Chapter 41 Chapter Forty

Natalie had originally fancied the escape by the Underground Railway as an organized and rapid operation, something mysterious, thrilling, and romantic.It turned out that they had nothing to do in Marciana, but waited indefinitely, and they were not allowed to associate with any outsiders, not even the people of the village.This is a small cottage inside the wall. A family of old stone cottages are scattered on a hillside halfway up the highest peak on Elba Island. The picturesque scenery is enough to cultivate one's temperament.It was as though these stragglers had come here for a holiday, seeking some mountain country pleasure, except that it cost them nothing.

They delay again and again.Castelnuovo didn't seem to care.She could understand how little he had revealed to Natalie and her uncle about his escape plans and who was helping them.If they got caught, she would know as little as possible.Once, when it was just the two of them—and they had been waiting for nearly a month now—he said, "You see, Natalie, everything is going well. There's nothing to worry about." And she did her best. Don't worry. Their lodgings were a ramshackle, stone-walled hut with cracks in the plaster, at the end of a steep alley leading up the hill, which became a narrow road through patch of vegetables and grapes. The mountain path that passes through the donkeys in the garden; the silent villagers pick melons, vegetables and fruits on it, load the little donkeys, and sometimes ride them up and down the mountain. They all work at sunrise and rest at sunset.The scenery here is superb, although the villagers treat such a beautiful scenery as indifferent to outsiders.Looking to the west, the cliffs of Corsica tower above the water, to the east is a looming ridge of the mainland, to the south and north is a row of green islands belonging to the same archipelago, such as Capraia and Monte Cristo , often shrouded in white clouds; at the foot of the mountain below, the blue water beats against the lush forested coast, and there are fishing villages dotted here and there.Here Natalie climbed mountains and spent many hours in the vegetable orchard, enjoying the boundless scenery, the singing of the birds, and the colors and fragrances of September flowers and fruits.

During the first week a fat, hideous girl with warts on her face, who spoke little, brought them vegetables, fruit, coarse bread, goat's milk, and cheese in mesh bags, sometimes wrapped in wet Fish in seaweed.After that, Anna.Castelnuovo went to the little market to search.If there were rationing on Elba, little Marciana would have no way of knowing; if there were guards on the island, they didn't think there was anything worth bothering about in these mountain towns.Natalie's nervousness faded away.The little hut consisted of only two dark, musty rooms—one for the Castelnuovos, one for herself and her uncle—and the latrine was outside the house, and the wood-burning stove was piled up with layers. A layer of sooty grease.She had to carry a bucket to fetch water from the village pump, and sometimes had to wait in line with barefoot children.She sleeps on straw at night.But she and her child managed to escape Werner.There is a quiet hiding place far away from Baker's clutches.For now, that's enough.

Ellen.Jastrow approached the present lingering with a philosopher's serenity.As a farewell gift old Sacherdot had given him a moldy Bible in Hebrew and Italian when he was seeing him off at his house on the coast of Follonica.He sat on a long chair under the apple tree all day with this Bible and a volume of Montaigne's papers curled up at the corners.At dusk, he went for a walk on the mountain road where the donkey walked.He seemed to have thrown away his difficult temper along with his stressful work habits.He appeared calm, undemanding, and cheerful.He let his beard grow, and he looked more and more like a wild old farmer.One fine morning at the end of September, when Natalie complained to him about the present inaction, he shrugged his shoulders and said: "Won't you wait on Elba until the end of the war?"I do not care.I am not as self-absorbed as Napoleon, thinking that all the people in the world are obsessed with me, or want something from me. "

The Bible lay open on his lap.She gazed at the tangle of Hebrew letters and ancient Italian print on the pages, all stained with the marks of ancient age and seaside damp. "What are you reading this for?" "Aristotle said,"—Ellen smiled slightly—"that he loved mythology even more in his later years. Want to read it with me?" "I quit the church Sunday reading class at eleven and haven't studied Hebrew since." He makes room on the bench.She sat down and said, "Yeah, okay, why not?" He turned the book to the first page. "Do you remember a little bit? Try it."

"Okay. That's a B.Beh —ray —Shis. Right?" "Good learning! It means the first inch'. What's next?" "Oh, Ellen, my brain can't get it into that, and I'm really not interested." "Come on, Natalie. Even if you don't like to learn, I do." There was a heavy, hasty knock on the wooden door. A young man smiled at Nata at the door, stroking his black beard that was turned down.A chubby, rude olive face; brown eyes scrutinizing her lustfully; baggy corduroy trousers and a red jacket were stage costumes. "Hello, Mr. Rabinowitz wants me to come. Are you ready to go?" Harsh strange voice.

