Chapter 22 twenty one

21 They held hands as they climbed the wide stone steps and passed through the heavy gate, but had to let go as they passed through the turnstile.As soon as they entered the front hall, it seemed inappropriate to hold hands again.The tall gold mosaic dome in the museum's foyer gives it a cathedral-like atmosphere, an environment in which any physical contact, or even a finger hook, seems inappropriate.The white-haired guards in blue uniforms frowned at them when they took her money, which brought back memories of her elementary school studies. She vaguely remembered two school-organized study trips out for the whole day. I also encountered this situation when I visited the city by bus. Maybe the frown has something to do with the ticket price.

"Come," said Duncan, almost in a whisper, "I'll show you my favorite things." They climbed the spiral staircase, circled the totem pole out of proportion to the surrounding environment, and climbed to the highest floor, with a well-curved ceiling above their heads.Marianne hadn't been in this part of the museum for a long time, and it gave her a sense of déjà vu, as if in some unpleasant dream—such as waking up from anesthesia after having her tonsils removed— seen.When she was in college, she once took a course offered on the basement floor (geology, because she could only take this course if she did not take religious knowledge, and she has been very disgusted with rock specimens since then), and occasionally she went to Drink coffee in the cafe on the first floor.But no more climbing these marble stairs to this bowl-shaped space.The air here seems to be frozen, and the winter sun shines through the narrow windows on the high place. In the semi-darkness, you can see the dust particles in the beam of light.

Standing in front of the railing and looking down, they saw a group of schoolchildren going through the turnstile one by one to carry deck chairs to the end of the rotunda.Seen from a height, their bodies appear very short.In this thick enclosed space, the children's laughter is not so clear and loud, which makes people feel that the distance between them seems to be farther than the actual distance. "I hope they don't come here," said Duncan, turning away from the marble balustrade, tugging at her sleeves, and dragging her into a small exhibition room.The parquet floor creaked under their feet as they walked slowly past rows of glass display cases.

During the last three weeks she had seen Duncan often, not by chance as before, but by appointment.He told her that he was writing another term paper called "Monosyllabic Words in the Works of Milton," which he said would be a radical stylistic analysis.He took up the pen and wrote half a sentence "It is of great significance that..." and then ran aground. He has not been able to write a word for two and a half weeks. He has been to the laundry room, but it is useless. He often feels that he needs to think. Ways to adjust adjustments. "Why don't you go find a female graduate student in English?" she asked him once, when she saw their faces in a shop window, she just thought it was so out of place, she looked like an employed woman. Come to accompany him out for a walk.

"That's not really a swap," he said, "They're all working on term papers too, and we have to talk to each other. Besides," he continued grimly, "they don't have much breasts, or," he paused, correcting, "they have too many breasts. " Marianne thought that she was being "used" by someone, but she didn't care much about it, because at least she knew the purpose of it.As long as she knows the ins and outs of such things, she still likes it a little bit. Naturally, according to ordinary people, Duncan was making unreasonable "demands" to her, at least occupying her time and energy.At least he didn't frighten her in some elusive way of reciprocating, though.His preoccupation with himself reassured her in a special sense.So when he whispered, "You know, I don't really like you that much" while kissing her cheek lightly, she didn't feel bad at all, because she didn't have to answer him.It was different with Peter. Whenever he kissed her like this, he always had to whisper "I love you" in her ear, and waited for her to answer, and she had to brace herself to cope.

She had the vague feeling that she was using Duncan too, though she didn't quite know her motives; she hadn't been doing anything for a while lately.Been getting ready for the wedding for a while (it's a weird feeling to think I'm finally getting ready for the wedding. In two weeks, she's going home the day after Peter throws a party, and then, the next day The wedding is two or three weeks away), and this time is just spent waiting, patiently, to let time take it where it will go, with nothing major to say about it.It is simply waiting for some great event in the future, which was caused by some event in the past.

But when she was with Duncan, she felt that the present time existed, and there was no past problem between them, and naturally it would not involve the future. It annoyed her that Duncan didn't care much about her marriage.He just listened while she talked about some specific arrangements related to the marriage.Whenever she said she thought something was a good idea, he just grinned and shrugged his shoulders and said calmly that he didn't think it was a good idea, but she seemed to arrange it well, and it had nothing to do with him anyway. irrelevant.Then he would turn to himself again, and he could not forget this complicated topic.He didn't seem to care what would happen to her after she broke up with him in the future. Only once when he talked about her marriage in passing, he meant that he would have to find another partner in the future.She felt relieved that he was so indifferent, but she didn't want to know why he was like this.

