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雙語(yǔ)《馬丁·伊登》 第三十三章

所屬教程:譯林版·馬丁·伊登

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2022年07月15日

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CHAPTER XXXIII

Martin was steadily losing his battle. Economize as he would, the earnings from hack-work did not balance expenses. Thanksgiving found him with his black suit in pawn and unable to accept the Morses’ invitation to dinner. Ruth was not made happy by his reason for not coming, and the corresponding effect on him was one of desperation. He told her that he would come, after all; that he would go over to San Francisco, to the Transcontinental office,collect the five dollars due him,and with it redeem his suit of clothes.

In the morning he borrowed ten cents from Maria. He would have borrowed it, by preference, from Brissenden, but that erratic individual had disappeared. Two weeks had passed since Martin had seen him, and he vainly cudgelled his brains for some cause of offence. The ten cents carried Martin across the ferry to San Francisco, and as he walked up Market Street he speculated upon his predicament in case he failed to collect the money. There would then be no way for him to return to Oakland, and he knew no one in San Francisco from whom to borrow another ten cents.

The door to the Transcontinental office was ajar,and Martin,in the act of opening it, was brought to a sudden pause by a loud voice from within, which exclaimed:—

“But that is not the question, Mr. Ford.” (Ford, Martin knew, from his correspondence, to be the editor’s name.) “The question is, are you prepared to pay?—cash, and cash down, I mean? I am not interested in the prospects of the Transcontinental and what you expect to make it next year.What I want is to be paid for what I do. And I tell you, right now, the Christmas Transcontinental don’t go to press till I have the money in my hand.Good day. When you get the money, come and see me.”

The door jerked open, and the man flung past Martin, with an angry countenance and went down the corridor, muttering curses and clenching his fists. Martin decided not to enter immediately, and lingered in the hallways for a quarter of an hour. Then he shoved the door open and walked in. It was a new experience, the first time he had been inside an editorial office. Cards evidently were not necessary in that office, for the boy carried word to an inner room that there was a man who wanted to see Mr. Ford. Returning, the boy beckoned him from halfway across the room and led him to the private office, the editorial sanctum. Martin’s first impression was of the disorder and cluttered confusion of the room. Next he noticed a bewhiskered, youthful-looking man, sitting at a roll-top desk, who regarded him curiously. Martin marvelled at the calm repose of his face. It was evident that the squabble with the printer had not affected his equanimity.

“I—I am Martin Eden,” Martin began the conversation. (“And I want my five dollars,” was what he would have liked to say. )

But this was his first editor, and under the circumstances he did not desire to scare him too abruptly. To his surprise, Mr. Ford leaped into the air with a “You don’t say so!” and the next moment, with both hands, was shaking Martin’s hand effusively.

“Can’t say how glad I am to see you, Mr. Eden. Often wondered what you were like.”

Here he held Martin off at arm’s length and ran his beaming eyes over Martin’s second-best suit, which was also his worst suit, and which was ragged and past repair, though the trousers showed the careful crease he had put in with Maria’s flat-irons.

“I confess, though, I conceived you to be a much older man than you are. Your story, you know, showed such breadth, and vigor, such maturity and depth of thought. A masterpiece, that story—I knew it when I had read the first half-dozen lines. Let me tell you how I first read it. But no; first let me introduce you to the staff.”

Still talking, Mr. Ford led him into the general office, where he introduced him to the associate editor, Mr. White, a slender, frail little man whose hand seemed strangely cold, as if he were suffering from a chill, and whose whiskers were sparse and silky.

“And Mr. Ends, Mr. Eden. Mr. Ends is our business manager, you know.”

Martin found himself shaking hands with a cranky-eyed, bald-headed man, whose face looked youthful enough from what little could be seen of it, for most of it was covered by a snow-white beard, carefully trimmed—by his wife, who did it on Sundays, at which times she also shaved the back of his neck.

The three men surrounded Martin, all talking admiringly and at once, until it seemed to him that they were talking against time for a wager.

“We often wondered why you didn’t call,” Mr. White was saying.

