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- Альбер Камю
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- Стр. 160/187
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"
"
Yes
,
certainly
,
you
need
a
rest
.
"
"
That
’
s
not
it
,
I
want
to
go
back
to
the
camp
.
"
Rieux
was
astonished
:
"
But
you
’
ve
just
come
out
!
"
"
I
haven
’
t
explained
myself
properly
.
I
was
told
that
there
were
volunteers
from
the
administration
in
the
camp
.
"
The
magistrate
rolled
his
eyes
a
little
and
tried
to
flatten
a
tuft
of
hair
.
"
You
see
,
it
would
give
me
something
to
do
.
And
then
,
though
it
may
sound
stupid
,
I
would
feel
less
separated
from
my
little
boy
.
"
Rieux
looked
at
him
.
It
wasn
’
t
possible
that
some
tender
feeling
had
entered
those
hard
,
flat
eyes
.
But
they
had
become
more
misty
and
lost
their
metallic
purity
.
"
Of
course
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
’
ll
see
to
it
,
if
that
’
s
really
what
you
want
.
"
The
doctor
did
,
indeed
,
take
care
of
it
and
the
life
of
the
plague
-
ridden
town
resumed
its
course
until
Christmas
.
Tarrou
continued
to
display
his
efficient
calm
everywhere
.
Rambert
confided
in
the
doctor
that
he
had
managed
,
through
the
two
young
guards
,
to
set
up
a
system
of
clandestine
correspondence
with
his
wife
.
He
received
a
letter
occasionally
.
He
invited
Rieux
to
take
advantage
of
the
system
and
the
doctor
agreed
.
He
wrote
for
the
first
time
for
many
long
months
,
but
found
it
extremely
difficult
.
There
was
a
language
that
he
had
forgotten
.
The
letter
left
.
It
was
a
long
time
before
the
reply
came
.
For
his
part
,
Cottard
prospered
and
his
little
speculations
were
making
him
rich
.
As
for
Grand
,
the
holiday
period
was
not
to
be
a
successful
one
for
him
.
Christmas
that
year
was
more
the
Feast
of
Hell
than
of
the
coming
of
Christ
.
Empty
,
unlit
shops
,
with
fake
chocolates
or
empty
boxes
in
the
windows
,
and
passing
trams
loaded
with
dark
figures
:
nothing
to
recall
Christmas
in
the
past
.
At
this
time
,
when
once
everybody
rich
and
poor
had
joined
together
,
there
was
no
place
now
except
for
the
solitary
,
shameful
celebrations
in
some
dingy
back
-
room
that
the
privileged
few
bought
for
themselves
at
huge
expense
.
The
churches
were
filled
with
wailing
and
sobbing
rather
than
thanksgiving
.
In
this
sombre
,
icy
town
a
few
children
ran
about
,
still
ignorant
of
what
awaited
them
.
But
no
one
dared
tell
them
about
the
God
of
former
times
,
laden
with
offerings
,
as
old
as
human
suffering
,
yet
as
new
as
the
freshest
hope
.
There
was
no
longer
a
place
in
one
’
s
heart
except
for
a
single
very
old
and
very
sad
hope
,
the
same
one
that
prevents
men
from
giving
way
to
death
and
which
is
no
more
than
a
simple
,
obstinate
determination
to
live
.
