They each had their own room and all. They were both around seventy years old, or even more than that.
他们各有各的房间。他们都有七十左右年纪，或者甚至已过了七十。
They got a bang out of things, though--in a haif-assed way, of course. I know that sounds mean to say, but I don't mean it mean.
他们都还自得其乐——当然是傻里傻气的。我知道这话听起来有点混，可我并不是有意要说混话。
I just mean that I used to think about old Spencer quite a lot, and if you thought about him too much, you wondered what the heck he was still living for.
我的意思只是说我想老斯宾塞想得太多了，想他想得太多之后，就难免会想到象他这样活着究竟有什么意思。
I mean he was all stooped /stuːpt/ 弓背行走 over, and he had very terrible posture,
我是说他的背已经完全驼了，身体的姿势十分难看，
and in class, whenever he dropped a piece of chalk at the blackboard, some guy in the first row always had to get up and pick it up and hand it to him.
上课的时候在黑板边掉了粉笔，总要坐在第一排的学生走上去拾起来递给他。
That's awful, in my opinion.
真是可怕极了，在我看来。
But if you thought about him just enough and not too much, you could figure it out that he wasn't doing too bad for himself.
不过你要是想他想得恰到好处，不是想得太多，你就会觉得他的日子还不算太难过。
For instance, one Sunday when some other guys and I were over there for hot chocolate,
举例来说，有一个星期天我跟另外几个人在他家喝热巧克力，
he showed us this old beat-up Navajo blanket that he and Mrs. Spencer'dbought off 收买的 some Indian in Yellowstone Park.
他还拿出一条破旧的纳瓦霍毯子来给我们看，那是他跟斯宾塞太太在黄石公园向一个印第安人买的。
You could tell old Spencer'd got a big bang out of buying it. That's what I mean.
你想象得出老斯宾塞买了那条毯子心里该有多高兴。这就是我要说的意思。
You take somebody old as hell, like old Spencer, and they can get a big bang out of buying a blanket.
有些人老得快死了，就象老斯宾塞那样，可是买了条毯子却会高兴得要命。
His door was open, but I sort of knocked on it anyway, just to be polite and all.
他的房门开着，可我还是轻轻敲了下门，表示礼貌。
I could see where he was sitting. He was sitting in a big leather皮革制的 chair, all wrapped /ræpt/包裹 up in that blanket I just told you about.
我望得见他坐的地方。他坐在一把大皮椅上，用我上面说过的那条毯子把全身裹得严严的。
He looked over at me when I knocked. "Who's that?" he yelled. "Caulfield? Come in, boy." He was always yelling, outside class. It got on your nerves sometimes.
他听见我敲门，就抬起头来看了看。“谁？”他大声嚷道。“考尔菲德？进来吧，孩子。”除了在教室里，他总是大声嚷嚷。有时候你听了真会起鸡皮疙瘩。
The minute I went in, I was sort of sorry I'd come.
我一进去，马上有点儿后悔自己不该来。
He was reading the Atlantic Monthly, and there were pills and medicine all over the place, and everything smelled like Vicks Nose Drops.
他正在看《大西洋月刊》，房间里到处是丸药和药水，鼻子里只闻到一般维克斯滴鼻药水的味道。
It was pretty depressing /dɪˈpresɪŋ/ 使沮丧.
这实在叫人泄气。
I'm not too crazy about sick people, anyway. What made it even more depressing, old Spencer had on this very sad, ratty old bathrobe /ˈbæθroʊb/ 浴衣 that he was probably born in or something.
我对生病的人反正没多大好感。还有更叫人泄气的，是老斯宾塞穿着件破烂不堪的旧浴衣，大概是他出生那天就裹在身上的。
I don't much like to see old guys in their pajamas/pəˈdʒæməz/ 睡衣 and bathrobes anyway.
我最不喜欢老人穿着睡衣或者浴衣。
Their bumpy/ˈbʌmpi/ 崎岖不平的 old chests are always showing.
他们那瘦骨磷晌的胸脯老是露在外面。
And their legs. Old guys' legs, at beaches and places, always look so white and unhairy.
