Chapter 44 Preparations for a Village Wedding Ⅰ

As Edward Laban walked across the corridor and into the open door, he saw it was raining.It didn't rain very much. In front of him on the sidewalk were many people walking with various steps.Sometimes a man steps out of the crowd and crosses the roadway.A little girl is holding a tired puppy in her hands, and two men are exchanging news.One of them was swinging his palm upwards regularly, as if he was holding a heavy object in the air.There was a woman with ribbons and pins and flowers all over her hat.A young man hurried past with a thin cane, his left hand lying flat on his chest as if paralyzed.Occasionally, a few men came by, smoking cigarettes, and the slender clouds of smoke they exhaled curled up.Three gentlemen--two of them with light coats draped over their bent lower arms--went from the house wall to the edge of the pavement to see what was going on there, and then went back to the original place while talking. way to go.

From the gaps in the passing crowd, you can see the neatly laid bricks on the roadway.The horse stretches its neck to pull the cart, and the wheels are exquisite and tall.The people sitting on the cushions in the car silently looked at the pedestrians, the shops, the balconies and the sky.The horses huddled together as one car passed the other, and the bit belts dangled back and forth.The animals tugged on the shafts, the wheels rolled, and staggered forward until they passed the cart in front, and the distance between the horses walking side by side was widened again. together. A few people walked towards the door quickly, and stopped on the dry mosaic floor. They turned around slowly and saw the rain that was falling, and the raindrops were falling chaotically into the narrow alley.

Laban was tired.His lips were as pale as the faded red of his thick, Moorish tie.Across the road, a woman was standing by the door, looking at her shoes, which stood out from under her thin skirt, when she looked up at him.She watched casually, maybe she was just looking at the rain falling in front of him, or at the small sign of the firm nailed to the door above his head.Laban felt that she looked a little strange. "Then," he thought, "she wouldn't be surprised if I could tell her that someone is overworked in class and is too tired to enjoy his vacation well. But no matter how much work is done, This person has not yet acquired the right to be treated with love by all people. On the contrary, people are alone, completely strange, and are just objects of curiosity. And as long as you say someone where you should say me, That's nothing, it can be said that this story doesn't count, but as long as you admit to yourself that you are me, then you will be thoroughly studied, and you will feel terrible."

He bent his legs and lowered the suitcase, wrapped in a piece of gingham, to the ground.The rainwater merged into a stream along the side of the roadway, rushing straight to the deeper sewer. "But if I can tell the difference between 'someone' and 'me', how can I complain to other people. Maybe they are not unfair, but I am too tired to care about it. I am even tired I can't make it all the way to the train station. Why don't I stay in the city during this short vacation? I'm not sane. - This trip is going to make me sick, I know it well .my room will not be very comfortable, which is unlikely in the country. It has just entered the first half of June, and the climate in the country is often cool. Although I dress carefully, I will join the ranks of people who walk in the evening There are many pools and people walk along them. Then I will definitely catch cold. But I don't show much when talking. I will not compare pools in a far away country, because I have never made a trip, And talking about the moon, feeling the joy, and climbing the rubble with gusto, I'm too old to be laughed at."

Pedestrians on the street held dark umbrellas on their heads and walked with their heads slightly lowered.A wagon also drove by, and on the driver's seat covered with grass, a man stretched out his legs carelessly, one foot almost touching the ground, while the other foot was firmly placed on the straw mat and rags. .It looked as if he was sitting in a field of crops on a sunny day.But his hand was holding the rein very carefully, so the carriage with iron rods could turn freely in the crowded crowd.On the wet ground, you can see the reflection of the iron rod zigzag and slowly passing by the stones on the ground.The little boy next to the woman across the street was dressed like an elderly grape farmer.His rumpled clothes formed a large arc at the hem and were fastened with a single belt almost from the armpit down.His semi-circular hat covered his eyebrows with a fringe that hung down to his left ear.He's glad it's raining.He ran out of the gate and looked up at the sky with wide eyes to catch more rain.He kept jumping high and high, so that the rain splashed everywhere, and passers-by scolded him very rudely.At this time, the woman stopped him and held him by the hand; but he did not cry.

