Chapter 39 Chapter Thirty-Nine

In Washington, Victor Henry was reassigned to Operation Planning.He got no instructions from Roosevelt.People say the President is incredible, and the captain came to believe it from his own experience.But he was not troubled by the appointment, although he had long desired and thought he might get a sea service. More than anything—than his temples finally starting to grey, more prominent lines around his forehead and around his mouth, more serene gait than his tennis court—he was content to sit in an office now. Christopher Henry is changing. After London and Berlin, Washington in January 1941 seemed to him nothing more than a depressing picture of arguments, parties, drinking, chaos, insensitivity, and spending money, ominously Exactly like Paris before the fall.It took him a long time to get used to the brightly lit streets, the constant flow of cars, the exquisite-too-rich food, and the ignorance and indifference to war.Every time Pug spoke to soldiers and their wives, he found that they discussed only the slight good that distant war might do to their own small lives.Those talented students like him who graduated from the Naval Academy are all embarking on major command positions at sea that can be promoted to the rank of general.He knew that people regarded him as a wretch, a newcomer who had sunk because of his bad luck in office.He cared about the war, and about what seemed to him a rather bleak future for the United States.But now he hardly cared any more.

The Navy remained as preoccupied as ever with Japan.Every time the President made a decision to strengthen the Atlantic Fleet, there was bound to be an angry murmur and a sly shake of the head in the Admiralty and in the Army and Navy Clubs.He tried to talk about the Germans, and his friends all looked sideways at him.They almost said jokingly that he was a disregarded preoccupied man exaggerating in minor matters of which he knew in order to boast of his own importance.The rowdy debate about Lend-Lease in Parliament and in the newspapers seemed to him both illogical and irrelevant.Hitler didn't declare war on America at the time just to fit his own plans, nothing more.For the American people, it is clearly more to their liking to pretend to be neutral, while at the same time starting to do Britain's favor slowly and calculatedly - every step in this direction has to be debated.These are two simple truths, but they are both forgotten in the rhetoric.

Pug Henry was content with staying at Operation Planning, because here he was working in another world, a secret, small, realistic world.In early January, he and several other officers from the Military Planning Service began a "dialogue" with British military personnel.In theory, Lord Burner-Walker and his delegation were in Washington on an ambiguous mission of inspection or procurement.On the surface, the negotiations were limited to low-level preliminary discussions and were not binding on any party. The President, the Chief of Army Staff, and the Chief of Naval Operations did not care about these negotiations.In fact, on March 1, a written global battle plan was being finalized through these meetings.This plan estimates that Japan will find an attack sooner or later, but the key decision in this agreement is based on four words: "Germany first".Victor Henry was heartened that both the Army Air Corps and the Air Force planners agreed on this, and, quite unexpectedly and to his delight, the Ben

Admiral Deng and two other Navy colleagues, who thought the war was almost over, agreed—while the rest of the Navy continued to conduct old-fashioned drills and maneuvers using "Tangerine" (the Japanese code name) as an imaginary enemy. From Pug Henry's point of view, it was clear that if Japan entered the war, with its annual steel production of only a few million tons, it would not last long once Germany was defeated.However, if the Germans defeat Britain and take the British fleet, they can conquer continents one by one and become stronger and stronger. What about Japan? It doesn't matter.From his conversations at the Army and Navy Club, he knew that if this "Germany First" decision leaked out, it would cause an unimaginable disturbance.Counting from the President, he is one of the very few (perhaps less than twenty) Americans who know this secret.Perhaps it was a peculiar way of governing, but to his astonishment—his astonishment never quite faded—it was the way it went.Participating in this obscure work that affects the overall situation gives him satisfaction.

His life is extremely strange: after reading the newspapers published early in the morning or listening to the previous day's heated debate on the "Lend-Lease" Act in Parliament on the radio, he came to a few rooms in the remote corner of the old Admiralty building in the morning. In the drab little office, sit down with the British to start another day of work on the global battle plan.Pug was left with an indelible impression that a few senior officials who knew the inside story of the "dialogue" could cover up everything quietly.He was bewildered by a government that required such deceit from its magistrates, and all the blandishments required to coax legislators into wise action.Once the planners, exhausted from a busy day's work, sat around the radio in shirtsleeves and listened to General Marshall testify to a Senate committee.They heard the army chief

The chief (whose icy bluntness had reminded Henry of George Washington) assured the senators that the United States had no intention of entering the war and that there was no immediate need for a large military buildup.The planners were discussing a distribution scheme based on the expansion of the U.S. military to five million men by 1943—a scheme of which Marshall was fully aware. "I don't see it," Pug said to Burner-Walker. "Perhaps the only point you can make for democracy is that other forms of government are even worse." "What's wrong?" was the pointed answer of the Air Commodore. "If other forms of government are more likely to win wars, the other advantages will not count."

Burner-Walker had mastered the "landing craft" problem well, and Pug worked well with him.Among the planners an elaborate joke had circulated about Colonel Henry's girlfriend, "Elsie," which was really just a wordplay on the word "landing craft."He constantly emphasized that on all battlefields, landing craft play a restrictive role in combat.When Pug formulated the combat formula, he calculated all the actions of the cross-sea landing force according to the type and number of landing craft, thus pouring cold water on many plans with grand intentions and seemingly feasible plans.Often someone would say, "Pug's girl Elsie is at it again." He held on to it, and Burner-Walker was always behind him.

①The abbreviation "lc" of "landing craft" in the original text is the same as the female name "elsie". Henry couldn't easily meet Pamela Tudsbury.She had come to America as the air brigadier's typist-cum-assistant, crammed into an office in the British purchasing corps, visibly exhausted and with a haggard face.When he saw Pamela for the first time, he felt a mixture of surprise and surprise all over his body.She was standing beside Burner-Walker, looking at him with burning eyes.She didn't write to tell him she was coming.They only dated once for a drink.Pug wrote at length about his meeting with Tad Garrard.He thought she was very young.He had been infatuated with the girl for a while after the bombing mission, and now, in Washington's bustling Willard's Bar, it seemed like a distant, unbelievable episode.However, during the hour with her, he felt warm and happy.Since then, every time he sees her, it is a happy day for him.He only met her by chance, didn't call her, and didn't ask to see her again.Although she always seemed happy to see him, she did nothing to make them see each other more often.

