Chapter 3 Chapter two

Partly because of this youth, and partly because of the strong addiction to cigarettes, Cecilia Tallis clenched the flowers in her hands and jogged along the path by the river.The path skirted the mossy brick-walled old swimming pool, and then circled out of the oak grove.In summer, the weeks since the exams had been lazy and lazy, but this time also urged her to hurry; It also disturbed her eager to try, almost impatient. The rich and cool shade of the trees in the forest makes people feel refreshed, and even the intricate lines on the trunks fascinate her.Passing through the narrow iron gate at the edge of the forest and stepping over the rhododendrons among the low hedges, there is an open savannah; this land has been sold to local farmers for raising cattle.Cross the lawn to the back of the fountain's parapet.The fountain is modeled after Bernini's Fountain of Neptune, but only half the size of the original in Piazza Barberini in Rome.

The healthy figure of Poseidon squatted comfortably on the shell, but unfortunately the water pressure was too low, the water in the shell could only spray out two inches high, and then fell back on his head, following the hair of the stone sculpture, along his path. The powerful spine dripped down, leaving a dark green spot.Although he is in a foreign land in the north and thousands of miles away from home, the Poseidon is still handsome in the morning light, and even the four dolphins holding the shells on the waves under the base are also charming.Cecilia glanced at the scales carved on the dolphin's body and the mermaid's legs for no reason, and then looked in the direction of the house.The most convenient way to enter the living room is to cross the lawn and balcony, and pass through the French windows.But Robbie Turner was kneeling and weeding all the way by the rose hedge; they were childhood friends and college friends, but she didn't want to talk to him.At least, not now.Gardening had almost become Robbie's only passion since his return from the North.Now talk of going to medical school again; medicine after literature seems pretentious.This is a little bit unreasonable, because the money is paid by Cecilia's father.

The fountain pool was large and deep, and the water was cold and chilling, and she dipped the flowers in it to keep them fresh, and then hurried around to the front door, avoiding Robbie—it was an outsider, she thought. Good excuse to stay a few minutes longer.The morning sun, or any light for that matter, could not hide the ugliness of the Tallis house—only forty years old, bright red brick, squat, with leaden panes and massive Gothic designs; and these will one day be denounced as a tragedy of ill-timedness in an article by an architect like Pevsner, or "uncharismatic" by a young modernist writer.There used to be an Adam style house here, but it burned down in a fire in the late 1880s.Now all that remains is the man-made lake and islet, the two stone bridges supporting the driveway, and the ruined stucco temple by the lake.Cecilia's grandfather grew up in a hardware store, and later made his fortune by inventing several patents for padlocks, latches, deadbolts, and hasps, so his taste was imprinted everywhere in the new house: firmness, security and practical.Even so, if you ignore the Dutch cows clustered under the sparse forest, but turn your back to the main entrance and look towards the driveway, the scenery is still very unique, and there is a feeling of a world away, but it is precisely this unchanging Tranquility made her more determined to move out as soon as possible.

Walking in the door, and walking quickly across the black and white tiled hall—how familiar and annoying the sound of footsteps echoing in her ears—she stopped on the living room porch and took a breath.The messy bouquet of willow lilies and irises in her hand refreshed her with icy drops of water dripping onto her sandaled feet.The vase I was looking for was on the American cherry wood table, next to the French window.The windows were slightly ajar, and a few beams of morning light came in from the southeast, casting on the pink-blue carpet.As her breathing slowed down, her craving for cigarettes increased, but she just stayed at the door, fascinated by the wonderful scene in front of her eyes—three faded sofas surrounded by a brand new Gothic fireplace, There are pots of winter sedges beside it, the harpsichord has not been tuned and fiddled for a long time, the rosewood music stand has never been used, the velvet curtains are heavy, and some orange or blue tassels are nailed on the edges, Through the curtains you could see a bit of cloudless sky, yellow and gray balconies, and chamomile and feverfew growing from cracks in the pavement.Going down the steps is the lawn, and fifty yards further to the fountain, Robbie is still mowing the edge of the lawn at this time.

