Chapter 8 Argentine ants【1】

[Italian] Calvino When we moved in, we didn't know anything about the ants here, and we thought we'd be fine.The sky is clear, the vegetation is verdant, and the scenery is pleasant, perhaps a little too pleasant for my wife and I who are full of worries.How could we have thought that this place would be infested with ants? In fact, when we think about it carefully, Uncle Augusto seemed to mention to us once: "You will definitely find ants when you are there... the ants there, hey, the same as here It's different..." However, he may have said it in passing when he was talking about other things, understating it, and passing it by.It is also possible that ants crawled up suddenly while we were chatting, and I blurted out "ants" to elicit his words.What we saw was probably a stray ant, fat and big (in retrospect, the ants in our hometown were indeed fat and big).In any case, Uncle Augusto's few words did not affect his admiration for the place.He told us that it was easier to make a living here, for reasons he couldn't even explain;It wasn't just his opinion—Uncle Augusto's—it was the opinion of many of the people who made their homes here.

On the evening of the first day we came here, we had already vaguely guessed why my uncle lived so happily here.We saw that after dinner, people walked happily along the streets leading to the village in bright sunlight.We also found that some other people sat leisurely at the bridge head and gazed at it.It became clearer when we found the tavern my uncle used to frequent.The back of the pub adjoins the vegetable garden.A few men who were short in stature like him and old were talking about everything in the store, claiming to be his best friends.I believe that these people, like him, also have no fixed employment and live by odd jobs.One of them claimed to be a watchmaker: must be bragging.We heard them call Uncle Augusto by a nickname, and it was said back and forth, with comments.Behind the counter stood a prematurely plump woman in an embroidered white blouse.We saw her sneer.My wife and I feel that all this is an important part of Uncle Augusto's life: he has a nickname, let others joke with him; The proprietress walked out of the kitchen and into the vegetable garden; the next day she went to any dim sum shop to unload for a few hours.He couldn't live without it.We finally understood why he had been thinking about this town during those days when he stayed in our hometown.

If I had been a lad with nothing to worry about, or our family of three had settled down, all this would have sufficed me too.However, things were not going well for us at the time: the child was recovering from a long illness, my job was still unsecured, and I had no time for the above things that would please Uncle Augusto.On the contrary, in the face of it all, we feel even more sad: in this town where everyone seems to have everything they want, we are very unfortunate.A few small and big problems made us scratch our heads, and unsatisfactory things came one after another; but we still don't know anything about the ant damage here.Mrs. Mauro pointed to the apartment she had rented to us and repeated her instructions over and over again, which was unbearable.I still remember her nagging us about the gas meter.We just had to listen. "Yes, Mrs. Mauro . . . we must be careful, Mrs. Mauro . . . it won't be broken, Mrs. Mauro . Her eyes suddenly fixed on the wall, as if reading a notice.Later, she reached out, pinched the wall with her fingertips, and then shook her hand vigorously, as if she had dirty water, sand or dust on her fingers.We are convinced that ants crawled on her finger, although she didn't say so.There are a few ants in the house, just like every house has walls and roofs, it's natural; but my wife and I always feel that she wants to hide it from us, whether it's nagging or ordering, it's just to highlight other people's behavior. to conceal this fact.

