The Shoe Tester of Frankfurt(Excerpt) 精彩片段：
Excerpt-1
Shortly after breakfast I leave my apartment, carrying two canvas bags. Each bag contains three pairs of shoes that I have personally tested; the bag in my left hand also holds six evaluation reports, each between two and two-and-a-half pages long. The summer morning is warm and almost excessively bright. The swallows fly straight up the walls of the apartment houses and then either turn sideways over the roofs or soar on into the blue. Id like to stay right there and at least watch them, if I cant imitate them. But I have an appointment. Im supposed to meet Habedank at ten. At Ebert Platz I take the number 7 train to Hollenstein, where the Weisshuhn Shoe Factory is located, not far from the station. Ill meet Habedank in the managers office and give him the shoes along with the reports. Well chat for about three quarters of an hour—first twenty minutes about the test shoes, and the rest of the time about electric trains. Then Habedank will hand me three or four pairs of new shoes, and Ill go home. Ive known this routine for years, but I still get a little nervous every time. It goes back to my particular conceit, which I sense a little more acutely during these expeditions than usual, when Im just at home. I inherited this conceit from my mother. We both believe that its not worth looking at the world for an entire lifetime. I used to struggle against the effects of this conceit, but not anymore. Naturally I have to make a special effort when Im with Habedank. He shouldnt notice my conceit at all. He thinks that Im an electric train hobbyist just like he is, that to this day I read the same technical magazines that he does, primarily about early Trix and Fleischmann products. He doesnt realize that Im just drawing on the same store of knowledge frozen from my childhood days, and all just for him, time after time. Its also possible that Habedank will tell me one of his tedious stories, which I listen to with perfunctory sympathy. Three weeks ago he took nearly ten minutes to tell me about the end of his vacation. On the whole trip from Italy to Germany he thought he was about to run out of gas. But then he made it back home without incident. That was/is his entire story. I sat still in front of his desk for ten minutes and laughed with delight when he reached the end and exclaimed: It turned out there was enough gas! Imagine! There was enough gas! My conceit entails a nearly continuous collision of humility and disgust. The two forces are of nearly equal strength. On one hand, I sense my humility admonishing: Its precisely the most idiotic stories of your fellow man that you should listen to! At the same time, however, my disgust taunts me: If you dont escape right away, youll drown in the vapors of your fellow man. Whats infuriating is that this constant colliding never allows either side to win. So the two forces just go on running the same collision course over and over. And those are my feelings as I find myself approaching Habedanks office. I tell myself that Im prepared for anything and right away I have to laugh at myself. Habedank and Oppau, one of the firms buyers, succeeded in making the office a no-smoking zone. Thats why Frau Fischedick, another buyer who still smokes, paces up and down outside the office, smoking and grinning. She holds up her arms and waves at me. I observe that Frau Fischedick wants to be in the office when I speak with Habedank. She puts out her cigarette and goes in shortly after I do.
Habedank is sitting at his long black desk; when he sees me he stands up.
Ah there he is! Our master tester! he calls out.
My conceit triggers a hint of a smile. I walk across a soft gray carpet. The walls are lined with a series of indirect lighting fixtures. The window blinds are closed; the room is cast in gently dimmed light. Herr Oppaus desk is on the left; Frau Fischedicks is on the right, in front of Habedanks. When he opens his jacket I catch sight of a hand-sized bloodstain on the chest of his shirt. I stare at Habedank; Habedank stares at me.
Unfortunately someone took a shot at me, says Habedank.
Who? I ask.
A fired tester.
Oh, I say.
Herr Habedank, Herr Habedank, says Frau Fischedick.
How do you like the bloodbath? asks Habedank and sinks back into his swivel armchair.
Dont believe a word he says! says Frau Fischedick.
Herr Habedank is one of the many people who have earned a natural death, says Herr Oppau.
Savoring that last remark, I sit down in the visitors chair and place my evaluations on Habedanks table.
A felt-tip pen happened to leak in my shirt pocket, says Habedank.