Chapter 25 remember and forget

On the morning of December 3, 1945, he was drawing the curtains when I awoke. Sunlight penetrated through the frosted glass and shone on the man's body. The gorgeous hair shone with the most dazzling brilliance, and golden lines were outlined on the naked upper body, forming an extremely charming picture along the undulating muscles. of pictures. "Good morning." He greeted me with a smile. "Go and get dressed, Rostock," I told him. "It's cold, and you'll catch a cold." "Okay." He said, but walked to the bed and bent down, kissed my forehead, "Does your back hurt, do you need me to rub it for you?"

My face was a little hot: "Thank you. But you'd better go back to your room quickly, Jacques will come to deliver coffee for me soon." "Oh, okay." He agreed lightly and left the bed, reached for his pajamas, opened the side door and approached the next room.When I heard the click of the door lock being lowered, I breathed a sigh of relief, and at the same time began to loathe my own cowardice and hypocrisy. Yes, that's it, we're in this together.But only when it's just me and him, because I know what it means to other people.Rostock was a German and ex-Nazi, and I was a French resistance hero with numerous awards—what a fate!

The man who just came out of POW seems to understand our awkward relationship, he is now my secretary, so the time in the day to really transform into another intimate role is often only a few short hours, I have to admire His acting skills are comparable to those of professional actors; but I know that this is not a pleasant thing for him. At eight o'clock, Jacques brought me coffee and newspapers on time. After I washed up, I asked him if the tuner had come.Because I haven't touched it for a long time, my piano is out of tune too much. "Probably soon, my lord," the gray-haired butler told me. "The town postman, Cecil Polivi, will meet him at the station."

"Very good." I opened the newspaper and browsed through it. Some new judgments were posted in a conspicuous place, all of which were arrests and executions of a certain hidden legal traitor. My stomach felt a little uncomfortable—— During this period of time, the hatred and revenge of the French reached an unprecedented high level, and the people's hatred of the invaders was fully reflected in the severe attitude towards these traitors.I looked at the locked side door, suddenly a little worried. "Where is Mr. Corollad?" I asked Jacques—this was Rostock's original name, he had dropped the von Portmann surname.

"He has gone to the dining-room, my lord." "Really? Please don't wait for me, and have breakfast first." "Yes, my lord." I swallowed the bitter black coffee and sighed. Rostock is very smart. This is what I have always said about him. He learns things very quickly. The transition from a soldier to a private secretary is effortless for him. He knows how to restrain himself and hide himself in post-war France: Try to go out as little as possible, treat everyone with rusty and polite manners, don't talk about your past, and pretend to be confused about German specialties.But his beautiful blond hair, blue eyes, and athletic figure are so different from the Gauls, and... even though he is so low-key, he still attracts some people's attention.I told people he was my Austrian friend who had been wounded in the war and that's why he came to me.Perhaps it is the scars on his left cheek and neck that prove my words. Although some people are suspicious, they will not disrespect me, an underground resistance hero.Over the course of a few months, Rostock's courteousness attracted some women.

It's hard for me to imagine the cold, shrewd, domineering guy from before carefully re-learning how to live and get along with people, but he's actually doing it because he wants to stay with me. "I have nothing in this world but you," he said to me the night we embraced, and told me that he had dropped "the man" last name. I've got it all." This sentence made me finally let go of all my persistence... It's a pity that life is not as simple as putting sugar in your mouth, as long as you close it, you can feel the sweetness. When I walked to the restaurant, Mr. Secretary was sitting at the table reading a newspaper with a half-eaten sandwich and a glass of milk in front of him.He was wearing a snow-white shirt, with a navy blue suit vest framing the graceful outline of his upper body. I think this is more handsome than his original appearance in military uniform.When he saw me, he folded the newspaper and showed a gentle smile:

"Good morning." "Good morning." I sat down beside him and said to him, "I heard that the real estate in Paris has been sublet. Come with me to the office in the town today to handle the agency procedures." There was some surprise in his eyes: "I'm going too? There's no need for that." He didn't want to appear too much in front of other people, I know that, but... "Aren't you bored staying here all the time? Besides, I hate driving." He froze for a moment, then lowered his head and said "Okay", but I clearly saw the smile leaking from the corner of his eyes, and my face suddenly felt a little hot again for no reason.

About nine o'clock Jacques came into the study and told me that the person I was waiting for had arrived. The simple and honest country postman and the tuner invited from Paris were sitting in the living room. I handed the inventory list to Rostock, and then asked him to take the postman to the restaurant for a rest, while I led the tuner. Go to the piano room.However, when I introduced my new secretary, I was surprised to find that there was a flash of surprise and confusion in the eyes of the tuner, but it immediately fell silent again. After arranging things in the manor, Rostock and I were finally able to go out.When the newly bought Renault car was driving on the country road, I suddenly felt that my mood became better, as if some dark shadows in the morning had been pushed to the bottom unconsciously.Probably because today's weather is unexpectedly clear, and there is no faint smell of gunpowder smoke in the air, so although it is winter, it is already as lovely as early spring.

