交鋒

By Jorge Luis Borges

Anyone leafing his way through（迅速翻閱）the morning paper does so either to escape his surroundings or to provide himself with small

talk（閑聊）for later in the day， so it is not to be wondered at that no one any longer remembers—or else remembers as in a dream—the famous and once widely discussed case of Maneco Uriarte and of Duncan. The event took place， furthermore， back around 1910， the year of the comet（彗星）and the Centennial（阿根廷獨(dú)立一百周年紀(jì)念）， and since then we have had and have lost so many things. Both protagonists（主人公）are now dead； those who

witnessed the episode solemnly swore silence（發(fā)誓保持沉默）. I， too， raised my hand for the oath（誓言）， feeling the importance of the ritual with all the romantic seriousness of my nine or ten years. I do not know whether the others noticed that I had given my word； I do not know whether they kept theirs. Anyway， here is the story， with all the inevitable variations（不可避免的變更）brought about by time and by good or bad writing.

My cousin Lafinur took me to a barbecue that evening at a country house called The Laurels， which belonged to some friends of his. The guests numbered about a dozen； all were grown-ups. The eldest， I learned later， was not yet thirty.

Uriarte， in a loud voice， proposed to Duncan a twohanded game of poker. Someone objected that that kind of play made for a poor game and suggested a hand of four. Duncan agreed， but Uriarte， with a stubbornness（頑固）that I did not understand and that I did not try to understand， insisted on the first scheme.

Uriarte was shouting that his opponent had tried to cheat him. All the others stood around the two players. Duncan， I remember， was a taller man than the rest of the company， and was well built， though somewhat roundshouldered； his face was expressionless， and his hair was so light it was almost white. Maneco Uriarte was nervous， dark， with perhaps a touch of Indian blood， and wore a skimpy（稀少的）， petulant（暴躁的，任性的） moustache. It was obvious that everybody was drunk； I do not know whether there were two or three emptied bottles on the floor or whether an excess of movies suggests this false memory to me. Uriartes insults did not let up（減少）； at first sharp， they now grew obscene（淫穢的）. Duncan appeared not to hear， but finally， as though weary， he got up and threw a punch. From the floor， Uriarte snarled（咆哮）that he was not going to take this outrage， and he challenged Duncan to fight.

Duncan said no， and added， as though to explain， “The trouble is Im afraid of you.”

Everybody howled with laughter.

Uriarte， picking himself up， answered， “Im going to have it out with you（跟你一決雌雄）， and right now.”

Someone—may he be forgiven for it—remarked that weapons were not lacking.

I do not know who went and opened the glass cabinet（櫥柜）. Maneco Uriarte picked out the showiest and longest dagger（匕首，短劍）， the one with the U-shaped crosspiece（橫木）； Duncan， almost absentmindedly（心不在焉地）， picked a wooden-handled knife with the stamp（印記）of a tiny tree on the blade. Someone else said it was just like Maneco to play it safe， to choose a sword. It astonished（使吃驚）no one that his hand began shaking； what was astonishing is that the same thing happened with Duncan.

Tradition demands that men about to fight should respect the house in which they are guests， and step outside. Half on a spree（狂歡）， half seriously， we all went out into the damp night. I was not drunk—at least， not on wine—but I was reeling（眩暈）with adventure； I wished very hard that someone would be killed， so that later I could tell about it and always remember it. Maybe at that moment the others were no more adult than I was. I also had the feeling that an overpowering current was dragging us on and would drown us. Nobody believed the least bit in Manecos accusation（指控）； everyone saw it as the fruit of an old rivalry， exacerbated（激怒）by the wine.

We pushed our way through a clump of trees， leaving behind the summerhouse（涼亭）. Uriarte and Duncan led the way， wary of each other（互相提防）. The rest of us strung（連成一串）ourselves out around the edge of an opening of lawn（草地）. Duncan had stopped there in the moonlight and said， with mild authority（權(quán)威）， “This looks like the right place.”

The two men stood in the center， not quite knowing what to do. A voice rang out： “Let go of all that hardware（器械，指兩人手上的武器）and use your hands！”

But the men were already fighting. They began clumsily（笨拙地）， almost as if they were afraid of hurting each other； they began by watching the blades， but later their eyes were on one another. Uriarte had laid aside his anger， Duncan his contempt（輕蔑）or aloofness（冷漠）. Danger， in some way， had transfigured（改變）them； these were now two men fighting， not boys. I had imagined the fight as a chaos of steel； instead， I was able to follow it， or almost follow it， as though it were a game of chess. The intervening years may， of course， have exaggerated（夸大）or blurred what I saw. I do not know how long it lasted； there are events that fall outside the common measure of time.

