Chapter 5 5. Cocktail party

In the days that followed, Lyra followed Mrs. Coulter around as if she were becoming someone else's elf herself.Mrs Coulter knew a lot of people and met on various occasions: perhaps in the morning with a geographer at the Royal Arctic Institute, with Lyra sitting by and listening; Lunch with a politician or a priest in a trendy little restaurant, and they would take good care of Laila, order her special dishes, and she would learn how to eat asparagus, or taste the taste of pancreas from cows and sheep.Then, in the afternoon, perhaps more shopping, for Mrs. Coulter was getting ready for the expedition and needed furs, oilcloths, and waterproof boots, as well as sleeping bags, knives, and plotting instruments, which Laila was very excited about. excited.Afterwards they might go to tea and meet some ladies—not as pretty and accomplished as Mrs. Coulter perhaps, but dressed just as well.They are so different from the female academicians of Oxford, the women on the gypsy ship, and the servants of the college, as if they are of a completely different gender. They have an irresistible talent and temperament: elegant, charming, and decent.On such occasions, Lyra was well dressed, and the ladies pampered her and included her in their elegant and tasteful conversations.They talked about people: this artist, that politician, or some lover.

When night came Mrs. Coulter might take her to the theater.Also, there would still be plenty of charming people to talk to, worthy of her admiration, and Mrs Coulter, it seemed, knew all the great people in London. In the absence of these activities, Mrs. Coulter taught her the basics of geography and mathematics. Lyra's knowledge was like a map of the world that had been largely eaten by rats. It was very flawed, because in Jordan College, their education of her was piecemeal and incoherent: they would appoint a young academician to catch her and lecture her on such and such a subject, and such a course would go on for a week or so depressingly, and finally, Lyra would then "forget" about the class, much to the academician's relief.Or an academician forgets what to tell her and talks to her for a long time about a research topic he is currently working on, regardless of whether it suits her or not.As such, her knowledge is not surprisingly very fragmented.She knew about atoms, elementary particles, electromagnetic charge, and the four fundamental forces, but nothing about the solar system.In fact, when Mrs. Coulter realized this and explained to her how the Earth and the other five planets orbited the sun, Lyra laughed out loud, thinking it was a joke.

However, Lyra was willing to show that she did have some knowledge.So, when Mrs. Coulter told her about electrons, she said expertly: "Yes, electrons are negatively charged particles, a bit like dust, but dust is not charged." As soon as she spoke, Mrs. Coulter's elf suddenly raised her head and stared at her, the golden hair on her thin body stood on end as if charged with electricity.Mrs. Coulter put a hand on his back. "Dust?" she asked. "Yeah. You know, from space, that kind of dust." "Lila, what do you know about dust?" "Oh, the dust comes from space, and if you have a special camera, you can see that it lights up people, except for children, it doesn't work on children."

"Where did you know that?" Only then did Lyra feel the heightened tension in the room, for Pantalaimon, transformed into a mink, crawled onto her lap, shaking violently. "It was at Jordan College," Lyra said vaguely. "I forget who, I think it was some academician." "Did you say that in your class?" "Maybe. But maybe I heard it on the road, yes, I think that's it. The Academician, I think he's from New Denmark, and I happened to be passing by when he was talking to the priest about the dust, I thought it was interesting, so I couldn't help but stop and listen to it. That's it."

"So it is," said Mrs. Coulter. "Is what he told me right? Did I hear you wrong?" "Well... I don't know. I'm sure you know more than I do. I'll go on to electronics now..." After this incident, Pantalaimon said, "Do you know when all the hair on her elf stood up? Well, I was behind him, and she scratched at the elf's fur so hard that all the knuckles in her hands disappeared. Bloody, but you didn't see it. It took him a long time to get his fur down. I thought he was going to jump on you." It was a very strange thing, no doubt; but neither of them understood what it was all about.

