Chapter 7 Chapter Six

Pyle even came uninvited, saying he was coming for a drink, but I knew very well that he didn't really like drinking.As the weeks passed, that absurd meeting at Phat Diem seemed almost unbelievable: even the details of those conversations were unclear.Those details are like the incomplete text in a Roman tomb, and I, an archaeologist, am filling in the lost text according to my academic bias.I even thought he was joking with me, his conversation was a clever and humorous excuse to cover up his real purpose of going to Phat Diem, because in Saigon, it was already rumored that he was doing it secretly. work.It would be inappropriate to call that kind of work secret.

Perhaps he was arranging for the supply of American arms to a "third force"—the brass band of Bishop Phat Diem, whose terrified, unpaid young mercenaries were all that remained.I still have the telegram I received in Hanoi in my pocket.It doesn't make much sense to tell Feng'er about the transfer.That would make the rest of our months together, tears and noise, utterly miserable.I didn't even intend to apply for an exit permit until the last moment, for fear that it would be difficult if Feng'er had a relative at the immigration office. I told her, "Pyle is coming at six."

"I'm going to see my sister," she said. "I think he wants to meet you." "He doesn't like me, and he doesn't like our family. After you left Saigon, my sister invited him, but he never went. My sister was very hurt." "You don't go out." "If he wanted to see me, he'd invite us to the Majestic Hotel. He just wanted to talk to you in private—to do business." "What business does he do?" "People say that he does import business and imports a lot of things." "What are these things?" "Pharmaceuticals, potions..."

"Those are all for the trachoma treatment teams in the north." "Maybe. Customs can't inspect his stuff. They're all diplomatic parcels. But one time someone made a mistake and opened them—and he was fired right away. The first secretary at the American legation threatened to Stop typing." "What's in the package?" "plastic." "You didn't mean the bomb, did you?" "No, it's just plastic." After the wind is gone, I will write a letter and go back to England.Someone from Reuters is going from Saigon to Hong Kong in a few days, and I can ask him to take it there and send it for me.I know my pleas are hopeless, but that way I won't later complain to myself that I didn't take all possible steps.I wrote to the editor-in-chief of the newspaper, saying that now is not the time to change the special correspondent of the newspaper.General Delater is dying in Paris: the French army is about to withdraw from the Peace Palace: North Vietnam is in danger like never before.I told him I wasn't fit to be a foreign affairs editor—I was a reporter and I had no real opinion on anything.By the last page I even appealed to him on my own grounds, though any human sympathy seemed unlikely to be of much use against the man in the green shade under the long line of lamps, Can't resist the old clichés--what "for the benefit of the newspaper" what "the circumstances demanded that..."

I wrote in the letter: "For various personal reasons, I am very unhappy about being transferred out of Vietnam. I don't think I will be able to work as hard as I can in the UK. Not only will I be financially embarrassed, but I will also have family problems. Said Indeed, I would rather resign than go back to the United Kingdom if I could manage it. I mention this only to show how determined I am against this transfer. I think you always feel that I He is not too bad a special correspondent. This is the first time in my life that I make a request to you." Next, I read the article on the Battle of Fa Diem again, and prepared to ask someone to bring it to Hong Kong as a dispatch from Hong Kong. send out the telegram.Now, the French will no longer object too seriously to my writing this way—because the siege of Fa Diem has been lifted: a defeat can pass as a victory.Then I tore up the last page I had written to the editor-in-chief of the newspaper.It's useless to write like that - those "personal reasons" will only be their private laughing stock.Everyone assumes that every overseas reporter has his own girl locally.When I wrote back like this, the managing editor would joke about it with the night editor, who, in jealousy, went back to his two semi-detached cottages in Streatham, and he couldn't forget it until he went to bed. : The faithful wife lying beside him has been with him from Glasgow.

