annr.pandora-第2部分

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eem　a　blind　woman　set　with　topaz　for　her　pupils；　or　rather　carefully　formed　orbs　of　topaz；　sapphire；　even　aquamarine。
　Look；　I　have　filled　so　many　pages；　and　all　I　am　saying　is　Yes；　I　will　tell　you　how　it　began　for　me。
　Yes；　I　will　tell　you　the　story　of　my　mortal　life　in　ancient　Rome；　how　I　came　to　love　Marius　and　how　we　came　to　be　together　and　then　to　part。
　What　a　transformation　in　me；　this　resolution。
　How　powerful　I　feel　as　I　hold　this　pen；　and　how　eager　to　put　us　in　sharp　and　dear　perspective　before　I　begin　fulfilling　your　request。
　This　is　Paris；　in　a　time　of　peace。　There　is　rain。　High　regal　gray　buildings　with　their　double　windows　and　iron　balconies　line　this　boulevard。　Loud；　tiny；　dangerous　automobiles　race　in　the　streets。　Cafes；　such　as　this；　are　overflowing　with　international　tourists。　Ancient　churches　are　crowded　here　by　tenements；　palaces　turned　to　museums；　in　whose　rooms　I　linger　for　hours　gazing　at　objects　from　Egypt　or　Sumer　which　are　even　older　than　me。　Roman　architecture　is　everywhere；　absolute　replicas　of　Temples　of　my　time　now　serve　as　banks。　The　words　of　my　native　Latin　suffuse　the　English　language。　Ovid；　my　beloved　Ovid；　the　poet　who　predicted　his　poetry　would　outlast　the　Roman　Empire；　has　been　proved　true。
　Walk　into　any　bookstore　and　you　find　him　in　neat；　small　paperbacks；　designed　to　appeal　to　students。
　Roman　influence　seeds　itself；　sprouting　mighty　oaks　right　through　the　modern　forest　of　puters；　digital　disks；　microviruses　and　space　satellites。
　It　is　easy　here　…　as　always　…　to　find　an　embraceable　evil；　a　despair　worth　tender　fulfillment。
　And　with　me　there　must　always　be　some　love　of　the　victim；　some　mercy；　some　self…delusion　that　the　death　I　bring　does　not　mar　the　great　shroud　of　inevitability；　woven　of　trees　and　earth　and　stars；　and　human　events；　which　hovers　forever　around　us　ready　to　close　on　all　that　is　created；　all　that　we　know。
　Last　night；　when　you　found　me；　how　did　it　seem　to　you？　I　was　alone　on　the　bridge　over　the　Seine；　walking　in　the　last　dangerous　darkness　before　dawn。
　You　saw　me　before　I　knew　you　were　there。　My　hood　was　down　and　I　let　my　eyes　in　the　dim　light　of　the　bridge　have　their　little　moment　of　glory。　My　victim　stood　at　the　railing；　no　more　than　a　child；　but　bruised　and　robbed　by　a　hundred　men。　She　wanted　to　die　in　the　water。　I　don't　know　if　the　Seine　is　deep　enough　for　one　to　drown　there。　So　near　the　Ile　St。Louis。　So　near　Notre　Dame。　Perhaps　it　is；　if　one　can　resist　a　last　struggle　for　life。
　But　I　felt　this　victim's　soul　like　ashes；　as　though　her　spirit　had　been　cremated　and　only　the　body　remained；　a　worn；　disease…ridden　shell。　I　put　my　arm　around　her；　and　when　I　saw　the　fear　in　her　small　black　eyes；　when　I　saw　the　question　ing；　I　wreathed　her　with　images。　The　soot　that　covered　my　skin　was　not　enough　to　keep　me　from　looking　like　the　Virgin　Mary；　and　she　sank　into　hymns　and　devotion；　she　even　saw　my　veils　in　the　colors　she　had　known　in　churches　of　childhood；　as　she　yielded　to　me；　and　I　…　knowing　that　I　needn't　drink；　but　thirsting　for　her；　thirsting　for　the　anguish　she　could　give　forth　in　her　final　moment；　thirsting　for　the　tasty　red　blood　that　would　fill　my　mouth　and　make　me　feel　human　for　one　instant　in　my　very　monstrosity　…　I　gave　in　to　her　visions；　bent　her　neck；　ran　my　fingers　over　her　sore　tender　skin；　and　then　it　was；　when　I　sank　my　teeth　into　her；　when　I　drank　from　her　…　it　was　then　that　I　knew　you　were　there。　You　watched。
　I　knew　it；　and　I　felt　it；　and　I　saw　the　image　of　us　in　your　eye；　distractingly；　as　the　pleasure　nevertheless　flushed　through　me；　making　me　believe　I　was　alive；　somehow　connected　to　fields　of　clover　or　trees　with　roots　deeper　in　the　earth　than　the　branches　they　raise　to　the　welkin　above。
　At　first　I　hated　you。　You　saw　me　as　I　feasted。　You　saw　me　as　I　gave　in。　You　knew　nothing　of　my　months　of　starvation；　restraint；　wandering。　You　saw　only　the　sudden　release　of　my　unclean　desire　to　suck　her　very　soul　from　her；　to　make　her　heart　rise　in　the　flesh　inside　her；　to　drag　from　her　veins　every　precious　particle　of　her　that　still　wanted　to　survive。