The alley was blocked by a wagon with a lean mule with visible bones, its long ears twitching. "Huh? Go? Now? I'm sure it's all right, but—come in." He shook his head and smiled. "Quick, quick, I beg you." Castelnuovo and his family sat around a table in the back room, eating their daily lunch of bread and vegetable soup. "Wow!" He wiped his mouth and stood up. "I've been waiting for him for a week. I'm packing up." Ellen asked, "Who is he?" The doctor gave him a vague gesture. "He's a Corsican. Please hurry."

These fugitives sat on the slow truck and bumped on the way down the mountain, heading west.Miriam and Louise were playing on the hay.They stopped and got off at a stone beach where only three or five families of fishermen lived.There was no one around, but the coarse clothes drying on the ropes and the wet fishing nets spread out on the boats dragged up to the beach showed that there were people living here.The Corsican led them aboard a schooner piled high with fishing gear, moored to the side of a rickety piling quay.Two unshaven men in ragged sweaters came out of the deckhouse and hoisted up a dirty gray sail.The two men yelled some incomprehensible words to each other, and the boat slid out to the sea.The mule stood tied under a tree, watching the sailboat go away, much like an abandoned child.

Natalie reclined by the cabin, watching Miriam and her doll play on a pile of dried fishnets.The guttural vernacular of the young Corsican sometimes kept her from knowing what he was saying, and he told her that the most dangerous hurdle was over.They didn't run into the police, and the coast guard seldom came here to patrol, so they weren't afraid of the fascists now.Once in Corsica, she and her companions were safe and could stay as long as they wanted.Corsica has traditionally observed strict rules regarding fugitives—those who have fled into the jungle.His family lived in Kortai, a stronghold of rebellion in the mountains.Both German and Italian Armistice Officers avoided the place for their own sake.His own name was Pascal.Gaffrey.His elder brother Orlanduccio lived in Marseilles and used to transport goods for Mr. Rabinowitz on French freighters in peacetime.Hollanducho now works for the Port Authority.The docks of Marseille were full of Corsicans, and the resistance in the port was strong.

The strong sea breeze pressed Natalie's old brown woolen clothes tightly against her body. While talking, the Corsican looked at the curves of her breasts and thighs with relish.Natalie was used to men's eyes, but staring like this made her uncomfortable.However, that look did not seem to be malevolent, but it was just a strong lust for the Latin people-for now, that's all. She asked if he knew what his plans were for the rest of the day, designed to distract him.He didn't know.They had to live with his family and wait for a message from Mr. Rabinowitz.Has he spoken to Mr. Rabinovitz?No, he never met Mr. Rabinovitz, all this was arranged by his brother.Were the two men in the cabin also his brothers?fuck it.Both of them were fishermen from Bastia, and they did it for money.Times were hard, the Armistice Commission immobilized the fishing boats.The hull was dry and the seams were split; the two men spent two days surreptitiously caulking the bottom.They were all good men, but she needn't be afraid of them.

Natalie began to wonder how wary she should be of Pascal.She is now on the high seas with three tough guys, and none of them has a legal offshore certificate.What would happen to Ellen's belt stuffed with banknotes?What would happen to the dollars in the zipped compartment of her own suitcase?The boat whizzed through the wind and the waves, the sails rattling and flapping, the sails rattling and flapping toward the sun that was sinking behind the high mountains of Corsica, and all this was actually happening before her eyes, yet How like in a dream, after a long stay in Marciana, such a voyage came suddenly!The robbery stranger could have raped her without difficulty, if he had decided to do so.Who can stop him?Can poor Ellen?Can a steady and gentle doctor do it?Those two gruff, giggling monsters in