Chapter 75 Chapter Seventy-Four

Pug.Henry had contracted a Persian epidemic and had had a fever for several days.Days and nights he rode trains and cars through towns and fields, through dust storms, scorching deserts, and snowy mountain passes, and gradually became drowsy—especially at night; reality and dream mingled together.He was top-heavy when he arrived at Connolly's headquarters, and even when he was talking to Hopkins and Roosevelt he had to struggle to pull himself together.During those long, dizzying hours spent on the convoy's route, Pamela and Bernard-Walker haunted his dreamlike visions as frequently as his dead son and living family .Pug could bury Pamela as deep as Warren in his mind when he was sane, but there was nothing he could do in his dreams.

So it was a surprise to him to see Bernard-Walker in the Russian embassy dacha: standing there in the calm, true Oster.Next to Jin was a figure he had seen in a feverish dream.Pamela in Tehran!Under Jin's sharp eyes, he couldn't ask for a moment: "Are you married?" He left the villa where Roosevelt lived, not knowing whether he should go to the British Embassy to see Lord Burner-Walker or Mrs. Pamela.Tudsbury. When Pug came out.Stalin and Molotov were coming along a gravel path.Molotov talked eagerly, and Stalin looked around, smoking a cigarette.He saw Pug, nodded, smiled, and the gleam in the puckered eyes around him clearly recognized him.Pug's good memory for politicians was not uncommon, but this time he was surprised.It had been more than two years since he delivered Hopkins' letter to Stalin.The man had been carrying the burden of commanding a war on a grand scale, yet he did remember him.He was fat, gray-haired, and taller than Victor.Henry was even shorter, and now he walked into the villa with elastic steps.Pug looked at all kinds of idols—statues, portraits, huge photographs—that were all over Moscow for almost a whole year.They present Stalin as a legendary, aloof and omnipotent messiah, joined with the dead Marx and Lenin as a member of the cloud-riding trinity.But now it was the flesh and blood walking past, a squat, potbellied old man in a serge uniform with a wide red stripe down the sides of his trousers.However, those idols are somewhat more real than real people.So Pug thought, recalling scenes on the long Russian front under Stalin's will, and recalling his record of killing millions.The little old man who walked by was really a giant with a heart of stone.

winston.Although Churchill met Pug more often, he didn't know him anymore.Churchill was leaving just as Pug walked to the gate of the British Legation to identify himself.He was smoking a long cigar and was accompanied by two generals with a stiff gait and a stocky admiral.Those dim sharp eyes looked straight at Pug as if they saw right through him, and then the hunchbacked squat man in white walked slowly forward.The prime minister looked dull and seemed a little out of sorts. In the British Legation, a few armed soldiers paced up and down the garden, and small groups of civilians chatted in the sun.This is a much smaller and quieter institution.Pug stopped and mused under a tree whose golden leaves were constantly falling.Where can I find her?How to inquire about her?He couldn't help laughing wryly at his pettiness.An earth-shattering event is happening here, but at this historical peak, what excites him is not the sight of three world giants, but the thought of seeing a woman.Owing to the occasion of the war, he saw this woman once or twice a year.

The week they had spent in Moscow had been shortened by Standley's whim to four days, but those four days remained in his memory as a dream that had suddenly surfaced like his honeymoon, Peaceful and sweet, he did nothing but her company all day long, eating with her, taking long walks with her, staying with her in the Spasso Tower, at the Grand Opera, at the circus, and in her room in the hotel.They talked almost endlessly, like lifelong friends, like married couple after long separation.On her last night in the hotel, he even talked about Warren.Suddenly he lost control of his thoughts and feelings.He found comfort in Pamela's face, in her short, tender answers.When they parted the next day, they struggled to contain themselves, saying goodbye to each other with smiles and small talk.No one said that was the end, but to Pug at least it was nothing else.Now, here she is again.He could no longer restrain himself from looking for her, just as he could not hold his breath.