　And　she　did　want　to　survive。　Wrapped　in　saints；　and　dreaming　suddenly　of　the　breasts　that　nursed　her；　her　young　body　fought；　pumping　and　pumping　against　me；　she　so　soft；　and　my　own　form　hard　as　a　statue；　my　milkless　nipples　enshrined　in　marble；　no　fort。　Let　her　see　her　mother；　dead；　gone　and　now　waiting。　Let　me　glimpse　through　her　dying　eyes　the　light　through　which　she　sped　towards　this　certain　salvation。
　Then　I　forgot　about　you。　I　would　not　be　robbed。　I　slowed　the　drinking；　I　let　her　sigh；　I　let　her　lungs　fill　with　the　cold　river　air；　her　mother　drawing　closer　and　closer　so　that　death　now　was　as　safe　for　her　as　the　womb。　I　took　every　drop　from　her　that　she　could　give。
　She　hung　dead　against　me；　as　one　I'd　rescued；　one　I　would　help　from　the　bridge；　some　weakened；　sickened；　drunken　girl。　I　slid　my　hand　into　her　body；　breaking　the　flesh　so　easily　even　with　these　delicate　fingers；　and　I　dosed　my　fingers　around　her　heart　and　brought　it　to　my　lips　and　sucked　it；　my　head　tucked　down　by　her　face；　sucked　the　heart　like　fruit；　until　no　blood　was　left　in　any　fiber　or　chamber；　and　then　slowly　…　perhaps　for　your　benefit　…　I　lifted　her　and　let　her　fall　down　into　the　water　she　had　so　desired。
　Now　there　would　be　no　struggle　as　her　lungs　filled　with　the　river。　Now　there　would　be　no　last　desperate　thrashing。　I　fed　from　the　heart　one　last　time；　to　take　even　the　color　of　blood　out　of　it；　and　then　sent　it　after　her　…　crushed　grapes　…　poor　child；　child　of　a　hundred　men。
　Then　I　faced　you；　let　you　know　that　I　knew　you　watched　from　the　quay。　I　think　I　tried　to　frighten　you。　In　rage　I　let　you　know　how　weak　you　were；　that　all　the　blood　given　to　you　by　Lestat　would　make　you　no　match　should　I　choose　to　dismember　you；　pitch　a　fatal　heat　into　you　and　immolate　you；　or　only　punish　you　with　penetrating　scar　…　simply　for　having　spied　upon　me。
　Actually　I　have　never　done　such　a　thing　to　a　younger　one。　I　feel　sorry　for　them　when　they　see　us；　the　ancient　ones；　and　quake　in　terror。　But　I　should；　by　all　the　knowledge　of　myself　I　possess；　have　retreated　so　quickly　that　you　could　riot　follow　me　in　the　night。
　Something　in　your　demeanor　charmed　me；　the　manner　in　which　you　approached　me　on　the　bridge；　your　young　Anglo…Indian　brown…skinned　body　gifted　by　your　true　mortal　age　with　such　seductive　grace。　Your　very　posture　seemed　to　ask　of　me；　without　humiliation：
　〃Pandora；　may　we　speak？〃
　My　mind　wandered。　Perhaps　you　knew　it。　I　don't　remember　whether　I　shut　you　out　of　my　thoughts；　and　I　know　that　your　telepathic　abilities　are　not　really　very　strong。　My　mind　wandered　suddenly；　perhaps　of　itself；　perhaps　at　your　prodding。　I　thought　of　all　the　things　I　could　tell　you；　which　were　so　different　from　the　tales　of　Lestat；　and　those　of　Marius　through　Lestat；　and　I　wanted　to　warn　you；　warn　you　of　the　ancient　vampires　of　the　Far　East　who　would　kill　you　if　you　went　into　their　territory；　simply　because　you　were　there。
　I　wanted　to　make　certain　you　understood　what　we　all　had　to　accept　…　the　Fount　of　our　immortal　vampiric　hunger　did　reside　in　two　beings　…　Mekare　and　Maharet　…　so　ancient　they　are　now　both　horrible　to　look　upon；　more　than　beautiful。　And　if　they　destroy　themselves　we　will　all　die　with　them。
　I　wanted　to　tell　you　of　others　who　have　never　known　us　as　a　tribe　or　known　our　history；　who　survived　the　terrible　fire　brought　down　on　her　children　by　our　Mother　Akasha。　I　wanted　to　tell　you　that　there　were　things　walking　the　Earth　that　look　like　us　but　are　not　of　our　breed　any　more　than　they　are　human。　And　I　wanted　suddenly　to　take　you　under　my　wing。
　It　must　have　been　your　prodding。　You　stood　there；　the　English　gentleman；　wearing　your　decorum　more　lightly　and　naturally　than　any　man　I'd　ever　seen。　I　marveled　at　your　fine　clothes　that　you'd　indulged　yourself　in　a　light　black　cloak　of　worsted　wool；　that　you　had　even　given　yourself　the　luxury　of　a　gleaming　red　silk　scarf　…　so　unlike　you　when　you　were　newly　made。
　Understand；　I　was　not　aware　the　night　that　Lestat　transformed　you　into　a　vampire。　I　didn't　feel　that　moment。
　All　the　preternatural　world　shimmered　weeks　earlier；　however；　with　the　knowledge　that　a　mortal　had　jumped　in