Чума
Part II
Theyunderstoodtheagitationwhentheysawthatspiritswerestillbeingserved.Rambertwasatoneendofthecounter,wavingtothemfromabarstool.Theygatheredround,Tarroucalmlypushingasideanoisyneighbour.
"You’renotworriedaboutdrinkingalcohol?"
"No,"Tarrousaid."Farfromit."
Rieuxsniffedthesmellofbitterherbsinhisglass.Itwashardtospeakinthistumult,butwhatRambertseemedtocaremostaboutwasdrinking.Thedoctorcouldnotsayifhewasdrunk.Atoneofthetwotableswhichoccupiedtherestofthenarrowroom,anavalofficerwithawomanoneacharmwastellingafatmanwithafloridcomplexionaboutanoutbreakoftyphusinCairo:"Camps,"hesaid."Theysetupcampsforthenatives,withtentsforthevictimsandalineofsentriesallroundwhowouldopenfireonthefamilieswhentheytriedtosneakintheiroldwives’remedies.Itwashard,butfair."Theconversationattheothertable,occupiedbyelegantyoungpeople,wasincomprehensibleandswallowedupbythesoundof"SaintJames’sInfirmaryBlues",pouringoutfromagramophoneperchedupneartheceiling.
"Areyoupleased?"Rieuxasked,raisinghisvoice.
"It’sgettingclose,"saidRambert."Withinaweek,perhaps."
"Pity,"Tarroushouted.
"Why?"
TarroulookedatRieux.
"Ah!"thedoctorsaid."Tarrousaysthatbecausehethinksyoucouldhavebeenusefultoushere.
