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- Джером Дэвид Сэлинджер
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- Девять рассказов
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- Стр. 72/159
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The
subject
of
this
unique
experience
grew
into
manhood
with
a
hairless
,
pecan
-
shaped
head
and
a
face
that
featured
,
instead
of
a
mouth
,
an
enormous
oval
cavity
below
the
nose
.
The
nose
itself
consisted
of
two
flesh
-
sealed
nostrils
.
In
consequence
,
when
the
Laughing
Man
breathed
,
the
hideous
,
mirthless
gap
below
his
nose
dilated
and
contracted
like
(
as
I
see
it
)
some
sort
of
monstrous
vacuole
.
(
The
Chief
demonstrated
,
rather
than
explained
,
the
Laughing
Man
’
s
respiration
method
.
)
Strangers
fainted
dead
away
at
the
sight
of
the
Laughing
Man
’
s
horrible
face
.
Acquaintances
shunned
him
.
Curiously
enough
,
though
,
the
bandits
let
him
hang
around
their
headquarters
—
as
long
as
he
kept
his
face
covered
with
a
pale
-
red
gossamer
mask
made
out
of
poppy
petals
.
The
mask
not
only
spared
the
bandits
the
sight
of
their
foster
son
’
s
face
,
it
also
kept
them
sensible
of
his
whereabouts
;
under
the
circumstances
,
he
reeked
of
opium
.
Every
morning
,
in
his
extreme
loneliness
,
the
Laughing
Man
stole
off
(
he
was
as
graceful
on
his
feet
as
a
cat
)
to
the
dense
forest
surrounding
the
bandits
’
hideout
.
There
he
befriended
any
number
and
species
of
animals
:
dogs
,
white
mice
,
eagles
,
lions
,
boa
constrictors
,
wolves
.
Moreover
,
he
removed
his
mask
and
spoke
to
them
,
softly
,
melodiously
,
in
their
own
tongues
.
They
did
not
think
him
ugly
.
(
It
took
the
Chief
a
couple
of
months
to
get
that
far
into
the
story
.
From
there
on
in
,
he
got
more
and
more
high
-
handed
with
his
installments
,
entirely
to
the
satisfaction
of
the
Comanches
.
)
The
Laughing
Man
was
one
for
keeping
an
ear
to
the
ground
,
and
in
no
time
at
all
he
had
picked
up
the
bandits
’
most
valuable
trade
secrets
.
He
didn
’
t
think
much
of
them
,
though
,
and
briskly
set
up
his
own
,
more
effective
system
.
On
a
rather
small
scale
at
first
,
he
began
to
free
-
lance
around
the
Chinese
countryside
,
robbing
,
highjacking
,
murdering
when
absolutely
necessary
.
Soon
his
ingenious
criminal
methods
,
coupled
with
his
singular
love
of
fair
play
,
found
him
a
warm
place
in
the
nation
’
s
heart
.
Strangely
enough
,
his
foster
parents
(
the
bandits
who
had
originally
turned
his
head
toward
crime
)
were
about
the
last
to
get
wind
of
his
achievements
.
When
they
did
,
they
were
insanely
jealous
.
They
all
single
-
filed
past
the
Laughing
Man
’
s
bed
one
night
,
thinking
they
had
successfully
doped
him
into
a
deep
sleep
,
and
stabbed
at
the
figure
under
the
covers
with
their
machetes
.
The
victim
turned
out
to
be
the
bandit
chief
’
s
mother
—
an
unpleasant
,
haggling
sort
of
person
.
The
event
only
whetted
the
bandits
’
taste
for
the
Laughing
Man
’
s
blood
,
and
finally
he
was
obliged
to
lock
up
the
whole
bunch
of
them
in
a
deep
but
pleasantly
decorated
mausoleum
.
They
escaped
from
time
to
time
and
gave
him
a
certain
amount
of
annoyance
,
but
he
refused
to
kill
them
.
(
There
was
a
compassionate
side
to
the
Laughing
Man
’
s
character
that
just
about
drove
me
crazy
.
)
Soon
the
Laughing
Man
was
regularly
crossing
the
Chinese
border
into
Paris
,
France
,
where
he
enjoyed
flaunting
his
high
but
modest
genius
in
the
face
of
Marcel
Dufarge
,
the
internationally
famous
detective
and
witty
consumptive
.
Dufarge
and
his
daughter
(
an
exquisite
girl
,
though
something
of
a
transvestite
)
became
the
Laughing
Man
’
s
bitterest
enemies
.
Time
and
again
,
they
tried
leading
the
Laughing
Man
up
the
garden
path
.
For
sheer
sport
,
the
Laughing
Man
usually
went
halfway
with
them
,
then
vanished
,
often
leaving
no
even
faintly
credible
indication
of
his
escape
method
.
Just
now
and
then
he
posted
an
incisive
little
farewell
note
in
the
Paris
sewerage
system
,
and
it
was
delivered
promptly
to
Dufarge
’
s
boot
.
