丧钟为谁而鸣(中文导读英文版)(txt+pdf+epub+mobi电子书下载)


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作者:(美)海明威(Hemingway,E.)

出版社:清华大学出版社

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丧钟为谁而鸣(中文导读英文版)

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前言

欧内斯特·海明威(Ernest Hemingway, l899—1961),蜚声世界文坛的美国现代著名小说家,1954年度诺贝尔文学奖获得者、“新闻体”小说的创始人。

海明威1899年7月21日出生在美国伊利诺伊州一个医生的家庭。他的母亲喜爱文学,而父亲酷爱打猎、钓鱼等户外活动,这样的家庭环境使他从小就喜欢钓鱼、打猎、音乐和绘画,这对海明威日后的文学创作产生了巨大的影响。在高中时期,他就开始在校报上发表短篇小说,表现出很高的创作天赋。中学毕业后,海明威在《星报》当了6个月的实习记者,在此受到了良好的训练。第一次世界大战爆发后,海明威怀着感受战争的热切愿望,加入美国红十字会战场服务队,投身意大利战场。大战结束后,海明威被意大利政府授予十字军功奖章、银质奖章和勇敢奖章,获得中尉军衔,而伴随荣誉的是他身上数不清的伤痕和赶不走的恶魔般的战争记忆。第一次世界后,长期担任驻欧记者,并曾以记者身份参加第二次世界大战和西班牙内战。他对创作怀着浓厚的兴趣,一面当记者,一面写小说。1926年出版了第一部长篇小说《太阳照常升起》,受到文学界的广泛关注。1929年,他发表了他的代表作之一——《永别了,武器》。这是一部出色的反战小说,标志着海明威在艺术上的成熟,并且奠定了在小说界的地位。1940年,海明威发表了以西班牙内战为背景的反法西斯主义的长篇小说《丧钟为谁而鸣》。1952年,他出版了《老人与海》,该小说获得了当年普利策奖,由于该小说体现了人在“充满暴力与死亡的现实世界中”表现出来的勇气而获得1954年诺贝尔文学奖,获奖原因是:“因为他精通于叙事艺术,突出地表现在他的近著《老人与海》中,同时也由于他在当代风格中所发挥的影响。”对于这一赞誉,海明威是当之无愧的。获奖后的海明威患有多种疾病,给他身心造成极大的痛苦,之后他没能再创作出很有影响的作品,这使他精神抑郁,形成了消极悲观的情绪。1961年7月2日,蜚声世界文坛的海明威用猎枪结束了自己的生命。

20世纪20年代是海明威文学创作的早期,他出版了《在我们的时代里》、《春潮》、《没有女人的男人》、《太阳照常升起》和《永别了,武器》等作品。《太阳照常升起》写的是像海明威一样流落在法国的一群美国年轻人,在第一次世界大战后,迷失了前进的方向,战争给他们造成了生理上和心理上的巨大伤害,他们非常空虚、苦恼和忧郁。他们想有所作为,但战争使他们精神迷惘,尔虞我诈的社会又使他们非常反感,他们只能在沉沦中度日,美国作家斯坦因由此称他们为“迷惘的一代”。这部小说是海明威自己生活道路和世界观的真实写照。海明威和他所代表的一个文学流派因而也被人称为“迷惘的一代”。除《太阳照常升起》之外,《永别了,武器》被誉为“迷惘的一代”文学中的经典。20世纪30—40年代,他塑造了摆脱迷惘、悲观,为人民利益英勇战斗和无畏牺牲的反法西斯战士形象《第五纵队》,长篇小说《丧钟为谁而鸣》;根据在非洲的见闻和印象,他创作了《非洲的青山》、《乞力马扎罗山的雪》,还发表了《法兰西斯·玛贝康短暂的幸福》。20世纪50年代,塑造了以桑提亚哥为代表的“可以把他消灭,但就是打不败他”的“硬汉形象”,其代表作就是影响世界的文学经典《老人与海》。

海明威一生的创作在现代文学史上留下了光辉的一页,他是美利坚民族的精神丰碑。海明威一生勤奋创作。早上起身的第一件事,就是进行写作。他写作时,还有一个常人没有的习惯,就是站着写。他说:“我站着写,而且是一只脚站着。我采取这种姿势,使我处于一种紧张状态,迫使我尽可能简短地表达我的思想。”海明威是一位具有独创性的小说家。他的最大贡献在于创造了一种洗练含蓄的新散文风格;在艺术上,他那简约有力的文体和多种现代派手法的出色运用,在美国文学中曾引起过一场“文学革命”,之后有许多欧美作家在小说创作中都受到了他的影响。

海明威也是一位颇受中国读者喜爱的作家,他的主要作品都有中译本出版,他的作品是最受广大读者欢迎的外国文学之一。基于这个原因,我们决定编译“海明威文学经典系列”丛书,该系列丛书收入了海明威的《永别了,武器》、《老人与海》、《太阳照常升起》、《丧钟为谁而鸣》和《流动的盛宴》五部经典之作,并采用中文导读英文版的形式出版。在中文导读中,我们尽力使其贴近原作的精髓,也尽可能保留原作故事主线。我们希望能够编出为当代中国读者所喜爱的经典读本。读者在阅读英文故事之前,可以先阅读中文导读内容,这样有利于了解故事背景,从而加快阅读速度。我们相信,该经典著作的引进对加强当代中国读者,特别是青少年读者的科学素养和人文修养是非常有帮助的。

本书主要内容由王勋、纪飞编译。参加本书故事素材搜集整理及编译工作的还有郑佳、刘乃亚、赵雪、熊金玉、李丽秀、熊红华、王婷婷、孟宪行、胡国平、李晓红、贡东兴、陈楠、邵舒丽、冯洁、王业伟、徐鑫、王晓旭、周丽萍、熊建国、徐平国、肖洁、王小红等。限于我们的科学、人文素养和英语水平,书中难免会有不当之处,衷心希望读者朋友批评指正。第一章/Chapter 1导读

一个叫罗伯特的美国志愿者正趴在树林里的山坡上观察着地形,同时向身边的老向导安瑟尔谟打听着这里的岗哨和桥的位置。罗伯特告诉向导要把炸药埋在合适的位置,以便炸毁桥梁,而老向导则承诺为罗伯特提供足够多的游击队员。

两个人一起朝着游击队藏身之处进发。途中遇到了悬崖,罗伯特背着炸药不方便攀岩,老人就自己先上去把游击队长带下来,从攀岩的样子可以看出老向导对这里很熟悉。

罗伯特参加了西班牙共和国军。这种敌后活动对于年轻人而言并不是难事。安瑟尔谟是一个可靠的向导,罗伯特也不用担心同志的信任问题。说到此次执行的炸桥任务,罗伯特更是一个高手。

罗伯特是受格尔兹将军的委派来执行此次任务的。格尔兹将军在临行之前要求罗伯特一定要在战斗开始的时候炸桥,以阻止敌军的增援。罗伯特希望知道具体的时间,格尔兹告诉他这个时间自己也并十分确定,因为整场战役并不完全由格尔兹指挥。格尔兹抱怨了一番,接着反复强调了在战斗开始的时候炸毁桥梁的重要性。

格尔兹将军又向罗伯特交代了一些战役部署,嘱咐了一些细节,不过罗伯特觉得关于其他部署自己还是知道得少一点儿更好。两个人布置完任务之后开了几句玩笑,格尔兹将军还请罗伯特喝了点酒,罗伯特便离开了格尔兹将军的营地,这一次见面其实是罗伯特最后一次见格尔兹。

安瑟尔谟带来了游击队长帕博罗。帕博罗确认了罗伯特的身份之后,询问起了罗伯特这次的任务。当得知罗伯特要在这里炸桥梁,帕博罗并不同意,因为帕博罗坚持的原则是狐狸的原则,即不在住地区域搞破坏,否则会被敌人从住地赶走。罗伯特趴在山坡上观察地形

老向导对此很愤怒,训斥了游击队长。游击队长带着这两个人前往住地,经过树林的时候见到了帕博罗的马匹,有的是从敌人那里夺来的。帕博罗很有本事,除了夺取马匹之外,还炸毁过火车。

对于在这儿炸桥的事情,帕博罗还是表示反对,因为这会影响自己队伍在这个地方的安全,安瑟尔谟认为帕博罗只是为了自己的利益着想。由于急于赶路,他们不再争论,三个人继续上路。但是罗伯特心里清楚,帕博罗是不会完全配合的。罗伯特只好自嘲,以开导自己不再胡思乱想,放松心态。e lay flat on the brown, pine-needled floor of the forest, his chin onhis folded arms, and high overhead the wind blew in the tops of Hthe pine trees.The mountainside sloped gently where he lay; but below it was steep and hecould see the dark of the oiled road winding through the pass. There was astream alongside the road and far down the pass he saw a mill beside thstream and the falling water of the dam, white in the summer sunlight.

“Is that the mill?”he asked.

“Yes”.

“I do not remember it.”

“It was built since you were here. The old mill is farther down;much below the pass.”

He spread the photostated military map out on the forest floor and looked at it carefully. The old man looked over his shoulder.He was a short and solid old man in a black peasant's smock and gray ironstiff trousers and he wore rope-soled shoes.He was breathing heavily from the climb and his hand rested on one of the two heavy packs they had been carrying.

“Then you cannot see the bridge from here.”

“No,”the old man said.“This is the easy country of the pass where the stream flows gently. Below, where the road turns out of sight in the trees, it drops suddenly and there is a steep gorge—”

“I remember.”

“Across the gorge is the bridge.”

“And where are their posts?”

“There is a post at the mill that you see there.”

The young man, who was studying the country, took his glasses from the pocket of his faded, khaki flannel shirt, wiped the lenses with a handkerchief, screwed the eyepieces around until the boards of the mill showed suddenly clearly and he saw the wooden bench beside the door;the huge pile of sawdust that rose behind the open shed where the circular saw was, and a stretch of the flume that brought the logs down from the mountainside on the other bank of the stream. The stream showed clear and smooth-looking in the glasses and, below the curl of the falling water, the spray from the dam was blowing in the wind.

“There is no sentry.”

“There is smoke coming from the milihouse,”the old man said.“There are also clothes on a line.”

“I see them but I do not see any sentry.”

“Perhaps he is in the shade,”the old man explained.“It is hot there now. He would be in the shadow at the end we do not see.”

“Probably. Where is the next post?”

“Below the bridge. It is at the roadmender's hut at kilometre five from the top of the pass.”

“How many men are here?”He pointed at the mill.

“Perhaps four and a corporal.”

“And below?”

“More. I will find out.”

“And at the bridge?”

“Always two. One at each end.”

“We will need a certain number of men,”he said.“How many men can you get?”

“I can bring as many men as you wish,”the old man said.“There are many men now here in the hills.”

“How many?”

“There are more than a hundred. But they are in small bands.How manymen will you need?”

“I will let you know when we have studied the bridge.”

“Do you wish to study it now?”

“No. Now I wish to go to where we will hide this explosive until it is time.I would like to have it hidden in utmost security at a distance no greater than half an hour from the bridge, if that is possible.”

“That is simple,”the old man said.“From where we are going, it will all be downhill to the bridge. But now we must climb a little in seriousness to get there.Are you hungry?”

“Yes,”the young man said.“But we will eat later. How are you called?I have forgotten.”It was a bad sign to him that he had forgotten.

“Anselmo,”the old man said.“I am called Anselmo and I come from Barco de Avila. Let me help you with that pack.”

The young man, who was tall and thin, with sun-streaked fair hair, and a wind-and sun-burned face, who wore the sun-faded flannel shirt, a pair of peasant's trousers and rope-soled shoes, leaned over, put his arm through one of the leather pack straps and swung the heavy pack up onto his shoulders. He worked his arm through the other strap and settled the weight of the pack against his back.His shirt was still wet from where the pack had rested.

“I have it up now,”he said.“How do we go?”

“We climb,”Anselmo said.

Bending under the weight of the packs, sweating, they climbed steadily in the pine forest that covered the mountainside. There was no trail that the young man could see, but they were working up and around the face of the mountain and now they crossed a small stream and the old man went steadily on ahead up the edge of the rocky stream bed.The cilmbing now was steeper and more difficult, until finally the stream seemed to drop down over the edge of a smooth granite ledge that rose above them and the old man waited at the foot of the ledge for the young man to come up to him.

“How are you making it?”

“All right,”the young man said. He was sweating heavily and his thigh muscles were twitchy from the steepness of the climb.

“Wait here now for me. I go ahead to warn them.You do not want to beshot at carrying that stuff.”

“Not even in a joke,”the young man said.“Is it far?”

“It is very close. How do they call thee?”

“Roberto,”the young man answered. He had slipped the pack off and lowered it gently down between two boulders by the stream bed.

“Wait here, then, Roberto, and I will return for you.”

“Good,”the young man said.“But do you plan to go down this way to the bridge?”

“No. When we go to the bridge it will be by another way.Shorter and easier.”

“I do not want this material to be stored too far from the bridge.”

“You will see. If you are not satisfied, we will take another place.”

“We will see.”the young man said.

He sat by the packs and watched the old man climb the ledge. It was not hard to climb and from the way he found hand-holds without searching for them the young man could see that he had climbed it many times before.Yet whoever was above had been very careful not to leave any trail.

The young man, whose name was Robert Jordan, was extremely hungry and he was worried. He was often hungry but he was not usually worried because he did not give any importance to what happened to himself and he knew from experience how simple it was to move behind the enemy lines in all this country.It was as simple to move behind them as it was to cross through them, if you had a good guide.It was only giving importance to what happened to you if you were caught that made it difficult;that and deciding whom to trust.You had to trust the people you worked with completely or not at all, and you had to make decisions about the trusting.He was not worried about any of that.But there were other things.

This Anselmo had been a good guide and he could travel wonderfully in the mountains. Robert Jordan could walk well enough himself and he knew from following him since before daylight that the old man could walk him to death.Robert Jordan trusted the man, Anselmo, so far, in everything except judgment.He had not yet had an opportunity to test his judgment, and, anyway, the judgment was his own responsibility.No, he did not worry about Anselmoand the problem of the bridge was no more difficult than many other problems.He knew how to blow any sort of bridge that you could name and he had blown them of all sizes and constructions.There was enough explosive and all equipment in the two packs to blow this bridge properly even if it were twice as big as Anselmo reported it, as he remembered it when he had walked over it on his way to La Granja on a walking trip in 1933,and as Golz had read him the description of it night before last in that upstairs room in the house outside of the Escorial.

“To blow the bridge is nothing,”Golz had said, the lamplight on his scarred, shaved head, pointing with a pencil on the big map.“You understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Absolutely nothing. Merely to blow the bridge is a failure.”

“Yes, Comrade General.”

“To blow the bridge at a stated hour based on the time set for the attack is how it should be done. You see that naturally.That is your right and how it should be done.”

Golz looked at the pencil, then tapped his teeth with it.

Robert Jordan had said nothing.

“You understand that is your right and how it should be done,“Golz went on, looking at him and nodding his head. He tapped on the map now with the pencil.“That is how I should do it.That is what we cannot have.”

“Why, Comrade General?”

“Why?”Golz said, angrily.“How many attacks have you seen and you ask me why?What is to guarantee that my orders are not changed?What is to guarantee that the attack is not annulled?What is to guarantee that the attack is not postponed?What is to guarantee that it starts within six hours of when it should start?Has any attack ever been as it should?”

“It will start on time if it is your attack,”Robert Jordan said.

“They are never my attacks,”Golz said.“I make them. But they are not mine.The artillery is not mine.I must put in for it.I have never been given what I ask for even when they have it to give.That is the least of it.There are other things.You know how those people are.It is not necessary to go into all of it.Always there is something.Always someone will interfere.So now besure you understand.”

“So when is the bridge to be blown?”Robert Jordan had asked.

“After the attack starts. As soon as the attack has started and not before.So that no reinforcements will come up over that road.”He pointed with his pencil.“I must know that nothing will come up over that road.”

“And when is the attack?”

“I will tell you. But you are to use the date and hour only as an indication of a probability.You must be ready for that time.You will blow the bridge after the attack has started.You see?”he indicated with the pencil.“That is the only road on which they can bring up reinforcements.That is the only road on which they can get up tanks, or artillery, or even move a truck toward the pass which I attack.I must know that bridge is gone.Not before, so it can be repaired if the attack is postponed.No.It must go when the attack starts and I must know it is gone.There are only two sentries.The man who will go with you has just come from there.He is a very reliable man, they say.You will see.He has people in the mountains.Get as many men as you need.Use as few as possible, but use enough.I do not have to tell you these things.”

“And how do I determine that the attack has started?”

“It is to be made with a full division. There will be an aerial bombardment as preparation.You are not deaf, are you?”

“Then I may take it that when the planes unload, the attack has started?”

“You could not always take it like that,”Golz said and shook his head.“But in this case, you may. It is my attack.”

“I understand it,”Robert Jordan had said.“I do not say I like it very much.”

“Neither do I like it very much. If you do not want to undertake it, say so now.If you think you cannot do it, say so now.”

“I will do it”,Robert Jordan had said.“I will do it all right”.

“That is all I have to know,”Golz said.“That nothing comes up over that bridge, That is absolute.”

“I understand.”

“I do not like to ask people to do such things and in such a way,”Golz went on.“I could not order you to do it. I understand what you may be forcedto do through my putting such conditions.I explain very carefully so that you understand and that you understand all of the possible difficulties and the importance.”

“And how will you advance on La Granja if that bridge is blown?”

“We go forward prepared to repair it after we have stormed the pass. It is a very complicated and beautiful operation.As complicated and as beautiful as always.The plan has been manufactured in Madrid.It is another of Vicente Rojo, the unsuccessful professor's, masterpieces.I make the attack and I make it, as always, not in sufficient force.it is a very possible operation, in spite of that.I am much happier about it than usual.It can be successful with that bridge eliminated.We can take Segovia.Look, I show you how it goes.You see?It is not the top of the pass where we attack.We hold that.It is much beyond.Look-Here-Like this-”

“I would rather not know,”Robert Jordan said.

“Good,”said Golz.“It is less of baggage to carry with you on the other side, yes?”

“I would always rather not know. Then, no matter what can happen, it was not me that talked.”

“It is better not to know,”GoIz stroked his forehead with the pencil.“Many times I wish I did not know myself. But you do know the one thing you must know about the bridge?”

“Yes. I know that.”

“I believe you do,”Golz said.“I will not make you any little speech. Let us now have a drink.So much talking makes me very thirsty, Comrade Hordan.You have a funny name in Spanish, Comrade Hordown.”

“How do you say Golz in Spanish, Comrade General?”

“Hotze,”said GoIz grinning, making the sound deep in his throat as though hawking with a bad cold.“Hotze,”he croaked.“Comrade Heneral Khotze. If I had known how they pronounced GoIz in Spanish I would pick me out a better name before I come to war here.When I think I come to command a division and I can pick out any name I want and I pick out Hotze.Heneral Hotze.Now it is too late to change.How do you like partizan work?”It was the Russian term for guerilla work behind the lines.

“Very much,”Robert Jordan said. He grinned.“It is very healthy in the open air.”

“I like it very much when I was your age, too,”Golz said.“They tell me you blow bridges very well. Very scientific.It is only hearsay.I have never seen you do anything myself.Maybe nothing ever happens really.You really blow them?”he was teasing now.“Drink this,”he handed the glass of Spanish brandy to Robert Jordan.“You really blow them?”

“Sometimes.”

“You better not have any sometimes on this bridge. No, let us not talk any more about this bridge.You understand enough now about that bridge.We are very serious so we can make very strong jokes.Look, do you have many girls on the other side of the lines?”

“No, there is no time for girls.”

“I do not agree. The more irregular the service, the more irregular the life.You have very irrregular service.Also you need a haircut.”

“I have my hair cut as it needs it,”Robert Jordan said. He would be damned if he would have his head shaved like Golz.“I have enough to think about without girls,”he said sullenly.

“What sort of uniform am I supposed to wear?”Robert Jordan asked.

“None,”Golz said.“Your haircut is all right. I tease you.You are very different from me,”Golz had said and filled up the glasses again.

“You never think about only girls. I never think at all.Why should I?I am General Sovietique.I never think.Do not try to trap me into thinking.”

Someone on his staff, sitting on a chair working over a map on a drawing board, growled at him in the language Robert Jordan did not understand.

“Shut up,”Golz had said, in English.“I joke if I want. I am so serious is why I can joke.Now drink this and then go.You understand, huh?

“Yes,”Robert Jordan had said.“I understand.”

They had shaken hands and he has saluted and gone out to the staff car where the old man was waiting asleep and in that car they had ridden over the road past Guadarrama, the old man still asleep, and up the Navacerrada road to the Alpine Club hut where he, Robert Jordan, slept for three hours before they started.

That was the last he had seen of Golz with his strange white face that never tanned, his hawk eyes, the big nose and thin lips and the shaven head crossed with wrinkles and with scars. Tomorrow night they would be outside the Escorial in the dark along the road;the long lines of trucks loading the infantry in the darkness;the men, heavy loaded, climbing up into the trucks;the machine-gun sections lifting their guns into the trucks;the tanks being run up on the skids onto the long-bodied tank trucks;pulling the Division out to move them in the night for the attack on the pass.He would not think about that.That was not his business.That was Golz's business.He had only one thing to do and that was what he should think about and he must think it out clearly and take everything as it came along, and not worry.To worry was as bad as to be afraid.It simply made things more difficult.

He sat now by the stream watching the clear water flowing between the rocks and, across the stream, he noticed there was a thick bed of watercress. He crossed the stream, picked a double handful, washed the muddy roots clean in the current and then sat down again beside his pack and ate the clean, cool green leaves and the crisp, peppery-tasting stalks.He knelt by the stream and, pushing his automatic pistol around on his belt to the small of his back so that it would not be wet, he lowered himself with a hand on each of two boulders and drank from the stream.The water was achingly cold.

Pushing himself up on his hands he turned his head and saw the old man coming down the ledge. With him was another man, also in a black peasant's smock and the dark gray trousers that were almost a uniform in that province, wearing rope-soled shoes and with a carbine slung over his back.This man was bareheaded.The two of them came scrambling down the rock like goats.

They came up to him and Robert Jordan got to his feet.

“Salud, Camarada,”he said to the man with the carbine and smiled.

“Salud,”the other said, grudgingly. Robert Jordan looked at the man's heavy, beard-stubbled face.It was almost round and his head was round and set close on his shoulders.His eyes were small and set too wide apart and his ears were small and set close to his head.He was a heavy man about five feet ten inches tall and his hands and feet were large.His nose had been broken and his mouth was cut at one corner and the line of the scar across the upper lip andlower jaw showed through the growth of beard over his face.

The old man nodded his head at this man and smiled.

“He is the boss here,”he grinned, then flexed his arms as though to make the muscles stand out and looked at the man with the carbine in a half-mocking admiration.“A very strong man.”

“I can see it,”Robert Jordan said and smiled again. He did not like the look of this man and inside himself he was not smiling at all.

“What have you to justify your identity?”asked the man with the carbine.

Robert Jordan unpinned a safety pin that ran through his pocket flap and took a folded paper out of the left breast pocket of his flannel shirt and handed it to the man, who opened it, looked at it doubtfully and turned it in his hands.

So he cannot read, Robert Jordan noted.

“Look at the seal,”he said.

The old man pointed to the seal and the man with the carbine studied it, turning it in his fingers.

“What seal in that?”

“Have you never seen it?”

“No.”

“There are two,”said Robert Jordan.“One is SIM, the service of the military intelligence. The other is the General Staff.”

“Yes, I have seen that seal before. But here no one commands but me,”the other said sullenly.“What have you in the packs?”

“Dynamite,”the old man said proudly. Last night we crossed the lines in the dark and all day we have carried this dynamite over the mountain.

“I can use dynamite,”said the man with the carbine. He handed back the paper to Robert Jordan and looked him over.“Yes.I have use for dynamite.How much have you brought me?”

