yossarian marched backward with his gun on his hip and refused to fly any more missions. he marchedbackward because he was continously spinning around as he walked to make certain no one was sneaking up onhim from behind. every sound to his rear was a warning, every person he passed a potential assassin. he kept hishand on his gun butt constantly and smiled at no one but hungry joe. he told captain piltchard and captainwren that he was through flying. captain piltchard and captain wren left his name off the flight schedule for thenext mission and reported the matter to group headquarters.
colonel korn laughed cahnly. “what the devil do you mean, he won’t fly more missions?” he asked with asmile, as colonel cathcart crept away into a corner to brood about the sinister import of the name yossarianpopping up to plague him once again. “why won’t he?”
“his friend nately was killed in the crash over spezia. maybe that’s why.”
“who does he think he is—achilles?” colonel korn was pleased with the simile and filed a mental reminder torepeat it the next time he found himself in general peckem’s presence. “he has to fly more missions. he has nochoice. go back and tell him you’ll report the matter to us if he doesn’t change his mind.”
“we already did tell him that, sir. it made no difference.”
“what does major major say?”
“we never see major major. he seems to have disappeared.”
“i wish we could disappear him!” colonel cathcart blurted out from the corner peevishly. “the way they did thatfellow dunbar.”
“oh, there are plenty of other ways we can handle this one,” colonel korn assured him confidently, andcontinued to piltchard and wren, “let’s begin with the kindest. send him to rome for a rest for a few days.
maybe this fellow’s death really did hurt him a bit.”
nately’s death, in fact, almost killed yossarian too, for when he broke the news to nately’s whore in rome sheuttered a piercing, heartbroken shriek and tried to stab him to death with a potato peeler.
“bruto!” she howled at him in hysterical fury as he bent her arm up around behind her back and twisted gradually until the potato peeler dropped from her grasp. “bruto! bruto!” she lashed at him swiftly with thelong-nailed fingers of her free hand and raked open his cheek. she spat in his face viciously.
“what’s the matter?” he screamed in stinging pain and bewilderment, flinging her away from him all the wayacross the room to the wall. “what do you want from me?”
she flew back at him with both fists flailing and bloodied his mouth with a solid punch before he was able tograb her wrists and hold her still. her hair tossed wildly. tears were streaming in single torrents from herflashing, hate-filled eyes as she struggled against him fiercely in an irrational frenzy of maddened might, snarlingand cursing savagely and screaming “bruto! bruto!” each time he tried to explain. her great strength caught himoff guard, and he lost his footing. she was nearly as tall as yossarian, and for a few fantastic, terror-filledmoments he was certain she would overpower him in her crazed determination, crush him to the ground and riphim apart mercilessly limb from limb for some heinous crime he had never committed. he wanted to yell forhelp as they strove against each other frantically in a grunting, panting stalemate, arm against arm. at last sheweakened, and he was able to force her back and plead with her to let him talk, swearing to her that nately’sdeath had not been his fault. she spat in his face again, and he pushed her away hard in disgusted anger andfrustration. she hurled herself down toward the potato peeler the instant he released her. he flung himself downafter her, and they rolled over each other on the floor several times before he could tear the potato peeler away.
she tried to trip him with her hand as he scrambled to his feet and scratched an excruciating chunk out of hisankle. he hopped across the room in pain and threw the potato peeler out the window. he heaved a huge sigh ofrelief once he saw he was safe.
“now, please let me explain something to you,” he cajoled in a mature, reasoning, earnest voice.
she kicked him in the groin. whoosh! went the air out of him, and he sank down on his side with a shrill andululating cry, doubled up over his knees in chaotic agony and retching for breath. nately’s whore ran from theroom. yossarian staggered up to his feet not a moment too soon, for she came charging back in from the kitchencarrying a long bread knife. a moan of incredulous dismay wafted from his lips as, still clutching his throbbing,tender, burning bowels in both hands, he dropped his full weight down against her shins and knocked her legsout from under her. she flipped completely over his head and landed on the floor on her elbows with a jarringthud. the knife skittered free, and he slapped it out of sight under the bed. she tried to lunge after it, and heseized her by the arm and yanked her up. she tried to kick him in the groin again, and he slung her away with aviolent oath of his own. she slammed into the wall off balance and smashed a chair over into a vanity tablecovered with combs, hairbrushes and cosmetic jars that all went crashing off. a framed picture fell to the floor atthe other end of the room, the glass front shattering.
“what do you want from me?” he yelled at her in whining and exasperated confusion. “i didn’t kill him.”
she hurled a heavy glass ash tray at his head. he made a fist and wanted to punch her in the stomach when shecame charging at him again, but he was afraid he might harm her. he wanted to clip her very neatly on the pointof the jaw and run from the room, but there was no clear target, and he merely skipped aside neatly at the lastsecond and helped her along past him with a strong shove. she banged hard against the other wall. now she wasblocking the door. she threw a large vase at him. then she came at him with a full wine bottle and struck him squarely on the temple, knocking him down half-stunned on one knee. his ears were buzzing, his whole face wasnumb. more than anything else, he was embarrassed. he felt awkward because she was going to murder him. hesimply did not understand what was going on. he had no idea what to do. but he did know he had to savehimself, and he catapulted forward off the floor when he saw her raise the wine bottle to clout him again andbarreled into her midriff before she could strike him. he had momentum, and he propelled her before himbackward in his driving rush until her knees buckled against the side of the bed and she fell over onto themattress with yossarian sprawled on top of her between her legs. she plunged her nails into the side of his neckand gouged as he worked his way up the supple, full hills and ledges of her rounded body until he covered hercompletely and pressed her into submission, his fingers pursuing her thrashing arm persistently until they arrivedat the wine bottle finally and wrenched it free. she was still kicking and cursing and scratching ferociously. shetried to bite him cruelly, her coarse, sensual lips stretched back over her teeth like an enraged omnivorousbeast’s. now that she lay captive beneath him, he wondered how he would ever escape her without leavinghimself vulnerable. he could feel the tensed, straddling inside of her buffeting thighs and knees squeezing andchurning around one of his legs. he was stirred by thoughts of sex that made him ashamed. he was conscious ofthe voluptuous flesh of her firm, young-woman’s body straining and beating against him like a humid, fluid,delectable, unyielding tide, her belly and warm, live, plastic breasts thrusting upward against him vigorously insweet and menacing temptation. her breath was scalding. all at once he realized—though the writhingturbulence beneath him had not diminished one whit—that she was no longer grappling with him, recognizedwith a quiver that she was not fighting him but heaving her pelvis up against him remorselessly in the primal,powerful, rhapsodic instinctual rhythm of erotic ardor and abandonment. he gasped in delighted surprise. herface—as beautiful as a blooming flower to him now—was distorted with a new kind of torture, the tissuesserenely swollen, her half-closed eyes misty and unseeing with the stultifying languor of desire.