Without ponchos（披風(fēng)）to act as shields， they used their forearms to block each lunge（刺，戳）of the knife. Their sleeves， soon hanging in shreds（碎片，破布）， grew black with blood. I thought that we had gone wrong in supposing that they knew nothing about this kind of fencing（劍術(shù)）. I noticed right off that they handled themselves in different ways. Their weapons were unequal. Duncan， in order to make up for his disadvantage， tried to stay in close to the other man； Uriarte kept stepping back to be able to lunge out with long， low thrusts（刺，戳）. The same voice that had called attention to the display cabinet shouted out now： “Theyre killing each other！ Stop them！”

But no one dared break it up. Uriarte had lost ground（敗退）； Duncan charged him. They were almost body to body now. Uriartes weapon sought Duncans face. Suddenly the blade seemed shorter， for it was piercing the taller mans chest. Duncan lay stretched out on the grass. It was at this point that he said， his voice very low， “How strange. All this is like a dream.”

He did not shut his eyes， he did not move， and I had seen a man kill another man.

Maneco Uriarte bent over the body， sobbing openly， and begged to be forgiven. The thing he had just done was beyond him. I know now that he regretted less having committed a crime than having carried out a senseless act.

I did not want to look anymore. What I had wished for so much had happened， and it left me shaken. Lafinur told me later that they had had to struggle hard to pull out the weapon. A makeshift（臨時(shí)的）council was formed. They decided to lie as little as possible and to elevate（提升）this due（l決斗）with knives to a duel with swords. Four of them volunteered as seconds（支持者）， among them Acebal. In Buenos Aires（布宜諾斯艾利斯，阿根廷首都）anything can be fixed； someone always has a friend.

On top of the mahogany（紅木）table where the men had been playing， a pack of English cards and a pile of bills lay in a jumble（混雜）that nobody wanted to look at or to touch.

In the years that followed， I often considered revealing the story to some friend， but always I felt that there was a greater pleasure in being the keeper of a secret than in telling it. However， around 1929， a chance conversation suddenly moved me one day to break my long silence. The retired police captain， Don José Olave， was recalling stories about men from the tough riverside neighborhood of the Retiro who had been handy with their knives； he remarked that when they were out to kill their man， scum（人渣）of this kind had no use for the rule of the game， and that before all the fancy playing with daggers that you saw now on the stage， knife fights were few and far between（非常少見的）. I said I had witnessed one， and gave him an account of what had happened nearly twenty years earlier.

He listened to me with professional attention， then said，“Are you sure Uriarte and Whats-His-Name never handled a knife before？ Maybe they had picked up a thing or two around their fathers ranches（牧場）.”

“I dont think so，” I said. “Everybody there that night knew one another pretty well， and I can tell you they were all amazed at the way the two men fought.”

Olave went on in his quiet manner， as if thinking aloud. “One of the weapons had a U-shaped crosspiece in the handle. There were two daggers of that kind which became quite famous—Moreiras and Juan Almadas. Almada was from down south， in Tapalquén.

Something seemed to come awake in my memory. Olave continued. “You also mentioned a knife with a wooden handle， one with the Little Tree brand. There are thousands of them， but there was one—”

He broke off for a moment， then said， “Se？or Acevado had a big property up around Pergamino. There was another of these famous toughs（惡棍）from up that way—Juan Almanza was his name. This was along about the turn of the century. When he was fourteen， he killed his first man with one of these knives. From then on， for luck， he stuck to the same one. Juan Almanza and Juan Almada had it in（痛恨）for each other， jealous of the fact that many people confused the two. For a long time they searched high and low（到處）for one a nother， but they never met. Juan Almanza was killed by a stray bullet（流彈）during some election brawl（打架）or other. The other man， I think， died a natural death in a hospital bed in Las Flores.”

Nothing more was said. Each of us was left with his own conclusions.

Nine or ten men， none of whom is any longer living， saw what my eyes saw—that sudden stab and the body under the night sky—but perhaps what we were really seeing was the end of another story， an older story. I began to wonder whether it was Maneco Uriarte who killed Duncan or whether in some uncanny（神秘的）way it could have been the weapons， not the men， which fought. I still remember how Uriartes hand shook when he first gripped his knife， and the same with Duncan， as though the knives were coming awake after a long sleep side by side in the cabinet. Even after their gauchos1 were dust， the knives—the knives， not their tools， the men—knew how to fight. And that night they fought well.

Things last longer than people； who knows whether these knives will meet again， who knows whether the story ends here.

1. gaucho： 加烏喬人，居住于南美大草原上的印第安人和西班牙人的混血種族。