Chapter 10 chapter Ten

Hugh Cleveland's feet in stockings are resting on a pile of newspapers spread out on his desk, topped by a copy of The New York Times, in tuned up to suit the situation, with unprecedented use of The italicized headings of the eight banners: Germany invades Poland; Cities were bombed and ports blocked; Danzig was admitted to Germany. But other newspapers have larger and bolder headlines than the polite roar of The New York Times.Cleveland, in a shirt-sleeves, reclined in a swivel chair, with a telephone receiver tucked between his head and left shoulder, making quick marks with a red pencil on a stack of yellow typing paper, sipping coffee while talking.After eight years in the broadcasting business, he's gotten pretty good at the stuff.Although on the surface he seemed nervous and satisfied, his voice was tinged with anger.His morning program is called "The City's Celebrities," and he interviews famous people passing through New York.The crisis of war had suddenly roared into CBS and had taken Cleveland's secretary to the newsroom, where he was now protesting, or trying to do so, to the personnel department.His call to the manager never came through.

A little girl in a flat black straw hat appeared at the door.Behind her, in the big offices of CBS News, the riot over news of the war intensified.Secretaries were busy clicking away, or hurrying to and fro with manuscripts; pagemen ran with coffee and sandwiches; Passing the typewriter, it seems that everyone is shouting and smoking. "Are you Mr. Cleveland?" The girl's voice was sweet but trembling, and her round, frightened eyes made her look about sixteen or seventeen.Cleveland put his hand on the microphone and asked, "What's the matter?" "The Personnel Department asked me to come up and find you."

"Let you? God, how old are you?" "Twenty years old." Cleveland seemed a little incredulous, but he hung up the phone anyway. "What's your name?" "Madeline Henry." Cleveland sighed. "Well, well, Madeleine. If you want to play for money, you have to know how to play. So, take off your hat and do it right away, will you? Please give I'll buy another coffee and a chicken sandwich.And the manuscript for tomorrow—” He patted the stack of yellow paper with his hand and said, “It needs to be typed. " Madeleine couldn't hide any longer.She had come to New York to buy clothes, and the sudden outbreak of war had prompted her to walk into CBS to see if she needed a temporary female staff.In the personnel department an impatient woman in a pair of yellow paper cuffs slipped her a slip of paper, asked her a few questions about her qualifications, and sent her upstairs to Cleveland. "Go talk to him, we can hire you if you like him. He wants a girl, and we can't get anyone here."

Madeleine stepped into the room, stood with her legs apart, took off her hat and held it in her hand, and admitted that she hadn't been hired yet, that she had come to hang out in New York, lived in Washington, and had to go back to school.She was troubled by the thought, and because she was too afraid of her father to do anything.She had just walked into CBS on a spur of the moment.He smiled and listened to her, while squinting his eyes to look at her.She wore a red cloth dress with no sleeves, and looked good from the weekend at sea. "So, Madeline, what do you mean by that? Do you really want to do this job?"

"I was wondering—could I come back in a week or so?" The smile faded from his face, and he picked up the phone again. "Personnel. Well, you can come back later, Madeleine She said, "I'll get you coffee and sandwiches right away, I can do that. I can type your manuscript now too. Can I stay with you for three weeks? Twenty-four I didn't have to go back to school before. My father wouldn't spare me if he found out, but I don't care." "Where is your father? In Washington?" "He's in Berlin. He's the naval attaché there." "What?" Hugh Cleveland put down the phone and put his feet off the table.

"Your father was our naval attaché in Nazi Germany?" "yes." "I didn't expect that, okay! You are a child of the Navy." He threw a five-dollar bill on the table. "Okay, Madeline, please get me a sandwich, white meat, lettuce, pepper, mayonnaise. Black coffee. We'll talk about the rest later. Get yourself a sandwich, too." "Yes, Mr. Cleveland." Madeline picked up the banknote and ran to the hall outside, where she stood there in a daze.She had listened to "The City's Who's Who" a few times, and she immediately recognized Cleveland's distinctive, emotive hearty voice; a real announcer with his own show, and suddenly she was Worked for him.And this is the time of war!A girl whizzed past her with a sack of groceries, and she knew where to buy bread.But already a dozen or so chattering girls were crowding the retail counter of the diner out in the corridor, and she was out onto Madison Avenue.She stood blinking in the warm sunlight.Events in New York continued as before.Crowds of people walked on the pavements; cars and cars puffed smoke to and fro; people came in and out of the store with packages and looked in the windows.The only thing that was new was the fact that the news vendors were holding up stacks of evening papers and shouting war news.Madeline ran across the street to the big pharmacy, where the cafeteria was crowded with clerks and shoppers.They chatted and laughed happily while eating the spicy soup or vegetable soup in the bowl.The same people, bustling through the pharmacy, buying toothpaste, detergent, aspirin, candy, and cheap clocks.A fat elderly blond woman in an apron and hat was quickly preparing her sandwiches.

"Oh dear, who's going to win this battle?" she asked kindly, peppering the chicken. "Hope Hitler doesn't win," Madeleine replied. "By the way, isn't he an important person? sieg heil! ①Haha, I think this man is a lunatic. I always say that, and this has come true." She handed the bread to Madeleine. "Okay, honey, since we don't get involved, whoever wins!" Madeleine bought an evening newspaper with a huge headline, but there was no new news.Just watching such a dramatic first edition is new joy.Although the war was far away, Madeline felt that the blood in her veins suddenly flowed faster.Amidst these titles rose the breath of freedom and new action.The President immediately and very firmly declared that the United States would not be involved in the war.But the development of things is very different from now on, and getting involved is inevitable!All the time in her mind she was thinking of how to write to her father, if only she could get the job.

① German: Long live victory! Cleveland put his feet up on the table again, talking on the phone with a flirty smile on his face. He nodded to Madeleine--and continued in an enthusiastic low voice to persuade a girl to meet him at the Belle's--and wolfed down his bread. "Why didn't you eat that?" Madeline said. "I'm not hungry." "Really? I don't want to steal your food." He put down the phone and opened her bag of sandwiches. "Usually I don't eat much during the day, but now this is talking about the war—" He took a big bite and continued, "Thanks. I swear, I was as hungry as I was at a funeral. Didn't notice you were at a funeral How hungry are you, Madeline? I think how happy you are to be alive to see such a wretch buried in the earth. Well, listen, you want to stay with me for three weeks , right? That's fine too. This gives me a chance to find out what's going on in HR." He held up a brown envelope and waved it at her. "Hello, Jarley Cooper lives in room 641 of the St. Regis Hotel. Here's a sample of the 'Who's Who in the City' script, please send it to him. We'll have him here about Thursday."

