Chapter 6 ninety

Nine That evening I went to a dinner in a mansion on Lake Shore Road.The house is all made of stone, and it looks as if the architect originally planned to build a medieval castle, but then changed his mind midway and decided to convert it into a Swiss chalet. It was a big banquet that day. When I walked into the huge and luxurious living room, my eyes were full of stone statues, palms, lamps, old paintings, and bumpy furniture.Fortunately, at least a few people are known.Henry Maturin introduced me to his scrawny wife with a smudged face.And Mrs. Boo and Isabel, I said hello.Isabelle was dressed in red silk to match her thick chestnut hair and dark brown eyes.She seemed in good spirits, and no one would have guessed that she had vomited not so long ago.There were two or three young men round her, Gray was one, and she was talking and laughing with them.At dinner, she sat at another table, out of sight of her.After dinner, we men drank coffee, sipped wine, and smoked cigars slowly, and it took a long time before we returned to the living room.That's when I finally found a chance to speak to her.I didn't know her well enough to tell her directly what Elliott told me, but there were some things I thought she might be happy to tell her.

"I ran into your boyfriend the other day at the club," I said casually. "Really?" She spoke as casually as I did, but there was immediate alertness, eyes looking, and I could see fear in it. "He was reading in the reading-room; with such concentration I never expected. He was reading when I went in at one past ten; he was still reading when I returned to the reading-room after lunch; He was still reading when he passed the club and went in. I bet he sat in his chair for ten hours without moving." "What was he looking at?" "Principles of Psychology by William James."

Her eyes were downcast so that I couldn't tell how she felt after hearing my words, but I sensed that she was both puzzled and relieved.At this time the master came to take me to play bridge, and when the game was over, Isabel and her mother had gone. ten Two days later I went to say good-bye to Mrs. Booth and Elliott, and found them drinking tea.Isabel followed.We spoke of my future travels to the Far East, and I thanked them for their hospitality during my stay in Chicago; after sitting for a reasonable time, I rose to take my leave. "I'll walk you to the pharmacy," said Isabel. "I just remembered something to buy."

Mrs. Boo's last exhortation was: "The next time you see dear Queen Margarita, will you greet me for me?" I no longer intend to deny my acquaintance with this noble woman, but simply promise to do so. On the road, Isabel gave me a sideways smile. "Would you like an ice cream soda?" she asked. "Not at the beginning," I replied cautiously. Isabelle remained silent as we walked towards the pharmacy;When we entered the pharmacy, we found a table and sat down. The back of the chair and the legs of the chair were twisted with iron bars, and it was very uncomfortable to sit on.I ordered two ice cream sodas.There was a guy shopping at the counter; there were two or three couples sitting at other tables, but they were all busy talking about their own affairs, so it was just the two of us.I lit a cigarette and waited while Isabelle seemed very content to smoke the long straw.I could see she was a little nervous.

"I want to talk to you," she said out of nowhere. "I guess so," I smiled. For a long while, she looked at me thoughtfully. "Why did you talk about the Larry thing at Saturnwert's the night before?" "I thought you might be interested. I thought you might not quite understand what he meant by arm shaking." "Uncle Elliott is a true teller. I knew he was going to tell you everything when he said he was going to talk to you at the Blackstone Inn." "You know, I've known him for years. He just likes to talk about other people."

"He is," she said with a smile.However, the laugh is only for a moment.She looked at me intently, with serious eyes. "What do you think of Larry?" "I've only met him three times, and he seems to be a nice guy." "Is that all?" Her voice was a little embarrassed. "No, not exactly. How can I put it; I'm too unfamiliar with him, you know. Of course, he's very pleasant. There's something modest, kind, gentle about him that's attractive. At such a young age, He's got a mind, though; he's nothing like the other boys I've seen here."

I faltered like this, trying to put into words the impressions I hadn't quite figured out in my head; and while I was saying this, Isabel looked at me intently.After I finished speaking, she sighed softly, as if relieved.Then he smiled at me, almost mischievously. "Uncle Eliot said he was often amazed at your powers of observation. Nothing he said escaped your attention, but your greatest strength as a writer is your common sense." "I can think of a more valuable asset than that," I said flatly. "For example, talent." "You know, I can't find anyone to discuss this with. Mom can only see things from her own point of view. She wants my future life secured."

"It's quite natural, isn't it?" "Uncle Elliott's all about social status. My own friends, I mean people my age, think Larry's worthless. It makes me sick." "certainly." "It's not that they treat him badly. No one can treat Larry badly. They despise him, though; they keep making fun of him, and what annoys them is that he doesn't seem to care. He just smiles. You know How are things going now?" "I only know what Elliott told me." "Can I tell you everything about our trip to Mafen that day?" "of course can."