After Mrs. Mauro left, I moved the mattress into the house.My wife couldn't move the bedside table by herself, so she called me over to help.She went into the kitchen, knelt down, and began mopping the floor.I said to her, "It's so late, what are you going to do? Let's talk about it tomorrow. Now let's tidy up the bedroom and get ready to go to bed." The child was so sleepy that he cried, so he had to tidy up the cradle and let him sleep.We brought the long cradle: in our old home, children usually sleep in this kind of cradle.There is a good place to put the cradle in the house: a small earthen platform where the surrounding water is not damp, and the height is not high from the ground, and the child will not be in the way if it falls.We took out all the underwear that was stuffed with the cradle, and put the cradle on the small earthen platform.The child fell asleep as soon as it was put in.My wife and I began to look at the room: four walls, a ceiling, and a partition in the middle, dividing the room in two. "Yes, yes, paint it white, definitely paint it white." I glanced at the ceiling and replied to my wife.I bent my elbow and pushed and fucked her to the door.She wanted to see the toilet in the shed on the left, but I wanted to go for a walk in the courtyard with her.The new house is surrounded by gardens: two barren lands, which were probably flower beds or nurseries in the past; a row of rice paddies with iron frames on the middle, used to be covered with kudzu, pumpkin seedlings or grape vines, but now they are bare.Mrs. Mauro had promised us to use the yard to grow some vegetables and fruits and things like that.She didn't want to charge extra rent because the land had been abandoned for many years.But she said nothing about it today, and we avoided it because there were many more pressing issues ahead.In this way, we went to the garden on the first night to get familiar with the environment, and in a sense, to find out the situation.For the first time in my life, I felt that it was finally possible to settle down.From now on, we will take a walk in the courtyard every night, and our mood will become more and more cheerful.These are the thoughts that are going around in my head and I don't talk to my wife.I long to know if she feels the same way.I think that I have had the desired effect by letting her walk about in the courtyard: she speaks now with a soft, sweet voice, and a proper poise; Not right now because our lives aren't set up yet.

We walked arm in arm until we reached the end of the courtyard, where we saw M. Reginaudo beyond the fence.With a sprayer in his hand, he was busy in front of and behind the house.I had met him a few months ago, when I came here to discuss the rental with Mrs. Mauro.My wife and I leaned over the fence to say hello, and I introduced my wife to him. "Good evening, Monsieur Reginaudo," I said, "do you remember me?" "Oh, of course," he said, "good evening! So you are our neighbour?" Mr. Wei is short, wearing pajamas, a straw hat, and a pair of big glasses.

"Oh, we are neighbors, um, between neighbors..." My wife smiled and said a few polite words.I hadn't heard her speak in such a soft voice for a long time; but I was not displeased, on the contrary, I was glad that I didn't have to listen to her whining. "Claudia!" shouted our neighbor, "come here, this is the new tenant factory in Villa Laurelly. I felt very strange because I had never heard our new house called by that name before (I later found out, The original owner of the house was Laurelly). Mrs. Reginaudo came out of the house in response. She was tall and fat, and she wiped her hands with her apron as she went out. polite.

"Monsieur Reginaudo, what are you doing with the sprayer?" we asked. "Hey, ants...these ants..." He said and laughed, as if he didn't take the ants seriously. "Well, Ants?" my wife repeated the word, her tone again polite but indifferent as usual.In front of strangers, she always pretended to listen to them attentively, and from time to time inserted a sentence or two in such a detached tone.But she never spoke to me in that tone, not even when we first met. We bid our neighbors farewell politely.We have warm and friendly neighbors around us, but we don't have time to chat with them, and we don't have time to fully enjoy it.

When we got back inside, we planned to go to bed right away. "Did you hear that?" asked the wife.I listened intently for a while, and it was Reginaudo's sprayer hissing.The wife went to the sink to get a glass of water. "Get me a drink too," I said, taking off my shirt. "Ouch!" she yelled, "Come on!" She found ants on the tap.A troop of ants was crawling down the wall. We turn on the lights.The two rooms share one lamp.A dense team of ants crawled on the wall.They came from the direction of the door frame, but there was no way of knowing where the ant nest was.Ants are now on our hands.We open our palms, move them close to our eyes, and observe their appearance carefully; at the same time, we keep turning our wrists to prevent them from climbing up our arms.These ants are so small that they are almost impossible to catch.They crawled non-stop, as if they were itchy like us, unable to move.I suddenly remembered their name: Argentine ants; yes, they are called Argentine ants.I had heard before that there were Argentine ants in this town, that was certain; but only now did I understand what the name was associated with: an unbearable itching that no one could get rid of. .It doesn't matter whether you shake your arms vigorously or rub your hands desperately, because there will always be a few ants creeping up on our upper arms or sleeves.After the ants were strangled, they fell down like grains of black fine sand, but their pungent formic acid smell remained on our fingers for a long time.