“I have brought you no dynamite,”Robert Jordan said to him evenly.“The dynamite is for another purpose. What is your name?”

“What is that to you?”

“He is Pablo,”said the old man. The man with the carbine looked at them both sullenly.

“Good. I have heard much good of you,”said Robert Jordan.

“What have you heard of me?”asked Pablo.

“I have heard that you are an excellent guerilla leader, that you are ioyal to the republic and prove your loyalty through your acts, and that you are a man both serious and valiant. I bring you greetings from the General Staff.”

“Where did you hear all this?”asked Pablo. Robert Jordan registered that he was not taking any of the flattery.

“I heard it from Buitrago to the Escorial,”he said, naming all the stretch of country on the other side of the lines.

“I know no one in Buitrago nor in Escorial,”Pablo told him.

“There are many people on the other side of the mountains who were not there before. Where are you from?”

“Avila. What are you going to do with the dynamite?”

“Blow up a bridge.”

“What bridge?”

“That is my business.”

“If it is in this territory, it is my business. You cannot blow bridges close to where you live.You must live in one place and operate in another.I know my business.One who is alive, now, after a year, knows his business.”

“This is my business,”Robert Jordan said.“We can discuss it together. Do you wish to help us with the sacks?”

“No,”said Pablo and shook his head.

The old man turned toward him suddenly and spoke rapidly and furiously in a dialect that Robert Jordan could just follow. It was like reading Quevedo.Anselmo was speaking old Castilian and it went something like this,“Art thou a brute?Yes.Art thou a beast?Yes, many times.Hast thou a brain?Nay.None.Now we come for something of consummate importance and thee, with thy dwelling place to be undisturbed, puts thy fox-hole before the interests of humanity.Before the interests of thy people.I this and that in the this and that of thy father.I this and that and that in thy this.Pick up that bag.”

Pablo looked down.

“Everyone has to do what he can do according to how it can be truly done,”he said.“I live here and I operate beyond Segovia. If you make a disturbance here, we will be hunted out of these mountains.It is only by doingnothing here that we are able to live in these mountains.It is the principle of the fox.”

“Yes,”said Anselmo bitterly.“It is the principle of the fox when we need the wolf.”

“I am more wolf than thee,”Pablo said and Robert Jordan knew that he would pick up the sack.

“Hi. Ho……,”Anselmo looked at him.“Thou art more wolf than me and I am sixty-eight years old.”

He spat on the ground and shook his head.

“You have that many years?”Robert Jordan asked, seeing that now, for the moment, it would be all right and trying to make it go easier.

“Sixty-eight in the month of July.”

If we should ever see that month, said Pablo. Let me help you with the pack,”he said to Robert Jordan.“Leave the other to the old man.”He spoke, not sullenly, but almost sadly now.“He is an old man of great strength.”

“I will carry the pack,”Robert Jordan said.

“Nay”,said the old man.“Leave it to this other strong man.”

I will take it, Pablo told him, and in his sullenness there was a sadness that was disturbing to Robert Jordan. He knew that sadness and to see it here worried him.

“Give me the carbine, then,”he said and when Pablo handed it to him, he slung it over his back and, with the two men climbing ahead of him, they went heavily, pulling and climbing up the granite shelf and over its upper edge to where there was a green clearing in the forest.

They skirted the edge of the little meadow and Robert Jordan, striding easily now without the pack, the carbine pleasantly rigid over his shoulder after the heavy, sweating pack weight, noticed that the grass was cropped down in several places and signs that picket pins had been driven into the earth. He could see a trail through the grass where horses had been led to the stream to drink and there was the fresh manure of several horses.They picket them here to feed at night and keep them out of sight in the timber in the daytime, he thought.I wonder how many horses this Pablo has?

He remembered now noticing, without realizing it, that Pablo's trouserswere worn soapy shiny in the knees and thighs. I wonder if he has a pair of boots or if he rides in those alpargatas, he thought.He must have quite an outfit.But I don't like that sadness, he thought.That sadness is bad.That's the sadness they get before they quit or before they betray.That is the sadness that comes before the sell-out.

Ahead of them a horse whinnied in the timber and then, through the brown trunks of the pine trees, only a little sunlight coming down through their thick almost-touching tops, he saw the corral made by roping around the tree trunks. The horses had their heads pointed toward the men as they approached, and at the foot of a tree, outside the corral, the saddles were piled together and covered with a tarpaulin.

As they came up, the two men with the packs stopped, and Robert Jordan knew it was for him to admire the horses.

“Yes,”he said.“They are beauiful.”He turned to Pablo.“You have your cavalry and all.”

There were five horses in the rope corral, three bays, a sorrel, and a buckskin. Sorting them out carefully with his eyes after he had seen them first together, Robert Jordan looked them over individually.Pablo and Anselmo knew how good they were and while Pablo stood now proud and less sad-looking, watching them lovingly, the old man acted as though they were some great surprise that he had produced, suddenly, himself.

“How do they look to you?”he asked.

“All these I have taken,”Pablo said and Robert Jordan was pleased to hear him speak proudly.

“That,”said Robert Jordan, pointing to one of the bays, a big stallion with a white blaze on his forehead and a single white foot, the near front,“is much horse.”

He was a beautiful horse that looked as though he had come out of a painting by Velàsquez.

“They are all good,”said Pablo.“You know horses?”

“Yes”.

“Less bad,”said Pablo.“Do you see a defect in one of these?”

Robert Jordan knew that now his papers were being examined by the manwho could not read.

The horses all still had their heads up looking at the man. Robert Jordan slipped through between the double rope of the corral and slapped the buckskin on the haunch.He leaned back against the ropes of the enclosure and watched the horses circle the corral, stood watching them a minute more, as they stood still, then leaned down and came out through the ropes.

“The sorrel is lame in the off hind foot,”he said to Pablo, not looking at him.“The hoof is split and although it might not get worse soon if shod properly, she could break down if she travels over much hard ground.”

“The hoof was like that when we took her,”Pablo said.

“The best horse that you have, the white-faced bay stallion, has a swelling on the upper part of the cannon bone that I do not like.”

“It is nothing,”said Pablo,“He knocked it three days ago. If it were to be anything it would have become so already.”

He pulled back the tarpaulin and showed the saddles. There were two ordinary vaquero's or herdsman's saddles, like American stock saddles, one very ornate vaquero's saddle, with hand-tooled leather and heavy, hooded stirrups, and two military saddles in black leather.

“We killed a pair of guardia civil,”he said, explaining the military saddles.

“That is big game.”

“They had dismounted on the road between Segovia and Santa Maria del Real. They had dismounted to ask papers of the driver of a cart, We were able to kill them without injuring the horses.”

“Have you killed many civil guards?”Robert Jordan asked.

“Several,”Pablo said.“But only these two without injury to the horses.”

“It was Pablo who blew up the train at Arevalo,”Anselmo said.“That was Pablo.”

“There was a foreigner with us who made the explosion,”Pablo said.“Do you know him?”

“What is he called?”

“I do not remember. It was a very rare name.”

“What did he look like?”

“He was fair, as you are, but not as tall and with large hands and a brokennose.”

“Kashkin,”Robert Jordan said.“That would be Kashkin.”

“Yes,”said Pablo.“It was a very rare name. Something like that.What has become of him?”

“He is dead since April.”

“That is what happens to everybody,”Pablo said, gloomily.“That is the way we will all finish.”

“That is the way all men end,”Anselmo said.“That is the way men have always ended. What is the matter with you, man?What hast thou in the stomach?”

“They are very strong,”Pablo said. It was as though he were talking to himself.He looked at the horses gloomily.“You do not realize how strong they are.I see them always stronger, always better armed.Always with more material.Here am I with horses like these.And what can I look forward to?To be hunted and to die.Nothing more.”

“You hunt as much as you are hunted,”Anselmo said.

“No,”said Pablo.“Not any more. And if we leave these mountains now, where can we go?Answer me that?Where now?”

“In Spain there are many mountains. There are the Sierra de Gredos if one leaves here.”

“Not for me,”Pablo said.“I am tired of being hunted. Here we are all right.Now if you blow a bridge here, we will be hunted.If they know we are here and hunt for us with planes, they will find us.If they send Moors to hunt us out, they will find us and we must go.I am tired of all this.You hear?”He turned to Robert Jordan.“What right have you, a foreigner, to come to me and tell me what I must do?”

“I have not told you anything you must do,”Robert Jordan said to him.

“You will though,”Pablo said.“There. There is the badness.”

He pointed at the two heavy packs that they had lowered to the ground while they had watched the horses. Seeing the horses had seemed to bring this all to a head in him and seeing that Robert Jordan knew horses had seemed to loosen his tongue.The three of them stood now by the rope corral and the patchy sunlight shone on the coat of the bay stallion.Pablo looked at him andthen pushed with his foot against the heavy pack.“There is the badness.”

“I come only for my duty,“Robert Jordan told him.”I come under orders from those who are conducting the war. If I ask you to help me, you can refuse and I will find others who will help me.I have not even asked you for help yet.I have to do what I am ordered to do and I can promise you of its importance.That I am a foreigner is not my fault.I would rather have been born here.”

“To me, now, the most important is that we be not disturbed here,”Pablo said.“To me, now, my duty is to those who are with me and to myself.”

“Thyself. Yes,”Ansehno said.“Thyself now since a long time.Thyself and thy horses.Until thou hadst horses thou wert with us.Now thou are another capitalist more.”

“That is unjust,”said Pablo.“I expose the horses all the time for the cause.”

“Very little,”said Anselmo scornfully.“Very little in my judgment. To steal, yes.To eat well, yes.To murder, yes.To fight, no.”

“You are an old man who will make himself trouble with his mouth.”

“1 am an old man who is afraid of no one,”Anselmo told him.“Also I am an old man without horses.”

“You are an old man who may not live long.”

“I am an old man who will live until I die,”Anselmo said.“And I am not afraid of foxes.”

Pablo said nothing but picked up the pack.

“Nor of wolves either,”Anselmo said, picking up the other pack.“If thou art a wolf.”

“Shut thy mouth,”Pablo said to him.“Thou art an old man who always talks too much.”

“And would do whatever he said he would do,”Anselmo said, bent under the pack.“And who now is hungry. And thirsty.Go on, guerilla leader with the sad face.Lead us to something to eat.”

It is starting badly enough, Robert Jordan thought. But Anselmo's a man.They are wonderful when they are good, he thought.There is no people like them when they are good and when they go bad there is no people that is worse.Anselmo must have known what he was doing when he brought us here.But Idon't like it.I don't like any of it.

The only good sign was that Pablo was carrying the pack and that he had given him the carbine. Perhaps he is always like that, Robert Jordan thought.Maybe he is just one of the gloomy ones.

No, he said to himself, don't fool yourself. You do not know how he was before;but you do know that he is going bad fast and without hiding it.When he starts to hide it he will have made a decision.Remember that, he told himself.The first friendly thing he does, he will have made a decision.They are awfully good horses, though, he thought, beautiful horses.I wonder what could make me feel the way those horses make Pablo feel.The old man was right.The horses made him rich and as soon as he was rich he wanted to enjoy life.Pretty soon he'll feel bad because he can't join the Jockey Club, I guess, he thought.Pauvre Pablo.II a manqué son Jockey.

That idea made him feel better. He grinned, looking at the two bent backs and the big packs ahead of him moving through the trees.He had not made any jokes with himself all day and now that he had made one he felt much better.You're getting to be as all the rest of them, he told himself.You're getting gloomy, too.He'd certainly been solemn and gloomy with Golz.The job had overwhelmed him a little.Slightly overwhelmed, he thought.Plenty overwhelmed.Golz was gay and he had wanted him to be gay too before he left, but he hadn't been.

All the best ones, when you thought it over, were gay. It was much better to be gay and it was a sign of something too.It was like having immortality while you were still alive.That was a complicated one.There were not many of them left though.No, there were not many of the gay ones left.There were very damned few of them left.And if you keep on thinking like that, my boy, you won't be left either.Turn off the thinking now, old timer, old comrade.You're a bridge-blower now.Not a thinker.Man, I'm hungry, he thought.I hope Pablo eats well.第二章/Chapter 2导读

罗伯特和老向导跟着游击队长来到了藏身的营地,这个地方果然隐蔽得很好。在营地的洞口一个名叫拉菲尔的吉普赛人正在削木棍,拉菲尔告诉罗伯特这是用来抓狐狸的。安瑟尔谟告诉罗伯特吉普赛人总喜欢夸大事实,其实那是用来抓兔子的,吉普赛人会把大象说成坦克。拉菲尔不以为然,宣称自己要搞到一辆坦克让安瑟尔谟见识一下。

罗伯特说自己可以用炸药帮吉普赛人搞到坦克,这激发了拉菲尔的兴趣,准备吃饭的时候还一直追问罗伯特。大家一边喝酒一边等着开饭,罗伯特给大家分了烟,帕博罗以前在和他一起炸火车的共和国军派来的爆破手卡什金那里见过这种烟。卡什金是罗伯特的战友,罗伯特告诉帕博罗他们卡什金在炸完火车后不久就自杀了,具体的情节并没有细说,罗伯特知道那是因为卡什金的心理状态已经不适合做敌后破坏工作了。

大家开始吃饭了,玛丽娅端来了各种食物。这个女孩儿引起了罗伯特的注意,他上下打量着女孩儿,尤其是女孩儿被剪短的头发。玛丽娅发现罗伯特在看她的头发,就招呼罗伯特赶紧吃饭,罗伯特借机和女孩儿聊了起来。从吉普赛人那里罗伯特了解到这个女孩儿是当时在炸火车的途中救出来的,罗伯特告诉玛丽娅自己是接替卡什金来执行任务的。罗伯特夸赞女孩儿长得漂亮,还打听起玛丽娅是谁的女人。这让玛丽娅很不好意思,红着脸回到了山洞。

女孩儿走后,吉普赛人聊起了他们的游击队长——帕博罗过去很勇猛,现在却不复当年了;相比之下,帕博罗的妻子则更加生猛。吉普赛人还向罗伯特炫耀了他们缴获的一挺轻机枪,拉菲尔对这支枪很好奇。接着,罗伯特又得知,原来这个女孩儿正是在帕博罗妻子的坚持下才救出来的。安瑟尔谟也说那次炸火车很艰苦,拉菲尔把详细的战斗经过告诉了罗伯特。

这时候,帕博罗的妻子来了。罗伯特觉得这个女人值得信任,便把炸桥梁的任务告诉了帕博罗的妻子,帕博罗的妻子积极支持这个任务。帕博罗的妻子还跟罗伯特聊起了玛丽娅,帕博罗的妻子觉得玛丽娅对罗伯特有兴趣,而帕博罗可能在打这个女孩儿的主意,所以希望罗伯特能带走玛丽娅,罗伯特最终答应了帕博罗妻子的请求。帕博罗的妻子会看手相,她在罗伯特的手里发现了一点儿异常,却没有告诉罗伯特。罗伯特带着安瑟尔谟去查看桥梁位置,而帕博罗的妻子则负责召集步枪手和其他隐藏的人马。hey had come through the heavy timber to the cup-shaped upper end of the little valley and he saw where the camp must be under Tthe rimrock that rose ahead of them through the trees.

That was the camp all right and it was a good camp. You did not see it at all until you were up to it and Robert Jordan knew it could not be spotted from the air.Nothing would show from above.It was as well hidden as a bear's den.But it seemed to be little better guarded.He looked at it carefully as they came up.

There was a large cave in the rim-rock formation and beside the opening a man sat with his back against the rock, his legs stretched out on the ground and his carbine leaning against the rock. He was cutting away on a stick with a knife and he stared at them as they came up, then went on whittling.

“Hola”,said the seated man.“What is this that comes?”

“The old man and a dynamiter,”Pablo told him and lowered the pack inside the entrance to the cave. Anselmo lowered his pack, too, and Robert Jordan unslung the rifle and leaned it against the rock.

“Don't leave it so close to the cave,”the whittling man, who had blue eyes in a dark, good-looking lazy gypsy face, the colour of smoked leather, said.“There's a fire in there.”

“Get up and put it away thyself,”Pablo said.“Put it by that tree.”

The gypsy did not move but said something unprintable, then,“Leave it there. Blow thyself up,”he said lazily.“Twill cure thy diseases.”

“What do you make?”Robert Jordan sat down by the gypsy. The gypsy showed him.It was a figure four trap and he was whittling the crossbar for it

“For foxes,”he said.

“With a log for a dead-fall. It breaks their backs.”He grinned at Jordan.“Like this, see?”He made a motion of the framework of the trap collapsing, the log falling, then shook his head, drew in his hand, and spread his arms to show the fox with a broken back.“Very practical,”he explained.

“He catches rabbits,”Anselmo said.“He is a gypsy. So if he catches rabbits he says it is foxes.If he catches a fox he would say it was an elephant.”

“And if I catch an elephant?”the gypsy asked and showed his white teeth again and winked at Robert Jordan.

“You'd say it was a tank,”Anselmo told him.

“I'll get a tank,”the gypsy told him.“I will get a tank. And you can say it is what you please.”

“Gypsies talk much and kill little,”Anselmo told him.

The gypsy winked at Robert Jordan and went on whittling.

Pablo had gone in out of sight in the cave. Robert Jordan hoped he had gone for food.He sat on the ground by the gypsy and the afternoon sunlight came down through the tree tops and was warm on his outstretched legs.He could smell food now in the cave, the smell of oil and of onions and of meat frying and his stomach moved with hunger inside of him.

“We can get a tank,”he said to the gypsy.“It is not too difficult.”

“With this?”the gypsy pointed toward the two sacks.

“Yes,”Robert Jordan told him.“I will teach you. You make a trap.It is not too difficult.”

“You and me?”

“Sure,”said Robert Jordan.“Why not?”

“Hey,”the gypsy said to Anselmo.“Move those two sacks to where they will be safe, will you?They're valuable.”

Anselmo grunted.“I am going for wine,”he told Robert Jordan. Robert Jordan got up and lifted the sacks away from the cave entrance and leaned them, one on each side of a tree trunk.He knew what was in them and he never liked to see them close together.

“Bring a cup for me,”the gypsy told him.

“Is there wine?”Robert Jordan asked, sitting down again by the gypsy.

“Wine?Why not?A whole skinful. Half a skinful, anyway.”

“And what to eat?”

“Everything, man,”the gypsy said.“We eat like generals.”

“And what do gypsies do in the war?”Robert Jordan asked him.

“They keep on being gypsies.”

“That's a good job.”

“The best,”the gypsy said.“How do they call thee?”

“Robert. And thee?”

“Rafael. And this of the tank is serious?”

“Surely. Why not?”

Anselmo came out of the mouth of the cave with a deep stone basin full of red wine and with his fingers through the handles of three cups.“Look,”he said,“They have cups and all.”Pablo came out behind them.

“There is food soon,”he said.“Do you have tobacco?”

Robert Jordan went over to the packs and opening one, felt inside an inner pocket and brought out one of the flat boxes of Russian cigarettes he had gotten at Golz's headquarters. He ran his thumbnail around the edge of the box and, opening the lid, handed them to Pablo who took half a dozen.Pablo, holding them in one of his huge hands, picked one up and looked at it against the light.They were long narrow cigarettes with pasteboard cylinders for mouthpieces.

“Much air and little tobacco,”he said.“1 know these. The other with the rare name had them.”

“Kashkin,”Robert Jordan said and offered the cigarettes to the gypsy and Anselmo, who each took one.

“Take more,”he said and they each took another. He gave them each four more, they making a double nod with the hand holding the cigarettes so that the cigarette dipped its end as a man salutes with a sword, to thank him.

“Yes,”Pablo said.“It was a rare name.”

“Here is the wine.”Anselmo dipped a cup out of the bowl and handed it toRobert Jordan, then dipped for himself and the gypsy.

“Is there no wine for me?”Pablo asked. They were all sitting together by the cave entrance.

Ansehrio handed him his cup and went into the cave for another. Coming out he leaned over the bowl and dipped the cup full and they all touched cup edges.

The wine was good, tasting faintly resinous from the wineskin, but excellent, light and clean on his tongue. Robert Jordan drank it slowly, feeling it spread warmly through his tiredness.

“The food comes shortly,”Pablo said.“And this foreigner with the rare name, how did he die?”

“He was captured and he killed himself.”

“How did that happen?”

“He was wounded and he did not wish to be a prisoner.”

“What were the details?”

“I don't know,”He lied. He knew the details very well and he knew they would not make good talking now.

“He made us promise to shoot him in case he were wounded at the business of the train and should be unable to get away,”Pablo said.“He spoke in a very rare manner.”

He must have been jumpy even then, Robert Jordan thought. Poor old Kashkin.

“He had a prejudice against killing himself,”Pablo said.“He told me that. Also he had a great fear of being tortured.”

“Did he tell you that, too?”Robert Jordan asked him.

“Yes,”the gypsy said.“He spoke like that to all of us.”

“Were you at the train, too?”

“Yes. All of us were at the train.”

“He spoke in a very rare manner.”Pablo said.“But he was very brave.”

Poor old Kashkin, Robert Jordan thought. He must have been doing more harm than good around here.I wish I would have known he was that jumpy as far back as then.They should have pulled him out.You can't have people around doing this sort of work and talking like that.That is no way to talk.Even if they accomplish their mission they are doing more harm than good, talking that sort of stuff.

“He was a little strange,”Robert Jordan said.“I think he was a little crazy.”

“But very dexterous at producing explosions,”the gypsy said.“And very brave.”

“But crazy.”Robert Jordan said.“In this you have to have very much head and be very cold in the head. That was no way to talk.”

“And you,”Pablo said.“If you are wounded in such a thing as this bridge, you would be willing to be left behind?”

“Listen,”“Robert Jordan said and,”leaning forward, he dipped himself another cup of the wine.“Listen to me clearly. If ever I should have any little favours to ask of any man, I will ask him at the time.”

“Good,”said the gypsy approvingly.“In this way speak the good ones. Ah!Here it comes.”

“You have eaten.”said Pablo.

“And I can eat twice more,”the gypsy told him.“Look now who brings it.”

The girl stooped as she came out of the cave mouth carrying the big iron cooking platter and Robert Jordan saw her face turned at an angle and at the same time saw the strange thing about her. She smiled and said,“Hola, Comrade,”and Robert Jordan said,“Salud,”and was careful not to stare and not to look away.She set down the flat iron platter in front of him and he noticed her handsome brown hands.Now she looked him full in the face and smiled.Her teeth were white in her brown face and her skin and her eyes were the same golden tawny brown.She had high cheekbones, merry eyes and a straight mouth with full lips.Her hair was the golden brown of a grain field that has been burned dark in the sun but it was cut short all over her head so that it was but little longer than the fur on a beaver pelt.She smiled in Robert Jordan's face and put her brown hand up and ran it over her head, flattening the hair which rose again as her hand passed.She has a beautiful face, Robert Jordan thought.She'd be beautiful if they hadn't cropped her hair,

“That is the way I comb it,”she said to Robert Jordan and laughed.“Goahead and eat. Don't stare at me.They gave me this haircut in Vafladolid It's almost grown out now.”

She sat down opposite him and looked at him. He looked back at her and she smiled and folded her hands together over her knees.Her legs slanted long and clean from the open cuffs of the trousers as she sat with her hands across her knees and he could see the shape of her all, uptilted breasts under the gray shirt.Every time Robert Jordan looked at her he could feel a thickness in his throat.

“There are no plates,”Anselmo said.“Use your own knife.”The girl had leaned four forks, tines down, against the sides of the iron dish.

They were all eating out of the platter, not speaking, as is the Spanish custom. It was rabbit cooked with onions and green peppers and there were chick peas in the red wine sauce.It was well cooked, the rabbit meat flaked off the bones, and the sauce was delicious.Robert Jordan drank another cup of wine while he ate.The girl watched him all through the meal.Everyone else watching his food and eating.Robert Jordan wiped up the last of the sauce in front of him with a piece of bread, piled the rabbit bones to one side, wiped the spot where they had been for sauce, then wiped his fork clean with the bread, wiped his knife and put it away and ate the bread.He leaned over and dipped his cup full of wine and the girl still watched him.

