iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第41部分

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in　a　minor　journal；　a　reviewer　called　his　decline　a　tragedy。　According　to　Paul；　the　loss　of　what　Taft　had　with　Curry　and　my　father　continued　to　haunt　him。　In　the　twenty…five　years　that　elapsed　between　his　arrival　at　the　Institute　and　his　meeting　with　Paul；　Vincent　Taft　published　only　four　times；　preferring　to　pass　his　time　writing　criticism　of　other　scholars'　work；　especially　my　father's。　Not　once　did　he　recover　the　fiery　genius　of　his　youth。
　It　was　Paul's　arrival　at　his　doorstep　during　the　spring　of　our　freshman　year　that　must've　brought　the　Hypnerotomachia　back　into　his　life。　Once　Taft　and　Stein　began　assisting　in　the　thesis　work；　Paul　told　me　of　startling　flashes　of　brilliance　in　his　mentor。　Many　nights　the　old　bear　toiled　furiously　alongside　him；　reciting　long　passages　from　obscure　primary　texts　when　Paul　couldn't　find　them　in　the　library。
　〃That　was　the　summer　Richard　funded　my　trip　to　Italy；〃　Paul　says；　rubbing　a　palm　against　the　edge　of　the　piano　stool。　〃We　were　so　excited。　Even　Vincent。　He　and　Richard　still　weren't　speaking；　but　they　knew　I　was　on　to　something。　I　was　starting　to　figure　things　out。
　〃I　was　staying　in　a　flat　Richard　owned；　the　entire　top　floor　of　an　old　Renaissance　palace。　It　was　amazing；　just　gorgeous。　There　were　paintings　on　the　walls；　paintings　on　the　ceilings；　paintings　everywhere。　In　niches；　above　staircases。　Tintorettos；　Carraccis；　Peruginos。　It　was　like　heaven；　Tom。　Just　breathtaking；　it　was　so　beautiful。　And　he　would　wake　up　in　the　morning　and　say；　all　businesslike；　'Paul；　I　need　to　get　some　work　done　today。'　Then　we'd　get　to　talking；　and　half　an　hour　later　he　would　pull　off　his　tie　and　say；　'To　hell　with　it。　Let's　take　the　day　off。'　We　would　end　up　walking　through　the　piazzas　and　just　talking。　The　two　of　us；　walking　and　talking　for　hours。
　〃That's　when　he　started　telling　me　about　his　days　at　Princeton。　About　Ivy；　and　all　of　these　adventures　he'd　had；　these　crazy　things　he'd　done；　these　people　he'd　known。　Your　father；　most　of　all。　It　was　so　alive；　so　vivid。　I　mean；　it　was　unlike　everything　Princeton　has　ever　been　to　me。　I　was　just　pletely　mesmerized。　It　was　like　living　a　dream；　a　perfect　dream。　Richard　even　called　it　that。　The　whole　time　we　were　in　Italy；　he　seemed　to　be　walking　on　clouds。　He'd　started　seeing　a　sculptor　from　Venice；　and　was　talking　about　proposing　to　her　one　day。　I　thought　he　might　even　try　to　reconcile　with　Vincent　after　that　summer。〃
　〃But　they　never　did。〃
　〃No。　When　we　got　back　to　the　States；　everything　reverted。　He　and　Vincent　never　spoke。　The　woman　he'd　been　seeing　broke　it　off。　Richard　started　ing　back　to　campus；　trying　to　remember　the　fire　he'd　had　when　he　and　your　father　studied　with　McBee。　Since　then；　he's　been　living　more　and　more　in　the　past。　Vincent　tried　to　get　me　to　stay　away　from　him；　but　this　year　it's　Vincent　I've　been　staying　away　from；　trying　to　avoid　the　Institute；　trying　to　work　at　Ivy　whenever　I　could。　I　didn't　want　to　tell　him　what　we　found　until　I　had　to。
　〃That's　when　Vincent　started　forcing　me　to　show　him　my　conclusions；　asking　for　weekly　progress　reports。　Maybe　he　thought　it　was　his　only　shot　at　getting　the　Hypnerotomachia　back。〃　Paul　runs　a　hand　through　his　hair。　〃I　should've　known　better。　I　should've　written　a　B…grade　thesis；　then　gotten　the　hell　out　of　here。　It　is　the　greatest　houses　and　the　tallest　trees　that　the　gods　bring　low　with　bolts　and　thunder。　For　the　gods　love　to　thwart　whatever　is　greater　than　the　rest。　They　do　not　suffer　pride　in　anyone　but　themselves。　Herodotus　wrote　that。　I　must've　read　those　lines　fifty　times　and　never　gave　them　a　second　thought。　It　was　Vincent　who　pointed　them　out　to　me。　He　knew　what　they　meant。〃
　〃You　don't　believe　that。〃
　〃I　don't　know　what　I　believe　anymore。　I　should've　been　watching　Vincent　and　Bill　more　closely。　If　I　hadn't　been　paying　so　much　attention　to　myself；　I　could've　seen　this　ing。〃
　I　stare　at　the　light　beneath　the　door。　The　piano　down　the　hall　has　fallen　silent。
　Paul　rises　and　begins　moving　toward　the　entrance。　〃Let's　get　out　of　here；〃　he　says。
