[table=400,#ffffff,#92d050,3][tr][td][align=center][attachment=11780860][/align][hr] 美国青年弗雷德里克·亨利在第一次世界大战期间志愿到意大利北部战争担任救护车驾驶员，期间与英国护士凯瑟琳·巴克莱相识。亨利在前线执行任务时被炮弹炸伤，被送往后方的米兰医院就医。由于护士紧缺，凯瑟琳也来到了米兰，两人又一次相遇。这一次，亨利发现自己已经深深地爱上了巴克莱小姐。在米兰就医期间，两人处于热恋之中，度过了一段美好的时光。这期间，凯瑟琳怀孕了。亨利伤愈返回前线，发现意军士气大跌，处处充斥着失败与绝望的情绪。德国人的进攻，终于击垮了意军的抵抗，意军开始溃退；士兵们的情绪很激动，反战热情高涨。在一座桥前，意军前线宪兵部队开始逮捕所谓擅离职守的军官，并无一幸免地加以熗决，亨利不幸也在其中。借着审问其他人的时机，亨利跳进河流，得以逃脱被处决的命运。他终于意识到，自己作为一名士兵的义务已经连同河水一起被冲走了。此时的他，只有一个目的，那就是找到凯瑟琳，然后两人逃离战争的苦海。亨利辗转来到了米兰，发现凯瑟琳已去边境一度假小城。亨利找到凯瑟琳以后，两人再次幸福地相聚。可是，随后意大利警察的追捕，使得他们不得不逃往瑞士。亨利和凯瑟琳在瑞士度过了一段幸福的时光，但最终，凯瑟琳还是在难产中死去，留下亨利一人独自在外流亡。[/td][/tr][/table]

BOOK ONE CHAPTER 1 In the late summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains. In the bed of the river there were pebbles and boulders, dry and white in the sun, and the water was clear and swiftly moving and blue in the channels. Troops went by the house and down the road and the dust they raised powdered the leaves of the trees. The trunks of the trees too were dusty and the leaves fell early that year and we saw the troops marching along the road and the dust rising and leaves, stirred by the breeze, falling and the soldiers marching and afterward the road bare and white except for the leaves. The plain was rich with crops; there were many orchards of fruit trees and beyond the plain the mountains were brown and bare. There was fighting in the mountains and at night we could see the flashes from the artillery. In the dark it was like summer lightning, but the nights were cool and there was not the feeling of a storm coming. Sometimes in the dark we heard the troops marching under the window and guns going past pulled by motor-tractors. There was much traffic at night and many mules on the roads with boxes of ammunition on each side of their pack-saddles and gray motor trucks that carried men, and other trucks with loads covered with canvas that moved slower in the traffic. There were big guns too that passed in the day drawn by tractors, the long barrels of the guns covered with green branches and green leafy branches and vines laid over the tractors. To the north we could look across a valley and see a forest of chestnut trees and behind it another mountain on this side of the river. There was fighting for that mountain too, but it was not successful, and in the fall when the rains came the leaves all fell from the chestnut trees and the branches were bare and the trunks black with rain. The vineyards were thin and bare-branched too and all the country wet and brown and dead with the autumn. There were mists over the river and clouds on the mountain and the trucks splashed mud on the road and the troops were muddy and wet in their capes; their rifles were wet and under their capes the two leather cartridge-boxes on the front of the belts, gray leather boxes heavy with the packs of clips of thin, long 6.5 mm. cartridges, bulged forward under the capes so that the men, passing on the road, marched as though they were six months gone with child. There were small gray motor cars that passed going very fast; usually there was an officer on the seat with the driver and more officers in the back seat. They splashed more mud than the camions even and if one of the officers in the back was very small and sitting between two generals, he himself so small that you could not see his face but only the top of his cap and his narrow back, and if the car went especially fast it was probably the King. He lived in Udine and came out in this way nearly every day to see how things were going, and things went very badly. At the start of the winter came the permanent rain and with the rain came the cholera. But it was checked and in the end only seven thousand died of it in the army. 第一部 第一章 那年晚夏，我们住在乡村一幢房子里，望得见隔着河流和平原的那些高山。河床里有鹅卵石和大圆石头，在阳光下又干又白，河水清澈，河流湍急，深处一泓蔚蓝。部队打从房子边走上大路，激起尘土，洒落在树叶上，连树干上也积满了尘埃。那年树叶早落，我们看着部队在路上开着走，尘土飞扬，树叶给微风吹得往下纷纷掉坠，士兵们开过之后，路上白晃晃，空空荡荡，只剩下一片落叶。 平原上有丰饶的庄稼；有许许多多的果树园，而平原外的山峦，则是一片光秃秃的褐色。山峰间正在打仗，夜里我们看得见战炮的闪光。在黑暗中，这情况真像夏天的闪电，只是夜里阴凉，可没有夏天风雨欲来前的那种闷热。 有时在黑暗中，我们听得见部队从窗下走过的声响，还有摩托牵引车拖着大炮经过的响声。夜里交通频繁，路上有许多驮着弹药箱的驴子，运送士兵的灰色卡车，还有一种卡车，装的东西用帆布盖住，开起来缓慢一点。白天也有用牵引车拖着走的重炮，长炮管用青翠的树枝遮住，牵引车本身也盖上青翠多叶的树枝和葡萄藤。朝北我们望得见山谷后边有一座栗树树林，林子后边，在河的这一边，另有一道高山。那座山峰也有争夺战，不过不顺手，而当秋天一到，秋雨连绵，栗树上的叶子都掉了下来，就只剩下赤裸裸的树枝和被雨打成黑黝黝的树干。葡萄园中的枝叶也很稀疏光秃；乡间样样东西都是湿漉漉的，都是褐色的，触目秋意萧索。河上罩雾，山间盘云，卡车在路上溅泥浆，士兵披肩淋湿，身上尽是烂泥；他们的来福枪也是湿的，每人身前的皮带上挂有两个灰皮子弹盒，里面满装着一排排又长又窄的六点五毫米口径的子弹，在披肩下高高突出，当他们在路上走过时，乍一看，好像是些怀孕六月的妇人。 路上时有灰色小汽车疾驰而过，驾驶员座位边每每有一位军官，车子的后座上还坐着几位军官。这些小汽车溅泥泼水，比军用大卡车还要厉害。如果车子后座上有一个小个子，坐在两位将军中间，矮小得连脸都看不见，只看得见他的军帽顶和他那细窄的背影，而且车子又开得特别快的话，那么那小个子可能就是国王。他住在乌迪内①，几乎天天这样子来视察战况，无奈战况不佳。 冬季一开始，雨便下个不停，而霍乱也跟着雨来了。瘟疫得到了控制，结果部队里只死了七千人。 ① 乌迪内在意大利东北部，当时意军的总司令部所在地。

BOOK ONE CHAPTER 2 The next year there were many victories. The mountain that was beyond the valley and the hillside where the chestnut forest grew was captured and there were victories beyond the plain on the plateau to the south and we crossed the river in August and lived in a house in Gorizia that had a fountain and many thick shady trees in a walled garden and a wistaria vine purple on the side of the house. Now the fighting was in the next mountains beyond and was not a mile away. The town was very nice and our house was very fine. The river ran behind us and the town had been captured very handsomely but the mountains beyond it could not be taken and I was very glad the Austrians seemed to want to come back to the town some time, if the war should end, because they did not bombard it to destroy it but only a little in a military way. people lived on in it and there were hospitals and cafe and artillery up side streets and two bawdy houses, one for troops and one for officers, and with the end of the summer, the cool nights, the fighting in the mountains beyond the town, the shell-marked iron of the railway bridge, the smashed tunnel by the river where the fighting had been, the trees around the square and the long avenue of trees that led to the square; these with there being girls in the town, the King passing in his motor car, sometimes now seeing his face and little long necked body and gray beard like a goat's chin tuft; all these with the sudden interiors of houses that had lost a wall through shelling, with plaster and rubble in their gardens and sometimes in the street, and the whole thing going well on the Carso made the fall very different from the last fall when we had been in the country. The war was changed too. The forest of oak trees on the mountain beyond the town was gone. The forest had been green in the summer when we had come into the town but now there were the stumps and the broken trunks and the ground torn up, and one day at the end of the fall when I was out where the oak forest had been I saw a cloud coming over the mountain. It came very fast and the sun went a dull yellow and then everything was gray and the sky was covered and the cloud came on down the mountain and suddenly we were in it and it was snow. The snow slanted across the wind, the bare ground was covered, the stumps of trees projected, there was snow on the guns and there were paths in the snow going back to the latrines behind trenches. Later, below in the town, I watched the snow falling, looking out of the window of the bawdy house, the house for officers, where I sat with a friend and two glasses drinking a bottle of Asti, and, looking out at the snow falling slowly and heavily, we knew it was all over for that year. Up the river the mountains had not been taken; none of the mountains beyond the river had been taken. That was all left for next year. My friend saw the priest from our mess going by in the street, walking carefully in the slush, and pounded on the window to attract his attention. The priest looked up. He saw us and smiled. My friend motioned for him to come in. The priest shook his head and went on. That night in the mess after the spaghetti course, which every one ate very quickly and seriously, lifting the spaghetti on the fork until the loose strands hung clear then lowering it into the mouth, or else using a continuous lift and sucking into the mouth, helping ourselves to wine from the grass-covered gallon flask; it swung in a metal cradle and you pulled the neck of the flask down with the forefinger and the wine, clear red, tannic and lovely, poured out into the glass held with the same hand; after this course, the captain commenced picking on the priest. The priest was young and blushed easily and wore a uniform like the rest of us but with a cross in dark red velvet above the left breast pocket of his gray tunic. The captain spoke pidgin Italian for my doubtful benefit, in order that I might understand perfectly, that nothing should be lost. "priest to-day with girls," the captain said looking at the priest and at me. The priest smiled and blushed and shook his head. This captain baited him often. "Not true?" asked the captain. "To-day I see priest with girls." "No," said the priest. The other officers were amused at the baiting. "priest not with girls," went on the captain. "priest never with girls," he explained to me. He took my glass and filled it, looking at my eyes all the time, but not losing sight of the priest. "priest every night five against one." Every one at the table laughed. "You understand? priest every night five against one." He made a gesture and laughed loudly. The priest accepted it as a joke. "The pope wants the Austrians to win the war," the major said. "He loves Franz Joseph. That's where the money comes from. I am an atheist." "Did you ever read the 'Black pig'?" asked the lieutenant. "I will get you a copy. It was that which shook my faith." "It is a filthy and vile book," said the priest. "You do not really like it." "It is very valuable," said the lieutenant. "It tells you about those priests. You will like it," he said to me. I smiled at the priest and he smiled back across the candle-light. "Don't you read it," he said. "I will get it for you," said the lieutenant. "All thinking men are atheists," the major said. "I do not believe in the Free Masons however." "I believe in the Free Masons," the lieutenant said. "It is a noble organization." Some one came in and as the door opened I could see the snow falling. "There will be no more offensive now that the snow has come," I said. "Certainly not," said the major. "You should go on leave. You should go to Rome, Naples, Sicily--" "He should visit Amalfi," said the lieutenant. "I will write you cards to my family in Amalfi. They will love you like a son." "He should go to palermo." "He ought to go to Capri." "I would like you to see Abruzzi and visit my family at Capracotta," said the priest. "Listen to him talk about the Abruzzi. There's more snow there than here. He doesn't want to see peasants. Let him go to centres of culture and civilization." "He should have fine girls. I will give you the addresses of places in Naples. Beautiful young girls--accompanied by their mothers. Ha! Ha! Ha!" The captain spread his hand open, the thumb up and fingers outspread as when you make shadow pictures. There was a shadow from his hand on the wall. He spoke again in pidgin Italian. "You go away like this," he pointed to the thumb, "and come back like this," he touched the little finger. Every one laughed. "Look," said the captain. He spread the hand again. Again the candle-light made its shadows on the wall. He started with the upright thumb and named in their order the thumb and four fingers, "soto-tenente (the thumb), tenente (first finger), capitano (next finger), maggiore (next to the little finger), and tenentecolonello (the little finger). You go away soto-tenente! You come back soto-colonello!" They all laughed. The captain was having a great success with finger games. He looked at the priest and shouted, "Every night priest five against one!" They all laughed again. "You must go on leave at once," the major said. "I would like to go with you and show you things," the lieutenant said. "When you come back bring a phonograph." "Bring good opera disks." "Bring Caruso." "Don't bring Caruso. He bellows." "Don't you wish you could bellow like him?" "He bellows. I say he bellows!" "I would like you to go to Abruzzi," the priest said. The others were shouting. "There is good hunting. You would like the people and though it is cold it is clear and dry. You could stay with my family. My father is a famous hunter." "Come on," said the captain. "We go whorehouse before it shuts." "Good-night," I said to the priest. "Good-night," he said. 第一部 第二章 第二年打了好几场胜仗。山谷后边那座高山和那个有栗树树林的山坡，已经给拿了下来，而南边平原外的高原上也打了胜仗，于是我们八月渡河，驻扎在哥里察②一幢房子里。这房屋有喷水池，有个砌有围墙的花园，园中栽种了好多茂盛多荫的树木，屋子旁边还有一棵紫藤，一片紫色。现在战争在好几道高山外进行，而不是近在一英里外了。小镇很好，我们的屋子也挺好。小镇后边是河，前边是些高山，高山还由奥军占据着。这小镇打下来时打得漂亮，奥军大概希望战后再回小镇来住，所以现在从山顶上开起炮来，除了小规模的军事例行行动以外，并不乱轰，这情况叫我心情愉快。镇上照常有人居住，有医院和咖啡店，有炮队驻扎在小街上，有两家妓院，一家招待士兵，一家招待军官，加上夏季已过，夜凉如水，战争又在镇外的丛山间进行。这儿有一座弹痕累累的铁路桥，有河边炸毁的地道——从前这儿争战过——有绕着广场周围的树木，而通向广场的路上，又有一长排一长排的树木；此外，镇上又有姑娘，而国王乘车经过时，有时可以看到他的脸，他那长脖子的小身体，和他那一簇好像山羊髯一般的灰须；这一切，再加上镇上有些房屋，因被炮弹炸去一道墙壁，内部突然暴露，倒塌下来的泥灰碎石，堆积在花园里，有时还倒塌在街上，还有卡索①前线，一切顺利，凡此种种，使得今年秋天比起去年困居乡下的秋天，大不相同。况且战局也好转了。 小镇外高山上的橡树林，现在没有了。我们初到小镇时，正在夏日，树林青翠，但是现在已只剩有断桩残干，地面上则给炮弹炸得四分五裂。这一年秋末的一天，我正在原来有树林的地点徘徊，看见一块云朝山顶飞来。云块飞得好快，太阳转眼成为晦暗的黄色，祥样东西都变成灰的，天空已被乌云遮蔽住，接着云块落在山上，突然间落到我们身上，那时候才知道原来是雪。雪在风中横飞斜落，掩盖了赤裸的大地，只有树木的残干突了出来。大炮上也盖上了雪，而战壕后边通向便所去的雪地上，已有人走出了几条雪径。 后来我回到小镇。我跟一个朋友坐在军官妓院里，两只酒杯，一瓶阿斯蒂②，望着窗外下得又迟缓又沉重的大雪，我们知道今年战事是结束了。河上游那些高山，并没有攻打下来；河对面的峻岭，一座也没有打下来。那都得等到明年再说。我的朋友看见我们同饭堂的那个教士③小心地踏着半融的雪，打街上走过，于是便敲敲窗子，引起教士的注意，教士抬起头来。他看见是我们，笑了一笑。我的朋友招手叫他进来。他摇摇头，走了。那天夜晚，在饭堂里吃到实心面这一道菜，人人吃得又快又认真，用叉子高高卷起面条，等到零星的面条都离开了盘子才朝下往嘴里送，不然便是不住地叉起面条用嘴巴吮，吃面的时候，我们还从用干草盖好的加仑大酒瓶里斟酒喝；酒瓶就挂在一个铁架子上，你用食指一扳下酒瓶的脖子，又清又红的带单宁酸味的美酒便流进你用同一只手所拿的杯子里。大家吃完面后，上尉便找教士开玩笑取乐。 ② 哥里察在意奥边境上，大战前原属奥匈帝国，1916 年8 月被意军攻克。 ① 卡索高原在意大利东北部，1917 年发生重要战役。哥里察就在卡索高原上。 ② 阿斯蒂原是意大利西北部古城名，这里指那地方出产的白葡萄酒。 ③ 教士亦可译为神父。 教士年纪轻，脸嫩容易红，穿的跟我们大家一样，只是他那灰胸前左面袋子上，多了一个深红色丝绒缝成的十字架。上尉据说是照顾我，叫我完全听得明白，免得有什么遗漏，所以故意说着不纯粹的意大利语。 “教士今天玩姑娘，”上尉说，眼睛看着教士和我，教士笑一笑，脸孔泛红，摇摇头。这上尉时常逗他。 “你否认？我今天亲眼看见的，”上尉说。 “没有这回事，”教士说。别的军官都觉得逗得很有趣。 “教士不玩姑娘，”上尉说下去道，“教士从来没跟姑娘来过。”他这样解释给我听。他给我倒了一杯酒，说话时眼睛一直看着我的面孔，不过眼角总在瞄着教士。 “教士每天夜晚五个姑娘。”饭桌上的人都笑了起来。“你懂吗？教士每天晚上五对一。”他做个手势，纵声大笑。教士一声不吭，当它是笑话。“教皇希望奥军打胜仗，”少校说。“他爱的就是法兰兹·约瑟夫①。教皇的钱就是敌人捐献的。我是个无神论者。” “你看过《黑猪猡》那部书吗？”中尉问我。“我给你找一本来。那书动摇了我的信仰。” “那是一部卑鄙龌龊的书，”教士说。“你不会当真喜欢它的。”“是部很有价值的书，”中尉说。“它把教士所有的黑幕都拆穿了。你一定喜欢它，”他对我说。我向教士笑笑，而教士在烛光下也对我笑笑。“你可别看它，”他说。 “我给你找一部来，”中尉说。 “有思想的人都是无神论者，”少校说。“不过我也不相信什么共济会②。” “我可相信共济会，”中尉说。“那是个高尚的组织。”有人进来了，门打开时，我看得见外面在下雪。 “雪一下就不会再有进攻了，”我说。 “当然没有啦，”少校说。“你应当休假玩一玩。你应当到罗马，那不勒斯，西西里——” “他应当到阿马斐去，”中尉说。“我给你写些介绍卡，去找我家里的人。他们一定会把你当亲儿子看待。” “他应该到巴勒摩去。”“他得到卡普里去。” “我希望你去观光阿布鲁息①，探望一下我在卡勃拉柯达的家属，”教士说。 “听啊，他连阿布鲁息都提出来啦。那儿的雪比这儿还要大。他又不是想看农民。让他到文化和文明的中心地去吧。” “他应当玩玩好姐儿。我给你开一些那不勒斯的地址。美丽年轻的姐儿——由做母亲的陪着。哈！哈！哈！”上尉摊开全部手指，拇指向上，其他手指展开着，好像是在灯光下在墙上演手影戏似的。现在墙上有了他的手影。他又用不纯粹的意大利语讲话了。“你去的时候像这个，”他指着拇指，“回来时像这个，”他指着小指，人人大笑。 ① 法兰兹·约瑟夫是当时奥匈帝国的皇帝。教皇指天主教教皇，当时奥国贵族多信奉天主教。 ② 共济会是一种秘密团体，最初可能是中世纪石匠间的一种互相救济的组织。天主教严禁教友参加这种组织。 ① 阿布鲁息为意大利中东部一古地区名。 “看啊，”上尉说。他又摊开手。烛光又把他的手影打在墙上。他开始从拇指数起，按着指头，逐一喊出它们的名字，“‘索多—田兰’（拇指），‘田兰’（食指），‘甲必丹诺’（中指），‘马佐’（无名指），‘田兰—科涅罗’（小指）。②你去的时候索多—田兰！回来时田兰—科涅罗！”大家大笑。上尉的指戏很成功。他看着教士嚷道：“每天晚上教士五对一！”大家又是一场大笑。 “你应该立刻就休假，”少校说。 “我倒希望可以陪你一道去，做个向导，”中尉说。 “回来时带台留声机来吧。” “还要带好的歌剧唱片。” “带卡鲁索③的唱片。” “不要他的。他乱叫乱嚷。” “你巴不得能像他那么演唱吧？” “他乱叫乱嚷。我还是说他乱叫乱嚷！” “我希望你到阿布鲁息去，”教士说。其他人还在大声争吵。“那儿打猎最好。那儿的人你一定喜欢，气候虽然寒冷，倒是清爽干燥。你可以上我家里去住。家父是个有名的猎手。”“走吧，”上尉说。“我们趁早逛窑子去，否则又要碰上人家关门了。”“晚安，”我对教士说。 “晚安，”他说。 ② 他是用意大利语讲这些军衔的：“索多—田兰”是少尉，“田兰”是中尉，“甲必丹诺”是上尉，“马佐”是少校，“田兰—科涅罗”是中校。 ③卡鲁索（1873—1921）：意大利著名男高音歌唱家。

BOOK ONE CHAPTER 3 When I came back to the front we still lived in that town. There were many more guns in the country around and the spring had come. The fields were green and there were small green shoots on the vines, the trees along the road had small leaves and a breeze came from the sea. I saw the town with the hill and the old castle above it in a cup in the hills with the mountains beyond, brown mountains with a little green on their slopes. In the town there were more guns, there were some new hospitals, you met British men and sometimes women, on the street, and a few more houses had been hit by shell fire. Jt was warm and like the spring and I walked down the alleyway of trees, warmed from the sun on the wall, and found we still lived in the same house and that it all looked the same as when I had left it. The door was open, there was a soldier sitting on a bench outside in the sun, an ambulance was waiting by the side door and inside the door, as I went in, there was the smell of marble floors and hospital. It was all as I had left it except that now it was spring. I looked in the door of the big room and saw the major sitting at his desk, the window open and the sunlight coming into the room. He did not see me and I did not know whether to go in and report or go upstairs first and clean up. I decided to go on upstairs. The room I shared with the lieutenant Rinaldi looked out on the courtyard. The window was open, my bed was made up with blankets and my things hung on the wall, the gas mask in an oblong tin can, the steel helmet on the same peg. At the foot of the bed was my flat trunk, and my winter boots, the leather shiny with oil, were on the trunk. My Austrian sniper's rifle with its blued octagon barrel and the lovely dark walnut, cheek-fitted, schutzen stock, hung over the two beds. The telescope that fitted it was, I remembered, locked in the trunk. The lieutenant, Rinaldi, lay asleep on the other bed. He woke when he heard me in the room and sat up. "Ciaou!" he said. "What kind of time did you have?" "Magnificent." We shook hands and he put his arm around my neck and kissed me. "Oughf," I said. "You're dirty," he said. "You ought to wash. Where did you go and what did you do? Tell me everything at once." "I went everywhere. Milan, Florence, Rome, Naples, Villa San Giovanni, Messina, Taormina--" "You talk like a time-table. Did you have any beautiful adventures?" "Yes." "Where?" "Milano, Firenze, Roma, Napoli--" "That's enough. Tell me really what was the best." "In Milano." "That was because it was first. Where did you meet her? In the Cova? Where did you go? How did you feel? Tell me everything at once. Did you stay all night?" "Yes." "That's nothing. Here now we have beautiful girls. New girls never been to the front before." "Wonderful." "You don't believe me? We will go now this afternoon and see. And in the town we have beautiful English girls. I am now in love with Miss Barkley. I will take you to call. I will probably marry Miss Barkley." "I have to get washed and report. Doesn't anybody work now?" "Since you are gone we have nothing but frostbites, chilblains, jaundice, gonorrhea, self-inflicted wounds, pneumonia and hard and soft chancres. Every week some one gets wounded by rock fragments. There are a few real wounded. Next week the war starts again. perhaps it start again. They say so. Do you think I would do right to marry Miss Barkley--after the war of course?" "Absolutely," I said and poured the basin full of water. "To-night you will tell me everything," said Rinaldi. "Now I must go back to sleep to be fresh and beautiful for Miss Barkley." I took off my tunic and shirt and washed in the cold water in the basin. While I rubbed myself with a towel I looked around the room and out the window and at Rinaldi lying with his eyes closed on the bed. He was good-looking, was my age, and he came from Amalfi. He loved being a surgeon and we were great friends. While I was looking at him he opened his eyes. "Have you any money?" "Yes." "Loan me fifty lire." I dried my hands and took out my pocket-book from the inside of my tunic hanging on the wall. Rinaldi took the note, folded it without rising from the bed and slid it in his breeches pocket. He smiled, "I must make on Miss Barkley the impression of a man of sufficient wealth. You are my great and good friend and financial protector." "Go to hell," I said. That night at the mess I sat next to the priest and he was disappointed and suddenly hurt that I had not gone to the Abruzzi. He had written to his father that I was coming and they had made preparations. I myself felt as badly as he did and could not understand why I had not gone. It was what I had wanted to do and I tried to explain how one thing had led to another and finally he saw it and understood that I had really wanted to go and it was almost all right. I had drunk much wine and afterward coffee and Strega and I explained, winefully, how we did not do the things we wanted to do; we never did such things. We two were talking while the others argued. I had wanted to go to Abruzzi. I had gone to no place where the roads were frozen and hard as iron, where it was clear cold and dry and the snow was dry and powdery and hare-tracks in the snow and the peasants took off their hats and called you Lord and there was good hunting. I had gone to no such place but to the smoke of cafe and nights when the room whirled and you needed to look at the wall to make it stop, nights in bed, drunk, when you knew that that was all there was, and the strange excitement of waking and not knowing who it was with you, and the world all unreal in the dark and so exciting that you must resume again unknowing and not caring in the night, sure that this was all and all and all and not caring. Suddenly to care very much and to sleep to wake with it sometimes morning and all that had been there gone and everything sharp and hard and clear and sometimes a dispute about the cost. Sometimes still pleasant and fond and warm and breakfast and lunch. Sometimes all niceness gone and glad to get out on the street but always another day starting and then another night. I tried to tell about the night and the difference between the night and the day and how the night was better unless the day was very clean and cold and I could not tell it; as I cannot tell it now. But if you have had it you know. He had not had it but he understood that I had really wanted to go to the Abruzzi but had not gone and we were still friends, with many tastes alike, but with the difference between us. He had always known what I did not know and what, when I learned it, I was always able to forget. But I did not know that then, although I learned it later. In the meantime we were all at the mess, the meal was finished, and the argument went on. We two stopped talking and the captain shouted, "priest not happy. priest not happy without girls." "I am happy," said the priest. "priest not happy. priest wants Austrians to win the war," the captain said. The others listened. The priest shook his head. "No," he said. "priest wants us never to attack. Don't you want us never to attack?" "No. If there is a war I suppose we must attack." "Must attack. Shall attack!" The priest nodded. "Leave him alone," the major said. "He's all right." "He can't do anything about it anyway," the captain said. We all got up and left the table. 第一部 第三章 我回到前线的时候，原来所属的部队还驻在那小镇上。附近乡下，炮比从前多了好些，而春天也到了。田野青翠，葡萄藤上长出小青芽，路边的树木吐了叶子，海那边有微风吹来①。我看见那小镇和小镇上边的小山和古堡，众山环绕，仿佛是只杯子，背后便是些褐色高峰，山坡上稍有青翠。小镇里炮更多，还有一些新的医院，街上可以碰到英人，有时还有英国妇女，此外炮火所毁的房屋也多了一些。天气暖和如春，我在树荫小巷里走，全身给墙上反射过来的阳光晒得暖洋洋的；原来我们还住在那幢老房子里；这房子看起来跟我离开时没有多少分别。大门开着，有个士兵坐在外边长凳上晒太阳，边门口停有一部救护车，而我一踏进门，便闻到大理石地板和医院的气味。景物如旧，只是春天到了。我向大房间的门里张望一下，看到少校正在办公，窗子打开着，阳光晒了进来。他没看见我，而我则不晓得现在就进去报到好呢，还是先上楼洗刷一下。我决定还是先上楼去。 我和雷那蒂中尉合住的房间，窗子朝着院子。现在窗子开着；我床上铺好了毯子，我的东西挂在墙壁上，我的防毒面具放在一个长方形的白铁罐子里，钢盔仍旧挂在那钉子上。床脚放着我那只扁皮箱，而我的冬靴，涂过油擦得亮光光的，搁在皮箱上。我那根奥军狙击兵的步枪，则挂在两张床的中间，枪铳是蓝色的八角形，枪托是可爱的黑胡桃木，可以靠在颊骨上射击。跟那根枪配套用的望远镜，我记得是锁在皮箱里的。中尉雷那蒂本来睡在他的床上。他听见我的声响便醒了，坐起身来。 “你好，”他说。“玩得怎么样啊？” “好极了。”我们握握手，他抱住我的脖子吻我。 “噢，”我说。 “你身上脏，”他说。“你该洗一洗。你到过什么地方，做了什么事？立刻都告诉我。” “我什么地方都去过。米兰、佛罗伦萨、罗马、那不勒斯、维拉·圣佐凡尼、墨西拿、塔奥米那——” “你好像在背火车时间表。有没有什么艳遇？” “有。” “哪儿？” “米兰、佛罗伦萨、罗马、那不勒斯——” “够了。只要实实在在把最得意的告诉我。” “在米兰。” “那是因为你首先到那地方。你在哪儿碰见她的？在科伐①？你们上哪儿去玩？你觉得怎么样？立刻都告诉我。你们是睡整夜的吗？”“是的。” “那也没有什么。我们这儿现在有美丽的姐儿。新来的姐儿，从来没上过前线的。” “那太好了。” “你不相信吗？我们今天下午就看看去。镇上还有美丽的英国姑娘。现在我爱上了巴克莱小姐。我带你去望望她。说不定我要和巴克莱小姐结婚哩。” ① 这里的海指亚得里亚海，在意大利的东面，是地中海的一部分。 ① 米兰歌剧院附近的著名咖啡馆。意大利文“科伐”有“休息地”的意思。 “我得洗刷一下去报到。难道现在谁也不工作吗？” “自从你走以后，没有什么大病重伤，只是些冻伤，冻疮，黄疸，白浊，自己弄的伤，肺炎，硬性和软性下疳。每星期总有人给石片砸伤。真正的伤员当然也有几个。战争下星期又要开始了。或许已经开始了。人家是这么说的。照你看，我跟巴克莱小姐结婚行不行——婚期自然得在停战以后。”“绝对行，”我说，在脸盆里倒满了水。 “今天晚上你得把一切都告诉我，”雷那蒂说。“现在我得多睡一会儿，养好精神，漂漂亮亮的，去见巴克莱小姐。” 我脱下和衬衫，用脸盆里的冷水抹身。我一边用毛巾摩擦身子，一边对房间环视了一下，望望窗外，望望眼睛闭着睡的雷那蒂。他人长得很好看，年龄跟我不相上下，是阿马斐①人。他当军医觉得很开心，我们俩是好朋友。我望着他时，他睁开眼来。 “身边有钱没有？” “有。” “借我五十里拉吧。” 我揩干手，从挂在墙上的里掏出皮夹子来。雷那蒂接过钞票，折好塞在裤袋里，人依然躺在床上。他笑着说：“我得在巴克莱小姐面前装阔佬。 你是我的亲密的好朋友，我经济上的保护人。” “活见鬼，”我说。 那天晚上在饭堂里，我坐在教士的旁边。教士对于我没到他故乡阿布鲁息去很失望，仿佛突然伤了心似的。他给他父亲写信，说我要去，他们也预备好一切等待我。我自己也像他那样不好过，想不出我当时为什么竟没有去。其实我本来打算去的，我就说明给他听，本来打算去，后来一事又是一事，终于拖得没有去成。到末了他也看出我实在是本来打算去的，于是他才无所谓了。我喝了许多酒，过后又喝了咖啡和施特烈嘉酒②，带着酒意说，我们并不做我们想做的事，我们从来不这样做。③ ① 阿马斐在意大利的西南部。 ② 一种桔子味的甜酒，金黄色。 ③ 参见《圣经·罗马书》第7 章第15 节：“..我所愿意的，我并不作..” 我们俩谈话的时候，别人正在争辩。我本来有意思要到阿布鲁息去的。我并没有到路面冻得像铁那么坚硬的寒地去，那儿天气晴朗，又冷又干燥，下的雪干燥像粉，雪地上有野兔走过的脚迹，庄稼人一见到你就脱帽喊老爷。可惜我去的地方都是烟雾弥漫呛人的咖啡馆，一到夜里，房间直打转，你得盯住墙壁，才能使房子停止旋转。夜间醉了酒躺在床上，体会到人生的一切都是这样，醒来时有一种奇异的兴奋，不晓得究竟是跟谁在睡觉，在黑暗中，世界显得都是不实在的，而且这样令人兴奋，所以你不得不又装得假痴假呆、糊里糊涂，认为这就是一切，一切的一切，天不管，地不管。有时候，你会突然间又非常警惕起来，怀着这样的心情从睡梦中醒来，早晨一到，一切消逝，触目都是尖锐的、苛刻的、清楚的现实，有时甚至还争吵价钱过于昂贵。有时早上醒来愉快、甜蜜、温暖，还一同吃了早饭和中饭。有时一点快感都没有，急于早点走开上街去，但是有另一天的开始，接下来的就有另一天的夜晚。我想把夜里的情况，以及日夜的区别告诉那教士，说明为什么白天倘若不是很清爽很寒冷的话，还是黑夜好。但是我这番意思说不出来，就像我现在讲不出来一样。但是如果你有过这种经验，你就明白了。他没有这种经验，但是他也明白我本来想到他故乡去的意思，虽然我没去成，我们俩还是朋友，有好些共同的兴趣，也有些分歧。我所不明白的事往往他都明白，有时我也懂了，只是后来总是忘掉。关于这一点，我当时不晓得，后来才明白。当时我们大家都在饭堂里，晚饭已吃完，旁人还在争辩。我们俩一停止谈话，上尉便嚷道：“教士不开心。教士没有姐儿不开心。” “我开心的，”教士说。 “教士不开心。教士希望奥地利打胜仗，”上尉说。旁的人在听。教士摇摇头。 “不对，”他说。 “教士要我们永远不进攻。你不是要我们永远不进攻吗？”“不是。既然有战争，我们总得进攻吧。” “总得进攻。要进攻！” 教士点点头。 “由他去吧，”少校说。“他这人不错。” “他究竟也是没法子想啊，”上尉说。于是大家离桌散席。

