Chapter 4 Chapter Four
I told myself that it was none of my business to assess whether the owner of the house was a murderer or not. I would use my heart to find out how many pictures needed to be restored and which method would give the best results.For the next few weeks I threw myself into work.
When guests come to the castle, that means I am not invited to dinner.I have no complaints about this, as I am troubled by the Earl's attitude towards me, he seems to want me to fail.I'm afraid he'll gradually damage my confidence that when I throw myself into such delicate work, I have to believe it will be an all-around success.
After leaving me to work alone for a few days, he came to the gallery one morning while I was working.
"Oh, dear Miss Lawson," he exclaimed, when he saw the picture before me, "what are you doing?"
I was amazed, because after my treatment, the painting was perfectly reproduced, and I felt my cheeks change color instantly.I was about to plead angrily when he continued, "You're bringing such color back into the painting, you're going to remind us again of that nasty emerald." I breathed a sigh of relief.
I said sharply to hide my embarrassment: "Then you are convinced that a woman can have some abilities?"
"I've always sensed that you have great powers, and only a woman of character and determination would come here in the first place and defend the - I believe misnamed - so-called weaker sex? "
"My only wish is to do a good job."
"If the women who fought in the past had your recognition, how much trouble would it save?"
"I hope I can save you some trouble, because I can assure you that after being ignored for so long..."
"I noticed, and that's why I decided to invite your father."
"Well, he couldn't come, but his daughter took his place, how lucky we are?" I turned to the picture, but I was afraid to touch it.I dare not act rashly, this kind of work requires full concentration.
He came and stood next to me, and although he pretended to be studying the painting, I believed he was looking at me.
"It looks very interesting," he said. "You must explain."
"I did a trial or two, of course, before starting. I had to make sure I was going to use the best method I knew."
"And what's the best way?" He stared at my face, and again I felt the uncomfortable color on my cheeks.
"I use a mild alcohol-based solvent that doesn't work on hard layers of oil paint, but this paint is mixed with soft resins."
"You are really smart!"
"It's part of my job."
"You're an expert at this."
"So you believe it now?" My voice sounded a little too eager, and I found it hard for my lips to contain the influence of my opinion.
"You are convincing me that you like the picture, Miss Lawson?"
"It's interesting, it's not your best painting, certainly not compared to Fogona and Bucchu, but I think this painter is a master of colour. This madder is beautiful, he uses bold colors, his brushstrokes are a bit Urgent..." I stopped abruptly, and I felt that he was laughing at me, "I'm afraid that when I talk about painting, I will become boring."
"You are too critical of yourself, Miss Lawson."
I!Self-critical!This is the first time anyone has said that to me, but I know it's true.I knew I was sticking out my thorns like a hedgehog to defend myself, so I exposed myself again.
"You'll be restoring the painting soon," he continued.
"Then I will know whether you think I am worthy of the position."
"I'm sure you already know my sentence," he replied, before walking away from me with a smile.
A few days later, when the painting was finished, he came to pass the judges.He stood there frowning for a few seconds, and I felt my heart sink, even though I was content with my job before he came, knowing I was doing a good job.The colors are sparkling again, the texture of the gown and the artist's mastery of the painting remind me of Gainsborough.It was all hidden when I started working, and it's reappearing now. And he stood there looking disturbed. "So," I said, "you're not satisfied?" He shook his head. "Monsieur Count, I don't know what you expect, but I assure you that anyone who knows how to paint..." He shifted his attention from the picture to me, his proud eyebrows slightly raised, and a smile on his lips masked the surprise in his eyes. "...as much as you," he finished for me, "oh yes, if I had the gift, I'd exclaim: It's a miracle. Those hidden places in all their splendor It's true, it's important. But I'm still thinking about those emeralds, you don't know how much trouble it caused. Now because of you, Miss Lawson, there will be new treasure hunts, there will be new speculations. " I knew he was mocking me, and I told myself hard that he wanted me to fail.Now he grudgingly acknowledges my admirable success, and because he cannot deny it, he can only talk about his emerald. This is typical of him, I told myself; and I quickly reminded myself that whoever he was was none of my business.He is not important to me at all, I only care about his pictures. "So far, you have no dissatisfaction with this painting?" I asked sternly. "You proved your qualifications." "So you want me to move on to other paintings?" An expression I don't understand flashed across his face, "I will be very disappointed if you don't do it." I am filled with joy, I have won. But my victory was not complete, because when he stood and smiled at me, he was reminding me how much he knew about my doubts, my fears and all the things I wanted to hide. None of us noticed that Genevieve had entered the gallery, and she might have been watching us for a while before she was spotted.The Count saw her first. "What do you want, Genevieve?" he asked. "I... I'll see how Miss Lawson is doing with the picture?" "Then come in and have a look." She came in, looking gloomy, just like she usually gets along with him. "Over there!" he said, "isn't that a pleasant surprise?" She didn't answer. "Miss Lawson wishes her work to come to fruition, and you remember how this painting used to be." "No, I don't remember." "Such a lack of taste, you must ask Miss Lawson to teach you how to draw while you stay here." "So...she wants to stay?" His voice changed suddenly, almost caring. "I hope," he said, "it's been a long time. Because you see that there are many things in the castle that require her attention." Genevieve gave me a quick look, her eyes were hard, black gemstones.She turned to the picture and said, "Maybe she's so smart that she can find the emerald for us." "You see, Miss Lawson, as I said." "They must look marvelous," I replied. "Undoubtedly, it's because the painter...well...uses oil paint well." I didn't care about his jeers, and her daughter's full of rage, it was the beautiful pictures that I really cared about, now shrouded in a haze of neglect, which only made my work more exciting. Even at that moment he knew what I was thinking, because he bowed and said, "I'm leaving, Miss Lawson, I can see that you long to be alone with these pictures." He motioned for Genevieve to come with him.When they were gone, I stood in the gallery and let my eyes sink from painting to painting. I have seldom been so excited in my life. Now that I am staying in the castle to finish my work, I decided to accept the count's kindness and use the stables, which will help me see more of the country.I've toured the town; had coffee at a pie shop and chatted with the friendly but inquisitive hostess, who would gladly welcome anyone from the old castle.She talks about the Earl with respectful but sly sophistication, with respectful contempt for Mr Philips, and sympathy for Mademoiselle Guinevere, who comes to clean up the picture.Well, well, that was interesting, really, and she hoped the miss would come again, and next time maybe have some of the brioche that was so highly rated at Gaillard. I've walked through markets and seen lights ahead, I've visited old town halls and churches. So the thought of going further into the field was delightful, and I was especially glad that in the stables I was being expected to visit. A horse suitable for me, Bahonni, was singled out.And from the beginning, we knew each other. I was surprised and delighted when Genevieve asked me one morning if I could come along.She was in a peaceful state of affection, and while we were riding, I asked her why she was stupid enough to put me in a secret dungeon. "Well, you're not afraid, you said it, so I don't think it will hurt you." "It's a stupid thing to do. What if Rano didn't see me?" "I'll let you go after a while." "In a while! You know some people might die of fright?" "Death?" She said in fear, "No one dies because of being locked up." "Some people who are nervous may die of fear." "But you never would." She looked at me. "You didn't tell my father, and I thought you might be... friendly with him." She rode forward a little bit, and when we got back to the stables, she said lightly, "I can't ride alone, I have to take a groom, and I don't have anyone to ride with me this morning. I can't if you don't come with me." riding." "It's my pleasure to serve you." I replied coldly. In the garden I met Philip, who I supposed knew I was there and had come out to talk to me on purpose.
"Congratulations," he said, "I've seen the pictures, and the difference is so obvious that it's almost unrecognizable." I laughed amusedly, how different from the Count, I thought.He is sincerely happy. "I'm so glad you think so." "There's no way not to think that, it's a miracle, and I'm so happy, not just because that painting worked out, but because you proved you could do it." "You are so kind." "I'm afraid I was being rude when you arrived, I was surprised and not sure what to do." "You're not being rude, and I fully understand your surprise." "You know, it's my cousin's thing, and naturally I want to do what he likes." "Naturally, it would do you good to have that interest." He frowned. "I feel a responsibility..." He began, "I hope you won't regret coming here." "Certainly not, the work has proven interesting." "Oh...yes, it's...work." He started talking quickly about the gardens and insisted on taking me to see the statuary decorations that Lablan had created after finishing the frescoes of the Palace of Mirrors at Versailles. "They were lucky enough to escape the Great Revolution," he explained.I found him to have a respect for everything about the castle.I like that about him—I also like his polite apology for our first meeting, his possible words that hurt me, and his obvious joy at my success. My day has a regular pattern: I stay in the gallery all morning and work continuously.I go out after lunch and come back at dusk, which is about four o'clock at this time of year.Then I keep myself busy mixing solvents, or reading notes of past experiments, until dinner.Sometimes I dine alone in the room, but many times Miss Dubuis invited me to eat in her room.I cannot refuse this invitation, though I would like to.I listened to her life history: how she was a lawyer's daughter, born not to have to work.How her father was framed by a partner, how he died of a broken heart.And how she was penniless and forced to work as a governess.The story, told in a self-pitying way, was so uninteresting that I was determined not to bore her with what happened to me. After dinner I read a book I found in the picture gallery.Philip told me that if I wanted to use anything there, the Count would be more than happy.It is already November, and I live on the edge of the old castle, knowing it and not knowing it, just as I hear the music in my room, aware of it, but sometimes only I know what it plays. One day, when I came out of the castle, I met Champier on horseback when I was on the back of Bahony.He greeted me with joyful manners and asked if I was visiting his house, and I told him I was. "Ride with me to St. Valin's Vineyard first, and then we'll go back together." Having never been to St. Valin, I agreed, and I always liked his company.But the Busteds were very different without him, and I liked his activity and cheerfulness. "Will you be with us today, miss?" he asked. "Is this a formal invitation?" "You know, I'm never formal. This is just a heartfelt wish on behalf of the family, and you are our honor." I figured I should be glad they wanted to see me, which is great. "Motives are purely selfish, miss." With one of his characteristic quick gestures, he moved closer to me and touched my arm. I didn't avoid meeting his passionate gaze, and I told myself that his attitude that made me feel important to him was just an automatic etiquette that French men show when they meet all women. "Now I won't tell you how we're going to celebrate Christmas," he said, "it will be a surprise to you." When we arrived at Warin Vineyards, I was introduced to Mr Duran, who manages the property.His wife brought the wine and the petits fours, both very tasty, and Champier and M. Duran discussed the quality of the wine.Then Monsieur Duran and Champier went to discuss business, and his wife stayed with me. She knew a great deal about me, for obviously the affairs of the castle were at the heart of the chatter.What do I think of the old castle?And the Earl?I replied with reservations, she obviously didn't think she could get much from me, so she talked about herself, she was mostly worried about Mr Duran, because he was too old to continue working. "This worry is the same every year. Since the catastrophe ten years ago, St. Valin has never been better. Monsieur Champier is a genius, and the wine in the old castle is as good as before. I believe that before long, the Count will Allow my husband to retire." "Must he wait for the count's approval?" "Sure, miss. Mr. Earl will give him his villa. I am looking forward to that day. I will raise some chickens and a cow... maybe two. That is the best for my husband. The current burden for an old man Too big, how can he? Fight all the crises? He is not young anymore. No one but God can say when the frost will destroy the vines? When the summer is too hot, pests often appear; spring frost It’s the worst thing, the day is all right, and then the frost comes like a thief with the night to plunder our grapes; but if there’s not enough sun, the grapes turn sour. It’s a life for young people . . . like Monsieur Champier.” "I hope you will be allowed to retire soon." "It's all in God's hands, miss." "Or," I indicated, "Monsieur the Count." She held her hands up as if to say it was all the same thing. After a while Champier returned, and we left Saint-Valin. We talked about the Durands, and he said the poor old man had had a good time, and it was time for him to retire. "I heard how he waited for the earl's decision." "Oh, yes," replied Champier, "everything depends on him here." "You hate this?" "The era of autocracy is supposed to be over." "You can go anytime, he can't stop you." "Leaving our house?" "If you hate him that much..." "Do I give you that impression?" "When you talk about him, your voice hardens and you have a look in your eyes..." "It's all right, I'm a proud man, maybe too proud. This place is my home, just like his. My family has lived here for centuries, just like his. The only difference is that he lives in the old castle. But we We both grew up in the shadow of the old castle, it was our home... just like it was his." "I understand that." "If I don't like the count, I'm just following the trend. What does he care about this place? He's rarely here, he likes his mansion in Paris. He doesn't condescend to me at all, we don't deserve him Pay attention. But I never let him force me out of the house, I work for him because I have to, and I try not to see him or think about him. You feel the same way, and I expect you to always be." Suddenly he began to sing, with a charming tenor voice throbbing with emotion: After he finished singing, he smiled at me and waited for my comment. "I like it." I said. "I'm so happy! Really." He looked at me so intently, I touched the horse's belly lightly, Bahony galloped forward, Champier followed, and in this way, we returned to Gaillard.As we were passing through the vineyards, I saw the Count, who must have come from the house over there.When he saw me, he put his head forward. "Do you want to see me, Monsieur?" asked Champier. "Next time!" replied the Count, riding on. "Do you have to be there when he visits?" I asked. "No, he knew I was going to St. Warin, and I followed his instructions." He was confused, and when we passed the house on our way to Bastedt's, Gabriel pulled out, looking beautiful with flushed cheeks. "Gabriel," cried Champier, "this is Miss Lawson." She smiled very absently at me, I thought. "The count has been here, I know," said Champier, his attitude changed. "What does he want?" "Look at some graphics...that's it. He'll see you next time." Champier frowned and continued to look at his sister. Madame Bastide received me as warmly as ever, but I noticed that Gabriel had been absent-minded and that Champier had remained silent.