还有他们的腿。老人的腿，常常在海滨之类的地方见到，总是那么白，没什么毛。
"Hello, sir," I said. "I got your note. Thanks a lot."
“哈罗，先生，”我说。“我接到您的便条啦。多谢您关怀。
He'd written me this note asking me to stop by and say good-by before vacation started, on account of I wasn't coming back.
”他曾写了张便条给我，要我在放假之前抽空到他家去道别，因为我这一走，是再也不回来了。
"You didn't have to do all that. I'd have come over to say good-by anyway."
“您真是太费心了。我反正总会来向您道别的。”
"Have a seat there, boy," old Spencer said. He meant the bed.
“坐在那上面吧，孩子，”老斯宾塞说。他意思要我坐在床上。
I sat down on it. "How's your grippe, sir?"
我坐下了。“您的感冒好些吗，先生？”
"M'boy, if I felt any better I'd have to send for the doctor," old Spencer said.
“我的孩子，我要是觉得好些，早就去请大夫了，”老斯宾塞说。
That knocked him out. He started chuckling like a madman. Then he finally straightened himself out and said, "Why aren't you down at the game? I thought this was the day of the big game."
说完这话，他得意的了不得，马上象个疯子似的吃吃笑起来。最后他总算恢复了平静，说道：“你怎么不去看球？我本来以为今天有隆重的球赛呢。”
"It is. I was. Only, I just got back from New York with the fencing team," I said.
“今天倒是有球赛。我也去看了会儿。只是我刚跟击剑队从纽约回来，”我说。
Boy, his bed was like a rock.
嘿，他的床真象岩石一样。
He started getting serious as hell. I knew he would. "So you're leaving us, eh?" he said.
他变得严肃起来。我知道他会的。“那么说来，你要离开我们了，呃？”他说。
"Yes, sir. I guess I am."
“是的，先生。我想是的。”
He started going into this nodding routine /ruːˈtiːn/ 惯例. You never saw anybody nod as much in your life as old Spencer did.
他开始老毛病发作，一个劲几点起头来。你这一辈子再也没见过还有谁比他更会点头。
You never knew if he was nodding a lot because he was thinking and all, or just because he was a nice old guy that didn't know his ass from his elbow /ˈelboʊ/ 肘部.
你也没法知道他一个劲儿点头是由于他在动脑筋思考呢，还是由于他只是个挺不错的老家伙，糊涂得都不知道哪儿是自己的屁股哪儿是自己的胳膊弯儿了。
"What did Dr. Thurmer say to you, boy? I understand you had quite a little chat."
“绥摩博士跟你说什么来着，孩子？我知道你们好好谈过一阵，”
"Yes, we did. We really did. I was in his office for around two hours, I guess."
“不错，我们谈过。我们的确谈过。我在他的办公室里呆了约莫两个钟头，我揣摩。”
"What'd he say to you?"
“他跟你说了些什么？”
"Oh. . . well, about Life being a game and all. And how you should play it according to the rules.
“哦……呃，说什么人生是场球赛。你得按照规则进行比赛。
He was pretty nice about it. I mean he didn't hit the ceiling or anything. He just kept talking about Life being a game and all. You know."
他说得挺和蔼。我是说他没有蹦得碰到天花板什么的。他只是一个劲儿谈着什么人生是场球赛。您知道。”
"Life is a game, boy. Life is a game that one plays according to the rules."
“人生的确是场球赛，孩子。人生的确是场大家按照规则进行比赛的球赛。”
"Yes, sir. I know it is. I know it."
“是的，先生。我知道是场球赛。我知道。”
Game, my ass. Some game. If you get on the side where all the hot-shots are, then it's a game, all right--I'll admit that.
球赛，屁的球赛。对某些人说是球赛。你要是参加了实力雄厚的那一边，那倒可以说是场球赛，不错——我愿意承认这一点。
But if you get on the other side, where there aren't any hot-shots, then what's a game about it?
可你要是参加了另外那一边，一点实力也没有，那么还赛得了什么球？
Nothing. No game. "Has Dr. Thurmer written to your parents yet?" old Spencer asked me.
什么也赛不成。根本谈不上什么球赛。“绥摩博士已经写信给你父母了吗？”老斯宾塞问我。
"He said he was going to write them Monday."
