中英对照《麦田守望者》第四章

4

I didn't have anything special to do, so I went down to the can and chewed the rag with him while he was shaving. We were the only ones in the can, because everybody was still down at the game. It was hot as hell and the windows were all steamy. 

我闲着没事，也就到盥洗室里，在他刮脸时候跟他聊天。盥洗室里就只我们两个，因为全校的人还在外面看球赛。室内热得要命，窗子上全是水汽。

There were about ten washbowls, all right against the wall. Stradlater had the middle one. I sat down on the one right next to him and started turning the cold water on and off--this nervous habit I have.

紧靠着墙装有一溜盥洗盆，约莫十个左右。斯特拉德莱塔使用中间那个，我就坐到他紧旁边的那个盥洗盆上，开始把那个冷水龙头开了又关——这是我的一种病态的爱好。

 Stradlater kept whistling 'Song of India" while he shaved. He had one of those very piercing whistles that are practically never in tune, and he always picked out some song that's hard to whistle even if you're a good whistler, like "Song of India" or "Slaughter on Tenth Avenue." He could really mess a song up.

斯特拉德莱塔一边刮脸，一边吹着《印度之歌》口哨。他吹起口哨来声音很尖，可是调子几乎永远没有对的时候，而他还总是挑那些连最会吹口哨的人也吹不好的歌曲来吹，如《印度之歌》或《十号路上大屠杀》。他真能把一支歌吹得一塌糊涂。

You remember I said before that Ackley was a slob in his personal habits? Well, so was Stradlater, but in a different way. Stradlater was more of a secret slob. 

你记得我说过阿克莱的个人习惯十分邋遢吗？呃，斯特拉德莱塔也一样，只是方式不同。斯特拉德莱塔是私底下邋遢。

He always looked all right, Stradlater, but for instance, you should've seen the razor he shaved himself with. It was always rusty as hell and full of lather and hairs and crap. He never cleaned it or anything. He always looked good when he was finished fixing himself up, but he was a secret slob anyway, if you knew him the way I did. 

他外貌总是挺不错，这个斯特拉德莱塔。可是随便举个例子说吧，你拿起他刮脸用的剃刀看看。那剃刀锈得象块烂铁，沾满了肥皂沫、胡子之类的脏东西。他从来不把剃刀擦干净。他打扮停当以后，外貌例挺漂亮，可你要是象我一样熟悉他的为人，就会知道他私底下原是个邋遢鬼。

The reason he fixed himself up to look good was because he was madly in love with himself. He thought he was the handsomest guy in the Western Hemisphere. He was pretty handsome, too--I'll admit it. But he was mostly the kind of a handsome guy that if your parents saw his picture in your Year Book, they'd right away say, "Who's this boy?" I mean he was mostly a Year Book kind of handsome guy. I knew a lot of guys at Pencey I thought were a lot handsomer than Stradlater, but they wouldn't look handsome if you saw their pictures in the Year Book. They'd look like they had big noses or their ears stuck out. I've had that experience frequently.

　他之所以把自己打扮得漂漂亮亮，是因为他疯狂地爱着他自己。他自以为是西半球上最最漂亮的男子。他长的倒是蛮漂亮——我承认这一点。可他只是那一类型的漂亮男子，就是说你父母如果在《年鉴》上看到了他的照片，马上会说，“这孩子是谁？”——我的意思是说他只是那种《年鉴》上的漂亮男子。在潘西我见过不少人都要比斯特拉德莱塔漂亮，不过你如果在《年鉴》上见了他们的照片，决不会觉得他们漂亮。他们不是显得鼻子太大，就是两耳招风。我自己常常有这经验。

Anyway, I was sitting on the washbowl next to where Stradlater was shaving, sort of turning the water on and off. I still had my red hunting hat on, with the peak around to the back and all. I really got a bang out of that hat.

嗯，我当时坐在斯特技德莱塔旁边的盥洗盆上，看着他刮脸，手里玩弄着水龙头，把它开一会儿关一会儿。我仍旧戴着我那顶红色猎人帽历史经验，揭露了“左”右倾机会主义的思想根源—主观和，鸭舌也仍转在脑后。这顶帽子的确让我心里得意。

"Hey," Stradlater said. "Wanna do me a big favor?"