BOOK ONE CHAPTER 4 The battery in the next garden woke me in the morning and I saw the sun coming through the window and got out of the bed. I went to the window and looked out. The gravel paths were moist and the grass was wet with dew. The battery fired twice and the air came each time like a blow and shook the window and made the front of my pajamas flap. I could not see the guns but they were evidently firing directly over us. It was a nuisance to have them there but it was a comfort that they were no bigger. As I looked out at the garden I heard a motor truck starting on the road. I dressed, went downstairs, had some coffee in the kitchen and went out to the garage. Ten cars were lined up side by side under the long shed. They were top-heavy, blunt-nosed ambulances, painted gray and built like moving-vans. The mechanics were working on one out in the yard. Three others were up in the mountains at dressing stations. "Do they ever shell that battery?" Tasked one of the mechanics. "No, Signor Tenente. It is protected by the little hill." "How's everything?" "Not so bad. This machine is no good but the others march." He stopped working and smiled. "Were you on permission?" "Yes." He wiped his hands on his jumper and grinned. "You have a good time?" The others all grinned too. "Fine," I said. "What's the matter with this machine?" "It's no good. One thing after another." "What's the matter now?" "New rings." I left them working, the car looking disgraced and empty with the engine open and parts spread on the work bench, and went in under the shed and looked at each of the cars. They were moderately clean, a few freshly washed, the others dusty. I looked at the tires carefully, looking for cuts or stone bruises. Everything seemed in good condition. It evidently made no difference whether I was there to look after things or not. I had imagined that the condition of the cars, whether or not things were obtainable, the smooth functioning of the business of removing wounded and sick from the dressing stations, hauling them back from the mountains to the clearing station and then distributing them to the hospitals named on their papers, depended to a considerable extent on myself. Evidently it did not matter whether I was there or not. "Has there been any trouble getting parts?" I asked the sergeant mechanic. "No, Signor Tenente." "Where is the gasoline park now?" "At the same place." "Good," I said and went back to the house and drank another bowl of coffee at the mess table. The coffee was a pale gray and sweet with condensed milk. Outside the window it was a lovely spring morning. There was that beginning of a feeling of dryness in the nose that meant the day would be hot later on. That day I visited the posts in the mountains and was back in town late in the afternoon. The whole thing seemed to run better while I was away. The offensive was going to start again I heard. The division for which we worked were to attack at a place up the river and the major told me that I would see about the posts for during the attack. The attack would cross the river up above the narrow gorge and spread up the hillside. The posts for the cars would have to be as near the river as they could get and keep covered. They would, of course, be selected by the infantry but we were supposed to work it out. It was one of those things that gave you a false feeling of soldiering. I was very dusty and dirty and went up to my room to wash. Rinaldi was sitting on the bed with a copy of Hugo's English grammar. He was dressed, wore his black boots, and his hair shone. "Splendid," he said when he saw me. "You will come with me to see Miss Barkley." "No. "Yes. You will please come and make me a good impression on her." "All right. Wait till I get cleaned up." "Wash up and come as you are." I washed, brushed my hair and we started. "Wait a minute," Rinaldi said. "perhaps we should have a drink." He opened his trunk and took out a bottle. "Not Strega," I said. "No. Grappa." "All right." He poured two glasses and we touched them, first fingers extended. The grappa was very strong. "Another?" "All right," I said. We drank the second grappa, Rinaldi put away the bottle and we went down the stairs. It was hot walking through the town but the sun was starting to go down and it was very pleasant. The British hospital was a big villa built by Germans before the war. Miss Barkley was in the garden. Another nurse was with her. We saw their white uniforms through the trees and walked toward them. Rinaldi saluted. I saluted too but more moderately. "How do you do?" Miss Barkley said. "You're not an Italian, are you?" "Oh, no." Rinaldi was talking with the other nurse. They were laughing. "What an odd thing--to be in the Italian army." "It's not really the army. It's only the ambulance." "It's very odd though. Why did you do it?" "I don't know," I said. "There isn't always an explanation for everything." "Oh, isn't there? I was brought up to think there was." "That's awfully nice." "Do we have to go on and talk this way?" "No," I said. "That's a relief. Isn't it?" "What is the stick?" I asked. Miss Barkley was quite tall. She wore what seemed to me to be a nurse's uniform, was blonde and had a tawny skin and gray eyes. I thought she was very beautiful. She was carrying a thin rattan stick like a toy riding-crop, bound in leather. "It belonged to a boy who was killed last year." "I'm awfully sorry." "He was a very nice boy. He was going to marry me and he was killed in the Somme." "It was a ghastly show." "Were you there?" "No." "I've heard about it," she said. "There's not really any war of that sort down here. They sent me the little stick. His mother sent it to me. They returned it with his things." "Had you been engaged long?" "Eight years. We grew up together." "And why didn't you marry?" "I don't know," she said. "I was a fool not to. I could have given him that anyway. But I thought it would be bad for him." "I see." "Have you ever loved any one?" "No," I said. We sat down on a bench and I looked at her. "You have beautiful hair," I said. "Do you like it?" "Very much." "I was going to cut it all off when he died." "No." "I wanted to do something for him. You see I didn't care about the other thing and he could have had it all. He could have had anything he wanted if I would have known. I would have married him or anything. I know all about it now. But then he wanted to go to war and I didn't know." I did not say anything. "I didn't know about anything then. I thought it would be worse for him. I thought perhaps he couldn't stand it and then of course he was killed and that was the end of it." "I don't know." "Oh, yes," she said. "That's the end of it." We looked at Rinaldi talking with the other nurse. "What is her name?" "Ferguson. Helen Ferguson. Your friend is a doctor, isn't he?" "Yes. He's very good." "That's splendid. You rarely find any one any good this close to the front. This is close to the front, isn't it?" "Quite." "It's a silly front," she said. "But it's very beautiful. Are they going to have an offensive?" "Yes." "Then we'll have to work. There's no work now." "Have you done nursing long?" "Since the end of 'fifteen. I started when he did. I remember having a silly idea he might come to the hospital where I was. With a sabre cut, I suppose, and a bandage around his head. Or shot through the shoulder. Something picturesque." "This is the picturesque front," I said. "Yes," she said. "people can't realize what France is like. If they did, it couldn't all go on. He didn't have a sabre cut. They blew him all to bits." I didn't say anything. "Do you suppose it will always go on?" "No." "What's to stop it?" "It will crack somewhere." "We'll crack. We'll crack in France. They can't go on doing things like the Somme and not crack." "They won't crack here," I said. "You think not?" "No. They did very well last summer." "They may crack," she said. "Anybody may crack." "The Germans too." "No," she said. "I think not." We went over toward Rinaldi and Miss Ferguson. "You love Italy?" Rinaldi asked Miss Ferguson in English. "Quite well." "No understand," Rinaldi shook his head. "Abbastanza bene," I translated. He shook his head. "That is not good. You love England?" "Not too well. I'm Scotch, you see." Rinaldi looked at me blankly. "She's Scotch, so she loves Scotland better than England," I said in Italian. "But Scotland is England." I translated this for Miss Ferguson. "pas encore," said Miss Ferguson. "Not really?" "Never. We do not like the English." "Not like the English? Not like Miss Barkley?" "Oh, that's different. You mustn't take everything so literally." After a while we said good-night and left. Walking home Rinaldi said, "Miss Barkley prefers you to me. That is very clear. But the little Scotch one is very nice." "Very," I said. I had not noticed her. "You like her?" "No," said Rinaldi. 第一部 第四章 早晨我给隔壁花园里的炮队开炮吵醒了，看见阳光已从窗外进来，于是就起了床。我踱到窗边望出去。花园里的砂砾小径是潮湿的，草上也有露水。炮队开炮两次，每开一次，窗户震动，连我睡衣的胸襟也抖了一下。炮虽然看不见，但一听就知道是在我们上头开。炮队挨得这样近，相当讨厌，幸亏炮的口径并不太大。我望着外边花园时，听得见一部卡车在路上的开动声。我穿好衣服下楼，在厨房里喝了一点咖啡，便向汽车间走。有十部车子并排停在长长的车棚下。都是些上重下轻、车头短的救护车，漆成灰色，构造得像搬场卡车。机师们在场子里修理一部车子。还有三部车子则留在山峰间的包扎站。 “敌人向那炮队开过炮吗？”我问一位机师。 “没开过，中尉先生。有那座小山的掩护。” “这里情形怎么样？” “不太坏。这部车子不行，旁的都开得动。”他停住工作笑一笑。“你是休假才回来吧？” “是的。” 他在罩衫上揩揩手，露齿而笑。“玩得好吗？”其余的机师都露齿而笑。 “好，”我说。“这车子怎么啦？” “坏了。不是这个就是那个出毛病。” “现在是什么毛病呢？” “得换钢环。” 我由他们继续修理这部好不难看的空车，现在车子的引擎敞开着，零件散放在工作台上。我走到车棚底下，给每一部车子检查一下。车子相当干净，有几部刚刚洗过，其余的积满了尘埃。我细心看看车胎，看看有没有裂痕或是给石头划破的。一切情况相当满意。我人在不在这儿看管车子，显然没多大关系。我本来自以为很重要，车子的保养，物资的调配，从深山里的包扎站运回伤病员到医疗后送站，然后根据伤病员的病历卡，运送入医院，这一切顺利进行，大多是靠我一人。现在我才明白，有我没我并没有多大关系。 “配零件有什么困难没有？”我问那机械中士。 “没有困难，中尉先生。” “现在油库在什么地方？” “老地方。” “好，”我说，回到屋子里，又上饭堂去喝一杯咖啡。咖啡淡灰色，甜甜的，因为冲着炼乳。窗外是一个可爱的春天早晨。鼻子里开始有一种干燥的感觉，这天天气一定会很热。这天我上山峰间去看看车站，回镇时已经很晚。 一切都很好，我人不在这儿，仿佛情形反而好一点。总攻击又要开始了，我听人家说。我们所属的那个师，将从河上游某地点进攻，少校叫我负责进攻时期的各救护车站。进攻部队将由上游一条窄峡上渡河，然后在山坡上扩大阵地。救护车的车站得尽量挨近河边，同时又要有天然的保障。车站地点当然是由步兵选定的，不过实际筹划执行，还得依靠我们。这样一来，我居然也有了布阵作战的错觉了。 我满身尘埃污秽，就上我房间去洗刷一下。雷那蒂坐在床上看《雨果氏英语语法》①。他穿戴好了，脚穿黑靴，头发亮光光的。“好极了，”他一看见我就说。“你陪我去见巴克莱小姐吧。”“不去。” “要去。你得帮我给她一个好印象。” “好吧。等我弄一弄干净。” “洗一洗就行，用不着换衣服。” 我洗一洗，梳梳头，就跟他走。 “等一等，”雷那蒂说。“还是先喝一点才去吧。”他打开箱子，拿出一瓶酒来。 “别喝施特烈嘉，”我说。 “不。是格拉巴。②”“好吧。” 他倒了两杯酒，我们伸出了食指碰碰杯。酒性好凶。 “再来一杯？” “好吧，”我说。我们喝了第二杯格拉巴，雷那蒂放好酒瓶，我们这才下楼。上街穿镇而走，本来是很热的，幸亏太阳开始下山，走来倒很愉快。英国医院设在一座德国人战前盖的大别墅里。巴克莱小姐在花园里。另外一位护士和她在一起。我们从树缝间望得见她们的白，于是朝她们走去。雷那蒂行了礼。我也行了礼，不过不像他那样过于殷勤。“你好，”巴克莱小姐说。“你不是意大利人吧？” “噢，不是。” 雷那蒂在跟另外一位护士说话。他们在笑。 “你真怪，怎么进了意大利军队。” “也不是真正的军队。只是救护车队罢了。” “不过还是很怪。你为什么这样做？” “我也不知道，”我说。“并不是每件事都有解释的。” “噢，没有解释？我的教养却告诉我是应该有解释的。” “那倒是怪舒服的。” “我们非这么顶嘴不行吗？” “可以不必，”我说。 “这样可松一口气。不是吗？” “你那根东西是什么？”我问。巴克莱小姐长得相当高。她身上穿的好像是护士，金黄的头发，皮肤给阳光晒成黄褐色，灰色的眼睛。我认为她长得很美。她手里拿着一根细藤条，外边包了皮，看起来好像是小孩子玩的马鞭。 “这根东西的主人去年阵亡了。” “非常抱歉，问得太冒昧了。” “他是个很好的孩子。他本来要和我结婚，但他在索姆战役①中牺牲了。” “那是一场可怕的恶战。” “你也在场吗？” “不。” ① 雨果语言学院设于伦敦，编有外国语速成法丛书多种，附设有外语函授班。 ② 一种意大利白兰地。 ① 索姆是法国北部河名，于1916 年和1918 年发生剧烈战役。这里指1916 年战役，英法联军初次运用新武器——坦克——进攻德军，以解除德军围攻凡尔登的压力。 “我也听人家说过，”她说。“这里可没有那样的恶战。他们把这根东西送来给我。是他母亲送来的。人家把他的东西送回家去。” “你们俩订了婚多久？” “八年。我们是一块儿长大的。” “那你们为什么不结婚呢？” “我不知道为什么，”她说。“当时我不结婚真傻。我本来迟早要给他的。不过当时我想，给他对于他反而不好。” “原来如此。” “你爱过人吗？” “没有，”我说。我们在一条长凳上坐下，我看看她。 “你的头发长得很美，”我说。 “你喜欢吗？” “很喜欢。” “他死后我本想一刀剪掉。” “那何苦呢。” “我当时想为他做点什么。你知道，我对于那事情本来无所谓，他要，我都可以给。早知道的话，他要什么我什么都可以给他。这一切道理我现在才明白。但是他当时要去为国作战，而我又不明白这些道理。”我一句话都没有说。 “当时我什么都不懂。我以为给了他反而会害他。我以为给了他以后他会熬不住，后来他一死，什么都完了。” “我不知道。” “唉，完了，”她说。“什么都完了。” 我们望望雷那蒂，他和那护士在谈话。 “她叫什么？” “弗格逊。海伦·弗格逊。你的朋友是位医生吧？” “是的。他人很好。” “那好极了。这么挨近前线，很难找到好人。我们是挨近前线的吧？” “相当近了。” “这是一条胡闹的战线，”她说。“但是风景很美。他们不是要发动总攻击吗？” “是的。” “那么我们就有事做了。现在没有工作。” “你当护士好久了吧？” “从一九一五年年底起。他一参军我就当护士。记得当时有一个傻念头，想象有一天他会到我的医院来。我想象是个刀伤，头上包着绷带。或是肩头中了枪。总是个有趣的场面。” “这里倒是个有趣的前线，”我说。 “你说得对，”她说。“人家还不晓得法国是什么样子呢。一晓得的话，恐怕仗就打不下去了。他受的不是军刀砍伤。人家把他炸得粉碎。”我一声也不响。 “照你想，这战争永远打不完吗？” “不会的。” “有什么可以叫它停止呢？” “总有个地方会撑不住的。” “我们撑不住。我们在法国就撑不住。像索姆这样搞几次，就非垮不可。” “这里不会垮的。” “你这样想吗？” “是的。他们今年夏天打得很不错。” “他们可能垮的，”她说。“什么人都可能垮的。” “德国人还不是一样。” “不，”她说。“我可不这样想。” 我们向雷那蒂和弗格逊小姐那边走去。 “你爱意大利吗？”雷那蒂用英语问弗格逊小姐。 “相当爱。” “不懂，”雷那蒂摇摇头。 我把“相当爱”译成意大利话。他还是摇头。 “这不行。你爱英格兰吗？” “不怎么爱。你知道，我是苏格兰人。” 雷那蒂茫然看着我。 “她是苏格兰人，所以她爱苏格兰甚于英格兰，”我用意大利话说。“但是苏格兰正是英格兰啊。” 我把这句话翻译给弗格逊小姐听。 “还不好算，”弗格逊小姐说。 “真的？” “从来不是。我们不喜欢英格兰人。”①“不喜欢英格兰人？不喜欢巴克莱小姐？” “噢，这就不同了。你可别这样咬文嚼字。”隔了一会儿，我们说了晚安就分手了。在回家途中，雷那蒂说：“巴克莱小姐比较喜欢你，超过了我。这是很清楚的。那位苏格兰小姑娘可也很不错。” “很不错，”我说。其实连她的人长得怎么样我都没有留心。“你喜欢她吗？” “不，”雷那蒂说。 ① 苏格兰人和爱尔兰人，因为受了英格兰人的并吞和压迫，在情感上始终有相当距离。

BOOK ONE CHAPTER 5 The next afternoon I went to call on Miss Barkley again. She was not in the garden and I went to the side door of the villa where the ambulances drove up. Inside I saw the head nurse, who said Miss Barkley was on duty--"there's a war on, you know." I said I knew. "You're the American in the Italian army?" she asked. "Yes, ma'am." "How did you happen to do that? Why didn't you join up with us?" "I don't know," I said. "Could I join now?" "I'm afraid not now. Tell me. Why did you join up with the Italians?" "I was in Italy," I said, "and I spoke Italian." "Oh," she said. "I'm learning it. It's beautiful language." "Somebody said you should be able to learn it in two weeks." "Oh, I'll not learn it in two weeks. I've studied it for months now. You may come and see her after seven o'clock if you wish. She'll be off then. But don't bring a lot of Italians." "Not even for the beautiful language?" "No. Nor for the beautiful uniforms." "Good evening," I said. "A rivederci, Tenente." "A rivederla." I saluted and went out. It was impossible to salute foreigners as an Italian, without embarrassment. The Italian salute never seemed made for export. The day had been hot. I had been up the river to the bridgehead at plava. It was there that the offensive was to begin. It had been impossible to advance on the far side the year before because there was only one road leading down from the pass to the pontoon bridge and it was under machine-gun and shell fire for nearly a mile. It was not wide enough either to carry all the transport for an offensive and the Austrians could make a shambles out of it. But the Italians had crossed and spread out a little way on the far side to hold about a mile and a half on the Austrian side of the river. It was a nasty place and the Austrians should not have let them hold it. I suppose it was mutual tolerance because the Austrians still kept a bridgehead further down the river. The Austrian trenches were above on the hillside only a few yards from the Italian lines. There had been a little town but it was all rubble. There was what was left of a railway station and a smashed permanent bridge that could not be repaired and used because it was in plain sight. I went along the narrow road down toward the river, left the car at the dressing station under the hill, crossed the pontoon bridge, which was protected by a shoulder of the mountain, and went through the trenches in the smashed-down town and along the edge of the slope. Everybody was in the dugouts. There were racks of rockets standing to be touched off to call for help from the artillery or to signal with if the telephone wires were cut. It was quiet, hot and dirty. I looked across the wire at the Austrian lines. Nobody was in sight. I had a drink with a captain that I knew in one of the dugouts and went back across the bridge. A new wide road was being finished that would go over the mountain and zig-zag down to the bridge. When this road was finished the offensive would start. It came down through the forest in sharp turns. The system was to bring everything down the new road and take the empty trucks, carts and loaded ambulances and all returning traffic up the old narrow road. The dressing station was on the Austrian side of the river under the edge of the hill and stretcher-bearers would bring the wounded back across the pontoon bridge. It would be the same when the offensive started. As far as I could make out the last mile or so of the new road where it started to level out would be able to be shelled steadily by the Austrians. It looked as though it might be a mess. But I found a place where the cars would be sheltered after they passed that last badlooking bit and could wait for the wounded to be brought across the pontoon bridge. I would have liked to drive over the new road but it was not yet finished. It looked wide and well made with a good grade and the turns looked very impressive where you could see them through openings in the forest on the mountain side. The cars would be all right with their good metal-to-metal brakes and anyway, coming down, they would not be loaded. I drove back up the narrow road. Two carabinieri held the car up. A shell had fallen and while we waited three others fell up the road. They were seventy-sevens and came with a whishing rush of air, a hard bright burst and flash and then gray smoke that blew across the road. The carabinieri waved us to go on. passing where the shells had landed I avoided the small broken places and smelled the high explosive and the smell of blasted clay and stone and freshly shattered flint. I drove back to Gorizia and our villa and, as I said, went to call on Miss Barkley, who was on duty. At dinner I ate very quickly and left for the villa where the British had their hospital. It was really very large and beautiful and there were fine trees in the grounds. Miss Barkley was sitting on a bench in the garden. Miss Ferguson was with her. They seemed glad to see me and in a little while Miss Ferguson excused herself and went away. "I'll leave you two," she said. "You get along very well without me." "Don't go, Helen," Miss Barkley said. "I'd really rather. I must write some letters." "Good-night," I said. "Good-night, Mr. Henry." "Don't write anything that will bother the censor." "Don't worry. I only write about what a beautiful place we live in and how brave the Italians are." "That way you'll be decorated." "That will be nice. Good-night, Catherine." "I'll see you in a little while," Miss Barkley said. Miss Ferguson walked away in the dark. "She's nice," I said. "Oh, yes, she's very nice. She's a nurse." "Aren't you a nurse?" "Oh, no. I'm something called a V. A. D. We work very hard but no one trusts us." "Why not?" "They don't trust us when there's nothing going on. When there is really work they trust us." "What is the difference?" "A nurse is like a doctor. It takes a long time to be. A V. A. D. is a short cut." "I see." "The Italians didn't want women so near the front. So we're all on very special behavior. We don't go out." "I can come here though." "Oh, yes. We're not cloistered." "Let's drop the war." "It's very hard. There's no place to drop it." "Let's drop it anyway." "All right." We looked at each other in the dark. I thought she was very beautiful and I took her hand. She let me take it and I held it and put my arm around under her arm. "No," she said. I kept my arm where it was. "Why not?" "No." "Yes," I said. "please." I leaned forward in the dark to kiss her and there was a sharp stinging flash. She had slapped my face hard. Her hand had hit my nose and eyes, and tears came in my eyes from the reflex. "I'm so sorry," she said. I felt I had a certain advantage. "You were quite right." "I'm dreadfully sorry," she said. "I just couldn't stand the nurse's-eveningoff aspect of it. I didn't mean to hurt you. I did hurt you, didn't I?" She was looking at me in the dark. I was angry and yet certain, seeing it all ahead like the moves in a chess game. "You did exactly right," I said. "I don't mind at all." "poor man." "You see I've been leading a sort of a funny life. And I never even talk English. And then you are so very beautiful." I looked at her. "You don't need to say a lot of nonsense. I said I was sorry. We do get along." "Yes," I said. "And we have gotten away from the war." She laughed. It was the first time I had ever heard her laugh. I watched her face. "You are sweet," she said. "No, I'm not." "Yes. You are a dear. I'd be glad to kiss you if you don't mind." I looked in her eyes and put my arm around her as I had before and kissed her. I kissed her hard and held her tight and tried to open her lips; they were closed tight. I was still angry and as I held her suddenly she shivered. I held her close against me and could feel her heart beating and her lips opened and her head went back against my hand and then she was crying on my shoulder. "Oh, darling," she said. "You will be good to me, won't you?" What the hell, I thought. I stroked her hair and patted her shoulder. She was crying. "You will, won't you?" She looked up at me. "Because we're going to have a strange life." After a while I walked with her to the door of the villa and she went in and I walked home. Back at the villa I went upstairs to the room. Rinaldi was lying on his bed. He looked at me. "So you make progress with Miss Barkley?" "We are friends." "You have that pleasant air of a dog in heat." I did not understand the word. "Of a what?" He explained. "You," I said, "have that pleasant air of a dog who--" "Stop it," he said. "In a little while we would say insulting things." He laughed. "Good-night," I said. "Good-night, little puppy." I knocked over his candle with the pillow and got into bed in the dark. Rinaldi picked up the candle, lit it and went on reading. 第一部 第五章 第二天下午，我又去拜访巴克莱小姐。她不在花园里，于是我就从停救护车的别墅的边门走了进去。我在别墅里见到护士长，护士长说巴克莱小姐正在上班——“这是作战时期，你知道。” 我说我知道。 “你就是那位参加意大利军队的美国人吧？”她问道。 “是的，小姐。” “你怎么会这么做？你为什么不参加我们的部队？” “我不知道，”我说。“现在我可以参加吗？” “现在恐怕不行啦。告诉我，你为什么参加意大利军队？”“我当时人在意大利，”我说，“并且我会讲意大利话。”“噢，”她说。“我也在学。 这是一种美丽的语言。” “有人说学两星期就应该学会。” “噢，我可不成。我已经学习了好几个月了。你要来的话，七点钟以后来看她吧。那时她下班了。但是千万别带来一大帮意大利人。”“就是为听听美丽的语言也不行吗？” “不行。就是漂亮的军装也不行。” “晚安，”我说。 “回头见，中尉。” “回头见。”我行了礼，走出去。要像意大利军人那般向外国人行礼，可真不行，一学起来就好窘。意大利人的行礼大概永远不预备出口的。 这天天气炎热。我曾到上游①普拉伐桥头堡那儿去一趟。总攻击将从那儿开始。去年没法深入河的对岸，因为从山隘到浮桥只有一条路，路上受敌人机枪扫射和炮击的地段，约有一英里长。况且路不宽，既不足以运输全部进攻部队，同时奥军又可以把它变成屠宰场。但是现在意军已经渡了河，占据了对岸的敌人地带约有一英里半长。这是个怪讨厌的地点，奥军本不应该让意军占领的。照我想，大概是彼此让步，因为我们这边河上，奥军在下游地带也保留有一座桥头堡。奥军的战壕就挖在山坡上，距离意军阵地只有几码远。那儿本来有一个小镇，现在已成为一片瓦砾。只剩下一个残毁的火车站和一座被炸坏的铁路桥——这条桥现在无法修理和使用，因为它就暴露在敌人眼前。 我沿着窄路开车朝河边驶去，把车子留在山下的包扎站上，步行走过那座有个山肩掩护的浮桥，走进那些在废镇上和山坡边的战壕。人人都在掩蔽壕里。那儿搁着一排排的火箭，万一电话线被割断的话，这些火箭可以随时施放，请求炮队的帮助或者当作信号。那儿又静，又热，又脏。我隔着铁丝网望望奥军的阵地。一个人也看不见。我跟一位本来认识的上尉，在掩蔽壕里喝了一杯酒，就沿原路回桥。 有一条宽阔的新路正在修造，盘山而上，然后曲曲折折通向河上的桥。这条路一修好，总攻击就要开始了。新路下山时穿过森林，急峭地转折下山。当时的布置是，进攻部队充分利用这条新路，回程的空卡车、马车和载有伤员的救护车，则走那条狭窄的旧路回去。包扎站设在敌军那边河上的小山边，抬担架的人得把伤员抬过浮桥。 ① 指伊孙左河，在意奥边境上，长约七十五英里。 总进攻开始时，我们就将这么行动。照我目前所能观察到的，这条新路的最后一英里，就是刚从高山转入平原的那一长段，会遭到敌军不断的猛轰。可能搞得一团糟。幸亏我找到一个可以躲躲车子的地方，车子开过那一段危险地带后可以在那儿歇一歇，等待伤员抬过浮桥来。我很想在新路上试试车，可惜路还没修好，不能通行。新修的道路相当宽阔，斜度也不坏，还有那些转弯处，从大山上森林空隙处露出来的，看来也相当动人。救护车装有金属制的刹车，况且下山时还没装人，大概不至于出毛病。我沿着窄路开车回去。 两个宪兵拦住了车子。原来有颗炮弹刚刚落下，而当我们等待的时候，路上又掉下来三颗炮弹。那些炮弹都是七十七毫米口径的，落下来时发出一股嗖嗖响的急风，一阵又有力又明亮的爆裂和闪光，接着路上冒起一股灰色的烟。宪兵挥手叫我们开走。我的车子经过炮弹掉下的地方时，避开地上的那些小坑，鼻子闻得到一股强烈的炸药和一股夹杂有炸裂的泥石和刚刚击碎的燧石等的味道。我开车子回到哥里察我们住的别墅，后来就去拜访巴克莱小姐，她正在上班，不得会面。 晚饭我吃得很快，就赶到英军医院所在地的别墅去。别墅实在又大又美丽，里边长有很好的树木。巴克莱小姐正坐在花园里一条长椅上。弗格逊小姐和她在一起。她们见到我，似乎很喜欢，一会儿弗格逊小姐便借口要走了。 “我让你们俩呆在这儿，”她说。“你们俩没有我也是很行的。”“别走，海伦，”巴克莱小姐说。 “我还是走吧。我得写几封信去。” “晚安，”我说。 “晚安，亨利先生。” “你可别写什么给检查员找麻烦的话。” “你放心。我不过写写我们住的地方多美丽，意大利人多勇敢。”“你这样写会得奖章的。” “那敢情好。晚安，凯瑟琳。” “我等一会就来，”巴克莱小姐说。弗格逊小姐在黑暗中走了。“她人很好。” “噢，她人很好。她是个护士。” “难道你自己不是吗？” “噢，我不是。我是个所谓的志愿救护队队员。我们拼命工作，可是人家不信任我们。” “为什么不信任？” “没有事情的时候，他们不信任我们。真正有事情要做的时候，他们就信任我们了。” “到底有什么分别呢？” “护士就好比是医生。要经过长期的训练。志愿队可只是一种短期训练班。” “原来如此。” “意大利人不让女人这么挨近前线。所以我们在这儿，行为还得特别检点。我们不出门。” “我倒是可以进来的。” “噢，那当然。我们又不是出家的。” “我们丢下战争不谈吧。” “那倒很困难。要丢也没地方丢它。” “丢下就算了。” “好的。” 我们在黑暗中对看着。我心里想，她长得实在美丽，我抓住了她的手。 她的手由我抓住，我就抓住了，并伸出手臂去抱她。 “不要，”她说。我就把手臂放在原处。 “为什么呢？” “不要。” “要的，”我说。“求求你啦。”我在黑暗中往前靠拢去吻她，一下子感到火辣辣的刺痛。她狠狠地打了我的脸。她的手打在我鼻子和眼睛上，反应之下，泪水立刻涌上眼来。 “真对不起，”她说。我觉得我占有某种优势。 “你做得对。” “非常对不起，”她说。“我就是受不了不当班护士被人调情这一套。 我并没存心伤害你。我可是打疼了你吧？” 她在黑暗中看着我。我很生气，不过自己很有把握，好像是在下棋，所有步数，早已看得清清楚楚。 “你打得实在对，”我说。没有关系。” “可怜的家伙。” “你知道，我这一向就在过着一种奇怪的生活。连英语都不讲。而且你又是长得这么美丽。”我望望她。 “无聊的话少说。我已经道歉过了。我们俩还混得下去。” “对啦，”我说。“况且我们已把战争丢下不谈了。” 她笑了起来。这是我第一次听见她笑。我注视她的脸。 “你真讨人喜欢，”她说。 “不见得吧。” “是的。你是个可爱的人儿。假如你不介意的话，我倒喜欢吻吻你。” 我一边看着她的眼睛，一边伸出胳臂像方才那样搂她，吻着她。我狠狠地吻她，紧紧地搂着她，逼着她张开嘴唇；她的嘴唇可紧闭着。当时我还在生气，而当我这么搂她的时候，想不到她突然全身颤抖了一下。我搂住她，让她紧紧靠在我身上，我感觉到她的心在跳动，于是她的嘴唇张开了，她的头往后贴在我手上，接着竟扑在我肩上哭泣起来。 “噢，亲爱的，”她说。“你要好好地待我，答应吗？”该死，我心里在想。我抚摸她的头发，拍拍她的肩头。她还在哭。“你答应不答应？”她抬起头来望望我。“因为我们将要过一种奇异的生活。” 过了一会儿，我陪她走到别墅的门口，她走进去，我走回家。我回到我住的别墅，上楼走进房间。雷那蒂正躺在床上。他看一看我。“原来你和巴克莱小姐的关系有进展了？” “我们是朋友。” “瞧你那副发情的狗似的好模样。” 我起初听不懂“发情”这字眼儿。 “什么好模样？” 他解释了一下。 “你呢，”我说，“你自己就好比一条狗——” “算了吧，”他说。“再说下去你我就要损人了。”他大笑起来。“晚安，”我说。 “晚安，小哈巴狗。” 我把枕头扔过去，扑灭了他的蜡烛，在黑暗中上了床。 雷那蒂捡起蜡烛，点上了，又继续看书。

BOOK ONE CHAPTER 6 I was away for two days at the posts. When I got home it was too late and I did not see Miss Barkley until the next evening. She was not in the garden and I had to wait in the office of the hospital until she came down. There were many marble busts on painted wooden pillars along the walls of the room they used for an office. The hall too, that the office opened on, was lined with them. They had the complete marble quality of all looking alike. Sculpture had always seemed a dull business--still, bronzes looked like something. But marble busts all looked like a cemetery. There was one fine cemetery though--the one at pisa. Genoa was the place to see the bad marbles. This had been the villa of a very wealthy German and the busts must have cost him plenty. I wondered who had done them and how much he got. I tried to make out whether they were members of the family or what; but they were all uniformly classical. You could not tell anything about them. I sat on a chair and held my cap. We were supposed to wear steel helmets even in Gorizia but they were uncomfortable and too bloody theatrical in a town where the civilian inhabitants had not been evacuated. I wore one when we went up to the posts and carried an English gas mask. We were just beginning to get some of them. They were a real mask. Also we were required to wear an automatic pistol; even doctors and sanitary officers. I felt it against the back of the chair. You were liable to arrest if you did not have one worn in plain sight. Rinaldi carried a holster stuffed with toilet paper. I wore a real one and felt like a gunman until I practised firing it. It was an Astra 7.65 caliber with a short barrel and it jumped so sharply when you let it off that there was no question of hitting anything. I practised with it, holding below the target and trying to master the jerk of the ridiculous short barrel until I could hit within a yard of where I aimed at twenty paces and then the ridiculousness of carrying a pistol at all came over me and I soon forgot it and carried it flopping against the small of my back with no feeling at all except a vague sort of shame when I met English-speaking people. I sat now in the chair and an orderly of some sort looked at me disapprovingly from behind a desk while I looked at the marble floor, the pillars with the marble busts, and the frescoes on the wall and waited for Miss Barkley. The frescoes were not bad. Any frescoes were good when they started to peel and flake off. I saw Catherine Barkley coming down the hall, and stood up. She did not seem tall walking toward me but she looked very lovely. "Good-evening, Mr. Henry," she said. "How do you do?" I said. The orderly was listening behind the desk. "Shall we sit here or go out in the garden?" "Let's go out. It's much cooler." I walked behind her out into the garden, the orderly looking after us. When we were out on the gravel drive she said, "Where have you been?" "I've been out on post." "You couldn't have sent me a note?" "No," I said. "Not very well. I thought I was coming back." "You ought to have let me know, darling." We were off the driveway, walking under the trees. I took her hands, then stopped and kissed her. "Isn't there anywhere we can go?" "No," she said. "We have to just walk here. You've been away a long time." "This is the third day. But I'm back now." She looked at me, "And you do love me?" "Yes." "You did say you loved me, didn't you?" "Yes," I lied. "I love you." I had not said it before. "And you call me Catherine?" "Catherine." We walked on a way and were stopped under a tree. "Say, 'I've come back to Catherine in the night." "I've come back to Catherine in the night." "Oh, darling, you have come back, haven't you?" "Yes." "I love you so and it's been awful. You won't go away?" "No. I'll always come back." "Oh, I love you so. please put your hand there again." "It's not been away." I turned her so I could see her face when I kissed her and I saw that her eyes were shut. I kissed both her shut eyes. I thought she was probably a little crazy. It was all right if she was. I did not care what I was getting into. This was better than going every evening to the house for officers where the girls climbed all over you and put your cap on backward as a sign of affection between their trips upstairs with brother officers. I knew I did not love Catherine Barkley nor had any idea of loving her. This was a game, like bridge, in which you said things instead of playing cards. Like bridge you had to pretend you were playing for money or playing for some stakes. Nobody had mentioned what the stakes were. It was all right with me. "I wish there was some place we could go," I said. I was experiencing the masculine difficulty of making love very long standing up. "There isn't any place," she said. She came back from wherever she had been. "We might sit there just for a little while." We sat on the flat stone bench and I held Catherine Barkley's hand. She would not let me put my arm around her. "Are you very tired?" she asked. "No." She looked down at the grass. "This is a rotten game we play, isn't it?" "What game?" "Don't be dull." "I'm not, on purpose." "You're a nice boy," she said. "And you play it as well as you know how. But it's a rotten game." "Do you always know what people think?" "Not always. But I do with you. You don't have to pretend you love me. That's over for the evening. Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" "But I do love you." "please let's not lie when we don't have to. I had a very fine little show and I'm all right now. You see I'm not mad and I'm not gone off. It's only a little sometimes." I pressed her hand, "Dear Catherine." "It sounds very funny now--Catherine. You don't pronounce it very much alike. But you're very nice. You're a very good boy." "That's what the priest said." "Yes, you're very good. And you will come and see me?" "Of course." "And you don't have to say you love me. That's all over for a while." She stood up and put out her hand. "Good-night." I wanted to kiss her. "No," she said. "I'm awfully tired." "Kiss me, though," I said. "I'm awfully tired, darling." "Kiss me." "Do you want to very much?" "Yes." We kissed and she broke away suddenly. "No. Good-night, please, darling." We walked to the door and I saw her go in and down the hall. I liked to watch her move. She went on down the hall. I went on home. It was a hot night and there was a good deal going on up in the mountains. I watched the flashes on San Gabriele. I stopped in front of the Villa Rossa. The shutters were up but it was still going on inside. Somebody was singing. I went on home. Rinaldi came in while I was undressing. "Ah, ha!" he said. "It does not go so well. Baby is puzzled." "Where have you been?" "At the Villa Rossa. It was very edifying, baby. We all sang. Where have you been?" "Calling on the British." "Thank God I did not become involved with the British." 第一部 第六章 我上前线救护站忙了两天。回来时已经太晚，所以到第三天晚上才去找巴克莱小姐。她不在花园里，我只好在医院办公室里等待她下来。办公室的墙边上有许多油漆过的木柱子，上边摆着好些大理石的半身像。甚至办公室外边的门廊上，也有一排排雕像。这些雕像有大理石那种完完整整的品质，看起来千篇一律。雕刻这玩艺儿我总觉得沉闷——不过，铜像倒还有点道理。但是大理石的半身像，简直就像片坟山。坟山中也有一个好的——在比萨① 的那一个。要看坏的大理石像，最好上热那亚②。这医院本来是某德国大富豪的别墅，这些石像一定花了他不少钱。我倒想知道雕刻师是谁，他赚了多少钱。我看看那些雕像，不晓得是不是属于一个家族的；可惜雕刻得古典一律。多看也看不出什么名堂来。 我坐在一把椅子上，手里拿着帽子。照规矩我们就是回到了哥里察还得戴钢盔，虽则戴起来怪不舒服，而且太装腔作势，因为镇上的老百姓根本尚未撤退。我上前线各站去时，只好戴它一顶，同时还带了一个英国制造的防毒面罩。我们现在开始搞到一些面罩了。地道的面罩。照规矩我们还得佩带手枪；就是军医和卫生人员也不能例外。我现在就感觉得到手枪正顶在椅背上。并且还得把枪佩带在人家看得见的地方，否则有被捕的可能性。雷那蒂佩着一只手枪皮套，里面装的可尽是大便用的卫生纸。我佩带的倒是一支真枪，所以自己大有枪手的感觉，后来试放几下，才知道不行。那是支7.65口径的阿斯特拉牌手枪，枪筒短，开起来跳动得非常厉害，别想打中任何目标。我练习了一个时期，尽量往靶子的下边打，想尽方法克服短枪筒那种滑稽的颤跳，到了后来，终于能够在二十步外打中离靶子一码远的地方了，后来我常常感到佩带手枪的荒唐滑稽，但不久也就忘记了它，随便吊在腰背上，一点感觉都没有，除非是偶尔碰到讲英语的人，才多少感到有点儿不好意思。我现在坐在椅子上，有一个勤务模样的人坐在一张台子后边，不以为然地盯着我，而我则看着大理石地板、摆有雕像的柱子和墙上的壁画，等待巴克莱小姐。壁画还算不错。任何壁画，只要开始剥落，总是行的。 我看见凯瑟琳·巴克莱走下门廊来，便站起身。她朝我走来的时候并不显得怎么高，不过很可爱。 “晚安，亨利先生，”她说。 “您好！”我说。那个勤务在办公桌后边听着。 “这儿坐坐呢，还是到花园去？” “还是到外边去溜溜吧。外边阴凉多了。” 我跟在她后边走进花园，那个勤务在后边望着我们。我们走到铺沙的车道上时，她说，“你去过哪儿？” “我到救护站去了。” “你难道不能捎张字条儿给我吗？” “不行，”我说。“不很方便。当时我以为当天就回来的。”“你总得通知我一声啊，亲爱的。” 我们走下车路，在树荫里走着。我抓住她的手，停下了步，吻她。“有没有我们可以去的地方？” ① 比萨是意大利中西部的古城。 ② 热那亚是意大利西北部地中海边的城市。 “没有，”她说。“我们只好在这儿散步。你去了好久了。”“这是第三天。现在我可回来了。” 她望着我：“你是爱我的吧？” “是的。” “你说过你爱我的吧？” “是的，”我撒谎。“我爱你。”这话我以前没说过。 “你还叫我凯瑟琳吧？” “凯瑟琳。”我们走了一会，在一棵树底下停住。 “说，‘我夜晚回来找凯瑟琳。’” “我夜晚回来找凯瑟琳。” “噢，亲爱的，你是回来了吧？” “回来了。” “我是那么的疼你，疼得难受。你不会离开我吧？” “不会。我总会回来的。” “噢，我是多么疼爱你。请你再把手放在这儿。” “并没有挪开过啊。”我把她扭过来，以便吻她时看得到她的脸，想不到她双眼都是闭着的。我亲一亲她那一对合拢的眼睛，心里想，她大概有点疯疯癫癫吧。就是有点神经也没有关系，我何必计较这个。这总比每天晚上逛窑子好得多——窑子里的姑娘陪着别的军官们一次次上楼去，每次回来，往你身上一爬，把你的帽舌拉到脑后，便算跟你有特别的交情了。我知道我并不爱凯瑟琳·巴克莱，也没有任何爱她的念头。这是场游戏，就像打桥牌一般，不过不是在玩牌，而是在说话。就像桥牌一般，你得假装你是在赌钱，或是为着什么别的东西在打赌。没有人提起下的赌注究竟是什么。这对我并没有什么不方便。 “希望有个什么地方我们可以去，”我说。我正在经历男性站着求爱无法坚持长久的困难。 “没地方去啊，”她说。她回话前不晓得在想什么心事。 “我们就在这儿坐一会儿吧。” 我们坐在扁平的石制条凳上，我握着凯瑟琳的手。但她不让我用胳臂搂她。 “你很疲乏吗？”她问。 “不。” 她低头看着地上的草。 “我们演的这场戏坏透了，可不是吗？” “什么戏？” “别装傻啦。” “我倒不是故意装的。” “你是个好人，”她说。“你总算尽你的能力在演。不过这场戏坏透了。” “人家心里的事你总知道的吗？” “那也不一定。不过你一转念头，我总知道。你犯不着假装爱我。晚上这场戏已经演完了。你还有什么别的话要说吗？” “我可是真心爱你啊。” “在不必要的时候你我还是少撒谎吧。今天晚上我已经演了一出小小的好戏，我现在行了。你知道，我并没有神经病，并不发疯。只是有时候稍微有一点点。” 我紧紧握住她的手：“亲爱的凯瑟琳。” “现在凯瑟琳这个名字听起来好滑稽。你叫这名字的声调并不很一致。 不过你的人不错。你是个很好的孩子。” “教士也是这么说。” “是的，你这人很不错。你再来看我吧？” “当然。” “你也不必说你爱我。这暂且算结束了。”她站起身，伸出手来。“晚安。” 我想要吻她。 “不，”她说。“我累死了。” “不过还得吻吻我，”我说。 “我累死了，亲爱的。” “吻我。” “你当真这么急吗？” “真的。” 我们亲嘴，接着她突然挣开了身。“不。晚安，求求你，亲爱的。”我们走到门口，我看着她进去，走进门廊。我喜欢看她走动时的样子。她顺着门廊一直走。我回家去。那天夜里天气热，山峰间军事活动频繁。我望着圣迦伯烈山①上炮火的闪光。我在玫瑰别墅的前边歇下脚来。百叶窗都已经上了，不过妓院里边好像还很热闹。还有人在唱歌哩。我走回家去。我正在脱衣服的时候，雷那蒂走进来。 “啊哈！”他说。“看情形不大妙啊。你这小乖乖，一副为难的脸孔。” “你上哪儿去了？” “玫瑰别墅。很有启发，乖乖。大家都唱了歌。你呢？” “拜访英国人去了。” “感谢天主，我犯不着跟英国人纠缠在一起了。” ① 圣迦伯烈山在哥里察的东南，控制着卡索高原。