“他说他打算在星期一写信给他们。”
"Have you yourself communicated with them?"
“你自己写信告诉他们没有？”
"No, sir, I haven't communicated with them, because I'll probably see them Wednesday night when I get home."
“没有，先生，我没写信告诉他们，因为我星期三就要回家，大概在晚上就可以见到他们了。”
"And how do you think they'll take the news?"
“你想他们听了这个消息会怎么样？”
"Well. . . they'll be pretty irritated /ˈɪrɪteɪtɪd 恼怒的 about it," I said.
“嗯，……他们听了会觉得烦恼，”我说。
"They really will. This is about the fourth school I've gone to."
“他们一定会的。这已是我第四次换学校了。”
I shook my head. I shake my head quite a lot.
我摇了摇头。我经常摇头。
"Boy!" I said. I also say "Boy!" quite a lot.
“嘿！”我说。我经常说“嘿！”
Partly because I have a lousy[ˈlaʊzi] 差劲 vocabulary and partly because I act quite young for my age sometimes.
这一方面是由于我的词汇少得可怜，另一方面也是由于我的行为举止有时很幼稚。
I was sixteen then, and I'm seventeen now, and sometimes I act like I'm about thirteen.
我那时十六岁，现在十七岁，可有时候我的行为举止却象十三岁。
It's really ironical [aɪ'rɑnɪkl] 讽刺的, because I'm six foot two and a half and I have gray hair. I really do.
说来确实很可笑，因为我身高六英尺二英寸半，头上还有白头发。我真有白头发。
The one side of my head--the right side-is full of millions of gray hairs. I've had them ever since I was a kid.
在头上的一边——右边，有千百万根白头发，从小就有。
And yet I still act sometimes like I was only about twelve.
可我有时候一举一动，却象还只有十二岁。
Everybody says that, especially my father. It's partly true, too, but it isn't all true.
谁都这样说，尤其是我父亲。这么说有点儿对，可并不完全对。
People always think something's all true. I don't give a damn, except that I get bored sometimes when people tell me to act my age.
人们总是以为某些事情是完全对的。我压根几就不理这个碴儿，除非有时候人们说我，要我老成些，我才冒起火来。
Sometimes I act a lot older than I am--I really do--but people never notice it. People never notice anything.
有时候我的一举一动要比我的年龄老得多——确是这样——可人们却视而不见。他们是什么也看不见的。
Old Spencer started nodding again. He also started picking his nose.
老斯宾塞又点起头来了。他还开始掏起鼻子来。
He made out like he was only pinching[ˈpɪntʃɪŋ] 掐，捏 it, but he was really getting the old thumb right in there.
他装作只是捏一捏鼻子，其实他早将那只大拇指伸进去了。
I guess he thought it was all right to do because it was only me that was in the room.
我揣摩他大概认为这样做没有什么不对，因为当时房里只有我一个。
I didn't care, except that it's pretty disgusting [dɪsˈɡʌstɪŋ] 令人厌恶 to watch somebody pick their nose.
我倒也不怎么在乎，只是眼巴巴看着一个人掏鼻子，总不兔有点恶心。
Then he said, "I had the privilege of meeting your mother and dad when they had their little chat with Dr. Thurmer some weeks ago. They're grand people.”
接着他说：“你爸爸和妈妈几个星期前跟绥摩博士谈话的时候，我有幸跟他们见了面。他们都是再好没有的人。”
"Yes, they are. They're very nice.”
是的，他们很好
Grand. There's a word I really hate. It's a phony[ˈfoʊni] 假冒者；赝品. I could puke[pjuːk] v. 呕吐 every time I hear it.
再好没有，我打心眼里讨厌这个词儿。完全是假模假式。我每次听见这个词儿，心里就作呕。
Then all of a sudden old Spencer looked like he had something very good, something sharp as a tack 大头钉, to say to me.
一霎时，老斯宾塞好象有什么十分妙、十分尖锐——尖锐得象针一样——的话要跟我说。
He sat up more in his chair and sort of moved around. It was a false alarm, though.
