific impossibility!"
"Not at all."
"But that's very extraordinary.It seems against nature."
"As usual，Hastings，you have the beautiful and unsuspicious mind.Years
do not change that in you!You perceive a fact and mention the solution of it
in the same breath without noticing that you are doing so!"
I stared at him，puzzled.
Without a word he walked into his bedroom and returned with a bottle in
his hand which he handed to me.
I took it，for the moment uncomprehending.
It bore the words:
Revivit-To bring back the natural tone of the hair.
Revivit is not a dye.In five shades，Ash，Chestnut，Titian，Brown，Black.
"Poirot，"I cried."You have dyed your hair!"
"Ah，the comprehension comes to you!"
"So that's why your hair looks so much blacker that it did last time I
was back."
"Exactly."
"Dear me，"I said，recovering from the shock."I suppose next time I come
home I shall find you wearing false moustaches-or are you doing so now?"
Poirot winced.His moustaches had always been his sensitive point.He was
inordinately proud of them.My words touched him on the raw.
"No，no，indeed，mon ami.That day，I pray the good God，is still far
off.The false moustache!Quel horreur!"
He tugged at them vigorously to assure me of their genuine character.
"Well，they are very luxuriant still，"I said.
"N'est ce pas?Never，in the whole of London，have I seen a pair of
moustaches to equal mine."
A good job too，I thought privately.But I would not for the world have
hurt Poirot's feelings by saying so.
Instead I asked if he still practised his profession on occasion.
"I know，"I said，"that you actually retired years ago-""C'est vrai.To
grow the vegetable marrows!And immediately a murder occurs-and I send the
vegetable marrows to promenade themselves to the devil.And since then-I know
very well what you will say-I am like the prima donna who makes positively
the farewell performance!That farewell performance，it repeats itself an
indefinite number of times!"
I laughed.
"In truth，it has been very like that.Each time I say:this is the
end.But no，something else arises!And I will admit it，my friend，the
retirement I care for it not at all.If the little grey cells are not
exercised，they grow the rust."
"I see，"I said."You exercise them in moderation."
"Precisely.I pick and choose.For Hercule Poirot nowadays only the cream
of crime."
"Has there been much cream about?"
"Pas mal.Not long ago I had a narrow escape."
"Of failure?"
"No，no."Poirot looked shocked."But I-I，Hercule Poirot，was nearly
exterminated."
I whistled.
"An enterprising murderer!"
"Not so much enterprising as careless，"said Poirot."Precisely
that-careless.But let us not talk of it.You know，Hastings，in many ways I
regard you as my mascot."
"Indeed?"I said."In what ways?"
Poirot did not answer my question directly.He went on:
"As soon as I heard you were coming over I said to myself:something will
arise.As in former days we will hunt together，we two.But if so it must be
no common affair.It must be something"-he waved his hands
excitedly-"something recherche-delicate-fine......"He gave the last
untranslatable word its full flavour.
"Upon my word，Poirot，"I said.
"Anyone would think you were ordering a dinner at the Ritz."
"Whereas one cannot command a crime to order?
Very true."He signed."But I believe in luck-in destiny，if you will.It
is your destiny to stand beside me and prevent me from committing the
unforgivable error."
"What do you call the unforgivable error?"
"Overlooking the obvious."
I turned this over in my mind without quite seeing the point.
"Well，"I said presently，smiling，"has this super crime turned up yet?"
"Pas encore.At least-that is-"He paused.A frown of perplexity creased
his forehead.His hands automatically straightened an object or two that I
had inadvertently pushed awry.
"I am not sure，"he said slowly.
There was something so odd about his tone that I looked at him in
surprise.
The frown still lingered.
Suddently with a brief decisive nod of the head he crossed the room to a
desk near the window.Its contents，I need hardly say，were all neatly
docketed and pigeon-holed so that he was able at once to lay his hand upon
the paper he wanted.
He came slowly across to me，an open letter in his hand.He read it
through himself，then passed it to me.
"Tell me，mon ami，"he said."What do you make of this?"
I took it from him with some interest.
It was written on thickish white notepaper in printed characters:
Mr.Hercule Poirot，-You fancy yourself，don't you，at solving mysteries
that are too difficult for our poor thickheaded British police?Let us see，
Mr.Clever Poirot，just how clever you can be.Perhaps you'll find this nut
too hard to crack.Look out for Andover，on the 21st of the month.
