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- Джозеф Хеллер
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- Уловка 22
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- Стр. 407/452
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The
surface
of
the
collar
and
shoulders
of
Yossarian
’
s
coat
was
soaked
.
His
socks
were
wet
and
cold
.
The
light
on
the
next
lamppost
was
out
,
too
,
the
glass
globe
broken
.
Buildings
and
featureless
shapes
flowed
by
him
noiselessly
as
though
borne
past
immutably
on
the
surface
of
some
rank
and
timeless
tide
.
A
tall
monk
passed
,
his
face
buried
entirely
inside
a
coarse
gray
cowl
,
even
the
eyes
hidden
.
Footsteps
sloshed
toward
him
steadily
through
a
puddle
,
and
he
feared
it
would
be
another
barefoot
child
.
He
brushed
by
a
gaunt
,
cadaverous
,
tristful
man
in
a
black
raincoat
with
a
star
-
shaped
scar
in
his
cheek
and
a
glossy
mutilated
depression
the
size
of
an
egg
in
one
temple
.
On
squishing
straw
sandals
,
a
young
woman
materialized
with
her
whole
face
disfigured
by
a
God
-
awful
pink
and
piebald
burn
that
started
on
her
neck
and
stretched
in
a
raw
,
corrugated
mass
up
both
cheeks
past
her
eyes
!
Yossarian
could
not
bear
to
look
,
and
shuddered
.
No
one
would
ever
love
her
.
His
spirit
was
sick
;
he
longed
to
lie
down
with
some
girl
he
could
love
who
would
soothe
and
excite
him
and
put
him
to
sleep
.
A
mob
with
a
club
was
waiting
for
him
in
Pianosa
.
The
girls
were
all
gone
.
The
countess
and
her
daughter
-
in
-
law
were
no
longer
good
enough
;
he
had
grown
too
old
for
fun
,
he
no
longer
had
the
time
.
Luciana
was
gone
,
dead
,
probably
;
if
not
yet
,
then
soon
enough
.
Aarfy
’
s
buxom
trollop
had
vanished
with
her
smutty
cameo
ring
,
and
Nurse
Duckett
was
ashamed
of
him
because
he
had
refused
to
fly
more
combat
missions
and
would
cause
a
scandal
.
The
only
girl
he
knew
nearby
was
the
plain
maid
in
the
officers
"
apartment
,
whom
none
of
the
men
had
ever
slept
with
.
Her
name
was
Michaela
,
but
the
men
called
her
filthy
things
in
dulcet
,
ingratiating
voices
,
and
she
giggled
with
childish
joy
because
she
understood
no
English
and
thought
they
were
flattering
her
and
making
harmless
jokes
.
Everything
wild
she
watched
them
do
filled
her
with
enchanted
delight
.
She
was
a
happy
,
simple
-
minded
,
hard
-
working
girl
who
could
not
read
and
was
barely
able
to
write
her
name
.
Her
straight
hair
was
the
color
of
rotting
straw
.
She
had
sallow
skin
and
myopic
eyes
,
and
none
of
the
men
had
ever
slept
with
her
because
none
of
the
men
had
ever
wanted
to
,
none
but
Aarfy
,
who
had
raped
her
once
that
same
evening
and
had
then
held
her
prisoner
in
a
clothes
closet
for
almost
two
hours
with
his
hand
over
her
mouth
until
the
civilian
curfew
sirens
sounded
and
it
was
unlawful
for
her
to
be
outside
.
Then
he
threw
her
out
the
window
.
Her
dead
body
was
still
lying
on
the
pavement
when
Yossarian
arrived
and
pushed
his
way
politely
through
the
circle
of
solemn
neighbors
with
dim
lanterns
,
who
glared
with
venom
as
they
shrank
away
from
him
and
pointed
up
bitterly
toward
the
second
-
floor
windows
in
their
private
,
grim
,
accusing
conversations
.
Yossarian
’
s
heart
pounded
with
fright
and
horror
at
the
pitiful
,
ominous
,
gory
spectacle
of
the
broken
corpse
.
He
ducked
into
the
hallway
and
bolted
up
the
stairs
into
the
apartment
,
where
he
found
Aarfy
pacing
about
uneasily
with
a
pompous
,
slightly
uncomfortable
smile
.
Aarfy
seemed
a
bit
unsettled
as
he
fidgeted
with
his
pipe
and
assured
Yossarian
that
everything
was
going
to
be
all
right
.
There
was
nothing
to
worry
about
.
"
I
only
raped
her
once
,
"
he
explained
.
Yossarian
was
aghast
.
"
But
you
killed
her
,
Aarfy
!
You
killed
her
!
"
"
Oh
,
I
had
to
do
that
after
I
raped
her
,
"
Aarfy
replied
in
his
most
condescending
manner
.
"
I
couldn
’
t
very
well
let
her
go
around
saying
bad
things
about
us
,
could
I
?
"
"
But
why
did
you
have
to
touch
her
at
all
,
you
dumb
bastard
?
"
Yossarian
shouted
.
"
Why
couldn
’
t
you
get
yourself
a
girl
off
the
street
if
you
wanted
one
?
The
city
is
full
of
prostitutes
.
"
"
Oh
,
no
,
not
me
,
"
Aarfy
bragged
.
"
I
never
paid
for
it
in
my
life
.
"