I thought about the conversation I had a few days ago and turned to the man holding the steering wheel: "Rostock, what kind of Christmas tree do you want?" "Huh?" His thinking was obviously out of sync with mine. I patiently told him about the Christmas essentials I had asked him the other day when we were in the study.He looked at me with sapphire eyes, and then smiled softly: "Honestly, Chartres, I never had a real Christmas. My mother didn't think so when I was a child. She would rather The money was left for wine; and when we got to the man's house, he seemed to prefer us to sing a little hymn or a dull military song with him at Christmas, and send us all back to our rooms for prayers after supper, So I don't understand at all what to do on the night of December 24th."

His tone was so flat, but I felt very uncomfortable in my heart. I asked him if he had received any Christmas presents. "Yes, my mother once bought me chocolates, very small, but very delicious. The man also gave me a few books, such as that, I never read, and some messy women gave me Stuff. It’s really interesting, there was a young lady who sent herself to the door one time.” He giggled, as if he was very proud. I couldn't help curling the corners of my mouth: "In this case, let me teach you how to spend Christmas, and I will give you a real Christmas gift." He turned his head to look at me, was silent for a moment, and replied, "Okay, I'm looking forward to it."

It was not yet noon when I arrived in the small town near Melun. I dealt with the subletting contract from Paris at Mr. Garner's office, and then decided to go with Rostock to a small shop that sold Christmas gifts.We agreed to cut down a cedar or cypress tree by ourselves, and then I would teach this man who had never felt the festive atmosphere how to dress it up. Just as we turned the corner on the east side of the town center, there was a loud noise from a distance, and two impudent boys ran towards me so fast that they almost ran into me.Rostock grabbed me and asked, "What's going on?" "Caught a Nazi bitch!" the older kid exclaimed excitedly. "Look, look! Here they come!" I looked up and looked in the direction he pointed, and saw a large group of people dragging a young woman towards this side. They shouted and pushed her, everyone's face was full of anger and hatred, and contempt.I looked at the woman who was crying all the time. She was very young and beautiful, but her face was full of despair. The long flaxen hair was held by a middle-aged woman, and two men dragged her. Arms walk towards the fountain in the center of town. My heart tightened because I knew what they were going to do to her next. The group dragged the woman around the fountain and made her kneel on the ground. Two men tore her clothes and pushed her head down. Several women used scissors to cut her beautiful long hair in clusters. down.The passers-by gradually gathered around, this was not the first time this happened, they looked at all this with indifference and sarcasm, cursing and sarcasm rose up like a tide and surrounded the woman. Yes, they have the right to be angry. During the five full years, they experienced indescribable horror, watched the invaders trample everything in their homeland, endured humiliation and lived carefully under the cold gunpoint.They have seen their relatives and friends arrested, killed, and sent to concentration camps because of resistance. They also struggled to wear wooden shoes and wrapped in rough clothes to survive the days of shortage of supplies, so they hated the Germans and those who followed The women the German soldiers slept with, whether they were looking for a backer or because...they were in love with the enemy.I have seen many times after the liberation of France that traitors who defected to the Germans were shot, and women who collaborated with the enemy were shaved and driven out of cities and villages. No matter how justifiable the reason, human revenge is a terrible act! The scene in front of me made my stomach throb uncontrollably, and the woman's cries were extremely ear-piercing, directly transmitted through the crowd.I couldn't help but turned my head and grabbed Rostock's hand: "Let's go, get out of here, quick!" He looked at me with an indescribable forbearance in his eyes, and I knew exactly what such a scene meant