“caro,” she murmured hoarsely as though from the depths of a tranquil and luxurious trance. “ooooh, caro mio.”
he stroked her hair. she drove her mouth against his face with savage passion. he licked her neck. she wrappedher arms around him and hugged. he felt himself falling, falling ecstatically in love with her as she kissed himagain and again with lips that were steaming and wet and soft and hard, mumbling deep sounds to him adoringlyin an incoherent oblivion of rapture, one caressing hand on his back slipping deftly down inside his trouser beltwhile the other groped secretly and treacherously about on the floor for the bread knife and found it. he savedhimself just in time. she still wanted to kill him! he was shocked and astounded by her depraved subteruge as hetore the knife from her grasp and hurled it away. he bounded out of the bed to his feet. his face was agog withbefuddlement and disillusion. he did not know whether to dart through the door to freedom or collapse on thebed to fall in love with her and place himself abjectly at her mercy again. she spared him from doing either bybursting unpredictably into tears. he was stunned again.
this time she wept with no other emotion than grief, profound, debilitating, humble grief, forgetting all abouthim. her desolation was pathetic as she sat with her tempestuous, proud, lovely head bowed, her shoulderssagging, her spirit melting. this time there was no mistaking her anguish. great racking sobs choked and shookher. she was no longer aware of him, no longer cared. he could have walked from the room safely then. but hechose to remain and console and help her.
“please,” he urged her inarticulately with his arm about her shoulders, recollecting with pained sadness how inarticulate and enfeebled he had felt in the plane coming back from avignon when snowden kept whimperingto him that he was cold, he was cold, and all yossarian could offer him in return was “there, there. there,there.” “please,” he repeated to her sympathetically. “please, please.”
she rested against him and cried until she seemed too weak to cry any longer, and did not look at him once untilhe extended his handkerchief when she had finished. she wiped her cheeks with a tiny, polite smile and gave thehandkerchief back, murmuring “grazie, grazie” with meek, maidenly propriety, and then, without any warningwhatsoever of a change in mood, clawed suddenly at his eyes with both hands. she landed with each and let out avictorious shriek.
“ha! assassino!” she hooted, and raced joyously across the room for the bread knife to finish him off.
half blinded, he rose and stumbled after her. a noise behind him made him turn. his senses reeled in horror atwhat he saw. nately’s whore’s kid sister, of all people, was coming after him with another long bread knife!
“oh, no,” he wailed with a shudder, and he knocked the knife out of her hand with a sharp downward blow onher wrist. he lost patience entirely with the whole grotesque and incomprehensible melee. there was no tellingwho might lunge at him next through the doorway with another long bread knife, and he lifted nately’s whore’skid sister off the floor, threw her at nately’s whore and ran out of the room, out of the apartment and down thestairs. the two girls chased out into the hall after him. he heard their footsteps lag farther and farther behind ashe fled and then cease altogether. he heard sobbing directly overhead. glancing backward up the stair well, hespied nately’s whore sitting in a heap on one of the steps, weeping with her face in both hands, while her pagan,irrepressible kid sister hung dangerously over the banister shouting “bruto! bruto!” down at him happily andbrandished her bread knife at him as though it were an exciting new toy she was eager to use.
yossarian escaped, but kept looking back over his shoulder anxiously as he retreated through the street. peoplestared at him strangely, making him more apprehensive. he walked in nervous haste, wondering what there wasin his appearance that caught everyone’s attention. when he touched his hand to a sore spot on his forehead, hisfingers turned gooey with blood, and he understood. he dabbed his face and neck with a handkerchief. whereverit pressed, he picked up new red smudges. he was bleeding everywhere. he hurried into the red cross buildingand down the two steep flights of white marble stairs to the men’s washroom, where he cleansed and nursed hisinnumerable visible wounds with cold water and soap and straightened his shirt collar and combed his hair. hehad never seen a face so badly bruised and scratched as the one still blinking back at him in the mirror with adazed and startled uneasiness. what on earth had she wanted from him?
when he left the men’s room, nately’s whore was waiting outside in ambush. she was crouched against the wallnear the bottom of the staircase and came pouncing down upon him like a hawk with a glittering silver steakknife in her fist. he broke the brunt of her assault with his upraised elbow and punched her neatly on the jaw.
her eyes rolled. he caught her before she dropped and sat her down gently. then he ran up the steps and out ofthe building and spent the next three hours hunting through the city for hungry joe so that he could get awayfrom rome before she could find him again. he did not feel really safe until the plane had taken off. when theylanded in pianosa, nately’s whore, disguised in a mechanic’s green overalls, was waiting with her steak knifeexactly where the plane stopped, and all that saved him as she stabbed at his chest in her leather-soled high heeled shoes was the gravel underfoot that made her feet roll out from under her. yossarian, astounded, hauledher up into the plane and held her motionless on the floor in a double armlock while hungry joe radioed thecontrol tower for permission to return to rome. at the airport in rome, yossarian dumped her out of the planeon the taxi strip, and hungry joe took right off for pianosa again without even cutting his engines. scarcelybreathing, yossarian scrutinized every figure warily as he and hungry joe walked back through the squadrontoward their tents. hungry joe eyed him steadily with a funny expression.
“are you sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing?” hungry joe inquired hesitantly after a while.
“imagine it? you were right there with me, weren’t you? you just flew her back to rome.”
“maybe i imagined the whole thing, too. why does she want to kill you for?”
“she never did like me. maybe it’s because i broke his nose, or maybe it’s because i was the only one in sightshe could hate when she got the news. do you think she’ll come back?”
yossarian went to the officers’ club that night and stayed very late. he kept a leery eye out for nately’s whore ashe approached his tent. he stopped when he saw her hiding in the bushes around the side, gripping a hugecarving knife and all dressed up to look like a pianosan farmer. yossarian tiptoed around the back noiselesslyand seized her from behind.
“caramba!” she exclaimed in a rage, and resisted like a wildcat as he dragged her inside the tent and hurled herdown on the floor.
“hey, what’s going on?” queried one of his roommates drowsily.
“hold her till i get back,” yossarian ordered, yanking him out of bed on top of her and running out. “hold her!”
