brideshead+revisited-第59部分

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ny　little　man　who　seemed　to　know　us　very　well。　He　said　he　was　called　Mr　Samgrass。　Apparently　he's　one　of　Lord　Copper's　middle…aged　young　men　on　the　Daily　Beast。　I　tried　to　feed　him　some　paragraphs；　but　he　seemed　to　know　more　about　you　than　I　do。　He　said　he'd　met　me　years　ago　at　Brideshead。　I　wish　Julia　had　e　in；　then　we　could　have　asked　her　about　him。'
　　　　'I　remember　him　well。He's　a　crook。'
　　　　'Yes；　that　stuck　out　a　mile。　He's　been　talking　all　about　what　he　calls　the　〃'Brideshead　set〃；　Apparently　Rex　Mottram　has　made　the　place　a　nest　of　party　mutiny。　Did　you　know？　What　would　Teresa　Marchmain　have　thought？'
　　　　'I'm　going　there　tonight。'
　　　　'Not　tonight；　Charles；　you　can't　go　there　tonight。　You're　expected　at　home。　You　promised；　as　soon　as　the　exhibition　was　ready；　you'd　e　home。　Johnjohn　and　Nanny　have　made　a　banner　with　〃Wele〃　on　it。　And　you　haven't　seen　Caroline　yet。'
　　　　'I'm　sorry；　it's　all　settled。'
　　　　'Besides；　Daddy　will　think　it　so　odd。　And　Boy　is　home　for　Sunday。　And　you　haven't　seen　the　new　studio。　You　can't　go　tonight。　Did　they　ask　me？'
　　　　'Of　course；　but　I　knew　you　wouldn't　be　able　to　e。'
　　　　'I　can't　now。　I　could　have；　if　you'd　let　me　know　earlier。　I　should　adore　to　see　the　〃Brideshead　set〃　at　home。　I　do　think　you　re　perfectly　beastly；　but　this　is　no　time　for　a　family　rumpus。　The　Clarences　promised　to　e　in　before　luncheon；　they　may　be　here　any　minute。'
　　　　We　were　interrupted；　however；　not　by　royalty；　but　by　a　woman　reporter　from　one　of　the　dailies；　whom　the　manager　of　the　gallery　now　led　up　to　us。　She　had　not　e　to　see　the　pictures　but　to　get　a　〃human　story〃　of　the　dangers　of　my　journey。　I　left　her　to　my　wife；　and　next　day　read　in　her　paper：　'Charles　〃Stately　Homes〃　Ryder　steps　off　the　map。　That　the　snakes　and　vampires　of　the　jungle　have　nothing　on　Mayfair　is　the　opinion　of　socialite　artist　Ryder；　who　has；　abandoned　the　houses　of　the　great　for　the　ruins　of　equatorial　Africa。。。'
　　　　The　rooms　began　to　fill　and　I　was　soon　busy　being　civil。　My　wife　was　everywhere；　greeting　people；　introducing　people；　deftly　transforming　the　crowd　into　a　party。　I　saw　her　lead　friends　forward　one　after　another　to　the　subscription　list　that　had　been　opened　for　the　book　of　Ryder's　Latin　America　I　heard　her　say：　'No；　darling；　I'm　not　at　all　surprised；　but　you　wouldn't　expect　me　to　be；　would　you？　You　see　Charles　lives　for　one　thing　…　Beauty。　I　think　he　got　bored　with　finding　it　ready…made　in　England；　he　had　to　go　and　create　it　for　himself。　He　wanted　new　worlds　to　conquer。　After　all；　he　has　said　the　last　word　about　country　houses；　hasn't　he？　Not；　I　mean；　that　he's　given　that　up　altogether。　I'm　sure　he'll　always　do　one　or　two　more　for　friends。'　A　photographer　brought　us　together；　flashed　a　lamp　in　our　faces；　and　let　us　part。
　　　　Presently　there　was　the　slight　hush　and　edging　away　which　follows　the　entry　of　a　royal　party。　I　saw　my　wife　curtsey　and　heard　her　say：　'Oh；　sir；　you　are　sweet'；　then　I　was　led　into　the　clearing　and　the　Duke　of　Clarence　said：　'Pretty　hot　out　there　I　should　think。'
　　　　'It　was；　sir。'
　　　　'Awfully　clever　the　way　you've　hit　off　the　impression　of　heat。　Makes　me　feel　quite　unfortable　in　my　greatcoat。'
　　　　'Ha；　ha。'
　　　　When　they　had　gone　my　wife　said：　'Goodness；　we're　late　for　lunch。　Margot's　giving　a　party　in　your　honour；　and　in　the　taxi　she　said：　'I've　just　thought　of　something。　Why　don't　you　write　and　ask　the　Duchess　of　Clarence's　permission　to　dedicate　Latin　America　to　her？'
　　　　'Why　should　I？'
　　　　'She'd　love　it　so。'
　　　　'I　wasn't　thinking　of　dedicating　it　to　anyone。'
　　　　'There　you　are；　that's　typical　of　you；　Charles。　Why　miss　an　opportunity　to　give　pleasure？'
　　　　There　were　a　dozen　at　luncheon；　and　though　it　pleased　my　hostess　and　my　wife　to　say　that　they　were　there　in　my　honour；　it　was　plain　to　me　that　half　of　them　did　not　know　of　my　exhibition　and　had　e　because　they　had　been　invited　and　had　no　other　engagement。　Throughout　luncheon　they　talked；　without　stopping；　of　Mrs　Simpson；　but　they　all；　or　nearly　all；　came　back　with　us　to　the　gallery。
