"R. A. MacAvoy - Damiano 03 - Raphael" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacAvoy R A)

RAPHAEL
R. A. MacAvoy
BANTAM BOOKS TORONTO тАв NEW YORK тАв LONDON тАв SYDNEY тАв AUCKLAND
A Bantam Book/September 1985


For Qui


First came the seen, then thus the palpable Elysium, though it were in the halls of hell, What
thou lovest well is thy true heritage What thou lovest well shall not be reft from thee.
Ezra Pound Pisan Cantos (81)




1
Two young people sat quite comfortably on the grassy bank of a stream, leaning against a willow
whose ancient body seemed designed for leaning. Plangent water reflected the little green leaves of the
willow, including even the tiny round crystals of dew which hung from the leaves, with only artistic
distortion, while below the line of the water cool fish brooded, wearing coats of bright enamelwork.
On either side of the stream a lawn spread out, tended by cloudy sheep. Other beasts, too, roamed at
their graceful will across the landscape: the ox and the wide-horned aurochs, the slouching camelopard,
the corkindrillтАФeach animal as fat as a burgher and similarly complacent. None were ragged, none
scarred. None raised its elegant head except in wonder at the sweetness of the air.
Of course there were birds, and even in the lacy mass of the willow they sang, regardless of the
presence of two or three sleek and platter-faced cats who meditated while resting upon the largest
branches, their white, gray, or many-striped tails curled below them like fishhooks trolling the air.
Although there were aurochs and a camelopard, and it has been said that these are wary beasts and
unsocial, this park which contained them had not the appearance of wilderness. Beyond the copse of
fruiting trees on the far side of the river rose a white palace of intricate shape and exquisite proportion,
though through distance and the balmy air its exact lineaments were confused. Another, more homey sort
of house rose closer to hand, on the bank of the stream itself. This edifice was square, three stories tall,
and also whiteтАФsparkling whiteтАФexcept for a roof of red tile and certain tasteful borders of red and
gold about the windows.
These windows were large, as though the house had been built without care for winter, and they
yawned wide and shutterless, as though no thief had ever been born. From these windows hung pots of
divers herbs. A pretty gravel path wound away from the tower and kept company with the stream for a
while, before humping itself over on a painted bridge and heading toward the ambiguous palace.
The two young people who lounged beside the path (and beneath the birds, and the cats, and the
willow leaves all hung with dew) were both decorative and restful to the eyeтАФof a piece with the rest of
the scene. One was a small and delicately made maiden all dressed in white save for a red kerchief which
she wore around her neck, hanging down in back. Her hair was not flaxen, but as white as her
dressтАФand yet there was no mistaking this child for an old woman. Her pleasant triangular face was as
innocent of wrinkles as it seemed of thought. Her eyes were soft and brown. With a yawn and a stretch
this child rolled away from the tree and began rooting about in the grass in the most unladylike fashion, on
all fours, apparently searching for something, while she turned those strange, heavy-pupiled eyes on her
companion with a mixture of fawning and mischief.
He, too, had large brown eyes, and he was also dressed in white, though upon his glimmering garment
there were certain touches (as there were in the square tower) of scarlet and gold. He was not pale,