"A Camus - The Stranger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Camus Albert)

It struck me as an excellent arrangement that the authorities should see to details of this kind, and I told him so. He nodded, and agreed that the Code was all that could be desired.
At first I didnТt take him quite seriously. The room in which he interviewed me was much like an ordinary sitting room, with curtained windows, and a single lamp standing on the desk. Its light fell on the armchair in which heТd had me sit, while his own face stayed in shadow.
I had read descriptions of such scenes in books, and at first it all seemed like a game. After our conversation, however, I had a good look at him. He was a tall man with clean-cut features, deep-set blue eyes, a big gray mustache, and abundant, almost snow-white hair, and he gave me the impression of being highly intelligent and, on the whole, likable enough. There was only one thing that put one off: his mouth had now and then a rather ugly twist; but it seemed to be only a sort of nervous tic. When leaving, I very nearly held out my hand and said, УGood-byФ; just in time I remembered that IТd killed a man.
Next day a lawyer came to my cell; a small, plump, youngish man with sleek black hair. In spite of the heatЧI was in my shirt sleevesЧhe was wearing a dark suit, stiff collar, and a rather showy tie, with broad black and white stripes. After depositing his brief case on my bed, he introduced himself, and added that heТd perused the record of my case with the utmost care. His opinion was that it would need cautious handling, but there was every prospect of my getting off, provided I followed his advice. I thanked him, and he said: УGood. Now letТs get down to it.Ф
Sitting on the bed, he said that theyТd been making investigations into my private life. They had learned that my mother died recently in a home. Inquiries had been conducted at Marengo and the police informed that IТd shown Уgreat callousnessФ at my motherТs funeral.
УYou must understand,Ф the lawyer said, Уthat I donТt relish having to question you about such a matter. But it has much importance, and, unless I find some way of answering the charge of Сcallousness,Т I shall be handicapped in conducting your defense. And that is where you, and only you, can help me.Ф
He went on to ask if I had felt grief on that Уsad occasion.Ф The question struck me as an odd one; IТd have been much embarrassed if IТd had to ask anyone a thing like that.
I answered that, of recent years, IТd rather lost the habit of noting my feelings, and hardly knew what to answer. I could truthfully say IТd been quite fond of MotherЧbut really that didnТt mean much. All normal people, I added as on afterthought, had more or less desired the death of those they loved, at some time or another.
Here the lawyer interrupted me, looking greatly perturbed.
УYou must promise me not to say anything of that sort at the trial, or to the examining magistrate.Ф
I promised, to satisfy him, but I explained that my physical condition at any given moment often influenced my feelings. For instance, on the day I attended MotherТs funeral, I was fagged out and only half awake. So, really, I hardly took stock of what was happening. Anyhow, I could assure him of one thing: that IТd rather Mother hadnТt died.
The lawyer, however, looked displeased. УThatТs not enough,Ф he said curtly.
After considering for a bit he asked me if he could say that on that day I had kept my feelings under control.
УNo,Ф I said. УThat wouldnТt be true.Ф
He gave me a queer look, as if I slightly revolted him; then informed me, in an almost hostile tone, that in any case the head of the Home and some of the staff would be cited as witnesses.
УAnd that might do you a very nasty turn,Ф he concluded.
When I suggested that MotherТs death had no connection with the charge against me, he merely replied that this remark showed IТd never had any dealings with the law.
Soon after this he left, looking quite vexed. I wished he had stayed longer and I could have explained that I desired his sympathy, not for him to make a better job of my defense, but, if I might put it so, spontaneously. I could see that I got on his nerves; he couldnТt make me out, and, naturally enough, this irritated him. Once or twice I had a mind to assure him that I was just like everybody else; quite an ordinary person. But really that would have served no great purpose, and I let it goЧout of laziness as much as anything else.
Later in the day I was taken again to the examining magistrateТs office. It was two in the afternoon and, this time, the room was flooded with lightЧthere was only a thin curtain on the windowЧand extremely hot.
After inviting me to sit down, the magistrate informed me in a very polite tone that, Уowing to unforeseen circumstances,Ф my lawyer was unable to be present. I should be quite entitled, he added, to reserve my answers to his questions until my lawyer could attend.
