I dropped off the train in Milan as it slowed to come into the station early in the morning before it was light. I crossed the track and came out between some buildings and down onto the street. A wine shop was open and I went in for some coffee. It smelled of early morning, of swept dust, spoons in coffee-glasses and the wet circles left by wine-glasses. The proprietor1 was behind the bar. Two soldiers sat at a table. I stood at the bar and drank a glass of coffee and ate a piece of bread. The coffee was gray with milk, and I skimmed the milk scum off the top with a piece of bread. The proprietor looked at me.
"You want a glass of grappa?"
"No thanks."
"On me," he said and poured a small glass and pushed it toward me. "What's happening at the front?"
"I would not know."
"They are drunk," he said, moving his hand toward the two soldiers. I could believe him. They looked drunk.
"Tell me," he said, "what is happening at the front?"
"I would not know about the front."
"I saw you come down the wall. You came off the train."
"There is a big retreat."
"I read the papers. What happens? Is it over?"
"I don't think so."
He filled the glass with grappa from a short bottle. "If you are in trouble," he said, "I can keep you."
"I am not in trouble."
"If you are in trouble stay here with me."
"Where does one stay?"
"In the building. Many stay here. Any who are in trouble stay here."
"Are many in trouble?"
"It depends on the trouble. You are a South American?"
"No."
"Speak Spanish?"
"A little."
He wiped off the bar.
"It is hard now to leave the country but in no way impossible."
"I have no wish to leave."
"You can stay here as long as you want. You will see what sort of man I am."
"I have to go this morning but I will remember the address to return."
He shook his head. "You won't come back if you talk like that. I thought you were in real trouble."
"I am in no trouble. But I value the address of a friend."
I put a ten-lira note on the bar to pay for the coffee.
"Have a grappa with me," I said.
"It is not necessary."
"Have one."
He poured the two glasses.
"Remember," he said. "Come here. Do not let other people take you in. Here you are all right."
"I am sure."
"You are sure?"
"Yes."
He was serious. "Then let me tell you one thing. Do not go about with that coat."
"Why?"
"On the sleeves it shows very plainly where the stars have been cut away. The cloth is a different color."
I did not say anything.
"If you have no papers I can give you papers."
"What papers?"
"Leave-papers."
"I have no need for papers. I have papers."
"All right," he said. "But if you need papers I can get what you wish."
"How much are such papers?"
"It depends on what they are. The price is reasonable."
"I don't need any now."
"I'm all right," I said.
When I went out he said, "Don't forget that I am your friend."
"No."
"I will see you again," he said.
"Good," I said.
Outside I kept away from the station, where there were military police, and picked up a cab at the edge of the little park. I gave the driver the address of the hospital. At the hospital I went to the porter's lodge3. His wife embraced me. He shook my hand.
"You are back. You are safe."
"Yes."
"Have you had breakfast?"
"Yes."
"How are you, Tenente? How are you?" the wife asked.
"Fine."
"Won't you have breakfast with us?"
"No, thank you. Tell me is Miss Barkley here at the hospital now?"
"Miss Barkley?"
"The English lady nurse."
"His girl," the wife said. She patted my arm and smiled.
"No," the porter said. "She is away."
My heart went down. "You are sure? I mean the tall blonde English young lady."
"I am sure. She is gone to Stresa."
"When did she go?"
"She went two days ago with the other lady English."
"Good," I said. "I wish you to do something for me. Do not tell any one you have seen me. It is very important."
"I won't tell any one," the porter said. I gave him a ten-lira note. He pushed it away.
"I promise you I will tell no one," he said. "I don't want any money."
"What can we do for you, Signor Tenente?" his wife asked.
"Only that," I said.
"We are dumb," the porter said. "You will let me know anything I can do?"
"Yes," I said. "Good-by. I will see you again."
They stood in the door, looking after me.
I got into the cab and gave the driver the address of Simmons, one of the men I knew who was studying singing.
Simmons lived a long way out in the town toward the Porta Magenta4. He was still in bed and sleepy when I went to see him.
"You get up awfully5 early, Henry," he said.
"I came in on the early train."
"What's all this retreat? Were you at the front? Will you have a cigarette? They're in that box on the table." It was a big room with a bed beside the wall, a piano over on the far side and a dresser and table. I sat on a chair by the bed. Simmons sat propped6 up by the pillows and smoked.
"I'm in a jam, Sim," I said.
"So am I," he said. "I'm always in a jam. Won't you smoke?"
"No," I said. "What's the procedure in going to Switzerland?"
"For you? The Italians wouldn't let you out of the country."
"Yes. I know that. But the Swiss. What will they do?"
"I know. But what's the mechanics of it?"
"Nothing. It's very simple. You can go anywhere. I think you just have to report or something. Why? Are you fleeing the police?"
"Nothing definite yet."
"Don't tell me if you don't want. But it would be interesting to hear. Nothing happens here. I was a great flop8 at Piacenza."
"I'm awfully sorry."
"Oh yes--I went very badly. I sung well too. I'm going to try it again at the Lyrico here."
"I'd like to be there."
