Chapter 18 Chapter Eighteen

To the complete surprise of Warren Henry and his fiancée Janice, it was Madeline's new boyfriend, a trombonist and a public affairs college student, who corrected their views on the Soviet invasion of Finland. It's Sybil Postman.After their engagement in early December, they both came to New York to visit Madeleine's new house, where they were surprised to meet her boyfriend. Pug Henry was annoyed to hear that she had moved into his one-person apartment, but he should be glad if he knew why she was moving.Madeline hated more and more the two girls who shared a room with her.Both had affairs--one with a joke writer, the other with a sideshow actor.Madeline found that as long as one of them was in the house, she had to hide out and come back very late, or she had to be locked in her room alone.The house they live in is very simple and the walls are extremely thin.She can't even pretend to be deaf and dumb.

She was disgusted.Both girls had good jobs, were well dressed, and were college graduates.However, Madeleine felt that they were behaving like whores.She was a Henry child, and shared her father's views.Madeline was more or less influenced by Methodism in her daily affairs, trusting what she had learned at home and in church.It seemed to her almost a law of nature that unmarried girls would not live with men if they were decent.Men were much more flexible, for example, she knew that Warren was not very disciplined before he got engaged.She liked Byron better because he was more like her decent father in this respect.Madeline believes that the relationship between the sexes is an easy game of fire, and she can only enjoy the raging flames at a safe distance, and she can't plunge into the blazing flames until the wedding night.She was a decent girl from the middle class, and she wasn't ashamed of it in the slightest.She thought the two girls with whom she lived were fools.She moved out as soon as Hugh Cleveland gave her a raise.

"I don't know," she said from behind the curtain, stirring a pot on the stove, "maybe this supper shouldn't be made. We might as well all go to a restaurant." She was talking to her boyfriend, Sybil Postman, whom everyone called Potts.They met at a ball in September.Potts was tall, pale and meek, with thick, straight brown hair and bulging, brooding eyes behind rimless glasses.He always wore brown clothes, brown shoes, a brown tie, and even a brown shirt; he often read large, dry books on economics and politics, and he himself had a bleak view of life, thinking that American society is doomed and will soon collapse.Madeleine found him very interesting and was particularly novel about him.Now he was wearing a pink apron over his brown clothes, helping her to clear the small dining table and peeling shallots for the stew.

"It's still too late," he said. "You can save the stew for tomorrow night, and we'll take your brother and his girlfriend to Julio." "No, I've told Warren I'll cook my own dinner. His girlfriend is rich and won't like to go to a trattoria. And they've got to go to the theater." Madeline came out and wiped it with her handkerchief. With a feverish face, he looked at the dining table. "Great. Thank you, Potts. I'm going to change." She opened the beige-painted closet door, took out a dress and a petticoat, and glanced at the small room.There is only a small triangular window facing the backyard and the laundry room in the whole apartment, besides a small cooking area and a small bathroom.There were yellow paper patterns and several large pieces of blue cloth on the broken couch. "It's disgusting. The sofa is a rat's nest. If I'm quicker, I can cut the clothes out."

"I can cut it for you," Potts said. "Don't talk nonsense, Potts, you can't cut clothes. Don't try." The doorbell rang. "Already have wine. Great." She went to open the door.Warren and Janice came in and were startled to see a tall young man with fish eyes in a pink apron holding a pair of large scissors in one hand and a paper sleeve pattern in the other .The room smelled of stew, and Madeleine wore a long nightgown with a dress draped over her arms and a lace petticoat, and the scene had a strong domestic atmosphere. "Oh, it's so early for you. My God, Warren, you're tanned!" Madeline always believed that she was decent, so she never encountered a moment of coyness.

"This is Sybil Postman, a friend of mine." Postman waved his scissors at them a little; embarrassed, embarrassed, he quickly picked up a ragged blue rayon sleeve and cut it off. Madeline said, "Potts, please don't cut that dress!" She said to Janice, "Look, he thought he knew how to cut it." "Much better than me," Janice Ragucho said, staring at Postman in disbelief.Postman put down his scissors, took off his apron, and chuckled. To hide his surprise, Warren said casually, "Madeline, your dinner smells so good." After Madeline introduced them, she went into a squalid four-foot-by-four bathroom she called her boudoir. "Would you like to wash first," she said to Janice, opening the door and pointing to a place full of rusted and yellowed water pipes. "Two people are quite generous here."

