Chapter 7 Chapter VII

On the airport in Rome, Byron and Natalie saw the shocking news of the conclusion of the treaty on the news poster.They set off from Siena before dawn in an old Renault.While the whole world was talking about the sensational news, the two of them drove carefree under the golden sunshine of Italy along the Apennines, past ancient mountain towns, empty and barren canyons and farmers. A green basin laboring in the fields.Until Byron read the press release, his heart had been filled with joy, thinking that Natalie Jastrow would be traveling with him for the next three weeks, and this was just the beginning.

He had never seen any European airport so busy and noisy, gesticulating passengers surrounded the reservation desks, and almost everyone was walking or running quickly.Sweaty porters pushed piles of luggage and yelled at the passengers or porters next to them.The loudspeaker kept thundering wildly, humming and echoing.He went to the first newsstand and bought a stack of newspapers.The Italian papers shouted that this feat of diplomacy by the Axis powers had averted the danger of war.The newspapers in Paris and London ran headlines in big boldface, showing panic.German newspapers use red long fonts to show ecstasy and complacency.The front pages of Swiss papers featured cartoons showing Hitler and Goering in Russian overalls and fur hats, squatting on the ground and kicking out high-booted sacks to the accompaniment of Stalin in SS uniform. feet, dancing.The headlines on the front pages of Belgian newspapers read:

1914① ① The year when the First World War broke out. They had hastily drank some cold liquor and had a meal of cold pasta in the crowded and noisy restaurant at the airport when Natalie suddenly proposed to continue the trip, which surprised Byron.In Byron's view, it was madness to move on to a country where the Germans could invade at any time. But Natalie argues that the passengers running around the airport are just a flock of sheep.They have no right to be in Europe if a political upheaval will cause them to panic.She remained in Paris during the Munich crisis.Half the Americans she knew ran away, and then the less stupid ones slipped back in twos and threes.The actual danger is always less than most people perceive.Even in war, an American passport will always bring security.She wants to see Poland.She wanted to see Leslie Sloter, because she had promised him.From going in to coming out, she only stayed in Poland for three weeks.The world is not going to end in three weeks.

It certainly did not please Byron to hear how sincerely she wanted to see Slote again.Ever since the first race he had hoped that she would be more fond of him.At the second race—Jastrow was not there, they went alone—the girl showed him a frank affection.Once that night, when they had dinner together after the horse race and drank the third bottle of Soyawi liqueur, she said: It's a pity that he is not Jewish, and he is not a few years older. "My mother will love you, Braney," she said. "That way I won't have to worry about it. You're well behaved. Your parents must have been lovely too. Leslie Slote is just an ambitious, selfish dog. I don't even love him Not sure if he doesn't love me. He and I just fell into the same trap."

But she was now on a journey to see her lover, and a political explosion that had panicked Europe could not shake her in the slightest. By this time, he had already understood some of her reckless temperament.Natalie Jastrow is adventurous and ungirly when it comes to climbing foothills or ruins.She leaped from gaps and meandered along narrow rock faces; she climbed cliffs without being timid or risking her life.She was a strong and steady girl, and she was a little too proud of that. He sat hunched over in his chair, looking at her through the dirty dishes and empty wine glasses on the red and white tablecloth.The Alitalia plane was due to take off in just over an hour, with Zagreb as its first stop.She stared at him too, pursing her lips.Her dark gray travel outfit fit perfectly and showed off her beautiful breasts, and she wore a crushable black hat and white shirt.Her ringless fingers tapped lightly on the tablecloth. "Well," she said, "I can understand. It's not a pleasant trip for you anymore. So I'm going alone."

"I suggest you call Sloot first and ask him if you should go." Natalie snapped her fingers. "Nonsense! I can't understand Warsaw today anyway." "Try it." "Okay," she said gruffly. "Where's the damn phone?" The long-distance office was crowded with people.Two female operators were there yelling, inserting and pulling out electrical plugs, scribbling something on a piece of paper, waving or wiping sweat.Byron pushed his way into the crowd, holding Natalie by the hand.When she gave the operator a number in Warsaw, the girl opened her big sad brown eyes and said, "Miss—Warsaw? Why don't you want me to pick up President Roosevelt for you? Warsaw has to wait twelve hours."

