Translation Part 5
June 12th, 1943
New York
It was very rare that Dr. Indiana Jones had anything in common with his students besides his enthusiasm for stories of lost cultures and secrets of prehistoric life. One other thing they shared was the longing for that shrilling of the bell that heralded the end of class. He didn?t feel particularly well that day. The evening before, he had a drink with Marcus Brody, curator of the National Museum and headmaster of the university. He was an old friend, and as often happened, he hadn?t stayed with just one glass. They had stated speaking about old times and the adventures they had shared. He had woken up on the wrong side of bed this morning with a terrible headache, and the day hadn?t brought any rays of hope to him that his mood was going to change. His secretary had put the normal piping hot cup of coffee on his desk in the usual place. But, however, she had also placed a not so normal letter from Dr. Grisswald, new dean of the university, informing him to get in contact after his second lecture. The letter was written in Grisswald?s scribbled handwriting, and abrupt and pointed, the tone unpleasant much like the man who had written it. He and Indiana Jones didn?t get along entirely, and were not friendly to each other.
Grisswald had come to the university some months ago, and he hadn?t made any qualms about what he thought of the excursion and extra tours of his most prominent assistant professor. He had to listen to long lectures on how he was supposed to be a role model for the students, how he should teach them the noble sciences and offer his care and responsibility into molding them into good citizens. Furthermore, wit a reproachful look from Grisswald, Indy had to listen on and on about how he should leave dangerous adventures in remote parts of the world, fights with bloodthirsty natives and the hardly less bloodthirsty Nazi, and expeditions of every conceivable bounds to people more suited for it ? namely tabloids and brainless adventurers.
Indiana had to hold his tongue to keep from telling him what he thought about Grisswald an his ideals, and it was usually with a helpful jab to the ribs from Marcus that kept him from expressing it. Besides, his answers would probably have led to his immediate removal from the faculty, and quite presumably the territories of the United States of America. From those memorable conversations, Indy surmised that Grisswald was quite possibly his exact opposite. It wasn?t enough that he already felt sick. Just seeing the dean?s name made him feel even more so. Grisswald?s colleagues, as ell as most of his students, were nevertheless accustomed to not saying anything to cross the dean in his presence.
Grisswald was physically only a couple of years older than Indy, but it was a fossilized old man who had forgotten to die three hundred year ago inside the body. He would constantly tell Indy to grow up, ad unfortunately his attitude was slowly spreading through the rest of the university. It was only a matter of time before it followed suit with the same attitude. The only reason Indiana was still there was because he had a circle of influential friends and a polished reputation as a man who gets things done. Even someone like Grisswald would think twice before quarreling openly with him. But sooner or later, the crusty bastard would figure out a way to knock him off balance and get over on him. Perhaps it would be today. The two sentences scribbled on the piece of paper promised noting good.
Indiana forced himself to stop thinking about Grisswald, then meticulously organized the papers on his desk and shoved them into the leather briefcase he always carried around. Earlier he had so longingly waited for the hour to end, but now he wasn?t in such a hurry to leave his classroom. He considered coming up with some excuse to avoid the meeting with Grisswald, but finally rejected the idea. However improbable, it was possible that the man would deliver some good news for a change ? for example he might say he had fallen incurably ill with tuberculosis; or that he had been wrong all this time about professors fond of adventure, and now he would whole-heartedly support Indy?s extra-curricular activities; or maybe he had a rich aunt in Europe who had died and left her entire fortune to him so he wouldn?t have to work at this or any other university again.
Finally Indy dragged himself from the classroom, through the door and made the right turn to the stairwell which would lead to Grisswald?s lair. He was so preoccupied with thoughts about what Grisswald might blame him for today that he almost collided with a slim female figure coming down the stairs. He stopped at the last moment, and his fair haired opposite bounced back, frightened. She would have lost her balance had Indy not dropped his briefcase and caught her, allowing her to regain her balance. Indy glanced back and saw that his briefcase had opened, spilling its contents all over the lower third of the staircase. He shook his head and glanced back at the woman, and it was only then that he recognized who she was.
?Marian!? Indy called, surprised. They both smiled pleasantly at each other, but her smile quickly faded. His died just as quickly when he saw the expression that had overcome Marian Corda?s face. She looked back up and forced a grin. He could tell she was trying to hide her true feelings. It was almost like she was scared or something, and there was a hint of pain.
?What?s wrong?? he asked sincerely.
?Nothing,? Marian hastily answered, and she smiled again. But this time Indiana saw the tears shimmering at the corners of her eyes. Before he could say anything, Marian quickly pulled away from him and looked guiltily at the mess of papers and pens strewn about the stairwell.
?Oh, I?m so sorry,? she said. ?Wait ? I?ll help you pick it up.?
She pushed by Indy and stooped to pick up the briefcase, but Indy grabbed her gently by the shoulders and pulled her back up. He had known Marian Corda for more than ten years, since the day her husband had arrived at the university with her. He had known Stanley Corda for the same amount of time. They were colleagues and taught many of the same subjects. However, one thing separated Stan and Marian Corda: Indy liked Marian, and did not care at all for her husband.
?What?s the matter?? he asked.
Marian tried to push his hand away again. But he held it tight this time. ?Nothing,? she said. ?I was just thinking. I am so sorry??
She wanted to wrest herself away from him again, and she felt he was using a little more pressure to hold on. Reluctantly, Indy released her and watched silently for a moment. He watched as she picked the sheets of paper up off the stairs and hastily placed them into his briefcase.
?Is it Stan?? Indy pressed.
Marian stopped in the middle of the task, holding a few sheets of paper and the briefcase in her hands. She did not look up at him, but Indy could see her shoulders begin tremble.
He cautiously glided down next to her and squatted. He took the briefcase from her and sat it on the floor next to them, then gently touched her shoulders. He looked at her face. Marian Corda was five years older than him, but she easily looked at least that much younger. She was a very beautiful woman. When Indy had first met her, he and many others had been a little envious of her husband. Because of Stan she had led a tough life, and he was sometimes bitter and cruel to her. However it had not destroyed her beauty. But she acted differently now. The problem, Indy thought, was that a woman like Marian deserved a better life, and a better man.