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【有声英语文学名著】麦田里的守望者(15)

时间:2016-08-25 08:27来源:互联网 提供网友:yajing   字体: [ ]
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15
 
I DIDN’T SLEEP too long, because I think it was only around ten o'clock when I woke up. I felt pretty hungry as soon as I had a cigarette. The last time I'd eaten was those two hamburgers I had with Brossard and Ackley when we went in to Agerstown to the movies. That was a long time ago. It seemed like fifty years ago. The phone was right next to me, and I started to call down and have them send up some breakfast, but I was sort of afraid they might send it up with old Maurice. If you think I was dying to see him again, you're crazy. So I just laid around in bed for a while and smoked another cigarette. I thought of giving old Jane a buzz, to see if she was home yet and all, but I wasn't in the mood.
 
What I did do, I gave old Sally Hayes a buzz. She went to Mary A. Woodruff, and I knew she was home because I'd had this letter from her a couple of weeks ago. I wasn't too crazy about her, but I'd known her for years. I used to think she was quite intelligent, in my stupidity. The reason I did was because she knew quite a lot about the theater and plays and literature and all that stuff. If somebody knows quite a lot about those things, it takes you quite a while to find out whether they're really stupid or not. It took me years to find it out, in old Sally's case. I think I'd have found it out a lot sooner if we hadn't necked so damn much. My big trouble is, I always sort of think whoever I'm necking is a pretty intelligent person. It hasn't got a goddam thing to do with it, but I keep thinking it anyway.
 
Anyway, I gave her a buzz. First the maid answered. Then her father. Then she got on. "Sally?" I said.
 
"Yes―who is this?" she said. She was quite a little phony. I'd already told her father who it was.
 
"Holden Caulfield. How are ya?"
 
"Holden! I'm fine! How are you?"
 
"Swell1. Listen. How are ya, anyway? I mean how's school?"
 
"Fine," she said. "I mean―you know."
 
"Swell. Well, listen. I was wondering if you were busy today. It's Sunday, but there's always one or two matinees going on Sunday. Benefits and that stuff. Would you care to go?"
 
"I'd love to. Grand."
 
Grand. If there's one word I hate, it's grand. It's so phony. For a second, I was tempted2 to tell her to forget about the matinee. But we chewed the fat for a while. That is, she chewed it. You couldn't get a word in edgewise. First she told me about some Harvard guy―it probably was a freshman3, but she didn't say, naturally―that was rushing hell out of her. Calling her up night and day. Night and day―that killed me. Then she told me about some other guy, some West Point cadet, that was cutting his throat over her too. Big deal. I told her to meet me under the clock at the Biltmore at two o'clock, and not to be late, because the show probably started at two-thirty. She was always late. Then I hung up. She gave me a pain in the ass4, but she was very good-looking.
 
After I made the date with old Sally, I got out of bed and got dressed and packed my bag. I took a look out the window before I left the room, though, to see how all the perverts5 were doing, but they all had their shades down. They were the heighth of modesty6 in the morning. Then I went down in the elevator and checked out. I didn't see old Maurice around anywhere. I didn't break my neck looking for him, naturally, the bastard7.
 
I got a cab outside the hotel, but I didn't have the faintest damn idea where I was going. I had no place to go. It was only Sunday, and I couldn't go home till Wednesday―or Tuesday the soonest. And I certainly didn't feel like going to another hotel and getting my brains beat out. So what I did, I told the driver to take me to Grand Central Station. It was right near the Biltmore, where I was meeting Sally later, and I figured what I'd do, I'd check my bags in one of those strong boxes that they give you a key to, then get some breakfast. I was sort of hungry. While I was in the cab, I took out my wallet and sort of counted my money. I don't remember exactly what I had left, but it was no fortune or anything. I'd spent a king's ransom8 in about two lousy weeks. I really had. I'm a goddam spendthrift at heart. What I don't spend, I lose. Half the time I sort of even forget to pick up my change, at restaurants and night clubs and all. It drives my parents crazy. You can't blame them. My father's quite wealthy, though. I don't know how much he makes―he's never discussed that stuff with me―but I imagine quite a lot. He's a corporation lawyer. Those boys really haul it in. Another reason I know he's quite well off, he's always investing money in shows on Broadway. They always flop9, though, and it drives my mother crazy when he does it. She hasn't felt too healthy since my brother Allie died. She's very nervous. That's another reason why I hated like hell for her to know I got the ax again.
 