"That's the U.S. embassy number there," Byron said, smiling at her. "This call is very urgent." Byron's thin lips showed a strange smile, half sad, half happy.That touched the heart of the Italian girl like offering her a bouquet of violets. "American embassy? I'll try." She inserted the electric plug, rang the bell, argued in German and Italian, grimaced into the megaphone, and argued again. "Urgent call! Urgent!" she kept yelling.This went on for about ten minutes.Meanwhile, Byron was smoking and Natalie paced up and down, looking at her watch.Suddenly, the operator seemed overjoyed, nodded vigorously, and pointed to a public telephone booth.Natalie stayed inside for a long time before coming out angrily, blushing. "We lost the line before we had finished talking. I'm suffocating. Let's get some air." Byron led her out to the terminus. "He got mad at me and said I was crazy. The diplomats there were burning papers . . . the voice was very clear. It was like he was around the corner."

"Natalie, I feel sorry for you, but this is exactly what I expected." "He said I should get out of Italy and go straight home, no matter what—it didn't matter if Ellen went with me or not. Would you say that to me?" She turned to him. "I'm so hot. Buy me a bottle of lemonade or something." They sat down at a small table outside a cafe at the airport.She said, "Take out the plane ticket and have a look." "I'm sure we can refund the ticket." Byron handed her an envelope.She picked out her ticket and handed the envelope back to him. "Go and refund your ticket. They burned documents before in Munich. Now England and France will stand by like that time. Imagine a world war for Danzig! Who knows where Danzig is? Who cares ?”

"Natalie, the embassy there is going to be a mess. He won't have much time to see you." "Well, if he is too busy to see me, I can travel alone. My family has lived in Warsaw for many years. I have relatives there. I want to go there. I decided to go, and I will not go back." The girl looked at the small mirror she carried with her and lowered the hat on her head. "It's almost time, I have to go through the formalities." He held out his hand. "Give me the ticket. While you're here drinking your lemonade, I'll go through the formalities for both of us."

She was happy, but her expression was still a little hesitant. "Are you really going? In fact, you don't have to. I relieve you of your obligation to accompany me. You don't have to. I don't want you to. Tell Ellen I mean it." "Natalie, stop talking. Give me the ticket!" She gave him a mischievous smile and clutched the yellow-green plane ticket to her chest. "Oh, listen, Braney Henry is calling the shots. The thing is, honey, if something goes wrong, I don't want to involve you." Natalie Jastrow's first - no matter how casually - use this endearing term for him.Byron stood up and snatched the ticket from her gloved hand.