“嗨，”斯特拉德莱塔说。“肯大大帮我一个忙吗？”

"What?" I said. Not too enthusiastic. He was always asking you to do him a big favor. You take a very handsome guy, or a guy that thinks he's a real hot-shot, and they're always asking you to do them a big favor. Just because they're crazy about themseif, they think you're crazy about them, too, and that you're just dying to do them a favor. It's sort of funny, in a way.

“什么事？”我说，并不太热心。他老是要求别人大大帮他一个性。有一种长得十分漂亮的家伙，或者一种自以为了不起的人物，他们老是要求别人大大帮他一个忙。他们因为疯狂地爱着自己，也就以为人人都疯狂她爱着他们，人人都渴望着替他们当差。说起来确实有点儿好笑。

"You goin' out tonight?" he said.

“你今天晚上出去吗？”

"I might. I might not. I don't know. Why?"

“我可能出去。也可能不出去。我不知道。干吗？”

"I got about a hundred pages to read for history for Monday," he said. "How 'bout writing a composition for me, for English? I'll be up the creek if I don't get the goddam thing in by Monday, the reason I ask. How 'bout it?" 

“我得准备星期一的历史课，有约莫一百页书要看，”他说。“你能不能代我写一篇作文，应付一下英文课？我要你帮忙的原因，是因为到了星期一再不把那篇混帐玩艺儿交上去，我就要吃不了兜看走啦。成不成？”

It was very ironical. It really was.

这事非常滑稽。的确滑稽。

"I'm the one that's flunking out of the goddam place, and you're asking me to write you a goddam composition," I said.

“我考不及格，给开除出了这个混帐学校，你倒来要求我代你写一篇混帐作文，”我说。

"Yeah, I know. The thing is, though, I'll be up the creek if I don't get it in. Be a buddy. Be a buddyroo. Okay?"

“不错，我知道。问题是，我要是再不交，就要吃不了兜着走啦。作个朋友吧。成吗？”

I didn't answer him right away. Suspense is good for some bastards like Stradlater.

我没马上回答他。对付斯特拉德莱塔这样的杂种，最好的办法是卖关子。

"What on?" I said.

“什么题目？”

"Anything. Anything descriptive. A room. Or a house. Or something you once lived in or something-- you know. Just as long as it's descriptive as hell." He gave out a big yawn while he said that. Which is something that gives me a royal pain in the ass. I mean if somebody yawns right while they're asking you to do them a goddam favor. "Just don't do it too good, is all," he said. "That sonuvabitch Hartzell thinks you're a hot-shot in English, and he knows you're my roommate. So I mean don't stick all the commas and stuff in the right place."

“写什么都成。只要是描写性的。一个房间。或者一所房子。或者什么你过去住过助地方——你知道。只要他妈的是描写的就成。”他一边说，一边打了个很大的呵欠。就是这类事让我十分恼火。我是说，如果有人一边口口声声要求你帮他妈的什么忙，一边却那么打着呵欠。“只是别写的太好，”他说。“那个婊子养的哈兹尔以为你的英文好的了不得，他也知道你跟我同住一屋。因此我意思是你别把标点之类的玩艺儿放对位置。”

That's something else that gives me a royal pain. I mean if you're good at writing compositions and somebody starts talking about commas. Stradlater was always doing that. He wanted you to think that the only reason he was lousy at writing compositions was because he stuck all the commas in the wrong place. He was a little bit like Ackley, that way. I once sat next to Ackley at this basketball game. We had a terrific guy on the team, Howie Coyle, that could sink them from the middle of the floor, without even touching the backboard or anything. Ackley kept saying, the whole goddam game, that Coyle had a perfect build for basketball. God, how I hate that stuff.