In the end, there were several other classes, which Mrs. Coulter delivered with such kindness and dexterity that it didn't even feel like a class at all.These include: how to wash your hair, how to tell which color suits whom, how to say no politely without hurting others, how to apply lipstick, foundation, and perfume.Mrs. Coulter hadn't taught Laila directly these latter skills, exactly, but she knew that Laila had been watching how she put on makeup.So she intentionally let Laila see where she kept her make-up, and gave her time to explore and experiment on her own. Time passed day by day, and it was the end of autumn and early winter.Laila often thought of Jordan Academy, but compared with her busy life now, Jordan Academy seemed small and quiet.Occasionally she thought of Roger and felt uneasy, but because she was going to the opera, or trying on new clothes, or the Royal Arctic Institution, she forgot him again.

While Lyra was living there for about six weeks, Mrs. Coulter decided to have a cocktail party.Lyra had a feeling that Mrs. Coulter was celebrating something, even though she never said what.She ordered flowers, talked to the caterer about caviar bread and drinks, and spent the evening with Lyra deciding who to invite. "We've got to get the Archbishop, and I can't afford to miss him, though he's one of the most annoying old snobs. Lord Borel is in London, and he's a very interesting fellow. And Persia Princess Tenikawa. Do you think Eric Anderson should be invited? I don't know if I should contact him at this time..."

Eric Anderson is the latest dancer to become popular.Although Lyra didn't understand what "touching him" meant, she was still willing to share her thoughts.She dutifully wrote down all the names suggested by Mrs. Coulter, spelled them out of order, and then crossed them off when Mrs. Coulter decided not to invite them. When Lyra went to bed, Pantalaimon whispered beside the pillow: "She'll never go North! She'll keep us here forever. When are we going to get away?" "She'll go," Lyra whispered back. "You just don't like her. Well... that can't be helped. I like her. And if she's not going to take us north, why is she teaching us?" What about sailing and that stuff?"

"To keep you from getting impatient, here's why. You don't really want to look cute and pretty and stand around at a cocktail party, do you? She's just raising you as a pet." Lyra turned her back on him and closed her eyes.But Pantalaimon was right that she had always felt confined and bound by this polite life, no matter how luxurious it might be.She would do anything for a day with Roger and her shabby friends at Oxford, a fight on the clay bed and a chase along the canal.One of the things that kept her polite to Mrs. Coulter and at her mercy was her great urgency to explore the North.Maybe they'll meet Lord Asriel, maybe he and Mrs Coulter will fall in love with each other, marry and adopt Lyla, and go out together to save Roger from the gluttons.

On the afternoon of the cocktail party, Mrs. Coulter took Lyla to a popular hairstylist.There, Lyra's stiff brunette hair was softened and waved, and her nails were manicured and polished.They even put a little makeup on her eyes and lips just to show her what to do.Then they fetched the new dress Mrs. Coulter had ordered for her and bought some black shoes, and then they went back to the apartment, checked the flowers, and dressed. "Honey, can't carry that little bag," said Mrs. Coulter.At this time, Laila had just come out of the bedroom, and everything on her body revealed her own aesthetic standards.