Like a college youth yearning for fame, or an exile yearning for his homeland, the forty-nine-year-old admiral sometimes brooded on what it would be like to be in love with this young Englishwoman.But this is just his fantasy.In his own way, he remains faithful to his wife.he On her return, Rhoda greeted her husband with a bewildering mix of emotions—a loving, even lustful moment, then a deep melancholy, apathy, tantrums, and complaints about moving from New York to New York. Come Washington.In the end, she stabilized in a low-temperature, inseparable state, busy all day long for the "British Aid Fundraising Campaign" and her former music committee, sometimes in this way.

That's the reason to go to New York.Sometimes she casually mentions Bam Kirby, now one of the chairmen of the Raise for Britain campaign.Rhoda went to church with Pug exactly as usual, singing hymns and passing gossip about the Marine wife's restlessness.When Pug returned to Operation Planning without getting a naval command, she was visibly disappointed.But they were back to their old routines, and Pug was too busy worrying about Rhoda's ever-unbalanced emotions. Sometimes I hear news from the children and occasionally bring them closer.They were shocked by Byron's scrawled letter about his hasty marriage in Lisbon.They talked about it for several days.At first, they were anxious, distressed, and comforted each other, and finally had to accept this fact contentedly.Warren's delivery was, as usual, good news.His wife was coming back to Washington to give birth, and he had been promoted to lieutenant.

One Sunday in early March, Pug turned fifty.He sat next to his wife in church, listening to the choir singing "Holy, holy, holy," trying to shake off the feeling that the best opportunities in his life were missed.He counted his happiness: his wife was still pretty, and quite sensual; if she had any shortcomings, what woman didn't?His two sons are naval officers, and his daughter is financially independent and smart.Maybe he's had a setback in his career, but he's still doing useful work in a position.He really has nothing to complain about. Sitting beside him, Rhoda was mainly thinking that she would soon be meeting Bamu Kirby face-to-face for the first time since her husband returned from overseas. On the night of Rhoda's banquet, a blizzard clogged the capital.At quarter past seven, her guests, including Kirby, arrived in pieces, dusting off their bodies and stamping their feet.But the party still hadn't started.Pug is still missing. The small, well-furnished house on Tracy Lane was rented from a millionaire bachelor who was now ambassador to Brazil.Rhoda was making a final check in the small, steaming kitchen, and saw that everything was in order: the soup was hot, the duck was tender, the vegetables were simmering, and the cook was making sure that when the time came, everything was ready. Lost temper while eating.She frowned at the full-length mirror as she passed the corridor, straightened her hair, and then hurriedly went to entertain the guests again.Rhoda was wearing a silver dress that fitted her waist very well.Her face was rosy, her eyes sparkled with excitement.In the living room, Kirby and Pamela Tudsbury were sitting on large recliners talking, and Madeline and Janice were whispering in one corner.In front of the wood-burning fire, Alister Tudsbury and Lord Burner-Walker chatted with the newly elected Senator Ragucho and his wife on opposite benches.Banquet guests are mixed.But since it was just a dinner before a concert for the Raise for Britain benefit, she didn't care about that.The main thing on her mind was the meeting between Pug and Kirby. "Let's wait another ten minutes," Rhoda sat down beside the scientist. "If we don't come, we'll have to eat. I'm a member of the committee." "Where is Colonel Henry?" asked Pamela calmly.Her lavender gown hung from the neck with straps, exposing her slender shoulders.Her tawny hair was brushed high.Rhoda remembered Pamela Tudsbury as a rat girl, and she was not a rat now.Rhoda read Kirby's lazy, warm desire in the look on his face. "If only I could tell. Military secrecy covers all kinds of bad business, doesn't it?" Rhoda laughed. "I wish he was busy with defense and not a blonde." "I don't believe it's a blonde," said Pamela. "Colonel Henry isn't one of those." "Well, the sanctimonies are the worst, my