"Jarley Cooper? Is that the movie star you mean?" Madeleine spoke in a high-pitched voice like her mother's, startled. "Who else? He might ask you some questions about the broadcast and about me. So listen carefully and keep my words in your head. We're working in a small studio with no audience and it's very comfortable It's a nice room with armchairs, books, and a rug. It's like a home study. It's in this room that Mrs. Roosevelt broadcasts her show. We can send the manuscript if he wants. Typed in extra large type. He could broadcast for five to fifteen minutes. The whole show would take an hour and a half. I started the show in Los Angeles in 1934 for three years. I didn't care then It's called 'After Dinner', maybe he's heard it. Of course he's probably too busy to ask these questions. Anyway, act like you've been doing it for a while."

Madeleine was so flustered that she was too excited to speak, and immediately reached for the envelope.Cleveland handed her the envelope and said, "Ready? Lift the anchor. For Christ's sake, don't ask him to sign, and if you have any problems, call me. Don't come back." " Madeleine burst out suddenly: "There must be some very stupid girls who have done it with you." After saying that, she hurried out. A maid opened the door of the hotel room, and Jared Cooper, dressed in gray, was eating lunch at a table on wheels.The movie star stood up, smiling at Madeleine.He was exceptionally tall, lanky, and wore black-rimmed glasses.Drinking coffee, he read through the manuscript and asked a few questions. He acted like he was doing business, which was very different from a shy cowboy.He has the air of an admiral.When she mentioned the "after dinner" show, a smile appeared on his face. "Yes, I remember that show." After a while, she came out on the sunny street again, exhausted and trembling.

"Britain is mobilized! Hitler is attacking Poland!" hoarsely shouted the newspaper vendor around the corner. When she got back to the office, Cleveland said to her, "Thank you, sweetie." He was typing quickly. "Cooper just called. He liked the idea, and he said yes." He took the yellow paper from the typewriter and pinned it to the others. "He said you were a lovely girl. What did you say to him?" "Nothing at all." "Well, you've done a good job. I'm going to interview him now. Here is tomorrow's manuscript. Make a copy of the pages that have been corrected in red pen, and Wen Ke will make copies of the entire manuscript, in Room 309a." Cleveland Put on your shoes, straighten your tie, and throw on a dark yellow sweatshirt.He ran his fingers through his thick blond hair, raised his thick, humorously arched eyebrows, and grinned at her.She felt that she would do anything for him.Rather than saying that he is beautiful, he is more attractive, this is Madeline's conclusion.There was an infectious joviality about him, and a particularly playful gleam in his lively blue eyes.Although he was only thirty-one or twelve years old, when he stood up, his belly was exposed, which made her a little disappointed, but it didn't matter. He reached the door and stopped again. "Can you do the night shift? You'll get overtime pay. If you come in tonight around eight-thirty, you'll find Thursday's draft on my desk with Cooper's broadcast in it." "Mr. Cleveland, I haven't been hired yet." "You've been hired. I just talked to Mrs. Hennessy. When you finish copying that manuscript, go down and fill out the form." It took Madeline five hours to make copies of the manuscript.She handed it over, hoping it wouldn't ruin her career at the station, even though she had made a mess of it.People in the personnel department told her that the starting salary of thirty-five dollars a week was a fortune.Back ache from exhaustion, she went to the pharmacy for a quick snack, which consisted of a cup of chocolate, a piece of bacon, and a tomato stuffed bread, before returning to the broadcaster.Over the tall dark buildings of Madison Avenue, full of golden windows, a hazy full moon rose in a sun-set sky.The day Hitler started the war became the happiest day in Madeleine Henry's life. Now, on Cleveland's desk sits Jarley Cooper's interview records, a jumble of scribbled typescripts, shorthand, and red-pencil scribbles, with a note tucked between them: Best Copy them all tonight.See you at ten o'clock.Madeline muttered, she was so exhausted. She called Warren at the Pensacola Flying School bachelor quarters, but he wasn't there.A Southern-accented operator, in a comedic parody, offered to help find him.In the smoky newsroom, the girls were still