Ada or Ardor: A Family Chronicle Part 2, Chapter 7 (view annotations) |
7 |
During her dreary stay at Ardis, a considerably changed and | |
enlarged Kim Beauharnais called upon her. He carried under his | |
arm an album bound in orange-brown cloth, a dirty hue she | |
had hated all her life. In the last two or three years she had not | |
396.05 | seen him, the light-footed, lean lad with the sallow complexion |
had become a dusky colossus, vaguely resembling a janizary in | |
some exotic opera, stomping in to announce an invasion or an | |
execution. Uncle Dan, who just then was being wheeled out by | |
his handsome and haughty nurse into the garden where coppery | |
396.10 | and blood-red leaves were falling, clamored to be given the big |
book, but Kim said "Perhaps later," and joined Ada in the | |
reception corner of the hall. | |
He had brought her a present, a collection of photographs | |
he had taken in the good old days. He had been hoping the | |
396.15 | good old days would resume their course, but since he under- |
stood that mossio votre cossin (he spoke a thick Creole thinking | |
that its use in solemn circumstances would be more proper than | |
his everyday Ladore English) was not expected to revisit the | |
castle soon—and thus help bring the album up to date—the |
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best procedure pour tous les cernés ("the shadowed ones," the | |
"encircled" rather than "concerned") might be for her to keep | |
(or destroy and forget, so as not to hurt anybody) the illustrated | |
document now in her pretty hands. Wincing angrily at the | |
397.05 | jolies, Ada opened the album at one of its maroon markers mean- |
ingly inserted here and there, glanced once, reclicked the clasp, | |
handed the grinning blackmailer a thousand-dollar note that | |
she happened to have in her bag, summoned Bouteillan and told | |
him to throw Kim out. The mud-colored scrapbook remained | |
397.10 | on a chair, under her Spanish shawl. With a shuffling kick the |
old retainer expelled a swamp-tulip leaf swept in by the draft | |
and closed the front door again. | |
"Mademoiselle n'aurait jamais dû recevoir ce gredin," he | |
grumbled on his way back through the hall. | |
397.15 | "That's just what I was on the point of observing," said Van |
when Ada had finished relating the nasty incident. "Were the | |
photos pretty filthy?" | |
"Ach!" exhaled Ada. | |
"That money might have furthered a worthier cause – Home | |
397.20 | for Blind Colts or Aging Ashettes." |
"Odd, your saying that." | |
"Why?" | |
"Never mind. Anyway, the beastly thing is now safe. I had | |
to pay for it, lest he show poor Marina pictures of Van seducing | |
397.25 | his little cousin Ada—which would have been bad enough; |
actually, as a hawk of genius, he may have suspected the whole | |
truth." | |
"So you really think that because you bought his album for | |
a paltry thousand all evidence has been disposed of and every- | |
397.30 | thing is in order?" |
"Why, yes. Do you think the sum was too mean? I might | |
send him more. I know where to reach him. He lectures, if you | |
please, on the Art of Shooting Life at the School of Photography | |
in Kalugano." |
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"Good place for shooting," said Van. "So you are quite sure | |
you own the 'beastly thing'?" | |
"Of course, I do. It's with me, at the bottom of that trunk; | |
I'll show it to you in a moment." | |
398.05 | "Tell me, my love, what was your so-called I.Q. when we |
first met?" | |
"Two hundred and something. A sensational figure." | |
"Well, by now it has shrunk rather badly. Peeking Kim has | |
kept all the negatives plus lots of pictures he will paste or post | |
398.10 | later." |
"Would you say it has dropped to Cordula's level?" | |
"Lower. Now let's look at those snapshots—before settling | |
his monthly salary." | |
The first item in the evil series had projected one of Van's | |
398.15 | initial impressions of Ardis Manor at an angle that differed from |
that of his own recollection. Its area lay between the shadow of | |
a calèche darkening the gravel and the white step of a pillared | |
porch shining in the sun. Marina, one arm still in the sleeve of | |
the dust coat which a footman (Price) was helping her to | |
398.20 | remove, stood brandishing her free arm in a theatrical gesture |
of welcome (entirely at variance with the grimace of helpless | |
beatitude twisting her face), while Ada in a black hockey blazer | |