What was supposed to be an eight-hour journey lasted a day and a half.None of the links are smooth.Their luggage was missing.At the final stop in Budapest, they spent the night on a bench.On the small airstrip in Warsaw, they were the only foreign passengers arriving on the nearly empty, rusted, shabby Alitalia plane - which turned around and was full of passengers from Poland. The fleeing people took off.The fence was filled with disconsolate passengers who watched the plane fly away. A portly young Polish man in an olive uniform asked the two Americans many unkind questions in broken French, and seemed to regard them as spies or madmen.He confiscated their passports, muttered with the other officials, told them to wait, and walked away.They were starving, but the mass of refugees (mostly Germans) in the tavern—some sitting on luggage, some squatting on the floor or crowded on benches or chairs—had already eaten all the food. clean and dry.As soon as two seats became vacant, Byron rushed over to grab them.In the center of the table were bottles of hot Polish beer, a corkscrew, and glasses.So they drank hot beer.The waiter came over and they paid.Byron found a telephone and persuaded the reluctant waiter to call the embassy.Sloter was startled at the sound of his voice.Within an hour he was at the airport, nervously chewing on his cold pipe.He drives a shiny blue Chevrolet—the car immediately attracts attention.Not only did they get their passports back immediately, but also various entry documents badly printed in purple ink on rough paper, and even their luggage—all mysteriously salvaged from the Balkans. from.They all packed into the embassy car and drove to the city. Natalie finally went to the women's room to freshen up and look neat and pretty.The bathroom, she said, was the size of a payphone booth, with a cold-water faucet and no seat on the only toilet. "Leslie, is it going on like this?" she said. "I mean, this is the airport in the Polish capital! The further east we go, the smaller the airport gets, the more messed up the schedule, the more planes It's getting worse, the officials are getting angrier, the toilets are getting nastier, and the toilet paper is getting rougher. I can't tell if my ass will survive a trip to Russia." "Hey, Natalie, Eastern Europe is another world, and you came at a bad time. This small airport is usually not visited by anyone, it's almost sleeping there. But..." He poked at her with the butt of his pipe for a moment. "Since you came here for sightseeing when you singled out others..." "He's at it again, Braney," said her eyes, with a look of secret pleasure. Slote reached out a hand with a sapphire college ring to caress her face.Byron saw this natural gesture of intimacy and found it very glaring.It marked the end of his days of being alone, if not passionately, with girls.He sank down on the backseat dejectedly. "Despite your madness, my dear, I am delighted to see you," said Slote. "Things are much better tonight. Britain finally signed the Pledge to Poland - today. It was bet that this treaty between Germany and Russia would bring Britain back. No way. From Sweden Reliable news that Hitler is calling off his invasion. Britain has scared it off, that's for sure." "Where are you going to put us? I hope somewhere with a bathroom." "No problem. The hotel has been vacated for the past three days. The Grand Hotel Europa has some luxurious rooms, indeed quite up to Western standards, at Eastern prices. Don't plan to stay long. Things can get nasty at any moment." "I thought maybe a week," Natalie said. "Then Byron and I flew or drove to Krakow, visited Medjes and then flew back to Rome." "Fantastic! What are you talking about? Medgis! Don't even think about it, Natalie!" "Why? Uncle Ellen said I'd have to visit our old home in Medjes. We're all from there. My God, it's plain country, flat as a table." They were driving through fields of fragrant ripening grain dotted with meadows where cows and horses were grazing.At the end of this plain, the buildings of Warsaw City can be vaguely seen protruding from the ground. "That's exactly what's wrong with Poland. It's a football field of 100,000 square miles. It's perfect for an invasion. Even if there are some low mountains in the south, they're good enough." It is a wide and convenient mountain pass. At present, Germany has half a million troops in the Czech Republic, and they are on the Jablonka Pass, only forty miles from Medjes. Do you understand now?" Natalie Made a face at him. Warsaw is much calmer than Rome.Under the dim light of the street lamps, the well-dressed crowd, mixed with many in military uniform, were walking happily on the wide road, eating ice cream, smoking and chatting.The green park is full of children playing and loving.A bright red bus passed by, with a movie advertisement on the side of the bus - the name "Shirley Temple" in the middle of the Polish text was particularly eye-catching.Glittering billboards tout German toothpaste, radios and hair tonic.Long rows of gray or brown four-story buildings, tree-lined avenues leading to vast squares lined with glorious statues and surrounded by intricately carved office buildings or royal mansions.The flashlights began to flicker and dance—it all reminded Byron of Paris and London.It's strange that