Chapter 4 three, four, five

three When I first met Eliot, I was just an ordinary young writer, and he didn't think much of me.He never forgot a face, so wherever he met, he shook my hand very politely, but he had no intention of making friends with me; if I saw him in the opera, for example, he was sitting with him. A dignitary, he will pretend not to see me.However, the play I was writing at the time happened to be a rather unexpected success, so I soon saw that Elliott was becoming a little fond of me.One day I received a short note inviting me to lunch at the Claridge's, the hotel where he lived when he came to London.There weren't many guests, and they weren't very good. I had a feeling that he was trying to test my communication skills.Since then, however, my own success has brought me many new acquaintances, and therefore opportunities to meet Elliott have increased.Shortly thereafter, I went to Paris to spend the autumn, stayed for a few weeks, and met again at the house of a friend we both knew.He asked where I lived, and a day or two later sent another invitation to lunch, this time at his own apartment.When I arrived and took a look, I didn't expect the guests to be quite outstanding, and I laughed secretly in my stomach.I know, with his worldliness, that a writer like me is not unusual in English society, but here in France one is treated differently if one is a writer, so I am also remarkable.For many years after this we were fairly close, though never really friends.I doubt Elliott Tan Borden would ever be friends with anyone.He is not interested in anything other than his social status.Whether I come to Paris occasionally, or when he is in London, and he has one less guest to entertain, or is forced to entertain Americans who are traveling, he always invites me.I doubt that some of these people are his regular customers, and some are people who have never met him with letters of introduction.He has suffered in these places all his life.He felt that socializing must be socialized, but he was unwilling to introduce them to meet his rich friends.

The best way to pass the time, of course, is to have dinner and go to the theater, but this is often difficult, because he has entertainment every night, and he has made all the appointments three weeks ago; People may not be satisfied with this. He didn't mind telling me about his troubles because I was a writer and it didn't matter much. "Those people in the United States are really inconsiderate of others when they write letters of introduction. It's not that I'm not happy to introduce these people to me, but I don't think there is any reason to make my friends and me suffer."

He bought them a big basket of roses and a big box of chocolate candies to make up for it, but sometimes he had to treat them to dinner.It was at such times that he told me something and then naively invited me to such a banquet as he had arranged. They want to see you very much," the letter praised me. "Mrs. So-and-so is a very literate woman, and she has read every word of your book. " Mrs. Somebody would tell me afterwards that she had read my "Mr. Perrin and Mr. Terrell" and liked it very much, and congratulated me on the success of "Molluscs," the first book by Hugh Walpole , The author of the latter book is Harbert Henry Davis [Note].

Four If my description of Elliott Borden makes the reader think he is a scumbag, I do him a disservice. At one point, he could be called serviable by the French: a word that, as far as I know, has no equivalent in English.There is serviceable in the dictionary. The ancient meaning is willing to help others, benevolent, kind.This is precisely Eliot.He was generous; and although the feat of sending flowers, sweets, and presents in his early social activities undoubtedly had his intentions, he did so later when there was no need for it.He feels good about giving things to others.He is very hospitable; he employs a cook as good as any in Paris, and when you dine with him you are sure to eat the first seasonal dishes.His wines amply proved that he was a connoisseur of wines.It is true that his guests were chosen according to their social status, not necessarily the best ones, but he always got at least one or two who could talk and laugh, and his dinners were almost always very interesting.Some people laughed at him behind his back and said he was a dirty little man; in spite of this, he invited guests and took them happily.He speaks French fluently and correctly, with no ambiguity in accents.He once took great pains to speak English like an Englishman, and you had to have a pair of very sharp ears to catch his American accent.He's extremely talkative, you just have to keep him from mentioning those dukes and duchesses, but even when he's talking about them, he's very entertaining, especially when he's alone with you, anyway he's at the moment The status is beyond doubt.He has a very funny and mean mouth, and there is not a single scandal of these princes and dignitaries that does not fall into his ears. Who is the father of Princess X's latest child, and who is the mistress of Marquis Y, I heard them all from him.Dare to say that even Marcel Proust[Note] did not know as many dignified secrets as Eliot knew.