dear. Well, your dress is so pretty." "Do you like it? Thanks," said Pamela, straightening her skirt. "I felt dressed as if I were going to a pantomime. For weeks I was in uniform day and night." "Is Lord Burner-Walker driving you so hard?" "Ah, no, Mrs. Henry. There are too many things to do. I think I am so lucky to stay in Washington. Maybe I work overtime at night to eliminate my sense of guilt." "Pamela, then it's probably Hualing Hotel," Kirby's tone was to continue the topic that was interrupted by Rhoda. "As long as they've fixed the bomb damage. By now, they should. The Germans are trying to get Buckingham Palace, so there's been a lot of bombing around the houses. But that was in October. .” "Tomorrow, I'll send an undersea telegram to Hua Ling." "Why, Bamu, are you going to London?" said Rhoda. Kirby turned towards her, crossing his long legs at the same time. "It seems so." "This is the first time I've heard of it." "This has been brewing for a while." "London! What an adventure," Rhoda smiled, hiding her surprise. "Jenice, is it good for you to drink so many martinis?" Mrs. Racoucheu said, her voice high above the others' conversation. "Oh, Mom," said Janice, as an old Filipino man in a white coat (a retired Navy waiter Rhoda had hired temporarily for that evening's banquet) was pouring tremblingly into the cup she held out. Pouring wine. "That baby must be born with an olive in its mouth," said the Senator, and the two Englishmen laughed heartily, and Raguchiu's pink face was lined with self-satisfaction. "So you did meet Byron?" Janice said to Madeline. "When did you meet?" "About two weeks ago. His sub stayed overnight at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. He treated me to dinner." "how is he?" "He's—I can't tell—more aloof than ever, almost cold. I don't think he likes being in the Navy much." "Maybe he doesn't like being married much," Janice said. "I've never heard of such a thing! Just two days of coaxing in Lisbon, and then she's back in Italy, and he's in that little submarine again. Why did they bother to get married?" "Hmph, maybe that Jewish girl must get married," Madeleine said in a mischievous tone.Janice smiled. "That's probably the case. But I can tell you that she's a very smart, pretty girl." She grimaced, and moved her big belly under her baggy green gown to make herself more comfortable. "Oh, I'm a fat cow! That's what it all comes out to, my dear. Always remember that. How's your love life?" "Oh, honey, speaking of—" Madeline glanced at her mother. "You remember the one with the trumpet? The one with the big sad eyes—all the brown?" "The Communist Party? Ah, Madeleine, could it be that you—" "Ugh, no, no. Potts is a total dull guy. But I went with him to that anti-war rally in Madison Square Park. That was a big deal, Jayne! It was packed Yes. Red, white, and blue banners stretched from one end of the park to the other, saying: American soldiers are not going..." Madeleine spread her hands sideways. "They sang Spanish Loyalist songs, some mass anthems, and novelists, poets, and university professors gave fiery anti-war speeches. Well, that guy's in our box. He writes horror shows for the radio stations. He was very successful, making about five hundred dollars a week. He was beautiful, but he was also a Communist." Madeline sneezed, blew her nose, and looked at Janice slyly. "Tell me which would shake our house more, Byron's Jewish girl. Or me, the Communist? Bob's from Minnesota, and he's at least Swedish. He's wonderful." ① Refers to progressive elements who supported the Popular Front and opposed Franco in the Spanish Civil War from 1936 to 1939. ② Janice's nickname. Janice said, "And your boss?" "Hugh Cleveland? Why mention him?" Two young women look at each other.Janice's mouth curled into a knowing wrinkle.Madeline's pale, powdered face flushed. "Well, Janice, why are you grinning?" She drank most of the martini. "I don't know. You're always hanging out with strange men, one after another." "If you mean that I'm secretly waiting for Mr. Cleveland," said Madeline, in her fatherly brisk tone, "you're dead wrong. He's a potbellied, pink-haired, full-faced A man with freckles, ten years older than me. Personally I see him as a snake." "Honey, snakes can hypnotize you." "Yes, it can only urge rabbits and birds, and I am neither." Rhoda walked to a small Chinese-style table to answer the