The Snow Pavilion-1

类别:文学名著 作者:安吉拉·卡特 本章:The Snow Pavilion-1

    tor stalled in t,  budge an inco be snug in front of a roaring fire, by no on table (a connoisseurs piece) beside me, tising tco complete trievers rustingly as if I ry gentleman and lolled by rigz. After dinner, before I read our customary pre-coital poetry aloud to  and accomplisress, also a connoisseurs piece, mig-time pastle cups.

    Melissa s slipped me looks of sly complicity; no matter s, t been slept in. ter of terre in London ting tig  ty e amotter. omen, as Mayakovosky justly opined, are very partial to poets.

    And norip to Oxford, ostensibly to buy books, utilising, inctual cunning, t nigtress , catc, time, almost uncontrollably, trop sometimes afflicted me wh her.

    Id said, lets read some snory togeter dinner tonigribute of o tter co get  of too mucy stomac rouble. Aloo big for o say; grandma spotted trait oddled and pissed t luxury ural indigestion, I tell you, t.  out of ly flaique mirrors, ed into eigury crystal bottles, ably smirking ancestresses in t, oval frames? And  of all, ed dolls.

    t ion of antique  of tus of Melissas c originality t lay . A dozen or so of t lived in ed, satin lavisoyland artefacts and miniature sofas and teeny-tiny grand pianos. tung underlip sculpted old me tured by tsman in glass  seemed to gleam ly, as if in lacrimonious accusation of my presence t ladies and I, in my up ial battledress for sucorm-troopers as I! -- patently no gentleman.

    After t kind of style, I badly needed to sit in a public bar, drink coarse pints of bitter, sendres  I could ell milady t. Instead, I must use my vocation to justify my day off. Lend me t I can drive to Oxford and buy a book of snoo fit in my bread, c uck fast.

    te afternoon already s fall. Flocks of croing a rusty ca s I did not kno get out to trudge along a lane  ogets into s;  kept me snug and  of telephone wires.

    trees, ted by intersections of dry-stone  nig t of tuation of toral coeaming byre, Colin Clout and oral domesticity. side, today, when he could be warm and dry, inside.

    too  is too . Silence and  succensity you kno must be like to live in a country or t puts its cold garlands on trees so prettily  blossoming. ( an aptly fragile simile, s Botticellian nuance. I congratulated myself.) No. today is as cold as tually ries; todays atrocious candour is t of te freckles t are tigmata of frostbite.

    My sensibility, te sensibility of a minor poet, tingled and crisped at t of so muceness.

    I ain t soon Id come to a village  trally in an ever-t and still t me in te  for ted croos.

    to a pair of anding open on a drive. t be some mansion or ot t  to be, to live in sucyle, tainly kno be ricry side  I flattened a brace of ps on my o Oxford? Encouraged, I turned in bete-posts, on wing circumcision caps of snow.

    trees ly lice of old cros. I could tell t nobody  slots and ts of birds marked surfaces already crisping . took me uprouser bottoms  t gre tress a tentative sed do ears, alt of t of crying.

    I uous style of Engliss . I imagined myself describing it to Melissa- quot;a vista like visible Debussyquot;. Encing. But, ts streamed out in every direction, all  except for ty trees. Lig; in ter sky above me, stars . Especially for my cultured patroness, I made an elision of tars in ts of t , ternoon,  on  lovely o promise me in such abundance.

    Yet, since t, t door at top of tine staircase left open as for expected guests, races of arrivals or departures in tprints extended backo to be glimpsed t all?

    t empty ed by an immense ced pendants of s of ippled ing, prismatic se stucco. timidated me, like too grand a butler but, all tugged it. Somes reverberations set tinkle but even wtled down again, nobody came.

    I ill no reply, but a sudden  around me into t. Beside, taste of snoorm  to begin again. Not but to step bravely over t tamp my feet on t  to announce my arrival to tire ground floor.

    It  magnificent  all  outside, ,  perfume everyo drinks before dinner, leaving be. timate, voluptuous, rare.

    My nostrils flared and quivered. I so o every one of t poignant in   like Mignon in trees; to live. I scre o s out: quot;Anyone at ; But only tinkled in reply.

    to see to on its , inexorable click. At t, to titter uncontrollably, as if o see me locked in.

    It is try to believe it is only t ble berong  imagination of yours. Stop t s once uneasy; o t look nervous. It is trick of tical joke. I grasped tion gratefully. I kneical jokes.

    But as soon as I realised it must be a practical joke, I kne alone in ts apparent emptiness  of terribly self-conscious. No cep; ried t I e of myself, I felt a faint panic, stifled it. . . No, you are not at their mercy.

    tly empty. Closed doors on eitaircase s up to an empty landing. Am I to meet my s in embarrassment and ion, ;boo!quot; -- out of ains to make fun of me? A ravagant arrangement of arum lilies s not altoget in borrory squires gear. I t, s eaten too mucs time. Come, no bread and margarine be grandmas  of t broken doance.

    to my relief but also my increased disquiet, I sa  me be , pretty face, streaming blonde  sprang out quite suddenly from tions of t  of foot -- artled movement urbed the chandelier, again.

    ting apparition let me kno;;) ited clo door I came to on ting to discover my tittering audience aing me.

    It ly empty.

    A ion room, all bleacables of glass and cefacts of e velvet. Company ed; ters, boempted to s-glass tumbler full of someto snatced almonds -- I  pub sand it o be caug by t ten in the deep cushioning of an armchair.

    a doll so muctle ; ter at ty guineas at t of t e satin pyjamas tons do, all complete, and t autic pout of comic sadness on , poor old felloy e from an imperious tuning fork, from beyond ter a startled moment, I sprang into the dining room, summoned.

    I  dining room, except at t even at t Melissa. Fifteen covers laid out on a tongue-s of glass; but I ime to take in tal, because to till ss er of t;catc;  to, now?

    Soft, softly on te carpets; I leave deep prints be do not make a sound. And still no sign of life, only t, someancy, as of t before Cmas.

    tter of running footsteps. But tsteps came from a part of ts muffled tcairs or doairs, or miladys cer agitating t over, to tremble ; t as suddely, all  again.

    I resolutely set myself to searche upper rooms.

    All te empty. But my al paranoia, noingling at tip of every nerve, assured me ted t I entered tour of ts of all kinds of delicious merriments but never from t to tood. tarted and stopped as if sc and parcel of t, by its size and luxury, must er bedroom, t been lying ty. And I could o fling open tcant s crouc, among ture. But I did not dare do t.

    taircarpets gave o scrubbed boards and still I  seen anyt ty of a face in tire , only single lig intervals along t one door anding open and lig onto tation.


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