The Italian Girl (9 page)

‘To suffer, but purely, without consolations?’

‘Yes, to suffer like an animal. That would be godlike. But one can’t. “For who would lose, though full of pain, this intellectual being, these thoughts that wander through eternity …” It’s the wandering thoughts that are the trouble. It was a fallen angel who said that.’

‘Properly I suppose one should suffer like an unfallen angel. But perhaps you are right, animal suffering is the nearest our imagination can get to that. But you are metaphysical, Otto. You ought to think about her in more simple terms. She is, isn’t she, a little – odd?’

‘You mean deranged, crazy. I can’t think of it so. She seems to identify herself with others who suffer and she does it so intensely. She does sometimes say odd things, David has told me things she’s said. But it’s not like madness. It’s more as if we, who don’t do that, are mad.’

‘You say Levkin told you – but haven’t you talked to her yourself?’

‘Well, no, we don’t
talk
exactly. Well, yes we do, we make jokes.’

‘Oh. Do you trust Levkin?’

‘Yes, of course. He’s devoted to me.’

‘Mmm.’

It was darker now in the workshop. The big skylights above were an intense evening blue, but the light within was already golden brown, making at once more vivid and more uncertain the receding forms of the stone city. I could not see Otto’s face clearly. With a great thrashing of straw he scrambled up and stood, his clothes covered in yellowy wisps, his arms hanging limply, his head jutting, like an untended puppet rather precariously standing upon its feet. One expected him at any moment to crash over one way or the other. I stood up too.

‘Ed, would you do something for me?’

‘Certainly, if I can.’

‘Would you talk to Isabel?’

I was surprised and rather dismayed. ‘What could I say to her?’

‘Oh, anything, you know. She respects you so much. She must know
something
about this business. And I’m terribly oppressed by the feeling that she – doesn’t understand.’

‘I doubt if I could make her understand,’ I said grimly.

‘Well, no. But I’d just like to feel I was sort of connected with her again.’

‘But, Otto, you can’t be – exactly – just now. And anyway any connexion that remains between you two is nothing to do with me or any other outsider. I might only do harm.’

‘No, no,’ he said obstinately. ‘You would do good, good. Someone like you can’t help doing good. You’d console Isabel, you’d cheer her up. And I do want her to know that I’m not such a total monster. Sometimes I think she might just run off.’

I was touched by this; though I felt that today’s talk had provided me with but scant material for purposes of impressing Isabel. ‘I’ll talk to her a bit if you like. But I’d rather talk in, well, general terms. I see no point in trying to explain you to Isabel, especially just now!’

‘Yes, yes,’ sail Otto. He seemed pleased and swayed enthusiastically to and fro as if someone were now agitating the strings. ‘In general terms. That’s right. In general terms. You are so good at talking in general terms. You’ll help her.’

‘I wish I could help
you
,’ I said, ‘but I can’t. Perhaps we’re missing our religious upbringing.’ I prepared to leave him.

‘It would have been a delusion,’ said Otto. ‘It’s not punishment, it’s acceptance of death, that alters the soul. That
is
God. And of course no organized religion will tolerate it. I shall continue in my muddle. Thanks all the same.’

9. Edmund is Tempted

‘Well, and how much has our Inspector found out?’ asked Isabel, poking the fire vigorously. The logs turned on their backs revealing golden bellies and a fierce stream of sparks roared up the chimney. It was late that evening.

‘Everything, I should think,’ I said gloomily. And more than I shall tell you, poor Isabel, I thought.

I could still not decide whether to speak to Isabel about Flora. It was unlikely that Flora would have gone to any place where she could be found by her parents. I had promised solemnly not to tell, and that promise was my last link of good faith with the child. I did not want uselessly to jeopardize any power I might have to help her later on. For the moment at any rate I thought I would keep silent. But I felt very troubled and hoped that the morning would bring some news.

‘Ah, not everything,’ said Isabel. ‘I’m sure not everything yet. But keep on. It’ll all come up to the surface, stinking like mad.’ The gramophone was playing Wagner, but so softly that the quiet parts were inaudible and the loud parts were a sort of crackling buzz.

I had intended to wait until the morning before carrying out Otto’s request, but I felt restless and worried about Flora and I simply needed company. Also I was, in a rather disgraceful way, a little curious to see how Isabel would react to the ‘general remarks’ which, as I entered her room, I had certainly not thought out.