All of this—the river, the wild flowers, the long-lost jog, the beautiful lines of the oak tree, the room with the high ceiling, the shapes cast by the sun, and the pulsation at the root of the ear in the silence—all of it made her happy. , Things that are usually familiar also become novel and interesting.But she thought again that this idea of ​​being imprisoned in a house was tedious and someone was to blame.When she came back from Cambridge, she vaguely felt that she should spend more time with her family, but her father was always in the city, and her mother was either suffering from migraines, or very cold, even unreasonable.On several occasions Cecilia brought tea to her mother's room (which, like hers, was also filthy), hoping for an intimate conversation, but Emily Tallis seemed content only to complain about household chores, or Leaning on the pillow with a pale face and silently drinking tea, he had a puzzled expression in the dark.Briony was addicted to writing fantasies--what had been a passing interest now completely obsessed her.Cecilia had met them on the stairs in the morning, and Briony was leading the cousins ​​to the nursery for rehearsal, and the poor souls arrived only yesterday; Show when you come.The time was short, and one of the twins made some mistake and asked Betty to be detained in the laundry room.Cecilia was reluctant to help—it was too hot, and no matter what she did, the plan was doomed to fail.Briony's expectations are too high, and no one - especially the two cousins ​​- can understand her feverish vision.

Cecilia knew that she could no longer spend her days in that dirty, stuffy room, lying on a bed filled with smoke, with her chin resting on one hand, her arms tingling, reading Richardson's Clarissa " up.She would have tried to sort out her father's family tree, but she had only half-heartedly begun, knowing at best that the Tallis ancestors lived in the fields before great-grandfather started his poor hardware store. Farm workers; men changing surnames indiscriminately without a clue, and those common-law marriages never registered in the parish.Although she knew that she shouldn't stay here any longer and should make some plans, she didn't do anything.Although there are many ways, none of them are urgent.She also saved a little money, enough to last for more than a year.Several times Leon invited her to live with him in London for a few days.Friends from the university also offered to help her find a job - although the work must be boring, she can live an independent life.Uncles and aunts were very interesting and liked to see her, like Lola and the mother of the twins, the wild Hermione, who was in Paris at the moment with her lover who worked in the radio station.

No one was holding Cecilia back, and no one even particularly cared if she left.She didn't go because she was sluggish—she was often restless and irritable.She just likes the feeling of being unable to go, the feeling of being needed.She used to tell herself that she stayed because of Briony, or to help her mother, or just because it was the last time at home and she wanted to see it through.To be honest, packing her suitcases and catching the morning train—it didn't excite her at all.That's just leaving for the sake of leaving.Staying is both comforting and annoying; it's a form of self-punishment and a kind of pleasure, perhaps just what she wants; and if she leaves, maybe something bad will happen, or, worse, , a good thing came, but she missed it - she couldn't afford to be wrong.And then there was Robbie, who had always irritated her by keeping his distance and only telling her father about his big plans.They had known each other since they were seven years old, and it bothered her that they were having awkward conversations.While she decided it was all Robbie's fault—does he remember the first one he made?—she knew she had to get it right before she left.

A smell of cow dung that smelled like leather came in through the open windows, all but the coldest days, and only noticed by those who had been away.Robbie stands with his shovel down and rolls a cigarette, a relic of his communist days - the frenzy, with his anthropological ambitions and the planned hike from Calais to Istanbul , were all left behind.But now, when she wanted to smoke, she had to go up two flights of stairs and rummage through one of several pockets. She went into the living room and stuffed the flowers into a vase.This vase is a relic of Uncle Clem.Clem's funeral took place in the immediate aftermath of the war; it was not so much a funeral as a reburial, and Cecilia could still remember the scene: the armored car drove into the village churchyard, the coffin was Wrapped in the banner of the regimental headquarters, there are also the raised bayonets and the sound of bugles in the cemetery; but for a five-year-old child, the most vivid memory is the cry of his father.Clem was his only biological relative.As for how he got the vase, it was explained in the young lieutenant's last letters home.He was on a communications mission in the French division; once, when the enemy was about to bomb a town west of Verdun, he managed to organize a last-minute evacuation and rescued about fifty women, children, and children.Later, the mayor and several other officials took Uncle Clem back to a half-destroyed museum in town.They retrieved the vase from a broken glass case and gave it to him as a token of gratitude.Although it was very inconvenient to fight with a Meissen porcelain in his arms, he did not refuse at the time.A month later, the vase was left in a farmhouse for safekeeping, and then Lieutenant Tallis waded through the flood to get it back, and rushed back the same way to join the team at midnight.Towards the end of the war, he was sent on patrol, and the vase was entrusted to a friend for safekeeping.After many twists and turns, it made it back to regimental headquarters, and was delivered to the Tallis family a few months after Uncle Clem's funeral.

