VIII The Holy Forest
KIPWALKSOUTofthefieldwherehehasbeendigging,hislefthandraisedinfrontofhimasifhehassprai.
HepassesthescarecrowforHana’sgarden,thecrucifixwithitshangingsardines,andmovesuphilltowardsthevilla.Hecupsthehandheldinfrontofhimwiththeotherasifprotegtheflameofadle.Hashimoerradhetakesherhandandholdsitagainsthis.Theladybirdcirgthenailonhissmallfingerquicklycrossesoverontoherwrist.
Sheturnsbatothehouse.Nowherhandisheldoutinfrontofher.Shewalksthroughthekitandupthestairs.
Thepatientturnstofaceherassheesioucheshisfootwiththehandthatholdstheladybird.Itleavesher,movingontothedarkskin.Avoidingtheseaofwhitesheet,itbeginstomaketheloowardsthedistaherestofhisbody,abrightrednessagainstwhatseemslikevolicflesh.
Inthelibrarythefuzeboxisinmidair,nudgedofftheterbyCaravaggiowheuroHana’sgleefulyellinthehall.BeforeitreachesthefloorKip’sbodyslidesunderhit,achesitinhishand.
Caravaggioglancesdowheyoungman’sfaceblowingoutalltheairquicklythroughhischeeks.
Hethinkssuddenlyheoweshimalife.
Kipbeginstolaugh,losinghisshynessinfrontoftheolderman,holdinguptheboxofwires.
Caravaggiowillremembertheslide.Hecouldwalkaway,neverseehimagain,andhewouldneverfethim.YearsfromnowonaTorontostreetCaravaggiowillgetoutofataxiandholdthedooropenforaIndianwhoisabouttogetintoit,andhewillthinkofKipthen.
NowthesapperjustlaughsuptowardsCaravaggio’sfaduppastthattowardstheceiling.
“Iknowallaboutsarongs.”CaravaggiowavedhishandtowardsKipandHanaashespoke.“IendofTorontoImettheseIndians.IwasrobbingahouseanditturtobelongtoanIndianfamily.Theywokefromtheirbedsandtheywerewearingthesecloths,sarongs,tosleepin,anditintriguedme.Wehadlotstotalkaboutandtheyeventuallypersuadedmetotryit.Iremovedmyclothesandsteppedintoone,andtheyimmediatelysetuponmeandchasedmehalfothenight.”“Isthatatruestory?”Shegrinned.
“Oneofmany!”Sheknewenoughabouthimtoalmostbelieveit.Caravaggiowasstantlydivertedbythehumaduringburglar-ies.BreakingintoahouseduringChristmas,hewouldbeeannoyedifhenoticedtheAdventdarhadnotbeenopeothedatetowhichitshouldhavebeeenhadversationswiththevariouspetsleftaloneinhouses,rhetoricallydiscussingmealswiththem,feedingthemlargehelpings,andwasofteedbythemwithsiderablepleasureifhereturheseofacrime.
Shewalksinfrontoftheshelvesinthelibrary,eyesclosed,andatrandompullsoutabook.Shefindsacleariweentwosesinabookofpoetryandbeginstowritethere.
HesaysLahoreisanacity.LondonisarettownparedwithLahore.Isay,Well,efromanevennewertry.Hesaystheyhavealwaysknownaboutgunpowder.Asfarbackasthesevehtury,courtpaintingsrecordedfireworksdisplays.
Heissmall,notmuchtallerthanIam.Anintimatesmileupclosethatcharmanythingwhenhedisplaysit.Atoughohisnaturehedoesn’tshow.TheEnglishmansayshe’sohosewarriorsaints.Buthehasapeculiarsenseofhumourthatismorerambunctiousthanhismannersuggests.Remember“I’llrewirehiminthem.”Oohlala!HesaysLahorehasthirteengates—namedforsaintsandemperorsorwheretheyleadto.
ThewordbungalowesfromBengali.
AtfouriernoontheyhadloweredKipintothepitinaharnessuntilhewaswaist-deepinthemuddywater,hisbodydrapedaroundthebodyoftheEsaubomb.Thegfromfintotiptehigh,itsnosesunkintothemudbyhisfeet.
Behebrownwaterhisthighsbracedthemetalg,muchthewayhehadseensoldiersholdingwomenintheerofNAAFIdancefloors.Whenhisarmstiredhehungthemuponthewoodenstrutsatshoulderlevel,whichweretheretostopmudcollapsinginaroundhim.ThesappershaddugthepitaroundtheEsauahewood-shaftwallsbeforehehadarrivedoe.In,EsaubombswithanewYfuzehadstartedingin;thiswashissedone.
Itwasdecidedduringplanningsessionsthattheonlywayaroundthenewfuzewastoimmu.Itwasahugebombinostrichposture.Hehadedowandhewasalreadysinkingslowly,beingcaughtwithintheclay,uogetafirmholddownthereinthecoldwater.Hewasn’twearingboots—theywouldhavelockedwithintheclay,andwhenheulleyeduplaterthejerkoutofitcouldbreakhisankles.
Helaidhisleftcheekagainstthemetalg,tryingtothinkhimselfintowarmth,tratingonthesmalltouchofsunthatreacheddownintothetwenty-footpitandfellonthebackofhisneck.Whatheembracedcouldexplodeatanymoment,wheumblerstremored,whehegainewasfired.TherewasnomagicorXraythatwouldtellanyonewhensomesmallcapsulebroke,whensomewirewouldstopwavering.Thosesmallmeicalsemaphoreswerelikeaheartmurmurorastrokewithinthemancrossireetilyinfrontofyou.
Whattownwashein?Hecouldn’tevenremember.Heheardavoidlookedup.Hardypassedtheequipmentdowninasatchelattheendofarope,andithungtherewhileKipbegantoihevariousclipsandtoolsintothemanypocketsofhistunic.HewashummingthesongHardyhadbeensinginginthejeepoothesite—They’regingguardatBughamPalace—ChristopherRobidownwithMice.
Hewipedtheareaoffuzeheaddryandbeganmouldingaclaycuparoundit.Theoppedthejarandpouredtheliquidoxygenintothecup.Hetapedthecupsecurelyontothemetal.owaitagain.
Therewassolittlespacebetweenhimandthebombhecouldfeelthegeintemperaturealready.Ifhewereondrylandhecouldwalkawayandbebatenminutes.ostandtherebesidethebomb.Theyweretwosuspiciouscreaturesinanenclosedspace.CaptainCarlylehadbeenwinashaftwithfrozenoxygenandthewholepithadsuddenlyburstintoflames.Theyhauledhimoutfast,alreadyunsciousinhisharness.
Wherewashe?LissonGrove?OldKentRoad?
Kipdippedcottonwoolintothemuddywaterandtouchedittothegabouttwelveinchesawayfromthefuze.Itfellaway,soitmeaowaitlonger.Wheonwoolstuck,itmeantenoughoftheareaaroundthefuzewasfrozenandhecouldgoon.Hepouredmoreoxygenintothecup.
Thegrowingcircleoffrostwasafootinradiusnow.Afewmoreminutes.Helookedattheclippingsomeoapedontothebomb.Theyhadreaditwithmuchlaugh-terthatmintheupdatekitsenttoallbombdisposalunits.
