朗读者-5

CHAPTER THREE As I was taking my second state exam, the professor who had given the concentration camps seminar died. Gertrud came across the obituary in the newspaper. The funeral was at the mountain cemetery. Did I want to go? I didn`t. The burial was on a Thursday afternoon, and on both Thursday and Friday morning I had to take written exams. Also, the professor and I had never been particularly close. And I didn`t like funerals. And I didn`t want to be reminded of the trial. But it was already too late. The memory had been awakened, and when I came out of the exam on Thursday, it was as if I had an appointment with the past that I couldn`t miss. I did something I never did otherwise: I took the streetcar. This in itself was an encounter with the past, like retuning to a place that once was familiar but has changed its appearance. When Hanna worked for the streetcar company, there were long streetcars made up of two or three carriages, platforms at the front and back, running boards along the platforms that you could jump onto when the streetcar had pulled away from the stop, and a cord running through the cars that the conductor rang to signal departure. In summer there were streetcars with open platforms. The conductor sold, punched, and inspected tickets, called out the stations, signaled departures, kept an eye on the children who pushed their way onto the platforms, fought with passengers who jumped off and on, and denied further entry if the car was full. There were cheerful, witty, serious, grouchy, and coarse conductors, and the temperament or mood of the conductor often defined the atmosphere in the car. How stupid of me that after the failed surprise on the ride to Scwetzingen, I had been afraid to waylay Hanna and see what she was like as a conductor. I got onto the conductor-less streetcar and rode to the mountain cemetery. It was a cold autumn day with a cloudless, hazy sky and a yellow sun that no longer gave off any heat, the kind you can look at directly without hurting your eyes. I had to search awhile before finding the grave where the funeral ceremony was being held. I walked beneath tall, bare trees, between old gravestones. Occasionally I met a cemetery gardener or an old woman with watering can and gardening shears. It was absolutely still, and from a distance I could hear the hymn being sung at the professor`s grave. I stopped a little way off and studied the small group of mourners. Some of them were clearly eccentrics and misfits. In the eulogies for the professor, there were hints that he himself had withdrawn from the pressures of society and thus lost contact with it, remaining a loner and thereby becoming something of an oddball himself. I recognized a former member of the concentration camps seminar. He had taken his exams before me, had become a practicing attorney, and then opened a pub; he was dressed in a long red coat. He came to speak to me when everything was over and I was making my way to the cemetery gate. “We were in the same seminar—don`t you remember?” “I do.” We shook hands. “I was always at the trial on Wednesdays, and sometimes I gave you a lift.” He laughed. “You were there every day, every day and every week. Can you say why, now?” He looked at me, good-natured and ready to pounce, and I remembered that I had noticed this look even in the seminar. “I was very interested in the trial.” “You were very interested in the trial?” He laughed again. “The trial, or the defendant you were always staring at? The only one who was reasonably good-looking. We all used to wonder what was going on between you and her, but none of us dared ask. We were so terribly sensitive and considerate back then. Do you remember…” He recalled another member of the seminar, who stuttered or lisped and held forth incessantly, most of it nonsense, and to whom we listened as though his words were gold. He went on to talk about other members of the seminar, what they were like back then and what they were doing now. He talked and talked. But I knew he would get back to me eventually and ask: “So—what was going on between you and the defendant?” And I didn`t know what to answer, how to betray, confess, parry. Then we were at the entrance to the cemetery, and he asked. A streetcar was just pulling away from the stop and I called out, “Bye,” and ran off as though I could jump onto the running board, ran alongside the streetcar beating the flat of my hand against the door, and something happened that I wouldn`t have believed possible, hadn`t even hoped for. The streetcar stopped, the door opened, and I got on.