I could see quite well what that grim house was like—a battered baby carriage on the porch, someone's favorite pipe broken, and a child's shirt waiting to be sewn in the living room. Put on a button. "Personal reasons": Back in London drinking at the Press Club, I don't want to hear their jokes remind me of Fenger. Someone knocked on the door.I opened the door for Pyle, and his black dog came in first.Pyle looked over my shoulder and saw no one else in the room. "I'm alone at home," I said. "Feng'er went to her sister's place." He blushed.I noticed that he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, although it was rather restrained in color and pattern.I'm a little surprised: Has he already been charged with un-American activities?He said, "Hope I didn't bother you..."

"Of course not. How about a drink?" "Thanks. Is it beer?" "I'm sorry. We don't have a fridge - we're asking for ice. How about a scotch?" "A small glass, if you don't mind. I'm not much of a drinker." "Ice cubes?" "Add more soda—if you have any." I said, "I haven't seen you since we broke up with Fayan." "Did you get that letter, Thomas?" When he used my given name, it was like announcing that he wasn't joking, that he wasn't hiding anything, that he was here to fight for Feng'er.I noticed that his short rowers haircut was recently trimmed, and was he even wearing this Hawaiian shirt to show off his masculinity?

"I have your letter," I said. "I thought, I should punch you over." "Of course," he said, "you have every right to do that, Thomas. But I boxed in college—and I'm much younger than you." "No, it's not a good idea for me to hit you." "You know, Thomas (and I'm sure you feel the same way), I don't like talking about her behind Feng's face. I thought she'd be here." "Well, what are we going to talk about—about plastic?" I didn't mean to surprise him by saying that. He said, "Do you know about this?"

"Feng'er told me." "How could she...?" "You can believe it's been heard all over town. What does it matter? Are you going into the toy business?" "We don't like to let details of our assistance get out. You know what we do in Congress—and senators come and visit a lot. Our trachoma treatment teams are already in a lot of trouble because they use this drug and don't Use that." "I still don't understand the plastic thing." His black dog sat on the floor in a heap, panting, its tongue looking like a burnt pancake.Pyle said vaguely, "Oh, you know, we're trying to set up some local industry, and we have to watch out for the French. They want the Vietnamese to buy French for everything."

"I don't blame them. Wars cost money." "Do you like dogs?" "dislike." "I thought the British loved dogs the most." "We thought Americans loved the gold dollar the most, but there must be some exceptions." "I don't know how I got on without the Duke. You know, sometimes I feel so lonely as hell..." "You have so many fellows in your department." "The first dog I ever had was named Prince. I called him Prince after the Black Prince. You know, the guy, he..." "He massacred all the women and children in Limoges."

