I walked all the way back to the hotel. Forty-one gorgeous blocks. I didn't do it because I felt like walking or anything. It was more because I didn't feel like getting in and out of another taxicab. Sometimes you get tired of riding in taxicabs the same way you get tired riding in elevators. All of a sudden, you have to walk, no matter how far or how high up. When I was a kid, I used to walk all the way up to our apartment very frequently. Twelve stories.

我徒步定回旅馆。整个儿穿过第四十一条大街。我这样做，倒不是因为我想散步什么的，主要还是因为我不想再在另一辆出租汽车里进进出出。有时候你会突然讨厌乘出租汽车，就象你会突然讨厌乘电梯一样。你于是就得靠两只脚走，不管路有多远，楼有多高。我小时候，就常常靠两只脚走上我们的公寓房间，足足爬了十二层楼梯。

You wouldn't even have known it had snowed at all. There was hardly any snow on the sidewalks. But it was freezing cold, and I took my red hunting hat out of my pocket and put it on--I didn't give a damn how I looked. I even put the earlaps down. I wished I knew who'd swiped 偷窃；刷my gloves at Pencey, because my hands were freezing. Not that I'd have done much about it even if I had known. I'm one of these very yellow黄色的;胆小的 guys. I try not to show it, but I am.

你甚至都不知道天已经下过雪了。人行道上连雪的影儿都没有。可天气冷得要命，我就从衣袋里取出我那顶红色猎人帽戴在头上——我才他妈的不管我打扮成什么鬼样儿哩。我甚至把耳罩都放了下来。我真想知道是谁在潘西偷走了我的手套，因为我的两只手都快冻僵了。其实我即使知道了，也不会采取什么行动。我是那种胆小鬼。我尽可能不表现出来，可我骨子里真的是个胆小鬼。

For instance, if I'd found out at Pencey who'd stolen my gloves, I probably would've gone down to the crook's room and said, "Okay. How 'bout handing over those gloves?" Then the crook that had stolen them probably would've said, his voice very innocent and all, "What gloves?" Then what I probably would've done, I'd have gone in his closet and found the gloves somewhere. Hidden in his goddam galoshes /ɡəˈlɑːʃɪz/ 胶套鞋or something, for instance. 

比方说，我要是在潘西发现了是谁偷走了我的手套，我也许会走到小偷的房里说：“喂，把你那副手套拿出来怎么样？”那小偷听了或许会装出十分天真的样子说：“什么手套？”我会怎么办呢，我或许会到他的壁橱里把那副手套找出来，是藏在他那双混帐的高统橡皮套鞋或者别的什么东西里的，比如说。

I'd have taken them out and showed them to the guy and said, "I suppose these are your goddam gloves?" Then the crook probably would've given me this very phony, innocent look, and said, "I never saw those gloves before in my life. If they're yours, take 'em. I don't want the goddam things." 

我会把手套拿出来，给那家伙看，说道：“我揣摩这是你的混帐手套？”于是那小偷大概会装出十分假、十分天真的模样，说道：“我这一辈子从来没见过这副手套。这手套要是你的，你就拿去。我可不要这种混帐东西。”

Then I probably would've just stood there for about five minutes. I'd have the damn gloves right in my hand and all, but I'd feel I ought to sock the guy in the jaw or something--break his goddam jaw. Only, I wouldn't have the guts to do it. I'd just stand there, trying to look tough. What I might do, I might say something very cutting and snotty, to rile him up--instead of socking him in the jaw. 

我于是大概会直挺挺地在那儿站那么五分钟，手里拿着那副混帐手套，心里想着应该在那家伙的下巴额儿上揍那么一拳——打落他的混账下巴额儿。只是我没那勇气。我只会站在那儿，装出很凶狠的样子。我会怎么做呢，我只会说一些十分尖刻、十分下流的话，来激怒他——却不敢挥拳打他的下巴。

Anyway if I did say something very cutting and snotty, he'd probably get up and come over to me and say, "Listen, Caulfield. Are you calling me a crook?" Then, instead of saying, "You're goddam right I am, you dirty crooked bastard!" all I probably would've said would be, "All I know is my goddam gloves were in your goddam galoshes." Right away then, the guy would know for sure that I wasn't going to take a sock at him, and he probably would've said, "Listen. Let's get this straight. Are you calling me a thief?" Then I probably would've said, "Nobody's calling anybody a thief. All I know is my gloves were in your goddam galoshes." It could go on like that for hours. 