“let me kill him and i’ll ficky-fick you all,” she offered.
the other roommates leaped out of their cots when they saw it was a girl and tried to make her ficky-fick themall first as yossarian ran to get hungry joe, who was sleeping like a baby. yossarian lifted huple’s cat offhungry joe’s face and shook him awake. hungry joe dressed rapidly. this time they flew the plane north andturned in over italy far behind the enemy lines. when they were over level land, they strapped a parachute onnately’s whore and shoved her out the escape hatch. yossarian was positive that he was at last rid of her and wasrelieved. as he approached his tent back in pianosa, a figure reared up in the darkness right beside the path, andhe fainted. he came to sitting on the ground and waited for the knife to strike him, almost welcoming the mortalblow for the peace it would bring. a friendly hand helped him up instead. it belonged to a pilot in dunbar’ssquadron.
“how are you doing?” asked the pilot, whispering.
“pretty good,” yossarian answered.
“i saw you fall down just now. i thought something happened to you.”
“i think i fainted.”
“there’s a rumor in my squadron that you told them you weren’t going to fly any more combat missions.”
“that’s the truth.”
“then they came around from group and told us that the rumor wasn’t true, that you were just kidding around.”
“that was a lie.”
“do you think they’ll let you get away with it?”
“i don’t know.”
“what will they do to you?”
“i don’t know.”
“do you think they’ll court-martial you for desertion in the face of the enemy?”
“i don’t know.”
“i hope you get away with it,” said the pilot in dunbar’s squadron, stealing out of sight into the shadows. “letme know how you’re doing.”
yossarian stared after him a few seconds and continued toward his tent.
“pssst!” said a voice a few paces onward. it was appleby, hiding in back of a tree. “how are you doing?”
“pretty good,” said yossarian.
“i heard them say they were going to threaten to court-martial you for deserting in the face of the enemy. butthat they wouldn’t try to go through with it because they’re not even sure they’ve got a case against you on that.
and because it might make them look bad with the new commanders. besides, you’re still a pretty big hero forgoing around twice over the bridge at ferrara. i guess you’re just about the biggest hero we’ve got now in thegroup. i just thought you’d like to know that they’ll only be bluffing.”
“thanks, appleby.”
“that’s the only reason i started talking to you, to warn you.”
“i appreciate it.”
appleby scuffed the toes of his shoes into the ground sheepishly. “i’m sorry we had that fist fight in the officers’
club, yossarian.”
“that’s all right.”
“but i didn’t start it. i guess that was orr’s fault for hitting me in the face with his ping-pong paddle. what’d hewant to do that for?”
“you were beating him.”
“wasn’t i supposed to beat him? isn’t that the point? now that he’s dead, i guess it doesn’t matter any morewhether i’m a better ping-pong player or not, does it?”
“i guess not.”
“and i’m sorry about making such a fuss about those atabrine tablets on the way over. if you want to catchmalaria, i guess it’s your business, isn’t it?”
“that’s all right, appleby.”
“but i was only trying to do my duty. i was obeying orders. i was always taught that i had to obey orders.”
“that’s all right.”
“you know, i said to colonel korn and colonel cathcart that i didn’t think they ought to make you fly any moremissions if you didn’t want to, and they said they were very disappointed in me.”
yossarian smiled with rueful amusement. “i’ll bet they are.”
“well, i don’t care. hell, you’ve flown seventy-one. that ought to be enough. do you think they’ll let you getaway with it?”
“no.”
“say, if they do let you get away with it, they’ll have to let the rest of us get away with it, won’t they?”
“that’s why they can’t let me get away with it.”
“what do you think they’ll do?”
“i don’t know.”
“do you think they will try to court-martial you?”
“i don’t know.”
“are you afraid?”
“yes.”
“are you going to fly more missions?”
“no.”
“i hope you do get away with it,” appleby whispered with conviction. “i really do.”
“thanks, appleby.”
“i don’t feel too happy about flying so many missions either now that it looks as though we’ve got the war won.
i’ll let you know if i hear anything else.”
“thanks, appleby.”
“hey!” called a muted, peremptory voice from the leafless shrubs growing beside his tent in a waist-high clumpafter appleby had gone. havermeyer was hiding there in a squat. he was eating peanut brittle, and his pimplesand large, oily pores looked like dark scales. “how you doing?” he asked when yossarian had walked to him.
“pretty good.”
“are you going to fly more missions?”
“no.”
“suppose they try to make you?”
“i won’t let them.”
“are you yellow?”
“yes.”
“will they court-martial you?”
“they’ll probably try.”
“what did major major say?”
“major major’s gone.”
“did they disappear him?”
“i don’t know.”
“what will you do if they decide to disappear you?”
“i’ll try to stop them.”
“didn’t they offer you any deals or anything if you did fly?”
“piltchard and wren said they’d arrange things so i’d only go on milk runs.”
havermeyer perked up. “say, that sounds like a pretty good deal. i wouldn’t mind a deal like that myself. i betyou snapped it up.”
“i turned it down.”
“that was dumb.” havermeyer’s stolid, dull face furrowed with consternation. “say, a deal like that wasn’t sofair to the rest of us, was it? if you only flew on milk runs, then some of us would have to fly your share of thedangerous missions, wouldn’t we?”
“that’s right.”
“say, i don’t like that,” havermeyer exclaimed, rising resentfully with his hands clenched on his hips. “i don’tlike that a bit. that’s a real royal screwing they’re getting ready to give me just because you’re too goddamyellow to fly any more missions, isn’t it?”
“take it up with them,” said yossarian and moved his hand to his gun vigilantly.
“no, i’m not blaming you,” said havermeyer, “even though i don’t like you. you know, i’m not too happy aboutflying so many missions any more either. isn’t there some way i can get out of it, too?”
yossarian snickered ironically and joked, “put a gun on and start marching with me.”
havermeyer shook his head thoughtfully. “nah, i couldn’t do that. i might bring some disgrace on my wife andkid if i acted like a coward. nobody likes a coward. besides, i want to stay in the reserves when the war is over.
you get five hundred dollars a year if you stay in the reserves.”
“then fly more missions.”
“yeah, i guess i have to. say, do you think there’s any chance they might take you off combat duty and send youhome?”
“no.”
“but if they do and let you take one person with you, will you pick me? don’t pick anyone like appleby. pickme.”
“why in the world should they do something like that?”