Yours，etc.，A B C I glanced at the envelope.That also was printed.
"Postmarked WCI，"said Poirot as I turned my attention to the postmark.
"Well，what is your opinion?"
I shrugged my shoulders as I handed it back to him.
"Some madman or other，I suppose."
"That is all you have to say?"
"Well-doesn't it sound like a madman to you?"
"Yes，my friend，it does."
His tone was grave.I looked at him curiously.
"You take this very seriously，Poirot."
"A madman，mon ami，is to be taken seriously.A madman is a very dangerou
thing."
"Yes，of course，that is true......I hadn't considered that
point......But what I meant was，it sounds more like a rather idiotic kind
of hoax.Perhaps some convivial idiot who had had one over the eight."
"Comment?Nine?Nine what?"
"Nothing-just an expression.I meant a fellow who was tight.No，damn it，
a fellow who had had a spot too much to drink."
"Merci，Hastings-the expression "tight"I am acquainted with it.As you
say，there may be nothing more to it than that......"
"But you think there is?"I asked，struck by the dissatisfaction of his
tone.
Poirot shook his head doubtfully，but he did not speak.
"What have you done about it"I inquired.
"What can one do?I showed it to Japp.He was of the same opinion as you-a
stupid hoax-that was the expression he used.They get these things every day
at Scotland Yard.I，too，have had my share......"
"But you take this one seriously?"
Poirot replied slowly.
"There is something about that letter，Hastings，that I do not
like......"
In spite of myself，his tone impressed me.
"You think-what?"
He shook his head，and picking up the letter，put it away again in the
desk.
"If you really take it seriously，can't you do something?"I asked.
"As always，the man of action!But what is there to do?The county police
have seen the letter but they，too，do not take it seriously.There are no
fingerprints on it.There are no local clues as to the possible writer."
"In fact there is only your own instinct?"
"Not instinct，Hastings.Instinct is a bad word.It is my knowledge-my
experience-that tells me that something about that letter is wrong-"He
gesticulated as words failed him，then shook his head again.
"I may be making the mountain out of the anthill.In any case there is
nothing to be done but wait."
"Well，the 21st is Friday.If a whacking great robbery takes place near
Andover then-""Ah，what a comfort that would be-!"
"A comfort?"I stared.The word seemed to be a very extraordinary one to
use.
"A robbery may be a thrill but it can hardly be a comfort!"I protested.
Poirot shook his head energetically.
"You are in error，my friend.You do not understand my meaning.A robbery
would be a relief since it would dispossess my mind of the fear of something
else."
"Of what?"
"Murder."said Hercule Poirot.
E. 有什么好看的英文中篇小说
《羊脂球》是有“短篇小说大师”之称的法国作家莫泊桑先生创作的小说。《羊脂球》是他的成名作，也是他的代表作之一。故事以羊脂球的悲惨遭遇反衬了资本主义下的丑恶肮脏的灵魂。他们虚伪的面具下藏的都是腐朽的内脏和污秽的思想。
F. 求一篇英语中短篇小说（2000字左右，最好是带中文翻译的）
G. 长篇小说，中篇小说，短篇小说用英语怎么说
字数的多少，是区别长篇、中篇、短篇小说的一个因素，但不是惟一的因素。人们通常把几千字到两万字的小说称为短篇小说，三万字到十万字的小说称为中篇小说，十万字以上的称为长篇小说。这只是就字数而言的，其实，长、中、短篇小说的区别，主要是由作品反映生活的范围、作品的容量来决定的。长篇小说容量最大，最广阔，篇幅也比较长，具有比较复杂的结构，它一般是通过比较多的人物和纷繁的事件来表现社会生活的，如《红楼梦》。中篇小说反映生活的范围虽不像长篇那样广阔，但也能反映出一定广度的生活面，它的人物的多寡、情节的繁简介于长篇与短篇之间，如《人到中年》。短篇小说的特点是紧凑、短小精悍，它往往只写了一个或很少几个人物，描写了生活的一个片断或插曲。短篇小说所反映的生活虽不及长篇、中篇广阔，但也同样是完整的，有些还具有深刻、丰富的社会意义。
H. 有哪些有名的中篇英文小说
John Collier 的 The Chaser