They came to the Orient, with its collection of pale vases and glazed china and lacquer dishes.Marianne looked at a huge screen with many golden gods and goddesses, and in the center of the screen was a fat and huge Bodhisattva with a happy face.Marianne thought that smile was a bit like Mrs. Pogue, she also smiled so serenely and inscrutablely, commanding an army of housewives with a kind of divine will, the images of these women were so small in front of her . For some reason, she was delighted whenever he called, incoherently eager to ask her out. They had to meet in less-visited places, in parks with still snow, art galleries, and occasionally bars (but never at the Park Hotel).That is to say, their rare hugs were entirely out of whim and sneaky, and the weather was so cold, and it was inconvenient to hug while wearing thick winter clothes.He called again this morning when she was at work, suggesting or asking to meet her at the museum, and he said, "I really want to go to the museum." She slipped out early on the pretext of going to the dentist.It didn't matter - she was leaving in a week anyway, and someone was already being trained to take over her job.

The museum is a good place, and Peter will never come.She was afraid that Peter and Duncan would run into each other.In fact, there was nothing to be afraid of, first of all, she explained to herself, Peter had no reason to be angry at all, it had nothing to do with him, obviously there was no such thing as a rival rival's jealousy; secondly, even if they ran into each other , she can also tell Peter Duncan is her college classmate or something.She would be in no danger, but what she was really worried about was that it would be destructive, not that her relationship with Peter might be destroyed, but that one of the two men would be destroyed by the other, although either By whom, or why, she couldn't say.She often wonders that she has such an inexplicable sense of foreboding.

However, because of that, she couldn't let him come to her place, it was too risky.She had been to him a few times, but always his companions were there, sometimes alone, sometimes both, and they were suspicious, and put on ugly faces, to everyone's embarrassment.That would make Duncan even more nervous, and they had to go out immediately. "Why do they hate me?" she asked.They stopped and looked at a Chinese armor with extremely complicated patterns. "Who are you talking about?" "Both of them, look at them, as if they think I'm going to swallow you whole."