"Oh, no, no, I'm fine," Janice yelled. "bring it on." Putting on his coat and tie, Potts resumed the conversation he had left off.Madeleine popped her head out, a bare arm and shoulder. "Potts, don't let the beef stew overflow, you turn off the gas." "of course can." As he went behind the curtain, Janice Ragucho and Warren exchanged surprised glances. "Mr. Postman, are you playing in the New York Amateur?" Janice said, raising her voice. "No, I'm in the Giger Fleetcher Orchestra," he replied loudly. "I'm trying to form a band myself." He went back to the room and sat down in the armchair, with his head on the back of the chair, his whole body lying on his back, his legs extended to the floor, almost like lying in a chair.Warren himself was scruffy, but seeing the tall, lame, bulging-eyed trombonist in all his brown clothes so slack made him almost suspicious of him.The strangest thing is the clothes he wears.Warren had never seen a brown tie on a brown shirt in all his life.Madeline came out of the bathroom while she was still arranging her clothes. "Come, Potts, have some wine," she called.

Potts got up to mix drinks, talking about the difficulties of organizing a band.He was reserved and shy.He really thinks the only way to get people to feel comfortable is to talk, and one of the topics he talks about a lot is himself.He said he was the son of a minister in Montana; at sixteen a local doctor He did not cure his thyroid disease, but introduced him to many works of Ingersoll and Haeckel, and corrected his views on religion; in rebellion against his father, he chose the profession of trombonist. ① Ingersoll (1833-1899), American orator and lawyer: Haeckel (1834-1919), German naturalist.Both were defenders and disseminators of Darwinism, against religious and philosophical obscurantism.

Then he turned to the subject of war, explaining that war was the struggle of the imperialists for the market.The topic was sparked by Warren's mention of himself as a Navy fighter pilot in training.Subsequently, Potts began to expound Marx's analysis of war, starting from the labor value theory.Madeleine had already cooked the meal and served it on the table, and she was very happy to have him as her guest.She knew Potts was talkative and interested in what he had to say, and she thought Warren and Janice might be interested too.But strangely, they were all silent.She thought maybe they had just had a little argument.

Potts pointed out that under capitalism, workers are never paid what they actually work for.The capitalists only pay them the minimum wage.Because capitalists own the means of production, they control them.The difference between the value of a worker's production and what he is paid for is profit.This will sooner or later lead to war.The capitalists of every country pile up a great surplus, because the laborer is not paid enough to buy back all that he produces.In order to make profits, capitalists have to sell these surplus products to other countries.Once the struggle for foreign markets intensifies, it will inevitably turn into war.This is exactly what is happening now.

