iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第17部分

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t　in　size；　rich　with　color。　The　emotion　rises　in　his　voice。
　〃Andrea　del　Sarto。　Stories　of　Joseph。　I　saw　these　in　Florence。〃
　Richard　Curry　is　silent。　He　paid　for　Paul　to　spend　our　freshman　summer　in　Italy　researching　the　Hypnerotomachia；　the　only　time　Paul　has　ever　left　the　country。
　〃I　have　a　friend　at　the　Palazzo　Pitti；〃　Curry　says；　folding　his　hands　over　his　chest。　〃He　has　been　very　good　to　me。　I　have　them　on　loan　for　a　month。〃
　Paul　stands　frozen　for　a　minute；　struck　silent。　His　hair　is　matted　to　his　head；　still　wet　from　the　snow；　but　a　smile　forms　on　his　lips　as　he　turns　back　to　the　painting。　It　occurs　to　me；　finally；　after　watching　his　reaction；　that　the　canvases　have　been　mounted　in　this　order　for　a　reason。　They　form　a　crescendo　of　significance　only　Paul　can　understand。　Curry　must　have　insisted　on　this　arrangement；　and　the　curators　must　have　agreed　to　it；　obliging　the　trustee　who　brought　more　art　than　all　the　others　bined。　The　wall　in　front　of　us　is　a　gift　from　Curry　to　Paul；　a　silent　congratulation　on　the　pletion　of　his　thesis。
　〃Have　you　read　Browning's　poem　on　Andrea　del　Sarto？〃　Curry　asks；　trying　to　put　words　to　it。
　I　have；　for　a　literature　seminar；　but　Paul　shakes　his　head。
　〃You　do　what　many　dream　of；　all　their　lives；〃　Curry　says。　〃Dream？　Strive　to　do；　and　agonize　to　do；　and　fail　in　doing。〃
　Paul　finally　turns　and　puts　a　hand　on　Curry's　shoulder。　It's　then　that　he　steps　back　and　takes　the　bundle　of　cloths　from　beneath　his　shirt。
　〃What's　this？〃　Curry　asks。
　〃Something　Bill　just　brought　me。〃　Paul　falters；　and　I　sense　he's　unsure　how　Curry　will　react。　He　carefully　unwraps　the　book。　〃I　think　you　should　see　it。〃
　〃My　diary；〃　Curry　says；　stunned。　He　turns　it　over　in　his　hands。　〃I　can't　believe　it。　。　。　。〃
　〃I'm　going　to　use　it；〃　Paul　says。　〃To　finish。〃
　But　Curry　ignores　him；　as　he　looks　down　at　the　book；　his　smile　disappears。　〃Where　did　it　e　from？〃
　〃From　Bill。〃
　〃You　said　that。　Where　did　he　find　it？〃
　Paul　hesitates。　An　edge　has　entered　Curry's　voice。
　〃In　a　bookstore　in　New　York；〃　I　say。　〃An　antiquarian　shop。〃
　〃Impossible；〃　the　man　mumbles。　〃I　looked　for　this　book　everywhere。　Every　library；　every　bookstore；　every　pawnshop　in　New　York。　All　of　the　major　auction　houses。　It　was　gone。　For　thirty　years；　Paul。　It　was　gone。〃
　He　turns　the　pages；　carefully　scanning　them　with　both　his　eyes　and　his　hands。　〃Yes；　look。　Here's　the　section　I　told　you　about。　Colonna　is　mentioned　here〃…he　advances　to　another　entry；　then　to　another…〃and　here。〃　Abruptly　he　looks　up。　〃Bill　didn't　just　stumble　onto　this　tonight。　Not　the　night　before　your　work　is　due。〃
　〃What　do　you　mean？〃
　〃What　about　the　drawing？〃　Curry　demands。　〃Bill　gave　you　that　too？〃
　〃What　drawing？〃
　〃The　piece　of　leather。〃　Curry　forms　dimensions　from　his　thumbs　and　index　fingers；　about　one　foot　square。　〃Tucked　into　the　centerfold　of　the　diary。　There　was　a　drawing　on　it。　A　blueprint。〃
　〃It　wasn't　there；〃　Paul　says。
　Curry　turns　the　book　in　his　hands　again。　His　eyes　have　bee　cold　and　distant。
　〃Richard；　I　have　to　return　the　diary　to　Bill　tomorrow；〃　Paul　says。　〃I'll　read　through　it　tonight。　Maybe　it　can　get　me　through　the　final　section　of　the　Hypnerotomachia。〃
　Curry　shakes　himself　back　to　the　present。　〃You　haven't　finished　your　work？〃
　Paul's　voice　fills　with　anxiety。　〃The　last　section　isn't　like　the　others。〃
　〃But　what　about　the　deadline　tomorrow？〃
　When　Paul　says　nothing；　Curry　runs　his　hand　over　the　diary's　cover；　then　relinquishes　it。　〃Finish。　Don't　promise　what　you've　earned。　There's　too　much　at　stake。〃
　〃I　won't。　I　think　I've　almost　found　it。　I'm　very　close。〃
　〃If　you　need　anything；　just　say　so。　An　excavation　permit。　Surveyors。　If　it's　there；　we'll　find　it。〃
　I　glance　at　Paul；　wondering　what　Curry　means。
　Paul　smiles　nervously。　〃I　don't　need　anything　more。　I'll　find　it　on　my　own；　now　that　I　have　the　diary。〃
　〃Just　don't　let　it　out　of　your　sight。　No　one　has　done　something　like　this　before。　Remember　Browning。　'　What　many　dream　of；　all　their　lives。'〃
　〃Sir；〃　es　a　voice　from　behind　us。