"Oh! Isn't that Colonel Henry?" This time it was Granville.siton.He was standing with some men and women in uniform.Sidon stepped forward and took his arm, looking much more enthusiastic than he was on the way. "How are you, Colonel? That truck ride was exhausting, wasn't it? You look absolutely exhausted." "I'm fine." Pug gestured in the direction of the Soviet embassy. "I have just told Harry Hopkins your idea of ​​a new treaty." "Really? Did you really tell him? That would be great!" Sidon hugged his arm tightly, with a strong smell of tobacco in his mouth. "How was his reaction?"

"I can tell you the president's reaction." Pug blurted out, dazed.His temples were throbbing, his knees were weak. Seton watched Pug's face carefully, and said nervously, "Then tell me quickly." "This matter was discussed at a meeting of foreign ministers in Moscow last month. The Russians are putting it off. That's what it is. The President doesn't want to involve the United States in this old dispute of yours. He has to win one War. He needs Stalin." Sidon's face suddenly became very depressed. "Then the Red Army would never leave Persia. If you're right, Roosevelt was declaring long-term doom to all free men."

Victor.Henry shrugged. "I guess he meant one war at a time." "Besides having an impact on future politics," Seaton said, "victory means nothing. You Americans have to understand that." "It might have been different if the Iranians had brought it up first, though. That's what Hopkins said." "Iranian?" Sidon grimaced. "Forgive me, but the Americans are sadly naive about Asia and Asian affairs. The Iranians will never bring it up again, for countless reasons." "Sitton, do you know Lord Burner-Walker?" "The air major general? Yes. They called him here on Burmese business. He's gone to the general meeting now."

"I'm looking for his adjutant, a member of the Women's Auxiliary Air Force." "Hello, Kate!" Seaton called loudly and waved.A beautiful woman in the uniform of the Women's Auxiliary Air Force stepped out from the group he had been chatting with. "This Colonel Henry is looking for the future Lady Burner-Walker." Two green eyes flickered on a lid with a snub nose, and looked at Pug rashly. "Sorry, all right. But it's all a mess at the moment. She's brought a bunch of maps and charts and stuff. They probably put her in that drawing room outside Lord Gore's office."

"I'll show you there," said Sidon. In a small room on the second floor of the main building, there are two desks.Next to one of them sat a red-faced officer with a thick beard, typing away.Yes, he said gruffly, the other table was crammed into the room for Burner-Walker's adjutant.She had been working there for several hours, but had just gone out to do some shopping in the Tehran market a while ago.Victor.Henry picked up a small note from Pamela's desk, and scribbled a few words: Dark!I'm here too, in the officers' quarters on a US Army base.Pug.Then he stuck the note on the pick.As they walked out together, he asked Seton, "Where is this market?"

"I advise you not to go there to find her." "Where is it?" Seton told him. General Connolly's driver drove Pug to Tehran's Old City and dropped him off at the market entrance.The exotic crowd, the strong smell, the strange language, and the gaudy signs written in strange scripts made him dizzy.Looking into the stone arcade at the entrance, he could see only crowded, dark passages lined with shops from near to far.Sidon was right.How can anyone be found here?But this meeting will last only three days.The day is almost over.In this Asian city, especially amidst the hustle and bustle of an impromptu meeting, communications are entirely hit and miss.If he didn't try to find her, they might even miss seeing her altogether. "The future Lady Burner-Walker," Seton called her.This is the most important thing.Pug slipped through the crowd to find her.