Earl came by the next morning while I was working in the gallery. "How's the work going?" he asked. "Very satisfied, I suppose," I replied. He looked mockingly at the painting I was working on, and I pointed out the fragility and discoloration of the surface and said that I had come to the conclusion that the glaze was distorting the painting. "I'm sure you're right," he said softly. "I'm also glad you don't spend all your time working." I thought he was referring to the day before when he saw me riding a horse when I was probably supposed to be working in a gallery, and I snapped back: "My father always said it wasn't wise to work after lunch. , a person may not be clever enough." "When we met yesterday, you seemed surprisingly clever." "Smart?" I repeated stupidly. "At least," he continued, "at least we're offering as much fun outside the castle as inside." "You mean the horse? You said I could ride a horse if I had the chance." "I'm glad you found the opportunity to share it with your friends." I was surprised, of course he couldn't cut off my friendship with Champier. "It's kind of you to be interested in how I spend my leisure time." "Well, you know I just happen to care about... my drawings." We walked around the galleries, studying them, but I imagine he wasn't really looking: I believe he was picking on me for riding—not because I was with Champier, but when I was supposed to be working.The thought annoys me, I've already estimated working hours.But, of course, if I finish it quickly, I can leave the castle without burdening the master.I blurted out: "If you are not satisfied with the speed of my work..." He turned around as if happily crossing the distance that separated us and smiled at me, "Why do you think that, Miss Lawson?" His head was tilted slightly to one side, and he was discovering some personality trait he hadn't even known, and he was saying: Look, how quickly you get angry.Why?Because you feel like you're being attacked... seriously? "So," I said awkwardly, "are you satisfied with what I've done?" "Very much, Miss Lawson." I turned and went back to work, and he was still wandering the gallery, and I didn't look at him when he went out, closing the door quickly. On the following morning, I couldn't continue working with peace of mind.
On my way to the stables, Genevieve came running from behind. "Miss, can you ride to Crifford with me?" "Crawford?" "My grandfather's house, if you don't go, I will take a groom there, I will go to see my grandfather, I believe he will like to see you." If I had wanted to decline this rude invitation, it was because she mentioned my grandfather that I made up my mind. I have a clear picture through Lano's words and little notes written by Franks.is a pretty little girl with an innocent secret and charming attitude.Now there was an opportunity to meet the little girl's father, and the house that formed the backdrop for the two living portraits, I couldn't resist. Genevieve rode the horse easily, the kind of skill that she had been riding on the saddle since she was a child.Occasionally she pointed out landmarks for me, and stopped at one point so we could look back at the castle. From this distance, it is an unforgettable view.Here one can get an excellent idea of the symmetrical beauty of the ancient battlements, thick buttresses, round towers, and pointed cones on the roofs.It stood in the middle of the vineyards; I could see the church and town hall towering over the town's houses. "You liked it?" Genevieve asked. "I thought it was a lovely landscape." "It's totally Daddy's, it'll never be mine. I'm supposed to be a son, so Daddy likes me a little bit." "He'll like you if you're good and behaved," I answered lecturing. She looked at me with the contempt I thought I deserved, "Miss, really, you talk like a governess. They talk big and tell you to do it...but you do it yourself." No." She squinted at me and smiled to herself, "Oh, not mean shit, she's never going to do anything, but some..." Immediately thinking of the governess in her secret dungeon, I did not continue the conversation. She touched the belly of the horse and galloped ahead of me, her long hair flying under her cavalier hat, forming a charming scene, and I followed her. "If Daddy has a son, we don't have Cousin Philip here, so it's more comfortable." "I believe he has been friendly to you." She glanced sideways at me. "At one point, I was going to marry him." "Oh...I see, but not now." She shook her head, "I don't care, you don't think I want to marry Philip, do you?" "He's much older than you." "Fourteen years old...exactly double." "But I'm assuming that as you get older, the disparity becomes less pronounced." "Well, Dad decided against it. Tell me, why do you think he did it, miss? You know a lot." "I assure you, I don't know your father's intentions. I don't know anything about your father..." I was surprised by the heat when I said this, it was very inexplicable. "So you don't know anything. I'll tell you something. When Philip knew that Dad wouldn't let him marry me, he was very angry." She throws her head up, smiling smugly, so I retort, "Maybe he doesn't know you well." It made her laugh, "It's really not about me," she admits, "it's about being Dad's daughter. No, when my mother... when my mother died, Dad changed his mind. He's changed a lot since then , I think he wanted to insult Philip." "Why would he want to insult Philip?" "Oh...just because it amuses him, he hates people." "I don't believe it's true, people don't hate...without distinction, without reason." "My father is not an ordinary person," she said almost proudly, but hatred inadvertently surged in her tone, a strangely transformed hatred, which contained respect. "We're all different," I said quickly. Her laugh was an octave higher, which I noticed whenever she talked about her father. "He hates me," she interjected. "I'm like my mother, you know. Lano says I look more and more like her every day. I remind him of her." "You listen to too much gossip." "Maybe you haven't heard enough." "Listening to gossip is not an admirable way to pass the time." That made her laugh again, "All I can say, miss, is that you don't always pass the time admirably." I found myself blushing at that disturbing truth. She pointed at me. "Don't take it to heart, miss, you like gossip. I like that about you. If you were as good as you pretended to be, and behaved so well, I couldn't stand you." "Why don't you talk to your father more naturally...don't act like you're afraid of him." I said. "But everyone is afraid of him." "I do not." "Really, miss." "Why should I? If he doesn't like my job, he can say so, then I'll leave and never see him again." "Yes, it may be easy for you. My mother was terrified of him... hopelessly terrified of him." "She told you this?" "Not in words, but I know. And you know what happened to her." I said, "Isn't it time to hit the road? If we delay this any longer, we won't be able to get home before dark." She looked at me beseechingly once, and said, "Yes, but do you think that after death people don't just die, but they... do you think some people don't stay in the grave? Do you think they Will be back for…” I said sharply, "Genevieve, what do you want to say?" "Miss," she said, sounding like a plea for help, "sometimes in the middle of the night I wake up with a fright, and I think I hear noises in the old castle." "My dear Genevieve, everyone wakes up with a fright once in a while, and it's usually a nightmare." "Footsteps... light treads... I heard it, it did, it did, I lay there trembling... thought I'd see..." "Your mother?" The girl was terrified and she was reaching out to me for help.It wouldn't help her to tell her that what she said was all nonsense and that there were no ghosts at all, because she would think it was just something grown-ups used to comfort children. I said, "Listen, Genevieve, suppose there are ghosts, suppose your mother really came back?" She nodded, interest in her eyes. "She loves you, doesn't she?" I saw her put her hands on her waist, "Oh yes, she loves me... nobody loves me like she does." "She would never hurt you, did she? Do you think she will change her attitude towards you now that she is dead?" I saw the relaxed expression and I was so happy for myself that I found her so desperately in need of reassurance. I continued: "She took care of you when you were a child, and if she saw that you were about to fall, she would rush to help you, didn't she?" She nodded, "Why did she change her attitude towards you after she died? I think what you heard was the creaking of planks in a very old house, rattling of doors and windows, ...anything of that sort, that could be rats, too... But even if there were ghosts, you don't think your mother Will be there to protect you from harm?" "Yes," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Yes, she will, she loves me." "If you wake up in the night with a fright, remember