他在椅子上微微坐直身子，稍稍转过身来。可这只是一场虚惊。
All he did was lift the Atlantic Monthly off his lap and try to chuck抛掷 it on the bed, next to me.
他仅仅从膝上拿起那本《大西洋月刊》，想扔到我旁边的床上。
He missed. It was only about two inches away, but he missed anyway.
他没扔到。只差那么两英寸光景，可他没扔到。
I got up and picked it up and put it down on the bed.
我站起来从地上拾起杂志，把它搁在床上。
All of a sudden then, I wanted to get the hell out of the room.
突然间，我想离开这个混帐房间了。
I could feel a terrific lecture[ˈlektʃər] 演讲 coming on.
我感觉得出有一席可怕的训话马上要来了。
I didn't mind the idea so much, but I didn't feel like being lectured to and smell Vicks Nose Drops
我倒不怎么在乎听训话，不过我不乐意一边听训话一边闻维克斯滴鼻药水的味道，
and look at old Spencer in his pajamas and bathrobe all at the same time. I really didn’t.
一边还得望着穿了睡裤和浴衣的老斯宾塞。我真的不乐意。
It started, all right. "What's the matter with you, boy?" old Spencer said.
训话终于来了。“你这是怎么回事呢，孩子？”
He said it pretty tough, too, for him. "How many subjects did you carry this term?”
老斯宾塞说，口气还相当严厉。“这个学期你念了几门功课？”
"Five, sir.”
“五门，先生。”
"Five. And how many are you failing in?”
“五门。你有几门不及格？”
"Four." I moved my ass a little bit on the bed. It was the hardest bed I ever sat on.
“四门。”我在床上微微挪动一下屁股。这是我有生以来坐过的最硬的床。
"I passed English all right," I said, "because I had all that Beowulf and Lord Randal My Son stuff when I was at the Whooton School.
“英文我考得不错，”我说，“因为《贝沃尔夫》和‘兰德尔我的儿子’这类玩艺儿，我在胡敦中学时候都念过了。
I mean I didn't have to do any work in English at all hardly, except write compositions[,kɔmpə’ziʃənz] once in a while.”
我是说念英文这一门我用不着费多大劲儿，除了偶尔写写作文。”
He wasn't even listening. He hardly ever listened to you when you said something.
他甚至不在听。只要是别人说话，他总不肯好好听。
"I flunked考试不及格 you in history because you knew absolutely nothing.”
“历史这一门我没让你及格，因为你简直什么也不知道。”
"I know that, sir. Boy, I know it. You couldn't help it.”
“我明白，先生。嘿，我完全明白。您也是没有办法。”
"Absolutely nothing," he said over again. That's something that drives me crazy.
“简直什么也不知道，”他重复了一遍。就是这个最叫我受不了。
When people say something twice that way, after you admit it the first time. Then he said it three times.
我都已承认了，他却还要重复说一遍。然而他又说了第三遍。
"But absolutely nothing. I doubt very much if you opened your textbook even once the whole term. Did you? Tell the truth, boy.”
“可简直什么也不知道。我十分十分怀疑，整整一个学期不知你可曾把课本翻开过哪怕一回。到底翻开过没有？老实说，孩子。”
"Well, I sort of glanced through it a couple of times," I told him. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. He was mad about history.
“嗯，我约略看过那么一两次，”我告诉他说。我不愿伤他的心。他对历史简直着了迷。
"You glanced through it, eh?" he said--very sarcastic [sɑːrˈkæstɪk] 讽刺的;.
“你约略看过，嗯？”他说——讽刺得厉害。
"Your, ah, exam paper is over there on top of my chiffonier[ˌʃɪfəˈnɪr] 小衣橱. On top of the pile. Bring it here, please.”
“你的，啊，那份试卷就在我的小衣柜顶上。最最上面的那份就是。请拿来给我。”
It was a very dirty trick诡计, but I went over and brought it over to him--I didn't have any alternative[ɔːlˈtɜːrnətɪv] 供替代的选择 or anything.
来这套非常下流，可我还是过去把那份试卷拿给他了——此外没有其他办法。
Then I sat down on his cement [sɪˈment] 水泥 bed again. Boy, you can't imagine how sorry I was getting that I'd stopped by to say good-by to him.