"You're awfully polite. You aren't in a bad mess, are you?"
"I don't know."
"Don't tell me if you don't want. How do you happen to be away from the bloody9 front?"
"I think I'm through with it."
"Good boy. I always knew you had sense. Can I help you any way?"
"You're awfully busy."
"Not a bit of it, my dear Henry. Not a bit of it. I'd be happy to do anything."
"You're about my size. Would you go out and buy me an outfit10 of civilian11 clothes? I've clothes but they're all at Rome."
"You did live there, didn't you? It's a filthy12 place. How did you ever live there?"
"I wanted to be an architect."
"That's no place for that. Don't buy clothes. I'll give you all the clothes you want. I'll fit you out so you'll be a great success. Go in that dressing13 room. There's a closet. Take anything you want. My dear fellow, you don't want to buy clothes."
"I'd rather buy them, Sim."
"My dear fellow, it's easier for me to let you have them than go out and buy them. Have you got a passport? You won't get far without a passport."
"Yes. I've still got my passport."
"Then get dressed, my dear fellow, and off to old Helvetia."
"It's not that simple. I have to go up to Stresa first."
"Ideal, my dear fellow. You just row a boat across. If I wasn't trying to sing, I'd go with you. I'll go yet."
"You could take up yodelling."
"My dear fellow, I'll take up yodelling yet. I really can sing though. That's the strange part."
"I'll bet you can sing."
He lay back in bed smoking a cigarette.
"Don't bet too much. But I can sing though. It's damned funny, but I can. I like to sing. Listen." He roared into "Africana," his neck swelling14, the veins15 standing16 out. "I can sing," he said. "Whether they like it or not." I looked out of the window. "I'll go down and let my cab go."
"Come back up, my dear fellow, and we'll have breakfast." He stepped out of bed, stood straight, took a deep breath and commenced doing bending exercises. I went downstairs and paid off the cab.
大清早天还没亮时，火车放慢下来，准备开进米兰车站，我赶快跳下了车子。我跨过车轨，穿过一些建筑物之间，走上一条街。有家酒店开着，我便进去喝杯咖啡。酒店里有大清早刚打扫过的气味，咖啡杯里还搁着调羹，台子上还印有酒杯底所留下的圆圈。主人在酒吧后边。两名士兵坐在一张桌子边。我站在酒吧边喝杯咖啡，吃了一片面包。咖啡给牛乳冲淡成灰色，我拿片面包撇掉牛乳的浮皮。主人看着我。
“来杯格拉巴酒吧。”
“不，谢谢。”
“就算我请客，”他说，倒了一小杯，推过来。“前线怎么样？”
“我哪会知道。”
“他们喝醉了，”他说，用手指着那两名士兵。这我相信。他们的确带着醉酒的模样。
“告诉我，”他说，“前线怎么样？”
“前线的事我哪会知道。”
“我看见你翻墙过来的。你刚下火车。”
“前线在大撤退。”
“报纸我是看的。究竟怎么啦？是不是结束了？”
“那不见得吧。”
他从一只矮瓶子里再倒了一杯格拉巴酒。“要是你有什么困难，”他说，“我可以收留你。”
“我没什么困难。”
“倘若你有困难的话，就住在我这里吧。”
“住什么地方呢？”
“就在这屋子里。许多人住在这里。凡是有困难的人，都可以住在这里。”
“有困难的人很多吗？”
“那要看是哪一种困难。你是南美洲人吧？”
“不是。”
“会讲西班牙话吗？”
“一点点。”他抹抹酒柜。
“出国现在很困难，不过也不是不可能的。”
“我倒没有出国的意思。”
“你想在这里呆多久都行。你呆久了就知道我是哪一种人。”
“今天早上我有事，我把这地址记下，以后再回来。”
他摇摇头。“看你这样讲法，你是不会回来的。我倒以为你着实有难处。”
“我没什么难处。但是我也珍重朋友的地址。”
我放一张十里拉的钞票在柜台上，当做喝咖啡的帐。
“陪我喝一杯格拉巴酒吧，”我说。
“这倒不必。”
“来一杯。”
他斟了两杯酒。
“记住了，”他说。“上这儿来。别让别人收留你。这里是安全的。”
“这我相信。”
“真的吗？”
“真的。”
他脸色严肃。“那么我告诉你一件事。别穿这件军装到处走。”“为什么？”
“袖管上割掉星章的地方，人家看得清清楚楚。况且布的颜色也有了深浅。”
我一声不响。
“你要证件的话，我可以给你弄来。”
“什么证件？”
