"Henry Kuttner & CL Moore - Vintage Season" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

He saw lovely women laugh and shake their curls, and the laughter shriek into hysteria and the hysteria into music. He saw one manТs face, over and overЧa long, dark, saturnine face, deeply lined, sorrowful, the face of a powerful man wise in worldliness, urbaneЧand helpless. That face was for awhile a recurring motif, always more tortured, more helpless than before.

The music broke off in the midst of a rising glide. The mist vanished and the room reappeared before him. The anguished dark face for an instant seemed to Oliver printed everywhere he looked,
like after-vision on the eyelids. He knew that face. He had seen it before, not often, but he should know its nameЧ УOliver, OliverЧФ KlephТs sweet voice came out of a fog at him.
He was leaning dizzily against the doorpost looking down into her eyes. She, too, had that dazed blankness he must show on his own face. The power of the dreadful symphony still held them both. But even in this confused moment Oliver saw that Kieph had been enjoying the experience.
He felt sickened to the depths of his mind, dizzy with sickness and revulsion because of the superimposing of human miseries he had just beheld. But KlephЧonly appreciation showed upon her face. To her it had been magnificence, and magnificence only.
Irrelevantly Oliver remembered the nauseating candies she had enjoyed, the nauseating odors of strange food that drifted sometimes through the hail from her room.
What was it she had said downstairs a little while ago? Connoisseur, that was it. Only a connoisseur could appreciate work asЧas advancedЧas the work of someone called Cenbe.
A whiff of intoxicating sweetness curled past OliverТs face. Something cool and smooth was pressed into his hand.
УOh, Oliver, I am so sorry,Ф KlephТs voice murmured contritely. УHere, drink the euphoriac and you wifi feel better. Please drink!Ф
The familiar fragrance of the hot sweet tea was on his tongue before he knew he had complied. Its relaxing fumes floated up through his brain and in a moment or two the world felt stable around him again. The room was as it had always been. And KiephЧ Her eyes were very bright. Sympathy showed in them for him, but for herself she was still brimmed with the high elation of what she had just been experiencing.
УCome and sit down,Ф she said gently, tugging at his arm. УI am so
sorryЧI should not have played that over, where you could hear it.
I have no excuse, really. It was only that I forgot what the effect
might be on one who had never heard CenbeТs symphonies before.
I was so impatient to see what he had done with. . . with his new
subject. I am so very sorry, Oliver!Ф
УWhat was it?Ф His voice sounded steadier than he had expected. The tea was responsible for that. He sipped again, glad of the consoling euphoria its fragrance brought.
УA . . . a composite interpretation of . . . oh, Oliver, you know I must not answer questions!Ф
УButЧФ
УNoЧdrink your tea and forget what it was you saw. Think of other things. Here, we will have musicЧanother kind of music, something gayЧФ
She reached for the wall beside the window, and as before, Oliver saw the broad framed picture of blue water above the bed ripple and grow pale. Through it another scene began to dawn like shapes rising beneath the surface of the sea.
He had a glimpse of a dark-curtained stage upon which a man in a tight dark tunic and hose moved with a restless, sidelong pace, his hands and face starthngly pale against the black about him. He limped; he had a crooked back and he spoke familiar lines. Oliver had seen John Barryrnore once as the crook-backed Richard, and it seemed vaguely outrageous to him that any other actor should essay that difficult part. This one he had never seen before, but the man had a fascinatingly smooth manner and his interpretation of the Plantagenet king was quite new and something Shakespeare probably never dreamed of.
УNo,Ф Kleph said, Уnot this. Nothing gloomy.Ф And she put out her hand again. The nameless new Richard faded and there was a swirl of changing pictures and changing voices, all blurred together, before the scene steadied upon a stageful of dancers in pastel ballet skirts, drifting effortlessly through some complicated pattern of motion. The music that went with it was light and effortless too. The room filled up with the clear, floating melody.
Oliver set down his cup. He felt much surer of himself now, and he thought the euphoriac had done all it could for him. He didnТt want to blur again mentally. There were things he meant to learn about. Now. He considered how to begin.
Kleph was watching him. УThat Hoffia,Ф she said suddenly. УShe wants to buy the house?Ф
Oliver nodded. УSheТs offering a lot of money. SueТs going to be awfully disappointed ifЧФ He hesitated. Perhaps, after all, Sue would not be disappointed. He remembered the little silver cube with the enigmatic function and he wondered if he should mention it to Kieph. But the euphoriac had not reached that level of his brain, and he remembered his duty to Sue and was silent.
Kleph shook her head, her eyes upon his warm withЧwas it sympathy?
УBelieve me,Ф she said, Уyou wifi not find thatЧimportantЧafter all. I promise you, Oliver.Ф
He stared at her. УI wish youТd explain.Ф
Kleph laughed on a note more sorrowful than amused. But it occurred to Oliver suddenly that there was no longer condescension in her voice. Imperceptibly that air of delicate amusement had vanished from her manner toward him. The cool detachment that stifi marked OmerieТs attitude, and KliaТs, was not in KlephТs any more. It was a subtlety he did not think she could assume. It had to come spontaneously or not at all. And for no reason he was willing to examine, it became suddenly very important to Oliver that Kleph should not condescend to him, that she should feel toward hini as he felt toward her. He would not think of it.
He looked down at his cup, rose-quartz, exhaling a thin plume of steam from its crescent-slit opening. This time, he thought, maybe he could make the tea work for him. For he remembered how it loosened the tongue, and there was a great deal he needed to know. The idea that had come to him on the porch in the instant of silent rivalry between Kleph and Sue seemed now too fantastic to entertain. But some answer there must be.

