Chapter 10 Chapter nine

Twice in half an hour Cecilia came out of her bedroom, looked at herself in the gilt-framed mirror at the top of the stairs, was not satisfied, and immediately went back to her wardrobe to reselect her clothes.The first dress she picked out was a dress of black Chinese crepe, which, in the mirror of the dressing table, looked dignified because of its excellent tailoring.Cecilia's dark eyes accentuate its impeccable style.In order not to counteract this effect, she did not choose a pearl necklace, but had an idea and took a string of pure black jade necklaces.Her first coat of lipstick creates a perfect lip line.She tilted her head from all angles to see the perspective of the triptych of the face, making sure her face wasn't too long, or not tonight.She was supposed to be busy in the kitchen for her mother now, and she knew Leon was waiting for her in the living room.But even so, when she was about to leave the bedroom, she hurried back to the dressing table, put a few drops of perfume on her elbow, and then closed the bedroom door behind her.She is so willful.

But as she hurried to the mirror on the stairs, there was a reflection of a woman going to a funeral, a woman with a stern, joyless appearance.Her stiff black outfit bears a resemblance to some kind of insect that lives in a matchbox.Like a staghorn stag beetle! This is the image of her in widow's mourning at the age of eighty-five.She didn't linger for a moment - pivoting back on the same black heel, she turned back into her room. She was suspicious because she knew the tricks the mind played.At the same time, she wondered—in every sense—where she was going to spend the night, and she had to relax.She stepped out of her black crepe dress on the floor, shoes and underwear, and sifted through the shelves of the closet for clothes she wanted.She knew that time was ticking by.She hated it at the thought of putting on a stern exterior.She wants to feel relaxed and independent at the same time.Most of all, she wanted to look undressed, and that took time.Impatience would mount in the downstairs kitchen, and the few minutes she had planned to be alone with her brother would soon be over.Soon her mother would show up wanting to discuss the table setting with her, Paul Marshall would come down from his room, needing company, and then Robbie would be at the door.How can she think straight?

With one hand, she rummages through the wardrobe racks a few feet wide of clothes that are her personal history, the way she has dressed at different times.Here are the unconventional outfits of her teenage years, but now they look so funny, soft and androgynous.Despite a wine stain on one dress and a hole burned from her first cigarette on another, she couldn't bring herself to get them out.This was the first dress with slightly padded shoulders, and all the other clothes I wore after that had shoulder pads.Athletic women shed their boyish phase, rediscovered feminine curves, and let down the hem of their skirts with a spirit of independence, regardless of the wishes of men.Her latest and best piece of clothing was bought to celebrate the end of her final exams, and she didn't know there was a third year of misery ahead.It was a tight, open-back evening dress cut in dark green diagonals.Wearing it for the first time at home is a bit too elegant.She fumbled back and pulled out a dress of moiré silk that gathered at the bodice, had ruffles, and scalloped the hem—a safe choice, since the pink was soft and flat, perfect for evening .It also looks appropriate from the three views in the mirror.She changed her shoes, swapped the jet necklace for a pearl necklace, touched up her makeup, restyled her hair, put some perfume on her neck—now her neck was more exposed—and went back into the hallway again. The whole process took less than fifteen minutes.

Earlier in the day she had seen old Hardman walking around the house in a wicker basket, changing light bulbs.Maybe the light at the top of the stairs was harsher now, because she didn't have to look so hard in the mirror at the top of the stairs before.Even though she was forty feet from the landing, she had found that her own image in the mirror prevented her from coming downstairs; It looks like the coat that eight-age children wear when they attend a banquet.If you add rabbit-shaped buttons, it is completely children's clothing.As she approached, a deformed area on the surface of the old mirror shortened her reflection.So she saw the image of herself fifteen years ago.She stopped, tentatively raised her hand to the side of her head, and tied her hair into two bundles.The same mirror must have seen her go downstairs like this many times in the past to attend some friend's afternoon birthday party.It didn't make her feel like she would look like walking down the stairs, or feel like she looked like movie star Shirley Temple.

