22
第22节
When I came back, she had the pillow off her head all right--I knew she would--but she still wouldn't look at me, even though she was laying on her back and all. When I came around the side of the bed and sat down again, she turned her crazy face the other way. She was ostracizing the hell out of me. Just like the fencing team at Pencey when I left all the goddam foils on the subway.
我回来的时候，她倒是把枕头从头上拿掉了——我知道她会的——可她尽管仰卧着，却依旧不肯拿眼看我。等我走到床边坐下的时候，她竟把她的混帐脸儿转到另一边去了。她真跟我他妈的绝交了。就象潘西击剑队那样对待我，在我把所有那些混帐圆头剑丢在地铁上以后。
"How's old Hazel Weatherfield?" I said. "You write any new stories about her? I got that one you sent me right in my suitcase. It's down at the station. It's very good."
“老海士尔·威塞菲尔怎样啦？”我说。“你写了什么关于她的新故事没有？你上次寄给我的那个就放在我的手提箱里。手提箱寄存在车站里。那故事写的挺不错。”
"Daddy'll kill you."
“爸爸会要你的命。”
Boy, she really gets something on her mind when she gets something on her mind.
嘿，她有了什么念头，真是念念不忘。
"No, he won't. The worst he'll do, he'll give me hell again, and then he'll send me to that goddam military school. That's all he'll do to me. And in the first place, I won't even be around. I'll be away. I'll be--I'll probably be in Colorado on this ranch."
“不，他不会的。他至多再痛骂我一顿，然后把我送到那个混帐的军事学校里去。他至多这样对付我。可是首先，我甚至都不会在家。我早就到外地去了。我会到——我大概到科罗拉多的农场上去了。”
"Don't make me laugh. You can't even ride a horse."
“别让我笑你了。你连马都不会骑。”
"Who can't? Sure I can. Certainly I can. They can teach you in about two minutes," I said. "Stop picking at that." She was picking at that adhesive tape on her arm. "Who gave you that haircut?" I asked her. I just noticed what a stupid haircut somebody gave her. It was way too short.
“谁不会？我当然会骑。我确实会骑。他们在约莫两分钟之内就可以把你教会，”我说。“别去揭它了。”她还在搞她胳膊上的胶布。“谁给你理的发？”我问她。我刚注意到她理的头发式样混帐极了。短得要命。
"None of your business," she said. She can be very snotty sometimes. She can be quite snotty. "I suppose you failed in every single subject again," she said--very snotty. It was sort of funny, too, in a way. She sounds like a goddam schoolteacher sometimes, and she's only a little child.
“不要你管，”她说。她有时候很能怄人。她的确很能怄人。“我揣摩你又是哪门功课都不及格，”她说——非常怄人。说起来还真有点儿好笑。她有时候说起话来很象个混帐教师，而她还只是个很小的孩子哩。
"No, I didn't," I said. "I passed English." Then, just for the hell of it, I gave her a pinch on the behind. It was sticking way out in the breeze, the way she was laying on her side. She has hardly any behind. I didn't do it hard, but she tried to hit my hand anyway, but she missed.
“不，不是的，”我说。“我的英文及格了。”接着，我一时高兴，就用手在她的屁股上戳了一下。她侧身躺着，正好把屁股撅得老高。她的屁股还小得很哩。我戳的并不重，可她想要打我的手，只是没打着。
Then all of a sudden, she said, "Oh, why did you do it?" She meant why did I get the ax again. It made me sort of sad, the way she said it.
接着她突然说：“哦，你干吗要这样呢？”她是说我怎么又给开除了。她这么一说，又让我心里难过起来。
"Oh, God, Phoebe, don't ask me. I'm sick of everybody asking me that," I said. "A million reasons why. It was one of the worst schools I ever went to. It was full of phonies. And mean guys. You never saw so many mean guys in your life. For instance, if you were having a bull session in somebody's room, and somebody wanted to come in, nobody'd let them in if they were some dopey, pimply guy. Everybody was always locking their door when somebody wanted to come in. And they had this goddam secret fraternity that I was too yellow not to join. There was this one pimply, boring guy, Robert Ackley, that wanted to get in. He kept trying to join, and they wouldn't let him. Just because he was boring and pimply. I don't even feel like talking about it. It was a stinking school. Take my word."