Kleph herself gave him the opening.
УI must not take too much euphoriac this afternoon,Ф she said, smiling at him over her pink cup. УIt will make me drowsy, and we are going out this evening with friends.Ф
УMore friends?Ф Oliver asked. УFrom your country?Ф
Kieph nodded. УVery dear friends we have expected all this week.Ф
УI wish youТd tell me,Ф Oliver said bluntly, Уwhere it is you come from. It isnТt from here. Your culture is too different from oursЧ even your namesЧФ He broke off as Kleph shook her head.
УI wish I could tell you. But that is against all the rules. It is even against the rules for me to be here talking to you now.Ф
УWhat rules?Ф
She made a helpless gesture. УYou must not ask me, Oliver.Ф She leaned back on the chaise longue, which adjusted itself luxuriously to the motion, and smiled very sweetly at him. УWe must not talk about things like that. Forget it, listen to the music, enjoy yourself if you canЧФ She closed her eyes and laid her head back against the cushions. Oliver saw the round tanned throat swell as she began to hum a tune. Eyes still closed, she sang again the words she had sung upon the stairs. УCome hider, love, to meЧФ
A memory clicked over suddenly in OliverТs mind. He had never heard the queer, lagging tune before, but he thought he knew the
words. He remembered what HoffiaТs husband had said when he heard that line of song, and he leaned forward. She would not answer a direct question, but perhapsЧ УWas the weather this warm in Canterbury?Ф he asked, and held
his breath. Kleph hummed another line of the song and shook her head, eyes stifi closed.
УIt was autumn there,Ф she said. УBut bright, wonderfully bright. Even their clothing, you know . . . everyone was singing that new song, and I canТt get it out of my head.Ф She sang another line, and the words were almost unintelligibleЧEnglish, yet not an English Oliver could understand.
He stood up. УWait,Ф he said. УI want to find something. Back in a minute.Ф
She opened her eyes and smiled mistily at him, still humming. He went downstairs as fast as he couldЧthe stairway swayed a little, though his head was nearly clear nowЧand into the library. The book he wanted was old and battered, interlined with the penciled notes of his college days. He did not remember very clearly where the passage he wanted was, but he thumbed fast through the columns and by sheer luck found it within a few minutes. Then he went back upstairs, feeling a strange empthess in his stomach because of what he almost believed now.
УKleph,Ф he said firmly, УI know that song. I know the year it was new.Ф
Her lids rose slowly; she looked at him through a mist of euphoriac. He was not sure she had understood. For a long moment she held him with her gaze. Then she put out one downy-sleeved arm and spread her tanned fingers toward him. She laughed deep in her throat.
УCome hider, love, to me,Ф she said.