She returned to her room feeling helpless rather than angry or panicked.Her thoughts were not at all chaotic: these overly vivid, unreliable impressions, her self-doubt, these clear visual images that wrapped themselves in the familiar, forced acceptance and evoked unspeakable All the differences in fear are just the continuation and variation of what she has seen and felt throughout the day.She could feel it, but she didn't want to think about it.Plus, she knows what she has to do, and she's done it from the start.She only has one outfit she really likes, and that's what she should be wearing.She let her pink dress fall on top of her black one, then stepped contemptuously across the pile to get the dark green halter gown she had bought after finals.When she put on the gown, she felt the powerful caress of the twill-cut gown through the silk petticoat. The neat cut of the gown was impeccable, smooth and reliable; in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, she was simply a mermaid out of water.She left the pearl necklace untouched, put on her black high heels again, fixed her hair and touch-up her makeup again, and put on her perfume again.Then, as she opened the door, she let out a terrified scream.A few inches away from her is a face and a raised fist.Her first reaction was to see a dizzying, exaggerated Picasso-like diorama of tears, puffy eyes, wet lips and snotty nose mingling in crimson tearful sorrow .She came back, put her hands on her thin shoulders, and turned slowly so that she could see her left ear.It was Jackson, and he was about to knock on the door of her room.In his other hand he held a gray sock.As she stepped back, she noticed that he was wearing pressed gray shorts and a white shirt, but his feet were bare.

"Little guy! What's the matter?" Because he didn't believe that he could explain things clearly for a while.So, he held up his sock and gestured toward the corridor.Cecilia poked her head out and saw Piero behind him, also barefoot, looking around with a sock. "Why, you each took a sock." The little boy nodded, swallowed, and said: "Miss Betty said, if we don't go downstairs to drink tea now, we will be slapped, but we only have one pair of socks." "So you're fighting over the socks." Jackson shook his head heavily. As she and the boys walked down the corridor to their rooms, they each held her hand one after the other, and she was surprised at how happy she was.She couldn't help thinking about her clothes.

"Didn't you ask your sister to help?" "At the moment she doesn't speak to us." "why?" "She hates us." Their room was a pathetic mess: clothes, wet towels, orange peels, a torn comic book wrapped around a sheet of paper, and twisted blankets and cushions half-covered on the upturned chairs.There was a large wet spot on the carpet between the beds with a bar of soap and wet wads of toilet paper in between.A curtain hung obliquely under the box, and although the window was open, the air in the room was damp, as if steam had been released many times.All the drawers of the wardrobe were open, and the inside was empty.The scene gives the impression of a bored room shut up in a den or interrupted by the scrambling and chasing of children - jumping from bed to bed, setting up camp, designing Half the board, and then it falls by the wayside.No one in the Tallis family was looking after the Quincy twins.To hide her guilt, Cecilia said, "We couldn't find anything in the way the room looked."

She began to tidy up the room, remade the bed, kicked off her high heels, stood on a chair to fix the curtains, and assigned some small tasks to the two little twin brothers.The brothers accepted the task obediently, but they worked with their backs hunched and silent, as if it were their punishment rather than their deliverance, their rebuke rather than their kindness.This is contrary to Cecilia's original intention.They are ashamed of their rooms.Cecilia stood on a chair in a tight-fitting dark green dress, watching their clever ginger heads swaying and drooping frequently as they worked, a simple thought suddenly flashed in her mind: no one cares about them, What a hopeless and horrible thing it is to build up your own world with your bare hands in a strange house.

Since her knees could not be bent too much, she got off the chair with difficulty, then sat on the edge of the bed, patted her sides with her hands, and signaled the two brothers to sit down.However, they still stood, looking at her expectantly.She said in the soft, singing voice of a kindergarten teacher she had once envied: "We don't have to cry when the socks are lost, do we?" "Honestly, we want to go home," Pierrot said. She resumed her grown-up talking voice. "That's not possible at the moment. Your mum's in France and on short vacation...and your dad's busy at university. So you'll have to stay here for a while. I'm sorry you've been left out. But you still had a good time in the swimming pool just now..."