这又是另一类让我十分恼火的事。我是说如果你作文做得好，可是有人口口声声谈着标点。斯特拉德莱塔老干这一类事。他要你觉得，他的作文之所以做不好，仅仅是因为他把标点全放错了位置。在这方面他也有点象阿克莱。有一次我坐在阿克莱旁边看比赛篮球。我们队里有员棒将，叫胡维.考埃尔，能中场投篮，百发百中，连球架上的板都不碰一下。阿克莱在他妈的整个比赛中却老是说考埃尔的身材打篮球合适极了。天哪，我多讨厌这类玩艺儿。

I got bored sitting on that washbowl after a while, so I backed up a few feet and started doing this tap dance, just for the hell of it. I was just amusing myself. I can't really tap-dance or anything, but it was a stone floor in the can, and it was good for tap-dancing. I started imitating one of those guys in the movies. In one of those musicals. I hate the movies like poison, but I get a bang imitating them. Old Stradlater watched me in the mirror while he was shaving. 

我在盥洗盆上坐了会儿，觉得腻烦了，心里一时高兴，就往后退了几步，开始跳起踢蹬舞来。我只是想让自己开开心。我实际上并不会跳踢蹬舞这类玩艺儿，不过盥洗室里是石头地板，跳踢蹬舞十分合适。我开始学电影里的某个家伙。是那种歌舞片里的。我把电影恨得象毒药似的，可我倒是很高兴学电影里的动作。老斯特拉德莱塔刮脸的时候在镜子里看着我跳舞。

All I need's an audience. I'm an exhibitionist. "I'm the goddarn Governor's son," I said. I was knocking myself out. Tap-dancing all over the place. "He doesn't want me to be a tap dancer. He wants me to go to Oxford. But it's in my goddam blood, tap-dancing." Old Stradlater laughed. He didn't have too bad a sense of humor. "It's the opening night of the Ziegfeld Follies." I was getting out of breath. I have hardly any wind at all. "The leading man can't go on. He's drunk as a bastard. So who do they get to take his place? Me, that's who. The little ole goddam Governor's son."

　我也极需要一个观众。我喜欢当着别人卖弄自己。“我是混帐州长的儿子，”我说。我那样不要命地跳着踢蹬舞，都快把自己累死了。“我父亲不让我跳踢蹬舞。他要我上牛津。可这是他妈的我的命——踢蹬舞。”老斯特拉德莱塔笑了。他这人倒是有几分幽默感。“今天是‘齐格飞歌舞团’开幕的第一夜。”我都喘不过气来了。我的呼吸本来就十分短促。“那位领舞的不能上场。他醉的象只王八啦。那么谁来替他上场呢？我，只有我。混帐老州长的小儿子。”

"Where'dja get that hat?" Stradlater said. He meant my hunting hat. He'd never seen it before.

　“你哪儿弄来的这顶帽子？”斯特拉德莱塔说。他指的是我那顶猎人帽。他还一直没看见哩。

I was out of breath anyway, so I quit horsing around. I took off my hat and looked at it for about the ninetieth time. "I got it in New York this morning. For a buck. Ya like it?"

　我实在喘不过气来了，所以我就不再逗笑取乐。我脱下帽子看了第九十遍。“今天早晨我在纽约买的。一块钱。你喜欢吗？”

Stradlater nodded. "Sharp," he said. He was only flattering me, though, because right away he said, "Listen. Are ya gonna write that composition for me? I have to know."

斯特拉德莱塔点点头。“很漂亮，”他说。可是他只是为了讨我欢喜，因为他接着马上说：“喂，你到底肯不肯替我写那篇作文？我得知道一下。”

"If I get the time, I will. If I don't, I won't," I said. I went over and sat down at the washbowl next to him again. "Who's your date?" I asked him. "Fitzgerald?"

　“要是我有时间，成。要是我没有时间，不成，”我说。我又过去坐在他身边的那个盥洗盆上。“你约的女朋友是谁？”我问他。“费兹吉拉德？”

"Hell, no! I told ya. I'm through with that pig."

“去你妈的，不是！我不是早跟你说了，我早跟那母猪一刀两断啦。”

"Yeah? Give her to me, boy. No kidding. She's my type."

“真的吗？把她转让给我吧，嘿。不开玩笑。她很合我胃口。”

"Take her . . . She's too old for you."