Laila carried a small white backpack with her wherever she went, so she could take the alethiometer with her.Mrs. Coulter loosened the tightly bound bouquet of roses in the vase, and seeing that Lyra was not moving, she motioned toward the door with her eyes. "Oh, Mrs. Coulter, please, I really like this bag." "Not indoors, Laila. It's weird to carry a bag in your own home. Take it off right now, and come check these glasses for me..." Although there was anger in her words, it was the phrase "in your own home" that Laila stubbornly resisted.Pantalaimon flew to the floor and immediately transformed into a polecat, propping himself on his little white ankles and arching his back.This gave Lyra courage, and she said: "But it's out of the way, and it's the only thing I really like to carry, and I think it really fits—" Before she could finish her sentence, Mrs. Coulter's elf jumped up from the sofa like a ray of golden light, and pressed Pantalaimon on the carpet before he had any reaction.Lyra screamed in terror; Pantalaimon twisted from side to side, screaming and growling, but unable to break free from the golden monkey's grip, Lyra screamed out of fear and pain.In just a few seconds, the monkey completely subdued Pantalaimon: a black hand firmly grabbed Pantalaimon's throat, and the black claws tightly grasped the polecat's lower limbs, The other claw grabbed Pantalaimon's ear and pulled it out, as if to tear it off.The monkey was not angry, but with a kind of cold curiosity, which made people terrified and shuddered. Laila burst into tears. "No! Please! Don't hurt us!" Mrs. Coulter lifted her head from the flowers and looked at her. "Then do as I say," she said. "I promise!" The Golden Monkey stepped aside from Pantalaimon, as if he was suddenly disgusted by it.Pantalaimon fled to Lyra at once, and she took him to her face in both hands, and comforted him with kisses. "Right now, Lyla," said Mrs. Coulter. Lyra turned sharply, slammed the door, and went into her bedroom.But the door had just slammed shut before it opened again.Mrs. Coulter stood only a foot or two away. "Lyra, if you're so rude and unrefined, we're going to have a confrontation, and I'm going to win. Put that backpack down right now, and stop frowning. Whether I hear or not, always Don't slam the door either. Now, in a few minutes, the first guests will arrive, and they'll see you as well behaved, lovely, charming, innocent, attentive, happy in every way. Lyra, I I especially hope that you can do this, do you understand what I mean?" "Understood, Mrs. Coulter." "Kiss me then." She bent down slightly and stretched out her cheek.Lyra stood on tiptoe and kissed her.She felt that Mrs. Coulter's face was very smooth, and her skin smelled slightly of all kinds: very fragrant, but a little metallic.Laila drew back, put her backpack on the dresser, and followed Mrs. Coulter back into the living room. "What do you think of these flowers, my dear?" said Mrs. Coulter, in a voice as sweet as nothing had happened. That's too much... did the caterers bring enough ice? Ask, dear. The hot drink is horrible..." Lyra found it very easy to pretend to be cheerful and charming, but every moment she knew Pantalaimon's dislike, his hatred of the golden monkey.At this time, the doorbell rang.Soon the room is filled with well-dressed women and handsome or dignified men.Lyra walked among them, giving them caviar bread, or smiling sweetly and answering their questions gracefully when they spoke to her.She felt like a cute pet.No sooner had she had this thought than Pantalaimon stretched out his goat's wings, and chirped loudly. She felt Pantalaimon's joy at proving himself right.So Laila held back a little. "Where do you go to school, dear?" asked an old lady, looking at her through her glasses. "I don't go to school," Laila told her. "Really? I thought your mother would send you to her old school, it's very old..." "Oh! She's not my mom! I'm just helping her out, I'm her personal assistant," she stressed. "I see. Who are your relatives?" Lyra had to think again carefully before answering. "They were the Earl and Countess," she said, "and they died in a plane crash in the North." "Which earl?" "The Earl of Belacqua is the elder brother of Lord Asriel." The old dame's elf, a scarlet macaw, stood on its legs, shifting back and forth as if angry.The old lady frowned curiously, and Laila walked away with a sweet smile. Near a large sofa, a group of men and a young lady are gathered.As they passed, Lyra suddenly heard the word dust being said.At this point, she has experienced many social situations and has learned when men and women are flirting.She watched it all curiously, stopping to listen—though the dust someone had mentioned fascinated her even more.The men looked like academicians; from the way the woman questioned them, Lyra thought she might be a student. "It was discovered by a Muscovite—if you already know this, just interrupt me," said a middle-aged man.The lady gazed at him admiringly. "The guy was Rusakov, and these things