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brideshead+revisited-第32章

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ber; was always rosy and the other mottled and puckered as though it had been plucked。 There; in the smell of the oil lamp; we sat astride the donkey stools and evoked a barely visible wraith of Trilby。 My drawings were worthless; in my own rooms I designed elaborate little pastiches; some of which; preserved by friends of the period; e to light occasionally to embarrass me。
    We were instructed by a man of about my age; who treated us with defensive hostility; he wore very dark blue shirts; a lemon…yellow tie; and horn…rimmed glasses; and it was largely by reason of this warning that I modified my own style of dress until it approximated to what my cousin jasper would have thought suitable for country…house visiting。 Thus soberly dressed and happily employed I became a fairly respectable member of my college。
    With Sebastian it was different。 His year of anarchy had filled a deep; interior need of his; the escape from reality; and as he found himself increasingly hemmed in; where he once felt himself free; he became at times listless and morose; even with me。

    We kept very much to our own pany that term; each so much bound up in the other that we did not look elsewhere for friends。 My cousin Jasper had told me that it was normal to spend one's second year shaking off the friends of one's first; and it happened as he said。 Most of my friends were those I had made through Sebastian; together we shed them and made no others。 There was no renunciation。 At first we seemed to see them as often as ever; we went to parties but gave few of our own。 I was not concerned to impress the new freshmen who; like their London sisters were here being launched in Society; there were strange faces now at every party and I; who a few months back had been voracious of new acquaintances; now felt surfeited; even our small circle of intimates; so lively in the summer sunshine; seemed dimmed and muted now in the pervading fog; the river…borne twilight that softened and obscured all that year for me。 Anthony Blanche had taken something away with him when he went; he had locked a door and hung the key on his chain; and all his friends; among whom he had always been a stranger; needed him now。
    The Charity matin閑 was over; I felt; the impresario had buttoned his astrakhan coat and taken his fee and the disconsolate ladies of the pany were without a leader。 Without him they forgot their cues and garbled their lines; they needed him to ring the curtain up at the right moment; they needed him to direct the lime…lights they needed his whisper in the wings; and his imperious eye on the leader of the band; without him there were no photographers from the weekly press; no prearranged goodwill and expectation of pleasure。 No stronger bond held them together than mon service; now the gold lace and velvet were packed away and returned to the costumier and the drab uniform of the day put on in its stead。 For a few happy hours of rehearsal; for a few ecstatic minutes of performance; they had played splendid parts; their own great ancestors; the famous paintings they were thought to resemble; now it was over and in the bleak light of day they must go back to their homes; to the husband who came to London too often; to the lover who lost at cards; and to the child who grew too fast。
    Anthony Blanche's set broke up and became a bare dozen lethargic; adolescent Englishmen。 Sometimes in later life they would say: 'Do you remember that extraordinary fellow we used all to know at Oxford … Anthony Blanche? I wonder what became of him。' They lumbered back into the herd from which they had been so capriciously chosen and grew less and less individually recognizable。 The change was not so apparent to them as to us; and they still congregated on occasions in our rooms; but we gave up seeking them。 Instead we formed the taste for lower pany and spent our evenings; as often as not; in Hogarthian little inns in St Ebb's and St Clement's and the streets between the old market and the canal; where we managed to be gay and were; I believe; well liked by the pany。 The Gardener's Arms and the Nag's Head; the Druid's Head near the theatre; and the Turf in Hell Passage knew us well; but in the last of these we were liable to meet other undergraduates pub…crawling hearties from BNC … and Sebastian became possessed by a kind of phobia; like that which sometimes es over men in uniform against their own service; so that many an evening was spoilt by their intrusion; and he would leave his glass half empty and turn sulkily back to college。
    It was thus that Lady Marchmain found us when; early in that Michaelmas term; she came for a week to Oxford。 She found Sebastian subdued; with all his host of friends reduced to one; myself。 She accepted me as Sebastian's friend and sought to make me hers also; and in doing so; unwittingly struck at the roots of our friendship。 That is the single reproach I have to set against her abundant kindness to me。
    Her business in Oxford was with Mr Samgrass of All Souls; who now began to play an increasingly large part in our lives。 Lady Marchmain was engaged in making a memorial book for circulation among her friends; about her brother; Ned; the eldest of three legendary heroes all killed between Mons and Passchendaele; he had left a; quantity of papers … poems; letters; speeches; articles; to edit them; even for a restricted circle; needed tact and countless decisions in which the judgement of an adoring sister was liable to err。 Acknowledging this; she had sought outside advice; and Mr Samgrass had been found to help her。
    He was a young history don; a short; plump man; dapper in dress; with sparse hair brushed flat on an over…large head; neat hands; small feet; and the general appearance of being too often bathed。 His manner was genial and his speech idiosyncratic。 We came to know him well。
    It was Mr Samgrass's particular aptitude to help others with their work; but he was himself the author of several stylish little books。 He was a great delver in muniment…rooms and had a sharp nose for the picturesque。 Sebastian spoke less than the truth when he described him as 'someone of mummy's'; he was someone of almost everyone's
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