Chapter 22

那天夜里天气转冷，第二天下起雨来。我从马焦莱医院回来时雨很大，赶到房里，浑身淋湿了。在我楼上的病房里，外边阳台上雨沉重地下着，风刮着雨，打在玻璃门上。我换了衣服，喝了一点白兰地，但是白兰地喝起来没有味道。当天夜里就觉得不舒服，第二天早饭后竟然呕吐起来。“没有疑问，”住院医师说。“瞧他的眼白，小姐。”

盖琪小姐看了一看。他们拿面镜子叫我自己照。我的眼白发黄，原来是黄疸病。为这黄疸，我病了两星期。所以我便没有和凯瑟琳一起过“疗养休假”。我们本来计划到马焦莱湖上的巴兰萨去。在树叶转黄的秋天，那儿一定很好玩。那儿有散步的幽径，可以在湖上拖钩钓鳟鱼。那地方比施特雷沙好得多，因为人少一点。施特雷沙和米兰的交通非常方便，总会碰上熟人。巴兰萨那边有个好村庄，你可以划船到渔夫住的那些小岛上去玩，其中最大的一座岛上还有一家饭馆。但是结果我们没有去成。有一天，我因为黄疸病躺在床上，范坎本女士走进房来，打开镜橱，看到了里边的那些空酒瓶。我曾叫门房拿走一批空瓶，准是给她碰到了，因此跑上再来搜查一下。瓶子大多是味美思瓶、马萨拉葡萄酒瓶、卡普里酒瓶、吉安蒂酒瓶和一些科涅克白兰地瓶。门房先取走的是大一点的瓶子，是装味美思和那种用稻草包起来的基安蒂酒瓶，还剩下些白兰地瓶子预备等一下再拿。范坎本女士搜查到的正是这些白兰地瓶子和一个狗熊形的瓶子，里边装着莳萝利口酒。狗熊形的瓶子特别叫她光火。她把它拿起来看看，这狗熊是蹲着的，前爪向上，玻璃熊头上有个瓶塞，底部粘着一些玻璃珠。我大笑起来。

“这是莳萝利口酒，”我说。“最好的莳萝利口酒才用这种狗熊瓶装。是俄国的产品。”

“那些可不都是白兰地瓶子吗？”范坎本女士问。

“我只看得见一部分，”我说。“不过大概都是吧。”

“你这样擅自喝酒有多久了？”

“这都是我自己买了带回来的，”我说。“我时常有意大利军官来探望我，不得不备点白兰地招待他们。”

“难道你自己就不喝吗？”她说。

“我自己也喝。”

“白兰地，”她说。“十一只白兰地空瓶子，还有那瓶狗熊酒。”“莳萝利口酒。”

“我打发个人来拿走。你的空酒瓶都在这儿吗？”

“目前只有这一些。”

“可我还在可怜你的黄疸病哩。怜悯用在你身上是白搭。”“谢谢你。”

“你不愿意上前线，倒也难怪。不过故意纵酒来害上黄疸病，那未免太不聪明啦。”

“你说我故意什么？”

“故意纵酒。你明明听见的嘛。”我一声不响。“除非你还能找到什么别的借口，你这黄疸一好，就得回前线。我不相信你这自己促成的黄疸病使你有资格享受疗养休假。”

“你不相信？”

“我不相信。”

“你自己生过黄疸病没有，范坎本女士？”

“没有，但是这种病人我倒见过不少。”

“你发觉这种病人好过吗？”“总比前线好一点吧。”

“范坎本女士，”我说，“你可曾听说有人因为想逃避军役而自踢阴部？”

范坎本女士不理睬我这个实际问题。她只好不睬，要不就得离开房间。她不愿意走开，因为她素来不喜欢我，现在正可趁机编派我一顿。“我倒知道有好些人，为要逃避上前线，故意叫自己受伤的。”“问题不在这里。故意叫自己受伤的人我也见过。我问你的是：你可曾听见有人因为想逃避兵役而自踢阴部？因为这种感觉与黄疸最相近，依我想，女人很少有这种经验。所以我问你生过黄疸病没有，范坎本女士，因为——”范坎本女士走出房去了。后来，盖琪小姐走进来。

“你对范坎本说了什么来着？她气坏了。”

“我们不过在比较各种感觉。我刚刚要说她没有生小孩的经验——”

“你这傻瓜，”盖琪说。“她要你的命。”

“她已经要了我的命，”我说。“她取消了我的休假，不如索性让她叫我上军事法庭吧。她太卑鄙了。”

“她一直不喜欢你，”盖琪说。“到底吵什么啊？”

“她说我故意纵酒促成黄疸，免得回前线。”

“呸，”盖琪说。“我来发誓说你从来没喝过酒。人人都愿意发誓证明你没喝过酒。”

“她已抄到了酒瓶子啦。”

“我不是十遍百遍叫你把那些瓶子清出去么？现在瓶子呢？”

“镜橱里。”

“你有没有只手提包？”

“没有。把瓶子装在帆布背包里吧。”

盖琪小姐把瓶子装在背包里。“我拿给门房去，”她说。她朝房门走。

“等一等，”范坎本女士说。“瓶子交给我。”她早把门房喊来了。“请你拎着，”她说。“我打报告的时候，要给医生看看。”

她沿着走廊走去。门房提着背包跟着。他知道里边是什么。

我除了失掉休假以外，倒没有什么别的事。

 

It turned cold that night and the next day it was raining. Coming home from the Ospedale Maggiore it rained very hard and I was wet when I came in. Up in my room the rain was coming down heavily outside on the balcony, and the wind blew it against the glass doors. I changed my clothing and drank some brandy but the brandy did not taste good. I felt sick in the night and in the morning after breakfast I was nauseated.

