Chapter 18 Chapter Seventeen

Outside the Milan bar, I find Bill, Mike and Edna.Edna was the girl's name. "We got kicked out," Edna said. "Let the police," Mike said. "Some people in there look down on me." "Four times they almost got into a fight and I got in the way," Edna said. "You should give me a hand." Bill blushed. "Go back inside, Edna," he said. "You go inside and dance with Mike." "Don't be stupid," Edna said. "There will only be another storm." "Short-lived Biarritz pigs," Bill said. "Go in," Mike said. "This is a tavern after all. How can they monopolize the entire tavern?"

"My good Mike," Bill said. "Short-lived English pigs came here and insulted Mike and ruined the festivities." "They're such rascals," Mike said. "I hate the British." "They shouldn't have insulted Mike like that," Bill said. "Mike's a big good guy. They shouldn't insult Mike. I can't stand it. Who cares if he's a hapless bankrupt?" His voice broke. "Who cares?" Mike said. "I don't care. Jack doesn't care. Do you?" "Don't care," Edna said. "Are you a bankrupt?"

"Of course I'm a bankrupt. You don't care, do you, Bill?" Bill put an arm around Mike's shoulder. "I wish I was a bankrupt myself. I'd give these bastards some color." "They're just Englishmen," Mike said. "Just ignore what the British say." "You mean beast," Bill said. "I'm going to drive them all out." "Bill," Edna said, looking at me. "Please don't go in there again, Bill. They're big fools." "That's right," Mike said. "They're fools. I've known them for a long time."

"They shouldn't have said that about Mike," Bill said. "You know them?" I asked Mike. "No. Never met them. They say they know me." "I can't take it anymore," Bill said. "Come on. Let's go to 'Suizo,'" I said. "They're a bunch of Edna's friends from Biarritz," Bill said. "They're just a bunch of idiots," Edna said. "One of them is Charley Blackman from Chicago," Bill said. "I've never been in Chicago," Mike said.Edna laughed and couldn't stop saying "Get me out of here," she said, "you bankrupts." "What's the fight?" I asked Edna.We are walking towards "Suizo" in the square.Bill is gone.

"I don't know how it started. I just saw someone call the police and throw Mike out of the back room. Some people over there knew Mike from Cannes. What's the matter with Mike?" "Probably he owes them money," I said. "This kind of thing is easy to make enemies." In front of the ticket booth on the square, there were two lines of people waiting to buy tickets.They sat on chairs or curled up on the ground, wrapped in blankets and newspapers.They were waiting for the ticket gates to open in the morning so they could buy tickets for the bullfight.The night cleared up and the moon came out.Some people in line are dozing off.

At Café Suizo, we sat down and ordered a Fantato when Cohen came in. "Where's Brett?" he asked. "I don't know." "She was with you just now." "She probably went to bed." "She didn't." "I don't know where she is." Under the light, his face was sallow.He stood up. "Tell me where she is." "You sit down," I said. "I don't know where she is." "Don't you fucking know!" "Shut up." "Tell me where Brett is." "I won't tell you anything." "You know she's Where." "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you." "Humph, get the hell out of here, Cohn," Mike called from across the table. "Brett ran away with that bull boy. They're on their honeymoon."

"Shut up." "Humph, get out!" Mike said listlessly. "Did she really run off with that kid?" Cohn asked, turning to me. "get out!" "She was with you just now. Did she really run away with that kid?" "go away!" "I'll ask you to tell me,"—he took a step forward—"you bloody pimp." I punched him and he dodged.I watched his face flash aside in the light.He hit me with a punch and I fell, sitting on the sidewalk.I was about to stand up when he hit me twice.I fell on my back under a table.I tried to stand up, but found that my legs didn't work.I knew I had to get up and try to punch him back.Mike helped me up.Someone poured a carafe of water over my head.Mike put an arm around me and I found myself in the chair.Mike was pulling my ears.

"Hey, you just passed out," Mike said. "Damn you, where did you go just now?" "Oh, I'm right here" "Aren't you willing to intervene?" "He knocked Mike down too," Edna said. "He didn't knock me out," Mike said. "I just lay there and couldn't get up for a while." "Does this happen every night during the festival?" Edna asked. "Is that Mr. Cohen?" "I'm fine," I said. "My head is still a little dizzy." Several waiters and a group of people stood around. "Go away!" Mike said. "Go away. Go away"

