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Главная
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- Альбер Камю
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- Чума
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- Стр. 121/187
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Incidentally
—
not
to
give
anything
away
and
especially
not
to
give
himself
away
—
this
is
why
the
narrator
has
tended
towards
objectivity
.
He
has
tried
to
change
almost
nothing
for
artistic
ends
,
except
when
it
came
to
the
basic
requirement
of
giving
a
more
or
less
coherent
account
.
And
it
is
objectivity
itself
that
requires
him
to
say
here
that
while
the
greatest
suffering
of
the
time
,
the
most
widespread
and
the
deepest
,
was
separation
,
and
while
it
is
necessary
in
all
conscience
to
give
a
new
description
of
it
at
this
point
in
the
plague
,
it
is
also
quite
true
that
even
this
suffering
lost
all
its
pathos
.
Did
our
fellow
-
citizens
,
at
least
those
who
suffered
the
most
from
this
separation
,
ever
get
used
to
the
situation
?
It
would
not
be
quite
correct
to
say
that
they
did
.
Rather
,
they
suffered
a
kind
of
spiritual
and
physical
emaciation
.
At
the
start
of
the
plague
they
remembered
the
person
whom
they
had
lost
very
well
and
they
were
sorry
to
be
without
them
.
But
though
they
could
clearly
recall
the
face
and
the
laugh
of
the
loved
one
,
and
this
or
that
day
when
,
after
the
event
,
they
realized
they
had
been
happy
,
they
found
it
very
hard
to
imagine
what
the
other
person
might
be
doing
at
the
moment
when
they
recalled
her
or
him
,
in
places
which
were
now
so
far
away
.
In
short
,
at
that
time
they
had
memory
but
not
enough
imagination
.
At
the
second
stage
of
the
plague
the
memory
also
went
.
Not
that
they
had
forgotten
the
face
,
but
(
which
comes
to
the
same
thing
)
it
had
lost
its
flesh
and
they
could
only
see
it
inside
themselves
.
And
while
in
the
early
weeks
they
tended
to
complain
at
only
having
shadows
to
deal
with
where
their
loves
were
concerned
,
they
realized
later
that
these
shadows
could
become
still
more
fleshless
,
losing
even
the
details
of
colour
that
memory
kept
of
them
.
After
this
long
period
of
separation
,
they
could
no
longer
imagine
the
intimacy
that
they
had
shared
nor
how
a
being
had
lived
beside
them
,
on
whom
at
any
moment
they
could
place
their
hands
.
From
this
point
of
view
,
they
had
entered
into
the
very
system
of
the
plague
which
was
all
the
more
efficient
for
being
mediocre
.
No
one
among
us
experienced
any
great
feelings
any
more
,
but
everyone
had
banal
feelings
.
"
It
’
s
time
it
ended
,
"
they
said
,
because
,
in
a
period
of
pestilence
,
it
is
normal
to
wish
for
the
end
of
collective
suffering
and
because
they
really
did
want
it
to
end
.
But
the
words
were
spoken
without
the
anger
or
bitterness
of
the
early
days
,
and
only
with
the
few
arguments
that
still
remained
clear
to
us
,
which
were
feeble
ones
.
The
great
,
fierce
surge
of
feeling
of
the
first
weeks
had
given
way
to
a
dejection
that
it
would
be
wrong
to
confuse
with
resignation
,
but
which
was
despite
that
a
kind
of
provisional
assent
.
The
townspeople
had
adapted
,
they
had
come
to
heel
,
as
people
say
,
because
that
was
all
they
could
do
.
Naturally
,
they
still
had
an
attitude
of
misfortune
and
suffering
,
but
they
did
not
feel
its
sting
.
Dr
Rieux
,
for
one
,
considered
that
the
misfortune
lay
precisely
in
this
,
and
that
the
habit
of
despair
was
worse
than
despair
itself
.
Previously
,
those
separated
had
not
really
been
unhappy
,
their
suffering
had
a
brightness
that
had
just
gone
out
.