coming and going with teletype slips and paper cups of coffee, and the men were talking loudly and quickly, and the typewriters were clicking away.From the open door, Madeleine heard conflicting rumors: Poland had been defeated, Hitler was on his way to Warsaw, Mussolini had flown to Berlin, France was putting pressure on Britain to do it again. A Munich deal, Hitler offered to visit Chamberlain and so on. At ten o'clock the phone rang. It was Warren, and music and laughter came from behind the receiver.He said he was at the beach club, at the moonlight ball on the terrace around the palm trees, and he had just met a lovely girl, the daughter of a member of parliament.Madeleine told him about working at the broadcasting company, and he seemed happy and impressed. "Hey, I've heard 'The City's Celebrities,'" he said. "Hugh Cleveland has a nice voice. How's he?" "Well, it's so cute. Do you think it's okay? Will Daddy get mad?" "Meddy, you're going back to school in three weeks, and he won't even know. Where do you live? . . . Oh, see, it's a women's hotel, I know that hotel. Ha! Little Madeleine is living a rambunctious life." ① Madeleine's nickname. "You don't object?" "Me? Why object? I think it's all right. Just remember to be a good girl. Any news from CBS, Madeleine? Is there a war? There's a rumor going around here that the Brits have fled." "There's nothing else here, and it's all rumours, a dozen an hour. Is that mate of yours really the daughter of a member of Congress?" "Of course, she's a charming girl." "Your life is hard enough. How's flying?" "During my second solo landing, the plane turned over on the ground, but don't tell dad. I've improved a lot now. It's amazing." "Great, you're still here," Cleveland said.Minutes after their phone call, he walked into the office.Entering with him was a tall beauty in a black straw hat wider than Madeleine's, and a gray silk dress, whose scent of gardenias was too strong for the small office. .Cleveland looked at Madeline's typed pages and said, "Need to practice, right?" "I'll be familiar with it," she said, her voice trembling, and she cleared her throat. "I hope so. By the way, do you know an admiral named Preble? Is he some high-ranking person?" "Pryber? Did you mean Stewart Preber?" "Stewart Preble, yes. Who's he?" "Why, he's the Chief of Naval Operations." "That's a big shot, isn't it?" Madeleine was used to the common people's ignorance of the military situation, but this time it surprised her. "Mr. Cleveland, there is no higher rank in the Navy." "Okay. He's one of us then. I just heard he's at the Warwick Hotel. We're keeping an eye out for big hotels, Madeleine. Now we'll write him." He slanted. Leaning on the edge of the desk, he began to dictate.The yawning beauty crossed her beautiful legs, lit a cigarette, and flipped through a copy of "Hollywood Newsletter".Madeline tried desperately to catch up with him, but she had to beg him to speak more slowly. "Can you take shorthand?" "I'll learn quickly." Cleveland looked at his watch, then at the beauty, who was casting a contemptuous glance at Madeleine with her eyelids down.Madeline felt what a wretch she was.Cleveland ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "Look, you know these Navy people. Write him a letter and that's it. Invite him to the Thursday morning show. Mention Jarley Cooper to him if you like. Sign my name , take it to the Warwick Hotel, can it be done?" "Of course it can be done." "Excellent. Me and Wendy are going to a ten o'clock movie. There's a shot of her in there. By the way, does this Priber know your father? How about it, Wendy? The boy's father It's our naval attache stationed in Berlin." Wendy yawned.Madeline said coldly, "Admiral Priber knew my father." "How about bringing that up, too?" he said to her with a mischievous, persuasive smile. "I wish I had him here, Madeline. Admirals and generals are generally bad guests. They're too cautious and stuffy to have anything interesting to say. But there's a war going on, so they're red now." Man. See you tomorrow morning. You know, I come to work at nine, so you shouldn't be here past eight at the latest." As Warren told Madeline, he spent the first night of the war dancing in the moonlight with a senator's beautiful daughter. The moon floated high in the sky, about thirty diameters from the earth, and shone through the clouds, shining on everything reasonable and unreasonable.It had illuminated, with dim but useful light, columns of young Germans in gray uniforms as they trudged wearily for miles across the Polish frontier.Now