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All the morning trams had been full, going out to Grinzing where the young wine was drunk and to the slopes of snow on the hills outside. Walking over the canal by the makeshift military bridge, Martins was aware of the emptiness of the afternoon: the young were out with their toboggans and their skis, and all around him was the after-dinner sleep of age. A notice-board told him that he was entering the Russian zone, but there were no signs of occupation. You saw more Russian soldiers in the Inner City than here.
Deliberately he had given Mr. Kurtz no warning of his visit. Better to find him out than a reception prepared for him. He was careful to carry with him all his papers, including the laissez-passer of the four powers that on the face of it allowed him to move freely through all the zones of Vienna. It was extraordinarily quiet over here on the other side of the canal, and a melodramatic journalist had painted a picture of silent terror: but the truth was simply the wide streets, the greater shell damage, the fewer people—and Sunday afternoon. There was nothing to fear, but all the same in this huge empty street where all the time you heard your own feet moving, it was difficult not to look behind. He had no difficulty in finding Mr. Kurtz's block, and when he rang the bell the door was opened quickly, as though Mr. Kurtz expected a visitor, by Mr. Kurtz himself. "Oh," Mr. Kurtz said, "it's you, Rollo," and made a perplexed motion with his hand to the back of his head. Martins had been wondering why he looked so different, and now he knew. Mr. Kurtz was not wearing the toupee, and yet his head was not bald. He had a perfectly normal head of hair cut close. He said, "It would have been better to have telephoned to me: you nearly missed me: I was going out." "May I come in a moment?" "Of course." In the hall a cupboard door stood open, and Martins saw Mr. Kurtz's overcoat, his raincoat, a couple of soft hats and hanging sedately on a peg like a wrap, Mr. Kurtz's toupee. He said, "I'm glad to see your hair has grown," and was astonished, in the mirror on the cupboard door, to see the hatred flame and blush on Mr. Kurtz's face. When he turned Mr. Kurtz smiled at him like a conspirator and said vaguely: "It keeps the head warm." "Whose head?" Martins asked, for it had suddenly occurred to him how useful that toupee might have been on the day of the accident. "Never mind," he went quickly on, for his errand was not with Mr. Kurtz. "I'm here to see Harry."
"Harry?" "I want to talk to him (я хочу поговорить с ним)." "Are you mad (вы с ума сошли: «вы сумасшедший»)?" "I'm in a hurry (я спешу: «я в спешке»), so let's assume that I am (так что давайте примем/предположим, что я сумасшедший; to assume — принимать, брать на себя /ответственность, управление и т. п./; допускать, предполагать). Just make a note of my madness (просто отметьте /для себя/ мое безумие: «сделайте заметку о моем безумии»). If you should see Harry (если вы увидите Гарри)—or his ghost (или его призрак)—let him know that I want to talk to him (дайте ему знать, что я хочу поговорить с ним). A ghost isn't afraid of a man (призрак не боится человека), is it (не правда ли)? Surely it's the other way round (конечно, это наоборот /т. е. человек боится привидения/). I'll be waiting in the Prater by the Big Wheel for the next two hours (я буду ждать в Пратере у чертова колеса: «Большого Колеса» ближайшие два часа)—if you can get in touch with the dead, hurry (если вы можете войти в контакт = связаться с мертвецом, поторопитесь)." He added (он добавил), "Remember (помните), I was Harry's friend (я был другом Гарри). |