are usually named after him, called Rusakov particles. Elementary particles never interact in any way with other matter—so hard to spot, but what's unusual is , they seem to be attracted to humans." "Really?" the young lady asked with wide-eyed eyes. "What is even more remarkable," he went on, "is that some people are more attractive than others. Adults can attract particles, but children don't, at least not much, and until puberty. Actually. And that's why—" His voice dropped suddenly, and he approached the young lady, putting his hand affectionately on her shoulder, "—and that's why the Priest Committee was formed. Our generous daughter The master will tell you." "Really? Does she have anything to do with the sacrificial committee?" "Honey, she's the priest committee. It's all about her—" The man was about to say something more to her when he saw Lyra.She met his gaze, staring at him without blinking.Maybe he had a little too much to drink, maybe he wanted to impress the young lady, so he said: "I'm sure the little girl knows all about it. The Priests Council can't do you any harm, can they, my dear?" "Oh, of course not," Lyra said. "No one here will hurt me. Where I used to live, right here in Oxford, there were all kinds of dangers. There were gypsies there, and they killed the kids after they'd snatched them." Sell ​​them to the Turks as slaves. Also, when the moon is full, there's a werewolf in Port Mead, from the run-down nunnery in Godestow. I heard him howl once Yelled. Also, there is still Taotie..." "That's what I'm talking about," the man said. "They call this the priest committee, don't they?" Lyra noticed Pantalaimon tremble suddenly, but he didn't lose his composure.The two adult sprites—a cat and a butterfly—didn't seem to notice. "Gao Tie?" the young lady asked, "What a special name! Why are they called Tao Tie?" Lyra was about to tell her the horror story she had made up to frighten the children of Oxford when the man had begun. "It is derived from the acronym of the English word, understand? It is the three words of the General Sacrifice Committee. General Oblation Board, whose abbreviation is GOB, is similar to Gobbler. In fact, this idea has been around for a long time. In the Middle Ages, parents often sent their children to church to become monks or nuns. These unfortunate little Guys are called 'sacrifices' which means 'sacrifice', 'offering' and so on, so when they study dust, they use the same idea...our little friends probably know this. Why don't you To talk to Lord Borel?" He added bluntly to Lyra, "I'm sure he'd like to see Mrs Coulter's protégé . He wanted to get rid of Laila so that he could have further private conversations with the young lady, and Laila knew that right away.But the young lady still seemed interested in Laila, and she slipped past the man and spoke to Laila. "Wait a minute...what's your name?" "Laila." "My name is Adele Staminster. I'm a reporter. May I speak to you alone?" Lyra thought it was natural for people to want to talk to her, so she said, "Yes." The woman's butterfly elf flew into the air, looked around for a while, flew down, and whispered something.Adele Staminster said, "Let's go to the window seats." Laila liked the position very much.From here you could overlook the river, and at this time of night the lights of the south bank shone brightly on the black water at high tide.A tugboat is towing a line of barges up the current.Adele Staminster sat down, shifting on the upholstered seat to make room for Lyra. "Did Professor Doc just say that you are related to Mrs. Coulter?" "said." "What's the relationship? You can't be her daughter, are you? I think I should know—" "No!" said Lyra. "Of course not. I'm her personal assistant." "Personal assistant? You're a little younger, aren't you? I thought you were related to her. How is she?" "She's smart," Lyra replied.She would have said more before, but tonight, things were changing. "Yes. But personally," Adele insisted, "I mean, is she nice? Is she impatient? Or something? Do you live with her? She privately How about it?" "She's fine," Lyra said dryly. "What do you do? How do you help her?" "I do some calculations, that's all, the kind you do in preparation for a voyage." "Oh, I see... where are you from? What's your name?" "Laila, from Oxford." "Why did Mrs. Coulter choose you—" She stopped suddenly because Mrs. Coulter was already standing nearby.Lyra could tell from the way Adele Staminster looked up at her and the way her elf flitted restlessly around her head that the young lady was the party's host. An uninvited guest. "I don't know your name," said Mrs. Coulter calmly, "but I'll know in five minutes, and you'll never be a reporter again. Now stand up honestly and don't Make a lot of noise and get out of here immediately. I would like to add one more thing, no matter who brought you here, that person will also be unlucky." Mrs. Coulter seemed to be recharged. Even the smell on her body was different. There was a hot smell from her body, like heated metal.Lyra