after a shabby air travel, I came to such a metropolis.The decoration of the lobby of the Europa Hotel was as exquisite as any other hotel he had ever seen.A wide staircase of brown and white marble leads up to the gate. Natalie went upstairs in the elevator.Slote touched Byron's arm and asked him to stay.Then, lighting his pipe, he puffed bitterly on the sparkling smoke.Byron had not seen Sloter for several months, and in his opinion the diplomat was too old for Natalie.He wore glasses, his eyelids were loose, and his thin, pale cheeks were deeply lined.The double-breasted, chalk-striped dark suit he wore accentuated his vulgar, sophisticated air; and he was shorter than Byron remembered. "Too bad I don't have time to buy you a drink," Sloter said. "I'd love to talk to you. It's a dangerous and pointless trip to Krakow. I'm going to book your plane tickets and get out of here as soon as possible. I'm guessing they're fully booked for the whole week. However, the embassy It can be treated better. Even if we need the two of us to push her onto a plane to fly back to Rome, we have to do that. But don't tell her tonight. Then she will be even more difficult to deal with." "Okay. You know her better than I do." Sloter shook his head and laughed. "At this point, I dare not say. I should have been very touched by this stupid trip--and I was. But Natalie Jastrow has pretty much got everyone out of her way. See you at dinner. The embassy is a madhouse. If I can't get away, I'll call." Byron sat for a while in his dark, cavernous room with the high windows that opened onto the Bristol Hotel, wondering why on earth he had come to Poland.He picked up an antique telephone receiver with an ivory handle, and after debating in German for a while, he finally got through to Natalie's room. "Hey, are you in the tub?" "Oh, I'm glad you can't see me. What's the matter?" "I'm worn out. You and Slote have supper, I'm going to bed." "Don't talk nonsense! Blaney, you're coming to dinner with us. Come and see me at nine o'clock, do you hear me? Leslie booked me a suite that seems to be Peedlewski's." It's just wonderful. I have a full-length mirror here, held up by two big wooden sculpted brown angels." ①Pedlewski (1860-1941), Polish pianist and composer.Once Prime Minister. "This way," said Sloter, "our table is ready." In the great dining room of the Bristol Hotel, an orchestra in red gowns with gold buttons was banging old jazz dance music.The size of the restaurant, the silk hangings, the white tablecloths, the gilded crystal chandeliers, the modesty of the waiter, the splendor of the thronging guests, the premature couples on the dance floor, all make people feel like In any high-end hotel in Europe, there is certainly no fear of war here. "Sorry I'm late. It's all the Jews' fault," Sloter apologized when they were seated. "They've packed the embassy. We've all been visa officers all the way down to Biddle. God knows I don't blame them. As long as they can bring up a relative, a friend, a letter or Anything else, I'll do it for them. A New York phone book is worth a thousand zlotys in Warsaw today, or twenty dollars." "Strangely," said Natalie, "I had heard that Warsaw was full of Jews. So far, I haven't seen many." "Hey, there are plenty here, that's right. One-third of this city is Jewish." At this point, a waiter in a tuxedo bowed and brought the menu.Slote talked to him for a while in Polish.Natalie listened with admiration and envy. "Less, is it hard to learn? I'll try it someday," she said after the waiter left. "Whenever we talk in our family we don't want me to understand, we use Polish. I feel like I'm back in my childhood. And yet this place is so foreign to me! It's very strange." ①Leslie is a nickname for Leslie. They had very good smoked salmon, a very fancy egg, and very hard roasted meat.While the others drank good French wine, Sloter kept drinking brown Polish vodka from a glass the size of a thimble. "Leslie, you're going to get drunk," Natalie said, more cheerfully than discouragingly. "Just a little bit in each glass," Sloter said, pouring more from the bottle. "Even if you don't come, I'm too busy today—you fool!" They looked at each other and smiled.Byron longed to go back to sleep.Sloter looked at him, and then, out of politeness, went on. "Well, yes, it's a historical mystery. How on earth did three and a half million Jews come to Poland. It's such a divided country that you'd think they'd choose a more stable one. I don't know. It's a theory, and I'd like to know what Ellen thinks about it." "Leslie, what theory do you have about us Polish Jews?" Natalie said with a grin. "It's the fragmentation here that drives them here. Think about a government with like a thousand barons, any one of whom can veto legislation. That's how they've managed to get by for centuries. No wonder Poland keeps falling apart! Well, the Jews can at least live, farm, and work here, as long as they can make arrangements with individual nobles alone. No need to fear oppression from the king." "That's not a bad theory," said Natalie, "but the truth is, didn't the Polish kings also make special protective laws to welcome them? Wasn't it Spain that drove them out, and the Holy See was making a big fuss?" When there was a wave of persecution, massacres against the Jews? That's as