however admirable they are. She must lie down.”
“Do your hair first, Mummie,” Laura told her, “you look very White Queen,” and kissed her once again before they went along the dark corridor. “Should I hold her hand?” Laura asked herself. “No, better not.”
But the blind man and his wife had left, and Sofia Andreievna had already gone to her room, and Tania followed her there. Laura joined her grandfather and Monsieur Kamensky, who had opened the french window and were standing on the narrow balcony, watching the street below.
“You see, Count, you needn’t have worried,” said Kamensky, “she’s got him across the street quite safely.”
“All the same, I wish that I’d had the forethought not to let Pyotr go off for the evening,” said Nikolai. “I’d have liked to send them home in the carriage, they’ve such a long way to go, and one should do such a couple honour.”
“Look at them making their way through the crowd,” said Kamensky. “The crowd are such mediocrities, and they too look mediocre. Nobody just seeing them like that could guess that here are two who could be to Paris as the one just man might have been to Sodom. Even from here we can’t easily pick them out.”
“I can’t tell which they are,” said Laura. “Are they the ones behind the two priests?”
“No, you’re out by a dozen yards,” said Kamensky. “See, stand behind me and look over my shoulder where my hand is pointing. There, you can see the glazier walking along with his pane of glass behind him. Well, they’re passing him now.”
“But I think there is something special about them,” said Laura. “But you are right about the other people, they do look alike.”
“How unjust life is,” said Kamensky, “for I, and anyone else who knows you, could pick you out of the crowd in a second, even if you were a long way farther off.”
“Why, how would you do that?” she asked to please him. It never interested her to hear anything about herself.
“Quite easily. Nobody else walking down the Avenue Kléber now, or at any other time of the day, has hair quite as golden as yours,” he said, in a gentle, educative voice, as if he were a schoolmaster demonstrating a theorem on a blackboard.
“They are hurrying along like rats rushing into the granary when a sack has been spilt,” said Nikolai, resting his arms on the balcony and leaning right over. “A people without God,” he pronounced.
“How can he tell that,” thought Laura, “by looking down on the tops of their heads? All he can fairly say is, ‘A people with lots and lots of bowler hats.’”
Kamensky said, “Ah, yes, Count, a people without God or even the hunger for God.” Again he turned to Laura like a schoolmaster and said, “Indeed, you couldn’t hide from any friend, even if he couldn’t see you. You know how it is when one comes up to this apartment by night. The lamp on the staircase comes on as soon as the concierge opens the front door, but the lift lumbers up so slowly that the lamp goes out before one gets to this storey, and one steps out on to a pitch-dark landing. Well, if we met there in the blackness, just the two of us, with no light coming from anywhere, I should know in a second that it was you.”
She could not have been less interested. She had just invented in her fancy a little Frenchman, the bald kind with a pointed beard, who was complaining to Nikolai, “I asked for bowlers and you gave me a God.” Would Mamma think that funny? One never could be sure. To be polite to Monsieur Kamensky, because he was so nice, she asked, “How would you know it was me?”
“Because, just as nobody else has hair like yours, nobody else has a voice like yours. It is rather high, but not shrill, and suddenly it cracks and it is as if a charming icicle had splintered into shining fragments.”
“Something funny happened to my voice when I had my tonsils out,” she said.
“But, of course, if I were walking down
“Do your hair first, Mummie,” Laura told her, “you look very White Queen,” and kissed her once again before they went along the dark corridor. “Should I hold her hand?” Laura asked herself. “No, better not.”
But the blind man and his wife had left, and Sofia Andreievna had already gone to her room, and Tania followed her there. Laura joined her grandfather and Monsieur Kamensky, who had opened the french window and were standing on the narrow balcony, watching the street below.
“You see, Count, you needn’t have worried,” said Kamensky, “she’s got him across the street quite safely.”
“All the same, I wish that I’d had the forethought not to let Pyotr go off for the evening,” said Nikolai. “I’d have liked to send them home in the carriage, they’ve such a long way to go, and one should do such a couple honour.”
“Look at them making their way through the crowd,” said Kamensky. “The crowd are such mediocrities, and they too look mediocre. Nobody just seeing them like that could guess that here are two who could be to Paris as the one just man might have been to Sodom. Even from here we can’t easily pick them out.”
“I can’t tell which they are,” said Laura. “Are they the ones behind the two priests?”
“No, you’re out by a dozen yards,” said Kamensky. “See, stand behind me and look over my shoulder where my hand is pointing. There, you can see the glazier walking along with his pane of glass behind him. Well, they’re passing him now.”
“But I think there is something special about them,” said Laura. “But you are right about the other people, they do look alike.”
“How unjust life is,” said Kamensky, “for I, and anyone else who knows you, could pick you out of the crowd in a second, even if you were a long way farther off.”
“Why, how would you do that?” she asked to please him. It never interested her to hear anything about herself.
“Quite easily. Nobody else walking down the Avenue Kléber now, or at any other time of the day, has hair quite as golden as yours,” he said, in a gentle, educative voice, as if he were a schoolmaster demonstrating a theorem on a blackboard.
“They are hurrying along like rats rushing into the granary when a sack has been spilt,” said Nikolai, resting his arms on the balcony and leaning right over. “A people without God,” he pronounced.
“How can he tell that,” thought Laura, “by looking down on the tops of their heads? All he can fairly say is, ‘A people with lots and lots of bowler hats.’”
Kamensky said, “Ah, yes, Count, a people without God or even the hunger for God.” Again he turned to Laura like a schoolmaster and said, “Indeed, you couldn’t hide from any friend, even if he couldn’t see you. You know how it is when one comes up to this apartment by night. The lamp on the staircase comes on as soon as the concierge opens the front door, but the lift lumbers up so slowly that the lamp goes out before one gets to this storey, and one steps out on to a pitch-dark landing. Well, if we met there in the blackness, just the two of us, with no light coming from anywhere, I should know in a second that it was you.”
She could not have been less interested. She had just invented in her fancy a little Frenchman, the bald kind with a pointed beard, who was complaining to Nikolai, “I asked for bowlers and you gave me a God.” Would Mamma think that funny? One never could be sure. To be polite to Monsieur Kamensky, because he was so nice, she asked, “How would you know it was me?”
“Because, just as nobody else has hair like yours, nobody else has a voice like yours. It is rather high, but not shrill, and suddenly it cracks and it is as if a charming icicle had splintered into shining fragments.”
“Something funny happened to my voice when I had my tonsils out,” she said.
“But, of course, if I were walking down
Similar Books