Robert Jordan drank half the cup of wine but the thickness still came in his throat when he spoke to the girl.

“How art thou called?”he asked. Pablo looked at him quickly when he heard the tone of his voice.Then he got up and walked away.

“Maria. And thee?”

“Roberto. Have you been long in the mountains?”

“Three months.”

“Three months?”he looked at her hair, that was as thick and short and rippling when she passed her hand over it, now in embarrassment, as a grain field in the wind on a hillside.“It was shaved,”she said.“They shaved it regularly in the prison at Valladolid. It has taken three months to grow to this.I was on the train.They were taking me to the south.Many of the prisoners were caught after the train was blown up but I was not.I came with these.”

“I found her hidden in the rocks,”the gypsy said.“It was when we were leaving. Man, but this one was ugly.We took her along but many times I thought we would have to leave her.”

“And the other who was with them at the train?”asked Maria.“The other blond one. The foreigner.Where is he?”

“Dead,”Robert Jordan said.“In April.”

“In April?The train was in April.”

“Yes,”Robert Jordan said.“He died ten days after the train.”

“Poor man,”she said.“He was very brave. And you do that same business?”

“Yes.”

“You have done trains, too?”

“Yes. Three trains.”

“Here?”

“In Estremadura,”he said.“I was in Estremadura before I came here. We do very much in Estremadura.There are many of us working in Estremadura.”

“And why do you come to these mountains now?”

“I take the place of the other blond one. Also I know this country from before the movement.”

“You know it well?”

“No, not really well. But I learn fast.I have a good map and I have a good guide.”

“The old man,”she nodded.“The old man is very good.”

“Thank you,”Anselmo said to her and Robert Jordan realized suddenly that he and the girl were not alone and he realized too that it was hard for him to look at her because it made his voice change so. He was violating the second rule of the two rules for getting on well with people that speak Spanish:give the men tobacco and leave the women alone;and he realized, very suddenly, that he did not care.There were so many things that he had not to care about, why should he care about that?

“You have a very beautiful face,”he said to Maria.“I wish I would have had the luck to see you before your hair was cut.”

“It will grow out,”she said.“In six months it will be long enough.”

“You should have seen her when we brought her from the train. She was so ugly it would make you sick.”

“Whose woman are you?”Robert Jordan asked, trying now to pull out of it.“Are you Pablo's?”

She looked at him and laughed, then slapped him on the knee.

“Of Pablo?You have seen Pablo?”

“Well, then, of Rafael. I have seen Rafael.”

“Of Rafael neither.”

“Of no one,”the gypsy said.“This is a very strange woman. Is of no one.But she cooks well.”

“Really of no one?”Robert Jordan asked her.

“Of no one. No one.Neither in joke nor in seriousness.Nor of thee either.”

“No?”Robert Jordan said and he could feel the thickness coming in his throat again.“Good. I have no time for any woman.That is true.”

“Not fifteen minutes?”the gypsy asked teasingly.“Not a quarter of an hour?”Robert Jordan did not answer. He looked at the girl, Maria, and his throat felt too thick for him to trust himself to speak.

Maria looked at him and laughed, then blushed suddenly but kept on looking at him.

“You are blushing,”Robert Jordan said to her.“Do you blush much?”

“Never.”

“You are blushing now.”

“Then I will go into the cave.”

“Stay here, Maria.”.

“No,”she said and did not smile at him.“I will go into the cave now.”She picked up the iron plate they had eaten from and the four forks. She moved awkwardly as a colt moves, but with that same grace as of a young animal.

“Do you want the cups?”she asked.

Robert Jordan was still looking at her and she blushed again.

“Don't make me do that,”she said.“I do not like to do that.”

“Leave them,”the gypsy said to her.“Here,”he dipped into the stone bowl and handed the full cup to Robert Jordan who watched the girl duck her head and go into the cave carrying the heavy iron dish.

“Thank you,”Robert Jordan said. His voice was all right again, now that she was gone.“This is the last one.We've had enough of this.”

“We will finish the bowl,”the gypsy said.“There is over half a skin. We packed it in on one of the horses.”

“That was the last raid of Pablo,”Anselmo said.“Since then he has done nothing.”

“How many are you?”Robert Jordan asked.

“We are seven and there are two women.”

“Two?”

“Yes. The mujer of Pablo.”

“And she?”

“In the cave. The girl can cook a little.I said she cooks well to please her.But mostly she helps the mujer of Pablo.”

“And how is she, the mujer of Pablo?”

“Something barbarous,”the gypsy grinned.“Something very barbarous. If you think Pablo is ugly you should see his woman.But brave.A hundred times braver than Pablo.But something barbarous.”

“Pablo was brave in the beginning,”Anselmo said.“Pablo was something serious in the beginning.”

“He killed more people than the cholera,”the gypsy said.“At the start of the movement, Pablo killed more people than the typhoid fever.”

“But since a long time he is muy flojo,”Anselmo said.“He is very flaccid. He is very much afraid to die.”

“It is possible that it is because he has killed so many at the beginning,”the gypsy said philosophically.“Pablo killed more than the bubonic plague.”

“That and the riches,”Anselmo said.“Also he drinks very much. Now he would like to retire like a matador de toros.Like a bullfighter.But he cannot retire.”

“If he crosses to the other side of the lines they will take his horses and make him go in the army,”the gypsy said.“In me there is no love for being in the army either.”

“Nor is there in any other gypsy,”Ansehno said.

“Why should there be?”the gypsy asked.“Who wants to be in any army?Do we make the revolution to be in an army?I am willing to fight but not to be in an army.”

“Where are the others?”asked Robert Jordan. He felt comfortable and sleepy now from the wine and lying back on the floor of the forest he saw through the tree tops the small afternoon clouds of the mountains moving slowly in the high Spanish sky.

“There are two asleep in the cave.”the gypsy said.“Two are on guard above where we have the gun. One is on guard below.They are probably all asleep.”

Robert Jordan rolled over on his side.

“What kind of a gun is it?”

“A very rare name,”the gypsy said.“It has gone away from me for the moment. It is a machine gun.”

It must be an automatic rifle, Robert Jordan thought.

“How much does it weigh?”he asked.

“One man can carry it but it is heavy. It has three legs that fold.We got it in the last serious raid.The one before the wine.”

“How many rounds have you for it?”

“An infimty,”the gypsy said.“One whole case of an unbelievable heaviness.”

Sounds like about five hundred rounds, Robert Jordan thought.

“Does it feed from a pan or a belt?”

“From round iron cans on the top of the gun.”

Hell, it's a Lewis guns, Robert Jordan thought.

“Do you know anything about a machine gun?he asked the old man.

“Nada,”said Anselmo.“Nothing.”

“And thou?”to the gypsy.

“That they fire with much rapidity and become so hot the barrel burns the hand that touches it,”the gypsy said proudly.

“Everyone knows that,”Anselmo said with contempt.

“Perhaps,”the gypsy said.“But he asked me to tell what I know about a máquina and I told him.”Then he added,“Also, unlike an ordinary rifle, they continue to fire as long as you exert pressure on the trigger.”

“Unless they jam, run out of ammunition or get so hot they melt,”Robert Jordan said in English.

“What do you say?”Anselmo asked him.

“Nothing.”Robert Jordan said.“I was only looking into the future in English.”

“That is something truly rare,”the gypsy said.“Looking into the future in Inglés.Can you read in the palm of the hand?”

“No,”Robert Jordan said and he dipped another cup of wine.“But if thou canst I wish thee would read in the palm of my hand and tell me what is going to pass in the next three days.”

“The mujer of Pablo reads in the hands.”the gypsy said.“But she is so irritable and of such a barbarousness that I do not know if she will do it.”

Robert Jordan sat up now and took a swallow of the wine.

“Let us see the mujer of Pablo now,”he said.“If it is that bad let us get it over with.”

“I would not disturb her,”Rafael said.“She has a strong hatred for me.”

“Why?”

“She treats me as a time waster.”

“What injustice,”Anselmo taunted.

“She is against gypsies.”

“What an error,”Anselmo said.

“She has gypsy blood,”Rafael said.“She knows of what she speaks.”He grinned.“But she has a tongue that scalds and that bites like a bull whip. With this tongue she takes the hide from anyone.In strips.She is of an unbelievable barbarousness.”

“How does she get along with the girl, Maria?”Robert Jordan asked.

“Good. She likes the girL But let anyone come near her seriously—”He shook his head and clucked with his tongue.

“She is very good with the girl,”Anselmo said.“She takes good care of her.”

“When we picked the girl up at the time of the train she was very strange,”Rafael said.“She would not speak and she cried all the time and if anyone touched her she would shiver like a wet dog. Only lately has she been better.Lately she has been much better.Today she was fine.Just now, talking to you, she was very good.We would have left her after the train.Certainly it was not worth being delayed by something so sad and ugly and apparently worthless.But the old woman tied a rope to her and when the girl thought she could not go farther, the old woman beat her with the end of the rope to make her go.Then when she could not really go farther, the old woman carried her over her shoulder.When the old woman could not carry her, I carried her.We were going up that hill breast high in the gorse and heather.And when I could no longer carry her, Pablo carried her.But what the old woman had to say to us to make us do it!”He shook his head at the memory.“It is true that the girl is long in the legs but is not heavy.The bones are light and she weighs little.But she weighs enough when we had to carry her and stop to fire and then carry her again with the old woman lashing at Pablo with the rope and carrying his rifle, putting it in his hand when he would drop the girl, making him pick her up again and loading the gun for him while she cursed him;taking the shells from his pouches and shoving them down into the magazine and cursing him.The dusk was coming well on then and when the night came it was all right.But it was lucky that they had no cavalry.”

“It must have been very hard at the train,”Anselmo said.“I was not there,”he explained to Robert Jordan.“There was the band of Pablo, of El Sordo, whom we will see tonight, and two other bands of these mountains. I had gone to the other side of the lines.”

“In addition to the blond one with the rare name—”the gypsy said.

“Kashkin.”

“Yes. It is a name I can never dominate.We had two with a machine gun.They were sent also by the anny.They could not get the gun away and lost it.Certainly it weighed no more than that girl and if the old woman had been over them they would have gotten it away.”He shook his head remembering, then went on.“Never in my life have I seen such a thing as when the explosion was produced.The train was coming steadily.We saw it far away.And I had an excitement so great that I cannot tell it.We saw steam from it and then later came the noise of the whistle.Then it came chu-chu-chu-chu-chu-chu steadily larger and larger and then, at the moment of the explosion, the front wheels ofthe engine rose up and all of the earth seemed to rise in a great cloud of blackness and a roar and the engine rose high in the cloud of dirt and of the wooden ties rising in the air as in dream and then it fell onto its side like a great wounded animal and there was an explosion of white steam before the clods of the other explosion had ceased to fall on us and the màquina commenced to speak ta-tat-ta!”went the gypsy shaking his two clenched fists up and down in front of him, thumbs up, on an imaginary machine gun.“Ta!Ta!Tat!Tat!Tat!Ta!”he exulted.“Never in my life have I seen such a thing, with the troops running from the train and the máquina speaking into them and the men falling.It was then that I put my hand on the máquina in my excitement and discovered that the barrel burned and at that moment the old woman slapped me on the side of the face and said,‘Shoot, you fool!Shoot or I will kick your brains in!‘Then I commenced to shoot but it was very hard to hold my gun steady and the troops were running up the far hill.Later, after we had been down at the train to see what there was to take, an officer forced some troops back toward us at the point of a pistol.He kept waving the pistol and shouting at them and we were all shooting at him but no one hit him.Then some troops lay down and commenced firing and the officer walked up and down behind them with his pistol and still we could not hit him and the máquina could not fire on him because of the position of the train.This officer shot two men as they lay and still they would not get up and he was cursing them and finally they got up, one two and three at a time and came running toward us and the train.Then they lay flat again and fired.Then we left, with the máquina still speaking over us as we left.It was then I found the girl where she had run from the train to the rocks and she ran with us.It was those troops who hunted us until that night.”

“It must have been something very hard,”Anselmo said.“Of much emotion.”

“It was the only good thing we have done,”said a deep voice.“What are you doing now, you lazy drunken obscene unsayable son of an unnameable unmarried gypsy obscenity?What are you doing?”

Robert Jordan saw a woman of about fifty almost as big as Pablo, almost as wide as she was tall, in black peasant skirt and waist, with heavy wool socks on heavy legs, black rope-soled shoes and a brown face like a model for agranite monument. She had big but nice looking hands and her thick curly black hair was twisted into a knot on her neck.

“Answer me,”she said to the gypsy, ignoring the others.

“I was talking to these comrades. This one comes as a dynamiter.”

“I know all that,”the mujer of Pablo said.“Get out of here now and relieve Andrés who is on guard at the top.”

“Me voy,”the gypsy said.“I go.”He turned to Robert Jordan.“I will see thee at the hour of eating.”

“Not even in a joke,”said the woman to him.“Three times you have eaten today according to my count. Go now and send me Andrés.”

“Hola,”she said to Robert Jordan and put out her hand and smiled.“How are you and how is everything in the Republic?”

“Good,”he said and returned her strong hand grip.“Both with me and with the Republic.”

“I am happy,”she told him. She was looking into his face and smiling and he noticed she had fine gray eyes.“Do you come for us to do another train?”

“No,”said Robert Jordan, trusting her instantly.“For a bridge.”

“No es nada,”she said.“A bndge is nothing. When do we do another train now that we have horses?”

“Later. This bridge is of great importance.”

“The girl told me your comrade who was with us at the train is dead.”

“Yes.”

“What a pity. Never have I seen such an explosion.He was a man of talent.He pleased me very much.Is it not possible to do another train now?There are many men here now in the hills.Too many.It is already hard to get food.It would be better to get out.And we have horses.”

“We have to do this bridge.”

“Where is it?”

“Quite close.”

“All the better,”the mujer of Pablo said.“Let us blow all the bridges there are here and get out. I am sick of this place.Here is too much concentration of people.No good can come of it.Here is a stagnation that is repugnant.”

She sighted Pablo through the trees.

“Borracho!”she called to him.“Drunkard. Rotten drunkard!”She turned back to Robert Jordan cheerfully.“He's taken a leather wine bottle to drink alone in the woods,”she said.“He's drinking all the time.This life is ruining him.Young man, I am very content that you have come.”She clapped him on the back.“Ah,”she said.“You're bigger than you look, and ran her hand over his shoulder, feeling the muscle under the flannel shirt.“Good.I am very content that you have come.”

“And I equally.”

“We will understand each other,”she said.“Have a cup of wine.”

“We have already had some,”Robert Jordan said.“But, will you?”

“Not until dinner,”she said.“It gives me heartburn.”Then she sighted Pablo again.“Borracho!“she shouted.“Drunkard!“She turned to Robert Jordan and shook her head.“He was a very good man,”she told him. But now he is terminated.And listen to me about another thing.Be very good and careful about the girl.The Maria.She has had a bad time.Understandest thou?”

“Yes. Why do you say this?”

“I saw how she was from seeing thee when she came into the cave. I saw her watching thee before she came out.”

“I joked with her a little.”

“She was in a very bad state,”the woman of Pablo said.“Now she is better, she ought to get out of here.”

“Clearly, she can be sent through the lines with Anselmo.”

“You and the Anselmo can take her when this terminates.”

Robert Jordan felt the ache in his throat and his voice thickening.“That might be done,”he said.

The mujer of Pablo looked at him, and shook her head.“Ayee. Ayee,”she said.“Are all men like that?”

“I said nothing. She is beautiful, you know that.”

“No, she is not beautiful. But she begins to be beautiful, you mean,”the woman of Pablo said.“Men.It is a shame to us women that we make them.No.In seriousness.Are there not homes to care for such as her under the Republic?”

“Yes,”said Robert Jordan.“Good places. On the coast near Valencia.Inother places too.There they will treat her well and she can work with children.There are the children from evacuated villages.They will teach her the work.”

“That is what I want,”the mujer of Pablo said.“Pablo has a sickness for her already. It is another thing which destroys him.It lies on him like a sickness when he sees her.It is best that she goes now.”

“We can take her after this is over.”

“And you will be careful of her now if I trust you?I speak to you as though I knew you for a long time.”

“It is like that,”Robert Jordan said,“when people understand one another.”

“Sit down,”the woman of Pablo said.“I do not ask any promise because what will happen, will happen. Only if you will not take her out, then I ask a promise.”

“Why if I would not take her?”

“Because I do not want her crazy here after you will go. I have had her crazy before and I have enough without that.”

“We will take her after the bridge,”Robert Jordan said.“If we are alive after the bridge, we will take her.”

“I do not like to hear you speak in that manner. That manner of speaking never brings luck.”

“I spoke in that manner only to make a promise,”Robert Jordan said.“I am not of those who speak gloomily.”

“Let me see thy hand,”the woman said. Robert Jordan put his hand out and the woman opened it, held it in her own big hand, rubbed her thumb over it and looked at it, carefully, then dropped it.She stood up.He got up too and she looked at him without smiling.

“What did you see in it?”Robert Jordan asked her.“I don't believe in it. You won't scare me.”

“Nothing,”she told him.“Isaw nothing in it.”

“Yes you did. I am only cunous.I do not believe in such things.”

“In what do you believe?”

“In many things but not in that.”

“In what?”

“In my work.”

“Yes, I saw that.”

“Tell me what else you saw.”

“I saw nothing else,”she said bitterly.“The bridge is very difficult you said?”

“No. I said it is very important.”

“But it can be difficult?”

“Yes. And now I go down to look at it.How many men have you here?”

“Five that are any good. The gypsy is worthless although his intentions are good.He has a good heart.Pablo I no longer trust.”

“How many men has El Sordo that are good?”

“Perhaps eight. We will see tonight.He is coming here.He is a very practical men.He also has some dynamite.Not very much, though.You will speak with him.”

“Have you sent for him?”

“He comes every night. He is a neighbour.Also a friend as well as a comrade.”

“What do you think of him?”

“He is a very good man. Also very practical.In the business of the train he was enormous.”

“And in the other bands?”

“Advising them in time, it should be possible to unite fifty rifles of a certain dependability.”

“How dependable?”

“Dependable within the gravity of the situation.”

“And how many cartridges per rifle?”

“Perhaps twenty. Depending how many they would bring for this business.If they would come for this business.Remember thee that in this of a bridge there is no money and no loot and in thy reservations of talking, much danger, and that afterwards there must be a moving from these mountains.Many will oppose this of the bridge.”

“Clearly.”

“In this way it is better not to speak of it unnecessarily.”

“I am in accord.”

“Then after thou hast studied thy bridge we will talk tonight with El Sordo.”

“I go down now with Anselmo.”

“Wake him then,”she said.“Do you want a carbine?”

“Thank you,”he told her.“It is good to have but I will not use it. I go to look, not to make disturbances.Thank you for what you have told me.I like very much your way of speaking.”

“I try to speak frankly.”

“Then tell me what you saw in the hand.”

“No,”she said and shook her head.“I saw nothing. Go now to thy bridge.I will look after thy equipment.”

“Cover it and that no one should touch it. It is better there than in the cave.”

“It shall be covered and no one shall touch it,”the woman of Pablo said.“Go now to thy bridge.”

“Anselmo,”Robert Jordan said, putting his hand on the shoulder of the old man who lay sleeping his head on his arms.

The old man looked up.“Yes,”he said.“Of course. Let us go.”第三章/Chapter 3导读

罗伯特和安瑟尔谟终于在傍晚的时候赶到了离桥很近的树林里。避开了刺眼的阳光,罗伯特仔细察看了这座桥梁的结构,在笔记本上勾画着爆炸的计划草图,还进行了炸药用量的计算。罗伯特还用望远镜细致地观察着离他们比较近的岗哨的情况——在望远镜里士兵和桥一目了然。安瑟尔谟跟罗伯特示意到时候应该干掉这个哨兵,罗伯特点头同意,又询问了另一个岗哨的士兵人数和位置。

得到了想要的情报资料后,罗伯特决定趁哨兵不注意的时候进行撤离。看着哨兵走向了另一个岗亭,天也黑了下来,罗伯特和老向导准备离开,这时飞来了一队飞机。罗伯特用望远镜看到并非自己人的飞机,老向导却觉得是自己人。罗伯特没有告诉安瑟尔谟真相,只顾着带着安瑟尔谟返回营地。在路上,老向导一直在为共和国的空军感到自豪。

安瑟尔谟邀请罗伯特战争胜利以后再到这大山里来打猎。老头很喜欢捕杀动物,却不喜欢杀人。说起打猎的那些战利品,老头非常开心,还特别提到了一个熊掌。熊在吉普赛人看来是兄弟,罗伯特告诉老头印第安人也这么认为,老向导却不在乎。安瑟尔谟不愿意杀人,觉得那是罪过,但是为了完成任务,老向导也杀过人的。

罗伯特认为有战争就必须要杀人,安瑟尔谟倒觉得让那些奴役别人的人下辈子也尝试一下被奴役的滋味更好,就当是教训了。安瑟尔谟没有真正打过仗,战斗开始的时候他总是想逃,罗伯特告诉安瑟尔谟自己会安排好具体的任务执行和战斗过程,这才让安瑟尔谟安下心来,但是罗伯特却对这个任务产生了厌恶的情绪,因为肯定会有战友为之牺牲。罗伯特用望远镜观察着敌人的情况

罗伯特忽然想到了那个女孩儿玛丽娅,喉咙便有些不自然,于是继续和老向导赶路。他们遇上了游击队的哨兵,这个哨兵叫奥古斯汀。这个哨兵向罗伯特要口令,罗伯特自然不知道,幸亏安瑟尔谟认识这个哨兵,才被放了行;哨兵还托罗伯特给营地的人带话,派一个知道口令的人来接岗——奥古斯汀饿得已经把口令都忘了。奥古斯汀问起了罗伯特的任务,表示愿意炸毁桥梁,迁出这个地方,最后还特地嘱咐罗伯特要看好自己的炸药,因为炸桥这个任务必然会遭到很多人的反对。

听了哨兵的劝告,想起之前也有人提醒过,安瑟尔谟觉得情况变得比预想中要坏,也提醒罗伯特做好相应准备。hey come down the last two hundred yards, moving carefully from tree to tree in the shadows and now, through the last pines or the Tsteep hillside,the bridge was only fifty yards away. The late afternoon sun that still came over the brown shoulder of the mountain showed the bridge dark against the steep emptiness of the gorge. It was a steel bridge of a single span and there was a sentry box at each end. It was wide enough for two motor cars to pass and it spanned, in solid-flung metal grace, a deep gorge at the bottom of which, far below, a brook leaped in white water through rocks and boulders down to the main stream of the pass.

The sun was in Robert Jordan's eyes and the bridge showed only in outline. Then the sun lessened and was gone and looking up through the trees at the brown, rounded height that it had gone behind, he saw, now, that he no longer looked into the glare, that the mountain slope was a delicate new green and that there were patches of old snow under the crest.

Then he was watching the bridge again in the sudden short trueness of the little light that would be left, and studying its construction. The problem of its demolition was not difficult.As he watched he took out a notebook from his breast pocket and made several quick line sketches.As he made the drawings he did not figure the charges.He would do that later.Now he was noting the points where the explosive should be placed in order to cut the support of the span and drop a section of it into the gorge.It could be done unhurriedly, They come down the last two hundred yards, moving carefully from tree to tree in the shadows and now, through the last pines or the steep hillside, the bridge was only fifty yards away.The late afternoon sun that still came over the brown shoulder of the mountain showed the bridge dark against the steep emptiness of the gorge.It was a steel bridge of a single span and there was a sentry box at each end.It was wide enough for two motor cars to pass and it spanned, in solid-flung metal grace, a deep gorge at the bottom of which, far below, a brook leaped in white water through rocks and boulders down to the main stream of the pass.

scientifically and correctly with a half dozen charges laid and braced to explode simultaneously;or it could be done roughly with two big ones. They would need to be very big ones, on opposite sides and should go at the same time.He sketched quickly and happily;glad at last to have the problem under his hand;glad at last actually to be engaged upon it.Then he shut his notebook, pushed the pencil into its leather holder in the edge of the flap, put the notebook in his pocket and buttoned the pocket.

