Chapter 31 29

【Cross Medal】 It was raining all the way to La Carlotri.Mi Rui drove while I tried to find my way with an old Michelin map in the glove box.As we approached the village, we saw the Water Tower, a circle of brick Romanesque arched pillars with a pool at the top.The water tower was at the far end of town, on a brown, treeless field.Mi Rui drove there with eyesight, weaving on the asphalt and gravel road, and finally arrived at the small piece of land surrounded by a fence by the water tower.We found the house along a dirt driveway and saw the name in metal letters glued to the letterbox: DESMARAIS.

Mi Rui looked at me. Do you still want to go? I have no idea.It's okay to ask. We parked in front of a two-storey stone farmhouse.I asked Mi Rui if she could do the talking.As soon as we got out of the car, the front door of the house opened, and an old man looked at us.He wore a checked shirt and trousers belted high, with a big belly hanging down from them.From the living room behind him came the blaring of the television, as if discussing the subject of a rise in the price of cigarettes in France. Hello, Miri said in French: Are you M. Desmarais? The old man eyed us suspiciously, his eyes pale and moist.He recognized himself as M. Desmarais.Miri told him our names, touched my arm, and explained that my great-grandfather was a British soldier who had lived near here during the war with a family named Le Feuer.He ambled forward, looking at the iron-gray sky above us, and at the dirty Peugeot in the driveway.

good.He said: Come in before you get wet. Desmarais took our overcoats in his strong hands and hung them on wooden hangers.He hooked a coat hanger to a curtain rail above the radiator in the living room and sank into an armchair.The sofa we sat on was covered in yellowing plastic that would stick to our clothes and make strange noises as we moved restlessly on the seat.Desmarais turned off the TV. I live alone.He said in French: I don't go shopping often, so I don't have anything for you to drink. Mi Rui told him it was okay.Desmarais asked where Miri was from, and they chatted about Picardy.He asked Miri if I was British, so I told him I was American.The old man nodded.

I know some Americans, it happened in 1944.But you're not here to talk about that. Desmarai looked at Miri, then at me. I was born in 1926.So I never met the Englishman. The Brit? He lived at my mother's house, that is, with Le Feher's.Desmarais is my father's last name The old man had a strong northern accent, and it was very difficult for me to understand him.He said there were many British soldiers living with his mother's family during the war, but only one of them was an officer.His mother was a little girl at the time, and the officer had taught her some things.

The British were wounded.Desmarais: Do you know where it is? Throat.And on the legs. Desmarais touched his throat. Yes, throat.My mother said he spoke very softly.I haven't heard about leg injuries. It's incredible.Mi Rui said: Your family still remembers him after so long. Desmarais shook his head, saying it was only natural that his family would remember the Englishman.He told us that the whole village hated the British because being occupied by them was only slightly better than being occupied by the Germans.He said the English were vulgar, drunk and caused a lot of trouble.

They know they are going to die.However, for this piece of land? Comparing the desolate landscape outside, the old man said that it is very difficult for one person to fight for a country other than the motherland.But he said the Englishman was different because he was an officer and spoke French.Desmarais has proof.The old man went into the next room, left for a while, and came back with a box upholstered in purple.He opened it on the table. Here are some jewelry from my mother. He looked up at us, grinning, showing crooked yellow teeth. Nothing worth much.All sold. Desmarai opened a small drawer in the jewelry box.He took out a silver cross and handed it to me.The cross is equal in length and width, with crown decorations at the ends of the four arms, and the emblem of George V in the center.This medal is not tied with a ribbon.

What's this?Mi Rui asked. War medals.I said: Military Cross. It was because of the medal, Desmarais said, that his mother would remember the Englishman.Because she has hung her medal on the mirror of her dressing table all her life.The old man stood up suddenly. I just thought of it.He said: My niece gave me a box of tea.I can make tea for you. Miri told him we wouldn't drink, but Desmarais insisted, so Miri had to say let her do it.Desmarai tells Miri where her things are, and Miri goes into the kitchen.The old man leaned towards me and whispered to me as if about to reveal some conspiracy:

I guess you're here to ask about la malle? La malle? Desmarai looked skeptical.Didn't I just come here for the suitcase?I shook my head and explained that I didn't understand the French word.Desmarais said the malle is a travel suitcase, and he would take a malle with him when he was a child on an ocean liner trip.When British officers left the house, they left behind a small malle.Later the Englishman wrote and said he would come and get it.Desmarais told me that because of this, his family kept the malle for several years. Although the British never came, Desmarais still kept it for a long time and did not throw it away.