to him.We must get out of this place! At this time, at the corner of the street, I saw a girl who was at most two or three years old being led over by menacing adults. Her cute little face was disfigured by crying, and her flaxen hair made people recognize her mother at a glance. who is it.The cry of the child made the woman who was pressed to the ground jump up. Her hair had been shaved, and there was blood in some places.People threw the child into her arms, and the mother and daughter hugged each other tightly. "Get your little bastard out of here!" a man yelled at them, "Get out of here, German bitch!" Some children picked up stones on the ground and threw them at them, echoing the adults' yelling.The poor woman ran away distraught with her baby in her arms, with the angry crowd cursing endlessly behind them. I felt filled with something sad and conflicted, mixed with anger and fear, inside me.Rostock took me by the arm and whispered to me: "Go back, Chartres, let's go back to Armand Manor. We can't stay here..." I nodded vigorously; yes, yes, I'm not in the mood to think about my Christmas anymore, I just want to go home now... We couldn't be happier on the way back. The shadow that had been suppressed in my heart surfaced like a ghost, making me very uncomfortable.Rostock was driving quietly, his sky-like blue eyes focused on the road ahead, as if he didn't notice that I was quietly watching him.But I know he just doesn't want to face me because he's worried about the same thing as me. He is German!And we live in France! I sighed, it seems that not everything can go in the direction we most hoped after the end of the war.I turned my head towards him and said to him in a whisper: "Don't worry, Rostock... don't worry, no one knows your identity." He didn't look at me, but raised his eyebrows: "Worried? No, Chartres, I'm not worried about this at all, I'm not worried about this..." I was silent and closed my eyes as if escaping. It was already afternoon when we got back to the manor, and Jacques told me that the tuner had adjusted the piano, and I could try it right away.I hurriedly played half of the piece to express my satisfaction, then went back to the study and handed the check to the tuner. He took it and thanked him, but his eyes were fixed on Rostock on the other side of the bookshelf.I asked him suspiciously if there was any problem. "I'm sorry, sir." His voice was hoarse, as if he had been injured, "I just think your secretary looks familiar." "Oh." My heart tightened, "Really? Have you met?" "No, no." He shook his head. "When I was in Paris, I was arrested by the Germans for participating in a parade. At that time, I seemed... I seemed to have seen him. There was an officer who was very similar to him... But it seemed It's not quite the same... I heard he is from Austria?" I laughed dryly, "Yeah, he's my...a friend." "Maybe I'm mistaken." But his eyes told me he didn't quite believe me. "How can you have anything to do with Germans!" I felt that the air was about to freeze. After a pause for a few seconds, I finally ended the conversation with the most normal tone and sent the tuner away. I pressed the doorknob and looked back at the person next to the bookshelf.At some point he also paid attention to me, I don't know if he realized that I was talking about him with the tuner.The afternoon sun came in from the window behind him, and the expression on his face was blurred, but I knew that his eyes were more serene and deep than ever.I felt an inexplicable uneasiness which was confirmed a few days later. The strange behavior first started with my cook. Mrs. Duval was originally a very kind little woman, and the chicken breasts she made during the period when I returned to Armand Manor to recover from illness made me very nourishing.She also welcomed Rostock's arrival, because her son was killed in a firefight with the Germans after joining the partisans, and she sympathized with those who had been hurt by the war.But recently I found that she looked at us very strangely, especially when she was looking at Rostock, she couldn't hide her probing and suspicious look. Then Gaston, my valet.The young man was outspoken and agreeable, and he and Jacques had stayed at Armand during the days when the Germans occupied it, doing their best to protect the house.But recently he has