that Europe has turned towards the sun, so that the Germans have a better light for their activities; at this moment, the same moon bathes the Gulf of Mexico and the Pensacola "Harbor Watch Club" with its light The German General Staff had carefully planned to use the moonlight, but the silver brilliance was in a happy place. An exhilarating opportunity fell to Warren Henry and Janice Raguqiu. By all accounts, it was the best club dance in years.Newspaper headlines and radio broadcasts excited this deserted, quiet Pensacola.The cadet pilots felt bigger, and the girls thought they were more attractive.The war is still far away, but no matter how far away the war is fought, they are soldiers.However, talk of the German attack quickly turned to surrounding topics: circus, new base commander, recent flying incident, new love affair, and so on.In the eyes of these happy people, the Führer is still the hoarse, neurotic German in the newsreels, gesticulating wildly and sporting a funny moustache, who intends to start a big mess in Europe, but for now Still can't scare the United States. Lieutenant Henry took a different view.He really cared about this war of aggression, so he aroused the interest of Janice Raguqiu from the beginning.In officer school, he topped everyone else on the subject of World Wars.When they met, they sat down in the farthest corner of the moonlit platform.This cadet pilot is not Talk about flying, and don’t express tenderness, just talk to her about Schlieffen’s plan to capture Paris①, about Moltke②’s fatal interference with this plan, about the victory of the Battle of Tannenberg③ because of the German railway transportation, about 1911 A comparison of the four-year and 1939 strategies.He began to gossip about pilots too.And that was the kind of talk Janice had grown tired of hearing after years of befriending her in Pensacola.But as soon as they talked about the war, she showed a wealth of historical knowledge and political insight.Warren also became serious.It was an emotional conversation.Lovers sometimes get to know each other from this conversation without having to say a word of infatuation. ① Tannenberg, a small town in northeastern Poland, where the German army led by Hindenburg defeated the Tsarist Russian army in August 1914. ② Moltke (1848-1916), German commander in World War I, succeeded Schlieffen as chief of staff.A modification of the "Schlieffen Plan" was proposed to be implemented during the First World War, but failed. ③ Schlieffen (1833-1913), Marshal of Germany, served as the chief of the general staff, and formulated the "Schlieffen Plan" to fight against France and Russia. Janice was one of the beauties of Pensacola, though she had a big French Lacouture nose and crooked front teeth.Her mouth and skin and hazel eyes were lovely, and her figure was so attractive that men couldn't help but stare at her like they would at a fire.She was tall, fair-haired, with a sweet voice and a lively manner.Her family owns one of the largest houses on the club grounds.The Raguciu family was rich indeed, and two generations of logging had destroyed hundreds of miles of pine forests in the Gulf of Mexico and turned North Florida into an insect-infested sandy desert.Her father was a strange man in quiet and contented Pensacola, the first Ragucho to be active in politics. Janice grew up in Washington, she was visionary, and she was poised and calm.She studied economics and US history at George Washington University and plans to enter law school.She wanted to marry a famous person; a congressman, a senator; a governor; if she was lucky enough to marry a future president, what's wrong with that?It was ruthless to the young men who were overwhelmed by her beauty and dashing demeanor.She was out hunting for big game, and ended up with a reputation for being icy, which she enjoyed.The minimum she wanted was to meet someone worth acquainting during the time she had to spend the summer in Pensacola.And out of many, she chose a Navy pilot!In any case, Warren Henry was a bit different.His piercing eyes, his thin body, his gray hair; his soft smile, with a quick wit and an air of dissoluteness, made him particularly attractive.His movements seemed all too familiar to a woman at the top of Annapolis.Far from disturbing her, this made Warren more distinctive. After a while, they stopped talking, hugged and danced under the moonlight.Watching Pensacola people began to inquire about the life experience of the naval lieutenant with a scar on his head.Warren broke his forehead in the plane crash and needed nine