"It's an Argentine ant, did you know..." I told my wife, "It's from America..." I couldn't help but speak in the tone of a teacher teaching a student, but I regretted it after a few words, because she finally I can't stand me speaking to her in that tone.She probably knows very well that I only use this tone of voice when I am not sure, so whenever this happens, she always tries to steal a few words from me. But this time she didn't seem to hear, she was so absorbed in patting the group of ants on the wall with her palm, trying to kill or disperse them.As a result, some ants crawled onto her hands, and others scattered all over the wall.She hastily turned on the faucet and splashed water on the wall while flushing.Although the wall was wet, the ants continued to crawl on it.The ants on her hands were not washed away either.

"Look, there are so many ants in the house! Look," she repeated. "There have always been ants in the house, but we've just discovered them now!" As if things would have been different if the ants had been found earlier. I persuaded: "Oh, forget it, forget it, isn't it just a few ants! Let's go to sleep now and think about it tomorrow!" I added: "Forget it, forget it, it's just a few Argentine ants Well!" I used the exact name that the locals call them this time, in order to show that this is a long-standing fact, and there is no need to make a fuss.

The relaxed look on my wife's face as she strolled in the courtyard just now was gone.As usual, she had a long face, wary of everything.The first night in our new abode was not as good as I had hoped it would be, and the new life we ​​had just begun did not bring us joy and comfort; on the contrary, we fell into new troubles from which we could never escape. "It's just a few ants!" I was still thinking.I remember thinking so at the time, but for me, maybe it's not that simple. Fatigue overcame anger, and we fell asleep soundly.In the middle of the night, the child woke up crying from his dream.My wife and I didn't move in bed, expecting him to fall back asleep after crying a few times.But it was not so, and our hopes were dashed.My wife and I asked each other, "What's the matter with him? What's the matter?" Strangely enough, he never cried at night after he recovered. "Ants are on him!" cried the wife, getting up hastily and going to the cradle.I also got out of bed to help.We took all the things out of the cradle, took off all his clothes, and carried him under the small electric light shared by the two rooms. We barely opened our sleepy eyes. Physically look for ants.A cool breeze blew into the room through the crack of the door.My wife pointed out: "He will catch a cold." We looked for ants on his body, and found that his skin was red all over, and there were scratches all over his body. We felt distressed.A line of ants is crawling on the small soil platform.We went through every doily in the cradle until all the ants had been caught.We looked at each other and said, "Where should we let him sleep now?" The bed is already too crowded for two people, if he sleeps on the bed, we will crush him to death if we roll over.I double-checked the small closet and there were no ants there yet.I pushed the wardrobe away from the wall, opened a drawer, organized it, and used it as a cradle for the baby.As soon as he lay down in it, he fell asleep.It's time for us to go to bed again, sleepiness will make us fall asleep immediately.But my wife still wants to see the food we brought. "Come on! Come here! My God! It's full of ants! It's all black! What's the use of you helping the factory?" I hugged her shoulder and said, "Go to sleep. I'll think about it tomorrow. Look at it now." Not sure.Clean it up tomorrow and put everything in a safe place.go to bed! " "But what to do with the food? It's all wasted!" "Let them go! What can you do now? Tomorrow we must destroy the ant nest, we must..." We finally got into bed, but couldn't sleep, thinking about all these little animals crawling around.Whether it's something to eat or something to use, it