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- Альбер Камю
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- Стр. 88/187
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But
in
another
…
Well
,
in
any
case
,
the
one
thing
that
’
s
clear
is
that
I
feel
much
better
here
since
we
’
ve
had
the
plague
.
"
The
other
man
listened
to
him
speaking
.
"
How
does
one
join
this
organization
?
"
"
Oh
,
it
’
s
not
easy
,
"
Cottard
said
.
"
Come
with
me
.
"
It
was
four
o
’
clock
in
the
afternoon
.
The
town
was
slowly
cooking
beneath
a
leaden
sky
.
All
the
shops
had
their
blinds
down
.
The
roads
were
empty
.
Cottard
and
Rambert
took
streets
with
arcades
and
walked
along
for
some
time
without
saying
anything
.
It
was
one
of
those
times
when
the
plague
became
invisible
.
This
silence
,
this
death
of
colours
and
movement
,
could
belong
to
summer
as
much
as
to
the
pestilence
.
One
could
not
tell
if
the
air
was
heavy
with
menace
,
or
with
dust
and
scorching
heat
.
You
had
to
look
and
think
yourself
back
to
the
plague
,
which
only
betrayed
its
presence
by
negative
signs
.
Cottard
,
who
had
some
affinity
with
it
,
pointed
out
to
Rambert
,
for
example
,
that
there
were
no
dogs
around
,
though
normally
they
would
have
been
lying
on
their
sides
,
panting
,
just
inside
doorways
,
in
search
of
some
unattainable
coolness
.
They
took
the
Boulevard
des
Palmiers
,
crossed
the
parade
-
ground
and
went
down
towards
the
area
of
the
port
.
On
the
left
there
was
a
green
-
painted
cafe
shaded
by
a
slanting
awning
made
of
coarse
yellow
cloth
.
As
they
went
in
Cottard
and
Rambert
wiped
their
foreheads
.
They
sat
down
on
folding
garden
chairs
in
front
of
green
,
cast
-
iron
tables
.
The
room
was
entirely
empty
.
Flies
buzzed
in
the
air
and
in
a
yellow
cage
standing
on
the
rickety
counter
a
parrot
was
slumped
on
its
perch
with
all
its
feathers
drooping
.
Old
pictures
showing
battle
scenes
hung
on
the
walls
,
covered
with
dirt
and
the
thick
filaments
of
cobwebs
.
Bird
droppings
were
drying
on
all
the
metal
tables
,
including
the
one
in
front
of
Rambert
;
he
was
unable
to
explain
quite
where
they
came
from
until
,
after
a
little
commotion
in
a
dark
corner
,
a
splendid
cockerel
hopped
out
.
Just
then
the
heat
seemed
to
increase
even
further
.
Cottard
took
off
his
jacket
and
banged
on
the
table
.
A
small
man
,
swamped
in
a
long
blue
apron
,
came
out
from
the
back
-
room
,
greeted
Cottard
as
soon
as
he
saw
him
,
walked
over
kicking
the
cockerel
aside
sharply
and
asked
,
amid
the
clucking
of
the
fowl
,
what
he
could
get
these
gentlemen
.
Cottard
wanted
white
wine
,
and
he
asked
after
a
certain
Garcia
.
The
midget
said
that
he
had
not
seen
him
in
the
cafe
for
a
few
days
.
"
Do
you
think
he
’
ll
come
this
evening
?
"
"
Puh
!
"
the
man
said
.
"
I
’
m
not
his
minder
.
Do
you
know
his
usual
time
?
"