While he had sketched, Anselmo had been watching the road, the bridge and the sentry boxes. He thought they had come too close to the bridge for safety and when the sketching was finished, he was relieved.

As Robert Jordan buttoned the flap of his pocket and then lay flat behind the pine trunk, looking out from behind it, Anselmo put his hand on his elbow and pointed with one finger.

In the sentry box that faced toward them up the road, the sentry was sitting holding his rifle, the bayonet fixed, between his knees. He was smoking a cigarette and he wore a knitted cap and blanket style cape.At fifty yards, you could not see anything about his face.Robert Jordan put up his field glasses, shading the lenses carefully with his cupped hands even though there was now no sun to make a glint, and there was the rail of the bridge as clear as though you could reach out and touch it and there was the face of the sentry so clear he could see the sunken cheeks, the ash on the cigarette and the greasy shine of the bayonet.It was a peasant's face, the cheeks hollow under the high cheekbones, the beard stubbled, the eyes shaded by the heavy brows, big hands holding the rifle, heavy boots showing beneath the folds of the blanket cape.There was a worn, blackened leather wine bottle on the wail of the sentry box, there were some newspapers and there was no telephone.There could, of course, be a telephone on the side he could not see;but there were no wires running from the box that were visible.A telephone line ran along the road and its wires were carried over the bridge.There was a charcoal brazier outside the sentry box, made from an old petrol tin with the top cut off and holes punched in it, which rested on two stones;but it held no fire.There were some fire-blackened empty tines in the ashes under it.

Robert Jordan handed the glasses to Anselmo who lay flat beside him. Theold man grinned and shook his head.He tapped his skull beside his eye with one finger.

“Ya lo veo,”he said in Spanish.“I have seen him,”speaking from the front of his mouth with almost no movement of his lips in the way that is quieter than any whisper. He looked at the sentry as Robert Jordan smiled at him and, pointing with one finger, drew the other across his throat.Robert Jordan nodded but he did not smile.

The sentry box at the far end of the bridge faced away from them and down the road and they could not see into it. The road, which was broad and oiled and well constructed, made a turn to the left at the far end of the bridge and then swung out of sight around a curve to the right.At this point it was enlarged from the old road to its present width by cutting into the solid bastion of the rock on the far side of the gorge;and its left or western edge, looking down from the pass and the bridge, was marked and protected by a line of upright cut blocks of stone where its edge fell sheer away to the gorge.The gorge was almost a canyon here, where the brook, that the bridge was flung over, merged with the main stream of the pass.

“And the other post?”Robert Jordan asked Anselmo.

“Five hundred metres below that turn. In the roadmender's hut that is built into the side of the rock.”

“How many men?”Robert Jordan asked.

He was watching the sentry again with his glasses. The sentry rubbed his cigarette out on the plank wall of the box, then took a leather tobacco pouch from his pocket, opened the paper of the dead cigarette and emptied the remnant of used tobacco into the pouch.The sentry stood up, leaned his rifle against the wall of the box and stretched, then picked up his rifle, slung it over his shoulder and walked out onto the bridge.Anselmo flattened on the ground and Robert Jordan slipped his glasses into his shirt pocket and put his head well behind the pine tree.

“There are seven men and a corporal,”Anselmo said close to his ear.“I informed myself from the gypsy.”

“We will go now as soon as he is quiet.”Robert Jordan said.“We are too close.”

“Hast thou seen what thou needest?”

“Yes. All that I need.”

It was getting cold quickly now with the sun down and the light was failing as the afterglow from the last sunlight on the mountains behind them faded.

“How does it look to thee?”Anselmo said softly as they watched the sentry walk across the bridge toward the other box, his bayonet bright in the last of the afterglow, his figure unshapely in the blanket coat.

“Very good,”Robert Jordan said.“Very, very good.”

“I am glad,”Anselmo said.“Should we go?Now there is no chance that he sees us.”

The sentry was standing, his back toward them, at the far end of the bridge. From the gorge came the noise of the stream in the boulders.Then through this noise came another noise, a steady, racketing drone and they saw the sentry looking up, his knitted cap slanted back, and turning their heads and looking up they saw, high in the evening sky, three monoplanes in V formation, showing minute and silvery at that height where there still was sun, passing unbelievably quickly across the sky, their motors now throbbing steadily.

“Ours?”Anselmo asked.

“They seem so,”Robert Jordan said but knew that at that height you never could be sure. They could be an evening patrol of either side.But you always said pursuit planes were ours because it made people feel better.Bombers were another matter.

Anselmo evidently felt the same.“They are ours,”he said.“I recognize them. They are Moscas.”

“Good,”said Robert Jordan.“They seem to me to be Moscas, too.”

“They are Moscas,”Anselmo said.

Robert Jordan could have put the glasses on them and been sure instantly but he preferred not to. It made no difference to him who they were tonight and if it pleased the old man to have them be ours, he did not want to take them away.Now, as they moved out of sight toward Segovia, they did not look to be the green, red wingtipped, low wing Russian conversion of the Boeing P32 that the Spaniards called Moscas.You could not see the colours but the cut waswrong.No.It was a Fascist Patrol coming home.

The sentry was still standing at the far box with his back tuned.

“Let us go,”Robert Jordan said. He started up the hill, moving carefully and taking advantage of the cover until they were out of sight.Anselmo followed him at a hundred yards distance.When they were well out of sight of the bridge, he stopped and the old man came up and went into the lead and climbed steadily through the pass, up the steep slope in the dark.

We have a formidable aviation,”the old man said happily.

“Yes.”

“And we will win.”

“We have to win.”

“Yes. And after we have won you must come to hunt.”

“To hunt what?”

“The boar, the bear, the wolf, the ibex—”

“You like to hunt?”

“Yes, man. More than anything.We all hunt in my village.You do not like to hunt?”

“No,”said Robert Jordan.“I do not like to kill animals.”

“With me it is the opposite,”the old man said.“I do not like to kill men.”

“Nobody does except those who are disturbed in the head,“Robert Jordan said.“But I feel nothing against it when it is necessary. When it is for the cause.”

“It is a different thing, though,”Anselmo said.“In my house, when I had a house, and now I have no house, there were the tusks of boar I had shot in the lower forest. There were the hides of wolves I had shot.In the winter, hunting them in the snow.One very big one, I killed at dusk in the outskirts of the village on my way home one night in November.There were four wolf hides on the floor of my house.They were worn by stepping on them but they were wolf hides.There were the horns of ibex that I had killed in the high Sierra, and there was an eagle stuffed by an embalmer of birds of Avila, with his wings spread, and eyes as yellow and real as the eyes of an eagle alive.It was a very beautiful thing and all of those things gave me gredt pleasure to contemplate.”

“Yes,”said Robert Jordan.

“On the door of the church of my village was nailed the paw of a bear that I killed in the spring, finding him on a hillside in the snow, overturning a log with this same paw.”

“When was this?”

“Six years ago. And every time I saw that paw, like the hand of a man, but with those long claws, dried and nailed through the plam to the door of the church, I received a pleasure.”

“Of pride?”

“Of pride of remembrance of the encounter with the bear on that hillside in the early spring. But of the killing of a man, who is a man as we are, there is nothing good that remains.”

“You can't nail his paw to the church,”Robert Jordan said.

“No. Such a barbarity is unthinkable.Yet the hand of a man is like the paw of a bear.”

“So is the chest of a man like the chest of a bear,”Robert Jordan said.“With the hide removed from the bear, there are many similarities in the muscles.”

“Yes,”Anselmo said.“The gypsies believe the bear to be a brother of man.”

“So do the Indians in America,”Robert Jordan said.“And when they kill a bear they apologize to him and ask his pardon. They put his skull in a tree and they ask him to forgive them before they leave it.”

“The gypsies believe the bear to be a brother to man because he has the same body beneath his hide, because he drinks beer, because he enjoys music and because he likes to dance.”

“So also believe the Indians.”

“Are the Indians then gypsies?”

“No. But they believe alike about bear.”

“Clearly. The gypsies also believe he is a brother because he steals for pleasure.”

“Have you gypsy blood?”

“No. But I have seen much of them and clearly, since the movement, more.There are many in the hills.To them it is not a sin to kill outside the tribe.Theydeny this but it is true.”

“Like the Moors.”

“Yes. But the gypsies have many laws they do not admit to having.In the war many gypsies have become bad again as they were in the olden times.”

“They do not understand why the war is made. They do not know for what we fight.”

“No,”Anselmo said.“They only know now there is a war and people may kill again as in the olden times without a surety of punishment.”

“You have killed?”Robert Jordan asked in the intimacy of the dark and of their day together.

“Yes. Several times.But not with pleasure.To me it is a sin to kill a man.Even Fascists whom we must kill.To me there is a great difference between the bear and the man and I do not believe the wizardry of the gypsies about the brotherhood with animals.No.I am against all killing of men.”

“Yet you have killed.”

“Yes. And will again.But if I live later, I will try to live in such a way, doing no harm to anyone, that it will be forgiven.”

“By whom?”

“Who knows?Since we do not have God here any more, neither His Son nor the Holy Ghost, who forgives?I do not know.”

“You have not God any more?”

“No. Man.Certainly not.If there were God, never would He have permitted what I have seen with my eyes.Let them have God.”

“They claim Him.”

“Clearly I miss Him, having been brought up in religion. But now a man must be responsible to himself.”

“Then it is thyself who will forgive thee for killing.”

“I believe so,”Anselmo said.“Since you put it clearly in that way I believe that must be it. But with or without God, I think it is a sin to kill.To take the life of another is to me very grave.I will do it whenever necessary but I am not of the race of Pablo.”

“To win a war we must kill our enemies. That has always been true.”

“Clearly. In war we must kill.But I have very rare ideas,”Anselmo said.

They were walking now close together in the dark and he spoke softly, sometimes turning his head as he climbed.“I would not kill even a Bishop. I would not kill a proprietor of any kind.I would make them work each day as we have worked in the fields and as we work in the mountains with the timber, all of the rest of their lives.So they would see what man is born to.That they should sleep where we sleep.That they should eat as we eat.But above all that they should work.Thus they would learn.”

“And they would survive to enslave thee again.”

“To kill them teaches nothing,”Anselmo said.“You cannot exterminate them because from their seed comes more with greater hatred. Prison is nothing.Prison only makes hatred.That all our enemies should learn.”

“But still thou hast killed.”

“Yes,”Anselmo said.“Many times and will again. But not with pleasure and regarding it as a sin.”

“And the sentry. You joked of killing the sentry.”

“That was in joke. I would kill the sentry.Yes.Certainly and with a clear heart considering our task.But not with pleasure.”

“We will leave them to those who enjoy it,”Robert Jordan said.“There are eight and five. That is thirteen for those who enjoy it.”

“There are many of those who enjoy it,”Anselmo said in the dark.“We have many of those. More of those than of men who would serve for a battle.”

“Hast thou ever been in a battle?”

“Nay,”the old man said.“We fought in Segovia at the start of the movement but we were beaten and we ran. I ran with the others.We did not truly understand what we were doing, nor how it should be done.Also I had only a shotgun with cartridges of large buckshot and the guardia civil had Mausers.I could not hit them with buckshot at a hundred yards, and at three hundred yards they shot us as they wished as though we were rabbits.They shot much and well and we were like sheep before them.”He was silent.Then asked,“Thinkest thou there will be a battle at the bridge?

“There is a chance.”

“I have never seen a battle without running,”Anselmo said.“I do not know how I would comport myself. I am an old man and I have wondered.”

“I will respond for thee,”Robert Jordan told him.

“And hast thou been in many battles?”

“Several.”

“And what thinkest thou of this of the bridge?”

“First I think of the bridge. That is my business.It is not difficult to destroy the bridge.Then we will make the dispositions for the rest.For the preliminaries.It will all be written,”

“Very few of these people read,”Anselmo said.

“It will be written for everyone's knowledge so that all know, but also it will be clearly explained.”.

I will do that to which I am assigned.“Anselmo said. But remembering the shooting in Segovia, if there is to be a battle or even much exchanging of shots, I would wish to have it very clear what I must do under all circumstances to avoid running.I remember that I had a great tendency to run at Segovia.”

“We will be together,”Robert Jordan told him.“I will tell you what there is to do at all times.”

“Then there is no problem,”Anselmo said.“I can do anything that I am ordered.”

“For us will be the bridge and the battle, should there be one,”Robert Jordan said and saying it in the dark, he felt a little theatrical but it sounded well in Spanish.

“It should be of the highest interest,”Anselmo said and hearing him say it honestly and clearly and with no pose, neither the English pose of understatement nor any Latin bravado, Robert Jordan thought he was very lucky to have this old man and having seen the bridge and worked out and simplified the problem it would have been to surprise the posts and blow it in a normal way, he resented GoIz's orders, and the necessity for them. He resented them for what they could do to him and for what they could do to this old man.They were bad orders all right for those who would have to carry them out.

And that is not the way to think, he told himself, and there is not you, and there are no people that things must not happen to. Neither you nor this old man is anything.You are instruments, to do your duty.There are necessary orders that are no fault of yours and there is a bridge and that bridge can be thepoint on which the future of the human race can turn.As it can turn on everything that happens in this war.You have only one thing to do and you must do it.Only one thing, hell, he thought.If it were one thing it was easy.Stop worrying, you windy bastard, he said to himself.Think about something else.

So he thought about the girl Maria, with her skin, the hair and the eyes all the same golden tawny brown, the hair a little darker than the rest but it would be lighter as her skin tanned deeper, the smooth skin, pale gold on the surface with a darkness underneath. Smooth it would be, all of her body smooth, and she moved awkwardly as though there were something of her and about her that embarrassed her as though it were visible, though it was not, but only in her mind.And she blushed when he looked at her, and she sitting, her hands clasped around her knees and the shirt open at the throat, the cup of her breasts uptilted against the shirt, and as he thought of her, his throat was choky and there was a difficulty in walking and he and Anselmo spoke no more until the old man said,“Now we go down through these rocks and to the camp.”

As they came through the rocks in the dark, a man spoke to them,“Halt. Who goes?”They heard a rifle bolt snick as it was drawn back and then the knock against the wood as it was pushed forward and down on the stock.

“Comrades,”Anselmo said.

“What comrades?”

“Comrades of Pablo,”the old man told him.“Dost thou not know us?”

“Yes,”the voice said.“But it is an order. Have you the password?”

“No. We come from below.”

“I know,”the man said in the dark.“You come from the bridge. I know all of that.The order is not mine.You must know the second half of a password.”

“What is the first half then?”Robert Jordan said.

“I have forgotten it,”the man said in the dark and laughed.“Go then unprintably to the campfire with thy obscene dynamite.”

“That is called guerilla discipline,”Anselmo said.“Uncock thy piece.

“It is uncocked,”the man said in the dark.“I let it down with my thumb and forefinger.”

“Thou wilt do that with a Mauser sometime which has no knurl on the boltand it will fire.”

“This is a Mauser,”the man said.“But I have a grip of thumb and forefinger beyond description. Always I let it down that way.”

“Where is the rifle pointed?”asked Anselmo into the dark.

“At thee,”the man said,“all the time that I descended the bolt. And when thou comest to the camp, order that someone should relieve me because I have indescribable and unprintable hunger and I have forgotten the password.”

“How art thou called?”Robert Jordan asked.

“Agustín,”the man said.“I am called Agustín and I am dying with boredom in this spot.”

“We will take the message,”Robert Jordan said and he thought how the word aburmiento which means boredom in Spanish was a word no peasant would use in any other language. Yet it is one of the most common words in the mouth of a Spaniard of any class.

“Listen to me,”AgustIn said, and coming close he put his hand on Robert Jordan's shoulder. Then striking a flint and steel together he held it up and blowing on the end of the cork, looked at the young man's face in its glow.

“You look like the other one,”he said.“But something different. Listen,”he put the lighter down and stood holding his rifle.“Tell me this.Is it true about the bridge?”

“What about the bridge?”

“That we blow up an obscene bridge and then have to obscenely well obscenity ourselves off out of these mountains?”

“I know not.”

“You know not,”Agustín said.“What a barbarity!Whose then is the dynamite?”

“Mine.”

“And knowest thou not what it is for?Don't tell me tales.”

“I know what it is for and so will you in time,”Robert Jordan said.“But now we go to the camp.”

“Go to the unprintable,”Agustín said.“And unprint thyself.But do you want me to tell you something of service to you?”

“Yes,”said Robert Jordan.“If it is not unprintable,”naming the principalobscenity that had larded the conversation. The man, Agustin, spoke so obscenely, coupling an obscenity to every noun as an adjective, using the same obscenity as a verb, that Robert Jordan wondered if he could speak a straight sentence.AgustIn laughed in the dark when he heard the word.“It is a way of speaking I have.Maybe it is ugly.Who knows?Each one speaks according to his manner.Listen to me.The bridge is nothing to me.As well the bridge as another thing.Also I have a boredom in these mountains.That we should go if it is needed.These mountains say nothing to me.That we should leave them.But I would say one thing.Guard well thy explosive.”

“Thank you,”Robert Jordan said.“From thee?”

“No,”Agustín said.“From people less unprintably equipped than I.”

“So?”asked Robert Jordan.

“You understand Spanish,”Agustin said seriously now.“Care well for thy unprintable explosive.”

“Thank you.”

“No. Don't thank me.Look after thy staff.”

“Has anything happened to it?”

“No, or I would not waste thy time talking in this fashion.”

“Thank you all the same. We go now to camp.”

“Good,”said Agustin,“and that they send someone here who knows the password.”

“Will we see you at the camp?”

“Yes, man. And shortly.”

“Come on,”Robert Jordan said to Anselmo.

They were walking down the edge of the meadow now and there was gray mist. The grass was lush underfoot after the pine-needle floor of the forest and the dew on the grass wet through their canvas rope-soled shoes.Ahead, through the trees, Robert Jordan could see a light where he knew the mouth of the cave must be.

“Agustín is a very good man,”Anselmo said.“He speaks very filthily and always in jokes but he is a very serious man.”

“You know him well?”

“Yes. For a long time.I have much confidence in him.”

“And what he says?”

“Yes, man. This Pablo is bad now, as you could see.”

“And the best thing to do?”

“One shall guard it at all times.”

“Who?”

“You. Me.The woman and Agustín.Since he sees the danger.”

Did you think things were as bad as they are here?

“No,”Anselmo said.“They have gone bad very fast. But it was necessary to come here.This is the country of Pablo and of El Sordo.In their country we must deal with them unless it is something that can be done alone.”

“And El Sordo?”

“Good,”Anselmo said.“As good as the other is bad.”

“You believe now that he is truly bad?”

“All afternoon I have thought of it and since we have heard what we have heard, I think now, yes. Truly.”

“It would not be better to leave, speaking of another bridge, and obtain men from other bands?”

“No,”Anselmo said.“This is his country. You could not move that he would not know it.But one must move with much precautions.”第四章/Chapter 4导读

罗伯特回到了营地,他的两个背包放在了山洞外面,上面盖着帆布。罗伯特把手伸到包里摸着包里的东西,检查了一下背包里的炸药和其他东西,在确保没问题之后便将背包带回了山洞里。这时洞里正在做饭,帕博罗看见装着炸药的背包很不放心,罗伯特却认为不会有什么危险。罗伯特向吉普赛人询问情况,吉普赛人爱答不理的,明显没有刚来的时候那么友好了,罗伯特感觉到气氛不对劲儿,他知道在自己回来之前帕博罗正在和大家议论这次的炸桥任务。

罗伯特为了缓和气氛便拿出自己的药酒,兑着水喝了起来,帕博罗对这种气味大的酒不感兴趣,吉普赛人则很好奇,便要尝一尝,但是拉菲尔发现这个酒并不像自己想的那么好喝。罗伯特这时注意到洞里有另外三个之前没有见过面的人,其中两个人是兄弟。那个脸上有刀疤人名叫安德烈,他发现罗伯特正在注意自己,就跟罗伯特聊了起来,谈到了以前炸火车的事情。

说起炸火车,帕博罗认为应该去炸火车,罗伯特告诉帕博罗炸完桥梁就可以炸火车,帕博罗不同意罗伯特在这里炸桥梁,哪怕罗伯特自己去干也要反对。罗伯特便征求帕博罗的妻子的意见,帕博罗的妻子是支持罗伯特炸桥的,其他的成员也都表示支持,帕博罗对妻子感到很生气,而罗伯特则觉得局势不妙,准备着要掏枪,以防局面有变。帕博罗觉得自己是为队伍的安全考虑,帕博罗的妻子则拿西班牙斗牛士的经历来讽刺丈夫——这个女人给大家描述了当时和受伤的斗牛士谈话的场景,最后还数落帕博罗是胆小鬼。背包上盖着帆布,罗伯特伸手检查物品

帕博罗发现自己的权威受到了妻子的威胁,便强调自己才是这里的头儿,而帕博罗的妻子则认为这里不是帕博罗做主,而是自己做主,帕博罗根本没有权威可言。帕博罗的妻子把玛丽娅支出洞外,威逼帕博罗承认她的领导权,而其他成员也都转向拥护帕博罗的妻子,帕博罗见妻子一方人多势众,只好服软。帕博罗的妻子这才把玛丽娅叫回来帮忙安排晚饭。吉普赛人向罗伯特问起了情况,罗伯特便开始为其他队员讲解炸桥的计划,玛丽娅对这个计划也感兴趣,站在罗伯特身边一起听。玛丽娅还打算跟着一起去炸桥,帕博罗本想插嘴,却被妻子制止了。

这时帕博罗的妻子忽然感到一阵忧伤,这种感觉似曾相识,不过现在却无暇理会。hey came down to the mouth of the cave, where a light shone out from the edge of a blanket that hung over the opening. The two Tpacks were at the foot of the tree covered with a canvas and Robert Jordan knelt down and felt the canvas wet and stiff over them.In the dark he felt under the canvas in the outside pocket of one of the packs and took out a leather-covered flask and slipped it in his pocket.Unlocking the long barred padlocks that passed through the grummet that closed the opening of the mouth of the packs, and untying the drawstring at the top of each pack, he felt inside them and verified their contents with his hands.Deep in one pack he felt the bundled blocks in the sacks, the sacks wrapped in the sleeping robe, and tying the strings of that and pushing the lock shut again, he put his hands into the other and felt the sharp wood outline of the box of the old exploder, the cigar box with the caps, each little cylinder wrapped round and round with its two wires(the lot of them packed as carefully as he had packed his collection of wild bird eggs when he was a boy),the stock of the submachine gun, disconnected from the barrel and wrapped in his leather jacket, the two pans and five clips in one of the inner pockets of the big packsack and the small coils of copper wire and the big coil of light insulated wire in the other.In the pocket with the wire he felt his pliers and the two wooden awls for making holes in the end of the blocks and then, from the last inside pocket, he took a big box of the Russian cigarettes of the lot he had from Golz's headquarters and tying the mouth of the pack shut, he pushed the lock in, buckled the flaps down and again covered both packs with the canvas.Anselmo had gone on into the cave.

Robert Jordan stood up to follow him, then reconsidered and, lifting the canvas off the two packs, picked them up, one in each hand, and started with them, just able to carry them, for the mouth of the cave. He laid one pack down and lifted the blanket aside, then with his head stooped and with a pack in each hand, carrying by the leather shoulder straps, he went into the cave.