Laban was taken aback.Is it too late?He had his overcoat and jacket open, so he hurried to his watch.The watch stopped.Glumly, he asked a neighbor next to him who was standing in the back of the aisle to ask the time.This man was talking to someone else, and while smiling at them, he said to him, "I'm sorry, it's past four o'clock." Then he turned around. Laban quickly opened the umbrella and lifted the box.But when he was about to walk to the road, the road was blocked by several women hurrying, so he let them go first.Then he saw a hat worn by a little girl. The hat was woven of straw mats dyed red, and there was a small green wreath on the curved brim.

When he had reached the road, he still remembered the little wreath. This road led to where he was going, and it was a gentle uphill road.Then he forgot the little wreath, for now he had to work harder; the box was heavy, and the wind kept blowing at him, lifting his coat against the ribs in front. He had to take a deep breath; a clock in a nearby square struck four forty-five, and under an umbrella he saw the oncoming people trotting lightly, the brake wheels creaking. Slowly turning the corner, the horses stretched out their thin front hooves, boldly moving forward like antelopes in the mountains.

Laban felt that he, too, would be able to endure the long and difficult two weeks ahead.Because there are only two weeks in total, that is to say, the time is limited, and even though the annoying things are getting more and more, the time is constantly decreasing, and this time must be passed.So there is no doubt that his courage is growing.All the people who want to torture me and have a room full of me will gradually become less aggressive as the days go by without my help.Naturally, I let it be, and let them play with me without saying a word, but as time goes by, everything will be fine.

Besides, can't I do what I always did when I was a child when I was in danger?I don't have to go to the country myself at all, it doesn't matter.I send my clothed body.If my body wobbled out of my house, the wobbling was not a sign of timidity, but indifference.His stumbling up the stairs, his sobbing into the country, and his supper there in tears did not account for his agitation.Because of me, at this moment, I am lying on my own bed, covered flatly with a yellow-gray quilt, letting the wind blow in through the slightly opened door.Cars, horses and pedestrians in the alley hesitate on the bright ground, because I am still dreaming.Coachmen and walkers cowered, looked at me at every step, and begged my permission.I encourage them to go on, and they are not hindered.

In my bed I have the image of a beetle, a moose, or a scarab, I think. He stopped at one of the window displays, pursed his lips, and looked in the window at a beanie hanging on a stick behind a piece of wet glass. "Well, my hat is enough for the holidays," he thought, and went on. "It would be better if no one liked me for my hat." "The big figure of a beetle, yes. Then I pretended to be a beetle hibernating, and pressed my little legs against the swollen body. I whispered a few words to my poor Yes, stay here in a hurry for a while, and the crooked body issued one order after another. After a while, my order was finished-he bowed and hurried away, he made everything perfect, and I But resting."

