Chapter 17 seven, eight, nine

seven I saw a letter from Eliot's servant, Joseph, telling me that Eliot was sick and wanted to see me, so next day I drove up to Antibes.Before taking me upstairs to his master, Joseph told me that Elliott had a uremia, which his doctor thought was serious.He has survived now and is recovering, but with a diseased kidney, it is impossible to fully recover.Joseph had been loyal to Elliott for forty years, but, despite his outward distress, it was not difficult to see that, like many members of his class, he secretly rejoiced when disaster struck his master's family. "Poor sir," he sighed. "Of course he has his eccentric ringworm, but basically he's still a good person. People must die sooner or later."

He spoke as if Elliott was dying. "I dare say he's already arranged your maintenance, Joseph," I said harshly. "One cannot but count on this," he lamented. When he led me into Eliot's bedroom, I didn't expect Eliot to be very active.His face was pale and he looked very old, but he was in good spirits.The beard was shaved and the hair combed neatly.He was wearing a pale blue silk pajamas, with his initials embroidered on the pockets, and above the letters were his Earl's tiara.On the turned-over quilt, these letters and crowns are also embroidered, and much larger.

I asked him how he felt. "Very good," he said cheerfully. "It's just a bad day. I'll be up in a few days. I made an appointment with Grand Duke Dimitri to lunch with me on Saturday, and told my doctor that, at any rate, I would be cured by then. " I sat with him for half an hour, and when I came out I told Joseph to come and tell me if his illness recurred.A week later, I went to a neighbor's luncheon and I didn't expect Elliott to be there.He was dressed for a feast, and had the face of a dead man. "You shouldn't come out, Elliott," I told him.

"Oh, what does that mean, buddy. Frida invited Princess Mafalda. I've known the Italian royal family for years, since poor Luisa was in Rome, and I can't tear Frida apart. at the bar." I don't know whether to admire his indomitable spirit or to pity him for being so enthusiastic about social life at such an advanced age and suffering from an incurable disease.You would never think of him as a patient.Like a dying actor who puts paint on his face, steps onto the stage, and immediately forgets his ailments, so Eliot plays his part of the dashing treat with all his usual ease.Extremely amiable; flatteringly caring for the right people; sharp-tongued and very amusing, which was his forte.I don't think I've ever seen him pull out all the stops.When the Highness left (and Elliott's graceful bow, which not only showed respect for the noble status of the princess, but also showed an old man's admiration for a young and beautiful woman, is really worth seeing), no wonder Overheard our hostess telling him that he was the life and soul of the party.

A few days later, he was back in bed.His doctor forbade him to leave the room.Elliott was simply furious. "At this time, it's really terrible. This time of year is very lively." He rattles off a long list of big names coming to Riviera this summer. I visit him every three or four days.Sometimes he lay in bed, and sometimes he sat on a two-wheeled cart in a rich dressing gown.He seems to have an infinite number of this kind of dressing gown, because I have never seen him wear the same one.A visit to him once—it was early August—found him strangely silent.Joseph told me, as he led me into the house, that he seemed a little better; and I was a little surprised to see him so listless.

I tried to cheer him up by telling him some tidbits I heard on the beach, but he was obviously not interested.He frowned slightly, and there was a sullen expression on his face, which was rare for him. "Are you going to Edna Novumari's banquet?" he asked me suddenly. "No, of course not." "Did she invite you?" "She invites everyone on the Riviera." Mrs. Prince Novumari is a wealthy American who married a Roman prince. However, she is not a worthless ordinary prince like Italy, but the patriarch of a great family, the descendant of a mercenary captain; this mercenary The captain had cut a large fief for himself in the sixteenth century.The wife of Prince Novy Mari is sixty years old and a widow.Unhappy with the fascist regime taking too much of her American income, she left Italy and built herself a Florentine-style villa on a beautiful estate behind the hills of Cannes.She had marble from Italy for the borders of her great drawing-rooms, and painters from abroad to paint her ceilings.Her collection of pictures and her bronze statues are very exquisite; even Eliot, who has never liked Italian furniture, has to admit that her furniture is very luxurious.The gardens were beautiful, and a swimming pool cost as much as a middle-class family owned.The people are very hospitable, and there are always no less than twenty people for each meal.She arranged for a masquerade ball to be held in August when the moon was full.Although there were still three weeks to go, Riviera was already talking about the ball everywhere.There will be fireworks at night, and she will bring a black band down from Paris.The princes and nobles in exile talked with each other with envy and jealousy, thinking that what she spent for one night was enough for them for a year.