When I was in Paris, I used to have lunch with him, sometimes in his apartment, sometimes in a restaurant.I like to go to antique shops, and I buy some occasionally, but I mostly look at them, and Elliott is always happy to accompany me.He understands and has a genuine interest in art.I don't think he doesn't know any shop like this in Paris, and all the owners are acquaintances.He loves bargaining; every time we set off, he always tells me: "If you have something you want to buy, don't ask yourself. Just throw me a wink, and I'll do the rest." The thing he's proud of is getting me something I like for half the asking price, and it's a good thing to see him bargain.He would argue, cajole, lose his temper, try to soften the seller, taunt him, find fault with him, scare him off from setting foot in the door, sigh, shrug his shoulders, remonstrate, walk out with a scowling face, and finally get him to come out. When asked the price, he shook his head in a miserable manner, as if he had no choice but to give in.Then whispered to me in English: "Buy it. Double the price and it's still cheap."

Eliot was an ardent Catholic: not long after he was in Paris, he met a priest.That person is famous for being a convert, and many lost lambs who believed in heresy in the past have been brought back by him.He has the most dinners and is famous for his eloquence.His educational activities are limited to wealthy families.Although he came from a humble background, many high-ranking and wealthy families respected him as a guest.Such a person, of course Elliott had an idea when he saw him.He secretly told a rich American lady who had recently been converted by the priest that although his family had always followed the Anglican Church, he himself had long been yearning for Catholicism.One evening, the lady invited him to dinner and met the priest; it was just the three of them, and the priest talked and laughed.The hostess talked about Catholicism, and the priest talked very warmly, without any pedantry, although he was a member of the church, just like a person who has seen the world talking to another person who has seen the world.Elliott was a little flattered to find that the priest knew him well.

"The Duchess Fandom told me about you last time, and she thinks you see things very clearly." Elliott was flushed with joy. He had visited the Duchess, but he never thought she would use his brains.The priest was broad-minded, modern-minded, and tolerant, and he spoke brilliantly and gently about Catholicism.He spoke of the Catholic Church in such a way that Elliott sounded like a noble club that any educated man would be sorry for not joining.Six months later, Elliott was taught.With such a conversion, coupled with his generous donation to the Catholic Church, he also knocked on the doors of the few houses that he had been unable to enter before.

Perhaps his motives for abandoning his ancestral religion were not pure, but after converting, he was indeed sincere.Every week, I have to go to a church patronized by first-class people to go to mass, and then I go to the priest to confess, and I always go to Rome once every two years.Over time, the Holy See sent him a royal bodyguard because of his piety, and seeing that he diligently performed his duties, he was awarded the Order of the Holy Sepulchre.In truth, his Catholic career was as successful as his secular career. I've often asked myself how a man as bright, kind, and learned as he was could be blinded by snobbery.He is not an upstart.My father was the president of a university in the south, and my grandfather was a well-known theologian.

With Elliott's sagacity, he could never fail to see that most of the people who accepted his invitation were just messing with him, some were stupid, and some were insignificant.Those resounding titles dazzled him, and he couldn't see any of their shortcomings. I can only conjecture that the intimacy of these well-connected men, and the close vassalship of their wives, gave him an insatiable sense of triumph; which made him see in the mediocre little French dukes the crusaders who followed St. Louis to the Holy Land, and in the bawdy, fox-hunting English earls who served Henry VIII in the golden brocade. the ancestors of the world.

Among these people it seemed to him that he lived in the vast and heroic antiquity.I think that when he looked through the almanac of Gorsha, he saw one name after another reminding him of age-old wars, annals of sieges and famous duels, diplomatic cunning and princely affairs, His heart would be beating hot.All in all, that's Elliott' talking about Borden. Fives I was going to wash my face, comb my hair, and then go to the dinner that Elliott had invited; when I was busy, someone from the hotel called and said he was waiting for me downstairs.I was a little surprised, but as soon as I packed it, I went downstairs.