Jackson said: "We wanted to act, but Briony left and hasn't come back until now." "Are you sure?" Another child to worry about.Briony is long overdue.It reminded her of the people waiting downstairs: her mother, the cook, Leon, the guest, and Robbie.Even the hot evening air that came in through the open window behind her laid it on her; it was one of those Midsummer's nights that one looked forward to all year, and now at last it had a rich The fragrance came with happiness, but she was distracted by many annoying things and little sorrows and couldn't pay attention to it.However, she has to respond.It is wrong to be indifferent.To have a gin and soda with Leon outside on the veranda was simply wonderful.It wasn't her Cecilia's fault that Aunt Hermione had eloped with some nasty guy who gave his weekly fireside sermon on the radio.It's so tragic.Cecilia stood up and clapped her hands.

"Yeah, it sucks not being able to act, but there's nothing we can do about it. Let's get some socks and go downstairs." After some searching, they found that the socks they had worn up until now had been washed, and Aunt Hermione, in her ecstasy of passion, forgot to bring a spare pair of socks for her sons.Cecilia went to Briony's bedroom and rummaged through her cupboards for the least girly socks - white, ankle-length socks with red and green strawberries embroidered near the top pattern.She thought the two brothers would be fighting over the gray socks, but it was the opposite.In order to avoid further quarrels, she had to go back to Briony's room to get another pair of socks.This time she stopped inside the house for a while, gazing out at the dusk through the window.Where was her sister? She wondered as usual, had she fallen into a lake and drowned? Been carried away by gypsies? Hit by a passing car? An effective method based on the wise principle that things are never as they are supposed to be. Back at the boys, she brushed Jackson's hair with a comb soaked in water in a vase, pinching his chin between her forefinger and thumb, curving down his scalp, brushing him. Beautiful straight parted.Piero waited patiently for her to comb his hair, and when it was done they ran downstairs together to Betty without a word. Cecilia followed the children slowly downstairs, glancing at the critical mirror on the stairs as she passed, and was quite pleased with the reflection she saw.Or rather, she doesn't care so much about it anymore, because her mood has changed since she was with the twin brothers, and her mind has opened up, and there is a vague, no specific content and no The decision to implement the plan was already taking shape in her mind; she had to get out as soon as possible.The thought is calming, exhilarating, and full of hope.On the corner platform of the stairs on the first floor, she stopped.Downstairs, her mother, feeling guilty about not being with her family, would spread her worries and confusion to all those around her.In addition, the news of Briony's disappearance - if it is true - must also be added.People would spend their time looking for her and worrying about her before she showed up.The Ministry would call and say Mr. Tallis would be in town on the night shift and wouldn't be coming back at night.Leon—who has a gift for avoiding responsibility—wouldn't be taking his father's place at a dinner party.Nominally, the responsibility would fall instead to Mrs. Tallis, but ultimately the success of the dinner depended on her care, Cecilia.All this is obvious and irrefutable.She would not indulge in this enchanted midsummer night, she would not stay long with Leon, she would not walk barefoot across the lawn under midnight stars.She touched the black-stained and varnished pine banister, which seemed to be neo-Gothic, solid and solid.Above her head is a huge cast-iron chandelier suspended by three chains.She had never seen the chandelier lit.Illumination is provided by two fringed wall lights covered by a quarter circle of faux parchment.By the foggy yellow light, she walked silently across the landing and looked toward her mother's room.The half-open door and the light illuminating the carpet in the hallway convinced Cecilia that Emily Tallis had risen from her sofa bed.Cecilia went back up the stairs, and again she hesitated.She was reluctant to go downstairs, but she had no other choice. There were no new changes in arrangements, and she was not troubled.Two years ago, her father was busy preparing mysterious consultation