stitches.The naval pilots told each other enviously who this Laguche girl was. When Warren returned to the bachelor quarters, he saw two phone notes left by Mrs. Teraher.Teraher was the thirty-year-old woman he had broken up with in Baltimore, for whom Warren had nearly been expelled from the military academy.This was the woman he had slept with the day his parents sailed for Berlin.Warren met her in the third year of the military academy, when she was the wife of a tea shop.She complied with his bold request and agreed to meet him after the teahouse closed.She was a clever little woman, but had a bad luck, and had married two cruel husbands.She loves reading, loves art, and is especially passionate.Warren gradually fell in love with her.Once, when she went on a weekend with an elderly man, Warren was so jealous that he even briefly wanted to marry her.Byron had a good talk with him about it, doing his best as a brother.Helen Tellaher wasn't a bad woman, just a loner, and since young reserve officers were forbidden by law to marry, the flirtatious ones of them would go to this or that Mrs. Tellaher.Warren's biggest mistake had been to ask her to come to Pensacola, but he had just returned from three years at sea.Now she stayed at the Hotel San Carlos, working as a receptionist in the big restaurant. But how did she become so far away all of a sudden!Not only because of Janice Ragutsch, but Hitler's invasion of Poland concretized the future.Warren thought that the United States would enter the war within a year, and the future was bright.He may be killed, but in this war he will fly, and with luck he will have an excellent combat record.Warren believed in God, but he thought God was much more magnanimous than those missionaries said.A god who could create something as bizarre as "sex" wouldn't take it too seriously.Lieutenant Henry was sitting in his poorly furnished room with the high old-fashioned ceiling, trying to ignore the snores of his companions, looking out the window at the silent, moonlit lawn outside the bachelor quarters , fantasizing about the post-war golden years. Politics appealed to him.His voracious knowledge of history taught him that in war statesmen are leaders and soldiers are mere artisans.Warren had carefully observed the politicians who visited the military academies and the fleet.Some of them were impressive, like his father; but more were smiling guys, with worried eyes, fake smiles, slack bellies.He knew that his father's ambition was to become an admiral in the navy.Warren also has this wish, but why not want more?Janice Raguqiu has a lot of brains, she knows everything.Warren Henry's life was completely changed in one day, when in the morning the war showed him the future, and in the evening a perfect mate from the future fell from the sky. He did a strange thing.He went to the window and looked up at the moon in the sky and whispered a prayer for a while, as he used to do when he was a child when he went to church with his father. "God bless me to get her; bless me to pass this test and be a good Navy pilot. I don't ask you to bless me with my life, I know it will depend on who I am and whether I'm counting, if I make it through war, then—" He smiled at the starry night sky—"well, then we'll see. OK?" Warren was courting God. He went to bed without calling Mrs Tellah.She is always waiting for his call.But now, to him, she was like someone he knew in high school. In the morning, before six o'clock, Victor Henry was woken up by a call from the embassy.Because the war broke out, the Chargé d'Affaires called the embassy staff for an emergency meeting. Muttering, Rhoda rolled over, putting her bare white arms over her eyes.Pug lifted the quilt cover, a ray of sunlight penetrated through the gap in the curtains, and shone across the bed, fine dust danced in the pale beam of light.What a fine day Hitler did it, thought Pug sleepily, the bastard's luck!The news of the aggression did not come as a surprise.Since the signing of the treaty between the Nazis and the Soviet Union, the situation in Poland has taken a sharp turn for the worse.At the big dinner at the Argentine embassy the night before, everyone noticed that the German military and diplomats were absent, and everyone was talking about the war.An American reporter told Pug flatly that the invasion had come at three o'clock in the morning.That guy is very well informed!The world has crossed the red line of time.Victor Henry jumped out of bed and went to work in a new era.It wasn't his war yet, the war he'd been training his whole life to fight, and