“i don’t know. but if they do, just remember that i asked you first, will you? and let me know how you’re doing.
i’ll wait for you here in these bushes every night. maybe if they don’t do anything bad to you, i won’t fly anymore missions either. okay?”
all the next evening, people kept popping up at him out of the darkness to ask him how he was doing, appealingto him for confidential information with weary, troubled faces on the basis of some morbid and clandestinekinship he had not guessed existed. people in the squadron he barely knew popped into sight out of nowhere ashe passed and asked him how he was doing. even men from other squadrons came one by one to concealthemselves in the darkness and pop out. everywhere he stepped after sundown someone was lying in wait to popout and ask him how he was doing. people popped out at him from trees and bushes, from ditches and tall weeds,from around the corners of tents and from behind the fenders of parked cars. even one of his roommates poppedout to ask him how he was doing and pleaded with him not to tell any of his other roommates he had popped out.
yossarian drew near each beckoning, overly cautious silhouette with his hand on his gun, never knowing whichhissing shadow would finally turn dishonestly into nately’s whore or, worse, into some duly constitutedgovernmental authority sent to club him ruthlessly into insensibility. it began to look as if they would have to dosomething like that. they did not want to court-martial him for desertion in the face of the enemy because ahundred and thirty-five miles away from the enemy could hardly be called the face of the enemy, and becauseyossarian was the one who had finally knocked down the bridge at ferrara by going around twice over the targetand killing kraft—he was always almost forgetting kraft when he counted the dead men he knew. but they hadto do something to him, and everyone waited grimly to see what horrible thing it would be.
during the day, they avoided him, even aarfy, and yossarian understood that they were different people togetherin daylight than they were alone in the dark. he did not care about them at all as he walked about backward withhis hand on his gun and awaited the latest blandishments, threats and inducements from group each timecaptains piltchard and wren drove back from another urgent conference with colonel cathcart and colonelkorn. hungry joe was hardly around, and the only other person who ever spoke to him was captain black, whocalled him “old blood and guts” in a merry, taunting voice each time he hailed him and who came back fromrome toward the end of the week to tell him nately’s whore was gone. yossarian turned sorry with a stab ofyearning and remorse. he missed her.
“gone?” he echoed in a hollow tone.