the cabin, they are passing a big cup to drink at the moment, what about them?They would just cheer him up from the sidelines, perhaps waiting for their turn.Already flashed through Natalie's vivid and anxious imagination was the guy pushing her over the fishnet, lifting her skirt, and pulling her naked thighs apart with his huge hands—more and more The fiercer waves flew over the deck in bursts, and the sprayed water droplets hurt Louis' eyes, and he burst into tears.She rushed to him to caress and comfort him, and Pascal's image left her. The western sky was full of sunshine, and the sun had disappeared behind Corsica.The wind was stronger.The sailboat leaned more to one side, galloping forward.One by one, the tops of the waves rushed straight to the sky over the gunwale.Anna was seasick and vomited on the side of the boat, while Castelnuovo patted her on the shoulder and Miriam looked on, terrified.Ellen stumbled over to where Natalie was on the leeward side of the deck, sat down beside her, and watched Haruka marvel at the beauty of Elba astern of their boat and make grand remarks about Napoleon.He said that Napoleon left Corsica, turned Europe upside down, brought down the old regimes one after another, caused destruction and death in all directions, and turned the French Revolution into a superficial empire. The opera, in the end, made a big circle and ended his life on this island of Elba, which is across the sea from his hometown.The fate of Hitler would be no different; these ascendant demon kings will always breed hostile forces to destroy themselves. It was hard for Natalie to listen amidst the wind and the howling of the waves, but she had heard the discussion before during their Hebrew breaks, so she just nodded now and then.The turbulent journey will end soon!The coast of Corsica is still below the horizon, and night has fallen.Louis sobbed in her arms.She held him tight so she wouldn't catch a cold, and a pang of remorse came over her to take him on a risky sea ride in a small boat; but these fishermen must have been haunted countless times in worse weather here.Pascal fumbled over with a bottle.She drank a big gulp of brandy without water, which gave her a fiery warmth, and she didn't blame Pascal for touching her chest, but took it as an inadvertent action. A sip of brandy, the constant rocking and pitching, and the dullness of the boat made Natalie drowsy, the waves soaking her feet and legs, the boat went up and down, pitched, She couldn't feel all this, the passage of time was so slow, she had no idea how long it had been.The boat finally entered the calm water.The dark coast appeared ahead, and the big trees and boulders were faintly discernible under the moonlight.Another half an hour later, the sailboat approached the shore.One fisherman lowered the sail; another jumped onto a flat rock, pulling on a white and brown rope.Pascal helped the passengers disembark with their pitiful carry-on luggage.Immediately the boat hoisted its sails again and disappeared into the night. "Well, you are now in Corsica, that is to say, in France," he said to Natalie, carrying her suitcase in both hands, "but we still have to walk three kilometers." She was holding Louis in her arms, walking on a path among fields that smelled of mud, and it was not difficult to keep up with him, but they had to slow down and wait for others.After such a long sea journey, the ground under my feet was shaking.So they walked this distance for almost an hour.Arriving at a dark farm, Pascal led them to a small shed at the back. "Here is where you sleep. There is supper in the big house." Pascal served their supper with soup and bread.Did not see anyone else.On the long wooden table, by candlelight, Natalie could see the tentacles of the octopus in the big soup bowl; she ate every morsel of what was in her own bowl, though she felt sick.Pascal gave Louis bread with goat's milk foam, and the little one devoured it like a dog; they went to the shed and slept on straw and clothes. The next morning Pascal drove them in an old truck through Bastia, a mere glimpse of narrow streets and ancient houses that resembled towns in