it wasn't fought yet.But he's sure to be fighting before long.Although he didn't feel surprised, he was still very excited and excited. He turned on the radio in the study, which seemed to be taking a long time to warm up.He opened the French windows again.Birds were singing in the sunny garden, and a light breeze brought the rich fragrance of the red-flowered bushes in front of the window.The radio buzzed and crackled for a while, and an announcer started to play.It sounded like any Berlin announcer last week, full of "unbelievable atrocities" committed against Germans in Poland: rape, murder, disembowelment of pregnant women, slashing Children's hands and feet, etc.In fact, the news of the outbreak of war sounded almost banal after this long and blood-curdling rant.The voice was still harsh, still full of justice, describing the decision of the head of state to march, just like when condemning atrocities. About the Poles' attack on Gleiwitz to take over a German radio station - an atrocity that, according to the broadcast, caused the German army to send over two million soldiers into Poland "in self-defense" - it was broadcast with the same solemn bliss It was like broadcasting a report of the sudden defeat of the Polish border guards as the Germans penetrated into Polish territory.Obviously, it will take more than a month to prepare for such a large-scale attack, and it has been rushing to Poland for several days.Calling Poland "offensive" is a fool's bait for children.Victor Henri was used to Berlin Radio's vague mix of fact and lies, but he was surprised by the Nazis' contempt for German intelligence.This propaganda has of course served one purpose - to soften the impact of this new war on the people. Rhoda came in yawning and strapping on her pajamas, and she turned her head to the radio. "Why! He's really doing it. It's amazing!" "Sorry for waking you up. I tried to keep my voice as low as possible." "Oh, the call woke me up. Was it from the embassy?" Pug nodded. "I thought so too. Well, I figured I'd get up and get the news. We're not going to get involved, are we?" "Not much. I'm not even sure Britain and France will go to war." "What about the children, Pug?" "Oh, Warren and Madeleine will be all right. Rumor has it that Italy doesn't want a war, so Byron will be all right." Rhoda sighed and yawned again. "Hitler's a freak, I've come to that conclusion. What a way he does things! I like the frankness and masculinity of his handshake, so American; and his charming, shy smile, But he's got weird eyes, don't you think? Always cold and kind of elusive. By the way, what about the dinner we're throwing for the industrialist from Colorado? What's his name? Not yet Held?" "Dr. Kirby. He may not be here now, Rhoda." "My dear, please be sure. You know, I have guests coming, and I have invited assistants and prepared food." "I'll do my best," Rhoda said slowly. "World War II . . . You know, Time has been talking about World War II for months now. Looks good. It seems unrealistic. Isn't there a fight now? But it always feels a little funny." "You'll get used to it soon." "Oh, of course, the battle has been fought. I was supposed to have lunch with Sally Forrest. I'd better ask her if the lunch is still going on. That sucks! I'll make an appointment It's time for a haircut—oh, yes, tomorrow. Maybe today? My brain doesn't work well this morning." Because the meeting started early, Pug gave up the precious five-mile walk to the embassy in the morning and drove there.If anything has changed in Berlin, it's that it's quieter than usual.The boulevard in the center of the city is a Sunday scene, with fewer cars passing by and fewer pedestrians on the sidewalk.All shops are open.At certain intersections there were small trucks with machine guns on them, full of soldiers in helmets.Workers were stacking sandbags along the walls of public buildings, but none of the action seemed to have a purpose.The cafes were full of early eaters, and the people who took their early morning walks in the zoo—nannies, children, the elderly—came out as usual when the weather was nice, as did the vendors selling toy balloons and ice cream. coming.Loudspeakers were blaring the news everywhere; a large number of planes were unusually buzzing across the sky, and Berliners all looked up at the sky, and then looked at each other helplessly and smiled wryly.Henry still remembered the happy scene of jubilant Berlin residents flocking to Linden Avenue at the outbreak of the last war. It was obvious that the Germans entered this war in a different mood. The embassy became a maelstrom of terrified tourists and would-be refugees, mainly elderly Jews.In the quiet and spacious office of the charge d'affaires, the embassy staff meeting was dull and brief.Washington has not yet come for special instructions.Circulate the mimeographed pamphlet of wartime regulations.