phone. "Hi, you," she said. "Where are you? . . . Oh my God . . . well, of course, all right. I'll leave you the ticket at the box office. Well, well, they've been waiting for hours. Well, see you later, dear." Yes." She hung up, waving her long, pale hands to her guests. "Oh, let's drink up. Pug called to say sorry. He's in the White House, and there's no telling when he'll be able to get away." In Washington, a man who is absent from a dinner party does not embarrass the guests if he is in the White House with an empty chair.On the contrary, no one asked what Victor Henry was doing in that administration building, and no one even commented on Rhoda's words.She placed Burner-Walker on her right and the Senator on her left, saying: "After all these years, I still can't master the etiquette. One is a U.S. Senator and one is a British Senator. Nobleman, how do you place it up and down? Senator, I will put our foreign guest in the top seat." "Absolutely appropriate," Ragucho said. Alister Tudsbury said: "Senator, if you would yield him the seat on Lend-Lease, Lord Burner-Walker would be more than happy to yield you the seat this time." "Oh, deal, deal," the brigadier exclaimed, dazzled by his medal-laden uniform.Everyone laughed, Tudsbury the loudest. "Hahaha!" The reporter's belly quivered under the wide space of his wrinkled vest with a large gold chain across it.Rhoda said: "Oh, what a spirit! I was a little worried that our British friends were going to swallow Senator Ragucho alive!" The senator narrowed his eyes. "You Englishmen are not so short of meat, are you?" he went on, after the laugh had died away. "No, seriously, Rhoda, I'm glad you brought us together. Maybe I've convinced our friend that I'm not a fan of Nazis. I'm just one of ninety-six, and I I have my own point of view. Of course I don't agree with Senator Wheeler's statement. Saying that Lend-Lease will kill a quarter of American men. That's a long way to go. But if Roosevelt intends to send British Why doesn't he just stand up and say, why don't he use this "Lend-Lease" to trick us?This is simply taking us for fools! " "I went to an anti-war rally in New York," put in Madeleine, "and a speaker told a funny story: a bum stopped a rich man in the street and said, 'Sir, I'm starving, Give me a quarter, please.' Said the rich man, 'I can't give you a quarter, my dear fellow. I can lend or rent you a quarter.'" Senator Ragucho laughed. "Brilliant. I'll definitely use it in my next speech." Bamu Kirby said from across the table: "Are you really willing to collect material from the Communist Party?" "Is that a meeting called by the Communist Party? Still, stories are stories." "This kind of rally is crazy," Janice said. "When I was driving down Pennsylvania Avenue this afternoon in a taxi, I got stuck in front of the White House. I couldn't move an inch. The photojournalists were there, taking pictures of the pickets. Communists walking in a circle with placards, Singing in unison, 'G.I. No Going.' Next to them was a group of women -- from the American Mothers of Christians -- just kneeling in the snow on the sidewalk and praying. The driver told me they were going round the clock Pray and pray until Lend-Lease is defeated or negated. Honestly, coming here from Hawaii, I think this country is crazy!" "That just goes to show how widespread the movement against this bill is," the senator said. "There are people from all walks of life." "On the contrary," put in Kirby, "the extremes on both sides seem to be against aid, but the masses in the center are in favor." Senator Ragucho waved his hand into the air and said, "That's not it, sir. I've been in the middle of my life all my life. You should listen to those quiet conversations in the Senate dining room. Tell you, if they don't have to worry about big If the Jews in the cities (I don't blame the Jews for feeling that way, but the question cannot be decided on a narrow basis), there will be another twenty votes on my side in no time. I still don't think there will be more Yes. The number of votes changes every day. If this storm continues for another week, this bill will blow." The street gate opened and shut.Victor Henry came into the dining room, brushing snow from his blue army overcoat. "Apologies to everyone," he said as he took off his coat. "No, no, no need to stand up, I'll just come and change clothes later." But the male