Almost at once he saw her, or thought he saw her.He was passing tapestries and linen shops when he caught a glimpse of a narrow passage on the right.Looking down the passage toward the group of black-veiled women and stocky men, toward the hanging furs and sheepskin rugs, he saw a short, neat figure in a blue uniform, with He was wearing what looked like a Women's Auxiliary Air Force cap.There was no hope of shouting at her above the cries of the merchants.Pug squeezed through the crowd and entered a relatively spacious cross corridor, which was the territory of the carpet merchant.she is gone.He squeezed in the direction she had just walked.He sweated and strode for an hour in the pungent, crowded and noisy maze, but he never saw her again. Even if he hadn't been feverish, this futile search for her in this crowded labyrinth would have seemed dreamlike.He often dreamed that he was looking for Warren in this way.Whether it was a football game, a graduation crowd, or an aircraft carrier, the dreams were always the same: he kept seeing just one look at his son, or someone told him that Warren It was nearby, so he searched and searched, but he couldn't find it.He walked around those corridors, plodding and sweating, feeling increasingly light-headed and weak in his knees, until he finally realized that he was no longer acting normally.He groped his way back to the entrance of the market, negotiated a price with the driver of a rusty red Packard tour bus with gestures, paid a ridiculously expensive fare, and took the ride back to the Amirabad base. Pug.The next thing Henry became conscious of was someone shaking him and saying, "Admiral Kim told you to come and see him." He was lying fully clothed on a cot in the officers' quarters, sweating profusely. "I'll be at his place in ten minutes," said Pug, chattering his teeth.He doubled the pills that were said to control the symptoms, drank another swig of Old Crow whiskey, took a shower, changed quickly, put on his heavy navy overcoat, and walked through the starlit night, Hastily arrived at General Connolly's residence.As he entered King's apartment, the admiral's eyes glowed with concern. "Henry, go to the infirmary. You look so ugly." "I'm fine, General." "Really? Have a beef sandwich and a beer, okay?" Kim pointed to a tray among the stacks of mimeographed documents on the table. "No, thank you, General." "Oh, I saw a historic event today." Jin said while eating, with a rare generosity in his tone. "That's better than Marshall and Arnold. They missed the opening ceremony, Henry. Seriously! Our Chief of Army Staff and Air Force chief flew halfway around the world for this meeting with Stalin. But, God, They haven't heard of it beforehand, and they're going on a tour in a car. They can't be found. Ha, ha, ha! Isn't this a commotion that can be recorded?" Kim drained the glass of beer and wiped his mouth triumphantly with his napkin. "But, I was there. That John. Stalin was a tough guy. He knew the situation perfectly. He wasn't fooled at all. Today he gave Churchill a big setback. About a big fight in the Mediterranean, I see. It's all over, it's over, it's over. It's a new ball game." Kim gave him a hard look. "I hear you know a little about landing craft." "Yes, General." "Okay." Jin rummaged through stacks of documents, pulling out a few while speaking. "Churchill was blushing when he talked to me about the landing craft just now. I spoiled him. Thirty percent of our new ships are allocated to the Pacific Ocean. If I don't hold on to them, the ships The Plenary was included in his crazy plans for an invasion." He waved a bundle of papers in his hand. "For example, it's a plan for a British counter-offensive to land on Rhode Island. I think it's a fool's idea. Churchill is going to say that it will drag Turkey into the war and start