Roman Nights Read Online Free PDF Page B

Villa Sansavino he held audience in his writing room. During the day, he would be enthroned behind his antique sarcophagus desk. During a party, in velvet jacket and slippers, he would be sitting erect in his antique Sicilian armchair beside the roaring fire, the flames gleaming on his chaise longue, his desk and his books and a quantity of handsome appointments, generally aged eighteen or under and single. All Maurice’s interviews were conducted over the heads of a bevy of girls, many of them related to him, and all of whom knew the time of day to the last double entendre. You needed to watch what you were saying at Maurice’s.
    We made our entry together. Charles and I, because Charles had not been summoned alone in my absence: Timothy is careful about such things. We left the hot, polite uproar of the supper room and, shepherded by Timothy, stepped through the paned door carved with the princely arms of the family who had built the villa and laid out the gardens and erected the first Dome, that obligatory plaything of princes, on top of the gradient.
    Then Charles shrieked. He shrieked, and gripped my arm and, turning, rushed from the threshold, dragging me with him.
    I can tell you precisely what I thought. I thought, Maurice has blown his head off.
    Then I heard Maurice’s voice saying, ‘Well I saw Beatrice, Timothy darling, but where’s Dante?’ and I said to Charles, ‘What is it?’
    I had to say it again before he stopped, and then he put his hands to his head and just stared at me.‘ Don’t you hear it ?’ he said.
    I thought. Meningitis. Lord Digham Serious. Lady Teddington Flies Out to Photographer Son. His face was yellow white and his eyes had black slopes cut out under them. I said. ‘Sit down. I’ll get a doctor. Don’t worry. To hell with Maurice.’
    He didn’t sit down. He said,‘ Don’t you hear it ?’in a voice rising distinctly towards panic. It was not the Charles of the obituary notices. But then, it had not been fully Charles of the obituary notices ever since what we had found in the zoo. I expect I looked pretty grotty as well.
    Timothy was coming towards us. I said, ‘I don’t hear anything. Whatever you hear, it must be in your head.’
    He was saying, ‘It’s not. It’s not, Ruth,’ when Timothy came up beside us. He said, ‘Aren’t you well? Ruth, isn’t he well? He must come and lie down then, darling. Along here. It’s my room and ever so comfy.’
    Charles stared at him, his hands still held over his ears. ‘It’s something in his head,’ I said. ‘A noise. He thinks he hears a terrible noise.’
    Timothy blinked. Then, turning slowly, he glided back to the room he had left. We heard his voice, speaking to Maurice, and Maurice’s voice saying, ‘Yes do, do. How exciting!’ Then, as if a command had descended from heaven, Charles’s face altered. His hands eased off and then left his eardrums. He said, ‘It’s stopped!’
    Timothy’s head, appearing in Maurice’s doorway, called dulcetly, ‘You can come along now!’
    We went in.
    We went confronted by ten pretty faces and Maurice, whose face was pretty too. It was a beautiful face, fine and aesthetic and cynical, and upholstered with the finest white hair, like a porcelain vase with white mink on it. He said, ‘Ruth darling. You must have Digham tied off or divorce him. I won’t have you become preggy by someone who can hear Mouse Alarms.’
    I said, ‘We’re not married,’ in the same moment as Charles exclaimed, ‘Mouse Alarms!’ which gives you a rough idea of our respective order of priorities.
    Maurice was with me. He said, ‘Are you living in sin? Why, of course you are. I remember it all. What is the basis of morality? It is a loving relationship, one not to possess, dominate and exploit another person but one in which two people try to understand and care for one another. But how very exhibitionist of you to refrain from marrying. Think how lucky you are, being of opposite sexes.