第6章 A Simple Inquiry 简单的询问

Outside, the snow was higher than the window. The sunlight came in through the window and shone on a map on the pineboard wall of the hut. The sun was high and the light came in over the top of the snow. A trench had been cut along the open side of the hut, and each clear day the sun, shining on the wall, reflected heat against the snow and widened the trench. It was late March. The major sat at a table against the wall. His adjutant sat at another table.

Around the major's eyes were two white circles where his snow-glasses had protected his face from the sun on the snow. The rest of his face had been burned and then tanned and then burned through the tan. His nose was swollen and there were edges of loose skin where blisters had been. While he worked at the papers he put the fingers of his left hand into a saucer of oil and then spread the oil over the saucer so there was only a film of oil on them, and after he had stroked his forehead and his cheeks, he stroked his nose very delicately between his fingers. When he had finished he stood up, took the saucer of oil and went into the small room of the hut where he slept.“I'm going to take a little sleep,”he said to the adjutant. In that army an adjutant is not a commissioned officer.“You will finish up.”

“Yes, Signor Maggiore,”the adjutant answered. He leaned back in his chair and yawned. He took a paper-covered book out of the pocket of his coat and opened it; then laid it down on the table and lit his pipe. He leaned forward on the table to read and puffed at his pipe. Then he closed the book and put it back in his pocket. He had too much paper-work to get through. He could not enjoy reading until it was done. Outside, then sun went behind a mountain and there was no more light on the wall of the hut. A soldier came in and put some pine branches, chopped into irregular lengths, into the stove.“Be off, Pinin,”the adjutant said to him.“The major is sleeping.”

Pinin was the major's orderly. He was a dark-faced boy, and he fixed the stove, putting the pine wood in carefully, shut the door, and went into the back of the hut again. The adjutant went on with his papers.

“Tonani,”the major called.

“Signor maggiore?”

“Send Pinin in to me.”

“Pinin!”the adjutant called. Pinin came into the room.“The major wants you,”the adjutant said.

Pinin walked across the main room of the hut toward the major's door. He knocked on the half-opened door.“Signor Maggiore?”

“Come in,”the adjutant heard the major say,“and shut the door.”

Inside the room the major lay on his bunk. Pinin stood beside the bunk. The major lay with his head on the rucksack that he had stuffed with spare clothing to make a pillow. His long, burned, oiled face looked at Pinin. His hands lay on the blankets.

“You are nineteen?”he asked.

“Yes, Signor Maggiore.”

“You have ever been in love?”

“How do you mean, Signor Maggiore?”

“In love-with a girl?”

“I have been with girls.”

“I did not ask that. I asked if you had been in love-with a girl.”

“Yes, Signor Maggiore.”

“You are in love with this girl now? You don't write her. I read all your letters.”

“I am in love with her,”Pinin said,“but I do not write her.”

“You are sure of this?”

“I am sure.”

“Tonani,”the major said in the same tone of voice,“can you hear me talking?”

There was no answer from the next room.

“He can not hear,”the major said.“and you are quite sure that you love a girl?”

“I am sure.”

“And,”the major looked at him quickly,“that you are not corrupt?”

“I don't know what you mean, corrupt.”

“All right,”the major said.“You needn't be superior.”

Pinin looked at the floor. The major looked at his brown face, down and up him, and at his hands. Then he went on, not smiling,“And you don't really want—”the major paused. Pinin looked at the floor. The major leaned his head back on the rucksack and smiled. He was really relieved: life in the army was too complicated.“You're a good boy,”he said.“You're a good boy, Pinin. But don't be superior and be careful someone else doesn't come along and take you.”

Pinin stood still beside the bunk.

“Don't be afraid,”the major said. His hands were folded on the blankets.“I won't touch you. You can go back to your platoon if you like. But you had better stay on as my servant. You've less chance of being killed.”

“Do you want anything of me, Signor Maggiore?”

“No,”the major said.“Go on and get on with whatever you were doing. Leave the door open when you go out.”

Pinin went out, leaving the door open. The adjutant looked up at him as he walked awkwardly across the room and out the door. Pinin was flushed and moved differently than he had moved when he brought in the wood for the fire. The adjutant looked after him and smiled. Pinin came in with more wood for the stove. The major, lying on his bunk, looking at his cloth-covered helmet and his snow-glasses that hung from a nail on the wall, heard him walk across the floor. The little devil, he thought, I wonder if he lied to me.