“yeah, gone.” captain black laughed, his bleary eyes narrow with fatigue and his peaked, sharp face sproutingas usual with a sparse reddish-blond stubble. he rubbed the bags under his eyes with both fists. “i thought imight as well give the stupid broad another boff just for old times’ sake as long as i was in rome anyway. youknow, just to keep that kid nately’s body spinning in his grave, ha, ha! remember the way i used to needle him?
but the place was empty.”
“was there any word from her?” prodded yossarian, who had been brooding incessantly about the girl,wondering how much she was suffering, and feeling almost lonely and deserted without her ferocious andunappeasable attacks.
“there’s no one there,” captain black exclaimed cheerfully, trying to make yossarian understand. “don’t youunderstand? they’re all gone. the whole place is busted.”
“gone?”
“yeah, gone. flushed right out into the street.” captain black chuckled heartily again, and his pointed adam’sapple jumped up and down with glee inside his scraggly neck. “the joint’s empty. the m.p.s busted the wholeapartment up and drove the whores right out. ain’t that a laugh?”
yossarian was scared and began to tremble. “why’d they do that?”
“what difference does it make? responded captain black with an exuberant gesture. “they flushed them rightout into the street. how do you like that? the whole batch.”
“what about the kid sister?”
“flushed away,” laughed captain black. “flushed away with the rest of the broads. right out into the street.”
“but she’s only a kid!” yossarian objected passionately. “she doesn’t know anybody else in the whole city.
what’s going to happen to her?”
“what the hell do i care?” responded captain black with an indifferent shrug, and then gawked suddenly atyossarian with surprise and with a crafty gleam of prying elation. “say, what’s the matter? if i knew this wasgoing to make you so unhappy, i would have come right over and told you, just to make you eat your liver. hey,where are you going? come on back! come on back here and eat your liver!”
38、小妹妹
约塞连把枪挎在屁股后面，倒退着走路，而且拒绝执行更多的飞行任务。他之所以倒退着走路，是因为他行走时不停地转过身四处看看，以确定真的没有人在他身后偷偷摸摸地跟踪。他身后传来的每一个声响都像是不祥的预兆。从他身边经过的每一个人都可能是刺客。他的手一直握住枪柄。除了亨格利·乔以外，他见了谁都没有笑脸。他告诉皮尔查德上尉和雷恩上尉，他已经飞完了。皮尔查德上尉和雷恩上尉把他的名字从下一次飞行任务的日程表上划掉了，并把此事上报到大队部。
科恩中校冷静地笑了笑。“你们究竟是什么意思，他不愿意执行更多的飞行任务？”他笑着问道。而卡思卡特上校这时却悄悄躲到一个角落里琢磨起来，约塞连这个名字又一次突然冒出来烦扰他，这究竟是个什么样的不祥之兆呢？“他为什么不愿意？”
“他的朋友内特利在斯培西亚上空的相撞事件中阵亡了。也许就因为这个。”
“他以为他是谁——阿基里斯吗？”科恩中校对自己的这个比喻很得意，暗暗把它记在心里，预备着下回见到佩克姆将军时拿出来露一手。“他必须执行更多的飞行任务。他没有选择余地。回去告诉他，要是他不改变主意的话，你们就要把这件事上报给我们。”
“我们已经这样告诉过他了，长官，可是不起作用。”
“梅杰少校怎么说呢？”
“我们根本见不到梅杰少校。他似乎已经失踪了。”
“我倒希望我们能叫他失踪！”卡思卡特上校从角落里气呼呼地脱口说道，“就像他们对付邓巴那家伙那样。”
“哦，我们有其他许多种对付这个家伙的办法。”科恩中校信心十足地安慰卡思卡特上校，然后又对皮尔查德和雷恩说，“首先我们采用最仁慈的手段，把他送到罗马去休息几天。也许那家伙的死确实伤了他的心。”
事实上，内特利的死也差点送了约塞连的命。在罗马，当他把这个消息告诉内特利的妓女时，她发出一阵悲痛欲绝的刺耳尖叫，抓起一把削土豆刀就要把他刺死。
“畜生！”她愤怒地、歇斯底里地对他吼叫着。他把她的胳膊扭到她的背后，慢慢地扭着，直到那把削土豆刀从她手中落下来。“畜生！畜生！”她敏捷地伸出另一只手去打他，她那长长的手指甲在他的面颊上抓出道道血痕。她气势汹汹地朝他脸上咋了一口唾沫。
“这是怎么回事？”他感到火辣辣的疼痛，困惑不解地叫起来。
他使劲推了她一把，一下子把她推到房间另一头的墙上。“你要把我怎么样？”
