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- Альбер Камю
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- Стр. 181/187
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But
this
commonplace
exuberance
was
not
the
whole
story
.
Those
who
filled
the
streets
at
the
end
of
the
afternoon
,
beside
Rambert
,
often
concealed
more
delicate
joys
behind
an
attitude
of
calm
.
Many
couples
and
families
seemed
like
nothing
more
than
peaceful
strollers
.
In
reality
most
were
making
quiet
pilgrimages
to
the
places
where
they
had
suffered
,
which
meant
showing
the
new
arrivals
the
obvious
or
hidden
signs
of
the
plague
,
the
vestiges
of
its
history
.
In
a
few
cases
,
they
were
content
to
play
guide
—
the
person
who
has
seen
lots
of
things
and
lived
with
the
plague
—
and
they
spoke
of
danger
without
mentioning
fear
.
These
were
harmless
pleasures
.
But
in
other
cases
,
the
itineraries
were
more
highly
charged
,
when
a
lover
,
giving
way
to
the
sweet
pain
of
memory
,
could
say
to
his
loved
one
:
"
Here
,
at
such
a
time
,
I
wanted
you
and
you
were
not
there
.
"
You
could
recognize
these
passionate
tourists
:
they
formed
little
isles
of
whispers
and
confidences
in
the
midst
of
the
bustling
crowd
around
them
.
And
it
was
they
who
,
better
than
the
bands
on
the
street
corners
,
announced
the
true
deliverance
,
because
these
enchanted
couples
,
locked
together
,
sparing
of
words
,
proclaimed
in
the
midst
of
the
throng
,
with
all
the
triumph
and
injustice
of
happiness
,
that
the
plague
was
over
and
that
terror
had
had
its
day
.
Against
all
evidence
they
calmly
denied
that
we
had
ever
known
this
senseless
world
in
which
the
murder
of
a
man
was
a
happening
as
banal
as
the
death
of
a
fly
,
the
well
-
defined
savagery
,
the
calculated
delirium
and
the
imprisonment
that
brought
with
it
a
terrible
freedom
from
everything
that
was
not
the
immediate
present
,
the
stench
of
death
that
stunned
all
those
whom
it
did
not
kill
.
In
short
,
they
denied
that
we
had
been
that
benumbed
people
of
whom
some
,
every
day
,
stuffed
into
the
mouth
of
an
oven
,
had
evaporated
in
oily
smoke
,
while
the
rest
,
weighed
down
by
the
chains
of
impotence
and
fear
,
had
waited
their
turn
.
This
at
least
is
what
struck
Dr
Rieux
who
,
making
his
way
to
the
outskirts
of
town
,
was
journeying
alone
in
the
midst
of
ringing
bells
,
firing
cannon
,
music
and
deafening
shouts
.
His
work
went
on
:
there
is
no
holiday
for
the
sick
.
In
the
lovely
soft
light
that
bathed
Oran
,
you
could
smell
the
old
smells
of
grilled
meat
and
aniseed
-
flavoured
aperitifs
.
Around
him
laughing
faces
were
raised
towards
the
sky
.
Men
and
women
clung
to
one
another
,
their
faces
lit
up
with
excitement
and
a
cry
of
desire
.
Yes
,
the
plague
was
over
and
so
was
the
terror
;
these
arms
enlaced
in
one
another
said
that
it
had
been
exile
and
separation
,
in
the
deepest
sense
of
the
word
.
For
the
first
time
Rieux
could
give
a
name
to
the
similarity
that
for
months
he
had
seen
on
the
faces
of
people
passing
in
the
street
.
Now
it
was
enough
to
look
around
him
.
Now
that
the
plague
was
over
,
with
its
misery
and
privations
,
all
these
men
had
eventually
taken
on
the
clothing
of
the
role
that
they
had
been
playing
for
a
long
time
,
that
of
émigrés
whose
faces
then
,
and
clothes
now
,
spoke
of
absence
and
distant
homelands
.
From
the
moment
when
the
plague
closed
the
gates
of
the
town
,
they
had
started
to
live
in
a
state
of
separation
and
been
cut
off
from
that
human
warmth
that
leads
us
to
forget
everything
.
