Sahha
I
Sunday morning around nine the Rollicking Boys arrived at Rachel's after their night of burglary and lounging in the park. Neither had slept. On the wall was a sign:
I am heading for the Whitney. Kisch mein tokus, Profane1.
"Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin," said Stencil2.
"Ho, hum," said Profane, preparing to sack out on the floor. In came Paola with a babushka over her head and a brown paper bag which clinked in her arms.
"Eigenvalue got robbed last night," she said. "It made the front page of the Times." They all attacked the brown bag at once, coming up with the Times in sections and four quarts of beer.
"How about that," Profane said, scrutinizing3 the front page. "Police are expecting to make an arrest any time now. Daring early morning burglary."
"Paola," said Stencil, behind him. Profane flinched4. Paola, holding the church key, turned to gaze past Profane's left ear at what glittered in Stencil's hand. She kept quiet, eyes motionless.
"Three are in it. Now."
At last she looked back at Profane: "You're coming to Malta, Ben?"
"No," but weak.
"Why?" he said. "Malta never showed me anything. Anywhere you care to go in the Med there is a Strait Street, a Gut5."
"Benny, if the cops -"
"Who are the cops to me? Stencil's got the teeth." He was terrified. It had only now occurred to him that he'd broken the law.
"Stencil, buddy6, what do you say to one of us - going back there with a toothache and figuring out a way . . ." He tapered7 off. Stencil kept quiet.
"Was all that rigmarole with the rope just a way to get me to come along? What's so special about me?"
Nobody said anything. Paola looked about ready to burst from her tracks, bawling8 and looking to be held by Profane.
All of a sudden there was noise in the hallway. Somebody began banging on the door. "Police," a voice said.
Stencil, jamming the teeth into one pocket, dashed away for the fire escape. "Now, what the hell," Profane said. By the time Paola did open up Stencil was long gone. The same Ten Eyck who had broken up the orgy at Mafia's stood there with one arm slung9 under a sodden10 Roony Winsome11.
"Is this here Rachel Owlglass at home," he said. Explained he'd found Roony drunk on the stoop of St. Patrick's Cathedral, fly open, face awry12, scaring little kids and offending the solid citizens. "Here was all he wanted to come," Ten Eyck almost pleaded, "he wouldn't go home. They released him from Bellevue last night."
"Rachel will be back soon," said Paola gravely. "We'll take him till then."
"I got his feet," Profane said. They hauled Roony into Rachel's room and dumped him on the bed.
"Thank you, officer." Cool as any old-movie's international jewel thief, Profane wished he had a mustache.
"Benito, things are falling apart. The sooner I get Home -"
"Good luck."
"Why won't you come?"
"We're not in love."
"No."
"No debts outstanding, either way, not even au old romance to flare14 up again."
Shook her head: real tears now.
"Why then."
"Because we left Teflon's place in Norfolk."
"No, no."
"Poor Ben." They ail15 called him poor. But to save his feelings never explained, let it stand as an endearment16.
"You are only eighteen," he said, "and have this crush on me. You will see by the time you get to be my age -" She interrupted him by rushing at him as you would rush at a tackling dummy17, surrounding him, beginning to soak the suede18 jacket with all those overdue19 tears. He thumped20 her back, bewildered.
So it was of course then that Rachel walked in. Being a girl who recovered fast, fast thing she said was:
"Oho. So this is what happens behind my back. While I was at church, praying for you, Profane. And the children."
He had the common sense to go along with her. "Believe me, it was all perfectly21 innocent." Rachel shrugged22, meaning the two-line act was over, she'd had a few seconds to think. "You didn't go to St. Patrick's, did you? You should of." Waggling a thumb at what was now snoring in the next room: "Dig."
And we know who it was Rachel spent the rest of the day with, and the night. Holding his head, tucking him in, touching23 the beard-stubble and dirt on his face; watching him sleep and the frown lines there relax slowly.