她又挥动着两只拳头朝他扑了过来。他尚未来得及抓住她的手腕制服她，嘴上就结结实实地挨了一拳，弄得满嘴血污。她的头发乱蓬蓬地披散着，双眼闪动着仇恨的怒火，眼泪哗哗直淌。她完全处于失去理智的狂乱之中。每当他试图向她解释时，她就一边粗野地吼叫着、咒骂着，尖声大叫着“畜生！畜生！”一边疯狂地、凶残地对他又抓又打。她的力气大得出乎他的意料，差一点把他撞倒在地上。她的身材几乎和他一样高。有那么一会儿，他心惊胆战地想象着，凭她疯狂的决心，她肯定能够制服他。她会把他踩倒在地上，残忍地把他撕成碎片，就为了某一桩其实根本不是他犯下的滔天大罪。他俩拼命地厮打着，呼哧呼哧地喘着粗气，四只胳膊扭在一起，谁也打不过谁。这个时候，约塞连真有点想喊救命了，终于，她的力气不足了。他这才能够推开她，求她让他把话说完，向她发誓说内特利的死根本不是他的过错。她又往他脸上啐起唾沫来，他又气愤又沮丧，厌恶地使劲把她推到一边，他刚一松开手，她立刻冲过去抢那把削土豆刀，他只好跟着扑到她的身上。两个人在地上翻了好几个滚，他才夺下了那把刀，他刚刚吃力地站起来，她又伸出手来想把他绊倒，结果把他的脚踝抓破了一大块，痛得他哇哇叫。他忍住痛，单脚跳到房间的另一头，把那把削土豆刀扔出窗外。
他这才觉得自己安全了，宽慰地长舒了一口气。
“现在，请让我把事情对你解释一下，”他哄劝道。他的声音慎重、理智而诚恳。
她朝他的裤裆里猛踢一脚。哎哟！他尖利地惨叫一声，痛得差点背过气去。他侧身倒在地上，痛苦得膝盖顶住胸口，身体缩成一团。他感到恶心，感到迸不过气来。内特利的妓女从房间里跑了出去。约塞连摇摇摆摆地刚刚站起身，她就从厨房拿了一把长长的切面包刀冲了回来。他不敢相信地惊呼一声，双手仍然紧紧护着软绵绵、热辣辣、抽动个不停的小肚子，把全身的重量朝着她的小腿撞过去，猛地把她撞倒了。她越过他的头顶翻滚过去，胳膊肘砸在地上，发出刺耳的咯咯声，那把刀滑落下来，他抬脚把它踢到床底下看不见的地方去了，她还想扑过去拿刀，他揪住她的胳膊把她拉了起来。她又要朝他的裤裆处踢去，他恶狠狠地骂了一句，使劲把她甩开了。她扑通一声撞到墙上，失去了平衡，把一把椅子踢翻到梳妆台上，结果梳妆台上那些梳子、发刷以及装着化妆品的瓶瓶罐罐全都给摔到地上去了。房间另一头一幅嵌在镜框里的照片也掉到了地上，上面的玻璃摔了个粉碎。
“你到底要把我怎么样？”他既哀怨又气恼，慌乱地冲她叫喊道，“又不是我杀的他。”
她抓起一个沉甸甸的玻璃烟灰缸砸向他的脑袋，紧接着便又朝他猛扑过去。他握紧拳头，打算朝她的肚子猛击一拳，可又怕会真的打伤了她。他又想对准她的下巴颏狠狠打上一拳，然后趁机逃出门去，可又总是找不准目标。最后，在她朝他冲过来的那一瞬间，他敏捷地闪身让过，顺势猛劲推了她一把，使她结结实实地撞到了另一面墙上。接着，她挡住了门，拎起一个大花瓶朝他扔了过去。随后，她又抄起一个装满了酒的瓶子冲到他面前，对准他的太阳穴猛砸下去，砸得他头晕目眩，单腿跪到了地上。他的耳朵嗡嗡作响，整个脸都麻木了。而最糟糕的是，他觉得左右为难。她竟然打算杀死他，这使他感到很狼狈。他根本弄不明白究竟发生了什么事情，更不知道应该怎么办才好。但是，他清清楚楚地知道他必须保住自己的性命。当他看到她举起酒瓶又要打自己时，他从地板上一跃而起，趁她没来得及打之前，一头撞到她的肚子上。他使的力气很大，顶得她一路往后倒退，直到她的膝盖碰到了床沿，身体跌落到床垫上。而约塞连则夹在她的两腿之间趴到了她的身上。她的指甲深深地抓人了他的颈侧，他则慢慢地爬上她那柔软丰满、胸部如小山般高耸的身躯。直到他完全压到了她的身上，伸出手抓住她狂挥乱舞的胳膊，夺下那个酒瓶扔到一边时，她才被迫屈服下来。她仍在一个劲地又踢又骂又抓。她大咧开粗糙而肉感的嘴唇，龇着牙总想狠命咬他一口，那模样活像一只正在发怒的饥不择食的野兽。现在，她已经被他制服在身底下了，他开始考虑自己应该如何行事才不至于再次遭到她的攻击。她那两条绷得紧紧的大腿向两侧分开着，不停地乱蹬乱踢。他能够感到她的大腿内侧和膝盖把他的一条腿夹得紧紧的，并在上面来回摩擦着。他突然生出一股欲火，不禁羞愧难当。他意识到，她那结实的、撩人情欲的少妇肉体就像一股滋润人心的甜美春潮，不可遏制地激荡着他的心田。她那高高耸起的双乳温暖、充满活力而又富于弹性，和她的肚腹一起紧紧贴在他的身体上，对他形成了一种既宜人又可怕的强烈诱惑力。她的呼吸炽热灼人。突然间，他感觉到——虽然她仍然在他的身底下疯狂地扭动，虽然她的拼劲没有减轻丝毫——她不再对他又抓又打了。他激动地发现，她非但不再打他，反而毫无愧色地高高抬起屁股，出于本能地、颇有节奏地颤动着身体，狂热有力地、淫荡放肆地抵在他的身上。他惊喜交加地喘息着。她的脸蛋——尽管这会儿在他看来就像一朵盛开的鲜花那样美丽——此时因为忍受着一种新的折磨而变了形，她的面部肌肉微微肿胀着，她的眼睛半开半闭，蒙蒙胧胧，她全身心沉浸在渴望之中，好像什么都看不见了。
“亲爱的，”她嗓门嘶哑地低声说。她的声音好像来自平静舒适的梦境深处。“噢，我的亲爱的。”
他抚摸着她的头发。她狂热地在他的脸上吻来吻去。他舔着她的脖子。她伸出双臂紧紧搂住他，用热烘烘、湿漉漉、柔软而有力的嘴唇一次又一次地亲吻他，一边对他说着那些令人心醉神迷的情话，使他觉得自己越来越疯狂地爱上了她。她那只抚摸着他后背的手熟练地向下伸进他的裤腰，另一只手却狡诈地在地板上偷偷摸寻那把切面包刀。她摸到了那把刀。幸好他及时醒悟，救了自己的命。她居然还是想杀掉他！他被她这种极不道德的骗人花招惊得目瞪口呆。他从她手里夺下刀扔到一旁，然后从床上跳下来站到地上。他的脸看上去困惑又失望。他不知道自己是应该冲出屋去获得自由呢，还是应该倒到床上去跟她做爱，再次低声下气地任凭她处置。就在他正犹豫不决的时候，她突然放声大哭起来，这下又把他给吓呆了。
这一回，她的的确确是出于悲伤而痛哭的。她哭得涕泪横流、悲痛欲绝，完全忘记了他的存在。她垂着她那激动、高傲、美丽的脑袋，缩着肩膀，萎靡不振地坐在那儿，那副模样是那么的凄凉、那么的哀婉动人。这一次，她的痛苦是明确无疑的。她痛不欲生地啜泣着，喉咙哽咽，浑身颤抖。她忘了还有他这么个人，对他已经毫不在意了。此时，他完全可以平安无事地从这个房间走出去，可他还是决定留下来安慰她，帮助她。
“请别哭了。”他伸开双臂抱住她的肩膀，含糊不清地恳求着她。他痛心地回忆起那回飞机轰炸完阿维尼翁返航的路上，斯诺登不停地鸣咽着对他说，觉得冷，觉得冷。当时，他感到浑身软弱无力，说不出话来，只会翻来覆去地对斯诺登说：“好啦，好啦，好啦，好啦。”现在，他也只会翻来覆去地用一句话对她表示同情。“请别哭了，请别哭了，请别哭了。”
她斜倚在他的身上哭泣着，一直哭到她再也没有力气哭下去了。等到她哭完了，他把自己的手帕递过去，她这才抬起头来看了看他。她有礼貌地淡淡一笑，用手帕擦了擦面颊，然后递回给他，并且像个温文尔雅的黄花闺女似的低声说：“谢谢，谢谢。”但是，突然间，她的情绪突变，猛地伸出双手要去剜他的眼睛。她的手刚一抓到他的眼睛上，她就发出一声得意的尖叫。
“哈！你这个杀人犯！”她一边怪叫着，一边得意地跑到房间的另一头去拿那把切面包刀来杀他。
他慌忙站起身，踉踉跄跄地去追她。他的眼前一片模糊。他听到身后传来一声响，赶快转过身去，只看了一眼，就吓得差点灵魂出窍。不是别人，恰恰是内特利的妓女的小妹妹，正手握着另一把长长的切面包刀朝他冲过来！