far as I can remember." "I haven't done research on that," Sloter said, "but Poland itself ended up taking that step." "That's why I was born on Long Island," Natalie said. "My grandfather escaped - thank goodness he did." "What is the current military situation in Poland?" Byron asked Sloter. "Would they have fought Hitler if they had to?" "Fight a war?" Slote took a sip of his pipe, looked up into the air, and his tone became thoughtful and professional again. "Well, ask any Pole, and he'll probably tell you they're going to beat the Germans. In 1410, after all, they beat the Germans. It's a strange people, Byron. They talk about politics and History can be very clever, but they completely ignore the fact that Germany is an industrial giant today, while Poland is still stuck in farming, Jews, castles and "Mazurkas". Perhaps the fighting spirit of the Poles will dissipate Hitler's stupid brutes who don't want to fight. This is the current rhetoric. There are said to be two and a half million uniformed men in Poland, more than Hitler's army. The number is quite unbelievable, but in this country , any statistics..." ① Polonaise name. "Hey, isn't that the Stardest?" Natalie interrupted. "Sounds like it. Dance with me." Byron saw Slote twirling her awkwardly around the dance floor, and he looked more like her uncle than her lover.But Natalie snuggled up to him, closed her eyes, and pressed her face to his without looking like a niece at all.They exchanged a few light words, and then Natalie said something that made Sloter look serious and shake his head.They danced and argued. "I could have found him without you," Natalie was saying as they returned to the table. "I didn't say I wouldn't help you find him, I mean, if you're going to talk to him about going to Medjes..." "Forget about it. Forget that I mentioned it." Natalie stared fiercely at the piece of meat on her plate.Slote took two more sips of vodka.To lighten the mood, Byron asked Slote about work at the embassy.Slotes grew quicker, and his tone became serious again.The strong drink did not cloud his mind at all, it only made him talk more vigorously.He gave an overview of the embassy's organization, saying he was in the political section; but since his arrival, like everyone in the embassy, ​​his time had been taken up by the steady flow of immigrants. "Are you diplomats surprised by this treaty?" "Naturally. Even the Poles were dumbfounded, and historically they've been through it all. But no one could have guessed what Hitler was going to do beforehand. That was his genius—if you can call it that. He does have an instinct to surprise." The dark cloud lifted from Natalie's face. "Leslie, why did Stalin partner with him?" "My dear, this is clear enough. Hitler offered him a cake on a gold plate and he just said: 'Yes, thank you!' Now Stalin has turned the tables on Britain and France in one fell swoop. In Munich, they put Stalin aside. In effect, they gave Czechoslovakia to Hitler and said, 'Take it, boy, stop messing with us, and destroy Russia.' Now, Stalin has a Munich upside-down. 'No, no, here, boy, take Poland and go destroy the West.'" Slote puffed puffs of blue smoke, obviously right Rejoicing at the opportunity to speak up, he went on: "Well, the British are entirely to blame! An alliance with Russia would have been their chance to stop Germany. They had years to do it. All Stalin's disapproval of Germany And the fear of the Nazis was in their favor. But what did they do? Delay, fidgeting, hanging out with Hitler, sending Czechoslovakia away. Finally, when it came down to it, a few petty politicians were sent to sit A slow boat to see Stalin. When Hitler decided to gamble on this alliance, he sent his foreign minister to Moscow on a special plane with carte blanche to make the deal. Hence, a world war was imminent." "Will there be a world war?" Natalie asked. "Oh, I thought you and Ellen were the authority that there should be no fight." "I'm not going to panic. It seems to me that Hitler, as usual, will get what he wants." Sloter's face became confused and dark.He smoked hard, his pale cheeks sunken in. "No. The Poles have now got a pledge signed by the British. It was done boldly. It was irrational, late and mostly useless. To this extent we are repeating 1914." .Poland could plunge the whole world into this war if Poland resisted firmly. It's all up to Hitler. If he wants to rearm, the crisis will subside—there's a tendency at the moment. But as far as we know , he has given the order to march. That is why I am so strongly opposed to going to Medjes. There, in the next two weeks, you have a half chance of being captured by the German soldiers. Dear Yes, I do think it's a little risky." After dinner, Sloter drove them to another part of town.Here, the streets are full of three or four-story old-fashioned brick houses, and the downstairs floors are all shops.There were literally tens of thousands of Jews wandering the sidewalks in the narrow, cobbled streets, watching from windows, and sitting in shop doors.In the streets and alleys, groups of bearded people are arguing loudly and gesturing, just like Lower East Street in Manhattan.Many of the men wore long gowns, or else country boots, smocks, and caps.There were also men in long black overcoats reaching to the ankles and black