must be full of ants; maybe they are now crawling along the floor and the legs of the small wardrobe and onto the child... After the rooster crowed, we closed our eyes.Not long after, a strange itching woke us up from the dream.We tossed and turned and scratched because we thought there were ants in the bed; perhaps they had crawled up from the floor, or perhaps they had crawled on us while we were looking at the doily in the cradle.So we didn't get any rest in the hours before dawn.We got up early and figured out what to do.These troublesome, almost imperceptible enemies have invaded our new home, and we must immediately go to battle.It's really annoying. The wife thought it was time to go and see if the baby had been bitten by ants (thankfully, he didn't appear to have been bitten).She dressed him and fed him something.While she was doing these things, she kept moving her feet: the new house was full of ants, so it couldn't be better.There were ants in the sink, on the edges of dishes, on children's bibs and on fruit.I knew that after seeing these scenes, she tried to control herself, otherwise she would have screamed.But when she opened the milk pot, she couldn't help it anymore: "A layer of black!" There was a layer of ants floating on the milk, some were drowned, and some were swimming. "However, it's all on the surface," I pointed out, "and can be removed with a spoon." The ants were skimmed off, but we thought the milk had tasted bad, so we didn't take a sip. I stared at the columns of ants crawling across the wall, trying to figure out where they came from.The wife held back her resentment and began to comb her hair and dress. "Get rid of all the ants first, and then set up the furniture factory," she said. "Don't worry, just wait and see, there will always be a way. I'll go to Mr. Reginaudo. He has a powder. I asked him for some. I sprinkled it on the ant hole. I have found the hole. The ants will be gone soon. But I'll have to go later, because going now might disturb the Reginaudos." My wife calmed down a little, but I was still uneasy: I threatened to find the hole, but I was only trying to comfort her.The more I looked, the more ants I found; they came from all directions and went in all directions.Our new house looks clean and solid like a dice, but the walls seem to be loose, and there seem to be countless large and small cracks on it. I walked to the door and looked at the trees full of sunshine, and I felt a little more relaxed.There is luxuriant grass under the feet. Although it is covered with mud and not very clean, it is also pleasing to the eye.Immediately, I had the desire to work: to clean the soil that stained the grass, to plow the wasteland in the garden, to sow seeds, to plant seedlings... "You always lie in the cradle, and mold will grow on your body," I said to my son Said, "Come out." I lifted him out of the cradle and into the "garden".Not only did I call the courtyard "garden" myself, but I hoped that my wife would get used to it too, so I said to her, "I'll take the child to play in the garden for a while." Then I added, "Hold it to our garden. ’ I think ‘our garden’ is more intimate and gives us a sense of ownership. The child was basking in the sun, dancing with joy.I said to him, "This is a carob, and this is a persimmon tree." I lifted him up until he touched the branches. "Now Daddy will teach you how to climb a tree." He burst into tears. "What's the matter? Are you afraid?" I saw ants, and the rubbery trunk was covered with ants.I put him down right away. "Hey, there are so many little ants..." I said to him anxiously.I watched the groups of ants crawling down the tree trunk, and found that after these small animals, which were almost indistinguishable to the naked eye, climbed to the ground, they spread out in the grass and went in all directions.So I thought: How can I get rid of the ants in the house? Yesterday I thought the courtyard was very small, but now I look at it with new eyes and look at the countless ants in front of me. , I feel that this