“噢，不！”他声音颤抖地悲叹一声，对准她的手腕猛地往下一击，把刀打落在地。这种荒谬绝伦、莫名其妙的混战他实在忍受不下去了。天知道接下来还有谁会拿着另一把切面包刀冲进房门朝他刺过来。他把内特利的妓女的小妹妹从地板上举起来，朝内特科的妓女扔过去，随后跑出房间，跑出公寓，跑下楼梯。两个女人追他一直追到门厅里。他拼命往外逃时，听见她们的脚步渐渐落后，最后完全停住了。随后，他听到头顶上传来哭声。他回头从楼梯口往上望去，看见内特利的妓女缩成一团坐在楼梯上，双手捂着脸正哭得伤心呢。而她那个天不怕地不怕的异教徒小妹妹却正十分危险地把身子趴在楼梯扶手上，一边兴高采烈地朝下冲他大叫“畜生！
畜生！”一边朝他挥舞着切面包刀，好像那是一件使她兴奋不已的玩具，她正迫不及待地要试试它呢。
约塞连逃了出去。可即使当他逃到了大街上时，他仍不时担心地回头望望。街上的行人目光奇怪地打量着他，这就使他更加害怕起来。他紧张不安地快步走着，心里直纳闷，自己外表上有什么地方会吸引住所有人的注意力呢？他觉得前额上有个地方很痛，便伸手去摸，结果手指头沾了粘糊糊的一层血，这下他才算明白了。他用手帕轻轻擦了擦脸和脖子。不管擦到哪个地方，手帕都会沾上一块新的血污。他满头满脸都在流血。他急忙跑进红十字会大楼，奔下两段极陡的白色大理石楼梯，来到男洗手间。在那儿，他用冷水和肥皂擦洗干净裸露在外面的无数处伤口，理平衬衣领子，梳了梳头发。他从来没有见过这样一张青一道紫一道伤痕累累的面孔。此时，这张面孔正从镜子里张皇失措、惊恐不安地冲他眨着眼睛。她究竟要把他怎么样？
他走出男洗手间时，内特利的妓女正埋伏在外面等着他呢。她猫腰躲在楼梯底下的墙边，手中紧握着一把闪亮的银制牛排切刀，像只老鹰似的朝他猛扑过来。他敏捷地抬起胳膊肘使劲一顶，正好击中她的下胯。她翻了翻眼睛就要倒下去，他及时拉住了她，轻轻抉她坐到地上。随后，他跑上楼梯，跑出大楼，在城里花了三个小时找到亨格利·乔，这才得以在她再次找到他之前离开罗马。直到飞机起飞后，他才感到自己真正安全了。当他们在皮亚诺萨岛着陆时，内特利的妓女穿着绿色的工作服，假扮成一个机械师，手握着牛排切刀，就在飞机旁边等着他呢。她举刀朝他的胸口刺来，幸好她的皮底高跟鞋在砾石地面上绊了一下，摔了一跤。约塞连吃了一惊，使劲把她拉上飞机，使了招双重锁臂勾腿摔跤法，把她一动不动地制服在地板上。与此同时，亨格利·乔通过无线电要求指挥塔台允许飞机返回罗马。在罗马机场上，亨格利·乔连火都没熄，约塞连把她从飞机上往机场跑道上一推，飞机立刻就起飞了。和亨格利·乔一起步行穿过中队驻地往他们自己的帐篷走时，约塞连屏注呼吸，警惕地盯着每一个人影。亨格利·乔则表情滑稽地一直盯着他。
“你能肯定这件事的前前后后不是你想象出来的吗？”过了一会，亨格利·乔犹犹豫豫地问。
“想象出来的？你一直和我在一起，不是吗？你不是刚刚把她送回罗马吗？”
“也许这也全是我想象出来的。她为什么要杀死你呢？”
“她从来就没有喜欢过我。也许是因为我打断了内特利的鼻梁骨，也许是因为她听到这消息时，我是唯一在场的可以供她发泄怨恨的对象。你认为她还会回来吗？”
那天晚上，约塞连在军官俱乐部逗留到很晚才回来。他一边往自己的帐篷走，一边机警地用眼睛四下里搜寻内特利的妓女。他看见她乔装成皮亚诺萨岛农夫的模祥，手里握着一把切肉刀，藏在山坡下的灌木丛里，他停住脚步，蹄起脚尖无声无息地绕到她的背后，一把揪住她的后背。
“放开我！”她一边愤怒地大叫着，一边像只野猫似的挣扎着。
他把她拖进帐篷，扔到地上。
“嘿，出了什么事？”他的一个同帐篷伙伴迷迷糊糊地问。
“看住她，等我回来。”约塞连把他从行军床上扯下来推到她的身上，吩咐了一声便往外跑。“看住她！”
“让我把他杀了，我就让你们每个人都玩一玩，”她提议道。
其他几个同帐篷伙伴看到是个姑娘，就都从行军床上跳下来，想让她先跟他们大家玩一玩。约塞连跑去叫亨格利·乔，那家伙正像个娃娃似的呼呼大睡呢。约塞连把赫普尔的猫从亨格利·乔的脸上拿开，把他摇醒过来。亨格利·乔迅速穿好衣服。这一次，他们俩把飞机一直往北开，深入到敌人后方之后再折回进入意大利领空。飞机飞越一片平原时，他们把内特利的妓女绑到降落伞上，从应急出口推了下去。约塞连确信自己终于摆脱了她，这才松了一口气。当他回到皮亚诺萨岛走近自己的帐篷时，从路旁的黑暗中突然跳出一个人影，把他吓得昏了过去。他醒来时发现自己坐在地上，只好引颈待毙，想到那致命的一击即将带来的平静，他几乎有点高兴了。可是，一只友好的手把他搀扶了起来。原来是邓巴中队里的一个飞行员。
“你怎么样？”那飞行员轻声问道。
“挺好，”约塞连回答道。
“刚才我看见你摔倒了，还以为你出了什么事呢。”
“我想我是晕过去了。”
“我们中队里谣传说你告诉他们你不再执行战斗飞行任务“这是真的。”
“可大队部来的人说这不是真的。”
“这是谎言，”“你以为他们会放过你吗？”
“我不知道，”“他们会把你怎么样？”
“我不知道。”
“你认为他们会对你进行军法审判，指控你在敌人面前临阵脱逃吗？”
“我不知道。”
“我希望你能逃过这一关。”邓巴中队的那个飞行员边说边蹑手蹑脚地躲到黑暗中去了。“别忘了把你的情况告诉我。”
约塞连对着他的背影凝视了几秒钟，然后迈步朝自己的帐篷走去。
“喂！”前面几步之外传来低低的一声，原来是躲在一棵树后面的阿普尔比，“你好吗？”
“挺好，”约塞连说。
“我听见别人说，他们威胁说要对你进行军法审判，指控你在敌人面前临阵脱逃。不过他们并没有真的打算这么做，因为在这件事情上指控你的证据是否成立，他们目前还没有把握。再说，要是真这样做了，他们自己在新任指挥官面前也显得不好看。况且，你还是个在弗拉拉大桥上空飞了两圈的大英雄。依我看，到目前为止，你可以算是我们大队里最了不起的英雄了。他们不过是吓唬人罢了。我刚才正在想，你听说了这个消息一定会很高兴的。”
“谢谢，阿普尔比。”
“就是为了这个，我才过来告诉你的。我想提醒你一声。”
“我很感激。”
阿普尔比局促不安地在地面上蹭着脚尖。“约塞连，那次我们在军官俱乐部打了一架，对此我很抱歉。”
“没有关系。”
“但那次不是我挑起来的。依我看，这全怪奥尔，是他先拿乒乓球拍打我的脸的。他为什么要这样做呢？”
“因为你就要打败他了。”
“难道我不该打败他吗？不就是为了这个才打球的吗？依我看，既然现在他已经死了，我是不是个比他更出色的乒乓球运动员已经无所谓了，对吧？”
“我看是无所谓了。”
“还有，那一回为了那些阿的平药片，一路上闹得天翻地覆，我也很抱歉。要是你想染上疟疾，我想那是你自己的事，不对吗？”
“没有关系，阿普尔比。”
“但我不过是在努力尽我的责任，我是在服从命令。人家总是教导我说，必须服从命令。”
“没有关系。”
“你知道，我曾对科恩中校和卡思卡特上校说，我认为如果你不愿意的话，他们就不应该叫你执行更多的飞行任务。他们说，我使他们感到很失望。”
约塞连觉得既懊恼又有趣，笑了笑说：“我想他们肯定会这样说的。”
“噢，我不在乎。见鬼，你已经飞了七十一次了，这应该是足够的了。你认为他们会放过你吗？”
“不会”“我说，要是他们真的放过了你，他们就会放过我们其余的人，是吗？”