"I can't remember that." "It's all prevaricated in the history books." I'd see a hint of that pain in Pyle's eyes and around the corners of his mouth when reality didn't match Pyle's cherished romantic ideas, or when someone he loved or admired fell short of his absurd standards. , disappointed look.How many times have I seen this look.Once, I remember, I caught a great error of fact in York Harding.I had to comfort him: "Everyone makes mistakes." But he laughed nervously and said, "You must think I'm a big fool, but—blind, I almost thought he would never make mistakes." ’” he added, “my father only met him once, and he thought he was great, and my father is very hard to please.” The big black dog named Duke, panting enough and getting used to the air in the room, began to sniff around the room. "Can you tell your dog to be quiet?" I said. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Duke, Duke. Sit down, Duke." The Duke sat down and started licking his pussy loudly again.I refilled our two glasses, and interrupted the duke's washing as I passed.It was only quiet for a moment, and immediately began to tickle again. "The Duke is very clever," said Pyle. "How is your prince?" "I took him to a farm in Connecticut and he got run over by a car." "Did you suffer then?" "Oh, I'm sick. I'm sorry for him, but one has to be sensible. There's nothing you can do to bring him back to life." "So if you don't get Feng'er, will you be a little bit sensible?" "Yeah, I hope so. What about you?" "I'm so pregnant. I'd even go crazy. Have you ever thought of that, Pyle?" "I want you to call me Alden, Thomas." "I don't like it very much. The name Pyle brings up—a lot of associations. Did you think I'd go crazy?" "Of course it didn't occur to me. You're the most straight-forward person I've ever known. What an attitude you have when I think of how I've been in a boat until..." "I also remember thinking before I went to bed that time: How convenient it would be if they attacked and killed you. A heroic death in the line of duty. For democracy." "Stop laughing at me, Thomas." He moved his long arms and legs restlessly. "I must look a little stupid to you, but I know you're kidding me." "I'm not kidding." "I know, to be honest, you want her to be happy above all else." Just then, I heard footsteps.I originally held out hope in case that she would come back after he left. He heard footsteps too, and recognized who had returned."She's back," he said, and though he danced with her only once that night, he could already hear her footsteps.I left the door open to let in the air, so the dog got up and stood by the door, as if welcoming a member of the Pyle family.I have become an uninvited guest. Feng'er said: "My sister is not at home," and then looked at Pyle cautiously. I don't know if she's telling the truth or if her sister told her to rush back. "Do you remember Mr. Pyle?" I said. "Enchante." She was extremely generous. "Very nice to see you again," he said, blushing again. "Loin ment?" "Her English is not very good," I said. "I'm afraid my French is worse. But I'm looking for lessons. I can understand--if Miss Fenger speaks a little slower." "Let me do the translation," I said. "The accent of the natives here will take you some time to get used to. Now, what do you want to say? Sit down, Fenger. Mr. Pyle is here for you. Seriously," I said to Pyle. Say, "Shall I walk away and let the two of you talk alone?" "I hope you hear everything I have to say. Otherwise, it wouldn't be fair." "Okay, then please fire." He spoke very seriously, as if he had already memorized this passage by heart.He said he had great love and respect for Feng Er.He had been feeling it ever since he danced with her that night.At this time, I kind of remembered that an old butler was leading a group of tourists to visit a "big house".The great house was his heart, and we were only allowed a fleeting peep or two of the many private dwellings in which the family lived.I translated for him very carefully - it sounded even worse that way.Feng'er sat quietly with her hands on her knees, as if she was listening to a dialogue in a movie. "Did she understand what she said?" he asked. "As far as I can tell, she got it. You don't want me to add manpower, do you?" "Oh, don't add anything," he said, "you just translate. I don't want to sway her emotionally." "I see." "Please tell her that I want to marry her." I told her. "what did she say?" "She asked me if you meant it. I told her you were serious." "I think it's an odd situation," he said. "I ask you to translate for me." "Pretty odd." "And yet it all seems so natural. After all, you're my best friend." "Thank you for giving me such a compliment." "You're the first thing I turn to when I get into trouble," he said. "I guess, falling in love with my woman is naturally a kind of trouble?" "Of course it is. I hope it's someone else's, not yours, Thomas." "So what am I going to say to her next? That you can't live without her?" "Don't get sentimental. And it's not quite real. Of course, if I can't get her, I'll have to get out of here, but one