Chapter 22 Chapter Twenty Two

"Don't be so sullen, poor thing," she advised him two weeks later. "I know it hurts, but they've become more like strangers to you. You feel it yourself, don't you? Of course they taught that little girl to hate you. Listen to me , I understand your feelings. However, if I can have children, I would rather have a boy." "You are a child yourself," Albinus said, stroking her hair. "We should be most happy today," Margot continued. "Today is the beginning of my career! I will become famous in one fell swoop." "Oh, yes, I forgot. When is it? Is it really today?"

Rex walked in leisurely.During this period of time he was with them every day.Aubinas talked to him several times from the bottom of his heart, telling him everything he couldn't say to Margot.Rex listened with such concern, his opinions were so pertinent, and his manner was so full of sympathy, that Albinas felt that, although their acquaintance was short, their friendship had developed in the spiritual communion. It's very deep. "One cannot build one's life on the quicksand of misfortune," Rex told him. "That profanes life, and is a sin. I once had a friend who was a sculptor. His ability to observe form was almost unbelievably good. But suddenly, out of sympathy, he married an ugly An old hunchbacked woman. I don't know the details of the incident. I only know that one day, shortly after they got married, they packed two small suitcases, took one each, and walked to the nearest madhouse. In my opinion, an artist should make his sense of beauty his only guide, so that he will never go astray."

In another conversation, he said: "Death appears to be but a bad habit. Nature is not yet capable of overcoming it. I once had a good friend—a lively youth, as handsome as an angel and as strong as a jaguar. Cut his hand on a can of peaches. One of those soft, slippery chunks that click in your mouth and swallow quietly. He died of blood poisoning a few days later. It was a bad death, yes Right? But if he didn't die, but lived to old age, then he wouldn't be so perfect as a work of art. It sounds weird, but it's true. The center of the joke of life Often it's death."

On such occasions Rex was always able to talk freely and eloquently, making up stories about his friends who did not exist, and making seemingly subtle but not profound remarks to suit the understanding of the listener.His knowledge was patchwork, but he had a quick mind and a good sense of things.He is preoccupied with how to play tricks on his fellow beings, and in this he possesses a remarkable, almost perfect talent.There was perhaps only one thing that was true about him, and that was his deep-seated conviction that everything, whether in art, science, or emotion, was more or less a clever deception.No matter how important the subject, he can always make some witty or banal point of view to suit the thoughts or feelings of the listener, but if the listener offends him, he can become rough and rude.Even when reviewing a book or a painting with considerable seriousness, Rex takes secret pleasure in feeling that he is part of a con.He thought he was acting as an accomplice to some ingenious trickster who was the author of the book or the painting.

He watched with relish how Obinas was suffering. (In his opinion, Albinus is a simple-minded fool with a solid grasp of painting knowledge, but too solid.) Poor Albinus thought he had tasted all the bitterness of life, but Rex I think (with a happy foreboding) that this great farce has only just begun.During the farce, he, Rex, would occupy the stage manager's private box.The stage manager of this farce is neither God nor the devil.The role of God is too old, too dignified, too archaic; and the devil is always wallowing in the sins of others, a self-loathing, displeasing character, as dull as a rainy day... in this dullness On a rainy dawn, inside the prison yard, some poor idiot was yawning nervously.He was about to be quietly executed for murdering his grandmother.

The "stage manager" conceived by Rex is a Proteus who is good at magic and can turn into two or three phantoms at the same time. It is the projection of a series of colorful glass balls flying in an arc in the sky. The figure on the curtain... at least that's the conclusion Rex came to when he occasionally pondered philosophical issues. He is a cynic.The only human emotion he experienced was love for Margo.This love, he explained to himself, was caused by the properties of her flesh—the fragrance of her skin, the surface of her lips, the warmth of her body.However, this explanation does not quite fit the facts.The foundation of their love lies in the deep resonance between the two people. Although Margo is a vulgar Berlin girl, he is an internationally famous painter.

On the day of Rex's visit, helping her with her coat, he said he had rented a room where they could tryst.She gave him a hard look, because Obinas was slapping his clothes about ten steps away from them.Rex smiled and said that he was waiting for her there on time every day.He did not lower his voice when he said this. "I ask Margo for a tryst, but she refuses to go." When he went downstairs, he told Albinus with a smile. "Let her try it," Obinas said with a smile.He pinches her cheek affectionately. "Now let's see how your play goes," he said again, pulling on his gloves.

"Five o'clock tomorrow, Margot, will you?" Rex said. "The girl is going to pick out a car for herself tomorrow," said Albinus, "so she can't come to your place." "She'll have as much time in the morning as she can choose. Can you come at five, Margot? Or at six?" Margot suddenly lost his temper. "Your jokes are boring," she said through gritted teeth. The two men laughed and exchanged winks. The doorman who was talking to the postman outside the building looked at them curiously as they went out. "It is unbelievable," said the porter, when they were out of hearing distance, "that the gentleman's youngest daughter has been dead for only two weeks."

"Who's the other gentleman?" asked the postman. "I don't know. Probably another lover. To be honest, I would be ashamed to let the residents see such a scandal. But he is a rich and generous gentleman. I always feel that if he You must find a mistress, and you should find someone who is bigger and richer." "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." The postman said understandingly.