papers for the Ministry of Internal Affairs and disappeared.Her mother had always been ill, so Briony used to be looked after by her older sister, and Leon was always hanging around, and Cecilia used to like him for that.She had not imagined before that it would be so easy for everyone to return to their original positions.Cambridge University had changed her in essence, and she thought she was immune to it.But no one in the family noticed her changes, and she couldn't resist the family's habitual expectations of her.She doesn't blame anyone, but she's been hanging around the house all summer, fueled by the vague idea that she's rebuilding an important bond with her family.But now she realized that her relationship with her family had never been broken, and that her parents were unable to fulfill their duties due to different special circumstances, Briony was in her fantasy, and Leon was in the city.It was her time to act.She needs to take a risk.Her uncle and aunt invited her to accompany them to New York.Aunt Hermione was in France.She could go to London and get a job - which was what her father wanted.She was excited rather than upset, and she wasn't going to let the night get her down.There would be nights like this again, and to enjoy them she had to be in a foreign land. Buoyed by this new idea—and choosing the right clothes obviously helped—she crossed the hallway, pushed open the woolen door, and strode down the checkered-tiled hallway to the kitchen.She stepped into a cloud of smoke where disembodied faces hung at different heights like studies in an artist's sketchbook, and all eyes were on the table, Betty's broad The back made it difficult for Cecilia to see what was on the table.There was a faint red glow of coals burning in the two-burner stove when, with a loud bang and an angry roar, the door was kicked shut.Thick steam rose from an unattended boiling bucket.The cook's assistant, Dole, a slender girl from the country with her unadorned bun, was angrily rinsing the lid of the saucepan at the sink with a clattering sound.But then she also half turned to see what Betty had put on the table.Of these faces, one is that of Emily Tallis, one is that of Danny Hardman, and one is that of Hardman's father.Jackson's and Pierrot's faces were taller than the others', perhaps because they were standing on stools, and their faces were solemn.Cecilia felt Danny Hardman staring at her, so she gave Hardman a hard look back.She was glad to see him turn away.People worked long and tiring days in the heat of the kitchen.There was litter everywhere: the grease from the barbecue was spattered on the flagstone floor, and it was trampled into patches, making the floor slippery; the sodden tea towels hung over the stove like rotting church flags, and they were right. Witnesses of forgotten heroic feats.Cecilia's calf was lightly touched by the vegetable scraps from the full basket that Betty was taking home to feed her old Gloucester spot-headed pigeons.The pigeons that are saved until December are fattening up.The cook turned her head and glanced at the newcomer.Before she turned her face away, Cecilia had time to see the anger in the eyes squeezed into the jelly-like slits of her fat cheeks. "Take it down!" cried the cook.There was no doubt that her fire was directed at Mrs. Tallis.Dole sprinted from the sink to the stove, slipped, and almost fell.She took two rags and removed the cauldron from the stove.The line of sight gradually became clearer, and Polly could be seen vaguely. She was the maid who was said to be very simple and always worked late whenever there was a party.Her large, trusting eyes were also fixed on the table.Cecilia walked around Betty from behind, and saw what everyone else could see—a huge blackened tray, just out of the oven, filled with baked potatoes, still steaming. A slight sizzle.There were perhaps a hundred potatoes in all, pale golden in color, arranged in jagged rows.Betty dug in it with a metal spatula, scraped it, and turned it over.Inside the potatoes was a more viscous, yellowish mass, here and there glinting faintly in the brown brilliance the edge of a spatula and the occasional stringy lace that bloomed around the cracked potato skin.The potatoes were baked to perfection, or would have been. After flipping through the last row of potatoes, Betty said, "Ma'am, would you like to make potato salad with these?" "Yes. Cut off the burnt parts, wipe off the grease, put them in the big Tuscan