It was warm and smoky in the cave. There was a table along one wall with a tallow candle stuck in a bottle on it and at the table were seated Pablo, three men he did not know and the gypsy, Rafael.The candle made shadows on the wall behind the men and Anselmo stood where he had come in to the right of the table.The wife of Pablo was standing over the charcoal fire on the open fire hearth in the corner of the cave.The girl knelt by her stirring in an iron pot.She lifted the wooden spoon out and looked at Robert Jordan as he stood there in the doorway and he saw, in the glow from the fire the woman was blowing with a bellows, the girl's face, her arm and the drops running down from the spoon and dropping into the iron pot.

“What do you carry?”Pablo said.

“My things,”Robert Jordan said and set the two packs down a little way apart where the cave opened out on the side away from the table.

“Are they not well outside?”Pablo asked.

“Someone might trip over them in the dark,”Robert Jordan said and walked over to the table and laid the box of cigarettes on it.

“I do not like to have dynamite here in the cave,”Pablo said.

“It is far from the fire,”Robert Jordan said.“Take some cigarettes.”He ran his thumbnail along the side of the paper box with the big coloured figure of a warship on the cover and pushed the box toward Pablo.

Anselino brought him a rawhide-covered stool and he sat down at the table. Pablo looked at him as though he were going to speak again, then reached for the cigarettes.

Robert Jordan pushed them toward the others. He was not looking at them yet.But he noted one man took cigarettes and two did not.All of hisconcentration was on Pablo.

“How goes it, gypsy?”he said to Rafael.

“Good,”the gypsy said. Robert Jordan could tell they had been talking about him when he came in.Even the gypsy was not at ease.

“She is going to let you eat again?”Robert Jordan asked the gypsy.

“Yes. Why not?”the gpysy said.It was a long way from the friendly joking they had together in the afternoon.

The woman of Pablo said nothing and went on blowing up the coals of the fire.

“One called Agustín says he dies of boredom above,”Robert Jordan said.

“That doesn't kill,”Pablo said.“Let Kim die a little.”

“Is there wine?”Robert Jordan asked the table at large, leaning forward, his hands on the table.

“There is little left,”Pablo said sullenly. Robert Jordan decided he had better look at the other three and try to see where he stood.

“In that case, let me have a cup of water. Thou,”he called to the girl.“Bring me a cup of water.”

The girl looked at the woman, who said nothing and gave no sign of having heard, then she went to a kettle containing water and dipped a cup full. She brought it to the table and put it down before him.Robert Jordan smiled at her.At the same time he sucked in on his stomach muscles and swung a little to the left on his stool so that his pistol slipped around on his belt closer to where he wanted it.He reached his hand down toward his hip pocket and Pablo watched him.He knew they all were watching him, too, but he watched only Pablo.His hand came up from the hip pocket with the leather-covered flask and he unscrewed the top and then, lifting the cup, drank half the water and poured very slowly from the flask into the cup.

“It is too strong for thee or I would give thee some,”he said to the girl and smiled at her again.“There is little left or I would offer some to thee,”he said to Pablo.

“I do not like anis,”Pablo said.

The acrid smell had carried across the table and he had picked out the one familiar component.

“Good,”said Robert Jordan.“Because there is very little left.”

“What drink is that?”the gypsy asked.

“A medicine,”Robert Jordan said.“Do you want to taste it?”

“What is it for?”

“For everything.”Robert Jordan said.“It cures everything. If you have anything wrong this will cure it.”

“Let me taste it,”the gypsy said.

Robert Jordan pushed the cup toward him. It was a milky yellow now with the water and he hoped the gypsy would not take more than a swallow.There was very little of it left and one cup of it took the place of the evening papers, of all the old evenings in cafés, of all chestnut trees that would be in bloom now in this month, of the great slow horses of the outer boulevards, of book shops, of kiosks, and of galleries, of the Parc Montsouris, of the Stade Buffalo, and of the Butte Chaumont, of the Guaranty Trust Company and the 1le de Ia Cité,of Foyot’s old hotel, and of being able to read and relax in the evening;of all the things he had enjoyed and forgotten and that came back to him when he tasted that opaque, bitter, tongue-numbing, brain-warming, stomack-warming, ideachanging liquid alchemy.

The gypsy made a face and handed the cup back.“It smells of anis but it is bitter as gall,”he said.“It is better to be sick than have that medicine.”

“That's the wormwood,”Robert Jordan told him.“In this, the real absinthe, there is wormwood. It's supposed to rot your brain out but I don't believe it.It only changes the ideas.You should pour water into it very slowly, a few drops at a time.But I poured it into the water.”

“What are you saying?”Pablo said angrily, feeling the mockery.

“Explaining the medicine,”Robert Jordan told him and grinned.“1 bought it in Madrid. It was the last bottle and it's lasted me three weeks.”He took a big swallow of it and felt it coasting over his tongue in delicate anaesthesia.He looked at Pablo and grinned again.

“How's business?”he asked.

Pablo did not answer and Robert Jordan looked carefully at the other three men at the table. One had a large flat face, flat and brown as a Serrano ham with a nose flattened and broken, and the long thin Russian cigarette, projectingat an angle, made the face look even flatter.This man had short gray hair and a gray stubble of beard and wore the usual black smock buttoned at the neck.He looked down at the table when Robert Jordan looked at him but his eyes were steady and they did not blink.The other two were evidently brothers.They looked much alike and were both short, heavily built, dark haired, their hair growing low on their foreheads, darkeyed and brown.One had a scar across his forehead above his left eye and as he looked at them, they looked back at him steadily.One looked to be about twenty-six or eight, the other perhaps two years older.

“What are you looking at?”one brother, the one with the scar, asked.

“Thee,”Robert Jordan said.

“Do you see anything rare?”

“No,”said Robert Jordan.“Have a cigarette?”

“Why not?”the brother said. He had not taken any before.“These are like the other had.He of the train.”

“Were you at the train?”

“We were all at the train,”the brother said quietly.“All except the old man.”

“That is what we should do now.”Pablo said.“Another train.”

“We can do that,”Robert Jordan said.“After the bridge.”

He could see that the wife of Pablo had turned now from the fire and was listening. When he said the word bridge everyone was quiet.

“After the bridge,”he said again deliberately and took a sip of the absinthe. I might as well bring it on, he thought.It's coming anyway.

“I do not go for the bridge,”Pablo said, looking down at the table.“Neither me nor my people.”

Robert Jordan said nothing. He looked at Anselmo and raised the cup.“Then we shall do it alone, old one,”he said and smiled.

“Without this coward,”Anselmo said.

“What did you say?”Pablo spoke to the old man.

“Nothing for thee. I did not speak to thee,”Anselmo told him.

Robert Jordan now looked past the table to where the wife of Pablo was standing by the fire. She had said nothing yet, nor given any sign.But now shesaid something he could not hear to the girl and the girl rose from the cooking fire, slipped along the wall, opened the blanket that hung over the mouth of the cave and went out.I think it is going to come now, Robert Jordan thought.I believe this is it.I did not want it to be this way but this seems to be the way it is.

“Then we will do the bridge without thy aid,”Robert Jordan said to Pablo.

“No,”Pablo said, and Robert Jordan watched his face sweat.“Thou wilt blow no bridge here.”

“No?”

“Thou wilt blow no bridge,”Pablo said heavily.

“And thou?”Robert Jordan spoke to the wife of Pablo who was standing still and huge, by the fire. She turned toward them and said,“I am for the bridge.”Her face was lit by the fire and it was flushed and it shone warm and dark and handsome now in the fire lights as it was meant to be.

“What do you say?”Pablo said to her and Robert Jordan saw the betrayed look on his face and the sweat on his forehead as he turned his head.

“I am for the bridge and against thee,”the wife of Pablo said.“Nothing more.”

“I am also for the bridge,”the man with the flat face and the broken nose said, crushing the end of the cigarette on the table.

“To me the bridge means nothing,”one of the brothers said.“I am for the mujer of Pablo.”

“Equally,”said the other brother.

“Equally,”the gypsy said.

Robert Jordan watching Pablo and as he watched, letting his right hand hang lower and lower, ready if it should be necessary, half hoping it would be(feeling perhaps that were the simplest and easiest yet not wishing to spoil what had gone so well, knowing how quickly all of a family, all of a clan, all of a band, can turn against a stranger in a quarrel, yet thinking what could be done with the hand were the simplest and best and surgically the most sound now that this had happened),saw also the wife of Pablo standing there and watched her blush proudly and soundly and healthily as the allegiances were given.

“I am for the Republic,”the woman of Pablo said happily.“And theRepublic is the bridge. Afterwards we will have time for other projects.”

“And thou,”Pablo said bitterly.“With your head of a seed bull and your heart of a whore. Thou thinkest there will be an afterwards from this bridge?Thou hast an idea of that which will pass?

“That which must pass,”the woman of Pablo said.“That which must pass, will pass.”

“And it means nothing to thee to be hunted then like a beast after this thing from which we derive no profit?Nor to die in it?”

“Nothing,”the woman of Pablo said.“And do not try to frighten me, coward.”

“Coward,”Pablo said bitterly.“You treat a man as coward because he has a tactical sense. Because he can see the results of an idiocy in advance.It is not cowardly to know what is foolish.”

“Neither is it foolish to know what is cowardly,”said Anselmo, unable to resist making the phrase.

“Do you want to die?”Pablo said to him seriously and Robert Jordan saw how unrhetorical was the qusetion.

No.

“Then watch thy mouth. You talk too much.You talk too much about things you do not understand.Don't you see that this is serious?”he said almost pitifully.“Am I the only one who sees the seriousness of this?”

I believe so, Robert Jordan thought. Old Pablo, old boy, I believe so.Except me.You can see it and I see it and the woman read it in my hand but she doesn't see it, yet.Not yet she doesn't see it.

“Am I a leader for nothing?”Pablo asked.“I know what I speak of. You others do not know.This old man talks nonsense.He is an old man who is nothing but a messenger and a guide for foreigners.For his good we must be sacrificed.I am for the good and safety of all.”

“Safety,”the wife of Pablo said.“There is no such thing as safety. There are so many seeking safety here now that they make a great danger.In seeking safety now you lose all.”

She stood now by the table with the big spoon in her hand.

“There is safety,”Pablo said.“Within the danger there is the safety ofknowing what chances to take. It is like the bullfighter who knowing what he is doing, takes no chances and is safe.”

“Until he is gored,”the woman said bitterly.“How many times have I heard matadors talk like that before they took a goring. How often have I heard Finito say that it is all knowledge and that the bull never gored the man;rather the man gored himself on the horn of the bull.Always do they talk that way in their arrogance before a goring.Afterwards we visit them in the clinic.”Now she was mimicking a visit to a bedside,“Hello, old timer.Hello,”she boomed.Then,“‘Buenas, Compadre.How goes it, Pilar?'”imitating the weak voice of the wounded bull fighter.“‘How did this happen, Finito, Cbico, how did this dirty accident occur to thee?'”booming it out in her own voice.Then talking weak and small,“‘It is nothing, woman.Pilar, it is nothing.It shouldn't have happened.I killed him very well, you understand.Nobody could have killed him better.Then having killed him exactly as I should and him absolutely dead, swaying on his legs, and ready to fall of his own weight, I walked away from him with a certain amount of arrogance and much style and from the back he throws me this horn between the cheeks of my buttocks and it comes out of my liver.”She commenced to laugh, dropping the imitation of the almost effeminate bullfighter's voice and booming again now.“You and your safety!Did I live nine years with three of the worst paid matadors in the world not to learn about fear and about safety?Speak to me of anything but safety.And thee.What illusions I put in thee and how they have turned out!From one year of war thou hast become lazy, a drunkard and a coward.”

“In that way thou hast no right to speak,”Pablo said.“And less even before the people and a stranger.”

“In that way will I speak,”the wife of Pablo went on.“Have you not heard?Do you still believe that you command here?”

“Yes,”Pablo said.“Here I command.”

“Not in joke.”the woman said.“here I command!Havn't you heard la gente?Here no one commands but me. You can stay if you wish and eat of the food and drink of the wine, but not too bloody much, and share in the work if thee wishes.But here I command.”

“I should shoot thee and the foreigner both,”Pablo said sullenly.

“Try it,”the woman said,“And see what happens.”

“A cup of water for me,”Robert Jordan said, not taking his eyes from the man with his sullen heavy head and the woman standing proudly and confidently holding the big spoon as authoritatively as though it were a baton.

“Maria,”called the woman of Pablo and when the girl came in the door she said,“Water for this comrade.”

Robert Jordan reached for his flask and, bringing the flask out, as he brought it he loosened the pistol in the holster and swung it on top of his thigh. He poured a second absinthe into his cup and took the cup of water the girl brought him and commenced to drip it into the cup, a little at a time.The girl stood at his elbow, watching him.

“Outside,”the woman of Pablo said to her, gesturing with the spoon.

“It is cold outside,”the girl said, her cheek close to Robert Jordan's, watching what was happening in the cup where the liquor was clouding.

“Maybe,”the woman of Pablo said.“But in here it is too hot.”Then she said, kindly,“It is not for long.”

The girl shook her head and went out.

I don't think he is going to take this much more, Robert Jordan thought to himself. He held the cup in one hand and his other hand rested, frankly now, on the pistol.He had slipped the safety catch and he felt the worn comfort of the checked grip chafed almost smooth and touched the round, cool campanionship of the trigger guard.Pablo no longer looked at him but only at the woman.She went on,“Listen to me, drunkard.You understand who commands here?”

“I command.”

“No. Listen.Take the wax from thy hairy ears.Listen well.I command.”

Pablo looked at her and you could tell nothing of what he was thinking by his face. He looked at her quite deliberately and then he looked across the table at Robert Jordan.He looked at him a long time contemplatively and then he looked back at the woman, again.

“All right. You command,”he said.“And if you want he can command too.And the two of you can go to hell,”He was looking the woman straight in the face and he was neither dominated by her nor seemed to be much affected by her.“It is possible that I am lazy and that I drink too much.You may considerme a coward but there you are mistaken.But I am not stupid.”He paused.“That you should command and that you should like it.Now if you are a woman as well as a commander, that we should have something to eat.”

“Maria,”the woman of Pablo called.

The girl put her head inside the blanket across the cave mouth.“Enter now and serve the supper.”

The girl came in and walked across to the low table by the hearth and picked up the enamelled-ware bowls and brought them to the table.

“There is wine enough for all,”the woman of Pablo said to Robert Jordan.“Pay no attention to what that drunkard says. When this is finished we will get more.Finish that rare thing thou art drinking and take a cup of wine.”

Robert Jordan swallowed down the last of the absinthe, feeling it, gulped that way, making a warm, small, fume-rising, wet, chemicalchange-producing heat in him and passed the cup for wine. The girl dipped it full for him and smiled.

“Well, did you see the bridge?”the gypsy asked. The others, who had not opened their mouths after the change of allegiance, were all leaning forward to listen now.

“Yes,”Robert Jordan said.“It is something easy to do. Would you like me to show you?”

“Yes, man. With much interest.”

Robert Jordan took out the notebook from his shirt pocket and showed them the sketches.

“Look how it seems,”the flat-faced man, who was named Primitivo, said.“It is the bridge itself.”

Robert Jordan with the point of the pencil explained how the bridge should be blown and the reason for the placing of the charges.

“What simplicity,”the scarred-faced brother, who was called Andrés, said.“And how do you explode them?”

Robert Jordan explained that too and, as he showed them, he felt the girl's arm resting on his shoulder as she looked. The woman of Pablo was watching too.Only Pablo took no interest, sitting by himself with a cup of wine that he replenished by dipping into the big bowl Maria had filled from the wine-skinthat hung to the left of the entrance to the cave.

“Hast thou done much of this?”the girl asked Robert Jordan softly.

“Yes.”

“And can we see the doing of it?”

“Yes. Why not?”

“You will see it,”Pablo said from his end of the table.“I believe that you will see it.”

“Shut up,”the woman of Pablo said to him and suddenly remembering what she had seen in the hand in the afternoon she was wildly, unreasoningly angry.“Shut up, coward. Shut up, bad luck bird.Shut up, murderer.”

“Good,”Pablo said.“I shut up. It is thou who commands now and you should continue to look at the pretty pictures.But remember that I am not stupid.”

The woman of Pablo could feel her rage changing to sorrow and to a feeling of the thwarting of all hope and promise. She knew this feeling from when she was a girl and she knew the things that caused it all through her life.It came now suddenly and she put it sway from her and would not let it touch her, neither her nor the Republic, and she said,“Now we will eat.Serve the bowls from the pot, Maria.”第五章/Chapter 5导读

罗伯特从山洞里走了出来,逃离了那些浓重的饭菜的气味,他呼吸着洞外新鲜的自然气息,独自欣赏着住地周边的风景。这时,罗伯特听见洞内吉普赛人在大家的怂恿下开始唱起了歌。拉菲尔唱第二首歌的时候,帕博罗觉得歌声很吵,帕博罗的妻子也觉得这样唱歌不安全,拉菲尔便走出洞去找罗伯特。

拉菲尔问起罗伯特刚才为什么没拿枪打死帕博罗,原来刚才帕博罗的妻子故意布局就是想让罗伯特打死帕博罗,其实大家都已经不想继续待在这个地方了。罗伯特告诉拉菲尔自己本打算这么做的,但是觉得这种事情让自己来做并不可靠,他害怕会引起游击队员和帕博罗妻子的怀疑。吉普赛人认为这是迟早的事情,拉菲尔继续劝说罗伯特,觉得还是应该干掉帕博罗,还帮忙出谋划策。

这时候帕博罗出来了,向罗伯特为刚才的事儿道歉,罗伯特心想帕博罗的妻子实际上是一名忠诚的共和国战士。帕博罗跟罗伯特聊了几句之后就去看自己的马了。吉普赛人以为帕博罗是要准备独自离开这里,便继续怂恿罗伯特杀死帕博罗。罗伯特让拉菲尔到奥古斯汀那里去,把这些事情告诉奥古斯汀,以防止帕博罗私自逃离。罗伯特自己则跟着帕博罗到了丛林里,朦胧之中看见了帕博罗的那几匹马。

罗伯特慢慢看清楚帕博罗就站在马匹身边,并没有逃走的迹象,心中有些疑虑,其实罗伯特对于帕博罗的反对者想杀死帕博罗的行动并不赞成,现在罗伯特只关心炸桥,其他有风险的事情他都不会做——这种杀人的事情可以交给其他人来做。此时,帕博罗正在马匹身边说着一些很俏皮的话,把对妻子和玛丽娅的怨言都倾吐了出来,罗伯特听不到帕博罗说的话。帕博罗的这些话马儿当然不懂,而是显得有些烦躁不安,帕博罗只好闭嘴,让心爱的战马好好吃草。obert Jordan pushed aside the saddle blanket that hung over the mouth of the cave and, stepping out, took a deep breath of the Rcold night air.The mist had cleared away and the stars were out. There was no wind, and,outside now of the warm air of the cave, heavy with smoke of both tobacco and charcoal, with the odour of cooked rice and meat, saffron, pimentos, and oil,

the tarry, wine-spilled smell of the big skin hung beside the door, hung by the neck and the four legs extended, wine drawn from a plug fitted in one leg, wine that spilled a little onto the earth of the floor, settling the dust smell; out now from the odours of different herbs whose names he did not know that hung in bunches from the ceiling, with long ropes of garlic, away now from the copper-penny, red wine and garlic, horse sweat and man sweat dried in the

clothing (acrid and gray the man swear, sweet and sickly the dried brushed-off lather of horse sweat), of the men at the table, Robert Jordan breathed deeply of the clear night air of the mountains that smelled of the pines and of the dew on the grass in the meadow by the stream. Dew had fallen heavily since the wind had dropped, but, as he stood there, he thought there would be frost by morning.

As he stood breathing deep and then listening to the night, he heard first, firing far away, and then he heard an owl cry in the timber below, where the horse corral was slung. Then inside the cave he could hear the gypsy starting to sing and the soft chording of a guitar.

“I had an inheritance from my father,”the artificially hardened voice rose harshly and hung there. Then went on:

“It was the moon and the sun

And though I roam all over the world

The spending of it's never done.”

The guitar thudded with chorded applause for the singer.“Good,”RobertRobert Jordan pushed aside the saddle blanket that hung over the mouth of the cave and, stepping out, took a deep breath of the cold night air. The mist had cleared away and the stars were out.There was no wind, and, outside now of the warm air of the cave, heavy with smoke of both tobacco and charcoal, with the odour of cooked rice and meat, saffron, pimentos, and oil, the tarry, wine-spilled smell of the big skin hung beside the door, hung by the neck and the four legs extended, wine drawn from a plug fitted in one leg, wine that spilled a little onto the earth of the floor, settling the dust smell;out now from the odours of different herbs whose names he did not know that hung in bunches from the ceiling, with long ropes of garlic, away now from the copper-penny, red wine and garlic, horse sweat and man sweat dried in the clothing(acrid and gray the man swear, sweet and sickly the dried brushed-off lather of horse sweat),of the men at the table, Robert Jordan breathed deeply of the clear night air of the mountains that smelled of the pines and of the dew on the grass in the meadow by the stream.Dew had fallen heavily since the wind had dropped, but, as he stood there, he thought there would be frost by morning.

Jordan heard someone say.“Give us the Catalan, gypsy.”

“No.”

“Yes. Yes.The Catalan.”

“All right,”the gypsy said and sang mournfully,

“My nose is flat,

My face is black,

But still I am a man.”

“Olé!”someone said.“Go on, gypsy!”

The gypsy's voice rose tragically and mockingly.

“Thank God I am a Negro,

And not a Catalan!”

“There is much noise,”Pablo's voice said.“Shut up, gypsy.”

“Yes,”he heard the woman's voice.“There is too much noise. You could call the guardia civil with that voice and still it has no quality.”

“I know another verse,”the gypsy said and the guitar commenced.

“Save it,”the woman told him.

The guitar stopped.

“I am not good in voice tonight. So there is no loss,”the gypsy said and pushing the blanket aside he came out into the dark.

Robert Jordan watched him walk over to a tree and then come toward him.

“Roberto,”the gypsy said softly.

“Yes, Rafael,“he said. He knew the gypsy had been affected by the wine from his voice.He himself had drunk the two absinthes and some wine but his head was clear and cold from the strain of the difficulty with Pablo.

“Why didst thou not kill Pablo?”the gypsy said very softly.

“Why kill him?”

“You have to kill him sooner or later. Why did you not approve of the moment?”

“Do you speak seriously?”

“What do you think they all waited for?What do you think the woman sent the girl away for?Do you believe that it is possible to continue after what has been said?”

“That you all should kill him.”

“Qué Va,”the gypsy said quietly.“That is your business.Three or four times we waited for you to kill him.Pablo has no friends.”

“I had the idea,”Robert Jordan said.“But I left it.”

“Surely all could see that. Everyone noted your preparations.Why didn't you do it?”

“I thought it might molest you others or the woman.”

“Qué va.And the woman waiting as a whore waits for the flight of the big bird.Thou art younger than thou appearest.”

“It is possible.”

“Kill him now,”the gypsy urged.

“That is to assassinate.”

“Even better,”the gypsy said very softly.“Less danger. Go on.Kill him now.”

“I cannot in that way. It is repugnant to me and it is not how one should act for the cause.”

“Provoke him then,”the gypsy said.“But you have to kill him. There is no remedy.”

As they spoke, the owl flew between the trees with the softness of all silence, dropping past them, then rising, the wings beating quickly, but with no noise of feathers moving as the bird hunted.

“Look at him,”the gypsy said in the dark.“Thus should men move.”

“And in the day, blind in a tree with crows around him,”Robert Jordan said.

“Rarely,”said the gypsy.“And then by hazard. Kill him,”he went on.“Do not let it become difficult.”

“Now the moment is passed.”

“Provoke it,”the gypsy said.“Or take advantage of the quiet.”

The blanket that closed the cave door opened and light came out. Someone came toward where they stood.

“It is a beautiful night,”the man said in a heavy, dull voice.“We will have good weather.”

It was Pablo.