been avoiding me, and every time he sees me, he seems to have something to say, but he swallows it in the end. The only constant is Jacques, who has been steward of the estate since my father's lifetime, and nothing seems to disrupt his work.I wanted to ask him what happened several times, but I was also afraid of hearing the answer I guessed. If even I felt the change in the atmosphere in the manor, then Rostock must have understood that something was wrong, but why did he act as if nothing had happened? About half a month later I finally found out that certain rumors had started to circulate around the neighborhood, and the content was: Count Nodois's new secretary used to be a German SS! When I came down the stairs that day, Gaston was delivering the letter to the study, and I saw the postman Cécile Polivi leaving, and my valet still had a very strange expression on his face, His cheeks were flushed, as if he had quarreled with someone. I thought about it, and then asked him what was wrong. "No, nothing, sir." At first he seemed reluctant to tell me. I smiled and patted him on the shoulder: "Gaston, I really don't like to see you keep something in your heart from me! You've known me since you were eighteen, don't you believe me?" "No, sir." He quickly answered, "I just... just don't know how to say it?" "Tell me the truth! I also think you're weird recently. Are you in some trouble?" He shook his head: "It's not me who is in trouble, sir... haven't you heard that some people... I mean people in the town, they say...Mr. Colorado...is a Nazi!" There was a momentary blank in my mind, and then cold sweat broke out on my back—— The worst thing happened! I tried not to tremble in my voice: "Who said that?" "Cécile Polivi. He said that the tuner from Paris told him when he returned last time: He once saw Mr. Corollad interrogating the French in the uniform of the SS!" The young man hesitated Looking at me, "Sir, is this... true?" "No...it won't..." I faltered vaguely, and then ran away in embarrassment. How can I answer, do I really want to tell him that everything he has heard is true and that the fair-haired man who is staying with him in this house now has French blood on his hands!Goodness, what would that be like? I'm a little overwhelmed by the troubles that have spread.I sat in my room all afternoon and didn't go out until a knock on the door woke me up from my confused thoughts. "Chart, what's the matter with you?" The person who came in was Rostock, who stood quietly at the door and asked me. I hurriedly coughed twice pretendingly, and then said that I was a little uncomfortable, maybe I had caught a cold. He sighed, and instead of leaving as I had hoped, he sat down on the windowsill in front of me. "Why does the ability to lie decline as you get older, Chart?" He took out a cigarette and lit it. "I know it all." I almost jumped up: "Know? Know what? Don't talk nonsense!" "About my identity, it must have been spread around." His tone was so relaxed, as if he was talking about an unimportant matter, which made me a little annoyed suddenly! "Then you should also understand what this means?" I turned my head away. "Although the war is over, you can't help but understand how much the French hate the Germans. If your identity is exposed, sooner or later there will be trouble coming to your door, and it will be difficult for me to stop it!" He breathed out blue smoke, stared at the setting sun outside the window with blue eyes, and asked me slowly: "If someone really asked me to be executed, what would you do?" My heart ached, and I didn't know how to answer—I would not watch him suffer such a result, because he saved me, and saved more than a dozen of my comrades; but he did kill the French, and I saw it with my own eyes. See him shoot Armand Fisher and Professor Marguerite Sorel!How can I justify it for him? Rostock watched my fluctuating expression, and suddenly ruthlessly choked out his half-smoked cigarette.He walked up to me, and there was an unconcealable pain on his chiseled face: "Chart, I don't worry about anything, unless... you give up on me." ... I suddenly realized what a cruel thing I had done! The man in front of him had left behind everything in the past. He was serious about trying to live a new life. He worked hard to make up for his sins and bury everything in the