guests were all standing there.Victor Henry walked around the table, shaking hands with each of the guests--Bam Kirby at the end. "Oh," he said, "but it's been a while since I saw you." "It's been a long time, it's been a long time." Only Rhoda, who was most familiar with the scientist, understood the embarrassment and artificiality of his smile.She had worried about this moment for two weeks, but now she had an unexpected feeling--pleasure and pride at the thought of two such men loving her.When her lover held the hand of her husband of twenty-five years, she did not feel guilty at all.Kirby was more than a head taller than Colonel Henry.He was wearing a black and white striped tuxedo, and he looked like a posh guy.But Pug was also in good spirits: straight, not tall, but strong, with tired eyes in deep-set sockets that looked sharp and alive.There was vigor in his whole appearance—it was her own husband, just back from the White House.Rhoda felt lucky, beautiful, and pampered.Her thoughts were chaotic and cheerful, but the situation was safe.It was actually the happiest moment of her life, and it passed away like a dream.Pug sat down in his seat and began eating his cold prawns. "That's an afterthought," he said to Kirby, "but I do want to thank you for driving Rhoda from New York to the submarine school to see Byron last summer. It was a long drive." Kirby spread his large hands out to the sides. "But seeing the submarine base was also a marvelous experience. Your friend Colonel Tully told us things we knew nothing about when he accompanied us on the tour." "Red Tully always got perfect marks in school," Pug said. "I'm a little suspicious that Byron graduated because of his help. But I didn't ask him." For Rhoda, the fact that the two men were actually speaking bluntly about that fateful trip was a heart-pounding drama.She said jovially, "Well, Pug, you always tell poor Braney about it. Rhett told us he was the champion in the tank class. He got stuck all the way to the lungs once." Stopped, but he got out of the way at first, completely uninjured, calm as a fish. Oh, and when we went to see him, they were sending him instructing the tank squad." "That's just self-preservation, not work—Blani's always been good at that." "Self-preservation is also a talent," says Pamela Tudsbury. Pug looked at her with special tenderness. "Yes, Pamela, it's true that you can't do much without self-preservation. But that's just a tortoise." "Why, have you ever seen it?" said Rhoda to Lord Burner-Walker. "There is such a father!" Madame Lacouture gave a shriek.The old waiter was serving soup to Lord Burner-Walker.The English guest's decorations distracted him, the tray in his hand tilted, and the open soup bowl slid towards Rhoda: within seconds, her silver dress It might be ruined.But just as the soup bowl was sliding down the tray, Rhoda, who always kept one eye on the servant, immediately emptied it and picked it up, and then moved with the quickness and deliberation of a cat in trouble. Action, put it on the table, without spilling a drop of soup. Everyone gasped, followed by laughter."Good job!" cried Pug. "Self-preservation is passed down through the generations in our family," Rhoda said.Alister Tudsbury applauded amidst even louder laughter. "Dude! I never saw anything done so neatly," cried Senator Ragucho. Everyone said a joke or a compliment to Rhoda, and she beamed.Rhoda loves to treat.She's good at nailing down the details beforehand and then chatting lightheartedly throughout the evening.Rhoda spoke of some incident at a banquet in Berlin, and then began to recall the Nazis with biting irony.She had long forgotten all about her friendliness to the Germans in the past, and now she is a member of the "British Aid Campaign" and is completely on the side of aiding Britain.After Bam Kirby overcame his embarrassment in front of Pug, he also talked about some of his experiences in the Nuremberg parteitag.Pug talked about Abendreu's slide, and the ladies giggled.Then Lord Burner-Walker told some ridiculous anecdotes about the insolence of captured Luftwaffe pilots. ① German: Party Congress. Senator Racouture interrupted him to say: "Lord Burner-Walker, have you Britons really been in trouble last year?" "Oh, that's not it." And so the brigadier recounted how the July and August months of the previous year had seen fewer planes and pilots; ;how