"It's really luxurious," someone said. "It's just crazy," someone said. "Vulgar as hell," someone said. "What are you going to wear?" Elliott asked me. "But, as I told you, Elliott, I'm not going. Do you think you can dress colorfully at my age?" "She didn't invite me," he sighed, looking at me with tired eyes. "Oh, she will," I said flatly. "I dare say the invitations haven't been sent yet." "She's not going to invite me." His voice changed. "It was intentional to embarrass me."

"Oh, Elliott, I can't believe that. It must have been an oversight." "I'm not one to be ignored." "Your health is so bad, you can't go anyway." "Of course I should. The best party of the season! I'll get up if I'm dying in bed. I have the clothes of my ancestor, the Count de Lauria, to wear." I didn't know what to say, so I didn't make a sound. "Not long before you came, Paul Barton just came to see me," Elliott said suddenly. Readers must have forgotten who this person is, because I have to look up what name I gave this person before I wrote this.Paul Barton was the young American whom Elliott introduced into London society, and then ignored him when he thought he was useless, and Eliot hated him very much.This man has lately attracted considerable attention, first because he has become a British citizen, and later because he has married the daughter of a newspaper magnate who has risen to the peerage.With such a background, coupled with such flexibility, the future is obviously limitless.

Elliott hated it. "Whenever I wake up in the night and hear a mouse scratching in the baseboards, I say, 'It's Paul Barton climbing up.' I bet, boy, he's going to end up in the House of Lords. Thank God , I couldn’t see that day.” "What's his purpose here," I asked, for I knew as well as Elliott that the young fellow would never come here without a reason. "I'll tell you why he came," Elliot said angrily. "He wants to borrow my Comte de Lauria costume." "How shameless!" "Do you understand what he means? It shows that he knows Edna didn't ask me, and wasn't going to. She made him come. The old fox. She would never be where she is without me. I do it for her." A party. I introduced all the people she knew. She slept with her own driver; Fireworks. I love fireworks. He told me Edna was being pestered for invitations by a lot of people, but she turned them all down because she was going to have a great party. He talked as if I wasn't invited questionable."

"Did you lend him the costume?" "Lend it to him? Let him die and go to hell first. I'll wear it when I'm buried." Elliott sat up on the bed, swaying like a mad woman. "Oh, it's hard to bear," he said. "I hated them, I hated them all. When I could entertain them, they were happy to make me a present, but now that I'm old and sick, I'm no use to them. Ever since I was sick After all, less than ten people came to see me when I was sick, and only one poor bouquet came all week. I do everything for them. They eat my food and drink my wine. I work for them .Arranging a party for them. I did my best to help them. And what did I get? No fart. None of them cared about my life. Oh, how cruel."