Tuscany, Italy.A train with only three small carriages sent them to a mountain pass that made people's hair stand on end.Some of the passengers in the car were dressed like Pascal, and some were dressed in shabby city clothes. They were all amused by Louis. The little guy was in a happy mood every morning according to his routine, clapping his little hands in his mother's arms and murmuring He kept walking, his eyes looked around, and he looked smart.While joking with the ticket inspector, Pascal handed him a stack of tickets, but the man ignored the few people in distress.Natalie felt nervous and excited.She slept soundly all night, and had a full breakfast of bread and cheese, and drank some wine.With the car window open, there is a continuous and magnificent mountain view outside, and the strong fragrance of flowers hits one's heart and soul.Pascal told her that it was the famous aroma of the bush, which Napoleon wanted to smell again and again on St. Helena. "I totally understand his mood," she said. "It does seem to come from heaven." Pascal closed his eyes half-closed and looked at her fervently.She almost didn't laugh, he looked like Rudolph.Valentino's coquettish performance in a silent film.Even so, he frightened her. Pascal's father looked just like his son, only thirty years older and stockier.He was also dressed in corduroy, had gray hair and beard, the same oval face, the same uncivilized brown eyes set deep in aged leathery eye sockets.His hospitality was courteous, and his house, rising in three steps along a steep street to the old hilltop castle of Corte, was in appearance and furnishings befitting a well-to-do family.He welcomed the group of fellow sufferers with a sumptuous lunch on the long bright wooden table in the gloomy hall.His old, figureless wife, all in black, and his two quiet daughters, also in black, brought out the food, and Pascal pointed out, with some rustic pride, that there were pies on the table. , goat stew, chestnut cake and Corsican wine. After the first toast, Mr. Gaffrey sat in his heavy armchair and made a short speech.He said he knew Dr. Jastrow was a famous American writer who had escaped from the notorious Fascist regime.America will one day come to the rescue of Corsica from its oppressors.Surely the people of Corsica would then rise up and co-operate, and kill as many Germans and Italians as his own ancestors had at Corte killed the Genoese, Spaniards, Turks, Saracens, Romans, and Greeks. same as people.The series of vicious "kill" words whispered by the old squire--kill the Spaniards, kill the Romans, kill the Greeks--shocked Natalie.The elder Gaffrey also said it was his privilege to help the famous writer and his friends.Gaffrey's home was their home. Pascal led them up the back stairs to a separate apartment.Then he took Natalie into a room with an extra cot for a child, and told Natalie, "My room happens to be the one downstairs." As he spoke, he revealed Rudolph again.Valentino's expression.But in his father's house, that menacing look had vanished.After all, he is a vigorous young man, and excessive love for women is a common problem in the Mediterranean area; besides, he is still her savior after all.She had come to French soil, and that was the real big deal.She felt a sense of gratitude towards Pascal in her heart. "It's very kind of you, sir." She hugged Louis with one arm and held him with the other, and then kissed him lightly on the cheek. "thank you very much." His eyes shone like burning coals. "Happy to be of your service, ma'am." Avran.Rabinowitz took this three-car train from the port of Ajaccio up the other side to Corte.The monorail has a reputation for great views, but he's huddled in a window seat with his eyes closed as the beautiful ravines and rocks pass by, sucking in one Vichy French sip after another. Poor quality cigarettes.Closing his eyes like this against the bright sun and the view of the running mountains somewhat eased the migraine a little bit in his brain following the rhythm of the wheels.How many unparalleled famous mountains and scenic spots, such as the Pyrenees, Tyrol, Dolomites, the Alps, the valley of the