The waiter dismissed the people. "It's a sight to see," Edna said. "He was probably a boxer." "Exactly." "I wish Bill was here," Edna said. "I'd love to see Bill get knocked out too. I've always wanted to see Bill get knocked over. He's that big." "I was hoping he'd knock down a waiter," Mike said, "and get caught. I'd be glad Mr. Robert Cohen was in jail." "No," I said. "Oh, don't say that," Edna said. "You were joking." "I'm telling the truth," Mike said, "I'm not the kind of guy to let somebody beat me up.I never even play games with people. "

Mike took a sip of his drink. "You know, I never liked hunting. There's always the danger of being run over by a horse. How do you feel, Jack?" "no problem." "You're a nice guy," Edna said to Mike. "Are you really a bankrupt?" "I'm a broke bankrupt," Mike said. "I'm in debt to countless people. Don't you have any debts?" "Where is there more?" "I was in debt to a lot of people," Mike said. "I also borrowed a hundred pesetas from Montoya tonight." "You're terrible," I said. "I'll pay it," Mike said. "I always pay my debts." "That's why you're broke, isn't it?" Edna said.I stand up.I heard them talking just now, as if from afar.Totally like a badly staged play. "I'm going back to the hotel," I said.Then I heard them talking about me. "Is he all right?" Edna asked. "We'd better go with him." "I'm fine," I said. "You don't come. I'll see you later." I left the cafe.They also sit at the table.I looked back at them and the rest of the empty tables.A waiter sat at a table with his head in his hands.