—belonging really to Vanda—spilled her hair over her bare | |
knees as she flexed them and flipped Dack with her flowers to | |
398.25 | check his nervous barks. |
Then came several preparatory views of the immediate | |
grounds: the colutea circle, an avenue, the grotto's black O, and | |
the hill, and the big chain around the trunk of the rare oak, | |
Quercus ruslan Chât., and a number of other spots meant to be | |
398.30 | picturesque by the compiler of the illustrated pamphlet but |
looking a little shabby owing to inexperienced photography. | |
It improved gradually. | |
Another girl (Blanche!) stooping and squatting exactly like | |
Ada (and indeed not unlike her in features) over Van's valise |
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Cordula still had it in her cosy corner where you sat temple | |
to temple after you jilted me." | |
"Cat," said Van. | |
"Oh, much worse. Old Beckstein's Tabby was a masterpiece | |
403.05 | in comparison to this—this Love under the Lindens by one |
Eelmann transported into English by Thomas Gladstone, who | |
seems to belong to a firm of Packers & Porters, because on the | |
page which Adochka, adova dochka (Hell's daughter) happens | |
to be relishing here, 'automobile' is rendered as 'wagon.' And | |
403.10 | to think, to think, that little Lucette had to study Eelmann, and |
three terrible Toms in her Literature course at Los!" | |
"You remember that trash but I remember our nonstop three- | |
hour kiss Under the Larches immediately afterwards." | |
"See next illustration," said Ada grimly. | |
403.15 | "The scoundrel!" cried Van; "He must have been creeping |
after us on his belly with his entire apparatus. I will have to | |
destroy him." | |
"No more destruction, Van. Only love." | |
"But look, girl, here I'm glutting your tongue, and there I'm | |
403.20 | glued to your epiglottis, and—" |
"Intermission," begged Ada, "quick-quick." | |
"I'm ready to oblige till I'm ninety," said Van (the vulgarity | |
of the peep show was catchy), "ninety times a month, roughly." | |
"Make it even more roughly, oh much more, say a hundred | |
403.25 | and fifty, that would mean, that would mean—" |
But, in the sudden storm, calculations went to the canicular | |
devils. | |
"Well," said Van, when the mind took over again, "let's go | |
back to our defaced childhood. I'm anxious"—(picking up the | |
403.30 | album from the bedside rug)—"to get rid of this burden. Ah, |
a new character, the inscription says: Dr Krolik." | |
"Wait a sec. It may be the best Vanishing Van but it's terribly | |
messy all the same. Okay. Yes, that's my poor nature teacher." | |
Knickerbockered, panama-hatted, lusting for his babochka |
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and line drawings of the perfect insect's genitalia and other | |
structures. It would be a wonderful work." | |
"A work of love," said Van, and turned the page. | |
"Unfortunately, my dear collaborator died intestate, and all | |
405.05 | his collections, including my own little part, were surrendered |
by a regular warren of collateral Kroliks to agents in Germany | |
and dealers in Tartary. Disgraceful, unjust, and so sad!" | |
"We'll find you another director of science. Now what do | |
we have here." | |
405.10 | Three footmen, Price, Norris, and Ward dressed up as |
grotesque firemen. Young Bout devoutedly kissing the veined | |
instep of a pretty bare foot raised and placed on a balustrade. | |
Nocturnal outdoor shot of two small white ghosts pressing their | |
noses from the inside to the library window. | |
405.15 | Artistically éventail-ed all on one page were seven fotochki |
(diminutive stills) taken within as many minutes—from a fairly | |
distant lurk—in a setting of tall grass, wild flowers, and overhang- | |
ing foliage. Its shade, and the folly of peduncles, delicately camou- | |
flaged the basic details, suggesting little more than a tussle be- | |
405.20 | tween two incompletely clad children. |
In the central miniature, Ada's only limb in sight was her | |
thin arm holding aloft, in a static snatch, like a banner, her | |
discarded dress above the daisy-starred grass. The magnifier | |
(now retrieved from under the bed sheet) clearly showed, | |
405.25 | topping the daisies in an upper picture, the type of tight-capped |
toadstool called in Scots law (ever since witching was banned) | |
"the Lord of Erection." Another interesting plant, Marvel's | |
Melon, imitating the backside of an occupied lad, could be made | |