He started to cry.Big tears rolled down his emaciated cheeks. "I really regret leaving America." It was a pity to see this old man with one foot in the coffin crying like a child because he was not invited to a party; "Never mind, Elliott," I said, "it might rain on the day of the party. That would ruin it." Like a rumored drowning man catching a straw, he quickly grasped my words, giggling before his tears dried up. "I never thought of it. I'm going to pray to God for rain more devoutly than I usually do. You're right, and that's going to break it." I managed to direct his idle thoughts elsewhere, and when I left him he was quiet, if not cheerful.But I didn't want it to end like that; when I got home, I called Edna Novumari, said I had to come up to Cannes tomorrow, and asked her if I could have lunch with her.She called the servant back and said she was very welcome, but she was not giving a party tomorrow.Even so, when I arrived, there were ten other guests besides her.She was not a bad person, generous and hospitable; her only serious fault was a bad mouth.Even with her closest friends she couldn't stop talking, but she did so because she was a stupid woman who couldn't get attention to her except by talking.Because the bad things she said were spread again, she often disagreed with those who were slandered by her. However, her banquets were always very lively, and most people felt that they still didn't care about her after a period of time. it is good.I think it would be embarrassing for Elliott to ask her to invite him to her event, and I don't want to do that, so let's take a look first.She was very excited about having this banquet, and the lunch was all about it. "Eliot must be delighted to have a chance to wear his Philip II costume," I said as casually as I could. "I didn't ask him," she said. "Why not?" I asked pretending to be surprised. "Why should I ask him? He's lost in society. He's an old bore, a snob, and a gossip-monger." These attacks apply to her as well, so, I think, she goes too far.She is a fool. "Besides," she added, "I want Paul in Elliott's suit. He'll look good in that suit." I said no more, but I was determined to get Elliott's obsessed invitation, by whatever means.After lunch Edna took her friend out into the garden.This gives me an opportunity.I once stayed here for a few days, so I know a little about her family.I guess there are always some invitations left, and these will be left in the secretary's room.I hurried to the secretary's room, intending to slip an invitation in my pocket and write Elliott's name on it; I knew he was too ill to go to the party, but it would be a shock to receive the invitation. He is very happy.But when I opened the door, I froze, because Edna's secretary was sitting at the desk, and I expected her to be still at lunch.The secretary was a middle-aged Scotch woman named Miss Keith, with auburn hair, freckles, a pince-nez, and an old-maid look from head to toe.I put on a casual look. "The prince's wife took everyone to the garden, so I want to come in and smoke a cigarette with you." "welcome." Miss Keith spoke with a rough Scotch accent.She spoke coldly, but only to those she liked, and when she did so her rough throat grew thicker, making her words sound extremely amusing.However, when you can't help laughing, she will look at you in surprise and displeasure, as if thinking that you think what she said is funny, and she is simply crazy. "I think this dinner has added to your troubles, Miss Keith," I said. "It just drives me around." I had complete trust in her, so I went straight to the point. "Why don't old people please talk about Mr. Borden?" Miss Keith smiled on her rigid face. "You know what she is. She has a grudge against him. She crossed his name off the list herself." "You know, he's dying. He won't get up again. He's sorry he wasn't invited." "If he wanted to win her over, he should have understood it at the beginning. He shouldn't tell people everywhere that she slept with his driver. And this person has a wife and three children." "Then is she asleep?" Miss Keith looked at me through her pince-nez. "My dear sir, I have been a secretary for twenty-one years, and it has been my constant maxim to believe that all my employers are as white as snow. I confess that when one of my mistresses found herself with three months I was a little overwhelmed by my faith when my lordship was six months into the African lion hunt, but she made a trip to Paris, and it was a very expensive short trip, so Everything is fine. The Prince's wife and I are relieved at the same time." "Miss Keith, I didn't come to smoke a cigarette with you. I came