“哦，天哪，菲芘，别问我了。人人都问我这问题，真让我烦死啦，”我说。“有一百万个原因。这是个最最糟糕的学校，里面全是伪君子。还有卑鄙的家伙。你这一辈子再也没见过那么多卑鄙的家伙。比方说，你要是跟几个人在谁的房间里聊天，要是又有别的什么人要进来，而来的又是个傻里傻气的、王八样的家伙，那就谁也不会给他开门。人人都把自己的房门锁起来，不让别人进来。他们还有他妈的那种混帐的秘密团体，我自己也是胆子太小，不敢不加入。有个王八样的讨人厌的家伙，名叫罗伯特·阿克莱的，很想加入。他一直想加入，可他们不让。只是因为他象个王八，讨人厌。我甚至都不想谈它。那真是个糟糕透顶的学校。你相信我的话好了。”
Old Phoebe didn't say anything, but she was listen ing. I could tell by the back of her neck that she was listening. She always listens when you tell her something. And the funny part is she knows, half the time, what the hell you're talking about. She really does.
老菲芘一声不响，可她在仔细听。我一看她的后脑勺就知道她是在仔细听。只要你跟她说些什么，她总是仔细听着。好笑的是，有一半时间她都懂得你他妈的在说些什么。她的确懂得。
I kept talking about old Pencey. I sort of felt like it.
我继续谈老潘西里的事。我不知怎的兴致上来了。
"Even the couple of nice teachers on the faculty, they were phonies, too," I said. "There was this one old guy, Mr. Spencer. His wife was always giving you hot chocolate and all that stuff, and they were really pretty nice. But you should've seen him when the headmaster, old Thurmer, came in the history class and sat down in the back of the room. He was always coming in and sitting down in the back of the room for about a half an hour. He was supposed to be incognito or something. After a while, he'd be sitting back there and then he'd start interrupting what old Spencer was saying to crack a lot of corny jokes. Old Spencer'd practically kill himself chuckling and smiling and all, like as if Thurmer was a goddam prince or something."
“教职员里虽有那么一两个好教师，可连他们也都是假模假式的伪君子，”我说。“就拿那个老家伙斯宾塞先生说吧。他太太老请你喝热巧克力什么的，他们为人的确挺不错。可他上历史课的时候，只要校长老绥摩进来在教室后面一坐下，你再瞧瞧他的那副模样儿。老绥摩总是在上课的时候进来，在教室后面坐那么半个小时左右。他大概算是微行察访什么的。过了一会儿，他就会坐在那儿打断老斯宾塞的话，说一些粗俗的笑话。老斯宾塞简直连命都不要了，马上露出满面笑容，吃吃地笑个不停，就好象绥摩是个混帐王子什么的。”
"Don't swear so much."
“别老是咒骂啦。”
"It would've made you puke, I swear it would," I said. "Then, on Veterans' Day. They have this day, Veterans' Day, that all the jerks that graduated from Pencey around 1776 come back and walk all over the place, with their wives and children and everybody. You should've seen this one old guy that was about fifty. What he did was, he came in our room and knocked on the door and asked us if we'd mind if he used the bathroom. The bathroom was at the end of the corridor--I don't know why the hell he asked us. You know what he said? He said he wanted to see if his initials were still in one of the can doors. What he did, he carved his goddam stupid sad old initials in one of the can doors about ninety years ago, and he wanted to see if they were still there. So my roommate and I walked him down to the bathroom and all, and we had to stand there while he looked for his initials in all the can doors. He kept talking to us the whole time, telling us how when he was at Pencey they were the happiest days of his life, and giving us a lot of advice for the future and all. Boy, did he depress me! I don't mean he was a bad guy--he wasn't. But you don't have to be a bad guy to depress somebody--you can be a good guy and do it. All you have to do to depress somebody is give them a lot of phony advice while you're looking for your initials in some can door--that's all you have to do. I don't know. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't been all out of breath. He was all out of breath from just climbing up the stairs, and the whole time he was looking for his initials he kept breathing hard, with his nostrils all funny and sad, while he kept telling Stradlater and I to get all we could out of Pencey. God, Phoebe! I can't explain. I just didn't like anything that was happening at Pencey. I can't explain."