随后我又坐到他那张象是水泥做的床上。嘿，你想象不出我心里有多懊丧，深悔自己不该来向他道别。
He started handling my exam paper like it was a turd[tɜːrd] 粪 or something.
他拿起我的试卷来，那样子就象拿着臭屎什么的。
"We studied the Egyptians from November 4th to December 2nd," he said. “
“我们从十一月四日到十二月二日上关于埃及人的课。
You chose to write about them for the optional essay[ˈeseɪ] 论文 question.
在自由选挥的论文题里，你选了写埃及人，
Would you care to hear what you had to say?"
你想听听你说了些什么吗？”
"No, sir, not very much," I said.
“不，先生，不怎么想听，”我说。
He read it anyway, though. You can't stop a teacher when they want to do something. They just do it.
可他照样念了出来。老师想于什么，你很难阻止他。他是非干不可的。
The Egyptians were an ancient race of Caucasians residing[rɪˈzaɪdɪŋ] in one of the northern sections of Africa.
埃及人是一个属于高加索人种的古民族，住在非洲北部一带。
The latter as we all know is the largest continent[ˈkɑːntɪnənt] 大陆 in the Eastern Hemisphere[ˈhemɪsfɪr] 半球.
我们全都知道，非洲是东半球上最大的大陆。
I had to sit there and listen to that crapcrap 废话. It certainly was a dirty trick.
我只好坐在那里倾听这类废话。来这一套确实下流。
The Egyptians are extremely interesting to us today for various reasons.
我们今天对埃及人极感兴趣，原因很多。
Modern science would still like to know what the secret ingredients[ɪn'ɡridɪənts] 成分; 配料 were that the Egyptians used when they wrapped up dead people so that their faces would not rot[rɑːt] 腐烂 for innumerable[ɪˈnuːmərəbl] 无数的，数不清的 centuries.
现代科学仍想知道埃及人到底用什么秘密药料敷在他们所包裹的死人身上，能使他们的脸经无数世纪而不腐烂。
This interesting riddle[ˈrɪdl] 谜 is still quite a challenge to modern science in the twentieth century.
这一有趣的谜仍是对二十世纪现代科学的一个挑战。
He stopped reading and put my paper down. I was beginning to sort of hate him.
他不念了，随手把试卷放下。我开始有点恨他了。
"Your essay, shall we say, ends there," he said in this very sarcastic voice.
“你的大作，我们可以这么说，写到这儿就完了，” 他用十分讽刺的口吻说。
You wouldn't think such an old guy would be so sarcastic and all. "However, you dropped me a little note, at the bottom of the page," he said.
你真想不到象他这样的老家伙说话竟能这么讽刺。“可是，你在试卷底下还写给我一封短信，”他说。
"I know I did," I said. I said it very fast because I wanted to stop him before he started reading that out loud. But you couldn't stop him. He was hot as a firecracker [ˈfaɪərkrækər] 鞭炮，爆竹.
“我知道我写了封短信，”我说。我说得非常快，因为我想拦住他，不让他把那玩艺儿大声读出来。可你没法拦住他。他热得象个着了火的炮仗。
DEAR MR. SPENCER [he read out loud]. That is all I know about the Egyptians. I can't seem to get very interested in them although your lectures are very interesting.
“亲爱的斯宾塞先生，”他大声念道。“我对埃及人只知道这一些。虽然您讲课讲得极好，我却对他们不怎么感兴趣。
It is all right with me if you flunk me though as I am flunking everything else except English anyway.
您尽管可以不让我及格，反正我除了英文一门以外，哪门功课也不可能及格。
Respectfully yours, HOLDEN CAULFIELD.
极敬爱您的学生 霍尔顿.考尔菲德敬上。
He put my goddam paper down then and looked at me like he'd just beaten hell out of me in ping-pong or something.
他放下那份混帐试卷，拿眼望着我，那样子就象他妈的在比赛乒乓球或者其他什么球的时候把我打得一败涂地似的，
I don't think I'll ever forgive him for reading me that crap out loud.