嗯，我要是说了些十分尖刻、下流的话，那家伙大概会起身向我走来，说道：“听着，考尔菲德。你是不是在骂我小偷？”我听了都不敢说：“你他妈的说得一点不错，你这个偷东西的下流杂种！”我大概只会说：“我只知道我的那副混帐手套在你的混帐套鞋里。”那家伙听了，大概会马上摸我的底，看看我究竟敢不敢动手揍他，所以他会说：“听着。咱们打开天窗说亮话。你刚才是不是管我叫小偷来着？”我大概会这样回答：“谁也没管谁叫小偷。我只知道我的手套在你的混帐套鞋里。”就这样能翻来覆去讲几个小时。

Finally, though, I'd leave his room without even taking a sock at him. I'd probably go down to the can and sneak a cigarette and watch myself getting tough in the mirror. Anyway, that's what I thought about the whole way back to the hotel. 

可我最后离开的时候，甚至都不会碰他一下。我大概会到盥洗室里，偷偷袖一支烟，在镜子里看着自己装出凶狠的样子。嗯，这就是我回旅馆时一路上想的心事。

It's no fun to he yellow. Maybe I'm not all yellow. I don't know. I think maybe I'm just partly yellow and partly the type that doesn't give much of a damn if they lose their gloves. 

当个胆小鬼决不是什么好玩的事儿。也许我并不完完全全是个胆小鬼。我不知道。我想也许我只是一半出于胆小，一半出于丢了副手套什么的并不他妈的在乎。

One of my troubles is, I never care too much when I lose something--it used to drive my mother crazy when I was a kid. Some guys spend days looking for something they lost. I never seem to have anything that if I lost it I'd care too much. 

我有这么个缺点，就是不管丢了什么东西都不在乎——我小时候我母亲就常常为这事气得发疯。有些人要是丢了东西，不借花几天工夫到处寻找。我好象从来就不曾有过什么好东西丢了以后会着急得要命。

Maybe that's why I'm partly yellow. It's no excuse, though. It really isn't. What you should be is not yellow at all. If you're supposed to sock somebody in the jaw, and you sort of feel like doing it, you should do it. I'm just no good at it, though. I'd rather push a guy out the window or chop his head off with an ax than sock him in the jaw. 

或许这就是我一半胆小的原因。不过这不是给自己开脱的理由。的确不是。一个人压根儿就不应该胆小。你要是应该往谁的下巴额儿上揍一拳，心里如果想揍，就应该动手揍。可我就是下不了手。我宁可把一个人推出窗口，或者用斧头砍下他的脑瓜儿，也不愿拿拳头揍他的下巴额儿。

I hate fist fights. I don't mind getting hit so much--although I'm not crazy about it, naturally--but what scares me most in a fist fight is the guy's face. I can't stand looking at the other guy's face, is my trouble. It wouldn't be so bad if you could both be blindfolded or something. It's a funny kind of yellowness, when you come to think of it, but it's yellowness, all right. I'm not kidding myself.

我最恨跟人动拳头。我倒不在乎自己挨揍——尽管我并不乐于挨揍，自然啦——可是用拳头打架的时候我最害怕对方的脸。我的问题是，我不忍看对方的脸。要是双方都蒙住眼睛什么的，那倒还可以。你要是仔细一想，这确是种可笑的胆小，不过照样是胆小，一点不假。我决不自欺欺人。

The more I thought about my gloves and my yellowness, the more depressed I got, and I decided, while I was walking and all, to stop off and have a drink somewhere.

我越是想到我的那副手套和我自己的胆小，我的心里就越烦闷，最后我决计停下来上哪儿喝一杯。

I'd only had three drinks at Ernie's, and I didn't even finish the last one. One thing I have, it's a terrific capacity. I can drink all night and not even show it, if I'm in the mood. Once, at the Whooton School, this other boy, Raymond Goldfarb, and I bought a pint of Scotch and drank it in the chapel one Saturday night, where nobody'd see us. He got stinking, but I hardly didn't even show it. I just got very cool and nonchalant. I puked before I went to bed, but I didn't really have to--I forced myself.

