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- Альбер Камю
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- Стр. 122/187
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But
what
did
they
look
like
,
these
separated
people
,
you
ask
.
Well
,
the
answer
is
simple
:
like
nothing
.
Or
,
if
you
prefer
,
they
looked
like
everyone
,
part
of
the
general
scene
.
They
shared
the
placidity
and
puerile
agitation
of
the
town
.
They
lost
any
appearance
of
critical
sense
,
while
retaining
an
appearance
of
sang
-
froid
.
For
example
,
you
could
see
the
most
intelligent
among
them
pretending
to
search
the
newspapers
,
or
radio
broadcasts
,
for
reasons
to
believe
that
the
plague
would
shortly
end
;
and
apparently
they
built
imaginary
hopes
or
felt
unfounded
terrors
on
reading
the
views
that
some
journalist
had
set
down
more
or
less
by
chance
,
while
yawning
with
boredom
.
Otherwise
,
they
drank
their
beer
or
looked
after
the
sick
,
lazed
or
exhausted
themselves
,
filed
cards
or
played
gramophone
records
without
otherwise
distinguishing
themselves
from
each
other
.
In
other
words
,
they
no
longer
made
choices
.
The
plague
had
suppressed
value
judgements
.
This
could
be
seen
in
the
way
that
no
one
cared
any
longer
about
the
quality
of
the
clothes
or
the
food
that
they
bought
.
Everything
was
accepted
as
it
came
.
Finally
,
one
might
say
that
the
separated
no
longer
had
this
peculiar
privilege
that
had
protected
them
at
the
start
.
They
had
lost
the
egoism
of
love
and
the
advantages
that
they
gained
by
it
.
At
least
,
now
,
the
situation
was
clear
,
the
pestilence
affected
everybody
.
All
of
us
,
in
the
midst
of
the
shots
that
could
be
heard
at
the
gates
of
the
town
,
the
thump
of
rubber
stamps
that
beat
the
rhythm
of
our
lives
,
or
our
deaths
,
in
the
midst
of
fires
and
filing
cards
,
terror
and
formalities
,
destined
for
an
ignominious
—
but
registered
—
death
,
amid
horrifying
smoke
and
the
tranquil
notes
of
ambulances
,
we
ate
the
same
bread
of
exile
,
waiting
(
though
we
did
not
know
it
)
for
the
same
devastating
reunion
and
the
same
devastating
peace
.
No
doubt
our
love
was
still
there
,
but
quite
simply
it
was
unusable
,
heavy
to
carry
,
inert
inside
us
,
sterile
as
crime
or
condemnation
.
It
was
no
longer
anything
except
a
patience
with
no
future
and
a
stubborn
wait
.
From
this
point
of
view
,
the
attitude
of
some
of
our
fellow
-
citizens
reminded
one
of
those
long
queues
in
all
parts
of
the
town
,
in
front
of
food
shops
.
There
was
the
same
resignation
and
the
same
forbearance
,
at
once
limitless
and
without
illusions
.
It
was
merely
that
where
separation
was
concerned
the
feeling
had
to
be
measured
on
a
scale
a
thousand
times
greater
,
because
another
kind
of
hunger
was
involved
,
one
that
might
devour
everything
In
any
case
,
should
anyone
wish
to
have
an
accurate
notion
of
the
state
of
mind
of
the
separated
in
our
town
,
one
must
once
more
describe
those
eternal
,
golden
,
dusty
evenings
which
descended
on
the
treeless
town
while
men
and
women
poured
out
into
every
street
.
Because
,
oddly
,
what
rose
at
such
times
towards
the
still
sunlit
terraces
,
in
the
absence
of
the
sounds
of
vehicles
and
machinery
that
usually
make
up
the
language
of
towns
,
was
only
the
vast
noise
of
footsteps
and
muffled
voices
,
the
painful
groan
of
thousands
of
shoes
marching
to
the
rhythm
of
the
pestilence
in
the
heavy
sky
,
an
endless
and
eventually
stifling
trample
which
gradually
filled
the
whole
town
and
which
,
evening
after
evening
,
was
the
most
faithful
and
most
melancholy
expression
of
the
blind
obstinacy
which
at
that
time
replaced
love
in
our
hearts
.
During
the
months
of
September
and
October
the
plague
kept
the
town
bent
beneath
it
.
As
it
was
a
case
of
marking
time
,
many
hundreds
of
thousands
of
people
were
still
kicking
their
heels
for
endless
weeks
.
Mist
,
heat
and
rain
followed
one
another
in
the
sky
.