“I didn’t have the carfare, and I live across the Bay,” Martin answered bluntly, with the idea of showing them his imperative need for the money.

Surely, he thought to himself, my glad rags in themselves are eloquent advertisement of my need. Time and again, whenever opportunity offered, he hinted about the purpose of his business. But his admirers’ ears were deaf. They sang his praises, told him what they had thought of his story at first sight, what they subsequently thought, what their wives and families thought;but not one hint did they breathe of intention to pay him for it.

“Did I tell you how I first read your story?” Mr. Ford said. “Of course I didn’t. I was coming west from New York, and when the train stopped at Ogden, the train-boy on the new run brought aboard the current number of the Transcontinental.”

My God! Martin thought; you can travel in a Pullman while I starve for the paltry five dollars you owe me. A wave of anger rushed over him. The wrong done him by the Transcontinental loomed colossal, for strong upon him were all the dreary months of vain yearning, of hunger and privation, and his present hunger awoke and gnawed at him, reminding him that he had eaten nothing since the day before, and little enough then. For the moment he saw red. These creatures were not even robbers. They were sneak-thieves. By lies and broken promises they had tricked him out of his story. Well, he would show them. And a great resolve surged into his will to the effect that he would not leave the office until he got his money. He remembered, if he did not get it, that there was no way for him to go back to Oakland. He controlled himself with an effort, but not before the wolfish expression of his face had awed and perturbed them.

They became more voluble than ever. Mr. Ford started anew to tell how he had first read “The Ring of Bells,” and Mr. Ends at the same time was striving to repeat his niece’s appreciation of “The Ring of Bells,” said niece being a school-teacher in Alameda.

“I’ll tell you what I came for,” Martin said finally. “To be paid for that story all of you like so well. Five dollars, I believe, is what you promised me would be paid on publication.”

Mr. Ford, with an expression on his mobile features of mediate and happy acquiescence, started to reach for his pocket, then turned suddenly to Mr. Ends, and said that he had left his money home. That Mr. Ends resented this, was patent; and Martin saw the twitch of his arm as if to protect his trousers pocket. Martin knew that the money was there.

“I am sorry,” said Mr. Ends, “but I paid the printer not an hour ago, and he took my ready change. It was careless of me to be so short; but the bill was not yet due, and the printer’s request, as a favor, to make an immediate advance, was quite unexpected.”

Both men looked expectantly at Mr. White, but that gentleman laughed and shrugged his shoulders. His conscience was clean at any rate. He had come into the Transcontinental to learn magazine-literature,instead of which he had principally learned finance. The Transcontinental owed him four months’ salary, and he knew that the printer must be appeased before the associate editor.

“It’s rather absurd, Mr. Eden, to have caught us in this shape,” Mr. Ford preambled airily. “All carelessness, I assure you. But I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll mail you a check the first thing in the morning. You have Mr. Eden’s address, haven’t you, Mr. Ends?”

Yes, Mr. Ends had the address, and the check would be mailed the first thing in the morning. Martin’s knowledge of banks and checks was hazy, but he could see no reason why they should not give him the check on this day just as well as on the next.

“Then it is understood, Mr. Eden, that we’ll mail you the check tomorrow?” Mr. Ford said.

“I need the money today,” Martin answered stolidly.

“The unfortunate circumstances—if you had chanced here any other day,” Mr. Ford began suavely, only to be interrupted by Mr. Ends, whose cranky eyes justified themselves in his shortness of temper.

“Mr. Ford has already explained the situation,” he said with asperity.“And so have I. The check will be mailed—”

“I also have explained,” Martin broke in, “and I have explained that I want the money today.”

He had felt his pulse quicken a trifle at the business manager’s brusqueness, and upon him he kept an alert eye, for it was in that gentleman’s trousers pocket that he divined the Transcontinental’s ready cash was reposing.

“It is too bad—” Mr. Ford began.

But at that moment, with an impatient movement, Mr. Ends turned as if about to leave the room. At the same instant Martin sprang for him, clutching him by the throat with one hand in such fashion that Mr. Ends’ snow-white beard, still maintaining its immaculate trimness, pointed ceilingward at an angle of forty-five degrees. To the horror of Mr. White and Mr. Ford, they saw their business manager shaken like an Astrakhan rug.