Danube, the coast of Turkey, the backcountry of Portugal, the mountains and valleys of Syria, etc. All in Afran.Rabinowitz's vision disappeared in vain.Despite the majestic mountains and rivers in front of him, what he was thinking about was how to get enough food so that the Jewish refugees could escape alive. Rabinowitz is not only out of touch with the taste of appreciating beauty, but also has a completely different view of geography and country.In his view, countries, frontiers, passports, visas, languages, laws, currencies, etc., are no longer real factors in the present crude and dangerous scramble on the Continent.In this sense, his attitude is sinful.He only recognizes the law of rescue and knows nothing else.He had not always been such a lawbreaker; quite the opposite.His parents came to Marseille from Poland after the First World War.His father was a seamstress, contracting navy and merchant marine uniforms.So Avran was educated in France and grew up among French friends.He used to work as a cabin attendant on a French merchant ship. With hard work, he climbed up step by step, and finally got the engineer's license.He remained a well-behaved Frenchman until well into his twenties.He has only a vague awareness of his Jewish heritage. As soon as Hitler came to power, anti-Semitism appeared in Marseilles like a stench coming out of the gutter, which made Rabinowitz have to think of himself as a Jew from time to time.A wealthy Swiss Zionist approached him to work illegally sending Jews to Palestine.In an old ship like the Izmir, he had already sent three hundred men down the Danube, across the Black Sea to Turkey, and then through the remote country of Turkey and Syria to the Holy Land.This venture changed the course of his life.He hasn't done anything else since. After he settled in Palestine, he learned a little Hebrew and married a girl from Haifa.He dropped the French name "André" and became Avran again.He had wanted to join the Zionist movement, but he was tired of partisanship and finally dismissed the idea.He was still a French Jew at heart.Confused by the rapid spread of hatred of the Jews in Europe, he was determined to do something about it.His vision was limited to saving souls.In those days, what he heard in his ears was a resigned cliché in every language of the Jews in the face of Hitler's threat: "It's hard to cook in a pot, but it's better to eat it in one bite." Nazis are to be taken seriously.Instead of debating scriptures and politics with Zionists of all stripes, he used their financial resources and connections to rescue the Jews.He and Herbert.Ross, and the Sachedots, have all contributed to this. After the fall of France, he returned there to join the resistance in Marseilles, which he considered the best base from which to continue his rescue work.In fact he has been involved in the Resistance for many years.Forging documents, smuggling, espionage, lying and deceiving, keeping secrets, pickpocketing and stealing are all his forte.Once, in order to save forty people, he killed an informer in Romania who extorted a sum of money from him; He fell down in an alley, rolled his eyes and swallowed his breath.When he was restless, he would often think of this past event—the feeling of an iron block breaking a bone.The blackmailer on the floor had blood streaming from his tangled hair—but he didn't feel guilty. Rabinovitz's migraines tended to strike whenever he was overtired, frustrated, or realized he had done something stupid.He took this train to Corsica not because he had any important business to accomplish, but because he wanted to see Mrs. Henry.Although he is. He had only spoken to her twice aboard the Izmir, but she left him with a glorious memory.Rabinowitz, like many European men, found American women attractive.Natalie.Henry charmed him: a Jewish woman, unmistakably dark Jewish beauty, and yet with Franklin.Roosevelt is also a true American, the niece of a famous writer, and married an American submarine officer!In the port of Marseilles in the peaceful age, the visiting American warships all came in with the glory of powerful power from afar.Young officers, wearing white