Part 34 (1/2)
He said quietly into the diminis.h.i.+ng fire, ”I don't like the life.”
”Or the liberty. It's the liberty especially you don't like. All you care for is the property, what I said before.”
But he cared for his fate. It was his fate he cared for.
”They've chiseled initials in your great-aunt's monument,” he said.
”Stupid stone anchor! It's not her monument, it's nothing at all. Anyhow she was a loon; didn't know one season from another.”
”Neither do you.”
”What?”
”Know one season from another. -I have nothing against what people call idealism-”
”And you call it what?”
”Folly. Entrapment. Time-wasting. Escapism. Illusion. Illusion above all.”
”But you have nothing against it!” she scoffed.
”It shows a spirited will, I don't deny it. All that's charming. Charming. But it's for children. It's for children. I say it's enough, Allegra. It's time you came away.”
”Time!” she threw back at him.
”Time,” he said again. ”All things in their season.”
”Well, am I ripe yet? Am I supposed to drop from a tree like-like I don't know, a coconut?”
”Allegra,” he said.
”Don't try and sympathize, William. You're even nastier when you sympathize.”
”It's enough. It's time you came with me.”
”What for?”
”To stay.”
”What for?”
”To be what you ought to be.”
”I'm not what I ought to be?”
”You're self-indulgent. It's a fantasy you live here. You prolong it. The world is different.”
”The world is different,” she repeated.
”The world is not a Utopia full of reels and puddings.”
”Of course not. Utopia is the house in Scarsdale.”
He did not acknowledge this. ”You're too old to play at Brook Farm.”
”Utopia! Mecca! Brook Farm! Where do you think you are, William?”
”I like to think I am where I belong.”
”I like to think I belong where I am.”
”You won't come then?”
She gave a cunning smile. ”Afterward. When we get out of here. Right now we're settled in.”
”Afterward?” he said wonderingly.
”There's so much to do it wouldn't be fair to leave in the middle. But I'll come if you want. I'll come in October.”
”You mean September. The end of August, the beginning of September,” he said.
”But we're settled in, you see, and Enoch thinks he needs at least another month. It isn't easy to find headquarters large enough, especially once you're settled in.”
He said gravely, ”The contractors are coming in September.”
”Oh put them off another month! You can do it. You can do anything of that sort, William, if you want to. You can.”
”The county has hired the men already. They're arriving in the middle of September.”
”Oh the men! Who cares about the men!”
”It isn't a thing to do, they're fine museum people-”
”Another month, William. What's another month? The museum will be forever, won't it? So what's one month to forever?”
Afterward, she said; forever, she said. And afterward she would come to stay with him forever.
”And meanwhile?” he asked.
”Oh, meanwhile I'll be good.”
This seared him. ”I didn't suggest-” he began, but wheeled from it in distaste. He had forgiven her. He was certain he had forgiven her. ”What is this Enoch?” he said instead.
”A Jew.”
”I mean who is he.”
”Well, you said what. I thought you knew who, for goodness' sake. He's the Youth Leader.”
”Is he old or young?”