Iris Murdoch - The Book And The Brotherhood

Duncan felt encouraged and ready to carry out his resolve to dominate the scene. Crimond closed the door. Duncan followed him down the room. Crimond picked up the lamp and put it on the desk. The lamp light fell on Crimond's hand which was trembling. Duncan felt calmer. He began to speak.

`Well, Crimond, as you see I've come in answer to your curious little note, but let mesay this at once. I think I understand your wish, your craving perhaps to see me. Perhaps we both need to be convinced that we can be in the same room without the world coming to an end. You have done appalling damage to my life and to Jean's life and it would be ridiculous to talk here of forgiveness or reconciliation of any sort, which may conceivably, I say conceivably, have been in your head when you wrote that letter. What is perhaps worth proving for your, possibly also for my, state of mind is that we can look at each other, and this wehave already managed to do. You may also have envisaged some kind of discussion. This, I must tell you, is entirely impossible. A crime of the magnitude of the one which you have twice committed does not allow of any place or topic fora meeting of minds. Do you really imagine that we are to sit down and have some sort of masculine discussion about Jean, or confess to each other that we are both sinners? You see that I have been able to mention her name in your presence and this is in itself remarkable, but is as far as we can go. I amsure you will agree. Your impertinent letter stirred me to anger. Having had time to reflect I see it in a different light. I suspect you yourself, in writing it, had no clear intention. I also suspect that in the interim you may have come to conclusions similar to mine. The meeting itself, what has happened in these last minutes, is the point. Of course my hatred, my detestation of you remains. One cannot magic such deep and just emotion away. But these things have to be lived with. Sometimes for one's own sake one must attempt to purge and calm one's imagination. If I were to spend the rest of my life in a state of crazed obsession that would be one more injury which you could boast of having done me. I don't want to have to think about you every day and wonder what would happen if we met. We have met and nothing has happened. There has been a release of tension, nothing to do with mutual understanding, just something automatic, almost physical. I am sure you understand. I suggest we leave this matter just as it is at this point, that is, we have looked at each other. What threats I might utter against you I leave to your imagination. I am certain that you will not willingly cross my path again. That is all I have to say.'

This extraordinary speech, quite unpremeditated, surprised Duncan very much. He had not, even when he was coming down the stairs, had any thoughts of this kind. But even as he spoke he saw both the good sense of what he was saying and also its immediate efficacy. Perhaps it arose too From the particular confidence which he derived from seeing Crimond's hand trembling. It was a vast relief to him, in a way he had not at all foreseen, to find that he could be in the same room with Crimond without some kind of terrible collapse or explosion. He had intended, as 'talking him down', to utter some vague angry rhetoric. But what, as it happened, lit-had, uttered actually had point, and constituted an appeal to Crimond's intelligence. He even felt that he had impressed Crimond. With his last word he turned to go, but not hastily. Crimond would certainly want to say something, and a brief coda would round off the event.

Duncan's speech, which he had not attempted to interrupt, had certainly held Crimond's attention. He even waited pointedly at the end of it in case Duncan did after all want to add anything. He stared intently at Duncan, raising his light reddish eyebrows whose long fine hairs were unusually illumined by the lamp. His face relaxed, and he was opening and shutting his hands as if to calm his body. He said in a quirt interested tone of voice, 'Oh, but it was not at all my idea to discuss anything with you, or, heaven forbid, to talk about Jean. There, I have mentioned her name too.'

It was at this moment that Duncan, with some sort of dismissive gesture, should have turned and walked away in a manner signifying: I don't care what your idea was, I've made my statement and I'm going. If he had done that Crimond would probably not have impeded him. But Duncan felt so full of power just then that he was tempted to indulge his curiosity. He made the mistake of asking, 'Well, what did you want us to do?'

'Fight, of course,' said Crimond, now giving a curious pained smile.

'Oh don't be a fool,' said Duncan, not yet alarmed bit I already being caught in the silken threads of Crimond's will. 'I'm not keen on theatre.'

'Why did you come?'

'I came to say what I said just now.'

‘I don't believe you,' said Crimond. 'The rigmarole you uttered just now was something you thought of on the spur the moment, it was empty rhetoric. What you said about hatred and anger was true though. You came because you had to come. Otherwise you could easily just have ignored my letter, which as you say was impertinent. You could have lignored it. I expected you to ignore it. I'm surprised that you're here. But since you are here -'

'I'm going,' said Duncan, now turning away with more determination.

`Oh no you're not.' Crimond moved quickly round Duncan, now standing between him and the distant door. He said, 'That door's locked, I locked it after I came in.'

Duncan stood where he was. In any case Crimond now represented a serious barrier. If he tried to move past, Crimond might touch him, seize hold of him. The idea of being touched by Crimond filled Duncan with a paralysing repulsion. Standing face to face with the man in this large cold dark room till Duncan's old vague furious ideas of hurling himself upon his enemy shrivelled up. No such lively impulses came to his old. His concern now was simply to be able to leave with dignity. He felt that he had been able, for a time, to dominate Crimond, at least to silence him, and must try to do so again. But he was now in a position of weakness. He said in a firm voice, 'I'm not going to fight you. How can you imagine that to be possible? I haven't come here to humour your fantasy life.'

‘Take off your coat,' said Crimond. 'You're going to stay here a while longer. I don't like to see you in that coat. Take it off.’

Duncan took off the overcoat which he had been wearing since his arrival. He did this because he now feared that Crimond might spring upon him and he did not want to be Impeded by the coat. He also did it because he had begun to be afraid of Crimond. He thought, he's mad, hemight do anything. He threw the heavy coat onto the desk where it overoirned the lamp. Crimond returned from the door and set the lamp upright.

Taking refuge from fear in anger, Duncan said, 'This is false contemptible play-acting. You're mad with spite because Jean left you. She found you mean and cruel, she found you boring. 'That's what this is about.'

At this reference to Jean Crimond flushed, his pale face becoming suddenly crimson. But his expression did not alter. He said in a low voice, 'How can you! Not that, not that!'

`Open the door,' said Duncan.

`No, not yet,' said Crimond, who seemed suddenly breathless. He pulled at his neck and dragged off the green scarf and let it fall on the floor. He said in the tone of someone offering a helpful explanation, 'When I said "fight" I didn't actually mean like that, I mean like we did once. I just want you to play – that game. I felt it was – appropriate – and that you would think so too.'

`Game -?'

`Yes. Like this.' Crimond stepped forward. Duncan moved hastily back. But Crimond was reaching for an electric light switch. He turned the switch and the room was suddenly full of a cold clear light. Two neon strips across the ceiling flickered then lit again. Crimond opened a drawer in the desk to reveal two revolvers.