The following narrative is partly based on Isabel's recollection of the conversation at that time, and partly rewritten according to my imagination.Her conversation with Larry, however, was long and, I dare say, much more than I shall now attempt to relate.As one usually does on such occasions, I am afraid they not only said many irrelevant things, but repeated many of the same things. Isabel woke up that day and saw that the weather was fine, so she called Larry and told him that her mother had something to ask her to go to Mafen and asked him to drive her there.In addition to the thermos of coffee her mother had given Eugene to prepare, she discreetly put a carafe of martinis in the basket.Larry had recently bought a two-seater sports car and was very proud of it.He was a fast driver, and the speed at which he drove made them both very happy.When they arrived, Isabel took the measurements for the replacement curtains and instructed Larry to write them down.Then the lunch was laid out on the porch.There is no wind blowing on the edge of the corridor, and the sun in Xiaoyangchun is very comfortable.The house was built on the side of a dirt road. Compared with the old wooden houses in New England, it was not beautiful at all. It could only be described as spacious and comfortable, but the view from the porch was pleasant. A big barn, a black roof, a clump of old trees, and beyond that a stretch of brown fields as far as the eye can see.The scenery was monotonous, but the sun and the warm tones of autumn gave it a kind of kind beauty on that day.There is a joy in the little space that opens before you.It must be cold and desolate here in winter, and it may be scorching hot in summer, but in this season, it makes people feel extraordinarily exciting, because the wide scenery makes people feel excited from the inside.

They were like healthy young men and women who had a good lunch and were happy to be alone.Isabel poured out the coffee and Larry lit his pipe. "Come on now, sweetheart," he said, with an amused look in his eyes. Isabel was taken aback. "What are you talking about?" She tried her best to pretend not to understand. Larry snorted. "My dear, don't you think I'm a complete fool? Your mother would have my head off if she didn't know the size of the curtains in the drawing room. That's no reason for you to ask me to drive you down." Isabel had calmed down now, and smiled brightly at him.