had felt it just now, but now she saw Mrs. Coulter attacking someone else.Poor Adele Staminster was helpless, her genie collapsed on her shoulders, flapped its beautiful wings once or twice, and then fainted; she herself seemed unable to rise fully to her feet.She bent slightly in embarrassment, squeezed through the crowd of guests who were talking loudly, and walked out the door of the living room.She clutched her shoulder tightly with one hand, supporting the fainted elf and preventing him from falling. "Huh?" Mrs. Coulter snorted at Lyra. "I didn't tell her anything important," Lyra said. "What did she ask?" "Just asking me what I do and what my name is." As Lyra spoke, she noticed that Mrs. Coulter was alone, her daemon absent.How is this going?But after a while, the golden monkey appeared next to her.She reached down, grabbed the monkey's hand, and gently swung him up to her shoulders, and immediately regained her composure. "My dear, if you come across someone who is clearly uninvited, please come and tell me, will you?" The hot metallic smell was gone in an instant—or maybe Lyra had imagined it, and she could smell Mrs. Coulter again, and roses, and cigar smoke, and other women. scent.Mrs. Coulter smiled at Lyra in a way that seemed to say, "You and I both know these things, don't you?" Then she walked over to greet the other guests. Pantalaimon whispered in Lyra's ear: "Her daemon was coming out of our bedroom while she was here. He's been spying, and he knows about the alethiometer!" Lyra thought it might be true, but there was nothing she could do.What is that professor talking about Taotie?She looked around for him, but as soon as she saw him, the doorman of the apartment (he was dressed as a servant this evening) and another person tapped the professor on the shoulder and whispered something to him; His face turned pale all of a sudden, and he followed them out.It was just a matter of seconds, and they did it so carefully that almost no one noticed.But it made Laila anxious, with a sense of abandonment. She wandered about the two large rooms where the reception was held, half to hear the conversation and half to taste the cocktails she was not allowed to drink.She became more and more agitated.She didn't know that anyone was paying attention to her, until the doorman appeared next to her, bent over and said: "Miss Lyra, the gentleman by the fire wants to speak to you. He's Lord Borel—if you don't know him." Lyra looked up across the room to see the hale-looking gray-haired man looking straight at her.When the four eyes met, he nodded and motioned for her to go over. Reluctantly, she was even more curious now.Lyra made her way through the crowd. "Good evening, boy," he said.His voice was serene and majestic.The chitinous head and emerald green eyes of his serpent sprite glowed in the light of cut-glass lamps on a nearby wall. "Good evening," Lyra said. "How is my old friend, the Dean of Jordan College?" "He's fine, thank you." "I think they must be very sad to say goodbye to you." "Yes, they are sad." "Is Mrs. Coulter keeping you busy? What is she teaching you?" Lyra was disgusted and uncomfortable, so she neither spoke the truth nor fired her usual imagination at the condescending question.Instead, she said, "I'm learning about Rusakov particles, and the priestly committee." He seemed to snap into focus at once, the way you focus the beam of an electric lamp, and all of your attention was violently focused on Lyra. "I thought you could tell me what you know," he said. "They're experimenting up north," said Lyra, a little reckless, "like Dr. Grumman." "Go on." "They have a special kind of picture where you can see the dust; if it's a man, all the light is on him, but not on the kid at all—at least, not that much." "Has Mrs. Coulter ever shown you a picture like this?" Lila hesitated for a moment, because it wasn't a simple lie, it required a certain amount of knowledge, and she was not good at it. "No," she said after a moment's pause, "I saw that one at Jordan College." "Who showed it to you?" "He didn't really show it to me," Lyra admitted. "I happened to be passing by, and I saw it. Later, my friend Roger was kidnapped by the priest committee, but—" "Who showed you that photo?" "My Uncle Asriel." "when?" "The last time he came to Jordan Academy." "I see. What else have you learned? I seem to have heard you mention the sacrificial committee just now?" "Yes. But I didn't hear it from him. I heard it here." This is absolutely true, Lyra thought. He squinted at her, and she met his gaze, watching him with all her innocence.Finally, he nodded. "Then Mrs. Coulter must have decided to have you help her with that work. Interesting. Are you involved now?" "No," Lyra replied.What is he saying?Pantalaimon had cleverly turned into the most expressionless moth so as not to give away Lyra's true thoughts.Lyra also believed in her ability to keep her face innocent. "Did she tell you what happened to those kids?" "No, I haven't told this to me yet. All I know is that