military uniforms and golden emblems, walked on the boulevard in twos and threes. In the eyes of Rabinowitz at that time, they were almost the kind of supermen that the Germans imagined to be.Byron in a snapshot.The image of Henry added a lot of magic to Natalie in the eyes of Rabinowitz. He wasn't thinking of her; she seemed to be quite a good wife and mother.All he wanted was to see her.On board the Izmir, he did his best to overcome his senseless feelings, although he thought she liked him.The situation in Naples was already nerve-wracking enough for a futile romance to mess with his mind.Still, her leaving the ship was a blow to him. News from Siena during June—first that Mrs. Henry and her uncle were still living there, then that they were going with the Castelnuovos—had disturbed him.On learning that Lady Henry had arrived in Corsica, he struggled with the urge to go there again, with which he struggled for a week.Still couldn't resist it.During the night's boating, migraines hit him; the little train groaned and climbed up steep bends and high slopes one after another, heading towards Corte, coupled with his confused mood and bursts of With a cracking headache, he couldn't help but wonder at his own recklessness.Yet his heart was more joyous than he had felt since the death of his wife. When he arrived at the Gafuri's, the man he fell for was in the upstairs cottage, wearing an old gray baize dressing gown, bathing a child in the kitchen sink.She had just washed her hair, and now she was curling it towards K with hairpins.The child loves to play, and splashes soapy water all over her body, so she is not at all the dream girl at the moment. There was a knock on the door.Ellen's voice came from outside the door. "Natalie, we have a guest." "Who?" "Avran Rabinovitz." "Christ!" She heard Jastrow laugh. "He doesn't claim to be the Christ, my dear, though he might be a savior." "Oh, I mean, how long is he going to be here? Louis is soapy from head to toe. Me too. I'm so scary the way I look. Any news? Are we leaving?" "I don't think so. He's going to have his lunch here." "Well--oh, it's almost like coming down in a quarter of an hour." She hastily put on a white cloth dress with a bright red belt and gold brass buckles, which she had bought in Lisbon for her meeting with Byron.Since the birth of Luis, she has gained weight and has been unable to wear clothes for a long time.When the suitcase was packed in Siena, she had put it into the trunk at the last minute; there might be occasions to spruce up during the wanderings thereafter!She dressed Louis in a children's corduroy suit that old Mrs. Gaffery had given her, and carried him downstairs into the garden.Rabinowitz, who was sitting with the others on a bench under the grapevine, stood up.He was quite different from how she remembered him: younger, not as stocky, and not as distressed as before. "Hello, Mrs. Sully." Although her black hair was wiped vigorously with a towel, it was still wet, and it was all rolled up and tied on top of her head.He remembered the beautiful thick hair, the pair of big eyes that were lifted up sideways and were shining at him in a friendly way, the charming shape of her mouth when she smiled, and the tenderness of her cheeks. curve.Her light, demure handshake enchanted him. "I've got something here to surprise you," she said, setting Louis down on the brown grass. "Give him your arm." Rabinowitz complied.She let go, and Louis's round face was very nervous and excited. He took a few steps staggeringly, and then fell into the outstretched arms of the Palestinian, laughing and shouting.Rabinowitz picked him up. "He's talking now," Natalie exclaimed. "Unexpectedly, this happened in a week! Maybe it's because of the air in Corsica. I was worried about raising an idiot 2" "What nonsense." Jastrow was a little annoyed. "Say something," Rabinovitz demanded of Louis, who was watching him intently. Lewis' finger taps Rabinowitz's nose. "dad." Natalie blushed.Even the Castelnuovos, who had been sitting silently, could not help laughing.Natalie opened her mouth and took a breath. "Oh God! I used to show him pictures of his