the war in the Balkan countries. It's all Bullshit, bullshit. Now, what I want you to do is—" General Connolly knocked on the door and entered the room in a thick checkered bathrobe. "General, the Minister of the Court has invited Henry to a dinner. This is an invitation that has just been sent. There is a car waiting outside." Connolly handed Pug a large, unsealed cream envelope. "Who's a court minister?" King asked Pug. "How did you know him?" "I don't know you, General." A scribbled note pinned to the crowned invitation explained the invitation, but he didn't mention it to King. Oh—I was invited to this banquet privately.Taoji and the minister are old friends.For me, it's either here or meeting at the YWCA.Be sure to come.Pa. "Hussein Allah is number two or number three in the government, General," General Connolly said. "Premier, sort of. Better let Pug go. Persians are special in their way of doing things." "Like the pagan Chinese," Kim said.He threw the papers on the table. "Well, Henry, come see me when you get back. It doesn't matter what time it is." "Yes, yes, General." A silent man in black drove the black Daimler around a corner through the old Tehran Wall and stopped on a narrow moonlit street.The driver opened a small door in one wall, Victor.Henry bent down before walking in.He went forward into a lighted garden.It was as spacious as a Soviet embassy, ​​with gleaming fountains and streams running among towering trees and trimmed bushes.At the other end of this luxuriant private garden, many lighted windows can be seen.A man in a crimson robe and a bushy, drooping black beard bowed to Pug as he entered and led him around the fountain and through the trees.In the foyer of the house, Pug glimpsed marquetry wood walls, high brick ceilings, and elaborate tapestries and furniture.Pamela stood there in her uniform. "Hello. Come meet the Minister. Duncan is late for dinner again. He's in the officers' club." The bearded man helped Pug off his navy coat.Pug couldn't find words to express his joy, but said, "This is somewhat unexpected." "Regrettably, I saw your note. Otherwise, I'm not sure I'd get to see you. We're flying back to New Delhi the day after tomorrow. It's been very kind of the Minister to invite you. Of course, I'll tell you He talked a little bit about you." She reached out to touch his face, looking a little worried.He caught a glimpse of a large diamond ring gleaming on her finger. "Pug, are you unwell?" "I'm fine." The man who welcomed Pug in a stately drawing room, though dressed in dark, well-tailored British clothes and speaking clear and pleasant English, was an Iranian prime minister.He had a big, dignified nose, brown shrewd eyes, thick gray hair, a princely manner, and a simple and generous demeanor.They sat down in a cushioned alcove, Pug and Pamela drinking whiskey and soda ice, and almost at once the Minister got down to business.He said Lend-Lease had a very bad side for Iran.American wages are causing uncontrollable inflation: prices are skyrocketing, supplies are getting scarcer, and goods are disappearing in hoarders' warehouses.The Russians made things worse.They have occupied many of the best fertile fields and taken away the harvest gold.Food riots will soon break out in Tehran.The Shah's only hope rests on American generosity. "Ah, but the Americans already feed nearly the whole world," interposed Pamela. "China, India, Russia. Even poor old England." The voice in which she said these simple words enchanted Pug.Her presence changes time; every moment is a joy, an intoxication.This was his reaction to seeing her again, fanatical perhaps, but genuine. "Even poor old England." The Minister nodded in agreement.His slight smile and the way he held his head up, sarcastically, showed that he was well aware of the decline of the British Empire. "Yes, America