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Five Little Pigs :: Christie Agatha
Страница: 107 из 147She waved her hand at me and called up that Amyas was a perfect bear that morning-he wouldn’t let her rest. She was stiff and aching all over.
Amyas growled out that she wasn’t as stiff as he was. He was stiff all over-muscular rheumatism. Elsa said mockingly: ‘Poor old man!’ And he said she’d be taking on a creaking invalid.
It shocked me, you know, their lighthearted acquiescence in their future together whilst they were causing so much suffering. And yet I couldn’t hold it against her. She was so young, so confident, so very much in love. And she didn’t really know what she was doing. She didn’t understand suffering. She just assumed with the na1?ve confidence of a child that Caroline would be ‘all right’, that ‘she’d soon get over it.’ She saw nothing, you see, but herself and Amyas-happy together. She’d already told me my point of view was old-fashioned. She had no doubts, no qualms-no pity either. But can one expect pity from radiant youth? It is an older, wiser emotion.
They didn’t talk very much, of course. No painter wants to be chattering when he is working. Perhaps every ten minutes or so Elsa would make an observation and Amyas would grunt a reply. Once she said:
‘I think you’re right about Spain. That’s the first place we’ll go to. And you must take me to see a bullfight. It must be wonderful. Only I’d like the bull to kill the man-not the other way about. I understand how Roman women felt when they saw a man die. Men aren’t much, but animals are splendid.’
I suppose she was rather like an animal herself-young and primitive and with nothing yet of man’s sad experience and doubtful wisdom. I don’t believe Elsa had begun tothink -she onlyfelt. But she was very much alive-more alive than any person I have ever known…
That was the last time I saw her radiant and assured-on top of the world. Fey is the word for it, isn’t it?
The bell sounded for lunch, and I got up and went down the path and in at the Battery door, and Elsa joined me. It was dazzlingly bright there coming in out of the shady trees. I could hardly see. Amyas was sprawled back on the seat, his arms flung out. He was staring at the picture. I’ve so often seen him like that. How was I to know that already the poison was working, stiffening him as he sat?
He so hated and resented illness. He would never own to it. I dare say he thought he had got a touch of the sun-the symptoms are much the same-but he’d be the last person to complain about it.
Elsa said:
‘He won’t come up to lunch.’
Privately I thought he was wise.
Amyas growled out that she wasn’t as stiff as he was. He was stiff all over-muscular rheumatism. Elsa said mockingly: ‘Poor old man!’ And he said she’d be taking on a creaking invalid.
It shocked me, you know, their lighthearted acquiescence in their future together whilst they were causing so much suffering. And yet I couldn’t hold it against her. She was so young, so confident, so very much in love. And she didn’t really know what she was doing. She didn’t understand suffering. She just assumed with the na1?ve confidence of a child that Caroline would be ‘all right’, that ‘she’d soon get over it.’ She saw nothing, you see, but herself and Amyas-happy together. She’d already told me my point of view was old-fashioned. She had no doubts, no qualms-no pity either. But can one expect pity from radiant youth? It is an older, wiser emotion.
They didn’t talk very much, of course. No painter wants to be chattering when he is working. Perhaps every ten minutes or so Elsa would make an observation and Amyas would grunt a reply. Once she said:
‘I think you’re right about Spain. That’s the first place we’ll go to. And you must take me to see a bullfight. It must be wonderful. Only I’d like the bull to kill the man-not the other way about. I understand how Roman women felt when they saw a man die. Men aren’t much, but animals are splendid.’
I suppose she was rather like an animal herself-young and primitive and with nothing yet of man’s sad experience and doubtful wisdom. I don’t believe Elsa had begun tothink -she onlyfelt. But she was very much alive-more alive than any person I have ever known…
That was the last time I saw her radiant and assured-on top of the world. Fey is the word for it, isn’t it?
The bell sounded for lunch, and I got up and went down the path and in at the Battery door, and Elsa joined me. It was dazzlingly bright there coming in out of the shady trees. I could hardly see. Amyas was sprawled back on the seat, his arms flung out. He was staring at the picture. I’ve so often seen him like that. How was I to know that already the poison was working, stiffening him as he sat?
He so hated and resented illness. He would never own to it. I dare say he thought he had got a touch of the sun-the symptoms are much the same-but he’d be the last person to complain about it.
Elsa said:
‘He won’t come up to lunch.’
Privately I thought he was wise.