Careful placement of these wildflowers is unnecessary.It is true that they mix together in a harmony of their own, and that the effect of deliberately dividing the irises and the willows would be spoiled, it is true.But she still took a few minutes to fiddle with it, so that there was some natural clutter.Although I am fiddling with flowers here, I always want to find Robbie in my heart.That way she wouldn't have to bother going upstairs.She felt a little hot and uncomfortable, so she adjusted her appearance in front of the large gold-plated mirror above the fireplace.However, if Robbie turned now—he was smoking with his back to the house—he could see the room clearly.Finally finished tidying up, she returned to the original place.Now if her brother's friend Paul Marshall saw it, he would think that the flowers were picked and stuffed in the vase as they were.She understands that it's useless to plant flowers before watering them - but she does it anyway; she just likes to mess around with flowers, and not everything has to be done right and logically, especially When alone.Mother liked flowers in the living room, and Cecilia was happy to have them.The watering place is in the kitchen.But Betty was about to prepare dinner today, and she was in a very scary mood.Not only children like Jackson or Pierrot are afraid of her, even the helpers hired from the village are also afraid of her.Now even in the living room, muffled curses and the clang of frying pans hitting the iron rack can be heard from time to time.If Cecilia went to the kitchen now, she would have to mediate between her mother's vague instructions and Betty's stubborn temper.Apparently, one should be smart and fill the fountain outside.

When she was in her teens, a friend of her father's who worked in the Victoria and Albert Museum came to appraise the vase, and confirmed that it was indeed a genuine piece of Meissen porcelain, by the great painter Holo It is also very likely that it once belonged to King Augustus.Although it was much more valuable than Cecilia's grandfather's scavenging collection, Jack Tallis hoped it would be useful as a memorial to his brother.It shouldn't be imprisoned in some kind of glass case, on the grounds that if the vase survived the war, it must live forever in the Tallis family.His wife didn't object either.In fact, regardless of the value, Emily Tallis did not like the vase at all, regardless of the relationship.The Chinese characters painted above are all small and formally gathered in front of the round table in the garden. They are also decorated with gorgeous plants and fake birds, making the picture appear complicated and depressing.The whole Chinese art style made her feel dull.Cecilia had no opinion, except that sometimes she wondered how much the thing would fetch at Sotheby's.The vase was revered not for Horot's mastery of multicolored enamel, nor for the blue and gold lines and leaves, but for Uncle Clem, for the lives he saved, for the midnight wading Dae-ho, for his sacrifice a week before the armistice.Flowers, especially wildflowers, seemed appropriate tributes.