is the hope of mankind now. There has never been a country like America in history. But you are generous by nature, Colonel Henry, and you must learn not to be too trusting. There are indeed wolves in the woods." "And the big bear," said Pug. "Yes, that's exactly it." Allah smiled with restraint and joy like an oriental prime minister. "Big Bear." Lord Burner-Walker arrived.They went in to eat together.Pug was terrified at first of a greasy meal, but the food was light, though everything else was grand—the vaulted dining room, the long black tables polished like mirrors, the hand-painted china, And plates that look like platinum or white gold.They ate a consommé, a plate of broiler chicken, and sorbet.Supported by the strength of his drink, Pug barely ate it. At first it was primarily Burner-Walker who spoke in an autumnal, sombre tone.The meeting got off to a bad start.It's no one's fault.The world faces a "historical hiatus".Those who know what to do lack the power to do so.Those who wield this power don't know what to do with it.Pug recognized Oster from Burner-Walker's sombre tone.The event where Churchill was thwarted by the overwhelmed Stalin. ,. The minister took over the conversation and talked endlessly about the rise and fall of ancient and modern empires.He says that the conquerors, weakened by conquests, and at the same time dependent on their subjects in order to maintain a life of luxury and prostitution, will sooner or later be completely destroyed by a rough and strong warrior of a new nation. , which is an inevitable process.From Persippolis to the Teheran Conference, it has been repeated like this.It will loop forever. Throughout this conversation Pug and Pamela sat face to face in silence.He always felt a thrill every time they met in light.He felt that she, like himself, was tightly controlling her eyes and facial expressions, and trying to hide her feelings like this only made them stronger.He thought to himself that there was nothing in life that could compare to him for Pamela.What about Tudsbury's feelings?On her finger was a large diamond ring from Burner-Walker, just as she had once worn a Ted.Same as Garrard's smaller diamond ring.She didn't marry the pilot.And now, four months after that painful parting in Moscow, she was not yet married to Burner-Walker.Is she still trapped in love like him and can't extricate herself?It is a love that triumphs continually over time and geography, over moribund death, over years of separation.An encounter on an ocean liner led step by step to this unexpected reunion in Persia, leading to this deeply touching gaze.Now, what to do?Is this the end? Pug vs. Duncan.Burner-Walker was not very familiar with it.He was amazed by the enthusiasm with which the man talked about Hinduism.The air force major general flushed with excitement, his eyes were soft and slightly moist.He talked about "The Song of the Great God" for so long that the sherbet melted.He said serving in India opened his eyes.India is ancient and full of wisdom.The Hindu worldview is very different from, and smarter than, Christianity and the West. The "Song of the Great God" contained the only acceptable philosophy he was exposed to. He said that the main character in this long poem is a warrior, who hated the irrational killing in war, and wanted to drop his weapon before a big battle. God Krishna persuaded him that as a warrior, his duty is to Fighting, no matter how stupid the reason for fighting, how disgusting the killing, he should let the emperor and fate choose from the whole.Burner-Walker said that their long dialogue was a greater poetry than the Bible.It teaches that the physical world is not real, that the human mind cannot comprehend the deeds of God, and that death and life are twin illusions.Man can only face up to his destiny and act