Whenisexplosionreasonablypermissible?
Ifaman’slifecouldbecapitalizedasX,theriskatY,aimateddamagefromexplosionatV,thenalogimighttendthatifVislessthahebombshouldbeblownup;butifVreaterthanX,ashouldbemadetoavoidexplosioninsitu.
Whowrotesuchthings?
Hehadbynowbeenintheshaftwiththebombformorethananhour.Hetinuedfeedingintheliquidoxygen.Atshoulderheight,justtht,wasahosepumpingdownnormalairtopreventhimfrombeinggiddywithoxygen.
(Hehadseensoldierswithhangoversusetheoxygentocureheadaches.)Hetriedthecottonwoolagainandthistimeitfrozeon.
Hehadabouttwentyminutes.Afterthatthebatterytemperaturewithinthebombwouldriseagain.Butfornowthefuzewasicedupandhecouldbegintoremoveit.
Heranhispalmsupanddownthebombcasetodeteyripsial.Thesubmergedsewouldbesafe,butoxygencouldigcameintotactwithexposedexplosive.Carlyle’sflaw.XoverY.Iftherewereripstheywouldhavetouseliquidnitrogen.
“It’satwo-thousand-poundbomb,sir.Esau.”Hardy’svoithetopofthemudpit.
“Type-markedfifty,inacircle,B.Twofuzepockets,mostlikely.Butwethinkthesedoneisprobablynotarmed.
Okay?”Theyhaddiscussedallthiswitheachotherbefore,butthingswerebeingfirmed,rememberedforthefinaltime.
“Putmeonamicrophonenowaback.”“Okay,sir.”Kipsmiled.HewastenyearsyouhanHardy,andnoEnglishman,butHardyiestinthecoimentaldiscipliherewasalwayshesitationbythesoldierstocallhim“sir,”butHardybarkeditoutloudahusiastically.
Hewaswfastnowtopriseoutthefuze,allthebatteriesi.
“youhearme?Whistle....Okay,Iheardit.Alasttoppingupwithoxygen.Willletitbubbleforthirtyseds.Thenstart.Freshenthefrost.Okay,I’mgoingtoremovethedam,...Okay,damgone.”Hardywaslisteningtoeverythingandrecitincasesomethiwrong.OnesparkandKipwouldbeinashaftofflames.Ortherecouldbeajokerinthebomb.Thepersonwouldhavetosiderthealternatives.
“I’musingthequilterkey.”Hehadpulleditoutofhisbreastpocket.Itwascoldaorubitwarm.Hebegantoremovethelogring.ItmovedeasilyaoldHardy.
“They’regingguardatBughamPalace,”Kipwhistled.Hepulledoffthelogringandthelogringahemsinkintothewater.Hecouldfeelthemrollslowlyathisfeet.Itwouldalltakeanotherfourminutes.
“Aliceismarryiheguard.‘Asoldier’slifeisterriblehard,’saysAlice!”Hewassingingitoutloud,tryingtogetmorewarmthintohisbody,hischestpainfullycold.Hekepttryingtoleanbackfarenoughawayfromthefrozealinfrontofhim.Aokeepmovinghishandsuptothebackofhisneck,wherethesunstillwas,thenrubthemtofreethemofthemudgreaseandfrost.Itwasdifficulttogetthecollettogripthehead.
Thentohishorrorthefuzeheadbrokeaway,cameoffpletely.
“Wrong,Hardy.Wholefuzeheadsnappedoff.Talkbae,okay?Themainbodyofthefuzeisjammeddownthere,I’tgettoit.There’snothingexposedIgrip.”“Whereisthefrostat?”Hardywasrightabovehim.Ithadbeenafewsedsbuthehadracedtotheshaft.
“Sixmoreminutesoffrost.”“eupandwe’llblowitup.”“No,passmedownsomemoreoxygen.”Heraisedhisrighthandaaniisterbeingplait.
“I’mgoingtodribblethemutotheareaofexposedfuze—wheretheheadseparated—thenI’lltothemetal.ChipthroughtillIgripsomethibaow,I’lltalkitthrough.”Hecouldhardlykeephisfurybackatwhathadhappehemuck,whichwastheirnamefen,wasgoingalloverhisclothes,hissingasithitthewater.Hewaitedforthefrosttoappearandtheoshearmetaloffwithachisel.Hepouredmoreon,waitedandchiselleddeeper.Whennothingcameoffherippedfreeabitofhisshirt,placeditbetweealandthechisel,andthenbahechiseldangerouslywithamallet,chippingments.Theclothofhisshirthisonlysafetyagainstaspark.Whatwasmoreofaproblemwastheessonhisfiheywerenolile,theywereiasthebatteries.Hekeptcuttingsidewaysintothemetalaroufuzehead.Shavingitoffinlayers,hopingthefreezingwouldacceptthiskindery.Ifhecutdowlytherewasalwaysacehewouldhitthepercussioncapthatflashedthegaine.
Ittookfivemoreminutes.Hardyhadnotmovedfromthetopofthepit,insteadwasgivinghimtheapproximatetimeleftinthefreezing.Butintruthherofthemcouldbesure.Sihefuzeheadhadbrokenoff,theywerefreezingadifferentarea,aertemperaturethoughcoldtohimwaswarmerthaal.
Thenhesawsomething.Hedidnotdarechiptheholeanybigger.Thetactofthecircuitquiveringlikeasilvertendril.Ifhecouldreachit.Hetriedtorubwarmthintohishands.
Hebreathedout,wasstillforafewseds,andwiththeneedleplierscutthetatwobeforehebreathedinagain.Hegaspedasthefreezeburnedpartofhishandwhenhepulleditbackoutofthecircuits.Thebombwasdead.
“Fuzeout.Gaineoff.Kissme.”HardywasalreadyrollingupthewindKipwastryingtoclipoer;hecouldhardlydoitwiththeburnandthecold,allhismusclescold.Heheardthepulleyjerkandjustheldtightontotheleatherstrapsstillhalfattachedaroundhim.Hebegantofeelhisbrownlegsbeingpulledfromthegripofthemud,removedlikeanacorpseoutofabog.Hissmallfeetrisingoutofthewater.Heemerged,liftedoutofthepitintothesunlight,headaorso.
Hehungthere,aslowswiveluhetepeeofpolesthatheldthepulley.Hardywasnowembraghimandunbughimsimultaneously,lettinghimfree.Suddeherewasalargecrowdwatgfromabouttwentyyardsaway,tooclose,fartooclose,forsafety;theywouldhavebeeroyed.ButofcourseHardyhadheretokeepthemback.
Theywatchedhimsilently,theIndian,hangingontoHardy’sshoulder,scarcelyabletowalkbacktothejeepwithalltheequipment—toolsandistersandblasandtherecinstrumentsstillwheelingaround,listeningtothenothingnessdownintheshaft.
“I’twalk.”“Onlytothejeep.Afewyardsmore,sir.I’llpickuptherest.”Theykeptpausing,thenwalkingonslowly.Theyhadtogopastthestaringfacesatgtheslightbrownman,shoeless,iunic,watgthedrawdidn’treizeoraowledgeanything,anyofthem.Allofthemsilent.JuststeppingbacktogivehimandHardyroom.Atthejeephestartedshaking.Hiseyescouldn’tstandtheglareoffthewindshield.Hardyhadtolifthim,instages,intothepassengerseat.