hats.There were a few boys in uniform, and there were some rich men: clean-shaven men in top hats and well-dressed women, just like the Gentiles in Warsaw around the Grand Hotel Europa.Children running around playing street games, the boys in caps and shorts, the girls in neat tops of various colours.Their mother watched them and chatted. "I remember you saying they all rushed to the embassy," Byron said to Slote. "Byron, there are three and a half million Jews here. Maybe one in a hundred has that vision. Then three or four thousand would come knocking on our door. The rest believe what they want to believe, vaguely. Waiting for the situation to improve. The government keeps telling people there will be no war.” Natalie was looking at the horse-drawn carts and carts on the street with a bewildered and contented look, and an old-fashioned trolleybus that just jingled past them. “My parents used to describe all this to me as a kid,” she said. "It doesn't look like it's changed." When the embassy car drove by, people stopped to look at its back.At one point, Sloter pulled over to make a loop.Groups of Jews gathered around, but their answers in Polish were cautiously vague. "Let me try it," Natalie said, and she spoke Yiddish.When they heard this, they burst into laughter in surprise, followed by a warm and friendly conversation.A plump boy in a battered cap volunteered to run in front of the car to give directions, and they drove in the direction he pointed. ①It is a language mixed with German, Hebrew and Slavic, popular among European and American Jews. "I can stutter a little when I have to," Natalie said. "Ellen is pretty good at it, even though he never speaks a word of Yiddish." "You're very good," said Sloter.Natalie and Sloter got out of the car in front of a gray brick apartment building.The building had long narrow windows and an ornately carved iron door, and hydrangeas were in full bloom in the window boxes.In front of the building is a small green park, where Jews sit on benches in groups, or gather noisyly around a fountain that is bursting with water.Curious children ran out of the park and surrounded Byron in the American car, chatting casually about him and the car.Under their joyful gaze, Byron felt a little like an ape behind glass.The faces of these Jewish children were full of vitality and mischief, but they did not behave impolitely, and some of them smiled shyly at him.He regretted that he had no presents to offer them.He took a fountain pen from his pocket, and intended to give it through the open window to a dark-haired girl in a lilac dress with white lace at the cuffs and neckline.She hesitated, blinking her alert dark brown eyes.The children nearby encouraged her to accept the gift with shouts and giggles.Finally, she took it over, rubbed her cold little finger on his hand, and then briskly ran away. "Oh, you guessed it, he wasn't here," Natalie said to Byron a few minutes later, walking back to the car with Slote. "His family went to Medjes for his son's wedding. I've had bad luck. Ellen told me he's in the mushroom business, but can it do that well? Looks like he's having a good time." Good." "Not much better," Sloter said, starting the motor. "It's got to be the nicest apartment building in the strip." The little girl in the lilac dress appeared again, bringing her parents.Her father was wearing a knee-length gray dress and a gray wide-brimmed hat.Her mother, wearing a turban and a brown German-cut suit, was holding a doll wrapped in a pink blanket. "He came to thank you," Sloter said to Byron, as the father spoke solemnly through the window in Polish, holding a fountain pen. "He also said that this pen is too expensive, and he asked you to take it back." "Tell him that this American is in love with her daughter. She is the most beautiful girl in the world, so she must take it." Slote translated the words, and her parents laughed.The little girl dodged against her mother's skirt and gave Byron an eager look.Her mother unfastened a gold brooch with an amethyst in it from the lapel of her blouse and made sure Natalie took it.Natalie tried to push back in Yiddish.Again this caused surprise and a burst of pleasant conversation.As a result, she had no choice but to accept the other Needle, the little girl left the pen.So, they left amidst the sound of "goodbye". "Well, I'm not out to loot," Natalie said. "You keep it, Byron. It's a nice pin. You keep it for your girlfriend, or your sister, or your mother." "Keep it, it's yours," he said curtly. "I might consider staying in Warsaw and waiting for that girl to grow up." "Her parents wouldn't say yes," Sloter said. "They're going to marry her to a rabbi." "Stay away from Jewish girls anyway. They're not good idols," Natalie said. "Amen," said Sloter. ①Greek, originally from Hebrew: "I hope so", the concluding words of Christian prayer. ②Hebrew: "My Master", which is the respectful title of Jews for doctors of law and those who preside over religious ceremonies. Natalie was pinning the pin to her coat. "Then I think I'll have to go to Medjes to see Ben Riel. It's a pity, Ellen says he's very clever, and no one can show me around Warsaw like him. They studied Judaism together. even though Baen Riel is much younger than him." Sloter shook his head dejectedly when Natalie mentioned Medgis.