As we shook hands, he said, "I think it's safer for me to pick you up myself. I don't know how well you know Chicago." I can see that many Americans who have lived abroad for many years have this feeling; in their minds, the United States seems to be a difficult or even dangerous place to go, and you can't just let a European go alone. "It's still early, we might as well go for a walk," he suggested. It's a little chilly outside, but there's not a single cloud in the sky, so it's good to exercise your muscles and bones. As we were walking, Elliott said: "I think you'd better know a little about my sister before you see her, she lived with me in Paris once or twice, but I remember you were not there, you You know, there are not many people today, just my sister and her daughters Isabel and Gregory Brabazon. "Is that the interior decorator?" I asked. "By the way, my sister's house is very smart. Isabel and I both persuaded her to redecorate it. I happened to hear that Brabazon was in Chicago, so I asked my sister to invite him to lunch today. Of course, he is not What a gentleman, but very good, he decorated Mary Oliphant's Lane Castle, and St. Clement's Talbot's house in St. Ertz's house. The Duchess liked him very much. You can look at Louisa's house, and I'll never know how she managed to live in it all these years, but how she managed to live in Chicago, for that matter, I'll never know." I learned from him that Mrs. Bradley is a widow with three children, two sons and a daughter, but the sons are much older and all married. One works in the Philippine government and one, like his father used to In that way, he served in the diplomatic circles, and now he is in the Argentine capital.Mrs. Boo's husband had a long career in the past. He worked as a first secretary in Rome for several years, and later he was sent as a commissioner to a small republic on the west coast of South America, where he died. Elliott went on, "After he died, I asked Louisa to sell the Chicago house, but she couldn't bear it. The Browns had an old house, and they were an old Illinois house. The old home. Moved here in 1839 from their original Virginia home, and set up property sixty miles from Chicago today, and still keep it." Elliott hesitated, to see if I would follow him. "I think you might say that his family was farming in the early days, but I don't know if you know that in the middle of the last century, when the Midwest began to develop, many people from Virginia, the children of good people, you know, were all Moved by the nameless temptation, I left the well-fed country. My brother-in-law's father, Chester Bradley, saw that Chicago had a future, and came here to join a law firm. Anyway, he made enough money for his children. It's gone." Despite what Elliott said, it can be seen from his expression that the reason for the deceased Chester Bradley to leave his ancestral home and land to enter a law firm is not that simple. However, Judging from the amount of wealth he has accumulated, it is still worth it.Elliot was not very happy once when Mrs. Boo showed me some pictures of her so-called "home" in the country; what I saw in the pictures was a small house with a beautiful little garden, But the barns, cowsheds, and pig stables are all separated by a stone's throw, surrounded by a barren plain. It occurred to me that Mr. Chester Bradley had not lost his fortune in leaving here to find his way in the city. After a while, we hailed a taxi.The car drove us to a brownstone house. The house was narrow and tall, and we had to climb a series of steep stone steps to reach the gate.There is a row of houses side by side. On a street coming from Lakeside Road, the appearance of the houses is still gloomy even in the bright autumn light that day. I don't know how a person would like such a house.A tall, white-haired black butler opened the door and ushered us into the living room.Mrs. Bradley rose from her chair as we entered, and Elliott introduced me.She was a beautiful woman when she was young. Although her eyebrows and eyes were thicker, she was well-born and her eyes were beautiful.But the muscles on that turmeric face, which is almost completely free of makeup, have relaxed, which shows that she has lost the battle against middle-aged obesity.I guess she still won't give in, because she sits with her back straight on the hard-backed chair; indeed, it's more comfortable in her tortured armor-like corset than in an upholstered chair. much.She was wearing a blue dress with woven flowers all over it, a high collar, and stiff whalebone.A head of beautiful white hair, permed into wavy patterns, is tightly attached to the head, and the hairstyle is extremely complicated.The other guest she had invited hadn't arrived yet, and while we waited we chatted. "Eliott told me you came from the south," said Mrs. Booth. "Have you rested in Rome?" "Come on, I've been living there for a week." "How is my dear Queen Margarita?" I was so taken aback by her question that I had no choice but to answer that I didn't know. "Oh, you didn't go to see her? What a nice woman, she was