我在欧尼夜总会里只喝了三杯，最后一杯都没喝完。我有一个长处，就是酒量特别大。我只要心情好，可以整宵痛饮，都不动一点声色。有—次，在胡敦中学，我跟另一个叫雷蒙德.高尔德法伯的家伙买了一品脱威士忌酒，星期六晚上躲在小教堂里喝，那儿没人会瞧见我们。他已烂醉如泥，我却甚至连酒意都没有一点。我只是变得十分冷静，对什么都无动于衷。我在睡觉之前呕吐了一阵，可也不是非吐不可——我是让自己硬吐出来的。

Anyway, before I got to the hotel, I started to go in this dumpy-looking bar, but two guys came out, drunk as hell, and wanted to know where the subway was. One of them was this very Cuban-looking guy, and he kept breathing his stinking breath in my face while I gave him directions. I ended up not even going in the damn bar. I just went back to the hotel.

嗯，在我回旅馆之前，我还想到一家门面简陋的小酒吧里去喝一杯，忽然有两个酩酊大醉的家伙走出来，问我地铁在哪儿。有一个家伙看去很象古巴人，在我告诉他怎么走的时候，不住地把他嘴里的臭气往我脸上喷。结果我连那个混帐酒吧的门都没进，就一径回到旅馆里。

The whole lobby was empty. It smelled like fifty million dead cigars. It really did. I wasn't sleepy or anything, but I was feeling sort of lousy. Depressed and all. I almost wished I was dead.

休息室里空荡荡的，发出一股象五千万支熄掉了的雪茄的气味。的确是这样一股气味。我依旧不觉得困，只是心里很不痛快。烦闷得很。我简直不想活了。

Then, all of a sudden, I got in this big mess.

接着，突然间，我遇到了那么件倒霉事。

The first thing when I got in the elevator, the elevator guy said to me, "Innarested (同interested)in having a good time, fella? Or is it too late for you?"

我才一进电梯，那个开电梯的家伙就跟我说：“有兴趣玩玩吗，朋友？还是时间太晚了？”

"How do you mean?" I said. I didn't know what he was driving at or anything.

你说的什么？”我说。我真不知道他说的是什么意思。

"Innarested in a little tail t'night?"

今儿晚上要个小姑娘玩玩吗？”

"Me?" I said. Which was a very dumb answer, but it's quite embarrassing when somebody comes right up and asks you a question like that.

我？”这么回答当然很傻，可是有人直截了当地问你这么个问题，一时的确很难回答。

"How old are you, chief?" the elevator guy said.

你多大啦，先生？”开电梯的说。

"Why?" I said. "Twenty-two."

怎么？”我说。“二十二。”

"Uh huh. Well, how 'bout it? Y'innarested? Five bucks a throw. Fifteen bucks the whole night." He looked at his wrist watch. "Till noon. Five bucks a throw, fifteen bucks till noon."

嗯——哼。呃，怎么样？你有兴趣吗？五块钱一次。十五块一个通宵。”他看了看手表。“到中午。五块钱一次，十五块钱到中午。”

"Okay," I said. It was against my principles and all, but I was feeling so depressed I didn't even think. That's the whole trouble. When you're feeling very depressed, you can't even think.

“好吧，”我说。这违背我的原则，可我心里烦闷得要命，甚至都没加思索。糟就糟在这里。你要是心里太烦闷，甚至都没法思索。

"Okay what? A throw, or till noon? I gotta know."

“要什么？要一次，还是到中午？我得知道。”

"Just a throw."

“就一次吧。”

 "Okay, what room ya in?"

“好吧，你住几号房间？”

I looked at the red thing with my number on it, on my key. "Twelve twenty-two," I said. I was already sort of sorry I'd let the thing start rolling, but it was too late now.

我看了看我钥匙上面那个写着号码的红玩艺儿。“1220，”我说。我已经有点儿后悔不该这么着，不过已经太晚了。

"Okay. I'll send a girl up in about fifteen minutes." He opened the doors and I got out.

“好吧。我在一刻钟内送个姑娘上来。”他打开电梯的门，我走了出去。

"Hey, is she good-looking?" I asked him. "I don't want any old bag."

“嗨，她长得漂亮吗？”我问他。“我可不要什么老太婆。”

"No old bag. Don't worry about it, chief."      

“没有老太婆。别担心这个，先生。”

"Who do I pay?"

“我怎么给钱？”

"Her," he said. "Let's go, chief." He shut the doors, practically right in my face.   

“给她，”他说。“就这样吧，先生。”他简直冲着我劈脸把门关上了。

I went to my room and put some water on my hair, but you can't really comb a crew cut or anything. Then I tested to see if my breath stank发臭 from so many cigarettes and the Scotch and sodas I drank at Ernie's. 