“休假证。”
“我不需要证件。我自己有。”
“好吧，”他说。“不过要是你需要的话，我可以代办。”“要多少钱？”
“这要看是哪一种证件。价钱很公道。”
“我现在不需要。”
他耸耸肩。
“我没事，”我说。
我出去时，他说：“别忘记我是你的朋友。”
“不会忘的。”
“再见吧，”他说。
“好，”我说。
上了街，我故意避开车站，因为那儿驻有宪兵。我在那小公园边找到一部马车。我把医院的地址告诉了车夫。到了医院，我先到门房住的地方去。
门房的妻子拥抱我。门房握握我的手。
“你回来啦。你平安无事。”
“是的。”
“用了早点没有？”
“吃过了。”
“你好吧，中尉？你好吧？”他妻子问。
“我好。”
“和我们一同吃早饭好吗？”
“不，谢谢你。告诉我，巴克莱小姐现在可在医院里？”“巴克莱小姐？”
“那个英国护士。”
“他的女朋友啊，”他妻子说。她拍拍我的胳膊，笑笑。“不在，”门房说。“她走啦。”
我的心往下一沉。“真的吗？我是说那个高高的、金黄头发的英国小姐。”
“我知道。她上施特雷沙去了。”
“她什么时候走的？”
“两天前，同另外那个英国小姐一块儿去的。”
“好，”我说。“我现在要你们做一件事。别告诉任何人说见到过我。
这是非常重要的。”“我不告诉任何人，”门房说。我给他一张十里拉的钞票。他推开了。“我答应你不告诉人好了，”他说。“钱我不要。”
“有什么事要我们替你做吗，中尉先生？”他妻子问。
“只希望你们不告诉别人，”我说。
“我们装哑巴，”门房说。“有什么事要做，通知我一声好不好？”“好，”
我说。“再会。将来再见。”
他们站在门口，目送着我。
我跳上马车，告诉车夫西蒙斯的住址。西蒙斯是一位学唱歌的朋友。西蒙斯住在城里好远的地方，在马根塔门①那一头。我进去看他时，他还在床上，睡意蒙眬。
“你好早啊，亨利，”他说。
“我搭早车来的。”
“这撤退究竟是怎么一回事啊？你是不是在前线？抽根烟吧？烟就在桌上那盒子里。”他的卧房是个大房间，一张床靠墙放着，房间的另一边放着一架钢琴、一张梳妆台和一张桌子。我坐在床边的椅子上。西蒙斯靠坐在枕头上抽烟。
“我陷入困境了，西姆，”我说。
“我也是，”他说。“我经常陷入困境。你不抽根烟吗？”“不，”我说。“到瑞士去要办什么手续？”
“你吗？意大利人根本不让你出国境。”
“是的。这我知道。但是瑞士人呢。他们怎么样？”
“他们拘留你。”
“这我也知道。不过其中的奥妙是什么？”
“没什么。很简单。你哪儿都可以去。不过得先打个报告什么的。你为什么问？你是要逃避警察吗？”“还不大清楚。”
“你不想告诉我就不必说。不过这事一定怪有趣。这里什么事都没有。
我在皮阿辰扎演唱，失败得可惨啊。”
“非常抱歉。”
“是啊，我失败得很惨。但我唱得好。我要在这里的丽丽阁再试它一次。”
“我希望去听听。”
“你太客气了。你不是说你搞得一团糟了吗？”
“这还难说。”
“你不想告诉我，就不必说。你怎么离开那该死的前线的？”“我再也不干了。”
“好小子。我一向知道你是有头脑的。有没有我可以帮你忙的地方？”
“你本来就很忙了。”
“哪里，亲爱的亨利。一点儿不忙。什么事我都乐意做。”“你身材大小跟我差不多。可否劳驾上街去给我买一套平民服装？我本来有衣服，可是都放在罗马。”
“你果真在罗马住过？那是个脏地方。你怎么会跑到那儿去住？”“我本来想当建筑师。”
“那儿不是学建筑的地方。你不必买衣服。你要什么衣服，我全给你。我把你好好打扮一下，出去一定大成功。你上那梳妆室去。里边有个衣柜。你要什么尽管拿。老朋友，你用不到买衣服。”
① 意语：“和平万岁！”
“我看还是买的好，西姆。”
“老朋友，我把衣服送给你，比出去买衣服方便多了。你有护照没有？没有护照可寸步难行啊。”
“有。我的护照还在。”
“那么还是换衣服吧，老朋友，换好了就动身往老赫尔维西亚②去吧。”
“事情并不这样简单。我得先上施特雷沙去。”
“那太理想了，老朋友。只消乘条船过湖就到。要是我不演出的话，我就陪你去。我还是会去的。”
“你可以学唱瑞士山歌。”
“老朋友，我早晚要学唱山歌的。不过我唱歌真的还很行。怪就怪在这里。”
“我敢打赌你是能唱的。”
他躺倒在床上，抽着烟卷。
“你下的赌注可别太大。不过我倒是能唱的。说来怪滑稽的，我还是能唱。我喜欢唱。你听。”他扯开喉咙唱起《非洲女》①来，脖子胀得很粗，血管突出。“我能唱，”他说。“不管他们喜欢不喜欢。”我望望窗外。“我下去打发马车走吧。”
“等你回来，老朋友，我们一同吃早饭。”他下了床，伸直身子，来个深呼吸，开始做早操。我下楼付帐打发马车走了。
② 意语：“回家去！”
① 马根塔门是米兰的西门。
收听单词发音 |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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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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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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magenta
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| n..紫红色（的染料）；adj.紫红色的 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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intern
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| v.拘禁，软禁；n.实习生 | |
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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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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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13
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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