according to his nature and his place in life. A slight twitch in Pamela's face made it clear to Pug that all this meant nothing to her, and Burner-Walker repeated his old tune. "I know the Song of the Great God," said the minister calmly. "Several of our Persian poets have written quite a few poems according to this idea. It is too fatalistic. It is true that man cannot control all the consequences of his own actions. But man must still think about these consequences and make choices. As for To say that the world is not real, I always humbly ask: "Compared with what? "'"Probably compared to God," Duncan Burner-Walker said. "Ah, but by definition, God is incomparable. So that's not an answer. But we're in a very old dilemma right now. Tell me, will the outcome of this meeting do Iran any good?" said In the end, we are your hosts." "Perhaps President Roosevelt is a little more clever than we know," said the Secretary, turning his sharp old brown eyes to Victor.Henry. Pug felt then as he had felt before his Berlin post on Germany's readiness for battle.That was a very presumptuous move.That's how he met Roosevelt.Perhaps that was what ruined his career in the Navy.But Pamela was sitting opposite him, and that was how he had met her.Perhaps, "Song of the Great God" has some truth; the operation of fate, the need to act according to one's own nature, etc. also have some truth.He's an all-or-nothing guy in crunch time.He has always been like this.This time he did it again. "If the United States joins the treaty you signed with Great Britain and Russia," he said, "does this conference have a good result? Wouldn't it be better if all three countries agreed to withdraw their troops after the war?" The minister's eyes, somewhat covered by the turban, suddenly lit up. "That's a great thing. But it was rejected at the meeting of foreign ministers in Moscow. We weren't there, but we knew." "Why didn't your government ask the president to ask Stalin?" Burner-Walker looked at Pug questioningly.The minister glanced at Burner-Walker and said, "Let me take the liberty to ask you a question. Are you here as President Roosevelt's personal special envoy to inspect the various leased material facilities here?" "yes." The minister nodded and looked at him with eyes that were almost closed. "Do you know what your President thinks about the conclusion of a new treaty? "Yes. The President wouldn't be proposing a new treaty first, because doing so would make it look like an imperialist intervention to the Russians. But if Iran demands reassurances, he might respond." What the minister said next was as fast as a cannonball. "But we've tried the idea. A hint to your legation not too long ago was met with no positive response. No one pressed hard. To push a great nation on such a delicate matter, but A very important matter." "There is no doubt about it. But the meeting will be over in two or three days. When will the next chance for Iran be? If the President follows Stalin in everything, as Lord Burner-Walker said As said, then Stalin may be happy to repay him." "Shall we have coffee?" The minister stood up with a smile and invited them into a glass-enclosed balcony facing the garden.Here he left them, gone for about a quarter of an hour.They lounged on cushioned settees; servants brought them coffee, brandy, and sweets. "Your words make sense," Burner-Walker remarked to Pug when they sat down. "The meeting was poorly organized, and the Iranians might get their way by luck. It's a proposition worth trying. There's no other way to get the Soviets out of Persia." He also talked about the China-Myanmar-India battlefield.He complained that there was always a famine while there was a feast, and that the armies were either starving, or were suddenly stuffed with supplies, and asked them to perform miracles.President