past.He even almost died on the Eastern Front because of this!He loves me, and the rest of his life is only me, but I can't give him the most comforting promise at this time! Seeing him turning around silently and preparing to leave, I finally couldn't help but took his hand.He turned his head to look at me in surprise, and some light flashed in those eyes full of pain. I whispered hoarsely, "I'm sorry..." A pair of strong hands pulled me up from the chair abruptly, and before I recovered, I was hugged into a broad chest, and fiery kisses kept falling on my forehead, cheeks and lips.Rostock kept whispering my name in my ear.I closed my eyes and hugged his body. Yes, we have already experienced war and death, what difficulty is there that cannot be overcome? "I won't give up on you." I told him softly, "Never!" Day by day, Christmas is getting closer and closer to us.Rostock and I have already started planning how to live this rare holiday. Poverty is everywhere in post-war Europe, and it looks like it will take a long time to return to the old affluence.Loans and grants from Americans cannot solve the fundamental problem, because in many cases, it is not possible to buy what you want with money.Fortunately, Jacques is as good at budgeting as he was when my mother was alive.He keeps everything in the manor in order. I quietly thought about what gift to give to Rostock, it should be a gift that he never thought of, and I was going to surprise him on Christmas Eve. Since I made a promise to him, although he is still calm, I know he is very happy.There is something called "satisfaction" in his slightly upturned mouth and blue eyes as clear as the sky at any time. But the rumors had gradually surrounded us, a fact we all felt: when we went out, many people looked at us with strange, speculative eyes; An angry look swept Rostock's face here; Mrs. Duval and Gaston stopped giving him good looks, ignored his needs, and sometimes looked at me reproachfully. Rostock didn't seem to feel anything, but I understood that he was secretly trying to win their favor.He does not respond to other people's ridicule and temptation, and always speaks to them in the most gentle tone, and even offers to help.In the past, I never believed that this man could be so humble!I suddenly feel that sometimes even I start to feel sorry for him... Nevertheless the gossip turned out to be the worst, and on the morning of December 17, Jacques told me that the town's Inspector Gautier had come to visit me. This middle-aged man with beards once joined the escape network in the occupied area and was also an underground resistance hero. He still has a striking scar on his cheek.When he sat on my couch, he got into the subject very directly after the pleasantries. "I've heard some very bad rumors lately, Monsieur Earl, about your new secretary." He stared at me with piercing brown eyes. "Some say...he's a German!" I looked at him coldly, and nodded slowly with the calmest expression: "Yes." "But you said he was an Austrian." "That's because I don't want to cause any trouble." He snorted: "But now your concealment has caused even more trouble! Everyone in the town knows that there is a German hiding in their national hero's house, and this German is a Nazi!" "Watch your words, Sheriff." I couldn't help frowning. "He 'was' a Nazi, that's right. But he's a civilian now!" "Civilian?" Sergeant Gautier's beard was about to rise, "No! He's a criminal, an SS, a murderer! He should be tried!" "But he also saved people! Three British pilots, eleven French, including me! For this he was sent to Russia, where he almost died!" The sheriff looked at me with some surprise, as if he didn't understand what I said.I suppressed the violently beating forehead, and barely used brief words to describe the thrilling events that happened three years ago. The bearded man sat down slowly, the expression on his face obviously suspicious, because I didn't tell him why Rostock helped us; I couldn't say it was because he was in love with me. "Really, Monsieur Count," he said to me, folding his hands, "you're talking like a legend." "Is it a story that you should know, after all you have heard about my activities in Paris." "Yes, yes." He nodded. "I'll look into it...but could you please tell me if he ever killed a Frenchman?" I feel my tongue stiffen: it's