bowl, soak them in olive oil for a while, and then..." Emily rushed gesturing vaguely at the fruit by the pantry door, where there may or may not be a lemon. Betty said to the ceiling, "Would you like a brussels sprouts salad?" "Yes, Betty." "Cauliflower Crispy Salad? Horseradish Salad?" "You're making a fuss out of a molehill." "Bread and butter pudding salad?" One of the twins snorted. Just when Cecilia guessed what was going to happen next, it started happening.Betty turned toward her, grabbed her arm, and dragged her into front of the crowd. "Miss West, this is a barbecue as ordered, and it took us all day to make it in the heat that will make our blood boil." It was a novel scene, and the audience was unusual, but the dilemma was familiar: how to mediate without embarrassing her mother.For this reason, Cecilia made up her mind once more to stay with her brother on the verandah; therefore she was to be on the winning side, and to clean up the mess at once.Cecilia drew her mother aside, and Betty, who was familiar with such scenes, ordered everyone to return to their posts.Emily and Cecilia Tallis stood by the open door to the vegetable garden. "Honey, it's too hot, and no one can persuade me to give up salad." "Emily, I know it's too hot, but Leon wants to eat Betty's barbecue like crazy. He thinks about Betty's barbecue all day. I heard him boasting about the delicious barbecue to Mr. Marshall." "Oh my God," Emily said. "I'm on your side. I don't want to eat barbecue. Better to leave it to everyone to choose. Send Polly out and cut some lettuce. There's beetroot in the pantry. Can get Betty to make some new ones." potatoes, and let them cool." "Honey, you're right. You know I hate letting little Leon down." The disagreement was thus resolved, and the baked potatoes were preserved.Betty tactfully arranged for Dole to wash fresh potatoes, while Polly went outside with a knife to cut lettuce in the vegetable garden. As the pair left the kitchen, Emily put on her sunglasses and said: "I'm glad the differences were resolved because it was Briony who was really worrying me. I know she's upset and slouching outside. You Xidang. I plan to go and call her back right now." "Great. I'm worried about her too," Cecilia said.She had no intention of dissuading her mother from going too far from the yard. The living room, which had startled Cecilia that morning with its parallelogram of lights, was dimly lit with only one light by the fireplace.The open floor-to-ceiling windows framed a pale green sky, and the familiar head and shoulders of her brother were silhouetted against the sky not far away.She crossed the room and heard the clink of ice in his brother's glass as it clinked against the glass.As she walked out of the room, she smelled the aroma of crushed mint, chamomile, and feverfew underfoot.At the moment, the aroma is more exciting than in the morning.No one remembered the name of the temporary gardener, or even what he looked like.It was the gardener who had planned and planted these plants in the cracks in the paving stones years ago.At that time, no one understood his idea.Maybe that's what got him fired. "Siss! I've been waiting here for forty minutes, and I'm half drunk." "Sorry. Where's my wine?" On a low wooden table leaning against the outer wall of the room, there was a kerosene lamp with a spherical glass shade, and wine utensils were arranged around the lamp, rather like a bar.She finally managed to get a gin and soda.She borrowed the fire to light a cigarette for herself, and then clinked glasses with each other. "I like your dress." "Can you see that birthmark?" "Turn around, let me see. It's so beautiful, I forgot about the birthmark." "What about your bank?" "Work is boring but life is very enjoyable. We live for nights and weekends. When are you going to come?" They strolled down from the verandah and down the gravel path lined with roses.Treydon Fountain loomed before them like a silhouette, its intricate contours sharply defined against the sky, which grew greener as the light dimmed.They could hear the murmur of the water, and Cecilia thought she could even smell it, it was so mellow.That could be the wine she was holding in her hand. After a pause, she said, "I really can't stand this place." "Going to look after everyone like a mother again. You know, girls can get all kinds of jobs these days. They even go for civil service exams. That'll make the old man happy." "They say I won't take the third exam." "Once