Roosevelt wanted China to continue fighting.It's just plain absurd.Chiang Kai-shek was not fighting the Japanese at all.Half of the loan aid was looted into his pocket, and the other half was used to suppress the Chinese Communists.General Stilwell had told Roosevelt the stark truth in Cairo.Yet the President promised Chiang to launch a campaign to reopen the Burma Road, although the only people close enough to fight such a battle were the British and Indians.Churchill opposed the plan entirely.Mountbatten was wise enough not to come to Tehran, and to put the whole ill-fated Burmese dispute on Burner-Walker.Negotiations with the American staff were always going for nothing.He was bored from the bottom of his heart, and expected to be gone in a day or two. "Pug, you look very bad," Pamela said suddenly, sitting up.It's no use trying to deny it.The soothing effects of bourbon, scotch, and cider, and the excitement of seeing Pamela, were slowly wearing off by this time.The room swung before his eyes, and he felt sick as hell. "Pandemic, Pam. Persian epidemic. Maybe, I'd better go back to base." The minister came back just at this time.He immediately ordered the car to be ready and the driver to drive it to the garden gate. "I'll accompany you to the car," said Pamela. Burner-Walker gave him a reasonable smile and rose wearily to shake his hand.The minister accompanied them through the ornate hall. "Thank you for your hospitality," said Pug. "I'm glad you're here," Hussein said.said Allah, looking into Pug's face with piercing eyes. "very happy." In the garden Pamela took her footing in a darker place between two lamps.She grabbed Pug Khan's glistening hand and pulled him toward her. "Better not, Pam," he muttered. "I could be very contagious." "Really?" She took his head in her hands and brought his mouth to her own.She kissed him three times softly and sweetly. "Okay. Now we're both afflicted with the disease." "Why aren't you married to Burner-Walker yet?" "I'm about to do it. You've seen my diamond ring. You're staring at it." "But you're not married yet." Her tone became a little annoyed.Both of them were talking in low, breathless voices. "You see, when I got to New Delhi, Duncan's bewilderingly stupid adjutant was driving him nuts. He asked me to take over. I'm doing alright. He seemed happy. It was sort of like that. Embarrassing, Lady Burner-Walker works in an out office, but it will be all right. We both spend a lot of time together. All is well. In due course we will be married, but may have to wait until we get back After the UK. There is no rush right now." "He's a nice guy, said Handsome B. "He's very low spirits tonight. That's why he's talking about The Song of the Great God. He's a great administrator, a fearless pilot, and generally a good guy like a lamb. I love him. " "You saw Rhoda a few times in Washington, didn't you?" "Yes, three or four times." "Is she always with a colonel named Peters? Harrison Peters?" "Why, no. I don't know." She turned and walked forward. "You really don't know?" He put his hand on her arm. She shook off his hand and walked slowly forward, saying nervously: "Don't ask me like that. What a boring question! It's not good for you to pry around like this." "I'm not snooping. I want to know." "Know what?" She stopped and turned to face him. "You see, haven't we in Moscow worked out this - thing - that's always on our minds, my dear? There's something inseparable between you and Rhoda." Emotion. Can't be separated from anything. It's been like this since Warren died. I get it now. It took me a while, but now I get it. It was a big mistake to bring this up. Don't do it gone." They were standing by a large fountain in the middle of the garden.The big man in a dark red robe was waiting by the steps at the garden gate, his figure was blurry. "Why