“你见了准会呕出来，我发誓你一定会，”我说。“还有，在“返校日”那天。他们有那么个日子，叫‘返校日’，那天所有在一七七六年左右打潘西毕业出去的傻瓜蛋全都回到学校来了，在学校里到处走，还带着自己的老婆孩子什么的。可惜你没看见那个约莫五十岁的老家伙。你猜他干了什么，他一径来到我们房间里敲我们的门，问我们是不是能让他用一下浴室。浴室是在走廊的尽头——我真他妈的不知道他干吗要来问我们。你知道他说了些什么？他说他想看看他自己名字的缩写是不是还在一扇厕所门上。他约莫在九十年前把他妈的那个混账傻名字的缩写刻在一扇厕所门上，现在他想看看那缩写是不是还在那儿。因此我跟我的同房间的那位一起陪着他走到浴室里，他就在一扇扇厕所门上找他名字的缩写，我们不得不站在那儿陪着他。在整个时间里他还滔滔不绝地跟我们讲着话，告诉我们说在潘西念书的那段时间怎样是他一辈子中最快乐的日子，他还给我们许许多多有关未来的忠告。嘿，他真让我心里烦极了！我倒不是说他是个坏人——他不是坏人。可是不一定是坏人才能让人心烦——你可以是个好人，却同时让人心烦。要人心烦很容易，你只要在哪扇门上找自己名字的缩写，同时给人许许多多假模假式的忠告——你只要这样做就成。我不知道。说不定他要不是那么呼噜呼噜直喘气，情形也许会好些。他刚走上楼梯，累得呼噜呼噜直喘气，他一边在门上找自己名字的缩写，一边直喘气，鼻孔那么一张一合的十分可笑，一边却还要跟我和斯特拉德莱塔讲话，要我们在潘西学到尽可能多的东西。天哪，菲芘！我解释不清楚。我就是不喜欢在潘西发生的一切。我解释不清楚。”
Old Phoebe said something then, but I couldn't hear her. She had the side of her mouth right smack on the pillow, and I couldn't hear her.
老菲芘这时说了句什么话，可我听不清。她把一个嘴角整个儿压在枕头上，所以我听不清她说的话。
"What?" I said. "Take your mouth away. I can't hear you with your mouth that way."
“什么？”我说。“把你的嘴拿开。你这样把嘴压在被头上，我听不清你说的话。”
"You don't like anything that's happening."
“你不喜欢正在发生的任何事情。”
It made me even more depressed when she said that.
她这么一说，我心里不由得更烦了。
"Yes I do. Yes I do. Sure I do. Don't say that. Why the hell do you say that?"
“我喜欢。我喜欢。我当然喜欢。别说这种话。你干吗要说这种话呢？”
"Because you don't. You don't like any schools. You don't like a million things. You don't."
“因为你不喜欢。你不喜欢任何学校。你不喜欢千百万样东西。你不喜欢。”
"I do! That's where you're wrong--that's exactly where you're wrong! Why the hell do you have to say that?" I said. Boy, was she depressing me.
“我喜欢！你错就错在这里——你完完全全错在这里！你他妈的为什么非要说这种话不可？”我说。嘿，她真让我心里烦极了。
"Because you don't," she said. "Name one thing."
“因为你不喜欢，”她说。“说一样东西让我听听。”
"One thing? One thing I like?" I said. "Okay."
“说一样东西？一样我喜欢的东西？”我说。“好吧。”
The trouble was, I couldn't concentrate too hot. Sometimes it's hard to concentrate.
问题是，我没法集中思想。有时候简直很难集中思想。
"One thing I like a lot you mean?" I asked her.
“一样我非常喜欢的东西，你是说？”我问她。
She didn't answer me, though. She was in a cockeyed position way the hell over the other side of the bed. She was about a thousand miles away. "C'mon answer me," I said. "One thing I like a lot, or one thing I just like?"
可她没回答我。她躺在床的另一边，斜着眼看我。她离开我总有那么一千英里。“喂，回答我，”我说。“是一样我非常喜欢的东西呢，还光是我喜欢的东西？”
"You like a lot."