我回到房里往头发上敷了些水，可是在水手式的平头上实在梳不出什么名堂来。接着我想起在欧尼夜总会里抽了那么些烟，又喝了威士忌和苏打水，就试了试自己的嘴里有没有臭味。

All you do is hold your hand under your mouth and blow your breath up toward the old nostrils. It didn't seem to stink much, but I brushed my teeth anyway. Then I put on another clean shirt. I knew I didn't have to get all dolled up for a prostitute or anything, but it sort of gave me something to do. 

你只要把手放到嘴下面，对准鼻孔呼气，就闻得出自己嘴里有没有臭味。我嘴里的味儿倒不大，可我还是刷了刷牙。接着我又换了件干净衬衫。我知道自己用不着为了个妓女把身上打扮得象个布娃娃似的，不过这样我总算有事可做了。

I was a little nervous. I was starting to feel pretty sexy and all, but I was a little nervous anyway. If you want to know the truth, I'm a virgin. I really am. I've had quite a few opportunities to lose my virginity and all, but I've never got around to it yet. Something always happens. 

我有点儿紧张。我的欲念开始上来了，可我也有点儿紧张。我老实跟你说，我原来还是个童男哩。我真的是个童男。我倒有几次机会可以失去我的童贞，可我始终没失去。总是有什么事情发生。

For instance, if you're at a girl's house, her parents always come home at the wrong time--or you're afraid they will. Or if you're in the back seat of somebody's car, there's always somebody's date in the front seat--some girl, I mean--that always wants to know what's going on all over the whole goddam car. 

比方说，你要是在女朋友的家里，她的父母总会突然回家——或者你害怕他们会突然回家。或者你要是在别人汽车里的后座上，那么前座上总有什么人——或是说有什么姑娘——老想知道整个混帐汽车里在干些什么。

I mean some girl in front keeps turning around to see what the hell's going on. Anyway, something always happens. I came quite close to doing it a couple of times, though. One time in particular, I remember. Something went wrong, though --I don't even remember what any more. The thing is, most of the time when you're coming pretty close to doing it with a girl--a girl that isn't a prostitute or anything, I mean--she keeps telling you to stop. 

我是说前座上总有个始娘老回过头来看看后面在他妈的干些什么。不管怎样，反正总有什么事发生。有一两次，我只差一点儿就上手了。特别是有一次，我记得。可后来出了什么事——我都记不得到底出什么事了。问题是，每当你要跟一个姑娘行事的时候——我是说不是个做妓女什么的姑娘——十有九次她总不住地叫你住手。

The trouble with me is, I stop. Most guys don't. I can't help it. You never know whether they really want you to stop, or whether they're just scared as hell, or whether they're just telling you to stop so that if you do go through with it, the blame'll be on you, not them. Anyway, I keep stopping. 

我的问题是，每次我都住手了。大多数男人都不这样。我却由不得自己。你总拿不准她们是真正要你住手呢，还是她们害怕得要命，还是她们故意要你住手，万一你真的干了那事，那么过错就都在你身上，她们可以脱掉干系。不管怎样，每次我都住手了。

The trouble is, I get to feeling sorry for them. I mean most girls are so dumb and all. After you neck them for a while, you can really watch them losing their brains. You take a girl when she really gets passionate /ˈpæʃənət/热情的, she just hasn't any brains. I don't know. They tell me to stop, so I stop. I always wish I hadn't, after I take them home, but I keep doing it anyway.

问题是，我心里真有点儿替她们难受。我是说大多数姑娘都那么傻。你只要跟她们搂搂抱抱一会儿，就可以真正看出她们全都失去了头脑。一个姑娘只要真正热情上来，就不再有头脑。我不知道。她们要我住手，我就住手了。我送她们回家以后，总后悔自己不该住手，可到时候又总是老毛病发作。

Anyway, while I was putting on another clean shirt, I sort of figured this was my big chance, in a way. I figured if she was a prostitute and all, I could get in some practice on her, in case I ever get married or anything. I worry about that stuff sometimes. I read this book once, at the Whooton School, that had this very sophisticated, suave, sexy guy in it. Monsieur Blanchard was his name, I can still remember.

嗯，我在穿另一件干净衬衫的时候，心里暗忖，这倒是我最好的一个机会。我揣摩她既是个妓女，我可以从她那儿取得一些经验，在我结婚后也许用得着。有时候我可真担心这玩艺儿。在胡敦中学的时候，我有一次看到一本书，里面讲一个非常世故、非常和蔼可亲、非常好色的家伙。他的名字叫勃朗夏德先生，我还记得。

It was a lousy book, but this Blanchard guy was pretty good. He had this big château and all on the Riviera, in Europe, and all he did in his spare time was beat women off with a club. He was a real rake浪子and all, but he knocked women out.