"There is no doubt about it," the house surgeon said. "Look at the whites of his eyes, Miss."

Miss Gage looked. They had me look in a glass. The whites of the eyes were yellow and it was the jaundice. I was sick for two weeks with it. For that reason we did not spend a convalescent leave together. We had planned to go to Pallanza on Lago Maggiore. It is nice there in the fall when the leaves turn. There are walks you can take and you can troll for trout in the lake. It would have been better than Stresa because there are fewer people at Pallanza. Stresa is so easy to get to from Milan that there are always people you know. There is a nice village at Pallanza and you can row out to the islands where the fishermen live and there is a restaurant on the biggest island. But we did not go.

One day while I was in bed with jaundice Miss Van Campen came in the room, opened the door into the armoire and saw the empty bottles there. I had sent a load of them down by the porter and I believe she must have seen them going out and come up to find some more. They were mostly vermouth bottles, marsala bottles, capri bottles, empty chianti flasks and a few cognac bottles. The porter had carried out the large bottles, those that had held vermouth, and the straw-covered chianti flasks, and left the brandy bottles for the last. It was the brandy bottles and a bottle shaped like a bear, which had held k黰mel, that Miss Van Campen found. The bear shaped bottle enraged her particularly. She held it up, the bear was sitting up on his haunches with his paws up, there was a cork in his glass head and a few sticky crystals at the bottom. I laughed.

"It is k黰mel," I said. "The best k黰mel comes in those bearshaped bottles. It comes from Russia."

"Those are all brandy bottles, aren't they?" Miss Van Campen asked.

"I can't see them all," I said. "But they probably are."

"How long has this been going on?"

"I bought them and brought them in myself," I said. "I have had Italian officers visit me frequently and I have kept brandy to offer them."

"You haven't been drinking it yourself?" she said.

"I have also drunk it myself."

"Brandy," she said. "Eleven empty bottles of brandy and that bear liquid."

"K黰mel."

"I will send for some one to take them away. Those are all the empty bottles you have?"

"For the moment."

"And I was pitying you having jaundice. Pity is something that is wasted on you."

"Thank you."

"I suppose you can't be blamed for not wanting to go back to the front. But I should think you would try something more intelligent than producing jaundice with alcoholism."

"With what?"

"With alcoholism. You heard me say it." I did not say anything. "Unless you find something else I'm afraid you will have to go back to the front when you are through with your jaundice. I don't believe self-inflicted jaundice entitles you to a convalescent leave."

"You don't?"

"I do not."

"Have you ever had jaundice, Miss Van Campen?"

"No, but I have seen a great deal of it."

"You noticed how the patients enjoyed it?"

"I suppose it is better than the front."

"Miss Van Campen," I said, "did you ever know a man who tried to disable himself by kicking himself in the scrotum?"

Miss Van Campen ignored the actual question. She had to ignore it or leave the room. She was not ready to leave because she had disliked me for a long time and she was now cashing in.

"I have known many men to escape the front through self-inflicted wounds."

"That wasn't the question. I have seen self-inflicted wounds also. I asked you if you had ever known a man who had tried to disable himself by kicking himself in the scrotum. Because that is the nearest sensation to jaundice and it is a sensation that I believe few women have ever experienced. That was why I asked you if you had ever had the jaundice, Miss Van Campen, because--" Miss Van Campen left the room. Later Miss Gage came in.

"What did you say to Van Campen? She was furious."

"We were comparing sensations. I was going to suggest that she had never experienced childbirth--"

"You're a fool," Gage said. "She's after your scalp."

"She has my scalp," I said. "She's lost me my leave and she might try and get me court-martialled. She's mean enough."

"She never liked you," Gage said. "What's it about?"

"She says I've drunk myself into jaundice so as not to go back to the front."

"Pooh," said Gage. "I'll swear you've never taken a drink. Everybody will swear you've never taken a drink."

"She found the bottles."

"I've told you a hundred times to clear out those bottles. Where are they now?"

"In the armoire."

"Have you a suitcase?"

"No. Put them in that rucksack."

Miss Gage packed the bottles in the rucksack. "I'll give them to the porter," she said. She started for the door.

"Just a minute," Miss Van Campen said. "I'll take those bottles." She had the porter with her. "Carry them, please," she said. "I want to show them to the doctor when I make my report."

She went down the hall. The porter carried the sack. He knew what was in it.

Nothing happened except that I lost my leave.