“你非常喜欢的。”
"All right," I said. But the trouble was, I couldn't concentrate. About all I could think of were those two nuns that went around collecting dough in those beatup old straw baskets. Especially the one with the glasses with those iron rims. And this boy I knew at Elkton Hills. There was this one boy at Elkton Hills, named James Castle, that wouldn't take back something he said about this very conceited boy, Phil Stabile. James Castle called him a very conceited guy, and one of Stabile's lousy friends went and squealed on him to Stabile. So Stabile, with about six other dirty bastards, went down to James Castle's room and went in and locked the goddam door and tried to make him take back what he said, but he wouldn't do it. So they started in on him. I won't even tell you what they did to him--it's too repulsive--but he still wouldn't take it back, old James Castle. And you should've seen him. He was a skinny little weak-looking guy, with wrists about as big as pencils. Finally, what he did, instead of taking back what he said, he jumped out the window. I was in the shower and all, and even I could hear him land outside. But I just thought something fell out the window, a radio or a desk or something, not a boy or anything. Then I heard everybody running through the corridor and down the stairs, so I put on my bathrobe and I ran downstairs too, and there was old James Castle laying right on the stone steps and all. He was dead, and his teeth, and blood, were all over the place, and nobody would even go near him. He had on this turtleneck sweater I'd lent him. All they did with the guys that were in the room with him was expel them. They didn't even go to jail.
“好吧，”我说。不过问题是，我没法集中思想。我能想起的只是那两个拿着破篮子到处募捐的修女。尤其是戴着铁边眼镜的那个。还有我在爱尔克敦·希尔斯念书时认识的那个学生。爱尔克敦·希尔斯的那个学生名叫詹姆士·凯瑟尔，他说了另外一个十分自高自大的、名叫菲尔·斯戴比尔的学生一句不好听的话，却不肯收回他的话。詹姆士·凯瑟尔说他这人太自高自大，给斯戴比尔的一个混帐朋友听见了，就到斯戴比尔跟前去搬弄是非。于是斯戴比尔带了另外六个下流的杂种，走进詹姆士·凯瑟尔的房间，锁上那扇混帐房门，想叫他收回他自己所说的话，可他不肯收回。因此他们跟他动起手来。我甚至都不愿告诉你他们怎么对待他的——说出来实在太恶心了——可他依旧不肯收回他的话，那个老詹姆士·凯瑟尔。可惜你没见过他这个人，他长得又瘦又小，十分衰弱，手腕就跟笔管那么细。最后，他不但不肯收回他的话，反而打窗口跳出去了。我正在洗淋浴什么的，连我也听见他摔在外面地上的声音。可我还以为是什么东西掉在窗外了，一架收音机或者一张书桌什么的，没想到是人。接着我听见大伙儿全都涌进走廊奔下楼梯，因此我穿好浴衣也奔下楼去，看见老詹姆士·凯瑟尔直挺挺地躺在石级上面。他已经死了，到处都是牙齿和血，没有一个人甚至敢走近他。他身上还穿着我借给他的那件窄领运动衫。那些到他房间里迫害他的家伙只是给开除出学校。他们甚至没进监牢。
That was about all I could think of, though. Those two nuns I saw at breakfast and this boy James Castle I knew at Elkton Hills. The funny part is, I hardly even know James Castle, if you want to know the truth. He was one of these very quiet guys. He was in my math class, but he was way over on the other side of the room, and he hardly ever got up to recite or go to the blackboard or anything. Some guys in school hardly ever get up to recite or go to the blackboard. I think the only time I ever even had a conversation with him was that time he asked me if he could borrow this turtleneck sweater I had. I damn near dropped dead when he asked me, I was so surprised and all. I remember I was brushing my teeth, in the can, when he asked me. He said his cousin was coming in to take him for a drive and all. I didn't even know he knew I had a turtleneck sweater. All I knew about him was that his name was always right ahead of me at roll call. Cabel, R., Cabel, W., Castle, Caulfield--I can still remember it. If you want to know the truth, I almost didn't lend him my sweater. Just because I didn't know him too well.
我当时能想到的就是这一些。那两个跟我一块儿吃早饭的修女，还有那个我在爱尔克敦·希尔斯念书时认识的学生詹姆士·凯瑟尔。好笑的是，我跟詹姆士·凯瑟尔甚至都不熟，我老实告诉你说。他是那种极沉默的人。他跟我一起上数学课，可他坐在教室的另一头，平时从来不站起来背书，或者到黑板上去做习题。学校里有些人简直从来不站起来背书或者到黑板上去做习题。我想我跟他唯一的一次谈话，就是他来向我借那件窄领运动衫。他向我开口的时候，我吃惊得差点儿倒在地板上死了。我记得我当时正在盥洗室里刷牙，他过来向我开口了。他说他的堂兄要来找他，开汽车带他出去。我甚至都不知道他知道我有一件窄领运动衫。我只知道点名时候他的名字就在我前面。凯伯尔，罗.,凯伯尔，威.,凯瑟尔,考尔菲德一—我还记得很清楚。我老实跟你说，我当时差点儿没肯把我的运动衫借给他。原因是我跟他不太熟。
"What?" I said to old Phoebe. She said something to me, but I didn't hear her.