to steal an invitation and send it to Mr. Tan Bourdain myself." "It's inappropriate to do that." "Nevertheless. Miss Keith, please do me a favor. Give me an invitation. He won't come, and it will make the old man happy. You have nothing against him, have you?" "No, he's always been very polite to me. He's a decent man, I'm sure of that, and he's more decent than most who come here to trick the Prince's wife into a meal and pretend she's full. " All important people have some favored subordinates around them.You must not neglect these people who rely on their power. When they don't get the respect they think they deserve, they will become hostile, and repeatedly shoot cold arrows at these people in front of their masters to sow discord.You have to have a good relationship with this kind of person.Elliott knew this better than anyone, and he always had a friendly word, or a polite smile, with poor relations, old maids, or trusted secretaries.I'm sure he bantered with Miss Keith from time to time, and always remembered to give her a box of chocolates or a little handbag every Christmas. "Please, Miss Keith, please be kind." Mademoiselle Keith clamped the pince-nez more firmly on her large nose. "Mr. Maugham, I am sure you have no intention of asking me to be disloyal to my employer; besides, if the old cow finds out that I have disobeyed her, she will fire me. The invitations are on the desk, and they are all in the In the envelope. I want to look out the window, partly because I have sat in one position for too long, my legs are a little stiff, I want to move, and partly because I want to see the beautiful scenery. What happened behind me, no matter what Neither God nor man can hold me accountable." The invitation was in my pocket when Miss Guise sat down again. "It's a pleasure meeting you today, Miss Keith," I said, holding out my hand. "What are you going to wear at the masquerade party?" "My dear sir, I am a clergyman's daughter," she answered. "I leave this kind of stupidity to the upper classes. When I see the representatives of the Herald and Post eat a good supper and drink a bottle of our second best After the champagne, my duties are over. I will retreat to my bedroom and close the door to read a detective novel." Eight When I visited Elliott two days later, he was beaming. "Look," he said, "I've got an invitation. It's this morning." He showed me the invitation from under the pillow. "Didn't I tell you," I said. "You see your surname begins with a T. The secretary apparently didn't mention you until now." "I haven't replied yet. Wait until tomorrow." Hearing this, I was frightened for a moment. "Would you like me to write the answer for you? I can mail it for you when I go." "No, why do you answer for me? I can answer people's invitations myself." I thought it was a good thing Miss Keith would open the envelope, and she would know how to snap it off.Elliot rang the bell. "I'm going to show you the costume." "Do you really want to go, Elliott?" "Of course. I haven't worn it since that ball at Beaumont's." Joseph heard the bell come in and Elliott told him to bring the costumes.The garments were in a large flat box, wrapped in tissue paper.Here were white silk stockings, lined shorts of woven gold cloth, trimmed in white linen, with a doublet, a cloak, a crepe collar round the neck, a flat velvet cap, a long gold chain, chain The Golden Fleece hangs from one end.I saw that it was an imitation of the sumptuous dress worn by Philip II in Titian's painting, which is in the Prado.When Elliott told me that the King of Spain and the Queen of England were married, the Count de Lauria wore exactly this attire, and I thought he was completely dreaming. The next morning, while I was still eating breakfast, someone called.It was Joseph; he told me that during the night Elliott had been ill again, and after the doctor came hastily, he thought he might not make it through the day.I ordered the car to be brought up to Antibes.Elliott is in a coma.Elliott was determined not to use a nurse, but I was pleased to see a nurse present whom the doctor had brought from the English hospital between Nice and Bolu.I went out and wired Isabel.She and Gray were spending the summer with the baby on the beach in LaPaul, where it was cheaper.The road is long, and I am afraid they will not reach Antibes to see the end.She was Elliott's only surviving relative, besides her, were her two older brothers, who had not seen Elliott for many years. But his will to live is very strong, or the medicine prescribed by the doctor took effect, and he recovered slowly during this day.Despite being terribly ill, he managed to pull himself