father." Luis was delighted to see that he had amused everyone, and he let go of his throat and cried, "Papa! Papa!" pointing at Castelnuovo and at Jastrow. "Stop messing around, that's enough, you little thing!" Both the old employer and Pascal ate in farm work clothes.Pascal, with disheveled and dusty hair and a suede jacket, made another Valentino look at Natalie.He has been cautious until now in front of his father.She felt uneasily that his attire made him handsome, and she kept stealing glances at Rabinovitz, but couldn't tell if he noticed.All the talk at the dinner table was news about the war.Old Man Gafri said that the latest rumors in Corsica were that all the hints of North Africa were hoaxes.The Allies are going to attack Norway, open up Scandinavia and Finland, and connect with the Russians.This would allow the lifting of the siege of Leningrad, an unimpeded supply line for loan-lease supplies to the Red Army, and the deployment of Allied bombers closer to Berlin.I wonder what Mr. Rabinowitz thinks? "I don't believe the idea that Norway is going to be attacked. It's too late. Your son and I served on the same freighter and arrived at the port of Trondheim once in November. We were stranded because the sea was frozen. Been there for several weeks." "Orlanduccio told us about it," Gaffoli said, reaching for the stone flagon and filling both Rabinovitz's and his own. "He also told us some other things, like the little accident in Istanbul." He raised his glass to Rabinowitz. "As long as you live, you are always welcome in this house. Thank you for sending us the great American writer and his friends." Jastrow said, "I feel like we're a burden to you." "No. You can stay, sir, until we are liberated together. Now, Pascal and I must go to work again." As they stood up to leave the table, Natalie whispered to Rabinowitz, "I've got to talk to you. Do you have time?" "OK." He walked with her out into the street, and up the high, steep steps of small stones, which led to the old castle, whose gate was open. "Shall we climb up?" she said. "It looks great from the top." "Row." "What's going on in Istanbul?" she asked, as they climbed a stone staircase against the inner wall. "No big deal." "I would like to know." "Oh, well, the boy Orlanducho used to drink and make a fuss whenever we were in port. That was before he got married and had a family. I'm on deck fixing a broken winch It was almost midnight, and I saw him staggeringly coming from the pier. A few hooligans went up and held him down. These water rats on the pier are cowards, they only pick drunk people to bully, so I Went over with a crowbar and broke them up." "Oh, you saved his life." "Maybe it's just his money." "That's why the Gauffolis are being polite to us, and it's all for your sake." "No, no. They're all in the Resistance, the whole family." A flat field is crowded with brown weeds, the frame of a gray building without a roof, and there are iron bars on the window openings, and a few goats come and go randomly among the ruined walls. "The guardhouse," Rabinowitz said. "It's useless now." "Tell me about the 'Izmir Z,'" she said, leading him across the level ground and up a flight of stairs that led up high. "'Izmir'? That was a long time ago." He shook his head, looking sad and annoyed. "The weather wasn't bad when we sailed, but when we got to Haifa, it was hell. We had to unload the crew into the boat in the middle of the night in a storm. The damned Turkish captain took advantage of it, Threats of resignation. A few people fell into the water and drowned, not many, I don't know the exact number. As soon as they landed, they scattered. We couldn't count the number at all." Natanan asked him solemnly: "So it seems that I did the right thing by getting off the boat?" "Who knows? Now you are in Corsica." The steps at the top are very steep and have been stepped on by tourists.He was panting and speaking slowly. "The Consul General of the United States in Marseilles knows you're here. His name is James. Gaiser, and he's a nice guy. I've dealt with him a few times. A reasonable guy. There's some bad guys in the consulate, too. He takes care of your problems himself, Strict secrecy. After you have all your papers in order, you will go to Marseilles, and on the day of your arrival you will board the train to Lisbon. This was Gaisel's idea." "How long will it take?" "Well, the trouble is the exit visa. Until a few months ago, you could take the train to Lisbon like a tourist. But now France has stopped issuing exit visas. This is pressure from Germany. Your embassy can be in维希把事情办妥，所以你们还是拿得到签证的，只不过要多等些时候。” “你已经给我们办成这么多事了！” “这不是我的功劳。”