　　　　The　hour　after　luncheon　was　the　busiest　time。　There　were　representatives　of　the　Tate　Gallery　and　the　National　Art　Collections　Fund；　who　all　promised　to　return　shortly　with　colleagues　and；　in　the　meantime；　reserved　certain　pictures　for　further　consideration。　The　most　influential　critic；　who　in　the　past　had　dismissed　me　with　a　few　wounding　mendations；　peered　out　at　me　from　between　his　slouch　hat　and　woollen　muffler；　gripped　my　arm；　and　said：　'I　knew　you　had　it。　I　saw　it　there。　I've　been　waiting　for　it。'
　　　　From　fashionable　and　unfashionable　lips　alike　I　heard　fragments　of　praise。　'If　you'd　asked　me　to　guess；'　I　overheard；　'Ryder's　is　the　last　name　would　have　occurred　to　me。　They're　so　virile；　so　passionate。'
　　　　They　all　thought　they　had　found　something　new。　It　had　not　been　thus　at　my　last　exhibition　in　these　same　rooms；　shortly　before　my　going　abroad。　Then　there　had　been　an　unmistakable　note　of　weariness。　Then　the　talk　had　been　less　of　me　than　of　the　houses；　anecdotes　of　their　owners。　That　same　woman；　it　came　back　to　me；　who　now　applauded　my　virility　and　passion；　had　stood　quite　near　me；　before　a　painfully　laboured　canvas；　and　said；　'So　facile。'
　　　　I　remembered　the　exhibition；　too；　for　another　reason；　it　was　the　week　I　detected　my　wife　in　adultery。　Then；　as　now；　she　was；　a　tireless　hostess；　and　I　heard　her　say：　'Whenever　I　see　anything　lovely　nowadays　…　a　building　or　a　piece　of　scenery　…　I　think　to　myself；　〃that's　by　Charles〃。　I　see　everything　through　his　eyes。　He　is　England　to　me。'
　　　　I　heard　her　say　that；　it　was　the　sort　of　thing　she　had　the　habit　of　saying。　Throughout　our　married　life；　again　and　again；　I　had　felt　my　bowels　shrivel　within　me　at　the　things　she　said。　But　that　day；　in　this　gallery；　I　heard　her　unmoved；　and　suddenly　realized　that　she　was　powerless　to　hurt　me　any　more；　I　was　a　free　man；　she　had　given　me　my　manumission　in　that　brief；　sly　lapse　of　hers；　my　cuckold's　horns　made　me　lord　of　the　forest。
　　　　At　the　end　of　the　day　my　wife　said：　'Darling；　I　must　go。　It's　been　a　terrific　success；　hasn't　it？　I'll　think　of　something　to　tell　them　at　home；　but　I　wish　it　hadn't　got　to　happen　quite　this　way。'
　　　　'So　she　knows；'　I　thought。　'She's　a　sharp　one。　She's　had　her　nose　down　since　luncheon　and　picked　up　the　scent。'
　　　　I　let　her　get　clear　of　the　place　and　was　about　to　follow　…　the　rooms　were　nearly　empty　…　when　I　heard　a　voice　at　the　turnstile　I　had　not　heard　for　many　years；　an　unforgettable　self…taught　stammer；　a　sharp　cadence　of　remonstration。
　　　　'No。　I　have　not　brought　a　card　of　invitation。　I　do　not　even　know　whether　I　received　one。　I　have　not　e　to　a　social　function…　I　do　not　seek　to　scrape　acquaintance　with　Lady　Celia；　I　do　not　want　my　photograph　in　the　Tatler；　I　have　not　e　to　exhibit　myself。　I　have　e　to　see　the　pictures。　Perhaps　you　are　unaware　that　there　are　any　pictures　here。　I　happen　to　have　a　personal　interest　in　the　artist　…　if　that　word　has　any　meaning　for　you。'
　　　　'Antoine'　I　said；　'e　in。'
　　　　'My　dear；　there　is　a　g…g…gorgon　here　who　thinks　I　am　g…g…gate…crashing。　I　only　arrived　in　London　yesterday；　and　heard　quite　by　chance　at　luncheon　that　you　were　having　an　exhibition；　so；　of　course　I　dashed　impetuously　to　the　shrine　to　pay　homage。　Have　I　changed？　Would　you　recognize　me？　Where　are；　the　pictures？　Let　me　explain　them　to　you。'
　　　　Anthony　Blanche　had　not　changed　from　when　I　last　saw　him；　not；　indeed；　from　when　I　first　saw　him。　He　swept　lightly　across　the　room　to　the　most　prominent　canvas　…　a　jungle　landscape　paused　a　moment；　his　head　cocked　like　a　knowing　terrier；　and　asked：　'Where；　my　dear　Charles；　did　you　find　this　sumptuous　greenery？　The　er　of　a　hothouse　at　T…t…rent　or　T…t…tring？　What　gorgeous　usurer　nurture。d　these　fronds　for　your　pleasure？'　Then　he　made　a　tour　of　the　two　rooms；　once　or　twice　he　sighed　deeply；　otherwise　he　kept　silence。　When　he　came　to　the　end　he　sighed　once　more；　more　deeply　than　ever；　and　said：　'But　they　tell　me；　My　dear；　you　are　happy　in　love。　That　is　everything；　is　it　not；　or　nearly　everything？'
　　　　'Are　they　as　bad　as　that？'
　　　　Anthony　dropped　his　voice　to　a　piercing　whisper：　'My　dear；　let　us　not　expose　your　little　imposture　before　these　good；　plain　people'　…　he　gave　a　conspiratorial　glance　to　the