他这么把那封短信大声念出来，这件事我一辈子也不能原谅他。
I wouldn't've read it out loud to him if he'd written it--I really wouldn't.
要是他写了那短信，我是决不会大声念给他听的——我真的不会。
In the first place, I'd only written that damn note so that he wouldn't feel too bad about flunking me.
尤其是，我他妈的写那信只是为了安慰他，好让他不给我及格的时候不至于太难受。
"Do you blame me for flunking you, boy?" he said.
“你怪我没让你及格吗，孩子？”他说。
"No, sir! I certainly don't," I said. I wished to hell he'd stop calling me "boy" all the time.
“不，先生？我当然不怪你，”我说。我他妈的真希望他别老这么一个劲儿管我叫“孩子”。
He tried chucking my exam paper on the bed when he was through with it. Only, he missed again, naturally. I had to get up again and pick it up and put it on top of the Atlantic Monthly.
他念完试卷，也想把它扔到床上。只是他又没有扔到，自然罗。我不得不再一次起身把它拾起来，放在那本《大西洋月刊》上面。
It's boring to do that every two minutes.
每两分钟起身给他拾一次东西，实在叫人腻烦。
"What would you have done in my place?" he said. "Tell the truth, boy."
“你要是站在我的角度，会怎么做呢？”他说。“老实说吧，孩子。”
Well, you could see he really felt pretty lousy about flunking me.So I shot the bull for a while.
呃，你看得出他给了我不及格，心里确实很不安。我于是信口跟他胡扯起来。
I told him I was a real moron[ˈmɔːrɑːn] 傻瓜；痴愚者；笨人, and all that stuff.
我告诉他说我真是个窝囊废，诸如此类的话。
I told him how I would've done exactly the same thing if I'd been in his place, and how most people didn't appreciate how tough it is being a teacher. That kind of stuff. The old bull.
我跟他说我要是换了他的地位，也不得不那么做，还说大多数人都体会不到当老师的处境有多困难。反正是那一套老话。
The funny thing is, though, I was sort of thinking of something else while I shot the bull. I live in New York, and I was thinking about the lagoon in Central Park, down near Central Park South. I was wondering if it would be frozen over when I got home, and if it was, where did the ducks go. I was wondering where the ducks went when the lagoon got all icy and frozen over. I wondered if some guy came in a truck and took them away to a zoo or something. Or if they just flew away.
I'm lucky, though. I mean I could shoot the old bull to old Spencer and think about those ducks at the same time. It's funny. You don't have to think too hard when you talk to a teacher. All of a sudden, though, he interrupted me while I was shooting the bull.
He was always interrupting you.
"How do you feel about all this, boy? I'd be very interested to know. Very interested."
"You mean about my flunking out of Pencey and all?" I said. I sort of wished he'd cover up his bumpy chest. It wasn't such a beautiful view.
"If I'm not mistaken, I believe you also had some difficulty at the Whooton School and at Elkton Hills." He didn't say it just sarcastic, but sort of nasty, too. "I didn't have too much difficulty at Elkton Hills," I told him. "I didn't exactly flunk out or anything. I just quit, sort of."
"Why, may I ask?"
"Why? Oh, well it's a long story, sir. I mean it's pretty complicated." I didn't feel like going into the whole thing with him. He wouldn't have understood it anyway. It wasn't up his alley at all. One of the biggest reasons I left Elkton Hills was because I was surrounded by phonies. That's all. They were coming in the goddam window. For instance, they had this headmaster, Mr. Haas, that was the phoniest bastard I ever met in my life. Ten times worse than old Thurmer. On Sundays, for instance, old Haas went around shaking hands with everybody's parents when they drove up to school. He'd be charming as hell and all. Except if some boy had little old funny-looking parents. You should've seen the way he did with my roommate's parents. I mean if a boy's mother was sort of fat or corny-looking or something, and if somebody's father was one of those guys that wear those suits with very big shoulders and corny black-and-white shoes, then old Hans would just shake hands with them and give them a phony smile and then he'd go talk, for maybe a half an hour, with somebody else's parents. I can't stand that stuff. It drives me crazy. It makes me so depressed I go crazy. I hated that goddam Elkton Hills. Old Spencer asked me something then, but I didn't hear him. I was thinking about old Haas. "What, sir?" I said.