out in the floral horizon of a third photo. In the next three stills | |
405.30 | la force des choses ("the fever of intercourse") had sufficiently |
disturbed the lush herbage to allow one to distinguish the de- | |
tails of a tangled composition consisting of clumsy Romany | |
clips and illegal nelsons. Finally, in the last picture, the lower |
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the Vice President Ida Larivière. Those two were flanked by | |
the two prettiest typists, Blanche de la Tourberie (ethereal, | |
tearstained, entirely adorable) and a black girl who had been | |
hired, a few days before Van's departure, to help French, who | |
407.05 | towered rather sullenly above her in the second row, the focal |
point of which was Bouteillan, still wearing the costume sport | |
he had on when driving off with Van (that picture had been | |
muffed or omitted). On the butler's right side stood three foot- | |
men; on his left, Bout (who had valeted Van), the fat, flour- | |
407.10 | pale cook (Blanche's father) and, next to French, a terribly |
tweedy gentleman with sightseeing strappings athwart one | |
shoulder: actually (according to Ada), a tourist, who, having | |
come all the way from England to see Bryant's Castle, had | |
had bicycled up the wrong road and was, in the picture, under the im- | |
407.15 | pression of accidentally being conjoined to a group of fellow |
tourists who were visiting some other old manor quite worth | |
inspecting too. The back rows consisted of less distinguished | |
menservants and scullions, as well as of gardeners, stableboys, | |
coachmen, shadows of columns, maids of maids, aids, laundresses, | |
407.20 | dresses, recesses—getting less and less distinct as in those bank |
ads where limited little employees dimly dimidiated by more | |
fortunate shoulders, but still asserting themselves, still smile in | |
the process of humble dissolve. | |
"Isn't that wheezy Jones in the second row? I always liked | |
407.25 | the old fellow." |
"No," answered Ada, "that's Price. Jones came four years | |
later. He is now a prominent policeman in Lower Ladore. Well, | |
that's all." | |
Nonchalantly, Van went back to the willows and said: | |
407.30 | "Every shot in the book has been snapped in 1884, except this |
one. I never rowed you down Ladore River in early spring. | |
Nice to note you have not lost your wonderful ability to blush." | |
"It's his error. He must have thrown in a fotochka taken | |
later, maybe in 1888. We can rip it out if you like." |
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"Sweetheart," said Van, "the whole of 1888 has been ripped | |
out. One need not be a sleuth in a mystery story to see that at | |
least as many pages have been removed as retained. I don't mind | |
—I mean I have no desire to see the Knabenkräuter and other | |
408.05 | pendants of your friends botanizing with you; but 1888 has |
been withheld and he'll turn up with it when the first grand is | |
spent." | |
"I destroyed 1888 myself," admitted proud Ada; "but I | |
swear, I solemnly swear, that the man behind Blanche, in the | |
408.10 | perron picture, was, and has always remained, a complete |
stranger." | |
"Good for him," said Van. "Really it has no importance. | |
It's our entire past that has been spoofed and condemned. On | |
second thoughts, I will not write that Family Chronicle. By the | |
408.15 | way, where is my poor little Blanche now?" |
"Oh, she's all right. She's still around. You know, she came | |
back—after you abducted her. She married our Russian coach- | |
man, the one who replaced Bengal Ben, as the servants called | |
him." | |
408.20 | "Oh she did? That's delicious. Madame Trofim Fartukov. I |
would never have thought it." | |
"They have a blind child," said Ada. | |
"Love is blind," said Van. | |
"She tells me you made a pass at her on the first morning of | |
408.25 | your first arrival." |
"Not documented by Kim," said Van. "Will their child | |
remain blind? I mean, did you get them a really first-rate | |
physician?" | |
"Oh yes, hopelessly blind. But speaking of love and its myths, | |
408.30 | do you realize—because I never did before talking to her a |
couple of years ago—that the people around our affair had | |
very good eyes indeed? Forget Kim, he's only the necessary | |
clown—but do you realize that a veritable legend was growing | |
around you and me while we played and made love?" |
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