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 hotels 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 dripped 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 cafe 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. Ill do it, her husband offered from the bed.
No, Ill 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.
Dont 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 cafe. The cat would be around to the right. Perhaps she could go along under the eaves. As she 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?
Yea, she said, under the table. Then, Oh, I wanted it so much. I wanted a kitty.
When she talked English the maids 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 dont know why I wanted it so much. I wanted that poor kitty. It isnt 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 handglass. She studied her profile, first one side and then the other. Then she studied the back of her head and her neck.
Dont 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 boys. 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 hadnt looked away from her since she stared 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 at 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 cant 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.作者: 西门 时间: 2009-4-18 02:01
前几天有人给我女儿买了一只小鸡——染成红色的小鸡。我女儿很喜欢，把它放在奶箱里，管它叫“小红鸟”，家里有3岁孩子的人也许知道“小红鸟”的出处——《米奇妙妙屋》第三集《小鸟归巢》里那个主角。小鸡很活泼，小小的纸盒子关不住它，它在我狭小的房间里闲庭信步，最糟糕的是，它和真正的小红鸟一样，啾啾啾地叫个不停。我女儿很快就嫌烦了，我也是。后来我半是强迫的让我12岁的侄女把小鸡拿走了，我女儿不太情愿，但也勉强同意了，好在她很快就把这只小鸡给忘了，反正她有的是玩具。第二天我侄女告诉我小鸡在她回家的路上丢了，幸亏是丢了，不然她拿回家也不知该把它放在哪。作者: 木头 时间: 2009-4-18 19:03
女士接过猫，半晌，对着女仆的背影说了声谢谢。
她把猫抱在怀里，摸了摸柔软的毛，猫安静地呆着，圆睁着眼睛，扭过头看镜中的自己。
丈夫放下书，瞧了一眼，呃，太太，这只猫还好吧？
女士把它举了起来，笑笑说，没事。丈夫又拾起书看了起来。
女士于是逗了一会猫。脑海中掠过店主鞠躬的模样，仿佛看见热烫的牛排。
傍晚吃饭后，她又下楼走了走。并与店主点头打招呼。
谢谢你的猫。女士盯着他嘴角拘谨的笑，看到他微微露出牙齿，有一颗稍短。
雨停了。路上湿漉漉的。
她站在街上，觉得一切光亮都旋转了一下，然后她又看到自己的鞋子，还是去年那一双。
突然在街对面，她看见那只身上略湿的猫，无言互视了一会儿，它转身跑了。作者: 木头 时间: 2009-4-18 19:10
回西门：我从来不喜欢鸡。鸭子还可以。但是我小时候踩死不少小鸡小鸭。不是故意的。
我发现海明威的文章很难懂。尝试读读看。首帖的文里，猫似乎只是女士百无聊赖中集中的关注点。她生活没有快乐，于是看见被雨淋的猫感到自怜。于是想要一只猫，想让自己的生活高兴起来。丈夫没有生气，也没有领会她的需要。作者: 西门 时间: 2009-4-19 14:12 4#木头
还有一处木头写得不大舒服：
“谢谢你的猫。女士盯着他嘴角拘谨的笑。”
这里“盯”，“嘴角”，“拘谨”都不必要。他们俩有什么特殊的关系？在这里作者似乎暗示，后面会有某种情节与此有关，事实上却没没有。
顶好就这样写：“你带回了我的的猫，”女士看着他的笑，说：“真是谢谢。”作者: mu 时间: 2009-5-3 19:38
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.