pessimism permeated the RAF throughout October—London was burning, civilians were dying in large numbers, but there were no night fighters to supply, and the Luftwaffe kept coming, dropping incendiary bombs on residential areas, bombing everywhere With burning, want to destroy the fighting spirit of this city.Raguqiu pressed some more questions, his pink face becoming more and more awake.The Air Commodore said the RAF estimated that the Germans would carry out new and larger raids in the spring and summer.Judging from the current rate of being sunk by submarines, British aircraft may be unable to take off due to lack of gasoline.By then, the invasion of England will be on the agenda. "Don't forget, we want to weather this," he said. "This time, though, Hitler may have capital. He has expanded his armed forces considerably. Of course, we have not been idle. But unfortunately a lot of our supplies have recently sunk to the bottom of the Atlantic." Ragucho was kneading the bread into little balls with his fingers.He stared intently at the brigadier general. "Yeah," he said, "as a people, as a civilization, no one compares Britain to the Nazis. Your people are amazing. I can tell you that we'll still hear some of that in Parliament." Burner-Walker bowed modestly, which made the other guests at the table laugh. "I'm here whenever I'm called." Victor Henry changed into his military uniform while the others ate their desserts.When he returned to the dining-room, the guests were dressing for their departure through the storm.As he helped Pamela Tudsbury into her coat, he smelled a sweet scent that brought back memories.She turned to him and said, "I have news about Taide." For the first moment, Victor Henry didn't understand.On the cruise ship "Bremen", she also used such a bright and serene way to tell jokes about Hitler. "Really? Good or bad?" "Can you give me a call?" "it is good." "We must fight, ah, absolutely." The guests were divided into three cars, and Pug drove the one for the English guests.When they stopped on Massachusetts Avenue at a red light that reflected falling snow in a cherry-colored halo, he said to the air commodore: "You convinced Senator Ragucho on several points." "That's just drink talk," the Commodore shrugged. "Oh, no one has ever seen the Constitution Auditorium in such splendor," said Rhoda, "and probably never will again. It's marvelous!" All the seats are full.All the men in the orchestra, and many of the male audience sitting on either side of the long ramp, were in full frock coats or glittering military uniforms.The women form a sea of ​​bare skin, vibrant colors and jewels.The great flags of Great Britain and the United States were hoisted on the dais.Rhoda booked two boxes next to the presidential box.She put the Lacoutures and Janice, Commodore and Alister Tudsbury in the better box, she and Pamela sat on the railing in the other box, Pug and Kirby sat behind them, and Madeleine sat at the back. In the corridor behind them, there was a commotion among the guards and belated spectators, and a murmur spread throughout the auditorium.Then, the vice president and his wife strolled into the presidential box and stepped into the circle of blue and white spotlights.The audience stood up and applauded.Henry Wallace smiled coyly at everyone and waved.He looked like a sensible farmer, very unhappy about having put on a full tuxedo for some anniversary.The orchestra played "The Star-Spangled Banner" and then "God Save the King."The British national anthem, with Pamela Tudsbury's bare white shoulders so close, evokes in Victor Henry memories of days and nights spent in London.As the audience returned to their seats, and the violins began to play Haydn's symphony slowly, Pug's mind was full of blitzkrieg and the bombing of Berlin, the German capital that glowed yellow in the night sky due to the blown gas works. .As soon as he entered the apartment, Pamela threw herself into his arms.The music turned into a fast dance and brought him back to reality.He stared at the profile of his wife, who was sitting in the usual concert posture: back straight, hands clasped in her lap, head slightly turned to one side, indicating she was listening with gusto.He thought of how charming she was sometimes, and how graceful she had been at the banquet tonight.He felt vaguely guilty that he was in love with Pamela Tudsbury.Victor Henry has never done a few bad things in his life, and he is not good at justifying himself. ① Haydn (1732-1809), Austrian composer. Rhoda couldn't have been more content with himself.Haydn's music delighted her.She loved sitting in a prestigious box so close to the Vice President in her newly made silver gown.She was glad the concert was sold out.She was also looking forward to the success of the dinner dance to be held in the future.