“就给你吧……对你说来她年纪太大啦。”

All of a sudden--for no good reason, really, except that I was sort of in the mood for horsing around--I felt like jumping off the washbowl and getting old Stradlater in a half nelson. That's a wrestling hold, in case you don't know, where you get the other guy around the neck and choke him to death, if you feel like it. So I did it. I landed on him like a goddam panther.

突然间——没有任何其他原因，只不过我一时高兴，想逗趣儿——我很想跳下盥洗盆，给老斯特拉德莱塔来个“半纳尔逊”。你要是不知道什么是“半纳尔逊”，那么我来告诉你吧，那是摔交的一种解数，就是用胳膊卡住对方的脖子，如果需要，都可以把他掐死。我就这么做了。我象一只他妈的美洲豹似的一下扑到了他身上。

"Cut it out, Holden, for Chrissake!" Stradlater said. He didn't feel like horsing around. He was shaving and all. "Wuddaya wanna make me do--cut my goddam head off?"

“住手，霍尔顿，老天爷！”斯特拉德莱塔说。他没心思逗趣儿。他正在一个劲儿刮胡子。“你要让我怎么着——割掉我的混帐脑袋瓜儿？”

I didn't let go, though. I had a pretty good half nelson on him. "Liberate yourself from my viselike grip." I said.

我可没松手。我已紧紧地把他的脖子卡住了。“你有本事，就从我的铁臂中挣脱出来，”我说。

"Je-sus Christ." He put down his razor, and all of a sudden jerked his arms up and sort of broke my hold on him. He was a very strong guy. I'm a very weak guy. "Now, cut out the crap," he said. He started shaving himself all over again. He always shaved himself twice, to look gorgeous. With his crumby old razor.

　“老——天爷！”他放下剃刀，猛地把两臂一抬，挣脱了我的掌握。他是个极有力气的大个儿，我是个极没力气的瘦个子。“哎，别瞎闹啦，”他说。他又把脸刮了一道。每次他总要刮两道，保持外表美观。就用那把脏得要命的剃刀。

"Who is your date if it isn't Fitzgerald?" I asked him. I sat down on the washbowl next to him again. "That Phyllis Smith babe?"

“你约的要不是费兹吉拉德，那又是谁呢？”我问他。我又坐到他旁边的盥洗盆上。“是不是菲丽丝.史密斯那小妞？”

"No. It was supposed to he, but the arrangements got all screwed up. I got Bud Thaw's girl's roommate now . . . Hey. I almost forgot. She knows you."

“不是。本来应该是她，后来不知怎么全都搞乱了。我这会约的是跟布德.莎同屋的那位……嗨。我差点儿忘了。她认得你呢。”

"Who does?" I said. 

“谁认得我？”

"My date."

“我约的那位。”

"Yeah?" I said. "What's her name?" I was pretty interested.

“是吗？”我说。“她叫什么名字？”我倒是感兴趣了。

"I'm thinking . . . Uh. Jean Gallagher." 

　‘“让我想一想……啊。琼.迦拉格。”

Boy, I nearly dropped dead when he said that.

嘿，他这么一说，我差点儿倒在地上死去了。

"Jane Gallagher," I said. I even got up from the washbowl when he said that. I damn near dropped dead. "You're damn right I know her. She practically lived right next door to me, the summer before last. She had this big damn Doberman pinscher. That's how I met her. Her dog used to keep coming over in our--"

“琴.迦拉格，”我说。他一说这话，我甚至都从盥洗盆上站起来，差点儿倒在地上死了。“你他妈的说得不错，我认识她。前年夏天，她几乎就住在我家隔壁。她家养了只他妈的道柏曼种大狗。我就是因为那狗才跟她认识的。她的狗老是到我们——”

"You're right in my light, Holden, for Chrissake," Stradlater said. "Ya have to stand right there?"

“你挡住我的光线啦，霍尔顿，老天爷，”斯特拉德莱塔说。“你非站在那儿不成吗？”

Boy, was I excited, though. I really was.

