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He had moved away from the window and now stood in the full evening sunlight； with the red damask of the walls behind him。 It was a noble face； a controlled one； just； it seemed； as he planned it to be； slightly weary； slightly sardonic； slightly voluptuous。 He seemed in the prime of life… it was odd to think that he was only a few years younger than my father。
We dined at a marble table in the windows； everything was either of marble； or velvet； or dull； gilt gesso； in this house。 Lord Marchmain said； 'And how do you plan your time here？ Bathing or sight…seeing？'
'Some sight…seeing； anyway；' I said。
'Cara will like that … she； as Sebastian will have told you； is your hostess here。 You can't do both； you know。 Once you go to the Lido there is no escaping … you play backgammon； you get caught at the bar； you get stupefied by the sun。 Stick to the churches。'
'Charles is very keen on painting；。' said Sebastian。
'Yes？' I noticed the hint of deep boredom which I knew so well in my own father。 'Yes？ Any particular Venetian painter？'
'Bellini；' I answered rather wildly。
'Yes？ Which？'
'I'm afraid that I didn't know there were two of them。'
'Three to be precise。 You will find that in the great ages painting was very much a family business。 How did you leave England？'
'It has been lovely；' said Sebastian。
'Was it？ Was it？ It has been my tragedy that I abominate the English countryside。 I suppose it is a disgraceful thing to inherit great responsibilities and to be entirely indifferent to them。 I am all the Socialists would have me be； and a great stumbling…block to my own party。 Well； my elder son will change all that； I've no doubt； if they leave him anything to inherit。。。Why； I wonder； are Italian sweets always thought to be so good？ There was always an Italian pastry…cook at Brideshead until my father's day。 He had an Austrian； so much better。 And now I suppose there is some British matron with beefy forearms。'
After dinner we left the palace by the street door and walked through a maze of。bridges and squares and alleys； to Florian's for coffee； and watched the grave crowds crossing and recrossing under the campanile。 'There is nothing quite like a Venetian crowd；' said Lord Marchmain。 'The city is crawling with Anarchists； … but an American woman tried to sit here the other night with bare shoulders and they drove her away by ing to stare at her； quite silently； they were like circling gulls ing back and back to her； until she left。 Our countrymen are much less dignified when they attempt to express moral disapproval。'
An English party had just then e from the waterfront； made for a table near us； and then suddenly moved to the other side； where they looked askance at us and talked with their heads close together。 'That is a man and his wife I used to know when I was in politics。 A prominent member of your church； Sebastian。'
As we went up to bed that night Sebastian said： 'He's rather a poppet； isn't he？'
Lord Marchmain's mistress arrived next day。 I was nineteen years old and pletely ignorant of women。 I could not with any certainty recognize a prostitute in the streets。 I was therefore not indifferent to the fact of living under the roof of an adulterous couple； but I was old enough to hide my interest。 Lord Marchmain's mistress； therefore； found me with a multitude of conflicting expectations about her all of which were； for the moment； disappointed by her appearance。 She was not a voluptuous； Toulouse…Lautrec odalisque； she was not a 'little bit of fluff'； she was a middle…aged； well…preserved； well…dressed； well…mannered woman such as I had seen in countless public places and occasionally met。 Nor did she seem marked by any social stigma。 On the day of her arrival we lunched at the Lido； where she was greeted at almost every table。
'Vittoria Corombona has asked us all to her ball on Saturday。'
'It is very kind of her。 You know I do not dance；' said Lord Marchmain。
'But for the boys？ It is a thing to be seen … the Corombona palace lit up for the ball。 One does not know how many such balls there will be in the future。'
'The boys can do as they like。 We must refuse。'
'And I have asked Mrs Hacking Brunner to luncheon。 She has a charming daughter。 Sebastian and his friend will like her。'
'Sebastian and his friend are more interested in Bellini than heiresses。'
'But that is what I have always wished；' said Cara； changing her point of attack adroitly。 'I have been here more times than I can count and Alex has not once let me inside San Marco； even。 We will bee tourists； yes？'