this." "Oh yes," she said, "I will." I'm satisfied and feel like continuing this conversation will ruin the effect I've made.So I rode forward, and after a while, we walked side by side in slow, small steps. We spoke no more until we reached Crifford Hall. It was an old house behind a crossroads, surrounded by thick stone walls, but with its ornate iron gates open.We passed through the iron gate and came under an arch in the inner garden.There were green shutters on the windows, and I felt at once a deep stillness.The lively little girl I imagined, the home I wrote down in her daily life notes, is different from here. Genevieve gave me a quick glance to guess my reaction, but I hope I'm not giving away anything. We left the horses in the stables, and Genevieve led me to the door, where she raised the heavy knocker and knocked, the sound echoed from the lower part of the house, where there was silence, and then, with the sound of footsteps, a footman appeared. "Good day, Morik," said Genevieve, "Miss Lawson is with me today." After the salute, we walked into the lobby, where the floor was covered with mosaic tiles. "How is my grandfather today, Morik?" asked Genevieve. "Almost, miss, I'll see if he's ready." The valet disappeared for a few minutes before he returned to the hall, and then said that his master could see us now. There was no fire in that room, and the cold hit me when I entered.It used to be beautiful here because everything fit perfectly.The ceiling is carved with flowers, and there is an inscription on it, which cannot be seen clearly except that it belongs to medieval France. The closed shutters block out most of the light, and the room has only simple furniture.There was an old man sitting in a wheelchair, and he startled me because he looked more like a dead body than a living one.His eyes were sunken in a skeletal face, but they were very bright, and he held a book in his hand, which he closed when we entered.He wore a brown dressing gown with a brown belt. "Grandfather," said Genevieve, "I have come to see you." "My child," he replied in a surprisingly firm voice, and held out a thin white hand with blue veins emerging from it. "Also," continued Genevieve, "I've brought Miss Lawson, who's come from England and is cleaning up my father's drawings." Those eyes, which seemed to be the living part of him, tried to search my heart. "Miss Lawson, please forgive me for not being able to stand. I can only do so with great effort and help from the servants, and I am glad you are with my granddaughter. Genevieve, Miss Lawson A chair...and yourself." "Yes, grandfather." We sat down in front of him, and he was very courteous, and he asked about my work, showed great interest, and said that Genevieve would definitely show me his collection, some of which might need restoration.The thought of living in this kind of house, even temporarily, depresses me.Although the old castle holds many secrets, it is still alive.For the living, this place is like the house of the dead. From time to time he spoke to Genevieve and I noticed how his eyes fell on her.He was just paying attention to me politely, but I was surprised by how carefully he looked at her, how much he cared about her, I thought.Because she didn't feel loved - so I decided that was the main reason for her behavior - when she had such a doting grandfather. He wanted to hear what she was doing, how her studies were progressing.I was surprised that he seemed very close to Miss Dubouil when he talked about her, but I learned from Genevieve that he had never met her.Of course he knew Lano well, for she had been a member of the mansion, and he spoke of her as if it were an old friend. "How about Lano, Genevieve? I trust you to be kind to her. Remember she had a good soul, simple, perhaps, but she did her best. She always was, and she was good for you, always remember That, and be kind to her, Genevieve." "Yes, grandfather." "I hope you don't grow impatient with her." "Not often, grandfather." "Sometimes?" He was nervous. "Well, just a little bit, I just mean you stupid old woman." "That's discord, did you ask the saint for forgiveness afterwards?" "Yes, grandfather." "It's no use asking for forgiveness if you commit the same sin immediately afterwards. Watch your temper, Genevieve. If you do something stupid when it comes, remember the consequences." I wondered how much he knew about his granddaughter's feral nature, and had Rano come to see him and tell him he knew she'd kept me in a secret dungeon? He ordered wine and biscuits to be brought, and an old woman, I guessed, a member of the Rabbis family, with a white cap on her hair, was a little unhappy, and put down the wine without a word.Genevieve murmured her compliments, and the woman curtseyed and went out. As we drank, the old man said, "I heard that the paintings were going to be restored, but I didn't expect a lady to do it." I explain my father's death, and my coming to fulfill his duties. "A little flustered at first," I said, "but the count seems to appreciate my work." I saw his lips pressed together, his hands clutching the blanket. "So... he appreciates you." His voice and his whole expression changed, and I saw Genevieve sitting on the edge of the chair, looking nervously at her grandfather. "At least he implied that he was by allowing me to continue painting," I said. "I hope," and then his voice fades away, and I don't hear the rest of the sentence. "Sorry, I didn't hear that." He shook his head, and the mention of the Earl's name evidently upset him, so here was another Earl-hater, and it was unknown what in his heart aroused his fear and hatred.The conversation went off the rails, and Genevieve tried to run away, asking if she could show me the yard. We left the main hall, down nine passages, into a stone-paved kitchen, through which she led me to the garden. "Your grandfather was delighted to see you," I remarked, "and I'm sure he enjoyed your frequent visits." "He doesn't pay attention, he forgets, he's old and he's not the same after the stroke, his mind is not clear." "Does your father know you're coming?" "He didn't ask." "You mean he's never been here." "He hasn't been here since my mother died. Grandfather doesn't want to see him, does he? Can you imagine my father here?" "No." I answered honestly. 我回头望着房子，看到上面一间屋子的窗帘被掀起，我们正被监视，吉娜薇薇随着我的瞪视，“那是拉比斯太太，她在想你是谁，她不喜欢现在的样子，她想回到老时光，那时她是客厅女仆而拉比斯先生是待客仆役，我不知道他们现在是什么。他们若非外祖父留给他们一笔遗产，要他们服侍到他死，他们是不会留下来的。” “这是个奇怪的家。”我说。 “那是因为外祖父只有一半的生命，他像这个样子已经三年了，医生说他不能再活几年——所以我假设这就是拉比斯觉得值得的原因。” 三年，我想，那是法兰可丝去世的时间，是受到打击而中风的吗？若是他爱她一如他明显的对外孙女的爱，我可以了解。 “我知道你在想什么，”吉娜薇薇叫着，“你想着那正是我母亲去世的时候，外祖父在她去世前一周中风，是不是很奇怪……每一个人都以为他会死，没想到却是她。” 好奇怪！她在她父亲中风后一周，因鸦片过量而死。难道这件事影响她至深，使她结束自己的生命？ 吉娜薇薇已经转身回屋，我静静的跟在她后面，墙上有一扇窗，她快速通过它，并为我握住门，以便我进去。我们在一个鹅卵石庭园中，那儿很安静，吉娜薇薇穿过卵石，我跟着她，觉得我好像参与一项阴谋。 “这是哪儿？”我问，但是她伸一只手放在她唇上。 “我想让你看个东西。” 她穿过大厅，领我到一扇门，将它推开，这房里空无一物，只有一张草褥床，一把祈祷椅，一个木柜，地板是石板，没有毛毡或地毯。 “外祖父最爱的房间。”她说。 “这像修士的斗室。”我说。 她高兴的点头，她看来神秘兮兮的，并打开了木柜。 “吉娜薇薇，”我说，“你没有权利……” 但是好奇心却无法让我抗拒去看里面的东西，我惊异地发现：是一件苦行僧粗布衫，那儿还有另一件令我发抖的东西：一条鞭子。 吉娜薇薇合上柜门。 “你觉得这间房子如何，小姐？”她问，“这儿和古堡一样有趣，不是吗？” “我们该走了，”我说，“我们一定要和你外祖父道别。” 回家的路上她一直很沉默，而且我自己也无法把那幢奇怪的房子赶出脑海，它就像梦魇留在记忆中的某种东西。
留在古堡中的客人走了，我立刻就查觉这个改变。我变得和此地的生活没那么疏离了。例如，一天早上我正要离开画廊，和伯爵面对面相遇。 他说：“现在所有的访客都走了，你该不时的与我们共同用餐，劳森小姐。自家人用餐，你懂吗？我保证你可以教导我们你喜爱的主题，你愿意这么做吗？” 我回答那是令人高兴的事。 “那么，请今晚加入我们。”他说。 当我回房时，我觉得洋洋自得。虽然我和他的会面常带给我震怒，但是却很刺激。我拿出黑天鹅绒服装，将它放在床上。当我这么做时，有人敲门，吉娜薇薇进来了。“你今晚要出去吃饭？”她问。 “不，我将和你一起用餐。” “你看来很高兴，爸爸邀你了？” “接到一个稀有的邀请的确令人愉快。” 她若有所思的抚摸着那件天鹅绒，“我喜欢天鹅绒。”她说。 “我正要去画廊，”我告诉她，“你找我有什么事？” “没有，我只是想来看你。” “你可以和我一起去画廊。” “不，我不想去。” 我自己去画廊，一直待到换装的时候到了。我吩咐送来热水，怀着荒谬的快乐期待在过道里梳洗。但是当我出来换衣服时，我惊恐的瞪着它，我不相信我看到的。当我拿出它时已准备好可以穿了，现在裙子上有刀痕及不平的镶边，有人从腰到踝的把它割裂，连上半身也不能幸免的撕破。我拿起它困惑惊慌的瞪着它。 “这不可以。”我大声说，然后走到唤人的铃旁，拉下它。 乔塞特很快就来了，“什么，小姐……” 当我把衣服拿给她看时，她双手捂着嘴以免叫出声。 “这是什么意思？”我命令道。 “噢……这太邪恶了，噢，但是为什么？” “我不明白。”我开始说。 “我没有做这件事，小姐，我发誓我没有，我只是送热水进来，那时一定已经发生了。” “我没有想过是你做的，乔塞特，但是我要找出是谁做的。” 她歇斯底里的哭着跑出去，“我没做，我没做，我不会被骂的。” 而我站在房问里，瞪着那件毁了的衣服，然后我走到衣橱，拿出那件灰色有紫边的。我才刚把它挂起来，乔塞特挥着一把剪刀戏剧化的出现了。 “我知道是谁做的，”她宣布，“我到教室去发现了这个……她把它放在那儿，看，小姐，天鹅绒碎片还在上面，看这些小点，它们是天鹅绒。” 我知道，当我看到毁掉的衣服时，立刻就知道一切。吉娜薇薇，但是她为什么要这么做？她真的这么恨我吗？ 我走到吉娜薇薇的房间，她茫然的坐在床上，拉诺哭着来回走动。