After I put my bags in one of those strong boxes at the station, I went into this little sandwich bar and had breakfast. I had quite a large breakfast, for me―orange juice, bacon and eggs, toast and coffee. Usually I just drink some orange juice. I'm a very light eater. I really am. That's why I'm so damn skinny. I was supposed to be on this diet where you eat a lot of starches10 and crap, to gain weight and all, but I didn't ever do it. When I'm out somewhere, I generally just eat a Swiss cheese sandwich and a malted milk. It isn't much, but you get quite a lot of vitamins in the malted milk. H. V. Caulfield. Holden Vitamin Caulfield.
 
While I was eating my eggs, these two nuns12 with suitcases and all―I guessed they were moving to another convent or something and were waiting for a train―came in and sat down next to me at the counter. They didn't seem to know what the hell to do with their suitcases, so I gave them a hand. They were these very inexpensive-looking suitcases―the ones that aren't genuine leather or anything. It isn't important, I know, but I hate it when somebody has cheap suitcases. It sounds terrible to say it, but I can even get to hate somebody, just looking at them, if they have cheap suitcases with them. Something happened once. For a while when I was at Elkton Hills, I roomed with this boy, Dick Slagle, that had these very inexpensive suitcases. He used to keep them under the bed, instead of on the rack, so that nobody'd see them standing13 next to mine. It depressed14 holy hell out of me, and I kept wanting to throw mine out or something, or even trade with him. Mine came from Mark Cross, and they were genuine cowhide and all that crap, and I guess they cost quite a pretty penny. But it was a funny thing. Here's what happened. What I did, I finally put my suitcases under my bed, instead of on the rack, so that old Slagle wouldn't get a goddam inferiority complex about it. But here's what he did. The day after I put mine under my bed, he took them out and put them back on the rack. The reason he did it, it took me a while to find out, was because he wanted people to think my bags were his. He really did. He was a very funny guy, that way. He was always saying snotty things about them, my suitcases, for instance. He kept saying they were too new and bourgeois15. That was his favorite goddam word. He read it somewhere or heard it somewhere. Everything I had was bourgeois as hell. Even my fountain pen was bourgeois. He borrowed it off me all the time, but it was bourgeois anyway. We only roomed together about two months. Then we both asked to be moved. And the funny thing was, I sort of missed him after we moved, because he had a helluva good sense of humor and we had a lot of fun sometimes. I wouldn't be surprised if he missed me, too. At first he only used to be kidding when he called my stuff bourgeois, and I didn't give a damn―it was sort of funny, in fact. Then, after a while, you could tell he wasn't kidding any more. The thing is, it's really hard to be roommates with people if your suitcases are much better than theirs―if yours are really good ones and theirs aren't. You think if they're intelligent and all, the other person, and have a good sense of humor, that they don't give a damn whose suitcases are better, but they do. They really do. It's one of the reasons why I roomed with a stupid bastard like Stradlater. At least his suitcases were as good as mine.
 
Anyway, these two nuns were sitting next to me, and we sort of struck up a conversation. The one right next to me had one of those straw baskets that you see nuns and Salvation16 Army babes collecting dough17 with around Christmas time. You see them standing on corners, especially on Fifth Avenue, in front of the big department stores and all. Anyway, the one next to me dropped hers on the floor and I reached down and picked it up for her. I asked her if she was out collecting money for charity and all. She said no. She said she couldn't get it in her suitcase when she was packing it and she was just carrying it. She had a pretty nice smile when she looked at you. She had a big nose, and she had on those glasses with sort of iron rims18 that aren't too attractive, but she had a helluva kind face. "I thought if you were taking up a collection," I told her, "I could make a small contribution. You could keep the money for when you do take up a collection."
 