Cecilia held the cool vase tightly with both hands, and stretched out a foot to hook open the French window.Once in the bright place, Shi Jiusan's breath hugged him like a friend.Two swallows flew right over the fountain, and their twittering songs pierced the air through the dense shade of tall Lebanese cedars, and as they passed through the balcony, the flowers swayed gently in the breeze, stirring her. face.She walked cautiously down the three rickety steps to the gravel path.As he approached, Robbie turned around suddenly when he heard the sound. "I was a little distracted," Robbie explained. "Can I roll one of your Bolshevik cigarettes?" He tossed off his cigarette, picked up the can on the lawn where his clothes lay, and walked with her toward the fountain.The two walked in silence for a while. "It's a nice day," she said with a half-sigh. He stared at her, bewildered and suspicious.There was always something awkward between them, and even a topic as secure as the weather would seem inappropriate. "How about Clarissa?" he asked, looking down at the fingers of the rolled tobacco. "boring." "Don't say that." "I really hope she makes it through." "She made it through. And it's getting better." They slowed down, then stopped, so that Robbie could finish the last steps of twisting the smoke. “I wish I could read some Fielding another day,” she said. Cecilia realized that she had said something stupid.Robbie was looking out over the meadows and the cattle at the oak grove along the valley, the woods she had run through in the morning.He may feel there is something in the words, hinting at her preference for stimulation and sensuality.This was of course a misunderstanding, and although she was a little embarrassed, she didn't know how to correct him.She thought she liked his eyes; orange mingled with green, shimmering more and more in the sun.She prefers his burly figure.To her, a guy who is smart and big at the same time is an interesting combination.Cecilia took the cigarette and Robbie lit it for her. "I see what you mean," he said.The two walked a few more steps toward the fountain. "Fielding's works are more vital, but rougher in psychological description than Richardson's." Cecilia placed the vase on the uneven steps leading to the fountain pool.She least liked debating eighteenth-century literature like an undergraduate.She didn't think Fielding was rough at all, or that Richardson was a brilliant psychologist, and she didn't want to be dragged into arguments, definitions, and refutations.She was tired of that, and Robbie was always holding onto it when he was arguing. So she asked, "Did you know Leon was coming back today?" "It's great to hear about it." "He's bringing a friend, that Paul Marshall." "It's the chocolate tycoon. No way! You are going to dedicate these flowers to him!" She smiled sweetly.Is he pretending to be jealous to hide that he really is? She can't read him anymore.While in Cambridge, they lost touch.But there was no possibility of doing anything else, so she changed the subject. "The old man said you were going to be a doctor." "I have this idea." "Do you like being a student?" He looked away again, but this time for less than a second, and when he turned back she saw a trace of resentment.Doesn't she sound a bit condescending? She sees his eyes again, flecked with green and orange, like little boy's marbles.He was still very docile when he spoke. "Sey, I know you never liked that kind of stuff. But what else is there to be a doctor about?" "That's my problem. Another six years. Why?" He is not angry.It was because she thought too much, and she was nervous in front of him, which made her feel a little annoyed. He answered her questions seriously. "No one would really ask me to be a gardener. I don't want to teach, and I don't want to be a civil servant. Only medicine interests me..." Suddenly he thought of something and stopped suddenly. "Remember, I said I'd pay your father back. That's all." "That's not what I meant at all." It never occurred to her that he would think she was talking about money.He is too small.Has anyone ever objected to his father subsidizing Robbie's education? She always thought it was her own imagination, but in fact she was right - Robbie's behavior has been a little annoying lately.As long as he had the opportunity, he always misinterpreted her words.He had rang the doorbell two days ago--which is strange, since he's always been able to come and go from the house as he pleases.When Cecilia came down to answer the door, he stood outside and asked loudly, business-like, if he could borrow a book.It so happened that Polly was mopping the hall floor on her stomach at the time.Robbie put on a big show, took off his shoes, in fact his shoes were not dirty at all, thought about it, took off his socks, and then exaggeratedly tiptoed across the wet floor.Everything he did was deliberately alienating from her; he deliberately pretended to be the son of the cleaner who came to run errands in the big house.They went into the library together; when he had found what he wanted, Cecilia asked him to stay for a cup of coffee, and he hesitated, declining.It's all fake - he's the most confident guy she's ever met.She realized that she was being mocked.After being rejected by Robbie, she left the room, went upstairs and lay on the bed to watch "Clarissa", but couldn't read a single word, and the annoyance and doubt in her heart increased with time.Whether she was being mocked or punished - she didn't know which was worse.Punished for being in a different social circle at Cambridge; punished for not being a handmaid's mother; ridiculed for her poor degree - not because they actually awarded degrees to women. Clumsily—because she was still smoking—she picked up the vase and laid it flat on the edge of the sink.It would have been better to get the flowers out first, but she was so dizzy, and her hands were hot and dry, that she had to hold the vase tighter.Robbie didn't say a word at this time, but from his expression, Cecilia