CAT IN THE RAIN

Date: 2015-10-07; view: 781.

After Ernest Hemingway

There were only two Americans at the hotel. They did not know any of the people in the hotel. Theft room was on the second floor. The windows of their room looked on the sea, the garden and the war monument. There were big trees and green benches in the garden. In good weather there was al­ways an artist with brushes and colours in the garden. Ar­tists liked the trees and the bright colours of the hotel. Italians came here to look at the war monument. It was a bronze monument and it shone in the rain. It was raining. The drops of water fell from the trees. Water stood on the paths. There were no cars in the square near the war monument. Across the square in the doorway of the cafe a waiter stood and looked at the empty street.

The American woman stood at the window. Outside right under their window a cat was sitting under one of the green tables. The drops of water were falling from the table and the cat was trying to keep dry.³

¹ I see — я понимаю

² I had my revenge — я взял реванш (отыгрался)

³ to keep dry — спрятаться от дождя

"I am going down and get that little cat," the American woman said.

"I'll do it," her husband offered from the bed.

"No, I'll get it. The poor cat is trying to keep dry under a table."

The husband continued to read.

"Don't get wet," he said.

The wife went downstairs and the hotel owner stood up and bowed to her as she passed the office. His desk was at the far end of the office. He was an old man and very tall.

"It is raining," the woman said. She liked the hotel owner.

"Yes, yes, madam. It's very bad weather."

He stood at his desk in the far end of the room. The wo­man liked him. She liked that he wanted to serve her. She liked his old face and big hands.

She opened the door and looked out. The rain was heavier now. A man in a cape was crossing the empty square to the cafe. As she stood in the doorway an umbrella opened over her. It was the maid who looked after their room.

"You must not get wet," she said and⁴ smiled.

The woman walked along the path until she was under their window. The maid held the umbrella over her. The table was there, bright green in the rain, but there was no cat. She was suddenly disappointed. The maid looked up at her.

"What are you looking for, madam?"

"There was a cat here," said the American woman.

"A cat?"

"Yes a cat "

"A cat?" the maid laughed. "A cat in the rain?"

"Yes," she said, "under the table." Then, "Oh, I wanted it so much. I wanted a little cat."

"Come, madam," said the maid. "We must go back into the house. You will be wet." "I think so," said the American woman.

They went back along the path and passed in the door. The maid stayed outside to close the umbrella. As the Amer­ican woman passed the office, the owner bowed from his desk. He made her feel very small and at the same time really important.¹

¹ He made her feel very small and at the same time really impor­tant. — В его присутствии она чувствовала себя очень маленькой и в то же время очень значительной.

She went upstairs. She opened the door of the room. George was on the bed. He was reading.

"Did you get the cat?" he asked and put the book down.

"There was no cat there."

"I wonder, where it went to," he said.

She sat down on the bed.

"I wanted it so much," she said. "I don't know why I wanted it so much. I wanted it so much. I wanted that poor little cat. It isn't good for a poor little cat to be in the rain."¹ George was reading again.

She went over and sat in front of the mirror. Another mir­ror was in her hand. She studied her face, first one side and then the other. Then she studied the back of her head.²

"I don't like my short hair. I look like a boy. I am tired of it."

George looked up and saw the back of her head.

"You look pretty," he said.

She put the mirror on the table and went over to the win­dow and looked out. It was getting dark.

"I want to have long hair," she said. "I want to have a little cat."

"Yeah?"³ George said from the bed.

"And I want to eat at a table with my own silver. And I want it to be spring⁴ and I want to brush my long hair in front of a mirror and I want a little cat and I want some new clothes."

"Oh, shut up⁵ and get something to read," George said. He was reading again.

His wife was looking out of the window. It was quite dark now and still raining in the trees.

"In any case I want a cat," she said. "I want a cat. I want a cat now. If I can't have long hair, I can have a cat."

George was not listening. He was reading his book. His wife looked out of the window.

Somebody knocked at the door.

"Come in," George said. He looked up from his book.

In the doorway stood the maid. She held a big cat.