Now
one
could
see
them
on
the
corner
of
the
street
,
in
cafes
or
with
their
friends
,
placid
,
their
minds
wandering
and
their
eyes
so
bored
that
,
thanks
to
them
,
the
whole
town
seemed
like
a
waiting
-
room
.
Those
who
had
jobs
did
them
at
the
pace
of
the
plague
,
meticulously
and
prosaically
.
Everyone
was
simple
and
unpretentious
.
For
the
first
time
,
those
separated
did
not
mind
speaking
about
their
absent
ones
,
adopting
the
language
of
all
and
studying
their
separation
just
as
they
would
study
the
statistics
of
the
epidemic
.
While
up
to
this
point
they
had
fiercely
subtracted
their
suffering
from
the
sum
of
collective
misfortune
,
now
they
accepted
it
as
part
of
the
whole
.
Without
memory
and
without
hope
,
they
settled
into
the
present
.
In
truth
,
everything
became
present
for
them
.
The
truth
must
be
told
:
the
plague
had
taken
away
from
all
of
them
the
power
of
love
or
even
of
friendship
,
for
love
demands
some
future
,
and
for
us
there
was
only
the
here
and
now
.
Of
course
,
none
of
this
was
absolute
.
Though
it
was
true
that
all
the
separated
reached
this
point
,
one
should
also
add
that
they
did
not
all
reach
it
at
the
same
time
and
that
,
once
they
had
settled
into
this
new
attitude
,
flashes
of
memory
and
sudden
relapses
of
lucidity
brought
the
sufferers
back
to
a
younger
and
more
painful
sensibility
.
They
needed
these
momentary
losses
of
concentration
in
which
they
made
plans
for
something
that
implied
that
the
plague
might
have
ceased
.
They
needed
the
unexpected
boon
of
feeling
the
pangs
of
undirected
jealousy
.
Others
also
experienced
sudden
revivals
and
would
emerge
from
their
torpor
on
certain
days
of
the
week
—
on
Sunday
,
of
course
,
and
Saturday
afternoon
—
because
those
days
had
been
devoted
to
certain
rituals
when
they
were
still
with
the
absent
one
.
Or
otherwise
a
certain
melancholy
that
took
hold
of
them
at
the
end
of
the
day
would
give
warning
(
not
always
correctly
,
as
it
happened
)
that
memory
was
about
to
return
.
That
time
in
the
evening
,
which
for
believers
is
the
occasion
for
an
examination
of
conscience
,
is
hard
for
the
prisoner
or
the
exile
who
has
only
the
void
to
examine
.
It
held
them
for
a
moment
in
suspense
;
then
they
returned
to
insensibility
and
locked
themselves
up
in
the
plague
.
It
is
already
understood
that
this
consisted
of
giving
up
what
was
most
personal
to
them
.
While
in
the
early
days
of
the
plague
they
were
struck
by
the
number
of
small
things
that
meant
a
great
deal
to
them
,
though
they
had
no
significance
to
others
,
and
they
thus
had
a
limited
outlook
on
life
,
now
,
on
the
contrary
,
they
had
only
the
most
general
ideas
and
their
love
itself
had
taken
on
the
most
abstract
appearance
for
them
.
They
were
so
far
abandoned
to
the
plague
that
they
might
sometimes
even
hope
for
nothing
more
than
the
sleep
of
plague
and
catch
themselves
thinking
:
"
Let
’
s
have
the
bubos
and
be
done
with
it
!
"
But
in
truth
they
were
already
sleeping
and
this
whole
time
was
nothing
more
than
a
long
sleep
.
The
town
was
inhabited
by
people
asleep
on
their
feet
,
who
did
not
really
escape
from
their
fate
except
on
rare
occasions
when
,
in
the
night
,
their
apparently
healed
wound
would
suddenly
open
.
Then
,
waking
with
a
start
,
they
would
feel
around
in
a
kind
of
stupor
,
their
lips
smarting
,
at
one
stroke
rediscovering
their
pain
which
was
suddenly
revived
,
and
with
it
the
devastated
features
of
their
love
.
In
the
morning
,
they
would
return
to
the
pestilence
,
that
is
to
say
,
to
routine
.