"Oh, how very kind of you," she said, and the other one, her friend, looked over at me. The other one was reading a little black book while she drank her coffee. It looked like a Bible, but it was too skinny. It was a Bible-type book, though. All the two of them were eating for breakfast was toast and coffee. That depressed me. I hate it if I'm eating bacon and eggs or something and somebody else is only eating toast and coffee.
 
They let me give them ten bucks19 as a contribution. They kept asking me if I was sure I could afford it and all. I told them I had quite a bit of money with me, but they didn't seem to believe me. They took it, though, finally. The both of them kept thanking me so much it was embarrassing. I swung the conversation around to general topics and asked them where they were going. They said they were schoolteachers and that they'd just come from Chicago and that they were going to start teaching at some convent on 168th Street or 186th Street or one of those streets way the hell uptown. The one next to me, with the iron glasses, said she taught English and her friend taught history and American government. Then I started wondering like a bastard what the one sitting next to me, that taught English, thought about, being a nun11 and all, when she read certain books for English. Books not necessarily with a lot of sexy stuff in them, but books with lovers and all in them. Take old Eustacia Vye, in The Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy20. She wasn't too sexy or anything, but even so you can't help wondering what a nun maybe thinks about when she reads about old Eustacia. I didn't say anything, though, naturally. All I said was English was my best subject.
 
"Oh, really? Oh, I'm so glad!" the one with the glasses, that taught English, said. "What have you read this year? I'd be very interested to know." She was really nice.
 
"Well, most of the time we were on the Anglo-Saxons. Beowulf, and old Grendel, and Lord Randal My Son, and all those things. But we had to read outside books for extra credit once in a while. I read The Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy, and Romeo and Juliet and Julius―"
 
"Oh, Romeo and Juliet! Lovely! Didn't you just love it?" She certainly didn't sound much like a nun.
 
"Yes. I did. I liked it a lot. There were a few things I didn't like about it, but it was quite moving, on the whole."
 
"What didn't you like about it? Can you remember?"
 
To tell you the truth, it was sort of embarrassing, in a way, to be talking about Romeo and Juliet with her. I mean that play gets pretty sexy in some parts, and she was a nun and all, but she asked me, so I discussed it with her for a while. "Well, I'm not too crazy about Romeo and Juliet," I said. "I mean I like them, but―I don't know. They get pretty annoying sometimes. I mean I felt much sorrier when old Mercutio got killed than when Romeo and Juliet did. The thing is, I never liked Romeo too much after Mercutio gets stabbed by that other man―Juliet's cousin―what's his name?"
 
"Tybalt."
 
"That's right. Tybalt," I said―I always forget that guy's name. "It was Romeo's fault. I mean I liked him the best in the play, old Mercutio. I don't know. All those Montagues and Capulets, they're all right―especially Juliet―but Mercutio, he was―it's hard to explain. He was very smart and entertaining and all. The thing is, it drives me crazy if somebody gets killed―especially somebody very smart and entertaining and all―and it's somebody else's fault. Romeo and Juliet, at least it was their own fault."
 
"What school do you go to?" she asked me. She probably wanted to get off the subject of Romeo and Juliet.
 
I told her Pencey, and she'd heard of it. She said it was a very good school. I let it pass, though. Then the other one, the one that taught history and government, said they'd better be running along. I took their check off them, but they wouldn't let me pay it. The one with the glasses made me give it back to her.
 
"You've been more than generous," she said. "You're a very sweet boy." She certainly was nice. She reminded me a little bit of old Ernest Morrow's mother, the one I met on the train. When she smiled, mostly. "We've enjoyed talking to you so much," she said.
 