My niece wants me to get rid of the stuff in the attic, but how can I just throw those things away.When a person gets old, he will want to keep the only thing left, even if it is useless. Desmarais winks at me. Of course, young people like you will never understand.But when you get older I trust you now. The old man didn't believe me, but smiled politely.I asked him what was in that malle, but he just shrugged. A pile of burnt paper.You can see for yourself. I followed Desmarai up the carpeted stairs to the second floor, one step at a time as he held on to the banister.He asked me to go to the bedroom to get a step stool, and then told me to stand on the stool and push open a square trap door in the ceiling.When I push, the board swings open on the hinges.There is a short iron ladder that can be pulled down.

Be careful, Desmarais warned.There might be mice on it.That malle should be right next to my fishing gear, by the window. I climbed the ladder into the attic.The two sides of the roof are steep, and the lighting of the entire space comes from only one window, and a ray of light penetrates into the objects in the room. These strange residues represent a long and changeable life.Stacked cardboard boxes and tons of old electronics.A few rusty fans, and a few old coats on a hanger.Although everything was covered with dust, it was neatly organized.Two old bamboo fishing rods rest against the sloping ceiling.Under a sack of tackle boxes, I found a small brown box, my fingers scratching the dusty surface.The box was about two feet wide and a foot deep, and might have been used for boots or hats.The case is leather and some parts are brass.Printed on the front is a three-letter initials: AEW.

The clasp in the middle is open.I undid the two stiff straps and pulled the top cover off. Ashes and partly burnt paper, canvas covered in powdery black ash.There are several cloth books: Scrambles in the Alps, The Spirit of Man: An Anthology.The spine of the book creaked and snapped as I flipped through it.I took a breath. Beside the book is a bundle of envelopes.Some corners were blackened, others were nearly burnt.France, Second Lieutenant of the 1st Battalion, Royal Berkshire Infantry, BEF E．worthingham.I opened the envelope, spread the papers, and flakes of ash fell from my fingers.The letter was written in a very peculiar blue-black font: long, ornate capital letters, with strokes of varying lengths, and the ampersand was also delicately written.The date was October 17, just a few weeks before Ashley was injured. □□□ Honey Eleanor & I went to the London library today.I chose a tall stack of books, but fell asleep within ten pages after sitting down.I dreamed wonderful things I told you about the stave church of Urnes, but the famous main entrance hadn't been carved yet, so you took out your knife & we carved together You carved a creature & I carved one too , their bodies are tightly connected.You cut off a small piece of the door as a souvenir for me to keep because we are now two joined souls.Then the glockenspiel sounded to remind us to go into the church, but when you put your hand on the door I woke up. So I said goodbye to Eleanor & went for a walk on the Thames Embankment.Of course, I thought to myself, even the river that best represents Britain flows to the sea & to you.On the sidewalk, I saw a homeless man with a chalk drawing, the most beautiful reproduction I have ever seen, but then it started to rain and it was washed away.I had no money with me, so I gave him a ring on my hand as a reward.He refused to take it at first, but I explained that the ring was an unwanted gift and I was happier without it. As for your question about engagement, you have bound me in a softer way, which is no less effective than a marriage contract.Can you love me so much longer than this?More than ten times as long?We should not discuss wills, or even gold or silver.Without you, everything is lead and worthless to me.I will lose more than a widow I will lose my morning star that has not yet risen. When it comes to commitment, the most prudent thing I can imagine is to give myself to you, not with those old civilized rituals, but through my own design, as if love has never appeared in the world, I made it for you. Yin Mozhen I tried to fold the paper, but my hands shook and I tore it at the crease.I put the letter back in the suitcase and carried it down the stairs.The old man nodded approvingly. You should take it. But you kept it for so long. I opened the top cover to show him the contents, but the old man waved his hand to show he didn't care.He said he had enough old documents and didn't need old documents written in foreign characters. When I die, my niece will be thrown away directly. Desmarais walked slowly down the stairs.I closed the attic door and took the suitcase downstairs and laid it on the living room rug.The old man got into his armchair and turned on the TV with the remote. It will be on the news soon.He said. Mi Rui came in with three cups of tea on the dining tray. the stove is so hard to light Mi Rui looked at the suitcase, then at me.Her mouth opens. did you find something Desmarais grinned.He found it.Now let's have tea, like the English do.