William Gaddis - The Recognitions

Then he came rushing across the carpet toward the thing on the floor there crying, — Get up! Get up! When he reached it he stood over it, the penknife closed and gone inside one hand with the other closed round it, quivering, like his voice now, — Good God, you've. . left me in mid-air, it's as though the. . bottom has dropped out of time itself. Then he went to his knees and tore frantically at the visor trying to raise it. Finally he stopped, looking exhausted, staring down, and his hand still on the projecting chin. — What now?. . good God, what now? You and I… you and I, you, . were so damned familiar. He stared a moment longer, and then as he whispered — What a luxury you were!. . and flung his face down bringing both hands in round the headpiece, Basil Valentine stepped forth and reached him very quickly. He lay there shaking.

— Here now. . you know, Valentine said standing over him, surprised at the tremor in his own voice, and even more at the calm expression of the face raised to him. So they were silent, until Basil Valentine shifted half a step back and said, — You might… go in and wash, you know. You got. . blood all over one side of your face just then. . you know. At that Valentine stopped, unable to keep the tip of his tongue from the broken tooth, and more aware than he was of this face before him of the face he had left in the mirror minutes before as that image's smile returned, and he felt it distorting the lips in betrayal of the emotion he did not feel, as he summoned his voice and said, — My dear fellow. . you're weeping, aren't you.

Still nothing moved.

— Come along now, my dear fellow, straighten up. It's a shock, but…

— Who are you?…

Basil Valentine stepped forward again, almost kicked the headpiece. — Now listen to me, he said firm for the first time, — there's been enough of all this. . business. He sounded impatient. — Don't you think it's time to… wash up, and get into some fresh clothes, get a fresh start? Because all this… all this. . Valentine raised his foot, and jarred the headpiece with his toe, at which the other stood up quickly and turned away, leaving the penknife dropped on the carpet where he'd knelt.

— After all, now, Valentine said to his back, — there will be some changes, won't there, without. . now that there are just the two of us.

— I've got a headache, a. . I've got a rotten headache. He stopped in the middle of the room, and Valentine came up on him where he stood pressing his forehead in his hands.

— I should think you might, you know. Basil Valentine put a hand gently on his shoulder, but he drew away quickly. Valentine stepped back. — And I suppose we should. . call the police, you know, he said, licking his lip.

— They'll probably be here any minute.

— How do you mean?

— Where do you think I've been all this time? Good God, what do you think kept me from getting right back here before this. . this… He shook a hand out at the scene behind them. — After I'd broken your door down, and was coming out. .

— You broke my door down?

— Where the. . what do you think those. . pieces of… dirty. . burnt wood, that. . what do you think that is? I knew what it was, when I got in and saw the. . saw something smoking in your grate, I knew what it was, I knew what you'd done, damn you… I knew what you'd done.

— Now listen to me, what is all this? The police are in my flat?

— T don't know, I don't know, I don't know where the police are. I know that two of them were taking me somewhere afterwards and I got away from them. . and came here. How should I know Where the police are? Why should I… care where the police are.

Basil Valentine had gone pale in the face; and now he touched his lower lip, tapped it with a fingertip. Then he looked up and said calmly, — There was really no reason for you to do a thing like that, you know. I… I've been trying to get hold of you since. . yesterday morning, when you left me in the park there so… precipitously.

— You have! Then who did you think it was ringing your bell an hour or two ago?

— I've been out. . for some time, Basil Valentine answered. — I've even been down to Horatio Street, you know, looking for you.

— You have! And what did you find there?

— No one at home, my dear fellow, obviously.

— No one at home! Yes, that's good. . No one at home! Do you know what happened down there? Do you know what had happened when I went back down yesterday? It had burned. The whole place had burned, the whole building. It must have been that… I left some things burning there, in that fireplace, and there was oil and everything spilled everywhere, and something must have. . the oil must have. . Good God I don't know, but it's gone.

Basil Valentine had backed to the pulpit bar, where he leaned watching. — That painting you were working on too, eh? he said after a moment. — The last one, the one I liked as it was, eh?

— What? The face turned to him in confusion from the abstract emptiness it had fallen into, staring down at the carpet.

— That Stabat Mater?

— What, she?

— Burned too?

— Good God! Good God! She wasn't. . she. .

— Here, my dear fellow, Basil Valentine said coming at him again. — Get hold of yourself, get hold of yourself. This time he did take both shoulders in his hands, to say, — We're both upset, there's no sense in all this now, and it's no time to try to talk rationally about it. If the place is burned, it's burned, and anything in it…

— Oh yes, and the griffin's egg, that was there! Oh, that griffin's egg, damn it. That's why I went down there, to get it so I could. . Then he stopped and pulled from Valentine's hands again. — This last picture, he said, — the van der Goes, where is it?

— My dear fellow. .

— Where is it?

— Come back here. . listen. .

— Oh yes, it's in his privy chamber, isn't it. That's where he kept things like that, isn't it? Yes, in the genizah?

— Come here, listen. . And at that moment Basil Valentine's eye caught the painting behind him, just beyond the pulpit bar. — What's this! What's happened here?

— That…

— Here, stop that laughter. . this, did you do this? Valentine stood running a finger over the hole, where the figure of the Ern-peror Valerian stretched on his rack had been cut neatly out.

— I? Good God no. Crémer, Monsieur Crémer, vous savez. .

— Stop that damned laughter. .

— Ah oui, qu'il voulait un souvenir, vous savez, un tout petit souvenir de sa vieille connaissance du monde des truqueurs. .

Valentine didn't answer, staring at the damage under his hand. He ran his finger along the edge where it was cut, as his tongue ran over his broken tooth, though he stopped that as he turned, to catch his lower lip under the broken place.

— Bleu de Prusse, alors, ca ne fait rien vous savez, le ciel en bleu de Prusse, retouché simplement vous savez. . the work of some incompetent restorer, un restaurateur vous savez. .

— Come here! Yes, and now you want to damage that. . van der Goes the same way. . come here!

— For the same reason, vous savez. .

— Come here! But Basil Valentine followed him to the panel door; and stood behind him as he stared at the painting hung inside.

— That face, that. . Good God, that face, where did it come from?

— The face? Valentine watched him, with hardly a look at the painting, — and. . what do you think of it?…

— Think of it! Think of it? Good God, I… I can't think of it, look at it, it's. .

— You don't care for it, eh? Valentine withdrew a step, and back outside the door. — You think it's bad, eh?

— Bad? No. No, it's not bad, it's funny. It's funny, do you know what I mean? he demanded turning on Basil Valentine. — It's funny, it's. . vulgar, he said holding a hand up between them.