He was smoking one of the Russian cigarettes and in the glow, as he drewon the cigarette, his round face showed. They could see his heavy, long-armed body in the starlight.

“Do not pay any attention to the woman,”he said to Robert Jordan. In the dark the cigarette glowed bright, then showed in his hand as he lowered it.“She is difficult sometimes.She is a good woman.Very loyal to the Republic.”The light of the cigarette jerked slightly now as he spoke.He must be talking with it in the corner of his mouth, Robert Jordan thought.“We should have no difficulties.We are of accord.I am glad you have come.“The cigarette glowed bnghtly.”Pay no attention to arguments,”he said.“You are very welcome here.”

“Excuse me now,”he said.“I go to see how they have picketed the horses.”

He went off through the trees to the edge of the meadow and they heard a horse whinny from below.

“You see?”the gypsy said.“Now you see?In this way has the moment escaped.”

Robert Jordan said nothing.

“I go down there,”the gypsy said angrily.

“To do what?”

“Qué Va, to do what.At least to prevent him leaving.”

“Can he leave with a horse from below?”

“No.”

“Then go to the spot where you can prevent him.”

“Agustín is there.”

“Go then and speak with Agustín.Tell him that which has happened.”

“Agustín will kill him with pleasure.”

“Less bad,”Robert Jordan said.“Go then above and tell him all as it happened.”

“And then?”

“I go to look below in the meadow.”

“Good. Man.Good,”he could not see Rafael's face in the dark but he could feel him smiling.“Now you have tightened your garters,”the gypsy said approvingly.

“Go to Agustín,”Robert Jordan said to him.

“Yes, Roberto, yes,”said the gypsy.

Robert Jordan walked through the pines, feeling his way from tree to tree to the edge of the meadow. Looking across it in the darkness, lighter here in the open from the starlight, he saw the dark bulks of the picketed horses.He counted them where they were scattered between him and the stream.There were five.Robert Jordan sat down at the foot of a pine tree and looked out across the meadow.

I am tired, he thought, and perhaps my judgment is not good. But my obligation is the bridge and to fuffil that, I must take no useless risk of myself until I complete that duty.Of course it is sometimes more of a risk not to accept chances which are necessary to take but I have done this so far, trying to let the situation take its own course.If it is true, as the gypsy says, that they expected me to kill Pablo then I should have done that.But it was never clear to me that they did expect that.For a stranger to kill where he must work with the people afterwards is very bad.It may be done in action, and it may be done if backed by sufficient discipline, but in this case I think it would be very bad, although it was a temptation and seemed a short and simple way.But I do not believe anything is that short nor that simple in this country and, while I trust the woman absolutely, I could not tell how she would react to such a drastic thing.One dying in such a place can be very ugly, dirty and repugnant.You could not tell how she would react.Without the woman there is no organization nor any discipline here and with the woman it can be very good.It would be ideal if she would kill him, or if the gypsy would(but he will not),or if the sentry Agustín, would.Anselmo will if I ask it, though he says he is against all killing.He hates him, I believe, and he already trusts me and believes in me as a representative of what he believes in.Only he and the woman really believe in the Republic as far as I can see;but it is too early to know that yet.

As his eyes became used to the starlight he could see that Pablo was standing by one of the horses. The horse lifted his head from grazing;then dropped it impatiently.Pablo was standing by the horse, leaning against him, moving with him as he swung with the length of the picket rope and patting him on the neck.The horse was impatient at the tenderness while he wasfeeding.Robert Jordan could not see what Pablo was doing, nor hear what he was saying to the horse, but he could see that he was neither unpicketing nor saddling.He sat watching him, trying to think his problem out clearly.

“Thou my big good little pony,”Pablo was saying to the horse in the dark;it was the big bay stallion he was speaking to.“Thou lovely white-faced big beauty. Thou with the big neck arching like the viaduct of my pueblo,”he stopped.“But arching more and much finer.”The horse was snatching grass, swinging his head sideways as he pulled, annoyed by the man and his talking.“Thou art no woman nor a fool,”Pablo told the bay horse.“Thou, oh, thou, thee, thee, my big little pony.Thou art no woman like a rock that is burning.Thou art no colt of a girl with cropped head and the movement of a foal still wet from its mother.Thou dost not insult nor lie nor not understand.Thou, oh, thee, oh my good big little pony.”

It would have been very interesting for Robert Jordan to have heard Pablo speaking to the bay horse but he did not hear him because now, convinced that Pablo was only down checking on his horses, and having decided that it was not a practical move to kill him at this time, he stood up and walked back to the cave. Pablo stayed in the meadow talking to the horse for a long time.The horse understood nothing that he said;only, from the tone of the voice, that they were endearments and he had been in the corral all day and was hungry now, grazing impatiently at the limits of his picket rope, and the man annoyed him.Pablo shifted the picket pin finally and stood by the horse, not talking now.The horse went on grazing and was relieved now that the man did not bother him.第六章/Chapter 6导读

罗伯特正在山洞里坐着跟帕博罗的妻子和玛丽娅聊天。帕博罗的妻子皮拉尔很奇怪为什么今晚山里另一伙游击队那个绰号叫聋子的首领怎么没有来——这个聋子每晚都会来和帕博罗碰头的。罗伯特认为聋子可能因为别的事情耽误了,皮拉尔决定第二天亲自去找聋子。玛丽娅也要跟着去。

罗伯特很欣赏玛丽娅,他觉得玛丽娅很聪明;皮拉尔不以为然,就拿着罗伯特的名字开玩笑,罗伯特不愿意这样,认为革命工作中的称呼应该严肃。玛丽娅以为罗伯特是个共产党员,罗伯特告诉她们自己只是个反法西斯主义者。这时罗伯特才知道,皮拉尔是共和主义者,而玛丽娅的父亲也是,并且因此为革命献身。罗伯特的祖父和父亲也都是美国共和党的官员,后来父亲承受不住压力自杀了,玛丽娅听了罗伯特的讲述,发现罗伯特和自己的身世如此相似,才明白了自己心中似曾相识的感觉。

罗伯特摸了摸女孩儿的头,女孩儿喜欢罗伯特这样的抚摸,两个人有了一种相同遭遇的默契,皮拉尔在旁边有点儿看不下去了,问起了罗伯特晚上睡觉的地方。罗伯特趁机让玛丽娅到外面,然后跟皮拉尔说起吉普赛人刚才在洞外给自己出的主意,原来皮拉尔一直都在注意罗伯特,皮拉尔肯定了罗伯特的选择,觉得拉菲尔心眼很坏。然而罗伯特担心的是帕博罗贪生怕死会带来不利的影响,皮拉尔却觉得自己的丈夫不会产生什么危害。

这时玛丽娅又进来了,罗伯特摸了摸她的头,便睡觉去了。罗伯特摸了摸玛丽娅的头n side the cave, Robert Jordan sat on one of the rawhide stools in a corner by the fire listening to the woman. She was washing the Idishes and the girl, Maria, was drying them and putting them away, kneeling to place them in the hollow dug in the wall that was used as a shelf.

“It is strange,”she said.“That El Sordo has not come. He should have been here an hour ago.”

“Did you advise him to come?”

“No. He comes each night.”

“Perhaps he is doing something. Some work.”

“It is possible,”she said.“If he does not come we must go to see him tomorrow.”

“Yes. Is it far from here?”

“No. It will be a good trip.I lack exercise.”

“Can I go?”Maria asked.“May I go too, Pilar?”

“Yes, beautiful,”the woman said, then turning her big face,“Isn't she pretty?”she asked Robert Jordan.“How does she seem to thee?A little thin?

“To me she seems very well,”Robert Jordan said. Maria filled his cup with wine.“Drink that,”she said.“It will make me seem even better.It is necessary to drink much of that for me to seem beautiful.”

“Then I had better stop,”Robert Jordan said.“Already thou seemest beautiful and more.”

“That's the way to talk,”the woman said.“You talk like the good ones. What more does she seem?”

“Intelligent,”Robert Jordan said lamely. Maria giggled and the woman shook her head sadly.“How well you begin and how it ends, Don Roberto.”

“Don't call me Don Roberto.”

“It is a joke. Here we say Don Pablo for a joke.As we say the Senorita Maria for a joke.”

“I don't joke that way,”Robert Jordan said.“Camarada to me is what all should be called with seriousness in this war. In the joking conunences a rottenness.”

Inside the cave, Robert Jordan sat on one of the rawhide stools in a corner by the fire listening to the woman. She was washing the dishes and the girl, Maria, was drying them and putting them away, kneeling to place them in the hollow dug in the wall that was used as a shelf.

“Thou art very religious about thy politics,”the woman teased him.“Thou makest no jokes?”

“Yes. I care much for jokes but not in the form of address.It is like a flag.”

“I could make jokes about a flag. Any flag,”the woman laughed.

“To me no one can joke of anything. The old flag of yellow and gold we called pus and blood.The flag of the Republic with the purple added we call blood, pus and permanganate.It is a joke.”

“He is a communist,”Maria said.“They are very serious gente.”

“Are you a communist?”

“No I am an anti-fascist.”

“For a long time?”

“Since I have understood fascism.”

“How long is that?”

“For nearly ten years.”

“That is not much time,”the woman said.“I have been a republican for twenty years.”

“My father was a republican all his life,”Maria said.“It was for that they shot him.”

“My father was also a republican all his life. Also my grandfather,”Robert Jordan said.

“In what country?”

“The United States.”

“Did they shoot them?”the woman asked.

“Qué Va,”Maria said.“The United States is a country of republicans.They don’t shoot you for being a republican there.”

“All the same it is a good thing to have a grandfather who was a republican,”the woman said.“It shows a good blood.”

“My grandfather was on the Republican national committee,”Robert Jordan said. That impressed even Maria.

“And is thy father still active in the Republic?”Pilar asked.

“No. He is dead.”

“Can one ask how he died?”

“He shot himself.”

“To avoid being tortured?”the woman asked.

“Yes,”Robert Jordan said.“To avoid being tortured.”

Maria looked at him with tears in her eyes.“My father,”she said,“could not obtain a weapon. Oh, I am very glad that your father had the good fortune to obtain a weapon.”

“Yes. It was pretty lucky,”Robert Jordan said.“Should we talk about something else?”

“Then you and me we are the same,”Maria said. She put her hand on his arm and looked at his face.He looked at her brown face and at the eyes that, since he had seen them, had never been as young as the rest of her face but that now were suddenly hungry and young and wanting.

“You could be brother and sister by the look,”the woman said.“But I believe it is fortunate that you are not.”

“Now I know why I have felt as I have,”Maria said.“Now it is clear.”

“Qué va,”Robert Jordan said and reaching over, he ran his hand over the top of her head.He had been wanting to do that all day and now he did it, he could feel his throat swelling.She moved her head under his hand and smiled up at him and he felt the thick but silky roughness of the cropped head rippling between his fingers.Then his hand was on her neck and then he dropped it.

“Do it again,”she said.“I wanted you to do that all day.”

“Later,”Robert Jordan said and his voice was thick.

“And me,”the woman of Pablo said in her booming voice,“I am expected to watch all this?I am expected not to be moved?One cannot. For fault of anything better;that Pablo should come back.”

Maria took no notice of her now, nor of the others playing cards at the table by the candlelight.

“Do you want another cup of wine, Roberto?”she asked.

“Yes,”he said.“Why not?”

“You're going to have a drunkard like I have,”the woman of Pablo said.“With that rare thing he drank in the cup and all. Listen to me, Inglés..”

“Not Inglés.American.”

Listen, then, Amencan. Where do you plan to sleep?

“Outsid I have a sleeping robe.”

“Good,”she said.“The mght is clear?”

“And will be cold.”

“Outside then,”she said.“Sleep thee outside. And thy materials can sleep with me.”

“Good,”said Robert Jordan.

“Leave us for a moment,”Robert Jordan said to the girl and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Why?”

“I wish to speak to Pilar.”

“Mus, I go?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”the woman of Pablo said when the girl had gone over to the mouth of the cave where she stood by the big wineskin, watching the card players.

“The gypsy said I should have-”he began.

“No,”the woman interrupted.“He is mistaken.”

“If it is necessary that I-”Robert Jordan said quietly but with difficulty.

“Thee would have done it, I believe,”the woman said.“Nay, it is not necessary. I was watching thee.But thy judgment was good.”

“But if it is needful-”

“No,”the woman said.“I tell you it is not needful. The mind of the gypsy is corrupt.”

“But in weakness a man can be a great danger.”

“No. Thou dost not understand.Out of this one has passed all capacity for danger.”

“I do not understand.”

“Thou are very young still,”she said.“You will understand.”Then, to the girl,“Come, Maria. We are not talking more.”

The girl came over and Robert Jordan reached his hand out and patted her head. She stroked under his hand like a kitten.Then he thought that she was going to cry.But her lips drew up again and she looked at him and smiled.

“Thee would do well to go to bed now,”the woman said to Robert Jordan.“Thou hast had a long journey.”

“Good,”said Robert Jordan.“I will get my things.”第七章/Chapter 7导读

罗伯特在睡袋里忽然醒来,翻了个身,意识到自己睡在什么地方,便又沉沉睡去。这时有一只手搭在了罗伯特的肩膀上,罗伯特抓起手边的枪警觉地翻身起来,原来是玛丽娅来了。

罗伯特把玛丽娅拉进了睡袋,拥抱着女孩儿,玛丽娅有些害羞。罗伯特向玛丽娅表白了,对玛丽娅说很爱她。玛丽娅很想让罗伯特带自己走,把她带在身边,当罗伯特的女人,而不是送到收容所带孩子,但罗伯特觉得她应该去收容所。

现在罗伯特跟玛丽娅正紧紧相拥在一起,玛丽娅告诉罗伯特自己没有爱过别的男人,但是却被几个男的糟践过。玛丽娅还记得当时痛苦的挣扎,却没有献出初吻,玛丽娅决定把初吻献给罗伯特,于是他们笨拙地吻在了一起。玛丽娅原本担心罗伯特不再爱她,罗伯特却更爱玛丽娅了,两人狂吻着,任由激情发泄。

罗伯特发现玛丽娅是光着脚的,知道玛丽娅今晚是有备而来。实际上玛丽娅很早就把爱上罗伯特的事情告诉了皮拉尔,皮拉尔给玛丽娅出主意,要玛丽娅不要放过这个机会,把自己的一切都告诉罗伯特,并且要罗伯特知道玛丽娅没有因此染上疾病。玛丽娅希望能和罗伯特也能做那些事情,以此抹去自己脑子里关于过去羞耻的记忆。

罗伯特看了看手表,这个时候已经一点多了。罗伯特告诉玛丽娅,她现在已经是自己的女人,但是作为爆破手生命没有保障,她并不能做自己一辈子的女人。玛丽娅不在乎这个,只是疯狂地向罗伯特释放自己的激情。e was asleep in the robe and he had been asleep, he thought, for a long time. The robe was spread on the forest floor in the lee of Hthe rocks beyond the cave mouth and as he slept, he turned, and turning rolled on his pistol which was fastened by a lanyard to one wrist and had been by his side under the cover when he went to sleep, shoulder and back weary, leg-tired, his muscles pulled with tiredness so that the ground was soft, and simply stretching in the robe against the flannel lining was voluptuous with fatigue. Waking, he wondered where he was, knew, and then shifted the pistol from under his side and settled happily to stretch back into sleep, his hand on the pillow of his clothing that was bundled neatly around his rope-soled shoes. He had one arm around the pillow.

Then he felt her hand on his shoulder and turned quickly, his right hand holding the pistol under the robe.

“Oh, it is thee,”he said and dropping the pistol he reached both arms up and pulled her down. With his arms around her he could feel her shivering.

“Get in,”he said softly.“It is cold out there.”

“No. I must not.”

“Get in,”he said.“And we can talk about it later.”

She was trembling and he held her wrist now with one hand and held her lightly with the other arm. She had turned her head away.

“Get in, little rabbit,”he said and kissed her on the back of the neck.

“I am afraid.”

“No. Do not be afraid.Get in.”

“How?”

“Just slip in. There is much room.Do you want me to help you?”

“No,”she said and then she was in the robe and he was holding her tight to him and trying to kiss her lips and she was pressing her face against the pillow of clothing but holding her arms close around his neck. Then he felt her arms relax and she was shivering again as he held her.

“No,”he said and laughed.“Do not be afraid. That is the pistol.”

He lifted it and slipped it behind him.

“I am ashamed,”she said, her face away from him.

He was asleep in the robe and he had been asleep, he thought, for a long time. The robe was spread on the forest floor in the lee of the rocks beyond the cave mouth and as he slept, he turned, and turning rolled on his pistol which was fastened by a lanyard to one wrist and had been by his side under the cover when he went to sleep, shoulder and back weary, leg-tired, his muscles pulled with tiredness so that the ground was soft, and simply stretching in the robe against the flannel lining was voluptuous with fatigue.Waking, he wondered where he was, knew, and then shifted the pistol from under his side and settled happily to stretch back into sleep, his hand on the pillow of his clothing that was bundled neatly around his rope-soled shoes.He had one arm around the pillow.

“No. You must not be.Here.Now.”

“No.”I must not. I am ashamed and frightened.”

“No.”My rabbit. Please.

“I must not. If thou dost not love me.”

“I love thee.”

“I love thee. Oh, I love thee.Put thy hand on my head,”she said away from him, her face still in the pillow.He put his hand on her head and stroked it and then suddenly her face was away from the pillow and she was in his arms, pressed close against him, and her face was against his and she was crying.

He held her still and close, feeling the long length of the young body, and he stroked her head and kissed the wet saltiness of her eyes, and as she cried he could feel the rounded, firm-pointed breasts touching through the shirt she wore.

“I cannot kiss,”she said.“I do not know how.”

“There is no need to kiss.”

“Yes. I must kiss.I must do everything.”

“There is no need to do anything. We are all right.But thou hast many clothes.”

“What should I do?”

“I will help you.”

“Is that better?”

“Yes. Much.Is it not better to thee?”

“Yes. Much better.And I can go with thee as Pilar said?”

“Yes.”

“But not to a home. With thee.”

“No, to a home.”

“No. No.No.With thee and I will be thy woman.”

Now as they lay all that before had been shielded was unshielded. Where there had been roughness of fabric all was smooth with a smoothness and firm rounded pressing and a long warm coolness, cool outside and warm within, long and light and closely holding, closely held, lonely, hollow-making with contours, happy-making, young and loving and now all warmly smooth with a hollowing, chest-aching, tightheld loneliness that was such that Robert Jordanfelt he could not stand it and he said,‘Hast thou loved others?”

“Never.”

Then suddenly, going dead in his arms,“But things were done to me.

“By whom?”

“By various.”

Now she lay perfectly quietly and as though her body were dead and turned her head away from him.

“Now you will not love me.”

“I love you,”he said.

But something had happened to him and she knew it.

“No.”she said and her voice had gone dead and flat.“Thou wilt not love me. But perhaps thou wilt take me to the home.And I will go to the home and I will never be thy woman nor anything.”

“I love thee, Maria.”

“No. It is not true,”she said.Then as a last thing pitifully and hopefully.

“But I have never kissed any man.”

“Then kiss me now.”

“I wanted to,”she said.“But I know not how. Where things were done to me I fought until I could not see.I fought until-until—until one sat upon my head-and I bit him-and then they tied my mouth and held my arms behind my head-and others did things to me.”

“I love thee, Maria,”he said. And no one has done anything to thee.Thee, they cannot touch.No one has touched thee, little rabbit.”

“You believe that?”

“I know it.”

“And you can love me?”warm again against him now.

“I can love thee more.”

“I will try to kiss thee very well.”

“Kiss me a little.”

“I do not know how.”

“Just kiss me.”

She kissed him on the cheek.

“No.”

“Where do the noses go?I always wondered where the noses would go.”

“Look, turn thy head,”and then their mouths were tight together and she lay close pressed against him and her mouth opened a little gradually and then, suddenly, holding her against him, he was happier than he had ever been, lightly, lovingly, exultingly, innerly happy and unthinking and untired and unworried and only feeling a great delight and he said,“My little rabbit. My darling.My sweet.My long lovely.”

“What do you say?”she said as though from a great distance away.

“My lovely one,”he said.

They lay there and he felt her heart beating against his and with the side of his foot he stroked very lightly against the side of hers.

“Thee came barefooted,”he said.

“Yes.”

“There thee knew thou wert coming to the bed.”

“Yes.”

“And you had no fear.”

“Yes. Much.But more fear of how it would be to take my shoes off.”

“And what time is it now?lo sabes?”

“No. Thou hast no watch?”

“Yes. But it is behind thy back.”

“Take it from there.”

“No.”

“Then look over my shoulder.”

It was one o'clock. The dial showed bright in the darkness that the robe made.

“Thy chin scratches my shoulder.”

“Pardon it. I have no tools to shave.”

“I like it. Is thy beard blond?”

“Yes.”

“And will it be long?”

“Not before the bridge. Maria, listen.Dost thou—?”

“Do I what?”

“Dost thou wish?”

“Yes. Everything.Please.And if we do everything together, the other maybe never will have been.”

“Did you think of that?”

“No. I think it in myself but Pilar told me.”

“She is very wise.”

“And another thing,”Maria said softly.“She said for me to tell you that I am not sick. She knows about such things and she said to tell you that.”

“She told you to tell me?”

“Yes. I spoke to her and told her that I love you.I loved you when I saw you today and I loved you always but I never saw you before and I told Pilar and she said if I ever told you anything about anything, to tell you that I was not sick.The other thing she told me long ago.Soon after the train.”

“What did she say?”

“She said that nothing is done to oneself that one does not accept and that if I loved someone it would take it all away. Iwished to die, you see.”

“What she said is true.”

“And now I am happy that I did not die. I am so happy that I did not die.And you can love me?”

“Yes. I love you now.”

“And I can be thy woman?”

“I cannot have a woman doing what I do. But thou art my woman now.”

“If once I am, then I will keep on. Am I thy woman now?”

“Yes, Maria. Yes, my little rabbit.”

She held herself tight to him and her lips looked for his and then found them and were against them and he felt her, fresh, new and smooth and young and lovely with the warm, scalding coolness and unbelievable to be there in the robe that was as familiar as his clothes, or his shoes, or his duty and then she said, frightenedly,“And now let us do quickly what it is we do so that the other is all gone.”

“You want?”