“你为什么这么做？”我问。 “因为我想。” 拉诺静止不动的看着我们。 “你的行为像个小娃娃，你在做前都不想，是吗？” “有，我有。我想我喜欢这么做，所以你去画廊时，我去拿剪刀。” “那么你现在觉得难过吗？” “我才不。” “我是，我没有很多衣服。” “你可以穿这件剪开的衣服，它也许很合适，我保证有些人喜欢它。”她开始无法自抑的大笑，我可以看到她几乎流下眼泪。 “停下！”我命令，“这是一个愚笨的行为。” “这是剪开衣服的方法，呼！你听听剪刀声，好可爱。”她继续笑，拉诺放一只手在她肩上，却被震落。 我离开她，在她这种心情下，和她讲理是没用的。 我期盼的晚餐不是顿舒服的餐饮，我一直查觉到吉娜薇薇的出现，她阴沉默然。整顿饭她一直偷偷的观察我，等着我对她父亲揭发她。 我谈得不多，多半讲图画和古堡，但是我觉得我很沉闷令伯爵失望，他也许想由他嘲笑的态度引起激烈的回答。 我很高兴晚餐一结束我立刻逃回房间，我在心中盘算我该怎么做。我该向吉娜薇薇讲理，该向她解释像这种行为找不到一丝乐趣。 当我还在默想这件事时，杜布依小姐来到我房间。 “我一定要和你谈，”她说，“真是一场骚动！” “你听说我衣服的事？” “整幢宅第的人都知道了，乔塞特告诉负责倒酒的仆人，他又告诉了伯爵。吉娜薇薇小姐玩过太多把戏。” “所以……他知道了。” 她狡猾的看着我，“是……他知道。” “还有吉娜薇薇呢？” “她在房间里，躲在拉诺的裙子后，她会被处罚，她活该。” “我不明白她从这件事中得到乐趣。” “顽皮！恶意！她嫉妒你被邀共进家庭晚餐，而伯爵又一副兴致勃勃的样子。” “当然他对他的画有兴趣。” 她窃笑，“你永远要小心，当然我来此地之前，我一点概念也没有，一位伯爵、一幢古堡……听起来很棒，但是当我知道那些恐惧的故事后，我真是害怕极了。我准备收拾行李离开，但是我决定给它一个机会，即使我看出有多危险。像伯爵这种男人，比方说……” “我想不出他对你构成任何危险。” “一个太太那样死掉的男人！你太天真了，劳森小姐。事实上因为上任主人的不礼貌的注意，我不得不离开上一任的工作。” 我挖苦的告诉自己，她的脸变成粉红色，以尽力想像自己被渴望。我确信她提过那些诱惑只发生在她的想像中。 “多困扰你啊！”我说。 “当我来此地时，我知道我一定要特别小心评估伯爵的声誉，他周围一直有恶言中伤。” “只要有人制造，就一定会有恶言中伤。”我批评。 有许多地方让我不喜欢她；因为她以他人的不安为乐，因为她以愚昧的假笑暗示她是倾国倾城的美女，因为她的长鼻子让她像一只狡猾的老鼠。可怜的女人，也许她能改变外表，但是那晚她心灵的卑鄙却写在脸上，我不喜欢她。我告诉自己，我恨那些站着审判别人的人。 当她走的时候，我很高兴，我的思绪被吉娜薇薇占满，我们的关系正遭到了一次打击。I am disappointed.失去一件衣服的麻烦与失去我正产生的信心相比实在不算什么。奇怪的是，虽然她如此对我，我却对她生出一种新的温柔。可怜的孩子，她需要关心，而她正在盲目摸索，想引起一些注意。我确信，我想要了解她，我想要帮助她。发生在我眼前的是她在这个房子中几乎得不到帮助与了解——她被父亲轻视、拒绝，被奶妈溺爱。一定得做点什么，我确定。我不常行事冲动，但是我做了。 我走到图书室并敲门，没人回答，所以我走进并拉铃，当一个男仆进来时，我问他是否可以送一个口信给伯爵，说我希望和他谈谈。 当我看到那男人脸上的惊讶表情，我才知道我有多鲁莽，但是我仍觉得有立刻采取行动的必要，所以我不在乎。一番反省后，我希望他回来告诉我伯爵太忙无法见我，也许明天可以安排会见，但是我很惊讶，当门打开时，伯爵进来了。 “劳森小姐，你吩咐我来的？” 我为这个讽刺脸红，“我想和你谈谈，伯爵先生。” 他皱眉，“关于衣服的不礼貌事件，我一定要为我女儿的举止道歉。” “我不是为你的道歉而来。” “你真能原谅人。” “噢，当我看到衣服时，我很生气。” “很自然，你会得到补偿，而吉娜薇薇将会向你道歉。” “那不是我想要的。” 他脸上的困惑表情可能是假装的，一如往常，他给我一个印象，他对我心中的想法一清二楚。 “那么也许你会告诉我为何你……吩咐我过来。” “我没有吩咐你，我请问你是否可以在这里见我。” “好了，我在这里，晚餐时你很安静，无疑是因为这件愚蠢的事，你很谨慎，表现出贵国的镇定特质，而且隐藏你对我女儿的愤怒。但是现在秘密已经揭穿了，你不用再害怕编故事了，那么所以……你有事想告诉我。” “我想谈谈吉娜薇薇，这也许是我的推测……”为了再确定那样说不好，我停住，但是什么也没发生。 “请继续。”他只说这个。 “我关心她。” 他示意我坐下，然后他坐在我对面。当他张大眼睛往后坐在椅子上，双手交迭出小指上的玉刻图章戒指时，我可以相信我听到有关他的所有谣言。那鹰钩鼻，肩膀上那傲慢的头颅，谜一样的嘴巴，表情深不可测的双眼，这都属于一个天生统治别人的男人，他相信自己的天赐权利，以他自己的方式，自然而然的除去所有站在他道路上的任何人或事。 “是的，伯爵先生，我关心你的女儿，你认为她为何这么做？” “无疑的，她要解释。” “她怎么能？她甚至都不了解自己，她正在承受着一项可怕的痛苦考验。”是我的想像吗？还是他真的看起来变得有一点警觉？ “是什么样的痛苦考验？”他问。 “我是指……她母亲的死。” 他的凝视与我相遇，稳定、不妥协、高傲。 “那是几年以前了。” “但是她发现她母亲的死。” “我看你已被完全告知这家庭的历史。” 我突然站起来，向他走上一步。他立刻站起身——虽然我很高，但是他比我高多了——向下看我，我试着从他深陷的双眼读出他的表情。 “她寂寞，”我说：“你看不出来吗？别对她太严厉，只要你对她好一点……只要……” 他不再看我，一种隐约的厌烦表情出现在他脸上。 “为什么，劳森小姐，”他说，“我以为你是来修复我们的图画的，而不是我们本身。” 我觉得挫折。我说，“我很抱歉，我不该来，我该知道这是没有用的。” 他领我到门边，他打开它，在我通过时，微微一鞠躬。 我回到房间，想知道自己做了什么事。
第二天早上我像平常一样到画廊工作并期待伯爵的命令，因为我肯定他不会允许这个干扰轻易过去。夜里我曾醒来多次回想那个情景，我把它夸张到这种程度，好似恶魔正坐在我对面的椅子，透过厚厚的眼睑打量我。 午餐像平日般送来，当我进食时，拉诺来了。她看来又老又疲倦，我猜她整晚几乎没睡。 “伯爵先生整个早上都在教室，”她叫着，“我不知道那是什么意思，他看过所有的练习本并问问题，可怜的吉娜薇薇几乎因害怕而发狂。”她害怕的看着我并说，“这不像他。但是他问东问西，并说他觉得她十分无知，可怜的杜布依小姐几乎要崩溃了。” “无疑的，他觉得该是注意他女儿的时候了。” “我不知道这是什么意思，小姐，但愿我知道。” 我出去散步，这是一条既不经过巴士泰德家又不进城的路，我不想见任何人，我只想一个人独处，想想吉娜薇薇与她的父亲。 当我回到古堡时，我发现拉诺在我房中等我。 “杜布依小姐走了。”她宣布。 “什么？”我叫道。 “伯爵先生只以给她薪水代替通知。” 我受到惊吓，“噢……可怜的女人！她要去哪里？这好像太……悲哀。” “伯爵很快就打好主意，”拉诺说，“然后他就行动。” “我猜现在会有一位新的家庭教师。” “我不知道会发生什么事，小姐。” “吉娜薇薇，她怎么样？” “她从来不尊重杜布依小姐……说实话我也一样，但是她很害怕。” 拉诺走后，我坐在房里想下一步会发生什么事。还有我会怎样？他不能说我没有效率。图画工作的进度很令人满意，不过人可以因为其它的错误而遭辞退，无礼就是一个。而我竟敢命令他到他的图书室，批评他对待女儿的方法。现在我冷静的考虑这件事，我必须承认若是我被命令离去，我可以理解。至于图画，他可以找别人继续完成，我绝非不可或缺的。 当然，还有衣服那件事。我是输家，但是每次他看到我就会想起他女儿做过的事！此外，更记住我曾如此贴近瞥见他的家庭秘密。 吉娜薇薇到我房里，阴沉的道歉，我知道她不是真心的，我太沮丧无法对她说什么。 晚上我挂衣物时，我寻找那件我已经扔进衣橱的衣服，它不见了。我很惊讶，怀疑吉娜薇薇是否拿走它，但是我决定对这件遗失绝口不提。 当命令来的时候，我正在画廊。 “伯爵先生想在图书室见你，劳森小姐。” “很好，我会在几分钟内到达。”我拿起正在用的貂毛刷，若有所思的打量它。现在该轮到我了，我想。 门关上了，我给自己几秒钟好镇定下来，我该装得若无其事，至少他不能说我能力不足。 我自我振作地走向图书室，因为怕双手颤抖，泄露了我的不安，我将它们放在我穿的棕色亚麻外套口袋里。我希望我的心跳不要那么快，它可能很明显。我很高兴我粗厚的皮肤不易变红，但是我猜我的双眼比平常亮。 我的外表不显急躁的来到图书室，走近门时，我摸摸头发，并想起它可能像平日我工作时那样松散。一切都很好，我可不希望他以为我为这个会面预做准备。 I knock on the door. “请进。”他的声音轻柔，表示着欢迎，但是我不信任他的好意。 他对我专心、顽皮的笑着，这是哪一种心情？ "Please sit down." 他引我到面窗的椅子，光线照着我的脸，而他在阴影中，我觉得这是个不公平的优势。 “我们上次见面时，你非常好意的表现出对我女儿的关心。”他说。 “我对她很有兴趣。” “你真好，尤其是你只是来此地修复图画的，别人可能会想像你几乎没时间花在其它无关的事情上。” 现在它来了，我的进度不够快，不够满意。今天下午我就要火速上路离开古堡，一如杜布依小姐。 一种可怕的沮丧击倒我，我受不了离开，我一生中从未如此不幸。我绝对忘不了古堡，我一生都将受到回忆的折磨，我多想知道关于古堡，……还有伯爵的真相，是否他真像多数人所想的是个怪物，他一直都是现在这个样子吗？如果不是，那是什么造成他如此？ 他知道我在想什么吗？他停下来，仔细的观察我。 “我不知道你会怎么想我的提议，劳森小姐，不过有一件事我很清楚，那就是你一定十分坦白。” “我尽力做到。” “我亲爱的劳森小姐，你不用去尽力，你是那么的自然。这是一种令人赞赏的特质，容我说，一种我极为欣赏的。” “你真好心，请告诉我这个……提议。” “我觉得我女儿的教育被忽略了，家庭教师的问题，其中有多少人从事这个职业是因为他们有这个才能？很少。多数人接受这职位是因为他们本来是无需工作，突然的，他们发现自己处于必需做个事的状态中。这不是从事这个极重要职务该有的动机。你的工作必须具备天份，你是个艺术家……。” “噢不……我不会宣称……” “失意艺术家。”他说完，我感觉到他的嘲笑。 “也许。”我冷峻的回答。 “你和那些来教我们孩子的可怜、沮丧的女士多么不同。我决定送我女儿到学校，你非常亲切的为了她好提出你的看法，请就这点赐予坦诚的意见。” “我想这是一个很棒的想法，不过这要看学校而定。” 他摇摇手，“这儿没有地方专收高度敏感的孩子，你同意吗？它是为古物爱好者设的，那些对建筑、绘画有热爱，还有那些专注于老传统——老古董的，你可以这么说。”他读出我的想法，他知道我视他为独裁者，高贵神权的支持者，他正这么告诉我。 我说，“我猜想你是对的。” “我知道，我是。我已经为吉娜薇薇选了一所在英国的学校。” "Oh!" “你好像变吃惊了，当然你相信最好的学校是在英国？” 这又是嘲笑，我太热切的说，“那很有可能！” “正是，在那里她不但学会那种语言，而且得学你，劳森小姐如此深具的谨慎。” “谢谢你，但是她将会远离家园。” “这个家，正如你对我指出的，她不是特别快乐的。” “但是她可以，她有能力产生大量的爱。” 他改变主题：“你早上在画廊工作，但是下午没有，我很高兴你用了马厩。” 我想：他曾监视我。他知道我怎么用时间，我相信我知道什么事要发生了，他要像杜布依小姐那样送走我，我的无礼一如她的不适任令他不悦。 我猜想他是否对她安排像这样的会谈？他是一个喜欢在杀死它们之前先玩弄猎物的人，我记得这个想法以前在这个图书室中出现在我心中。 “伯爵先生，”我说，“如果你不满意我的工作，请告诉我。我会立刻准备离开。” “劳森小姐，你太性急了，我很高兴至少从你身上发现这个缺陷，因为它使你不致太完美，完美太乏味了。我没说我对你的工作不满，事实上我发现你的工作很棒。有时我该到画廊去看你，请你示范你如何得到如此优异的成果。让我告诉你我心中的打算，如果我女儿去英国，她一定要对语言有充分认识，我并没有表示她该立刻去，也许明年也不会。现在她将由丘瑞先生上课，他至少会跟离开的家庭教师一样好。事实上他一定行，因为他不可能更糟。但是她的英文是我最关心的，我在想不知你是否可以在不从事图书工作时，教吉娜薇薇英文。我相信她会从这种安排中，获益匪浅。” 我被我的感情征服了，说不出话。 他很快地继续说：“我不是说你要把自己关在一间教室里，而是你和她可以一起骑马……一起谈话。她知道文法结构，至少我希望如此，她需要实际的会话，当然也从中学得合理的正确发音，你了解我的意思吗？” “是的，我
A few days later, when the painting was finished, he came to pass the judges.He stood there frowning for a few seconds, and I felt my heart sink, even though I was content with my job before he came, knowing I was doing a good job.The colors are sparkling again, the texture of the gown and the artist's mastery of the painting remind me of Gainsborough.It was all hidden when I started working, and it's reappearing now. And he stood there looking disturbed. "So," I said, "you're not satisfied?" He shook his head. "Monsieur Count, I don't know what you expect, but I assure you that anyone who knows how to paint..." He shifted his attention from the picture to me, his proud eyebrows slightly raised, and a smile on his lips masked the surprise in his eyes. "...as much as you," he finished for me, "oh yes, if I had the gift, I'd exclaim: It's a miracle. Those hidden places in all their splendor It's true, it's important. But I'm still thinking about those emeralds, you don't know how much trouble it caused. Now because of you, Miss Lawson, there will be new treasure hunts, there will be new speculations. " I knew he was mocking me, and I told myself hard that he wanted me to fail.Now he grudgingly acknowledges my admirable success, and because he cannot deny it, he can only talk about his emerald. This is typical of him, I told myself; and I quickly reminded myself that whoever he was was none of my business.He is not important to me at all, I only care about his pictures. "So far, you have no dissatisfaction with this painting?" I asked sternly. "You proved your qualifications." "So you want me to move on to other paintings?" An expression I don't understand flashed across his face, "I will be very disappointed if you don't do it." I am filled with joy, I have won. But my victory was not complete, because when he stood and smiled at me, he was reminding me how much he knew about my doubts, my fears and all the things I wanted to hide. None of us noticed that Genevieve had entered the gallery, and she might have been watching us for a while before she was spotted.The Count saw her first. "What do you want, Genevieve?" he asked. "I... I'll see how Miss Lawson is doing with the picture?" "Then come in and have a look." She came in, looking gloomy, just like she usually gets along with him. "Over there!" he said, "isn't that a pleasant surprise?" She didn't answer. "Miss Lawson wishes her work to come to fruition, and you remember how this painting used to be." "No, I don't remember." "Such a lack of taste, you must ask Miss Lawson to teach you how to draw while you stay here." "So...she wants to stay?" His voice changed suddenly, almost caring. "I hope," he said, "it's been a long time. Because you see that there are many things in the castle that require her attention." Genevieve gave me a quick look, her eyes were hard, black gemstones.She turned to the picture and said, "Maybe she's so smart that she can find the emerald for us." "You see, Miss Lawson, as I said." "They must look marvelous," I replied. "Undoubtedly, it's because the painter...well...uses oil paint well." I didn't care about his jeers, and her daughter's full of rage, it was the beautiful pictures that I really cared about, now shrouded in a haze of neglect, which only made my work more exciting. Even at that moment he knew what I was thinking, because he bowed and said, "I'm leaving, Miss Lawson, I can see that you long to be alone with these pictures." He motioned for Genevieve to come with him.When they were gone, I stood in the gallery and let my eyes sink from painting to painting. I have seldom been so excited in my life. Now that I am staying in the castle to finish my work, I decided to accept the count's kindness and use the stables, which will help me see more of the country.I've toured the town; had coffee at a pie shop and chatted with the friendly but inquisitive hostess, who would gladly welcome anyone from the old castle.She talks about the Earl with respectful but sly sophistication, with respectful contempt for Mr Philips, and sympathy for Mademoiselle Guinevere, who comes to clean up the picture.Well, well, that was interesting, really, and she hoped the miss would come again, and next time maybe have some of the brioche that was so highly rated at Gaillard. I've walked through markets and seen lights ahead, I've visited old town halls and churches. So the thought of going further into the field was delightful, and I was especially glad that in the stables I was being expected to visit. A horse suitable for me, Bahonni, was singled out.And from the beginning, we knew each other. I was surprised and delighted when Genevieve asked me one morning if I could come along.She was in a peaceful state of affection, and while we were riding, I asked her why she was stupid enough to put me in a secret dungeon. "Well, you're not afraid, you said it, so I don't think it will hurt you." "It's a stupid thing to do. What if Rano didn't see me?" "I'll let you go after a while." "In a while! You know some people might die of fright?" "Death?" She said in fear, "No one dies because of being locked up." "Some people who are nervous may die of fear." "But you never would." She looked at me. "You didn't tell my father, and I thought you might be... friendly with him." She rode forward a little bit, and when we got back to the stables, she said lightly, "I can't ride alone, I have to take a groom, and I don't have anyone to ride with me this morning. I can't if you don't come with me." riding." "It's my pleasure to serve you." I replied coldly. In the garden I met Philip, who I supposed knew I was there and had come out to talk to me on purpose.