After a while Profane went off to the Spoon. Once there he announced to the Crew that he was going to Malta. Of course they held a going-away party. Profane ended up with two adoring camp followers24 working him over, eyes shining with a kind of love. You got the idea they were like prisoners in stir, vicariously happy to see any of their number reach the outside again.
Profane saw no street ahead but the Gut; thought that it would have to go some to be worse than East Main.
There was also the sea's highway. But that was a different kind entirely25.
II
Stencil, Profane and Pig Bodine made a flying visit to Washington, D. C., one weekend: the world-adventurer to expedite their coming passage, the schlemihl to spend a last liberty; Pig to help him. They chose for pied-a-terre a flophouse in Chinatown and Stencil nipped over to the State Department to see what he could see.
"I don't believe any of it," said Pig. "Stencil is a fake."
"Stand by," was all Profane said.
"I suppose we ought to go out and get drunk," Pig said. So they did. Either Profane was growing old and losing his capacity, or it was the worst drunk he had ever thrown. There were blank spaces, which are always, of course, frightening. As near as Profane could remember afterward27 they had headed first for the National Gallery, Pig having decided28 they ought to have company. Sure enough, in front of Dali's Last Supper they found two government girls.
"I'm Flip29," said the blonde, "and this is Flop26."
Pig groaned30 momentarily nostalgic for Hanky and Panky. "Fine," he said, "That is Benny and I am - hyeugh, hyeugh - Pig."
"Obviously," said Flop. But the girl/boy ratio in Washington has been estimated as high as 8 to 1. She grabbed Pig's arm, looking around the room as if those other spectral31 sisters were lurking32 somewhere among the statuary.
Their place was near P Street, and they had amassed33 every Pat Boone record in existence. Before Pig had even set down the large paper bag containing the fruits of their afternoon's sortie among the booze outlets34 of the nation's capital - legal and otherwise - 25 watts35 of that worthy36, singing Be Bop A Lula, burst on them unaware37.
After this overture38, the weekend proceeded in flashes: Pig going to sleep halfway39 up the Washington Monument and falling half a flight into a considerate troop of Boy Scouts40; the four of them in Flip's Mercury, riding round and round Dupont Circle at three in the morning and being joined eventually by six Negroes in an Oldsmobile who wanted to race; the two cars then proceeding41 to an apartment on New York Avenue occupied only by one inanimate audio system, fifty jazz enthusiasts42 and God knows how many bottles of circulating and communal43 wine; being awakened44, wrapped with Flip in a Hudson Bay blanket on the steps of a Masonic Temple somewhere in Northwest Washington, by an insurance executive named Iago Saperstein, who wanted them to come to another party.
"Where is Pig," Profane wondered.
"He stole my Mercury and he and Flop are on the way to Miami," said Flip.
"Oh."
"To get married:"
"It's a hobby of mine," continued Iago Saperstein, "to find young people like this, who would be interesting to bring along to a party."
"Benny is a schlemihl," said Flip.
"Schlemihls are very interesting," said Iago.
The party was out near the Maryland line; in attendance Profane found an escapee from Devil's Island, who was on route to Vassar under the alias45 of Maynard Basilisk to teach beekeeping; an inventor celebrating his seventy-second rejection46 by the U. S. Patent Office, this time on a coin-operated whorehouse for bus and railway stations which he was explaining with blueprints47 and gestures to a small group of Tyrosemiophiles (collectors of labels on French cheese boxes) kidnaped by Iago from their annual convention; a gentle lady plant pathologist, originally from the Isle of Man, who had the distinction of being the only Manx monoglot in the world and consequently spoke48 to no one; an unemployed49 musicologist named Petard who had dedicated50 his life to finding the lost Vivaldi Kazoo Concerto51, first brought to his attention by one Squasimodeo, formerly52 a civil servant under Mussolini and now lying drunk under the piano, who had heard not only of its theft from a monastery53 by certain Fascist54 music-lovers but also about twenty bars from the slow movement, which Petard would from time to time wander round the party blowing on a plastic kazoo; and other "interesting" people. Profane, who only wanted to sleep, talked to none of them. He woke up in Iago's bathtub around dawn to the gigglings of a blonde clad only in an enlisted55 man's white hat, who was pouring bourbon on Profane out of a gallon coffee pot. Profane was about to open his mouth and try to put it in the way of the descending56 stream when who should come in but Pig Bodine.