“Yes,”she said almost fiercely.“Yes. Yes.Yes.”第八章/Chapter 8导读

罗伯特夜里醒来的时候,看到玛丽娅还在睡袋里,但早上醒来的时候睡袋里只剩下了自己。罗伯特看见帕博罗从树林那边回来,心想帕博罗是去照看自己的马了。罗伯特继续睡觉,直到飞机的到来才把罗伯特惊醒。这时,帕博罗等人正在洞口观察飞机,罗伯特认为这些飞机是执行某些任务的,跟游击队无关,便任凭天上的飞机飞过,自己开始收拾睡袋。但是飞机越来越多,帕博罗让罗伯特到洞里躲一躲,罗伯特知道,还会有更多的飞机过来。帕博罗他们从来没有见过这么多的飞机。

罗伯特意识到这可能是战斗的预兆,就开始用秒表计时,计算飞机的行程和位置,但是并没有听到预想的轰炸声,罗伯特估计这些飞机是去了别的地方,或者是飞机场。帕博罗这时很担心自己的马会不会发现,罗伯特告诉他这些飞机的目标不是那几匹马。

罗伯特叫来了安瑟尔谟,教给了老向导一些简单的计数符号和军队代号,让老向导去公路上找一个安全地方监视军队调动的情况。然后罗伯特又把拉菲尔叫了出来,让拉菲尔先跟着老向导去找到监视的地点,以便于以后派人跟老向导换班,之后再去观察两个哨岗,确定那里现在有多少人以及换班的时间间隔等等。罗伯特反复叮嘱拉菲尔这个任务的重要性,要拉菲尔认真对待,这让拉菲尔有点生气,拉菲尔又发了一通牢骚。

罗伯特准备去找聋子,告诉拉菲尔不要害怕飞机,这些飞机都是去炸飞机场的。皮拉尔和帕博罗听了罗伯特的话对飞机绕道飞行有些疑惑。罗伯特就开始向哨兵费南多询问公路那边的情况。在费南多活动的区域,没有听说关于飞机和军队调动的事情,倒是总有人议论共和国军队要发动战役,还说要炸桥梁,更有传言说敌人的军队要到山里搜捕游击队。费南多认为这些都不过是流言,不足为信。皮拉尔这时并没有把罗伯特准备炸桥的事告诉费南多。罗伯特教给了老向导一些简单的计数符号和军队代号

玛丽娅和皮拉尔赶紧张罗着大家吃早饭,玛丽娅对罗伯特尤为关照。费南多拿到饭就大吃了起来,皮拉尔不喜欢费南多的这个样子。这时说到了出国,玛丽娅就要费南多讲一讲在瓦伦西亚的经历,费南多说那个地方的人很没礼貌,自己很不喜欢那个地方。这个评价让皮拉尔非常生气,顿时对费南多破口大骂,因为那里有皮拉尔最美好的记忆。

玛丽娅又问起了皮拉尔在瓦伦西亚的经历。皮拉尔当时还跟那个斗牛士在一起呢,那个斗牛士在那里有三场比赛,皮拉尔就跟着去了。皮拉尔他们在海滩玩,可以看到公牛拉帆,在海滩的凉亭里还可以吃各种美味,皮拉尔还给大家介绍了那儿的各种水果、饮料。玛丽娅比较好奇皮拉尔在其他时间做些什么,皮拉尔告诉玛丽娅她会和斗牛士做爱,躺在房间里听街上的音乐。皮拉尔故意跟帕博罗说跟他在一起的时候没有这么浪漫,帕博罗不甘示弱,反驳皮拉尔:跟那个斗牛士在一起的时候也没有炸火车的刺激。但是不管怎么样,都无法改变瓦伦西亚在皮拉尔心目中的地位。

皮拉尔准备和玛丽娅出发去找聋子,这时候飞机又来了。t was cold in the night and Robert Jordan slept heavily.Once he woke and, stretching, realized that the girl was there, curled far down Iin the robe, breathing lightly and regularly, and in the dark, bringing his head in from the cold, the sky hard and sharp with stars, the air cold in his nostrils, he put his head under the warmth of the robe and kissed her smooth shoulder.She did not wake and he rolled onto his side away from her and with his head out of the robe in the cold again, lay awake a moment feeling the long, seeping luxury of his fatigue and then the smooth tactile happiness of their two bodies touching and then, as he pushed his legs out deep as they would go in the robe, he slipped down steeply into sleep.

He woke at first daylight and the girl was gone. He knew it as he woke and, putting out his arm, he felt the robe warm where she had been.He looked at the mouth of the cave where the blanket showed frostrimmed and saw the thin gray smoke from the crack in the rocks that meant the kitchen fire was lighted.

A man came out of the timber, a blanket worn over his head like a poncho. Robert Jordan saw it was Pablo and that he was smoking a cigarette.He's been down corralling the horses, he thought.

Pablo pulled open the blanket and went into the cave without looking toward Robert Jordan.

Robert Jordan felt with his hand the light frost that lay on the worn, spotted green balloon silk outer covering of the five-year-old down robe, then settled into it again. Bueno, he said to himself, feeling the familiar caress of the flannel lining as he spread his legs wide, then drew them together and then turned on his side so that his head would be away from the direction where he knew the sun would come.Qué màs da, I might as well sleep some more.

He slept until the sound of airplane motors woke him.

Lying on his back, he saw them, a fascist patrol of three Fiats, tiny, bright, fast-moving across the mountain sky, headed in the direction from which Anselmo and he had come yesterday. The three passed and then came nine more, flying much higher in the minute, pointed formations of threes, threes and threes.

Pablo and the gypsy were standing at the cave mouth, in the shadow, watching the sky and as Robert Jordan lay still, the sky now full of the high hammering roar of motors, there was a new droning roar and three more planes came over at less than a thousand feet above the clearing. These three were Heinkel one-elevens, twin-motor bombers.

Robert Jordan, his head in the shadow of the rocks, knew they would not see him, and that it did not matter if they did. He knew they could possibly see the horses in the corral if they were looking for anything in these mountains.If they were not looking for anything they might still see them but would naturally take them for some of their own cavalry mounts.Then came a new and louder droning roar and three more Heinkel one-elevens showed coming steeply, stiffly, lower yet, crossing in rigid formation, their pounding roar approaching in crescendo to an absolute of noise and then receding as they passed the clearing.

Robert Jordan unrolled the bundle of clothing that made his pillow andpulled on his shirt. It was over his head and he was pulling it down when he heard the next planes coming and he pulled his trousers on under the robe and lay still as three more of the Heinkel bimotor bombers came over.Before they were gone over the shoulder of the mountain, he had buckied on his pistol, rolled the robe and placed it against the rocks and sat now, close against the rocks, tying his ropesoled shoes when the approaching droning turned to a greater clattering roar than ever before and nine more Heinkel light bombers came in echelons;hammering the sky apart as they went over.

Robert Jordan slipped along the rocks to the mouth of the cave where one of the brothers, Pablo, the gypsy, Anselmo, AgustIn and the woman stood in the mouth looking out.

“Have there been planes like this before?”he asked.

“Never,”said Pablo,“Get in. They will see thee.”

The sun had not yet hit the mouth of the cave. It was just now shining on the meadow by the stream and Robert Jordan knew they could not be seen in the dark, early morning shadow of the trees and the solid shade the rocks made, but he went in the cave in order not to make them nervous.

“They are many,”the woman said.

“And there will be more,”Robert Jordan said.

“How do you know?”Pablo asked suspiciously.

“Those, just now, will have pursuit planes with them.”

Just then they heard them, the higher, whining drone, and as they passed at about five thousand feet, Robert Jordan counted fifteen Fiats in echelon of echelons like a wild-goose flight of the V-shaped threes.

In the cave entrance their faces all looked very sober and Robert Jordan said,“You have not seen this many planes?”

“Never,”said Pablo.

“There are not many at Segovia?”

“Never has there been, we have seen three usually. Sometimes six of the chasers.Perhaps three Junkers, the big ones with the three motors, with the chasers with them.Never have we seen planes like this.”

It is bad, Robert Jordan thought. This is really bad.Here is a concentration of planes which means something very bad.I must listen for them to unload.But no, they cannot have brought up the troops yet for the attack.Certainly not before tonight or tomorrow night, certainly not yet.Certainly they will not be moving anything at this hour.

He could still hear the receding drone. He looked at his watch.By now they should be over the lines, the first ones anyway.He pushed the knob that set the second hand to clicking and watched it move around.No, perhaps not yet.By now.Yes.Well over by now.Two hundred and fifty miles an hour for those one-elevens anyway.Five minutes would carry them there.By now they're well beyond the pass with Castile all yellow and tawny beneath them now in the morning, the yellow crossed by white roads and spotted with the small villages and the shadows of the Heinkels moving over the land as the shadows of sharks pass over a sandy floor of the ocean.

There was no bump, bump, bumping thud of bombs. His watch ticked on.

They're going on to Colmenar, to Escorial, or to the flying field at Manzanares el Real, he thought, with the old castle above the lake with the ducks in the reeds and the fake airfield just behind the real field with the dummy planes, not quite hidden, their props turning in the wind. That's where they must be headed.They can't know about the attack, he told himself and something in him said, why can't they?They've known about all the others.

“Do you think they saw the horses?”Pablo asked.

“Those weren't looking for horses,”Robert Jordan said.

“But did they see them?”

“Not unless they were asked to look for them.”

“Could they see them?”

“Probably not,”Robert Jordan said,“Unless the sun were on the trees.”

“It is on them very early,”Pablo said miserably.

“I think they have other things to think of besides thy horses,”Robert Jordan said.

It was eight minutes since he had pushed the lever on the stop watch and there was still no sound of bombing.

“What do you do with the watch?”the woman asked.

“I listen where they have gone.”

“Oh,”she said. At ten minutes he stopped looking at the watch knowing itwould be too far away to hear, now, even allowing a minute for the sound to travel, and said to Anselmo,“I would speak to thee.”

Anselmo came out of the cave mouth and they walked a little way from the entrance and stood beside a pine tree.

“Qué tal?“Robert Jordan asked him.“How goes it?”

“All right.”

“Hast thou eaten?”

“No. No one has eaten.”

“Eat then and take something to eat at midday. I want you to go to watch the road.Make a note of everything that passes both up and down the road.”

“I do not write.”

“There is no need to,”Robert Jordan took out two leaves from his notebook and with his knife cut an inch from the end of his pencil.“Take this and make a mark for tanks thus,”he drew a slanted tank,“and then a mark for each one and when there are four, cross the four strokes for the fifth.”

“In this way we count also.”

“Good. Make another mark, two wheels and a box, for trucks.If they are empty make a circle.If they are full of troops make a straight mark.Mark for guns.Big ones, thus.Small ones, thus.Mark for cars.Mark for ambulances.Thus, two wheels and a box with a cross on it.Mark for troops on foot by companies, like this, see?A little square and then mark beside it.Mark for cavalry, like this, you see?Like a horse.A box with four legs.That is a troop of twenty horse.You understand?Each troop a mark.”

“Yes. It is ingenious.”

“Now,”he drew two large wheels with circles around them and a short line for a gun barrel.“These are anti-tanks. They have rubber tyres.Mark for them.These are anti-aircraft,”two wheels with the gun barrel slanted up.“Mark for them also.Do you understand?Have you seen such guns?”

“Yes,”Anselmo said.“Of course. It is clear.”

“Take the gypsy with you that he will know from what point you will be watching so you may be relieved. Pick a place that is safe, not too close and from where you can see well and comfortably.Stay until you are relieved.”

“I understand.”

“Good. And that when you come back, I should know everything that moved upon the road.One paper is for movement up.One is for movement down the road.”

They walked over toward the cave.

“Send Rafael to me,”Robert Jordan said and waited by the tree. He watched Anselmo go into the cave, the blanket falling behind him.The gypsy sauiitered out, wiping his mouth with his hand.

“Qué tal?”the gypsy said.“Did you divert yourself last night?”

“I slept.”

“Less bad,”the gypsy said and grinned.“Have you a cigarette?”

“Listen,”Robert Jordan said and felt in his pocket for the cigarettes.“I wish you to go with Anselmo to a place from which he will observe the road. There you will leave him, noting the place in order that you may guide me to it or guide whoever will relieve him later.You will then go to where you can observe the saw mill and note if there are any changes in the post there.”

“What changes?”

“How many men are there now?”

“Eight. The last I knew.”

“See how many are there now. See at what intervals the guard is relieved at that bridge.”

“Intervals?”

“How many hours the guard stays in and at what time a change is made.”

“I have no watch.”

“Take mine.”He unstrapped it.

“What a watch,”Rafael said admiringly.“Look at what complications. Such a watch should be able to read and write.Look at what complications of numbers.It's a watch to end watches.”

“Don't fool with it,”Robert Jordan said.“Can you tell time?”

“Why not?Twelve o'clock mid-day. Hunger.Twelve o'clock midnight.Sleep.Six o'clock in the morning, hunger.Six o'clock at night, drunk.With luck.Ten o'clock at night—”

“Shut up,”Robert Jordan said.“You don't need to be a clown. I want you to check on the guard at the big bridge and the post on the road below in thesame manner as the post and the guard at the saw mill and the small bridge.”

“It is much work,”the gypsy smiled.“You are sure there is no one you would rather send than me?”

“No, Rafael. It is very important.That you should do it very carefully and keeping out of sight with care.”

“I believe I will keep out of sight,”the gypsy said.“Why do you tell me to keep out of sight?You think I want to be shot?”

“Take things a little seriously,”Robert Jordan said.“This is serious.”

“Thou askest me to take things seriously?After what thou didst last night?When thou needest to kill a man and instead did what you did?You were supposed to kill one, not make one!When we have just seen the sky full of airplanes of a quantity to kill us back to our grandfathers and forward to all unborn grand Sons including all cats, goats and bedbugs. Airplanes making a noise to curdle the milk in your mother's breasts as they pass over darkening the sky and roaring like lions and you ask me to take things seriously.I take them too seriously already.

“All right,”said Robert Jordan and laughed and put his hand on the gypsy's shoulder.“Don't take them too seriously then. Now finish your breakfast and go.”

“And thou?”the gypsy asked.“What do you do?”

“I go to see El Sordo.”

“After those airplanes it is very possible that thou wilt find nobody in the whole mountains,”the gypsy said.“There must have been many people sweating the big drop this morning when those passed.”

“Those have other work than hunting guerillas.”

“Yes,”the gypsy said. Then shook his head.“But when they care to undertake that work.”

“Qué va,”Robert Jordan said.“Those are the best of the German light bombers.They do not send those after gypsies.”

“They give me a horror,”Rafael said.“Of such things, yes, I am frightened.”

“They go to bomb an airfield,”Robert Jordan told him as they went into the cave.“I am almost sure they go for that.”

“What do you say?”the woman of Pablo asked. She poured him a bowl of coffee and handed him a can of condensed milk.

“There is milk?What luxury!”

“There is everything,”she said.“And since the planes there is much fear. Where did you say they went?”

Robert Jordan dripped some of the thick milk into his coffee from the slit cut in the can, wiped the can on the rim of the cup, and stirred the coffee until it was light brown.

“They go to bomb an airfield, I believe. They might go to Escorial and Colmenar.Perhaps all three.”

“That they should go a long way and keep away from here,”Pablo said.

“And why are they here now?”the woman asked.“What brings them now?Never have we seen such planes. Nor in such quantity.Do they prepare an attack?”

“What movement was there on the road last night?”Robert Jordan asked. The girl Maria was close to him but he did not look at her.

“You,”the woman said.“Fernando. You were in La Granja last night.What movement was there?”

“Nothing,”a short, open-faced man of about thirty-five with a cast in one eye, whom Robert Jordan had not seen before, answered.“A few camions as usual. Some cars.No movement of troops while I was there.”

“You go into La Granja every night?”Robert Jordan asked him.

“I or another,”Fernando said.“Someone goes.”

“They go for the news. For tobacco.For small things,”the woman said.

“We have people there?”

“Yes. Why not?Those who work the power plant.Some others.”

“What was the news?”

“Pues nada. There was nothing.It still goes badly in the north.That is not news.In the north it has gone badly now since the beginning.”

“Did you hear anything from Segovia?”

“No, bombre. I did not ask.”

“Do you go into Segovia?”

“Sometimes,”Fernando said.“But there is danger. There are controlswhere they ask for your papers.”

“Do you know the airfield?”

“No, bombre. I know where it is but I was never close to it.There, there is much asking for papers.”

“No one spoke about these planes last night?”

“In La Granja?Nobody. But they will talk about them tonight certainly.They talked about the broadcast of Quiepo de Liano.Nothing more.Oh, yes.It seems that the Republic is preparing an offensive.”

“That what?”

“That the Republic is preparing an offensive.”

“Where?”

“It is not certain. Perhaps here.Perhaps for another part of the Sierra.Hast thou heard of it?”

“They say this in La Granja?”

“Yes, bombre. I had forgotten it.But there is always much talk of offensives.”

“Where does this talk come from?”

“Where?Why from different people. The officers speak in the cafés in Segovia and Avila and the waiters note it.The rumours come running.Since some time they speak of an offensive by the Republic in these parts.”

“By the Republic or by the Fascists?”

“By the Republic. If it were by the Fascists all would know of it.No, this is an offensive of quite some size.Some say there are two.One here and the other over the Alto del Leon near the Escorial.Have you heard aught of this?”

“What else did you hear?”

“Nada, bombre. Nothing.Oh, yes.There was some talk that the Republicans would try to blow up the bridges, if there was to be an offensive.But the bridges are guarded.”

“Art thou joking?”Robert Jordan said, sipping his coffee.

“No, bombre,”said Fernando.

“This one doesn't joke,”the woman said. Bad luck that he doesn't.”

“Then,”said Robert Jordan.“Thank you for all the news. Did you hear nothing more?”

“No. They talk, as always, of troops to be sent to clear out these mountains.There is some talk that they are on the way.That they have been sent already from Valladolid.But they always talk in that way.It is not to give any importance to.”

“And thou,”the woman of Pablo said to Pablo almost viciously.“With thy talk of safety.”

Pablo looked at her reflectively and scratched his chin.“Thou,”he said.“And thy bridges.”

“What bridges?”asked Fernando cheerfully.

“Stupid,”the woman said to him.“Thick head. Tonto.Take another cup of coffee and try to remember more news.”

“Don't be angry, Pilar,”Fernando said calmly and cheerfully.“Neither should one become alarmed at rumours. I have told thee and this comrade all that I remember.”

“You don't remember anything more?”Robert Jordan asked.

“No,”Fernando said with dignity.“And I am fortunate to remember this because, since it was but rumours, I paid no attention to any of it.”

“Then there may have been more?”

“Yes. It is possible.But I paid no attention.For a year I have heard nothing but rumours.”

Robert Jordan heard a quick, control-breaking sniff of laughter from the girl, Maria, who was standing behind him.

“Tell us one more rumour, Femandito,”she said and then her shoulders shook again.

“If I could remember, I would not,”Fernando said.“It is beneath a man's dignity to listen and give importance to rumours.”

“And with this we will save the Republic,”the woman said.

“No. You will save it by blowing bridges,”Pablo told her.

“Go,”said Robert Jordan to Anselmo and Rafael.“If you have eaten.”

“We go now,”the old man said and the two of them stood up. Robert Jordan felt a hand on his shoulder.It was Maria.“Thou shouldst eat,”she said and let her hand rest there.“Eat well so that thy stomach can support more rumours.”

“The rumours have taken the place of the appetite.”

“No. It should not be so.Eat this now before more rumours come.”She put the bowl before him.

“Do not make a joke of me,”Fernando said to her.“I am thy good friend, Maria.”

“I do not joke at thee, Fernando. I only joke with him and he should eat or he will be hungry.”

“We should all eat,”Fernando said.“Pilar, what passes that we are not served?”

“Nothing, man,”the woman of Pablo said and filled his bowl with the meat stew.“Eat. Yes, that's what you can do.Eat now.”

“It is very good, Pilar,”Fernando said, all dignity intact.

“Thank you,”said the woman.“Thank you and thank you again.”

“Are you angry at me?”Fernando asked.

“No. Eat.Go ahead and eat.”

“I will,”said Fernando.“Thank you.”

Robert Jordan looked at Maria and her shoulders started shaking again and she looked away. Fernando ate steadily, a proud and dignified expression on his face, the dignity of which could not be affected even by the huge spoon that he was using or the slight dripping of juice from the stew which ran from the corners of his mouth.

“Do you like the food?”the woman of Pablo asked him.

“Yes, Pilar,”he said with his mouth full.“It is the same as usual.”

Robert Jordan felt Maria's hand on his arm and felt her fingers tighten with delight.

“It is for that that you like it?”the woman asked Fernando.

“Yes,”she said.“I see. The stew;as usual.Como siempre.Things are bad in the north;as usual.An offensive here;as usual.That troops come to hunt us out;as usual.You could serve as a monument to as usual.”

“But the last two are only rumours, Pilar.”

“Spain,”the woman of Pablo said bitterly. Then turned to Robert Jordan.“Do they have people such as this in other countries?”

“There are no other countries like Spain,”Robert Jordan said politely.

You are night, Fernando said. There is no other country in the world like Spain.”

“Hast thou ever seen any other country?”the woman asked him.

“Nay”,said Fernando.“Nor do I wish to.”

“You see?”the woman of Pablo said to Robert Jordan.

“Fernandito,”Maria said to him.“Tell us of the time thee went to Valencia.”

“I did not like Valencia.”

“Why?”Maria asked and pressed Robert Jordan's arm again.“Why did thee not like it?”

“The people had no manners and I could not understand them. All they did was shout ché at one another.”

“Could they understand thee?”Maria asked.

“They pretended not to,”Fernando said.

“And what did thee there?”

“I left without even seeing the sea,”Fernando said.“I did not like the people.”

“Oh, get out of here, you old maid,”the woman of Pablo said.“Get out of here before you make me sick. In Valencia I had the best time of my life.Vamos!Valencia.Don't talk to me of Valencia.”

“What did thee there?”Maria asked. The woman of Pablo sat down at the table with a bowl of coffee, a piece of bread and a bowl of the stew.

“Qué?what did we there.I was there when Finito had a contract for three fights at the Feria.Never have I seen so many people.Never have I seen cafés so crowded.For hours it would be impossible to get seat and it was impossible to board the tram cars.In Valencia there was movement all day and all night.”

“But what did you do?”Maria asked.

“All things,”the woman said. We went to the beach and lay in the water and boats with sails were hauled up out of the sea by oxen.The oxen driven to the water until they must swim;then harnessed to the boats, and, when they found their feet, staggering up the sand.Ten yokes of oxen dragging a boat with sails out of the sea in the morning with the line of the small waves breaking on the beach.That is Valencia.”

“But what did thee besides watch oxen?”

“We ate in pavilions on the sand. Pastries made of cooked and shredded fish and red and green peppers and small nuts like grains of rice.Pastries delicate and flaky and the fish of a richness that was incredible.Prawns fresh from the sea sprinkled with lime juice.They were pink and sweet and there were four bites to a prawn.Of those we ate many.Then we ate paella with fresh sea food, clams in their shells, mussels, crayfish, and small eels.Then we ate even smaller eels alone cooked in oil and as tiny as bean sprouts and curled in all directions and so tender they disappeared ii the mouth without chewing.All the time drinking a white wine, cold, light and good at thirty centimos the bottle.And for an end;melon.That is the home of the melon.”

“The melon of Castile is better,”Fernando said.

“Qué va,”said the woman of Pablo.“The melon of Castile is for self abuse.The melon of Valencia for eating.When I think of those melons long as one’s arm, green like the sea and crisp and juicy to cut and sweeter than the early morning in summer.Aye, when I think of those smallest eels, tiny, delicate and in mounds on the plate.Also the beer in pitchers all through the afternoon, the beer sweating in its coldness in pitchers the size of water jugs.”

“And what did thee when not eating nor drinking?”

“We made love in the room with the strip wood blinds hanging over the balcony and a breeze through the opening of the top of the door which turned on hinges. We made love there, the room dark in the day time from the hanging blinds, and from the streets there was the scent of the flower market and the smell of burned powder from the firecrackers of the traca that ran through the streets exploding each noon during the Feria.It was a line of fireworks that ran through all the city, the firecrackers linked together and the explosions running along on poles and wires of the tramways, exploding with great noise and a jumping from pole to pole with a sharpness and a cracking of explosion you could not believe.

“We made love and then sent for another pitcher of beer with the drops of its coldness on the glass and when the girl brought it, I took it from the door and I placed the coldness of the pitcher against the back of Finito as he lay, now, asleep, not having wakened when the beer was brought and he said,‘No, Pilar. No, woman, let me sleep.'And I said,‘No, wake up and drink this to see how cold,'and he drank without opening his eyes and went to sleep again and I lay with my back against a pillow at the foot of the bed and watched him sleep, brown and dark-haired and young and quiet in his sleep, and drank the whole pitcher, listening now to the music of a band that was passing.You,”she said to Pablo.“Do you know aught of such things?”

“We have done things together,”Pablo said.

“Yes,”the woman said.“Why not?And thou wert more man than Finito in your time. But never did we go to Valencia.Never did we lie in bed together and hear a band pass in Valencia.”

“It was impossible,”Pablo told her.“We have had no opportunity to go to Valencia. Thou knowest that if thou wilt be reasonable.But, with Finito, neither did thee blow up any train.”