"Congratulations," he said, "I've seen the pictures, and the difference is so obvious that it's almost unrecognizable." I laughed amusedly, how different from the Count, I thought.He is sincerely happy. "I'm so glad you think so." "There's no way not to think that, it's a miracle, and I'm so happy, not just because that painting worked out, but because you proved you could do it." "You are so kind." "I'm afraid I was being rude when you arrived, I was surprised and not sure what to do." "You're not being rude, and I fully understand your surprise." "You know, it's my cousin's thing, and naturally I want to do what he likes." "Naturally, it would do you good to have that interest." He frowned. "I feel a responsibility..." He began, "I hope you won't regret coming here." "Certainly not, the work has proven interesting." "Oh...yes, it's...work." He started talking quickly about the gardens and insisted on taking me to see the statuary decorations that Lablan had created after finishing the frescoes of the Palace of Mirrors at Versailles. "They were lucky enough to escape the Great Revolution," he explained.I found him to have a respect for everything about the castle.I like that about him—I also like his polite apology for our first meeting, his possible words that hurt me, and his obvious joy at my success. My day has a regular pattern: I stay in the gallery all morning and work continuously.I go out after lunch and come back at dusk, which is about four o'clock at this time of year.Then I keep myself busy mixing solvents, or reading notes of past experiments, until dinner.Sometimes I dine alone in the room, but many times Miss Dubuis invited me to eat in her room.I cannot refuse this invitation, though I would like to.I listened to her life history: how she was a lawyer's daughter, born not to have to work.How her father was framed by a partner, how he died of a broken heart.And how she was penniless and forced to work as a governess.The story, told in a self-pitying way, was so uninteresting that I was determined not to bore her with what happened to me. After dinner I read a book I found in the picture gallery.Philip told me that if I wanted to use anything there, the Count would be more than happy.It is already November, and I live on the edge of the old castle, knowing it and not knowing it, just as I hear the music in my room, aware of it, but sometimes only I know what it plays. One day, when I came out of the castle, I met Champier on horseback when I was on the back of Bahony.He greeted me with joyful manners and asked if I was visiting his house, and I told him I was. "Ride with me to St. Valin's Vineyard first, and then we'll go back together." Having never been to St. Valin, I agreed, and I always liked his company.But the Busteds were very different without him, and I liked his activity and cheerfulness. "Will you be with us today, miss?" he asked. "Is this a formal invitation?" "You know, I'm never formal. This is just a heartfelt wish on behalf of the family, and you are our honor." I figured I should be glad they wanted to see me, which is great. "Motives are purely selfish, miss." With one of his characteristic quick gestures, he moved closer to me and touched my arm. I didn't avoid meeting his passionate gaze, and I told myself that his attitude that made me feel important to him was just an automatic etiquette that French men show when they meet all women. "Now I won't tell you how we're going to celebrate Christmas," he said, "it will be a surprise to you." When we arrived at Warin Vineyards, I was introduced to Mr Duran, who manages the property.His wife brought the wine and the petits fours, both very tasty, and Champier and M. Duran discussed the quality of the wine.Then Monsieur Duran and Champier went to discuss business, and his wife stayed with me. She knew a great deal about me, for obviously the affairs of the castle were at the heart of the chatter.What do I think of the old castle?And the Earl?I replied with reservations, she obviously didn't think she could get much from me, so she talked about herself, she was mostly worried about Mr Duran, because he was too old to continue working. "This worry is the same every year. Since the catastrophe ten years ago, St. Valin has never been better. Monsieur Champier is a genius, and the wine in the old castle is as good as before. I believe that before long, the Count will Allow my husband to retire." "Must he wait for the count's approval?" "Sure, miss. Mr. Earl will give him his villa. I am looking forward to that day. I will raise some chickens and a cow... maybe two. That is the best for my husband. The current burden for an old man Too big, how can he? Fight all the crises? He is not young anymore. No one but God can say when the frost will destroy the vines? When the summer is too hot, pests often appear; spring frost It’s the worst thing, the day is all right, and then the frost comes like a thief with the night to plunder our grapes; but if there’s not enough sun, the grapes turn sour. It’s a life for young people . . . like Monsieur Champier.” "I hope you will be allowed to retire soon." "It's all in God's hands, miss." "Or," I indicated, "Monsieur the Count." She held her hands up as if to say it was all the same thing. After a while Champier returned, and we left Saint-Valin. We talked about the Durands, and he said the poor old man had had a good time, and it was time for him to retire. "I heard how he waited for the earl's decision." "Oh, yes," replied Champier, "everything depends on him here." "You hate this?" "The era of autocracy is supposed to be over." "You can go anytime, he can't stop you." "Leaving our house?" "If you hate him that much..." "Do I give you that impression?" "When you talk about him, your voice hardens and you have a look in your eyes..." "It's all right, I'm a proud man, maybe too proud. This place is my home, just like his. My family has lived here for centuries, just like his. The only difference is that he lives in the old castle. But we We both grew up in the shadow of the old castle, it was our home... just like it was his." "I understand that." "If I don't like the count, I'm just following the trend. What does he care about this place? He's rarely here, he likes his mansion in Paris. He doesn't condescend to me at all, we don't deserve him Pay attention. But I never let him force me out of the house, I work for him because I have to, and I try not to see him or think about him. You feel the same way, and I expect you to always be." Suddenly he began to sing, with a charming tenor voice throbbing with emotion: After he finished singing, he smiled at me and waited for my comment. "I like it." I said. "I'm so happy! Really." He looked at me so intently, I touched the horse's belly lightly, Bahony galloped forward, Champier followed, and in this way, we returned to Gaillard.As we were passing through the vineyards, I saw the Count, who must have come from the house over there.When he saw me, he put his head forward. "Do you want to see me, Monsieur?" asked Champier. "Next time!" replied the Count, riding on. "Do you have to be there when he visits?" I asked. "No, he knew I was going to St. Warin, and I followed his instructions." He was confused, and when we passed the house on our way to Bastedt's, Gabriel pulled out, looking beautiful with flushed cheeks. "Gabriel," cried Champier, "this is Miss Lawson." She smiled very absently at me, I thought. "The count has been here, I know," said Champier, his attitude changed. "What does he want?" "Look at some graphics...that's it. He'll see you next time." Champier frowned and continued to look at his sister. Madame Bastide received me as warmly as ever, but I noticed that Gabriel had been absent-minded and that Champier had remained silent.