He came to an open, arched gate at the top of a steep alley, which opened onto a small square surrounded by brightly lit shops, the middle of which seemed a little dark because the lights were on the edge of the square. Dim, there stands a small monument of a man sitting in thought.The moving people were like narrow shades in front of the lamps, and the scene of the square was constantly changing as the puddles made the light of the lamps far and deep. Laban walked into the far side of the square, dodging passing cars in a hurry, jumped from one dry field to another, and held up his umbrella so that he could see everything around him.He didn't stop until he came to a lamp post on a small square stone plinth - a tram stop. "The country people are waiting for me. Will they have any idea? But I haven't written to her for a whole week since she came to the country, except this morning. Then people will think of me." Maybe people think that when I greet a person, I walk towards him, but this is not my habit, or they think that when I arrive, I hug them, and I don’t. I Trying to comfort them will make them angry. Really, it would be nice to comfort them if it made them angry." Then a convertible drove past with two lights on, behind which two women could be seen sitting on black leather stools.One of them leaned back, his face hidden by the black shadow of his veil and hat.But the other woman was erect; her hat was small, with thin feathers on the brim.Anyone can see her.Her lower lip was pursed slightly. As the cart passed Laban, a stick blocked the view of the horses on the right side of the cart, and then the driver—he wore a huge top hat—was pushed onto the very high bridge in front of the woman ,—by this time the car was far away—then they rounded the corner of a small house that was now clearly visible, and disappeared from sight. Laban tilted his head and looked towards the car. He put the handle of the umbrella on his shoulder to get a better view.He put the thumb of his right hand into his mouth and rubbed it with his teeth.The box was beside him, with one side touching the ground. The carriage came out of the alley, crossed the square, and rushed into another alley. The horses seemed to be thrown out and galloped horizontally, but the ups and downs of their heads and necks indicated the intensity and intensity of their movements. strenuous. Around the pavement of the three roads that meet here, there are many idle people, beating the gravel with sticks.A few small tower-shaped buildings were built in the crowd, and girls sold soda in them. Beyond that, there was a heavy road clock hanging on a narrow stick, and a man with a big sign on the back of his chest, the sign There are amusement advertisements written in various letters on it, as well as attendants, ... [two pages are missing here] ... a few people gathered here.Two stately carriages, driving across the sloping alley of the square, blocked the way of some of the gentlemen of the party, but after the second--indeed they had cautiously tried to cross after the first--then The gentlemen joined the others again, and in a long line they went up the sidewalk and squeezed through the door of a coffee shop, startled by the light of the electric lamp hanging over the door. The cars of the tram rumbled through the neighborhood, and the other cars were parked far away, shadowy and silent, on the road. "How bent she is," Laban thought when he saw the picture. "She's never straightened up. Maybe her back is round. I'll have to pay attention. Her mouth is so wide." , there is no doubt that the lower lip sticks out here, yes, I still remember it now. The dress! Of course, I don't know anything about clothes and such things, but those two sleeves that were sewed on with difficulty must be It's ugly, it looks like it's wrapped in a bandage. And the hat, too, the brim of which rises with every curve of the face. But her eyes are beautiful, if I'm not mistaken, Her eyes are brown. They say she has beautiful eyes." A tram stopped in front of Laban, and many people around rushed towards the tram, their slightly stretched umbrellas pointing upwards.With the box under his arm, Laban was pushed off the sidewalk steps and landed in an invisible puddle.In the carriage, a child knelt on a bench with his fingertips pressed to his lips, as if saying goodbye to someone who had passed away.Several passengers got out of the car, and they had to walk a few steps along the body of the car to get away from the crowd.Then a woman stepped onto the first platform of the car, and the skirt she held in both hands was just above her knees.A gentleman held a metal pole, raised his head and said something to the woman.Everyone who was about to get in the car seemed very impatient.The ticket inspector is shouting. Laban, who was standing at the edge of the waiting crowd, turned his head when someone called his name. "Oh, Lemante," he said slowly, extending the little finger of the hand holding the umbrella to a young man approaching. "Then this is the bridegroom going to drive to his fiancée. Looks lovely," said Lymant with a closed mouth and a smile. "Yes, you'll have to forgive me, I'm leaving today," Laban said. "I also wrote you a letter in the afternoon. Of course, I really want to walk with you tomorrow, but tomorrow is Saturday, all the cars are crowded, and the road is very long." "It's all right. You promised me, but if you get engaged—" I'll have to go alone. With one foot on the sidewalk and the other standing on the gravel, Lemante supported his upper body on his left leg and his right leg.