"Well, they didn't really hate you. Seriously, they also said you looked like a nice girl, and asked me why I didn't invite you to our place for dinner sometime so they could really get to know you. I didn't tell them "He tried not to let himself laugh out loud, "said you were getting married soon. So they wanted to observe you and see if you were suitable to join our family. They were worried about me, they wanted to protect Me, that's how they get emotional nourishment, they think I'm too young to want me to be brought down." "Am I so dangerous? What are they trying to protect you from?" "Oh, that's right, you're not a graduate student majoring in English, and you're a girl again." "So, is this the first time they've seen a girl?" she asked angrily. Duncan thought for a moment. "That's how I see it. I haven't really been in touch. Sniff, I don't know. What do you know about your parents? You always think that they live in a state of extreme simplicity. But in my impression, Trevor believes in some kind of medieval chastity, well, the Spencer stuff. And Fish, well, I guess he thinks it's okay in theory, he talks about it all the time, I haven't told As for the subject of his thesis, it is about the relationship between the sexes. But he always insists on not messing around. With the right partner, it will be like an electric shock. I think he started from "some ecstasy" Night' or something like D. Lawrence's. God, he's been waiting long enough, he's turning thirty..." Marianne couldn't help being filled with sympathy, and she immediately wondered if there was an older bachelorette among her acquaintances who might just be a match for Fish, would Millie be okay?Or how about Lucy? They walked on, turned a corner, and entered a room full of glass display cases.By this time she could no longer discern things.These corridors and halls, twisting and turning like a maze, she was completely lost.There seemed to be no one else in this part of the museum. "Do you know the way?" She asked worriedly. "I know," he said, "I'll be there soon." They went through the arch and walked into another exhibition hall, which was very empty and gray, in stark contrast to the Eastern Department they had just passed. Several exhibition halls in the Eastern Department had many exhibits and were shining golden.Marianne could tell from the murals on the wall that this was the Ministry of Ancient Egypt. "I come here once in a while," he said almost to himself, "to think about immortality, and this is my favorite mummy case." Marianne looked down at the gold-painted face in the glass case, its stylized eyes drawn with dark blue lines around them, staring at her wide open, serene and ethereal.On the front of the body at chest level, a bird with outstretched wings is drawn, every feather on the bird's body is clearly depicted, and the same bird has one each on the thigh and foot.The rest of the designs are smaller: there are a few orange suns, some gilt figures wearing crowns, who are either sitting on thrones or crossing the river in small boats, and besides that, there are some strange symbols drawn repeatedly, like that. The eyes are like eyes. "This woman is beautiful," said Marianne, though she did not know whether she meant it.The body under the glass looked very special, like someone who fell into the water floating on the water, the golden skin was slightly rippling... "I think it's a man," Duncan said.He walked to the mummy box next to him. "Sometimes I think I wish I could live forever. Then you don't have to worry about time anymore. Ah, the vicissitudes, I don't see how trying to transcend time can't stop it..." She went over to see what he was looking at, which was another mummy's outer box, opened so that the shriveled body could be seen inside.The yellowed sackcloth that had been wrapped around its head had been untied, and only the shriveled gray skin and a few strands of black hair were seen on the skull. Strangely, the teeth were intact. "Really well preserved;" Duncan said he spoke in a tone that suggested he was not an outsider on the subject. "People can't do it anymore. Some guys who make money off the dead say they can do it. That's just bragging." Marianne trembled a little, and she turned and walked away.It wasn't the mummy that puzzled her--she didn't like to look at that kind of thing--it was Duncan's performance, which she couldn't have imagined he would be so fascinated by.A thought crossed her mind that if she reached out to touch him now, he might collapse at once. "You're sick," she said. "What's wrong with death?" Duncan replied, his voice rising suddenly in the empty room. "There's nothing morbid or not about it. Everyone has it someday, doesn't it? That's the last thing." It's a natural thing." "But it's not natural to like death," she retorted, turning to him.He grinned. "Don't take me seriously," he said, "I warned you. Come on, I'll show you my womb symbol. I'll take Fish to see it in two days. He always says seriously He's going to write a short article for the Journal of Victorian Studies entitled 'The Symbol of the Uterus of Beatrix Potter.' He'll have to stop the idea." He led her into the far corner of the room.At first she couldn't make out what was in the glass case because of the sudden dimness, it was like a pile of rubble.It was only later that she saw that it was a skeleton, and that it still had skin in places, lying on its side with its knees bent forward.Beside it are several clay pots and a necklace.The skeleton was so small it looked like a child. "It's older than the pyramids," Duncan said, "buried under the sand in the desert and preserved. When I get really tired of this place, I'm going to find a place to dig a hole to bury myself in, maybe a library, but This city is so humid that things rot." Marianne leaned forward on the glass display case, and she thought that the stunted body looked very pitiful. With its prominent ribs, thin leg bones, and swollen shoulder bones, it looked like some underdeveloped country or Photos of people in concentration camps.Of course she didn't want to hold it in her arms, but she was filled with irrepressible pity for it. When she straightened up and walked away, looking up at Duncan, she saw him stretching out his arms to her, and she shuddered slightly.In this case, his thin body was really scary, and she took a step back. "Don't worry," he said, "I'm not coming back from the grave." His hand traced the arc of her cheek, and he smiled wryly at her. "The trouble is, I can't focus on appearance, especially when I'm around people, like when I reach out and touch them. When you're only thinking about appearance, everything seems real and there's nothing wrong with it. No. But when you think about what's under the surface..." He leaned down to kiss her, and she turned her face away, resting her head on his shoulder (he was wearing winter clothes), and closed her eyes.She just felt that his body was thinner than usual, and she didn't dare to hug him too tightly. She heard the creaking of the parquet floor and opened her eyes to see a pair of gray eyes staring at them coldly.It turned out to be a guard in a blue uniform. He stood behind them and patted Duncan on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, sir," he said, in a polite but uncompromising tone, "um... um... no kissing in the mummy room." "Ah," said Duncan, "I'm sorry." They walked through the maze of exhibition halls and came