一個干凈明亮的地方

Ｅｒｎｅｓｔ?。龋澹恚椋睿纾鳎幔?/p>

薇雨 譯

A Clean, Well-lighted Place

當空虛感充斥著現(xiàn)代人的生活，人類需要光亮和秩序來重新確立生活的自尊，這種自尊來自于生活的勇氣，人類用它來戰(zhàn)勝那可怕的精神危機。

如果你冷，就用你的右手溫暖你的左手；如果你害怕漆黑映照出你的落寞，就讓屋里的燈整夜亮著。

勇敢一點。黎明，總會到來的。

——Lavender

It was late and everyone had left the caf—— except an

old man who sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made against the electric light. In the day time the street was dusty; but at night the¹⁾dew settled the dust and the old man liked to sit late because he was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he felt the difference. The two waiters inside the caf—— knew that the old man was a little drunk, and while he was a good client they knew that if he became too drunk he would leave without paying, so they kept watch on him.

“Last week he tried to commit suicide,” one waiter said.

“Why?”

“He was in despair.”

“What about?”

“Nothing.”

“How do you know it was nothing?”

“He has plenty of money.”

They sat together at a table that was close against the wall near the door of the caf—— and looked at the²⁾terrace where the tables were all empty except where the old man sat in the shadow of the leaves of the tree that moved slightly in the wind.

The younger waiter went over to him.

“What do you want?”

The old man looked at him. “Another brandy,” he said.

“Youll be drunk,” the waiter said. The old man looked at him. The waiter went away.

“Hell stay all night,” he said to his colleague. “Im sleepy now. I never get into bed before three oclock. He should have killed himself last week.”

The waiter took the brandy bottle and another saucer from the counter inside the caf—— and marched out to the old mans table. He put down the saucer and poured the glass full of brandy.

“Thank you,” the old man said. The waiter took the bottle back inside the caf——. He sat down at the table with his colleague again.

“Hes drunk now,” he said.

“Hes drunk every night.”

“What did he want to kill himself for?”

“How should I know?”

“How did he do it?”

“He hung himself with a rope.”

“Who cut him down?”

“His niece.”

“Why did he do it?”

“For his soul.”

“How much money has he got?”

“Hes got plenty.”

“He must be eighty years old.”

“Anyway I should say he was eighty.”

“I wish he would go home. I never get to bed before three oclock. What kind of hour is that to go to bed?”

“He stays up because he likes it.”

“Hes lonely. Im not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me.”

“His niece looks after him.”

“I know. You said she cut him down.”

“I wouldnt want to be that old. An old man is a³⁾nasty thing.”

“Not always. This old man is clean. He drinks without spilling. Even now, drunk. Look at him.”

“I dont want to look at him. I wish he would go home. He has no regard for those who must work.”

The old man looked from his glass across the square, then over at the waiters.

“Another brandy,” he said, pointing to his glass. The waiter who was in a hurry came over.

“Finished,” he said. “No more tonight. Close now.”

“Another,” said the old man.

“No. Finished.” The waiter wiped the edge of the table with a⁴⁾towel and shook his head.

The old man stood up, slowly counted the saucers, took a leather coin purse from his pocket and paid for the drinks, leaving half a⁵⁾peseta tip.

The waiter watched him go down the street, a very old man walking unsteadily but with dignity.

“Why didnt you let him stay and drink?” the unhurried waiter asked. They were⁶⁾putting up the shutters. “It is not half-past two.”

“I want to go home to bed.”

“What is an hour?”

“More to me than to him.”

“An hour is the same.”

“You talk like an old man yourself. He can buy a bottle and drink at home.”

“Its not the same.”

“No, it is not,” agreed the waiter with a wife. He did not wish to be unjust. He was only in a hurry.

“And you? You have no fear of going home before your usual hour?”

“No,” the waiter who was in a hurry said, rising from putting on the metal shutters. “I have confidence. I am all confidence.”

“You have youth, confidence, and a job,” the older waiter said. “You have everything.”

“And what do you lack?”

“Everything but work.”

“You have everything I have.”

“No. I have never had confidence and Im not young.”