—“You are going to get on the tram now; car.Come, let's walk, I will accompany you.There is still plenty of time. " "Isn't it too late, I ask you?" "It's not surprising that you're a little worried, but you do have time. I'm not so worried, and that's why I haven't met Gillemain now." "Gillerman? Isn't he going to the suburbs too?" "Yes, he and his wife are going, and next week they want to go out, so I just promised him to meet him when he came out of the office today. He was going to tell me a few words about the arrangement of their room, anyway I Wanted to meet him. I was late for some reason. I was shopping. I was wondering if I should go to their house when I saw you. At first I was surprised that you were holding the box, so I stopped. You. But now it is too late to go to other people's houses, and it is unlikely to go to Gillemain again." "Of course. In that case I still meet acquaintances in the suburbs. I have never met Mrs. Gillerman, by the way." "She is beautiful. She has fair hair and is pale now after a sickness. She has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen." "Excuse me, what are beautiful eyes? Do you mean the look? I never thought eyes were beautiful." "Well, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. But she's a beautiful woman." The one-story house over there is a coffee shop. Through a window, three men can be seen next to the window, each occupying one side, sitting around a table reading and eating; one man spread the newspaper on the table On the table, holding a small cup in his hand, he was looking towards the alley out of the corner of his eyes.Behind the window tables, every table and every utensil in the hall was occupied by guests, sitting side by side in small circles. [two pages missing here]... "It just so happens that this isn't a bad coffee shop, isn't it. A lot of people go here for a drink or two, I suppose." They came to a rather dark square that stretched from the side of the street where they had just stood, for the opposite side of the street rose up.They continued to walk along the square, where there were row upon row of houses. At the corner of the house, two rows of houses that were far away from each other approached each other in an endless place, as if they were about to be connected.Most of the houses are small, and the sidewalks in front of them are very narrow. There is not a shop in sight, and no traffic comes here.Not far from the end of the alley where they came, there were several lamps hanging on an iron bar, and the lamps were fixed in two loops hanging vertically up and down.In the darkness of the tower, the trapezoidal flames shone through the interlocking panes of glass as if in a small room, while the darkness remained a few steps away. "But it must be too late. You kept it from me, and I couldn't catch the bus. Why?" [Four pages are missing here]... "Yes, most likely Pierkshofer, um, this man." "The name comes up in Betty's letters, I suppose, he's a railroad clerk, isn't he?" "Yes, a railroad clerk, and a nasty fellow. When you see his little meaty nose, you'll think I'm right. Tell you, if you're with him in the dreary wilderness . . . by the way, he has been transferred, and I believe and hope he will be out of there next week." "Wait, you said just now that you suggested I stay here tonight. I thought about it, and it's not very good. I wrote and said I'd be here tonight and they'd be waiting for me." "It's very simple, you just send a telegram." "Yes, that's all right—but it's not good if I don't go—and I'm tired, so I'd better go!—They'll be startled if the telegram follows.— So what does it matter which direction we go? " "Then it's better for you to go now, it's true. I was only thinking about that--. I can't go with you today either, I forgot to tell you, I overslept. I'm leaving too , because I still want to see Gilliman, I don't want to accompany you through this rainy park. It's a quarter to six, and you can go to a good friend's house. Good-bye. I wish you a safe journey, for I greet everyone!" Lymante turned to the right and offered him his right hand in farewell, only for a brief moment to walk in the opposite direction of the outstretched arm. "Goodbye," Laban said. Not far away, Lymant said loudly, "Hey, Edward, listen to me, put your umbrella away, it's been raining for a long time. I didn't bother to tell you just now." Laban didn't answer, but put away his umbrella, and the sky above him was overcast, pale and dim. "If only I at least," thought Laban, "could have taken the wrong train. Then I would feel that I had acted, and if later, finding out that I was on the wrong train, and returning to this station, I would Much more comfortable. If, as Lymant says, the place is boring, there's no harm in doing