The Book and the Brotherhood Read Online Free Page A

That mix-up is totally incoherent anyway.’
    ‘Well, where is my battle? I’d like to be somewhere out at the edge of things. But where is the edge?’
    ‘You’ve been saying this sort of thing for years,’ said Gerard, ‘and here you are still.’
    ‘Jenkin is a romantic,’ said Rose, ‘so am I. I’d like to be a priest. Maybe it will be possible in my lifetime.’
    ‘Rose would make a marvellous priest!’
    ‘I’m against it,’ said Gerard. ‘Don’t eat all the sandwiches.’
    ‘You agree to being called a sort of Platonist?’ said Rose to Gerard.
    ‘Oh yes!’
    ‘That’s what you’re going to write about, now you’ve retired?’
    ‘You’ll write about Plotinus, like you said?’ said Jenkin.
    ‘Possibly.’ Gerard evidently did not want to talk about this, so the other two dropped the subject.
    Rose put down her glass and went to the window. She could see the floodlit tower, the moon risen and now small, a concise circle of silver, lights in the trees by the river. Her heart heaved within her as if it were some huge thing which she had swallowed and wished to regurgitate. She suddenly wanted to sob with joy and fear. The slim pinnacled tower, in the fierce light against the dark blue sky, resembled a picture in a Book of Hours. It also reminded Rose of something, some kind of theatre, some time, perhaps many times, when she had seen illumined buildings at night and heard superhuman voices, such as the one which she now instinctively expected to hear, telling her in slow ringing tones some picturesque piece of history or legend.
Son et lumière
in France, England, Italy, Spain. A memory came of something in French, some unplaced piece of poetry, perhaps not even heard correctly.
Les esprits aiment la nuit, qui sait plus qu’une femme donner une âme à toutes choses
. That can’t be right, she thought, what a ridiculous ideaanyway. Of course she did, herself, in a way, do just that, endow all sorts of silly senseless things with ‘souls’, certainly not with any exalted gesture worthy of being announced to the world by a godlike voice beside a magic tower. In her, it was more like superstition, or some sad overflow of wasted love. Breathing deeply she turned round, leaning back against the sill and smiling her faint smile.
    The two men looked at her with affection, then at each other. Perhaps Gerard at any rate knew something of what she was feeling, he knew and did not know. Rose understood how little he wanted her, ever, to fail to be her calm self.
    Jenkin said, ‘What about some more champagne? There’s a shocking number of bottles stashed away.’
    ‘Where are Jean and Duncan, I thought they might be here,’ said Rose, as the champagne cork hit the ceiling.
    ‘They were earlier,’ said Jenkin, ‘Jean hauled him off, she couldn’t bear not to be dancing.’
    ‘Jean’s such an athlete,’ said Rose. ‘She can still stand on her head. Do you remember how she stood on her head in a punt one day?’
    ‘Duncan wanted to stay and drink, but Jean wouldn’t let him.’
    ‘Duncan’s drinking too much,’ said Rose. ‘Jean’s wearing that red dress with the black lace that I like so. She has her gipsy look.
    ‘You look stunning, Rose,’ said Jenkin.
    ‘I love you in that dress,’ said Gerard, ‘it’s so
intensely
simple, I like that wonderful dark green, like laurel, like myrtle, like ivy.’
    Rose thought, it’s time for Jenkin to ask me to dance, he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t like dancing, but he’ll have to. And Gerard will dance with Jean. Then I shall dance with Duncan. That’s all right. I feel better. Perhaps I’m a little drunk.
    ‘It’s time I went to see Levquist,’ said Gerard. ‘Would you like to come, Jenkin?’
    ‘I’ve already beer.’
    ‘You’ve already been?’ Gerard’s indignant tone was activated from the remote past. An old pang of indestructibletimeless jealousy seared his heart with the speed of fire. It burned with an old pain. How they