BOOK ONE CHAPTER 7 I came back the next afternoon from our first mountain post and stopped the car at the smistimento where the wounded and sick were sorted by their papers and the papers marked for the different hospitals. I had been driving and I sat in the car and the driver took the papers in. It was a hot day and the sky was very bright and blue and the road was white and dusty. I sat in the high seat of the Fiat and thought about nothing. A regiment went by in the road and I watched them pass. The men were hot and sweating. Some wore their steel helmets but most of them carried them slung from their packs. Most of the helmets were too big and came down almost over the ears of the men who wore them. The officers all wore helmets; better-fitting helmets. It was half of the brigata Basilicata. I identified them by their red and white striped collar mark. There were stragglers going by long after the regiment had passed--men who could not keep up with their platoons. They were sweaty, dusty and tired. Some looked pretty bad. A soldier came along after the last of the stragglers. He was walking with a limp. He stopped and sat down beside the road. I got down and went over. "What's the matter?" He looked at me, then stood up. "I'm going on." "What's the trouble?" "-- the war." "What's wrong with your leg?" "It's not my leg. I got a rupture." "Why don't you ride with the transport?" I asked. "Why don't you go to the hospital?" "They won't let me. The lieutenant said I slipped the truss on purpose." "Let me feel it." "It's way out." "Which side is it on?" "Here." I felt it. "Cough," I said. "I'm afraid it will make it bigger. It's twice as big as it was this morning." "Sit down," I said. "As soon as I get the papers on these wounded I'll take you along the road and drop you with your medical officers." "He'll say I did it on purpose." "They can't do anything," I said. "It's not a wound. You've had it before, haven't you?" "But I lost the truss." "They'll send you to a hospital." "Can't I stay here, Tenente?" "No, I haven't any papers for you." The driver came out of the door with the papers for the wounded in the car. "Four for 105. Two for 132," he said. They were hospitals beyond the river. "You drive," I said. I helped the soldier with the rupture up on the seat with us. "You speak English?" he asked. "Sure." "How you like this goddam war?" "Rotten." "I say it's rotten. Jesus Christ, I say it's rotten." "Were you in the States?" "Sure. In pittsburgh. I knew you was an American." "Don't I talk Italian good enough?" "I knew you was an American all right." "Another American," said the driver in Italian looking at the hernia man. "Listen, lootenant. Do you have to take me to that regiment?" "Yes." "Because the captain doctor knew I had this rupture. I threw away the goddam truss so it would get bad and I wouldn't have to go to the line again." "I see." "Couldn't you take me no place else?" "If it was closer to the front I could take you to a first medical post. But back here you've got to have papers." "If I go back they'll make me get operated on and then they'll put me in the line all the time." I thought it over. "You wouldn't want to go in the line all the time, would you?" he asked. "No." "Jesus Christ, ain't this a goddam war?" "Listen," I said. "You get out and fall down by the road and get a bump on your head and I'll pick you up on our way back and take you to a hospital. We'll stop by the road here, Aldo." We stopped at the side of the road. I helped him down. "I'll be right here, lieutenant," he said. "So long," I said. We went on and passed the regiment about a mile ahead, then crossed the river, cloudy with snow-water and running fast through the spiles of the bridge, to ride along the road across the plain and deliver the wounded at the two hospitals. I drove coming back and went fast with the empty car to find the man from pittsburgh. First we passed the regiment, hotter and slower than ever: then the stragglers. Then we saw a horse ambulance stopped by the road. Two men were lifting the hernia man to put him in. They had come back for him. He shook his head at me. His helmet was off and his forehead was bleeding below the hair line. His nose was skinned and there was dust on the bloody patch and dust in his hair. "Look at the bump, lieutenant!" he shouted. "Nothing to do. They come back for me." When I got back to the villa it was five o'clock and I went out where we washed the cars, to take a shower. Then I made out my report in my room, sitting in my trousers and an undershirt in front of the open window. In two days the offensive was to start and I would go with the cars to plava. It was a long time since I had written to the States and I knew I should write but I had let it go so long that it was almost impossible to write now. There was nothing to write about. I sent a couple of army Zona di Guerra post-cards, crossing out everything except, I am well. That should handle them. Those post-cards would be very fine in America; strange and mysterious. This was a strange and mysterious war zone but I supposed it was quite well run and grim compared to other wars with the Austrians. The Austrian army was created to give Napoleon victories; any Napoleon. I wished we had a Napoleon, but instead we had Ii Generale Cadorna, fat and prosperous and Vittorio Emmanuele, the tiny man with the long thin neck and the goat beard. Over on the right they had the Duke of Aosta. Maybe he was too good-looking to be a. great general but he looked like a man. Lots of them would have liked him to be king. He looked like a king. He was the King's uncle and commanded the third army. We were in the second army. There were some British batteries up with the third army. I had met two gunners from that lot, in Milan. They were very nice and we had a big evening. They were big and shy and embarrassed and very appreciative together of anything that happened. I wish that I was with the British. It would have been much simpler. Still I would probably have been killed. Not in this ambulance business. Yes, even in the ambulance business. British ambulance drivers were killed sometimes. Well, I knew I would not be killed. Not in this war. It did not have anything to do with me. It seemed no more dangerous to me myself than war in the movies. I wished to God it was over though. Maybe it would finish this summer. Maybe the Austrians would crack. They had always cracked in other wars. What was the matter with this war? Everybody said the French were through. Rinaldi said that the French had mutinied and troops marched on paris. I asked him what happened and he said, "Oh, they stopped them." I wanted to go to Austria without war. I wanted to go to the Black Forest. I wanted to go to the Hartz Mountains. Where were the Hartz Mountains anyway? They were fighting in the Carpathians. I did not want to go there anyway. It might be good though. I could go to Spain if there was no war. The sun was going down and the day was cooling off. After supper I would go and see Catherine Barkley. I wish she were here now. I wished I were in Milan with her. I would like to eat at the Cova and then walk down the Via Manzoni in the hot evening and cross over and turn off along the canal and go to the hotel with Catherine Barkley. Maybe she would. Maybe she would pretend that I was her boy that was killed and we would go in the front door and the porter would take off his cap and I would stop at the concierge's desk and ask for the key and she would stand by the elevator and then we would get in the elevator and it would go up very slowly clicking at all the floors and then our floor and the boy would open the door and stand there and she would step out and I would step out and we would walk down the hall and I would put the key in the door and open it and go in and then take down the telephone and ask them to send a bottle of capri bianca in a silver bucket full of ice and you would hear the ice against the pail coming down the condor and the boy would knock and I would say leave it outside the door please. Because we would not wear any clothes because it was so hot and the window open and the swallows flying over the roofs of the houses and when it was dark afterward and you went to the window very small bats hunting over the houses and close down over the trees and we would drink the capri and the door locked and it hot and only a sheet and the whole night and we would both love each other all night in the hot night in Milan. That was how it ought to be. I would eat quickly and go and see Catherine Barkley. They talked too much at the mess and I drank wine because tonight we were not all brothers unless I drank a little and talked with the priest about Archbishop Ireland who was, it seemed, a noble man and with whose injustice, the injustices he had received and in which I participated as an American, and of which I had never heard, I feigned acquaintance. It would have been impolite not to have known something of them when I had listened to such a splendid explanation of their causes which were, after all, it seemed, misunderstandings. I thought he had a fine name and he came from Minnesota which made a lovely name: Ireland of Minnesota, Ireland of Wisconsin, Ireland of Michigan. What made it pretty was that it sounded like Island. No that wasn't it. There was more to it than that. Yes, father. That is true, father. perhaps, father. No, father. Well, maybe yes, father. You know more about it than I do, father. The priest was good but dull. The officers were not good but dull. The King was good but dull. The wine was bad but not dull. It took the enamel off your teeth and left it on the roof of your mouth. "And the priest was locked up," Rocca said, "because they found the three per cent bonds on his person. It was in France of course. Here they would never have arrested him. He denied all knowledge of the five per cent bonds. This took place at B閦iers. I was there and reading of it in the paper, went to the jail and asked to see the priest. It was quite evident he had stolen the bonds." "I don't believe a word of this," Rinaldi said. "Just as you like," Rocca said. "But I am telling it for our priest here. It is very informative. He is a priest; he will appreciate it." The priest smiled. "Go on," he said. "I am listening." "Of course some of the bonds were not accounted for but the priest had all of the three per cent bonds and several local obligations, I forget exactly what they were. So I went to the jail, now this is the point of the story, and I stood outside his cell and I said as though I were going to confession, 'Bless me, father, for you have sinned." There was great laughter from everybody. "And what did he say?" asked the priest. Rocca ignored this and went on to explain the joke to me. "You see the point, don't you?" It seemed it was a very funny joke if you understood it properly. They poured me more wine and I told the story about the English private soldier who was placed under the shower bath. Then the major told the story of the eleven Czecho-slovaks and the Hungarian corporal. After some more wine I told the story of the jockey who found the penny. The major said there was an Italian story something like that about the duchess who could not sleep at night. At this point the priest left and I told the story about the travelling salesman who arrived at five o'clock in the morning at Marseilles when the mistral was blowing. The major said he had heard a report that I could drink. I denied this. He said it was true and by the corpse of Bacchus we would test whether it was true or not. Not Bacchus, I said. Not Ba隿hus. Yes, Bacchus, he said. I should drink cup for cup and glass for glass with Bassi, Fillipo Vincenza. Bassi said no that was no test because he had already drunk twice as much as I. I said that was a foul lie and, Bacchus or no Bacchus, Fillipo Vincenza Bassi or Bassi Fillippo Vicenza had never touched a drop all evening and what was his name anyway? He said was my name Frederico Enrico or Enrico Federico? I said let the best man win, Bacchus barred, and the major started us with red wine in mugs. Half-way through the wine I did not want any more. I remembered where I was going. "Bassi wins," I said. "He's a better man than I am. I have to go." "He does really," said Rinaldi. "He has a rendezvous. I know all about it." "I have to go." "Another night," said Bassi. "Another night when you feel stronger." He slapped me on the shoulder. There were lighted candles on the table. All the officers were very happy. "Good-night, gentlemen," I said. Rinaldi went out with me. We stood outside the door on the patch and he said, "You better not go up there drunk." "I'm not drunk, Rinin. Really." "You'd better chew some coffee." "Nonsense." "I'll get some, baby. You walk up and down." He came back with a handful of roasted coffee beans. "Chew those, baby, and God be with you." "Bacchus," I said. "I'll walk down with you." "I'm perfectly all right." We walked along together through the town and I chewed the coffee. At the gate of the driveway that led up to the British villa, Rinaldi said good-night. "Good-night," I said. "Why don't you come in?" He shook his head. "No," he said. "I like the simpler pleasures." "Thank you for the coffee beans." "Nothing, baby. Nothing." J started down the driveway. The outlines of the cypresses that lined it were sharp and clear. I looked back and saw Rinaldi standing watching me and waved to him. I sat in the reception hail of the villa, waiting for Catherine Barkley to come down. Some one was coming down the hallway. I stood up, but it was not Catherine. It was Miss Ferguson. "Hello," she said. "Catherine asked me to tell you she was sorry she couldn't see you this evening." "I'm so sorry. I hope she's not ill." "She's not awfully well." "Will you tell her how sorry I am?" "Yes, I will." "Do you think it would be any good to try and see her tomorrow?" "Yes, I do." "Thank you very much," I said. "Good-night." I went out the door and suddenly I felt lonely and empty. I had treated seeing Catherine very lightly, I had gotten somewhat drunk and had nearly forgotten to come but when I could not see her there I was feeling lonely and hollow. 第一部 第七章 第二天下午，我打山中的第一救护站回来，把车子停在后送站门口，伤病员就在那儿按照各人的病历卡，分门别类，送往不同的医院。那天由我开车，我坐在车子里等，叫司机拿看病历卡进去。那天天气炎热，天空非常明亮青碧，道路干燥得变成白色，满是尘沙。我坐在菲亚特牌汽车的高座上，什么事都不想。路上有一团兵走过，我看着他们经过我身边。士兵们热得汗水直淌。有的还戴着钢盔，但是大部分的人则把钢盔斜吊在各人的背包上。钢盔大多太大，戴着它的人，差不多连耳朵都给遮住了。军官们都戴钢盔；大小比较合适。这些士兵是巴西利卡塔②旅的一半兵力。这是我从他们领章上的红白条纹辨识出来的。这一团兵开过好久后，还有些散兵——跟不上队伍的人们。他们一身是汗和灰尘，十分疲乏。有的看模样很不行。掉队的人走完后，还来了一个士兵。他跛着脚走。他停下了，在路边坐下来。我下车走近他。 “怎么啦？” 他望望我，站起身来。 “我要朝前走的。” “你哪儿不舒服？” “——妈的战争。” “你的腿怎么啦？” “不是腿的问题，是疝气发了。” “那你为什么不搭运输车？”我问。“你为什么不上医院？”“人家不让我这么做。中尉说我故意把疝带搞丢了。” “我来摸摸看。” “滑出来了。” “在哪一边？” “这儿。” 我摸到了。 “咳嗽，”我说。 “我怕越咳会越大。现在比今儿早上大一倍了。” “坐下，”我说。“等伤员的病历卡一弄好，我就带你上路，把你交给你们的医务官。” “他会说是我故意搞丢的。” “他们不能拿你怎么样，”我说。“这又不是伤。你这是病，从前可不就发过吗？” “但是我把疝带搞丢了。” “人家会送你上医院的。” “我可不可以就呆在这儿，中尉？” “不行，我没有你的病历卡。” 司机走出门来，带来了车上伤员们的病历卡。 “四个到105。两个上132，”他说。这两家医院都在河的另一边。“你开车吧，”我说。我扶着那个发疝气的士兵上了车，跟我同那开车的坐在一起。“你会讲英语吗？”他问。 ② 巴西利卡塔是意大利南部一地区名。 “当然啦。” “你对这该死的战争觉得怎么样？” “坏透了。” “真是坏透了，耶稣，真是坏透了。” “你到过美国吗？” “到过。在匹兹堡呆过。我知道你是美国人。” “难道我的意大利语还不到家吗？” “反正我知道你是美国人。” “又是个美国人，”司机用意大利语说，望着那个发疝气的士兵。“听着，中尉。你非把我送回我那个团不行吗？” “只好这么做。” “团里的上尉级医官早知道我有疝病。我故意丢掉了那条该死的疝带，希望病状恶化一点就可以不必上前线了。” “原来如此。” “你没法子送我到旁的地方去吗？” “倘若更贴近前线的话，我可以送你上急救站。但是在这儿，你非有病历卡不可。” “我如果往回走，人家就会给我动手术，等我病好了，就会叫我经常呆在前线了。” 我考虑了一下。 “你也不想经常呆在前线吧？”他问。 “是的。” “耶稣，难道这不是场该死的战争？” “听着，”我说。“你还是下车，在路边想法子在头上撞出一个疙瘩，我车子回来时就送你上医院。我们在这儿停一下吧，阿尔多。”我们在路边停住车。我扶他下了车。 “我就在这儿等，中尉，”他说。 “回头见，”我说。车子继续上路，朝前开了约摸一英里就追上了那团士兵，随后过了河。河水混浊，掺杂有雪水，在桥桩间疾流着。车子沿着平原上的路驶去，把伤员送交那两家医院。回去的时候由我开车，空车子开得快，要赶回去找那个到过匹兹堡的士兵。我们首先碰到的又是那团士兵，他们现在走得更热更慢了；接着便是那些掉队的散兵。随后我们看到有一辆救护马车停在路边。有两个人正抬着那患疝病的士兵上车。他所属的部队派人来接他回去了。他对我摇摇头。他的钢盔已经掉了，额上的头发的边沿在流血。他的鼻子擦破了皮，流血的伤口和头发上都有尘土。 “中尉，你看这疙瘩！”他叫道。“没有用。他们赶回来找我了。” 我们回到别墅的时候已经是五点钟了，我到洗车子的地方洗了个淋浴。 随后我回房去打报告，坐在敞开的窗前，只穿着长裤和汗衫。进攻将于后天开始，我得带上一批车子到普拉伐去。我已经好久没写信回美国，心里明知道该写信，只是已经拖了那么长久，现在就是想写，也差不多不晓得该从哪儿写起了。没什么可写的。我寄了几张战区明信片去，什么都不写，只说我身体平安。这些明信片大概可以敷衍亲友一下。这些明信片到了美国一定行；又新奇又神秘。这战区是又新奇又神秘的，不过比起过去跟奥军打的那几次战役，已经算是更有效率，更凶残的了。奥军的存在，本是方便拿破仑打胜仗的；随便哪一个拿破仑都行。我希望我们现在最好也有一位拿破仑，可惜我们只有卡多那大将军①，又肥胖又得发，还有国王维多利奥·埃马努埃莱，一个长着细长脖子和山羊须的小个子。坐在他们右边的是亚俄斯塔公爵。也许他长得太漂亮，不像个大将军，但是他可像个人。许多意大利人希望他来当国王。他的样子就像国王。他是国王的叔叔，现任第三军总指挥。我们是属于第二军的。第三军里有些英国炮队。我在米兰曾碰到两个英国炮兵。他们俩很不错，我们那天晚上玩得好痛快。他们俩个子大，很害臊，忸怩不安，凡事体贴人意。我倒希望能够跟英队在一起。那样的话，事情就简单多了。不过那就有死亡的危险。干救护车这种工作是不会死的。不，那也说不定。英国救护车的驾驶员有时也有阵亡的。哼，我知道我是不会死的。不会死于这次战争中。因为它与我根本就没有什么关系。照我看来，这次战争对我的危险性，就好比是电影中的战争。但愿战争就结束。也许今年夏天就会结束。也许奥军会垮掉。他们以前打仗，岂不是次次都垮的吗？这次战争出了什么毛病？人人都说法军不济事了。雷那蒂说法军哗变了，转向巴黎进军。我问他后来怎么样了，他说：“噢，人家拦住了他们。”我很想在太平时代到奥地利去一趟。我想去黑森林①。我想上哈尔兹山②。哈尔兹山究竟在哪儿啊？他们正在喀尔巴阡山作战。喀尔巴阡山其实我本来就不想去。不过那地方也许也不错。假如没有战争的话，我可以到西班牙去。太阳在下山了，天气凉了一点。晚饭后找凯瑟琳去。我希望她现在就在这儿。我希望我和她现在就在米兰。在科伐咖啡店吃一顿饭，顺着曼佐尼大街散步以消磨这炎热的夏晚，然后过桥去，沿着运河和凯瑟琳·巴克莱一同走进旅馆。也许她肯的。也许她会把我当做那个阵亡的爱人，我们于是一同走进旅馆的前门，看门人连忙摘帽，我找掌柜的拿钥匙，她则站在电梯边等，随后我们一同走进电梯，电梯开得很慢，的的嗒嗒地过了一层又一层，到了我们那一层时，小郎打开门，站在一边，她走出去，我走出去，一同顺着走廊走，我拿钥匙去开门，门开了，我们进去，拿下电话机，吩咐他们送一瓶装在放满冰块的银桶子里的卡普里白葡萄酒来，你听得见走廊上有冰块碰着提桶的响声，小郎敲敲门，我就说请放在门外。因为我们一丝不挂，因为天气太热；窗子打开着，燕子在人家屋顶上飞掠，后来天黑了，你走到窗口去，几只很小的蝙蝠在屋顶上找东西吃，低低地贴着树梢飞，我们喝卡普里酒，门儿锁上了，天气炎热，只盖一条单被，整个夜晚，整夜相亲相爱，在米兰度过一个炎热的夜晚。这样子才对劲啦。我还是快点吃饭，早一点找凯瑟琳·巴克莱去吧。 饭堂里人们话说得太多。我喝了一点酒，因为我不喝一点的话，人家会说我不够亲热友爱。我和教士谈起大主教爱尔兰③的事，他似乎是位高尚的人物，他在美国受了冤枉，作为美国人的我，对于这种冤枉行为也是有份的，这些事我根本听都没有听见过，教士既在说，我只好装做知道的样子。教士长篇大论地解释主教受的原因，怎样遭到人家的误解，我听了以后再说完全不知道，未免不够礼貌了。我觉得这大主教的姓氏倒也不错，而且还是从那个名字很好听的明尼苏达州来的：明尼苏达州的爱尔兰，威斯康星州的爱尔兰，密执安州的爱尔兰。 ①卡多那(1850—1928），意大利将军，出身贵族。 ① 德国南部风景区。 ② 德国中部名山。 ③美国天主教教士约翰·爱尔兰（1838—1918）于1888 年升任大主教。 这姓氏念起来很像爱兰④，因此特别好听。不，不是这样。没有那么简单。是，神父。真的，神父。也许是吧，神父。不，神父。嗯，也许是吧，神父。你知道的比我多，神父。教士是个好人，可是没趣。军官们不是好人，也很没趣。国王是个好人，同样没趣。酒并不好，但不会使人感到没趣。酒剥掉牙齿上的珐琅，把它留在上颚上。 “后来教士给人家关了起来，”罗卡在说，“因为人家在他身上搜出了一些利息三厘的公债券。这当然是在法国啦。要是在这儿，人家不会逮捕他的。关于三厘公债，他说他完全不晓得。这件事发生在贝齐埃尔①。我恰巧也在那儿，看到了报上的报道，就跑到监牢去，说要会会那教士。公债明明是他偷的。” “我完全不相信你的话，”雷那蒂说。 “那就听便，”罗卡说。“反正我是讲给我们这位教士听的。很有教育意义。他既是教士，一定会有体会的。” 教士笑笑。“说下去吧，”他说。“我在听着。” “有些公债自然是不知去向了，但是他们在教士身上搜到了全部的三厘公债和一些地方债券，究竟是哪一种债券我现在也忘了。方才说到我到监牢里去，这就是故事的精彩地方，我站在他的牢房外，好像要向神父忏悔似的，我说，‘祝福我，神父，因为你犯罪了。’” 人人大笑。 “那么他怎么说呢？”教士问。罗卡不理睬教士所提的问题，只是继续对我讲着这个笑话。“你懂了吧？”他的意思好像是说：倘若你真懂的话，这故事是非常好笑的。他们又给我倒了一些酒，于是我讲了一个人家叫英国小兵冲淋浴的故事。少校讲了一个十一个捷克斯洛伐克兵和一个匈牙利下士的故事。再喝了一些酒后，我又讲了一个骑师寻到铜板的故事。少校说意大利也有这么一个故事，讲公爵夫人夜里睡不着。这当儿教士走了，我就讲了一个旅行推销员的故事，说他于清早五时到达马赛，当时正刮着又干又冷的北风。少校说他听人家讲我很能喝酒。我否认。他说我一定能喝，凭酒神巴克斯的尸体起誓，我们来试试看。不要凭巴克斯，我说。不要巴克斯。要巴克斯，他说。我得和菲利波·文森柴·巴锡一杯一杯比酒。巴锡说不行，他不能比，他已经比我多喝了一倍啦。我说他撒谎不漂亮，什么巴克斯不巴克斯，菲利波·文森柴·巴锡或是巴锡·菲利波·文森柴今天晚上都没喝过一滴酒，再说，他的姓名究竟怎么叫啊？他说我的姓名究竟是费德里科·恩里科①还是恩里科·费德里科？我说别管他什么巴克斯，比过算数，少校于是拿大杯来倒红酒。比赛到一半，我忽然不干了。我想起我还得去找凯瑟琳。 “巴锡赢了，”我说。“他比我行，我得走了。” “他真的有事，”雷那蒂说。“他有个约会。我都知道。”“我得走了。” “那么改天晚上再比吧，”巴锡说。“改天晚上精神好点时再比吧。” 他拍拍我的肩膀。桌上点着几支蜡烛。军官们都很开心。“晚安，诸位先生，”我说。 ④ 原文为island，是“岛”的意思。 ① 贝齐埃尔，法国南部一城市，为酿酒业的中心。 ① 这是本书主人公弗雷德里克·亨利的姓名的意大利文的读法。 雷那蒂跟我一道出来。我们在门外小草地上站了一会，他说：“喝醉了，你还是别去吧。” “没有醉，雷宁。真的没有醉。” “你还是嚼一点咖啡再去吧。” “胡说。” “我给你找一点来，乖乖。你来回走走吧。”回来时他带来一把烘焙过的咖啡豆。“乖乖，嚼嚼这些东西，但愿天主与你同在。”“巴克斯，”我说。 “我送你走一趟去。” “我完全没有问题。” 我们一同穿过市镇，我嘴里咀嚼着咖啡豆。到了直通英国别墅的车道口，雷那蒂向我道晚安。 “晚安，”我说。“你为什么不一同进去。” 他摇摇头。“不，”他说，“我喜欢简单一点的乐趣。” “谢谢你的咖啡豆。” “甭说了，乖乖。甭说了。” 我向车道上走去。车道两旁的松柏，轮廓十分鲜明。我回头望望，看见雷那蒂还站在那儿望着我，便向他招招手。 我坐在别墅的会客厅里，等待凯瑟琳·巴克莱下来。有人在走廊上走来。我站起身，但是来人不是凯瑟琳。是弗格逊小姐。“你好，”她说。“凯瑟琳叫我对你说对不住，她今天晚上不能够见你。” “很遗憾。但愿她没有生病。” “她不太舒服。” “请你转告她我很关心。” “好的。” “照你看，我明儿再来一趟行不行？” “行。” “多谢多谢，”我说。“晚安。” 我走出门，突然觉得寂寞空虚。我本来把来看凯瑟琳当做一件很随便的事，我甚至喝得有点醉了，差不多完全忘掉要来看她了，但是现在我见不到她，心里却觉得寂寞空虚。

BOOK ONE CHAPTER 8 The next afternoon we heard there was to be an attack up the river that night and that we were to take four cars there. Nobody knew anything about it although they all spoke with great positiveness and strategical knowledge. I was riding in the first car and as we passed the entry to the British hospital I told the driver to stop. The other cars pulled up. I got out and told the driver to go on and that if we had not caught up to them at the junction of the road to Cormons to wait there. I hurried up the driveway and inside the reception hall I asked for Miss Barkley. "She's on duty." "Could I see her just for a moment?" They sent an orderly to see and she came back with him. "I stopped to ask if you were better. They told me you were on duty, so I asked to see you." "I'm quite well," she said, "I think the heat knocked me over yesterday." "I have to go." "I'll just step out the door a minute." "And you're all right?" I asked outside. "Yes, darling. Are you coming to-night?" "No. I'm leaving now for a show up above plava." "A show?" "I don't think it's anything." "And you'll be back?" "To-morrow." She was unclasping something from her neck. She put it in my hand. "It's a Saint Anthony," she said. "And come to-morrow night." "You're not a Catholic, are you?" "No. But they say a Saint Anthony's very useful." "I'll take care of him for you. Good-by." "No," she said, "not good-by." "All right." "Be a good boy and be careful. No, you can't kiss me here. You can't." "All right." I looked back and saw her standing on the steps. She waved and I kissed my hand and held it out. She waved again and then I was out of the driveway and climbing up into the seat of the ambulance and we started. The Saint Anthony was in a little white metal capsule. I opened the capsule and spilled him out into my hand. "Saint Anthony?" asked the driver. "Yes." "I have one." His right hand left the wheel and opened a button on his tunic and pulled it out from under his shirt. "See?" I put my Saint Anthony back in the capsule, spilled the thin gold chain together and put it all in my breast pocket. "You don't wear him?" "No." "It's better to wear him. That's what it's for." "All right," I said. I undid the clasp of the gold chain and put it around my neck and clasped it. The saint hung down on the Outside of my uniform and I undid the throat of my tunic, unbuttoned the shirt collar and dropped him in under the shirt. I felt him in his metal box against my chest while we drove. Then I forgot about him. After I was wounded I never found him. Some one probably got it at one of the dressing stations. We drove fast when we were over the bridge and soon we saw the dust of the other cars ahead down the road. The road curved and we saw the three cars looking quite small, the dust rising from the wheels and going off through the trees. We caught them and passed them and turned off on a road that climbed up into the hills. Driving in convoy is not unpleasant if you are the first car and I settled back in the seat and watched the country. We were in the foothills on the near side of the river and as the road mounted there were the high mountains off to the north with snow still on the tops. I looked back and saw the three cars all climbing, spaced by the interval of their dust. We passed a long column of loaded mules, the drivers walking along beside the mules wearing red fezzes. They were bersaglieri. Beyond the mule train the road was empty and we climbed through the hills and then went down over the shoulder of a long hill into a river-valley. There were trees along both sides of the road and through the right line of trees I saw the river, the water clear, fast and shallow. The river was low and there were stretches of sand and pebbles with a narrow channel of water and sometimes the water spread like a sheen over the pebbly bed. Close to the bank I saw deep pools, the water blue like the sky. I saw arched stone bridges over the river where tracks turned off from the road and we passed stone farmhouses with pear trees candelabraed against their south walls and low stone walls in the fields. The road went up the valley a long way and then we turned off and commenced to climb into the hills again. The road climbed steeply going up and back and forth through chestnut woods to level finally along a ridge. I could look down through the woods and see, far below, with the sun on it, the line of the river that separated the two armies. We went along the rough new military road that followed the crest of the ridge and I looked to the north at the two ranges of mountains, green and dark to the snow-line and then white and lovely in the sun. Then, as the road mounted along the ridge, I saw a third range of mountains, higher snow mountains, that looked chalky white and furrowed, with strange planes, and then there were mountains far off beyond all these that you could hardly tell if you really saw. Those were all the Austrians' mountains and we had nothing like them. Ahead there was a rounded turn-off in the road to the right and looking down I could see the road dropping through the trees. There were troops on this road and motor trucks and mules with mountain guns and as we went down, keeping to the side, I could see the river far down below, the line of ties and rails running along it, the old bridge where the railway crossed to the other side and across, under a hill beyond the river, the broken houses of the little town that was to be taken. It was nearly dark when we came down and turned onto the main road that ran beside the river. 第一部 第八章 第二天下午，我们听说当天夜里将在河的上游发动进攻，我们得派四部救护车前往指定地点。关于进攻这事，大家什么都不知道，尽管人人讲来，口气极为肯定，胡乱搬弄战略知识。我乘第一部车子，我们经过英国医院大门口时，我叫司机停一停。其余的车子也都跟着停下了。我下了车，叫后面三部车子继续朝前开，如果我们追不上，请他们在通库孟斯去的大路的交叉点等待。我匆匆跑上车道，走进会客厅，说要找巴克莱小姐。 “她在上班。” “可不可以见她一会儿？” 他们派了一名勤务员进去问问，接着她就跟着勤务员回来了。“我路过这儿，问问你可好一点了。他们说你在上班，我说还是想见你一下。” “我现在很好，”她说，“昨天大概是天气太热，把我热坏了。”“我得走了。” “我陪你到门外走一会儿吧。”“你完全复原了没有？”我到了外边问。 “好了，亲爱的。你今天夜里来不来？” “不。我现在要到普拉伐河上游赶一场戏去。” “一场戏？” “照我想，没有什么了不起的。” “你会回来吧？” “明天。” 她从脖子上解下一件东西来，放在我的手里。“是个圣安东尼①像，”她说。“你明天晚上来。” “难道你是天主教徒？” “不是。但是人家说圣安东尼像很灵验。” “那我来替你保管吧。告别了。” “不，”她说，“别说告别。” “好。” “做个好孩子，自己保重。不，在这里你不可以吻我。你不可以。”“好吧。” 我回过头去，看见她还站在台阶上。她对我招招手，我吻吻我的手，送一个飞吻过去。她又招招手，接着我走下医院的车道，爬上救护车的座位，我们起程了。圣安东尼像装在一只白色小铁匣里。我打开匣子，让它滚到手掌上。 “圣安东尼像？”司机问。 “是的。” “我有一个。”他的右手离开驾驶盘，解开上一个钮扣，从衬衫里面掏出来给我看。 “看见吗？” 我把我的圣安东尼像仍旧放在小铁匣里，卷上那条细细的金链子，往我胸袋里一塞。 “你不戴上吗？” ① 圣安东尼为公元3—4世纪中的埃及隐士，为初期的第一所修道院的创办人。 “不。” “还是戴上吧。本是用来戴的。” “好吧，”我说。我解开金链子的扣子，把它挂在我的脖子上，扣上扣子。圣像吊在我的军装外，我解开的领子，解开衬衫的领头，把它塞在衬衫里面。车子开着走时，我感觉到那小铁匣撞在我的胸膛上。随后我便完全忘掉它了。后来我受伤，它也丢了。大概是在一个包扎站里给人家拿走了。 我们过了桥，把车子开得很快，不一会儿，就看见前面路上那三部救护车的滚滚黄尘。路拐了个弯，我们看到那三部车子，很小，车轮上冒起尘埃，洒落在树木间。我们追上他们，越过他们，拐上一条上山的路。结队开车，只要你开的是带头的车子，倒也没有什么不愉快的；我安坐在车座上，观看田野风景。我们的车子在挨近河这一边的丘陵地带行驶，路越爬越高，望得见北面的一些高山峻岭，峰巅还有积雪。我回头看，望见那三部车子都在爬山，每部车子间隔着一段尘埃。我们越过一大队驮着东西的驴子，赶驴子的在旁边走，头上戴着红色的土耳其帽①。原来是意大利狙击兵。 赶过驴子的行列后，路上就空荡荡了。我们爬过一些小山，沿着一长道山冈的山肩，开进一个河谷。路的两边都有树木，从右边一排树木间，我望得见河，河水又清又急又浅。河面很低，河里有一片片沙滩和圆石滩，中间窄窄的一泓清水，有时河水泛流在圆石子的河床上，晶莹发光。挨近了河岸，我看见有几个很深的水潭，水蓝如天。河上有几座拱形的石桥，那儿也就是大路接连一些小径的起点；我们经过农家的石屋，几棵梨树的杈桠贴在屋子朝南的墙上，田野上砌有低矮的石墙。大路在河谷里盘旋了好久，随后我们转了弯，又开始爬山而上。山路峻峭，一会儿上，一会儿下，穿过栗树林，进入平地，终于沿着一个山脊而行。穿过树木间，我低头望见远处山下阳光照耀着的那条河流，它隔开了敌我二军。我们在崎岖的新军路上走，沿着山脊的巅峰，我朝北眺望，望见两道山脉，又青又黑，直到雪线，雪线上则一片雪白，阳光下皎然可爱。接着，路沿着山脊上升蜿蜒，我看见第三道山脉，那是更高的雪山，看起来呈粉白色，上有皱褶，构成各种奇异的平面，随后看到在这些高山后面还有不少山峰，望上去不知是真是假。这些高山峻岭都是奥地利人的，我们这边可没有。前面路上有个朝右的转弯，从那儿下望，我看见路在树木间向下倾斜地延伸。这条路上有部队、卡车和驮着山炮的骡子，而当我们挨着路边往下开去时，我望见在下面很远地方的那条河、沿河的铁轨和枕木、铁道渡到对岸去的古桥，还有对岸山脚下那一片断墙残壁的小镇——那就是要抢夺的地点。 我们的车子驶上平原，拐上河边那条大路时，天已快黑了。 ① 一种没有帽檐的有黑穗的毡帽。

