The English Patient- 第25部分

the　plane　came　out　of　the　sand。　there　had　been　no　food　and　i　was　weak。　the　tarp　so　heavy　i　couldn’t　dig　it　out　but　had　simply　to　cut　it　away。　

in　the　morning；　after　two　hours’　sleep；　i　carried　her　into　the　cockpit。　i　started　the　motor　and　it　rolled　into　life。　we　moved　and　then　slipped；　years　too　late；　into　the　sky。　

the　voice　stops。　the　burned　man　looks　straight　ahead　in　his　morphine　focus。　

the　plane　is　now　in　his　eye。　the　slow　voice　carries　it　with　effort　above　the　earth；　the　engine　missing　turns　as　if　losing　a　stitch；　her　shroud　unfurling　in　the　noisy　air　of　the　cockpit；　noise　terrible　after　his　days　of　walking　in　silence。　he　looks　down　and　sees　oil　pouring　onto　his　knees。　a　branch　breaks　free　of　her　shirt。　acacia　and　bone。　how　high　is　he　above　the　land？　how　low　is　he　in　the　sky？

the　undercarriage　brushes　the　top　of　a　palm　and　he　pivots　up；　and　the　oil　slides　over　the　seat；　her　body　slipping　down　into　it。　

there　is　a　spark　from　a　short；　and　the　twigs　at　her　knee　catch　fire。　he　pulls　her　back　into　the　seat　beside　him。　he　thrusts　his　hands　up　against　the　cockpit　glass　and　it　will　not　shift。　begins　punching　the　glass；　cracking　it；　finally　breaking　it；　and　the　oil　and　the　fire　slop　and　spin　everywhere。　how　low　is　he　in　the　sky？　she　collapses—acacia　twigs；　leaves；　the　branches　that　were　shaped　into　arms　uncoiling　around　him。　limbs　begin　disappearing　in　the　suck　of　air。　the　odour　of　morphine　on　his　tongue。　

caravaggio　reflected　in　the　black　lake　of　his　eye。　he　goes　up　and　down　now　like　a　well　bucket。　there　is　blood　somehow　all　over　his　face。　he　is　flying　a　rotted　plane；　the　canvas　sheetings　on　the　wings　ripping　open　in　the　speed。　they　are　carrion。　how　far　back　had　the　palm　tree　been？　how　long　ago？　he　lifts　his　legs　out　of　the　oil；　but　they　are　so　heavy。　there　is　no　way　he　can　lift　them　again。　he　is　old。　suddenly。　tired　of　living　without　her。　he　cannot　lie　back　in　her　arms　and　trust　her　to　stand　guard　all　day　all　night　while　he　sleeps。　he　has　no　one。　he　is　exhausted　not　from　the　desert　but　from　solitude。　madox　gone。　the　woman　translated　into　leaves　and　twigs；　the　broken　glass　to　the　sky　like　a　jaw　above　him。　

he　slips　into　the　harness　of　the　oil…wet　parachute　and　pivots　upside　down；　breaking　free　of　glass；　wind　flinging　his　body　back。　then　his　legs　are　free　of　everything；　and　he　is　in　the　air；　bright；　not　knowing　why　he　is　bright　until　he　realizes　he　is　on　fire。　

hana　can　hear　the　voices　in　the　english　patient’s　room　and　stands　in　the　hall　trying　to　catch　what　they　are　saying。　

how　is　it？

wonderful！　now　it’s　my　turn。　

ahh！　splendid；　splendid。　

this　is　the　greatest　of　inventions。　

a　remarkable　find；　young　man。　

when　she　enters　she　sees　kip　and　the　english　patient　passing　a　can　of　condensed　milk　back　and　forth。　the　englishman　sucks　at　the　can；　then　moves　the　tin　away　from　his　face　to　chew　the　thick　fluid。　he　beams　at　kip；　who　seems　irritated　that　he　does　not　have　possession　of　it。　the　sapper　glances　at　hana　and　hovers　by　the　bedside；　snapping　his　fingers　a　couple　of　times；　managing　finally　to　pull　the　tin　away　from　the　dark　face。　