your life gets better, you realize that stuff doesn't make sense." They walked to the fountain, turned around, leaned against the railing, and faced the old house in silence for a moment.This is where she feels ashamed.She felt that it had been done hastily and absurdly, and it was a shame.Only the veil of time, tightly woven with hours, prevented her brother from seeing her as others had done.But for Robbie, she doesn't have the protection of this veil.He saw her then, and he always sees her, even though time has erased the memory and become a barroom story.She was still mad at his brother for inviting Robbie.But she needed her brother, and she wanted to share some of his freedom.She eagerly urges her brother to tell her about him. In Leon's life, or rather, in his account of his own life, he thought no one was small, lied, betrayed, or conspired.Everyone is admired, at least to some extent, as if there are people in the world, which is a reason to marvel.He remembered all the good things about his friends.One of the uses of Leon's anecdotes was to imbue his listeners with human tenderness and tolerance for human failure.By the most conservative estimates, everyone is "a good ass" or "one of the straight ones," and motives are never seen to be contrary to appearances.If a friend is incomprehensible or contradictory, Leon takes the long view and finds a kind explanation.Literature and politics, science and religion didn't bore him—they just had no place in his world, and neither did anything that aroused great controversy.Although he already had a law degree, he was happy to forget about the whole experience.It's hard to imagine him ever feeling lonely, bored, or depressed; he has infinite poise, no ambition, and he suspects that everyone else is more or less the same.Even so, his poise seemed exceedingly forgiving, even consoling. He started by talking about his rowing club.He recently finished eighth for the second time, and while everyone was very friendly, he was even more pleased to be able to compare others.In the same way, news that he was going to be promoted was circulating in the bank, but in the end nothing happened, and he was somewhat relieved.And the girls: the actress Mary, who was so good in the movie, suddenly leaves for Glasgow, and no one knows why she did it.Leon suspected she was there to care for a dying relative.Francine, who speaks fluent French and has caused outrage for wearing a monocle, went with him last week to an opera by Gilbert and Sullivan, and they saw what appeared to be a The king glanced in their direction.Dependable and likeable, the socially well-connected Barbara invites him to spend a week at her parents' castle in the Scottish Highlands, and he thinks it would be rude not to.Both Jack and Emily think Leon should marry Barbara. Whenever Leon seemed to stop, Cecilia asked another question for him to continue.His income from the Albany estate had inexplicably dwindled.An old friend of his found a girlfriend who was pregnant with an unknown child, married her, and lived happily.Another old friend of his is buying a motorcycle.A dear friend's father bought a factory that made vacuum cleaners and said it was a forever cash cow.Someone's mother was a brave old woman, for she walked half a mile with a short leg.The conversation, sweet as the night air, lingered in her ears, and produced many good wishes, and many pleasant results.They stood side by side, half standing, half sitting, gazing at their childhood home.The large house, whose faux-medieval architecture is inexplicable, looks so lighthearted and whimsical now; their mother's migraines are a burlesque interlude in an operetta, and the twin brothers' grief is emotional Splurge, the events in the kitchen are nothing more than the merry game of living ghosts. When it was her turn to tell the story of the last few months, she was inevitably affected by Leon's tone, even though her story had become a mockery of Leon.She ridiculed her so-called attempts at genealogy: a sparsely branched tree with no roots or roots.Grandpa Harry Tallis was the son of a farm laborer who for some reason changed his own name to Cartwright, whose birth and marriage are not recorded.As for "Clarissa"—she spends the day curled up in bed with needles in her arms—this is exactly the story in reverse—when the heroine's death-pegged virtue is revealed, She's getting more annoying.Leon nodded and pursed his lips; he neither pretended to know what she was saying