To this I replied that I could answer for myself. He pressed a bell push on his desk and a young clerk came in and seated himself just behind me. Then weЧI and the magistrateЧsettled back in our chairs and the examination began. He led off by remarking that I had the reputation of being a taciturn, rather self-centered person, and heТd like to know what I had to say to that. I answered:
УWell, I rarely have anything much to say. So, naturally I keep my mouth shut.Ф
He smiled as on the previous occasion, and agreed that that was the best of reasons. УIn any case,Ф he added, Уit has little or no importance.Ф
After a short silence he suddenly leaned forward, looked me in the eyes, and said, raising his voice a little:
УWhat really interests me isЧyou!Ф
I wasnТt quite clear what he meant, so I made no comment.
УThere are several things,Ф he continued, Уthat puzzle me about your crime. I feel sure that you will help me to understand them.Ф
When I replied that really it was quite simple, he asked me to give him an account of what IТd done that day. As a matter of fact, I had already told him at our first interviewЧin a summary sort of way, of courseЧabout Raymond, the beach, our swim, the fight, then the beach again, and the five shots IТd fired. But I went over it all again, and after each phrase he nodded. УQuite so, quite so.Ф When I described the body lying on the sand, he nodded more emphatically, and said, УGood!Ф I was tired of repeating the same story; I felt as if IТd never talked so much in all my life before.
After another silence he stood up and said heТd like to help me; I interested him, and, with GodТs help, he would do something for me in my trouble. But, first, he must put a few more questions.
He began by asking bluntly if IТd loved my mother.
УYes,Ф I replied, Уlike everybody else.Ф The clerk behind me, who had been typing away at a steady pace, must just then have hit the wrong keys, as I heard him pushing the carrier back and crossing something out.
Next, without any apparent logical connection, the magistrate sprang another question.
УWhy did you fire five consecutive shots?Ф
I thought for a bit; then explained that they werenТt quite consecutive. I fired one at first, and the other four after a short interval.
УWhy did you pause between the first and second shot?Ф
I seemed to see it hovering again before my eyes, the red glow of the beach, and to feel that fiery breath on my cheeksЧand, this time, I made no answer.
During the silence that followed, the magistrate kept fidgeting, running his fingers through his hair, half rising, then sitting down again. Finally, planting his elbows on the desk, he bent toward me with a queer expression.
УBut why, why did you go on firing at a prostrate man?Ф
Again I found nothing to reply.
The magistrate drew his hand across his forehead and repeated in a slightly different tone:
УI ask you СWhy?Т I insist on your telling me.Ф I still kept silent.
Suddenly he rose, walked to a file cabinet standing against the opposite wall, pulled a drawer open, and took from it a silver crucifix, which he was waving as he came back to the desk.
УDo you know who this is?Ф His voice had changed completely; it was vibrant with emotion.
УOf course I do,Ф I answered.
That seemed to start him off; he began speaking at a great pace. He told me he believed in God, and that even the worst of sinners could obtain forgiveness of Him. But first he must repent, and become like a little child, with a simple, trustful heart, open to conviction. He was leaning right across the table, brandishing his crucifix before my eyes.
As a matter of fact, I had great difficulty in following his remarks, as, for one thing, the office was so stiflingly hot and big flies were buzzing round and settling on my cheeks; also because he rather alarmed me. Of course, I realized it was absurd to feel like this, considering that, after all, it was I who was the criminal. However, as he continued talking, I did my best to understand, and I gathered that there was only one point in my confession that badly needed clearing upЧthe fact that IТd waited before firing a second time. All the rest was, so to speak, quite in order; but that completely baffled him.
I started to tell him that he was wrong in insisting on this; the point was of quite minor importance. But, before I could get the words out, he had drawn himself up to his full height and was asking me very earnestly if I believed in God. When I said, УNo,Ф he plumped down into his chair indignantly.
That was unthinkable, he said; all men believe in God, even those who reject Him. Of this he was absolutely sure; if ever he came to doubt it, his life would lose all meaning. УDo you wish,Ф he asked indignantly, Уmy life to have no meaning?Ф Really I couldnТt see how my wishes came into it, and I told him as much.
While I was talking, he thrust the crucifix again just under my nose and shouted: УI, anyhow, am a Christian. And I pray Him to forgive you for your sins. My poor young man, how can you not believe that He suffered for your sake?Ф
I noticed that his manner seemed genuinely solicitous when he said, УMy poor young manФЧbut I was beginning to have enough of it. The room was growing steadily hotter.