"Probably because I think it's fun for the two of us to spend a day alone." "Possibly, but I don't think so. My guess is that Uncle Elliott has told you that I declined an offer from Henry Maturin." He spoke pleasantly and easily; and Isabel found it convenient to carry on in this tone. "Grey must be very disappointed. He thinks it's wonderful to have you in his office with him. You'll have to get a job someday, and the longer you wait, the harder it will be." He looked at her, smoking his pipe, and smiling so tenderly that she could not tell whether he was serious or joking. "You know, I have an opinion that I can do more things in my life instead of just selling stocks." "Very well, then. You go to a law firm, or study medicine." "No, I don't want to do either of those things." "So, what do you want to do?" "Shake your arms," ​​he replied calmly. "Oh, Larry, don't talk nonsense. It's a big deal." Her voice trembled a little, and there were tears in her eyes. "Darling, don't cry. I don't want to make you unhappy." He came and sat beside her and put his arm around her.There was a tenderness in his voice that broke her heart, and the tears could no longer be borne.However, she wiped away her tears and forced a smile on her lips. "Just say you don't want to make me unhappy. You just make me unhappy. You know, I love you." "I love you too, Isabel." She sighed deeply; then freed his arms and sat back a little. "One has to be reasonable. One has to work, Larry. It's a matter of being human. Our country is young, and one has a duty to participate in its activities. Henry Maturin was speaking two days ago But we are beginning a new era that will make the achievements of the past look like pennies. He says he sees no end to our progress, and he is convinced that by 1930 , we're going to be the richest and biggest country in the world. Don't you think that's exciting?" "It's exciting." "Young people have never had such a good opportunity. I would think that you would be proud to be involved in the work you are doing. It is something amazing and earth-shattering." He smiled easily. "I bet you're right. Those Armors and Swifts will make more and better meat cans, those McCormicks will make more and better harvesters, Henry Ford will More and better cars will be built. And everyone will get richer." "why not?" "As you said, why not? But, as it happens, I'm not interested in money." Isabelle giggled. "My dear, don't talk like a fool. A man cannot live without money." "I had a little money. That gave me the opportunity to do what I wanted to do." "Shaking your shoulders?" "Yes," he replied with a smile. "It's hard talking to you, Larry," she sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to do that." "You did it on purpose." He shook his head, and was silent for a while, thinking about it.When he finally spoke, Isabel was surprised by what he said. "How dead the dead look when they die!" "What do you mean by that?" she asked, a little flustered. "That's what it means," he smiled wryly at her. "When you fly alone, you have a lot of time to think. You have a lot of weird ideas." "What ideas?" "Vague. Incoherent. Disjointed," he laughs. Isabelle considered the words. "Do you think, if you get a job, maybe these thoughts will sort out themselves, and then you will know what's going on." "I've thought about that, too. I thought maybe I'd work with a carpenter or a garage." "Well, Larry, they'll think you're crazy." "Does it matter?" "Tell me yes." The two fell silent again.It was Isabel who spoke first.She sighed. "Before you went to France with you, you were totally two people." "It's not surprising. You know I had a lot going on at the time." "Give me an example." "Oh, just the usual stuff. My best friend in the Air Force died saving my life. I've always felt bad about it." "Talk to me, Larry." He looked at her with a look of great pain in his eyes. "It's better not to talk about it. After all, it's just a little mishap." Isabel, who had been full of emotion, burst into tears again. "Are you troubled, dear?" "No," he replied with a smile. "The only thing that bothers me is that I upset you like this." He grabbed her hand, and when he put his firm and strong hand against her hand, it gave her a very friendly and cozy feeling, so that she had to bite her lip , don't let yourself cry out.He said heavily, "Unless I have a certain opinion about something, I will never be at peace." He hesitated again. "It's hard to put into words, you just want to say it, and you feel embarrassed. You say to yourself, 'Who am I to use my brain on this, that and other things?Maybe it's just because I'm a madman.Wouldn't it be better to just do things the same way and live with the situation? ’ And then you think of a man who an hour ago was laughing and full of life, lying there straight up; it’s just so cruel, so meaningless.You can't help but ask yourself what life is for, whether life has meaning, or is it just a random tragedy of blind fate. " Larry spoke in a very beautiful tone. He stopped and stopped, as if he was forcing himself to say something he didn't want to say, but it was so sad and sincere that people couldn't help being moved: Isabel waited for a while, and then Involuntarily said: "Would it be better for you to go out for a walk?" Her heart sank when she asked this.Larry waited a long time before answering. "I think so too. You try your best to ignore public opinion, but it's not easy. When public opinion is hostile to you, you become hostile in your heart, so you can't get peace." "Then why don't you go?" "Well, it's for you." "Honey, let's not fake each other. I have no place in your life right now." "Does that mean you don't want to remain engaged to me?" Her trembling lips forced a smile. "No, bullshit, I mean I'm willing to wait." "Maybe a year, maybe two years." "Never mind. It might be shorter. Where are you going?" He stared at her intently, as if he wanted to see into the depths of her heart.She smiled to hide her confusion. "I want to go to Paris first. I don't know anyone there. No one will interfere with me. I have been to Paris a few times when I was on leave with the army. I don't know why, but I have an idea, I feel When I get there, all the cloudy thoughts in my head will be cleared. It's a strange place, you feel that you can think through what you want there. I think I may find me in Paris. Going way." "What if you can't find it?" He chuckled. "Then I'd go back to our very practical outlook on life in America, admit that it's not going to work, and go back to Chicago and do what there is to do." Isabel was so excited by this conversation that she told it to me with some emotion; and when it was over she looked at me pitifully. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" "I think you not only did the only thing you were capable of doing, but also found you to be very kind, magnanimous, and considerate." "I love him and I want him to be happy. You know, at a certain point, I don't feel bad about him going. I want him out of this unfriendly environment, not only for him, but for myself. I can't blame those People say he's no good; I hate them, but I've always had a fear in my heart that they're right. But don't call me considerate. What he's after, I don't understand at all." "Maybe you feel it emotionally, but not intellectually," I said with a smile. "Why don't you marry him at once, and go to Paris with him?" There was a slight smile in her eyes. "I would have liked nothing more than that, and I couldn't. I do think, you know, that he is better off without me, as much as I hate to admit it. If Dr. Nelson is right, his If it's a chronic panic disorder, then new surroundings and new interests will heal him; and when his mental state is back in balance, he'll come back to Chicago and go about his business like a normal person. I don't want to marry a loafer people." Isabel had been brought up in such a way that she accepted the principles instilled in her.She didn't think about money, because she had never tasted what it was like not to have everything in front of her, but she felt the importance of money instinctively.Money means power and social status.It is a matter of course that a man should make money; his life should obviously be devoted to it. "I'm not surprised you don't understand Larry," I said, "because I'm sure he doesn't understand himself either. He refused to talk about his plans, probably because he couldn't figure out what they were.You remember, I don't know him very well, and this is just speculation: Is it possible that he was looking for something, but he didn't know what he was looking for, and he wasn't even sure if it was there, could it?Maybe some of his encounters in the war, let alone what kind of encounters, made him unable to calm down.Do you think he might be chasing some illusory ideal—like an astronomer searching for a star whose existence only mathematical calculations can explain? " "I think something is troubling him." "Is it his soul? Maybe he's afraid of himself. Maybe he's not sure whether the vision he sees with his mind's eyes is real or not." "He strikes me sometimes as very queer; he gives me the impression of a sleepwalker who suddenly wakes up in a strange place and can't figure out where he is. Before the war he was very normal. He was the sweetest Place is the love of life. He's a fool, always in such good spirits, it's a joy to be around; he's both lovable and ridiculous. What makes him so powerful?" "I can't say. Sometimes a small thing can have a big impact on a person, it depends on his situation and mood at the time. I once said that it was on All Saints' Day, which the French call the Day of the Dead. , went to mass in the church of a village that had been harassed by the Germans when they first marched on France. The church was full of soldiers and women in mourning, and the churchyard was lined with rows of small wooden The cross. When the tragic and solemn mass was going on, the women cried, and the men cried. I had a feeling that those who slept under the little cross might feel better than the living. I put this feeling Told a friend and he asked me what it meant. I couldn't explain it and could see he thought I was a complete fool. I also remember a bunch of dead French soldiers piled on top of each other after a battle , looks like a bunch of puppets left in a junk corner by a bankrupt puppet troupe because they're no longer useful. That's what Larry told you when I was thinking: How dead it looks!" I do not want to give the reader the impression that I am trying to mystify and reveal in due course what happened to Larry's extreme restlessness during the Great War.I don't think he talked to anyone.Years later, however, he told a woman he and I knew, Suzanne Rouvier, about the young airman who had died in saving his life.Suzanne relayed it to me, so I can only recount what happened from second-hand sources.I translated it from Susan's French.Larry apparently developed a deep friendship with another boy in his squad.Susan only knew Larry's ironic nickname for him. "He's a little redheaded guy, Irish. We used to call him Patsy," Larry told Susan, "and he's got more energy than anyone I've ever known. Well, he's alive and well. He's grown A queer face, and the same queer way of laughing, when people see him, they can't help laughing. He is a reckless guy, and he can do anything he wants; his superiors often call him to scold him. Dum. A man never knows what it means to be afraid, and when he almost got killed in combat, he grinned so wide like it was the funniest thing in the world. But he was a born pilot, In the sky, very calm and alert. He taught me a lot. He was a little bit older than me, and regarded me as his little brother; which was kind of funny, because I was six inches taller than him, and if With my hands, I could knock him down with a single punch. Once, in Paris, he got drunk and really knocked him out. "When I was in the Air Force squad, I was a little underwhelmed and afraid that I wouldn't be able to do well. He always said good things to me and strengthened my self-confidence. He had a very strange view on the war, and he was not hostile to the German devils at all. But, he likes to fight, and he enjoys fighting the German devils from the bottom of his heart. Shooting down one of their planes, in his opinion, is tantamount to playing a big joke with the Germans. He has a thick skin and has no restraint at all. , I don't know the seriousness, but there is such a little sincerity that you can't help but like him. He will spend all his money on you and your money. If you feel lonely or homesick , or fear, like I sometimes do, and he'll see it, an ugly little face, and then he'll smile all over and say something that hits your heart and brings you back." Larry smoked his pipe, and Susan waited for him to continue. "We used to make false reports so that we could go on holidays together; as soon as we got to Paris, the others went wild. We had such a good time. We counted a holiday in early March, and that was in 1918." , we made a plan in advance. No matter what, we were going to try it. The day before we left, the team asked us to fly over the enemy to reconnaissance and write a report on what we saw. Suddenly, we encountered several The German planes, before we knew what was going on, were at it. One of them came after me, but I got it first. I looked back to see if it was going to fall, and at that moment, Out of the corner of my eye I saw another plane pinning my tail. I ducked to avoid it, but it caught up to me in an instant and I thought it was over; then I saw Patsy like a Lightning down on it, put all the ammunition on it. They slipped away and we got back to the position. My plane was bruised and bruised and I landed by chance. Patsy landed before me ...they had just lifted him out of the plane when I got off the plane. He was lying on the ground and people were waiting for the ambulance to come. When he saw me, he grinned. "'I knocked out that bastard who nailed your tail,' he said. "'What's the matter with you, Patsy?' I asked. "'Oh, it's all right. He hit me on the arm.'" He paled.Suddenly, a strange look appeared on his face.Only then did he suddenly realize that he was going to die, and the possibility of death had never crossed his mind.Before they could stop him, he sat up and smiled. "'Yeah, fuck me,' he said. "He fell down dead. He was only twenty-two. He was going back to Ireland after the war to marry a girl." The day after I spoke with Isabel, I left Chicago for San Francisco, where I sailed to the Far East.