We became tourists； Cara enlisted as guide a midget Venetian nobleman to whom all doors were open and with him at her side and a guide book in her hand； she came with us； flagging sometimes but never giving up； a neat； prosaic figure amid the immense splendours of the place。
The fortnight at Venice passed quickly and sweetly … perhaps too sweetly； I was drowning in honey； stingless。 On some days life kept pace with the gondola； as we nosed through the sidecanals and the boatman uttered his plaintive musical bird…cry of warning； on other days with the speed…boat bouncing over the lagoon in a stream of sun…lit foam； it left a confused memory of fierce sunlight on the sands and cool； marble interiors； of water everywhere； lapping on smooth stone； reflected in a dapple of light on painted ceilings； of a night at the Corombona palace such as Byron might have known； and another Byronic night fishing for scampi in the shallows of Chioggia； the phosphorescent wake of the little ship； the lantern swinging in the prow； and the net ing up full of weed and sand and floundering fishes； of melon and prosciutto on the balcony in the cool of the morning； of hot cheese sandwiches and champagne cocktails at Harry's bar。
I remember Sebastian looking up at the Colleoni statue and saying； 'It's rather sad to think that whatever happens you and I can never possibly get involved in a war。'
I remember most particularly one conversation towards the end of my visit。
Sebastian had gone to play tennis with his father and Cara at last admitted to fatigue。 We sat in the late afternoon at the windows overlooking the Grand Canal； she on the sofa with a piece of needlework； I in an armchair； idle。 It was the first time we had been alone together。
'I think you are very …fond of Sebastian；' she said。
'Why； certainly。'
'I know of these romantic friendships of the English and the Germans。 They are not Latin。 I think they are very good if they do not go on too long。'
She was so posed and matter…of…fact that I could not take her amiss； but I failed to find an answer。 She seemed not to expect one but continued stitching； pausing sometimes to match the silk from a work…bag at her side。
'It is a kind of love that es to children before they know its meaning。 In England it es when you are almost men； I think I like that。 It is better to have that kind of love for another boy than for a girl。 Alex you see had it for a girl； for his wife。 Do you think he loves me？'
'Really； Cara； you ask the most embarrassing questions。 How should I know？ I assume。。。'
'He does not。 But not the littlest piece。 Then why does he stay with me？ I will tell you； because I protect him from Lady Marchmain。 He hates her； but you can have no conception how he hates her。 You would think him so calm and English … the milord； rather blas？ all passion dead； wishing to be fortable and not to be worried； following the sun； with me to look after that one thing that no man can do for himself。 My friend； he is a volcano of hate。 He cannot breathe the same air as she。 He will not set foot in England because it is her home； he can scarcely be happy with Sebastian because he is her son。 But Sebastian hates her too。'
'I'm sure you're wrong there。'
'He may not admit it to you。 He may not admit it to himself； they are full of hate … hate of themselves。 Alex and his family。。。Why do you think he will never go into Society？'
'I always thought people had turned against him。'
'My dear boy； you are very young。 People turn against a handsome； clever； wealthy man like Alex？ Never in your life。 It is he who has driven them away。 Even now they e back again and again to be snubbed and laughed at。 And all for Lady Marchmain。 He will not touch a hand which may have touched hers。 When we have guests I see him thinking； 〃Have they perhaps just e from Brideshead？ Are they on their way to Marchmain House？ Will they speak of me to my wife？ Are they a link between me and her whom I hate？〃 But； seriously； with my heart； that is how he thinks。 He is mad。 And how has she deserved all this hate？ She has done nothing except to be loved by someone who was not grown up。 I have never met Lady Marchmain； I have seen her once only； but if you live with a man you e to know the other woman he has loved。 I know Lady Marchmain very well。 She is a good and simple woman who has been loved in the wrong way。
'When people hate with all that energy； it is something in themselves they are hating。 Alex is hating all the illusions of boyhood … innocence； God； hope。 Poor Lady Marchmain has to bear all tha