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[table=500,#ffffff,#000000,3][tr][td]BOOK ONE CHAPTER 9
The road was crowded and there were screens of corn-stalk and straw matting on both sides and matting over the top so that it was like the entrance at a circus or a native village. We drove slowly in this matting-covered tunnel and came out onto a bare cleared space where the railway station had been. The road here was below the level of the river bank and all along the side of the sunken road there were holes dug in the bank with infantry in them. The sun was going down and looking up along the bank as we drove I saw the Austrian observation balloons above the hills on the other side dark against the sunset. We parked the cars beyond a brickyard. The ovens and some deep holes had been equipped as dressing stations. There were three doctors that I knew. I talked with the major and learned that when it should start and our cars should be loaded we would drive them back along the screened road and up to the main road along the ridge where there would be a post and other cars to clear them. He hoped the road would not jam. It was a one-road show. The road was screened because it was in sight of the Austrians across the river. Here at the brickyard we were sheltered from rifle or machine-gun fire by the river bank. There was one smashed bridge across the river. They were going to put over another bridge when the bombardment started and some troops were to cross at the shallows up above at the bend of the river. The major was a little man with upturned mustaches. He had been in the war in Libya and wore two woundstripes. He said that if the thing went well he would see that I was decorated. I said I hoped it would go well but that he was too kind. I asked him if there was a big dugout where the drivers could stay and he sent a soldier to show me. I went with him and found the dugout, which was very good. The drivers were pleased with it and I left them there. The major asked me to have a drink with him and two other officers. We drank rum and it was very friendly. Outside it was getting dark. I asked what time the attack was to he and they said as soon as it was dark. I went back to the drivers. They were sitting in the dugout talking and when I came in they stopped. I gave them each a package of cigarettes, Macedonias, loosely packed cigarettes that spilled tobacco and needed to have the ends twisted before you smoked them. Manera lit his lighter and passed it around. The lighter was shaped like a Fiat radiator. I told them what I had heard.
"Why didn't we see the post when we came down?" passini asked.
"It was just beyond where we turned off."
"That road will be a dirty mess," Manera said.
"They'll shell the ---- out of us."
"probably."
"What about eating, lieutenant? We won't get a chance to eat after this thing starts."
"I'll go and see now," I said.
"You want us to stay here or can we look around?"
"Better stay here."
I went back to the major's dugout and he said the field kitchen would be along and the drivers could come and get their stew. He would loan them mess tins if they did not have them. I said I thought they had them. I went back and told the drivers I would get them as soon as the food came. Manera said he hoped it would come before the bombardment started. They were silent until I went out. They were all mechanics and hated the war.
I went out to look at the cars and see what was going on and then came back and sat down in the dugout with the four drivers. We sat on the ground with our backs against the wall and smoked. Outside it was nearly dark. The earth of the dugout was warm and dry and I let my shoulders back against the wall, sitting on the small of my back, and relaxed.
"Who goes to the attack?" asked Gavuzzi.
"Bersaglieri."
"All bersaglieri?"
"I think so."
"There aren't enough troops here for a real attack."
"It is probably to draw attention from where the real attack will be."
"Do the men know that who attack?"
"I don't think so."
"Of course they don't," Manera said. "They wouldn't attack if they did."
"Yes, they would," passini said. "Bersaglieri are fools."
"They are brave and have good discipline," I said.
"They are big through the chest by measurement, and healthy. But they are still fools."
"The granatieri are tall," Manera said. This was a joke. They all laughed.
"Were you there, Tenente, when they wouldn't attack and they shot every tenth man?"
"No."
"It is true. They lined them up afterward and took every tenth man. Carabinieri shot them."
"Carabinieri," said passini and spat on the floor. "But those grenadiers; all over six feet. They wouldn't attack."
"If everybody would not attack the war would be over," Manera said.
"It wasn't that way with the granatieri. They were afraid. The officers all came from such good families."
"Some of the officers went alone."
"A sergeant shot two officers who would not get out."
"Some troops went out."
"Those that went out were not lined up when they took the tenth men."
"One of those shot by the carabinieri is from my town," passini said. "He was a big smart tall boy to be in the granatieri. Always in Rome. Always with the girls. Always with the carabinieri." He laughed. "Now they have a guard outside his house with a bayonet and nobody can come to see his mother and father and sisters and his father loses his civil rights and cannot even vote. They are all without law to protect them. Anybody can take their property."
"If it wasn't that that happens to their families nobody would go to the attack."
"Yes. Alpini would. These V. E. soldiers would. Some bersaglieri."
"Bersaglieri have run too. Now they try to forget it."
"You should not let us talk this way, Tenente. Evviva l'esercito," passini said sarcastically.
"I know how you talk," I said. "But as long as you drive the cars and behave--"
"--and don't talk so other officers can hear," Manera finished. "I believe we should get the war over," I said. "It would not finish it if one side stopped fighting. It would only be worse if we stopped fighting."
"It could not be worse," passini said respectfully. "There is nothing worse than war."
"Defeat is worse."
"I do not believe it," passini said still respectfully. "What is defeat? You go home."
"They come after you. They take your home. They take your sisters."
"I don't believe it," passini said. "They can't do that to everybody. Let everybody defend his home. Let them keep their sisters in the house."
"They hang you. They come and make you be a soldier again. Not in the auto-ambulance, in the infantry."
"They can't hang every one."
"An outside nation can't make you be a soldier," Manera said. "At the first battle you all run."
"Like the Tchecos."
"I think you do not know anything about being conquered and so you think it is not bad."
"Tenente," passini said. "We understand you let us talk. Listen. There is nothing as bad as war. We in the auto-ambulance cannot even realize at all how bad it is. When people realize how bad it is they cannot do anything to stop it because they go crazy. There are some people who never realize. There are people who are afraid of their officers. It is with them the war is made."
"I know it is bad but we must finish it."
"It doesn't finish. There is no finish to a war."
"Yes there is."
passini shook his head.
"War is not won by victory. What if we take San Gabriele? What if we take the Carso and Monfalcone and Trieste? Where are we then? Did you see all the far mountains to-day? Do you think we could take all them too? Only if the Austrians stop fighting. One side must stop fighting. Why don't we stop fighting? If they come down into Italy they will get tired and go away. They have their own country. But no, instead there is a war."
"You're an orator."
"We think. We read. We are not peasants. We are mechanics. But even the peasants know better than to believe in a war. Everybody hates this war."
"There is a class that controls a country that is stupid and does not realize anything and never can. That is why we have this war."
"Also they make money out of it."
"Most of them don't," said passini. "They are too stupid. They do it for nothing. For stupidity."
"We must shut up," said Manera. "We talk too much even for the Tenente."
"He likes it," said passini. "We will convert him."
"But now we will shut up," Manera said.
"Do we eat yet, Tenente?" Gavuzzi asked.
"I will go and see," I said. Gordini stood up and went outside with me.
"Is there anything I can do, Tenente? Can I help in any way?" He was the quietest one of the four. "Come with me if you want," I said, "and we'll see."
It was dark outside and the long light from the search-lights was moving over the mountains. There were big search-lights on that front mounted on camions that you passed sometimes on the roads at night, close behind the lines, the camion stopped a little off the road, an officer directing the light and the crew scared. We crossed the brickyard, and stopped at the main dressing station. There was a little shelter of green branches outside over the entrance and in the dark the night wind rustled the leaves dried by the sun. Inside there was a light. The major was at the telephone sitting on a box. One of the medical captains said the attack had been put forward an hour. He offered me a glass of cognac. I looked at the board tables, the instruments shining in the light, the basins and the stoppered bottles. Gordini stood behind me. The major got up from the telephone.
"It starts now," he said. "It has been put back again."
I looked outside, it was dark and the Austrian search-lights were moving on the mountains behind us. It was quiet for a moment still, then from all the guns behind us the bombardment started.
"Savoia," said the major.
"About the soup, major," I said. He did not hear me. I repeated it.
"It hasn't come up."
A big shell came in and burst outside in the brickyard. Another burst and in the noise you could hear the smaller noise of the brick and dirt raining down.
"What is there to eat?"
"We have a little pasta asciutta," the major said.
"I'll take what you can give me."
The major spoke to an orderly who went out of sight in the back and came back with a metal basin of cold cooked macaroni. I handed it to Gordini.
"Have you any cheese?"
The major spoke grudgingly to the orderly who ducked back into the hole again and came out with a quarter of a white cheese.
"Thank you very much," I said.
"You'd better not go out."
Outside something was set down beside the entrance. One of the two men who had carried it looked in.
"Bring him in," said the major. "What's the matter with you? Do you want us to come outside and get him?"
The two stretcher-bearers picked up the man under the arms and by the legs and brought him in.
"Slit the tunic," the major said.
He held a forceps with some gauze in the end. The two captains took off their coats. "Get out of here," the major said to the two stretcher-bearers.
"Come on," I said to Gordini.
"You better wait until the shelling is over," the major said over his shoulder.
"They want to eat," I said.
"As you wish."
Outside we ran across the brickyard. A shell burst short near the river bank. Then there was one that we did not hear coming until the sudden rush. We both went flat and with the flash and bump of the burst and the smell heard the singing off of the fragments and the rattle of falling brick. Gordini got up and ran for the dugout. I was after him, holding the cheese, its smooth surface covered with brick dust. Inside the dugout were the three drivers sitting against the wall, smoking.
"Here, you patriots," I said.
"How are the cars?" Manera asked.
"All right."
"Did they scare you, Tenente?"
"You're damned right," I said.
I took out my knife, opened it, wiped off the blade and pared off the dirty outside surface of the cheese. Gavuzzi handed me the basin of macaroni.
"Start in to eat, Tenente."
"No," I said. "put it on the floor. We'll all eat."
"There are no forks."
"What the hell," I said in English.
I cut the cheese into pieces and laid them on the macaroni.
"Sit down to it," I said. They sat down and waited. I put thumb and fingers into the macaroni and lifted. A mass loosened.
"Lift it high, Tenente."
I lifted it to arm's length and the strands cleared. I lowered it into the mouth, sucked and snapped in the ends, and chewed, then took a bite of cheese, chewed, and then a drink of the wine. It tasted of rusty metal. I handed the canteen back to passini.
"It's rotten," he said. "It's been in there too long. I had it in the car."
They were all eating, holding their chins close over the basin, tipping their heads back, sucking in the ends. I took another mouthful and some cheese and a rinse of wine. Something landed outside that shook the earth.
"Four hundred twenty or minnenwerfer," Gavuzzi said.
"There aren't any four hundred twenties in the mountains," I said.
"They have big Skoda guns. I've seen the holes."
"Three hundred fives."
We went on eating. There was a cough, a noise like a railway engine starting and then an explosion that shook the earth again.
"This isn't a deep dugout," passini said.
"That was a big trench mortar."
"Yes, sir."
I ate the end of my piece of cheese and took a swallow of wine. Through the other noise I heard a cough, then came the chuh-chuhchuh-chuh--then there was a flash, as when a blast-furnace door is swung open, and a roar that started white and went red and on and on in a rushing wind. I tried to breathe but my breath would not come and I felt myself rush bodily out of myself and out and out and out and all the time bodily in the wind. I went out swiftly, all of myself, and I knew I was dead and that it had all been a mistake to think you just died. Then I floated, and instead of going on I felt myself slide back. I breathed and I was back. The ground was torn up and in front of my head there was a splintered beam of wood. In the jolt of my head I heard somebody crying. I thought somebody was screaming. I tried to move but I could not move. I heard the machine-guns and rifles firing across the river and all along the river. There was a great splashing and I saw the star-shells go up and burst and float whitely and rockets going up and heard the bombs, all this in a moment, and then I heard close to me some one saying "Mama Mia! Oh, mama Mia!" I pulled and twisted and got my legs loose finally and turned around and touched him. It was passini and when I touched him he screamed. His legs were toward me and I saw in the dark and the light that they were both smashed above the knee. One leg was gone and the other was held by tendons and part of the trouser and the stump twitched and jerked as though it were not connected. He bit his arm and moaned, "Oh mama mia, mama Mia," then, "Dio te salve, Maria. Dio te salve, Maria. Oh Jesus shoot me Christ shoot me mama mia mama Mia oh purest lovely Mary shoot me. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Oh Jesus lovely Mary stop it. Oh oh oh oh," then choking, "Mama mama mia." Then he was quiet, biting his arm, the stump of his leg twitching.
"porta feriti!" I shouted holding my hands cupped. "porta feriti!" I tried to get closer to passini to try to put a tourniquet on the legs but I could not move. I tried again and my legs moved a little. I could pull backward along with my arms and elbows. passini was quiet now. I sat beside him, undid my tunic and tried to rip the tail of my shirt. It would not rip and I bit the edge of the cloth to start it. Then I thought of his puttees. I had on wool stockings but passini wore puttees. All the drivers wore puttees but passini had only one leg. I unwound the puttee and while I was doing it I saw there was no need to try and make a tourniquet because he was dead already. I made sure he was dead. There were three others to locate. I sat up straight and as I did so something inside my head moved like the weights on a doll's eyes and it hit me inside in back of my eyeballs. My legs felt warm and wet and my shoes were wet and warm inside. I knew that I was hit and leaned over and put my hand on my knee. My knee wasn't there. My hand went in and my knee was down on my shin. I wiped my hand on my shirt and another floating light came very slowly down and I looked at my leg and was very afraid. Oh, God, I said, get me out of here. I knew, however, that there had been three others. There were four drivers. passini was dead. That left three. Some one took hold of me under the arms and somebody else lifted my legs.
"There are three others," I said. "One is dead."
"It's Manera. We went for a stretcher but there wasn't any. How are you, Tenente?"
"Where is Gordini and Gavuzzi?"
"Gordini's at the post getting bandaged. Gavuzzi has your legs. Hold on to my neck, Tenente. Are you badly hit?"
"In the leg. How is Gordini?"
"He's all right. It was a big trench mortar shell."
"passini's dead."
"Yes. He's dead."
A shell fell close and they both dropped to the ground and dropped me. "I'm sorry, Tenente," said Manera. "Hang onto my neck."
"If you drop me again."
"It was because we were scared."
"Are you unwounded?"
"We are both wounded a little."
"Can Gordini drive?"
"I don't think so."
They dropped me once more before we reached the post.
"You sons of bitches," I said.
"I am sorry, Tenente," Manera said. "We won't drop you again."
Outside the post a great many of us lay on the ground in the dark. They carried wounded in and brought them out. I could see the light come out from the dressing station when the curtain opened and they brought some one in or out. The dead were off to one side. The doctors were working with their sleeves up to their shoulders and were red as butchers. There were not enough stretchers. Some of the wounded were noisy but most were quiet. The wind blew the leaves in the bower over the door of the dressing station and the night was getting cold. Stretcher-bearers came in all the time, put their stretchers down, unloaded them and went away. As soon as I got to the dressing station Manera brought a medical sergeant out and he put bandages on both my legs. He said there was so much dirt blown into the wound that there had not been much hemorrhage. They would take me as soon as possible. He went back inside. Gordini could not drive, Manera said. His shoulder was smashed and his head was hurt. He had not felt bad but now the shoulder had stiffened. He was sitting up beside one of the brick walls. Manera and Gavuzzi each went off with a load of wounded. They could drive all right. The British had come with three ambulances and they had two men on each ambulance. One of their drivers came over to me, brought by Gordini who looked very white and sick. The Britisher leaned over.
"Are you hit badly?" he asked. He was a tall man and wore steel-rimmed spectacles.
"In the legs."
"It's not serious I hope. Will you have a cigarette?"
"Thanks."
"They tell me you've lost two drivers."
"Yes. One killed and the fellow that brought you."
"What rotten luck. Would you like us to take the cars?"
"That's what I wanted to ask you."
"We'd take quite good care of them and return them to the villa. 206 aren't you?"
"Yes."
"It's a charming place. I've seen you about. They tell me you're an American."
"Yes."
"I'm English."
"No!"
"Yes, English. Did you think I was Italian? There were some Italians with one of our units."
"It would be fine if you would take the cars," I said.
"We'll be most careful of them," he straightened up. "This chap of yours was very anxious for me to see you." He patted Gordini on the shoulder. Gordini winced and smiled. The Englishman broke into voluble and perfect Italian. "Now everything is arranged. I've seen your Tenente. We will take over the two cars. You won't worry now." He broke off, "I must do something about getting you out of here. I'll see the medical wallahs. We'll take you back with us."
He walked across to the dressing station, stepping carefully among the wounded. I saw the blanket open, the light came out and he went in.
"He will look after you, Tenente," Gordini said.
"How are you, Franco?"
"I am all right." He sat down beside me. In a moment the blanket in front of the dressing station opened and two stretcherbearers came out followed by the tall Englishman. He brought them over to me.
"Here is the American Tenente," he said in Italian.
"I'd rather wait," I said. "There are much worse wounded than me. I'm all right."
"Come, come," he said. "Don't be a bloody hero." Then in Italian: "Lift him very carefully about the legs. His legs are very painful. He is the legitimate son of president Wilson." They picked me up and took me into the dressing room. Inside they were operating on all the tables. The little major looked at us furious. He recognized me and waved a forceps.
"Ca va bien?"
"Ca va."
"I have brought him in," the tall Englishman said in Italian. "The only son of the American Ambassador. He can be here until you are ready to take him. Then I will take him with my first load." He bent over me. "I'll look up their adjutant to do your papers and it will all go much faster." He stooped to go under the doorway and went out. The major was unhooking the forceps now, dropping them in a basin. I followed his hands with my eyes. Now he was bandaging. Then the stretcher-bearers took the man off the table.
"I'll take the American Tenente," one of the captains said. They lifted me onto the table. It was hard and slippery. There were many strong smells, chemical smells and the sweet smell of blood. They took off my trousers and the medical captain commenced dictating to the sergeant-adjutant while he worked, "Multiple superficial wounds of the left and right thigh and left and right knee and right foot. profound wounds of right knee and foot. Lacerations of the scalp (he probed--Does that hurt?--Christ, yes!) with possible fracture of the skull. Incurred in the line of duty. That's what keeps you from being court-martialled for self-inflicted wounds," he said. "Would you like a drink of brandy? How did you run into this thing anyway? What were you trying to do? Commit suicide? Antitetanus please, and mark a cross on both legs. Thank you. I'll clean this up a little, wash it out, and put on a dressing. Your blood coagulates beautifully."
The adjutant, looking up from the paper, "What inflicted the wounds?"
The medical captain, "What hit you?"
Me, with the eyes shut, "A trench mortar shell."
The captain, doing things that hurt sharply and severing tissue--"Are you sure?"
Me--trying to lie still and feeling my stomach flutter when the flesh was cut, "I think so."
Captain doctor--(interested in something he was finding), "Fragments of enemy trench-mortar shell. Now I'll probe for some of this if you like but it's not necessary. I'll paint all this and--Does that sting? Good, that's nothing to how it will feel later. The pain hasn't started yet. Bring him a glass of brandy. The shock dulls the pain; but this is all right, you have nothing to worry about if it doesn't infect and it rarely does now. How is your head?"
"Good Christ" I said.
"Better not drink too much brandy then. If you've got a fracture you don't want inflammation. How does that feel?"
Sweat ran all over me.
"Good Christ!" I said.
"I guess you've got a fracture all right. I'll wrap you up and don't bounce your head around." He bandaged, his hands moving very fast and the bandage coming taut and sure. "All right, good luck and Vive la France."
"He's an American," one of the other captains said.
"I thought you said he was a Frenchman. He talks French," the captain said. "I've known him before. I always thought he was French." He drank a half tumbler of cognac. "Bring on something serious. Get some more of that Antitetanus." The captain waved to me. They lifted me and the blanket-flap went across my face as we went out. Outside the sergeant-adjutant knelt down beside me where I lay, "Name?" he asked softly. "Middle name? First name? Rank? Where born? What class? What corps?" and so on. "I'm sorry for your head, Tenente. I hope you feel better. I'm sending you now with the English ambulance."
"I'm all right," I said. "Thank you very much." The pain that the major had spoken about had started and all that was happening was without interest or relation. After a while the English ambulance came up and they put me onto a stretcher and lifted the stretcher up to the ambulance level and shoved it in. There was another stretcher by the side with a man on it whose nose I could see, waxy-looking, out of the bandages. He breathed very heavily. There were stretchers lifted and slid into the slings above. The tall English driver came around and looked in, "I'll take it very easily," he said. "I hope you'll be comfy." I felt the engine start, felt him climb up into the front seat, felt the brake come off and the clutch go in, then we started. I lay still and let the pain ride.
As the ambulance climbed along the road, it was slow in the traffic, sometimes it stopped, sometimes it backed on a turn, then finally it climbed quite fast. I felt something dripping. At first it dropped slowly and regularly, then it pattered into a stream. I shouted to the driver. He stopped the car and looked in through the hole behind his seat.
"What is it?"
"The man on the stretcher over me has a hemorrhage."
"We're not far from the top. I wouldn't be able to get the stretcher out alone." He started the car. The stream kept on. In the dark I could not see where it came from the canvas overhead. I tried to move sideways so that it did not fall on me. Where it had run down under my shirt it was warm and sticky. I was cold and my leg hurt so that it made me sick. After a while the stream from the stretcher above lessened and started to drip again and I heard and felt the canvas above move as the man on the stretcher settled more comfortably.
"How is he?" the Englishman called back.
"We're almost up."
"He's dead I think," I said.
The drops fell very slowly, as they fall from an icicle after the sun has gone. It was cold in the car in the night as the road climbed. At the post on the top they took the stretcher out and put another in and we went on.

---

第一部 第九章
大路上很拥挤，两边都有玉蜀黍茎秆和草席编成的屏障，头顶也盖有席子，这一来，仿佛走进了马戏场或是一个土著的村子。我们的车子在这草席搭成的隧道里慢慢地行走，一走出来，却是一块清除了草木的空地，那儿本来是个火车站。这儿的路比河岸还要低，在这一段下陷的路上，路边的整段河岸上都有些挖好的洞穴，步兵们就呆在那里边。太阳正在下去，我抬头朝河岸上窥望，望得见奥军的侦察气球飘浮于对岸的小山上，在落日残照中呈黑色。我们把车子停在一个造砖场的外边。砖窑和一些深洞已改造为包扎站。那里有三个医生我认得。我找少校军医谈话，他告诉我进攻一开始，我们的车子就装着伤员往后送，走的路线就是那条用草席遮蔽的路，然后转上沿着山脊走的大路，到达一个救护站，那儿另有车辆转送伤号。他希望那条路不至于拥挤不通。所有的交通全靠这条道路。路上用草席掩蔽，因为不掩蔽的话，就将成为对岸敌军清楚的目标。我们这个砖场有河岸掩护，不至于受到来复枪和机枪的射击。河上本有一条桥，现在已给炸坏了。炮攻一开始，意军准备再搭一条桥，有的部队则打算在上游河湾水浅的地点渡河。少校是个小个子，长着向上翘的小胡子。他曾在利比亚①作战过，上佩着两条表明受过伤的条章。他说倘若战事顺利的话，他要给我弄一个勋章。我说希望战事顺利，又说他待我太好了。我问他附近有没有大的掩蔽壕，可以安置司机们，他便派一名士兵领我去。那士兵领我到一个掩蔽壕，地方很不错。司机们很满意，我就把他们安顿在那儿。少校请我同其他两名军官一同喝酒。我们喝的是朗姆酒，大家觉得很和谐。外面的天在黑下来了。我问他进攻什么时候开始，他们说天黑就发动。我踅回去找司机们。他们正坐在掩蔽壕里聊天，我一进去，他们闷声不响了。我递给他们每人一包马其顿香烟，烟草装得松，抽的时候得把烟卷的两头扭紧一下。马内拉打着了他的打火机，挨次递给大家。打火机的形状像是菲亚特牌汽车的引擎冷却器。我把听到的消息告诉了他们。“我们方才下坡时怎么没看见那救护站？”帕西尼问。
“就在我们拐弯的地方过去一点。”
“那条路一定会弄得一团糟，”马内拉说。
“他们准会把我们轰得妈的半死的。”
“也许吧。”
“什么时候吃饭，中尉？一进攻我们可就没机会吃饭啦。”“我现在就去问问看，”我说。
“你要我们呆在这里，还是让我们去四处溜溜？”
“还是呆在这儿吧。”
我回到少校的掩蔽壕，他说战地厨房就要来到，司机们可以来领饭食。倘若他们没有饭盒子，可以在这里借。我说饭盒子他们大概是有的。我回去找司机们，告诉他们饭一来我就通知大家。马内拉说希望在炮攻前开饭。接着，他们又闷声不响了，一直到我出去了才又谈起话来。他们都是机械师，憎恨战争。
我走出去看看车子和外边的情况，随后回到掩蔽壕，跟四名司机坐在一起。我们坐在地上抽烟，背靠着土墙。外边的天几乎全黑了。掩蔽壕里的泥土又暖又干，我让肩头抵在泥墙上，把腰背贴着地，放松休息。
① 利比亚当时为意属殖民地。
“哪一部队发动进攻？”贾武齐问。
“意大利狙击兵。”
“都是狙击兵？”
“大概是吧。”
“如果发动一次真正的进攻，这儿的军队是不够的。”
“这儿或许是虚张声势，真正的进攻可能不在这儿。”
“士兵们知道由哪一部队发动进攻吗？”
“大概不知道吧。”
“他们当然不知道，”马内拉说。“如果知道的话，便不肯出击了。”
“他们还是会出击的，”帕西尼说。“狙击兵尽是些傻瓜。”“人家勇敢，纪律又好，”我说。“谁也不能否认他们长得胸围特大，身体健康。不过他们还是傻瓜。”“掷弹兵也长得高，”马内拉说。这是个笑话。大家都笑了。“中尉，那次你也在场吗？他们不肯出击，结果就每十人中枪决一人。”“不在。”
“事情是真实的，事后人家叫他们排好队伍，每十人中挑一个出来。由宪兵执行枪决。”
“宪兵，”帕西尼轻蔑地往地上唾了一口说。“但是那些掷弹兵个个身高六英尺以上。他们就是不愿出击。”
“如果人人不愿出击，战争就会结束，”马内拉说。
“掷弹兵倒不见得是反对战争。无非是怕死罢了。军官的出身都太高贵了。”
“有些军官单独冲出去了。”
“有名军曹枪决了两位不肯上阵的军官。”
“有一部分士兵也冲出去了。”
“这些冲出去的，倒并没被人家从每十人中挑一人出来枪决啊。”“我有个老乡也被宪兵枪决了，”帕西尼说。“在掷弹兵中他倒是个机灵鬼，长得又高又大，常常呆在罗马。常常跟娘儿们混在一起。常常和宪兵来往。”他哈哈大笑。“现在他家门口经常有名卫兵持着上了刺刀的步枪把守着，不许人家去探望他的母亲、父亲和姐妹，他父亲还给剥夺了公民权，甚至不许投票选举。现在他们都不受法律的保护。随便谁都可以抢夺他们的财产。”
“倘若家里人不会遭遇这种惩罚的话，那就再也没人肯出击了。”“还是有人会肯出击的。阿尔卑斯山部队就肯。那些志愿兵也肯。还有某些狙击兵。”
“狙击兵也有临阵脱逃的。现在大家都装做并没有那么回事似的。”“中尉，你可别让我们这样子谈下去。军队万岁，”帕西尼挖苦地说。“我知道你们是怎样说话的，”我说。“但是只要你们肯开车子，好好地——”
“——还有，只要讲的话别给旁的军官�

BOOK ONE CHAPTER 10 In the ward at the field hospital they told me a visitor was coming to see me in the afternoon. It was a hot day and there were many flies in the room. My orderly had cut paper into strips and tied the strips to a stick to make a brush that swished the flies away. I watched them settle on the ceiling. When he stopped swishing and fell asleep they came down and I blew them away and finally covered my face with my hands and slept too. It was very hot and when I woke my legs itched. I waked the orderly and he poured mineral water on the dressings. That made the bed damp and cool. Those of us that were awake talked across the ward. The afternoon was a quiet time. In the morning they came to each bed in turn, three men nurses and a doctor and picked you up out of bed and carried you into the dressing room so that the beds could be made while we were having our wounds dressed. It was not a pleasant trip to the dressing room and I did not know until later that beds could be made with men in them. My orderly had finished pouring water and the bed felt cool and lovely and I was telling him where to scratch on the soles of my feet against the itching when one of the doctors brought in Rinaldi. He came in very fast and bent down over the bed and kissed me. I saw he wore gloves. "How are you, baby? How do you feel? I bring you this--" It was a bottle of cognac. The orderly brought a chair and he sat down, "and good news. You will be decorated. They want to get you the medaglia d'argento but perhaps they can get only the bronze." "What for?" "Because you are gravely wounded. They say if you can prove you did any heroic act you can get the silver. Otherwise it will be the bronze. Tell me exactly what happened. Did you do any heroic act?" "No," I said. "I was blown up while we were eating cheese." "Be serious. You must have done something heroic either before or after. Remember carefully." "I did not." "Didn't you carry anybody on your back? Gordini says you carried several people on your back but the medical major at the first post declares it is impossible. He had to sign the proposition for the citation." "I didn't carry anybody. I couldn't move." "That doesn't matter," said Rinaldi. He took off his gloves. "I think we can get you the silver. Didn't you refuse to be medically aided before the others?" "Not very firmly." "That doesn't matter. Look how you are wounded. Look at your valorous conduct in asking to go always to the first line. Besides, the operation was successful." "Did they cross the river all right?" "Enormously. They take nearly a thousand prisoners. It's in the bulletin. Didn't you see it?" "No." "I'll bring it to you. It is a successful coup de main." "How is everything?" "Splendid. We are all splendid. Everybody is proud of you. Tell me just exactly how it happened. I am positive you will get the silver. Go on tell me. Tell me all about it." He paused and thought. "Maybe you will get an English medal too. There was an English there. I'll go and see him and ask if he will recommend you. He ought to be able to do something. Do you suffer much? Have a drink. Orderly, go get a corkscrew. Oh you should see what I did in the removal of three metres of small intestine and better now than ever. It is one for The Lancet. You do me a translation and I will send it to The Lancet. Every day I am better. poor dear baby, how do you feel? Where is that damn corkscrew? You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering." He slapped his gloves on the edge of the bed. "Here is the corkscrew, Signor Tenente," the orderly said. "Open the bottle. Bring a glass. Drink that, baby. How is your poor head? I looked at your papers. You haven't any fracture. That major at the first post was a hog-butcher. I would take you and never hurt you. I never hurt anybody. I learn how to do it. Every day I learn to do things smoother and better. You must forgive me for talking so much, baby. I am very moved to see you badly wounded. There, drink that. It's good. It cost fifteen lire. It ought to be good. Five stars. After I leave here I'll go see that English and he'll get you an English medal." "They don't give them like that." "You are so modest. I will send the liaison officer. He can handle the English." "Have you seen Miss Barkley?" "I will bring her here. I will go now and bring her here." "Don't go," I said. "Tell me about Gorizia. How are the girls?" "There are no girls. For two weeks now they haven't changed them. I don't go there any more. It is disgraceful. They aren't girls; they are old war comrades." "You don't go at all?" "I just go to see if there is anything new. I stop by. They all ask for you. It is a disgrace that they should stay so long that they become friends." "Maybe girls don't want to go to the front any more." "Of course they do. They have plenty of girls. It is just bad administration. They are keeping them for the pleasure of dugout hiders in the rear." "poor Rinaldi," I said. "All alone at the war with no new girls." Rinaldi poured himself another glass of the cognac. "I don't think it will hurt you, baby. You take it." I drank the cognac and felt it warm all the way down. Rinaldi poured another glass. He was quieter now. He held up the glass. "To your valorous wounds. To the silver medal. Tell me, baby, when you lie here all the time in the hot weather don't you get excited?" "Sometimes." "I can't imagine lying like that. I would go crazy." "You are crazy." "I wish you were back. No one to come in at night from adventures. No one to make fun of. No one to lend me money. No blood brother and roommate. Why do you get yourself wounded?" "You can make fun of the priest." "That priest. It isn't me that makes fun of him. It is the captain. I like him. If you must have a priest have that priest. He's coming to see you. He makes big preparations." "I like him." "Oh, I knew it. Sometimes I think you and he are a little that way. You know." "No, you don't." "Yes, I do sometimes. A little that way like the number of the first regiment of the Brigata Ancona." "Oh, go to hell." He stood up and put on his gloves. "Oh I love to tease you, baby. With your priest and your English girl, and really you are just like me underneath." "No, I'm not." "Yes, we are. You are really an Italian. All fire and smoke and nothing inside. You only pretend to be American. We are brothers and we love each other." "Be good while I'm gone," I said. "I will send Miss Barkley. You are better with her without me. You are purer and sweeter." "Oh, go to hell." "I will send her. Your lovely cool goddess. English goddess. My God what would a man do with a woman like that except worship her? What else is an Englishwoman good for?" "You are an ignorant foul-mouthed dago." "A what?" "An ignorant wop." "Wop. You are a frozen-faced . . . wop." "You are ignorant. Stupid." I saw that word pricked him and kept on. "Uninformed. Inexperienced, stupid from inexperience." "Truly? I tell you something about your good women. Your goddesses. There is only one difference between taking a girl who has always been good and a woman. With a girl it is painful. That's all I know." He slapped the bed with his glove. "And you never know if the girl will really like it." "Don't get angry." "I'm not angry. I just tell you, baby, for your own good. To save you trouble." "That's the only difference?" "Yes. But millions of fools like you don't know it." "You were sweet to tell me." "We won't quarrel, baby. I love you too much. But don't be a fool." "No. I'll be wise like you." "Don't be angry, baby. Laugh. Take a drink. I must go, really." "You're a good old boy." "Now you see. Underneath we are the same. We are war brothers. Kiss me good-by." "You're sloppy." "No. I am just more affectionate." I felt his breath come toward me. "Good-by. I come to see you again soon." His breath went away. "I won't kiss you if you don't want. I'll send your English girl. Good-by, baby. The cognac is under the bed. Get well soon." He was gone. 第一部 第十章 野战医院的病房里，有人告诉我说，当天下午有人要来探望我。那天天热，房间里有许多苍蝇。我的护理员把纸裁成纸条，绑在一根小棍子上，做成一把蝇帚，飕飕地赶着苍蝇。我看着那些苍蝇歇在天花板上。只要护理员一停止挥帚，打个瞌睡，苍蝇便往下飞扑，我先是张嘴把它们吹走，末了只好用双手遮住脸，也入睡了。那天很热，我一醒来，腿上发痒。我喊醒护理员，他在我的绷带上倒了些矿泉水。这样一来，弄得床又湿又凉。病房里醒着的人，东一个西一个攀谈起来。午后安安静静。早上，人家来挨个儿巡视病床，三名男护士和一个医生，把病人一个个抬到包扎室去换药，护士则利用这个机会铺床。每天上包扎室去换药，实在不愉快，直到后来我才知道，床上躺有病人，照样可以铺床。护理员泼了水后，我觉得躺在床上又凉又痛快，我正吩咐他给我脚底上什么地方抓抓痒的时候，有一位医生带来了雷那蒂。他匆匆跑过来，到床边弯来吻我。我注意到他手上戴着手套。 “你好啊，乖乖？你觉得怎么样？我给你带来了这个——”那是一瓶科涅克白兰地。护理员端来一把椅子，他坐下了。“还有一个好消息。你要受勋了。他们要保荐你得银质勋章，不过也许只弄得到铜的。”“为了什么？” “因为你受了重伤。他们说，只要你能证明你曾做了什么英勇的事，银质勋章不成问题。不然，你只好拿铜的。你把经过的实在情形告诉我。你做了什么英勇的事没有？” “没有，”我说。“我被炸的时候，我们正在吃干酪。” “别开玩笑。受伤的前后，你一定做过什么英勇的事。你仔细想想看。” “我没有做什么。” “你没背负过什么伤员吗？高迪尼说你背过好几个人，但是急救站上的少校军医说，这是不可能的。受勋申请书上得有他的签名。”“我没有背过什么人。我动都动不了啊。” “这没有关系，”雷那蒂说。 他脱下手套。 “我想我们能替你弄到银质勋章的。你岂不是拒绝比人家先受治疗吗？” “拒绝得并不十分坚决。” “这没有关系。只要看你这样受了重伤。只要看你平日真勇敢，老是请求上第一线。况且这次进攻又很顺利。” “他们顺利渡了河没有？” “太顺利了。俘获的战俘差不多有一千名。公报上登载过。你没见过吗？” “没有。” “我捎一份来给你。这是一次顺利的奇袭。” “各方面情况怎么样？” “好极了。大家都好极了。人人都夸赞你。把经过的情形切实告诉我。我相信你一定可以搞到银质勋章。说啊。把一切都告诉我。”他歇一歇，想了一想。“也许你还可以得到一枚英国勋章。那儿有个英国人。我去问问他，看他愿不愿意推荐你。他总可以想个法子的。你吃了很多苦吧？喝杯酒。护理员，拿个开塞钻来。哦，你该看我怎样给人拿掉三公尺小肠，我的功夫比从前更精了。正是投稿给《刺血针》①的材料。你替我译成英文后我就寄去。我现在日日有进步。可怜的好乖乖，你现在觉得怎么样？妈的，开塞钻怎么还没拿来？你是这样勇敢沉静，我忘记你在吃苦了。”他拿手套拍拍床沿。 “开塞钻拿来了，中尉长官，”护理员说。 “开酒瓶。拿个杯子来。喝这个，乖乖。你那可怜的头怎么样？我看过你的病历卡。你哪里有什么骨折。急救站那个少校根本就是个杀猪的。要是我来动手的话，担保你不吃苦头。我从来不叫任何人吃苦。这窍门我学会了。我天天学习，越来越顺手，功夫越来越精。原谅我说了这么多话，乖乖。我是因为看见你受了重伤，心中未免激动。喂，喝这个。酒是好的。花了我十五个里拉呢。一定不错。五颗星的。我从这里出去，就去找那英国人，他会给你弄枚英国勋章的。” “人家可不会这么随便给的。” “你在谦虚了。我找那位联络官去。由他去对付那个英国人。”“你见过巴克莱小姐没有？” “我给你带来。我现在就去带她来。” “别急，”我说。“先讲一些关于哥里察的情形。姐儿们怎么样？”“还有什么姐儿。两星期来始终没有调换过。我现在再也不去了。太丢人了。她们不是姑娘，简直是老战友了。” “你真的不去了？” “有时也去看看有没有什么新来的。顺路歇一歇脚。她们都问候你。她们呆得这么长久，已经变成朋友，这件事太丢人啦。” “也许姑娘们不愿意再上前线来了。” “哪里的话。有的是姑娘。无非是行政管理太差罢了。人家把她们留在后方，让那些躲防空洞的玩个痛快。” “可怜的雷那蒂，”我说。“孤零零一人作战，没有新来的姐儿。”雷那蒂给自己又倒了一杯酒。 “我想这对你没有害处，乖乖。你喝吧。” 我喝了科涅克白兰地，觉得一团火直往下冲。雷那蒂又倒了一杯。现在他安静一点了。他把酒杯擎得高高的。“向你的英勇挂彩致敬。预祝你得银质勋章。告诉我，乖乖，这样炎热的天气，你老是躺在这儿，你不冲动吗？” “有时会的。” “这样躺法，我简直不能想象。要我早就发疯了。” “你本来就是疯疯癫癫的。” “我希望你回来。现在没人半夜三更探险回来。没人可以开玩笑。没人可以借钞票。没有血肉兄弟，没有间的伴侣。你究竟为什么要受伤呢？” “你可以找教士开玩笑呀。” “那个教士。也不是我跟他开玩笑。是上尉。我倒喜欢他。假如非有教士不可，那个教士也就行了。他要来看你。正在大作准备呢。”“我喜欢他。” “哦，我早就知道的。有时我想你们俩有点那个，好比阿内奥纳旅第一团的番号，紧紧挤在一起。①”“哼，活见鬼。”他站起身，戴上手套。 ① 《刺血针》是英国著名的医科杂志。 ① 也许暗指同性恋。 “哦，我真喜欢取笑你，乖乖。你尽管有什么教士，什么英国姑娘，骨子里你我还不是一式一样。” “不，不一样的。” “我们是一样的。你其实是个意大利人。肚子里除了火和烟以外，还有什么别的。你不过是假装做美国人罢了。你我是兄弟，彼此相爱。”“我不在的时候你可要规矩点，”我说。 “我设法把巴克莱小姐弄来吧。你还是跟她在一起，不要有我在一起的好。你比较纯洁一点，甜蜜一点。” “哼，见你的鬼。” “我把她弄来。你那位冷冰冰的美丽的女神，英国女神。我的天哪，男人碰上这种女人，除了对她叩头膜拜以外，还能做什么呢？英国女人还能派什么旁的用场呢？” “你真是个愚昧无知而嘴巴龌龊的意大利佬。” “是个什么？” “是个愚昧无知的意大利鬼子。” “鬼子。你才是冰冷冷的..鬼子。” “你愚昧无知。笨头笨脑。”我发觉他对这些字眼最受不了，因此便继续说下去。“没见识。没经验，因为没有经验而笨头笨脑。”“真的？我告诉你一点关于你们那些好女人的事吧。你们的那些女神。和一个一向贞节的姑娘或一个妇人搞起来只有一点不同。姑娘会痛。我只知道这一点。”他用手套拍打了一下床沿。“至于姑娘本身是否果真喜欢，你就无从知道啦。” “别上火。” “我并没有上火。我说这些话，乖乖，无非是为你着想。可以免掉你许多麻烦。” “唯一不同点就在这儿？” “是的。不过许许多多你这样的傻瓜还不晓得哩。” “谢谢你开导我。” “别拌嘴吧，乖乖。我太爱你了。但是你可别当傻瓜。” “好吧。我一定学你的鬼聪明。” “别上火，乖乖。笑一笑。喝一杯。我果真得走了。” “你是个知心的老朋友。” “现在你明白了。你我骨子里岂不就是一式一样的。我们是战友。接吻作别吧。” “你感情太脆弱了。” “不。我不过是比你感情丰富一点罢了。” 我感觉到他的气息在逼近来。“再会。回头我再来看你。”他的气息远去了。“你不喜欢，我就不吻你。我把那英国姑娘给你弄来。再会，乖乖。 科涅克白兰地就在床底下。希望你早点复原。” 他走了。

BOOK ONE CHAPTER 11 It was dusk when the priest came. They had brought the soup and afterward taken away the bowls and I was lying looking at the rows of beds and out the window at the tree-top that moved a little in the evening breeze. The breeze came in through the window and it was cooler with the evening. The flies were on the ceiling now and on the electric light bulbs that hung on wires. The lights were only turned on when some one was brought in at night or when something was being done. It made me feel very young to have the dark come after the dusk and then remain. It was like being put to bed after early supper. The orderly came down between the beds and stopped. Some one was with him. It was the priest. He stood there small, brown-faced, and embarrassed. "How do you do?" he asked. He put some packages down by the bed, on the floor. "All right, father." He sat down in the chair that had been brought for Rinaldi and looked out of the window embarrassedly. I noticed his face looked Very tired. "I can only stay a minute," he said. "It is late." "It's not late. How is the mess?" He smiled. "I am still a great joke," he sounded tired too. "Thank God they are all well. "I am so glad you are all right," he said. "I hope you don't suffer." He seemed very tired and I was not used to seeing him tired. "Not any more." "I miss you at the mess." "I wish I were there. I always enjoyed our talking." "I brought you a few little things," he said. He picked up the packages. "This is mosquito netting. This is a bottle of vermouth. You like vermouth? These are English papers." "please open them." He was pleased and undid them. I held the mosquito netting in my hands. The vermouth he held up for me to see and then put it on the floor beside the bed. I held up one of the sheaf of English papers. I could read the headlines by turning it so the half-light from the window was on it. It was _The News of the World_. "The others are illustrated," he said. "It will be a great happiness to read them. Where did you get them?" "I sent for them to Mestre. I will have more." "You were very good to come, father. Will you drink a glass of vermouth?" "Thank you. You keep it. It's for you." "No, drink a glass." "All right. I will bring you more then." The orderly brought the glasses and opened the bottle. He broke off the cork and the end had to be shoved down into the bottle. I could see the priest was disappointed but he said, "That's all right. It's no matter." "Here's to your health, father." "To your better health." Afterward he held the glass in his hand and we looked at one another. Sometimes we talked and were good friends but to-night it was difficult. "What's the matter, father? You seem very tired." "I am tired but I have no right to be." "It's the heat." "No. This is only the spring. I feel very low." "You have the war disgust." "No. But I hate the war." "I don't enjoy it," I said. He shook his head and looked out of the window. "You do not mind it. You do not see it. You must forgive me. I know you are wounded." "That is an accident." "Still even wounded you do not see it. I can tell. I do not see it myself but I feel it a little." "When I was wounded we were talking about it. passini was talking." The priest put down the glass. He was thinking about something else. "I know them because I am like they are," he said. "You are different though." "But really I am like they are." "The officers don't see anything." "Some of them do. Some are very delicate and feel worse than any of us." "They are mostly different." "It is not education or money. It is something else. Even if they had education or money men like passini would not wish to be officers. I would not be an officer." "You rank as an officer. I am an officer." "I am not really. You are not even an Italian. You are a foreigner. But you are nearer the officers than you are to the men." "What is the difference?" "I cannot say it easily. There are people who would make war. In this country there are many like that. There are other people who would not make war." "But the first ones make them do it." "Yes." "And I help them." "You are a foreigner. You are a patriot." "And the ones who would not make war? Can they stop it?" I do not know. He looked out of the window again. I watched his face. "Have they ever been able to stop it?" "They are not organized to stop things and when they get organized their leaders sell them out." "Then it's hopeless?" "It is never hopeless. But sometimes I cannot hope. I try always to hope but sometimes I cannot." "Maybe the war will be over." "I hope so." "What will you do then?" "If it is possible I will return to the Abruzzi." His brown face was suddenly very happy. "You love the Abruzzi?" "Yes, I love it very much." "You ought to go there then." "I would be too happy. If I could live there and love God and serve Him." "And be respected," I said. "Yes and be respected. Why not?" "No reason not. You should be respected." "It does not matter. But there in my country it is understood that a man may love God. It is not a dirty joke." "I understand." He looked at me and smiled. "You understand but you do not love God." "No." "You do not love Him at all?" he asked. "I am afraid of Him in the night sometimes." "You should love Him." "I don't love much." "Yes," he said. "You do. What you tell me about in the nights. That is not love. That is only passion and lust. When you love you wish to do things for. You wish to sacrifice for. You wish to serve." "I don't love." "You will. I know you will. Then you will be happy." "I'm happy. I've always been happy." "It is another thing. You cannot know about it unless you have it." "Well," I said. "If I ever get it I will tell you." "I stay too long and talk too much." He was worried that he really did. "No. Don't go. How about loving women? If I really loved some woman would it be like that?" "I don't know about that. I never loved any woman." "What about your mother?" "Yes, I must have loved my mother." "Did you always love God?" "Ever since I was a little boy." "Well," I said. I did not know what to say. "You are a fine boy," I said. "I am a boy," he said. "But you call me father." "That's politeness." He smiled. "I must go, really," he said. "You do not want me for anything?" he asked hopefully. "No. Just to talk." "I will take your greetings to the mess." "Thank you for the many fine presents." "Nothing." "Come and see me again." "Yes. Good-by," he patted my hand. "So long," I said in dialect. "Ciaou," he repeated. It was dark in the room and the orderly, who had sat by the foot of the bed, got up and went out with him. I liked him very much and I hoped he would get back to the Abruzzi some time. He had a rotten life in the mess and he was fine about it but I thought how he would be in his own country. At Capracotta, he had told me, there were trout in the stream below the town. It was forbidden to play the flute at night. When the young men serenaded only the flute was forbidden. Why, I had asked. Because it was bad for the girls to hear the flute at night. The peasants all called you "Don" and when you met them they took off their hats. His father hunted every day and stopped to eat at the houses of peasants. They were always honored. For a foreigner to hunt he must present a certificate that he had never been arrested. There were bears on the Gran Sasso D'Italia but it was a long way. Aquila was a fine town. It was cool in the summer at night and the spring in Abruzzi was the most beautiful in Italy. But what was lovely was the fall to go hunting through the chestnut woods. The birds were all good because they fed on grapes and you never took a lunch because the peasants were always honored if you would eat with them at their houses. After a while I went to sleep. 第一部 第十一章 薄暮时教士来了。医院里开过饭，并且已把碗盘收拾走了，我躺在床上，望着一排排的病床，望着窗外在晚风中微微摇晃的树梢。微风从窗口吹进来，夜晚凉爽了一点。苍蝇现在歇在天花板上和吊在电线上的灯泡上。电灯只在夜间有人给送进来，或者有什么事要做时才开。薄暮以后病房里一片黑暗，而且一直黑暗下去，叫我觉得自己很年轻。仿佛当年做孩子时，早早吃了晚饭就上床睡觉。护理员从病床间走来，走到床前停住了脚。有人跟着他来。原来是教士。他站在那儿，小小的个子，黄褐色的脸，怪不好意思的。 “你好？”他问。他把手里的几包东西放在床边地板上。 “好，神父。” 他就在当天下午给雷那蒂端来的那张椅子上坐下了，不好意思地望着窗外。我注意到他的脸，显然很疲乏。 “我只能呆一会儿，”他说。“时候不早啦。” “还不算晚。饭堂里怎么样？” 他微微一笑。“我还是人家的大笑柄，”他的声调也显得疲乏。“感谢天主，大家都平安无事。” “你好，我很高兴，”他说。“希望你不疼得难受吧。”他好像很疲倦，我很少见到他这样疲乏过。 “现在不疼了。” “饭堂里没有你，怪没意思。” “我也盼望回去。跟你谈谈总是挺有趣。” “我给你带了点小东西，”他说。他捡起那些包裹。“这是蚊帐。这是一瓶味美思。你喜欢味美思吗？这是些英文报纸。” “请打开给我看看。” 他欢欢喜喜地解开那些包裹。我双手捧着蚊帐。他端起味美思给我看了看，然后放在床边地板上。我拿起一捆英文报纸中的一张。我借着窗外射进来的暗光，看得清报上的大字标题。原来是《世界新闻报》。“其余的是有图片的，”他说。 “看起来一定挺有趣。你哪儿搞来的？” “我托人家从美斯特列①买来的。以后还有呢。”“谢谢你来看我，神父。 喝杯味美思吧？” “谢谢你。你留着自己喝吧。特地为你带来的。” “你也喝一杯。” “好的。以后我再捎一些来。” 护理员送上杯子来，打开酒瓶。他把瓶塞搞碎了，只得把瓶塞的下端推进酒瓶里去。我看出教士失望的模样，但是他还说：“没关系。不要紧。” “祝你健康，神父。” “祝你早日康复。” 敬酒以后，他还拿着酒杯，我们彼此对看着。过去有时候我们谈话谈得很融洽，但今天夜里有点拘束。 ① 美斯特列是意大利大陆接连威尼斯岛处的一个海滨城市。 “什么事啊，神父？你好像很疲乏。” “我是疲乏的，但是我不应当这样子。” “是天气太热吧。” “不是。现在不过是春天。我觉得沮丧极了。” “也许是厌恶战争。” “倒不是。不过我对战争本来是憎恨的。” “我也不喜欢它，”我说。他摇摇头，望着窗外。 “你满不在乎。你不明白。原谅我。我知道你是受了伤。”“那是偶然受伤的。” “你就是受了伤，还是不明白。这我知道。我本人也不大明白，只是稍微感觉到了一点。” “我受伤时，我们正在谈论这问题。帕西尼正在发挥议论。”教士放下酒杯。他在想着旁的事。 “我了解他们，因为我自己就像他们一样，”他说。 “你可是不相同的。” “其实我跟他们没有什么区别。” “军官们还是一点也不明白。”“有的是明白的。有的非常敏感，比我们哪一个都更难受哩。”“大部分还是不明白的。” “这不是教育或金钱的问题。另外有个原因。像帕西尼这种人，就是有教育有金钱，也不会想当军官。我自己就不想当军官。”“你可是列入了军官级。我也是个军官。” “其实我不算。你甚至还不是意大利人。你是个外国人。但是与其说你接近士兵，不如说你接近军官。” “那又有什么区别呢？” “这我不大说得清楚。有一种人企图制造战争。在这个国度里，这种人有的是。还有一种人可不愿制造战争。” “但是第一种人强迫他们作战。” “是的。” “而我帮助了第一种人。” “你是外国人。你是个爱国人士。” “还有那些不愿制造战争的第二种人呢？他们有没有法子停止战争？” “我不知道。” 他又望着窗外。我注视着他的脸。 “自有历史以来，他们可有法子停止过战争？” “他们本没有组织，没有法子停止战争，一旦有了组织，却又给领袖出卖了。” “那么是没有希望了？” “倒也不是永远没有希望。只是有时候，我觉得没法子再存希望。我总是竭力希望着，不过有时不行。” “也许战事就要结束了。” “我也这样盼望着。” “战事一完，你打算做什么呢？” “倘若可能的话，我要回故乡阿布鲁息去。” 他那张褐色的脸上忽然显得很快乐。 “你爱阿布鲁息！” “是的，我很爱它。” “那么你该回乡去。” “那一定太幸福了。但愿我能够在那儿生活，爱天主并侍奉天主。”“而且受人尊重，”我说。 “是的，受人尊重。为什么不呢？” “当然没有理由不啦。你本应该受到人家尊重的。” “那也没关系。但是在我们那地方，人人知道一个人可以爱天主。不至于给人家当作一种龌龊的笑话。” “我明白。” 他望着我笑了一笑。 “你明白，但是你并不爱天主。” “是不爱的。” “你完全不爱天主吗？”他问。 “夜里我有时怕他。” “你应当爱他。” “我本来没有多大爱心。” “有的，”他说。“你是有爱心的。你告诉过我关于夜晚的事。那不是爱。那只是情欲罢了。你一有爱，你就会想为人家做些什么。你想牺牲自己。你想服务。” “我不爱。” “你会爱的。我知道你会的。到那时候你就快活了。” “我是快活的。我一向是快快活活的。” “那是另一回事。你没有经历，就不可能知道其中的奥秘。” “好吧，”我说。“我一有了，准定告诉你。” “我呆得太久了，话也说得太多了。”他觉得真的和我呆得太久了，感到局促不安。 “不。别走。爱女人是怎么回事？倘若我真正爱上一个女人，情形是不是一样？” “这我倒不知道。我没爱过任何女人。” “你母亲呢？” “对，我一定爱过我的母亲。” “你一向爱天主吗？” “从我做小孩子时起就爱上了。” “嗯，”我说。我不晓得能说什么。“你是个好孩子，”我说道。“我是个孩子，”他说。“但是你叫我神父。”“那是出于礼貌。” 他微笑了。 “我当真得走了，”他说。“你不要我给你带什么东西来吧？”他怀着希望地问。 “不要了。只要你来谈谈。” “我把你的问候转达给饭堂里诸位朋友。” “谢谢你带来这么许多好东西。” “那不算什么。” “再来看我吧。” “好的。再会，”他拍拍我的手。 “再见，”我用土语说。 “再见，”他跟着我说了一遍。 病房里已很黑暗，本来坐在床脚边的护理员，站起身来领他出去。我很喜欢他，希望他有一天回阿布鲁息去。他在饭堂里的生活太苦，虽则他本人的态度很好，我倒很想知道他回乡后的生活将是怎么样。他告诉过我，在卡勃拉柯达镇，在镇下边的溪流里有鳟鱼。夜里不许吹笛子。青年人可以唱小夜曲，只是不许吹笛子。我问他为什么。因为据说少女夜间听见笛声是不好的。那儿的庄稼人都尊称你为“堂”①，一见面便摘下帽子。他父亲天天打猎，并且常常在庄稼人家里歇脚吃饭。他们到处受人尊重。外国人倘若要打猎，必须先有证明书，证明他从来没给人家逮捕过。在大撒索山②上有熊，可惜太远了。阿奎拉③是个好城市。那儿夏天夜里阴凉，而阿布鲁息的春天则是全意大利最美丽的。但是最可爱的事还得数秋天在栗树林里打猎。那儿的鸟全是很好的鸟，因为平日吃的是葡萄，你出去的时候也不必带饭，因为当地的庄稼人以请得到客人为有光采的事。过一会儿我就睡着了。 ① 西班牙人和葡萄牙人对男人的尊称，相当中国的“大爷”、“老爷”。 ② 大撒索山位于意大利中部，其主峰科诺为亚平宁山脉的最高峰。 ③ 阿奎拉是阿布鲁息地区的一个著名城市。

BOOK ONE CHAPTER 12 The room was long with windows on the right-hand side and a door at the far end that went into the dressing room. The row of beds that mine was in faced the windows and another row, under the windows, faced the wall. If you lay on your left side you could see the dressing-room door. There was another door at the far end that people sometimes came in by. If any one were going to die they put a screen around the bed so you could not see them die, but only the shoes and puttees of doctors and men nurses showed under the bottom of the screen and sometimes at the end there would be whispering. Then the priest would come out from behind the screen and afterward the men nurses would go back behind the screen to come out again carrying the one who was dead with a blanket over him down the corridor between the beds and some one folded the screen and took it away. That morning the major in charge of the ward asked me if I felt that I could travel the next day. I said I could. He said then they would ship me out early in the morning. He said I would be better off making the trip now before it got too hot. When they lifted you up out of bed to carry you into the dressing room you could look out of the window and see the new graves in the garden. A soldier sat outside the door that opened onto the garden making crosses and painting on them the names, rank, and regiment of the men who were buried in the garden. He also ran errands for the ward and in his spare time made me a cigarette lighter out of an empty Austrian rifle cartridge. The doctors were very nice and seemed very capable. They were anxious to ship me to Milan where there were better X-ray facilities and where, after the operation, I could take mechano-therapy. I wanted to go to Milan too. They wanted to get us all out and back as far as possible because all the beds were needed for the offensive, when it should start. The night before I left the field hospital Rinaldi came in to see me with the major from our mess. They said that I would go to an American hospital in Milan that had just been installed. Some American ambulance units were to be sent down and this hospital would look after them and any other Americans on service in Italy. There were many in the Red Cross. The States had declared war on Germany but not on Austria. The Italians were sure America would declare war on Austria too and they were very excited about any Americans coming down, even the Red Cross. They asked me if I thought president Wilson would declare war on Austria and I said it was only a matter of days. I did not know what we had against Austria but it seemed logical that they should declare war on her if they did on Germany. They asked me if we would declare war on Turkey. I said that was doubtful. Turkey, I said, was our national bird but the joke translated so badly and they were so puzzled and suspicious that I said yes, we would probably declare war on Turkey. And on Bulgaria? We had drunk several glasses of brandy and I said yes by God on Bulgaria too and on Japan. But, they said, Japan is an ally of England. You can't trust the bloody English. The Japanese want Hawaii, I said. Where is Hawaii? It is in the pacific Ocean. Why do the Japanese want it? They don't really want it, I said. That is all talk. The Japanese are a wonderful little people fond of dancing and light wines. Like the French, said the major. We will get Nice and Savoia from the French. We will get Corsica and all the Adriatic coast-line, Rinaldi said. Italy will return to the splendors of Rome, said the major. I don't like Rome, I said. It is hot and full of fleas. You don't like Rome? Yes, I love Rome. Rome is the mother of nations. I will never forget Romulus suckling the Tiber. What? Nothing. Let's all go to Rome. Let's go to Rome to-night and never come back. Rome is a beautiful city, said the major. The mother and father of nations, I said. Roma is feminine, said Rinaldi. It cannot be the father. Who is the father, then, the Holy Ghost? Don't blaspheme. I wasn't blaspheming, I was asking for information. You are drunk, baby. Who made me drunk? I made you drunk, said the major. I made you drunk because I love you and because America is in the war. Up to the hilt, I said. You go away in the morning, baby, Rinaldi said. To Rome, I said. No, to Milan. To Milan, said the major, to the Crystal palace, to the Cova, to Campari's, to Biffi's, to the galleria. You lucky boy. To the Gran Italia, I said, where I will borrow money from George. To the Scala, said Rinaldi. You will go to the Scala. Every night, I said. You won't be able to afford it every night, said the major. The tickets are very expensive. I will draw a sight draft on my grandfather, I said. A what? A sight draft. He has to pay or I go to jail. Mr. Cunningham at the bank does it. I live by sight drafts. Can a grandfather jail a patriotic grandson who is dying that Italy may live? Live the American Garibaldi, said Rinaldi. Viva the sight drafts, I said. We must be quiet, said the major. Already we have been asked many times to be quiet. Do you go to-morrow really, Federico? He goes to the American hospital I tell you, Rinaldi said. To the beautiful nurses. Not the nurses with beards of the field hospital. Yes, yes, said the major, I know he goes to the American hospital. I don't mind their beards, I said. If any man wants to raise a beard let him. Why don't you raise a beard, Signor Maggiore? It could not go in a gas mask. Yes it could. Anything can go in a gas mask. I've vomited into a gas mask. Don't be so loud, baby, Rinaldi said. We all know you have been at the front Oh, you fine baby, what will I do while you are gone? We must go, said the major. This becomes sentimental. Listen, I have a surprise for you. Your English. You know? The English you go to see every night at their hospital? She is going to Milan too. She goes with another to be at the American hospital. They had not got nurses yet from America. I talked to-day with the head of their riparto. They have too many Women here at the front. They send some back. How do you like that, baby? All right. Yes? You go to live in a big city and have your English there to cuddle you. Why don't I get wounded? Maybe you will, I said. We must go, said the major. We drink and make noise and disturb Federico. Don't go. Yes, we must go. Good-by. Good luck. Many things. Ciaou. Ciaou. Ciaou. Come back quickly, baby. Rinaldi kissed me. You smell of lysol. Good-by, baby. Good-by. Many things. The major patted my shoulder. They tiptoed out. I found I was quite drunk but went to sleep. The next day in the morning we left for Milan and arrived forty-eight hours later. It was a bad trip. We were sidetracked for a long time this side of Mestre and children came and peeked in. I got a little boy to go for a bottle of cognac but he came back and said he could only get grappa. I told him to get it and when it came I gave him the change and the man beside me and I got drunk and slept until past Vicenza where I woke up and was very sick on the floor. It did not matter because the man on that side had been very sick on the floor several times before. Afterward I thought I could not stand the thirst and in the yards outside of Verona I called to a soldier who was walking up and down beside the train and he got me a drink of water. I woke Georgetti, the other boy who was drunk, and offered him some water. He said to pour it on his shoulder and went back to sleep. The soldier would not take the penny I offered him and brought me a pulpy orange. I sucked on that and spit out the pith and watched the soldier pass up and down past a freight-car outside and after a while the train gave a jerk and started. 第一部 第十二章 我那病房很长，右首是一排窗，尽头处有一道门通包扎室。我们的那一排床朝着窗子，窗下的另一排床则朝着墙壁。倘若你朝左侧着身子，你就望得见包扎室的门。病房的尽头处另有一道门，有时有人出入。倘若有人要死了，那张床边就围起屏风来，这样你就看不见人家怎么死去了，只看得见屏风底下医生和男护士们的鞋子和绑腿，有时候到末了还听得见他们的低语声。随后教士从屏风后走出来，接着男护士们回到屏风后，把尸首抬出去，上边盖着一条毛毯，从两排床间的走道抬出去，于是有人把屏风折好拿走。 那天早晨，负责病房的少校问我，下一天能否上路。我答说行。他说，那么明天清早就把我送出去。他说要上路还得趁早，否则天气要太热了。 人家把你从床上抬下，抬进包扎室去时，你能望到窗外，看见花园里的那些新坟。有名士兵坐在那扇通花园的门外，在制造十字架，把埋葬在花园里人的姓名、军衔、所属部队用油漆写在十字架上。他也替病房打打杂，还利用空闲时间用一只奥军步枪子弹壳给我做了一个打火机。医生们人都很好，看来非常能干。他们急于送我到米兰去，因为米兰的爱克司光设备比较好，而且等我经过手术后，可以在那儿接受理疗。我自己也想到米兰去。人家打算把我们都送到后方去，送得越远越好，因为总攻击一开始，这儿的病床有更迫切的需要。 离开野战医院的前夕，雷那蒂带着同饭堂的那位少校来看我。他们说我将进米兰一所新设立的美国医院。有几支美国救护车队将调派到意大利来，这所医院将照应他们和其他在意大利服役的美国人。红十字会中有许多美国人。美国已经对德国宣战，只是还没对奥国宣战①。 意大利人相信美国对奥国一定也会宣战，他们对任何美国人，甚至红十字会人员，到意大利来，都觉得十分兴奋。他们问我，威尔逊总统会不会对奥宣战，我说那只是时间问题。我不晓得美国跟奥国有什么过不去的，不过既然已对德宣战，根据逻辑当然也会对奥宣战。他们问我，我们对土耳其会不会宣战。我说这倒不一定。因为火鸡是美国的国鸟①，但是这句笑话翻译得不太像样，弄得他们又困恼又猜疑，于是我只好说，我们对土耳其大概也会宣战的。那么保加利亚呢？大家已经喝了几杯白兰地，我就乘兴说，天啊，准定也会对保宣战，还会对日本宣战。他们于是说，日本岂不是英国的盟国吗？该死的英国人，谁敢信任啊。日本要抢夺夏威夷，我说。夏威夷是在什么地方？就在太平洋中。日本人为什么要拿它？其实日本人也不是真的要它，我说。这都是流言罢了。日本人是个奇妙的矮小民族，喜欢跳舞喝淡酒。这倒有点像法国人，少校说。我们要从法国人手中收回尼斯和萨伏伊。我们要收回科西嘉岛和整个亚得里亚海海岸线，雷那蒂说。意大利要恢复古罗马的荣耀，少校说。我不喜欢罗马，我说。又热，虱子又多。你不喜欢罗马？不，我是爱罗马的。古罗马是万国之母。我永远忘不了罗穆卢斯吸饮泰伯河水②。什么？没什么。我们都上罗马去吧。我们今天夜里就去，永远不回来。 ① 美国于1917 年4 月6 日对德宣战，对奥匈帝国则拖到同一年12 月才宣战。 ① 火鸡和土耳其在英语中是同一个词。火鸡在美国是圣诞节的贵重食品。 ② 罗穆卢斯为传说中的罗马城的创建者，和他的孪生兄弟雷穆斯在婴孩时被抛在泰伯河中，后由牝狼乳哺育成人。 罗马是个美丽的城市，少校说。是万国之父和万国之母，我说。罗马这个词是阴性，雷那蒂说。它不能又是父亲。那么谁是父亲呢？是圣灵吗？别亵渎。我没有亵渎，我不过是要增加见识。你醉了，乖乖。谁灌醉我的？我灌醉你的，少校说。我灌醉你，因为我爱你，因为美国参战了。完全卷进去了，我说。你明儿早上就要走了，乖乖，雷那蒂说。上罗马去，我说。不，到米兰去。到米兰去，少校说，到水晶宫去，到科伐去，到坎巴雷去，到宓妃去，到大拱廊那儿去③。你这幸运儿。到意大利大饭店去，那儿我可以找乔治借钱④。到歌剧院去，雷那蒂说。你要到歌剧院去。每天晚上都去，我说。每天晚上去你可没有那么多的钱，少校说。 戏票很贵。我要从我祖父的户头上开一张即期汇票，我说。一张什么？一张即期汇票。他不付款的话，我只好去坐牢。银行里的甘宁汉先生是这么给我支款的。我就是靠这种即期汇票混日子的。做祖父的怎么可以让一位爱国的孙子，一个为意大利牺牲生命的孙子去坐牢呢？美国的加里波的①万岁，雷那蒂说。即期汇票万岁，我说。我们的声音得小一点，少校说。人家叫我们讲得轻一点已经有好几趟了。明儿你果真要走吗，弗雷德里科？我不是告诉你过，他要上美国医院去，雷那蒂说。到那些美丽的护士那儿去。不是野战医院那种长着胡子的护士。是的，是的，少校说，我知道他要到美国医院去。我倒不在乎他们的胡子，我说。一个人倘若喜欢留胡子，由他去留好了。你为什么不留胡子，少校长官？因为胡子装不进防毒面具去。装得进去的。防毒面具里什么都装得进去。我曾经在防毒面具里呕吐过。别这么大声，乖乖，雷那蒂说。我们都知道你上过前线。哦，好孩子，你走了以后我怎么办呢？我们得走了，少校说。我们变得伤感起来了。听着，我有件惊人的消息告诉你。你那位英国姑娘。知道吗？你天天夜里上他们医院去找的那个英国姑娘。她也要上米兰去。她跟另外一位一块儿调到美国医院去。美国来的护士还没有到达。我今天跟他们那部门的负责人谈过。前线的女人太多了。他们要调一批回去。这个消息你觉得怎么样，乖乖？好。不错吧？你去住在一个大城市里，还有你那位英国姑娘来跟你亲热。我干吗不受伤呢？你也许会受伤的，我说。我们得走了，少校说。我们喝酒，叫嚷，打扰着弗雷德里科。别走。不，我们得走了。再会。祝你走运。万事顺利。再见。再见。再见。早点回来啊，乖乖。雷那蒂吻我。你有来沙尔的味道。再会，乖乖。再会。万事顺利。少校拍拍我的肩膀。他们蹑着脚走出去。我发觉我自己相当醉了，也就睡着了。 第二天我们一早动身，四十八小时后抵达米兰。沿途很不舒服。我们在美斯特列这一边时，火车在侧线上停了很久，有些儿童跑来朝车厢里张望。我叫一个小孩去买一瓶科涅克白兰地，但他回来说，只有格拉巴白兰地。我就叫他去买来，酒来后我把找钱赏给他，接着便和邻座的人喝个大醉，一直睡到过了维琴察城才醒来，在地板上大吐了一阵。那也没什么打紧，因为我旁边的那人已在地板上吐过好几趟了，后来，我感到十分口渴，简直忍不住，到了维罗那城外的调车场，我对一个在列车边走来走去的士兵打个招呼，于是他搞了点水给我喝。我喊醒那个与我同醉的小伙子乔吉蒂，给他喝了一点水。他说把水倒在他的肩膀上吧，说完仍旧睡去了。那士兵不肯接受我给他的一分钱，给我买来一只柔软多汁的橘子。我吮着吃，吐出核来，看着那士兵在外边一节货车边走来走去，过了一会儿，火车抖动了一下，开动了。 ③ 大拱廊是一条长长的连环拱廊，320 码长，16 英尺宽，94 英尺高，上边是玻璃屋顶，两边是商店，咖啡店，饭店等等。这里所提到的宓妃、坎巴雷等都是著名饭馆。科伐是米兰歌剧院旁边的咖啡店。水晶宫可能是指大拱廊中央的那座穹隆形的玻璃塔。 ④ 乔治是米兰一家大饭店的茶房头目。 ①加里波的（1807—1882），为意大利爱国志士。