to the main staircase.I met a group of elementary school students walking out of the opposite exhibition hall with folding chairs.They walked down the marble stairs among the cheerful and laughing children. Duncan suggested to drink coffee, and they came to the coffee shop of the museum and sat down at the not-so-clean square table.They were surrounded by groups of unnaturally unhappy students.For a long time in Marianne's mind, going to a restaurant for coffee had been inseparable from the morning break in the office, and she always wondered if the three office maidens would suddenly appear across the table and sit down next to Duncan. Duncan stirred his coffee. "Would you like some cream?" he asked. "Thanks, no," she replied, but then thought the cream was good enough, so she added some anyway. "Listen, I think it would be all right if we went to bed," said Duncan casually, putting the spoon on the table. Marian just felt a jump in Gordon's heart.She had always felt that there was no need to feel guilty about her relationship with Duncan (what was it even?) provided that, by her standards, their intercourse was entirely chaste.Lately it had occurred to her that this chaste society had a not entirely clear relation to clothing, where the line was drawn by collars and long sleeves.She always imagined that she was talking to Peter when she justified herself.Peter would ask her sourly, "I heard you hang out with a skinny graduate student all the time, what's the matter?" To which she would reply, "Don't be silly, Peter. Well, we're going to get married in two months." Or a month and a half, a month. "Don't be silly, Duncan," she said. "It's impossible. Anyway, I'm going to be married in a month." "That's your business," he said, "and it has nothing to do with me. I just think that's a pretty good idea for me." "Why?" She couldn't help laughing.She was both amused and astonished at the fact that he did not take her opinion seriously. "Well, of course it doesn't matter to you whether it's good or bad. That's the way it is. I mean, you don't really turn me on, you're the one who makes me itch. But I think you'll know how to turn me on." You've got the knack, you've got the brains. You're calm, not like some women. I think it would be nice if I could get over this trouble with sex." He poured some sugar on the On the table, some Taoism was drawn on it with the ring finger. "What trouble?" "Well, maybe I have a homosexual tendency lurking in me," he replied after a moment's thought, "or maybe a heterosexual tendency lurking in me. I don't always get it out anyway. I don't know how." Yes, really. Of course I tried a few times, but then I thought it was a waste of effort, so I gave up. Maybe because the expectations of myself were too high, and when I reached a certain limit, I just wanted to lie Staring at the ceiling in a daze on the bed. I'm thinking about sex when I'm supposed to be writing term papers, but whenever I'm really alone with some half-assed sweetie, or with some woman in a place like under the hedge (everyone Knowing that this is a good opportunity to do that), at the critical moment, I thought about the term paper again.I know it's alternating distractions.You know, these two things are essentially distracting behaviors, but what exactly is my attention diverted from?After all, these women are too picky about books, because they haven't read enough.If they read more, they would understand that all those scenes have been done by other people.I mean adnauseum (disgustingly).I really don't understand why their ideas are so outdated? They look delicate and weak, their movements are soft and full of passion, and they really work hard.As for me, I would think in my heart, smell, my God, who is this poor imitation again, no matter who that person is, it is just a poor imitation anyway, thinking of this, I have no interest at all.Worse still, I would laugh out loud.This made them hysterical. ’ He licked the candy off his finger thoughtfully. "So, how do you think things would be different if I were in it?" She was a little aware that she was experienced in this area, professionally, almost as dignified as a matron.She thought that in a situation like this, a professional with sturdy shoes and starched cuffs was needed, and she should carry a leather bag of needles for hypodermic injections. "Well," he said, "it might not be much worse. But now that I've told you about it, you won't be hysterical." They sat in silence while Marianne pondered what he had just said.It was an insult, she thought, that he should not have the slightest affection for her request.So why didn't she feel insulted?Instead, she just felt that she should try to give him some help and treatment, such as taking his pulse. "Hmm..." she said deliberately.She wondered if someone else was eavesdropping.She glanced around the cafe and saw a large bearded man sitting at a table by the door looking in her direction.She thought it might be a professor of anthropology, but she suddenly recognized that it was the companion who lived with Duncan.There was a blond man sitting with his back to her at the same table, it must have been another partner. "There's a relative of yours over there," she said. "Do you want me to?" she asked. "Me? Of course, no problem. Why not?" "Then go and tell him," she said, "I'd be happy to go." Peter was working on a case and Ainsley was going to antenatal class in the evening - and he went over to convey it.After a while, his two companions got up and went out, and Duncan lazily returned to his seat and sat down. "Trevor said that was really nice," he reported to her, "and he's going back to bake a few things in the oven, home cooking, and he wants us to pay another hour to go back. Marianne was about to grin, but immediately put her hand over her mouth: she suddenly remembered that there were several things she would not eat. "What do you think he will prepare?" Her voice was almost inaudible. Duncan shrugged. "Oh, I don't know, he likes to roast things on a skewer, what's the matter?" "That's right, there are a lot of things I can't eat, I mean, I haven't eaten for a long time, such as meat, eggs, and several kinds of vegetables." Duncan didn't seem surprised at all. "Well, fine," he said, "but Trevor is very proud of his cooking skills. I mean I don't care, it's okay to eat hamburgers every day, but if you don't eat anything on the plate , he would consider it an insult to him." If I vomited it all out after eating it, wouldn't it be an even greater insult to him? ’ she said anxiously, ‘perhaps I had better not go. " "Oh, come on, let's figure out a way," he said with a hint of malevolent curiosity. "I'm sorry, I don't know how this happened, but there's nothing I can do about it." She thought, maybe I can say I'm on a diet. "Oh," Duncan said, "maybe you are representing a rebellious mentality of modern youth against the existing system, although traditionally there is no one who rebels against the digestive mechanism. But why not?" If he had Thinking about it, "I always think that eating is a ridiculous thing. If possible, I'd better not eat, but everyone says that if you don't eat, you can't live." They stood up and put on their coats. "Personally," he continued on his way out, "I'd like to have a nutrient solution injected into the aorta instead of eating. But I don't know a doctor who can do such a thing. I don't think it's right." Difficult to do..."