“Come on. Stop talking nonsense and lock up.”

“I am of those who like to stay late at the caf——,” the older waiter said. “with all those who do not want to go to bed and all those who need a light for the night.”

“I want to go home and into bed.”

“We are of two different kinds,” the older waiter said. He was now dressed to go home. “It is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be some one who needs the caf——.”

“⁷⁾Hombre, there are⁸⁾bodegas open all night long.”

“You do not understand. This is a clean and pleasant caf——. It is well lighted. The light is very good and also, now, there are shadows of the leaves.”

“Good night,” said the younger waiter.

“Good night,” the other said. Turning off the electric light he continued the conversation with himself. It is the light of course but it is necessary that the place be clean. You do not want music. Certainly you do not want music. Nor can you stand before a bar with dignity although that is all that is provided for these hours. What did he fear? It was not fear or dread. It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all a nothing and a man was nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order.

He smiled and stood before a bar with a shining steam pressure coffee machine.

“A little cup,” said the waiter.

The barman poured it for him.

“The light is very bright and pleasant but the bar is unpolished,” the waiter said.

The barman looked at him but did not answer. It was too late at night for conversation.

“You want another⁹⁾copita?” the barman asked.

“No, thank you,” said the waiter and went out. He disliked bars and bodegas. A clean, well-lighted caf—— was a very different thing. Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room. He would lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go to sleep. After all, he said to himself, it is probably only¹⁰⁾insomnia. Many must have it.

時間很晚了，大家都離開了餐館，只有一個老人還坐在電燈映著樹葉而投下的陰影里。白天，街上盡是灰塵；到了晚上，露水讓灰塵都沉淀下來。這個老人喜歡坐到很晚，因為他是個聾子，現(xiàn)在是夜里，十分寂靜，能使他感覺到跟白天的不同。餐館里的兩個侍者知道這老人有點兒醉了，雖然他是個好主顧，可是他們知道，如果他喝得太醉，會不付賬就走，所以一直在留神他。

“上個星期他自殺，沒死成?！币粋€侍者說。

“為什么？”

“他很絕望?！?/p>

“為什么？”

“不為什么?！?/p>

“你怎么知道不為什么？”

“他錢多著吶。”

他們一起坐在桌旁，桌子靠著餐館門邊的那面墻。兩人望著露臺，一張張空桌子，只有那老人坐在隨風(fēng)輕輕飄動的樹葉的陰影里。

那個年輕的侍者朝他走去。

“你要點什么？”

老人朝他看了看?！霸賮肀滋m地?！彼f。

“你會喝醉的。”侍者說。老人朝他看了一眼。侍者走開了。

“他會通宵待在這里，”年輕侍者對他的同事說，“我這會兒可困了。我從來沒有在三點以前睡過覺。他應(yīng)該在上星期死掉。”

年輕侍者從餐館里的柜臺上拿了一瓶白蘭地和另一個茶托，大步走向老人的桌子。他放下茶托，往杯子里倒?jié)M白蘭地。

“謝謝你，”老人說。年輕侍者把酒瓶拿回到餐館柜臺里，又坐到桌旁和同事在一起。

“他已經(jīng)喝醉了，”他說。

“他哪天晚上不喝醉?！?/p>

“他干嘛要自殺呀？”

“我怎么知道？”

“他是怎么自殺的？”

“用繩子上吊?！?/p>

“誰把他放下來的？”

“他侄女?！?/p>

“他為什么要自殺？”

“為了解脫吧。”

“他有多少錢？”

“很多。”

“他準有八十歲了。”

“我反正覺得他有?！?/p>

“真希望他回家去。我從沒在三點前睡過覺，這是什么睡覺時間??？”

“他熬夜是因為他喜歡?！?/p>

“他孤獨，我可不孤獨。我有個老婆在床上等著我呢?！?/p>

“他有個侄女照料他。”

“我知道。你剛才說過，是她把那老家伙放下來的?！?/p>

“我才不要活得那么老。老人邋里邋遢的。”