所有这些极为有趣的活动实际上又都是为了一个再崇高不过的目的，而她的名字在委员会名单上又列入前茅。事情还能更好吗？只有巴穆•柯比要去英国这个消息略微使她有些不安。关于这事，她还要问他些问题。 当然，柯比博士也自有他的心事，帕米拉有她自己的。这四个人——一对结婚多年的夫妇和两个闯进他们婚姻里的外人——看起来和这个瓮音大厅两壁其他包厢亘四个四个的观众并没什么两样：都长得标致，穿得华丽，安详地在倾听音乐。柯比正坐在罗达身后，帕格坐在帕米拉•塔茨伯利后边。一个陌生人也许会猜想高个子的是一对，矮的是一对，只不过对那个长着一张饱经风霜的脸和一副浓重眉毛的海军军官来说，那小个子女人显得年轻了些。 中间休息的时候，两个女人走开了，维克多•亨利和柯比博士就留在那个暖气开得太足的、烟气熏人的前厅里。帕格说：“出去吸口新鲜空气怎么样？看来雪是停了。” “赞成。” 司机们站在他们的轿车旁跺着新落下来的雪。天冷得厉害。几个坐在尽后边座位上的年轻的音乐爱好者穿了毛衣和短皮大衣，在雪水泥泞的台阶上交谈着，嘴里吐着热气。帕格说：“关于铀，有什么新的情况吗？”科学家歪了脑袋望着他。“什么铀？” “你们已经进展得那么快了？”帕格咧嘴笑着。柯比慢慢摇了摇头，嘴上作出不想说下去的样子。 “德国人会搞到咱们前头去吗？”回答是耸了耸肩膀。 “你是知道的，我目前在作战计划处，”维克多•亨利直截了当地说，“我向你们追问这个是因为我们应该掌握这个秘密而又得不到。要是另外这个东西确实在制造中，也许我们在铺子里只是玩着儿童游戏。” 柯比装满了他的烟斗，点上了火。“你们并不是在玩什么游戏。还没进展到那地步。咱们这边还没有。” “能不能加把劲儿呢？” “哦，可真得大大加把劲儿。我正是为这件事去英国的。他们显然赶在咱们前头许多。” “在旁的方面他们也赶在前边啦，”帕格说。“关于《租借法案》这场瞎胡闹的混战中，这种事就没人提到过。有英国科学家在咱们这一边，咱们得大大庆幸。最好拚命把他们留在这边。” “我倾向于同意你的看法。可是在许多方面咱们也赶在他们前头。”柯比喷着烟斗，乜斜着望了帕格一眼。“回到了家觉得幸福吧？” “幸福？”帕格抓了一把雪，把它捏成雪球。雪在他温暖的手心里发出嗞嗞的响声，使他一刹那间回到了愉快的童年。 “我忙得都顾不及去想了。对，我想我是幸福的。”他把雪球从汽车顶上扔到那条空无一人的小巷里。“罗达在柏林住腻烦了，我一个人住在那里又太冷清。” “罗达，她可真是位出色的主妇，”柯比说。“我从来也没参加过比她举办得更好的晚宴。那可真是本事——她救那盆汤的情景。”柯比叼着烟斗，刺耳地笑了笑。“真是本事！” “在她的其他才能中间，”帕格说，“罗达还一向是个杂技演员。” 柯比把整个脸皱了皱。“冷得真可以，是不是？咱们回去吧。” 他们在楼梯上碰见正要出去的梅德琳。她那件白狐皮大衣紧紧地罩在长礼服外面，头发上一条红围巾一直系到下巴底下。 “你去哪儿？”她父亲说。 “我已经告诉妈妈了，我等不了散场。克里弗兰先生从匡蒂科回来了，我得去见他。” “等会儿跳舞你回来参加吗？”梅德琳打了个嚏喷。“爸，我说不准。” “当心你那个感冒。你样子看来怕人。” 两个男人进去了。梅德琳抓住木栏杆，急忙走下那很滑的台阶。梅德琳到达的时候，一个侍者正端着放了一份夹馅面包、一杯双份马提尼酒的托盘在敲休•克里弗兰的房门。那熟悉的洪亮声音听起来似乎有些气恼。“门开着哪，就进来吧。” 她的老板穿着一件和他很不相称的紫绸浴衣坐在那里，穿了长统袜的脚跷到一张仿古的书桌上。他正在打电话，象在赛马场上似的用铅笔做着笔记。“回力球怎么样？”他说着。 “明天有什么好节目吗？”他朝她挥了挥手，把话筒堵了一下。 “嗨，梅蒂！我以为你来不成啦。把这个签一下。给他一块钱。” 侍者是个目光迟钝的矮小青年，正在屋里徘徊着。克里弗兰跟他的管帐人谈话的当儿，他咧嘴傻笑着，两眼直勾勾地望着。“克里弗兰先生，我只想告诉您，我是您的一个崇拜者。”克里弗兰一挂上电话，他就这样说了。“我真觉得您了不起。我们一家都这么想。每次业余演出我们都去的。” “谢谢，”克里弗兰带着睡眼蒙眬的神情低声说，同时用手指拢着他的淡茶色头发。“梅蒂，来点什么吗？” “多谢，来杯酒吧，我感冒了。” “给她也来个双份的，”克里弗兰忽然对侍者很有风度地笑了笑说。“给我来三支哈瓦那雪茄，要是有的话，要基度山伯爵牌的。越快越好。” "Yes, Mr. Cleveland." “民蒂科怎么样？”梅德琳把大衣往椅子上一撂，坐下来，擤着鼻子。 “舞台很好用。指挥官兴奋极了，他认为这是招募新兵的一个极妙的噱头。”克里弗兰打着哈欠，点上雪茄，然后向她解释他和指挥官商量好的有关广播的安排。“他领我在兵营到处都参观了。我看见了一次真正的战斗演习。好家伙，那些水兵用真的子弹互相朝脑袋顶上射击！我得聋上一个星期。”说着，他揉起自己的耳朵。“我估计他们不会也叫你经历那么一场。” “我？我去那儿吗？” “当然，明天。” "What are you going to do?" “去挑选演员。把他们每个人的履历什么的全拿来。原来他们那里已经有个业余的玩艺儿。他们叫它作'快乐时光'。”梅德琳说：“这个'快乐时光'是整个军队里的老传统。” “真的？我还是头次知道。无论如何，这么一来就有把握了。”他描述了一下要她去匡蒂科的安排。 Doorbell rang.梅德琳擤着鼻子，跑去开门。 “我觉得有点儿发烧。我不愿去那儿访问那些水兵。” 一个头发染成黑色的姑娘站在门口傻笑着。她穿了一件黄大衣，黄色的高统雪靴，口红涂得厚厚的嘴里露着被烟熏黑了的牙齿。梅德琳一打开门，她的笑容就消失了。 “我是来找休•克里弗兰先生的。” “娃娃，就是这儿，”他大声说。 这个姑娘用迟疑的步子走进房间，用眼睛偷偷地来回瞟着克里弗兰和梅德琳。 “这是怎么回事儿？”她说。 “在那儿等等吧，”他说着，用大拇指朝寝室指了指。“我马上就来。” 这姑娘走进寝室，把门倒关上。梅德琳不去理睬克里弗兰露出的窘促的苦笑，就抄起大衣，使劲拉上一只袖子，又拉上另一只。“晚安，我明天再同你谈。” “你要的酒马上就来了。” “我不喝了。我想回家。我冷得直哆嗦。” 克里弗兰光着袜底走了过来，把手放在她的前额上。她把手推开了。 “你没发烧。” “请不要碰我。” "What's the matter?" “我就是不愿意让人碰。” 侍者敲了敲门，走了进来。“先生，双份马提尼酒，和'基度山伯爵'牌的。” “好极了，谢谢。”侍者走了，克里弗兰把托盘捧到梅德琳面前。“来，脱掉大衣，把酒喝下去。” 梅德琳把双手揣到大衣口袋里说：“让一个妓女干等在那里是不公道的。她唯一可以出卖的是时间。” 休•克里弗兰的嘴巴不自觉地张开了，他慢慢地苦笑了一下。“哦——梅德琳•亨利。” “对不起，我情绪坏极了。晚安。” 克里弗兰踱进寝室，小声说了些什么。那个姑娘把钱掖到一只发亮的黄钱包里，从寝室里出来了。她用粗暴、不快和忧郁的神色瞥了梅德琳一眼，就走了。 “坐下，喝你的酒吧。这里有关于匡蒂科的全部情况，”他挥舞着一个吕宋纸信封，“该去见谁，表演者的名单。明天要是你不舒服的话，就给我来个电话。我叫拿特或者阿诺德来替你。” “哦，我估计我能行。”梅德琳坐下来，把大衣朝肩头一推，就喝起来。 “家里人怎么样？” "very good." “宴会上来了什么有意思的客人吗？” “埃里斯特•塔茨伯利就是一个。” “塔茨伯利！喂，那可是个天才。这是我很想见见的一个人。塔茨伯利有他自己的风格，广播的嗓音是超等的。不过他还没上过'市内名人动态'。还有谁呢？” “皇家空军准将勃纳—沃克。” “准将是个大角儿吗？” “照我父亲说，'英国战役'大致就是他指挥的。” 克里弗兰皱了皱鼻子，又把一双脚跷到书桌上了。“嗯，不坏。不过'英国战役'无聊透了，是不是？梅蒂，我不知道他现在还有什么重要性。听众对'英国战役'已经腻烦了。” “我决不想请他来广播。” “我倒想。”克里弗兰握紧自己的双手，两个指头很有见解的样子戳着下巴。最后他摇了摇头。“不，他过时了。'英国战役'是瞎扯淡。” “还有拉古秋参议员。” 她的老板那浓重、淡茶色的眉毛挑起来了。“啊，他可是个热门。对，他不是你家的儿女亲家什么的吗？” “他的女儿嫁给了我哥哥。” “在潜艇上的那个？” “不，那个开飞机的。” “你觉得怎么样？拉古秋肯去纽约吗？” “只要能攻办《租借法案》，我看西雅图他也肯去。” “反正《租借法案》是头版新闻——这并不是说，四十个人中间准有一个明白它究竟是怎么回事。咱们就约拉古秋。你愿意同他谈吗？” “愿意，”梅德琳喝完酒，站了起来。 “好，如果你办成的话，就把他排在星期一。咱们星期一的节目很不带劲儿。” 梅德琳轻轻拍着手里的信封，心不在焉地望着它。酒使她舒服了一些。“你知道，在所有海军基地上，都有这种'快乐时光'，”她说。“几乎每条船上都有。军营里多半也有。你不能象这样偶尔多表演一回两回的？这是与众不同的。” 克里弗兰摇了摇头。“梅蒂，就只能表演那么一回，不过看个新鲜劲儿。正菜还得靠正规的业余演员。” “要是咱们参战的话，”梅德琳说，“有才能的人都会应征去当兵，会不？那时全国到处都是兵营了。” “哦，可能会。”他带着那副最迷人的笑容，用大拇指朝寝室的门指了指。“刚才她那件事，很抱歉。我以为你今晚上不来了呢。” “放心，这对我丝毫也无所谓。” “你其实不赞成我这么做，我知道。我太太也不赞成。你们受的教养好。” "I hope so." “可是，你要明白，我没你们那么幸运。” “晚安，休。” “喂，听我说，”克里弗兰挠着头，开心而友好地斜了一眼。