"Give me back my white hat," said Pig.
"I thought you were in Florida," said Profane.
"Ha, ha," said the blonde, "you will have to catch me." And away they went, satyr and nymph.
The next Profane knew they were all back in Flip and Flop's apartment, his head in Flip's lap and Pat Boone on the turntable. "You have the same initials," Flop cooed from across the room. "Pat Boone, Pig Bodine." Profane arose, stumbled to the kitchen and vomited57 in the sink.
"Out," screamed Flip.
"Indeed," said Profane. At the bottom of the stairs were two bicycles which the girls rode to work to save bus fare. Profane grabbed one and carried it down the stoop to the street. A mess - fly unzipped, crew cut matted down both sides of his head, beard let go for two days, holed skivvy shirt pushed by his beer belly58 through a few open buttons on his shirt - he pedaled away wobbly for the flophouse.
He hadn't gone two blocks when there were yells behind him. It was Pig on the other bike, chasing him with Flop on the handlebars. Far behind was Flip, on foot.
"Oh-oh," said Profane. He fiddled59 with the gears, and promptly60 dropped into low.
"Thief," yelled Pig, laughing his obscene laugh. "Thief." A prowl car materialized out of nowhere and moved in to intercept61 Profane. Profane finally got the bike in high and whizzed round a corner. Thus they chased about the city, in fall's cold in a Sunday street deserted62 except for them. The cops and Pig finally caught up.
"It's all right officer," said Pig. "He's a friend, I won't press charges."
"Fine," said the cop. "I will." They were hauled down to the precinct and put in the drunk tank. Pig fell asleep and two of the occupants of the tank set to work removing his shoes. Profane was too tired to interrupt.
"Hey," said a cheerful wino from across the room, "you want to play hits and cuts?"
Under the blue stamp on a pack of Camels is either an H or a C, followed by a number. You take turns guessing which it is. If you guess wrong the other gets to Hit (with the fist) or Cut (with the edge of the hand) you across the bicep, for the number of times indicated by the number. The wino's hands looked like small boulders63. "I don't smoke," said Profane.
"Oh," said the wino. "What about rock, scissors and paper?"
Just about then a detail of Shore Patrolmen and civilian64 police entered, dragging a boatswain's mate about seven feet tall who had run amok, under the impression he was King Kong, the well-known ape.
"Aiyee!" he screamed. "Me King Kong. Don't screw with me."
"There, there," an SP said, "King Kong doesn't talk. He growls65."
So the boatswain's mate growled66, and made a leap for an old electric fan overhead. Round and round he went, uttering ape yells and pounding his chest. SP's and cops milled around down below, bewildered, some of the braver making grabs for his feet.
"Now what?" said one cop. This was answered by the fan, which gave way, dumping the boatswain's mate in their midst. They jumped on and managed to secure him with three or four guard belts. A cop brought in a small dolly from the garage next door, loaded the boatswain's mate on and rolled him off.
"Hey," said one of the SP's. "Lookit there in the drunk tank. That is Pig Bodine that's wanted down in Norfolk for desertion."
Pig opened an eye at them. "Oh well," he said, closed the eye and went back to sleep.
The cops came around to tell Profane he could go. "So long, Pig," said Profane.
"Give Paola six for me," Pig grunted67, shoeless, half asleep.
Back at the flophouse Stencil had a poker68 game going which was about to break up because of the next shift coming on. "Just as well," Stencil said, "they've about cleaned Stencil out."