Earl came by the next morning while I was working in the gallery. "How's the work going?" he asked. "Very satisfied, I suppose," I replied. He looked mockingly at the painting I was working on, and I pointed out the fragility and discoloration of the surface and said that I had come to the conclusion that the glaze was distorting the painting. "I'm sure you're right," he said softly. "I'm also glad you don't spend all your time working." I thought he was referring to the day before when he saw me riding a horse when I was probably supposed to be working in a gallery, and I snapped back: "My father always said it wasn't wise to work after lunch. , a person may not be clever enough." "When we met yesterday, you seemed surprisingly clever." "Smart?" I repeated stupidly. "At least," he continued, "at least we're offering as much fun outside the castle as inside." "You mean the horse? You said I could ride a horse if I had the chance." "I'm glad you found the opportunity to share it with your friends." I was surprised, of course he couldn't cut off my friendship with Champier. "It's kind of you to be interested in how I spend my leisure time." "Well, you know I just happen to care about... my drawings." We walked around the galleries, studying them, but I imagine he wasn't really looking: I believe he was picking on me for riding—not because I was with Champier, but when I was supposed to be working.The thought annoys me, I've already estimated working hours.But, of course, if I finish it quickly, I can leave the castle without burdening the master.I blurted out: "If you are not satisfied with the speed of my work..." He turned around as if happily crossing the distance that separated us and smiled at me, "Why do you think that, Miss Lawson?" His head was tilted slightly to one side, and he was discovering some personality trait he hadn't even known, and he was saying: Look, how quickly you get angry.Why?Because you feel like you're being attacked... seriously? "So," I said awkwardly, "are you satisfied with what I've done?" "Very much, Miss Lawson." I turned and went back to work, and he was still wandering the gallery, and I didn't look at him when he went out, closing the door quickly. On the following morning, I couldn't continue working with peace of mind.
On my way to the stables, Genevieve came running from behind. "Miss, can you ride to Crifford with me?" "Crawford?" "My grandfather's house, if you don't go, I will take a groom there, I will go to see my grandfather, I believe he will like to see you." If I had wanted to decline this rude invitation, it was because she mentioned my grandfather that I made up my mind. I have a clear picture through Lano's words and little notes written by Franks.is a pretty little girl with an innocent secret and charming attitude.Now there was an opportunity to meet the little girl's father, and the house that formed the backdrop for the two living portraits, I couldn't resist. Genevieve rode the horse easily, the kind of skill that she had been riding on the saddle since she was a child.Occasionally she pointed out landmarks for me, and stopped at one point so we could look back at the castle. From this distance, it is an unforgettable view.Here one can get an excellent idea of the symmetrical beauty of the ancient battlements, thick buttresses, round towers, and pointed cones on the roofs.It stood in the middle of the vineyards; I could see the church and town hall towering over the town's houses. "You liked it?" Genevieve asked. "I thought it was a lovely landscape." "It's totally Daddy's, it'll never be mine. I'm supposed to be a son, so Daddy likes me a little bit." "He'll like you if you're good and behaved," I answered lecturing. She looked at me with the contempt I thought I deserved, "Miss, really, you talk like a governess. They talk big and tell you to do it...but you do it yourself." No." She squinted at me and smiled to herself, "Oh, not mean shit, she's never going to do anything, but some..." Immediately thinking of the governess in her secret dungeon, I did not continue the conversation. She touched the belly of the horse and galloped ahead of me, her long hair flying under her cavalier hat, forming a charming scene, and I followed her. "If Daddy has a son, we don't have Cousin Philip here, so it's more comfortable." "I believe he has been friendly to you." She glanced sideways at me. "At one point, I was going to marry him." "Oh...I see, but not now." She shook her head, "I don't care, you don't think I want to marry Philip, do you?" "He's much older than you." "Fourteen years old...exactly double." "But I'm assuming that as you get older, the disparity becomes less pronounced." "Well, Dad decided against it. Tell me, why do you think he did it, miss? You know a lot." "I assure you, I don't know your father's intentions. I don't know anything about your father..." I was surprised by the heat when I said this, it was very inexplicable. "So you don't know anything. I'll tell you something. When Philip knew that Dad wouldn't let him marry me, he was very angry." She throws her head up, smiling smugly, so I retort, "Maybe he doesn't know you well." It made her laugh, "It's really not about me," she admits, "it's about being Dad's daughter. No, when my mother... when my mother died, Dad changed his mind. He's changed a lot since then , I think he wanted to insult Philip." "Why would he want to insult Philip?" "Oh...just because it amuses him, he hates people." "I don't believe it's true, people don't hate...without distinction, without reason." "My father is not an ordinary person," she said almost proudly, but hatred inadvertently surged in her tone, a strangely transformed hatred, which contained respect. "We're all different," I said quickly. Her laugh was an octave higher, which I noticed whenever she talked about her father. "He hates me," she interjected. "I'm like my mother, you know. Lano says I look more and more like her every day. I remind him of her." "You listen to too much gossip." "Maybe you haven't heard enough." "Listening to gossip is not an admirable way to pass the time." That made her laugh again, "All I can say, miss, is that you don't always pass the time admirably." I found myself blushing at that disturbing truth. She pointed at me. "Don't take it to heart, miss, you like gossip. I like that about you. If you were as good as you pretended to be, and behaved so well, I couldn't stand you." "Why don't you talk to your father more naturally...don't act like you're afraid of him." I said. "But everyone is afraid of him." "I do not." "Really, miss." "Why should I? If he doesn't like my job, he can say so, then I'll leave and never see him again." "Yes, it may be easy for you. My mother was terrified of him... hopelessly terrified of him." "She told you this?" "Not in words, but I know. And you know what happened to her." I said, "Isn't it time to hit the road? If we delay this any longer, we won't be able to get home before dark." She looked at me beseechingly once, and said, "Yes, but do you think that after death people don't just die, but they... do you think some people don't stay in the grave? Do you think they Will be back for…” I said sharply, "Genevieve, what do you want to say?" "Miss," she said, sounding like a plea for help, "sometimes in the middle of the night I wake up with a fright, and I think I hear noises in the old castle." "My dear Genevieve, everyone wakes up with a