“Dig up, you venerable discourager of rising young talent!” Martin exhorted. “Dig up, or I’ll shake it out of you, even if it’s all in nickels.” Then, to the two affrighted onlookers: “Keep away! If you interfere, somebody’s liable to get hurt.”

Mr. Ends was choking, and it was not until the grip on his throat was eased that he was able to signify his acquiescence in the digging-up programme. All together, after repeated digs, its trousers pocket yielded four dollars and fifteen cents.

“Inside out with it,” Martin commanded.

An additional ten cents fell out. Martin counted the result of his raid a second time to make sure.

“You next!” he shouted at Mr. Ford. “I want seventy-five cents more.”

Mr. Ford did not wait, but ransacked his pockets, with the result of sixty cents.

“Sure that is all?” Martin demanded menacingly, possessing himself of it. “What have you got in your vest pockets?”

In token of his good faith, Mr. Ford turned two of his pockets inside out. A strip of cardboard fell to the floor from one of them. He recovered it and was in the act of returning it, when Martin cried:—

“What’s that?—A ferry ticket? Here, give it to me. It’s worth ten cents. I’ll credit you with it. I’ve now got four dollars and ninety-five cents, including the ticket. Five cents is still due me.”

He looked fiercely at Mr. White, and found that fragile creature in the act of handing him a nickel.

“Thank you,” Martin said, addressing them collectively. “I wish you a good day.”

“Robber!” Mr. Ends snarled after him.

“Sneak-thief!” Martin retorted, slamming the door as he passed out.

Martin was elated—so elated that when he recollected that The Hornet owed him fifteen dollars for “The Peri and the Pearl,” he decided forthwith to go and collect it.But The Hornet was run by a set of clean-shaven,strapping young men, frank buccaneers who robbed everything and everybody, not excepting one another. After some breakage of the office furniture, the editor (an ex-college athlete), ably assisted by the business manager, an advertising agent, and the porter, succeeded in removing Martin from the office and in accelerating, by initial impulse, his descent of the first flight of stairs.

“Come again, Mr. Eden; glad to see you any time,” they laughed down at him from the landing above.

Martin grinned as he picked himself up.

“Phew!”he murmured back.“The Transcontinental crowd were nannygoats, but you fellows are a lot of prize-fighters.”

More laughter greeted this.

“I must say, Mr. Eden,” the editor of The Hornet called down, “that for a poet you can go some yourself. Where did you learn that right cross—if I may ask?”

“Where you learned that half-Nelson,” Martin answered. “Anyway, you’re going to have a black eye.”

“I hope your neck doesn’t stiffen up,” the editor wished solicitously:“What do you say we all go out and have a drink on it—not the neck, of course, but the little rough-house?”

“I’ll go you if I lose,” Martin accepted.

And robbers and robbed drank together, amicably agreeing that the battle was to the strong, and that the fifteen dollars for “The Peri and the Pearl”belonged by right to The Hornet’s editorial staff.

第三十三章

馬丁在拼戰(zhàn)當(dāng)中一輸再輸。隨他怎樣精打細(xì)算,賣作品得來(lái)的錢都不夠和支出保持平衡。感恩節(jié)來(lái)臨之際,他把黑西裝送入了當(dāng)鋪,這下不能應(yīng)邀到摩斯家赴宴了。他推辭的理由叫露絲很不高興,由此把他逼到了山窮水盡的地步。他跟露絲說(shuō),他一定去赴宴;還說(shuō)他要到舊金山去,找《橫貫大陸月刊》索要他那五塊錢的稿酬,然后把西裝贖回來(lái)。

