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- Альбер Камю
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- Стр. 154/187
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"
I
have
to
tell
you
that
I
was
not
poor
like
you
were
.
My
father
was
a
prosecuting
counsel
,
which
is
an
important
job
.
However
,
he
did
not
look
like
a
prosecutor
,
being
a
good
-
natured
sort
.
My
mother
was
ordinary
and
self
-
effacing
.
I
have
never
ceased
to
love
her
,
but
I
prefer
not
to
speak
about
her
.
My
father
looked
after
me
affectionately
and
I
believe
he
even
tried
to
understand
me
.
I
am
sure
now
that
he
used
to
have
affairs
,
but
it
really
doesn
’
t
upset
me
.
In
all
such
things
he
behaved
as
he
might
have
been
expected
to
behave
,
without
shocking
anybody
.
In
brief
,
there
was
nothing
especially
unusual
about
him
and
,
now
that
he
is
dead
,
I
realize
that
while
he
did
not
live
like
a
saint
,
he
was
not
a
bad
man
.
He
steered
a
middle
course
,
that
’
s
all
,
and
was
the
type
of
person
for
whom
one
feels
a
reasonable
degree
of
affection
,
which
endures
.
"
Yet
he
did
have
one
peculiarity
:
his
bedside
book
was
the
large
Chaix
railway
timetable
.
Not
that
he
travelled
,
except
on
holiday
,
to
go
to
Brittany
where
he
had
a
small
house
.
But
he
could
tell
you
precisely
the
arrival
and
departure
times
of
the
Paris
—
Berlin
express
,
the
connecting
trains
that
you
had
to
catch
to
get
from
Lyon
to
Warsaw
and
the
precise
number
of
railway
miles
between
any
two
capital
cities
you
chose
to
mention
.
Can
you
tell
me
how
to
go
from
Briançon
to
Chamonix
?
Even
a
station
-
master
would
find
it
confusing
.
My
father
didn
’
t
.
He
would
practise
almost
every
evening
to
improve
his
knowledge
of
the
subject
and
was
quite
proud
of
it
.
It
greatly
amused
me
and
I
often
put
questions
to
him
,
delighted
to
check
his
answers
in
the
Chaix
and
acknowledge
that
he
had
not
made
a
mistake
.
These
little
exercises
helped
to
bring
us
closer
,
because
I
provided
him
with
an
audience
whose
goodwill
he
appreciated
.
As
for
me
,
I
considered
that
this
superior
knowledge
in
the
matter
of
railways
was
as
good
as
any
other
.
"
But
I
am
allowing
myself
to
be
carried
away
,
and
may
give
too
much
importance
to
this
good
gentleman
,
because
when
it
came
down
to
it
,
he
had
only
an
indirect
influence
in
helping
me
to
make
up
my
mind
.
At
the
very
most
,
he
provided
me
with
an
opportunity
.
When
I
was
seventeen
my
father
invited
me
to
go
and
listen
to
him
at
work
.
It
was
an
important
case
,
in
the
circuit
court
,
and
he
must
have
believed
that
he
would
appear
in
the
best
light
.
I
think
he
was
also
counting
on
this
ceremonial
—
just
the
sort
of
thing
that
might
impress
a
young
mind
—
to
nudge
me
in
the
direction
of
the
career
that
he
himself
had
chosen
.
I
accepted
,
to
please
my
father
and
because
I
was
curious
to
see
and
hear
him
in
a
different
role
from
the
one
that
he
played
at
home
.
I
was
not
thinking
of
anything
more
than
that
.
What
happened
in
a
courtroom
had
always
struck
me
as
no
less
natural
and
inevitable
than
a
Fourteenth
of
July
parade
or
a
prize
-
giving
.
I
had
a
very
abstract
idea
of
it
,
which
did
not
disturb
me
at
all
.
"
However
,
I
have
kept
only
one
image
of
that
day
,
which
is
that
of
the
guilty
man
.
I
really
do
believe
he
was
guilty
,
though
it
doesn
’
t
matter
of
what
.
But
this
little
man
with
his
meagre
red
hair
,
some
thirty
years
of
age
,
seemed
so
determined
to
admit
to
everything
,
so
sincerely
terrified
by
what
he
had
done
and
what
they
were
going
to
do
to
him
,
that
after
a
few
minutes
I
had
eyes
only
for
him
.
He
looked
like
an
owl
stricken
with
fear
by
an
over
-
bright
light
.
The
knot
of
his
tie
was
not
precisely
in
the
centre
of
his
collar
.
He
was
chewing
the
nails
of
just
one
hand
,
the
right
…
Well
,
I
need
say
no
more
—
you
understand
,
he
was
alive
.
"
But
I
suddenly
became
aware
of
him
,
though
up
to
then
I
had
only
thought
of
him
in
the
convenient
category
of
"
the
accused
"
.
I
cannot
say
that
I
forgot
about
my
father
,
but
there
was
something
in
the
pit
of
my
stomach
which
distracted
me
from
concentrating
on
anything
except
the
man
in
the
dock
.
I
heard
practically
nothing
.
I
felt
that
they
wanted
to
kill
this
living
man
and
an
instinct
as
powerful
as
a
tidal
wave
swept
me
to
his
side
with
a
sort
of
blind
obstinacy
.
I
only
properly
woke
up
when
my
father
began
his
speech
for
the
prosecution
.
"
Transformed
by
his
red
robe
,
he
was
neither
good
-
natured
nor
affectionate
and
his
mouth
was
crammed
with
sonorous
phrases
which
leapt
from
it
constantly
like
serpents
.
I
realized
then
that
he
was
asking
for
the
death
of
this
man
in
the
name
of
society
and
that
he
was
even
demanding
that
his
head
should
be
cut
off
.
In
truth
,
all
he
said
was
:
"
This
head
must
fall
.
"
But
the
difference
was
not
great
in
the
end
.
In
fact
it
came
to
the
same
thing
,
since
he
got
the
man
’
s
head
.
The
only
thing
was
that
he
did
not
do
the
job
himself
.
I
,
who
subsequently
followed
the
matter
right
through
to
its
conclusion
,
felt
a
far
more
terrifying
intimacy
with
that
unfortunate
man
than
my
father
ever
could
.
And
yet
he
had
to
be
present
,
according
to
custom
,
at
what
are
euphemistically
called
the
last
moments
,
and
which
one
should
by
rights
call
the
most
shameful
of
murders
.
"
From
that
day
onwards
I
could
not
look
at
the
Chaix
timetable
without
the
most
dreadful
disgust
.
From
then
onwards
I
took
a
horrified
interest
in
justice
,
in
death
sentences
and
in
executions
.
