the grey room(灰房间)-第46节
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paralysis is crippling his hinder parts。〃
Sir Walter patted the head of his ancient favorite。
〃He dies on Friday；〃 he said。 〃The vet； will come then。 I assure you
the thought gives me very genuine pain。〃
〃He has earned euthanasia； surely。 What is that fine tree with great
white flowers？ I have seen the like before； but am sadly ignorant of
horticulture。〃
〃A tulip…tree；〃 said Mary。 〃It's supposed to be the finest in
Devonshire。
〃A beautiful object。 But all is beautiful here。 An English spring can
be divine。 I shall ask you to drive me to primroses presently。 Those are
azaleas … that bank of living fire … superb！〃
He praised the scene； and spoke about the formal gardens of Italy。
Then； when luncheon was finished and he had smoked a couple of
cigarettes； Signor Mannetti rose； bowed to Sir Walter； and said：
〃Now； if you please。〃
They accompanied and watched him silently； while his eyes wandered
round the Grey Room。
The place was unchanged； and the dancing cherubs on the great chairs
seemed to welcome daylight after their long darkness。
The visitor wandered slowly from end to end of the chamber； nodded
to himself； and became animated。 Then he checked his gathering
excitement； and presently spoke。
〃I think I am going to help you； Sir Walter；〃 he said。
〃That is great and good news； signor。〃
Then the old man became inconsequent； and turned from the room to
the contents。 If； indeed； he had found a clue； he appeared in no haste to
pursue it。 He entered now upon a disquisition concerning the furniture；
and they listened patiently； for he had showed that any interruption
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troubled him。 But it seemed that he enjoyed putting a strain upon their
impatience。
〃Beautiful pieces；〃 he said； 〃but not Spanish； as you led me to suppose。
Spanish chestnut wood； but nothing else Spanish about them。 They are
of the Italian Renaissance； and it is most seemly that Italian craftsmanship
of such high order should repose here； under an Italian ceiling。 Strange
to say； my sleeping apartment at Rome closely resembles this room。 I
live in a villa that dates from the fifteenth century； and belonged to the
Colonna。 My chests are more superb than these； but your suite … the bed
and chairs … I confess are better than mine。 There is； however； a reason
for that。 Let us examine them for the sake of Mrs。 May。 Are these carved
chairs； with their reliefs of dancing putti； familiar to her … the figures； I
mean？〃
Mary shook her head。
〃Then it is certain that in your Italian wanderings you did not go to
Prato。 These groups of children dancing and blowing horns are very
cleverly copied from Donatello's famous pulpit in the duomo。 The design
is carried on from the chairs to the footboard of the bed； but in their midst
upon the footboard is let in this oval； easel…picture； painted on wood。 It
is faded； and the garlands have withered in so many hundred years； as well
they might； but I can feel the dead color quite well； and I also know who
painted it。〃
〃Is it possible； signor … this faint ghost of a picture？〃
〃There exists no doubt at all。 You see a little Pinturicchio。 Note the
gay bands of variegated patterns； the arabesques and fruits。 Their hues
have vanished； but their forms and certain mannerisms of the master are
unmistakable。 These dainty decorations were the sign manual of such
quattrocento painters as Gozzoli and Pinturicchio； and to these men he； for
whom these works of art were created； assigned the painting and
adornment of the Vatican。 We will come to him directly。 It was for
Michelangelo to make the creations of these artists mere colored bubbles
and froth； when seen against the immensity and intellectual grandeur of
his future masterpieces in the Sistine。 But that was afterwards。 We are
concerned with the Pope for whom these chairs and this bed were made。
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Yes； a Pope； my friends … no less a personage than Alexander VI。！〃
He waited； like a skilled actor； for the tremendous sensation he
expected and deserved。 But it did not come。 Unhappily for Signor
Mannetti's great moment； his words conveyed no particular impression to
anybody。
Sir Walter asked politely：
〃And was he a good； or a bad Pope？ I fear many of those gentlemen
had little to their credit。〃
But the signor felt the failure of his great climax。 At first he regretted
it； and a wave of annoyance； even contempt； passed unseen through his
mind； then he was glad that the secret should be hidden for another four…
and…twenty hours； to gain immensely in dramatic sensation by delay。
Already he was planning the future； and designing wonderful histrionics。
He could not be positive that he was right； though now the old man felt
very little doubt。
He did not answer Sir Walter's question； but asked one himself。
〃The detectives examined this apartment with meticulous care； you
say？〃
〃They did indeed。〃
〃And yet what can care and zeal do； what can the most conscientious
student achieve if his activities are confounded by ignorance？ The
amazing thing to me is that nobody should have had the necessary
information to lead them at least in the right direction。 And yet I run on
too fast。 After all； who shall be blamed； for it is； of course； the Grey
Room and nothing but the Grey Room we are concerned with。 Am I
right？ The Grey Room has the evil fame？〃
〃Certainly it has。〃
〃And yet a little knowledge of a few peculiar facts … a pinch of history
… yet； once again； who shall be blamed？ Who can be fairly asked to
possess that pinch of history which means so much in this room？〃
〃How could history have helped us； signor？〃 asked Henry Lennox。
〃I shall tell you。 But history is always helpful。 There is history
everywhere around us … not only here； but in every other department of
this noble house。 Take these chairs。 By the accident of training； I read
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in them a whole chapter of the beginnings of the Renaissance； to you they
are only old furniture。 You thought them Spanish because they were
bought in Spain … at Valencia； as a matter of fact。 You did not know that；
Sir Walter； but your grandfather purchased them there … to the despair and
envy of another collector。 Yes； these chairs have speaking faces to me；
just as the ceiling over them has a speaking face also。 It； too； is copied。
History； in fact； breathes its very essence in this home。 If I knew more
history than I do； then other beautiful things would talk to me as freely as
these chairs … and as freely as the trophies of the chase and the tiger skins
below no doubt talk to Sir Walter。 But are we not all historical … men；
women； even children？ To exist is to take your place in history； though；
as in my case； the fact will not be recorded save in the 'Chronicles' of the
everlasting。 Yes； I am ancient history now； and go far back； before Italy
was a united kingdom。 Much entertainng information will be lost for
ever when I die。 Believe me； while the new generation is crying forth the
new knowledge and glorying in its genius； we of the old guard are sinking
into our graves and taking the old knowledge with us。 Yet they only
rediscover for themselves what we know。 Human life is the snake with
its tail in its mouth … Nietzsche's eternal recurrenceand the commonplaces
of our forefathers are echoed on the lips of our children as great
disco