so kind to us when we were in Rome. Mr. Bradley was first secretary at the embassy at the time. Why didn't you go and see her? Did you talk to Al A villain like Liote can't even enter the Quilina Palace?" —Of course not," I said with a smile. "The truth is I don't know her. " "Don't know?" Mrs. Bu said, as if she couldn't believe it. "Why don't you know me?" "To tell you the truth, writers don't generally know kings and queens well." "But she's a very lovely woman," Mrs. Boo advised me, as if it was entirely my disdain not to know the Queen. "I'm sure you'll like her." At that moment the door opened and the butler ushered in Gregory Brabazon. Gregory Brabazon, without a good name, is not a romantic character[Note].This man is short and fat; except for the black curly hair around the ears and the back of the neck, his head is as bald as an egg; Eyeballs, fleshy lips, thick chin.He was an Englishman, and I sometimes met him at the parties of the Bohemians in London.People are very lively and happy, and you can always see him grinning, but you don't need to be an excellent judge of characters to see that the laughing and joking intimacy between him and others is just a cover, and there is a lot of shrewdness in it. business experience.For many years he was the most successful interior decorator in London.He has a very loud and moving voice, and a pair of small, fat, expressive hands. All it took was an enticing gesture, a flurry of excited words, and he could move the imagination of a hesitant customer, making it almost impossible to refuse what seemed to him a gracious offer. The butler came in with another tray of cocktails. "We won't wait for Isabel," said Mrs. Bradley, picking up a glass of wine. "Where has she been?" asked Elliott. "Golf with Larry. Said she might be late." Elliott turned to me and said, "Larry's Lawrence Durrell. Isabel is engaged to him." I said, "Eliot, I didn't know you drank cocktails." "I don't drink it," he replied angrily, sipping the wine in his hand, "but what can you do in this barbaric country where alcohol is forbidden?" He sighed, "some people in Paris are also preparing this thing now , the environmental traffic has spoiled good habits." "Nonsense, Elliott," said Mrs. Booth. Her tone was rather mild, yet resolute, and I could not help feeling that she was a woman of character; and I could guess from the self-satisfied way she looked at Elliott that she did not take him seriously.I wondered what kind of person she thought Gregory Brabazon was.When Brabazon came in, I saw him scan the room with expert eyes, and his thick eyebrows raised unconsciously.It was indeed a strange room.The wallpaper, curtains, chair cushions, and chair covers are all of the same pattern; the oil paintings hung in thick gold frames on the walls were obviously bought by the cloth family when they were in Rome.Madonnas of Raphael's sect, Madonnas of Guido Rini's sect, landscapes of Sucarue's sect, monuments of Poigny's sect.There are also souvenirs from when they lived in Beijing, a table full of carved jellyfish, a huge cloisonné vase, and some fat people carved from hard stone and pottery bottles bought from Chile or Peru.A Chippendale desk.A marquetry glass case.The lampshade was made of white silk, on which some reckless artist had painted some shepherds and men in Watteau-style costumes.The house looked really disgusting, but for some reason it was pleasing to the eye.There's a comfortable, human air about it that makes you feel like there's a reason to this hodgepodge of nonsense.All these ill-fitting things belonged to the same class, because they were part of Mrs. Boo's life. We had just finished our cocktails when the door opened and a girl came in followed by a man. "Are we late?" she asked. "I brought Larry back. Any food for him?" "I suppose so," Mrs. Boo said with a smile. "You ring the bell and call Eugene Tim, seat." "He's the one who opened the door for us. I've told him." "This is my daughter Isabel," said Mrs. Booth, turning to me. "This is Lawrence Darrell." Isabel shook hands with me hastily, and turned to Brabazon before she had time. "Are you Monsieur Brabazon? I'm dying to see you. I really like the house you decorated for Clementine Dormer. Is it a bad house? I've been trying to get Mama to clean it up for years, and now you come." Here's our chance, Chicago. Tell me honestly, what do you think of this house?" I know that Brabazon will not speak even if he dies.He quickly gave Mrs. Bu a look, but her face was calm and she couldn't see anything at all.Deciding that Isabel was important, he let out a wild laugh. "I daresay it's a very comfortable room, and everything is fine," he said, "but, if you ask me directly, I think it's pretty bad indeed." Isabel is tall, with an oval face, straight nose, pretty eyes, and a full mouth, all of which seem to be the characteristics of the Bu family.She is delicate, but a bit fatter, probably because of her age, and she will become slimmer when she grows up. She has a pair of strong and well-grown hands, but she is also a little fat; the calves exposed by the short