together, joking with the nurse and asking obscene questions about her sex life.I was with him most of the afternoon; and when I went to see him the next day, I found that, though tired, he was in fairly good spirits.The nurse only allowed me to have sex with him for a short period of time.I was anxious that the telegram I had sent had not received an answer; as I did not know Isabelle's address in La Paul, the telegram was sent to Paris, and I was afraid that the steward would be delayed in relaying it.It was two days before I got a call back telling me to leave immediately.As luck would have it, Gray and Isabelle had just received the telegram as they were on a short car trip through Bredanny.I checked the train watch and saw that they would have to wait at least thirty-six hours before arriving. Early the next morning, Joseph called me again, saying that Elliot had had a bad night's sleep and wanted to see me. I went quickly.When I arrived, Joseph pulled me aside. "Excuse me, sir, for taking the liberty of speaking to you about a difficult matter," he said to me. "Of course I'm not religious, and think all religion is just a plot by priests to control the people, but, sir, women don't see it that way. Both my wife and maid insist that the old man deserves his final blessing, and that the more time passes It's getting shorter." He looked at me rather embarrassedly. "The actual situation is that no one can say, maybe if a person is going to die, it is better to improve his relationship with the church." I know exactly what he means.Most Frenchmen, no matter how casually they may indulge in religion, at the end of their lives are willing to compromise with their almost flesh-and-blood beliefs. "Do you want me to propose it to him?" "If you will, sir." I didn't like the job very much, but, after all, Elliott had been a devout Catholic for many years, so it was right to perform a Catholic's duties.I went upstairs to his room.He was lying on his back, thin and emaciated, but completely conscious.I ask the nurse out. "Eliot, I'm afraid you are very ill," I said. "I don't know, I don't know if you would like to find a priest?" He looked at me and didn't speak for a while. "You mean I'm going to die?" "Oh, I hope not. But it's better to play it safe." "I understand." He was silent.It is indeed a difficult moment when you have to say to a person what I just said to Elliott.I couldn't look at him; I clenched my teeth, afraid that I might cry.I was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing him, with one arm outstretched for support. He patted my hand. "Don't be sad, my dear friend. It's a duty, you know." I smiled foolishly. "You freak, Elliott." "That's right. Call the Bishop now and say I'm going to confess and be anointed. I'd be very grateful if Father Shire would be sent. He's a friend of mine." Father Charles is the bishop's vicar, as I have mentioned before.I went downstairs and called; on the phone, I spoke to the Bishop himself. "In a hurry?" he asked. "It's urgent." "I'll do it right away." When the doctor came, I told him what happened just now.He went upstairs with the nurse to see Elliott, and I waited downstairs in the dining room.It took only twenty minutes to drive from Nice to Antibes, so a little over half an hour later a big black sedan drove up to the door.Joseph came and told me. "Cest Monseigneur en personne, Monsieur, the bishop himself," he said in a panic. I went out to meet him.The bishop did not bring his deputy, as usual, but—for some unknown reason—a young priest; The driver of the car followed behind with a tattered black leather bag.The Bishop shook hands with me and introduced his companions. "How is our poor friend?" "Very ill, I am afraid, my lord." "Please take us into a room where we can put on our vestments." "The dining room is here, my lord, and the drawing room is upstairs." "The restaurant is fine." I entertained him into the dining room, and Joseph and I waited outside.After a while, the door opened, and the bishop came out, followed by the priest, holding in both hands a chalice on top of which was a small round plate with a sacrificial wafer in it.These are all covered with a linen napkin, which is so thin that it is transparent.I never saw the Bishop, except at supper or luncheon; and he was a big eater, able to appreciate a good meal and a glass of wine, and to relish telling funny and even dirty stories.At that time, he struck me as a well-built, strong man of medium stature.Putting on the white cassock and holy girdle today, he looks not only tall but also noble.A red face, usually smiling, is now very serious. Outwardly, there was not a trace