“什么？”我跟老菲芘说。她跟我说了些什么，可我没听清楚。
"You can't even think of one thing."
“你连一样东西都想不出来。”
"Yes, I can. Yes, I can."
“嗯，我想得出来。嗯，我想得出来。”
"Well, do it, then."
“呃，那你说出来。”
"I like Allie," I said. "And I like doing what I'm doing right now. Sitting here with you, and talking, and thinking about stuff, and--"
“我喜欢艾里，”我说。“我也喜欢我现在所做的事。跟你一起坐在这儿，聊聊天，想着一些玩艺儿——”
"Allie's dead--You always say that! If somebody's dead and everything, and in Heaven, then it isn't really--"
“艾里已经死啦——你老这么说的！要是一个人死了，进了天堂，那就很难说——”
"I know he's dead! Don't you think I know that? I can still like him, though, can't I? Just because somebody's dead, you don't just stop liking them, for God's sake--especially if they were about a thousand times nicer than the people you know that're alive and all."
“我知道他已经死啦！你以为我连这个也不知道？可我依旧可以喜欢他，对不对？不可能因为一个人死了，你就从此不再喜欢他，老天爷——尤其是那人比你认识的那些活人要好一千倍。”
Old Phoebe didn't say anything. When she can't think of anything to say, she doesn't say a goddam word.
老菲芘什么话也没说。她要是想不起有什么好说的，就他妈的一句话也不说。
"Anyway, I like it now," I said. "I mean right now. Sitting here with you and just chewing the fat and horsing--"
“不管怎样，我喜欢现在这样，”我说。“我是说就象现在这样。跟你坐在一块儿，聊聊天，逗着——”
"That isn't anything really!"
“这不是什么真正的东西！”
"It is so something really! Certainly it is! Why the hell isn't it? People never think anything is anything really. I'm getting goddam sick of it,"
“这是真正的东西！当然是的！他妈的为什么不是？人们就是不把真正的东西当东西看待。我他妈的别这都腻烦透啦。”
"Stop swearing. All right, name something else. Name something you'd like to be. Like a scientist. Or a lawyer or something."
“别咒骂啦。好吧，再说些别的。说说你将来喜欢当个什么。喜欢当一个科学家呢，还是一个律师什么的。”
"I couldn't be a scientist. I'm no good in science."
“我当不了科学家。我不懂科学。”
"Well, a lawyer--like Daddy and all."
“呃，当个律师———跟爸爸一样。”
"Lawyers are all right, I guess--but it doesn't appeal to me," I said. "I mean they're all right if they go around saving innocent guys' lives all the time, and like that, but you don't do that kind of stuff if you're a lawyer. All you do is make a lot of dough and play golf and play bridge and buy cars and drink Martinis and look like a hot-shot. And besides. Even if you did go around saving guys' lives and all, how would you know if you did it because you really wanted to save guys' lives, or because you did it because what you really wanted to do was be a terrific lawyer, with everybody slapping you on the back and congratulating you in court when the goddam trial was over, the reporters and everybody, the way it is in the dirty movies? How would you know you weren't being a phony? The trouble is, you wouldn't."
“律师倒是不错，我揣摩——可是不合我的胃口，”我说。“我是说他们要是老出去搭救受冤枉的人的性命，那倒是不错，可你一当了律师，就不干那样的事了。你只是挣许许多多钱，打高尔夫球，打桥牌，买汽车，喝马提尼酒，摆臭架子。再说，即便你真的出去救人性命了，你怎么知道这样做到底是因为你真的要救人性命呢，还是因为你真正的动机是想当一个红律师，只等审判一结束，那些记者什么的就会全向你涌来，人人在法庭上拍你的背，向你道贺，就象那些下流电影里演出的那样？你怎么知道自己不是个伪君子？问题是，你不知道。”
I'm not too sure old Phoebe knew what the hell I was talking about. I mean she's only a little child and all. But she was listening, at least. If somebody at least listens, it's not too bad.