正当我要参加第二轮州考的时候，从前集中营审判研讨班上的教授去世。格特鲁德不经意从报纸上看到这个讣告。葬礼安排在山林墓地。我不想去吗？

然而我是不想的。下葬仪式定于礼拜四下午，恰巧在礼拜四和礼拜五的上午，我要去参加笔试。更何况，我和这位教授也没有什么特别的情谊。一来我对葬礼没有什么好感，而来，我也担心会触景生情，又回想起那场审判。

不过已经太迟了。往昔的记忆早已苏醒。礼拜四那天刚从考场出来，我就感觉的到有一场与昔日的约会在等候着我，而我又是不可以失约的。我做了一个非同寻常的举动：登上了有轨电车。这一举动本身就是与往昔的一次际会，我仿佛重回故地，只不过故地不再是当初的样子。汉娜在这里工作的时候，电车还比较长，有两到三节车厢，车厢首尾设有小站台子，台子边缘又接上了踏板，正当电车即将驶出站点时，你可以一跃跳到踏板上。电车首尾又牵了一根绳子，电车准备出发时，列车员即摇动上面的铃铛，给乘客示意。夏天，小站台子则是设在了车的外身，列车员就站在上面卖票，打孔，检票，叫站，发出站信号，不仅如此，列车员还要盯着小孩，以防他们拥挤钻到到站台子上，对于窜上窜下的乘客还要严厉制止，车要是满员了，还要拦住往里进的乘客。列车员们有时兴高采烈，有时诙谐有趣，有时严肃刻板，有时牢骚满腹，更甚者则粗鲁无礼。而列车员的性格情绪的晴雨表是随着车里的环境而变化的。Scwetzingen 之行大失过望之后，我竟还幻想会遇到汉娜，看到她在列车上检票，我真是蠢得不可救药了。

我登上了一辆无人售票电车，朝着山林墓地奔去。那天在那样的瑟瑟秋意里，万里无云，薄雾蒙蒙，太阳呈现赤黄色，不再照射出一丝暖意，即使是裸眼直视光源，也不会伤到你的眼睛。到达墓地后我搜寻了一会，才找到了墓葬处，葬礼已经开始。年份较久的墓碑之间载满了树，这些树高耸入天，叶子脱光，只留下光秃秃的树干，行走其间，会不经意撞见墓地的园长，或手拿浇花罐子和修剪工具的老妇。这里一片沉寂，我远远的伫立着，听见教授墓前的赞美歌想起。

我维持着一个观望的距离，研究着这一小撮哀悼者。他们中的一些人在这个场合出现显得分外别别扭扭。教授的赞美词中暗示道，他终于得以从社会的压力中抽身出来，从此不再终日与之为伍，这个踽踽独行的人，自然成了人们心中的怪老头。

我认出了从前研讨班里的一个同学。他先于我考完了试，做了一段时间的实习律师，后来就开了现在的酒吧。他身穿红色风衣，待葬礼完全结束，我就向墓地大门走去，这时他走上来和我搭讪。“我们在同一个研讨班上过课----你不记得我了吗？”

“怎末不记得呢。”我和他握手道。

“那时我总是出席礼拜二的庭审，有时你还顺路搭我的车呢。”他笑着说。“每天，每个礼拜，你场场不落。你能告诉我为什么吗？现在。”他望着我，慈眉善目，一副准备追根问底的样子，我记得，这幅表情我在研讨班上就曾见识过的。

“我对审判很感兴趣。”

“你对审判感兴趣？”他又笑起来。“是审判，还是那个被告？你的眼睛总是盯着她，在那伙人中，她是唯一一个长相俊俏的。我们都暗自猜测你们之间是否有过事情，只不过我们都不敢问及。我们那时都是极其敏感很能体贴他人感受的。你还记不记得…”随即他又提到了研讨班上的另一个同学，那个同学说话结结巴巴，口齿不清，偏偏总是一马当先自告奋勇。竟是发表一番没意义的言论，而我们则装作倾听他的金玉良言。他接着又谈论了研讨班上的其他几个同学，他们当时怎末怎末样，现在如何如何。他滔滔不绝的讲啊讲。我知道他最终会回到我身上问我：“说吧---你们之间发生过什么？”而我又不知该如何作答，如何编一个谎言，如何开诚布公或是闪烁其词。

不知不觉我们就来到了墓地入口，他又向我发问。这时恰巧一辆电车要开动了，“后会有期”我一边向他嚷道，一边奔跑着想要跳到踏板上。我边追着电车跑，边拿我的手掌拍打车门，接下来我连想不都不敢想的事情发生了。电车停下来，车门开启，我登上了电车。