William Gaddis - The Recognitions

From behind, when she stood still in that yellow velours gown, Mrs. Deigh rather resembled an uneven stack of sofa cushions. At the moment only Dom Sucio had this coign of vantage, and he did not stop to enjoy it, but turned and hurried down a dark hallway hastily adjusting his mantle, as she opened the door to Stanley. He paused, upon entering, to support himself on Judith's sword-arm: Holofernes' head swung toward him, and the whole thing almost came over.

— My dear boy be… be careful of our. . Donatello, Mrs. Deigh gasped as the bronze righted itself. — It's his. . David, his famous David, she murmured nervously, addressing the still gently swaying head, as though apologizing to it. She continued to murmur nervously, wringing one hand in the other, as she led him into the crowded room. — We do wish you would have your hair cut. Stanley sat down on the edge of the Queen Anne chair, and she stood over him for a minute. — What is it? What is troubling you, dear boy?

— Nothing, nothing, nothing, he said quickly, and pulled his shoulder from under her hand, and the glitter of the wrist watch at his cheek. She withdrew looking injured, and sat down almost silently in the big chair. There she commenced the familiar chucking noise.

— I… I'm sorry, I… I'm tired.

— It has been a trying day for everyone, she said, somewhat distantly, and went on looking at the ceiling. When he continued silent, hands gripped between his knees, she said in the same tone, — We had a very trying visit from some British Israelites. And poor Cardinal Spermelli, the white ants have completely destroyed his chess-playing machine. All he talks of now is going to Venice, where he can be conducted to his last resting place in the dignity of a pompa. funebre, though those little Coca-Cola motorboats. .

— Is he real? Stanley brought out suddenly.

— Is he what? my dear boy?

— No, no, but if he's a Cardinal he should be… nothing. Nothing.

— You are upset, are you not, she said looking sharply at him as he lowered his eyes once more, and she looked back to the ceiling. — We knew you would like him, he likes young boys so much, especially musical young boys. But his area musarithmica, alas. .

— What is that?

— Don't you remember it, dear boy? The seventeenth-century machine he showed you, that composes music automatically. Alas, you will never see it again. The white ants. . what is it? What's the matter? Are you having a chill?. . She stared where he was staring. — Ahhhh. . she sighed with sad affection, but she did not get up. — It's one of his days up and around, she murmured.

The lean figure had emerged unsteadily from one of the dark doorways, and stood resting at a precarious angle against the leg of a figure in a bathing suit, a bronze (labeled Hercules, by della Robbia). The dim light cast a faintly yellow sheen over the veluti-nous patches left on his back. A twist of insulated wire led from one ear to the object hung at his collar. Mrs. Deigh made the chucking noise again, but nothing moved. — He has not looked so discouraged since he fell into the baths of the Emperor Tiberius at Capri, and we had to hire an Alpinist to rescue him. She looked slowly round at Stanley. — Do you recall asking me about the initials on his little chair in the Automobile? the little chair where you sit? I asked Dom Sucio, and he told me, of course. Impubis Hadrianus Semper. Then she cleared her throat. The chain rattled as she leaned forward and spoke more gently. — Dear boy, your teeth are chattering. Perhaps. .

— No, no, I… I'm all right, I don't…

— We understand. Perhaps you caught a chill at Assisi?. . We won't ask what is burdening your soul. We understand. Perhaps it will take your mincl off it to tell us about Assisi? It is so long since we have walked among those roses, and touched the very spot where. .

— She asked me to marry her, Stanley blurted out.

— What? to what? Who?

— She asked me to marry her, yes, and. .

— But. . my dear boy, you. . you never told me there was a… a girl?

— Yes. .

— And you. . you didn't take her up there with you? To that. . that holy spot. .? The chain rattled, the objects strung to it went to the floor. Neither of them retrieved it.

— She. . she kept going through the gate of the Portiuncula, she… to gain indulgences for. . she. .

— Dear boy! dear boy! Mrs. Deìgh had come forward, half unseated, half to her feet.

— No, she… If only there were time, she said, over and over. She's pregnant.

Mrs. Deigh went back in the chair, got firm hold on the arms as the mother-of-pearl crucifix climbed out of her bosom, and it dropped back in as she stood. The chain came up with her.

— You. . you don't understand, she isn't just a… a who. . a wh. .

— Dear boy, don't weep, We. .

— If she. . she wanted to share her beauty with anyone. . with everyone, she… if she. .

— We understand, dear boy, We understand, Mrs. Deigh said with a warm hand on his neck, patting him there gently, as she did for a minute broken only by his sobs, until finally she said to him, — And of course you said, No. No? We hope you said No, when she asked you. . that. We hope you said No, and told her that you are going to Fenestrula, for your work, your work is what matters, your work is all that matters isn't it, isn't it dear boy. And you did say No, did you not.

— Ye. . hes. No.

— There. Of course you said No.

— Yes, it… everything is in pieces. I… Stanley got to his feet, and drew both hands down over his face. Then he turned to her and burst out, — And your. . Dom Sucio, he… did you know he… he isn't real?

— But dear boy, Mrs. Deigh said gently, — he is as real as we are.

— No, what I mean is, I mean a monk, a real monk, I saw him… I… did you know that?

— Of course, dear boy.

— But you. . you knew all along, there's no… no special Order for… for little people? And he… the contributions you give him, he… yes, you told me, people turned to look at him in the street and he… he was sensitive, but I… that they mistook him for a wandering child, but I… I…

— Dear Stanley, Mrs. Deigh said, and came close to put an arm round his trembling shoulders. — You are such a… dear boy.

For a moment, it looked as though Hadrian were going to improve his position against the bronze leg. With great caution he commenced to raise one foot from the floor. The instant he started to sag in that direction he planted the foot where he'd got it, but too late to do more than save himself from going down altogether, and so he stayed that way, the moment of daring, and all memory of it, gone.

— Will you join Us in prayers, in our little private chapel, Stanley? she asked as they separated, slowly, each with a look of wary interest, close enough to smell one another for the first time.

— Ye… yes…

Then she moved quite briskly, first to Hadrian, making the chucking sound. Hadrian did not raise his head. — We must confess, Hadrian and Dom Sucio are not the best of friends, she said with some asperity, setting Hadrian square and working at the box on his collar. — Dom Sucio turns his hearing aid off, and sometimes he doesn't hear a thing for days. As she straightened up murmuring, — Now there was something else. . Hadrian sagged back against the bronze calf. — Oh, from Our daughter, something she sent, I meant to show you.

— A letter?. .

— Not precisely a letter. Here. Here it is. She took a folded paper from behind a picture frame and handed it to him. — We shall return in a moment, dear boy. For prayers. And she left him with this:

PLEASE HELP IMMEDIATELY

This lady knows that you need this Ritual

The Ritual Jehovah God Before me Saint Raphael Behind me Saint Gabriel To my right Saint Michael To my left Saint Auriel Behind me shines the gold star And above me shines the Glory of God.