fright once in a while, and it's usually a nightmare." "Footsteps... light treads... I heard it, it did, it did, I lay there trembling... thought I'd see..." "Your mother?" The girl was terrified and she was reaching out to me for help.It wouldn't help her to tell her that what she said was all nonsense and that there were no ghosts at all, because she would think it was just something grown-ups used to comfort children. I said, "Listen, Genevieve, suppose there are ghosts, suppose your mother really came back?" She nodded, interest in her eyes. "She loves you, doesn't she?" I saw her put her hands on her waist, "Oh yes, she loves me... nobody loves me like she does." "She would never hurt you, did she? Do you think she will change her attitude towards you now that she is dead?" I saw the relaxed expression and I was so happy for myself that I found her so desperately in need of reassurance. I continued: "She took care of you when you were a child, and if she saw that you were about to fall, she would rush to help you, didn't she?" She nodded, "Why did she change her attitude towards you after she died? I think what you heard was the creaking of planks in a very old house, rattling of doors and windows, ...anything of that sort, that could be rats, too... But even if there were ghosts, you don't think your mother Will be there to protect you from harm?" "Yes," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Yes, she will, she loves me." "If you wake up in the night with a fright, remember this." "Oh yes," she said, "I will." I'm satisfied and feel like continuing this conversation will ruin the effect I've made.So I rode forward, and after a while, we walked side by side in slow, small steps. We spoke no more until we reached Crifford Hall. It was an old house behind a crossroads, surrounded by thick stone walls, but with its ornate iron gates open.We passed through the iron gate and came under an arch in the inner garden.There were green shutters on the windows, and I felt at once a deep stillness.The lively little girl I imagined, the home I wrote down in her daily life notes, is different from here. Genevieve gave me a quick glance to guess my reaction, but I hope I'm not giving away anything. We left the horses in the stables, and Genevieve led me to the door, where she raised the heavy knocker and knocked, the sound echoed from the lower part of the house, where there was silence, and then, with the sound of footsteps, a footman appeared. "Good day, Morik," said Genevieve, "Miss Lawson is with me today." After the salute, we walked into the lobby, where the floor was covered with mosaic tiles. "How is my grandfather today, Morik?" asked Genevieve. "Almost, miss, I'll see if he's ready." The valet disappeared for a few minutes before he returned to the hall, and then said that his master could see us now. There was no fire in that room, and the cold hit me when I entered.It used to be beautiful here because everything fit perfectly.The ceiling is carved with flowers, and there is an inscription on it, which cannot be seen clearly except that it belongs to medieval France. The closed shutters block out most of the light, and the room has only simple furniture.There was an old man sitting in a wheelchair, and he startled me because he looked more like a dead body than a living one.His eyes were sunken in a skeletal face, but they were very bright, and he held a book in his hand, which he closed when we entered.He wore a brown dressing gown with a brown belt. "Grandfather," said Genevieve, "I have come to see you." "My child," he replied in a surprisingly firm voice, and held out a thin white hand with blue veins emerging from it. "Also," continued Genevieve, "I've brought Miss Lawson, who's come from England and is cleaning up my father's drawings." Those eyes, which seemed to be the living part of him, tried to search my heart. "Miss Lawson, please forgive me for not being able to stand. I can only do so with great effort and help from the servants, and I am glad you are with my granddaughter. Genevieve, Miss Lawson A chair...and yourself." "Yes, grandfather." We sat down in front of him, and he was very courteous, and he asked about my work, showed great interest, and said that Genevieve would definitely show me his collection, some of which might need restoration.The thought of living in this kind of house, even temporarily, depresses me.Although the old castle holds many secrets, it is still alive.For the living, this place is like the house of the dead. From time to time he spoke to Genevieve and I noticed how his eyes fell on her.He was just paying attention to me politely, but I was surprised by how carefully he looked at her, how much he cared about her, I thought.Because she didn't feel loved - so I decided that was the main reason for her behavior - when she had such a doting grandfather. He wanted to hear what she was doing, how her studies were progressing.I was surprised that he seemed very close to Miss Dubouil when he talked about her, but I learned from Genevieve that he had never met her.Of course he knew Lano well, for she had been a member of the mansion, and he spoke of her as if it were an old friend. "How about Lano, Genevieve? I trust you to be kind to her. Remember she had a good soul, simple, perhaps, but she did her best. She always was, and she was good for you, always remember That, and be kind to her, Genevieve." "Yes, grandfather." "I hope you don't grow impatient with her." "Not often, grandfather." "Sometimes?" He was nervous. "Well, just a little bit, I just mean you stupid old woman." "That's discord, did you ask the saint for forgiveness afterwards?" "Yes, grandfather." "It's no use asking for forgiveness if you commit the same sin immediately afterwards. Watch your temper, Genevieve. If you do something stupid when it comes, remember the consequences." I wondered how much he knew about his granddaughter's feral nature, and had Rano come to see him and tell him he knew she'd kept me in a secret dungeon? He ordered wine and biscuits to be brought, and an old woman, I guessed, a member of the Rabbis family, with a white cap on her hair, was a little unhappy, and put down the wine without a word.Genevieve murmured her compliments, and the woman curtseyed and went out. As we drank, the old man said, "I heard that the paintings were going to be restored, but I didn't expect a lady to do it." I explain my father's death, and my coming to fulfill his duties. "A little flustered at first," I said, "but the count seems to appreciate my work." I saw his lips pressed together, his hands clutching the blanket. "So... he appreciates you." His voice and his whole expression changed, and I saw Genevieve sitting on the edge of the chair, looking nervously at her grandfather. "At least he implied that he was by allowing me to continue painting," I said. "I hope," and then his voice fades away, and I don't hear the rest of the sentence. "Sorry, I didn't hear that." He shook his head, and the mention of the Earl's name evidently upset him, so here was another Earl-hater, and it was unknown what in his heart aroused his fear and hatred.The conversation went off the rails, and Genevieve tried to run away, asking if she could show me the yard. We left the main hall, down nine passages, into a stone-paved kitchen, through which she led me to the garden. "Your grandfather was delighted to see you," I remarked, "and I'm sure he enjoyed your frequent visits." "He doesn't pay attention, he forgets, he's old and he's not the same after the stroke, his mind is not clear." "Does your father know you're coming?" "He didn't ask." "You mean he's never been here." "He hasn't been here since my mother died. Grandfather doesn't want to see him, does he? Can you imagine my father here?" "No." I answered honestly. 