nor interrupted.She gave a hilarious account of her weeks of boredom and loneliness, how she spent time with her family, made amends for being away from home, and found her parents and sister busy with their own lives. Regardless of family matters.Infected by her brother's near-laughing generosity, Cecilia told her she needed more cigarettes each day, Briony tore up the poster, the twins came outside her room with a sock each, and her mother thought Miracles at dinner parties—turning baked potatoes into potato salad—are the events she describes with comic relief.Leon didn't catch the citation here.Cecilia's words contained an element of desperation, either because the core of these things was hollow, or because some unmentioned things made her speak quickly and exaggerated a little far-fetched.Leon's life was comfortable and empty, the product of embellishment, its semblance of leisure, its limitations acquired by hard work behind the scenes and the contingencies of his personality, and she was no match for Leon in these respects.Cecilia took Leon's arm and squeezed it tightly.That was another of Leon's attractive qualities: he was a soft-spoken, charismatic companion, and his arms, through his jacket, were as hard as tropical hardwood.She felt that she was immersed in warmth and was seen through her mind.He was looking at her tenderly. "What's the matter, Si?" "Nothing. Nothing happened." "You should really come and stay with me for a while, and walk about." Someone was walking on the balcony, and the lights in the living room were turned on one by one.Briony called her brother and sister by name. "Here we are," Leon responded. "We should go in," Cecilia said.They started walking towards the big house, still arm in arm.As they passed the rose bushes, she wondered if there was really something she wanted to tell him.It was of course impossible to confess to her behavior this morning. "I'd love to be in town." Even when she says it, she feels like she's retreating—unable to pack her bags or catch her train.Maybe she didn't want to go to the city at all, but she repeated it, more firmly than before. "I'd love to go." Briony waited impatiently on the verandah to greet her brother.Someone spoke to her in the living room, and she turned back to him.As Cecilia and Leon approached, they heard the voice again—their mother, trying to be harsh. "I'll say it again, and only once. You go upstairs to wash and change." Briony looked in the direction they had come from and walked towards the French windows.She is holding something in her hand. Leon said, "We can get you settled right away." When they entered the room, under the light of several lamps, Briony was still there, barefoot and in a stained white dress.Her mother was at the other end of the room, standing by the door, smiling kindly.Leon stretched out his arms and said in the comic Cockney accent reserved for her: "Ah, isn't that my lovely little sister!" As Briony hurried past Cecilia, she thrust a double-folded piece of paper into Cecilia's hand, and Briony jumped into him screaming her brother's name. embrace. Aware that her mother was watching her, Cecilia put on a happy and curious expression as she unfolded the paper.To her credit, she was able to maintain that look as she glanced at that little bit of typed text.She grasped the meaning of the whole text at a glance-the meaning came from the repetition of the word with its strength and color.Beside her, Briony was telling Leon that she had written a play for him and was deeply saddened by not being able to stage it. The Ordeal of Arabella. The Ordeal of Arabella.She repeated the title of the play over and over again.Never before had she acted so alive, so impossibly agitated.She still had her arms around his neck, tiptoeing her cheek against his. At first, one phrase kept spinning in Cecilia's head: Of course, of course.How could she not understand in the first place? Everything was answered.All day, the first few weeks, her childhood.her whole life.Now she understands.否则为什么花这么长时间来挑选礼服,或为一只花瓶争吵,或发现一切都困难重重,或难舍难弃?是什么使她如此盲目,如此迟钝?数秒钟过去了,好像没有道理再一眼不眨地盯着这张纸看。她在折起这张纸时,忽然意识到了一个明摆着的现实:它不可能没有封口就捎来的。她扭头注视着她妹妹。 利昂正在对她说话:“这样行吗?我擅长表达,你则更在行。让我们一起来大声朗读吧。” 塞西莉娅绕过利昂,站在布里奥妮能看到的地方。 “布里奥妮?布里奥妮,你看了这个吗?” 但是布里奥妮忙着尖声回应她哥哥的建议,在他的怀抱里扭动着身体,把脸背了过去,半埋在利昂的夹克里。 在房间的另一头,艾米莉温和地说道:“大家安静。” 塞西莉娅再一次挪到她哥哥的另一侧,问道:“信封在哪儿?” 布里奥妮又一次背过脸去,为利昂正在对她说的什么事情放声大笑。 接着,塞西莉娅用眼角的余光瞟见有另一个人从她身后走来。她转过身去,与保罗· 马歇尔打了个照面。他一只手端着一只银托盘,上面放着五只鸡尾酒杯,每只酒杯里都盛了半杯黏性褐色液体。他举起一杯递给了她。 “你非得尝尝这个。”