an undeniable and evasive fact!I seemed to see the blood-covered faces of Armand and Professor Sorel in an instant. The sheriff observed my bluish-white face, and soon understood.He snorted: "I see, Monsieur Count. Maybe he helped France, but this cannot be offset by the crime he committed. You may explain it to me here, but you can use such reasons to convince Everyone?" I couldn't find any words to refute him, and was speechless for a while.He took my leave in a calm manner, and I asked Jacques to see him out after a few polite words.After the door of the living room was closed, a pair of warm hands pressed my shoulders from behind, and the familiar smell of lemonade entered my nose. "Thank you, Schalte..." Rostock's warm breath brushed against my ears, and I took his broad hands and sighed wearily.The arms on the shoulders gradually closed, and a golden head rested on my neck; was he comforting me? "It's okay, Rostock, don't worry." I turned and cupped his face, "Listen to me, I'll fix this, I won't let you get out of here." "Yes, yes, I know." He smiled, kissed my forehead tenderly, and then looked at me: "It's so beautiful, Chartres. You don't know how clear your eyes are. When you make up your mind to do something, they are like gems full of charm." My face became hot: "Put away your sweet words at this time!" "Ah," he said again with that damned frivolity from before, "I swear it's all from the bottom of my heart, don't you realize I love you more every time I look in your eyes?" I couldn't help laughing: "What an honor." "Really..." He groped my outline with his hands, "I love you very much...so I won't leave here, no one can make me leave..." We leaned together quietly, waiting for the next bigger storm. Sheriff Gautier was a good man, he did not come to arrest Rostock the next day, but his arrival in disguise confirmed that those rumors were not groundless.Armand Manor, which used to represent something old and noble, and then because I added some bravery and honor, suddenly became a source of scandal and doubt. Mrs. Duval first asked me for leave. Although Gaston stayed here, he was listless all day long.Then there are those passing by outside, they will point and whisper, and some people will even say a lot of ugly words.I started to go out as little as possible, but I didn't expect that this incident would spread farther than I thought. About a week later I received a telegram from Paris that Lafont and Simon were coming to see me before Christmas.I didn't want them to know that Rostock was here, and it still seems impossible.My friends have restored their property very efficiently. Although it cannot be compared with that before the war, it is slowly expanding. They suddenly made such a decision in the middle of busy work. I can't help but feel a little strange. But I know some things must be faced. Simon had grown noticeably fatter, and his beard was well-growthed, thick and neat; Laffont was still the same, but calmer than he had been a few years ago.They hurriedly got out of the car and gave me two bear-like hugs. "My God, Shalt!" My friend looked at me, "Why are you so young, as if we just met in college, God is so unfair." I smiled - how can I not be old, I have experienced so many things, the imprint of wind and frost has been engraved on my forehead long ago, but maybe my endurance is better than before, and I am much calmer. "Don't say it in such an exaggerated tone, or the compliment won't work at all." I invited them into the living room, and Jacques and Gaston sent the guests' luggage to the room.A makeshift maid served coffee and wine as they sat down on the sofa. In addition to being happy, Simon's eyes concealed a little inquiry, and I guessed the clue from the way he looked around.And Lafon rubbed his hands after exchanging pleasantries, and seemed to be choosing the way to speak. "How's it going in Paris?" I poured them two glasses of rum. "I hear everything's on track and some actors are thinking about coming back." "Oh, yes... not bad." Lafon nodded, "'Nightingale' may be reorganized, of course, it's just a concept." "I will fully support you, Lafon, just tell me what you need." "Funding is fine, the important thing is to recruit new people. You know, a lot of people have either been killed or lost, and it's hard to find." "Ah, yes, such situations are