这是一本坏书，可勃朗夏德这个人物倒是写得不错。他在欧洲里维耶拉河上有一座大城堡，空闲时他总是拿根棍子把一些女人打跑。他是个真正的浪子，可很使女人着迷。

 He said, in this one part, that a woman's body is like a violin and all, and that it takes a terrific musician to play it right. It was a very corny book--I realize that--but I couldn't get that violin stuff out of my mind anyway. 

他在书的某一章里说女人的身体很象个小提琴，需要一个大音乐家才能演奏出好音乐。这是本粗俗不堪的书——我知道这一点——可我怎么也忘不掉那个小提琴的比喻。

In a way, that's why I sort of wanted to get some practice in, in case I ever get married. Caulfield and his Magic Violin, boy. It's corny, I realize, but it isn't too corny. I wouldn't mind being pretty good at that stuff. 

我之所以想取得些经验，以备结婚后应用，说来也是如此。考尔菲德和他的魔提琴，嘿。这有点粗俗，我知道，可也不算太粗俗。我不在乎自己在这玩艺儿上成为老手。

Half the time, if you really want to know the truth, when I'm horsing around with a girl, I have a helluva lot of trouble just finding what I'm looking for, for God's sake, if you know what I mean. Take this girl that I just missed having sexual intercourse with, that I told you about. 

如果你真要我说老实话，我可以告诉你说当我跟一个女人一起胡搞的时候，有多半时间我都他妈的找不到我所寻找的东西，要是你懂得我意思的话。就拿刚才我说的那个差点儿跟我发生关系的姑娘来说吧。

It took me about an hour to just get her goddam brassiere off. By the time I did get it off, she was about ready to spit in my eye.

我差不多花了一个小时才把她的奶罩脱掉。到了我真正把它脱掉的时候，她都准备往我的脸上吐唾沫了。

Anyway, I kept walking around the room, waiting for this prostitute to show up. I kept hoping she'd be good-looking. I didn't care too much, though. I sort of just wanted to get it over with. Finally, somebody knocked on the door, and when I went to open it, I had my suitcase right in the way and I fell over it and damn near broke my knee. I always pick a gorgeous time to fall over a suitcase or something.

嗯，我不住地在房间里踱来踱去，等那妓女来。我真希望她长得漂亮。不过我对这个也不十分在乎。我很愿意这事能快点儿过去。最后，有人敲门了，我去开门的时候，在手提箱上绊了一交，差点儿摔坏了我的膝盖。我总是选择这种紧要时刻绊倒在手提箱之类的东西上。

When I opened the door, this prostitute was standing there. She had a polo coat on, and no hat. She was sort of a blonde, but you could tell she dyed /daɪd/染色 her hair. She wasn't any old bag, though. "How do you do," I said. Suave as hell, boy.

我开了门，看见那妓女正站在门外。她穿了件驼毛绒大衣，没戴帽子。她有一头金发，不过你看得出是染过的。可她倒不是个老太婆。“您好，”我说。温柔得要命，嘿。

"You the guy Maurice said?" she asked me. She didn't seem too goddam friendly.     

“你就是毛里斯说的那位？”她问我，看样子并不太他妈的客气。

"Is he the elevator boy?" "Yeah," she said.

“毛里斯是不是那个开电梯的？”“是的，”她说。

"Yes, I am. Come in, won't you?" I said. I was getting more and more nonchalant as it went along. I really was.

“晤，是我。请进来，好不好？”我说。说着说着我变得越来越凉了。一点不假。

She came in and took her coat off right away and sort of chucked it on the bed. She had on a green dress underneath. Then she sort of sat down sideways on the chair that went with the desk in the room and started jiggling急速移动 her foot up and down. 

她进房后马上脱下大衣，往床上一扔。她里面穿着件绿衣服。她斜坐在那把跟房间里的书桌配成一套的椅子上，开始颠动她的一只脚。

She crossed her legs and started jiggling this one foot up and down. She was very nervous, for a prostitute. She really was. I think it was because she was young as hell. She was around my age. I sat down in the big chair, next to her, and offered her a cigarette. 

她把一条腿搁在另一条腿上，开始颠动搁在上面的那只脚。对一个妓女来说，她的举止似乎过于紧张。她确实紧张。我想那是因为她年轻得要命的缘故。她跟我差不多年纪。我在她旁边的一把大椅子上坐下，递给她一支香烟。

"I don't smoke," she said. She had a tiny little wheeny-whiny好发牢骚的喋喋不休 voice. You could hardly hear her. She never said thank you, either, when you offered her something. She just didn't know any better.