代办要求每个人特别注意保持正确的中立口气。如果英法参战，美国大使馆可能还得照顾那些流落在德国的英法公民。美国在这个麻烦的时刻对野蛮的德国人采取适当的举动，关系到许多人的生命。会后，维克多•亨利在他的办公室里着手处理一个装满了文件的收文筐，告诉他的文书设法找到巴穆•柯比博士，那位从科罗 拉多来的电气工程师，他从军械局带来了一个“非常重要的”指示。 埃里斯特•塔茨伯利打来了电话。“喂，那个坏蛋要向帝国议会进行解释，你想听听吗？我可以把你带到记者席里去。这将是我在柏林写的最后一篇报道。我已经拿到离开此地的证件，前几天就该走了，但是因为生病，耽搁了。上次带我去看斯维纳蒙台基地，我还欠你情呢。” “你没欠我什么，不过我一定来。” “好。他三点开讲。帕姆两点钟去接你。我们正象疯子一样在收拾东西呢。但愿我们别给拦在这儿，都是这种德国食物害得我关节痛。”文书进来把一份电报放到桌上。 “塔茨伯利，我请你和帕米拉吃午饭好码？” “不，不，没时间了。多谢啦。过了这次小小的麻烦之后也许可以。一九四九年左右吧。”帕格大笑起来。“十年？你真是个悲观主义者。” 他打开电报一看，吓了一跳。“是否知道你儿子和我侄女娜塔丽现在何处请电告或电话”，下面署名是“埃伦•杰斯特罗”，以及锡耶纳的地址及电话号码。帕格打铃叫来了文书，把电报递给他，说：“要通锡耶纳，找这个人听电话。同时打个电报给他：不知道请电告其最后去向。” "Yes, sir." 他决定先不告诉罗达。他想法继续工作，但发现连最简单的信都看不懂了。他把工作搁下，望着窗外在灿烂的阳光下来来往往的柏林人。坐满穿灰军服的德国士兵的卡车在街道上，排成长队，轰隆轰隆地驶过，士兵们都显得很疲劳。一个银色的小飞艇滑过碧空，后面拖着一个奥德尔牙膏广告。他尽量抑制自己的忧虑，又处理起收文筐的文件来。 他刚要离开办公室去吃饭，电话铃响了。他先听到的是许多不同语言的杂乱讲话声，然后一个带点口音、有教养的美国人说话了：“是亨利中校吗？我是埃伦•杰斯特罗。非常感谢您打电话给我。” “杰斯特罗博士，我想我最好是马上告诉您，我并不知道拜伦和您侄女在哪儿。我根本没想到他们没和您一道在锡耶纳。” “哦，我本来没决定给您打电报，不过我想您能帮忙找到他们。两星期以前他们去华沙了。” “华沙！” “是的，去拜访一位朋友，他在咱们驻波兰使馆里工作。” “我立刻就跟那儿联系。您是说咱们的使馆，对吗？” “对，是二等秘书莱斯里•斯鲁特，我以前的学生，一个有出息的小伙子。我本想他和娜塔丽有一天会结婚的。”帕格草草记下那个名字。杰斯特罗咳了起来。“请原谅。我想这次旅行够冒险的，但他们是在条约签订前就去的。她二十七岁了，有她自己的主意。拜伦是自告奋勇陪她去的，所以我根本没有担什么心，他是个很能干的年轻人。” 维克多•亨利被这个消息搞昏了，但是听到了赞扬拜伦的话，还是觉得很高兴，多年来他也没听到过好多。“谢谢。我打听到什么消息就打电报给您。要是您有了信儿，也请告诉我一下。” 杰斯特罗又咳嗽了。“对不起，我得了支气管炎。上次世界大战我记忆犹新，中校！真象没有过了多久，对吧？所有这一切都给我一种奇怪、恐怖的悲哀感觉，几乎是绝望。我希望咱们有一天能见见面，和拜伦的父亲相识，我太高兴了。他很崇拜您。” 霍彻菜馆的那张长桌子是一个听音哨，一个消息交易所，一个外交上小买卖的交换所。今天，这家拥挤的菜馆里，银餐具好听的叮当声，烤肉的香味，热烈的高声谈话，都依然如故。但是在这张特别桌子上却有了变化。有几位使馆的武官穿上了制服。那个长着一副愉快的紫红色面庞、留着大胡子、酒量过人的波兰人已经走掉了。那个英国人也不见了。那个佩着粗重金饰绦的法国武官坐在他惯常的位子上发愁。这些人中，年纪最大的那位白发苍苍、滑稽的丹麦胖子，仍穿着那身亚麻布白西装，但他也僵在那儿，一言不发。谈话很拘束。华沙电台叫嚷德国人已被打退，但没人能证实。相反地，他们各自首都来的新闻简报，都和德国人吹嘘的一样：到处获胜，成百架波兰飞机在地面被摧毁，全部军队被包围。帕格吃了一点儿，马上就走了。 帕米拉•塔茨伯利靠在使馆门前的铁栏杆上，靠近那些沿街排成长队的愁容满面的犹太人。她穿着那套他们那天早上在“不来梅号”上散步时穿的灰色衣服。“好了，”他们并肩走着的时候他说道，“小瘪三到底动手了。” 她吃惊而又得意地看了他一眼。“他已经动手啦！咱们的车子在这儿。演说一完，我们就出发。我们六点钟飞往哥本哈根。还算运气，弄到了座位，简直象金刚石那么难弄。” 她紧张地开普车在小巷里弯来弯去行驶，避开大路上那个长长的坦克纵队。 “是啊，看到你和你父亲要走了，感到非常遗憾。”帕格说，“我肯定会怀念你这种开车的冲劲儿的。你们以后上哪儿？” “我猜是回美国。父亲十分喜欢那儿。实际上这会是最好的地方，因为柏林是进不来了。” “帕米拉，你这么走来走去的，难道你在伦敦就没有一个男朋友——或是几个男朋友——反对吗？”这个女孩子——他是这么看她的，这表明他是长者——脸红了，眼睛闪着光。她那双白净的小手，开车的动作迅速、灵巧而且稳当。她身上散发看一种柔和的、带点辣味儿的清香，象荷兰石竹的香味。 “哦，现在还没有，中校。因为父亲眼睛不太好使了，他离不了我。我又喜欢旅行，所以我很乐意——哎呀！看您的左边。不要太明显。” 赫尔曼•戈林掌着一辆双座红色敞篷汽车的驾驶盘，样子傲慢、凶狠，因交通灯停在他们左边。他穿了一件黄褐色、双排扣的普通上衣，翻领上金光闪闪，不管他穿什么衣服，翻领上都闪着金光。他的巴拿马草帽宽宽的帽檐儿两边和后面都往下耷拉，有点象过去美国强盗的模样。这个肥胖家伙戴着戒指的胖手指敲着驾驶盘，一面咬着长长的上嘴唇。 灯光变了。红汽车向前冲去，警察向他行礼，戈林笑着摆了摆手。 “刚才要是打死他多容易啊。”帕米拉说。 帕格说：“这些纳粹真让人莫名其妙。他们的安全措施非常松。甚至连希特勒周围也一样。总之，他们人杀的太多了。” “德国人崇拜他们。父亲就是因为在纽伦堡纳粹党日作的那次广播惹了麻烦。他说，谁都能杀死希特勒，他那样随随便便地到处走动，正表明德国人是多么拥护他。不知怎么这个广播竟把他们惹火了。” “帕米拉，我有个儿子，希望你到美国的时候能见到他。”他把华伦向她介绍了一番。 姑娘听了调皮地一笑。“您已经对我提过他了。听来好象他长的比我高了点儿。他到底是怎么个样子？象您吗？” “一点儿不象。他长得挺漂亮，人很厉害，但对妇女们很有魅力。” “真的吗。您不是还有个儿子吗？” “是的，我还有个儿子。”他迟疑了一下，然后把他还没告诉妻子的事，对帕米拉简单地讲了一下：德国人入侵的时候，拜伦正在波兰的某个地方，陪伴着一个已经有了情人的犹太姑娘。帕格说，拜伦能够巧妙地摆脱困境，不过，等他儿子没事儿了，他可得多长几根白头发。 “这个人我倒是愿意见见。” “对你来说，他太年轻啦。” “哦，未必。我从来没碰上过对头的。父亲在那儿呢。”塔茨伯利正站在一个拐角挥手。他握手很用劲儿。他穿了一身苏格兰呢衣服，在这个天气似嫌太厚了，头上还戴了一顶绿丝绒帽子。 “你来了，亲爱的朋友！来吧。帕姆，你四点钟到这个拐角来等着，成吗？这次不会是他那种三小时的长篇大论了。这个坏蛋最近睡眠不足。” 一个穿平常衣服的年轻德国人迎上来，对着帕格“咔塔”一声立正致敬，带着他们从党卫军面前走过走廊，上了楼梯，向克洛尔歌剧院那个挤满了人的小小记者席走去。纳粹借这个歌剧院召开国会会议。讲台后面，一只图案型金鹰栖在绕着花环的a字上，向周围射出的金光画满整个墙壁。这景象在照片上看起来非常神气，但亲眼目睹后，只觉得又花哨又俗气——挺适合作一个歌剧院的背景。这种戏剧性的变化无常和轻率拼凑节目的气氛就是纳粹的一个特点。还在建设中的新国会大厦，为了适合希特勒的口味，大得近于呆板，那些粗大的多里式柱子显然是石头的，但整个建筑物使帕格联想到一套硬纸板做的电影布景。 和多数美国人一样，他还不能认真看待这些纳粹，或者说得确切些，还不能认真看待这些德国人。他想，他们以出奇的毅力勤奋地工作，却在愚弄自己。德国是一个不稳固的既老又新的国家。某些地方有浓重的巴洛克式美景，写外一些地方又有匹兹堡那样的重工业；表面上是傲慢吓人的政治威势，拚命灌输恐怖，结果却十分可笑。所以这使他震惊。就个人来说，德国人和美国人非常相似。他觉得奇怪的是，两国人民都以魔为国徽。德国人同样也是那种有事业性的野心家：直率，有粗俗的幽默感，而且通常可靠、能干。从这些方面来说，亨利中校跟他们一起的时候，比跟那些迟钝的英国人或委婉健谈的法国人一起，更感到随便。但作为一个整体，他们似乎就变成了丑恶、易受骗的陌生人，而且有点凶残劲儿。如果你和个别一个德国人谈政治，他就会变成这样的一个陌生人，一个交战国的傲慢无理的海德先生①。他们使人难以理解。帕格知道，在道德败坏的欧洲，这群经过严格训练、装备优良的向前迈进的德国兵为害非线，而他们在匆忙中建立的一支庞大空军，他敢断定此刻正在波兰人头顶上滚滚而过。 ①海德先生是英国作家斯蒂文森（1850—1894）的小说《化身博士》中主要人物。化身博士杰克尔的坏的一面是虐待儿童，谋杀好人。 代表们走向各自的座位。他们大多数穿着制服，但是颜色和饰绦各种各样，就是皮带和靴子相同。从他们的职业态度很容易看出哪些是军人。穿制服的党内官员看起来，和任何其他政界人士一样——快活、轻松，大部分人头发花白或是秃了顶——讲究的衣服紧裹在身上，尽管平脚掌穿着长统靴、凸肚子勒着武装带很不舒服，可他们显然在耀武扬威中获得了条顿民族的快乐。可是今天，这些职业纳粹虽然装出一副好战的模样，看上去可不如往常那么兴高采烈。整个会场上笼罩着一种压抑的气氛。 戈林出现了。维克多•亨利听人说过，这个胖子换装很快，这回算是亲眼看见了。戈林穿一套挂满奖章的天蓝色制服，浅黄色翻领闪闪发光。他走过舞台，叉着腿往那儿一站，双手背在扎皮带的屁股上，与一群毕恭毕敬的将军和纳粹党人严肃地谈着话。过了一会儿，他坐上发言人的位子。接着希特勒简单地走进来，手里拿着一个红皮包，里面是他的讲稿。没有隆重的戏剧性场面，象他走入党的会场上那样。全体代表起立鼓掌，卫兵们立正致敬。他在台上第一排将军们和内阁成员之间坐下。当戈林致简短庄重的开幕词时，他一会儿把腿交叉着，一会儿又放下来。 亨利觉得元首的讲演糟透了。他已经疲劳不堪。他在演说中重讲了凡尔赛的罪过，其他大国对德国的不公正待遇，他本人争取和平的不懈的努力以及波兰人的血腥战争。