it. Otherwise you'll have to stay in the house a lot more without knowing exactly where the other people are, because, if There is some ruin nearby, and people may go for a walk together to see it, and there must be an appointment before going there. If this is the case, you should be happy about it, so you can't delay it. If there is no such place of interest, then there is no prior There would be some kind of agreement, because people felt that if someone, contrary to the usual practice, suddenly thought it would be nice to do a bigger excursion, it would be easy for everyone to get together and just send the maid to another house to deliver a letter, and those people were writing If you write a letter or read a book, you will feel ecstatic about this message. It seems that it is not difficult to refuse such an invitation. But I don’t know if it can be done, because the actual situation is not as simple as I thought, I Still here alone, I can do anything, I can go back if I like, because there I have no one I can call on anytime, no one with whom I can take a more tiring excursion, no one On outings a man would show me how his crops were doing, or show me the quarry he ran. Even old acquaintances were not sure. Didn't Lemante treat me well today, and he showed me Said some things, and he told everything as I imagined it. He greeted me, and stayed with me afterwards, although he didn't want to know about me at all, and he had other things of his own. But Now he's gone suddenly, and I haven't said a word to offend him. Although I refuse to spend the night in the city, it's a natural thing, and it can't offend him, because he's a sensible man." The clock at the station struck a quarter to six.Laban stopped, for he felt his heart beating violently, and then he walked quickly along the park pool, and came to a narrow, dimly lit path among tall bushes, and hurried into a tree with a A square with many empty chairs, and then slowly through an entrance through the wire fence to the street, he crossed the street, jumped into the gate of the train station, found the service window after a while, and had to knock on the iron window.The railway employee stretched out his head and said that it was too late. He took the money and threw the required ticket and the change on the wooden platform in front of the window with a slap.Laban wanted to calculate the money, because he thought the change should be more.But a handyman walking nearby pushed him through a glass door onto the platform.Laban turned his head on the platform and shouted "Thank you, thank you" to the handyman. He didn't see the ticket inspector, so he climbed on the platform of the carriage, put the box on the uppermost step, and followed him up again. Holding an umbrella with one hand, and clutching the handle of a suitcase with the other.The car he got into was brightly lit by the many lights of the station hall where he had been; all the glass windows were closed to the top, and some could almost see the rustling arc lights that hung close by. , Many whitish raindrops dripped down from time to time on the windowpane.Laban heard a commotion from the platform, audible as he closed the trunk door and took the last available seat in a beige chair.He saw many backs and the backs of heads, and among them faces reclined in opposite chairs.In several places the smoke of pipes and cigars was rising and drifting leisurely over a girl's face.Passengers often switched their seats and talked to each other about the change, or they put their luggage in the narrow blue net pocket above the chair into another net pocket.If a stick or the iron corner of a box sticks out of the luggage rack, someone tells the owner, who gets up and goes to the luggage rack to put things in order.Laban realized this too, and pushed his trunk under his seat. On his left, by the window, sat two gentlemen facing each other, discussing prices. "It's a business trip," thought Laban, looking at them calmly. "The merchant sent them out into the country, and they obeyed, took the train, and in each village they went from shop to shop, sometimes They drive from village to village in their carriages. They don't need to stay long anywhere, because everything is done quickly, and they always have only to talk about the goods. How gladly one can work in such a pleasant occupation. what!" The younger man suddenly pulled out a notebook from the back pocket of his trousers, quickly wet his index finger on his tongue, flipped through it, found a page, and read from top to bottom with his fingernail.He looked up at Laban, who was now talking about the price of cotton again, without taking his eyes off Laban, as people do when they stare in one direction so as not to forget what they are about to say.His eyebrows went up as he spoke.In his left hand he holds a half-open notebook, with his thumb resting on the page he wants to read so that he can easily find it when needed.The notebook was shaking constantly because his arm was nowhere and the moving train was hammering the rails like a hammer. The other leaned his back, and he nodded rhythmically as he listened.It was evident that he did not agree with everything the man