forgets everything eventually." "While you're thinking about what to say, may I speak for myself?" "Of course, it's only fair, Thomas." "Oh, Fenger," I said, "are you going to leave me and follow him? He'll marry you. I can't. You also know why. " "Are you leaving here?" she asked, and I remembered the letter from the editor-in-chief of the newspaper in my pocket. "will not leave." "Never leave?" "How can I agree to this in advance? He can't agree in advance either. Married people will also separate. Married people often separate faster than people like us." "I'm not leaving you," she said, but her words were not reassuring, and included an unspoken "but." "I think I should lay all my cards on the table right now," Pyle said. "I'm not very rich. But in the future when my father dies, I'll be left with about $50,000. My health is very good." ——I just got a health certificate two months ago. I can also let her know my blood type." "I don't know how to translate this. What is it for?" "Oh, to figure out we can raise kids together." "Is this how you date in America—provide income numbers and blood types?" "I don't know, I've never been in a relationship before. Maybe my mother would talk to her mother if I were in China." "Talk about your blood type?" "Don't laugh at me, Thomas. I guess I'm a little old-fashioned. You know, I kind of don't know what to do in a situation like this." "Me too. Let's stop talking and roll the dice to see who wins her, you agree?" "You're pretending to be tough, Thomas. I know you love her the way you go about it, just like me." "Go on, then, Pyle." "Tell her that I don't expect her to love me right away. She will love me when the time comes, but please tell her that what I am offering is safety and respect. It doesn't sound very exciting, but it may be There's more to it than enthusiasm." "She can get enthusiasm anytime," I said, "and your chauffeur when you go to the office." Pyle blushed again.He stood up awkwardly and said, "It's a dirty quip. I won't let her be insulted. You have no right to..." "She's not your wife yet." "What can you give her!" he asked me aggressively. "When you returned to England, you left her two or three hundred dollars, or would you sell her all the furniture?" "The furniture is not mine." "She's not yours either. Feng'er, are you willing to marry me?" "What about the blood type?" I said, "and a health certificate. Of course you should also look at her health certificate? Maybe you should also look at mine. Also look at her horoscope —No, that's the custom of the Indians." "Would you like to marry me?" "In French," I said. "I'll be damned if I translate for you again." I stood up, and the black dog barked a few times.This made me very angry. "Stop yelling, you bloody duke. This is my home, not his." "Would you like to marry me?" he repeated.I took a step towards Feng'er, and the dog barked again. I said to Feng'er, "Tell him to go, tell him to take his dog too." "Come with me now," Pyle said. "xvecmol." "No," Feng'er said, "no." All of our anger suddenly disappeared.It's such a simple problem that it can be solved with a two-letter word.I felt a huge sigh of relief as Pyle stood there with his mouth a little open and a bewildered look on his face."She said no," he said. "She knows a bit of English." At this moment, I wanted to laugh: we both fooled each other enough.I said, "Sit down and have another whiskey, Pyle." "I think I should go." "Have a drink and go." "You can't drink all your whiskey," he grumbled. "As much whiskey as I want, I can get it through the legation." I walked towards the table, and the dog bared his teeth at me. Pyle said angrily, "Sit down, Duke. Be polite." He wiped the sweat from his brow. "I'm so sorry, Thomas, if I said something I shouldn't have said. I don't know what happened to me." He picked up his glass and said thoughtfully, "The best man wins. It's just Please don't leave her, Thomas." "Of course I'm not leaving her," I said. Feng'er said to me, "Is he willing to smoke a bag of cigarettes?" "Would you like to smoke a pipe?" "No, thank you. I don't touch opium. There are strict rules in our organization. I'll leave after drinking this glass of wine. I'm sorry the duke is messing around here.It is generally very quiet. " "Just have dinner here." "I thought, if you don't mind, I'd rather be alone for a while." He grinned unpredictably. "I think they'll say we're both behaving oddly. I wish you'd marry her, Thomas." "Do you really wish?" "I hope. Ever since I saw that place—the big yard near the country tavern, you know—I've been terribly frightened." He quickly drank the whiskey he was not used to, and did not look at Feng'er.When saying goodbye, he didn't touch her hand, but bowed slightly in embarrassment.I noticed that Fengeryuan stared at him unblinkingly until he walked out of the room.As I walked past the mirror, I saw myself: the top button of my trousers was unbuttoned, and that was the beginning of a potbellied stomach.Outside the door, Pyle said, "I promise never to see her again, Thomas. You won't let this drive a wedge between us, will