我说的那些话老菲芘到底听懂了没有，我不敢十分肯定。我是说她毕竟还是个小孩子。不过她至少在好好听着。只要对方至少在好好听着，那就不错了。
"Daddy's going to kill you. He's going to kill you," she said.
“爸爸会要你的命。他会要你的命，”她说。
I wasn't listening, though. I was thinking about something else--something crazy. "You know what I'd like to be?" I said. "You know what I'd like to be? I mean if I had my goddam choice?"
可我没在听她说话。我在想一些别的事一——一些异想天开的事。“你知道我将来喜欢当什么吗？”我说。“你知道我将来喜欢当什么吗？我是说将来要是能他妈的让我自由选择的话？”
"What? Stop swearing."
“什么？别咒骂啦。”
"You know that song 'If a body catch a body comin' through the rye'? I'd like--"
“你可知道那首歌吗，‘你要是在麦田里捉到了我’？我将来喜欢——”
"It's 'If a body meet a body coming through the rye'!" old Phoebe said. "It's a poem. By Robert Burns."
“是‘你要是在麦田里遇到了我’！”老菲芘说。“是一首诗。罗伯特·彭斯写的。”
"I know it's a poem by Robert Burns."
“我知道那是罗伯特·彭斯写的一首涛。”
She was right, though. It is "If a body meet a body coming through the rye." I didn't know it then, though.
她说的对。那的确是“你要是在麦田里遇到了我”。可我当时并不知道。
"I thought it was 'If a body catch a body,'" I said. "Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around--nobody big, I mean--except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff--I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be. I know it's crazy."
“我还以为是‘你要是在麦田里捉到了我’呢，”我说。“不管怎样，我老是在想象，有那么一群小孩子在一大块麦田里做游戏。几千几万个小孩子，附近没有一个人——没有一个大人，我是说——除了我。我呢，就站在那混帐的悬崖边。我的职务是在那儿守望，要是有哪个孩子往悬崖边奔来，我就把他捉住——我是说孩子们都在狂奔，也不知道自己是在往哪儿跑，我得从什么地方出来，把他们捉住。我整天就干这样的事。我只想当个。我知道这有点异想天开，可我真正喜欢干的就是这个。我知道这不象话。”
Old Phoebe didn't say anything for a long time. Then, when she said something, all she said was, "Daddy's going to kill you."
老菲芘有好一会儿没吭声。后来她开口了，可她只说了句：“爸爸会要你的命。”
"I don't give a damn if he does," I said. I got up from the bed then, because what I wanted to do, I wanted to phone up this guy that was my English teacher at Elkton Hills, Mr. Antolini. He lived in New York now. He quit Elkton Hills. He took this job teaching English at N.Y.U. "I have to make a phone call," I told Phoebe. "I'll be right back. Don't go to sleep." I didn't want her to go to sleep while I was in the living room. I knew she wouldn't but I said it anyway, just to make sure.
“他要我的命就让他要好了，我才他妈的不在乎呢，”我说着，就从床上起来，因为我想打个电话给我的老师安多里尼先生，他是我在爱尔克敦·希尔斯时候的英文教师，现在已经离开了爱尔克敦·希尔斯，住在纽约，在纽约大学教英文。“我要去打个电话，”我对菲芘说，“马上就回来。你可别睡着。”我不愿意她在我去客厅的时候睡着。我知道她不会，可我还是叮嘱了一番，好更放心些。
While I was walking toward the door, old Phoebe said, "Holden!" and I turned around.
我正朝着门边走去，忽听得老菲芘喊了声“霍尔顿！”我马上转过身去。
She was sitting way up in bed. She looked so pretty. "I'm taking belching lessons from this girl, Phyllis Margulies," she said. "Listen."
她直挺挺地躺在床上，看去漂亮极了。“我正在跟那个叫菲丽丝·玛格里斯的姑娘学打嗝儿，”她说。“听着。”
I listened, and I heard something, but it wasn't much. "Good," I said. Then I went out in the living room and called up this teacher I had, Mr. Antolini.
我仔细听着，好象听见了什么，可是听不出什么名堂来。“好，”我说。接着我出去到客厅里，打了个电话给我的老师安多里尼先生。