of the former cavalry officer in him; he looked, and was, a great man in the Church.I was not surprised to see Joseph cross himself.The bishop leaned his head forward and gave his body a slight shake. "Take me to the sick," he said. I let him go upstairs first, but he asked me to lead the way first.We went upstairs in solemn silence.I went into Elliott's room. "The Bishop himself has come, Elliott." Elliot struggled to sit up. "My lord, I am extremely honored," he said. "Stay still, my friend." The bishop turned to the nurse and me. "Please leave." Then he said to the priest, "I will call you when the time comes." The priest looked around, and I assumed he was looking for a place to put the chalice.I pushed the tortoiseshell-backed hairbrush away from the dresser.The nurse went downstairs, and I showed the priest into the room that Eliot used as his study.The windows were open, and the sky was blue outside. The priest walked over and stood by one of the windows.I sit down.In the bay some pointed sloops were racing, their triangular sails gleaming white against the blue sky.A large black-hulled schooner, red sails spread, was heading towards the port with the wind.I recognized it as a lobster boat, from the scavenger hunt that had caught a batch of fish and shrimp for the dinner of the pleasure-seekers in the casino.Through the closed door, I could hear voices faintly.Eliot is making a confession.I longed to smoke a cigarette, but I was afraid that the priest would look down on me.Standing still, he looked out at a thin young man with thick black curly hair, fine dark eyes, and a yellow-tinged skin that indicated that he was of Italian descent.There was such a Southern vitality in his face that it made me wonder what strong conviction, what burning desire, had prompted him to renounce the joys of everyday life, the pleasures of youth, and the gratifications of the senses, to devote himself to God serves. The sound from the next room suddenly stopped, and I looked at the door.The door opened and the bishop came out. "Come," he said to the priest. I am alone.Again I heard the Bishop's voice, and knew that he was praying; this was the order of the Church for the dying.Then there was another silence, knowing that Elliott was taking communion.I am afraid this is the influence of distant ancestors. Although I am not a Catholic, I always feel a shudder when I hear the bell ringing the bell to let me know that the wafer is lifted when I say Mass; I feel the same shudder now. , as if the cold wind passes through the skin, I feel scared and strange.The door opened again. "You may come in," said the bishop. I go in.The priest was covering the cups and the gilt trays on which the wafers were placed with gauze.Elliott's eyes showed joy. "Send Your Excellency the Bishop to the carriage," he said. We go downstairs.Joseph and the maids waited in the hall.The maids are crying.All three of them came forward one by one, knelt down and kissed the bishop's ring.The bishop put two fingers on their heads and blessed them.Joseph's wife elbowed him, and he stepped forward, knelt down, and kissed the ring.The bishop smiled. "Aren't you a pagan, boy?" I could see Joseph struggling a bit. "Yes, my lord." "Don't take it to heart. You are loyal to your master. The Lord will forgive your errors of reason." I accompanied the bishop to the road and opened the car door for him.He bowed to me, and, as he got into the car, said with a cheerful smile: "Our poor friend is very ill. His faults are superficial; he has a very good heart, and is kind to his fellow man." Nine I thought Elliot might not want to see anyone after the deathbed confession ceremony just now, so I went upstairs and entered the living room to read a book, but as soon as I sat down, the nurse came in and informed me that Elliot wanted to see I.I climbed the set of stairs to his room.Whether it was because the doctor gave him an injection to help him survive the impending confession ceremony, or because of the excitement of the ceremony, his spirits were better and his eyes were brighter. "It is a great honor, my dear friend," he said. "I'm going into heaven with a letter of introduction from a great man in the church. I think I'll be welcome in all the families." "I'm afraid you'll find the coloring a bit uneven," I said with a smile. "Don't you believe it, my dear friend. We know from the Bible that there are classes in heaven as well as in earth. There are seraphs and second-order angels, there are archangels and angels. I've been in the upper class of Europe Walking, no doubt, I shall also walk in the high society of heaven. The Lord has said: There are many dwellings