To
a
different
extent
,
in
every
corner
of
the
town
,
these
men
and
women
had
aspired
to
a
reunion
that
was
not
of
the
same
kind
for
each
of
them
but
which
,
for
all
of
them
,
was
equally
impossible
.
Most
had
appealed
with
all
their
strength
for
an
absent
one
,
the
warmth
of
a
body
,
for
tenderness
or
familiarity
.
A
few
,
often
without
knowing
it
,
had
suffered
from
being
placed
beyond
the
friendship
of
men
and
not
being
able
to
reach
them
by
the
usual
means
:
letters
,
trains
,
boats
.
Others
,
who
were
rarer
still
,
perhaps
like
Tarrou
,
had
wanted
to
be
joined
with
something
that
they
could
not
define
,
but
which
appeared
to
them
the
only
desirable
good
.
Failing
any
other
name
,
they
sometimes
called
it
peace
.
Rieux
was
still
walking
.
As
he
went
on
the
crowd
grew
around
him
,
the
din
increased
and
it
seemed
to
him
that
the
outer
districts
he
was
trying
to
reach
were
moving
further
away
.
Bit
by
bit
he
melted
into
this
great
bellowing
body
,
understanding
its
cry
better
and
better
because
at
least
in
some
respects
,
it
was
his
own
.
Yes
,
they
had
all
suffered
together
,
in
their
flesh
and
in
their
souls
,
from
a
hard
separation
,
an
irremediable
exile
and
a
never
satisfied
thirst
.
Among
these
heaps
of
dead
bodies
,
the
ambulance
sirens
,
the
warnings
of
what
is
known
as
fate
,
the
obstinate
stamping
of
fear
and
the
terrible
rebellion
in
their
hearts
,
a
great
voice
had
continued
to
call
and
tell
these
horrified
people
that
they
had
to
return
to
their
true
home
.
And
for
all
of
them
,
this
true
home
was
beyond
the
walls
of
the
suffocating
town
.
It
was
in
the
sweet
-
smelling
brushwood
on
the
hills
,
in
the
sea
,
in
free
countries
and
in
the
heavy
burden
of
love
.
And
it
was
towards
this
,
towards
happiness
,
that
they
longed
to
go
back
,
turning
away
in
disgust
from
everything
else
.
As
for
whatever
meaning
there
was
in
this
exile
and
this
desire
for
reunion
,
Rieux
had
no
idea
.
Still
walking
,
with
people
calling
to
him
and
pushing
him
from
all
sides
,
he
gradually
made
his
way
into
less
crowded
streets
and
thought
that
it
did
not
matter
whether
these
things
have
a
meaning
or
not
,
but
that
one
must
simply
see
what
response
there
was
to
the
hopes
of
mankind
.
Now
he
knew
what
response
there
was
,
and
he
perceived
it
better
in
the
first
streets
of
the
outer
districts
,
which
were
almost
empty
.
Those
who
had
confined
themselves
to
the
little
that
they
were
had
merely
wanted
to
return
to
the
house
of
their
loved
ones
and
were
sometimes
rewarded
.
Of
course
there
were
those
among
them
who
continued
to
walk
around
the
town
alone
,
deprived
of
the
one
they
expected
.
Happy
,
too
,
were
those
who
had
not
been
twice
separated
,
like
some
people
who
before
the
epidemic
had
not
been
able
to
build
their
love
in
the
first
instance
but
had
for
years
pursued
the
hard
understanding
that
eventually
binds
together
hostile
lovers
.
Those
were
the
ones
who
,
like
Rieux
himself
,
had
been
rash
enough
to
count
on
time
;
now
they
were
separated
for
ever
.
But
there
were
still
others
,
like
Rambert
,
whom
the
doctor
had
left
that
very
morning
with
the
words
:
"
Courage
,
now
is
the
time
to
prove
you
’
re
right
’
;
and
these
had
unhesitatingly
reunited
with
the
absent
love
whom
they
thought
was
lost
.
At
least
for
a
period
they
would
be
happy
.
They
knew
now
that
if
there
is
one
thing
that
one
can
always
desire
and
sometimes
obtain
,
it
is
human
affection
.
