我从此便整天的站在柜台里，专管我的职务。虽然没有什么失职，但总觉有些单调，有些无聊。掌柜是一副凶脸孔，主顾也没有好声气，教人活泼不得；只有孔乙己到店，才可以笑几声，所以至今还记得。
孔乙已是站着喝酒而穿长衫的唯一的人。他身材很高大；青白脸色，皱纹间时常夹些伤痕；一部乱蓬蓬的花白的胡子。穿的虽然是长衫，可是又脏又破，似乎十多年没有补，也没有洗。他对人说话，总是满口之乎者也，教人半懂不懂的。因为他姓孔，别人便从描红纸上的“上大人孔乙己”这半懂不懂的话里，替他取下一个绰号，叫作孔乙己。孔乙己一到店，所有喝酒的人便都看着他笑，有的叫道，“孔乙己，你脸上又添上新伤疤了!”他不回答，对柜里说，“温两碗酒，要一碟茴香豆。” 便排出九文大钱。他们又故意的高 声嚷道，“你一定又偷了人家的东西了!”孔乙己睁大眼睛说，“你怎么这样凭空污人清白……“什么清白? 我前天亲眼见你偷了何家的书，吊着打。”孔乙己便涨红丁脸，额上的青筋条条绽出，争辩道，“窃书不能算偷……窃书!……读书人的事，能算偷么?”接连便是难懂的话，什么“君子固穷”，什么“者乎”之类，引得众人都哄笑起来：店内外充满了快活的空气。
After that I stood all day behind the bar attending to my duties. Although I gave satisfaction at this post, I found it somewhat boring and monotonous. Our boss was a grim-faced man, nor were the customers much pleasanter, which made the atmosphere a gloomy one. The only times when there was any laughter were when Kong Yiji came to the tavern. That is why I remember him.
Kong Yiji was the only long-gowned customer who used to drink his wine standing. A big, pallid man whose wrinkled face often bore scars, he had a large, unkempt and grizzled beard. And although he wore a long grown it was dirty and tattered. It had not by the look of it been washed or mended for ten years or more. He used so many archaisms in his speech that half of it was barely intelligible. And as his surname was Kong, he was given the nickname Kong Yiji from kong, yi, ji, the first three characters in the old-fashioned children's copybook. Whenever he came in, everyone there would look at him and chuckle. And someone was sure to call out:
"Kong Yiji! What are those fresh scars on your face?"
Ignoring this, he would lay nine coppers on the bar and order two bowls of heated wine with a dish of aniseed-peas. Then someone else would bawl:
"You must have been stealing again!"
"Why sully a man' s good name for no reason at all?" Kong Yiji would ask, raising his eyebrows.
"Good name? Why, the day before yesterday you were trussed up and beaten for stealing books from the Ho family. I saw you!"
At that Kong Yiji would flush, the veins on his forehead standing out as he protested, "Taking books can' t be counted as stealing.... Taking books. . . for a scholar. . . can't be counted as stealing." Then followed such quotations from the classics as "A gentlemen keeps his integrity even in poverty," together with a spate of archaisms which soon had everybody roaring with laughter, enlivening the whole tavern.