“我不抽烟，”她说。她说起话来哼哼卿卿的，声音很小。你甚至都听不见她说的什么。你请她抽烟什么的，她也从来不说声谢谢。她只是不知道该怎么办。

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jim Steele," I said.

“让我来自我介绍吧。我的名字叫吉姆．斯梯尔，”我说。

"Ya got a watch on ya?" she said. She didn't care what the hell my name was, naturally. "Hey, how old are you, anyways?"

“你有手表吗？”她说。她并不在乎我他妈的叫什么名字，自然啦。“嗨，你到底多大啦？”

"Me? Twenty-two."

“我？二十二。”

"Like fun you are."

“别逗人啦。”

It was a funny thing to say. It sounded like a real kid. 

这话的确可笑。听去真象个孩子。

You'd think a prostitute and all would say "Like hell you are" or "Cut the crap" instead of "Like fun you are."     

你总以为一个妓女会说“别见鬼啦”或者“别胡扯啦”，不会说“别逗人啦”这类话。

"How old are you?" I asked her.

“你多大啦？”我问她。

"Old enough to know better," she said. She was really witty. 

“反正比你更懂事，”她说。她倒是真鬼。

"Ya got a watch on ya?" she asked me again, and then she stood up and pulled her dress over her head.  

“你有手表吗？”她又问了我一遍，随即站起来，从头顶上脱下衣服。

I certainly felt peculiar /pɪˈkjuːliər/奇怪的 when she did that.

她脱衣服的时候，我的确有一种奇特的感觉。

I mean she did it so sudden and all. I know you're supposed to feel pretty sexy when somebody gets up and pulls their dress over their head, but I didn't. Sexy was about the last thing I was feeling. I felt much more depressed than sexy.

我的意思是她做得太突然了。我知道当有人站起来把衣服拉到头上的时候，你应该觉得自己很性感，但我没有。性感是我感觉的最后一件事。我感到的沮丧远远超过了性感。

"Ya got a watch on ya, hey?"

“你有手表吗，嗨？”

"No. No, I don't," I said. Boy, was I feeling peculiar. "What's your name?" I asked her. All she had on was this pink slip. It was really quite embarrassing. It really was.

“不。不，我没有，”我说，嘿，我倒真有一种奇特的感觉。“你叫什么名字？”我问她。她现在只穿着一件粉红色套裙，看了真让人窘得很。一点不假。

"Sunny," she said. "Let's go, hey."

“孙妮，”她说。“咱们来吧，嗨。”

"Don't you feel like talking for a while?" I asked her. It was a childish thing to say, but I was feeling so damn peculiar. "Are you in a very big hurry?"

“你想不想再谈一会儿？”我问她。这话说得很孩子气，可我当时的心境真是他妈的奇特。“你是不是有什么非常要紧的事？”

She looked at me like I was a madman. "What the heck ya wanna talk about?" she said.

她望着我，好象我是个疯子似的。“你有什么话要跟我谈的？”她说。

"I don't know. Nothing special. I just thought perhaps you might care to chat for a while."

“我不知道。没什么特别的话，我只是想，你或许愿意聊一会儿天。”

She sat down in the chair next to the desk again. She didn't like it, though, you could tell. She started jiggling her foot again--boy, she was a nervous girl.      

她又在书桌边的椅子上坐下。可她心里并不高兴，你看得出来。她又开始颠动她的一只脚——嘿，她真是个容易紧张的姑娘。

"Would you care for a cigarette now?" I said. I forgot she didn't smoke.

“你想抽支烟吗？”我说。我忘了她不抽烟。

"I don't smoke. Listen, if you're gonna talk, do it. I got things to do."

“我不抽烟。听着，你要是想聊天，就聊吧。我还有事呢。”

I couldn't think of anything to talk about, though. I thought of asking her how she got to be a prostitute and all, but I was scared to ask her. She probably wouldn't've told me anyway.

可我想不出有什么话可聊。我本想问问她怎么会当妓女的，可我又怕问她。看样子她也不会告诉我。

"You don't come from New York, do you?" I said finally. That's all I could think of.

“你不是打纽约来的吧，是不是？”我最后说。我只想出了这么句话。

"Hollywood," she said. Then she got up and went over to where she'd put her dress down, on the bed. "Ya got a hanger? I don't want to get my dress all wrinkly. It's brand-clean."