I said I'd enjoyed talking to them a lot, too. I meant it, too. I'd have enjoyed it even more though, I think, if I hadn't been sort of afraid, the whole time I was talking to them, that they'd all of a sudden try to find out if I was a Catholic. Catholics are always trying to find out if you're a Catholic. It happens to me a lot, I know, partly because my last name is Irish, and most people of Irish descent are Catholics. As a matter of fact, my father was a Catholic once. He quit, though, when he married my mother. But Catholics are always trying to find out if you're a Catholic even if they don't know your last name. I knew this one Catholic boy, Louis Shaney, when I was at the Whooton School. He was the first boy I ever met there. He and I were sitting in the first two chairs outside the goddam infirmary, the day school opened, waiting for our physicals, and we sort of struck up this conversation about tennis. He was quite interested in tennis, and so was I. He told me he went to the Nationals at Forest Hills every summer, and I told him I did too, and then we talked about certain hot-shot tennis players for quite a while. He knew quite a lot about tennis, for a kid his age. He really did. Then, after a while, right in the middle of the goddam conversation, he asked me, "Did you happen to notice where the Catholic church is in town, by any chance?" The thing was, you could tell by the way he asked me that he was trying to find out if I was a Catholic. He really was. Not that he was prejudiced or anything, but he just wanted to know. He was enjoying the conversation about tennis and all, but you could tell he would've enjoyed it more if I was a Catholic and all. That kind of stuff drives me crazy. I'm not saying it ruined our conversation or anything―it didn't―but it sure as hell didn't do it any good. That's why I was glad those two nuns didn't ask me if I was a Catholic. It wouldn't have spoiled the conversation if they had, but it would've been different, probably. I'm not saying I blame Catholics. I don't. I'd be the same way, probably, if I was a Catholic. It's just like those suitcases I was telling you about, in a way. All I'm saying is that it's no good for a nice conversation. That's all I'm saying.
 
When they got up to go, the two nuns, I did something very stupid and embarrassing. I was smoking a cigarette, and when I stood up to say good-by to them, by mistake I blew some smoke in their face. I didn't mean to, but I did it. I apologized like a madman, and they were very polite and nice about it, but it was very embarrassing anyway.
 
After they left, I started getting sorry that I'd only given them ten bucks for their collection. But the thing was, I'd made that date to go to a matinee with old Sally Hayes, and I needed to keep some dough for the tickets and stuff. I was sorry anyway, though. Goddam money. It always ends up making you blue as hell.