it has something to do with the dust, and those children are some kind of victim." It wasn't entirely a lie, as before, she thought; she never said Mrs. Coulter herself had told her. "It would be too much to say they were sacrifices. What has been done is for them as much as it is for us. And, of course, they all follow Mrs. Coulter willingly, which is why she is so important. They must To get involved, what kid can resist her charms? If she wants to use you too, and draw them all in, that's even better. I'm very happy." He smiled at her the way Mrs. Coulter did, as if they both shared the same secret.Lyra responded with a polite smile, and he turned away to talk to someone else. Lyra and Pantalaimon could sense each other's fears, and she wanted to go away and talk to him; she wanted to leave this apartment; In the shabby little bedroom; she wanted to go to Lord Asriel— As if in answer to her last wish, she heard Lord Asriel's name mentioned.So, as if nothing had happened, she approached the few people who were chatting nearby, pretending to take caviar bread for herself from the plate on the table.A bishop-like man is speaking: "...No, I don't think Lord Asriel will trouble us for much longer." "Where did you say he was locked up?" "It's said to be in the fortress of Svalbard, watched by bears—you know, armored bears, those horrible creatures! If he happens to be the thousandth, there's no escape from him. The truth is , I really think the method is clear, almost very clear—” "Recent experiments have confirmed what I've always thought - that the dust emanates from the 'dark element', and—" "Why do I feel a bit like Zoroaster, the founder of Zoroastrianism in ancient Persia, who lived in the 6th-7th century BC. It is said that when he was 20 years old, he abandoned his home and practiced in seclusion, and later became a patriarch of Persian polytheism. Reformation. He believes that the universe is dual, composed of "good and light" elements and "evil and dark" elements. This teaching is incompatible with other religious theories that believe that the world is created by a powerful and absolutely good God, so Considered heresy. The heresy?" "What used to be called heresy—" "If we could isolate the dark element—" "You mentioned Svalbard just now, didn't you?" "The armored bear—" "The Sacrifice Committee—" "Children don't suffer, I'm sure of that—" "Lord Asriel is imprisoned—" Hearing this was enough for Lyra.Turning around, she moved silently like a moth Pantalaimon has turned into, and entered her bedroom, closing the door behind her.The noise of the reception immediately subsided. "What should I do?" she asked in a low voice.Pantalaimon turned into a titmouse and perched on her shoulder. "Are we going to run away?" he whispered back. "Of course. If we run away while all these people are here, she may not be able to find out for a while." "But he will find out." Pantalaimon refers to Mrs. Coulter's elf.Lyra was terrified at the thought of his small golden body. "I'm going to fight him this time," said Pantalaimon bravely. "I can change, he can't. I'm going to be quick so he can't catch me. You'll see, this time I will win." Lyra nodded absently.What should she wear?How can I escape without being noticed? "You've got to go out and do some scouting," she whispered, "and if no one's looking, we're going to run. Turn into moths," she added. "Remember, as long as no one sees..." She opened the door a crack, and Pantalaimon crawled out, blurred in the warm pink light. Meanwhile, she hastily pulled on her warmest clothes and stuffed the others into a coal sack, a sack woven from silk extracted from coal. —that was in that swanky shop they went to every afternoon.Mrs. Coulter gave her money too--it was just a candy handout, and although she had spent so much, she still had a few gold pieces left over.She put them into the pocket of her black wolf fur coat, and tiptoed to the door. Finally, she wrapped the alethiometer in black velvet.Did that nasty monkey spot it?He must have found out, and must have told her.Oh, how much better it would have been if it had been hidden a little more in the first place! She tiptoed to the door.Her room looked out onto the end of a corridor near the hall, and luckily most of the guests were in the two large drawing rooms at the far end.Here you can hear the sound of high-spirited speeches, laughter, the gentle flushing of the toilet, and the crisp sound of glasses hitting.Then a moth's voice whispered in her ear: "Leave immediately! Quick!" In a flash, she got out of the door and entered the hall.In less than three seconds, she was already opening the front door of the apartment.A moment later, she came out of the door, and closed it softly again.At this moment, Pantalaimon became a squirrel again.Lyra ran up the steps and escaped. ①In the novel, the author made up some place names, this is one of them.But some literary critics believe that the new Denmark in the novel refers to the New World, that is, the United States.See also Chapters 10 and 14.