did you let the minister invite me to dinner?" "Damn you if you don't know. I won't change in life. Maybe I won't change in death. But I don't have a fever and babble, and you do, so go. Go see a doctor. I'll see you tomorrow." come to you." "Pamela, I've been living for four days this year, four days in Moscow. Now, tell me what's going on with this Peters? You can't pretend." "But why did you even think to ask about it? Did you get any anonymous letters again?" He didn't answer.She took both of his hands and looked straight into his eyes. "Well, listen. I ran into Rhoda once at a big ball--I don't remember what happened--and she was accompanied by a tall, gray-haired man in an Army uniform. .Coincidental and normal.Isn't it?She made an introduction,seemed to be Peters.That's it.Nothing else.A woman goes to a ball with a company,Pug.You so suddenly Ask me, and surprise me, or I'll tell you that right away." He hesitated for a while, then said: "I think there are more than that." Pamela flared up at him. "Pug. Henry, these brief meetings of ours are romantic. I confess I am as crazy as you are. I can't help it. I can't hide it. I can't hide it. Duncan knows it all. Since the matter It's hopeless, and now that we're all in control, why don't we just forget about it? Even if it's a delusion created by solitude, parting, and this alluring look. For God's sake, go now!" She touched his cheek with a cold hand. "You are very ill. I will come to you tomorrow." "Well, now that it's at it, I'd better go. They'll think you fell in the fountain." They walked across the garden.She squeezed his hand like a child. "How about Byron?" "As far as I know, he's fine." "Where's Natalie?" "No news." The man in the crimson robe came up the steps and opened the garden door.Moonlight shone on the Daimler car.They reached the steps and stood still again. “别跟他结婚，”帕格说。 她眼睛睁得很大，在月色中炯炯发光。“怎么啦，我当然要跟他结婚罗。” “在我回到华盛顿，弄清楚罗达是怎么回事之前，不要跟他结婚。” “你又在说胡话啦。还是回到她那儿去，尽量让她幸福吧。等这场倒霉的战争结束以后，也许我们还会见面的。我明儿动身之前再来看你。” 她亲亲他的嘴，大步走回花园去了。 汽车呜呜叫着驶过那个安静、寒冷的城市，开进了被月光照得一片银白的沙漠。在阿米拉巴德基地的大门口，一个站岗的士兵走到车窗外，敬了个礼。 "Is that Colonel Henry?" "yes." “康诺利将军请你去，上校。”那一口弗吉尼亚州的家乡口音使帕格不禁动了怀乡的感情。 康诺利穿着方格子浴衣，戴着角质框子的眼镜，正在住宅底层的起坐室里一张办公桌上写字，他脚上穿了厚袜子，朝一个小小的火油炉伸着。“帕格。你人觉得怎样？” “我倒想喝一口酒。” “基督啊，你在发抖啦！快挨着这个火炉坐下，半夜里真冷得要命，是不是？不要去惊动金上将，他已经上床睡啦。侯赛因。阿拉有什么事？” “我有位英国朋友在他那儿作客。我们一块儿吃了顿饭。” “就是这么回事吗？” “就是这么回事。”帕格把威士忌一口喝下去。“顺便问问，将军，哈克。彼得斯写给你的信上说了我太太些什么？”。 康诺利坐在书桌前的椅子上，正朝后靠去。他摘下眼镜用了着帕格。“对不住，你说什么来着？” “上星期你说起彼得斯写信给你提到我们来着。” “我可一句没提到你的太太。” “是呀，可是实际上他是她的朋友，不是我的。他们是在教堂里或是什么别的地方碰到的。他讲了些什么？她现在好吗？我已经很久没收到她的信了。”将军脸红起来，露出很不安的神色。“哎，出了什么事？她病了吗？” “一点儿也没有。”康诺利摇摇头，用一只手抹了抹额头。“这桩事真尴尬。哈克。彼得斯是我最老的朋友，帕格。我们写起信来无话不谈。你太太似乎是个十全十美的妙人儿。他陪她去跳舞什么的，哈克跳舞跳得非常好，可是——咳，真见鬼，何必跟你转弯抹角呢？这就是他写到她的那一段。我逐字逐句念给你听，不过我可能压根儿不该跟你提起这封信的。” 康诺利在办公桌里乱翻了一阵，拿出一张小小的、黝黑的缩印邮件，用一个放大镜照着念了起来。帕格裹着他的海军大衣，耸起肩膀，坐在气味浓重的火油炉旁边细听，威士忌酒在肚子里象火一样燃烧，同时浑身又一阵阵冷得彻骨。这封信用充满感情的华丽辞藻描摹了一位完美的女人——美丽、大方、温柔、聪明、端庄，对丈夫绝对忠实，象个贞洁的处女一样可望而不可即，可是在舞会上、戏院里和音乐会上又是一位绝妙的伴侣。彼得斯提到华伦在中途岛的阵亡，她在潜艇上服役的儿子长期沓无音讯，而她丈夫呆在俄国久久不归，称赞她在这种情况下表现出的勇气。这一大套话的要点就是，慨叹他经过多年轻浮的独身生活后竟然发现了唯一和他相配而又无法获得的女人；她是完全追求不到的。她偶尔让他陪着出去，单为了这个他就应当感激万分了。 康诺利扔下那封信和放大镜。“我认为这是一篇顶呱呱的赞美文字。要是有人这样写到我的太太，我可不会在乎，帕格。你女人一定挺不错。” “她是挺不错。我很高兴他能陪着她消遣消遣。她完全应该找点儿乐趣，她实在太烦闷了。我原以为海军上将还在等着我。” “没有，他似乎也得了你这种病，躺下啦。总统今儿晚餐的时候也觉得有点不舒服，只好撇下丘吉尔和斯大林，让他们两个去争吵不休。特工人员担心有人放毒，惊慌了一大场，不过我听说他这会儿睡得很安稳。就是这种流行病。新来的人乍到波斯往往不适应。” "That's what happened." 帅B 格，要是你明儿早上还不见好，就上医院去验一下血。 " “我上床睡觉之前还得写完一份报告。总统明儿早上要。” 康诺利显得很感动，可是他的回答却是随随便便的。“不要急。随便你夜里几点钟写完，告诉基地的值班军官一声，会有人来取的。” 帕格走进军官宿舍，门口办公桌边上有个中士瞌睡朦胧地在看一本连环漫画。帕格问他：“这地方有打字机没有？” “这张桌子里有一台折叠式打字机，长官。” “我想用一用。” 中士斜着眼朝他看看。“这会儿用吗，长官？声音可吵得很。” “我只用一会儿。” 他回到自己房间里，喝了点儿强烈的波旁威士忌，带着他这次对《租借法案》实施情况调查的笔记回到了静悄悄的门厅里。他一喝了酒，症状就缓和了些，一时身上觉得很轻快。他啪哒啪哒打下来的那一页纸的报告，在他看来似乎挺不错，但是到了早上也许会显得象是酒后的胡言乱语，这是他不得不担的一种风险。他把它封好，然后通知了值班军官。他回到没生火的小房间里，一下子倒在那张小床上，把几床毯子和他的海军大衣全部盖到了身上。 他醒过来的时候，被单全都汗湿了，两眼发花，看不清手表，阳光灿烂的房间也在他眼前旋转，他想要站起身，只觉得疲软无力。这一来，他知道除了上医院外，别无办法了。