courtyard is actually huge.The ground was covered with a dense layer of ants, which must have sprung from thousands of nests underground; the rich clay and low vegetation provided them with ample food.There is a piece of pure land under my feet. At first glance, there are no shadows of ants. A member of an army of ants.This team of ants carried bread crumbs and other food several times larger than themselves, and frequently encountered other ants.In some places, the ant colonies gathered and seemed to stick together, like scabs on the outside of a wound.I think there must be a piece of resin or a dead insect in there. I carried the baby and went back to my wife; I ran into the house because I felt ants crawling on my calves.The wife said, "Oh, you made the child cry. What's the matter?" "It's nothing, it's nothing," I quickly explained, "He saw a few ants on the tree, and the memory of the night has not disappeared, so he probably started to itch again." "Oh, it's annoying." The wife sighed.She stared at a group of ants crawling on the wall, trying to strangle them one by one with her fingers.I seemed to see the huge courtyard outside the door again. We seemed to be standing in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by millions of ants.I couldn't help shouting at her: "What do you want? Are you crazy? It won't work!" She was trembling with anger: "But Uncle Augusto... Uncle Augusto doesn't say hello in advance! We two fools, listen to him! Listen to him, a liar!" In fact, Uncle Augusto can What did he say to us? Even if he told us that there were many ants here, we would never associate the traditional meaning of the word "ant" with our current embarrassment.Once he seemed to say that the place was infested with ants, and I don't rule out the possibility.However, even if there is such a thing, we can only think of it as some specific, countable enemies with body and weight.Indeed, now that I think of the ants in my hometown, I immediately feel that they are small animals worthy of respect. Like cats and rabbits, they can be petted and manipulated by others.However, the enemies we face here are like illusory clouds and all-pervasive fine sand, which cannot be dealt with at all. Our neighbor, Mr. Reginaudo, was in the kitchen, funnel in hand, pouring liquid from one bottle into another.I called him from a distance, and ran out of breath to the French window of his kitchen. "Hey, our neighbour!" cried Reginaudo. "Come in, sir, come in! I'm sorry, but I'm dispensing a potion. Bring a chair, Claudia, for our neighbour!" I cut to the chase and said, "I came to your house...excuse me...to trouble you. The thing... here's the thing, I saw you had that powder, and we stayed all night... the ants..." "Ha! Ha! Ha!" said Mrs. Reginaudo, walking into the kitchen, laughing. Her husband seemed to hesitate for a moment—that's what I felt—and then, louder, made a few noises like his. The wife laughed like an echo: "Ha! Ha! Ha! You have ants there too! Ha! Ha! Ha! " I flinched and put on a smile.I know I'm in a ridiculous situation, but there's nothing I can do about it: ants in the house are a fact, and that's why I'm here to ask him for help. "Dear neighbor, who doesn't have ants!" Mr. Reginaudo pointed out loudly, raising his arms. "Who doesn't, Mr. Neighbor, who doesn't!" went on his wife, folding her arms over her breast.Like her husband, she always had a smile on her face. "But I think you have an ant killer, don't you?" I asked.My voice trembled, and they probably thought it was because they couldn't help laughing, but it was actually out of despair, utter despair. "A medicine! Ha! Ha! Ha!" The Reginaudos laughed. "We only have one medicine? No, we have twenty medicines, a hundred medicines! One is better than one! Ha! Ha! Ha!" They led me into another room, where there were dozens of cardboard boxes and iron boxes with colorful logos on the furniture. "Do you want clofloxacin? Do you want mirboronac? Or do you want antimony obcloflide? Alsopan has powder and emulsion, which one do you want?" They