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- Джером Дэвид Сэлинджер
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- Девять рассказов
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- Стр. 133/159
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When
,
finally
,
I
came
to
the
lunch
bar
where
I
’
d
bolted
the
"
Coney
Island
Red
-
Hots
"
on
Monday
,
I
decided
to
let
my
reservation
at
the
Hotel
Windsor
go
by
the
board
.
I
went
into
the
lunch
bar
,
sat
down
in
an
end
booth
,
and
kept
my
left
hand
over
my
black
tie
while
I
ordered
soup
,
rolls
and
black
coffee
.
I
hoped
that
the
other
patrons
would
think
I
was
a
waiter
on
his
way
to
work
.
While
I
was
on
my
second
cup
of
coffee
,
I
took
out
my
unmailed
letter
to
Sister
Irma
and
reread
it
.
The
substance
of
it
seemed
to
me
a
trifle
thin
,
and
I
decided
to
hurry
back
to
Les
Amis
and
touch
it
up
a
bit
.
I
also
thought
over
my
plans
to
visit
Sister
Irma
,
and
wondered
if
it
might
not
be
a
good
idea
to
pick
up
my
train
reservations
later
that
same
evening
.
With
those
two
thoughts
in
mind
—
neither
of
which
really
gave
me
the
sort
of
lift
I
needed
—
I
left
the
lunch
bar
and
walked
rapidly
back
to
school
.
Something
extremely
out
of
the
way
happened
to
me
some
fifteen
minutes
later
.
A
statement
,
I
’
m
aware
,
that
has
all
the
unpleasant
earmarks
of
a
build
-
up
,
but
quite
the
contrary
is
true
.
I
’
m
about
to
touch
on
an
extraordinary
experience
,
one
that
still
strikes
me
as
having
been
quite
transcendent
,
and
I
’
d
like
,
if
possible
,
to
avoid
seeming
to
pass
it
off
as
a
case
,
or
even
a
borderline
case
,
of
genuine
mysticism
.
(
To
do
otherwise
,
I
feel
,
would
be
tantamount
to
implying
or
stating
that
the
difference
in
spiritual
sorties
between
St
.
Francis
and
the
average
,
highstrung
,
Sunday
leper
-
kisser
is
only
a
vertical
one
.
)
In
the
nine
o
’
clock
twilight
,
as
I
approached
the
school
building
from
across
the
street
,
there
was
a
light
on
in
the
orthopedic
appliances
shop
.
I
was
startled
to
see
a
live
person
in
the
shopcase
,
a
hefty
girl
of
about
thirty
,
in
a
green
,
yellow
and
lavender
chiffon
dress
.
She
was
changing
the
truss
on
the
wooden
dummy
.
As
I
came
up
to
the
show
window
,
she
had
evidently
just
taken
off
the
old
truss
;
it
was
under
her
left
arm
(
her
right
"
profile
"
was
toward
me
)
,
and
she
was
lacing
up
the
new
one
on
the
dummy
.
I
stood
watching
her
,
fascinated
,
till
suddenly
she
sensed
,
then
saw
,
that
she
was
being
watched
.
I
quickly
smiled
—
to
show
her
that
this
was
a
nonhostile
figure
in
the
tuxedo
in
the
twilight
on
the
other
side
of
the
glass
—
but
it
did
no
good
.
The
girl
’
s
confusion
was
out
of
all
normal
proportion
.
She
blushed
,
she
dropped
the
removed
truss
,
she
stepped
back
on
a
stack
of
irrigation
basins
—
and
her
feet
went
out
from
under
her
.
I
reached
out
to
her
instantly
,
hitting
the
tips
of
my
fingers
on
the
glass
.
She
landed
heavily
on
her
bottom
,
like
a
skater
.
She
immediately
got
to
her
feet
without
looking
at
me
.
Her
face
still
flushed
,
she
pushed
her
hair
back
with
one
hand
,
and
resumed
lacing
up
the
truss
on
the
dummy
.
It
was
just
then
that
I
had
my
Experience
.
Suddenly
(
and
I
say
this
,
I
believe
,
with
all
due
self
-
consciousness
)
,
the
sun
came
up
and
sped
toward
the
bridge
of
my
nose
at
the
rate
of
ninety
-
three
million
miles
a
second
.
Blinded
and
very
frightened
—
I
had
to
put
my
hand
on
the
glass
to
keep
my
balance
.
The
thing
lasted
for
no
more
than
a
few
seconds
When
I
got
my
sight
back
,
the
girl
had
gone
from
the
window
,
leaving
behind
her
a
shimmering
field
of
exquisite
,
twice
-
blessed
,
enamel
flowers
.
I
backed
away
from
the
window
and
walked
around
the
block
twice
,
till
my
knees
stopped
buckling
.
Then
,
without
daring
to
venture
another
look
into
the
shop
window
,
I
went
upstairs
to
my
room
and
lay
down
on
my
bed
.
Some
minutes
,
or
hours
later
,
I
made
,
in
French
,
the
following
brief
entry
in
my
diary
:
"
I
am
giving
Sister
Irma
her
freedom
to
follow
her
own
destiny
.
Everybody
is
a
nun
.
"
(
Tout
le
monde
est
une
nonne
.
)
Before
going
to
bed
for
the
night
,
I
wrote
letters
to
my
four
just
-
expelled
students
,
reinstating
them
.
I
said
a
mistake
had
been
made
in
the
administration
department
.
Actually
,
the
letters
seemed
to
write
themselves
.
It
may
have
had
something
to
do
with
the
fact
that
,
before
sitting
down
to
write
,
I
’
d
brought
a
chair
up
from
downstairs
.
It
seems
altogether
anticlimactic
to
mention
it
,
but
Les
Amis
Des
Vieux
Maitres
closed
down
less
than
a
week
later
,
for
being
improperly
licensed
(
for
not
being
licensed
at
all
,
as
a
matter
of
fact
)
.
I
packed
up
and
joined
Bobby
,
my
stepfather
,
in
Rhode
Island
,
where
I
spent
the
next
six
or
eight
weeks
,
till
art
school
reopened
,
investigating
that
most
interesting
of
all
summer
-
active
animals
,
the
American
Girl
in
Shorts
.
Right
or
wrong
,
I
never
again
got
in
touch
with
Sister
Irma
.
Occasionally
,
I
still
hear
from
Bambi
Kramer
,
though
.
The
last
I
heard
,
she
’
d
branched
over
into
designing
her
own
Christmas
cards
.
They
’
ll
be
something
to
see
,
if
she
hasn
’
t
lost
her
touch
.