"You're soft," Profane said, "you let them win on purpose."
"No," Stencil said. "Money will be needed for the trip."
"It's set?"
"All set."
Somehow, it seemed to Profane, things never should have come this far.
III
Now there was a private going-away party, just Profane and Rachel, about two weeks later. After the passport photos and the booster shots and the rest Stencil acted like his valet, removing all official roadblocks by some magic of his own.
Eigenvalue kept cool. Stencil even went to see him - perhaps as a test of the guts69 he'd need to confront whatever of V. was still on Malta. They discussed the concept of property and agreed that a true owner need not have physical possession. If the soul-dentist knew (as Stencil was nearly sure he did), then "owner," Eigenvalue - defined, was Eigenvalue; Stencil - defined, V. It was a complete failure of communication. They parted friends.
Sunday night Profane spent in Rachel's room with one sentimental70 magnum of champagne71. Roony slept in Esther's room. For two weeks he'd done little else but sleep.
Later Profane lay with his head in her lap, her long hair falling over to cover him and keep him warm. It being September the landlord was still reluctant about heat. They were both naked. Profane rested his ear near her labia majora, as if it were a mouth there, which could speak to him. Rachel was absently listening to the champagne bottle.
"Listen," she whispered, holding the mouth of the bottle near his free ear. He heard carbon dioxide coming out of solution, magnified in a false-bottomed echo chamber72.
"It's a happy sound."
"Yes." What percentage was there in telling her what it really sounded like? At Anthroresearch Associates there'd been radiation counters - and radiation - enough to make the place sound like a locust-season gone mad.
Next day they sailed. Fulbright types crowded them at the rail of the Susanna Squaducci. Coils of crepe, showers of confetti and a band, all rented, made things look festive73. "Ciao," the Crew called. "Ciao."
"Sahha," said Paola.
"Sahha," echoed Profane.
收听单词发音 |
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profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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stencil
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| v.用模版印刷；n.模版；复写纸，蜡纸 | |
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scrutinizing
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
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flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gut
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| n.[pl.]胆量；内脏；adj.本能的；vt.取出内脏 | |
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buddy
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| n.（美口）密友，伙伴 | |
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tapered
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| adj. 锥形的，尖削的，楔形的，渐缩的，斜的 动词taper的过去式和过去分词 | |
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bawling
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的现在分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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winsome
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| n.迷人的，漂亮的 | |
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awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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deadpan
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| n. 无表情的 | |
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flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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ail
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| v.生病，折磨，苦恼 | |
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endearment
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| n.表示亲爱的行为 | |
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dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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suede
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| n.表面粗糙的软皮革 | |
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overdue
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| adj.过期的，到期未付的；早该有的，迟到的 | |
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thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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flop
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| n.失败(者)，扑通一声；vi.笨重地行动，沉重地落下 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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flip
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| vt.快速翻动；轻抛；轻拍；n.轻抛；adj.轻浮的 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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amassed
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| v.积累，积聚( amass的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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outlets
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| n.出口( outlet的名词复数 )；经销店；插座；廉价经销店 | |
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watts
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| （电力计量单位）瓦，瓦特( watt的名词复数 ) | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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overture
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| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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enthusiasts
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| n.热心人，热衷者( enthusiast的名词复数 ) | |
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communal
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| adj.公有的，公共的，公社的，公社制的 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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alias
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| n.化名；别名；adv.又名 | |
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rejection
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| n.拒绝，被拒，抛弃，被弃 | |
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blueprints
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| n.蓝图，设计图( blueprint的名词复数 ) | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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unemployed
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| adj.失业的，没有工作的；未动用的，闲置的 | |
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dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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concerto
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| n.协奏曲 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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fascist
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| adj.法西斯主义的；法西斯党的；n.法西斯主义者，法西斯分子 | |
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enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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vomited
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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fiddled
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| v.伪造( fiddle的过去式和过去分词 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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67
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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68
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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69
guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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72
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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