“we　have　discovered　a　shared　pleasure。　the　boy　and　i。　for　me　on　my　journeys　in　egypt；　for　him　in　india。”　“have　you　ever　had　condensed…milk　sandwiches？”　xthe　sapper　asks。　

hana　glances　back　and　forth　between　the　two　of　them。　

kip　peers　into　the　can。　“i’ll　get　another　one；”　he　says；　and　leaves　the　room。　

hana　looks　at　the　man　in　the　bed。　

“kip　and　i　are　both　international　bastards—born　in　one　place　and　choosing　to　live　elsewhere。　fighting　to　get　back　to　or　get　away　from　our　homelands　all　our　lives。　though　kip　doesn’t　recognize　that　yet。　that’s　why　we　get　on　so　well　together。”　in　the　kitchen　kip　stabs　two　holes　into　the　new　can　of　condensed　milk　with　his　bayonet；　which；　he　realizes；　is　now　used　more　and　more　for　only　this　purpose；　and　runs　back　upstairs　to　the　bedroom。　

“you　must　have　been　raised　elsewhere；”　the　sapper　says。　“the　english　don’t　suck　it　out　that　way。”　“for　some　years　i　lived　in　the　desert。　i　learned　everything　i　knew　there。　everything　that　ever　happened　to　me　that　was　important　happened　in　the　desert。”　he　smiles　at　hana。　

“one　feeds　me　morphine。　one　feeds　me　condensed　milk。　we　may　have　discovered　a　balanced　diet！”　he　turns　back　to　kip。　

“how　long　have　you　been　a　sapper？”　“five　years。　

mostly　in　　london。　

then　　italy。　

with　the　unexploded…bomb　units。”　“who　was　your　teacher？”　“an　englishman　in　woolwich。　he　was　considered　eccentric。”　“the　best　kind　of　teacher。　that　must　have　been　lord　suffolk。　did　you　meet　miss　morden？”　“yes。”　at　no　point　does　either　of　them　attempt　to　make　hana　fortable　in　their　conversation。　but　she　wants　to　know　about　his　teacher；　and　how　he　would　describe　him。　

“what　was　he　like；　kip？”　“he　worked　in　scientific　research。　he　was　head　of　an　experimental　unit。　miss　morden；　his　secretary；　was　always　with　him；　and　his　chauffeur；　mr。　fred　harts。　miss　morden　would　take　notes；　which　he　dictated　as　he　worked　on　a　bomb；　while　mr。　harts　helped　with　the　instruments。　he　was　a　brilliant　man。　they　were　called　the　holy　trinity。　they　were　blown　up；　all　three　of　them；　in

at　erith。”　　she　looks　at　the　sapper　leaning　against　the　wall；　one　foot　up　so　the　sole　of　his　boot　is　against　a　painted　bush。　no　expression　of　sadness；　nothing　to　interpret。　

some　men　had　unwound　their　last　knot　of　life　in　her　arms。　in　the　town　of　anghiari　she　had　lifted　live　men　to　discover　they　were　already　being　consumed　by　worms。　in　ortona　she　had　held　cigarettes　to　the　mouth　of　the　boy　with　no　arms。　nothing　had　stopped　her。　she　had　continued　her　duties　while　she　secretly　pulled　her　personal　self　back。　so　many　nurses　had　turned　into　emotionally　disturbed　handmaidens　of　the　war；　in　their　yellow…and…crimson　uniforms　with　bone　buttons。　

she　watches　kip　lean　his　head　back　against　the　wall　and　knows　the　neutral　look　on　his　face。　she　can　read　it。　