BOOK TWO CHAPTER 13 We got into Milan early in the morning and they unloaded us in the freight yard. An ambulance took me to the American hospital. Riding in the ambulance on a stretcher I could not tell what part of town we were passing through but when they unloaded the stretcher I saw a market-place and an open wine shop with a girl sweeping out. They were watering the street and it smelled of the early morning. They put the stretcher down and went in. The porter came out with them. He had gray mustaches, wore a doorman's cap and was in his shirt sleeves. The stretcher would not go into the elevator and they discussed whether it was better to lift me off the stretcher and go up in the elevator or carry the stretcher up the stairs. I listened to them discussing it. They decided on the elevator. They lifted me from the stretcher. "Go easy," I said. "Take it softly." In the elevator we were crowded and as my legs bent the pain was very bad. "Straighten out the legs," I said. "We can't, Signor Tenente. There isn't room." The man who said this had his arm around me and my arm was around his neck. His breath came in my face metallic with garlic and red wine. "Be gentle," the other man said. "Son of a bitch who isn't gentle!" "Be gentle I say," the man with my feet repeated. I saw the doors of the elevator closed, and the grill shut and the fourth-floor button pushed by the porter. The porter looked worried. The elevator rose slowly. "Heavy?" I asked the man with the garlic. "Nothing," he said. His face was sweating and he grunted. The elevator rose steadily and stopped. The man holding the feet opened the door and stepped out. We were on a balcony. There were several doors with brass knobs. The man carrying the feet pushed a button that rang a bell. We heard it inside the doors. No one came. Then the porter came up the stairs. "Where are they?" the stretcher-bearers asked. "I don't know," said the porter. "They sleep down stairs." "Get somebody." The porter rang the bell, then knocked on the door, then he opened the door and went in. When he came back there was an elderly woman wearing glasses with him. Her hair was loose and half-falling and she wore a nurse's dress. "I can't understand," she said. "I can't understand Italian." "I can speak English," I said. "They want to put me somewhere." "None of the rooms are ready. There isn't any patient expected." She tucked at her hair and looked at me near-sightedly. "Show them any room where they can put me." "I don't know," she said. "There's no patient expected. I couldn't put you in just any room." "Any room will do," I said. Then to the porter in Italian, "Find an empty room." "They are all empty," said the porter. "You are the first patient." He held his cap in his hand and looked at the elderly nurse. "For Christ's sweet sake take me to some room." The pain had gone on and on with the legs bent and I could feel it going in and out of the bone. The porter went in the door, followed by the grayhaired woman, then came hurrying back. "Follow me," he said. They carried me down a long hallway and into a room with drawn blinds. It smelled of new furniture. There was a bed and a big wardrobe with a mirror. They laid me down on the bed. "I can't put on sheets," the woman said. "The sheets are locked up." I did not speak to her. "There is money in my pocket," I said to the porter. "In the buttoned-down pocket." The porter took out the money. The two stretcher-bearers stood beside the bed holding their caps. "Give them five lire apiece and five lire for yourself. My papers are in the other pocket. You may give them to the nurse." The stretcher-bearers saluted and said thank you. "Good-by," I said. "And many thanks." They saluted again and went out. "Those papers," I said to the nurse, "describe my case and the treatment already given." The woman picked them up and looked at them through her glasses. There were three papers and they were folded. "I don't know what to do," she said. "I can't read Italian. I can't do anything without the doctor's orders." She commenced to cry and put the papers in her apron pocket. "Are you an American?" she asked crying. "Yes. please put the papers on the table by the bed." It was dim and cool in the room. As I lay on the bed I could see the big mirror on the other side of the room but could not see what it reflected. The porter stood by the bed. He had a nice face and was very kind. "You can go," I said to him. "You can go too," I said to the nurse. "What is your name?" "Mrs. Walker." "You can go, Mrs. Walker. I think I will go to sleep." I was alone in the room. It was cool and did not smell like a hospital. The mattress was firm and comfortable and I lay without moving, hardly breathing, happy in feeling the pain lessen. After a while I wanted a drink of water and found the bell on a cord by the bed and rang it but nobody came. I went to sleep. When I woke I looked around. There was sunlight coming in through the shutters. I saw the big armoire, the bare walls, and two chairs. My legs in the dirty bandages, stuck straight out in the bed. I was careful not to move them. I was thirsty and I reached for the bell and pushed the button. I heard the door open and looked and it was a nurse. She looked young and pretty. "Good-morning," I said. "Good-morning," she said and came over to the bed. "We haven't been able to get the doctor. He's gone to Lake Como. No one knew there was a patient coming. What's wrong with you anyway?" "I'm wounded. In the legs and feet and my head is hurt." "What's your name?" "Henry. Frederic Henry." "I'll wash you up. But we can't do anything to the dressings until the doctor comes." "Is Miss Barkley here?" "No. There's no one by that name here." "Who was the woman who cried when I came in?" The nurse laughed. "That's Mrs. Walker. She was on night duty and she'd been asleep. She wasn't expecting any one." While we were talking she was undressing me, and when I was undressed, except for the bandages, she washed me, very gently and smoothly. The washing felt very good. There was a bandage on my head but she washed all around the edge. "Where were you wounded?" "On the Isonze north of plava." "Where is that?" "North of Gorizia." I could see that none of the places meant anything to her. "Do you have a lot of pain?" "No. Not much now." She put a thermometer in my mouth. "The Italians put it under the arm," I said. "Don't talk." When she took the thermometer out she read it and then shook it. "What's the temperature?" "You're not supposed to know that." "Tell me what it is." "It's almost normal." "I never have any fever. My legs are full of old iron too." "What do you mean?" "They're full of trench-mortar fragments, old screws and bedsprings and things." She shook her head and smiled. "If you had any foreign bodies in your legs they would set up an inflammation and you'd have fever." "All right," I said. "We'll see what comes out." She went out of the room and came back with the old nurse of the early morning. Together they made the bed with me in it. That was new to me and an admirable proceeding. "Who is in charge here?" "Miss Van Campen." "How many nurses are there?" "Just us two." "Won't there be more?" "Some more are coming." "When will they get here?" "I don't know. You ask a great many questions for a sick boy." "I'm not sick," I said. "I'm wounded." They had finished making the bed and I lay with a clean smooth sheet under me and another sheet over me. Mrs. Walker went out and came back with a pajama jacket. They put that on me and I felt very clean and dressed. "You're awfully nice to me," I said. The nurse called Miss Gage giggled. "Could I have a drink of water?" I asked. "Certainly. Then you can have breakfast." "I don't want breakfast. Can I have the shutters opened please?" The light had been dim in the room and when the shutters were opened it was bright sunlight and I looked out on a balcony and beyond were the tile roofs of houses and chimneys. I looked out over the tiled roofs and saw white clouds and the sky very blue. "Don't you know when the other nurses are coming?" "Why? Don't we take good care of you?" "You're very nice." "Would you like to use the bedpan?" "I might try." They helped me and held me up but it was not any use. Afterward I lay and looked out the open doors onto the balcony. "When does the doctor come?" "When he gets back. We've tried to telephone to Lake Como for him." "Aren't there any other doctors?" "He's the doctor for the hospital." Miss Gage brought a pitcher of water and a glass. I drank three glasses and then they left me and I looked out the window a while and went back to sleep. I ate some lunch and in the afternoon Miss Van Campen, the superintendent, came up to see me. She did not like me and I did not like her. She was small and neatly suspicious and too good for her position. She asked many questions and seemed to think it was somewhat disgraceful that I was with the Italians. "Can I have wine with the meals?" I asked her. "Only if the doctor prescribes it." "I can't have it until he comes?" "Absolutely not." "You plan on having him come eventually?" "We've telephoned him at Lake Como." She went out and Miss Gage came back. "Why were you rude to Miss Van Campen?" she asked after she had done something for me very skilfully. "I didn't mean to be. But she was snooty." "She said you were domineering and rude." "I wasn't. But what's the idea of a hospital without a doctor?" "He's coming. They've telephoned for him to Lake Como." "What does he do there? Swim?" "No. He has a clinic there." "Why don't they get another doctor?" "Hush. Hush. Be a good boy and he'll come." I sent for the porter and when he came I told him in Italian to get me a bottle of Cinzano at the wine shop, a fiasco of chianti and the evening papers. He went away and brought them wrapped in newspaper, unwrapped them and, when I asked him to, drew the corks and put the wine and vermouth under the bed. They left me alone and I lay in bed and read the papers awhile, the news from the front, and the list of dead officers with their decorations and then reached down and brought up the bottle of Cinzano and held it straight up on my stomach, the cool glass against my stomach, and took little drinks making rings on my stomach from holding the bottle there between drinks, and watched it get dark outside over the roofs of the town. The swallows circled around and I watched them and the night-hawks flying above the roofs and drank the Cinzano. Miss Gage brought up a glass with some eggnog in it. I lowered the vermouth bottle to the other side of the bed when she came in. "Miss Van Campen had some sherry put in this," she said. "You shouldn't be rude to her. She's not young and this hospital is a big responsibility for her. Mrs. Walker's too old and she's no use to her." "She's a splendid woman," I said. "Thank her very much." "I'm going to bring your supper right away." "That's all right," I said. "I'm not hungry." When she brought the tray and put it on the bed table I thanked her and ate a little of the supper. Afterward it was dark outside and I could see the beams of the search-lights moving in the sky. I watched for a while and then went to sleep. I slept heavily except once I woke sweating and scared and then went back to sleep trying to stay outside of my dream. I woke for good long before it was light and heard roosters crowing and stayed on awake until it began to be light. I was tired and once it was really light I went back to sleep again. 第二部 第十三章 我们在大清早到达米兰，他们在货车场上卸下了我们。一辆救护车送我到美国医院去。我躺在救护车里的一个担架上，无从知道车子经过的是城里哪一区，但是当他们抬下担架来时，我看见一家市场，一家开了门的酒店，店里一个姑娘正在把垃圾扫出来。街口有人在洒水，闻得到大清早的气息。他们放下担架，走进门去。回来时带来了一名门房。门房养着灰色的小胡子，头戴一顶门房制帽，没穿上衣。担架装不进电梯，于是他们讨论了一下，还是把我抬下担架，由电梯上楼呢，还是抬着担架爬楼梯。我听着他们讨论。他们终于决定乘电梯。他们把我从担架上抬下来。“慢一点，”我说。“轻一点。” 我们在电梯里挤做一团，而我的腿因为弯着，痛得好厉害。“让我的腿伸伸直，”我说。 “不行啊，中尉长官。没地方啊。”答我话的人用胳臂抱着我，而我的胳臂则攀住他的脖子。他口中一股浓烈的大蒜和红酒气味直冲着我的脸。“小心点，”另外一个人说。 “妈的，什么人不小心啊！” “我还是说要小心点，”抬我脚的人又说了一遍。 我看着电梯的门关好，外边的铁格子拉上了，门房按按上四楼去的电钮。门房的样子好像很担心。电梯慢慢往上爬。 “重吧？”我问那个有大蒜味的家伙。 “哪里，”他说。他脸上在冒汗，喉咙里发出沉浊的声响。电梯稳定地上升，终于停住了。抬我脚的人打开门，走了出去。我们到了阳台上。那儿有好几扇门，门上有铜把手。抬脚的人按一按铃。我们听见门里边的电铃响。没有人来。由楼梯走上来的门房也到了。 “人呢？”抬担架的人问。“我不知道，”门房说。“他们睡在楼下。” “找个人来吧。” 门房按按铃，敲敲门，随后打开门，走了进去。他回来时带来了一个戴眼镜的老妇人。她头发蓬松，一半垂了下来，她身穿护士。“我听不懂，”她说。“我听不懂意大利语。” “我会讲英语，”我说。“他们要找个地方安置我。” “房间都没有预备好。这里还不预备收容任何病人。”她挽一挽头发，近视地望望我。 “请给他们一个可以安置我的房间。” “我不知道，”她说。“我们还不收病人。我不能在随便哪个房间里安置你。” “随便什么房间都行，”我说。随即改用意大利语对门房说：“去找间空房间。” “房间都是空的，”门房说。“你还是第一位病人哩。”他手里拿着帽子，望着那老年护士。 “看在份上，赶快给我个房间。”我的腿因为蜷曲着，越来越疼，我觉得真已痛入骨髓。门房走进门去，后面跟着那位灰发的护士，他们一会儿就赶回来。“跟我来，”他说。他们抬我走过一条长廊，进入一间关上了百叶窗的房间。房间里有新家具的味道。有一张床，一个大衣柜，上面有镜子。他们把我搁在床上。 “我可没法子铺被单，”妇人说。“被单都给锁起来了。”我不跟她答话。“我口袋里有钱，”我对门房说。“在扣好的口袋里。”门房把钱掏了出来。那两个抬担架的人站在床边，手里拿着帽子。“给他们俩每人五里拉，你自己也拿五里拉。我的病历卡在另外一个口袋里。你可以拿给护士。” 抬担架的人行礼道谢。“再会，”我说。“多谢多谢。”他们又行过礼，出去了。 “病历卡上，”我对护士说，“写明了我的伤情和已接受的治疗。”女人捡起病历卡，戴着眼镜观看。病历卡一共三张，对折着。“我不晓得怎么办才好，”她说。“我看不懂意大利文。没有医生的吩咐，我不晓得怎么办。”她开始哭起来，把病历卡放在她罩衫的口袋里。“你是美国人吧？”她哭着问。“是的。请你把病历卡放在床边的桌子上。” 房间里阴暗、凉爽。我躺在床上，看得见房间另一端的大镜子，但看不清楚镜子里所反映的东西。门房站在床边。他脸长得好，一团和气。“你可以走了，”我对他说。“你也可以走了，”我对护士说。“贵姓？”“华克太太。” “你可以走了，华克太太。我现在想睡一下。” 房间里只剩下我一个人了。房间里很凉爽，没有医院里那种气味。床垫稳固、舒服，我不动弹地躺着，几乎并不呼吸，腿痛减轻一点了，觉得很高兴。过了一会儿，我想喝水了，发现床边垂有一条按电铃的电线，便按按铃，但是没有人来。我睡去了。 醒来时我打量一下四周。阳光从百叶窗外漏进来。我看见那张大衣柜、空空的四壁和两张椅子。我的双腿扎着污秽的绷带，笔直伸出在床上。我很小心，两条腿动都不敢动。我口渴，又伸手按铃。我听见门打开，抬头一看，来了一位护士。她看上去很年轻，相当漂亮。 “早上好，”我说。 “早上好，”她说，走到床边来。“医生还没找到。他上科莫湖①去了。 谁也不知道有病人要来。你到底生什么病啊？” “我受了伤。腿上，脚上，还有我的头也受了伤。” “你叫什么？” “亨利。弗雷德里克·亨利。” “我给你洗一洗身。你的伤口我们不敢动，得等医生来。” “巴克莱小姐在这儿吗？” “不在。这儿没有姓这个的人。” “我进来时那个哭哭啼啼的女人是谁？” 护士大笑起来。“那是华克太太。她值夜班，她睡着了。她想不到有病人要来。” 我们谈话时她替我脱去衣服，除了绷带以外，我的衣服全脱掉了，她就给我擦身，十分温和柔婉。擦了身以后，人很舒服。我头上扎着绷带，但她把绷带旁边的地方都洗了。 ① 科莫湖位于意大利北部边境，长35 英里，宽3 英里，是著名的风景区。 “你在哪儿受的伤？”“伊孙左河上，在普拉伐的北面。” “那又在哪儿啊？” “哥里察的北面。” 我看得出这些地名她全陌生。 “你疼得厉害吗？” “没什么。现在不大疼了。” 她在我口里放进一支体温计。 “意大利人是放在胁下的，”我说。 “别说话。” 她把体温计拔出来，看看，甩了一甩。 “几度？” “你是不该知道的。” “告诉我吧。” “差不多正常。” “我从来不发烧。我两条腿里边也装满着破铜烂铁。①”“你这话什么意思？” “腿里边装满着迫击炮弹的碎片、旧螺丝钉和床的弹簧等等。”她摇头笑了一笑。 “你腿里边如果真的有这些异物，就一定会发炎，人发烧。”“好吧，”我说。“等着瞧吧。” 她走出房去，接着跟清早看到的那位老护士一同进来。她们俩一块儿铺床，我人仍旧躺在床上。这种铺床法很新奇，很可佩服。“这儿的主管是谁？” “范坎本女士。” “一共有多少护士。” “只有我们两个。” “岂不是还有人要来吗？” “还有几位快到了。” “她们什么时候到呢？” “我不知道。作为一个病人，你问话问得太多了。”“我没生病，”我说，“我是受伤。” 她们铺好了床，我躺在那儿，身上身下都挨着一条干净光滑的被单。华克太太走出去，拿了一件睡衣的上衣回来。她们给我穿上了，我觉得又干净又整齐。 “你们待我真好，”我说。那个叫做盖琪小姐的护士娇笑了一下。“我可以喝杯水吗？”我问。 “当然可以。接着就给你开早点。” “我倒不想吃早点。请你给我打开百叶窗好不好？” 房间里本来很暗，现在百叶窗一打开，变得阳光明亮，我望得见窗外的阳台，再过去是人家的瓦屋顶和烟囱。我望望这些瓦屋顶的上空，看见白云和碧蓝的天。 “难道你们不知道旁的护士们什么时候到吗？” ① 这句话可能是暗比耶稣的被钉十字架。 “你怎么老是问？难道我们待你有什么不周到？” “你们待我很好。” “你要不要用便盆？” “试试看吧。” 她们帮我坐起来，扶着我试，但是不行。过后我躺着，从敞开的门望着外面的阳台。 “医生什么时候来？” “等他回城来。我们设法打电话到科莫湖去找过他。” “没有旁的医生吗？” “他是本院的住院医生。” 盖琪小姐拿来一瓶水和一个杯子。我连喝了三杯后，她们就走了，我对窗外望了一会儿，又睡着了。中饭我吃了一点东西，午后医院的监督范坎本女士上来看我。她不喜欢我，我也不喜欢她。她个子小，麻利猜疑，当医院监督未免委屈了她。她盘问了我许多话，听她口气好像我参加意队是一桩丢脸的事。 “吃饭时我可以喝酒吗？”我问她。 “除非有医生的吩咐。” “医生没来以前，我只好不喝是不是？” “绝对不许喝。” “你还是打算要把医生找来的吧？”“我们打电话到科莫湖去找过他。” 她出去了，盖琪小姐回进房来。 “你为什么对范坎本女士这么没礼貌？”她很熟练地替我做了些事情后，这么问道。 “我并不是存心这样的。可她太傲慢了。” “她倒说你跋扈蛮横。” “哪里。不过有医院而没医生，这是哪一种把戏？” “他就要来了。她们打电话到科莫湖去找过他。” “他在那儿干吗？游泳？” “不。他在那儿有个诊所。” “他们为什么不另外找个医生来？” “嘘！嘘！你做个好孩子，他就会来的。” 我叫人去叫门房，他来时我用意大利语跟他说，叫他上酒店去给我买一瓶辛扎诺牌味美思和一尊基安蒂红酒，还有晚报。他去了，回来时用报纸包好酒拿进来，把报纸摊开，我叫他拔掉瓶塞，把红酒和味美思都放在床底下。他走了以后，我独自一人躺在床上看了一会报，看看前线的消息、阵亡军官的名单和他们受的勋章，随后从床底下提起那瓶味美思，笔直摆在我的肚子上，让阴冷的玻璃瓶冰着肚皮，一小口一小口地呷着，酒瓶底在肚皮上印上了圆圈儿。我看着外边屋顶上的天空渐渐暗下来。燕子在打圈子，我一边看着燕子和夜鹰在屋顶上飞，一边喝着味美思。盖琪小姐端来一个玻璃杯，里边是蛋奶酒。她进来时我赶快把味美思搁在床的另外一边。 “范坎本女士在这里边掺了些雪利酒，”她说。“你不该对她不客气。 她年纪不小了，在医院里负的责任又重大。华克太太太老了，无法帮她的忙。” “她人很出色，”我说。“我很感谢她。” “我就把你的晚饭端来。” “不忙，”我说。“我不饿。” 她把托盘端来放在床边的桌子上，我谢谢她，吃了一点晚饭。饭后外边天暗了，我望得见探照灯的光柱在天空中晃动着。我望了一会儿就睡去了。我睡得很沉，只有一次流着汗惊醒过来，随后又睡去，竭力避免做梦。天还远远没有亮，我又醒了过来，听见鸡叫，清醒地躺着一直到天开始发亮。我很疲倦，天真亮了以后，又睡着了。

BOOK TWO CHAPTER 14 It was bright sunlight in the room when I woke. I thought I was back at the front and stretched out in bed. My legs hurt me and I looked down at them still in the dirty bandages, and seeing them knew where I was. I reached up for the bell-cord and pushed the button. I heard it buzz down the hall and then some one coming on rubber soles along the hall. It was Miss Gage and she looked a little older in the bright sunlight and not so pretty. "Good-morning," she said. "Did you have a good night?" "Yes. Thanks very much," I said. "Can I have a barber?" "I came in to see you and you were asleep with this in the bed with you." She opened the armoire door and held up the vermouth bottle. It was nearly empty. "I put the other bottle from under the bed in there too," she said. "Why didn't you ask me for a glass?" "I thought maybe you wouldn't let me have it." "I'd have had some with you." "You're a fine girl." "It isn't good for you to drink alone," she said. "You mustn't do it." "All right." "Your friend Miss Barkley's come," she said. "Really?" "Yes. I don't like her." "You will like her. She's awfully nice." She shook her head. "I'm sure she's fine. Can you move just a little to this side? That's fine. I'll clean you up for breakfast." She washed me with a cloth and soap and warm water. "Hold your shoulder up," she said. "That's fine." "Can I have the barber before breakfast?" "I'll send the porter for him." She went out and came back. "He's gone for him," she said and dipped the cloth she held in the basin of water. The barber came with the porter. He was a man of about fifty with an upturned mustache. Miss Gage was finished with me and went out and the barber lathered my face and shaved. He was very solemn and refrained from talking. "What's the matter? Don't you know any news?" I asked. "What news?" "Any news. What's happened in the town?" "It is time of wai" he said. "The enemy's ears are everywhere." I looked up at him. "please hold your face still," he said and went on shaving. "I will tell nothing." "What's the matter with you?" I asked. "I am an Italian. I will not communicate with the enemy." I let it go at that. If he was crazy, the sooner I could get out from under the razor the better. Once I tried to get a good look at him. "Beware," he said. "The razor is sharp." I paid him when it was over and tipped him half a lira. He returned the coins. "I will not. I am not at the front. But I am an Italian." "Get the hell out of here." "With your permission," he said and wrapped his razors in newspaper. He went out leaving the five copper coins on the table beside the bed. I rang the bell. Miss Gage came in. "Would you ask the porter to come please?" "All right." The porter came in. He was trying to keep from laughing. "Is that barber crazy?" "No, signorino. He made a mistake. He doesn't understand very well and he thought I said you were an Austrian officer." "Oh," I said. "Ho ho ho," the porter laughed. "He was funny. One move from you he said and he would have--" he drew his forefinger across his throat. "Ho ho ho," he tried to keep from laughing. "When I tell him you were not an Austrian. Ho ho ho." "Hoho ho," I said bitterly. "How funny if he would cut my throat. Ho ho ho." "No, signorino. No, no. He was so frightened of an Austrian. Ho ho ho." "Ho ho ho," I said. "Get out of here." He went out and I heard him laughing in the hall. I heard some one coming down the hallway. I looked toward the door. It was Catherine Barkley. She came in the room and over to the bed. "Hello, darling," she said. She looked fresh and young and very beautiful. I thought I had never seen any one so beautiful. "Hello," I said. When I saw her I was in love with her. Everything turned over inside of me. She looked toward the door, saw there was no one, then she sat on the side of the bed and leaned over and kissed me. I pulled her down and kissed her and felt her heart beating. "You sweet," I said. "Weren't you wonderful to come here?" "It wasn't very hard. It may be hard to stay." "You've got to stay," I said. "Oh, you're wonderful." I was crazy about her. I could not believe she was really there and held her tight to me. "You mustn't," she said. "You're not well enough." "Yes, I am. Come on." "No. You're not strong enough." "Yes. I am. Yes. please." "You do love me?" "I really love you. I'm crazy about you. Come on please." "Feel our hearts beating." "I don't care about our hearts. I want you. I'm just mad about you." "You really love me?" "Don't keep on saying that. Come on. please. please, Catherine." "All right but only for a minute." "All right," I said. "Shut the door." "You can't. You shouldn't." "Come on. Don't talk. please come on." Catherine sat in a chair by the bed. The door was open into the hall. The wildness was gone and I felt finer than I had ever felt. She asked, "Now do you believe I love you?" "Oh, you're lovely," I said. "You've got to stay. They can't send you away. I'm crazy in love with you." "We'll have to be awfully careful. That was just madness. We can't do that." "We can at night." "We'll have to be awfully careful. You'll have to be careful in front of other people." "I will." "You'll have to be. You're sweet. You do love me, don't you?" "Don't say that again. You don't know what that does to me." "I'll be careful then. I don't want to do anything more to you. I have to go now, darling, really." "Come back right away." "I'll come when I can." "Good-by." "Good-by, sweet." She went out. God knows I had not wanted to fall in love with her. I had not wanted to fall in love with any one. But God knows I had and I lay on the bed in the room of the hospital in Milan and all sorts of things went through my head but I felt wonderful and finally Miss Gage came in. "The doctor's coming," she said. "He telephoned from Lake Como." "When does he get here?" "He'll be here this afternoon." 第二部 第十四章 我醒来时，房间里阳光明亮。我以为又回到了前线，所以在床上把身子伸了伸。想不到双腿疼痛，低头一看，看到双腿还包扎着肮脏的绷带，才明白身在何地。我伸手抓住电线按电铃。我听见走廊上的电铃响声，随后有个穿着橡皮底鞋子的人在走近来。来的是盖琪小姐，在明亮的阳光下，她看起来人苍老一点，而且不怎么好看。 “早上好，”她说。“你夜里睡得好吗？” “好。多谢你，”我说。“我可以叫个理发师来吗？” “方才我来看你，你正抱着这东西熟睡在床上。” 她打开橱门，举起那瓶味美思。差不多喝光了。“你床底下的那一瓶我也放在橱里了，”她说。“你为什么不跟我要个杯子呢？” “我就怕你不让我喝。” “我本可以陪你喝一点的。” “你是个好姑娘。” “单独一人喝酒不好，”她说。“你以后别这么做。” “好的。” “你的朋友巴克莱小姐来了，”她说。 “真的？” “是真的。我不喜欢她。” “你会喜欢她的。她人非常好。” 她摇摇头。“她当然是好的。你往这一边挪一挪行不行？好了。我给你洗一洗，预备吃早点。”她拿了块布和肥皂，用温水给我洗。“你把肩膀抬起来，”她说。“这样行啦。” “早饭前打发理发师来行不行？” “我给你找门房叫他去。”她走了出去又走回来。“他去叫了，”她说，一面把手里的那块布浸在水盆里。 理发师跟着门房进来了。他年纪约莫五十，留着向上翘的小胡子。盖琪小姐给我洗好了，走了出去。理发师过来在我脸上涂上皂沫，给我刮胡子。他人很严肃，一声不响。 “怎么啦？有什么消息没有？”我问。 “什么消息？” “随便什么消息。城里有什么事？” “这是战争时期，”他说。“到处有敌人的耳目。” 我抬头看看他。“请你的脸别动，”他说，一边继续刮胡子。“我什么都不说。” “你究竟怎么啦？”我问。 “我是意大利人。我不和敌人通信息。” 我只好由他去了。倘若他是疯子，我的脸还是早一点离开他的剃刀好。 有一次，我想好好地看他一下。“当心，”他说。“剃刀快得很。”修脸后我付钱给他，给了他半个里拉做小帐。他退回了小帐。 “我不收。我没有上前线。但是我还是意大利人。” “滚你妈的蛋。” “那我就告退了，”他说，用报纸包好剃刀。他走了出去，把半个里拉留在床头的桌子上。我按按铃。盖琪小姐走进来。“劳驾把门房喊来。”“好的。” 门房来了。他竭力忍住了笑。 “那理发师是不是疯子？” “不是，长官。他搞错了。他听不大懂，以为我说你是个奥官。” “噢，”我说。 “嗬，嗬，嗬，”门房直笑。“他这个人真有趣。他说只要你动一动，他就——”他伸着食指划一划喉咙。 “嗬，嗬，嗬，”他竭力忍住笑。“后来我对他说，你并不是奥地利人。嗬，嗬，嗬。” “嗬，嗬，嗬，”我埋怨道。“倘若他把我喉咙割断的话，那就更有趣了。嗬，嗬，嗬！” “那倒不会，长官。他非常害怕奥地利人。嗬，嗬，嗬。” “嗬，嗬，嗬，”我说。“滚你的。” 他走出去，我听见他在走廊上的笑声。我听见有人在走廊上走近来。我望着门。来的是凯瑟琳·巴克莱。她走进房，走到床边。 “你好，亲爱的，”她说。她看上去又清新又年轻，十分美丽。我以为从来没见过这样美丽的人。 “你好，”我说。我一看到她，就爱上了她。心里神魂颠倒。她望望门口，看是没有人，就在床沿上坐下，弯来吻我。我把她拉下，吻她，感到她的心在怦怦地跳。 “你这亲爱的，”我说。“你能够到这里来岂不是太奇妙吗？”“其实要来也不太困难。不过要呆下去，可能不容易。” “你非呆下去不可，”我说。“噢，你真奇妙。”我爱她爱得疯了。我简直不相信她真的就在跟前，紧紧地抱住她。 “别这样，”她说。“你身体还没有复原哩。” “哪里，我行了。来吧。” “不。你还没十分好。” “哪里。我行。我行的。求求你。” “你真的爱我吗？” “我真的爱你。我为你发疯了。请你快来吧。” “我们的心在跳哩。” “心我不管。我要的是你。我只是爱你爱得发疯了。” “你果真爱我吗？” “别老是说这个。来吧。求求你。求求你，凯瑟琳。” “好，不过只能来一会儿。” “好，”我说。“把门关好。” “你不能这样。你不该。” “来吧。别说话。请你来吧。” 凯瑟琳坐在床边的椅子上。门开着，外面就是走廊。疯狂劲儿过去了，我觉得空前愉快。 她问道：“你现在可相信我爱你吗？” “噢，你真可爱，”我说。“你非呆下去不可。他们不能打发你走。我爱你爱得发疯了。” “我们得十分小心。刚才那真是发疯。我们不该这么做。”“夜里来还是行的。” “我得十分小心。你在旁人面前要留个神。” “我会留神的。” “你得小心。你讨人喜欢。你真的爱我，可不是吗？” “别再说这个了。你不知道那对我的影响是多么厉害。”“那么我以后小心就是了。我不想对你再干什么了。我现在得走了，亲爱的，真的。” “就要回来啊。” “能够来时我就来。” “再会。” “再会，亲爱的。” 她走了出去。天知道我本来不想爱她。我本来不想爱什么人。但是天知道我现在可爱上她了，当我躺在米兰一家医院的房间里的床上时，百感交集，涌进了我的脑海，不过我感到非常愉快幸福。最后盖琪小姐来了。“医生快来啦，”她说。“他从科莫湖打来了电话。” “他什么时候到？” “今天下午。”