WhenHardyleft,Kipslowlypulledoffhiswettrousersandedhimselfintheblahehere.ToocoldandtiredeventouheThermosofhotteaobesidehim.Hethought:Iwasn’tevenfrighteneddownthere.Iwasjustangry—withmymistake,orthepossibilitythattherewasajoker.Ananimalreagjusttoprotectmyself.
OnlyHardy,herealized,keepsmehumannow.
WhenthereisahotdayattheVillaSanGirolamotheyallwashtheirhair,firstwithkeroseoremovethepossibilityoflidthenwithwater.Lyingback,hishairspreadout,eyesclosedagainstthesun,Kipseemssuddenlyvulnerable.Thereisashynesswithinhimwhenheassumesthisfragileposture,lookingmorelikeacorpsefromamyththananythinglivingorhuman.Hanasitsbesidehim,herdarkbrownhairalreadydry.Thesearethetimeshewilltalkabouthisfamilyandhisbrotherinjail.
Hewillsitupandfliphishairforward,aorubthelengthofitwithatowel.SheimaginesallofAsiathroughthegesturesofthisoneman.Thewayhelazilymoves,hisquietcivilisation.Hespeaksofwarriorsaintsandshenowfeelsheisoernandvisionary,pausingonlyintheseraretimesofsunlighttobegodless,informal,hisheadbackagainoablesothesundryhisspreadhairlikegraininafan-shapedstrawbasket.AlthoughheisamanfromAsiawhohasintheselastyearsofwarassumedEnglishfathers,followingtheircodeslikeadutifulson.
“Ah,butmybrotherthinksmeafoolfortrustingtheEnglish.”Heturnstoher,sunlightinhiseyes.“Oneday,hesays,Iwillopenmyeyes.Asiaisstillnotafreeti,andheisappalledathowwethrowourselvesintoEnglishwars.Itisabattleofopinionwehavealwayshad.‘Onedayyouwillopenyoureyes,’mybrotherkeepssaying.”Thesappersaysthis,hiseyesclosedtight,mogthemetaphor.“JapanisapartofAsia,Isay,andtheSikhshavebeenbrutalizedbytheJapaneseinMalaya.Butmybrhat.HesaystheEnglisharenowhangingSikhswhhtingforindependence.”Sheturnsawayfromhim,herarmsfolded.Thefeudsoftheworld.Thefeudsoftheworld.ShewalksintothedaylightdarknessofthevillaaositwiththeEnglishman.
Atnight,wheshishairfree,heisoncemoreanotherstellation,thearmsofathousaainsthispillow,wavesofitbetweeheirembradiurnsofsleep.SheholdsanIndiangoddessinherarms,sheholdswheatandribbons.Ashebendsoverheritpours.Shetieitagainstherwrist.Ashemovesshekeepshereyesopentowithegnatsofelectricityinhishairinthedarknessofthetent.
Hemovesalwaysiiontothings,besidewalls,raisedterracehedges.Hesstheperiphery.WhenhelooksatHanaheseesafragmentofherleancheekiiontothelandscapebehindit.Thewayhewatchesthearcofaliermsofthespaceitgathersawayfromthesurfaceoftheearth.HehaswalkedupItalywitheyesthattriedtoseeeverythingexceptwhatwastemporaryandhuman.
Theohinghewillneversiderishimself.Nothistwilitshadoworhisarmreagforthebackofachairortherefleofhimselfinawindoworhowtheywatchhim.Intheyearsofwarhehaslearhattheonlythingsafeishimself.
HespendshourswiththeEnglishman,whoremindshimofafirtreehesawinEngland,itsonesickbranch,tooweighteddownwithage,heldupbyacrutchmadeoutofaree.ItstoodinLordSuffolk’sgardenontheedgeofthecliff,overlookingtheBristolellikeasentinel.Inspiteofsufirmityhesehecreaturewithinitwashamemorywhosepowerrainbowedbeyondailment.
HehimselfhasnomirrorsHeshisturbanoutsideinhisgarden,lookingaboutatthemossontrees.ButhenoticestheswathscissorshavemadeinHana’shair.Heisfamiliarwithherbreathwhenheplaceshisfaceagainstherbody,attheclavicle,wherethebonelightensherskin.Butifsheaskedhimwhatcolourhereyesare,althoughhehasetoadoreher,hewillnot,shethinks,beabletosay.Hewilllaughandguess,butifshe,black-eyed,sayswithhereyesshutthattheyaregreen,hewillbelieveher.Hemaylookilyateyesbuterwhatcolourtheyare,thewayfoodalreadyinhisthroatorstomachisjusttexturemorethantasteorspecificobject.
Whensomeonespeakshelooksatamouth,noteyesandtheircolours,which,itseemstohim,willalwaysalterdependingonthelightofaroom,themiheday.Mouthsrevealinsecuritynessoranyotherpointonthespectrumofcharacter.Forhimtheyarethemostintricateaspecteffaces.He’sneversurewhataneyereveals.Buthereadhowmouthsdarkenintocallousness,suggesttenderness.Oneoftenmisjudgeaneyefromitsreatoasimplebeamofsunlight.
Everythingisgatheredbyhimaspartofanalteringharmony.Heseesherindifferinghoursandlocationsthatalterhervoiature,evenherbeauty,thewaythebackgroundpoweroftheseacradlesovereoflifeboats.
Theywereinthehabitofrisingwithdaybreakaingdihelastavailablelight.ThroughoutthelateeveningtherewouldbeonlyonedleflaringintothedarknessbesidetheEnglishpatient,oralamphalffilledwithoilifCaravaggiohadmaeany.Butthecorridorsandotherbedroomshungindarkness,asifinaburiedcity.Theybecameusedtowalkingindarkness,handsout,tougthewallsohersidewiththeirfiips.
“Nht.Nomorecolour.”Hanawouldsingthephrasetoherselfagainandagain.Kip’sunnervinghabitofleapingdowairsonehandhalfwaydowntherailhadtobestopped.SheimaginedhisfeettravellingthroughairandhittiurningCaravaggioiomach.
ShehadblownoutthedleintheEnglishman’sroomanhourearlier.Shehadremovedhertennisshoes,herfrockwasunbuttoheneckbecauseofsummerheat,thesleevesunbuttonedaswellandloose,highupatthearm.Asweetdisorder.
Onthemainfloorofthewing,apartfromthekit,libraryaedchapel,wasaglassed-inindoorcourtyard.Fourwallsofglasswithaglassdoorthatletyouintowheretherewasacoveredwellandshelvesofdeadplantsthatatoimemusthaveflourishediedroom.Thisindoorcourtyardremindedhermoreandmoreofabookopeorevealpressedflowers,somethingtobegladuringpassing,ered.
Itwastwoa.m.
Eachofthemehevillafromadifferentdoorway,Hanaatthechapelentrahethirty-sixstepsahenorthcourtyard.Ashesteppedintothehouseheremovedhiswatdsliditintoanalcoveatchestlevelwhereasmallsaied.Thepatronofthisvillahospital.Shewouldnotcatchaglanceofphosphorus.Hehadalreadyremovedhisshoesandworejusttrousers.Thelampstrappedtohisarmwasswitchedoff.Hecarriednothingelseandjuststoodthereforawhileindarkness,aleanboy,adarkturban,thekaralooseonhiswristagainsttheskin.Heleanedagainsttheerofthevestibulelikeaspear.