said, and he would speak of his own in a moment. Laban sat stooped with his empty palms on his knees, and he saw the window through the traveler's head, and through the window the passing and receding lights outside.He could not understand what the speaker was saying, nor could he understand the answer of the other.It took some preparation to listen, because these two men had been dealing with goods since their youth.If you keep a spool of cotton in your hand, and pass it out to customers, you'll know what's going on, and you can talk about prices.The train was speeding along, the villages were coming and going, darting away into the depths of the fields, disappearing from our view.These villages are full of people, and maybe people who go there on a business trip are going from village to village to do business. On the other side of the carriage, a tall man rose from a corner with a deck of cards in his hand and called out: "Hey, Mary, have you packed your muslin shirt yet?" "Fake it," said the woman sitting across from Laban.She fell asleep for a while, and when the question awoke her, she answered so casually, as if addressing Laban. "You're going to that market in Yongbucunlao, aren't you?" the lively and chatty passenger asked her. "Yes, work in Yongbucun." "It's a big market, isn't it?" "Yes, it's a big market." She was very sleepy, resting her left elbow on a blue package, her head heavy Putting it on her hands, her hands pressed against the flesh of her face and supported her cheekbones. "How young she is," said the passenger. Laban counted the conductor's change from his vest pocket.He unfolded each coin between his thumb and index finger, turning the tip of his index finger around the inside of his thumb.He looked at the emperor's head for a long time, and then he noticed the laurel wreath on the emperor's head, and wondered how the laurel wreath was fastened behind his head with a ribbon buckle and bow.At last he felt that the money was right, and he put it in a large black wallet.Just as he was about to say to the passenger: "This is a couple, don't you think so?" The car stopped.The commotion died down, the conductor called out the name of a place, and Laban said nothing. The car started slowly, and one could imagine how the wheels were turning, but it suddenly crossed a low-lying land, and in front of the window, the long railing of a bridge seemed to be knocked apart unexpectedly, and then brought together again. Laban was very happy that the car was going so fast, because he hadn't planned to stop at the previous stop. "If it's already dark there, nobody knows anyone, and it's so far away from home. Then it must be scary there during the day. Will the next stop change, whether it's early or late, what will happen? I'm going What will happen to the village?" The passenger's voice suddenly became louder. "It's still a long way off," thought Laban. "Sir, you know as well as I do that those factory owners who send people to the tiniest places on business trips, who bow their heads and make friends with the meanest peddlers, do you think they will pay different prices to us wholesalers. Sir, it's exactly the same price as that price, I saw it clearly yesterday. I call it drudgery. It's going to kill us. We can't do any business in today's weather. They're going to tire us out. Die." He looked again at Laban; with tears in his eyes, and no embarrassment; and pressed his left knuckles to his lips, which were trembling.Laban leaned back and stroked his beard gently with his left hand. The female street vendor sitting opposite woke up, she smiled and touched her forehead with her hand.The passenger spoke softly.The woman moved again to go to sleep, half leaning on the package and sighing.Her skirt was stretched tightly over her right thigh. Behind the saleswoman sat a gentleman in a traveling cap, reading a large newspaper.The girl sitting across from him was obviously a relation of his and was begging him—she turned her head to her right shoulder as she spoke—to open the window because it was too hot.He said without looking up, that's it, but he had to read a paragraph in the newspaper first, and he pointed to her which paragraph it was. The female street vendor couldn't fall asleep, so she sat up and looked out the window. Later, she looked at the yellow flame of the kerosene lamp on the platform of the carriage for a long time.Laban closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened his eyes, the female vendor was eating a snack with brown jam.The package beside her was opened.The passenger was smoking a cigar in silence, and he kept flicking his fingers, as if to shake the ashes off the cigarette end.Another traveler turned the wheel of a pocket watch back and forth with the point of a pocket knife, so that everyone else could hear it. Laban's almost closed eyes saw dimly the gentleman in the traveling cap pulling the bar on the window.A cold wind blew in, and a straw hat fell from the coat hook.Laban thought he was awake, that's why his cheeks looked so refreshed, either someone opened the door and pulled him into the house, or he got it wrong somehow, and soon he fell asleep breathing deeply .