“No,”said the woman. That is what is left to us.The train.Yes.Always the train.No one can speak against that.That remains of all the laziness, sloth and failure.That remains of the cowardice of this moment.There were many other things before too.I do not want to be unjust.But no one can speak against Valencia either.You hear me?”

“I did not like it,”Fernando said quietly.“I did not like Valencia.”

“Yet they speak of the mule as stubborn,”the woman said.“Clean up, Maria, that we may go.”

As she said this they heard the first sound of the planes returning.第九章/Chapter 9导读

罗伯特看着天上飞过的飞机,就像鲨鱼一般,然而行动却像死神。玛丽娅也觉得这些飞机像死神。忽然有三架飞机飞得很低,从他们的头顶呼啸而过,帕博罗还在担心自己的马。这时别的飞机也都飞走了,皮拉尔和罗伯特准备动身去找聋子。皮拉尔要罗伯特和玛丽娅跟自己走着去,这样对身体有好处。

罗伯特要等奥古斯汀回来帮忙看护装着炸药的背包才能出发,皮拉尔便和罗伯特聊起了昨天晚上和玛丽娅的事情,皮拉尔又强调了一次玛丽娅没有那种病。罗伯特担心玛丽娅会怀孕,皮拉尔并不在意这个,还是希望罗伯特能带走玛丽娅。现在的皮拉尔心中也很哀伤,因为皮拉尔知道前一天的事情伤害了帕博罗的心。晚上皮拉尔看见帕博罗很伤心,但也厌恶帕博罗的胆小。皮拉尔表示不会因为自己的哀伤影响共和国的事业,罗伯特也告诉皮拉尔,自己害怕的也只是不能完成任务。

皮拉尔很欣赏罗伯特的冷静,也看出罗伯特很在乎玛丽娅。皮拉尔希望罗伯特和玛丽娅见到聋子之后能独处一会儿,因为时间不多了,这时罗伯特想起来皮拉尔看自己手相的时候有些不对劲儿。罗伯特看见玛丽娅在山洞里笑,便进去和玛丽娅旁若无人地亲热。费南多看不下去了,但听皮拉尔说罗伯特他们已经订婚了,只好离开这里去换岗,正好碰上了走来的奥古斯汀。

奥古斯汀一路骂骂咧咧地,皮拉尔跟奥古斯汀闲聊了起来。奥古斯汀看见罗伯特在山洞里不出来有些好奇,皮拉尔又替罗伯特和玛丽娅打掩护,把话题扯到了飞机上。奥古斯汀对这么多飞机也表示担心,觉得要出事了。皮拉尔认为这次飞机的调动有些不明智,奥古斯汀也赞同,而且奥古斯汀还认为帕博罗很有计谋,皮拉尔对此不以为然。有三架飞机飞得很低

在奥古斯汀眼里,帕博罗很有智谋,皮拉尔则是一腔忠诚为国家,而前来炸桥的罗伯特脑子不够灵活,只是个这方面的行家而已。奥古斯汀告诉皮拉尔现在必须得考虑下一步的转移地点,而这件事又必须依赖于帕博罗的能力,只有帕博罗、皮拉尔和罗伯特通力合作,才可能取得炸桥成功,然后顺利转移。

皮拉尔对帕博罗现在的胆小和堕落表示怀疑,奥古斯汀坚持认为帕博罗会审时度势,改变自己的想法的。皮拉尔很庆幸没有杀死帕博罗,决定考虑一下奥古斯汀的意见,然后叫上罗伯特一起去找聋子了。hey stood in the mouth of the cave and watched them. The bombers were high now in fast, ugly arrow-heads beating the sky Tapart with the noise of their motors.They are shaped like sharks, Robert Jordan thought, the wide-finned, sharp-nosed sharks of the Gulf Stream.But these, wide-finned in silver, roaring, the light mist of their propellers in the sun, these do not move like sharks.They move like no thing there has ever been.They move like mechanized doom.

You ought to write, he told himself. Maybe you will again sometime.He felt Maria holding to his arm.She was looking up and he said to her.“What do they look like to you, guapa?”

“I don't know,”she said.“Death, I think.”

“They look like planes to me,”the woman of Pablo said.“Where are the little ones?”

“They may be crossing at another part,”Robert Jordan said.“Those bombers are too fast to have to wait for them and have come back alone. We never follow them across the lines to fight.There aren't enough planes to risk it.”

Just then three Heinkel fighters in V formation came low over the clearing coming toward them, just over the tree tops, like clattering, wing-tilting, pinch-nosed ugly toys, to enlarge suddenly, fearfully to their actual size;pouring past in a whining roar. They were so low that from the cave mouth all of them could see the pilots, helmeted, goggled, a scarf blowing back from behind the patrol leader's head.

“Those can see the horses,”Pablo said.

“Those can see thy cigarette butts,”the woman said.“Let fall the blanket.

No more planes came over. The others must have crossed farther up the range and when the droning was gone they went out of the cave into the open.

The sky was empty now and high and blue and clear.

“It seems as though they were a dream that you wake from,”Maria said to Robert Jordan. There was not even the last almost unheard hum that comes like a finger faintly touching and leaving and touching again after the sound is gone almost past hearing.

“They are no dream and you go in and clean up,”Pilar said to her.“What about it?”she turned to Robert Jordan.“Should we ride or walk?”

Pablo looked at her and grunted.

“As you will,”Robert Jordan said.

“Then let us walk,”she said.“I would like it for the liver.”

“Riding is good for the liver.”

“Yes, but hard on the buttocks. We will walk and thou—”She turned to Pablo.“Go down and count thy beasts and see they have not flown away with any.”

“Do you want a horse to ride?”Pablo asked Robert Jordan.

“No. Many thanks.What about the girl?”

“Better for her to walk,”Pilar said.“She'll get stiff in too many places and serve for nothing.”

Robert Jordan felt his face reddening.

“Did you sleep well?”Pilar asked. Then said,“It is true that there is no sickness.There could have been.I know not why there wasn't.There probably still is God after all, although we have abolished Him.Go on,”she said to Pablo.“This does not concern thee.This is of people younger than thee.Made of other material.Get on.”Then to Robert Jordan,“Agustín is looking after thy things.We go when he comes.”

It was a clear, bright day and warm now in the sun. Robert Jordan lookedat the big, brown-faced woman with her kind, widely set eyes and her square, heavy face, lined and pleasantly ugly, the eyes merry, but the face sad until the lips moved.He looked at her and then at the man, heavy and stolid, moving off through the trees toward the corral.The woman, too, was looking after him.

“Did you make love?”the woman said.

“What did she say?”

“She would not tell me.”

“I neither.”

“Then you made love,”the woman said.“Be as careful with her as you can.

“What if she has a baby?”

“That will do no harm,”the woman said.“That will do less harm.”

“This is no place for that.”

“She will not stay here. She will go with you.”

“And where will I go?I can't take a woman where I go.”

“Who knows?You may take two where you go.”

“That is no way to talk.”

“Listen,”the woman said.“I am no coward, but I see things very clearly in the early morning and I think there are many that we know that are alive now who will never see another Sunday.”

“In what day are we?”

“Sunday.”

“Qué va,”said Robert Jordan.“Another Sunday is very far.If we see Wednesday we are all right.But I do not like to hear thee talk like this.”

“Everyone needs to talk to someone,”the woman said.“Before we had religion and other nonsense. Now for everyone there should be someone to whom one can speak frankly, for all the valour that one could have one becomes very alone.”

“We are not alone. We are all together.”

“The sight of those machines does things to one,”the woman said.“We are nothing against such machines.”

“Yet we can beat them.”

“Look,”the woman said.“I confess a sadness to you, but do not think Ilack resolution. Nothing has happened to my resolution.”

“The sadness will dissipate as the sun rises. It is like a mist.”

“Clearly,”the woman said.“If you want it that way. Perhaps it came from talking that foolishness about Valencia.And that failure of a man who has gone to look at his horses.I wounded him much with the story.Kill him, yes.Curse him, yes.But wound him, no.”

“How came you to be with him?”

“How is one with anyone?In the first days of the movement and before too, he was something. Something serious.But now he is finished.The plug has been drawn and the wine has all run out of the skin.”

“I do not like him.”

“Nor does he like you, and with reason. Last night I slept with him.”She smiled now and shook her head.“Vamos a ver,”she said.“I said to him,‘Pablo, why did you not kill the foreigner?'

“‘He's a good boy, Pilar,'he said.‘He's a good boy.'

“So I said,‘You understand now that I command?'

“‘Yes, Pilar. Yes,'he said.Later in the night I hear him awake and he is crying.He is crying in a short and ugly manner as a man cries when it is as though there is an animal inside that is shaking him.

“‘What passes with thee, Pablo?'I said to him and I took hold of him and held him.

“‘Nothing, Pilar. Nothing.'

“‘Yes. Something passes with thee.'

“‘The people,'he said.‘The way they left me. The gente.'

“‘Yes, but they are with me,'I said,‘and I am thy woman.'

“‘Pilar,'he said,‘remember the train.'Then he said,‘May God aid thee, Pilar.'

“‘What are you talking of God for?'I said to him.‘What way is that to speak?'

“‘Yes,'he said.‘God and the Virgen.'

“Qué va, God and the Virgen.’I said to him.‘Is that any way to talk?’

“‘I am afraid to die, Pilar,'he said.‘Tengo miedo de morir. Dost thou understand?'

“‘Then get out of bed',I said to him.‘There is not room in one bed for me and thee and thy fear all together.'

“Then he was ashamed and was quiet and I went to sleep but, man, he's a ruin.”

Robert Jordan said nothing.

“All my life I have had this sadness at intervals,”the woman said.“But it is not like the sadness of Pablo. It does not affect my resolution.”

“I believe that.”

“It may be it is like the times of a woman,”she said.“It may be it is nothing,”she paused, then went on.“I put great illusion in the Republic. I believe firmly in the Republic and I have faith.I believe in it with fervour as those who have religious faith believe in the mysteries.”

“I believe you.”

“And you have this same faith?”

“In the Republic?”

“Yes.”

“Yes,”he said, hoping it was true.

“I am happy,”the woman said.“And you have no fear?”

“Not to die,”he said truly.

“But other fears?”

“Only of not doing my duty as I should.”

“Not of capture, as the other had?”

“No,”he said truly.“Fearing that, one would be so preoccupied as to be useless.”

“You aer a very cold boy.”

“No,”he said.“I do not think so.”

“No. In the head you are very cold.”

“It is that I am very preoccupied with my work.”

“But you do not like the things of life?”

“Yes. Very much.But not to interfere with my work.”

“You like to drink, I know. Ihave seen.”

“Yes. Very much.But not to interfere with my work.”

“And women?”

“I like them very much, but I have not given them much importance.”

“You do not care for them?”

“Yes. But I have not found one that moved me as they say they should move you.”

“I think you lie.”

“Maybe a little.”

“But you care for Maria.”

“Yes. Suddenly and very much.”

“I, too. I care for her very much.Yes.Much.”

“I, too,”said Robert Jordan, and could feel his voice thickening.“I, too. Yes.”It gave him pleasure to say it and he said it quite formally in Spanish.“I care for her very much.”

“I will leave you alone with her after we have seen El Sordo.”

Robert Jordan said nothing. Then he said,“That is not necessary.”

“Yes, man. It is necessary.There is not much time.”

“Did you see that in the hand?”he asked.

“No. Do not remember that nonsense of the hand.”

She had put that away with all the other things that might do ill to the Republic.

Robert Jordan said nothing. He was looking at Maria putting away the dishes inside the cave.She wiped her hands and turned and smiled at him.She could not hear what Pilar was saying, but as she smiled at Robert Jordan she blushed dark under the tawny skin and then smiled at him again.

“There is the day also,”the woman said.“You have the night, but there is the day, too. Clearly, there is no such luxury as in Valencia in my time.But you could pick a few wild strawbemes or something.”She laughed.

Robert Jordan put his arm on her big shoulder.“I care for thee, too,”he said.“I care for thee very much.”

“Thou art a regular Don Juan Tenono,”the woman said, embarrassed now with affection.“There is a commencement of caring for everyone. Here comes Agustín.”

Robert Jordan went into the cave and up to where Maria was standing. She watched him come toward her, her eyes bright, the blush again on her cheeksand throat.

“Hello, little rabbit,”he said and kissed her on the mouth. She held him tight to her and looked in his face and said,“Hello.Oh, hello.Hello.”

Fernando, still sitting at the table smoking a cigarette, stood up, shook his head and walked out, picking up his carbine from where it leaned against the wall.

“It is very unformal,”he said to Pilar.“And I do not like it. You should take care of the girl.”

“I am,”said Pilar.“That comrade is her novio.”

“Oh,”said Fernando.“In that case, since they are engaged, I encounter it to be perfectly normal.”

“I am pleased,”the woman said.

“Equally,”Fernando agreed gravely.“Salud, Pilar.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the upper post to relieve Primitivo.”

“Where the hell are you going?”Agustín asked the grave little man as he came up.

“To my duty,”Fernando said with dignity.

“Thy duty,”said Agustín mockingly.“I besmirch the milk of thy duty.”Then turning to the woman,“Where the un-nameable is this vileness that I am to guard?”

“In the cave,”Pilar said.“In two sacks. And I am tired of thy obscenity.”

“I obscenity in the milk of thy tiredness.”Agustín said.

“Then go and befoul thyself,”Pilar said to him without heat.

“Thy mother,”Agustín replied.

“Thou never had one,”Pilar told him, the insults having reached the ultimate formalism in Spanish in which the acts are never stated but only implied.

“What are they doing in there?”Agustín now asked confidentially.

“Nothing,”Pilar told him.“Nada. We are, after all, in the spring, animal.”

“Animal,”said Agustmn, relishing the word.“Animal. And thou.Daughter of the great whore of whores.I befoul myself in the milk of the springtime.”

Pilar slapped him on the shoulder.

“You,”she said, and laughed that booming laugh.“You lack variety in your cursing. But you have force.Did you see the planes?”

“I un-name in the milk of their motors,”Agustín said, nodding his head and biting his lower lip.

“That's something,”Pilar said.“That is really something. But really difficult of execution.”

“At that altitude, yes,”Agustín grinned.“Desde luego.But it is better to joke.”

“Yes,”the woman of Pablo said.“It is much better to joke, and you are a good man and you joke with force.”

“Listen, Pilar,”Agustín said seriously.“Something is preparing.Is it not true?”

“How does it seem to you?”

“Of a foulness that cannot be worse. Those were many planes, woman.Many planes.”

“And thou hast caught fear from them like all the others?”

“Qué va”said AgustIn.“What do you think they are preparing?”

“Look,”Pilar said.“From this boy coming for the bridges obviously the Republic is preparing an offensive. From these planes obviously the Fascists are preparing to meet it.But why show the planes?”

“In this war are many foolish things,”Agustín said.“In this war there is an idiocy without bounds.”

“Clearly,”said Pilar.“Otherwise we could not be here.”

“Yes,”said Agustín.“We swim within the idiocy for a year now.But Pablo is a man of much understanding.Pablo is very wily.”

“Why do you say this?”

“I say it.”

“But you must understand,”Pilar explained.“It is now too late to be saved by wiliness and he has lost the other.”

“I understand”,said Agustín.“I know we must go.And since we must win to survive ultimately, it is necessary that the bridges must be blown.But Pablo, for the coward that he now is, is very smart.”

“I, too, am smart.”

“No, Pilar,”Agustin said.“You are not smart. You are brave.You are loyal.You have decision.You have intuition.Much decision and much heart.But you are not smart.”

“You believe that?”the woman asked thoughtfully.

“Yes, Pilar.”

“The boy is smart,”the woman said.“Smart and cold. Very cold in the head.”

“Yes,”Agustín said.“He must know his business or they would not have him doing this.But I do not know that he is smart.Pablo I know is smart.”

“But rendered useless by his fear and his disinclination to action.”

“But still smart.”

“And what do you say?”

“Nothing. I try to consider it intelligently.In this moment we need to act with intelligence.After the bridge we must leave at once.All must be prepared.We must know for where we are leaving and how.”

“Naturally.”

“For this-Pablo. It must be done smartly.”

“I have no confidence in Pablo.”

“In this, yes.”

“No. You do not know how far he is ruined.”

“Pero es muy vivo. He is very smart.And if we do not do this smartly we are obscenitied.”.

“I will think about it,”Pilar said.“I have the day to think about it.”

“For the bridges;the boy,”Agustín said.“This he must know.Look at the fine manner in which the other organized the train.”

“Yes,”Pilar said.“It was really he who planned all.”

“You for energy and resolution,”Agustin said.“But Pablo for the moving. Pablo for the retreat.Force him now to study it.”

“You are a man of intelligence.”

“Intelligent, yes,”Agustín said.“But sin picardia.Pablo for that.”

“With his fear and all?”

“With his fear and all.”

“And what do you think of the bridges?”

“It is necessary. That I know.Two things we must do.We must leave here and we must win.The bridges are necessary if we are to win.”

“If Pablo is so smart, why does he not see that?”

“He wants things as they are for his own weakness. He wants to stay in the eddy of his own weakness.But the river is rising.Forced to a change, will be smart in the change.Es muy vivo.”

“It is good that the boy did not kill him.”

“Qué va.The gypsy wanted me to kill him last night.The gypsy is an animal.”

“You're an animal, too,”she said.“But intelligent.”

“We are both intelligent,”Agustín said.“But the talent is Pablo!”

“But difficult to put up with. You do not know how ruined.”

“Yes. But a talent.Look, Pilar.To make war all you need is intelligence.But to win you need talent and material.”

“I will think it over,”she said.“We must start now. We are late.”Then, raising her voice,“English!”she called.“Inglés!Come on!Let us go.”第十章/Chapter 10导读

罗伯特和皮拉尔正在赶往聋子藏身处的路上,皮拉尔执意要停下来休息,还要在溪水里洗脚。罗伯特想着继续赶路,以便及早见到聋子,但现在也只能随皮拉尔停下来休息。玛丽娅问皮拉尔有没有去过别的地区,皮拉尔说自己长得丑,不会随便到别的地方抛头露面的。

皮拉尔和玛丽娅开始谈论起美丑的问题。皮拉尔觉得自己长得很丑,但是追求过自己的男人并不少,当这些男人对自己动了心、有了感情的时候,就不会在乎皮拉尔的美丑了。罗伯特催着皮拉尔继续上路,可皮拉尔还想聊天。罗伯特对皮拉尔的这种话题已经厌倦,皮拉尔决定讲一讲帕博罗家乡发生的事情。

当时,帕博罗包围了军营,杀死了里面受伤的人,最后有四个士兵投降。帕博罗在这里缴获了一把手枪,就让俘虏教他怎么使用手枪,帕博罗学会之后,决定要当场枪毙四个被俘虏的士兵。罗伯特让那些士兵跪在墙边受刑,当兵的觉得这是侮辱,无奈罗伯特手里有枪,就这样四个士兵都被干掉了。

帕博罗把枪交给了皮拉尔,一起吃完饭后他们又去广场收拾剩下的法西斯分子。皮拉尔告诉罗伯特,镇上剩下的法西斯分子一共二十多人,都是被活活打死的,而且,帕博罗在袭击军营之前就抓捕了那些人,将他们关在镇公所的房子里,现在又安排人手堵住了广场的各个路口,只留下有峭壁的一面。在镇公所里面,神父为即将受刑的法西斯分子做最后的忏悔,外面已经吵成一片,帕博罗让所有的人拿着各种农用工具和武器,排成两排站在门外,留下一条过道等着这些法西斯分子出来。

就在神父工作的时候,屋外的人们叽叽喳喳地议论着,有人因为即将第一次杀人而不知所措,最后竟然哭了起来;也有人以为革命就是过节,竟穿着新衣服来了。一直不见有人出来,外面等候的农民已经有点不耐烦了,因为还有很多农活要干,也有人觉得惩罚法西斯这件事情更重要,还呼吁帕博罗组织召开全镇大会。就在乱哄哄的时候,第一个人从房子里出来了。

这个人是镇长,他走在过道上,一开始的时候没有人敢动手,其实镇长家里的佃农早就等着镇长—走过来就动手,跟着其他人也开打了,很快镇长被打倒了,大伙儿把镇长扔到了峭壁下面。过了一会儿,第二个人出来了,这是镇上的磨坊主。磨坊主走在人群中时却不动了,一个跟磨坊主不相干的农民上前先打了他一棍,接着磨坊主便倒下了,也被扔下了悬崖。

帕博罗在房子里催着神父,神父并不理会,这时一个地主主动站起来走了出来。这个人神气十足,强烈反对共和国,这激起了民愤,很快也被扔下了峭壁。这时门外的农民被激怒了,叫嚷着,很快又出来一个人,是一个地主少爷,这个人喜欢挑逗女孩儿,但胆子很小,在斗牛表演上给大家留下了笑柄,现在大家都拿这些事戏弄这个少爷。这个少爷走在半路上竟然瘫倒了,被别人架着来到峭壁前,虽然这位少爷很害怕,人们还是把他推了下去。这时的农民已经杀性大起了。

农民们开始喝酒,跟皮拉尔聊着围攻军营的事情。很快,杂货店老板出来了,这个人本身不坏,却因为妻子的原因追随了法西斯,人们继续嘲弄这个人,此时杂货店老板的妻子正在楼上呼唤自己的丈夫。在众人的拳打脚踢下这个人也死了。皮拉尔对这些暴动农民的行为感到可耻,皮拉尔觉得这个老板不该这样死,便退出了队伍。另外两个人也出来了,他们跟皮拉尔意见一样,其中一个觉得现在更需要防卫这个镇子,而不是像现在这样进行屠杀。

然而一帮醉鬼还在叫嚷不停,忽然一阵大吼,皮拉尔站在椅子上朝人群望去,原来是那个放高利贷的法西斯分子,那个人无恶不作,大家一哄而上杀死了那个人,尸体留在了街头。这时暴徒们都想冲进房子直接杀死剩下的人。

皮拉尔又望着房子里面,帕博罗正跟神父在说着什么,神父却并不搭理帕博罗,有人还想出去,可是帕博罗晃了晃手里的钥匙,原来房门已经被锁上了。神父还在带着大家祈祷,帕博罗最后将房门打开,人们冲进了房间,在外面围观的人也杀声震天。皮拉尔看见房子里乱作一团,神父也被人砍死了。高利贷商人的尸体最后还是被烧了,皮拉尔觉得这些暴徒也应该在革命中被杀掉,这些人给帕博罗和皮拉尔留下了后患。

晚上帕博罗和皮拉尔聊起了白天的暴动,帕博罗觉得神父不应该那么死去。皮拉尔知道帕博罗讨厌神父,对此很奇怪,原来帕博罗觉得西班牙的神父应该死得更体面。那一晚,帕博罗睡得非常安稳。皮拉尔却在反思着白天的所为,其实这一天并不是最惨的,更可怕的一天是法西斯敌人反扑回来的那一天。

玛丽娅不让皮拉尔继续讲下去了,因为这些就已经让玛丽娅听得受不了了。玛丽娅现在只盼着下午到来,可以和罗伯特聊点别的话题。et us rest,”Pilar said to Robert Jordan.“Sit down here, Maria, and let us rest.”“L

“We should continue,”Robert Jordan said.“Rest when we get there. I must see this man.”

“You will see him,”the woman told him.“There is no hurry. Sit down here, Maria.”

“Come on,”Robert Jordan said.“Rest at the top.”

“I rest now,”the woman said, and sat down by the stream. The girl sat by her in the heather, the sun shining on her hair.Only Robert Jordan stood looking across the high mountain meadow with the trout brook running through it.There was heather growing where he stood.There were gray boulders rising from the yellow bracken that replaced the heather in the lower part of the meadow and below was the dark line of the pines.

“How far is it to El Sordo's?”he asked.

“Not far,”the woman said.“It is across this open country, down into the next valley and above the timber at the head of the stream. Sit thee down and forget thy seriousness.”

“I want to see him and get it over with.”

“I want to bathe my feet,”the woman said, and, taking off her

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