"But Hitler didn't have a surplus," Janice Ragoutiu said mildly.She's a college student in economics and understands these Marxist platitudes, but she's still willing to let Warren's sister's boyfriend (or lover, she doesn't know yet) make a comment. "Germany is a country with insufficient products." "However, war is still a struggle for foreign markets." Potts walked back very lazily, insisting earnestly. "What about cameras, don't you care? Germany has been exporting cameras." "So, as I understand it, you're saying that Germany invaded Poland to sell Leica cameras," Warren said. "It's convenient to joke about the laws of economics, but it doesn't make sense," Potts said with a smile. "I'm totally serious," Warren said. "Obviously Hitler's reason for attacking Poland, like most wars, was to conquer and plunder." "Hitler was a puppet leader," Potts said cheerfully. "Have you ever heard of Fritz Thyssen? He and Krupp and a few other capitalists put Hitler on the stage. If they want to, they can make a few phone calls and they can put another person up tomorrow. Of course They don't have to, and he's an available and obedient lackey in their fight for foreign markets." "You know, what you're talking about is totally a Communist line," Janice said. "Oh, Potts is a Communist," said Madeline, hastily bringing out a wooden bowl of salad from behind the curtain. "Dinner is ready. Potts, would you mix a salad?" "Of course." Potts brought the bowl to a small rickety table nearby, and added salad oil, vinegar and other condiments very tactfully. "I probably haven't met a Communist yet," Warren said, glancing at the tall man in brown. "My God, haven't you seen it?" Madeline said. "How is it possible that there are many of them in the broadcasting system." "That's somewhat exaggerated." Potts said, rubbing garlic into the salad bowl, and the warm little room was filled with a pungent garlic smell. "Oh, Potts, tell me, who among us is not a Communist?" "Peter wasn't. I don't think Myra was either. That's just us," he added to Warren. Great look." Everyone was seated, and Potts brought a bowl of salad to the table. "Of course we don't have many people left now. A large number of people disappeared after Stalin signed the pact with Hitler. They don't have the most basic beliefs." "Did you find that treaty annoying?" Warren said. "Hate? Where? That's a very sensible move. The capitalist powers are trying to wipe out socialism in the USSR. If they had been wounded in the melee beforehand, the general attack on socialism would have been much weaker." Yes. Stalin's policy of peace is very wise." Warren said: "Suppose Hitler fought alone, quickly annexed Britain and France, and then turned around and crushed Russia? This is very likely to happen. Stalin could make a deal with the allies, and they would unite to stop the Nazis, and the situation would be much better." "But, you know, there's no reason for a socialist country to take part in an imperialist struggle for foreign markets," Potts explained patiently to the ignorant naval pilot. "Socialism needs no foreign markets, because the worker gets what he creates." "Potts, will you serve the goulash?" Madeline said. "of course can." When he got behind the curtain, Janice Raguqiu raised her voice and said, "But you must know that the income of a Russian worker is less than that of a worker in any capitalist country." "Of course. There are two reasons for this. The victory of socialism in a feudal country first," Potts said, carrying the stew again, "needs to fill a large industrial gap. Also, because of the threat of imperialism, society Socialism requires the diversion of mass production to the military industry. When socialism wins all over the world and the arms become useless, they will all be thrown overboard." "Whether there is such a thing, I doubt it, but even if there is, I always feel," said Janice, "that once the state takes control of the means of production, the workers will earn more than the capitalists would. Little. You know how incompetent and tyrannical a bureaucratic government can be." "That's right," Madeline interjected. "But once socialism wins all over the world, the state is gone, because no one needs a centralized government anymore. Then the workers will control everything. Potts, pass us the wine." "Of course." Warren narrowed his eyes and said to his sister, "Do you believe him?" "That's the argument," Madeline said with a chuckle. "If Dad knows that I am friends with the Communist Party, will he be mad? Don't write to him and tell him." "Don't worry." Warren turned to Potts. "And what about Finland?" It's been a week since Russia invaded the small northern country, and everyone agrees it was a disaster. "how?" "You know, Russia blames Finland for attacking it the same way Hitler blames Poland for attacking Germany. Do you believe that?" "It is ridiculous to think that Poland would attack Germany," Potts said calmly. "But Finland would attack the Soviet Union. It is quite possible. Probably at the behest of someone who tried to draw socialism into an imperialist war." "The Soviet Union was fifty times the size of Finland," says Janice Ragoutiu. "I'm not saying Finland did a smart thing," Potts said. "They were instructed to make a big mistake. However, Finland was originally a principality of Tsarist Russia. Strictly speaking, this is not an attack, it is just a correction of a mistake." "Oh, shut up, Potts," Madeline said. "Stalin simply played by ear and entered Finland in order to improve his strategic position against Germany." "Of course," Warren said, "morality left it alone. In his position, it was a very shrewd move." Potts smiled so knowingly that his eyeballs nearly popped out of their sockets. "Of course, he wasn't born yesterday. The imperialists are always terrified of any real action from the socialist countries. They think it's their exclusive privilege." "How do you explain the failure of this attack?" "Oh, do you believe the propaganda of the bourgeois newspapers?" said Potts, winking at him vigorously. "You think the Russians really won the battle?" "Hey, all this nonsense about the white-uniformed Finnish ski troop is infuriating," Potts said. "Don't you think that Russia also has ski troops and white uniforms? But you just listen to the propaganda of the New York Times." "The stew is delicious," Janice said. "I put a lot of lilac buds," Madeline said. "Don't eat it." Warren and Janice went to the theater immediately after dinner.He had come here from Pensacola for a seventy-two-hour vacation, and Janice had come to meet him from Washington; dinner with Madeline was what they had finally agreed upon on the long-distance call.After they were gone, Madeline cut her dress and Potts washed the dishes. "My God, what do we do now?" Warren said as we walked down the street.The theater is just a few streets away.It was snowing and it was impossible to hail a car, so they had to walk. "Get a shotgun?" "What? Relieve Potts of his pain?" "I want to force him to marry her." Janice laughed and took his arm tightly. "There's nothing between them, my dear." "yes?" "Impossible. Your little sister is quite a child." "Jesus, that's right. Red flames in Manhattan. Damn can't tell. I wrote home and said I was going to see her. Now what do I say?" "You just write to your parents and say she's all right. That's what it is." They walked forward with their heads down, the wind blowing snowflakes straight towards their faces. "Why don't you talk?" Janice said. "Don't worry about your sister. Honestly, it's unnecessary." "I was thinking about the war that tore us apart as a family. I mean, we were often scattered as well," Warren said. "Because we're a military family and we're used to it, but it's different now. I always feel like I don't have a place. Everyone's changing. I don't know if we'll be together again." "Sooner or later, all families change, they break up," says Janice Raguchou, "and then they break up and start a new family. That's the way it is, and it's a very lovely arrangement." She used Face cuddled against him, stayed for a while, snowflakes fell on the warm cheeks of the two. "The imperialists compete for foreign markets," Warren said. "I hope she can get rid of that man before Daddy comes back. Or Daddy's going to blow up Radio City."