J. Donleavy - The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

"You're swotting too."

"O. The Morphology of Vertebrates. Not really. I think it's to do with these drawings. When one looks at the dorsal side of things. All so neatly laid out on the page. And absolutely nothing to do with the horrors of life. These dormant pisces and aves."

"You've been asked after. Professor said where has our elegant friend got to."

"O Lord not that night again.' "He didn't mean to pry. I'm sure. But you know the account in the paper did rather put you on the map. I felt awfully responsible. That's why I thought you were avoiding me. It was so much my fault. To let you just wander off in the night that way. And the least I could do was to come and put things right."

"Is that the only reason you came."

"No. I did want to see you again."

"I'm glad. You see I felt perhaps. Well as you say, it did rather put me on the map. But the ladder, the shrubbery. I thought people would think I was trying to look in their bedroom. And I suppose I just couldn't get myself to walk into class again."

"O but it was so little a matter."

"My lawyers haven't found so. I've been sued for enormous damages."

"O no."

"Yes. It doesn't matter. But it makes you feel people can be extremely unfriendly."

"O but that's awful. I had no idea."

"My tutor handled things marvellously and I suppose all would have blown over. But they heard rumours of my enormous car and riches. Totally unfounded, the riches that is. And that was that. Ah toast. You will have some."

"Love to."

"I put just this little extra touch of marmite on. Would you like extras too on yours."

"Yes thank you."

"Will there be anything else sir."

"No thank you Horace."

"I'll be pushing off then sir. Goodbye miss."

"Goodbye."

"Shall I shout you up in the morning sir. Eleven as usual."

"Eight please."

"Ah. Forgive me for commenting sir, but I'm glad to hear it. I think it's the effects of your call miss. And I hope you don't think I'm cheeky when I say we hope to see you again."

Late afternoon settling greyly. Somewhere west peeks a sinking sun. Fanning pink across the clouds. The stark chimneys of the Rubric and the tip top tower of the Campanile. When a spring stillness comes to the soft air. The world stops. And suddenly it goes on forever. Turning slowly round in its own tiny time. Click of the cricket bat and pop of tennis ball. The air comes down and breathes on you. When all the flowers know and rush to grow. Their fattest flowing leaves sent up. Their white bulbs secret and pleased in the moist black ground.

And Miss Fitzdare sits. One knee further up than another. The green plate on her grey wool skirt. I swallow my breath to look down and see her swell of thigh. Frightened of the world I'll always be. Never to stand up and shout. That that woman is mine. Sit instead to bow my head. And quake with loneliness when at last she's forever gone.

"That was an awfully nice thing for your servant to say. And I want to ask you something. You did say that time ago if you remember. That your Sundays were. O dear. What I'm asking is if you wouldn't like to come and lunch with us Sunday if you can. It's with my uncle where I stay. He's a nice old dear."

"I'd like to very much."

"And I think you do like horses. Don't you."

"Yes but I fear recently I've been visiting turf accountants.

And haven't been out at the courses."

"Well I thought that if you had nothing better to do, you might like to come and visit where I live. But that can wait."

"O no don't let it wait."

"I thought before Trinity lectures began."

"Do please have more tea."

"And if you like the countryside.' "Yes I do."

"Do you shoot.' "Yes I do.' "Do you ride.' "Yes I do."

"O dear I feel I'm making you say yes unfairly to all these things."

"O no. Not at all."

A slow smile on the lips of Miss Fitzdare. Dare not look at the contours on her purple soft sweater. She wears two. A twin set I think they're called. Buttons mother of pearl. One turn back of the long sleeves and her small round gold watch and black band shows.

"O I am. I know I am."

"Well yes perhaps. I'm not really a crack shot. I mean I do try to get the bird. O Lord, Miss Fitzdare. I miss badly if the truth were to be known. Frankly I can't shoot at all. I'm mortally terrified of horses too. But I do love the countryside. I mean would that be enough."

"O goodness yes. I love everything to do with the country and I sometimes, I know, am unbearably enthusiastic. You mustn't feel you've got to shoot or ride. Honestly. I only asked because if you did shoot, we have a shoot. And if you rode we could ride. Or weekends, hunt. And O Lord, really, if only you would like to go for walks that would be awfully nice."

"That's what I would like to do. More tea."

"I must be going. I had only meant to pass a moment. It's been such a beautiful afternoon. Balmy and calm. And I'm so pleased you'll come for lunch Sunday. I did often think of you and your Sunday appointment in Rathgar. You mustn't mind uncle, he blusters a bit about the Empire. He is sweet. Horticulture and astronomy are his passions."

"That's interesting."

"O you know he potters about but he has the largest private telescope in Ireland. I'd better warn you. You'll get a conducted tour."

"I'm awfully interested in the stars."

"Well then we have a date. I am glad I perked up my nerve. I thought you might be awfully busy or something and Fd be shooed away."

"O Lord Miss Fitzdare. What a thing to think."

"Fve not ever been in rooms in this part of college before."

"Perhaps I could show you, I mean you wouldn't mind, would you, it's only my bedroom."

"Well yes, do. Show me."

"Well. Certainly. It's rather barren I fear. But there we are. Obviously that's my bed. Giving me permanent curvature of the spine. I rigged up that little lamp there. I'm not much of an electrician. I'm sure to be electrocuted."

"O you must be careful."

At the open door Balthazar B turning to Miss Fitzdare. She smiles. And turns away back into the drawing room. Glancing over the books in the case on the wall.

"Goodness. Etruscan pottery. O do you go to the London auctions."

"Yes."

"You have all their catalogues."

"A way of spending a not unpleasant afternoon. Tarrying around the galleries."

"I'm sure you're one of those people who stick to Meissen onion pattern."

"That's extraordinary. How did you know Miss Fitzdare."

"O I knew."

"Would you like to see my scullery."

"I'd adore to. O mustn't say that word you took me to task over once before."

"O no, do please adore. I mean I'm quite happy you said that word. I'm afraid things are rather a muddle in here. That's the larder. Where I keep my marmite and cornflakes."

"What's that."

"O it's my peanut butter. I have it sent from Boston."

"Is it nice."

"It's scrumptious with strawberry preserve and butter in a sandwich. And in here. My two burner stove with grill.' "That's rather elegant."

"Left by a rich American I believe. Who couldn't stand the bitter cold and fled back to New Orleans. He used to lie in that room I understand, covered in coats and blankets, surrounded by hot water bottles and an electric fire shining on him through the night and he'd wake frozen."

"O the poor man."

"Horace arranged to get most of these things he left. Horace has been awfully kind to me. That's my pail of water. That's my turf bin. Beefy has one with a false bottom. You can hide underneath, through a little secret door. But that's very hush hush."

"How is your friend Beefy. One hears so many stories and rumours about him. I don't know quite what to believe. He seems such a kindly person."

"He is."

"It's horrid that people don't mind their own business."