Thenhewasglidingthroughtheindoorcourtyard.Hecameintothekitandimmediatelysehedoginthedark,caughtitaetothetable.Hepickedupthedensedmilkfromthekitshelfaurheglassroomintheindoorcourtyard.Heranhishandsalongthebaseofthedoorandfoundthesmallsticksleaningagainstit.Heenteredandclosedthedoorbehindhim,atthelastmomentsnakinghishandouttopropthesticksupagainstthedain.Incaseshehadseehenheclimbeddownintothewell.Therewasacross-plankthreefeetdownheknewwasfirm.Heclosedthelidoverhimselfandcrouchedthere,imaginingherseargforhimorhidingherself.Hebegantosuckattheofdensedmilk.
Shesuspectedsomethinglikethisfromhim.Havingmadeherwaytothelibrary,sheturhelightonherarmandwalkedbesidethebookcasesthatstretchedfromheraounseesaboveher.Thedoorwasclosed,sonolightcouldrevealitselftoahehalls.HewouldbeabletoseetheglowohersideoftheFrenchdoorsonlyifhewasoutside.Shepausedeveryfewfeet,seargonceagainthroughthepredominantlyItalianbooksfortheoddEnglishoshecouldpresenttotheEnglishpatient.Shehadetolovethesebooksdressedialianspihefrontispieces,thetipped-incolourillustrationswithacoftissue,thesmellofthem,eventhesoundofthecrackifyouopehemtoofast,asifbreakingsomeminuteunseenseriesofbones.Shepausedagain.TheCharterhouseofParma.
“IfIevergetoutofmydifficulties,”hesaidtoClelia,“IshallpayavisittothebeautifulpicturesatParma,andthenwillyoudeigntorememberthename:FabriziodelDongo.”Caravaggiolayonthecarpetatthefarendofthelibrary.FromhisdarkseemedthatHana’sleftarmhosphorus,lightingthebooks,reflegrednessontoherdarkhair,burningagainstthecottonofherfroditspuffedsleeveathershoulder.
Hecameoutofthewell.
Thethree-footdiameteroflightspreadfromherarmandthenwasabsorbedintoblaess,soitfelttgiothattherewasavalleyofdarknessbetweenthem.Shetuckedthebookwiththebrowncoverunderherrightarm.Asshemoved,newbooksemergedandothersdisappeared.
Shehadgrownolder.Andhelovedhermorenowthanhelovedherwhenhehaduoodherbetter,wheheproductofherparents.Whatshewasnohatsheherselfhaddecidedtobee.HekhatifhehadpassedHanaonastreetinEuropeshewouldhavehadafamiliarairbuthewouldn’thavereizedher.Thenighthehadfirstetothevillahehaddisguisedhisshock.Herasceticface,whichatfirstseemedcold,hadasharpness.Herealizedthatduritwomonthshehadgrowntowardswhoshenowwas.Hecouldhardlybelievehispleasureathertranslation.Yearsbefore,hehadtriedtoimagineherasanadultbuthadiedsomeohqualitiesmouldedoutofherunity.Notthiswonderfulstrangerhecouldlovemoredeeplybecausesheofnothinghehadprovided.
Shewaslyingonthesofa,hadtwistedthelampinwardsoshecouldread,andhadalreadyfalleothebook.Atsomepointlatershelookedup,listening,andquicklyswitchedoffthelight.
Wasshesciousofhimintheroom?Caravaggiowasawareofthenoisinessofhisbreathandthedifficultyhewashavihinginanordered,demureway.Thelightwentonforamomentandthenwasquicklyshutoffagain.
ThehingintheroomseemedtobeibutCaravaggio.Hecouldhearitallaroundhim,surprisedhewasn’ttouched.Theboywasintheroom.CaravaggiowalkedovertothesofaandplacedhishanddowntowardsHana.Shewasnotthere.Ashestraightenedup,anarmwentaroundhisnedpulledhimdownbackwardsinagrip.Alightglaredharshlyintohisfadtherefromthembothastheyfelltowardsthefloor.Thearmwiththelightstillholdinghimatthehenanakedfootemergedintothelight,movedpastCaravaggio’sfadsteppedontotheboy’sneckbesidehim.
Anhtwenton.
“Gotyou.Gotyou.”ThetwobodiesonthefloorlookedupatthedarkoutlineofHanaabovethelight.Shewassingingit,“Igotyou,gotyou.IusedCaravaggio—whoreallydoeshaveabadwheeze!Iknewhewouldbehere.Hewasthetrick.”Herfootpresseddownharderontotheboy’sneck.“Giveup.fess.”Caravaggiobegantoshakewithintheboy’sgrip,sweatalreadyalloverhim,uruggleout.Theglareoflightfrombothlampsnowonhim.Hesomehowhadtoclimbandcrawloutofthisterror.fess.Thegirlwaslaughing.Heocalmhisvoicebeforehespoke,buttheywerehardlylisteniedattheiradventure.Heworkedhiswayoutoftheboy’slooseninggripand,notsayingaword,lefttheroom.
Theywereindarknessagain.“Whereareyou?”sheasks.Thenmovesquickly.Hepositionshimselfsoshebangsintohischest,andinthiswayslipsherintohisarms.Sheputsherhandtohishenhermouthtohismouth.“densedmilk!Duringourtest?densedmilk?”Sheputshermouthathishesweatofit,tastinghimwhereherbarefoothadbeen.“Iwanttoseeyou.”Hislightgoesonandheseesher,herfacestreakedwithdirt,herhairspikedupinaswirlfromperspiration.Hergrintowardshim.
Heputshisthinhandsupintotheloosesleevesofherdressandcupshershoulderswithhishands.Ifsheswervesnow,hishandsgowithher.Shebeginstolean,putsallherweightintoherfallbackwards,trustinghimtoewithher,trustinghishandstobreakthefall.Thenhewillcurlhimselfup,hisfeetintheair,justhishandsandarmsandhismouthoherestofhisbodythetailofamantis.Thelampisstillstrappedagainstthemusdsweatofhisleftarm.Herfaceslipsintothelighttokissandlidtaste.Hisforeheadtowellingitselfinessofherhair.
Thenheissuddenlyacrosstheroom,thebounceofhissapperlampallovertheplathisroomhehasspentaweeksweepingofallpossiblefuzessoitisnowcleared.Asiftheroomhasnowfinallyemergedfromthewar,isnolongerazoerritory.Hemoveswithjustthelamp,swayinghisarm,revealingtheceiling,herlaughingfaceashepassesherstandingonthebackofthesofalookingdownattheglistenofhisslimbody.Theimehepassesherheseessheisleaningdownandwipingherarmsontheskirtofherdress.“ButIgotyou,Igotyou,”shets.“I’mtheMohiofDanforthAvehensheisridingonhisbadherlightswervesintothespinesofbooksinthehighshelves,herarmsrisingupanddownashespins松语文学www.16sy.coM免费小说阅读
HepassesthescarecrowforHana’sgarden,thecrucifixwithitshangingsardines,andmovesuphilltowardsthevilla.Hecupsthehandheldinfrontofhimwiththeotherasifprotegtheflameofadle.Hashimoerradhetakesherhandandholdsitagainsthis.Theladybirdcirgthenailonhissmallfingerquicklycrossesoverontoherwrist.