skirt are also too fat.The skin is healthy and the color is red, which has nothing to do with the exercise just now and the return from driving the convertible.The person is radiant and full of vitality.Full of healthy physique, happy demeanor with a hippie smile, satisfaction with life, and a sense of happiness from the heart, it makes people feel happy when they see it.That self-possessed demeanor, no matter how elegant Elliott may be, is a bit vulgar in comparison with her.Mrs. Boo's pale and wrinkled face looked tired and old against her vitality. We went downstairs to eat.Brabazon narrowed his eyes as soon as he saw the dining room.The dark red paper pasted on the wall is fake flower cloth, and there are some portraits of men and women with gloomy and rigid faces, which are badly painted.These were all close ancestors of the deceased Mr. Bradley.He himself was up there, with a bushy beard and stiff body in a frock coat and white powder collar.A portrait of Mrs. Bou, painted by a French painter in the 1990s, hung above the fireplace, wearing a gray satin evening gown, beads around her neck, a diamond star in her hair, and a jeweled hand A woven scarf, drawn so that even the stitches can be counted one by one, and an ostrich feather fan is casually held in the other hand.The furniture in the house was black barrel wood, which was almost unbearably heavy. As everyone sat down, Isabel asked Brabazon, "What do you think of this?" "I dare say it must have cost a lot of money," he replied. "Indeed," said Mrs. Booth. "This is the wedding ceremony given to us by Mr. Bradley's father, and we took it all over the world. Lisbon, Beijing, Quito, Rome. Dear Queen Margarita envies it very much." "If it were yours, what would you do with it?" Isabel asked Brabazon, but, before he could answer, Elliott spoke for him. "Burn it," he said. The three began to discuss how to decorate the room.Eliot insisted on Louis XV decorations, and Isabelle wanted a monastic table and set of Italian chairs.Brabazon thought Chippendale was a better fit for Mrs. Booth's character. He turned and looked at Elliott, "Of course you know the Duchess of Oliphant?" "Mary? A very good friend." "She asked me to decorate the dining room, and as soon as I met her people, I decided on George II." "You're right. I noticed it the last time I ate at her place. So elegant." The conversation continued like this, Mrs. Bu only listened to what they said, and you couldn't guess what was going on in her stomach.I spoke very little, and Isabel's young friend Larry (I forget his last name) hardly spoke at all.He sat across from me between Brabazon and Eliot, and I glanced at him from time to time.He looked young for his age, about Elliott's height, a little under six feet, thin and flabby.A child with the most pleasing appearance, neither beautiful nor ugly, quite shy, nothing outstanding.I found it strange that although I remembered that he hadn't said a few words after entering the room, he was very comfortable, and strangely, even though he didn't speak, he seemed to be participating in the conversation.I noticed that his hands were very long, but, considering his size, they were not large, and they were beautifully shaped and powerful at the same time.I think the painter must be happy to paint these hands.He is relatively thin, but he does not look weak, on the contrary, he is stubborn.A face was serene and dignified, tanned and otherwise colorless; the features were regular, but not outstanding.The cheekbones are quite high, and the court acupoints extend in all directions.Dark brown hair, slightly curly.The eyes looked larger than they were, because they were deeply sunken in their sockets, and the eyelashes were wavy and long.The color of the pupils was very peculiar, not the rich maroon that Isabel shared with her mother and uncle, but very deep, the iridescence was almost the same color as the pupils, which gave his eyes a special brilliance.He had a charming air about him, and it was easy to see why Isabel fell for him.Her eyes fell on him from time to time. From her expression, I seemed to see not only love, but also liking.When the eyes of the two met, there was a kind of warmth in his eyes, which looked very beautiful.There is nothing more touching than seeing young people in love, and it makes me, a middle-aged man, envy them and at the same time, not knowing why, feel bad.It's stupid, because, so far as I know, nothing can affect their happiness; both are well off, and you can't think of any reason why they can't get married and live happily ever after. Isabel, Elliott, and Brabazon went on talking about how to redecorate the house, trying to force Mrs. Bradley to admit that something had to be done, but she just smiled kindly. "Don't push me. I've got to have some time to think about it." She turned to the boy and said, "What do you think of all this, Larry?" He looked around the table with a smile in his eye. "I don't think it matters if I do it or not," he said. "You son of a bitch, Larry," Isabel called out. "I also specially took care of you to support us." "If