按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
is a poor German boy with the soldiers。 And he is so kind。 There is a poor German boy with a foot that will not heal and secondary syphilis； who es here for treatment。 Lord Flyte found him starving in Tangier and took him in and gave him a home。 A real Samaritan。'
'Poor simple monk；' I thought； 'poor booby。' God forgive me！
Sebastian was in the wing kept for Europeans； where the beds were divided by low partitions into cubicles with some air of privacy。 He was lying with his hands on the quilt staring at the wall； where the only ornament was a religious oleograph。
'Your friend；' said the brother。
He looked round slowly。
'Oh； I thought he meant Kurt。 What are you doing here； Charles？'
He was more than ever emaciated； drink； which made others fat and red； seemed to wither Sebastian。 The brother left us； and I sat by his bed and talked about his illness。
'I was out of my mind for a day or two；' he said。 'I kept thinking I was back in Oxford。 You went to my house？ Did you like it？ Is Kurt still there？ I won't ask you if you liked Kurt； no one does。 It's funny … I couldn't get on without him； you know。'
Then I told him about his mother。 He said nothing for some time； but lay gazing at the oleograph of the Seven Dolours。 Then：
'Poor mummy。 She really was a femme fatale； wasn't she？ She killed at a touch。'
I telegraphed to Julia that Sebastian was unable to travel and stayed a week at Fez； visiting the hospital daily until he was well enough to move。 His first sign of returning strength； on the second day of my visit； was to ask for brandy。 By next day he had got some； some how； and kept it under the bedclothes。
The doctor said： 'Your friend is drinking again。 It is forbidden here。 What can I do？ This is not a reformatory school。 I cannot police the wards。 I am here to cure people； not to protect them from vicious habits； or teach them self…control。 Cognac will not hurt him now。 It will make him weaker for the next time he is ill； and then one day some little trouble will carry him off； pouff。 This is not a home for inebriates。 He must go at the end of the week。'
The lay…brother said： 'Your friend is so much happier today； it is like one transfigured。'
'Poor simple monk；' I thought； 'poor booby'； but he added； 'You know why？ He has a bottle of cognac in bed with him。 It is the second I have found。 No sooner do I take one away than he gets another。 He is so naughty。 It is the Arab boys who fetch it for him。 But it is good to see him happy again when he has been so sad。'
On my last afternoon I said； 'Sebastian； now your mother's dead' … for the news had reached us that morning … 'do you think of going back to England？'
'It would be lovely； in some ways；' he said； 'but do you think Kurt would like it？'
'For God's sake；' I said； 'you don't mean to spend your life with Kurt； do you？'
'I don't know。 He seems to mean to spend it with me。 〃It'th all right for him； I reckon； maybe；〃' he said； mimicking Kurt's accent； and then he added what； if I had paid more attention； should have given me the key I lacked； at the time I heard and remembered it； without taking notice。 'You know； Charles；' he said； 'it's rather a pleasant change when all your life you've had people looking after you； to have someone to look after yourself。 Only of course it has to be someone pretty hopeless to need looking after by me。'
I was able to straighten his money affairs before I left。 He had lived till then by getting into difficulties and then telegraphing for odd sums to his lawyers。 I saw the branch manager of the bank and arranged for him； if funds were forthing from London； to receive Sebastian's quarterly allowance and pay him a weekly sum of pocket money with a reserve to be drawn in emergencies。 This sum was only to be given to Sebastian personally； and only when the manager was satisfied that he had a proper use for it。 Sebastian agreed readily to all this。
'Otherwise；' he said； 'Kurt will get me to sign a cheque for the whole lot when I'm tight and then he'll go off and get into all kinds of trouble。'
I saw Sebastian home from the hospital。 He seemed weaker in his basket chair than he had been in bed。 The two sick men； he and Kurt； sat opposite one another with the gramophone between them。
'It was time you came back； ' said Kurt。 'I need you。'
'Do you； Kurt？'