　We　turn　to　find　a　curator　stepping　in　our　direction。
　〃Mr。　Curry；　the　trustees'　meeting　is　beginning　soon。　Could　we　ask　you　to　move　to　the　upstairs　deck？〃
　〃We'll　talk　about　this　more　later；〃　Curry　says；　reorienting　himself。　〃I　don't　know　how　long　this　meeting　will　be。〃
　He　pats　Paul　on　the　arm；　shakes　my　hand；　and　then　walks　toward　the　stairs。　When　he　ascends；　we　find　ourselves　alone　with　the　guards。
　〃I　shouldn't　have　let　him　see　it；〃　Paul　says；　almost　to　himself；　as　we　turn　toward　the　door。
　He　pauses　to　take　in　the　series　of　images　one　more　time；　forming　a　memory　he　can　return　to　when　the　museum　is　closed。　Then　we　find　our　way　back　outside。
　〃Why　would　Bill　lie　about　where　he　got　the　diary？〃　I　ask　once　we're　in　the　snow　again。
　〃I　don't　think　he　would；〃　Paul　says。
　〃Then　what　was　Curry　talking　about？〃
　〃If　he　knew　more；　he　would've　told　us。〃
　〃Maybe　he　didn't　want　to　tell　you　while　I　was　there。〃
　Paul　ignores　me。　There's　a　pretense　he　likes　to　keep　up；　that　we　are　equals　in　Curry's　eyes。
　〃What　did　he　mean　when　he　said　he'd　help　you　get　excavation　permits？〃　I　ask。
　Paul　looks　over　his　shoulder　nervously　at　a　student　who　has　fallen　in　behind　us。　〃Not　here；　Tom。〃
　I　know　better　than　to　push　him。　After　a　long　silence　I　say；　〃Can　you　tell　me　why　all　the　paintings　had　to　do　with　Joseph？〃
　Paul's　expression　lightens。　〃Genesis　thirty…seven。〃　He　pauses　to　call　it　up。　〃Now　Jacob　loved　Joseph　more　than　all　his　children；　because　he　was　the　son　of　his　old　age。　And　he　made　him　a　coat　of　many　colors。〃
　It　takes　me　a　second　to　understand。　The　gift　of　colors。　The　love　of　an　aging　father　for　his　favorite　son。
　〃He's　proud　of　you；〃　I　say。
　Paul　nods。　〃But　I'm　not　done。　The　work　isn't　finished。〃
　〃It's　not　about　that；〃　I　tell　him。
　Paul　smiles　thinly。　〃Of　course　it　is。〃
　　
　We　make　our　way　back　to　the　dorm；　and　I　notice　an　unpleasant　quality　to　the　sky：　it's　dark；　but　not　perfectly　black。　The　whole　roof　of　it　is　shot　with　snow　clouds　from　horizon　to　horizon；　and　they　are　a　heavy；　luminous　gray。　There　isn't　a　star　to　be　seen。
　At　the　rear　door　to　Dod；　I　realize　we　have　no　way　in。　Paul　flags　down　a　senior　from　upstairs；　who　gives　us　an　odd　look　before　lending　us　his　ID　card。　A　small　pad　registers　its　proximity　with　a　beep；　then　unlocks　the　door　with　a　sound　like　a　shotgun　being　shucked。　In　the　basement；　two　junior　women　are　folding　clothes　on　an　open　table；　wearing　T…shirts　and　tiny　boxer　shorts　in　the　swelter　of　the　laundry　room。　It　never　fails：　walking　through　the　laundry　room　in　winter　is　like　entering　a　desert　mirage；　air　shivering　with　heat；　bodies　fantastic。　When　it's　snowing　outside；　the　sight　of　bare　shoulders　and　legs　is　better　than　a　shot　of　whiskey　to　get　the　blood　pumping　again。　We're　nowhere　near　Holder；　but　it　feels　like　we've　stumbled　onto　the　waiting　room　for　the　Nude　Olympics。
　I　climb　to　the　first　floor　and　head　toward　the　north　flank　of　the　building；　where　our　room　is　the　final　quad。　Paul　trails　behind　me；　silent。　The　closer　we　get；　the　more　I　find　myself　thinking　of　the　two　letters　on　the　coffee　table　again。　Even　Bill's　discovery　isn't　enough　to　distract　me。　For　weeks　I've　fallen　asleep　to　the　thought　of　what　a　person　could　do　with　forty…three　thousand　dollars　a　year。　Fitzgerald　wrote　a　short　story　once　about　a　diamond　the　size　of　the　Ritz；　and　in　the　moments　before　I　doze　off；　when　the　proportions　of　things　are　in　flux；　I　can　imagine　buying　a　ring　with　that　diamond　in　it；　for　a　woman　just　on　the　other　side　of　the　dream。　Some　nights　I　think　of　buying　enchanted　items；　the　way　children　do　in　games　they　play；　like　a　car　that　would　never　crash；　or　a　leg　that　would　always　heal。　Charlie　keeps　me　honest　when　I　get　carried　away。　He　says　I　ought　to　buy　a　collection　of　very　expensive　platform　shoes；　or　put　a　down　payment　on　a　house　with　low　ceilings。
　〃What　are　they　doing？〃　Paul　says；　pointing　down　the　hall。
　Standing　side　by　side　at　the　end　of　the　corridor　are　Charlie　and　Gil。　They're　looking　into　the　open　doorway　of　our　room；　where　someone　is　pacing　inside。　A　second　glance　tells　me　everything：　the　campus　police　are　here。　Someone　must've　seen　us　ing　out　of　the　tunnels。
　〃What's　going