这些几乎都是以他本人的口气讲的，而且充满了奇怪的悲观主义。他谈到了自己可能战死疆场；和他死后的继承人——戈林和赫斯；他叫嚷说一九一八年不会再重演，这次德国一定要胜利，否则就一直打下去。他声音十分嘶哑，他过了一会儿才配上稀奇古怪的手势，但他总算做到了。塔茨伯利有一次在亨利耳旁低声说：“今天的表演真他妈的不错。“但帕格却认为是荒唐可笑的杂耍。 这回希特勒可给他留下了很深的印象。尽管他的表演很拙劣，可这人是一股意志坚强的疾风，所有的德国人都睁大了眼睛，表情紧张地坐在那儿，象是孩子在看魔术师表演。坐在希特勒后面较高的戈林，那张傲慢、轻蔑的面孔也同样带着发狂、恐惧的表情。 帕格觉得，元首由于演讲的内容十分严肃、重要，所以说起话来有点喋喋不休。这篇讲稿听上去象是开了几个小时夜车赶出来的，个人色彩太浓了，或许正是由于这么紧迫地炮制出来的，才显得更真实些。这通“我——我”的嚎叫、咆哮般的辩解词，必定是战争史上最可笑的重要文件之一。 在帕格的美国人眼里，元首的脸相仍然很滑稽：那个又长又直的尖鼻子，是从那张双下巴的白脸上突出的一块直角三角形的肉，正好长在一绺垂下来的黑发之下和那撮小丑般的小胡子之上。他今天穿了件灰绿色外衣——他在讲演中称之为他的“老兵外衣”——毫无疑问极不合身。但那双有点浮肿的瞪得很大的眼睛，那张绷紧了往下撇着的嘴，那种威风凛凛的挥手臂的样子，还是有点吓人。这个来自维也纳贫民窟里的奇怪暴发户，倒是真成功了，帕格心里这么想。他自己已经爬上了霍恩佐伦王室和神圣罗马帝国皇帝的联合王位，企图把上次大战的结果完全翻过来。现在他正在许愿。这个个瘪三还在继续讲。帕格的脑子又转到拜伦身上，他在波兰的某个地方，是这出大戏中的一个微不足道的小人物。他们走出来到了充满柔和阳光的大街上，塔茨伯利问道：“喂，你觉得怎么样？” “我并不认为他有多么了不起。” 塔茨伯利立刻停住脚步，眼睛瞟着他说：“我告诉你吧， 他是够了不起的啦。我们大家在这个问题上犯错误太长久了。 " “他得征服全世界，”帕格说，“他拿什么去征服呢？” “靠八千万全副武装、到处抢掠的德国人。” “那只是说说罢了。你们和法国人在人力和武器上都超过他。” “法国人——”塔茨伯利说着马上用比较高兴的声调加了一句：“帕姆来了。我们用车子把你送回使馆去吧。” “我走回去。” 汽车在一面飘扬着的红色a字旗下边停住。塔茨伯利和亨利握了握手，从那副象瓶子底一样的眼镜后面朝他眨了眨眼。 “我们要演个戏，亨利，但可能需要人帮忙。要想制止这个家伙得费一番功夫。可你知道，必须得这么做。” “把这告诉华盛顿那些人吧。” “你以为我会不说吗？你也要对他们讲讲。”亨利隔着车窗说：“再见，帕姆。一路顺风。” 她伸出一只很凉的白手，忧郁地笑了笑。“希望您能很快和您的儿子见面。我觉得您一定会见到他的。”那辆梅塞德斯开走了。帕格点上支烟，觉得手上还留有淡淡的荷兰石竹的芳香。 亨利的办公室外间，坐着一个瘦高个儿男人，穿了一身椒盐色的衣服，膝上放着一顶软帽。他一站起来，亨利才发现他个子真高，足有六英尺三英寸左右，他背有点儿弯，象许多个子过高的人一样，好象觉得那么高有点不好意思。“您是亨利中校吗？我是巴穆•柯比，”他说，“您要是忙，就把我赶出去好了。” “哪儿的话。欢迎极啦。您是怎么到这儿的？” “哦，倒是费了番周折。我不得不绕着走，取道比利时和挪威。有些飞机还通航，有些不通了。”柯比的样子局促不安，还带着点儿西部乡下口音。他苍白的脸上尽是麻点儿，好象得过严重的面疱疮。他长着一个长鼻子，一张松弛的大嘴巴，一句话，是个长相很丑、两眼聪明有神、表情忧郁的人。文书说：“中校先生，您办公桌上有几份要件。” “知道了。请进吧，柯比博士。”帕格松了口气，他看出来柯比是个想干番事业的正派人，而不是那种讨人厌的家伙，就知道找女人，追求享乐，结识高级纳粹党人。而一顿晚饭和一些工业上的联系就可以把巴穆•柯比打发了。 拜伦•亨利和娜塔丽•杰斯特罗定于今日离克拉科夫赴布加勒斯特及罗马。我尽力保证他们启程。斯鲁特。 Warsaw 39．1．9． 这份用电传打字机纸条贴在空白的灰色信笺上的急电，给了亨利一种不祥之感。在下午的新闻公报中，柏林电台叫嚷说，经过猛烈的空中轰炸，已胜利冲进克拉科夫。另外一封信，是写在一张代办办公室用笺上的便条，没有署名，只是潦草地写着一句话：立即来我处。 柯比说，他可以等一会儿。维克多•亨利到了下面的大厅里，走进大使那套陈设华丽的房间，代办曾经在这里召集过使馆人员会议。 代办从他那半月形眼镜的上边，看了亨利一眼，用手指了指一把椅子。“你去参加国会会议啦，对吧？我听了一部分。你觉得怎么样？” “这家伙太狂了。” 代办好象有些吃惊，而且若有所思。“真是一种奇怪的反应。的确，这一个星期真够他受的。不管怎样，这种精力实在叫人难以相信。这篇高谈阔论的每个字肯定都是他自己写的。我觉得效果挺好。会场里情绪怎么样？” “不怎么愉快。” “是啊，这段时期里，他们有自己担心的事，对不对？这个城市里的气氛挺特别。”代办摘下眼镜，往大皮椅背上一靠，后脑勺靠在手指交叉的双手上。他说：“华盛顿召你回去。” “是海军部吗？”帕格脱口问。 “不，是国务院德国处。要你用最快最方便的办法回华盛顿，民用军用飞机都行，按照最高特权待遇。准备让你在华盛顿最多住一个星期，然后回到你这儿的工作岗位。没别的指示，没书面的东西，就这样。” 二十五年来，维克多•亨利从来没有象这样没得到海军部的文件而调动过，这种文件是油印的，留在沿途各停留站的整整一厚叠命令。甚至他休假也得要海军部发出“准假”命令才行。国务院是无权管他的。但是，一个武官的地位是特别微妙的。他的思想马上转到执行这项指示上。 “要是我没有书面的东西，怎么能得到航空特权呢？” “这点没问题。你最早什么时候能动身？” 亨利中校眼睛盯着代办，然后勉强笑了笑，代办也冲着他微微一笑。亨利说：“这次可真有点儿特别。” “我听说你送上去一份关于纳粹德国战争准备的情报？” "yes." “可能和这件事有关。总之，意思是要你拿了把牙刷就出发。” “您是说今天？今天晚上？” “对。”帕格站了起来。“好吧。英法两国最近消息怎么样？” “张伯伦今晚对国会发表演说，我猜想，等不到你回来就会开战。” “说不定已经打完啦。” “在波兰可能是这样。”代办笑着说。但他看见亨利并不觉得好笑，倒似乎吃了一惊。 中校回来，看到柯比博士正撇着两条长腿在那儿读一份德文工业杂志，嘴里抽着烟斗。这副架势，再加上一副黑边眼镜，大为加强他的职业外表。“我得把您介绍给我们的陆军武官福莱斯特上校了，柯比博士。”他说，“真对不起，海军不能为您效劳了。我要离开此地一个星期。” "Ok." “您能告诉我您要找哪些人吗？”柯比博士从胸前的口袋里掏出一张打了字的纸。 “好，这个没问题，”帕格说，一面仔细地看着这张纸。 “这些人大多数我都认识，我想福莱斯特上校也会认识。好了，亨利太太为您准备了一次晚宴，星期四晚上。事实上——”亨利用手拍拍那张纸说，“魏顿博士也是客人之一。” “您夫人不能取消这次晚宴吗？我真的不怎么参加宴会。” “我也是。但一个德国人在餐桌上只要几杯酒下肚，就跟他在办公室里的时候不一样了，完全成了两个人。您要知道，不再是木头人了，而是变成另一个人。所以宴会是有用的。” 柯比笑了，露出一排大黄牙，变成一副滑稽、粗俗而固执的表情。他挥动一下工业杂志。“不论您从哪方面去看，他们都不象是木头人。” “也象也不象。我刚从国会会议回来；对希特勒这个角色来说，他们肯定都是木头人。好了，我陪您走过大厅到福莱斯特上校那儿去吧。这次晚宴可能由他和萨丽主办，咱们瞧吧。” 帕格驾车穿过寂静的柏林街道回家，一路上没怎么想被召回华盛顿的事，而是想着眼前的问题——想着罗达和怎么替她安排，拜伦失踪的事要不要跟她说。这次美国之行可能完全证明是浪费时间；去揣测其原因是愚蠢的。他以前也有过类似的经历。说不定某个高级人物急于了解什么情况——这些情况也许根本不存在——立刻就急忙打个电报。有一回，一次舰队演习，他飞了三千英里到达正在明达瑙的“蓝色”旗舰上时，发现已经用不着他了，因为射击成绩这项目早已过了议程。罗达没在家。她回来的时候，他正系手提皮箱的皮带。 “嗳呀，怎么回事？”她兴冲冲地问。她的头发卷起了波浪。今天晚上他们被邀请去看一场歌剧。 “来，到花园里去。” 他们走到离开房子远一些的地方，他就把华盛顿的这次奇怪的召见告诉了她。 “啊，天啊。得去多久啊？” “不到一个星期。如果飞剪型①客机照常飞行的话，十五号我就能回来了。” ①四十年代美国制造的一种客机，航行于横渡大西洋的航线。 “什么时候动身？明天一早？” “哦，运气好，他们弄到了今天晚上八点钟去鹿特丹的飞机票。” “今天晚上！”罗达懊恼得脸都变了样。“你是说咱们连歌剧都看不成了吗？哦，真讨厌。那么，柯比那家伙怎么办呢？晚宴还举不举行了？我怎么能款待一个还没见过面的人呢？真扫兴！” 帕格说，福莱斯特夫妇会一同来请柯比吃晚饭的。另外歌剧可能不演了。 “不演？当然要演，我在理发馆碰到了魏顿太太。他们准备举行一次盛大的晚宴，我当然去不成了。没人陪着我是不去看歌剧的。哦，真见鬼。要是英法宣战呢？那怎么办，啊？那才真叫够劲儿呢，把我一个人困在柏林，在一场世界大战的中间！” “罗达，不管出现什么情况，我都会从里斯本或哥本哈根赶回来的。别着急，我倒是希望你和柯比那家伙熟悉熟悉。军械局对他很重用呢。” 他们在小喷泉旁边的一条大理石长凳上坐着，池中肥肥的红鱼在斜阳中嬉戏。罗达环顾一下这剪得短短的草坪，然后用平静得多的声调说：“好吧。我曾经想在这儿举行鸡尾酒会。把在派琪的茶会上演奏过的那些音乐家请来。这样一定美极了，可惜你不能参加了。” “皮尔•福莱斯特说过，世界上没有人象你这么会安排宴会。” 罗达大笑起来。“哦，算了吧。一星期很快就会过去。柏林现在还是挺有意思的。”一对黑黄两色的小鸟从他们眼前飞过，朝着近处的一棵树冲去，栖在树上，婉转地唱起来。“老实说，难道你真认为要打仗吗？” “战争正在开始。” “我知道。好吧，不管怎么样，你会见到梅德琳了。一定要给华伦打个电话，这个淘气鬼从来不写信。拜伦在意大利的山上，我倒是比较放心。他出不了事，除非他真敢和那个犹太姑娘结婚，不过他不会的。拜伦实际上并不那么傻。”她把手放到丈夫的手里。“当然，那傻劲是从他母亲那儿继承下来的。对不起，亲爱的，我又发火了。你是理解我的。” 维克多•亨利紧紧地握住她的手，决定不再用拜伦失踪的事去扰乱她的心了。实际上，她对这件事根本无能为力，只不过会无用地烦恼；他猜想，拜伦不论处境多么困难，都能摆脱出来，这孩子一向如此。帕格当晚准时飞往鹿特丹。滕珀尔霍夫机场已经变了样。商店一片漆黑。除了汉莎航空公司外，所有的售票处都关闭了。机场上，往常频繁来往的欧洲班机不见了。短粗的德国空军截击机阴森森、黑乎乎地一排排停在那儿。但从天空望下去，柏林仍然灯火辉煌，与和平时期一样。他很高兴，罗达已经决定打扮一下去看《玫瑰骑士》①，因为魏顿太太找了一个漂亮的高个子空军上校陪伴她。 ①德国作曲家理查德•施特劳斯（1864—1949）所作的歌剧。