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！
Homo Sapiensan honour which at that time commonly fell to Lord
Byron。 Indeed； with more hair and less collar； Gombauld would have
been completely Byronicmore than Byronic； even； for Gombauld was of
Provencal descent； a black… haired young corsair of thirty； with flashing
teeth and luminous large dark eyes。 Denis looked at him enviously。 He
was jealous of his talent： if only he wrote verse as well as Gombauld
painted pictures！ Still more； at the moment； he envied Gombauld his
looks； his vitality； his easy confidence of manner。 Was it surprising that
Anne should like him？ Like him？it might even be something worse；
Denis reflected bitterly； as he walked at Priscilla's side down the long
grass terrace。
Between Gombauld and Mr。 Scogan a very much lowered deck…chair
12
… Page 13…
CROME YELLOW
presented its back to the new arrivals as they advanced towards the tea…
table。 Gombauld was leaning over it； his face moved vivaciously； he
smiled； he laughed； he made quick gestures with his hands。 From the
depths of the chair came up a sound of soft； lazy laughter。 Denis started
as he heard it。 That laughterhow well he knew it！ What emotions it
evoked in him！ He quickened his pace。
In her low deck…chair Anne was nearer to lying than to sitting。 Her
long； slender body reposed in an attitude of listless and indolent grace。
Within its setting of light brown hair her face had a pretty regularity that
was almost doll…like。 And indeed there were moments when she seemed
nothing more than a doll； when the oval face； with its long…lashed； pale
blue eyes； expressed nothing； when it was no more than a lazy mask of
wax。 She was Henry Wimbush's own niece； that bowler…like
countenance was one of the Wimbush heirlooms； it ran in the family；
appearing in its female members as a blank doll…face。 But across this
dollish mask； like a gay melody dancing over an unchanging fundamental
bass； passed Anne's other inheritancequick laughter； light ironic
amusement； and the changing expressions of many moods。 She was
smiling now as Denis looked down at her： her cat's smile； he called it；
for no very good reason。 The mouth was compressed； and on either side
of it two tiny wrinkles had formed themselves in her cheeks。 An infinity
of slightly malicious amusement lurked in those little folds； in the puckers
about the half…closed eyes； in the eyes themselves； bright and laughing
between the narrowed lids。
The preliminary greetings spoken； Denis found an empty chair
between Gombauld and Jenny and sat down。
〃How are you； Jenny？〃 he shouted to her。
Jenny nodded and smiled in mysterious silence； as though the subject
of her health were a secret that could not be publicly divulged。
〃How's London been since I went away？〃 Anne inquired from the
depth of her chair。
The moment had come； the tremendously amusing narrative was
waiting for utterance。 〃Well；〃 said Denis； smiling happily； 〃to begin
with。。。〃
13
… Page 14…
CROME YELLOW
〃Has Priscilla told you of our great antiquarian find？〃 Henry
Wimbush leaned forward； the most promising of buds was nipped。
〃To begin with；〃 said Denis desperately； 〃there was the Ballet。。。〃
〃Last week；〃 Mr。 Wimbush went on softly and implacably； 〃we dug up
fifty yards of oaken drain…pipes； just tree trunks with a hole bored through
the middle。 Very interesting indeed。 Whether they were laid down by
the monks in the fifteenth century； or whether。。。〃
Denis listened gloomily。 〃Extraordinary！〃 he said； when Mr。
Wimbush had finished； 〃quite extraordinary！〃 He helped himself to
another slice of cake。 He didn't even want to tell his tale about London
now； he was damped。
For some time past Mary's grave blue eyes had been fixed upon him。
〃What have you been writing lately？〃 she asked。 It would be nice to
have a little literary conversation。
〃Oh； verse and prose；〃 said Denis〃just verse and prose。〃
〃Prose？〃 Mr。 Scogan pounced alarmingly on the word。 〃You've been
writing prose？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃Not a novel？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃My poor Denis！〃 exclaimed Mr。 Scogan。 〃What about？〃
Denis felt rather uncomfortable。 〃Oh； about the usual things； you
know。〃
〃Of course；〃 Mr。 Scogan groaned。 〃I'll describe the plot for you。
Little Percy； the hero； was never good at games； but he was always clever。
He passes through the usual public school and the usual university and
comes to London； where he lives among the artists。 He is bowed down
with melancholy thought； he carries the whole weight of the universe upon
his shoulders。 He writes a novel of dazzling brilliance； he dabbles
delicately in Amour and disappears； at the end of the book； into the
luminous Future。〃
Denis blushed scarlet。 Mr。 Scogan had described the plan of his
novel with an accuracy that was appalling。 He made an effort to laugh。
〃You're entirely wrong；〃 he said。 〃My novel is not in the least like that。〃
14
… Page 15…
CROME YELLOW
It was a heroic lie。 Luckily； he reflected； only two chapters were written。
He would tear them up that very evening when he unpacked。
Mr。 Scogan paid no attention to his denial； but went on： 〃Why will
you young men continue to write about things that are so entirely
uninteresting as the mentality of adolescents and artists？ Professional
anthropologists might find it interesting to turn sometimes from the beliefs
of the Blackfellow to the philosophical preoccupations of the
undergraduate。 But you can't expect an ordinary adult man； like myself；
to be much moved by the story of his spiritual troubles。 And after all；
even in England； even in Germany and Russia； there are more adults than
adolescents。 As for the artist； he is preoccupied with problems that are so
utterly unlike those of the ordinary adult man problems of pure
aesthetics which don't so much as present themselves to people like
myselfthat a description of his mental processes is as boring to the
ordinary reader as a piece of pure mathematics。 A serious book about
artists regarded as artists is unreadable； and a book about artists regarded
as lovers； husbands； dipsomaniacs； heroes； and the like is really not worth
writing again。 Jean…Christophe is the stock artist of literature； just as
Professor Radium of 〃Comic Cuts〃 is its stock man of science。〃
'I'm sorry to hear I'm as uninteresting as all that；〃 said Gombauld。
〃Not at all； my dear Gombauld；〃 Mr。 Scogan hastened to explain。 〃As
a lover or a dipsomaniac； I've no doubt of your being a most fascinating
specimen。 But as a combiner of forms； you must honestly admit it；
you're a bore。〃
〃I entirely disagree with you；〃 exclaimed Mary。 She was somehow
always out of breath when she talked。 And her speech was punctuated by
little gasps。 〃I've known a great many artists； and I've always found their
mentality very interesting。 Especially in Paris。 Tschuplitski； for example…
…I saw a great deal of Tschuplitski in Paris this spring。。。〃
〃Ah； but then you're an exception； Mary； you're an exception；〃 said Mr。
Scogan。 〃You are a femme superieure。〃
A flush of pleasure turned Mary's face into a harvest moon。
15
… Page 16…
CROME YELLOW