我回头望着房子，看到上面一间屋子的窗帘被掀起，我们正被监视，吉娜薇薇随着我的瞪视，“那是拉比斯太太，她在想你是谁，她不喜欢现在的样子，她想回到老时光，那时她是客厅女仆而拉比斯先生是待客仆役，我不知道他们现在是什么。他们若非外祖父留给他们一笔遗产，要他们服侍到他死，他们是不会留下来的。” “这是个奇怪的家。”我说。 “那是因为外祖父只有一半的生命，他像这个样子已经三年了，医生说他不能再活几年——所以我假设这就是拉比斯觉得值得的原因。” 三年，我想，那是法兰可丝去世的时间，是受到打击而中风的吗？若是他爱她一如他明显的对外孙女的爱，我可以了解。 “我知道你在想什么，”吉娜薇薇叫着，“你想着那正是我母亲去世的时候，外祖父在她去世前一周中风，是不是很奇怪……每一个人都以为他会死，没想到却是她。” 好奇怪！她在她父亲中风后一周，因鸦片过量而死。难道这件事影响她至深，使她结束自己的生命？ 吉娜薇薇已经转身回屋，我静静的跟在她后面，墙上有一扇窗，她快速通过它，并为我握住门，以便我进去。我们在一个鹅卵石庭园中，那儿很安静，吉娜薇薇穿过卵石，我跟着她，觉得我好像参与一项阴谋。 “这是哪儿？”我问，但是她伸一只手放在她唇上。 “我想让你看个东西。” 她穿过大厅，领我到一扇门，将它推开，这房里空无一物，只有一张草褥床，一把祈祷椅，一个木柜，地板是石板，没有毛毡或地毯。 “外祖父最爱的房间。”她说。 “这像修士的斗室。”我说。 她高兴的点头，她看来神秘兮兮的，并打开了木柜。 “吉娜薇薇，”我说，“你没有权利……” 但是好奇心却无法让我抗拒去看里面的东西，我惊异地发现：是一件苦行僧粗布衫，那儿还有另一件令我发抖的东西：一条鞭子。 吉娜薇薇合上柜门。 “你觉得这间房子如何，小姐？”她问，“这儿和古堡一样有趣，不是吗？” “我们该走了，”我说，“我们一定要和你外祖父道别。” 回家的路上她一直很沉默，而且我自己也无法把那幢奇怪的房子赶出脑海，它就像梦魇留在记忆中的某种东西。
留在古堡中的客人走了，我立刻就查觉这个改变。我变得和此地的生活没那么疏离了。例如，一天早上我正要离开画廊，和伯爵面对面相遇。 他说：“现在所有的访客都走了，你该不时的与我们共同用餐，劳森小姐。自家人用餐，你懂吗？我保证你可以教导我们你喜爱的主题，你愿意这么做吗？” 我回答那是令人高兴的事。 “那么，请今晚加入我们。”他说。 当我回房时，我觉得洋洋自得。虽然我和他的会面常带给我震怒，但是却很刺激。我拿出黑天鹅绒服装，将它放在床上。当我这么做时，有人敲门，吉娜薇薇进来了。“你今晚要出去吃饭？”她问。 “不，我将和你一起用餐。” “你看来很高兴，爸爸邀你了？” “接到一个稀有的邀请的确令人愉快。” 她若有所思的抚摸着那件天鹅绒，“我喜欢天鹅绒。”她说。 “我正要去画廊，”我告诉她，“你找我有什么事？” “没有，我只是想来看你。” “你可以和我一起去画廊。” “不，我不想去。” 我自己去画廊，一直待到换装的时候到了。我吩咐送来热水，怀着荒谬的快乐期待在过道里梳洗。但是当我出来换衣服时，我惊恐的瞪着它，我不相信我看到的。当我拿出它时已准备好可以穿了，现在裙子上有刀痕及不平的镶边，有人从腰到踝的把它割裂，连上半身也不能幸免的撕破。我拿起它困惑惊慌的瞪着它。 “这不可以。”我大声说，然后走到唤人的铃旁，拉下它。 乔塞特很快就来了，“什么，小姐……” 当我把衣服拿给她看时，她双手捂着嘴以免叫出声。 “这是什么意思？”我命令道。 “噢……这太邪恶了，噢，但是为什么？” “我不明白。”我开始说。 “我没有做这件事，小姐，我发誓我没有，我只是送热水进来，那时一定已经发生了。” “我没有想过是你做的，乔塞特，但是我要找出是谁做的。” 她歇斯底里的哭着跑出去，“我没做，我没做，我不会被骂的。” 而我站在房问里，瞪着那件毁了的衣服，然后我走到衣橱，拿出那件灰色有紫边的。我才刚把它挂起来，乔塞特挥着一把剪刀戏剧化的出现了。 “我知道是谁做的，”她宣布，“我到教室去发现了这个……她把它放在那儿，看，小姐，天鹅绒碎片还在上面，看这些小点，它们是天鹅绒。” 我知道，当我看到毁掉的衣服时，立刻就知道一切。吉娜薇薇，但是她为什么要这么做？她真的这么恨我吗？ 我走到吉娜薇薇的房间，她茫然的坐在床上，拉诺哭着来回走动。
“你为什么这么做？”我问。 “因为我想。” 拉诺静止不动的看着我们。 “你的行为像个小娃娃，你在做前都不想，是吗？” “有，我有。我想我喜欢这么做，所以你去画廊时，我去拿剪刀。” “那么你现在觉得难过吗？” “我才不。” “我是，我没有很多衣服。” “你可以穿这件剪开的衣服，它也许很合适，我保证有些人喜欢它。”她开始无法自抑的大笑，我可以看到她几乎流下眼泪。 “停下！”我命令，“这是一个愚笨的行为。” “这是剪开衣服的方法，呼！你听听剪刀声，好可爱。”她继续笑，拉诺放一只手在她肩上，却被震落。 我离开她，在她这种心情下，和她讲理是没用的。 我期盼的晚餐不是顿舒服的餐饮，我一直查觉到吉娜薇薇的出现，她阴沉默然。整顿饭她一直偷偷的观察我，等着我对她父亲揭发她。 我谈得不多，多半讲图画和古堡，但是我觉得我很沉闷令伯爵失望，他也许想由他嘲笑的态度引起激烈的回答。 我很高兴晚餐一结束我立刻逃回房间，我在心中盘算我该怎么做。我该向吉娜薇薇讲理，该向她解释像这种行为找不到一丝乐趣。 当我还在默想这件事时，杜布依小姐来到我房间。 “我一定要和你谈，”她说，“真是一场骚动！” “你听说我衣服的事？” “整幢宅第的人都知道了，乔塞特告诉负责倒酒的仆人，他又告诉了伯爵。吉娜薇薇小姐玩过太多把戏。” “所以……他知道了。” 她狡猾的看着我，“是……他知道。” “还有吉娜薇薇呢？” “她在房间里，躲在拉诺的裙子后，她会被处罚，她活该。” “我不明白她从这件事中得到乐趣。” “顽皮！恶意！她嫉妒你被邀共进家庭晚餐，而伯爵又一副兴致勃勃的样子。” “当然他对他的画有兴趣。” 她窃笑，“你永远要小心，当然我来此地之前，我一点概念也没有，一位伯爵、一幢古堡……听起来很棒，但是当我知道那些恐惧的故事后，我真是害怕极了。我准备收拾行李离开，但是我决定给它一个机会，即使我看出有多危险。像伯爵这种男人，比方说……” “我想不出他对你构成任何危险。” “一个太太那样死掉的男人！你太天真了，劳森小姐。事实上因为上任主人的不礼貌的注意，我不得不离开上一任的工作。” 我挖苦的告诉自己，她的脸变成粉红色，以尽力想像自己被渴望。我确信她提过那些诱惑只发生在她的想像中。 “多困扰你啊！”我说。 “当我来此地时，我知道我一定要特别小心评估伯爵的声誉，他周围一直有恶言中伤。” “只要有人制造，就一定会有恶言中伤。”我批评。 有许多地方让我不喜欢她；因为她以他人的不安为乐，因为她以愚昧的假笑暗示她是倾国倾城的美女，因为她的长鼻子让她像一只狡猾的老鼠。可怜的女人，也许她能改变外表，但是那晚她心灵的卑鄙却写在脸上，我不喜欢她。我告诉自己，我恨那些站着审判别人的人。 当她走的时候，我很高兴，我的思绪被吉娜薇薇占满，我们的关系正遭到了一次打击。I am disappointed.失去一件衣服的麻烦与失去我正产生的信心相比实在不算什么。奇怪的是，虽然她如此对我，我却对她生出一种新的温柔。可怜的孩子，她需要关心，而她正在盲目摸索，想引起一些注意。我确信，我想要了解她，我想要帮助她。发生在我眼前的是她在这个房子中几乎得不到帮助与了解——她被父亲轻视、拒绝，被奶妈溺爱。一定得做点什么，我确定。我不常行事冲动，但是我做了。 我走到图书室并敲门，没人回答，所以我走进并拉铃，当一个男仆进来时，我问他是否可以送一个口信给伯爵，说我希望和他谈谈。 当我看到那男人脸上的惊讶表情，我才知道我有多鲁莽，但是我仍觉得有立刻采取行动的必要，所以我不在乎。一番反省后，我希望他回来告诉我伯爵太忙无法见我，也许明天可以安排会见，但是我很惊讶，当门打开时，伯爵进来了。 “劳森小姐，你吩咐我来的？” 我为这个讽刺脸红，“我想和你谈谈，伯爵先生。” 他皱眉，“关于衣服的不礼貌事件，我一定要为我女儿的举止道歉。” “我不是为你的道歉而来。” “你真能原谅人。” “噢，当我看到衣服时，我很生气。” “很自然，你会得到补偿，而吉娜薇薇将会向你道歉。” “那不是我想要的。” 他脸上的困惑表情可能是假装的，一如往常，他给我一个印象，他对我心中的想法一清二楚。 “那么也许你会告诉我为何你……吩咐我过来。” “我没有吩咐你，我请问你是否可以在这里见我。” “好了，我在这里，晚餐时你很安静，无疑是因为这件愚蠢的事，你很谨慎，表现出贵国的镇定特质，而且隐藏你对我女儿的愤怒。但是现在秘密已经揭穿了，你不用再害怕编故事了，那么所以……你有事想告诉我。” “我想谈谈吉娜薇薇，这也许是我的推测……”为了再确定那样说不好，我停住，但是什么也没发生。 “请继续。”他只说这个。 “我关心她。” 他示意我坐下，然后他坐在我对面。当他张大眼睛往后坐在椅子上，双手交迭出小指上的玉刻图章戒指时，我可以相信我听到有关他的所有谣言。那鹰钩鼻，肩膀上那傲慢的头颅，谜一样的嘴巴，表情深不可测的双眼，这都属于一个天生统治别人的男人，他相信自己的天赐权利，以他自己的方式，自然而然的除去所有站在他道路上的任何人或事。 “是的，伯爵先生，我关心你的女儿，你认为她为何这么做？” “无疑的，她要解释。” “她怎么能？她甚至都不了解自己，她正在承受着一项可怕的痛苦考验。”是我的想像吗？还是他真的看起来变得有一点警觉？ “是什么样的痛苦考验？”他问。 “我是指……她母亲的死。” 他的凝视与我相遇，稳定、不妥协、高傲。 “那是几年以前了。” “但是她发现她母亲的死。” “我看你已被完全告知这家庭的历史。” 我突然站起来，向他走上一步。他立刻站起身——虽然我很高，但是他比我高多了——向下看我，我试着从他深陷的双眼读出他的表情。 “她寂寞，”我说：“你看不出来吗？别对她太严厉，只要你对她好一点……只要……” 他不再看我，一种隐约的厌烦表情出现在他脸上。 “为什么，劳森小姐，”他说，“我以为你是来修复我们的图画的，而不是我们本身。” 我觉得挫折。我说，“我很抱歉，我不该来，我该知道这是没有用的。” 他领我到门边，他打开它，在我通过时，微微一鞠躬。 我回到房间，想知道自己做了什么事。
第二天早上我像平常一样到画廊工作并期待伯爵的命令，因为我肯定他不会允许这个干扰轻易过去。夜里我曾醒来多次回想那个情景，我把它夸张到这种程度，好似恶魔正坐在我对面的椅子，透过厚厚的眼睑打量我。 午餐像平日般送来，当我进食时，拉诺来了。她看来又老又疲倦，我猜她整晚几乎没睡。 “伯爵先生整个早上都在教室，”她叫着，“我不知道那是什么意思，他看过所有的练习本并问问题，可怜的吉娜薇薇几乎因害怕而发狂。”她害怕的看着我并说，“这不像他。但是他问东问西，并说他觉得她十分无知，可怜的杜布依小姐几乎要崩溃了。” “无疑的，他觉得该是注意他女儿的时候了。” “我不知道这是什么意思，小姐，但愿我知道。” 我出去散步，这是一条既不经过巴士泰德家又不进城的路，我不想见任何人，我只想一个人独处，想想吉娜薇薇与她的父亲。 当我回到古堡时，我发现拉诺在我房中等我。 “杜布依小姐走了。”她宣布。 “什么？”我叫道。 “伯爵先生只以给她薪水代替通知。” 我受到惊吓，“噢……可怜的女人！她要去哪里？这好像太……悲哀。” “伯爵很快就打好主意，”拉诺说，“然后他就行动。” “我猜现在会有一位新的家庭教师。” “我不知道会发生什么事，小姐。” “吉娜薇薇，她怎么样？” “她从来不尊重杜布依小姐……说实话我也一样，但是她很害怕。” 拉诺走后，我坐在房里想下一步会发生什么事。还有我会怎样？他不能说我没有效率。图画工作的进度很令人满意，不过人可以因为其它的错误而遭辞退，无礼就是一个。而我竟敢命令他到他的图书室，批评他对待女儿的方法。现在我冷静的考虑这件事，我必须承认若是我被命令离去，我可以理解。至于图画，他可以找别人继续完成，我绝非不可或缺的。 当然，还有衣服那件事。我是输家，但是每次他看到我就会想起他女儿做过的事！此外，更记住我曾如此贴近瞥见他的家庭秘密。 吉娜薇薇到我房里，阴沉的道歉，我知道她不是真心的，我太沮丧无法对她说什么。 晚上我挂衣物时，我寻找那件我已经扔进衣橱的衣服，它不见了。我很惊讶，怀疑吉娜薇薇是否拿走它，但是我决定对这件遗失绝口不提。 当命令来的时候，我正在画廊。 “伯爵先生想在图书室见你，劳森小姐。” “很好，我会在几分钟内到达。”我拿起正在用的貂毛刷，若有所思的打量它。现在该轮到我了，我想。 门关上了，我给自己几秒钟好镇定下来，我该装得若无其事，至少他不能说我能力不足。 我自我振作地走向图书室，因为怕双手颤抖，泄露了我的不安，我将它们放在我穿的棕色亚麻外套口袋里。我希望我的心跳不要那么快，它可能很明显。我很高兴我粗厚的皮肤不易变红，但是我猜我的双眼比平常亮。 我的外表不显急躁的来到图书室，走近门时，我摸摸头发，并想起它可能像平日我工作时那样松散。一切都很好，我可不希望他以为我为这个会面预做准备。 I knock on the door. “请进。”他的声音轻柔，表示着欢迎，但是我不信任他的好意。 他对我专心、顽皮的笑着，这是哪一种心情？ "Please sit down." 他引我到面窗的椅子，光线照着我的脸，而他在阴影中，我觉得这是个不公平的优势。 “我们上次见面时，你非常好意的表现出对我女儿的关心。”他说。 “我对她很有兴趣。” “你真好，尤其是你只是来此地修复图画的，别人可能会想像你几乎没时间花在其它无关的事情上。” 现在它来了，我的进度不够快，不够满意。今天下午我就要火速上路离开古堡，一如杜布依小姐。 一种可怕的沮丧击倒我，我受不了离开，我一生中从未如此不幸。我绝对忘不了古堡，我一生都将受到回忆的折磨，我多想知道关于古堡，……还有伯爵的真相，是否他真像多数人所想的是个怪物，他一直都是现在这个样子吗？如果不是，那是什么造成他如此？ 他知道我在想什么吗？他停下来，仔细的观察我。 “我不知道你会怎么想我的提议，劳森小姐，不过有一件事我很清楚，那就是你一定十分坦白。” “我尽力做到。” “我亲爱的劳森小姐，你不用去尽力，你是那么的自然。这是一种令人赞赏的特质，容我说，一种我极为欣赏的。” “你真好心，请告诉我这个……提议。” “我觉得我女儿的教育被忽略了，家庭教师的问题，其中有多少人从事这个职业是因为他们有这个才能？很少。多数人接受这职位是因为他们本来是无需工作，突然的，他们发现自己处于必需做个事的状态中。这不是从事这个极重要职务该有的动机。你的工作必须具备天份，你是个艺术家……。” “噢不……我不会宣称……” “失意艺术家。”他说完，我感觉到他的嘲笑。 “也许。”我冷峻的回答。 “你和那些来教我们孩子的可怜、沮丧的女士多么不同。我决定送我女儿到学校，你非常亲切的为了她好提出你的看法，请就这点赐予坦诚的意见。” “我想这是一个很棒的想法，不过这要看学校而定。” 他摇摇手，“这儿没有地方专收高度敏感的孩子，你同意吗？它是为古物爱好者设的，那些对建筑、绘画有热爱，还有那些专注于老传统——老古董的，你可以这么说。”他读出我的想法，他知道我视他为独裁者，高贵神权的支持者，他正这么告诉我。 我说，“我猜想你是对的。” “我知道，我是。我已经为吉娜薇薇选了一所在英国的学校。” "Oh!" “你好像变吃惊了，当然你相信最好的学校是在英国？” 这又是嘲笑，我太热切的说，“那很有可能！” “正是，在那里她不但学会那种语言，而且得学你，劳森小姐如此深具的谨慎。” “谢谢你，但是她将会远离家园。” “这个家，正如你对我指出的，她不是特别快乐的。” “但是她可以，她有能力产生大量的爱。” 他改变主题：“你早上在画廊工作，但是下午没有，我很高兴你用了马厩。” 我想：他曾监视我。他知道我怎么用时间，我相信我知道什么事要发生了，他要像杜布依小姐那样送走我，我的无礼一如她的不适任令他不悦。 我猜想他是否对她安排像这样的会谈？他是一个喜欢在杀死它们之前先玩弄猎物的人，我记得这个想法以前在这个图书室中出现在我心中。 “伯爵先生，”我说，“如果你不满意我的工作，请告诉我。我会立刻准备离开。” “劳森小姐，你太性急了，我很高兴至少从你身上发现这个缺陷，因为它使你不致太完美，完美太乏味了。我没说我对你的工作不满，事实上我发现你的工作很棒。有时我该到画廊去看你，请你示范你如何得到如此优异的成果。让我告诉你我心中的打算，如果我女儿去英国，她一定要对语言有充分认识，我并没有表示她该立刻去，也许明年也不会。现在她将由丘瑞先生上课，他至少会跟离开的家庭教师一样好。事实上他一定行，因为他不可能更糟。但是她的英文是我最关心的，我在想不知你是否可以在不从事图书工作时，教吉娜薇薇英文。我相信她会从这种安排中，获益匪浅。” 我被我的感情征服了，说不出话。 他很快地继续说：“我不是说你要把自己关在一间教室里，而是你和她可以一起骑马……一起谈话。她知道文法结构，至少我希望如此，她需要实际的会话，当然也从中学得合理的正确发音，你了解我的意思吗？” “是的，我