外面，积雪堆得比窗户还高。阳光透过窗户射进来，照在挂在小屋松板墙上的一张地图上面。太阳高悬，光线是越过雪堆顶照进来的。小屋门外已经铲开一道雪沟。每到晴天，照在墙上的太阳便将热量反射到雪堆上，使雪沟越来越宽。现在是三月下旬，少校坐在靠墙的一张桌边，他的副官坐在另一张桌边。

少校的眼睛周围有两个白圈，那是他过去戴雪镜，使脸部免受雪地上的太阳光直射所留下的痕迹。他的脸的余部曾经被灼晒过，变成了灰褐色，又透过灰褐色晒成了焦黑色。他的鼻子虚肿，上面的皮肤松弛，原来那里起过水疱。他一边伏案看文件，一边将左手手指伸进油碟里，然后将油轻抹在脸上。由于他把碟沿上抹干手指时非常小心，因此他的手指上只有薄薄一层油。他把油抹在前额和脸颊上后，又两指夹住鼻子非常细致地抹了一阵油。做完后，他站起身，端起油碟，走进小屋他睡觉的小屋。“我要打个盹儿。”他对副官说。在那个部队中，副官是不授衔的军官。“你干完这些活儿。”

“是的，少校先生。”副官应道。他靠在椅子背上，打了个哈欠。他从大衣口袋里掏出一本简装书，打开，然后将它放在桌子上，点燃烟斗。他向前倾身在桌子上，一边看书，一边抽着烟斗。随后，他合上书，将它放回口袋。案头文书工作太多，他得做完所有工作，才能去享受读书的乐趣。外面，太阳已经落山，小屋的墙上不再有光照了。一名士兵走进屋，把一些砍成长短不一的小松枝投进炉子里。“轻点声，平宁，”副官对他说，“少校正在睡觉。”

平宁是少校的勤务兵。他是一个面色黝黑的男孩。他弄好炉子，小心翼翼地将松枝放进去，关上门，又走进了小屋的后面。副官继续做着案头工作。

“托纳尼。”少校喊道。

“少校先生，有事吗？”

“叫平宁进来见我。”

“平宁！”副官叫道。平宁走进屋里。“少校要你去。”副官说。

平宁穿过小屋的主房，向少校的门口走去。他在半开的门上敲了一下：“少校先生？”

“进来，”副官听到少校说，“关上门。”

平宁走进屋里，只见少校躺在小床上。平宁站在小床边。少校躺在那里，头枕背包，他在里边塞了几件不穿的衣服充当枕头。他用那焦黑的、油亮亮的长脸看着平宁，手放在毛毯上。

“你有十九岁了吧？”他问。

“是，少校先生。”

“你谈过恋爱吗？”

“您是什么意思，少校先生？”

“跟一个女孩——相爱？”

“我曾和一些女孩子在一起过。”

“我不是问那个。我是问你否和一个女孩子——相爱过。”

“是，少校先生。”

“你现在和这个女孩子相爱吗？你没有给她写信。我看过你所有的信。”

“我和她相爱，”平宁说，“但我没有给她写信。”

“你敢肯定这一点吗？”

“我敢肯定。”

“托纳尼，”少校用同样的嗓音说道，“你能听见我说话吗？”

隔壁房间没有回应。

“他不会听见，”少校说，“你真的敢肯定你爱一个姑娘吗？”

“我敢肯定。”

“还有，”少校迅速看了他一眼，“你敢肯定你没有胡搞吗？”

“我不知道您说的胡搞是什么意思。”

“好吧，”少校说，“你不必太自负。”

平宁看着地板。少校瞅着他褐色的脸庞，上下打量了一番，然后又瞧了瞧他的两只手。随后，他板着脸，继续说道：“你真的不想——”少校欲言又止。平宁看着地板。少校将头靠回背包，露出了笑容。这下他确实放心了：部队里的生活实在太复杂了。“你是一个好孩子，”他说，“你是一个好孩子，平宁。但不要太自负，小心点儿，别人就不会过来纠缠你了。”

平宁站在小床边一动不动。

“别害怕。”少校说。他把两手合拢放在毛毯上。“我不会伤害你的。你愿意的话可以回到排里去。但你最好还是待在这里当我的勤务兵。这样，你被打死的机会就会少些。”

“您要我做什么事吗，少校先生？”

“不，”少校说，“去吧，你在做什么就继续做吧。你出去时不必关门。”

平宁走出去，没有关门。当他笨手笨脚穿过房间走出门时，副官抬头看了他一眼。平宁的脸腾地红了，他走出去和他先前进来添火时不大一样。副官望着他的背影，微微一笑。平宁又抱了些柴火进来添到炉子里。少校躺在小床上，看着挂在墙钉上的布面头盔和雪镜，听到他在地板上走路的声音。这小鬼，他心里想，我不知道他是否对我撒了谎。