Sheturnsbatothehouse.Nowherhandisheldoutinfrontofher.Shewalksthroughthekitandupthestairs.
Thepatientturnstofaceherassheesioucheshisfootwiththehandthatholdstheladybird.Itleavesher,movingontothedarkskin.Avoidingtheseaofwhitesheet,itbeginstomaketheloowardsthedistaherestofhisbody,abrightrednessagainstwhatseemslikevolicflesh.
Inthelibrarythefuzeboxisinmidair,nudgedofftheterbyCaravaggiowheuroHana’sgleefulyellinthehall.BeforeitreachesthefloorKip’sbodyslidesunderhit,achesitinhishand.
Caravaggioglancesdowheyoungman’sfaceblowingoutalltheairquicklythroughhischeeks.
Hethinkssuddenlyheoweshimalife.
Kipbeginstolaugh,losinghisshynessinfrontoftheolderman,holdinguptheboxofwires.
Caravaggiowillremembertheslide.Hecouldwalkaway,neverseehimagain,andhewouldneverfethim.YearsfromnowonaTorontostreetCaravaggiowillgetoutofataxiandholdthedooropenforaIndianwhoisabouttogetintoit,andhewillthinkofKipthen.
NowthesapperjustlaughsuptowardsCaravaggio’sfaduppastthattowardstheceiling.
“Iknowallaboutsarongs.”CaravaggiowavedhishandtowardsKipandHanaashespoke.“IendofTorontoImettheseIndians.IwasrobbingahouseanditturtobelongtoanIndianfamily.Theywokefromtheirbedsandtheywerewearingthesecloths,sarongs,tosleepin,anditintriguedme.Wehadlotstotalkaboutandtheyeventuallypersuadedmetotryit.Iremovedmyclothesandsteppedintoone,andtheyimmediatelysetuponmeandchasedmehalfothenight.”“Isthatatruestory?”Shegrinned.
“Oneofmany!”Sheknewenoughabouthimtoalmostbelieveit.Caravaggiowasstantlydivertedbythehumaduringburglar-ies.BreakingintoahouseduringChristmas,hewouldbeeannoyedifhenoticedtheAdventdarhadnotbeenopeothedatetowhichitshouldhavebeeenhadversationswiththevariouspetsleftaloneinhouses,rhetoricallydiscussingmealswiththem,feedingthemlargehelpings,andwasofteedbythemwithsiderablepleasureifhereturheseofacrime.
Shewalksinfrontoftheshelvesinthelibrary,eyesclosed,andatrandompullsoutabook.Shefindsacleariweentwosesinabookofpoetryandbeginstowritethere.
HesaysLahoreisanacity.LondonisarettownparedwithLahore.Isay,Well,efromanevennewertry.Hesaystheyhavealwaysknownaboutgunpowder.Asfarbackasthesevehtury,courtpaintingsrecordedfireworksdisplays.
Heissmall,notmuchtallerthanIam.Anintimatesmileupclosethatcharmanythingwhenhedisplaysit.Atoughohisnaturehedoesn’tshow.TheEnglishmansayshe’sohosewarriorsaints.Buthehasapeculiarsenseofhumourthatismorerambunctiousthanhismannersuggests.Remember“I’llrewirehiminthem.”Oohlala!HesaysLahorehasthirteengates—namedforsaintsandemperorsorwheretheyleadto.
ThewordbungalowesfromBengali.
AtfouriernoontheyhadloweredKipintothepitinaharnessuntilhewaswaist-deepinthemuddywater,hisbodydrapedaroundthebodyoftheEsaubomb.Thegfromfintotiptehigh,itsnosesunkintothemudbyhisfeet.
Behebrownwaterhisthighsbracedthemetalg,muchthewayhehadseensoldiersholdingwomenintheerofNAAFIdancefloors.Whenhisarmstiredhehungthemuponthewoodenstrutsatshoulderlevel,whichweretheretostopmudcollapsinginaroundhim.ThesappershaddugthepitaroundtheEsauahewood-shaftwallsbeforehehadarrivedoe.In,EsaubombswithanewYfuzehadstartedingin;thiswashissedone.
Itwasdecidedduringplanningsessionsthattheonlywayaroundthenewfuzewastoimmu.Itwasahugebombinostrichposture.Hehadedowandhewasalreadysinkingslowly,beingcaughtwithintheclay,uogetafirmholddownthereinthecoldwater.Hewasn’twearingboots—theywouldhavelockedwithintheclay,andwhenheulleyeduplaterthejerkoutofitcouldbreakhisankles.
Helaidhisleftcheekagainstthemetalg,tryingtothinkhimselfintowarmth,tratingonthesmalltouchofsunthatreacheddownintothetwenty-footpitandfellonthebackofhisneck.Whatheembracedcouldexplodeatanymoment,wheumblerstremored,whehegainewasfired.TherewasnomagicorXraythatwouldtellanyonewhensomesmallcapsulebroke,whensomewirewouldstopwavering.Thosesmallmeicalsemaphoreswerelikeaheartmurmurorastrokewithinthemancrossireetilyinfrontofyou.
Whattownwashein?Hecouldn’tevenremember.Heheardavoidlookedup.Hardypassedtheequipmentdowninasatchelattheendofarope,andithungtherewhileKipbegantoihevariousclipsandtoolsintothemanypocketsofhistunic.HewashummingthesongHardyhadbeensinginginthejeepoothesite—They’regingguardatBughamPalace—ChristopherRobidownwithMice.
Hewipedtheareaoffuzeheaddryandbeganmouldingaclaycuparoundit.Theoppedthejarandpouredtheliquidoxygenintothecup.Hetapedthecupsecurelyontothemetal.owaitagain.
Therewassolittlespacebetweenhimandthebombhecouldfeelthegeintemperaturealready.Ifhewereondrylandhecouldwalkawayandbebatenminutes.ostandtherebesidethebomb.Theyweretwosuspiciouscreaturesinanenclosedspace.CaptainCarlylehadbeenwinashaftwithfrozenoxygenandthewholepithadsuddenlyburstintoflames.Theyhauledhimoutfast,alreadyunsciousinhisharness.
Wherewashe?LissonGrove?OldKentRoad?
Kipdippedcottonwoolintothemuddywaterandtouchedittothegabouttwelveinchesawayfromthefuze.Itfellaway,soitmeaowaitlonger.Wheonwoolstuck,itmeantenoughoftheareaaroundthefuzewasfrozenandhecouldgoon.Hepouredmoreoxygenintothecup.
Thegrowingcircleoffrostwasafootinradiusnow.Afewmoreminutes.Helookedattheclippingsomeoapedontothebomb.Theyhadreaditwithmuchlaugh-terthatmintheupdatekitsenttoallbombdisposalunits.
Whenisexplosionreasonablypermissible?
Ifaman’slifecouldbecapitalizedasX,theriskatY,aimateddamagefromexplosionatV,thenalogimighttendthatifVislessthahebombshouldbeblownup;butifVreaterthanX,ashouldbemadetoavoidexplosioninsitu.