嘿，我心里兴奋着呢。我的确很兴奋。

"Where is she?" I asked him. "I oughta go down and say hello to her or something. Where is she? In the Annex?"

“她在哪儿？”我问他。“我应该下去跟她打个招呼才是。她在哪儿呢？在侧屋里？”

"Yeah."

“不错。”

"How'd she happen to mention me? Does she go to B.M. now? She said she might go there. She said she might go to Shipley, too. I thought she went to Shipley. How'd she happen to mention me?" I was pretty excited. I really was.

“她怎么会提到我的？她现在是在B．M吗？她说过可能要上那儿去。不过她也说可能上西普莱。我一直以为她是在西普莱呢。她怎么会提到我的？”我心里十分兴奋。我的确十分兴奋。

"I don't know, for Chrissake. Lift up, willya? You're on my towel," Stradlater said. I was sitting on his stupid towel.

“我不知道，老天爷。请你起来一下，成不成？你坐在我毛巾上啦，”斯特拉德莱塔说。我确实坐在他那块混帐毛巾上了。

"Jane Gallagher," I said. I couldn't get over it. "Jesus H. Christ."

“琴.迦拉格，”我说。我念念不忘这件事。“老天爷。”

Old Stradlater was putting Vitalis on his hair. My Vitalis. 

老斯特拉德莱塔在往他的头发上敷维他力斯。是我的维他力斯。

"She's a dancer," I said. "Ballet and all. She used to practice about two hours every day, right in the middle of the hottest weather and all. She was worried that it might make her legs lousy--all thick and all. I used to play checkers with her all the time."

“她是个舞蹈家，”我说。“会跳芭蕾舞什么的。那会儿正是最热的暑天，她每天还要练习两个小时，从不间断。她担心自己的大腿可能变粗变难看。我老跟她在一起下象棋。”

"You used to play what with her all the time?"

“你老跟她在一起下什么来着？”

"Checkers."

　“象棋。”

"Checkers, for Chrissake!"

“象棋，老天爷！”

"Yeah. She wouldn't move any of her kings. What she'd do, when she'd get a king, she wouldn't move it. She'd just leave it in the back row. She'd get them all lined up in the back row. Then she'd never use them. She just liked the way they looked when they were all in the back row."

“不错。她从来不走她的那些国王。她有了国王，却不肯使用，只是让它呆在最后一排，从来不使用。她就是喜欢它们在后排呆着时的那种样子。”

Stradlater didn't say anything. That kind of stuff doesn't interest most people.

斯特拉德莱塔没言语。这类玩艺儿一般人都不感兴趣。

"Her mother belonged to the same club we did," I said. "I used to caddy once in a while, just to make some dough. I caddy'd for her mother a couple of times. She went around in about a hundred and seventy, for nine holes."

“她母亲跟我们在同一个俱乐部里，”我说。“我偶尔也帮人拾球，光是为挣几个钱。我给她母亲抬过一两回球。她约莫进九个穴，得一百七十来分。”

Stradlater wasn't hardly listening. He was combing his gorgeous locks.

斯特拉德莱塔简直不在听。他正在梳他一绺绺漂亮的卷发。

"I oughta go down and at least say hello to her," I said.

“我应该下去至少跟她打个招呼，”我说。

"Why don'tcha?"

“干吗不去呢？”

"I will, in a minute."

　“我一会儿就去。”

He started parting his hair all over again. It took him about an hour to comb his hair.

他又重新分起他的头发来。他梳头总要梳那么个把钟头。

"Her mother and father were divorced. Her mother was married again to some booze hound," I said. "Skinny guy with hairy legs. I remember him. He wore shorts all the time. Jane said he was supposed to be a playwright or some goddam thing, but all I ever saw him do was booze all the time and listen to every single goddam mystery program on the radio. And run around the goddam house, naked. With Jane around, and all."

“她母亲跟她父亲离了婚，又跟一个酒鬼结了婚，”我说。“一个皮包骨头的家伙，腿上长满了毛。我记得很清楚。他一天到晚穿着短裤。琴说他大概是个剧作家什么的，不过我只见他一天到晚喝酒，听收音机里的每一个混帐侦探节目。还光着身子他妈的满屋子跑，不怕有琴在场。”

"Yeah?" Stradlater said. That really interested him. About the booze hound running around the house naked, with Jane around. Stradlater was a very sexy bastard.