As I walked across the square to the hotel, everything seemed strange, as if I had never seen these trees before.I've never seen these flagpoles before, nor the facade of this theater.Everything is unrecognizable.I had this feeling once when I came home from a soccer game out of town.Carrying a suitcase with my football equipment in it, I walked up the street from the station of the city where I had lived for the first half of my life, but I didn't know everything anymore.Someone was raking the lawn with a rake, burning the leaves on the way, and I stopped and watched for a long time.Everything is rusty.Then I continued to walk forward, my feet seemed to be far away from me, everything seemed to be approaching me from a distance, and I heard my footsteps coming from a far away place.I got kicked in the head at the beginning of the game.I feel the same now as I walk across the square.It was with that feeling that I walked up the hotel stairs.It took me a long time to get upstairs, and I felt as if I were carrying a suitcase in my hands.The lights in the house were on.Bill came out and met me in the hallway. "Hey," he said, "go up and see Cohen. Something happened to him, and he's looking for you." "To hell with him." "Come on. Go up and see him." I don't want to Climb one floor. "What are you looking at me for?" "I'm not looking at you. Go up and see Cohn. He's in a bad mood." "You were just drunk," I said. "I'm drunk now," Bill said. "But you go up and see Cohen. He wants to see you." "Okay," I said.Just a few more flights of stairs.I continued upstairs with the suitcase in my hallucination.I walked down the corridor to Cohn's room.The door was closed and I knocked. "Who?" "Barnes." "Come in, Jack." I opened the door and entered the house, putting down my suitcase.There was no light in the house.Cohen was lying on his stomach in the dark. "Hi Jack." "Don't call me Jack." I stand by the door.That's exactly what I did when I got home.Now all I need is a hot shower.Fill a tub of hot water and lie on your back in it. "Where's the bathroom?" I asked. Cohen was crying.There he was, lying on the bed crying.He was wearing a white polo shirt, the same one he wore at Princeton. "I'm sorry, Jack. Please forgive me." "Forgive you, hell." "Forgive me, Jack." I don't say anything.I stand by the door. "I was crazy. You should know what happened." "Ah, it's okay." "I can't bear to think of Brett." "You call me a pimp." I really don't care.I need a hot shower.I want to take a hot shower in a tub full of water. "I see. Please don't take it to heart. I'm crazy." "It doesn't matter." he is crying.His crying is hilarious.He was lying on the bed in the dark wearing a white blouse.His polo shirt. "I intend to leave tomorrow morning." He was weeping silently. "I can't bear the thought of Brett. I've been through everything, Jack. I've been through it. Brett has treated me like a stranger since I met her here. I can't bear it. We're in St. Sebastian lived together. I think you know about it. I can't take it anymore." He is lying on the bed. "Come on," I said, "I'm going to take a shower." "You were my only friend. I used to love Brett so much." "Come on," I said, "bye." "I see it all over," he said. "I think it's all over." "what?" "Everything. Please say you forgive me, Jack." "Of course," I said. "It's all right." "I'm in a bad mood. I've been through the pain, Jack. It's over now. Everything." "Okay," I said, "bye. I have to go." He rolled over Come up, sit on the edge of the bed, then stand up. "Goodbye, Jack," he said. "You'd shake my hand, wouldn't you?" "Of course. Why not?" We shake hands.I couldn't see his face very well in the dark. "Okay," I said, "see you tomorrow morning." "I'm leaving tomorrow morning." "Oh, yes," I said. I come out.Cohn stood in the door opening. "Are you all right, Jack?" he asked. "Yes," I said. "I'm OK." I can't find the bathroom.It took me a while to find it.The bathroom has a deep stone bathtub.I turned on the tap, but there was no water.I sit on the edge of the bathtub.When I got up to go, I realized I had taken off my shoes.I looked for shoes, found them, and went downstairs with them.I found my room, went in, undressed and got into bed. I woke up with a headache and heard the blaring music of bands passing by in the street.I thought of the time I had promised to take Bill's friend Edna to see the bulls run down the street to the bullfight and I dressed and went downstairs into the cold morning air.People were crossing the square, hurrying to the bullring.On the opposite side of the square, the two pedestrians lined up in front of the ticket booth.They were still waiting to buy tickets for the seven o'clock sale.I walked quickly across the road to the cafe.The waiter told me that my friends had come and gone. "How many of them are there?" "Two gentlemen and a lady." That's it.Bill and Mike with Edna.She was afraid last night that they would be too drunk to wake up.So I must take her there.I finished my coffee and hurried to the bullring among the crowd.By this time my drunkenness was gone, but I had a terrible headache.Everything around seemed sharp and clear, and the city smelled of morning. The road from the edge of town to the bullring was muddy.There were people along the fence leading to the ring, as well as on the stands and on the roof of the ring.I heard the blast of a flare being fired, and I knew I wouldn't be in the ring in time to watch the bulls enter, so I pushed my way through the crowd to the fence.I was squeezed against the slats of the fence.On the runway between two fences, police were clearing the crowd.They walked or trotted into the ring and then came the running people.A drunk man slipped and fell to the ground.Two police officers grabbed him and dragged him to the fence.At this time people were running.There was a deafening shout from the crowd, and I poked my head through the cracks to see the cattle just running out of the street and into the long run between the two fences.They run very fast and gradually catch up with the crowd.Just then, another drunk man ran over the fence, clutching a shirt with both hands.He wanted to use it as a cloak to fight a bull. Two policemen stepped up one by one, twisted his collar, and one of them gave him a club, dragged him to the fence, and made him stand close to the fence. And so on, until the last of the crowd and the herd had passed.There were so many