第5章 Cat in the Rain 雨中的猫

There were only two Americans stopping at the hotel. They did not know any of the people they passed on the stairs on their way to and from their room. Their room was on the second floor facing the sea. It also faced the public garden and the war monument. There were big palms and green benches in the public garden. In the good weather there was always an artist with his easel. Artists liked the way the palms grew and the bright colors of the hotel facing the gardens and the sea. Italians came from a long way off to look up at the war monument. It was made of bronze and glistened in the rain. It was raining. The rain dropped from the palm trees. Water stood in pools on the gravel paths. The sea broke in a long line in the rain and slipped back down the beach to come up and break again in a long line in the rain. The motor cars were gone from the square by the war monument. Across the square in the doorway of the café a waiter stood looking out at the empty square.

The American wife stood at the window looking out. Outside right under their window a cat was crouched under one of the dripping green tables. The cat was trying to make herself so compact that she would not be dripped on.

“I'm going down and get that kitty,”the American wife said.

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

“No, I'll get it. The poor kitty out trying to keep dry under a table.”

The husband went on reading, lying propped up with the two pillows at the foot of the bed.

“Don't get wet,”he said.

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

“Il piove,”the wife said. She liked the hotel-keeper.

“Si, si, signora, brutto tempo. It is very bad weather.”

He stood behind his desk in the far end of the dim room. The wife liked him. She liked the deadly serious way he received any complaints. She liked his dignity. She liked the way he wanted to serve her. She liked the way he felt about being a hotel-keeper. She liked his old, heavy face and big hands.

Liking him she opened the door and looked out. It was raining harder. A man in a rubber cape was crossing the empty square to the café. The cat would be around to the right. Perhaps she could go along under the eaves. As she stood in the doorway an umbrella opened behind her. It was the maid who looked after their room.

“You must not get wet,”she smiled, speaking Italian. Of course, the hotel-keeper had sent her.

With the maid holding the umbrella over her, she walked along the gravel path until she was under their window. The table was there, washed bright green in the rain, but the cat was gone. She was suddenly disappointed. The maid looked up at her.

“Ha perduto qualque cosa, Signora?”

“There was a cat,”said the American girl.

“A cat?”

“Si, il gatto.”

“A cat?”the maid laughed.“A cat in the rain?”

“Yes,”she said,“under the table.”Then,“Oh, I wanted it so much. I wanted a kitty.”When she talked English the maid's face tightened.

“Come, Signora,”she said.“We must get back inside. You will be wet.”

“I suppose so.”said the American girl.

They went back along the gravel path and passed in the door. The maid stayed outside to close the umbrella. As the American girl passed the office, the padrone bowed from his desk. Something felt very small and tight inside the girl. The padrone made her feel very small and at the same time really important. She had a momentary feeling of being of supreme importance. She went on up the stairs. She opened the door of the room. George was on the bed, reading.

“Did you get the cat?”he asked, putting the book down.

“It was gone.”

“Wonder where it went to,”he said, resting his eyes from reading.

She sat down on the bed.

“I wanted it so much,”she said.“I don't know why I wanted it so much. I wanted that poor kitty. It isn't any fun to be a poor kitty out in the rain.”

George was reading again.

She went over and sat in front of the mirror of the dressing table looking at herself with the hand glass. She studied her profile, first one side and then the other. Then she studied the back of her head and her neck.

“Don't you think it would be a good idea if I let my hair grow out?”she asked, looking at her profile again.

George looked up and saw the back of her neck, clipped close like a boy's.

“I like it the way it is.”

“I get so tired of it,”she said.“I get so tired of looking like a boy.”

George shifted his position in the bed. He hadn't looked away from her since she started to speak.

“You look pretty darn nice,”he said.

She laid the mirror down on the dresser and went over to the window and looked out. It was getting dark.

“I want to pull my hair back tight and smooth and make a big knot at the back that I can feel,”she said.“I want to have a kitty to sit on my lap and purr when I stroke her.”

“Yeah?”George said from the bed.

“And I want to eat a table with my own silver and I want candles. And I want it to be spring and I want to brush my hair out in front of a mirror and I want a kitty and I want some new clothes.”

“Oh, shut up and get something to read,”George said. He was reading again.

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

“Anyway, I want a cat,”she said,“I want a cat. I want a cat now. If I can't have long hair or any fun, I can have a cat.”

George was not listening. He was reading his book. His wife looked out of the window where the light had come on in the square.

Someone knocked at the door.

“Avanti,”George said. He looked up from his book.

In the doorway stood the maid. She held a big tortoise-shell cat pressed tight against her and swung down against her body.

“Excuse me,”she said,“the padrone asked me to bring this for the Signora.”