“这就是他们不会放过我的原因。”
“你认为他们会怎么办呢？”
“我不知道。”
“你认为他们会对你进行军法审判吗？”
“我不知道。”
“你害怕吗？”
“是的。”
“你打算去执行更多的飞行任务吗？”
“不。”
“我希望你能逃过这一关，”阿普尔比信心十足他说，“我真是这么希望的。”
“谢谢，阿普尔比。”
“既然眼下我们似乎已经打赢了这场战争，我也不大乐意再去执行那么多次的飞行任务了。要是我听到别的什么消息，我会告诉你的。”
“谢谢，阿普尔比。”
“嗨！阿普尔比走了以后，从他帐篷旁边一簇齐腰高的光秃秃的灌木丛中，一个人压低嗓门吆喝了一声。原来是哈弗迈耶蹲着藏在那儿。他正吃着花生薄脆糖，他脸上那些丘疹和油乎乎的粗大毛孔看上去就像暗淡的鳞片。约塞连走到他的面前时，他问道：“你怎么样？”
“挺好。”
“你打算执行更多的飞行任务吗？”
“不。”
“要是他们强迫你呢？”
“我不会屈服的。”
“你害怕吗？”
“是的。”
“他们会对你进行军法审判吗？”
“他们很可能会这样做。”
“梅杰少校怎么说？”
“梅杰少校不见了。”
“是他们把他弄失踪的吗？”
“我不知道。”
“他们要是决定把你弄失踪，你怎么办？”
“我将设法阻止他们。”
“要是你继续飞行的话，他们有没有提出跟你做笔交易或别的什么？”
“皮尔查德和雷恩说，他们将只安排我执行没有危险的例行飞行任务。”
哈弗迈耶精神一振。“我说，这听起来是笔挺好的交易。我本人倒是很欢迎这种交易的。我敢说，你痛痛快快地接受了。”
“我拒绝了。”
“太死心眼了。”哈弗迈耶傻里傻气的脸上出现了一道道惊愕的皱纹。“我说，这样一笔交易对我们其余的人来说可不怎么公平，对吗？要是你只执行没有危险的例行飞行任务，那么我们中的一些人就得承担起你那份危险的飞行任务，不是吗？”
“是的。”
“嘿，我可不喜欢这个，”哈弗迈耶大声说。他气呼呼地站起来，双手握拳抵在后腰上。“我一点也不喜欢这个。就因为你***吓破了胆，不敢再执行飞行任务，他们将会拼命地逼我多飞，不是吗？”
“你该去找他们谈谈这件事。”约塞连边说边警觉地伸手摸枪。
“不，我不是责怪你，”哈弗迈耶说，“虽然我不喜欢你。你知道，我也不大乐意去执行那么多次的飞行任务。难道没有办法使我也从中摆脱出来吗？”
约塞连讥讽地窃笑着，开玩笑他说：“带上枪跟我走。”
哈弗迈耶若有所思地摇摇头。“不，我不能这么干。要是我当了胆小鬼，那会给我的老婆孩子带来耻辱的。没有人喜欢胆小鬼。
再说，我打算战争结束后留在预备役部队里。要是那样的话，我每年可以拿到五百块钱呢。”
“那就去执行更多的飞行任务吧。”
“是的，我想我只好这样做。我说，你认为他们有没有可能撤销你的战斗编制，把你送回国去？”
“没有可能。”
“可要是他们真的这样做，而且还让你带一个人走，你挑我好吗？别挑阿普尔比那样的人。挑我吧。”
“他们怎么可能做这种事情呢？”
“我不知道。可要是他们做了，千万记住是我第一个向你提出要求的，好吗？别忘了把你的情况告诉我。我每天晚上都会在这些灌木丛里等你的。也许，他们不会做任何对你不利的事情，那我也不会再执行更多的飞行任务了。行吗？”
第二天，整整一个晚上，不断有人突然从黑暗里冒出来，走到他面前问他的情况。这些神色疲惫忧虑的人全都声称跟他有着某种他根本不曾想到过的异常的秘密关系，以此为借口向他打听机密消息。在他路过时，中队里一些他很不熟悉的人不知打哪儿钻出来，向他询问他眼下的情况。甚至别的中队的人也藏在暗处等他，一个接一个地突然在他面前冒出来。太阳落山以后，不论他走到哪儿，都有人隐藏在那儿等着他，突然钻出来询问他眼下的情况。从树林和灌木丛中，从沟渠和高高的野草丛中，从帐篷角和停着的汽车的挡板后面，到处有人突然冒出来站在他的面前。甚至他的一个同帐篷伙伴也突然冒出来询问他的情况如何，并且恳求他别告诉其他几个同帐篷伙伴他曾突然冒出来过。约塞连总是手按在枪上走近每一个谨慎地隐身在黑暗之中朝他打招呼的人影。他害怕其中有诈，害怕那个悄声细气的黑影最后会一下子变成内特利的妓女，或者，更糟糕的是，变成某个政府当局正式指派的官员，奉命前来毫不留情地把他打昏过去。看起来，他们似乎必定会干这种事情的。他们不愿意以在敌人面前临阵脱逃的罪名对他进行军法审判，因为敌人远在一百三十五英里以外，说在敌人面前很难成立；而且，是约塞连在弗拉拉大桥这个目标上空飞了两圈，最终炸掉大桥并送了克拉夫特的性命的——当他计算他所认识的死人时，他几乎总是忘了克拉夫特。然而，他们非得惩治他不可。人人都在冷眼等待着，想看看将会发生什么可怕的事情。
白天，他们总是躲避着他，甚至连阿费也是这样。约塞连理解这一点，这些人白天聚在一起时是一种人，黑暗中各自单独呆着时则变成了另一种人。他一只手按在枪上倒退着走路，对这些人毫不在意。每回皮尔查德上尉和雷恩上尉去大队部跟卡思卡特上校和科恩中校开过紧急会议后开车回来时，他都等着他们带来最新的哄骗、威胁和诱惑。亨格利·乔很少来找他，另一个唯一跟他讲话的人就是布莱克上尉。布莱克上尉每回跟他打招呼时都用快乐的调侃口气称他为“老孤胆英雄”。快到周未的时候，他从罗马回来，告诉约塞连，内特利的妓女不见了，约塞连又是思念又是懊恼，难过得心如刀绞。他十分惦记她。
“不见了？”他声音空洞地重复着。
“是呀，不见了。”布莱克上尉笑了起来。他那双模模糊糊的眼睛疲劳地眯缝着，瘦削的长脸上和平时一样稀稀拉拉地长着红褐色的胡子茬。他用双拳揉着眼睛下面的眼袋。“我原来想，只要我到了罗马，看在老交情的分上，我无论如何也要让那个愚蠢的浪荡女人再笑个够。你知道吗，我就是要让内特利那小子在坟墓里急得直打滚，哈，哈！还记得我从前是怎么捉弄他的吗？可是，那地方已经空荡荡的了。”
“她留下什么口信了吗？”约塞连急切地问。他无时无刻不在想着那个女人，想着她不知忍受着多么大的痛苦。这会儿，没有了她那些凶猛的、无法遏制的袭击，他反而生出几分遭人遗弃的孤独感。
“那儿一个人也没有了，”布莱克上尉兴高采烈地大声说，努力想使约塞连明白他的意思。“你难道不明白吗？她们全都走了，那儿整个地方都给砸了。”
“都走了？”
“是呀，都走了，全都给赶到大街上去了。”布莱克上尉又一次开心地格格笑起来，他那突出的喉结也得意地在他那表面疙疙瘩瘩的脖子里面一上一下地跳动着。“那妓院全空了。宪兵们把整个公寓砸了个稀巴烂，把所有的妓女都赶出去了。这不是件很可笑的事情吗？”
约塞连吓得哆咳起来。“他们为什么要这么干？”
“管他为什么，那又有什么关系呢？”布莱克上尉兴高采烈地挥了挥手说，“他们把妓女全部赶到大街上去了，一个不剩。你觉得怎么样？”
“那个小妹妹呢？”
“赶走了，”布莱克上尉笑着说，“和其他浪荡女人一块被赶出去了，赶到大街上去了。”
“可她还是个孩子！”约塞连激烈地抗议道，“她在整个城里谁也不认识。她会出什么事呢？”
“我管这个干什么？”布莱克上尉漠不关心地耸了耸肩膀回答道。他惊奇地注视了约塞连一会，然后突然高兴地、狡黠地叫了起来。“我说，怎么回事？要是我知道这消息会使你这么不开心的话，我一回来就会赶来告诉你的，就为了让你伤心得死去活来。嗨，你要上哪儿去？快回来，回到这儿来伤心而死吧！”