"Do you have any particular qualms about leaving Pencey?"
"Oh, I have a few qualms, all right. Sure. . . but not too many. Not yet, anyway. I guess it hasn't really hit me yet. It takes things a while to hit me. All I'm doing right now is thinking about going home Wednesday. I'm a moron." "Do you feel absolutely no concern for your future, boy?"
"Oh, I feel some concern for my future, all right. Sure. Sure, I do." I thought about it for a minute. "But not too much, I guess. Not too much, I guess."
"You will," old Spencer said. "You will, boy. You will when it's too late." I didn't like hearing him say that. It made me sound dead or something. It was very depressing. "I guess I will," I said.
"I'd like to put some sense in that head of yours, boy. I'm trying to help you. I'm trying to help you, if I can."
He really was, too. You could see that. But it was just that we were too much on opposite sides ot the pole, that's all. "I know you are, sir," I said. "Thanks a lot. No kidding. I appreciate it. I really do." I got up from the bed then. Boy, I couldn't've sat there another ten minutes to save my life. "The thing is, though, I have to get going now. I have quite a bit of equipment at the gym I have to get to take home with me. I really do." He looked up at me and started nodding again, with this very serious look on his face. I felt sorry as hell for him, all of a sudden. But I just couldn't hang around there any longer, the way we were on opposite sides of the pole, and the way he kept missing the bed whenever he chucked something at it, and his sad old bathrobe with his chest showing, and that grippy smell of Vicks Nose Drops all over the place. "Look, sir. Don't worry about me," I said. "I mean it. I'll be all right. I'm just going through a phase right now. Everybody goes through phases and all, don't they?"
"I don't know, boy. I don't know."
I hate it when somebody answers that way. "Sure. Sure, they do," I said. "I mean it, sir. Please don't worry about me." I sort of put my hand on his shoulder. "Okay?" I said.
"Wouldn't you like a cup of hot chocolate before you go? Mrs. Spencer would be-
-"
"I would, I really would, but the thing is, I have to get going. I have to go right to the gym. Thanks, though. Thanks a lot, sir."
Then we shook hands. And all that crap. It made me feel sad as hell, though.