¹ It isn't good for a poor little cat to be in the rain. — He xopo-
что бедный котенок мокнет под дождем.

² the back of her head — затылок

³ Yeah = Mm - Мм

⁴ I want it to be spring — хочу, чтобы была весна
⁶ oh, shut up — замолчи

"Excuse me," she said, "the hotel owner asked me to bring this for the lady."

THE MAN FROM CLINKAPELLA

After Frank Hardy

I was sitting at the table and writing letters in a tent near the sea at Buna.

Outside the heavy rain with a sharp wind was bending the high trees. The jungle was talking as it does on a stormy night. Lightning lit up the tent, and then I could hear, a crash of thunder.

Soon a tall figure in a cape entered the tent. "Bad weather," I said as he took off the wet cape. " "It'll keep the Japanese bombers away," he said quietly. "Have you any room for me?"

"You will be all right," I answered. "My comrades are on guard;¹ you can sleep on the bed in the corner there." "Thank you," he answered.

He was a tall, well-built man with a serious face. He looked tired like a man after contact with the enemy. He put his things under the bed, lay down and gave a loud sigh. .1 wrote my letters for another hour or so, then I noticed that the man was not asleep. He lay there on his back, his eyes were wide open.

"If the lamp is troubling you, I'll blow it out," I said. "No, it's all right." The rain did not stop.

"Why aren't you asleep? Is the storm troubling you?" I asked.

"No, it's not that; my friend is in the hospital, and I am thinking about him," he answered. "Has he malaria?" "No."

"Did the enemy shoot his plane up?" I continued. "Worse than that."

Lightning lit up the tent again, then we heard the loud crash of thunder.

"Oh, I see," I said, "Bad case."

¹ on guard — в карауле

"Very bad, I am afraid. He went mad after the last heavy bombing. He thinks that he comes from a place which he calls Clinkapella."

"Is there any hope for him? What do the doctors say?"

"Oh, I don't know, they can never tell." He stopped for a moment, then continued. "He was such a good fellow-such a good friend."

I felt he wanted to talk.

"When did he go mad?" I asked.

"Only a few weeks ago. I first noticed it when he told me that he wanted to start a shop here at the sea. I thought he was joking. But he was not. Then he wanted to dig a hole' forty feet deep to get away from the Japanese and the bombs. I laughed at him. I told him that water could fill the hole, but he said that we could take a pump down with us."

"War is terrible," was all I could say.

"It's not that he was afraid,"¹ he continued. "He was, very brave. Then he said that he lived in a place which he called Clinkapella, where there was no strong wind and the fields were always green. Some of the boys laughed at him and said that the soldier didn't know where Clinkapella was. 'But I know where it is,' he used to answer,² 'I know where it is'."

When the lightning came again I noticed that the man on the bed lay still.

"And some people make jokes about mad soldiers," he said angrily.

Outside the storm raged, but we sat in silence and thought of the man in. the hospital.

Soon I prepared to go to bed. As I did so the man spoke again"

"After a week or so our lieutenant noticed him and gave him a note to take to the doctor. The doctor examined him and sent back a note in which he told the lieutenant to leave him with the boys for a week or so, and he might become well again; Well, he got worse instead of better. One night when I saw him he was writing something. I asked him what he was writing. He said he was writing a note. He wanted

¹ it's not that he was afraid — не то, чтобы он боялся

² he used to answer — он обычно отвечал; used с последующим
инфинитивом обозначает «иметь обыкновение делать что-то» (в прош­
лом)

to give it to the lieutenant to take to the doctor. He wanted to pay back the lieutenant. After that he did not want to speak to anybody except me." He sighed. "You know the rest of the story. He is going south tomorrow for treatment." I blew the lamp out and went to bed. "By the way," I asked, "is he married?" "Yes, he is a married man with two children," answered the man.

"And I must write to his wife in the morning." The stormy night raged on while two men lay in a tent at Buna and thought about the three people nearest to him: "Will they ever find the key to the locked mind of the man from Clinkapella?"