people running ahead of the herd that the crowd gathered and slowed down as they entered the ring through the gates.As the herd of lumbering, mud-splattered cows gallop past, swinging their horns, one of the bulls rushes forward and strikes a man on the back with his horns in the running crowd, picking him up.As the horns dug into the man, with his arms hanging at his sides and his head thrown back, the bull lifted him up and then dropped him.The bull picked another man who was running ahead, but this man hid in the crowd, people passed through the gate before the bulls, the red gates into the bullring are closed, people in the stands outside the bullring are desperate Pushing into the arena, there was one shout, and another. The man who had been mauled by the cow lay face down in the trampled mud.People climbed over the fence, and I couldn't see the man because the crowd crowded around him.There was a cry from the bullring.Each sound meant that a cow had rushed into the crowd.By the strength of the yelling, you can tell how bad things just happened.Then the flare went up and it showed that the steers had led the bull out of the ring and into the corral.I left the fence and started back to the city. Back in town, I went to the café for another cup of coffee and some buttered toast.The waiter was sweeping the floor and mopping the tables.A waiter came and listened to my order for some refreshments. "Did anything ever happen to the cow when it was put in the stall?" "I didn't see the bottom of it. Someone was gored, very badly." "Where is the injury?" "Here." I put one hand on my lower back and the other on my chest, indicating where the horn seemed to come from.The waiter nodded and wiped the crumbs off the table with a rag. "It hurts badly," he said. "Just for fun. Just for fun." He went away and came back with the long-handled coffee and milk jugs.He pours milk and coffee.Milk and coffee are poured into large mugs in two streams from two long spouts.The waiter nodded. "It's a puncture in the back, it's pretty bad," he said.He put the two jugs on the table and sat down on the chair by the table. "Deep. Just for fun. Just for fun. What do you think?" "I can't say." "That's what it is. Just for fun. Just for fun, you know." "You're not a bullfight fan, are you?" "Me? What's a cow? A beast. A brutal beast." He stood up and put a hand on his lower back. "Just right through the back. A bruise through the back. Just for fun—you know." He shook his head and walked away with the coffee pot. Two people passed in the street.The waiter yelled at them.Their faces were gloomy.One shook his head. "Dead!" he cried. The waiter nodded.The two continued on their way.They are busy.The waiter came to my table. "Did you hear? Dead! Dead. He's dead. Got pierced by horns. All for a morning of fun. It's ridiculous." "very bad." "I don't see it," said the waiter. "I don't see any fun in it." Later that day we learned that the murdered man was named Vicente Gironis and had come from near Tafalla.We read in the newspaper the next day that he was twenty-eight years old, had a farm, a wife and two children.After he got married, he still came to the festival every year.On the second day, his wife came from Tafalla to keep the vigil. On the third day, a funeral service was held in St. Fermin's Chapel, and members of the Tafalla dancing and drinking party carried the coffin to the station.The drummer leads the way, the flute player plays mourning music, and the coffin bearer is followed by the deceased's wife and two children. ... and marching behind them were all the members of the dancing and drinking parties of Pamplona, ​​Estella, Tafalla and Sangueza who could make it to the night and to the funeral.The coffin was loaded into the luggage compartment of the train, and the widow and her two children traveled together in an open third-class carriage.The train started with a jerk, and then smoothly went downhill around the edge of the high hills, driving through the flat crop fields, all the way to Tafalla, where the crops swayed with the wind. The bull that picked Vicente Gironis to death was named "Black Mouth". It was the No. 118 bull of the Sanchez Taverno Cattle Company. It was the third bull that was killed that afternoon. Killed by Dero Romero.Amidst the cheers of the crowd, the cow's ear was cut off and given to Pedro Romero, who in turn gave it to Brett.She wrapped the ears in my handkerchief, and when she got back to the Hotel Montoya in Pamplona, ​​she stuffed the two things, the ears and the handkerchief, along with some Muratti cigarette butts, in the drawer of her bedside table. the innermost side. When I got back to the hotel, the night watchman was sitting on a bench just inside the gate.He had been there all night and was very tired.As soon as I entered the door, he stood up.Three waitresses came in at the same time as me.They watched it in the bullring and they went upstairs laughing and laughing.I followed them upstairs and into my room.I took off my shoes, went to bed and lay down.The window facing the balcony was open, and the sun shone brightly in the room.I don't feel sleepy.It must have been three-thirty when I fell asleep, and the band woke me up at six.I feel pain on both sides of my jaw.I run my fingers over the sore spot.Damn Cohen.The first time he gets bullied he should hit someone and walk away.He was so convinced that Brett loved him.He will stay, thinking that faithful love will conquer all.Someone knocked on the door. "Come in." It's Bill and Mike.They sit down on the bed. "Getting the cows into the stalls, it's brilliant," Bill said. "Very wonderful," "Hey, aren't you over there?" Mike asked. "Ring for some beer, Bill." "It's been a good morning!" Bill said.He wiped his face. "My God! What a ride! But here's our good Jack lying there. Good Jack, punching the punching bag." "What happened in the bullring?" "God!" Bill said, "what's going on, Mike?" "Those cows came into the yard," Mike said. "People were running right in front of them and one guy tripped and it fell over a whole lot." "But the cows go in and run over them," Bill said. "I heard them shouting." "That's Edna," Bill said. "There were people constantly running out of the crowd, waving their shirts." "There's a bull running along the fence in front of the first row of seats, picking on everyone." "About twenty guys were taken to the hospital," Mike said. "It's been a