picked up the pump sprayer one after another, Brushes and dusters, pale yellow medicinal powders and potions immediately filled the air like smoke, and a unique smell in pharmacies and pesticide stores came to the nostrils.Their laughter kept going. "Are there really effective ant killers?" I asked. Their laughter stopped abruptly. "No. None of the drugs worked," they replied. Mr. Reginaudo patted me on the shoulder, his wife opened the shutters, and the room was filled with sunlight.Afterwards, they took me for a walk around the interior of the house. He wore a tank top and red-striped pajama pants, and a straw hat over his bald head, the waistband of which was tied in a knot over his slightly protruding stomach.His wife wore a faded dress with peg straps peeking out from time to time, and a large, flushed face peeped out from under tousled flaxen curls.They are open-minded and cheerful, and they talk non-stop at the top of their voices.Every corner of this house has a story, and they scramble to tell it to me, and the other cuts in when one is halfway through.They gestured and sighed again, as if everything could be turned into a farce.For example, they say that a certain place was sprayed with 2 parts per thousand of Alfanax solution, and the ants disappeared for two days, but reappeared on the third day, so they had to increase the concentration of the solution to 10 parts per thousand. .The ants finally disappeared from there, but they circled around and made a new route over the beams.They sprinkled a lot of cresortan powder in another place to completely isolate this place from other places; but when the strong wind blew, the powder was blown everywhere, and spreading three kilograms a day was not enough.They tested the effect of Petrocede on the stairs. The ants seemed to be killed when they touched it, but in fact they just fell into a lethargic state.They sprinkled ant-killing powder in a corner of the house, and the ants continued to crawl around as if nothing had happened. The next morning, they found a poisoned mouse there.He had sprinkled some Chemofusfer potion, which was sure to repel ants, on one spot, but the wife had removed Italmark powder on the same spot; and the powder had a detoxifying effect, neutralizing the ant-repelling effect of the potion. Get a thousand and two net. Our two neighbors regarded the house and garden as a battleground for humans and ants, and enthusiastically drew several dividing lines that the ants would not cross.They searched for new routes for the ants, tried various newly developed potions and powders, and curbed the advance of the ant army.Each drug reminded them of an episode or a funny incident.So, at the mention of a drug name, such as Alzapit, Mierxit, and so on, they would wink at each other, make a pun, and have a good laugh.They have made many attempts to exterminate the ants, but all efforts have been in vain, so this attempt has now been abandoned.They are only satisfied with trying to cut off certain passages of ants, forcing them to detour, frightening them, and preventing them from invading in large numbers.They use different drugs every day to draw a new maze-like dividing line. It seems that they are playing a game of hide and seek, and ants are indispensable game opponents. "There's really nothing you can do with these little animals, nothing," they said, "unless you learn from the captain..." "Well, we spent a lot of money," they went on, "on all kinds of anticides... The Captain's method is more economical... You can imagine..." "Of course, we cannot boast of defeating the Argentine ants," they pointed out, "but so does the Captain. Do you think his method works? I doubt..." "Excuse me, who is this captain?" I asked. "Captain Brauny, you don't know him? Well, you just moved in yesterday! He's our neighbor, he lives in the little white villa on the right... an inventor..." They burst out laughing , "Invented a device for exterminating Argentine ants, ... no. Invented many ant extermination devices, and continued to improve ... You should go to him." The plump Reginaudos led me into their garden, which is only a few square meters in size.They looked up at the blue sky triumphantly, with sly expressions on their faces.The small garden is full of spots and streaks left by the black potion, with yellow-green powder everywhere, and watering cans, sprayers, and bottles and jars filled with the black potion are piled up here and there.There are also a few small flower beds that have not been repaired here, in which a few roses and other flowers and plants grow here and there, and the leaves and stems are covered with a layer of medicinal powder. After I had this conversation with them, I felt a lot more relaxed.Of course, I can't just laugh off the ant damage like they do; but I don't think I can take a few ants too seriously to lose confidence. "Well, ants," I'm thinking now, "there's nothing terrible about ants! A few ants won't do much harm. I should have gone back to my wife right away and teased her: "God knows what you're thinking when you see the ants, you're scared out of your wits..." While I was planning to taunt her like this, I walked into the courtyard of my house holding the medicinal powders that the Reginaudos gave me for trial, packed in large and small cartons and iron boxes.The powders were chosen with my intentions and contained no ingredients that would be harmful to the baby because my child loves to stuff their mouths no matter what they see.I saw my wife holding him, standing in the doorway with tears in her eyes.Her cheeks were sunken.I know that she found countless ants surrounding us again, fought in vain, and ended up surrendering again.My desire to smile at her, to taunt her was gone. "You're back at last," she said dryly, not yelling at me, but the tone made me more miserable. "I can't stay here any longer... You see... I don't know what to do..." "Well, we can try this medicine now," I persuaded her, "we can also try this kind, and this kind..." I put the boxes I brought on the platform in front of the door one by one, and started to ask her She explains the administration of these medicines.I just said a few words in a few words, because I was afraid that she would have too high hopes because of it.I neither wanted to fantasize her nor to break her fantasy.Another thought came to my mind: go to Captain Brawney at once. "You take the medicine as I said. I want to go out for a while, and I'll be right back." "Going again? Where are you going?" "Go to another neighbor's house. He has an ant killer. I'll check it out." I took three steps and made two steps, and ran to the right side of my courtyard.A metal pergola stands on the edge of the courtyard, and vines grow on it.The sun is now hidden behind a cloud.As soon as I approached the pergola, the small white villa fell into my eyes.The villa is in a pretty little garden with gray gravel paths running between round flower beds.These flower beds are the same as in the park, surrounded by a low cast-iron fence painted green, with a small black tree planted in the middle, either an orange tree or a lemon tree. Everything was still, the ground was covered with cool shade, and there was not a breath of wind.I wondered, and as I was about to leave, I caught a glimpse of a head emerging from behind a neatly trimmed fence, wearing a crumpled white canvas seaside sunhat with its wavy brim pulled low. .Beneath the brim are a pair of steel-rimmed glasses and a snub nose, and below that a smiling mouth and rows of shiny steel dentures.He was a wizened, lean man in a sweater and knickerbockers, with well-developed ankles, resembling a cyclist.Wearing a pair of sandals, he walked up to an orange tree and silently looked at the tree trunk suspiciously, with that stiff smile on his lips.I walked up to the fence and greeted him on tiptoe: "Hello, Captain." The man raised his head abruptly, and the smile on his face disappeared, replaced by a cold gaze. "Excuse me, are you Captain Browne?" I asked. The man nodded. "Did you know that I'm your new neighbour, I'm