Aunt Louisa is happy with what she has, what is there to change?" His questions were so on point and reasonable that I couldn't help but laugh.He looked at me and smiled himself. "And please don't make that ghostly grin, I think it's stupid of you to think you've said a very witty remark," said Isabel. But his grin widened, and that's when I noticed that his teeth were small and white and straight.He looked at Isabel's expression, and for some reason, she blushed and her breathing became short of breath.If I'm not mistaken, she is madly in love with him, but for some reason, it seems that there is a kind of maternal love in her affection for him.It was a bit unexpected for such a young girl.With a slight smile on her lips, she once again courted Brabazon. "Don't pay attention to him. He is very stupid and totally uneducated. He knows nothing but flying." a flight?One I say. "He was in the Air Force during the Great War." "I thought he was too young to join the army." "He's young, too young. He's a very naughty man. Sneaked out of school and went to Canada; told a bunch of lies, and was really believed to be eighteen, and got into the Air Force. When the armistice, He's still fighting in France." "You stalked your mother's guest, Isabel," said Larry. "I have known him since I was a child. When he came back, he was wearing a military uniform with such a beautiful medal on his coat. It was very beautiful. So, I just sat on the edge of his door and pestered him so much that he couldn't be quiet for a moment, so he agreed to marry me. Yes. Back then, the competition was fierce.” "Really, Isabel," said her mother. Larry reached over to me and said, "I hope you don't believe a word of her. Isabel isn't a bad girl, but she's a liar." Elliott and I took our leave shortly after lunch.I told him earlier that I planned to go to the museum to see the paintings, and he said he would take me there.I don't really want someone to go to the museum with me, but I can't say that I like to go alone, so I have to let him accompany me.We talked about Isabel and Larry on the way. I said, "It's funny to see two young people in love like this." "It's true that they got married too early." "Why? It's much more interesting to fall in love and get married when you're young." "Don't mess around. She's nineteen and he's only just turned twenty. He hasn't got a job yet. He's making a little money, three thousand a year, Louisa told me; and Louisa isn't very rich. Her income is only Enough for her to spend on her own." "Then he can find something to do." "That's right. He doesn't want to make trouble. He seems to be very content with shaking his arms like this." "I bet he must have suffered a lot in the war. Maybe wants to rest." "He's had a year off. That's long enough." "I think he seems like a very nice boy." "Oh, I have nothing against him. He's well off and all. Father's from Baltimore; used to be adjunct professor of Romance languages ​​at Yale, or so. Mother's an old Philadelphia Quaker family. " "You keep saying it, could it be that his parents are both dead?" "Yes, his mother died in childbirth, and his father died about twelve years ago. He was brought up by an old schoolmate of his father's. The man was a doctor in Mafen. That's how Louisa and Isabel met. his." "Where is Mafen?" "The Cloth property is in Mafen. Louisa always spends the summers there. She sees the boy as pitiful. Dr. Nelson is a bachelor and has no basic knowledge of how to raise a child. Louisa insists that the boy be sent to St. Paul." She always picks him up at Christmas." Elliot shrugged French-style. "I think she should have seen the result in the first place." By this time, we had reached the museum, and our minds turned to painting.Elliott's insights again overwhelmed me.He led me around the houses as if I were a group of tourists.No art professor could have been more instructive than he in speaking of those pictures.I decided to do it again on my own, when I was free to wander around, so now it's up to him.After a while, he looked at his watch. "Let's go," he said. "I've never been in a museum for an hour. It depends on one's appreciation. We'll see it another day." When we parted, I was full of thanks.Maybe I was a little wiser when I went away, but it was annoying. When I said good-bye to Mrs. Bradley, she told me that Isabel was having some of her young friends over for supper the next day; if I wanted to come, I could talk to Elliott after the boys were gone. "You're saving him," she went on. "He's been too long in a foreign country, and he's never quite happy here; he can't find anyone who'll get along with him." I accepted; as we parted on the museum steps, Eliot told me he was glad I said yes. "I was like a lost soul in this big city," he said. "I promised Louisa to stay with her for six weeks, we haven't seen each other since 1912, but I look forward to returning to Paris like a year. Paris is the only place in the world where a civilized man can live.My dear friend, do you know what they think of me here?Think of it as a monster.What a savage. " I laughed and walked away.