“是吗？”斯特技德莱塔说。这真的让他感兴趣了：听到一个酒鬼光着身子满屋子跑，还有琴在场。斯特拉德莱塔是个非常好色的杂种。

"She had a lousy childhood. I'm not kidding."

“她的童年真是糟糕透了。我不开玩笑。”

That didn't interest Stradlater, though. Only very sexy stuff interested him.

可斯特拉德莱塔对这不感兴趣。他感兴趣的只是那些非常色情的东西。

"Jane Gallagher. Jesus . . . I couldn't get her off my mind. I really couldn't. "I oughta go down and say hello to her, at least."

“琴.迦拉格，老夫爷。”我念念不忘。我确是念念不忘。“至少，我应该下去跟她打个招呼。”

"Why the hell don'tcha, instead of keep saying it?" Stradlater said. 

“你他妈的干吗不去，光嘴里唠叨着？”斯特拉德莱塔说。

I walked over to the window, but you couldn't see out of it, it was so steamy from all the heat in the can.. "I'm not in the mood right now," I said. I wasn't, either. You have to be in the mood for those things. "I thought she went to Shipley. I could've sworn she went to Shipley." I walked around the can for a little while. I didn't have anything else to do. "Did she enjoy the game?" I said.

我走到窗边，可是望出去什么也看不见，因为盥洗室里热得要命，窗玻璃上全是水汽。“我这会儿没那心情，”我说。我的确没那心情。做那类事，你总得有那心情才成。“我还以为她上西普莱了呢。我真会发誓说她是去西普莱啦。”我手足无措，就在盥洗室里蹭蹬了一会儿。“她爱看这场球赛吗？”我说。

"Yeah, I guess so. I don't know."

“嗯，我揣摩她爱看。我不知道。”

"Did she tell you we used to play checkers all the time, or anything?"

“她告诉你我们老在一起下棋吗？”

"I don't know. For Chrissake, I only just met her," Stradlater said. He was finished combing his goddam gorgeous hair. He was putting away all his crumby toilet articles.

“我不知道。老天爷，我只是刚遇到她呢，”斯特技拉莱塔说。他刚搞完他漂亮的混帐头发，正在收拾他那套脏得要命的梳装用具。

"Listen. Give her my regards, willya?"

　“听我说。你代我向她问好，成不成？”

"Okay," Stradlater said, but I knew he probably wouldn't. You take a guy like Stradlater, they never  give your regards to people. 

　“好吧，”斯特拉德莱塔说，可我知道他大概不会。象斯特拉德莱塔那样的家伙，他们是从来不代别人问候人的。

He went back to the room, but I stuck around in the can for a while, thinking about old Jane. Then I went back to the room, too.

他回房去了，可我仍在盥洗室里呆了一会儿，想着琴。随后我也回到了房里。

Stradlater was putting on his tie, in front of the mirror, when I got there. He spent around half his goddam life in front of the mirror. I sat down in my chair and sort of watched him for a while.

我进房时，斯特拉德莱塔正在镜前打领带。他这一辈子总有他妈的一半时间是在镜子面前度过的。我在自己的椅子上坐下，望了他一会儿。

"Hey," I said. "Don't tell her I got kicked out, willya?"

“嗨，”我说。“别告诉地我给开除了，成不成？”

"Okay."

　“好吧。”

That was one good thing about Stradlater. You didn't have to explain every goddam little thing with him, the way you had to do with Ackley. Mostly, I guess, because he wasn't too interested. That's really why. Ackley, it was different. Ackley was a very nosy bastard.

斯特拉德莱塔就是这一点好。在一些小事情上，他跟阿克莱不一样，你用不着跟他仔细解释。这多半是因为，我揣摩，他对一切都不怎么感兴趣。这是真正的原因。阿克莱就不一样。阿克莱是个极好管闲事的杂种。

He put on my hound's-tooth jacket.