VII　In　Situ

小说
westbury；　england；　kirpal　singh　stood　where　the　horse’s　saddle　would　have　lain　across　its　back。　at　first　he　simply　stood　on　the　back　of　the　horse；　paused　and　waved　to　those　he　could　not　see　but　who　he　knew　would　be　watching。　lord　suffolk　watched　him　through　binoculars；　saw　the　young　man　wave；　both　arms　up　and　swaying。　

then　he　descended；　down　into　the　giant　white　chalk　horse　of　westbury；　into　the　whiteness　of　the　horse；　carved　into　the　hill。　

now　he　was　a　black　figure；　the　background　radicalizing　the　darkness　of　his　skin　and　his　khaki　uniform。　if　the　focus　on　the　binoculars　was　exact；　lord　suffolk　would　see　the　thin　line　of　crimson　lanyard　on　singh’s　shoulder　that　signalled　his　sapper　unit。　to　them　it　would　look　like　he　was　striding　down　a　paper　map　cut　out　in　the　shape　of　an　animal。　but　singh　was　conscious　only　of　his　boots　scuffing　the　rough　white　chalk　as　he　moved　down　the　slope。　

miss　morden；　behind　him；　was　also　ing　slowly　down　the　hill；　a　satchel　over　her　shoulder；　aiding　herself　with　a　rolled　umbrella。　she　stopped　ten　feet　above　the　horse；　unfurled　the　umbrella　and　sat　within　its　shade。　then　she　opened　up　her　notebooks。　

“can　you　hear　me？”　he　asked。　

“yes；　it’s　fine。”　she　rubbed　the　chalk　off　her　hands　onto　her　skirt　and　adjusted　her　glasses。　she　looked　up　into　the　distance　and；　as　singh　had　done；　waved　to　those　she　could　not　see。　

singh　liked　her。　she　was　in　effect　the　first　englishwoman　he　had　really　spoken　with　since　he　arrived　in　england。　most　of　his　time　had　been　spent　in　a　barracks　at　woolwich。　in　his　three　months　there　he　had　met　only　other　indians　and　english　officers。　a　woman　would　reply　to　a　question　in　the　naafi　canteen；　but　conversations　with　women　lasted　only　two　or　three　sentences。　

he　was　the　second　son。　the　oldest　son　would　go　into　the　army；　the　next　brother　would　be　a　doctor；　a　brother　after　that　would　bee　a　businessman。　an　old　tradition　in　his　family。　but　all　that　had　changed　with　the　war。　he　joined　a　sikh　regiment　andwas　shipped　to　england。　after　the　first　months　in　london　he　had　volunteered　himself　into　a　unit　of　engineers　that　had　been　set　up　to　deal　with　delayed…action　and　unex…ploded　bombs。　the　word　from　on　high　in　　was　naive：　“unexploded　bombs　are　considered　the　responsibility　of　the　home　office；　who　are　agreed　that　they　should　be　collected　by　a。r。p。　wardens　and　police　and　delivered　to　convenient　dumps；　where　members　of　the　armed　forces　will　in　due　course　detonate　them。”　it　was　not　until　　that　the　war　office　took　over　responsibility　for　bomb　disposal；　and　then；　in　turn；　handed　it　over　to　the　royal　engineers。　twenty…five　bomb　disposal　units　were　set　up。　they　lacked　technical　equipment　and　had　in　their　possession　only　hammers；　chisels　and　road…mending　tools。　there　were　no　specialists。　

a　bomb　is　a　bination　of　the　following　parts：

a　container　or　bomb　case。　

。　afuze。　

。　an　initiating　charge；　or　gaine。　

。　a　main　charge　of　high　explosive。　

。　superstructionalfittings—fins；　lifting　lugs；　kopfrings；　etc。　

eighty　percent　of　bombs　dropped　by　airplanes　over　britain　were　thin…walled；　general…purpose　bombs。　they　usually　ranged　from　a　hundred　pounds　to　a　thousand。　a　；ooo…pound　bomb　was　called　a　“hermann”　or　an　“esau。”　a　；ooo…pound　bomb　was　called　a　“satan。”　　singh；