The
Dufarges
spent
an
enormous
amount
of
time
sloshing
around
in
the
Paris
sewers
.
Soon
the
Laughing
Man
had
amassed
the
largest
personal
fortune
in
the
world
.
Most
of
it
he
contributed
anonymously
to
the
monks
of
a
local
monastery
—
humble
ascetics
who
had
dedicated
their
lives
to
raising
German
police
dogs
.
What
was
left
of
his
fortune
,
the
Laughing
Man
converted
into
diamonds
,
which
he
lowered
casually
,
in
emerald
vaults
,
into
the
Black
Sea
.
His
personal
wants
were
few
.
He
subsisted
exclusively
on
rice
and
eagles
’
blood
,
in
a
tiny
cottage
with
an
underground
gymnasium
and
shooting
range
,
on
the
stormy
coast
of
Tibet
.
Four
blindly
loyal
confederates
lived
with
him
:
a
glib
timber
wolf
named
Black
Wing
,
a
lovable
dwarf
named
Omba
,
a
giant
Mongolian
named
Hong
,
whose
tongue
had
been
burned
out
by
white
men
,
and
a
gorgeous
Eurasian
girl
,
who
,
out
of
unrequited
love
for
the
Laughing
Man
and
deep
concern
for
his
personal
safety
,
sometimes
had
a
pretty
sticky
attitude
toward
crime
.
The
Laughing
Man
issued
his
orders
to
the
crew
through
a
black
silk
screen
.
Not
even
Omba
,
the
lovable
dwarf
,
was
permitted
to
see
his
face
.
I
’
m
not
saying
I
will
,
but
I
could
go
on
for
hours
escorting
the
reader
—
forcibly
,
if
necessary
—
back
and
forth
across
the
Paris
-
Chinese
border
.
I
happen
to
regard
the
Laughing
Man
as
some
kind
of
super
-
distinguished
ancestor
of
mine
—
a
sort
of
Robert
E
.
Lee
,
say
,
with
the
ascribed
virtues
held
under
water
or
blood
.
And
this
illusion
is
only
a
moderate
one
compared
to
the
one
I
had
in
1928
,
when
I
regarded
myself
not
only
as
the
Laughing
Man
’
s
direct
descendant
but
as
his
only
legitimate
living
one
.
I
was
not
even
my
parents
’
son
in
1928
but
a
devilishly
smooth
impostor
,
awaiting
their
slightest
blunder
as
an
excuse
to
move
in
—
preferably
without
violence
,
but
not
necessarily
—
to
assert
my
true
identity
.
As
a
precaution
against
breaking
my
bogus
mother
’
s
heart
,
I
planned
to
take
her
into
my
underworld
employ
in
some
undefined
but
appropriately
regal
capacity
.
But
the
main
thing
I
had
to
do
in
1928
was
watch
my
step
.
Play
along
with
the
farce
.
Brush
my
teeth
.
Comb
my
hair
.
At
all
costs
,
stifle
my
natural
hideous
laughter
.
Actually
,
I
was
not
the
only
legitimate
living
descendant
of
the
Laughing
Man
.
There
were
twenty
-
five
Comanches
in
the
Club
,
or
twenty
-
five
legitimate
living
descendants
of
the
Laughing
Man
—
all
of
us
circulating
ominously
,
and
incognito
,
throughout
the
city
,
sizing
up
elevator
operators
as
potential
archenemies
,
whispering
side
-
of
-
the
-
mouth
but
fluent
orders
into
the
ears
of
cocker
spaniels
,
drawing
beads
,
with
index
fingers
,
on
the
foreheads
of
arithmetic
teachers
.
And
always
waiting
,
waiting
for
a
decent
chance
to
strike
terror
and
admiration
in
the
nearest
mediocre
heart
.
One
afternoon
in
February
,
just
after
Comanche
baseball
season
had
opened
,
I
observed
a
new
fixture
in
the
Chief
’
s
bus
.
Above
the
rear
-
view
mirror
over
the
windshield
,
there
was
a
small
,
framed
photograph
of
a
girl
dressed
in
academic
cap
and
gown
.
It
seemed
to
me
that
a
girl
’
s
picture
clashed
with
the
general
men
-
only
decor
of
the
bus
,
and
I
bluntly
asked
the
Chief
who
she
was
.
He
hedged
at
first
,
but
finally
admitted
that
she
was
a
girl
.
I
asked
him
what
her
name
was
.
He
answered
unforthrightly
,
"
Mary
Hudson
.
"
I
asked
him
if
she
was
in
the
movies
or
something
.
He
said
no
,
that
she
used
to
go
to
Wellesley
College
.
He
added
,
on
some
slow
-
processed
afterthought
,
that
Wellesley
College
was
a
very
high
class
college
.
I
asked
him
what
he
had
her
picture
in
the
bus
for
,
though
.
He
shrugged
slightly
,
as
much
as
to
imply
,
it
seemed
to
me
,
that
the
picture
had
more
or
less
been
planted
on
him
.