in my Father's house. .” I guess Eliot imagined Paradise as Baron de Rothschild's chateau, with its eighteenth-century wainscoting, Bill's desk, marquetry and Louis XV style château. Complete furniture, covered with original fine embroidery. "I won't lie to you, my dear friend," he added after a pause, "there is no equality in heaven like that of a bastard." He fell asleep suddenly.I sat down and picked up a book to read.He has been sleeping.At one o'clock the nurse came in and told me Joseph had cooked my lunch.Joseph became tame. "I can't believe that His Excellency is coming in person. It's a great honor to our poor gentleman. Did you see me kiss his ring?" "I saw it." "I wouldn't kiss it myself, I did it to satisfy my poor wife." I spent the afternoon in Elliott's room.In the middle there was a telegram from Isabelle, saying that she and Gray would arrive the next morning in a blue-steel coach.I don't think they'll make it to the end.The doctor came and shook his head.When the sun went down, Elliot woke up and was able to eat a little.This seemed to give him some strength for a while.He waved to me and I walked over to his bed.His voice is weak. "I haven't answered Edna's invitation yet." "Oh, never mind it now, Elliott." "Why not. I've always been a man of the table; manners can't be forgotten just because I'm leaving. Where is the invitation? " The invitation was on the mantelpiece, and I handed it to him, but I daresay he couldn't see it. "You'll find a stationery in my study. Get it, and I'll dictate a reply." I went into the study, got the letter paper, and sat down by his bed. "Are you ready?" "yes." His eyes were closed, but there was a mischievous smile on his mouth.I wondered what he would say. "Eliott? Mr. Borden is very sorry. Since he has an appointment with the blessed Lord, he cannot accept the kind invitation of the wife of Prince Novumari." He let out a slight ghostly sneer.He was strangely pale and sinister-looking, and his breath had the sickening stench of his disease.Poor Elliott, who used to wear Chanel and Morinot all the time.He was still clutching the invitation I had stolen.I found it inconvenient to hold and wanted to take it out of his hand, but he tightened his grip.He spoke suddenly, quite loudly, which surprised me. "Old whore," he said. This was the last sentence he said, and then he passed out.The nurse, who had been with him the night before, looked very tired, so I sent her to bed, promising to call her if necessary, and I would keep the watch.In fact, with nothing to do, I turned on a shaded lamp, and my eyes were sore from reading, so I turned it off and sat in the dark.The nights were hot and the windows were open.The lighthouse flashes sweep across the house at regular intervals.The moon was down; when it was full it would look down on the hollow and noisy joy of Edna Novimari's masquerade. The color of the sky was a deep, deep blue, and the countless stars shone with frightening brightness.I dozed off for a while, but I was still awake; suddenly, a hasty and angry voice, the most frightening sound that people can hear, the scream of death, woke me up, and my mind became extremely clear .I went to the bed and felt Elliot's pulse by the light of the lighthouse.He is dead.I turned on the light by his bedside and looked at him.His jaw is open and his eyes are open.I looked into his eyes for a moment before I closed them, and I was moved and felt a few tears run down my cheeks.An old friend, a loyal friend.It makes me sick to think that his life has been so stupid, useless, and boring.He'd been to so many parties, and all the princes, dukes, and earls he'd been with, it didn't make any sense now.They have forgotten him. I saw no reason to wake the exhausted nurse, so returned to my old window seat.护士在早晨七点钟进来时，我已经睡着。我留下她做她认为应当做的事，自己吃了早饭，就上车站去接格雷和伊莎贝儿。我告诉他们，艾略特已经去世。由于艾略特的房子里没有客房，我邀他们上我家去住，可是他们愿意住旅馆。我回到自己家里洗了个澡，刮了胡子，换了衣服。 上午格雷打电话给我，说约瑟夫给他们一封信写的我的名字，是艾略特付托给他的。由于这封信里面讲的话可能只是对我一人讲的，所以，我说立刻就到，因此，一小时不到，我又一次进了那所房子。那封信的信壳是这样写的：在我死后，立刻变去；信里面是关于丧葬礼的指示。我知道，他一心一意要葬在他造的那座教堂那边，而且已经告诉过伊莎贝儿。他要涂上防腐香膏，并且提到可以进行这种手术的店铺名字。“我打听过，”他继续说，“人家告诉我，他们做得很道地。我信任你不会让他马虎了事。我要穿上我的祖先德?劳里亚伯爵的服装，佩上他的长刀，把他的金羊毛勋章挂在胸前。挑选棺材的事交给你办。不要很触目，但要符合我的身份。为了避免给人增加不必要的麻烦，我要求由托马斯?库克父子公司[注]承办一切转运遗体事宜，他们应当派一个人护送棺木到它最后安放的地点。” 我记得艾略特曾经说过，他要穿他那件古服装安葬，但是认为这只是闹着玩的一句话，没有想到他当真要这样做。约瑟夫坚持要执行他的遗志，我们好象没有理由不照办。他的遗体及时涂了香膏，然后，由我和约瑟夫给穿上那荒唐的装束。这件事使人倒尽了口味。我们先把他的两只长腿套上白长统丝袜，再在上面拉上那金色布的紧身裤。好不容易才把两只胳臂塞进紧身上衣的袖管。给他戴上那浆洗好的宽大轮状绉领，再把缎斗篷给他披在肩上。最后把那只平顶丝绒帽戴在他头上，把金羊毛的领圈围着他的脖子。涂香膏的人已经给他的两颊搽上胭脂，嘴唇染红。艾略特的身体现在瘦得只剩一点点，这套衣服穿在他身上就仿佛是威尔第[注]早期歌剧里的一个歌手。一个乏善可陈的悲惨的唐吉诃德。当装殓的人把他抬进棺材时，我把那柄作为道具的长刀沿着他的身体放在两腿之间，两手按着刀柄的回头，就象我看见一个十字军骑士墓上雕塑放的那个样子。 格雷和伊莎贝儿去意大利参加葬礼。