you?After I finished this inspection, I tried to apply for transfer. " "When was that?" "About two years." I went back into the room and thought, "What good is that? I might as well just tell them both that I'm leaving." Then he'd just have to hold his bleeding heart and endure for a few weeks, as a A decoration... My lie will even ease his conscience. "Shall I burn you a bag of cigarettes?" Feng'er asked. "Okay, just a minute. I just wanted to write a letter." This was the second letter I wrote that day, but I didn't tear it up at all, though I likewise had little hope of any reply.I wrote: "Dear Helen, in April I'm coming back to England to take up a job as foreign affairs editor at the newspaper. As you can imagine, I don't like the job very much. England is my thing." Where things went wrong. I expected our marriage to last as if I shared your Christianity. To this day, I can't pinpoint what went wrong (I know you and I both tried to salvage ), I think it's probably my bad temper. I know how ruthless and nasty I can be when I lose my temper. Now, I think it's a little better--this is the benefit that the East has given me--not milder Well, just calm down. Maybe it's just because I'm five years older--five years mean a lot in old age. You've always been kind to me, and since we separated, you once Didn't criticize me either. Would you like to be more generous?I know, before we got married, you reminded me that divorce would never be possible.I accepted the risk without complaint.At the same time, I still want to ask you to agree to my divorce. " Feng'er called me from the bed, she had already arranged the cigarette tray. "Later, I'll be right here," I said. "I could have covered it up," I went on, "with more dignity and dignity, under the pretense that it was for another person. But it is not so, and we have always told each other the truth before. That's for me, and only for me.I love a person very much, we have been living together for more than two years, she has been very faithful to me, but I know that I am not her must.If I leave her, she will probably be a little unhappy, but nothing tragic will happen.She would marry someone else and have children.I was really stupid to tell you this.I am putting the words of answer on your lips.But because I've been telling the truth, maybe you'd believe me if I told you that losing her was the beginning of death for me.I am not asking you to reason (the reason is entirely on your side), nor am I asking you to show mercy.Compassion is too big a word for my situation.Besides, I'm not particularly deserving of your mercy.I think what I'm asking of you now is actually asking you to suddenly be unreasonable and unusual.I want you (I hesitated a bit on the word, and it didn't feel right when I wrote it down) to be emotional and act before you have time to think.I know such things are easier to do on the phone than eight thousand miles away.I wish you would send me a telegram and say I agree and that's it! " When I finished writing the letter, I felt exhausted as if I had run a long distance.I lay down on the bed and asked Feng'er to burn the cigarettes for me.I said, "He's very young." "Who?" "Pyle." "That's not very important." "If it's possible, I'd like to marry you, Feng'er." "I think so, but my sister doesn't believe it." "I just wrote to my wife asking her to agree to divorce me. I've never tried it before. There's always hope." "Is there hope?" "Not big, only a few points." "Don't worry. Just smoke." I smoked one bag and she started burning me a second bag.I asked her again, "Is your sister really not at home, Feng'er?" "I told you earlier—she's out." It would be absurd for her to suffer this passion for the truth, a Western passion like the passion for alcohol.I've had whiskey with Pyle just now, so the potency of the opium has diminished.I said, "I lied to you earlier, Feng'er. The newspaper has notified me and wants to transfer me back." She put the bong down. "But you won't go?" "If I say no, what shall we live on?" "I can go with you. I'd love to see London." "It would be very uncomfortable for you if we were not officially married." "But maybe your wife will divorce you." "Maybe." "I'll go with you anyway," she said.She was telling the truth, but I could see from her eyes that when she picked up the bong and started to burn the bubbles, a long series of thoughts had already begun in her mind.She said, "Are there skyscrapers in London?" I just loved how innocently she asked.She might tell a lie sometimes out of politeness, out of fear, or even in her own interest, but she was never very cunning in concealing her lies. "No," I said, "to see the skyscrapers, you have to go to America." She glanced at me quickly from the stick to show that she had made a mistake.Then, pinching a cigarette, she chatted about what she was going to wear when she got to London, where we were supposed to live, and about the Tube trains and double-deckers she had read about in a novel. Bus: Shall we go by plane or by boat? "And that Statue of Liberty..." she said. "No, Feng'er, that's from America again."