点击收听单词发音收听单词发音  

1 swell IHnzB     
vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强
参考例句:
  • The waves had taken on a deep swell.海浪汹涌。
  • His injured wrist began to swell.他那受伤的手腕开始肿了。
2 tempted b0182e969d369add1b9ce2353d3c6ad6     
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词)
参考例句:
  • I was sorely tempted to complain, but I didn't. 我极想发牢骚,但还是没开口。
  • I was tempted by the dessert menu. 甜食菜单馋得我垂涎欲滴。
3 freshman 1siz9r     
n.大学一年级学生(可兼指男女)
参考例句:
  • Jack decided to live in during his freshman year at college.杰克决定大一时住校。
  • He is a freshman in the show business.他在演艺界是一名新手。
4 ass qvyzK     
n.驴;傻瓜,蠢笨的人
参考例句:
  • He is not an ass as they make him.他不象大家猜想的那样笨。
  • An ass endures his burden but not more than his burden.驴能负重但不能超过它能力所负担的。
5 perverts 4acc125cf96bd9738bcffa2067fc213f     
n.性变态者( pervert的名词复数 )v.滥用( pervert的第三人称单数 );腐蚀;败坏;使堕落
参考例句:
  • A clever criminal perverts his talents. 一个聪明的犯罪者误用了他的才智。 来自《现代英汉综合大词典》
  • Not all fondlers are sexual perverts. 并非所有的骚扰者都是性变态。 来自互联网
6 modesty REmxo     
n.谦逊,虚心,端庄,稳重,羞怯,朴素
参考例句:
  • Industry and modesty are the chief factors of his success.勤奋和谦虚是他成功的主要因素。
  • As conceit makes one lag behind,so modesty helps one make progress.骄傲使人落后,谦虚使人进步。
7 bastard MuSzK     
n.坏蛋,混蛋;私生子
参考例句:
  • He was never concerned about being born a bastard.他从不介意自己是私生子。
  • There was supposed to be no way to get at the bastard.据说没有办法买通那个混蛋。
8 ransom tTYx9     
n.赎金,赎身;v.赎回,解救
参考例句:
  • We'd better arrange the ransom right away.我们最好马上把索取赎金的事安排好。
  • The kidnappers exacted a ransom of 10000 from the family.绑架者向这家人家勒索10000英镑的赎金。
9 flop sjsx2     
n.失败(者),扑通一声;vi.笨重地行动,沉重地落下
参考例句:
  • The fish gave a flop and landed back in the water.鱼扑通一声又跳回水里。
  • The marketing campaign was a flop.The product didn't sell.市场宣传彻底失败,产品卖不出去。
10 starches 4a2ff941018a19601cc0790704781df1     
n.淀粉( starch的名词复数 );含淀粉的食物;浆粉v.把(衣服、床单等)浆一浆( starch的第三人称单数 )
参考例句:
  • You should avoid sugars and starches. 你应避免吃糖和含淀粉的食物。 来自《简明英汉词典》
  • Cotton and rayon yarns are most often sized with water-insoluble starches. 棉和人造丝纱多用不溶于水的淀粉上浆。 来自互联网
11 nun THhxK     
n.修女,尼姑
参考例句:
  • I can't believe that the famous singer has become a nun.我无法相信那个著名的歌星已做了修女。
  • She shaved her head and became a nun.她削发为尼。
12 nuns ce03d5da0bb9bc79f7cd2b229ef14d4a     
n.(通常指基督教的)修女, (佛教的)尼姑( nun的名词复数 )
参考例句:
  • Ah Q had always had the greatest contempt for such people as little nuns. 小尼姑之流是阿Q本来视如草芥的。 来自《现代汉英综合大词典》
  • Nuns are under vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. 修女须立誓保持清贫、贞洁、顺从。 来自辞典例句
13 standing 2hCzgo     
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的
参考例句:
  • After the earthquake only a few houses were left standing.地震过后只有几幢房屋还立着。
  • They're standing out against any change in the law.他们坚决反对对法律做任何修改。
14 depressed xu8zp9     
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的
参考例句:
  • When he was depressed,he felt utterly divorced from reality.他心情沮丧时就感到完全脱离了现实。
  • His mother was depressed by the sad news.这个坏消息使他的母亲意志消沉。
15 bourgeois ERoyR     
adj./n.追求物质享受的(人);中产阶级分子
参考例句:
  • He's accusing them of having a bourgeois and limited vision.他指责他们像中产阶级一样目光狭隘。
  • The French Revolution was inspired by the bourgeois.法国革命受到中产阶级的鼓励。
16 salvation nC2zC     
n.(尤指基督)救世,超度,拯救,解困
参考例句:
  • Salvation lay in political reform.解救办法在于政治改革。
  • Christians hope and pray for salvation.基督教徒希望并祈祷灵魂得救。
17 dough hkbzg     
n.生面团;钱,现款
参考例句:
  • She formed the dough into squares.她把生面团捏成四方块。
  • The baker is kneading dough.那位面包师在揉面。
18 rims e66f75a2103361e6e0762d187cf7c084     
n.(圆形物体的)边( rim的名词复数 );缘;轮辋;轮圈
参考例句:
  • As she spoke, the rims of her eyes reddened a little. 说时,眼圈微红。 来自汉英文学 - 围城
  • Her eyes were a little hollow, and reddish about the rims. 她的眼睛微微凹陷,眼眶有些发红。 来自辞典例句
19 bucks a391832ce78ebbcfc3ed483cc6d17634     
n.雄鹿( buck的名词复数 );钱;(英国十九世纪初的)花花公子;(用于某些表达方式)责任v.(马等)猛然弓背跃起( buck的第三人称单数 );抵制;猛然震荡;马等尥起后蹄跳跃
参考例句:
  • They cost ten bucks. 这些值十元钱。
  • They are hunting for bucks. 他们正在猎雄兔。 来自《简明英汉词典》
20 hardy EenxM     
adj.勇敢的,果断的,吃苦的;耐寒的
参考例句:
  • The kind of plant is a hardy annual.这种植物是耐寒的一年生植物。
  • He is a hardy person.他是一个能吃苦耐劳的人。
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