Whowrotesuchthings?
Hehadbynowbeenintheshaftwiththebombformorethananhour.Hetinuedfeedingintheliquidoxygen.Atshoulderheight,justtht,wasahosepumpingdownnormalairtopreventhimfrombeinggiddywithoxygen.
(Hehadseensoldierswithhangoversusetheoxygentocureheadaches.)Hetriedthecottonwoolagainandthistimeitfrozeon.
Hehadabouttwentyminutes.Afterthatthebatterytemperaturewithinthebombwouldriseagain.Butfornowthefuzewasicedupandhecouldbegintoremoveit.
Heranhispalmsupanddownthebombcasetodeteyripsial.Thesubmergedsewouldbesafe,butoxygencouldigcameintotactwithexposedexplosive.Carlyle’sflaw.XoverY.Iftherewereripstheywouldhavetouseliquidnitrogen.
“It’satwo-thousand-poundbomb,sir.Esau.”Hardy’svoithetopofthemudpit.
“Type-markedfifty,inacircle,B.Twofuzepockets,mostlikely.Butwethinkthesedoneisprobablynotarmed.
Okay?”Theyhaddiscussedallthiswitheachotherbefore,butthingswerebeingfirmed,rememberedforthefinaltime.
“Putmeonamicrophonenowaback.”“Okay,sir.”Kipsmiled.HewastenyearsyouhanHardy,andnoEnglishman,butHardyiestinthecoimentaldiscipliherewasalwayshesitationbythesoldierstocallhim“sir,”butHardybarkeditoutloudahusiastically.
Hewaswfastnowtopriseoutthefuze,allthebatteriesi.
“youhearme?Whistle....Okay,Iheardit.Alasttoppingupwithoxygen.Willletitbubbleforthirtyseds.Thenstart.Freshenthefrost.Okay,I’mgoingtoremovethedam,...Okay,damgone.”Hardywaslisteningtoeverythingandrecitincasesomethiwrong.OnesparkandKipwouldbeinashaftofflames.Ortherecouldbeajokerinthebomb.Thepersonwouldhavetosiderthealternatives.
“I’musingthequilterkey.”Hehadpulleditoutofhisbreastpocket.Itwascoldaorubitwarm.Hebegantoremovethelogring.ItmovedeasilyaoldHardy.
“They’regingguardatBughamPalace,”Kipwhistled.Hepulledoffthelogringandthelogringahemsinkintothewater.Hecouldfeelthemrollslowlyathisfeet.Itwouldalltakeanotherfourminutes.
“Aliceismarryiheguard.‘Asoldier’slifeisterriblehard,’saysAlice!”Hewassingingitoutloud,tryingtogetmorewarmthintohisbody,hischestpainfullycold.Hekepttryingtoleanbackfarenoughawayfromthefrozealinfrontofhim.Aokeepmovinghishandsuptothebackofhisneck,wherethesunstillwas,thenrubthemtofreethemofthemudgreaseandfrost.Itwasdifficulttogetthecollettogripthehead.
Thentohishorrorthefuzeheadbrokeaway,cameoffpletely.
“Wrong,Hardy.Wholefuzeheadsnappedoff.Talkbae,okay?Themainbodyofthefuzeisjammeddownthere,I’tgettoit.There’snothingexposedIgrip.”“Whereisthefrostat?”Hardywasrightabovehim.Ithadbeenafewsedsbuthehadracedtotheshaft.
“Sixmoreminutesoffrost.”“eupandwe’llblowitup.”“No,passmedownsomemoreoxygen.”Heraisedhisrighthandaaniisterbeingplait.
“I’mgoingtodribblethemutotheareaofexposedfuze—wheretheheadseparated—thenI’lltothemetal.ChipthroughtillIgripsomethibaow,I’lltalkitthrough.”Hecouldhardlykeephisfurybackatwhathadhappehemuck,whichwastheirnamefen,wasgoingalloverhisclothes,hissingasithitthewater.Hewaitedforthefrosttoappearandtheoshearmetaloffwithachisel.Hepouredmoreon,waitedandchiselleddeeper.Whennothingcameoffherippedfreeabitofhisshirt,placeditbetweealandthechisel,andthenbahechiseldangerouslywithamallet,chippingments.Theclothofhisshirthisonlysafetyagainstaspark.Whatwasmoreofaproblemwastheessonhisfiheywerenolile,theywereiasthebatteries.Hekeptcuttingsidewaysintothemetalaroufuzehead.Shavingitoffinlayers,hopingthefreezingwouldacceptthiskindery.Ifhecutdowlytherewasalwaysacehewouldhitthepercussioncapthatflashedthegaine.
Ittookfivemoreminutes.Hardyhadnotmovedfromthetopofthepit,insteadwasgivinghimtheapproximatetimeleftinthefreezing.Butintruthherofthemcouldbesure.Sihefuzeheadhadbrokenoff,theywerefreezingadifferentarea,aertemperaturethoughcoldtohimwaswarmerthaal.
Thenhesawsomething.Hedidnotdarechiptheholeanybigger.Thetactofthecircuitquiveringlikeasilvertendril.Ifhecouldreachit.Hetriedtorubwarmthintohishands.
Hebreathedout,wasstillforafewseds,andwiththeneedleplierscutthetatwobeforehebreathedinagain.Hegaspedasthefreezeburnedpartofhishandwhenhepulleditbackoutofthecircuits.Thebombwasdead.
“Fuzeout.Gaineoff.Kissme.”HardywasalreadyrollingupthewindKipwastryingtoclipoer;hecouldhardlydoitwiththeburnandthecold,allhismusclescold.Heheardthepulleyjerkandjustheldtightontotheleatherstrapsstillhalfattachedaroundhim.Hebegantofeelhisbrownlegsbeingpulledfromthegripofthemud,removedlikeanacorpseoutofabog.Hissmallfeetrisingoutofthewater.Heemerged,liftedoutofthepitintothesunlight,headaorso.
Hehungthere,aslowswiveluhetepeeofpolesthatheldthepulley.Hardywasnowembraghimandunbughimsimultaneously,lettinghimfree.Suddeherewasalargecrowdwatgfromabouttwentyyardsaway,tooclose,fartooclose,forsafety;theywouldhavebeeroyed.ButofcourseHardyhadheretokeepthemback.
Theywatchedhimsilently,theIndian,hangingontoHardy’sshoulder,scarcelyabletowalkbacktothejeepwithalltheequipment—toolsandistersandblasandtherecinstrumentsstillwheelingaround,listeningtothenothingnessdownintheshaft.
“I’twalk.”“Onlytothejeep.Afewyardsmore,sir.I’llpickuptherest.”Theykeptpausing,thenwalkingonslowly.Theyhadtogopastthestaringfacesatgtheslightbrownman,shoeless,iunic,watgthedrawdidn’treizeoraowledgeanything,anyofthem.Allofthemsilent.JuststeppingbacktogivehimandHardyroom.Atthejeephestartedshaking.Hiseyescouldn’tstandtheglareoffthewindshield.Hardyhadtolifthim,instages,intothepassengerseat.