“要是咱们真的参了战，那个'快乐时光'说不定倒是个好节目。它本身也许就能成为一个连续的节目。梅蒂，立一个新的卷宗标上'战时想法'，把这打在备忘录上，先撂在一边。” "Ok." “你父亲是个了解内幕的。他认为咱们会参战吗？” “他认为咱们已经参加进去了。” 克里弗兰伸了伸懒腰，打了个哈欠。“真的？可是战争似乎已经烟消云散了。对不？现在什么动静也没有，除了希腊和非洲那边还乱哄哄地闹着。” “德国人每个月在大西洋要炸沉二十万吨哩。” “那数目大吗？这大概都是相对而言的。我估计希特勒已经打赢了。”克里弗兰又打了个哈欠。“好吧，梅蒂，等你回纽约的时候再见吧。”梅德琳走了以后，克里弗兰拿起电话来，哈欠连天的。 “要侍者头儿……克里弗兰。哦，是你吗，艾迪？好极了。你听着，艾迪，她样子还可以，可是当时我正忙。我叫她在酒吧间先等一下。黑头发，黄大衣，黄钱包。谢谢，艾迪。”勃拉姆斯①一个交响乐的慢板乐章正使维克多•亨利打起盹来，忽然有人轻轻拍了他一下，小声叫醒他说：“亨利上校？”看来那个作招待员的姑娘既兴奋，又对他肃然起敬。 ①勃拉姆斯（1833—1897），德国作曲家。 “白宫给您来的电话。” 他在他妻子耳根说了几句，就离席了。交响乐演奏完，观众正鼓掌的当儿，罗达回身望了望他那把依旧空着的椅子说：“帕格显然又去白宫了。” “男人的生命不是他自己的，对吗？”柯比说。 “有史以来几曾是过？”帕米拉说：“跳舞会他来参加吗？”罗达做了个无法作答的手势。 一小时左右以后，维克多•亨利站在朔尔汉姆富丽堂皇的舞厅入口，阴郁地巡视着舞厅里的景象：舞池里拥簇着盛装的舞客们，台上挂着英美两国国旗，用金箔制成的“援英募集运动”几个大字拱形地悬在铜管乐队的头上。两张巨大的冷餐台子上放着肉、生菜、干酪和糕点，前边长长地排着两队欢笑着的客人。在白宫那位海军副官所告诉他的消息中间，还提到过去两天里三万吨又给沉到北大西洋底去了。 埃里斯特•塔茨伯利和一个年在四十左右的金发碧眼女人从他身边蹦蹦跳跳地过去了，那位夫人从胸部以上除了一副钻石项链之外全都袒露着。这位记者挂着金链的肚皮迫使夫人和他保持一些距离，尽管如此，她的精神仍是那样欢快。他拖着那只坏腿跳舞，显然决心不去理会它。 “啊，帕格来啦！亲爱的伙计，你把眼睛瞪得象撒翁纳柔拉①似的。” ①撒翁纳柔拉（1452—1498），意大利僧侣。 “我正在找罗达。” “她在那头儿哪。你认识艾丽娜•巴尔赛吗？” “你好哇，艾丽娜。”金发碧眼女人吃吃地笑了，摆一摆指头朝亨利打招呼。“帕米拉没来跳舞吗？” “她回办公室了。那位一本正经的姑娘正加班加点为国效忠哩。” 塔茨伯利拖着他那位金发碧眼的舞伴在旋转，用的劲头对他那副身材和那条瘸腿来说，都很不适当。维克多•亨利看到他的妻子正和巴穆•柯比坐在靠边上的一张小圆桌上。 “喂，亲爱的！”她大声喊着。“你总算逃出来啦！去替你自己拿个盘子，到我们这里来吧。这里的小牛肉好得很。” “我替你去取吧，”柯比赶忙站起来说。“帕格，你坐下吧。” “不要，不要，弗莱德。我还得走。” “哎呀，亲爱的，”罗达说，“你一会儿也不呆吗？” “不，我只是回来告诉你，我今晚上不回家睡了，也许不止一夜。我马上回家收拾些衣服，就得走了。” 巴穆•柯比僵硬地笑了笑说：“可惜你不能留下，这个舞会好极了。” “你们尽情享受吧。去伦敦你可过不到这样的生活。” “唉，真倒楣。”罗达说。帕格弯下腰来在他妻子的颊上吻了吻。“对不起，亲爱的，你跳个痛快吧。”穿蓝色衣服的背影在舞客群中消失了。 罗达和巴穆•柯比坐在那里什么也没说。爵士乐响亮地奏着。一对对舞伴从他们身边过去，有时候向罗达打着招呼：“好畅快的一个舞会！亲爱的，太好了。”当柯比把还剩下一半、越来越冷的盘子推开的时候，她正微笑着向朝她打招呼的人挥手呢。“那么，我明天七点就去纽约。我最好回去睡了。宴会好极了，音乐会也很出色。罗达，谢谢你。” “巴穆，我还得呆上半个来小时。”柯比的脸是呆板的。他那棕色的大眼睛显得疏远而忧郁。罗达说：“你去伦敦之前，我还能见到你吗？” “恐怕不能了。” 她用一种机警、探索的眼神望着他，从容不迫地用餐巾擦了擦嘴。“我陪你出去。” 在拥挤的前厅里，罗达在一面全身的穿衣镜前停下来，梳理着头发，不时地从镜中瞥上柯比一眼。她用一种极其随便的闲谈语调说：“很抱歉，我原想帕格一回来就把话同他说了。可是调了这个新差事以来他总是忙得不可开交，而且他回家以后感到那么松快，我实在说不出口。没有旁的缘故。”柯比带着冰冷的神情点了点头。 她接着说下去：“好吧。后来又发生了这档子事：拜伦在里斯本娶了这个姑娘。为这件事我们俩好多日子才平静下来，可是紧接着那档子事，杰妮丝又来了，大着个肚子什么的，我指的是眼看就要第一次当爷爷奶奶了——亲爱的，你只能让我来选择适当的时机。不管怎么说，这可不容易啊。” “罗达，你和帕格之间有许多东西把你们拴在一起，我充分了解这一点。”她回过身来直直地望着他，然后又继续梳理起头发来。 “我们之间有吗？” 他朝着她那映在镜中的身影皱了皱眉头说：“今晚上我心里很不舒服。罗达，我确实很想再结一次婚。对这一点，我从来没象在你的晚宴上那么强烈地感到过。” “巴穆，看在老天的面上，别给我下最后通牒。我是催不得的。”罗达转过身来对着他，说得很快，同时朝前厅四下里扫了一眼，向一个穿桔黄色缎子长裙礼服从她身边飕飕走过的女人笑了笑。“要不然，亲爱的，随你怎么办都好。你为什么不带一个英国妻子回来？你会发现那边有成打的标致女人急于仰慕你，她们也愿意到美国来。” “我不会带个英国妻子回来的。”他握起她的手，上下打量着她，忽然微笑了。“天哪，今晚上你有多么漂亮！你的晚宴多么好，这个舞会又是多么巨大的一个成功。你真是会办事情的人。我估计我不会在五月以前回来的。这段时间应该尽够了吧。你知道是够的。再见吧。” 罗达回到舞会上，心里踏实多了。最后的一刹那澄清了气氛。五月以前她的戏法还可以变下去。 帕米拉•塔茨伯利戴着猫头鹰式的黑边眼镜，穿着淡紫色晚礼服，梳着别致的发式，正在打字机上咔嗒咔嗒地打着，打字机用一只台灯照着——那间寒伧、没有窗户的小办公室的其余部分是半暗的。门上有人敲了一声。 “哎呀，来得真快！”她开了门。来的是维克多•亨利。他戴着棕毡帽，穿了棕色大衣，提着一只放寝具的帆布手提箱。她走到小桌跟前，桌上有一只耐热玻璃咖啡壶在一堆纸张、小册子和技术书中间冒着热气。“我记得你要放糖，不加牛奶。” “好记性。” 她倒了两杯咖啡，然后就在打字机旁的一把转椅上坐下了。他们啜饮着咖啡，在灯光下对望着。 “你这样子太不伦不类了，”帕格•亨利说。 “啊，我知道。但是他明天早晨八点就要，”她摘下眼镜，揉了揉眼睛。“要末今晚把它打出来，要末我就得明天早晨五点爬起来。我不困。我一点儿也不想跳舞或者去填肚皮。” “你在搞什么？” 她犹豫了一下，然后笑了笑。“我敢说你对这个比我知道的多得多。关于登陆艇的附录。” “噢，那个呀。倒是个不坏的文件呃？” “读起来简直纯粹象是个梦想。美国真能在一九四三年以前改进所有那些设计、建造成千艘那样的机器吗？” “我们能够，但是我没有理由相信我们会这样做。你所打的并不是个行动命令，那只是个计划。” 他很喜欢在这个又小又沉闷、光线很暗的房间里单独和她相处。帕米拉那套正式赴宴穿的半裸的服装虽然和这里的环境很不相称，却更强烈地使他感到可爱：就好象一束紫罗兰放在一叠油印的备忘录上一样。他粗着嗓子说：“台德•伽拉德有什么消息？” “我昨天刚接到他的少校写来的一封信。说来话长。要点是：和他同在一个医院里的三名皇家空军的俘虏逃跑了。他们往海边逃，遇救被送回国去了。台德原定也跟他们一道逃跑的。可是在你那次访问之后，给了他个单人房，同时受到特别监视。所以他没能跑成。他们认为眼下已经用船把他送往德国、放到关皇家空军的俘虏营里去了。这是大致的经过。他们给他的待遇一定不会坏的，原因很简单：我们手里关着这么多德国空军驾驶员。不过你可以明白，目前我为什么不特别想去参加什么讲究的晚餐和舞会。” 维克多•亨利朝墙上的挂钟瞥了一眼。“这么说来，他没能逃出来是由于我的缘故。” “你说到哪里去了。” “不，那是事实。你知道，在我向德国空军谈到他之前，我曾经犹豫过。我估计会引起对他的注意，给他个特殊地位。我当时就拿不准对他是有利还是不利。有时候最好还是让事情水到渠成。” “然而是我叫你去尽量打听他情况的呀。” “对，是你叫我这样做的。” “你使我心里少受了两个月的折磨。” 他说：“反正事情已经这么做了。现在你知道他还活着，这还是重要的。帕姆，我很高兴听到这个消息。好，我想我得走了。” “去哪儿？”他带着吃惊的苦笑说：“你应该明白这是问不得的。” “是机密你就尽可以叫我别问下去。不是出国吧？”他指了指那小手提箱。“没有可能。” “因为我们这儿很快就要结束了，”她说。“那样的话，我也许就会很长一个时期见不到你的面了。” 帕格朝前弯了弯身子，胳膊肘支在膝上，攥着双手。对于把从不告诉他妻子的事透露给帕米拉，他并不很犹豫。她毕竟和他差不多同样了解内情。“帕姆，总统好几个星期以来鼻窦的情形一直不好。最近他又在发烧。这场《租借法案》的风波也无助于他的病情。他要坐火车去海德公园①休息几天，严格静养。我被派去陪他坐火车。这真出我意料之外。我一直以为——并且希望——他把我忘掉了。” ①在纽约市附近，是罗斯福的故乡。 她笑了。“忘掉你可不那么容易。你知道你在轰炸机司令部里是个传奇性的人物。一个美国海军军官，只为了寻开心，竟坐上一架威灵顿往柏林的高射炮射程里飞。” “那回可真逗，”帕格说。“整个飞行中我都是蹲在机舱里，紧闭着眼睛，用指头堵着耳朵。至今，一想起那回万一给打下来活捉了去，我还打哆嗦呢！美国驻柏林的海军武官坐在一架英国的轰炸机里在德国天空上飞！我的上帝，你为那趟可生了我的气哩。” “我确实挺生气。” 帕格站起来，扣上大衣。“谢谢你的咖啡。自从我为了穿军服把咖啡戒掉以来，我总想喝它。” “今天的晚宴好极了。维克多，你太太实在了不起。她真能干。她把那只汤盆往半空里一抄，象个魔术师，而且她那么漂亮。” “罗达是不错。谁也用不着向我吹捧她。”帕米拉戴上眼镜，往打字机里换了张纸。 “那么，再见吧，”帕格说，然后窘促地补上一句：“也许你回国之前我还见得到你吧。” “那可好啦。”她正斜眼望着打字机旁边一张写得很潦草的纸。“你知道，我很想念你，在这儿比在伦敦更想你。” 这些话帕米拉是用她那种独特的安详神情顺口说出来的。维克多•亨利已经把手放到门把上了，他停了停，咳了一声。“哦，罗达也这么抱怨。我总是埋头在自己的工作里。” “啊，我明白，”她抬起头来，镜片后面那对发亮的眼睛坦率地望着他。“那么，亨利上校，你不想让总统等你吧。”