早晨,他問(wèn)瑪麗亞借了一角錢。他原來(lái)想向勃力森登借錢,可那個(gè)行蹤不定的家伙不見(jiàn)了蹤影。馬丁已經(jīng)兩個(gè)星期沒(méi)見(jiàn)他的面了,絞盡腦汁也沒(méi)想出自己到底是哪些地方得罪了他。馬丁用借來(lái)的這一角錢搭渡船來(lái)到舊金山,邊在市場(chǎng)街上走,邊思想著萬(wàn)一要不到稿酬,自己的處境將會(huì)多么艱難。到了那時(shí),他連奧克蘭也回不去了,因?yàn)樗谂f金山一個(gè)熟人也沒(méi)有,沒(méi)辦法再借到一角錢。

《橫貫大陸月刊》編輯部的房門(mén)微微開(kāi)著,馬丁正要推門(mén)進(jìn)去,里邊傳來(lái)一陣大喊大叫,使他猛地收住了腳步。只聽(tīng)有人嚷嚷道:“可問(wèn)題不在這里,福特先生。”(馬丁從收到的信件中知道,福特是那位編輯的名字。)“問(wèn)題在于,你打算不打算付錢?——我是說(shuō)付現(xiàn)金,馬上付清。對(duì)于《橫貫大陸月刊》的前景以及你來(lái)年的打算,我不感興趣。我只想拿到我的工錢?,F(xiàn)在跟你把話說(shuō)清楚,除非我拿到錢,否則《橫貫大陸月刊》的圣誕號(hào)就別指望排印。再見(jiàn),有錢的時(shí)候再去找我吧。”

房門(mén)猛地開(kāi)了,那人怒容滿面,嘴里罵罵咧咧,緊攥著拳頭,沖過(guò)馬丁身邊,順著甬道走了。馬丁決定不馬上進(jìn)去,就在門(mén)口徘徊了有一刻鐘的時(shí)間,然后才推開(kāi)門(mén)走了進(jìn)去。這是一種新鮮的體驗(yàn),因?yàn)樗郧皬臎](méi)踏入過(guò)編輯部的門(mén)檻。在這個(gè)編輯部顯然不需要名片,只見(jiàn)一位雜役跑入里間屋通報(bào)有人要見(jiàn)福特先生。雜役出來(lái)時(shí),隔著半間屋子召他過(guò)去,把他引入密室——編輯的私室。馬丁產(chǎn)生的第一印象就是:屋里亂七八糟,沒(méi)一點(diǎn)秩序。緊接著,他注意到一位長(zhǎng)著絡(luò)腮胡子但很面嫩的人正坐在一張活動(dòng)蓋面的寫(xiě)字臺(tái)旁,好奇地打量著他。馬丁見(jiàn)他神態(tài)安詳,不禁覺(jué)得納悶,跟印刷商的爭(zhēng)執(zhí)看來(lái)并沒(méi)有影響他平靜的心緒。

“我——我叫馬丁·伊登?!瘪R丁啟口說(shuō)道。(他真想直言:“我要取回我那五塊錢的稿費(fèi)。”)

然而,這是他見(jiàn)到的第一個(gè)編輯,在這種情況下他不想一下子就把編輯嚇壞。令他感到意外的是,福特先生一跳老高,說(shuō)了聲“怎么不早說(shuō)!”,緊接著就用雙手握住馬丁的手,熱情地?fù)u著。

“你不知道,我見(jiàn)到你有多高興,伊登先生。我一直想知道你到底長(zhǎng)得什么樣子?!?/p>

說(shuō)著,他伸直胳膊,把馬丁稍微推開(kāi)一些,用一雙欣喜的眼睛打量著馬丁的那身次一等的衣服——也是馬丁的末等衣服,破舊得已無(wú)法修補(bǔ),不過(guò)褲縫線倒是筆挺,那是他用瑪麗亞的熨鐵精心熨出來(lái)的。

“老實(shí)講,我沒(méi)想到你會(huì)這么年輕。你的小說(shuō)寫(xiě)得雄渾、有力、成熟、深刻,是一篇杰作,我剛讀了六七行就看出來(lái)了,讓我來(lái)講講頭一次拜讀大作時(shí)的感受吧。噢,不,還是先介紹你跟我的同仁認(rèn)識(shí)一下吧!”