"I'll drop you a line, sir. Take care of your grippe, now."
"Good-by, boy."
After I shut the door and started back to the living room, he yelled something at me, but I couldn't exactly hear him. I'm pretty sure he yelled "Good luck!" at me, I hope to hell not. I'd never yell "Good luck!" at anybody. It sounds terrible, when you think about it.
但奇怪的是，我一边在信口开河，一边却在想别的事。我住在纽约，当时不知怎的竟想起中央公园靠南边的那个小湖来了。我在琢磨，到我回家时候，湖里的水大概已经结冰了，要是结了冰，那些野鸭都到哪里去了呢？我一个劲儿琢磨，湖水冻严以后，那些野鸭到底上哪儿去了。我在琢磨是不是会有人开了辆卡车来，捉住它们送到动物园里去。或者竟是它们自己飞走了？
我倒是很幸运。我是说我竟能一边跟老斯宾塞胡扯，一边想那些鸭子。奇怪的是，你跟老师聊天的时候，竟用不着动什么脑筋。可我正在胡扯的时候，他突然打断了我的话。他老喜欢打断别人的话。
“你对这一切是怎么个感觉呢，孩子？我对这很感兴趣。感兴趣极了。”
“您是说我给开除出潘西这件事？”我说，我真希望他能把自己瘦骨磷峋的胸脯遮盖起来。这可不是太悦目的景色。
“要是我记得不错的话，我相信你在胡敦中学和爱尔敦.希尔斯也遇到过困难。”他说这话时不仅带着讽刺，而且带着点儿恶意了。
“我在爱尔敦.希尔斯倒没什么困难，”我对他说。“我不完全是给开除出来的。我只是自动退学，可以这么说。”
“为什么呢，请问？”
“为什么？哎呀，这事说来话长，先生。我是说问题极其复杂。”我不想跟他细谈。他听了也不会理解。这不是他在行的学问。我离开爱尔敦.希尔斯最大的原因之一，是因为我的四周围全都是伪君子。就是那么回事。到处都是他妈的伪君子。举例说，学校里的校长哈斯先生就是我生平见到的最最假仁假义的杂种。比老绥摩还要坏十倍。比如说，到了星期天，有些学生的家长开了汽车来接自己的孩子，老哈斯就跑来跑去跟他们每个人握手。
还象个娼妇似的巴结人。除非见了某些模样儿有点古怪的家长。你真该看看他怎样对待跟我同房的那个学生的父母。我是说要是学生的母亲显得太胖或者粗野，或者学生的父亲凑巧是那种穿着宽肩膀衣服和粗俗的黑白两色鞋的人，那时候老哈斯就只跟他们握一下手，假惺惺地朝着他们微微一笑。然后就一径去跟别的学生的父母讲话，一谈也许就是半个小时。我受不了这类事情。它会逼得我发疯，会让我烦恼得神经错乱起来。我痛恨那个混帐中学爱尔敦.希尔斯。
老斯宾塞这时又问了我什么话，可我没听清楚。我正在想老哈斯的事呢。“什么，先生？”我说。
“你离开潘西，有什么特别不安的感觉吗？”
“哦，倒是有一些不安的感觉。当然啦……可并不太多。至少现在还没有。我揣摩这桩事目前还没真正击中我的要害。不管什么事，总要过一些时候才能击中我的要害。我这会儿心里只想着星期三回家的事。我是窝囊废。”
“你难道一点也不关心你自己的前途，孩子？”
“哦，我对自己的前途是关心的，没错儿。当然啦。我当然关心。”我约莫考虑了一分钟。“不过并不太关心，我揣摩。并不太关心，我揣摩。”
“你会的，”老斯宾塞说。“你会关心的，孩子。到了后悔莫及的时候，你会关心的。”
我不爱听他说这样的话。听上去好象我就要死了似的，令人十分懊丧。“我揣摩我会这样的，”我说。
“我很想让你的头脑恢复些理智，孩子。我想给你些帮助。我想给你些帮助，只要我做得到。”
他倒是的确想给我些帮助。你看得出来。但问题是我们俩一个在南极一个在北极，相距太远；就是那么回事。“我知道您是想给我帮助，先生。”
我说。“非常感谢。一点不假。我感谢您的好意。
我真的感谢。”说着，我就从床边站起身来。嘿，哪怕要了我的命，也不能让我在那儿再坐十分钟了。“问题是，咳，我现在得走了。体育馆里还有不少东西等我去收拾，好带回家去。我真有不少东西得收拾呢。”他抬起头来望着我，又开始点起头来，脸上带着极其严肃的神情。突然间，我真为他难受得要命。可我实在没法再在那儿逗留了，象这样一个在南极一个在北极，他呢，还不住地往床上扔东西，可又老是半路掉下，他又穿着那件破旧的浴衣，还裸露出他的胸膛，房间里又弥漫着一股象征流行性感冒的维克斯滴鼻药水气味——在这情况下，我实在呆不下去了。“听我说，先生。别为我担心，”我说。“我是说老实话。我会改过来的。
我现在只是在过年轻人的一关。谁都有一些关要过的，是不是呢？”
“我不知道，孩子。我不知道。”
我最讨厌人家这样回答问题。“当然啦。当然谁都有关要过，”我说。“我说的是实话，先生。
请别为我担心。”我几乎把我的一只手搁在他的肩膀上了。“成吗？”我说。
“你喝杯热巧克力再走好吗？斯宾塞太太马上——”“谢谢，真谢谢，不过问题是，我得走啦。我得马上到体育馆去。谢谢。多谢您啦，先生。”
于是我们握了手，说了一些废话。我心里可真难受得要命。
“我会写信给您的，先生。注意您的感冒，多多保重身体。”
“再见吧，孩子。”
我随手带上门，向起居室走去，忽然又听到他大声跟我嚷了些什么，可我没听清楚。我深信他说的是“运气好！”我希望不是。我真他妈的希望不是。我自己从来不跟任何人说“运气好！”你只要仔细想一想，就会觉得这话真是可怕。