Except for a dark-shaded lamp in a far corner, the room was lit only by the fire which threw great waves of light and shadow across the scene. It was, I thought, dreadfully hot, and the powdery smell of the old wood made me sneeze. In the soft mobile light Isabel looked pretty, younger. Her brown hair was laced and tangled in a coiffure which rose over her brow almost as high again as the length of her little face, and resembled an elaborate hat. There was so much of it that I wondered whether she had not pinned on a braid of her shorn-off hair, an unnerving thing which I am told women sometimes do. She had clearly taken a lot of trouble: why, for whom? To cheer herself up presumably. Poor little Isabel: and I recalled Otto’s saying that she was brave.

She was wearing an apricot-coloured linen dress which she explained had just been made for her by Maggie and was not quite complete. The tacking threads were still in it. She was trying it on really. Did I not think it was a pretty colour? Was it quite the right length? With a little air of coy preoccupation she climbed on a stool to survey herself in the big mirror over the fire. Was it not a charming style? I saw her face, a trifle flushed by the heat, reflected in the mirror in intermittent blazes of light as she rotated upon the stool, a golden impression of a plump little midinette. I answered her absently.

‘Coffee, Edmund?’ She had descended now and was pulling my sleeve. ‘Do sit down. Must you hurl the cushions out of the chair like that? You are as bad as Otto. Now, what is it, Edmund? Tell me
all
about it.’

In asking her to see me I had been unable to be casual, I had scarcely avoided being portentous. I was annoyed with myself and a bit annoyed at Isabel’s air of teasing irony, of not taking me quite seriously. I felt for a second some sympathy with Otto’s view that irony ought to be a ground for divorce.

I said, in order to find something plausible to say, ‘I suppose Lydia’s will hasn’t turned up?’

‘No, it hasn’t,’ said Isabel, looking worried. ‘I’ve now looked absolutely everywhere. I think after all she can’t have made one. So you boys can have half each. Lydia had plenty of money you know, though she was so stingy.’

Then I said hesitantly, ‘Isabel, I had a sort of talk with Otto this afternoon –’

‘About what you saw last night at the summer-house.’

‘Oh-well-yes-I –’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Isabel calmly. ‘I know all about it. Only a man as stupid as Otto would have doubted it.’

‘But how did you know I –?’

‘I saw you rushing off in pursuit of the lady. One can’t have moaning girls on the front lawn without knowing something’s amiss. Really, Otto’s pathetic if he really imagines it’s all a dark secret!’

‘I think Otto will be rather relieved to be certain that you know. He doesn’t enjoy deception.’ I chose the words carefully.

‘He hasn’t the least objection to deception. He just doesn’t like the process of being found out. It’s bad for his nerves.’

‘You must think more kindly of him,’ I said. ‘He is in great pain about the whole thing and about you.’

‘Let him suffer then. But has he really sent you as an emissary? Whatever are you supposed to achieve?’ She gave a deliberate gay laugh like releasing a little bird.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m being clumsy. But I am fond of Otto. Ever since I was a child –’

‘Well, if you want to talk about
yourself,’
she said, ‘of course that’s another matter. I’m quite ready to do that. It would be much more interesting. Let’s discuss you, then, Edmund. Now tell me all about your childhood.’

I met this as a taunt rather than as a real invitation. Isabel certainly wanted to talk about Otto. Perhaps she was right to castigate my instinctive intrusion of myself.

‘Sorry. I’m not the point. I think Otto just wants to feel that we can all be rational about the situation, the fix he’s in. He wants to feel it could be talked about maybe, thought about anyway, without anyone getting into a frenzy. He wants to be able to see where he is. And I do think he really wants to get out.’

‘He doesn’t want to get out,’ said Isabel. ‘He wants to be made more comfortable staying in. He wants to feel you’ve somehow placated me so he can stop feeling guilty. As for anyone getting into a frenzy, who’s likely to except him? He provides all the frenzies in this house. And what do you mean “
we
can be rational about the situation”, who’s we? You were the man who could hardly spare us half an hour of his time. Why didn’t you go away like you said you would?’

‘After last night –’ I mumbled. I hoped she would not mention Flora. I am a very incompetent liar.

‘Yes, last night must have been fascinating. Did they put on a show for you?’