这个答复来得尖刻锋利。“盖瑟收到伯尔尼美国公使馆的来电，要他留神你的消息。我告诉他你在科西嘉的时候，他说了声'好哇！'就这么回事。”他们现在到了顶上。他们的视线越过久经风雨剥蚀的围墙，遥望着下面被林木茂密的山岭圈在当中的一片河谷地上的农庄和葡萄园。“现在我知道你为什么要我到这儿来了。好风景。” “卡斯泰尔诺沃一家人怎么办呢？” 他合拢手巴掌罩住＿支卷烟，点燃了。“他们的事可要麻烦得多。德国人的停战委员会九月间在巴斯蒂亚来了一次大搜查，因为难民们都经过那儿逃往阿尔及利亚。那次搜查破坏了我的几处联络点，所以使你们在马尔恰纳耽搁久了。不过，他们离开锡耶纳还是做对了。意大利秘密警察在七月间开始逮捕意大利的犹太复国主义分子。所以这会儿他们很可能都在集中营里了。我已经在给他们想办法，请你务必要劝说这位医生不要过于心急。就算实在万不得已，加福里这一家总会照料他们的。”他喷了一口烟，看了一下手表。“我们该回去了吧。你还有话要跟我说吗？再过一个小时，上阿雅克肖去的火车就要开了。” “暖，对了。那个小伙子，帕斯卡尔——”她欲言又止，举起一个手指关节，用牙齿咬着。 “是的，他怎么了？” “哦，见鬼，我一定得讲给你听。我又不能在家里跟你谈。前天夜里，我睡着了醒来，他在我的房间里，坐在我床边。一只手放在我盖的被子上。就在我腿上。'她们走下迎风的梯级，她便一口气说了出来。”就那么坐着！我孩子的小床离开我们不到两尺。我弄不清我是在做梦还是什么的！我轻声问他：“怎么回事？你来干什么？'他也轻声回答，'我爱你。你愿意吗？'”拉宾诺维茨在梯级上站住了。她想不到他居然脸红了。“哦，你不要担心，他没强奸我什么的，我把他打发走了。”她使劲拉住他的肘弯。他皱紧眉头，重新向下走。“也许是我自己不好。在厄尔巴的时候他就对我挤眉弄眼了，在船上他也有点放肆。到他家里以后我于了件蠢事。旅程已经完毕，我们一路平安，我心里对他感激。我吻了他一次、好家伙，他看起我来就好象我脱了裙子一样。从那以后，我就好象一直没再把裙子穿上。于是就发生了前天晚上这件事——” “你怎么打发他走的？” “哦，不那么容易。我开头是轻声对他说：”不行，你会把孩子吵醒的。“'娜塔丽瞥了拉宾诺维茨一眼。”也许我该不顾情面，干脆轰他出去，大声嚷嚷，叫他父亲，这么来一通。但是我当时睡意正浓，又是突然间被他惊醒的，加上我不想把路易斯吵醒，并且我也觉得好歹我们的性命都在人家手里。接着他便轻轻对我说：“哦，不要紧，我们象两只小鸽子一样不要出声。'”娜塔丽神经质地咯咯笑起来。“我怕得要死，可是他也真是荒唐，'两只小鸽子'——” 拉宾诺维茨也在笑，可是并不快活。“到底是怎么收场的呢？” “哦，我们就这么轻声交谈，行，不行，他说一句，我回一声。他不肯走。我想起，何不求救于他的科西嘉人的荣誉感，不可伤害来到他家里避难的人。或者声言要告诉他父亲来吓唬他。可是那就得花上好长时间，费许多口舌。所以我只说：”你瞧，绝对不可以，我身上不好。 '他立即把搁在我腿上的一只手缩回去，唰的一声从床上跳了开去，好象我声明了有麻风一般。 " 以航海为生的人们中，她心里想，拉宾诺维茨算得是一个出奇地拘谨的人了。他听了这番话之后显得很不自在。 “然后他站着俯身对我轻轻说：”你是说的实话吗？ ''当然。 ''太太，如果你只是为了拒绝我，那你可是大错特错了。我可以保证使你快活得神魂颠倒。 “'她假装出一副男中音的喉咙。”'我能使你快活得神魂颠倒。 '这是他的原话。说完了这个，上帝保佑我，他便踮着脚尖出去了。我担心他会再来。What should I do?我要跟他父亲说吗？老东家可是个很严厉的人。 " 拉宾诺维茨脸上显得伤透脑筋，伸出手巴掌擦了擦脸。“我现在想的是到了马赛有什么地方可以安顿你们。除非你果真想要试一下神魂颠倒的滋味。”她没吱声，她的浮肿的脸又涨红了。“对不起，我不该拿你开玩笑，我知道这是不好受的。” 她带点调皮地答复：“哦，很好，这样一来我倒觉得年轻啦。不过听我说，我可不要领教科西嘉的神魂颠倒。” 他朝她好奇地一笑，这一笑中也有不少辛酸。“很好。好样的犹太姑娘都不会。” “哦，你不了解我，”娜塔丽提出异议，虽然这个评语并不——她自己也觉得奇怪——使她感到难堪。拉宾诺维茨口中说出的这句话是带有爱抚之情的。“我一向是爱怎么干就怎么干的，要不然的话，上帝知道，我就不会跟亨利。拜伦结婚了，也不会自甘接受别人的严词审问了。这样的事，好样儿的犹太姑娘总是要想办法回避的。总算还好，你想你可以把我送到马赛？” “是的。我不想跟加福里这一家人闹翻。他们对我是很重要的，特别是奥朗杜丘。眼前我还只有这一处靠得住的地方可以安顿卡斯泰尔诺沃一家。奥朗杜丘跟我说起过这个帕斯卡尔，他不是好东西。你们在马赛处境也许无论如何可以好一点。等到你们的证件出来了，就可以动身，一步一步来。这是有利的一点。” “那么卡斯泰尔诺沃一家呢？” “他们在这儿等。” “但是我不想丢下他们。” “丢下他们？”拉宾诺维茨的口气变得生硬了，这时他们正从倒塌的警卫室一侧穿过那处平地。“请你别说这样的傻话了。你们万一有个好歹，还有美国总领事可以出面替你们说话，他们可得不到保护，什么保护都没有。马赛是个警探密布的地方。我无论如何不能把他们往那里送。请你千万不要再去怂恿他。你就是不向他提这个，他已经够让我伤脑筋的了。” “你说得对。请不要和我生气。路易斯和米丽阿姆现在跟姐姐弟弟一样要好。” “我知道。你听我说，巴斯蒂亚的搜捕使我们遭了殃。只要医生镇定清醒，他和他的全家都可以平安无事。” “我们到了马赛之后，可以常常看见你吗？” "no problem." “好，那就好了。” 他觉得难以开口，说话便硬邦邦的。“你离开'伊兹密尔号'的时候，我觉得很难受。” 娜塔丽突然吻了一下他的脸颊，只觉得他脸上冷冰冰的，胡子茬儿刺人。 “亨利太太，你就是因为来了这么一下，才惹出麻烦的。” “我想不至于会在半夜里醒来碰上你闯进我的房间。” “这可不是说给一个法国男人听的恭维话。” 他们相视而笑，内心都有点不自在，然后下山口镇了。 那天晚上轮到娜塔丽烧饭。她在楼上的小厨房里端给大家吃的是按照她寄寓巴黎时的菜谱烧成的一锅蔬菜杂烩，饭桌上谁都无心说话。就连米丽阿姆也是愁容满面。大人们留在厨房里喝咖啡，她去睡觉。所谓咖啡不过是把粮食在火上烤一下之后煮出来的又酸又涩的咖啡色汤水罢了。卡斯泰尔诺沃说：“确实，孩子们会很难受的，是吗？”这是第一次公开提到他们即将分离。 他们天天见面，她早已不去留心他的容貌，但是今天她却不由得暗自吃惊，自从离开锡耶纳以来，他的变化竟是这么大。那时节他原是个悠然自得、风度翩翩的意大利医生。如今他的风采已经消逝，他的眼窝深陷，眼皮沉重。 “这也会使我难受成知道，”她说。 Ellen.杰斯特罗说：“难道我们就没可能再度会合，然后一起出去吗？” 卡斯泰尔诺沃慢慢地、重重地、沮丧地摇了摇头。 “他给你们定了什么计划？”杰斯特罗钉着问。“难道我们之间还不能无话不谈？” “在马尔恰纳的时候我们还都希望坐船到阿尔及尔去，”医生说，“然后再向东走，到巴勒斯坦去。但是那条路已经走不通了。现在看来，我们可以非法出去的就只有西班牙和瑞士。人家都是结伴上路，有向导偷引他们穿过森林。我猜想西班牙比较好。至少从那儿去里斯本是顺路的。” “麻烦的是，”安娜脸上带着茫然的笑容说，“到西班牙去，我们得靠两只脚翻过比利牛斯山。十一月的天气。没有第二条路好走。要在荒山野岭中步行一大段路，一路上都是积雪和冰冻，还要时刻提防边界上的巡逻队。” “干嘛不去瑞士呢？”娜塔丽问她。 “如果他们把你逮住，就要送你回法国，”安娜说。“交到法国警察的手里。” “不一定！”她丈夫怒冲冲地朝她说。“不要夸张。每一伙人都有不同的遭遇。瑞士也有救援机构，他们也会给你帮助。拉宾诺维茨认为西班牙比较好，但是安娜担心米丽阿姆要步行翻过山头。” “但是还有开往南美洲的船呢，”杰斯特罗说，“到摩洛哥去的渔船呢——以及我们谈到过的所有那些可能性呢？” 卡斯泰尔诺沃绝望地耸一下肩膀，加上他那阴沉绝望的神色，使得娜塔丽产生了一种从来不曾有过的仿佛是已经陷于绝境的感觉。“你们一定会平安无事，”她高高兴兴地说，“我相信他。” “我也相信他，”医生说。“他说的都是真话。他知道他该怎样办事。是我自己决定离开意大利，我也做对了。所以我们现在没在集中营里。如果米丽阿姆必须徒步翻过积雪的比利牛斯山，那又有什么关系呢？她会翻过去的。她是个结实健康的姑娘。”他站了起来，立即朝外头走。 娜塔丽对安娜。卡斯泰尔诺沃——她的眼睛是湿的——说：“安娜，今晚米丽阿姆睡在我床上好吗？” 安娜点头。睡眼惺松的小姑娘过了一会儿自己来到娜塔丽的床上，一句话也不说，一上床便睡着了。娜塔丽喜爱温暖的小身体偎依在她身旁给她的舒眼感觉。第二天早上太阳把娜塔丽照醒的时候，米丽阿姆已经不见。这姑娘已经爬到童床上抱着路易斯睡着了。