只有两个美国人住在这家旅馆。他们进出自己的房间时，在楼梯上碰到的一些人他们都不认识。他们的房间在二楼，面向大海，还面向公园和战争纪念碑。公园里有一些高大的棕榈树和几把绿色长椅。天气晴朗时，公园里总有一名带着画架作画的画家。画家喜欢这些棕榈树的生机盎然，喜欢面对公园和大海的旅馆的明亮色彩。意大利人不惜长途跋涉来瞻仰这里的战争纪念碑。纪念碑是用青铜铸造的，在雨中闪闪发亮。天正下着雨。雨水从棕榈树上滴下来，在砾石小路上积成了水洼。大海在雨中翻起长长的一线浪花，海浪从沙滩上悄悄退去，随后又汹涌而来，再次在大雨中翻起长长的一线浪花。汽车驶离纪念碑旁的广场，广场对面的咖啡馆门口站着一名侍者，正注视着空旷的广场。

美国人的妻子站在窗边，向外望着。楼外，他们房间窗户的正下方有一只猫，蜷缩在一张滴着雨水的绿桌子下面。小猫正试图蜷缩得小些，不让雨水滴在身上。

“我要下楼去逮住那只猫。”美国人的妻子说。

“我去逮它。”她的丈夫在床上提议说。

“不，我去逮。可怜的小猫正蜷缩在一张桌子底下躲雨呢。”

丈夫躺靠在床脚处的两个枕头上，继续看书。

“别淋湿了。”他说。

妻子下了楼，旅馆老板在她穿过办公室时站起来向她鞠躬。他的办公桌在办公室的那一端。他是一位老人，个子很高。

“Il piove[28]。”妻子说。她喜欢旅馆老板。

“Si, si, signora, brutto tempo[29]。天气糟透了。”

他站在昏暗的房间尽头、办公桌的后面。这位妻子喜欢他。她喜欢他面对任何抱怨时非常严肃的姿态，她喜欢他的庄重，她喜欢他服务时热心的样子，她喜欢他当旅馆老板的气质，她喜欢他苍老、严肃的面容，还有那双大手。

她像旅馆老板那样，打开门，向外看。雨下得更大了。一名穿着橡胶短雨衣的男子正穿过空旷的广场，向咖啡馆走去。小猫应在右边，也许她能顺着屋檐走过去。当她站在楼梯口时，身后有人打开了一把伞，撑伞的就是负责照管他们房间的女服务员。

“您别淋湿了。”她操着意大利语笑道。当然，是旅馆老板派她来的。

在女服务员的伞下，她沿着砾石小路走到他们的窗下。那张桌子仍在那里，被雨冲洗得闪着绿光，但小猫不见了，她突然感到失望。服务员抬头看着她。

“太太，您丢了什么东西吗？”

“有只小猫。”这位美国姑娘说。

“一只小猫？”

“是的，小猫。”

“一只小猫？”女服务员笑道，“雨中的小猫？”

“是的，”她说，“刚才还在桌子下面。”又说，“噢，我非常想要它。我想要只猫。”她说英语时，女服务员的脸绷紧起来。

“来吧，太太，”她说，“我们得回到里面去。你会淋湿的。”

“我想也是。”美国姑娘说。

她们沿着砾石小路走回去，进了门。女服务员在外面，合上了伞。美国姑娘穿过办公室时，旅馆老板在办公桌后面向她鞠躬。她感到非常尴尬，心里憋得慌。旅馆老板让她觉得非常无聊，但同时又觉得自己是个大人物。一种瞬间的至高无上的感觉涌上她的心头。她走上楼梯，打开房门。丈夫乔治在床上，正看书。

“你逮到那只猫了吗？”他放下书，问道。

“它不见了。”

“不知道它跑到哪里去了。”他说着，歇了歇眼睛，没有看书。

她在床上坐下来。

“我很想要它，”她说，“我不知道我为什么那么想要它。我想要那只可怜的小猫，一只可怜的小猫下雨时在户外一定很不舒服。”

乔治又看起书来。

她走过去，坐在梳妆台的镜子前面，照着手中的镜子。她端详着自己的侧影，先是这一边，随后又看另一边，接着仔细端详后脑勺和脖子。

“如果我把头发留长了，你觉得是不是更好一些？”她再次看着自己的侧影问道。

乔治抬头看到她的后脖颈，头发理得很短，像个男孩。

“我喜欢现在这种样式。”

“我很讨厌这种样式，”她说，“像个小男孩，我烦透了。”

乔治在床上换了一下位置。从她开始讲话起，他就一直在瞧着她。

“你看起来够漂亮的了。”他说。

她把镜子放在梳妆台上，走向窗户，向外望去。天渐渐黑了。

“我想把我的头发往后边拢紧梳平，在脑后梳个自己摸得着的大发髻，”她说，“我想要只小猫，让它坐在我腿上。我摸着它时，它会喵喵叫个不停。”

“是吗？”乔治在床上说。

“而且，我想用我自己的银餐具吃饭，还有蜡烛。我希望现在是春天。我想在镜子前把头发梳理一下。我想要只小猫，还想要些新衣服。”

“噢，别说了，去找点东西念念吧。”乔治说着，又看起书来。

他的妻子向窗外望去。此时，天黑下来了。雨水仍落在棕榈树上。

“反正，我想要只小猫，”她说，“我想要只小猫，我现在就想要只小猫。我要是不能留长发，又没有其他乐趣，总该有只小猫吧。”

乔治没听她说话，还在看书。他的妻子向外望去，窗外的广场灯已经亮起来了。

有人敲门。

“Avanti[30]。”乔治说。他停止看书，抬起头来。

女服务员站在门口，她紧抱着一只个头很大、毛色棕、黑、黄相间的猫，猫扭来扭去。

“打扰了，”她说，“旅馆老板叫我把这只猫送给太太。”