WhenHardyleft,Kipslowlypulledoffhiswettrousersandedhimselfintheblahehere.ToocoldandtiredeventouheThermosofhotteaobesidehim.Hethought:Iwasn’tevenfrighteneddownthere.Iwasjustangry—withmymistake,orthepossibilitythattherewasajoker.Ananimalreagjusttoprotectmyself.
OnlyHardy,herealized,keepsmehumannow.
WhenthereisahotdayattheVillaSanGirolamotheyallwashtheirhair,firstwithkeroseoremovethepossibilityoflidthenwithwater.Lyingback,hishairspreadout,eyesclosedagainstthesun,Kipseemssuddenlyvulnerable.Thereisashynesswithinhimwhenheassumesthisfragileposture,lookingmorelikeacorpsefromamyththananythinglivingorhuman.Hanasitsbesidehim,herdarkbrownhairalreadydry.Thesearethetimeshewilltalkabouthisfamilyandhisbrotherinjail.
Hewillsitupandfliphishairforward,aorubthelengthofitwithatowel.SheimaginesallofAsiathroughthegesturesofthisoneman.Thewayhelazilymoves,hisquietcivilisation.Hespeaksofwarriorsaintsandshenowfeelsheisoernandvisionary,pausingonlyintheseraretimesofsunlighttobegodless,informal,hisheadbackagainoablesothesundryhisspreadhairlikegraininafan-shapedstrawbasket.AlthoughheisamanfromAsiawhohasintheselastyearsofwarassumedEnglishfathers,followingtheircodeslikeadutifulson.
“Ah,butmybrotherthinksmeafoolfortrustingtheEnglish.”Heturnstoher,sunlightinhiseyes.“Oneday,hesays,Iwillopenmyeyes.Asiaisstillnotafreeti,andheisappalledathowwethrowourselvesintoEnglishwars.Itisabattleofopinionwehavealwayshad.‘Onedayyouwillopenyoureyes,’mybrotherkeepssaying.”Thesappersaysthis,hiseyesclosedtight,mogthemetaphor.“JapanisapartofAsia,Isay,andtheSikhshavebeenbrutalizedbytheJapaneseinMalaya.Butmybrhat.HesaystheEnglisharenowhangingSikhswhhtingforindependence.”Sheturnsawayfromhim,herarmsfolded.Thefeudsoftheworld.Thefeudsoftheworld.ShewalksintothedaylightdarknessofthevillaaositwiththeEnglishman.
Atnight,wheshishairfree,heisoncemoreanotherstellation,thearmsofathousaainsthispillow,wavesofitbetweeheirembradiurnsofsleep.SheholdsanIndiangoddessinherarms,sheholdswheatandribbons.Ashebendsoverheritpours.Shetieitagainstherwrist.Ashemovesshekeepshereyesopentowithegnatsofelectricityinhishairinthedarknessofthetent.
Hemovesalwaysiiontothings,besidewalls,raisedterracehedges.Hesstheperiphery.WhenhelooksatHanaheseesafragmentofherleancheekiiontothelandscapebehindit.Thewayhewatchesthearcofaliermsofthespaceitgathersawayfromthesurfaceoftheearth.HehaswalkedupItalywitheyesthattriedtoseeeverythingexceptwhatwastemporaryandhuman.
Theohinghewillneversiderishimself.Nothistwilitshadoworhisarmreagforthebackofachairortherefleofhimselfinawindoworhowtheywatchhim.Intheyearsofwarhehaslearhattheonlythingsafeishimself.
HespendshourswiththeEnglishman,whoremindshimofafirtreehesawinEngland,itsonesickbranch,tooweighteddownwithage,heldupbyacrutchmadeoutofaree.ItstoodinLordSuffolk’sgardenontheedgeofthecliff,overlookingtheBristolellikeasentinel.Inspiteofsufirmityhesehecreaturewithinitwashamemorywhosepowerrainbowedbeyondailment.
HehimselfhasnomirrorsHeshisturbanoutsideinhisgarden,lookingaboutatthemossontrees.ButhenoticestheswathscissorshavemadeinHana’shair.Heisfamiliarwithherbreathwhenheplaceshisfaceagainstherbody,attheclavicle,wherethebonelightensherskin.Butifsheaskedhimwhatcolourhereyesare,althoughhehasetoadoreher,hewillnot,shethinks,beabletosay.Hewilllaughandguess,butifshe,black-eyed,sayswithhereyesshutthattheyaregreen,hewillbelieveher.Hemaylookilyateyesbuterwhatcolourtheyare,thewayfoodalreadyinhisthroatorstomachisjusttexturemorethantasteorspecificobject.
Whensomeonespeakshelooksatamouth,noteyesandtheircolours,which,itseemstohim,willalwaysalterdependingonthelightofaroom,themiheday.Mouthsrevealinsecuritynessoranyotherpointonthespectrumofcharacter.Forhimtheyarethemostintricateaspecteffaces.He’sneversurewhataneyereveals.Buthereadhowmouthsdarkenintocallousness,suggesttenderness.Oneoftenmisjudgeaneyefromitsreatoasimplebeamofsunlight.
Everythingisgatheredbyhimaspartofanalteringharmony.Heseesherindifferinghoursandlocationsthatalterhervoiature,evenherbeauty,thewaythebackgroundpoweroftheseacradlesovereoflifeboats.
Theywereinthehabitofrisingwithdaybreakaingdihelastavailablelight.ThroughoutthelateeveningtherewouldbeonlyonedleflaringintothedarknessbesidetheEnglishpatient,oralamphalffilledwithoilifCaravaggiohadmaeany.Butthecorridorsandotherbedroomshungindarkness,asifinaburiedcity.Theybecameusedtowalkingindarkness,handsout,tougthewallsohersidewiththeirfiips.
“Nht.Nomorecolour.”Hanawouldsingthephrasetoherselfagainandagain.Kip’sunnervinghabitofleapingdowairsonehandhalfwaydowntherailhadtobestopped.SheimaginedhisfeettravellingthroughairandhittiurningCaravaggioiomach.
ShehadblownoutthedleintheEnglishman’sroomanhourearlier.Shehadremovedhertennisshoes,herfrockwasunbuttoheneckbecauseofsummerheat,thesleevesunbuttonedaswellandloose,highupatthearm.Asweetdisorder.
Onthemainfloorofthewing,apartfromthekit,libraryaedchapel,wasaglassed-inindoorcourtyard.Fourwallsofglasswithaglassdoorthatletyouintowheretherewasacoveredwellandshelvesofdeadplantsthatatoimemusthaveflourishediedroom.Thisindoorcourtyardremindedhermoreandmoreofabookopeorevealpressedflowers,somethingtobegladuringpassing,ered.
Itwastwoa.m.
Eachofthemehevillafromadifferentdoorway,Hanaatthechapelentrahethirty-sixstepsahenorthcourtyard.Ashesteppedintothehouseheremovedhiswatdsliditintoanalcoveatchestlevelwhereasmallsaied.Thepatronofthisvillahospital.Shewouldnotcatchaglanceofphosphorus.Hehadalreadyremovedhisshoesandworejusttrousers.Thelampstrappedtohisarmwasswitchedoff.Hecarriednothingelseandjuststoodthereforawhileindarkness,aleanboy,adarkturban,thekaralooseonhiswristagainsttheskin.Heleanedagainsttheerofthevestibulelikeaspear.