could see that he regretted what he had just said-he forced a smile without even opening his lips.It was not at all pleasant.That's the way they talk these days; either he or she is always going to make a mistake and try to take it back.When they talked, they didn't feel relaxed and stable at all, let alone relaxed. Instead, there were nails everywhere, traps everywhere, and the topic was changed because of embarrassment. Therefore, she hated herself as much as he hated him, but never Doubt should be his fault.She hadn't changed, but he certainly had, and he had distanced himself from the family that had opened up to him and given him everything.For that reason—in anticipation of his refusal, and her own displeasure—she hadn't invited him to dinner that day.If he likes distance, then keep it. Among the four dolphins holding the seashell where Triton, the god of the sea, was squatting with their tails, the one closest to Cecilia's mouth was covered with moss and algae, and its round eyes were as big as apples. Flashing green light.The northern side of the entire statue is covered with blue-green patina, so in the dim light, from certain angles, the muscular Triton seems to be hundreds of legions under the sea.Bernini's original idea must have been to have water gurgling from the irregular rim of the wide shell into the pool, but the water pressure was too low, so the water slid silently onto the back of the shell, with the occasional mud splash Hanging on it like stalactites in a limestone cave, drops of water drip down.The pool is more than three feet deep, and the spring water is crystal clear.The bottom of the pool is pale milk-colored stone, and the undulating white-edged rectangle refracts the sunlight, sometimes dividing it, and sometimes overlapping it. She was going to lean on the railing, hold the flowers in the vase, and lower the vase sideways into the water.But at this moment, Robbie, who was determined to do something to remedy the situation, wanted to help her. "Let me get that," he said, holding out a hand, "and I'll water it, and you take the flower." "No, I can do it myself. Thank you." She had already stretched the vase over the sink. But he said, "Look, I've got it." He really had it between his thumb and forefinger. "Your cigarettes will be wet. Take the flowers." It was an order, an eager expression of his masculine authority.And in this way, Cecilia held on tighter.She didn't have time and didn't intend to explain that immersing the flowers and the vase in water can keep the natural appearance of the flowers; she just tightened her grip and turned around to twist him away.But he didn't get rid of it so easily.There was a sound like a dead branch breaking, and a piece of the edge of the bottle fell off in his hand, and broke into two pieces and three corners, which fell into the pool, and fell unsteadily to the bottom of the water.They lay inches apart, dangling in the broken light. Both Cecilia and Robbie were transfixed by their stubborn scramble.The four eyes met, and what she saw in those orange and bile-like green eyes was not shock, not guilt, but a kind of provocation, even victory.Cecilia knew to put the vase on the steps before arguing with Robbie about the seriousness of the accident.She also knew it was irresistible, even hilarious, because the more serious the situation, the worse it was for Robbie.Her dead uncle, her father's own brother, the destructive war, the dangerous river crossing, the preciousness, valor and kindness that money can't buy, this vase traces the long years behind the history of Horot's creative genius, even far The artisanship that goes back to the repeated invention of pottery. "You idiot! Look what you've done." He glanced at the bottom of the water, then looked back at her, just shook his head vigorously, covering his mouth with his hand.Although this gesture showed that he took all the responsibility, Cecilia still hated his inappropriate behavior at this moment.He glanced again at the sink and sighed.Concerned that she might step on the vase, Robbie pointed, but said nothing.He began to unbutton his shirt.She immediately understood what he was going to do.This cannot be tolerated.He also took off his shoes and socks when he came to the house - well, she decided to teach him how to do it.She kicked off her slippers, unbuttoned them, took off her clothes, then her skirt, and walked towards the parapet of the pool.And he just put his hands on his hips and watched her crawl into the water in her underwear.Refuse his help, deny him any chance of redress, this is the best punishment for him.She didn't expect the water to be so cold that it made her gasp, but it was also his punishment.She held her breath and sank to the bottom, her hair fanning out on the surface.If she drowned, it was his punishment too. When she surfaced a few seconds later with a splinter in both hands, he wasn't stupid enough to step forward and lift her out of the water.The fair and frail fairy, with the pieces carefully placed on the side of the vase, and the water pouring from her, was much more beautiful than the sturdy Triton.She dressed quickly, slipping her wet arms through the silk sleeves with difficulty, and tucked her shirt into her skirt.She picked up the slipper and tucked it under her arm, put the pieces in the pocket of her skirt, and picked up the vase.She avoided his gaze, and there was something brutal about her movements.He does not exist, he is exiled, and this is his punishment.Robbie stood transfixed, watching her barefoot across the lawn, her jet-black hair thumping about her shoulders and rubbing against her shirt.Then he turned and looked into the pool again, maybe there was another piece of debris in the water that she hadn't picked up, but it was hard to see because the churned water hadn't calmed down yet, and her anger was still lingering on the surface, driving the current.Robbie put his hand flat on the water, as if trying to smooth it.At this time Cecilia had already hidden into the house.