renting at Laurelly Cottage . . . I want to disturb you for a while, because I heard you have an ant extermination device . . . " The captain raised one hand, hooked his index finger, and told me to come up to him.I jumped, over the fence, and came to him.The captain's hand was still raised, and the other was stretched out in front of him, pointing to the orange tree he was observing.I saw a small piece of wire wrapped around the tree, at right angles to the trunk.At the end of the wire was bound something like fish intestines; the middle was folded into a sharp angle, with the tip pointing down, forming a V shape; hanging from below was a small pot, like a gravy can.Ants came and went on tree trunks and wires in an endless stream. "After the ants smelled the fish," explained the captain, "the ants crawled along the wire. You see, they come and go in an orderly manner, and there is no conflict. However, this V-shaped angle is very dangerous. It comes from the opposite direction. After the two ants in the direction met here, they had to stop to make way for each other. The small pot below contained kerosene, and the strong smell of oil made them dizzy; therefore, they just stretched out their legs and moved forward. If they crawl, they will collide with each other, making two beeps, beeps, and falling into the kerosene to die.” He just said two beeps, beeps, and the two ants fell into the jar in response. "Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick," the captain said over and over, with that stiff smile on his lips.Every time he said "beep", an ant would fall down.The kerosene was two fingers deep, with a thick layer of black ants floating on it. "An average of forty ants are eliminated every minute," Captain Brawney said, "2,400 an hour. Of course, the kerosene should be changed frequently, otherwise the oil will be full of dead ants, and those that fall will survive." This rare little contraption keeps killing ants.I watched intently.Many ants safely pass through this dangerous point with their fish intestines in their mouths; but some ants always stop here, move their antennae, and fall into the kerosene tank.Captain Brauny, wearing glasses, stared at every tiny movement of the ants; every time an ant fell, he couldn't help trembling, and the corners of his mouth quivered slightly.He often couldn't help stretching out his hand to adjust the angle of the wire, shake the kerosene in the can, fish out the dead ants and throw them on the ground, or touch the wire to make more ants fall down.However, he probably thought this last move was a foul, so he immediately withdrew his hand and glanced at me with a look that was ready to justify himself. "That setup is better," he said, leading me to another tree.A piece of iron wire folded into a V shape is also wrapped around the trunk, but the end is tied with a piece of pig bristle.蚂蚁以为能沿着猪鬃找到出路，但煤油的气味和猪鬃的晃动使它们头重脚轻，纷纷往下掉。上尉还给我看了许多别的用猪鬃或马鬃制成的灭蚁装置。譬如，树上绑根粗铁丝，末端系根细马鬃，蚂蚁在这个突然变化面前惊慌失措，失去平衡，掉进煤油罐。他甚至还设计了一个“陷阱”：一边是树干，一边是诱饵，当中是一根中间剪断的马鬃；蚂蚁爬到断处，自身的重量把鬃毛压弯，它就掉了下去这个静寂、美丽的花园中，每棵树、每根铁管和每条栏杆上都仔仔细细地拴上铁丝，下方再挂一小罐煤油。令人心悦神爽的玫瑰花和藤萝架只是这些灭蚁装置的遮掩物而已。 “阿格劳拉!”上尉走到别墅的一个小门口，朝屋里喊了一声。然后对我说：“现在我让您看看最近几天的灭蚁成果。” 一个又高又瘦、面色苍白的女人从小门中走了出来，她的眼神机警而略带恐惧，裹在头上的那条头巾在前额上打了个结。“把那几个口袋拿出来，给我们的邻居看看。”勃劳尼说。从他的口气中可以听出，她不是用人，而是上尉太太。我朝她点点头，支吾了—句，算是问候。她没有回答我，而是立即回到屋内，拽出一个沉甸甸的口袋，来到我面前。她胳膊上的静脉根根绷起，这表明她费了很大劲；她要比外表看上去有力气得多。透过半开半闭的门扉，可以看到屋里有一堆这样的口袋。上尉太太一声不吭，又回到屋内。 上尉解开口袋，里面像是装着泥土或化肥。他伸进一条胳臂，抓出，把咖啡粉似的东西，然后摊开手掌，让它慢慢漏到另一只手中。全是死蚂蚁，像细沙子一样的黑红色的死蚂蚁。这些蚂蚁缩成一团，头足难分，发出一股股刺鼻的酸味。装满了死蚂蚁的口袋在屋里垒得像金字塔一样，大约有几百公斤重。 “真惊人……”我指出，“照这样下去，准能使蚂蚁绝种……” “不行，”上尉四平八稳地说，“这些是工蚁，光消灭它们不管用。蚁巢遍地皆是，每个蚁巢里都有一只蚁王，它能繁殖出几百万只小蚂蚁。” “那该怎么办?” 我走到他太太拽出的那个口袋跟前。他坐在下方的台阶上，仰着头向我解释。那顶皱巴巴的白帆布帽遮住了他的整个额头和那副钢架眼镜的上半部分。 “应该让蚁王挨饿。工蚁负责给蚁王觅食，它们的数目大大减少后，蚁王便会饿肚皮。到那时，我向您保证，哪怕外面再热，蚁王也会拖着肥胖的身躯，自己出来找吃的……到了那一天，它们被灭绝的日子就屈指可数了……” 他草草束好口袋，站了起来。我也直起了腰身。 “但有人认为，解决问题的办法是把它们赶走，”他朝雷吉瑙多的别墅瞥了一眼，嗤笑了一下，露出一嘴钢制的假牙。“还有人想把它们喂得肥肥的……那也是一种办法，知道吗?” 我不理解最后这句话的意思。 “谁?”我问道。“为什么要喂肥它们?” “那个蚂蚁人没到您家去过吗?” 他指的是谁?“我不知道，”我回答说，“大概没来吧……” “会到您家去的，等着吧。每逢星期四他就挨家逐户转一圈。 所以，如果今天上午没上您家，下午肯定会去的。他要给蚂蚁喂补药。哈!哈!”