Thenhewasglidingthroughtheindoorcourtyard.Hecameintothekitandimmediatelysehedoginthedark,caughtitaetothetable.Hepickedupthedensedmilkfromthekitshelfaurheglassroomintheindoorcourtyard.Heranhishandsalongthebaseofthedoorandfoundthesmallsticksleaningagainstit.Heenteredandclosedthedoorbehindhim,atthelastmomentsnakinghishandouttopropthesticksupagainstthedain.Incaseshehadseehenheclimbeddownintothewell.Therewasacross-plankthreefeetdownheknewwasfirm.Heclosedthelidoverhimselfandcrouchedthere,imaginingherseargforhimorhidingherself.Hebegantosuckattheofdensedmilk.
Shesuspectedsomethinglikethisfromhim.Havingmadeherwaytothelibrary,sheturhelightonherarmandwalkedbesidethebookcasesthatstretchedfromheraounseesaboveher.Thedoorwasclosed,sonolightcouldrevealitselftoahehalls.HewouldbeabletoseetheglowohersideoftheFrenchdoorsonlyifhewasoutside.Shepausedeveryfewfeet,seargonceagainthroughthepredominantlyItalianbooksfortheoddEnglishoshecouldpresenttotheEnglishpatient.Shehadetolovethesebooksdressedialianspihefrontispieces,thetipped-incolourillustrationswithacoftissue,thesmellofthem,eventhesoundofthecrackifyouopehemtoofast,asifbreakingsomeminuteunseenseriesofbones.Shepausedagain.TheCharterhouseofParma.
“IfIevergetoutofmydifficulties,”hesaidtoClelia,“IshallpayavisittothebeautifulpicturesatParma,andthenwillyoudeigntorememberthename:FabriziodelDongo.”Caravaggiolayonthecarpetatthefarendofthelibrary.FromhisdarkseemedthatHana’sleftarmhosphorus,lightingthebooks,reflegrednessontoherdarkhair,burningagainstthecottonofherfroditspuffedsleeveathershoulder.
Hecameoutofthewell.
Thethree-footdiameteroflightspreadfromherarmandthenwasabsorbedintoblaess,soitfelttgiothattherewasavalleyofdarknessbetweenthem.Shetuckedthebookwiththebrowncoverunderherrightarm.Asshemoved,newbooksemergedandothersdisappeared.
Shehadgrownolder.Andhelovedhermorenowthanhelovedherwhenhehaduoodherbetter,wheheproductofherparents.Whatshewasnohatsheherselfhaddecidedtobee.HekhatifhehadpassedHanaonastreetinEuropeshewouldhavehadafamiliarairbuthewouldn’thavereizedher.Thenighthehadfirstetothevillahehaddisguisedhisshock.Herasceticface,whichatfirstseemedcold,hadasharpness.Herealizedthatduritwomonthshehadgrowntowardswhoshenowwas.Hecouldhardlybelievehispleasureathertranslation.Yearsbefore,hehadtriedtoimagineherasanadultbuthadiedsomeohqualitiesmouldedoutofherunity.Notthiswonderfulstrangerhecouldlovemoredeeplybecausesheofnothinghehadprovided.
Shewaslyingonthesofa,hadtwistedthelampinwardsoshecouldread,andhadalreadyfalleothebook.Atsomepointlatershelookedup,listening,andquicklyswitchedoffthelight.
Wasshesciousofhimintheroom?Caravaggiowasawareofthenoisinessofhisbreathandthedifficultyhewashavihinginanordered,demureway.Thelightwentonforamomentandthenwasquicklyshutoffagain.
ThehingintheroomseemedtobeibutCaravaggio.Hecouldhearitallaroundhim,surprisedhewasn’ttouched.Theboywasintheroom.CaravaggiowalkedovertothesofaandplacedhishanddowntowardsHana.Shewasnotthere.Ashestraightenedup,anarmwentaroundhisnedpulledhimdownbackwardsinagrip.Alightglaredharshlyintohisfadtherefromthembothastheyfelltowardsthefloor.Thearmwiththelightstillholdinghimatthehenanakedfootemergedintothelight,movedpastCaravaggio’sfadsteppedontotheboy’sneckbesidehim.
Anhtwenton.
“Gotyou.Gotyou.”ThetwobodiesonthefloorlookedupatthedarkoutlineofHanaabovethelight.Shewassingingit,“Igotyou,gotyou.IusedCaravaggio—whoreallydoeshaveabadwheeze!Iknewhewouldbehere.Hewasthetrick.”Herfootpresseddownharderontotheboy’sneck.“Giveup.fess.”Caravaggiobegantoshakewithintheboy’sgrip,sweatalreadyalloverhim,uruggleout.Theglareoflightfrombothlampsnowonhim.Hesomehowhadtoclimbandcrawloutofthisterror.fess.Thegirlwaslaughing.Heocalmhisvoicebeforehespoke,buttheywerehardlylisteniedattheiradventure.Heworkedhiswayoutoftheboy’slooseninggripand,notsayingaword,lefttheroom.
Theywereindarknessagain.“Whereareyou?”sheasks.Thenmovesquickly.Hepositionshimselfsoshebangsintohischest,andinthiswayslipsherintohisarms.Sheputsherhandtohishenhermouthtohismouth.“densedmilk!Duringourtest?densedmilk?”Sheputshermouthathishesweatofit,tastinghimwhereherbarefoothadbeen.“Iwanttoseeyou.”Hislightgoesonandheseesher,herfacestreakedwithdirt,herhairspikedupinaswirlfromperspiration.Hergrintowardshim.
Heputshisthinhandsupintotheloosesleevesofherdressandcupshershoulderswithhishands.Ifsheswervesnow,hishandsgowithher.Shebeginstolean,putsallherweightintoherfallbackwards,trustinghimtoewithher,trustinghishandstobreakthefall.Thenhewillcurlhimselfup,hisfeetintheair,justhishandsandarmsandhismouthoherestofhisbodythetailofamantis.Thelampisstillstrappedagainstthemusdsweatofhisleftarm.Herfaceslipsintothelighttokissandlidtaste.Hisforeheadtowellingitselfinessofherhair.
Thenheissuddenlyacrosstheroom,thebounceofhissapperlampallovertheplathisroomhehasspentaweeksweepingofallpossiblefuzessoitisnowcleared.Asiftheroomhasnowfinallyemergedfromthewar,isnolongerazoerritory.Hemoveswithjustthelamp,swayinghisarm,revealingtheceiling,herlaughingfaceashepassesherstandingonthebackofthesofalookingdownattheglistenofhisslimbody.Theimehepassesherheseessheisleaningdownandwipingherarmsontheskirtofherdress.“ButIgotyou,Igotyou,”shets.“I’mtheMohiofDanforthAvehensheisridingonhisbadherlightswervesintothespinesofbooksinthehighshelves,herarmsrisingupanddownashespins松语文学www.16sy.coM免费小说阅读
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并不代表本站立场!本站亦无法严格审:The English Patient最新章节其版权归属。如您对The English PatientTXT下载持有版权方面的异议，请联系本站客服。我们将于72小时内处理。
Copyright (C) 2019 All Rights Reserved 版权所有：松语文学