'I reckon so。 It's not so good being alone when you're sick。 That boy's a lazy fellow … always slipping off when I want him。 Once he stayed out all night and there was no one to make my coffee when I woke up。 It's no good having a foot full of pus。 Times I can't sleep good。 Maybe another time I shall slip off； too； and go where I can be looked after。' He clapped his hands but no servant came。 'You see？' he said。
'What d'you want？'
'Cigarettes。 I got some in the bag under my bed。'
Sebastian began painfully to rise from his chair。
'I'll get them；' I said。 'Where's his bed？'
'No； that's my job；' said Sebastian。
'Yeth； ' said Kurt； 'I reckon that's Sebastian's job。'
So I left him with his friend in the little enclosed house at the end of the alley。 There was nothing more I could do for Sebastian。
I had meant to return direct to Paris； but this business of Sebastian's allowance meant that I must go to London and see Brideshead。 I travelled by sea； taking the P。 & 0。 from Tangier； and was home in early June。
'Do you consider；' asked Brideshead； 'that there is anything vicious in my brother's connection with this German？'
'No。 I'm sure not。 It's simply a case of two waifs ing together。'
'You say he is a criminal？'
'I said 〃a criminal type〃。 He's been in the military prison and was dishonourably discharged。'
'And the doctor says Sebastian is killing himself with drink？'
'Weakening himself。 He hasn't D。T。s or cirrhosis。'
'He's not insane？'
'Certainly not。 He's found a panion he happens to like and a place where he happens to like living。'
'Then he must have his allowance as you suggest。 The thing is quite clear。'
In some ways Brideshead was an easy man to deal with。 He had a kind of mad certainty about everything which made his decisions swift and easy。
'Would you like to paint this house？' he asked suddenly。 'A picture of the front； another of the back on the park； another of the staircase； another of the big drawing…room？ Four small oils； that is what my father wants done for a record； to keep at Brideshead。 I don't know any painters。 Julia said you specialized in architecture。'
'Yes；' I said。 'I should like to very much。'
'You know it's being pulled down？ My father's selling it。 They are going to put up a block of flats here。 They're keeping the name … we can't stop them apparently。'
'What a sad thing。'
'Well； I'm sorry of course。 But you think it good architecturally？'
'One of the most beautiful houses I know。'
'Can't see it。 I've always thought it rather ugly。 Perhaps your pictures will make me see it differently。'
This was my first mission； I had to work against time； for the contractors were only waiting for the final signature to start their work of destruction。 In spite； or perhaps； because； of that for it is my vice to spend too long on a canvas； never content to leave well alone … those four paintings are particular favourites of mine； and it was their success； both with myself and others； that confirmed me in what has since been my career。
I began in the long drawing…room； for they were anxious to shift the furniture； which had stood there since it was built。 It was a long； elaborate； symmetrical Adam room； with two bays of windows opening into Green Park。 The light； streaming in from the west on the afternoon when I began to paint there； was fresh green from the young trees outside。
I had the perspective set out in pencil and the detail carefully placed。 I held back from painting； like a diver on the water's edge； once in I found myself buoyed and exhilarated。 I was normally a slow and deliberate painter； that afternoon and all next day； and the day after； I worked fast。 I could do nothing wrong。 At the end of each passage I paused； tense； afraid to start the next； fearing； like a gambler； that luck must turn and the pile be lost。 Bit by bit； minute by minute； the thing came into being。 There were no difficulties； the intricate multiplicity of light and colour became a whole； the right colour was where I wanted it； on the palette； each brush stroke； as soon as it was plete； seemed to have been there always。
Presently on the last afternoon I heard a voice behind me say： 'May I stay here and watch？'
I turned and found Cordelia。
'Yes；' I said； 'if you don't talk；' and I worked on； oblivious of her； until the failing sun made me put up my brushes。
'It must be lovely to be able to do that。'
I had forgotten she was there。
'It is。'
I could not even now leave my picture； although the sun was down and the room fading to monochrome。 I took it from the easel and held it up to the windows； put it back and lightened a shadow。 Then； suddenly weary in head and eyes and back and arm； I gave it up for the evening and turned to Cordelia。