I felt I must stop Isabel from speaking in that tone. Her pretty face had put on a jeering expression which I did not like at all. I had certainly blundered into the subject and I did not want merely to upset her. I had been stupid not to realize that Otto had set me an impossible task and one not unjustly characterized by Isabel: he wanted me somehow to ‘make it all right’.

I thought I would try being factual.

‘How long have you known, in fact?’

‘About Otto and that wretched girl? Oh, ages, since the start. They make so much noise, for one thing.’

‘Noise?’

‘Yes, racket, din. Not that I mind what people do. I read in the paper about a man who couldn’t make love to his wife unless he had her all tied up in brown paper like a parcel. Otto’s classical by comparison. But they do romp about.
C’est un vrai bordel là-bas.’

I preferred not to go into this. ‘Isabel, you must really try to be charitable. That poor child –’

‘Edmund, don’t exasperate me to death!’ said Isabel. ‘And get your big feet out of the way, I want to move the coffee-table. I don’t
care
about Otto having an affair. I’d be delighted. But I wish he’d have a decent sensible affair with an ordinary girl instead of with a poor slut like that, a sort of demented little tragedy queen. And he treats her like a little animal, the dog that Lydia would never let him have. I’ve heard them whining and barking at each other! And all more or less underneath my window. It’s so petty and disgusting, I hate the muddle of it, the lack of sense –’

‘I think Otto could only have an affair with a girl like that,’ I said, seeing it quite clearly for the first time.

‘Then he should live chastely like the rest of us. You know he didn’t have any relations with those boys.’

‘What boys?’

‘The apprentices.’

‘I should hope not!’ The possibility had never entered my head.

‘You’re a naive creature, Edmund. Just because you’ve no use for sex you think everyone else is monks and nuns.’

This hurt me. How did Isabel know I had no use for sex? It wasn’t true anyway.

‘That’s as may be,’ I said rather sternly. ‘As you pointed out, I’m not the subject at issue. May I help you with the wood?’

Isabel was tugging a rather large log out of the box. Together we settled it down on top of the blaze while a cascade of ash between the bars scattered the stone hearth with glowing pebbles. ‘You ought to have a fireguard, Isabel.’

‘So Lydia always said. And I didn’t point out anything of the sort. I’d much rather talk about you than about Otto.’ We were now standing face to face at the fire. I shifted slightly, scorched by the fierce glow. I could feel my face as hot and golden as Isabel’s. ‘Shall I show you something, Edmund? Look here.’

She held out her hand. I could not at first make out what she was trying to show me. Then I realized it was the hand itself, the hand with the long scar upon it. ‘That’s where you burnt yourself – ’

‘No,’
she said with scorn. ‘Anyone can see that’s not a burn! Take it, feel it.’ She thrust the hand at me as if it were an alien object and I took it gingerly, lightly. It was a little hand. With a slight shiver I felt the smooth depression of the scar.

‘What, then –?’

Isabel’s fingers closed on mine. ‘Otto did that one day with a chisel. I’ll bear the mark till I’m dead. And my God it wasn’t the only time –’

‘I’m sorry –’ I said. I was utterly appalled that Otto could have laid hands upon his wife. I knew of course that he was a violent, angry man. But I had not imagined this. I am a man of some temper myself at times, but I could not have struck a woman, the very idea sickened me.

‘Oh, you know nothing, Edmund, nothing –’ said Isabel more flatly, turning away. ‘But you must just try to understand, when you come along so kindly telling me to be charitable, that I’ve just about had Otto. I don’t care how many girls he has.’

I stared at my boots. I felt stupid, guilty, sick, and with a physical disgust against both Otto and Isabel which was unfair but overwhelming. I had often been near to thinking of married people as obscene animals and this vista of this marriage filled me suddenly with a general revulsion. I wanted to get out of the room.

Isabel must have apprehended my feeling, or else perhaps she felt sick too, with Otto, with herself, with it all. She said in a bleak, miserable voice, ‘You’d better go, Edmund. You’ve done what Otto told you to do.’ She tapped a small high-heeled shoe among the embers which were now a dull red.

I felt dreadfully sorry for her and angry with myself. I wished I could wrench our talk back to some sort of healing simplicity. I said, ‘Please, Isabel, can’t I help you, can’t I do
anything
?’