他穿上了我那件狗齿花纹的上衣。

"Jesus, now, try not to stretch it all over the place" I said. I'd only worn it about twice.

“老天爷，可别全都给我撑大了，”我说。“我还只穿过两回哩。”

"I won't. Where the hell's my cigarettes?"

“我不会的。他妈的我的香烟到哪儿去了？”

"On the desk." He never knew where he left anything. "Under your muffler." He put them in his coat pocket--my coat pocket.

“在书桌上。”他老是记不得自己搁的东西在什么地方。“在你的围巾底下。”他把香烟装进了他的上衣口袋——我的上衣口袋。

I pulled the peak of my hunting hat around to the front all of a sudden, for a change. I was getting sort of nervous, all of a sudden. I'm quite a nervous guy. "Listen, where ya going on your date with her?" I asked him. "Ya know yet?"

我突然把我那顶猎人帽的鸭舌转到前面，算是换个花样。我忽然精神紧张起来。我是个精神很容易紧张的人。“听我说，你约了你的女朋友打算上哪儿呢？”我间他。“你决定了吗？”

"I don't know. New York, if we have time. She only signed out for nine-thirty, for Chrissake."

“我不知道。要是来得及，也许上纽约。她外出时间只签到九点三十，老天爷。”

I didn't like the way he said it, so I said, "The reason she did that, she probably just didn't know what a handsome, charming bastard you are. If she'd known, she probably would've signed out for nine-thirty in the morning."

我不喜欢他说话的口气，所以我说：“她所以只签到九点三十，大概是因为她不知道你是个多漂亮、多迷人的杂种。她要是知道了，恐怕要签到明天早晨九点三十哩。”

"Goddam right," Stradlater said. You couldn't rile him too easily. He was too conceited. "No kidding, now. Do that composition for me," he said. He had his coat on, and he was all ready to go. "Don't knock yourself out or anything, but just make it descriptive as hell. Okay?"

“一点不错，”斯特拉德莱塔说。你很难一下子惹他生气。他太自高自大了。“别再开玩笑了。替我写那篇作文吧，”他说。他已经穿上了大衣，马上准备走了。“别费太大劲儿，只要写篇描写的文章就成。可以吗？”

I didn't answer him. I didn't feel like it. All I said was, "Ask her if she still keeps all her kings in the back row."

我没回答他。我没那心情。我只说了句：“问问她下棋的时候是不是还把所有的国王都留在后排。”

"Okay," Stradlater said, but I knew he wouldn't. "Take it easy, now." He banged the hell out of the room.

“好的，”斯特拉德莱塔说，可我知道他决不会问她。“请放心，”他砰的一声关上门，走出了房间。

I sat there for about a half hour after he left. I mean I just sat in my chair, not doing anything. I kept thinking about Jane, and about Stradlater having a date with her and all. It made me so nervous I nearly went crazy. I already told you what a sexy bastard Stradlater was.

他走后，我又坐了约莫半个小时。我是说我光是坐在椅子里，什么事也不做。我一心想着琴，还想着斯特拉德莱塔跟她约会。我心绪十分不宁，都快疯了。我已经跟你说过，期待拉德莱塔是个多么好色的杂种。

All of a sudden, Ackley barged back in again, through the damn shower curtains, as usual. For once in my stupid life, I was really glad to see him. He took my mind off the other stuff.

一霎时，阿克莱又闯了进来，跟平常一样是掀开淋浴室门帘进来的。在我混帐的一生中，就这一次见了他我从心底里觉得高兴。他给我打了岔，让我想到别的事情上去。

He stuck around till around dinnertime, talking about all the guys at Pencey that he hated their guts, and squeezing this big pimple on his chin. He didn't even use his handkerchief. I don't even think the bastard had a handkerchief, if you want to know the truth. I never saw him use one, anyway. 

他一直呆到吃饭的时候，议论着潘西里面他所痛恨的一切人，一边不住地挤他腮帮上的一个大粉刺。他甚至连手绢也不用。我甚至都不认为这杂种有手绢，我跟你老实说。至少，我从来没看见他用过手绢。