good morning!" Bill said. "The nosy policemen are picking up people who want to commit suicide by the horns." "The steers finally got them in," Mike said. "It lasted about an hour." "Only a quarter of an hour or so, actually," Mike retorted. "Go to hell," Bill said. "You were in the fight. I think it was two and a half hours." "Isn't the beer here yet?" Mike asked. "What have you done to lovely Edna?" "We just took her home. She's in bed." "Does she like to watch it?" "Love it so much. We tell her to do it every morning," "She was very impressed," Mike said. "She wants us to go down to the ring too," Bill said. "She loves thrills." "I said it was bad for my creditors," Mike said. "It's been a blast this morning," Bill said. "It's also exciting at night!" "How's your jaw, Jack?" Mike asked. "It hurts," I said. Bill laughed. "Why don't you hit him with a chair?" "That's a nice word for you," Mike said. "You would have knocked you out too. I didn't see how he beat me. I look back and I just see him standing in front of me and all of a sudden I'm sitting on the road with Jack lying under the table." "Where did he go then?" I asked. "Here she comes," Mike said. "The pretty lady brought the beer." The maid put the tray of beer bottles and glasses on the table. "Go get three more bottles," Mike said. "Where did Cohn go when he beat me up?" I asked Bill. "Don't you know?" Mike opened a bottle of beer.He squeezed the mouth of the bottle with a glass and poured beer into it. "You really don't know?" Bill asked. "Ah, he came here and found him with Brett in the bull-boy's room, and he killed the poor damned bull-fighter." "cannot!" "real." "What a night!" said Bill. "He nearly killed the poor damned bullfighter. Then Cohn was going to take Brett with him. I think he wanted to marry her officially. It was a touching scene." He took a swig of beer. "He's an ass. " "What happened next?" "Brett told him off. She blamed him, and I think she has a hand in it." "Of course," Bill said. "Then Cohn couldn't help crying and wanted to shake hands with the bullfighter. He wanted to shake hands with Brett." "I know. He shook my hand." "Really? But they don't want to shake his hand. Pitbull guy's a good guy. He doesn't say anything, but he gets up every time and gets knocked down again. Cohn can't beat him." It must have been a very interesting sight." "Where did you hear that?" "Brett said it. I saw her this morning." "What happened in the end?" "It's said that the matador was sitting on the bed. He'd been knocked down about fifteen times, and he wouldn't let go. Brett held him down and wouldn't let him get up. He was weak, but Brett couldn't hold him down. , he stood up. At this time Cohn said he didn't want to beat him again. He said he couldn't beat him like this. He said it would be too vicious. So the bullfight boy staggered towards him anyway. Cohen Stand back and lean against the wall. "'So you don't want to beat me up?'" "'Yes,' said Cohen. 'I'm sorry.' "So the matador punched Cohn in the face with all his strength and sat down on the floor. Brett said he couldn't get up. Cohn tried to lift him up and put him on the bed. He said if Cohen was going to help him He was going to beat him to death and say that if Cohen didn't leave here this morning he would kill him anyway. Cohen cried and Brett scolded him, but he still wanted to shake their hands. I've said that gone." "Finish it," Bill said. “看来这斗牛的小伙当时坐在地板上。他在蓄积力气，等蓄足了再站起来揍科恩。勃莱特哪里肯同科恩握手，科恩就哭诉起来，说他多么爱她，她呢， Tell him not to be a total ass. Follow Cohen to bend down and shake the matador's hand. You know, don't hurt your temper. Just to beg for forgiveness and the bullfighter kicks him in the face again. " "Boy!" Bill said. "He knocked Cohen out," Mike said. "You know, I don't think Cohen wants to beat anybody anymore." "When did you see Brett?" "This morning. She came in for a few donuts. She was nursing this boy Romero." He poured another glass of beer. "Brett was sad. But she loved nursing. That's why we got together. She nursed me." "I know," I said. "I was pretty drunk," Mike said, "and I guess I'm going to stay that way. It's funny, but it's not very pleasant. I don't think so." He drank all the beer. "You know I gave Brett a run for her money. I said she'd get in trouble if she walked around with the Jews and the matadors." He leaned forward. "Hey, Jack, can I drink your bottle? She'll bring you another." "Please," I said. "I'm not going to drink anyway," Mike opened the wine bottle. "Can you open it for me?" I unscrewed the wire clip on the bottle cap and poured him the wine. "You know," Mike went on, "Brett was nice back then. She always was. I gave her a lot of shit for hanging out with jews and matadors and stuff like that, but you know what she said wrote: 'Yes, I lived a life with that British nobleman who was very happy/" He took a sip of his wine. "That makes sense. You know, the Ashley who brought Brett the title was a navigator. Ninth baronet. He came home from sea and wouldn't sleep in bed. Always made Brett sleep on the floor." On. He became really intolerable at last, and kept telling her he was going to kill her. He always slept with a live-loaded army revolver, and Brett used to take the bullets out when he was asleep. Brett It's not such a happy life. It's too wrong. How much she wants to enjoy the fun of life." He stood up.His hands were shaking. "I'm going back to my room. Try to get some sleep." He smiled. "We're often sleep-deprived on holidays like this. I'm going to get a good night's sleep from now on. It's so hard not to sleep. It's nerve-wracking." "See you at Cafe Irune at noon," Bill said. Mike walked out the door.We heard him moving about in the next room. He rang the bell, and the maid knocked on his door. "Bring a half-dozen and a bottle of Fantato," Mike told her. "Yes, master." "I'm going to bed," Bill said. "Poor Mike. I made a big fuss about him last night." "Where? In the Milan bar?" "Yes. There's a fellow there who paid off Brett and Mike's debts at Cannes once. He's nasty." "I know this history." "I don't know. No one has the right to slander Mike." "Things are bad in places like this." "They shouldn't have that right. Let's hope they don't. I'm going to bed." "Has anyone been killed by a bull in a bullring?" "It doesn't seem to be. Only seriously injured." "On the runway outside the field, a man was picked to death by a cow." "What's the matter?" Bill said.