BOOK TWO CHAPTER 15 Nothing happened until afternoon. The doctor was a thin quiet little man who seemed disturbed by the war. He took out a number of small steel splinters from my thighs with delicate and refined distaste. He used a local anaesthetic called something or other "snow," which froze the tissue and avoided pain until the probe, the scalpel or the forceps got below the frozen portion. The anxsthetized area was clearly defined by the patient and after a time the doctor's fragile delicacy was exhausted and he said it would be better to have an X-ray. probing was unsatisfactory, he said. The X-ray was taken at the Ospedale Maggiore and the doctor who did it was excitable, efficient and cheerful. It was arranged by holding up the shoulders, that the patient should see personally some of the larger foreign bodies through the machine. The plates were to be sent over. The doctor requested me to write in his pocket notebook, my name, and regiment and some sentiment. He declared that the foreign bodies were ugly, nasty, brutal. The Austrians were sons of bitches. How many had I killed? I had not killed any but I was anxious to please--and I said I had killed plenty. Miss Gage was with me and the doctor put his arm around her and said she was more beautiful than Cleopatra. Did she understand that? Cleopatra the former queen of Egypt. Yes, by God she was. We returned to the little hospital in the ambulance and after a while and much lifting I was upstairs and in bed again. The plates came that afternoon, the doctor had said by God he would have them that afternoon and he did. Catherine Barkley showed them to me. They were in red envelopes and she took them out of the envelopes and held them up to the light and we both looked. "That's your right leg," she said, then put the plate back in the envelope. "This is your left." "put them away," I said, "and come over to the bed." "I can't," she said. "I just brought them in for a second to show you." She went out and I lay there. It was a hot afternoon and I was sick of lying in bed. I sent the porter for the papers, all the papers he could get. Before he came back three doctors came into the room. I have noticed that doctors who fail in the practice of medicine have a tendency to seek one another's company and aid in consultation. A doctor who cannot take out your appendix properly will recommend to you a doctor who will be unable to remove your tonsils with success. These were three such doctors. "This is the young man," said the house doctor with the delicate hands. "How do you do?" said the tall gaunt doctor with the beard. The third doctor, who carried the X-ray plates in their red envelopes, said nothing. "Remove the dressings?" questioned the bearded doctor. "Certainly. Remove the dressings, please, nurse," the house doctor said to Miss Gage. Miss Gage removed the dressings. I looked down at the legs. At the field hospital they had the look of not too freshly ground hamburger steak. Now they were crusted and the knee was swollen and discolored and the calf sunken but there was no pus. "Very clean," said the house doctor. "Very clean and nice." "Urn," said the doctor with the beard. The third doctor looked over the house doctor's shoulder. "please move the knee," said the bearded doctor. "I can't." "Test the articulation?" the bearded doctor questioned. He had a stripe beside the three stars on his sleeve. That meant he was a first captain. "Certainly," the house doctor said. Two of them took hold of my right leg very gingerly and bent it. "That hurts," I said. "Yes. Yes. A little further, doctor." "That's enough. That's as far as it goes," I said. "partial articulation," said the first captain. He straightened up. "May I see the plates again, please, doctor?" The third doctor handed him one of the plates. "No. The left leg, please." "That is the left leg, doctor." "You are right. I was looking from a different angle." He returned the plate. The other plate he examined for some time. "You see, doctor?" he pointed to one of the foreign bodies which showed spherical and clear against the light. They examined the plate for some time. "Only one thing I can say," the first captain with the beard said. "It is a question of time. Three months, six months probably." "Certainly the synovial fluid must re-form." "Certainly. It is a question of time. I could not conscientiously open a knee like that before the projectile was encysted." "I agree with you, doctor." "Six months for what?" I asked. "Six months for the projectile to encyst before the knee can be opened safely." "I don't believe it," I said. "Do you want to keep your knee, young man?" "No," I said. "What?" "I want it cut off," I said, "so I can wear a hook on it." "What do you mean? A hook?" "He is joking," said the house doctor. He patted my shoulder very delicately. "He wants to keep his knee. This is a very brave young man. He has been proposed for the silver medal of valor." "All my felicitations," said the first captain. He shook my hand. "I can only say that to be on the safe side you should wait at least six months before opening such a knee. You are welcome of course to another opinion." "Thank you very much," I said. "I value your opinion." The first captain looked at his watch. "We must go," he said. "All my best wishes." "All my best wishes and many thanks," I said. I shook hands with the third doctor. "Capitano Varini--Tenente Enry," and they all three went out of the room. "Miss Gage," I called. She came in. "please ask the house doctor to come back a minute." He came in holding his cap and stood by the bed. "Did you wish to see me?" "Yes. I can't wait six months to be operated on. My God, doctor, did you ever stay in bed six months?" "You won't be in bed all the time. You must first have the wounds exposed to the sun. Then afterward you can be on crutches." "For six months and then have an operation?" "That is the safe way. The foreign bodies must be allowed to encyst and the synovial fluid will re-form. Then it will be safe to open up the knee." "Do you really think yourself I will have to wait that long?" "That is the safe way." "Who is that first captain?" "He is a very excellent surgeon of Milan." "He's a first captain, isn't he?" "Yes, but he is an excellent surgeon." "I don't want my leg fooled with by a first captain. If he was any good he would be made a major. I know what a first captain is, doctor." "He is an excellent surgeon and I would rather have his judgment than any surgeon I know." "Could another surgeon see it?" "Certainly if you wish. But I would take Dr. Varella's opinion myself." "Could you ask another surgeon to come and see it?" "I will ask Valentini to come." "Who is he?" "He is a surgeon of the Ospedale Maggiore." "Good. I appreciate it very much. You understand, doctor, I couldn't stay in bed six months." "You would not be in bed. You would first take a sun cure. Then you could have light exercise. Then when it was encysted we would operate." "But I can't wait six months." The doctor spread his delicate fingers on the cap he held and smiled. "You are in such a hurry to get back to the front?" "Why not?" "It is very beautiful," he said. "You are a noble young man." He stooped over and kissed me very delicately on the forehead. "I will send for Valentini. Do not worry and excite yourself. Be a good boy." "Will you have a drink?" I asked. "No thank you. I never drink alcohol." "Just have one." I rang for the porter to bring glasses. "No. No thank you. They are waiting for me." "Good-by," I said. "Good-by." Two hours later Dr. Valentini came into the room. He was in a great hurry and the points of his mustache stood straight up. He was a major, his face was tanned and he laughed all the time. "How did you do it, this rotten thing?" he asked. "Let me see the plates. Yes. Yes. That's it. You look healthy as a goat. Who's the pretty girl? Is she your girl? I thought so. Isn't this a bloody war? How does that feel? You are a fine boy. I'll make you better than new. Does that hurt? You bet it hurts. How they love to hurt you, these doctors. What have they done for you so far? Can't that girl talk Italian? She should learn. What a lovely girl. I could teach her. I will be a patient here myself. No, but I will do all your maternity work free. Does she understand that? She will make you a fine boy. A fine blonde like she is. That's fine. That's all right. What a lovely girl. Ask her if she eats supper with me. No I won't take her away from you. Thank you. Thank you very much, Miss. That's all." "That's all I want to know." He patted me on the shoulder. "Leave the dressings off." "Will you have a drink, Dr. Valentini?" "A drink? Certainly. I will have ten drinks. Where are they?" "In the armoire. Miss Barkley will get the bottle." "Cheery oh. Cheery oh to you, Miss. What a lovely girl. I will bring you better cognac than that." He wiped his mustache. "When do you think it can be operated on?" "To-morrow morning. Not before. Your stomach must be emptied. You must be washed out. I will see the old lady downstairs and leave instructions. Good-by. I see you to-morrow. I'll bring you better cognac than that. You are very comfortable here. Good-by. Until to-morrow. Get a good sleep. I'll see you early." He waved from the doorway, his mustaches went straight up, his brown face was smiling. There was a star in a box on his sleeve because he was a major. 第二部 第十五章 这以后没发生什么事，直到下午。那医生是个瘦小沉默的人，战争似乎搞得他很伤脑筋。他以一种轻巧、文雅而又显得嫌恶的态度，从我两条大腿中取出了几小块钢弹片。他用一种叫做“雪”①或是什么别的名称的局部麻醉剂，使肌肉组织麻木，免得疼痛，直到他那探针、解剖刀或是钳子穿透了麻醉的肌肉层才觉得痛。病人可清清楚楚晓得什么地方是麻醉的地方。过了一会，脆弱文雅的医生受不住了，他于是说，还是拍爱克司光片子吧。探伤的方法不大满意，他说。 爱克司光片子是在马焦莱医院拍的，那个拍片子的医生为人容易兴奋，很能干，愉愉快快。他设法把我的两个肩膀高抬起来，以便病人亲自从爱克司光屏幕上看到那些比较大的异物。他说洗好片子就会送来。医生请我在他那袖珍札记簿上写下我的姓名、部队番号和感想。他说那些异物丑恶、卑鄙、残暴。奥地利人根本就是混蛋。我杀了多少敌人？我一个都没有杀过，但是为了讨好起见，就说杀了许多。当时盖琪小姐也在场，医生就用胳臂搂着她说，她比克娄巴特拉还要美丽。她懂吗？克娄巴特拉是古埃及的女王。是的，她果真比女王还要美丽。我们搭救护车回小医院，给人家抬了好一会后，终于又躺在原来楼上的床上。拍好的片子当天下午送到，那医生曾指天发誓，说他当天下午就要，现在果真拿到了。凯瑟琳·巴克莱拿来给我看。片子装在红色封套里，她取了出来，就着光亮竖起来给我看。我们就一同看。“那是你的右腿，”她说，把片子仍旧装进套子里。“这是你的左腿。” “拿开，”我说，“你到床上来。” “不行，”她说。“我只是拿来给你看看的。” 她走出去，丢下我躺在那儿。那是个炎热的下午，我躺在床上躺得厌烦了。我打发门房去买报纸，凡是买得到的都买来。 门房回来前，有三位医生到房间里来。我发现凡是医道不高明的医师，总是喜欢找些人来会诊。一个开阑尾也不会开的医师，必定会给你推荐另外一位医生，而他所推荐的那位一定是割扁桃腺也不会割的。现在进来的就是三位这一类的大夫。 “就是这位青年，”那做手术很轻巧的住院医师说。 “你好？”医生中一位瘦瘦的高个子说，他留着胡子。第三位医师手里捧着那些装有爱克司光片子的红封套，一声不响。 “把绷带解开吧？”留胡子的医生问。 “当然啦。请解开绷带，护士小姐，”住院医生对盖琪小姐说。盖琪小姐解开绷带。我低头望望腿。在野战医院，我的两腿有点像那种不大新鲜的汉堡牛排。现在两腿已经结了痂，膝盖发肿变色，小腿下陷，不过没有脓。 “很干净，”住院医师说。“很干净，很好。” “嗯，”胡子医生说。第三位医生则越过住院医师的肩头向我探望。“膝头请动一动，”胡子医生说。 “不能动。” “试试关节吧？”胡子医生问。他袖管上除了三颗星外，还有一条杠杠。原来是个上尉。 ① 指可卡因。 “当然行，”住院医生说。两位医生谨慎地抓住我的右腿，把它扭弯。 “疼，”我说。 “是的。是的。再弯下去些，医生。” “够了。再也弯不下去了，”我说。 “部分联接不良，”上尉说。他直起身来。“医生，请你再给我看看片子行不行？”第三位医生递了一张片子给他。“不对。请你给我左腿的。” “那就是左腿啊，医生。” “你说得对。方才我是从另一个角度来观看的。”他把片子递回去。把另外一张片子端详了一些时候。“看见吗，医生？”他指着一块异物，在光线的衬托下显得又圆又清楚。他们共同研究了一会儿片子。 “只有一点我能说，”胡子上尉说。“这是时间问题。三个月，也许六个月。” “关节滑液到那时候必然又形成了。” “当然。这是时间问题。像这样一个膝头，弹片还没有结成胞囊，叫我就来动手术，可对不起良心。” “我同意你的意见，医生。” “干吗要等六个月？”我问。 “有六个月时间让弹片结成胞囊，膝头动手术才能安全。” “我不相信，”我说。 “年轻人，难道你自己的膝头不要了吗？” “不要，”我说。 “什么？” “截掉算了，”我说，“以便装个钩子上去。” “你是什么意思？钩子？” “他在开玩笑，”住院医生说。他轻轻拍拍我的肩膀。“他膝头当然是要的。这是个很勇敢的青年。已经提名给他银质勋章了。” “恭喜恭喜，”上尉说。他握握我的手。“我只能说，为安全起见，像这样一个膝头，你至少得等待六个月才能动手术。当然你也可以另请高明。” “多谢多谢，”我说。“我尊重你的高见。” 上尉看看他的表。 “我们得走了，”他说。“祝你万事顺利。”“我也祝诸位凡事顺利，还要多谢诸位，”我说。我跟第三位医生握握手：“伐里尼上尉——亨利中尉。”于是他们三人都走出房去。“盖琪小姐，”我喊道。她走进来。“请你请住院医生回来一下。”他走进来，手里拿着帽子，在床边站住了。“你想见我吗？”“是的。我不能等待六个月才动手术。天啊，医生，你曾在床上躺过六个月吗？” “那倒不一定是全部时间都躺在床上。你那些伤得先晒晒太阳。以后你可以拄着拐杖。” “等上六个月才开刀？” “这才是安全的办法。必须让那些异物有时间结成胞囊，还有关节滑液得重新形成。到那时开膝头才安全。” “你自己真的以为我必须等待那么久吗？” “这样才是安全的。” “那上尉是谁？” “他是米兰非常杰出的外科医生。” “他是上尉，不是吗？” “是的，不过他是位杰出的外科医生。” “我的腿可不要上尉来胡搞。他如果行的话，早已当上少校了。医生，我知道上尉这军衔意味着什么。” “他是位杰出的外科医生，他诊断的意见比我认得的任何医生都高明。” “可否再请一位外科医生来会诊？” “你要的话，当然可以。不过我个人还是愿意采纳伐雷拉医生的意见。” “你可否另请一位外科医生来看看？” “那么我请瓦伦蒂尼来看看吧。” “他是谁？” “他是马焦莱医院的外科医师。” “好。我很感激你。你明白，医生，要我在床上躺六个月太难受了。” “你也不必老是躺在床上。你先用日光治疗法。随后作些轻松的体操。等到一结成胞囊，我们就动手术。” “但是我不能等待六个月啊。”医生把他的纤细的手指摊开在他握着的帽子上，微笑了一下。“你这么急于回前线吗？” “为什么不？” “这好极了，”他说。“你是个高贵的青年。”他弯来，轻轻地吻吻我的前额。“我打发人去请瓦伦蒂尼。你不要担忧，不要兴奋。做个好孩子。”“喝杯酒吧？”我问。 “不，谢谢你。我从来不喝酒。” “尝一杯看看。”我按电铃叫门房拿杯子来。 “不。不，谢谢你。人家在等我。” “再会，”我说。 “再会。” 两小时后，瓦伦蒂尼医生进病房来了。他匆匆忙忙，胡子的两端朝上直翘。他是名少校，脸孔晒得黑黑，老是笑着。 “你怎么得了这个伤，这个混蛋东西？”他问。“片子给我看看。是的。是的。就是那个。你山羊一样健康。这位漂亮姑娘是谁？是你的女朋友吧？我一猜就着。这岂不是场该死的战争吗？这儿你感觉怎么样？你是个好孩子。我一定把你弄得比新的人还要好。这样疼吗？当然是疼的。这些医生最喜欢叫你疼痛。他们究竟给你做了什么啊？姑娘不会讲意大利话吗？她该学一学。多么可爱的姑娘。我可以教教她。我也来这儿当病人吧。不，还是等你们将来生儿女时，我来个免费接生吧。她听得懂吗？她会给你生个好孩子的。生一个像她那样好看的金发蓝眼睛的。这就行了。这没有问题。多可爱的姑娘。问她肯不肯陪我吃晚饭。不，我不抢你的。谢谢你。多谢多谢，小姐。完了。” “我所要知道的都够了。”他拍拍我的肩膀。“绷带由它去，不必再包上。” “喝杯酒吗，瓦伦蒂尼医生？” “一杯酒？当然啦。我喝它十杯。在哪儿？” “在镜橱里。由巴克莱小姐去拿。” “干杯。干杯，小姐。多么可爱的姑娘。我给你带好一点的科涅克白兰地来。”他抹抹小胡子。 “照你看，什么时候可以开刀？”“明儿早上。再早不行。你的肠胃得先弄干净。你得先灌肠。所有的手续我关照楼下那位老太太好了。再会。明天见。我带好一点的科涅克白兰地来。你这里很舒服。再会。明儿见。好好睡一觉。我一早就来。”他站在门口招招手，他的小胡子朝上直翘，褐色的脸上在笑着。他袖章上有一颗星，因为他是位少校。

BOOK TWO CHAPTER 16 That night a bat flew into the room through the open door that led onto the balcony and through which we watched the night over the roofs of the town. It was dark in our room except for the small light of the night over the town and the bat was not frightened but hunted in the room as though he had been outside. We lay and watched him and I do not think he saw us because we lay so still. After he went out we saw a searchlight come on and watched the beam move across the sky and then go off and it was dark again. A breeze came in the night and we heard the men of the anti-aircraft gun on the next roof talking. It was cool and they were putting on their capes. I worried in the night about some one coming up but Catherine said they were all asleep. Once in the night we went to sleep and when I woke she was not there but I heard her coming along the hall and the door opened and she came back to the bed and said it was all right she had been downstairs and they were all asleep. She had been outside Miss Van Campen's door and heard her breathing in her sleep. She brought crackers and we ate them and drank some vermouth. We were very hungry but she said that would all have to be gotten out of me in the morning. I went to sleep again in the morning when it was light and when I was awake I found she was gone again. She came in looking fresh and lovely and sat on the bed and the sun rose while I had the thermometer in my mouth and we smelled the dew on the roofs and then the coffee of the men at the gun on the next roof. "I wish we could go for a walk," Catherine said. "I'd wheel you if we had a chair." "How would I get into the chair?" "We'd do it." "We could go out to the park and have breakfast outdoors." I looked out the open doorway. "What we'll really do," she said, "is get you ready for your friend Dr. Valentini." "I thought he was grand." "I didn't like him as much as you did. But I imagine he's very good." "Come back to bed, Catherine. please," I said. "I can't. Didn't we have a lovely night?" "And can you be on night duty to-night?" "I probably will. But you won't want me." "Yes, I will." "No, you won't. You've never been operated on. You don't know how you'll be." "I'll be all right." "You'll be sick and I won't be anything to you." "Come back then now." "No," she said. "I have to do the chart, darling, and fix you up." "You don't really love me or you'd come back again." "You're such a silly boy." She kissed me. "That's all right for the chart. Your temperature's always normal. You've such a lovely temperature." "You've got a lovely everything." "Oh no. You have the lovely temperature. I'm awfully proud of your temperature." "Maybe all our children will have fine temperatures." "Our children will probably have beastly temperatures." "What do you have to do to get me ready for Valentini?" "Not much. But quite unpleasant." "I wish you didn't have to do it." "I don't. I don't want any one else to touch you. I'm silly. I get furious if they couch you." "Even Ferguson?" "Especially Ferguson and Gage and the other, what's her name?" "Walker?" "That's it. They've too many nurses here now. There must be some more patients or they'll send us away. They have four nurses now." "perhaps there'll be some. They need that many nurses. It's quite a big hospital." "I hope some will come. What would I do if they sent me away? They will unless there are more patients." "I'd go too." "Don't be silly. You can't go yet. But get well quickly, darling, and we will go somewhere." "And then what?" "Maybe the war will be over. It can't always go on." "I'll get well," I said. "Valentini will fix me." "He should with those mustaches. And, darling, when you're going under the ether just think about something else--not us. Because people get very blabby under an anaesthetic." "What should I think about?" "Anything. Anything but us. Think about your people. Or even any other girl." "No.'' "Say your prayers then. That ought to create a splendid impression." "Maybe I won't talk." "That's true. Often people don't talk." "I won't talk." "Don't brag, darling. please don't brag. You're so sweet and you don't have to brag." "I won't talk a word." "Now you're bragging, darling. You know you don't need to brag. Just start your prayers or poetry or something when they tell you to breathe deeply. You'll be lovely that way and I'll be so proud of you. I'm very proud of you anyway. You have such a lovely temperature and you sleep like a little boy with your arm around the pillow and think it's me. Or is it some other girl? Some fine Italian girl?" "It's you." "Of course it's me. Oh I do love you and Valentini will make you a fine leg. I'm glad I don't have to watch it." "And you'll be on night duty to-night." "Yes. But you won't care." "You wait and see." "There, darling. Now you're all clean inside and out. Tell me. How many people have you ever loved?" "Nobody." "Not me even?" "Yes, you." "How many others really?" "None." "How many have you--how do you say it?--stayed with?" "None." "You're lying to me." "Yes." "It's all right. Keep right on lying to me. That's what I want you to do. Were they pretty?" "I never stayed with any one." "That's right. Were they very attractive?" "I don't know anything about it." "You're just mine. That's true and you've never belonged to any one else. But I don't care if you have. I'm not afraid of them. But don't tell me about them. When a man stays with a girl when does she say how much it costs?" "I don't know." "Of course not. Does she say she loves him? Tell me that. I want to know that." "Yes. If he wants her to." "Does he say he loves her? Tell me please. It's important." "He does if he wants to." "But you never did? Really?" "No." "Not really. Tell me the truth." "No," I lied. "You wouldn't," she said. "I knew you wouldn't. Oh, I love you, darling." Outside the sun was up over the roofs and I could see the points of the cathedral with the sunlight on them. I was clean inside and outside and waiting for the doctor. "And that's it?" Catherine said. "She says just what he wants her to?" "Not always." "But I will. I'll say just what you wish and I'll do what you wish and then you will never want any other girls, will you?" She looked at me very happily. "I'll do what you want and say what you want and then I'll be a great success, won't I?" "Yes." "What would you like me to do now that you're all ready?" "Come to the bed again." "All right. I'll come." "Oh, darling, darling, darling," I said. "You see," she said. "I do anything you want." "You're so lovely." "I'm afraid I'm not very good at it yet." "You're lovely." "I want what you want. There isn't any me any more. Just what you want." "You sweet." "I'm good. Aren't I good? You don't want any other girls, do you?" "No." "You see? I'm good. I do what you want." 第二部 第十六章 那天夜里，有只蝙蝠从阳台上那道敞开的门飞进来。我们就从那道门眺望着米兰屋顶上的夜空。我们的房间很暗，只映着外边城市上空的那一点微微的夜光，因此蝙蝠一点也不害怕，在房间里照旧猎食，仿佛就在屋外边似的。我们躺着看它，它大概没看见我们，因为我们静悄悄地躺着。它飞出去后，我们看见一道探照灯光，我们看着光柱在天空中移动，随后灭了，于是又是一片黑暗。夜里起了一阵微风，我们听见隔壁屋顶上高射炮队人员的谈话声。夜里阴凉，他们都穿上了披风。夜间我怕有人会闯进来，但是凯瑟琳说他们都在睡觉。有一次我们睡去了，等我醒来时，她已不在，但我听见她沿着走廊走近来的响声，门打开了，她又回到床上，说她下楼去看过，他们都在睡觉。她曾在范坎本女士门外站了一会，听见她睡着的鼾声。她拿来一些饼干，我们吃饼干，还喝了些味美思。我们都很饿，但是她说我多吃也没有用，早上就得清肠胃。早上，天一亮我又睡着了，醒来时她又不在了。她进来时清新可爱，往我床上一坐。当我口里衔着体温计时，太阳出来了，我们闻得到屋顶上的露水气息，随后又闻到隔壁屋顶上高射炮人员喝的咖啡的香味。 “我真想我们一同出去散步一下，”凯瑟琳说。“我们要是有轮椅的话，我就可以推着你走走。” “我怎么坐上那种车子去呢？” “总有法子想的。” “我们可以上公园去，在露天的地方用早点。”我眺望着敞开的阳台门外的景色。 “我们实在要做的，”她说，“倒是给你做好准备，等待你那个朋友瓦伦蒂尼医生来。” “依我看，他是个很了不起的人。” “我倒没像你那样喜欢他。但是我想他是很行的。” “回到床上来，凯瑟琳。请，”我说。 “不行。我们不是已经快快活活地过了一夜吗？” “今天夜里你可不可以再值夜班？” “也许可以。可是你不会需要我。” “不，我会需要你的。” “不，你不会的。你没动过手术。你不知道手术后人怎么样。” “我没问题。” “你一定会恶心得不好受，我就不能给你什么了。” “那么现在就回到床上来吧。” “不，”她说。“我得填体温表，亲爱的，还得把你准备好。” “你并不真心爱我，否则你会回到床上来的。” “你真是个多么傻的孩子。”她吻吻我。“这对体温不妨事。你的体温总是正常的。你有个可爱的体温。” “你样样东西都可爱。” “哪里。你有可爱的体温。我觉得十分光采。” “也许我们的孩子都会有可爱的体温。” “我们的孩子大概会有很坏的体温。” “为瓦伦蒂尼给我做的准备，你还得做什么？” “事情倒不多。不过相当不愉快。” “我希望这种事不必由你来做。” “本来不该我做。不过我不要别人碰你。我真傻。他们一碰你，我就光火。” “甚至弗格逊？” “尤其是弗格逊、盖琪，还有那个叫什么的？” “华克？” “对啦。现在这儿的护士太多了。要是病人不增加的话，人家就要撵我们走了。现在已经有四名护士了。” “也许会有病人的。四名护士也不算多。这是一所相当大的医院啊。” “我也盼着有病人来。要是人家叫我走，我怎么办？倘若病人不增加，人家准会撵我走。” “那么我也走。” “别瞎说。你还不能够走。你还是赶快复原，亲爱的，我们一块儿上旁的地方去。” “那以后呢？” “也许战争就结束了。不会老是打个不停啊。” “我会复原的，”我说。“瓦伦蒂尼会治好我的。” “他留着那样的小胡子，一定行。还有，亲爱的，当你上麻药时，随便想什么都行——千万别想你和我。因为人一上麻醉药，什么话都会说出来的。” “那么我该想什么呢？” “随便什么。除了你我之外，随便什么都行。想想你的家人。或者甚至另外一个女人。” “不行。” “那么就念祷告文好了。这样该能给人家一个很好的印象。”“也许我不说话。” “这倒是真的。常常有些人不说话。” “我就不说话。” “别吹，亲爱的。请你别吹。你已经满好了，用不到再夸口了。” “我一句话都不说。” “这就是夸口，亲爱的。你明知道你不必吹。人家吩咐你深呼吸时，你就开始念祷告文，或者背诵诗歌，或者别的什么。这一来你就很可爱，我就觉得有光采。我是无论如何都为你感到光采的。你有个可爱的体温，睡觉时像个小孩，胳臂抱着枕头，以为抱的是我。或者以为是别的姑娘吧？一个好看的意大利姑娘？” “是你。” “自然是我啦。哦，我真爱你，瓦伦蒂尼一定会给你一条好好的腿。幸喜动手术时用不着我到场。” “还有你今天夜里值夜班。” “是的。不过这对你是无所谓的。” “等着瞧吧。” “好了，亲爱的。现在你里里外外都弄干净了。告诉我吧。你爱过多少人？” “一个也没有。” “连我也不爱？” “只有你是爱的。” “说真话，还有多少人你爱过的？” “一个都没有。” “有多少人跟你——你们是怎么说的？——好过？” “没有人。” “你在向我撒谎。” “是的。” “那也没关系。你尽管撒谎好了。我就要你这么做。她们长得漂亮吗？” “我从来没跟人好过。” “对啦。她们很迷人吗？” “我什么都不知道。” “你只属于我一个人的。这是真的，你从未属于过任何人。其实我也不在乎。我不怕她们。但是对我可别提起她们来。一个男人跟一个姑娘好的时候，姑娘在什么时候说出价钱来？” “我不知道。” “你当然不知道啦。她也说她爱他吗？告诉我吧。这个我要知道。” “说的。要是他要她说的话。” “他说不说爱她呢？请你告诉我。这是重要的。” “他想说他就说。” “但是你可从未说过吧？真的吗？” “没说过。” “真的吗？给我说老实话。” “没说过，”我撒谎道。 “你不会说的，”她说。“我知道你不会说的。哦，我爱你啊，亲爱的。” 外边太阳已经升到屋顶上，我望得见阳光照耀的大教堂的尖顶。我里里外外都干干净净，等待医生。 “原来就是这样子吗？”凯瑟琳说。“她只说他要她说的？” “那也不一定。” “但是我一定要这么做。你要我说什么我就说什么，你要我做什么我就做什么，那样你就再也不会要旁的姑娘了吧？”她很快乐地望着我。“我做你所要做的，说你所要说的，那样我一定会大获成功，可不是吗？” “是的。” “你现在一切都准备好了，还要我做什么呢？” “再上床来。” “好的。我就来。” “哦，亲爱的，亲爱的，亲爱的，”我说。 “你瞧，”她说。“你要我做什么我就做什么。” “你真可爱。” “我倒怕自己还不大熟练哪。” “你是可爱的。” “我要的就是你所要的。我已经不再存在。只要你的需要。”“你太可爱了。” “我行。我行吧？你以后再也不要旁的姑娘了吧？” “不要了。” “你瞧？我行。你要我怎么样我就怎么样。”

BOOK TWO CHAPTER 17 When I was awake after the operation I had not been away. You do not go away. They only choke you. It is not like dying it is just a chemical choking so you do not feel, and afterward you might as well have been drunk except that when you throw up nothing comes but bile and you do not feel better afterward. I saw sandbags at the end of the bed. They were on pipes that came out of the cast. After a while I saw Miss Gage and she said, "How is it now?" "Better," I said. "He did a wonderful job on your knee." "How long did it take?" "Two hours and a half." "Did I say anything silly?" "Not a thing. Don't talk. Just be quiet." I was sick and Catherine was right. It did not make any difference who was on night duty. There were three other patients in the hospital now, a thin boy in the Red Cross from Georgia with malaria, a nice boy, also thin, from New York, with malaria and jaundice, and a fine boy who had tried to unscrew the fuse-cap from a combination shrapnel and high explosive shell for a souvenir. This was a shrapnel shell used by the Austrians in the mountains with a nose-cap which went on after the burst and exploded on contact. Catherine Barkley was greatly liked by the nurses because she would do night duty indefinitely. She had quite a little work with the malaria people, the boy who had unscrewed the nose-cap was a friend of ours and never rang at night, unless it was necessary but between the times of working we were together. I loved her very much and she loved me. I slept in the daytime and we wrote notes during the day when we were awake and sent them by Ferguson. Ferguson was a fine girl. I never learned anything about her except that she had a brother in the Fifty-Second Division and a brother in Mesopotamia and she was very good to Catherine Barkley. "Will you come to our wedding, Fergy?" I said to her once. "You'll never get married." "We will." "No you won't." "Why not?" "You'll fight before you'll marry." "We never fight." "You've time yet." "We don't fight." "You'll die then. Fight or die. That's what people do. They don't marry." I reached for her hand. "Don't take hold of me," she said. "I'm not crying. Maybe you'll be all right you two. But watch out you don't get her in trouble. You get her in trouble and I'll kill you." "I won't get her in trouble." "Well watch out then. I hope you'll be all right. You have a good time." "We have a fine time." "Don't fight then and don't get her into trouble." "I won't." "Mind you watch out. I don't want her with any of these war babies." "You're a fine girl, Fergy." "I'm not. Don't try to flatter me. How does your leg feel?" "Fine." "How is your head?" She touched the top of it with her fingers. It was sensitive like a foot that had gone to sleep. "It's never bothered me." "A bump like that could make you crazy. It never bothers you?" "No." "You're a lucky young man. Have you the letter done? I'm going down." "It's here," I said. "You ought to ask her not to do night duty for a while. She's getting very tired." "All right. I will." "I want to do it but she won't let me. The others are glad to let her have it. You might give her just a little rest." "All right." "Miss Van Campen spoke about you sleeping all the forenoons." "She would." "It would be better if you let her stay off nights a little while." "I want her to." "You do not. But if you would make her I'd respect you for it." "I'll make her." "I don't believe it." She took the note and went out. I rang the bell and in a little while Miss Gage came in. "What's the matter?" "I just wanted to talk to you. Don't you think Miss Barkley ought to go off night duty for a while? She looks awfully tired. Why does she stay on so long?" Miss Gage looked at me. "I'm a friend of yours," she said. "You don't have to talk to me like that." "What do you mean?" "Don't be silly. Was that all you wanted?" "Do you want a vermouth?" "All right. Then I have to go." She got out the bottle from the armoire and brought a glass. "You take the glass," I said. "I'll drink out of the bottle." "Here's to you," said Miss Gage. "What did Van Campen say about me sleeping late in the mornings?" "She just jawed about it. She calls you our privileged patient." "To hell with her." "She isn't mean," Miss Gage said. "She's just old and cranky. She never liked you." "No." "Well, I do. And I'm your friend. Don't forget that." "You're awfully damned nice." "No. I know who you think is nice. But I'm your friend. How does your leg feel?" "Fine." "I'll bring some cold mineral water to pour over it. It must itch under the cast. It's hot outside." "You're awful nice." "Does it itch much?" "No. It's fine." "I'll fix those sandbags better." She leaned over. "I'm your friend." "I know you are." "No you don't. But you will some day." Catherine Barkley took three nights off night duty and then she came back on again. It was as though we met again after each of us had been away on a long journey. 第二部 第十七章 手术后我醒转来，我这人并没有离开过。你这人并没有离开过。人家只是要使你窒息。这不像死，只是麻醉药使你窒息，叫你失去感觉，事后就好比醉酒，只是吐的时候只吐胆汁，吐后人也并不好过些。我看见床尾有些沙袋。沙袋堆在石膏下突出来的管子上。过了一会儿，我看见盖琪小姐，她说：“现在觉得怎么样？” “好一点了，”我说。 “他在你膝头上动了一次奇妙的手术。” “用了多少时间？” “两小时半。” “我说了什么不伦不类的话没有？” “没有说。别开口。安静休息。” 我感到恶心难受，果真不出凯瑟琳所料。谁上夜班对于我都是一样。现在病院里多了三个病号，一个是红十字会的瘦瘦的青年，佐治亚州①人，他患的是疟疾，第二个也是瘦子，是个很不错的青年，纽约州人，患疟疾和黄疸病，还有一个是个好青年，因为想扭开一颗榴霰弹和烈性炸药的混合弹的雷管作纪念品而受了伤。山间的奥军用的这种榴霰弹，上面装有一种铜弹头，在炸弹爆炸后还不能碰，一碰就会重炸一次。护士们很喜欢凯瑟琳·巴克莱，因为她肯天天值夜班。那两个患疟疾的花了她相当多的时间，那个扭下雷管的少年跟我们成了朋友，他夜里从不按铃，除非万不得已。夜间除了凯瑟琳的工作时间外，我们都是在一起的。我很爱她，她也爱我。我白天睡觉，我们醒时互通信札，请弗格逊做送信人。弗格逊是个好人。关于她的事我不清楚，只知道她有个兄弟在第五十二师服役，还有个兄弟则在美索不达米亚②， 她待凯瑟琳非常好。“我们举行婚礼你来不来，弗基③？”我有一次问她。“你们永远不会结婚的。” “我们会的。” “不，你们不会的。” “为什么呢？” “结婚前就会闹翻。” “我们从来不吵架。” “来日方长。” “我们不吵架。” “结了婚你就要死了。不是吵架便是死。人们总是这样子的。他们不结婚。” 我伸手抓她的手。“别抓我的手，”她说。“我不是在哭。也许你们俩没有问题。但是你得当心，别给她惹出事来。惹出事来我可要叫你死。”“我不会给她惹事的。” “那么你得小心。我希望你们俩好好的。你们过得很快活。”“我们俩好快活。” ① 在美国东南部。 ② 美索不达米亚是中东一古地区名，当时为土耳其的一个行政省，第一次世界大战后，成为英国托管下的独立的伊拉克的一部分。 ③ 弗基是弗格逊的简称。 “那就不要吵架，不要给她惹出事来。” “我不会的。” “但是你还得当心。我不想让她生个战时的私生儿。” “你是个好姑娘，弗基。” “哪里。你用不着奉承我。你的腿觉得怎么样。” “很好。” “你的头呢？”她用手指摸摸我的头顶。它敏感得就好比人睡着时的一只脚。“从来没让我怎么难受过，”我说。 “头上这样一个肿块，可能把你弄得神经错乱。从来不觉得疼吗？” “不觉得。” “你真是个运气好的青年。你信写好了没有？我要下楼去啦。” “就在这儿，”我说。 “你应当叫她暂时停止上夜班。她越来越疲乏了。” “好的。我跟她说。” “我本想接替她，但是她不肯。别的人都乐得由她去做夜班，你该让她稍微休息休息才是。” “好的。” “范坎本女士说起你天天上午睡觉。” “她就会说这种话。” “最好你让她暂时停止上夜班。” “我也要叫她这样。” “你不会的。不过，要是你能够叫她停止，我才瞧得起你。” “我就叫她停止吧。” “我不相信。”她揣着字条走出去。我揿揿铃，过了一会儿盖琪小姐进来了。 “什么事？” “我只想找你谈谈。你看，巴克莱小姐应该暂时停止上夜班吗？她那模样，十分疲乏。为什么老是她上夜班？” 盖琪小姐眼睁睁地望着我。“我是你们的朋友，”她说。“你用不着对我打官腔。” “你这是什么意思？” “别装傻啦。你叫我来就是这件事吗？” “来杯味美思好吗？” “好的。喝完我就得走了。”她从镜橱里取出一只杯子。 “你拿杯子喝，”我说。“我就拿瓶子喝。” “这杯敬你，”盖琪小姐说。 “范坎本女士还说什么我上午睡到很晚才醒？” “她不过是唠叨一番。她说你是我们的特权病人。” “见她的鬼。” “她人倒不见得恶劣，”盖琪小姐说。“她不过是又老又怪。她一向不喜欢你。” “是的。” “嗯，我倒是喜欢你的。而且我是你的朋友。不要忘记这一点。” “你待我太好了。” “那也不见得。我知道你心中认为好的是哪一个。不过我还是你的朋友。你的腿觉得怎么样？” “好。” “我去拿一点冷矿泉水来洒一洒。腿在石膏底下一定好痒吧。外边天气很热。” “你真好。” “很痒吗？” “不，还好。” “我来把那些沙袋摆摆好。”她弯来。“我是你的朋友。” “我早就知道。” “不见得吧。但是有一天你总会知道的。” 凯瑟琳·巴克莱停做了三个夜晚的夜班，到第四夜她又回来了。当时的心情，就好比是各自作了长期旅行后的重逢。