福特先生邊說(shuō),邊把他領(lǐng)進(jìn)了大辦公室,將他介紹給副編輯懷特先生,一個(gè)又瘦又小的人兒,手冰得出奇,就好像正在患冷病,稀稀拉拉的小羊胡子如絲一般光滑。

“還有,這位是恩茲先生,伊登先生。恩茲先生是我們的業(yè)務(wù)經(jīng)理。”

握手時(shí),馬丁發(fā)現(xiàn)對(duì)方目光古怪,腦袋謝了頂,大半個(gè)臉都被雪白的胡須遮蓋著,但從能看得到的一小部分臉蛋判斷,那人倒是顯得相當(dāng)年輕。那胡須是由對(duì)方的妻子在星期日仔細(xì)修剪出來(lái)的,而且,他的妻子還同時(shí)為他刮頸后的汗毛。

三個(gè)人圍住馬丁,七嘴八舌說(shuō)著欽慕的話,讓馬丁覺(jué)得他們似乎在比賽看誰(shuí)講得快。

“我們常常感到納悶,弄不清你為什么不到敝社來(lái)?!睉烟叵壬f(shuō)。

“我沒(méi)有買車票的錢,而且我住在海灣對(duì)面?!瘪R丁單刀直入地答道,目的是想表明自己迫切需要拿到那筆稿酬。

他心想,光憑我這身破舊的衣服,就足以說(shuō)明我的困難境地了。一有機(jī)會(huì),他就暗示他的來(lái)意,暗示了好幾次,可他的欽慕者卻像聾子一樣。他們夸獎(jiǎng)著他,述說(shuō)著他們看到他的那篇小說(shuō)時(shí)的第一感受以及后來(lái)的感受,述說(shuō)著他們的妻子和家里人的感受,但他們絕口不提付稿費(fèi)的事情。

“我跟你講起過(guò)我初次拜讀你的那篇小說(shuō)時(shí)的情景嗎?”福特先生說(shuō),“顯然,我沒(méi)跟你談起過(guò)。當(dāng)時(shí),我正乘車從紐約西行。列車停在奧格頓站時(shí),新接班的乘務(wù)員把一份剛剛出版的《橫貫大陸月刊》帶上了車。”

我的上帝??!馬丁心想,你們可以乘坐普爾門(mén)豪華列車旅行,卻摳著我那可憐的五塊錢稿費(fèi)不放,讓我忍饑挨餓。他覺(jué)得《橫貫大陸月刊》對(duì)他太不公平,不由清楚地回憶起自己數(shù)月來(lái)無(wú)望的等待、與饑寒相伴的悲慘情形。此時(shí)此刻,他肚里的饑火升騰起來(lái),痛苦地折磨著他,這使他想起自己前天只吃了一丁點(diǎn)食物,而自那以后粒米未進(jìn)。一時(shí)間,他怒不可遏。這些畜生不僅僅是強(qiáng)盜,還是一群鬼鬼祟祟的小偷。他們出爾反爾,把他寫(xiě)的小說(shuō)騙到了手。好么,他要讓他們瞧瞧他的厲害。他心里暗暗下定了決心:拿不到錢,絕不離開(kāi)編輯部。他想起,如果要不回稿費(fèi),他就無(wú)法返回奧克蘭了。他使勁控制著自己的情緒,但臉上卻露出了一副兇相,嚇得他們驚慌了起來(lái)。

他們講得越發(fā)滔滔不絕了。福特先生又在講他第一次拜讀《嘹亮的鐘聲》時(shí)的情形,而恩茲先生卻搶著復(fù)述他的那位在阿拉米達(dá)當(dāng)教師的侄女對(duì)《嘹亮的鐘聲》的贊譽(yù)之辭。

“我講講我的來(lái)意吧,”馬丁終于說(shuō)道,“我來(lái)拿你們?nèi)挤浅O矚g的那篇小說(shuō)的稿酬。記得你們?cè)饝?yīng)過(guò),一刊出就付給我五塊錢。”福特先生那表情多變的臉上立刻露出一副欣然同意的神色,伸手就去掏口袋,可半截卻猛然把身子轉(zhuǎn)向恩茲先生,說(shuō)他把錢忘到家里了。這話顯然叫恩茲先生很生氣;馬丁見(jiàn)他抽搐了一下胳膊,像是保護(hù)他的褲兜,便明白錢就放在那里。