　
　Chapter　15
　
　We　hardly　speak　as　we　leave　Woolworth。　Paul　walks　slightly　in　front　of　me；　creating　enough　space　for　us　to　keep　to　ourselves；　and　in　the　distance　I　can　make　out　the　tower　of　the　chapel。　Police　cars　squat　at　its　feet　like　toads　beneath　an　oak；　weathering　out　a　storm。　Lines　of　police　tape　rock　in　the　dying　wind。　Bill　Stein's　snow　angel　must　be　gone　by　now；　not　even　a　dimple　in　the　white。
　We　arrive　at　Dod　to　find　Charlie　awake　but　preparing　for　bed　once　again。　He's　been　cleaning　up　the　mon　room；　ordering　stray　papers　and　arranging　unopened　mail　into　piles；　trying　to　shake　off　what　he　saw　in　the　ambulance。　After　checking　his　watch；　he　looks　at　us　disapprovingly　but　is　too　tired　to　make　much　of　it。　I　stand　by　and　listen　as　Paul　explains　what　we　saw　at　the　museum；　knowing　that　Charlie　will　insist　we　call　the　police。　After　I　explain　that　we　were　going　through　Stein's　belongings　when　we　found　the　letters；　though；　even　Charlie　seems　to　think　better　of　it。
　Paul　and　I　retreat　into　the　bedroom　and　change　clothes　wordlessly；　then　go　to　our　separate　bunks。　As　I　lie　there；　recalling　the　emotion　in　his　voice　as　he　described　Curry；　something　occurs　to　me　that　I've　never　understood　before。　There　was；　if　only　briefly；　a　quiet　perfection　to　their　relationship。　Curry　had　never　succeeded　in　understanding　the　Hypnerotomachia；　until　Paul　came　into　his　life　and　solved　what　Curry　couldn't；　so　they　could　share　it　together。　And　Paul　had　always　wanted　for　so　much；　until　Richard　Curry　came　into　his　life　and　showed　him　what　he'd　never　had；　so　they　could　share　it　together。　Like　Della　and　James　in　the　old　O。　Henry　story…James　who　sold　his　gold　watch　to　buy　Della　bs　for　her　hair；　and　Della　who　sold　her　hair　to　buy　James　a　chain　for　his　watch…their　gifts　and　sacrifices　match　perfectly。　But　this　time　there's　a　happy　twist。　The　only　thing　one　had　to　give　was　all　the　other　needed。
　I　can't　hold　it　against　Paul　that　he's　had　this　kind　of　luck。　If　anyone　deserves　it；　he's　the　one。　Paul　never　had　a　family；　a　face　in　a　picture　frame；　a　voice　on　the　other　end　of　the　line。　Even　after　my　father　died　I　had　all　of　those　things；　imperfect　as　they　might　be。　Yet　there's　something　larger　at　stake　here。　The　portmaster's　diary　may　prove　that　my　father　was　right　about　the　Hypnerotomachia…that　he　saw　it　for　what　it　was；　past　the　dust　and　the　ages；　through　the　forest　of　dead　languages　and　woodcuts。　I　disbelieved　him；　thinking　it　was　ridiculous　and　vain　and　shortsighted；　the　whole　idea　that　there　could　be　anything　special　about　such　a　tired　old　book。　And　all　that　time；　while　I　accused　him　of　an　error　of　perspective；　the　only　error　of　perspective　was　mine。
　〃Don't　do　it　to　yourself；　Tom；〃　Paul　says　unexpectedly　from　above；　so　quiet　that　I　barely　hear　him。
　〃Do　what？〃
　〃Feel　sorry　for　yourself。〃
　〃I　was　thinking　about　my　dad。〃
　〃I　know。　Try　to　think　of　something　else。〃
　〃Like　what？〃
　〃I　don't　know。　Like　us。〃
　〃I　don't　understand。〃
　〃The　four　of　us。　Try　to　be　grateful　for　what　you　have。〃　He　hesitates。　〃What　about　next　year？　Which　way　are　you　leaning？〃
　〃I　don't　know。〃
　〃Texas？〃
　〃Maybe。　But　Katie　will　still　be　back　here。〃
　His　sheets　rustle　as　he　repositions　himself。　〃What　if　I　told　you　I　might　be　in　Chicago？〃
　〃What　do　you　mean？〃
　〃For　a　Ph。D。　I　got　my　letter　the　day　after　you　did。〃
　I'm　stunned。
　〃Where　did　you　think　I　was　going　next　year？〃　he　asks。
　〃To　work　with　Pinto　at　Yale。　Why　Chicago？〃
　〃Pinto's　retiring　this　year。　And　Chicago's　a　better　program　anyway。　Melotti　is　still　there。〃
　Melotti。　One　of　the　few　other　Hypnerotomachia　scholars　I　actually　remember　my　father　mentioning。
　〃Besides；〃　Paul　adds；　〃if　it　was　good　enough　for　your　dad；　then　it's　good　enough　for　me；　right？〃
　The　same　idea　occurred　to　me　before　applying；　but　what　I'd　meant　by　it　was；　if　my　father　could　get　in；　then　so　could　I。
　〃I　guess。〃
　〃So　what　do　you　think？〃
　〃About　you　going　to　Chicago？〃
　He　hesitates　again。　I've　missed　the　point。
　〃About　us　going　to　Chicago。〃
　Floorboards　creak　above　us；　movement　in　another　world。
　〃Why　didn't　you　tell　me？〃
　〃I　didn't　know　how　you'd　feel；〃　he　says。
　〃You'd　be　doing　the　same　program　he　did。〃
　〃As　much