BOOK TWO CHAPTER 18 We had a lovely time that summer. When I could go out we rode in a carriage in the park. I remember the carriage, the horse going slowly, and up ahead the back of the driver with his varnished high hat, and Catherine Barkley sitting beside me. If we let our hands touch, just the side of my hand touching hers, we were excited. Afterward when I could get around on crutches we went to dinner at Biffi's or the Gran Italia and sat at the tables outside on the floor of the galleria. The waiters came in and out and there were people going by and candles with shades on the tablecloths and after we decided that we liked the Gran Italia best, George, the headwaiter, saved us a table. He was a fine waiter and we let him order the meal while we looked at the people, and the great galleria in the dusk, and each other. We drank dry white capri iced in a bucket; although we tried many of the other wines, fresa, barbera and the sweet white wines. They had no wine waiter because of the war and George would smile ashamedly when I asked about wines like fresa. "If you imagine a country that makes a wine because it tastes like strawberries," he said. "Why shouldn't it?" Catherine asked. "It sounds splendid." "You try it, lady," said George, "if you want to. But let me bring a little bottle of margaux for the Tenente." "I'll try it too, George." "Sir, I can't recommend you to. It doesn't even taste like strawberries." "It might," said Catherine. "It would be wonderful if it did." "I'll bring it," said George, "and when the lady is satisfied I'll take it away." It was not much of a wine. As he said, it did not even taste like strawberries. We went back to capri. One evening I was short of money and George loaned me a hundred lire. "That's all right, Tenente," he said. "I know how it is. I know how a man gets short. If you or the lady need money I've always got money." After dinner we walked through the galleria, past the other restaurants and the shops with their steel shutters down, and stopped at the little place where they sold sandwiches; ham and lettuce sandwiches and anchovy sandwiches made of very tiny brown glazed rolls and only about as long as your finger. They were to eat in the night when we were hungry. Then we got into an open carriage outside the galleria in front of the cathedral and rode to the hospital. At the door of the hospital the porter came out to help with the crutches. I paid the driver, and then we rode upstairs in the elevator. Catherine got off at the lower floor where the nurses lived and I went on up and went down the hall on crutches to my room; sometimes I undressed and got into bed and sometimes I sat out on the balcony with my leg up on another chair and watched the swallows over the roofs and waited for Catherine. When she came upstairs it was as though she had been away on a long trip and I went along the hall with her on the crutches and carried the basins and waited outside the doors, or went in with her; it depending on whether they were friends of ours or not, and when she had done all there was to be done we sat out on the balcony outside my room. Afterward I went to bed and when they were all asleep and she was sure they would not call she came in. I loved to take her hair down and she sat on the bed and kept very still, except suddenly she would dip down to kiss me while I was doing it, and I would take out the pins and lay them on the sheet and it would be loose and I would watch her while she kept very still and then take out the last two pins and it would all come down and she would drop her head and we would both be inside of it, and it was the feeling of inside a tent or behind a falls. She had wonderfully beautiful hair and I would lie sometimes and watch her twisting it up in the light that came in the open door and it shone even in the night as water shines sometimes just before it is really daylight. She had a lovely face and body and lovely smooth skin too. We would be lying together and I would touch her cheeks and her forehead and under her eyes and her chin and throat with the tips of my fingers and say, "Smooth as piano keys," and she would stroke my chin with her finger and say, "Smooth as emery paper and very hard on piano keys." "Is it rough?" "No, darling. I was just making fun of you." It was lovely in the nights and if we could only touch each other we were happy. Besides all the big times we had many small ways of making love and we tried putting thoughts in the other one's head while we were in different rooms. It seemed to work sometimes but that was probably because we were thinking the same thing anyway. We said to each other that we were married the first day she had come to the hospital and we counted months from our wedding day. I wanted to be really married but Catherine said that if we were they would send her away and if we merely started on the formalities they would watch her and would break us up. We would have to be married under Italian law and the formalities were terrific. I wanted us to be married really because I worried about having a child if I thought about it, but we pretended to ourselves we were married and did not worry much and I suppose I enjoyed not being married, really. I know one night we talked about it and Catherine said, "But, darling, they'd send me away." "Maybe they wouldn't." "They would. They'd send me home and then we would he apart until after the war." "I'd come on leave." "You couldn't get to Scotland and back on a leave. Besides, I won't leave you. What good would it do to marry now? We're really married. I couldn't be any more married." "I only wanted to for you." "There isn't any me. I'm you. Don't make up a separate me." "I thought girls always wanted to be married." "They do. But, darling, I am married. I'm married to you. Don't I make you a good wife?" "You're a lovely wife." "You see, darling, I had one experience of waiting to be married." "I don't want to hear about it." "You know I don't love any one but you. You shouldn't mind because some one else loved me." "I do." "You shouldn't be jealous of some one who's dead when you have everything." "No, but I don't want to hear about it." "poor darling. And I know you've been with all kinds of girls and it doesn't matter to me." "Couldn't we be married privately some way? Then if anything happened to me or if you had a child." "There's no way to be married except by church or state. We are married privately. You see, darling, it would mean everything to me if I had any religion. But I haven't any religion." "You gave me the Saint Anthony." "That was for luck. Some one gave it to me." "Then nothing worries you?" "Only being sent away from you. You're my religion. You're all I've got." "All right. But I'll marry you the day you say." "Don't talk as though you had to make an honest woman of me, darling. I'm a very honest woman. You can't be ashamed of something if you're only happy and proud of it. Aren't you happy?" "But you won't ever leave me for some one else." "No, darling. I won't ever leave you for some one else. I suppose all sorts of dreadful things will happen to us. But you don't have to worry about that." "I don't. But I love you so much and you did love some one else before." "And what happened to him?" "He died." "Yes and if he hadn't I wouldn't have met you. I'm not unfaithful, darling. I've plenty of faults but I'm very faithful. You'll be sick of me I'll be so faithful." "I'll have to go back to the front pretty soon." "We won't think about that until you go. You see I'm happy, darling, and we have a lovely time. I haven't been happy for a long time and when I met you perhaps I was nearly crazy. perhaps I was crazy. But now we're happy and we love each other. Do let's please just be happy. You are happy, aren't you? Is there anything I do you don't like? Can I do anything to please you? Would you like me to take down my hair? Do you want to play?" "Yes and come to bed." "All right. I'll go and see the patients first." 第二部 第十八章 那年夏天我们过得幸福快乐。等我可以走动了，我们便在公园里坐马车玩。我还记得那马车、慢慢走着的马和前面高高的车座上那个车夫的背影，他头上戴着一顶光闪闪的高帽子，还有坐在我身边的凯瑟琳·巴克莱。要是我们手碰上手，哪怕只是我的手的边沿碰上她的，我们就会兴奋起来。后来我可以拄着拐杖走路了，我们便上宓妃或意大利大饭店，坐在屋外拱廊上吃饭。侍者们进进出出，街上有行人来来往往；铺台布的桌子上点着蜡烛，上面还罩着罩子。后来我们觉得还是经常上意大利大饭店比较好，那儿的侍者头目乔治就经常给我们留一张桌子。乔治是个好侍者，我们总是由他去点菜，自去观看来往的人们，望望黄昏里的大拱廊，或者默然相对。我们喝冰在桶里的不加甜味的卡普里白葡萄酒；虽则我们还试过许多旁的酒，例如飞来莎、巴勃拉①和甜白葡萄酒。因为战事关系，饭店里不雇用专门管酒的侍者，我一点飞来莎这一类酒，乔治就会怪不好意思地笑笑。 “你们想想看，有个国家，只要那东西有点草莓味，便把它酿起酒来，”他说。 “为什么不呢？”凯瑟琳问。“这酒的名字听起来倒怪好听的。” “你要试的话，小姐，就试试吧，”乔治说。“我给中尉另外拿一小瓶法国玛谷葡萄酒来。” “我也试试飞来莎吧，乔治。” “先生，这我可不敢推荐。这种酒连草莓味都没有哩。” “那也不一定，”凯瑟琳说。“倘若有草莓味当然最好。” “我去拿来，”乔治说，“等小姐试了以后我才拿走。” 那酒果真不像酒。正如他所说的，连草莓味都没有。我们到末了还是喝卡普里。有天晚上，我身边的钱不够，乔治还借给我一百里拉。“没关系，中尉，”他说。“我知道是怎么回事。一个人手头不方便总是难免的。倘若先生或者小姐有需要，尽管说一声就是了。” 饭后我们穿过拱廊散步，经过旁的酒家饭店和那些已经上了钢窗板的店铺，在一个卖三明治的小摊前停下来，买了火腿生菜三明治和鳀鱼三明治，后者是用很细的涂过糖的褐色面包卷做成，只有人的手指那么长。这些点心是我们预备夜间肚子饿时吃的。走出拱廊，我们在大教堂前雇了部敞篷马车回医院。到了医院门口，门房出来帮我拄起拐杖。我付了车钱，一同坐电梯上楼。凯瑟琳到了护士住的那一层楼，先出去了，我继续上升，拄着拐杖穿过走廊，走进自己的房间；有时候我脱下衣服上床，有时候坐在外边阳台上，把受伤的腿搁在另外一张椅子上，边看着燕子绕着屋顶飞翔，边等待着凯瑟琳。到她上楼来时，仿佛她是经过一次长途旅行才回来似的，我拄着拐杖陪她在走廊上走，帮她拿盆子，在一间间病房门外等，或者跟她一同走进去；那要看病人是否是我们的朋友，一直等到她职务完毕后，我们才在我房间外的阳台上坐坐。过后我上床去，她则等到病人都睡着了，没有人会再喊她，才走进来。我喜欢解开她的头发，她坐在床上，动都不动，除了偶尔突然钻下头来吻我；我把她的发针一根根取下来，放在被单上，她的头发就散开来，我定睛看着她，她一动不动地坐着，等到最后两根发针取了下来，头发就全都垂下来，她的头一低，于是我们俩都在头发中，那时的感觉就好比是在帐幕里或者在一道瀑布的后边。 ① 巴勃拉是意大利西北部皮德蒙州出产的红葡萄酒。 她的头发非常美丽，我有时躺着看她，借着敞开的门外透进来的光线，看她卷起头发。她的头发在夜里也发亮，就像水在天快亮前有时闪闪发亮一样。她有张可爱的脸和身体，皮肤又光滑又可爱。我们时常躺在一起，我用指尖抚摩她的脸颊、前额、眼睛下边、下巴和喉咙说：“光滑得像琴键。” 而她也用手指摸摸我的下巴说：“光滑得像砂纸，磨擦琴键可很不好受。” “很粗糙吧？” “不是，亲爱的。我不过是说说笑话。” 夜间真可爱，我们只要互相接触一下，便觉得快活幸福。除了一切欢乐的时刻外，我们还有许多种谈情说爱的小玩意儿，有时我们不在同一房间，想靠心灵传达意念。有时竟也能成功，这大概是因为我们所转的念头毕竟是相同的吧。 我们彼此都这么说，我们打她来到医院那天起就已结婚了，算来已经结婚好几个月了。我倒想真的举行结婚仪式，但凯瑟琳说，如果我们结婚的话，人家会把她调走，如果我们只是开始办理手续的话，人家就会注意她，把我们拆散的。我们要结婚，不得不遵守意大利法律，那礼节的繁杂，实是惊人。我想正式结婚，因为担心有了孩子，不过我们装做已经结了婚，并不十分担忧，而且我本人很可能实在在图个没结婚的快乐。我记得有一天夜里我们谈起这件事，凯瑟琳说：“不过，亲爱的，他们会把我调走的。”“或许不会吧。” “会的。他们会打发我回国，这样我们得等到战后才能见面。”“休假期间我可以去找你。” “休假时间那么短，你怎么可以往苏格兰跑个来回，况且，我不愿离开你。现在结婚还有什么好处呢？我们实际已经结了婚。没法子叫我更进一步结婚。” “我要结婚本是为你打算。” “哪里还有什么我。我就是你。别再分出一个独立的我。”“我本以为姑娘们总是想结婚的。” “你猜得不错。但是，亲爱的，我已经结了婚。我已经和你结了婚。我这妻子还不坏吧？” “你是个可爱的妻子。” “你知道，亲爱的，我已经有一次等待结婚的经验。” “关于那个，我不想听。” “你知道我不爱任何人，只爱你。你不应该在乎有个人曾爱过我。” “我是在乎的。” “我的一切都属于你，人家早已死了，你不该妒忌他。” “我没妒忌，不过我也不想听它。” “你这可怜的宝贝。我也知道你跟什么样的女人都混过，我倒不以为意。” “我们可不可以想个法子私下结婚？这样，万一我有什么长短，或者你有了小孩，就不妨了。” “要结婚只得通过教会或是政府。我们其实已经私下结婚了。你看，亲爱的，倘若我信仰什么教，那么结婚就是最重要的事。但是我没有任何宗教信仰。” “你给过我圣安东尼像。” “那是件吉祥品。也是人家送我的。”“那么你一点也不担忧吗？” “我只愁被人家调走，和你分离。你是我的宗教。你是我的一切。”“好吧。你哪一天说要结婚，我们就结婚。” “亲爱的，听你的口气，好像非要跟我正式结婚不可，以便保全我的体面。我是个非常体面的女人。随便什么事情，只要你觉得幸福并引以为骄傲，那么便没有什么可以难为情的。你岂不是很幸福吗？”“但是将来你不要离开我，另找别人。” “不会的，亲爱的。我永远不会离开你去另找别人。照我想，我们可能遭遇到各式各样可怕的事。关于你说的那一点，你可不必担心。”“我不担心。但是我太爱你，而你从前爱过别人。” “那别人后来又怎么样呢？” “他死啦。” “对啦，要是他还在的话，我就不会碰上你。我并不是不忠实的，亲爱的。我有好多短处，但人倒是非常忠实的。就怕我的人太忠实，你会觉得腻味。” “我不久就得回前线。” “等到你要走的时候再说吧。你看，我是快乐的，亲爱的，我们过得多么幸福。我没有快乐，已有一个相当长的时期，我认识你的时候，几乎快发疯了。也许已经发疯了。但是现在我们快乐幸福，彼此相爱。你我只要快乐就是了，我求你。你是快乐的吧？我做了什么你不喜欢的事没有？我能做些什么讨你喜欢的事？你要不要我把头发散下来？你要耍弄吗？”“要，上床来。” “好的。等我先去看看病号再来。”

BOOK TWO CHAPTER 19 The summer went that way. I do not remember much about the days, except that they were hot and that there were many victories in the papers. I was very healthy and my legs healed quickly so that it was not very long after I was first on crutches before I was through with them and walking with a cane. Then I started treatments at the Ospedale Maggiore for bending the knees, mechanical treatments, baking in a box of mirrors with violet rays, massage, and baths. I went over there afternoons and afterward stopped at the caf?and had a drink and read the papers. I did not roam around the town; but wanted to get home to the hospital from the caf? All I wanted was to see Catherine. The rest of the time I was glad to kill. Mostly I slept in the mornings, and in the afternoons, sometimes, I went to the races, and late to the mechanotherapy treatments. Sometimes I stopped in at the AngloAmerican Club and sat in a deep leather-cushioned chair in front of the window and read the magazines. They would not let us go out together when I was off crutches because it was unseemly for a nurse to be seen unchaperoned with a patient who did not look as though he needed attendance, so we were not together much in the afternoons. Although sometimes we could go out to dinner if Ferguson went along. Miss Van Campen had accepted the status that we were great friends because she got a great amount of work out of Catherine. She thought Catherine came from very good people and that prejudiced her in her favor finally. Miss Van Campen admired family very much and came from an excellent family herself. The hospital was quite busy, too, and that kept her occupied. It was a hot summer and I knew many people in Milan but always was anxious to get back home to the hospital as soon as the afternoon was over. At the front they were advancing on the Carso, they had taken Kuk across from plava and were taking the Bainsizza plateau. The West front did not sound so good. It looked as though the war were going on for a long time. We were in the war now but I thought it would take a year to get any great amount of troops over and train them for combat. Next year would be a bad year, or a good year maybe. The Italians were using up an awful amount of men. I did not see how it could go on. Even if they took all the Bainsizza and Monte San Gabriele there were plenty of mountains beyond for the Austrians. I had seen them. All the highest mountains were beyond. On the Carso they were going forward but there were marshes and swamps down by the sea. Napoleon would have whipped the Austrians on the plains. He never would have fought them in the mountains. He would have let them come down and whipped them around Verona. Still nobody was whipping any one on the Western front. perhaps wars weren't won any more. Maybe they went on forever. Maybe it was another Hundred Years' War. I put the paper back on the rack and left the club. I went down the steps carefully and walked up the Via Manzoni. Outside the Gran Hotel I met old Meyers and his wife getting out of a carriage. They were coming back from the races. She was a big-busted woman in black satin. He was short and old, with a white mustache and walked flat-footed with a cane. "How do you do? How do you do?" She shook hands. "Hello," said Meyers. "How were the races?" "Fine. They were just lovely. I had three winners." "How did you do?" I asked Meyers. "All right. I had a winner." "I never know how he does," Mrs. Meyers said. "He never tells me." "I do all right," Meyers said. He was being cordial. "You ought to come out." While he talked you had the impression that he was not looking at you or that he mistook you for some one else. "I will," I said. "I'm coming up to the hospital to see you," Mrs. Meyers said. "I have some things for my boys. You're all my boys. You certainly are my dear boys." "They'll be glad to see you." "Those dear boys. You too. You're one of my boys." "I have to get back," I said. "You give my love to all those dear boys. I've got lots of things to bring. I've some fine marsala and cakes." "Good-by," I said. "They'll be awfully glad to see you." "Good-by," said Meyers. "You come around to the galleria. You know where my table is. We're all there every afternoon." I went on up the street. I wanted to buy something at the Cova to take to Catherine. Inside, at the Cova, I bought a box of chocolate and while the girl wrapped it up I walked over to the bar. There were a couple of British and some aviators. I had a martini alone, paid for it, picked up the box of chocolate at the outside counter and walked on home toward the hospital. Outside the little bar up the street from the Scala there were some people I knew, a vice-consul, two fellows who studied singing, and Ettore Moretti, an Italian from San Francisco who was in the Italian army. I had a drink with them. One of the singers was named Ralph Simmons, and he was singing under the name of Enrico DelCredo. I never knew how well he could sing but he was always on the point of something very big happening. He was fat and looked shopworn around the nose and mouth as though he had hayfever. He had come back from singing in piacenza. He had sung Tosca and it had been wonderful. "Of course you've never heard me sing," he said. "When will you sing here?" "I'll be at the Scala in the fall." "I'll bet they throw the benches at you," Ettore said. "Did you hear how they threw the benches at him in Modena?" "It's a damned lie." "They threw the benches at him," Ettore said. "I was there. I threw six benches myself." "You're just a wop from Frisco." "He can't pronounce Italian," Ettore said. "Everywhere he goes they throw the benches at him." "piacenza's the toughest house to sing in the north of Italy," the other tenor said. "Believe me that's a tough little house to sing." This tenor's name was Edgar Saunders, and he sang under the name of Edouardo Giovanni. "I'd like to be there to see them throw the benches at you." Ettore said. "You can't sing Italian." "He's a nut," said Edgar Saunders. "All he knows how to say is throw benches." "That's all they know how to do when you two sing," Ettore said. "Then when you go to America you'll tell about your triumphs at the Scala. They wouldn't let you get by the first note at the Scala." "I'll sing at the Scala," Simmons said. "I'm going to sing Tosca in October." "We'll go, won't we, Mac?" Ettore said to the vice-consul. "They'll need somebody to protect them." "Maybe the American army will be there to protect them," the vice-consul said. "Do you want another drink, Simmons? You want a drink, Saunders?" "All right," said Saunders. "I hear you're going to get the silver medal," Ettore said to me. "What kind of citation you going to get?" "I don't know. I don't know I'm going to get it." "You're going to get it. Oh boy, the girls at the Cova will think you're fine then. They'll all think you killed two hundred Austrians or captured a whole trench by yourself. Believe me, I got to work for my decorations." "How many have you got, Ettore?" asked the vice-consul. "He's got everything," Simmons said. "He's the boy they're running the war for." "I've got the bronze twice and three silver medals," said Ettore. "But the papers on only one have come through." "What's the matter with the others?" asked Simmons. "The action wasn't successful," said Ettore. "When the action isn't successful they hold up all the medals." "How many times have you been wounded, Ettore?" "Three times bad. I got three wound stripes. See?" He pulled his sleeve around. The stripes were parallel silver lines on a black background sewed to the cloth of the sleeve about eight inches below the shoulder. "You got one too," Ettore said to me. "Believe me they're fine to have. I'd rather have them than medals. Believe me, boy, when you get three you've got something. You only get one for a wound that puts you three months in the hospital." "Where were you wounded, Ettore?" asked the vice-consul. Ettore pulled up his sleeve. "Here," he showed the deep smooth red scar. "Here on my leg. I can't show you that because I got puttees on; and in the foot. There's dead bone in my foot that stinks right now. Every morning I take new little pieces out and it stinks all the time." "What hit you?" asked Simmons. "A hand-grenade. One of those potato mashers. It just blew the whole side of my foot off. You know those potato mashers?" He turned to me. "Sure." "I saw the son of a bitch throw it," Ettore said. "It knocked me down and I thought I was dead all right but those damn potato mashers haven't got anything in them. I shot the son of a bitch with my rifle. I always carry a rifle so they can't tell I'm an officer." "How did he look?" asked Simmons. "That was the only one he had," Ettore said. "I don't know why he threw it. I guess he always wanted to throw one. He never saw any real fighting probably. I shot the son of a bitch all right." "How did he look when you shot him?" Simmons asked. "Hell, how should I know?" said Ettore. "I shot him in the belly. I was afraid I'd miss him if I shot him in the head." "How long have you been an officer, Ettore?" I asked. "Two years. I'm going to be a captain. How long have you been a lieutenant?" "Going on three years." "You can't be a captain because you don't know the Italian language well enough," Ettore said. "You can talk but you can't read and write well enough. You got to have an education to be a captain. Why don't you go in the American army?" "Maybe I will." "I wish to God I could. Oh, boy, how much does a captain get, Mac?" "I don't know exactly. Around two hundred and fifty dollars, I think." "Jesus Christ what I could do with two hundred and fifty dollars. You better get in the American army quick, Fred. See if you can't get me in." "All right." "I can command a company in Italian. I could learn it in English easy." "You'd be a general," said Simmons. "No, I don't know enough to be a general. A general's got to know a hell of a lot. You guys think there ain't anything to war. You ain't got brains enough to be a second-class corporal." "Thank God I don't have to be," Simmons said. "Maybe you will if they round up all you slackers. Oh, boy, I'd like to have you two in my platoon. Mac too. I'd make you my orderly, Mac." "You're a great boy, Ettore," Mac said. "But I'm afraid you're a militarist." "I'll be a colonel before the war's over," Ettore said. "If they don't kill you." "They won't kill me." He touched the stars at his collar with his thumb and forefinger. "See me do that? We always touch our stars if anybody mentions getting killed." "Let's go, Sim," said Saunders standing up. "All right." "So long," I said. "I have to go too." It was a quarter to six by the clock inside the bar. "Ciaou, Ettore." "Ciaou, Fred," said Ettore. "That's pretty fine you're going to get the silver medal." "I don't know I'll get it." "You'll get it all right, Fred. I heard you were going to get it all right." "Well, so long," I said. "Keep out of trouble, Ettore." "Don't worry about me. I don't drink and I don't run around. I'm no boozer and whorehound. I know what's good for me." "So long," I said. "I'm glad you're going to be promoted captain." "I don't have to wait to be promoted. I'm going to be a captain for merit of war. You know. Three stars with the crossed swords and crown above. That's me." "Good luck." "Good luck. When you going back to the front?" "pretty soon." "Well, I'll see you around." "So long." "So long. Don't take any bad nickels." I walked on down a back Street that led to a cross-cut to the hospital. Ettore was twenty-three. He had been brought up by an uncle in San Francisco and was visiting his father and mother in Torino when war was declared. He had a sister, who had been sent to America with him at the same time to live with the uncle, who would graduate from normal school this year. He was a legitimate hero who bored every one he met. Catherine could not stand him. "We have heroes too," she said. "But usually, darling, they're much quieter." "I don't mind him." "I wouldn't mind him if he wasn't so conceited and didn't bore me, and bore me, and bore me." "He bores me." "You're sweet to say so, darling. But you don't need to. You can picture him at the front and you know he's useful but he's so much the type of boy I don't care for." "I know." "You're awfully sweet to know, and I try and like him but he's a dreadful, dreadful boy really." "He said this afternoon he was going to be a captain." "I'm glad," said Catherine. "That should please him." "Wouldn't you like me to have some more exalted rank?" "No, darling. I only want you to have enough rank so that we're admitted to the better restaurants." "That's just the rank I have." "You have a splendid rank. I don't want you to have any more rank. It might go to your head. Oh, darling, I'm awfully glad you're not conceited. I'd have married you even if you were conceited but it's very restful to have a husband who's not conceited." We were talking softly out on the balcony. The moon was supposed to rise but there was a mist over the town and it did not come up and in a little while it started to drizzle and we came in. Outside the mist turned to rain and in a little while it was raining hard and we heard it drumming on the roof. I got up and stood at the door to see if it was raining in but it wasn't, so I left the door open. "Who else did you see?" Catherine asked. "Mr. and Mrs. Meyers." "They're a strange lot." "He's supposed to have been in the penitentiary at home. They let him out to die." "And he lived happily in Milan forever after." "I don't know how happily." "Happily enough after jail I should think." "She's bringing some things here." "She brings splendid things. Were you her dear boy?" "One of them." "You are all her dear boys," Catherine said. "She prefers the dear boys. Listen to it rain." "It's raining hard." "And you'll always love me, won't you?" "Yes." "And the rain won't make any difference?" "No." "That's good. Because I'm afraid of the rain." "Why?" I was sleepy. Outside the rain was falling steadily. "I don't know, darling. I've always been afraid of the rain." "I like it." "I like to walk in it. But it's very hard on loving." "I'll love you always." "I'll love you in the rain and in the snow and in the hail and-- what else is there?" "I don't know. I guess I'm sleepy." "Go to sleep, darling, and I'll love you no matter how it is." "You're not really afraid of the rain are you?" "Not when I'm with you." "Why are you afraid of it?" "I don't know." "Tell me." "Don't make me." "Tell me." "No." "Tell me." "All right. I'm afraid of the rain because sometimes I see me dead in it." "No." "And sometimes I see you dead in it." "That's more likely." "No, it's not, darling. Because I can keep you safe. I know I can. But nobody can help themselves." "please stop it. I don't want you to get Scotch and crazy tonight. We won't be together much longer." "No, but I am Scotch and crazy. But I'll stop it. It's all nonsense." "Yes it's all nonsense." "It's all nonsense. It's only nonsense. I'm not afraid of the rain. I'm not afraid of the rain. Oh, oh, God, I wish I wasn't." She was crying. I comforted her and she stopped crying. But outside it kept on raining. 第二部 第十九章 那年夏天就那么过去了。那些日子我已不大记得清楚了，只记得当时天气炎热，报纸上刊载了许多打胜仗的消息。我身体很健康，两条腿好得很快，拄拐杖不久以后便改用手杖走路了。随后我开始上马焦莱医院去接受机械治疗，恢复膝部的弯曲功能，在装满镜子的小间里晒紫外线，还有按摩，沐浴等等。我到那边去是在下午，事后上咖啡店喝点酒，看看报纸。我并不在城里随便乱逛，到了咖啡店就想回医院。我一心只想看到凯瑟琳。其余的时间我随便消磨。上午我大抵是睡觉，午后有时上跑马场去玩，以后才去接受机械治疗。有时我也去英美俱乐部呆一会，坐在窗前一张很深的有皮垫的椅了上，翻阅杂志。我不用拐杖后，人家就不许凯瑟琳陪我一道出去，因为像我这样一个看起来不需要照应的病人，单独叫个护士陪着走，太不成体统了，因此午后的时间我们不大在一起。不过有时有弗格逊作陪，我们还是一同出去吃饭。范坎本女士现已承认我和凯瑟琳是好朋友这种关系，因为凯瑟琳很肯替她卖力办事。她以为凯瑟琳出身于很好的上等家庭，因此终于也喜欢她了。范坎本女士很钦佩高贵的家庭，她本人就是个出身很好的人。况且医院事务繁忙，她也没空多管闲事。那年夏天很燥热，我在米兰本有许多熟人，但是一到傍晚我总是想赶回医院去。前线意军正在卡索高原上挺进，已经占领了普拉伐河对面的库克，现在正在攻占培恩西柴高原。西线消息可没有这么好。战争好像还要打一个长时期。我们美国已经参战，但是我想，要运输大批人马过来，要训练他们作战，非得有一年工夫不可。明年或许是吉年，或许是凶年。意军已经消耗了数目惊人的人员。我不晓得怎么熬得下去。即使他们全部攻占了培恩西柴高原和圣迦伯烈山，奥军可以盘踞的还有许多高山峻岭哩。我亲眼见到过。那些最高的山岭还在后边。意军在卡索高原上进军，但是下面的海边尽是一片沼地泽国。要是拿破仑，一定会在平原上击溃奥军。他才不会在山间作战哩。他会让他们先下山来，然后在维罗纳附近给他们一个迎头痛击。不过在西线也没听见谁在痛击谁。也许战争已经无所谓胜败了。也许会永远打个不停。也许又是一场百年战争。我把报纸摆回架子上，离开了俱乐部。我小心地走下石阶，沿着曼佐尼大街走。我在大旅馆前碰见了迈耶斯老头和他的妻子从一部马车上下来。他们刚从跑马场回来。她是个胸围宽大的女人，身穿黑缎衫裙。他则又矮又老，长着白色的小胡子，拄着根手杖。一步步拖着脚步走。 “你好啊？你好啊？”她和我握手。“哈罗，”迈耶斯说。 “跑马财运怎么样？” “不错。挺好玩的。我赢了三次。” “你怎么样？”我问迈耶斯。 “不坏。我中了一次。”“他输赢怎么样我总不知道，”迈耶斯太太说。 “他从来不告诉我。”“我运气不错，”迈耶斯说。他表示亲切关心。“你应当去玩玩啊。”他讲话时，你总觉得他不在看你，或是把你误当做别人。 “我要去的，”我说。 “我正想上医院去探望你们，”迈耶斯太太说。“我有点东西要给我的孩子们。你们都是我的孩子。你们真是我的好孩子。” “大家见到你一定高兴。” “那些好孩子。你也是。你也是我的一个孩子。” “我得回去啦，”我说。 “代我问候所有的好孩子。我有许多东西要带去。我有一些上好的马萨拉酒①和蛋糕。”“再会，”我说。“大家见到你一定非常高兴。” “再会，”迈耶斯说。“你上拱廊来玩玩吧。你知道我的桌子在什么地方。我们每天下午都在那儿。”我继续沿街走去。我想到科伐去买点东西给凯瑟琳。走进科伐，我买了一盒巧克力，趁女店员包糖的当儿，我走到酒吧间去。那儿有两个英国人和几名飞行员。我独自喝了一杯马丁尼鸡尾酒，付了账，跑到外边柜台前，捡起那盒巧克力便回医院去。在歌剧院旁边那条街上的小酒吧外，我碰到几个熟人，一个是副领事，两个学唱歌的家伙，还有一个来自旧金山的意大利人，叫做爱多亚·摩里蒂，现在在意大利军队中。我跟大家喝了一杯酒。歌唱家中有一个叫做拉夫·西蒙斯，歌唱时改用意大利姓名：恩利科·戴尔克利多。我不晓得他唱得怎么样，不过他老在说有件伟大的事就要发生了。他人长得胖，鼻子和嘴巴显出一副饱经风霜的可怜相，好像患着枯草热②。他刚从皮阿辰扎城演唱回来。他唱的是歌剧《托斯加》③， 他自己说成绩很好。“自然你还没听我唱过，”他说。 “这儿你什么时候登台？” “今年秋天，就在那歌剧院里。”“我可以打赌，人家准会拿起凳子来扔你的，”爱多亚说。“你们听见他在摩得那给人家扔凳子了没有？” “该死的撒谎。” “人家拿起凳子来扔他，”爱多亚说。“我当时在场。我亲自扔了六只凳子。” “你无非是个旧金山来的意大利佬罢了。” “他念不准意大利语，”爱多亚说。“他到处被人家扔凳子。” “皮阿辰扎的歌剧院是意大利北部最难对付的，”另外一个男高音说。“说真话，那座小歌剧院可很难对付。”这位男高音的姓名是艾得加·桑达斯，登台歌唱时改名为爱德华多·佐凡尼。 “我倒很想在那儿看着人家给你扔凳子，”爱多亚说。“用意大利语唱歌你不行。” “他是个傻子，”艾得加·桑达斯说。“他只会说扔凳子。”“你们俩一唱起歌来，人家也只知道扔凳子，”爱多亚说。“往后你们回到美国，就会到处瞎吹你们在米兰歌剧院的大成功。其实他们在这儿登台，包你唱不完第一句。” “我就要在这歌剧院演唱了，”西蒙斯说。“十月里我要唱《托斯加》。” “我们准去，可不是吗，麦克？”爱多亚对副领事说。“他们得找些人做保镖。” “也许还得把美队开去保护他们，”副领事说。“再来一杯吧，西蒙斯？你也要一杯吧，桑达斯？” “好的，”桑达斯说。 “听说你要得银质勋章了，”爱多亚对我说。“你会得到哪一种嘉奖呢？” “我不知道。我也不知我会得勋章。” ① 马萨拉是西西里岛西部的一海滨城市，这里指该地区出产的白葡萄酒。 ② 患枯草热的人，容易伤风流鼻涕。 ③《托斯加》是意大利作曲家普契尼（1858—1924）的杰作之一；1900 年首次演出。 “你会得到的。科伐的姑娘们到那时候一定把你看做了不起的。她们都会以为你杀死了二百名奥国兵，或者单身占领了一条战壕。嗯，为了得勋章我得奋发图强。” “你已经得了几枚，爱多亚？”副领事问。 “他什么都有啦，”西蒙斯说。“战争就是为他这种人打的。”“我应该得两枚铜质勋章，三枚银的，”爱多亚说。“但是公文上说只通过一枚。” “其余的怎么啦？”西蒙斯问。 “战役失利，”爱多亚说。“战役一失利，所有的勋章都给压下了。” “你受了几次伤，爱多亚？” “三次重伤。我有三条受伤的杠杠。看见吗？”他把袖管扭过来给大家看。所谓杠杠是黑底上三条平行的银钱，缝在袖管的布料上，在他肩头下八英寸的地方。 “你也有一条，”爱多亚对我说。“佩戴这东西真好。我认为比勋章好得多。相信我，小伙子，等你有了三条，那就显得你有能耐啦。你要受了得住院三个月的重伤，人家才肯给你这种杠杠。” “你哪儿受伤啊，爱多亚？”副领事问。 爱多亚拉起袖子来。“这里，”他给我们看那深深的、光滑的红疤。“还有这儿腿上。这我可不能给人家看，因为我打了绑腿；还有在我脚上。我脚上有根死骨头，到现在还在发臭。我每天早晨捡些小骨头出来，不过还是时时发臭。” “什么东西打中了你？”西蒙斯问。 “手榴弹。那种马铃薯捣烂器①。把我一只脚的一边全炸掉了。你知道那种马铃薯捣烂器吗？”他转而问我。 “当然啦。” “我看着那狗杂种抬起手来扔的，”爱多亚说。“我一下子给它炸倒了，我当时以为这次准死了，想不到那些该死的马铃薯捣烂器里头并没有什么东西。我就用我的步枪打死了那狗杂种。我随身总带着一支步枪，叫敌人看不出我是个军官。” “他的神情怎么样？”西蒙斯问。 “他只有那么一颗手榴弹，”爱多亚说。“我也不懂他干吗扔它。我猜想他大概只是一直想扔罢了。大概他还没参加过实在的打仗。我一枪就把这狗杂种结果了。” “你开枪的时候，他是什么神情？”西蒙斯问。 “见鬼，我怎么知道，”爱多亚说。“我开枪打他的肚子。打他的头我怕万一打不中。” “你当军官有多久了，爱多亚？”我问。“两年了。我快升上尉了。你当中尉好久了？” “快三年了。” “你当不上上尉，因为你不够熟悉意大利语，”爱多亚说。“你只会讲，看和写可不大行。要当上尉你得受过相当的教育。你为什么不进美队？” “我也许要转过去。” “我倒盼望老天爷肯让我去。哦，好家伙，一个上尉官俸多少啊，麦克？” ① 指9 英寸长的德国木柄手榴弹。 “我不十分清楚。大概总在两百五十元左右吧。” “耶稣！两百五十元，我花起来太舒服了。弗雷德，你赶快转入美队吧。看看有没有法子也把我拉进去。” “好的。” “我能用意大利语指挥一连兵。改用英语指挥，我学起来很容易。”“你将来会当上将军，”西蒙斯说。 “不，我的知识不配当将军。一位将军得知道许许多多的事情。你们这些家伙，以为战争等于儿戏。老实说，你的脑子还不配当名起码的中士哪。” “谢谢上帝，我还不至于非当兵不可，”西蒙斯说。 “人家要是把你们这些逃避兵役的都抓起来，那你就怕要当兵了。哦，好家伙，最好你们两位都到我那一排来。麦克，你也来。我派你当我的勤务兵，麦克。” “你人倒不错，爱多亚，”麦克说。“但是你恐怕是个军国主义者吧。” “战争结束以前，我一定要当上校，”爱多亚说。 “要是人家不把你打死的话。” “人家打不死我的。”他用拇指和食指摸摸他领子上的徽星。“你看见我这一动作吗？谁一提起给打死的话，我们便摸摸我们的星。”“我们走吧，西蒙斯，”桑达斯说，站了起来。 “好。” “再会，”我说。“我也得走了。”根据酒吧间里的时钟，已经是六点差一刻了。“再见，爱多亚。” “再见，弗雷德，”爱多亚说。“你就要得到银质勋章，这倒是个很好的消息。”“我还不知道是否拿得到。” “你稳拿得到的，弗雷德。我听说你是稳拿得到的。” “好，再会，”我说。“多多保重自己，爱多亚。” “你犯不着为我操心。我既不喝酒，也不乱搞。我既不是酒鬼，更不是嫖客。我知道什么对我有益处。” “再会，”我说。“听说你快要被提升为上尉，我很高兴。”“我也不必等待人家来提升。我单凭战功就可以当上上尉。你知道。领章上三颗星，上面有只皇冠和两把交叉的刀。这才是我。”“祝你运道好。” “祝你运道好。你什么时候回前线？” “快啦。” “好，哪天我来看看你。” “再会。” “再会。别上当。” 我走上一条后街，那是条直达医院的近路。爱多亚现年二十三。由旧金山一位叔父抚养成人，战争宣布时他恰巧回到意大利的都灵看望父母。他有个妹妹，以前同他一道上美国，住在他叔父那里，今年要从师范学校毕业。他是个地道的英雄，人人见了他都讨厌。凯瑟琳每每忍受不住。“我们也有我们的英雄，”她说。“但是一般地讲，亲爱的，人家安静多了。” “我倒不在乎。” “我对他也不在乎，只要他别那么自负，那么惹人讨厌，真是讨厌透了。” “他也惹我讨厌。” “你这么说，太好了，亲爱的。其实你也不必附和我。你能够想象他在前线时怎么样，你也知道他是多么能干，不过他太像我所不喜欢的那种男人。” “我知道。” “你知道，你真太好了。我也想试试喜欢他，不料他真是个讨厌又讨厌的家伙。” “他今天下午说快要升上尉了。” “这也好，”凯瑟琳说。“这总该叫他高兴高兴吧。”“你岂不喜欢我也升级吗？” “不，亲爱的。我只要你的军衔可以进进比较好的酒家饭馆就行了。” “我现在这一级恰巧就是。” “你的军衔好极了。我不要你升级。那样怕会使你傲慢起来。哦，亲爱的，我十分喜欢你并不自高自大。你就是自负，我还是会嫁给你的，不过丈夫不自负那就太平多了。” 我们俩正在阳台上轻声谈话。月亮本来应该上升了，可惜城市上空罩了一层雾，月亮没有露出来，过了一会儿，下起纷纷细雨来，我们只得回房间去。外边的雾转成雨，一会儿雨大起来，我们听着雨打在屋顶上，仿佛擂鼓似的。我起身走到阳台门口站一站，看看雨打进来没有，原来并没有打进来，于是我让门仍旧开着。 “你还碰见了谁？”凯瑟琳问。 “迈耶斯夫妇。” “那是一对怪物。” “他本应当关在美国监牢里。人家却让他到国外来死。” “而且幸福地住在米兰，直到永远。” “怎么幸福也难说。” “坐过牢的人，这种生活总算是幸福的吧。” “她要送些东西来。” “她送来的东西很棒。你是她的宝贝儿子吗？” “是其中的一个。” “你们都是她的宝贝儿子，”凯瑟琳说。“她偏爱这些宝贝儿子。你听那雨声。” “雨下得很大。” “还有你是不是永远爱我？” “是的。” “就是下了雨也没有差别吗？” “没有。” “这很好。因为我怕雨。” “为什么呢，”我昏昏欲睡。外边雨潺潺下个不停。 “我不知道，亲爱的。我一向是怕雨的。” “我喜欢雨。”“我喜欢在雨中散步。但是雨对于恋爱总是很不利的。” “我永远爱你。” “我爱你，不管下雨也好，下雪也好，冰雹也好——还有什么别的没有？” “我不知道。我看我想睡了。” “睡吧，亲爱的，不管怎么样，我总爱你。” “你并不当真怕雨吧？” “同你在一起就不怕了。” “你为什么怕雨呢？” “我不知道。” “告诉我。” “别叫我说。” “告诉我。” “不。” “告诉我。” “好吧。我怕雨，因为我有时看见自己在雨中死去。” “哪有这种事。” “还有，有时我看见你也在雨中死去。” “那倒是比较可能的。” “不，不可能，亲爱的。因为我能够叫你安全。我知道我能。但是没人能够救自己。” “请你别说吧。今天夜里我可不要你发苏格兰人的怪脾气，疯疯癫癫的。我们在一起的时间也不会长久了。” “不，可我本是苏格兰人，本是疯疯癫癫的。不过我不发作就是啦。这一切都是胡闹。” “对啦，都是胡闹。” “都是胡闹。只是胡闹。我并不怕雨。我并不怕雨。哦，哦，上帝啊，但愿我真的不害怕。”她哭了。我安慰她，她停止了哭泣。但是外边的雨还是漫漫地下着。