“很抱歉,”恩茲先生說(shuō),“剛付過(guò)印刷商的賬還不到一個(gè)小時(shí),他把我手頭的錢都拿走了;那筆賬其實(shí)還不該付,可那印刷商硬是要求立即交預(yù)付款,真是出乎人的意料?!?/p>

兩個(gè)人一齊把期待的眼光投向懷特先生,可那位先生哈哈大笑,聳了聳肩膀,反正他是問(wèn)心無(wú)愧的。他來(lái)《橫貫大陸月刊》原是想學(xué)習(xí)雜志文學(xué),誰(shuí)知學(xué)到的卻主要是關(guān)于金錢的學(xué)問(wèn)?!稒M貫大陸月刊》欠了他四個(gè)月的薪水,他明白先得滿足印刷商,然后才輪到副編輯。

“伊登先生,瞧瞧我們這副樣子,真是太不成體統(tǒng)了。”福特先生以一種輕松的口氣說(shuō)道,“老實(shí)講,這全是粗心大意造成的。不過(guò),我要告訴你我們應(yīng)該怎么做,明天早晨第一件事就是把支票給你寄去。你有伊登先生的地址吧,恩茲先生?”

恩茲先生說(shuō)他有馬丁的地址,并答應(yīng)明天早晨一定寄支票。馬丁對(duì)銀行的支票之類的事情懵懵懂懂,可他覺(jué)得他們沒(méi)理由非得等到第二天再把支票給他,認(rèn)為今天給他也是一樣的。

“那就一言為定,伊登先生,我們明天把支票寄給你,好嗎?”福特先生說(shuō)。

“我今天就要拿到錢?!瘪R丁斬釘截鐵地回答。

“事情很不湊巧,如果你換一天來(lái)的話?!备L叵壬菧匚臓栄诺脑捳Z(yǔ)剛說(shuō)到此處,就被恩茲先生打斷了。后者發(fā)起了脾氣,一雙古怪的眼睛愈發(fā)顯得古怪了。

“福特先生已把情況解釋清楚了,”他粗暴無(wú)禮地說(shuō),“我也講明白了。支票會(huì)寄給——”

“我也把話說(shuō)清了,”馬丁打斷他的話說(shuō),“我講過(guò),今天就要拿到錢?!?/p>

業(yè)務(wù)經(jīng)理的無(wú)禮使他的脈搏跳動(dòng)有些加快。他警惕地注視著對(duì)方,因?yàn)樗孪搿稒M貫大陸月刊》的現(xiàn)金就裝在那位先生的褲兜里。

“真是過(guò)意不去?!备L叵壬_(kāi)口說(shuō)道。

就在這當(dāng)兒,恩茲先生不耐煩地轉(zhuǎn)過(guò)身去,像是要不辭而別。說(shuō)時(shí)遲,那時(shí)快,馬丁撲上前去,一把扼住他的喉管,使他那依然整齊得無(wú)可挑剔的雪白的山羊胡子成四十五度角朝天翹起。懷特先生和福特先生看到他們的業(yè)務(wù)經(jīng)理被抖得像一條阿斯特拉罕[1]羔羊地毯一樣,不由驚恐萬(wàn)狀。

“把錢掏出來(lái),你這刁難才華初露的年輕人的老混蛋!”馬丁威嚇道,“快掏,不然我就把錢從你身上抖出來(lái),即便全是硬幣也可以?!彪S后,他又沖著旁邊的那兩個(gè)嚇得半死的人喊道:“別到跟前來(lái)!如果誰(shuí)敢插手,就叫他受點(diǎn)傷?!?/p>

恩茲先生喘不過(guò)氣來(lái),直到卡住他喉管的那只手松開(kāi),他才能夠表示愿意掏錢。掏了幾次,他從褲兜里總共拿出了四塊一毛五分錢。

“把口袋翻出來(lái)!”馬丁喝令道。

結(jié)果,褲兜里又掉出一角錢。馬丁把搜出的錢連數(shù)了兩遍,生怕弄錯(cuò)。

“該你了!”他沖著福特先生叫喊道,“再交出七角五分錢?!?/p>

福特先生毫不遲疑地把口袋都搜了個(gè)遍,結(jié)果掏出了六角錢。

“真的就這么一點(diǎn)?”馬丁把錢拿到手,威脅地問(wèn)道,“你的背心口袋里裝的是什么?”