common." I sat down across from them, "I received a postcard from my ex-secretary a few months ago. France is gone, so I have to find someone else to replace him, but now the guy is doing a good job." Simon and Lafon exchanged glances quickly, and I stood up and opened the door leading to the study: "Rostock, could you please come here?" I saw the looks of disbelief on the faces of my two friends when the blond man walked in with his usual expression. "God!" Simon jumped up, "It's him!" "Of course." I introduced with a smile, "I think you all know each other. This is Mr. Rostock Corollad, my new secretary." "Hello." "Mr. Secretary" stretched out his hand to my friends without any pretentiousness. Although the shock could not be concealed, Lafon and Simon maintained their usual politeness. "Oh my God, if we didn't see it with our own eyes, we would think that those boring people are talking nonsense." Lafont looked at me, "Chart, we came here after hearing bad news about you in Paris. To think that the Major—no, Mr. Colorado—is actually here with you." "I also roughly guessed that you are here for this." It seems that I should be more direct, "After all, this matter is easy to cause controversy." "Controversy?" Simon frowned. "If it becomes a big deal, it's probably not just a controversy, right? You have to be mentally prepared, Shaerte." "Can you tell us what's going on?" Laffont asked me. "As you can see." I said calmly, "Rostock is no longer a German soldier or a prisoner of war. He is now an Austrian citizen residing in France and my secretary. He died after he was released by the Soviets." Apply for Austrian citizenship with all your savings and connections and come here." Simon looked at the man across the way suspiciously, and the way I smiled was an effective way to tell them that this was definitely not a joke. I turned to the blond man: "Excuse me, Rostock, would you please tell Jacques to arrange lunch for today?" His blue eyes looked straight at me for a moment, then walked out quietly. Laffon coughed, "I know, Chartres, he saved us three years ago, we would have died without his help. But now not every Frenchman knows the good deeds he has done, they hate Germans, especially Germans who were Nazis. He's going to get in trouble here, and maybe that trouble has already come." "Exactly." Simon's impatient temper began to flare up, "If his identity is really an ordinary Austrian, it doesn't matter if he stays here, but now his past has been known to many people, even we in Paris have heard it. You Although you are a resistance hero, this incident alone can destroy you!" "I know." "you--" "Simon!" I interrupted what he was going to say next. "I've thought about all this. I asked him to stay." "Why?" The big man's eyes were about to protrude! I turned my head and looked at Simon: "Listen to me, friend, he must stay, because this is already his home." The bearded man gave me an odd look, then turned to Laffont for help. "What do you mean, Chartres?" asked Laffont. "Don't play charades. I remember you were once at odds!" "He... Rostock no longer has any relatives in Germany. He saved me and my friends. He lost everything for us. Shouldn't we repay him?" "But……" "I know you are worried about me, but I hope you will help me keep him instead of letting him go." Lafon frowned and remained silent for a moment, then finally sighed: "I'll try my best..." “谢谢。”我拍拍手，“我也已经联系了英国那边的朋友，皮埃尔告诉我他找到他们会给我电报……” 壁炉里的火很轻柔地燃烧着，因为是两个人靠在一起的关系，我觉得身体很暖和，也懒得去拨弄那堆火苗。西蒙和拉丰大概已经睡了，长途汽车很容易让人疲倦。 “怎么样？”罗斯托克用修长的手指拂开我前额的头发，“看来你的朋友并不愿意在这里看到我。” “他们只是很吃惊，没有任何敌意。” “这我相信，可他们知道我对你来说是颗定时炸弹。” 我忍不住笑了：“没有那么严重，我已经算得上排弹专家了，你放心好了。” 他握住我的手，轻轻地吻了吻：“我明白，他们也是想报答你当年的救命之恩。但他们如果知道我们的真正关系，就算是你也没法反对他们了。” 我的笑容有些僵硬：“你是不是还在担心我当逃兵？” “我以为那是我的专长。” “罗斯托克，罗斯托克……”我把微凉的脸贴在他温热的胸口，“难道我真的那么难以让你相信吗？别忘了我说过不会放弃你，无论发生什么事……我知道法国人的仇恨很深，可是我知道也知道什么可以战胜仇恨，我不会放弃你，永远不会……” 宽阔的大手把我往怀里带了带，我听到他的心跳变得剧烈了。我闭上眼睛，耳边传来他低哑的声音： "thanks……" 我是个懦弱而又固执的人，可我知道不能总是让别人为我牺牲。我很想告诉罗斯托克，我不愿意让玛瑞莎的事情第二次发生，我要保护我所爱的人！如果法国呆不下去，我们可以去英国，去瑞士，去南美……去世界上任何一个接纳他的地方…… 第二天我醒来的时候，枕边已经凉了，我知道他已经回自己的房间。我忽然觉得这样的动作可能是有些多余，如果早上可以在睁开眼的时候跟他说声“早安”，或许能减少他的不安。 就在拉丰和西蒙到达阿曼德庄园后的第三天，尊敬的戈蒂埃警长给我带来了一个消息，默伦的地方检察官和乡绅们想做一个非正式的听证会调查罗斯托克，如果他有罪他们就起诉他。 我镇定地表示了同意，并且邀请他们把地点定在我的庄园：把罗斯托克的去留提到台面上是早晚的事情，而对我来说这是一场必须进行的战斗，我早就有思想准备了。拉丰和西蒙答应帮助我，而皮埃尔也在伦敦找到了当年罗斯托克帮忙救下的三名飞行员之一，我相信剩下的事情就靠我自己了。 或许是下定了决心，我的心情反而比平时更加宁静，圣诞节的前十天我问过雅克，是不是把应该买的东西都备齐了，他回答我该有的全都列在了清单上。