“好莱坞，”她说着，起身走到床上她放衣服的地方。“你有衣架吗？我不想把我这件衣服弄皱。还是崭新的呢。”

"Sure," I said right away. I was only too glad to get up and do something. I took her dress over to the closet and hung it up for her. It was funny. It made me feel sort of sad when I hung it up. I thought of her going in a store and buying it, and nobody in the store knowing she was a prostitute and all. The salesman probably just thought she was a regular girl when she bought it. It made me feel sad as hell--I don't know why exactly.     

“当然有，”我马上说。我能站起来做点儿什么事，真是太高兴了。我把她的衣服拿到壁橱里挂好。说来好笑，我接的时候，心里竟有点难过。我想起她怎样到铺子里去买衣服，铺子里的人谁也不知道她是妓女。售货员卖给她衣服的时候，大概还以为她是个普通的姑娘哩。这使我心里难过得要命——我也说不出到底是什么道理

I sat down again and tried to keep the old conversation going. She was a lousy conversationalist. "Do you work every night?" I asked her--it sounded sort of awful, after I'd said it.

我又坐下来，想继续跟她聊天。她真他妈的不会聊天。“你每天晚上都工作吗？”我问她——这话说出口后，听上去似乎很不象话。

"Yeah." She was walking all around the room. She picked up the menu off the desk and read it. "What do you do during the day?"

“是的。”她在房里到处转悠。她从书桌上拿起菜单来看，“你白天干什么？”

She sort of shrugged her shoulders. She was pretty skinny. "Sleep. Go to the show." She put down the menu and looked at me. "Let's go, hey. I haven't got all--"  

她端了端肩膀。她的个子很瘦。“睡觉。看电影。”她放下菜单朝我看着。“咱们来吧，嗨。我可没那么多——”

"Look," I said. "I don't feel very much like myself tonight. I've had a rough night. Honest to God. I'll pay you and all, but do you mind very much if we don't do it? Do you mind very much?" The trouble was, I just didn't want to do it. I felt more depressed than sexy, if you want to know the truth. She was depressing. Her green dress hanging in the closet and all. And besides, I don't think I could ever do it with somebody that sits in a stupid movie all day long. I really don't think I could.

“瞧，”我说。“我今天晚上精神不好。我这一夜过的很糟糕。一点不假。我照样付你钱，可我们要是不干那事儿，你不会在意吧？你不会很在意吧？”糟糕的是，我真的不想干那事儿。我没有冲动，只觉得沮丧，我老实告诉你说。她本人很叫人泄气。还有那挂在壁橱里的绿衣服什么的。再说，我觉得自己真不能跟一个整天坐在混帐电影院里的姑娘干那事儿。我觉得真的不能。

She came over to me, with this funny look on her face, like as if she didn't believe me. "What'sa matter?" she said.

她走到我身边，脸上带着那种可笑的神情，好象并不相信我的话。“怎么回事？”她说。

"Nothing's the matter." Boy, was I getting nervous. "The thing is, I had an operation very recently."

“没什么。”嘿，我怎么会那么紧张呢！“问题是，我最近刚动过一次手术。”

"Yeah? Where?"

“是吗？哪儿？”

"On my wuddayacallit--my clavichord /ˈklævɪkɔːrd/."

“在我那——怎么说呢——我的锁骨上。”

"Yeah? Where the hell's that?" 

“是吗？那玩艺儿是在他妈的什么地方？”

 "The clavichord?" I said. "Well, actually, it's in the spinal /ˈspaɪnl/ 脊髓的；脊柱的canal. I mean it's quite a ways down in the spinal canal/kəˈnæl/运河."

“锁骨！”我说。“呃，真正说来，是在脊椎骨里。我是说在脊椎骨的尽里边。”

"Yeah?" she said. "That's tough." Then she sat down on my goddam lap. "You're cute."

“是吗？”她说。“真糟糕。”说着她就坐到我他妈的怀里来了。“你真漂亮。”

She made me so nervous, I just kept on lying my head off. "I'm still recuperating/rɪˈkuːpəreɪt/恢复," I told her.

她真让我紧张极了，我只好拚命撒谎。“我还没完全恢复健康呢，”我对她说。

"You look like a guy in the movies. You know. Whosis. You know who I mean. What the heck's 见鬼 his name?"

“你很象电影里的一个家伙。你知道象哪一个。你知道我说的是谁。他叫什么名字来着？”

"I don't know," I said. She wouldn't get off my goddam lap.