為了表示誠(chéng)意,福特先生把兩個(gè)背心口袋翻了個(gè)底朝天。一張硬紙片從一個(gè)口袋里掉到了地板上。他把硬紙片撿起來(lái),正要放回口袋,卻聽(tīng)馬丁叫喊道:

“這是什么?——是輪渡票吧?把它給我。這張票值一角錢,就記在我的賬上吧。算上這張票,我總共拿到了四元九角五分錢。還差我五分錢?!?/p>

他惡狠狠地拿眼睛去瞧懷特先生,看到那個(gè)脆弱的家伙正把一枚五分錢的硬幣遞過(guò)來(lái)。

“謝謝你們,”馬丁沖著他們?nèi)w說(shuō),“再見(jiàn)啦?!?/p>

“強(qiáng)盜!”恩茲先生沖著他的背影咆哮道。

“小偷!”馬丁回敬說(shuō),出去時(shí)砰的一聲摔上了門(mén)。

馬丁高興得發(fā)瘋,一想起《大黃蜂》刊用了他的《仙女與珍珠》,欠他十五塊錢的稿酬,當(dāng)下就決定去要錢??墒?,辦《大黃蜂》雜志的是一伙油頭粉面、魁梧強(qiáng)壯的年輕人,他們是明目張膽的強(qiáng)盜,見(jiàn)錢就撈,見(jiàn)人就搶,相互之間也爾虞我詐。辦公室的家具被打壞了幾樣??勺詈竽俏痪庉嫞ù髮W(xué)時(shí)代的運(yùn)動(dòng)健將)在業(yè)務(wù)經(jīng)理、廣告人以及雜役的大力協(xié)助下,終于把馬丁搡出了辦公室,并猛一用力將他推下了第一段樓梯。

“下次再來(lái)吧,伊登先生;隨時(shí)都?xì)g迎你蒞臨?!彼麄兙痈吲R下地站在樓梯頂端,沖著馬丁哈哈笑著說(shuō)。

馬丁站起身來(lái),咧嘴笑了笑。

“呸!”他喃喃地回敬道,“《橫貫大陸月刊》那幫人是雌山羊,可你們這些家伙全是職業(yè)拳擊手?!?/p>

這話又引起了一陣笑聲。

“我承認(rèn),伊登先生,”《大黃蜂》的編輯沖著下邊喊道,“作為一個(gè)詩(shī)人,你自己也很有兩下子。請(qǐng)問(wèn),你的‘右勾拳’是從哪里學(xué)來(lái)的?”

“是從你學(xué)到‘扼頸’的那個(gè)地方學(xué)來(lái)的,”馬丁答道,“等著吧,總有一天我會(huì)揍你個(gè)鼻青臉腫?!?/p>

“但愿你的脖子還能夠動(dòng)彈。”編輯關(guān)心地說(shuō),“咱們大伙兒出去喝一杯——當(dāng)然不是為了慶祝你的脖子,而是為了慶祝這次小小的戰(zhàn)斗,你看怎么樣?”

“喝不過(guò)你們,錢就由我出?!瘪R丁贊同地說(shuō)。

于是,強(qiáng)盜們和受害人一起開(kāi)懷痛飲,并和和氣氣地做出了決定:根據(jù)“強(qiáng)食弱肉”的原則,《仙女與珍珠》的十五塊錢稿費(fèi)理應(yīng)屬于《大黃蜂》編輯部的成員。

* * *

[1] 俄國(guó)一城市,因產(chǎn)羔羊皮而出名。

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