我告诉他可以替我安排那件瞒着罗斯托克的最重要的“礼物”了，所以12月20号他和加斯东都不用呆在庄园里。 “有科罗拉德先生就足够了，而且我和拉丰、西蒙他们得跟那些先生谈很久，不希望有其他人打扰。” 花白头发的老管家用灰色的眼珠看着我，然后躬身说到：“是，先生。” 窗户外面全是皑皑白雪，树木和花草都藏得看不见了，我目送他们出了门，然后独自升起大客厅的壁炉，安静地在那里坐下来。 拉丰和西蒙也很早就下楼了，他们穿着最正式的衣服，神色凝重，让我感到有些好笑。 “喂！”西蒙看着我的表情做出一副呲牙裂嘴的样子，“我们这是在为你当说客啊，你那是感激的态度吗？” 我放下捂着嘴的手，轻轻揽住这两个人的肩膀，低声说：“谢谢……真的非常感谢……” 拉丰的大手在我手臂上拍了拍，而我看到西蒙的耳朵后面泛淡淡地红色。他很粗鲁地把我推开，一掌打在我背上：“夏尔特，你越来越多愁善感了，哈哈……” 这掩饰味道极重的“亲密动作”让我忍不住咳嗽了几声，苦笑着转过头，罗斯托克端着咖啡和酒在门口望着我。他的金发梳理得很整齐，露出平滑宽阔的额头，蓝眼睛像镜子一样印出了我的身影。 我朝他伸出手，不自觉地浮现出毫无保留的微笑。 尊贵的客人们来得不算晚，其中有地方检察官克勒西亚先生，还有上届和本届的议员莱斯克先生和欧律斯先生，后者在巴黎有个规模不小的报社，此外就是我的“熟人”戈蒂埃警长。当他们表情严肃地在客厅里坐下来的时候，我非常有礼地为他们送上饮料，然后微笑着等他们开口。 客人们的目光在罗斯托克身上停留得很久，但他们碍于我的身份和自己的地位并没有先来一场暴风雨。 “呃，伯爵大人……”最后先说话的是克勒西亚监察官，“我想警长他已经跟您说过我们今天会面的目的了。” “是的，阁下。” 这个五十多岁的长者摸了摸他的胡须：“那么，我现在要问您：您的秘书科罗拉德先生是否是德国人。” 我微微一笑：“不，他不是。他现在已经是奥地利人了。” 检察官把脸转向罗斯托克：“您的回答呢，先生？” “阁下，”坐在我身边的男人用镇定的语气说到，“我曾经是个德国人，原来姓冯·波特曼，但在我申请加入奥地利国籍以后改回了我母亲的姓。” “在战争时期您曾在德国军队中服役吗？” “是的。”这样的回答让客人们脸上浮现出很不舒服的神色，好象罗斯托克坦荡的回答有点触伤大家的情绪。 “是什么部门？”这次是莱斯克议员提问。 罗斯托克看了看我，轻声说到：“党卫队……” 我清楚地看到这句话让客人们都深吸了一口气，西蒙和拉丰从旁边投来了担忧的眼神。 “这么说您曾经以占领军的身份进入了法国？”年轻的欧律斯议员用尖锐的语气问到。 "yes." “那您当时的工作是什么？” “搜捕抵抗分子。” 议员愤怒地看了我一眼，严厉地问：“您当时有没有伤害法国人，那些属于非战争人员的平民？” 罗斯托克蓝色的眼睛明显颤抖了一下，可是他依旧用低沉的声音回答：“是的，曾经有过，当时那是我的任务……” 这样的答案像一根火柴扔进了汽油桶，客人们都差点跳了起来，那种无法压抑的怒火已经在他们眼睛里开始燃烧。 “真是诚实啊，先生！竟然对自己的罪行毫无羞耻之心，还换了个身份出现在这里！”欧律斯议员大声说到，然后转向我，“伯爵大人，您对这样的罪犯也可以接纳吗？” “请坐下，欧律斯议员。”最年长的检察官克制了自己的情绪，“伯爵大人，您是受过嘉奖的抵抗英雄，你知道科罗拉德先生这样的情况应该作为战犯来处理，而不是把他藏起来。” “阁下，”我知道最艰难的对话开始了，慢慢挺直了脊背，“我之所以这么做也是有充分理由的。戈蒂埃警长，我曾经告诉过您科罗拉德先生曾经救过我，您知道吧。” 大胡子男人点点头。 “各位先生，你们知道我曾经在巴黎参加过地下抵抗组织。我救过很多人，帮助他们逃出法国，我也指挥暗杀过很多德国军官，我曾经被逮捕过，差点死在监狱里。但我现在还能坐在这里跟你们说话，完全得感谢我身边的这个人。” 我告诉几位发怒的法国绅士，他们口中的战争罪犯曾经为了保护我而受了伤，至今他的右肩在恶劣的天气中依旧会隐隐发痛；他曾经为我们弄到了三张护照，保护英国飞行员逃脱盖世太保的追捕；他曾经作为内线帮助我们救走了被逮捕的十个人，还为了掩护我们而接受了军事审判，被发配到东线战场，成了苏联人的战俘…… “他几乎死在那里，我认为他所做的一切，已经可以洗清之前的罪孽了。” 因为冷静，我的叙述是那么缓慢而富有条理，被翻出来的记忆清晰流利，让对面的几个人都不自觉地放松了肌肉。我说完最后一句话的时候，罗斯托克的目光紧紧地黏在我的侧面，那么炽热。我转过头，看见他的嘴角泄露了一丝不易觉察的笑意，我有种感觉——就算这场会面结束后他还是会被送上法庭，可他已经很满足了。 在沉思了过了片刻后检察官首先开口：“伯爵大人，我知道您不会说谎，可是我们需要证据来证明您说的是事实。” “我的朋友们就是证据。”我朝西蒙和拉丰望去，“您可以问问他们。” 我的两位朋友用最郑重的表情，凭着上帝和亲人的名义发了誓，然后开始叙述那场惊心动魄的营救。我看着两位议员的表情渐渐缓和下来，警长甚至微微点了点头。在他们的回忆结束后，我拿出了皮埃尔寄来的材料。 “这是英国皇家空军乔治·洛克上校提供的证明，他是1941年被救走的三名飞行员之一，另外两人现在一位已经退役，另一位在1945年登陆战中牺牲。他们都是在我和科罗拉德先生的护送下离开法国的。您可以联系英国方面调查，我相信上校一定愿意为我们作证。” 检察官戴上眼镜看了看，然后递给了莱斯克议员。 “伯爵大人，我还有一个问题。”欧律斯议员盯着我，问到。 我做了个“请”的手势。 “能告诉我为什么这个……呃……科罗拉德先生会如此热心的帮助您吗？我觉得能让他冒这么大的危险做这些事，一定有某种原因。” 我的手心有点出汗，正要开口，罗斯托克却突然接过了话茬儿：“那是因为我们是朋友。” “朋友？” “是的。”金发男人毫不犹豫地点点头，“是我在初次见到伯爵大人的时候就被他吸引了，他是一个真正的贵族，我很想和他结交，虽然我们曾经有过几次误会。伯爵大人曾经请求我救出他的未婚妻，可是我的疏忽害死了那位小姐，这使伯爵大人非常伤心，所以我必须补偿……尽我所能地补偿。” 他的话让年轻的议员感到很意外，连我都略感吃惊地望着他。 或许是他严肃的表情和低沉缓慢的声音给了每个人值得笃信的暗示，我在客人们脸上看到渐渐舒缓的眉头。 “是这样吗……”欧律斯议员的口气带着半信半疑。 “是的，就如同他说的一样。”我坚决地回答到，“我的未婚妻死在德国人手里，可是科罗拉德先生帮助我们是毫无保留的。所以您应该相信我，我不会把一个有罪的纳粹藏起来。战争已经夺走了我们很多东西，可是有些事情必须分开看。” 戈蒂埃警长第一次向我投来了思索的目光，检察官先生咳嗽了两声，要求我们给他们几分钟讨论讨论。 我把他们请进了书房，然后回到罗斯托克他们身边。他的蓝眼睛望着我，什么话也没说，但却悄悄握住了我的手。我弯起嘴角，看到拉丰和西蒙在沙发那头焦灼不安的神情，朝他们偏了偏头：“别这样，没事的。相信我……” 大约过了十来分钟，几位先生终于回到了我们面前，克勒西亚检察官说他们想带走那些材料和证次，然后再考虑是否起诉罗斯托克。我告诉他们我会很有耐心蒂等待他们的答复。 当他们走出庄园的时候，正午的太阳把雪地照得分外洁白，冷空气刺激着我的皮肤，我呵了口气，在散开的雾白中看着他们慢慢离去。 在圣诞节前两天，拉丰和西蒙决定回巴黎，他们亲人还在盼望能好好过战后第一个团聚的节日。我和罗斯托克在庄园门口送别他们的时候，西蒙还特别强调他已经把书面证词交给检察官了，如果有消息得立刻跟他说——这当然没有问题。 而拉丰的目光却一直带着深思在我和罗斯托克脸上来回逗留，在临上车时他突然告诉我，应该多去巴黎公墓里看看玛瑞莎。 “你平静的样子让我以为你已经把她遗忘了。”他仿佛开玩笑似的说着。 “不，不。”我轻轻回答，“不是遗忘，而是永远深藏在心底。” 拉丰微微发胖的脸颊抖动了一下，突然笑了：“是吗……不管如何，夏尔特，只要你幸福就好……” 我抱住他，用力拍了拍他的肩膀，在心底感激上帝：他原来对我还是很宽容的。 圣诞节来得很快，虽然加斯东也回到他母亲那边去了，可阿曼德庄园在我、雅克和罗斯托克三个人的布置下也充满了温馨的气氛。我们去砍了一棵不大不小的柏树，立在大客厅里，我把一些可爱的小东西挂了上去，没有女性那么细心，看上去倒也不错。罗斯托克学着我的样子笨手笨脚地做着同样的事，我惊讶地发现他居然也有这么不顶用的时候。 平安夜，壁炉里的火燃得很旺。雅克为我们做了一顿不算丰盛却味道奇佳的晚餐。我请他和罗斯托克听我弹钢琴。 很久没有接触键盘，我觉得自己的手指都有些僵硬了，但是《月光》的调子倒是非常熟悉的。那些旋律在温暖的空气中慢慢漂浮着，像精灵一般。当我告诉罗斯托克下面该做的是交换礼物时，他竟然显得有些慌张。 雅克分别给了我们一本和一本缪塞的诗集。我和罗斯托克则送给他一盒雪茄和一支烟斗，可爱的老头笑得很开心。 而我的“秘书先生”送给我的是一块怀表，镀金的外壳很新，看得出没买多久。 “你可以把它放在离心脏最近的地方。”他用很低的声音告诉我，然后右手在胸前按了一下，“喏，最好是这里。” 我的脸上微微发热，说了声谢谢就揣进了怀里，然后对另一边的老管家说：“雅克，请你去把我送给科罗拉德先生的'礼物'带来好吗？” 我冲他眨眨眼睛，罗斯托克挑起眉毛看着我。 “是一件绝对珍贵的礼物。”我拉着他在沙发上坐了下来。 不一会儿，一个小小的身影跟在管家后面走了进来，手里尚未吃完的烤鹅翅说明她刚刚在厨房里大快朵颐。雅克把这个穿着红色外套的小姑娘领到我跟前，我摸了摸她圆圆的脸，对目瞪口呆的男人笑到： “这就是我给你的礼物，我们共同的女儿，我叫她玛瑞莎。” 罗斯托克的脸上从来没有那么丰富的表情。 “还记得那个被剃光头赶出默伦的女人吗？她自杀了，这个孩子被丢在了路边后刚好遇到了雅克。我决定收养她……也许她可以成为我们的孩子。” “夏尔特……” 我抱着孩子向他微笑：“一个完整的家，罗斯托克。” 我看得出来他花了多大的力气才克制住自己没有扑过来抱住我，而女孩子那带着奶气的笑声几乎让他要流泪了。看着那双冰一样的蓝眼睛融化成温柔的海水，我突然非常想吻上去。 我把孩子交还给雅克，让他带她去睡觉。当客厅被关上的那一刻，滚烫的唇便压在了我的嘴上。我们紧紧地拥抱着，恨不得将彼此柔进身体里，在这个没有丝毫寒意的冬夜里，我们几乎融化的彼此。 而当三天后，那封“决定不予起诉”的最终意见送到我手里时，我可以抚摸着罗斯托克的脸颊告诉他： 这次我们得到了永远的幸福……