“不一定。這老人就干干凈凈的。他喝酒時，酒并不滴滴答答地往嘴外漏。就連現(xiàn)在喝醉了，也還是滴酒不漏。你瞧他?！?/p>

“我才不想瞧他。我希望他回家去。他也不為我們這些要工作的人想想?！?/p>

那老人抬起面對酒杯的眼睛，望望廣場，又望望那兩個侍者。

“再來杯白蘭地?！彼钢诱f。那趕時間的年輕侍者跑了過去。

“沒了，”他說，“今晚上沒了。要打烊了?！?/p>

“再來一杯，”那老人說。

“不，沒了?！蹦贻p侍者一邊拿毛巾擦擦桌沿，一邊搖著頭。

老人站了起來，慢慢地點算了茶托的數(shù)目，從口袋里摸出一只裝硬幣的皮夾子來，付了酒錢，并放下半比塞塔的小費。

那侍者瞅著他沿著大街走了，這老人蹣跚的腳步里透著尊嚴。

“你干嘛不讓他待在這里喝酒呢？”那個不趕時間的侍者問道。他們正在收拾，準備關(guān)門?！斑€不到二點半呢。”

“我要回家睡覺了?！?/p>

“一個鐘頭算什么？”

“他無所謂，我可很在乎?！?/p>

“反正對誰都是一個鐘頭。”

“你說話像個老年人一樣。他可以買瓶酒回家去喝嘛?！?/p>

“那可不一樣?！?/p>

“確實不一樣?！蹦莻€有老婆的侍者表示同意。他不是想霸道，只是趕時間罷了。

“那么你呢？你不怕比平時提前回家？”

“不怕，”那個趕時間的侍者說著拉下了鐵制百葉窗，然后站了起來?！拔矣行判?。我有十足的信心?！?/p>

“你有青春，有信心，還有工作，”那個年紀大些的侍者說，“你什么都有了?！?/p>

“那你缺什么呢？”

“除了工作，什么都缺。”

“我有的你也都有了。”

“不，我一直沒有信心，也不年輕了?！?/p>

“好啦，好啦，別說些無聊的話了，把門鎖上吧。”

“我是屬于那種喜歡在餐館待到很晚的人，”那個年紀大些的侍者說，“和那些不想睡覺的人，還有那些夜里需要亮光的人一起?！?/p>

“我要回家睡覺去了?！?/p>

“我們是兩種人，”那個年紀大些的侍者說。他穿好衣服，準備回家了?！斑@不光是個年輕和信心的問題，雖然這兩樣?xùn)|西都是十分美好的。我每天晚上都很不愿意打烊，因為可能有人需要這個餐館?！?/p>

“老兄，通宵營業(yè)的酒館有的是?！?/p>

“你不懂。這兒是個干凈、明亮而令人愉快的餐館。這里燈光很好，而且這時候還有樹影呢?！?/p>

“晚安啦，”年輕的侍者說。

“晚安?！蹦昙o大些的侍者說。他一邊關(guān)電燈，一邊繼續(xù)自言自語。燈光當然要明亮，但還必須是個干凈的地方。你不想要音樂。你肯定不想要音樂。你也不可能饒有尊嚴地站在酒吧門前，雖然這幾個鐘頭里酒吧提供的只是尊嚴。他害怕什么？這不是害怕，也不是恐懼。這是他心里很清楚的一種虛空。一切都是虛空，人也是虛空的。人所需要的只是這虛空、亮光，以及一定的干凈和秩序。

他含笑站在一個酒吧前，那兒有一架閃光的蒸氣壓咖啡機。

“來一杯小的，”那個侍者說。

酒保倒了一杯給他。

“燈很亮，也很令人愉快，只是這個酒吧沒有擦得很光潔?！笔陶哒f。

酒?？戳怂谎?，沒有答腔。夜已經(jīng)很深了，不宜交談。

“你要再來一小杯雪利酒嗎？”酒保問道。

“不必了，謝謝你，”侍者說罷，走了出去。他不喜歡酒吧和酒館，一個干凈明亮的餐館卻又另當別論?，F(xiàn)在他不再想什么了，他要回家，到自己房里去。他會躺在床上，最后，天亮了，他就會睡著。說到底，他對自己說，這大概只是失眠吧，許多人都會的。

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