“我不知道，”我说。她不肯从我他妈的怀里下来。

"Sure you know. He was in that pitcher with Mel-vine Douglas? The one that was Mel-vine Douglas's kid brother? That falls off this boat? You know who I mean."

“你当然知道。他就在那张曼尔一温.道格拉斯主演的片子里。是不是曼尔一温.道格拉斯的弟弟？就是打船上掉下来的那个？你知道我说的是推？”

"No, I don't. I go to the movies as seldom as I can."

“不，我不知道。我很少看电影。”

Then she started getting funny. Crude and all.

接着她开始逗起我来。粗野得很。

"Do you mind cutting it out?" I said. "I'm not in the mood, I just told you. I just had an operation."

“不干那玩艺儿你不会在意吧？”我说。“我精神不好，我刚才已跟你说了。我刚动过手术。”

She didn't get up from my lap or anything, but she gave me this terrifically/təˈrɪfɪkli/极端地；可怕地；非常地 dirty look. "Listen," she said. "I was sleepin' when that crazy Maurice woke me up. If you think I'm--"

她依旧没从我怀里下来，可是极其鄙夷地望了我一眼。“听着，”她说。“混帐的毛里斯叫醒我的时候，我睡的真香呢。你要是以为我是——”

"I said I'd pay you for coming and all. I really will. I have plenty of dough. It's just that I'm practically just recovering from a very serious--"

“我说过照样付你钱。我说了算数。我有的是钱。唯一的原因是我动了一次大手术，差不多刚刚复——”

"What the heck did you tell that crazy Maurice you wanted a girl for, then? If you just had a goddam operation on your goddam wuddayacallit. Huh?"

“那你于吗告诉混帐的毛里斯说你要个姑娘！要是你刚刚在你的什么混帐地方动了一次混帐手术，哼？”

"I thought I'd be feeling a lot better than I do. I was a little premature /ˈpremətʃər/ 早产儿in my calculations. No kidding. I'm sorry. If you'll just get up a second, I'll get my wallet. I mean it."

“我当时以为自己的精神还不错。我对自己估计过高了。不开玩笑。很抱歉。要是你能起来那么一会儿，我就马上拿钱给你。我不骗你。”

She was sore as hell, but she got up off my goddam lap so that I could go over and get my wallet off the chiffonier. I took out a five-dollar bill and handed it to her. "Thanks a lot," I told her. "Thanks a million."

她火冒得要命，不过她终于从我的混帐怀里下来了，好让我过去到五屉柜上取我的皮夹子。我拿出一张五块的钞票递给她。“谢谢，”我对她说。“非常谢谢。”

"This is a five. It costs ten."

“这是五块。要十块呢。”

She was getting funny, you could tell. I was afraid something like that would happen--I really was.

她这是在捉弄我了，我看得出来。我最怕这类事儿——一点不假。

"Maurice said five," I told her. "He said fifteen till noon and only five for a throw."

“毛里斯说五块，”我告诉她。“他说十五块到中午，五块一次。”

"Ten for a throw."

“十块一次。”

"He said five. I'm sorry--I really am--but that's all I'm gonna shell out."  

“他说的是五块。很抱歉——我真的很抱歉——可我只能给这么些钱。”

She sort of shrugged her shoulders, the way she did before, and then she said, very cold, "Do you mind getting me my frock/frɑːk/女装? Or would it be too much trouble?" She was a pretty spooky /ˈspuːki/ 幽灵般的;令人毛骨悚然的 kid. Even with that little bitty voice she had, she could sort of scare you a little bit. 

她端了端肩膀，就象刚才那样。接着她冷冷地说：“劳驾给我拿一下衣服好吗？是不是太麻烦您了？”她是个十分可怕的小鬼。尽管她说话的声音那么细小，她却能吓得你心惊肉跳。

If she'd been a big old prostitute, with a lot of makeup on her face and all, she wouldn't have been half as spooky.

要是她是个经验丰富的老娼妇，脸上满是脂粉，就不会那么吓人了。

I went and got her dress for her. She put it on and all, and then she picked up her polo coat off the bed. "So long, crumb-bum(bum-流浪汉)," she said.

我过去给她拿了衣服。她穿好衣服，又从床上拿起她的驼毛绒大衣。“再见，瘪三，”她说。

"So long," I said. I didn't thank her or anything. I'm glad I didn't.

“再见，”我说。我并没谢她。我很高兴我没谢她。