Silent
flocks
of
starlings
and
thrushes
,
coming
from
the
south
,
flew
overhead
,
but
skirted
around
the
town
as
though
kept
at
a
distance
by
Paneloux
’
s
flail
,
that
strange
piece
of
wood
which
whistled
as
it
swung
above
the
houses
.
At
the
beginning
of
October
great
storms
of
rain
swept
through
the
streets
.
And
all
the
while
,
nothing
more
important
happened
than
this
great
marking
of
time
.
Rieux
and
his
friends
now
discovered
how
tired
they
were
.
Indeed
,
the
members
of
the
health
teams
could
no
longer
overcome
their
tiredness
.
Dr
Rieux
noticed
it
when
he
observed
the
steady
growth
of
a
strange
indifference
in
himself
and
in
his
friends
.
For
example
,
men
who
up
to
now
had
shown
such
a
lively
interest
in
any
news
about
the
plague
,
no
longer
bothered
with
it
.
Rambert
,
who
had
been
provisionally
put
in
charge
of
running
one
of
the
quarantine
houses
,
which
had
been
set
up
in
his
hotel
,
knew
exactly
the
number
of
people
whom
he
had
under
observation
.
He
was
informed
of
the
minutest
details
of
the
plan
for
immediate
evacuation
that
Rieux
had
drawn
up
for
anyone
who
suddenly
showed
signs
of
the
disease
.
The
statistics
of
the
effects
of
the
serum
on
those
in
quarantine
were
engraved
on
his
memory
.
But
he
was
unable
to
tell
you
the
weekly
total
of
plague
victims
and
genuinely
had
no
idea
if
it
was
rising
or
falling
.
Yet
he
,
despite
everything
,
clung
to
the
hope
that
he
would
shortly
escape
.
As
for
the
others
,
they
were
absorbed
day
and
night
in
their
work
,
not
reading
the
newspapers
or
listening
to
the
radio
.
If
someone
told
them
a
figure
,
they
would
pretend
to
be
interested
,
but
in
fact
greet
it
with
that
absent
-
minded
indifference
that
one
imagines
to
be
the
attitude
of
soldiers
in
great
wars
,
exhausted
by
toil
and
simply
determined
not
to
fail
in
their
daily
duties
,
while
looking
forward
to
the
final
push
or
the
day
of
the
armistice
.
Grand
,
who
went
on
making
the
necessary
calculations
on
the
plague
,
would
surely
have
been
unable
to
give
you
any
general
trends
or
outcomes
.
His
health
had
never
been
good
,
unlike
that
of
Tarrou
,
Rambert
and
Rieux
,
who
were
evidently
tough
and
fit
;
yet
he
carried
out
his
duties
as
assistant
at
the
Hôtel
de
Ville
,
his
secretarial
work
for
Rieux
,
and
his
own
work
at
night
.
As
a
result
,
he
could
be
seen
in
a
continual
state
of
exhaustion
,
sustained
by
two
or
three
fixed
ideas
,
for
example
that
he
would
give
himself
a
complete
holiday
after
the
plague
,
for
at
least
one
week
,
so
that
he
could
work
in
a
positive
way
,
"
hats
off
"
,
on
his
project
.
He
was
also
liable
to
sudden
moments
of
emotion
;
and
,
on
such
occasions
,
he
readily
spoke
to
Rieux
about
Jeanne
,
wondering
where
she
might
be
at
that
moment
and
if
,
when
she
read
the
newspapers
,
she
thought
of
him
.
Rieux
was
surprised
one
day
to
find
himself
speaking
to
Grand
about
his
own
wife
in
the
most
casual
way
,
something
that
he
had
never
previously
done
.
As
he
was
not
sure
how
much
faith
he
should
put
in
the
always
reassuring
telegrams
that
his
wife
sent
,
he
had
decided
to
cable
the
head
doctor
at
the
sanatorium
where
she
was
being
treated
.
In
the
reply
he
was
informed
that
the
patient
’
s
condition
had
worsened
and
that
everything
would
be
done
to
halt
the
advance
of
the
disease
.
He
kept
the
news
to
himself
and
could
not
understand
what
,
unless
it
was
tiredness
,
had
induced
him
to
confide
in
Grand
.
The
civil
servant
,
after
talking
about
Jeanne
,
had
questioned
him
about
his
wife
and
Rieux
answered
him
.
"
You
know
,
"
Grand
had
said
,
"
it
can
be
cured
very
well
nowadays
.
"
Rieux
had
agreed
,
saying
simply
that
the
separation
was
getting
long
and
that
he
might
have
been
able
to
help
his
wife
to
overcome
her
illness
,
but
that
now
she
must
feel
all
alone
.
After
that
,
he
fell
silent
and
would
only
give
evasive
answers
to
Grand
’
s
questions
.
