iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第23章

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dark　hair　that　fell　over　his　face。　His　tailored　black　blazer　covered　a　starched　white　shirt　with　too　many　buttons　undone。
　Charlie　and　Paul　crept　warily　from　the　building　behind　me；　empty…handed。
　The　young　man　walked　up　to　them；　smiling。　〃So　it's　true？〃　he　said。
　〃What　is？〃　Charlie　growled；　glaring　at　me。
　The　young　man　pointed　at　the　bell　tower。　〃The　clapper。　They　really　took　it　out？〃
　Charlie　said　nothing；　but　Paul　nodded；　still　full　of　adventure。
　Our　new　friend　thought　for　a　second。　〃But　you　got　up　there？〃
　I　began　to　see　where　this　was　leading。
　〃Well；　you　can't　just　leave；〃　he　said。
　Mischief　danced　in　his　eyes。　Charlie　was　liking　him　better　by　the　second。　Before　long　I　was　back　at　my　post；　guarding　the　east　door；　as　all　three　of　them　vanished　into　the　building。
　When　they　returned　fifteen　minutes　later；　they　weren't　wearing　pants。
　〃What　are　you　doing？〃　I　said。
　They　came　toward　me；　arm　in　arm；　doing　a　little　jig　in　their　boxers。　Looking　up　toward　the　cupola；　I　could　make　out　six　pant　legs　flapping　from　the　weather　vane。
　I　stammered　that　we　had　to　get　home；　but　they　looked　at　each　other　and　booed　me。　The　stranger　insisted　that　we　go　back　to　one　of　the　eating　clubs　to　celebrate。　Time　for　a　few　toasts　at　Ivy；　he　said；　knowing　that　at　this　hour　on　Prospect　Avenue；　pants　would　be　optional。　And　Charlie　was　happy　to　agree。
　As　we　walked　east　toward　Ivy；　then；　our　new　friend　told　us　stories　of　his　own　pranks　in　high　school：　dyeing　the　pool　red　for　Valentine's　Day；　releasing　cockroaches　in　English　class　when　the　freshmen　were　reading　Kafka；　scandalizing　the　drama　department　by　inflating　a　giant　penis　above　the　theater　roof　on　opening　night　of　Titus　Andronicus。　You　had　to　be　impressed。　He；　too；　as　it　happened；　was　a　freshman。　A　graduate　of　Exeter；　he　said；　by　the　name　of　Preston　Gilmore　Rankin。
　〃But；〃　he　added；　as　I　remember　to　this　day；　〃call　me　Gil。〃
　Gil　was　different　from　the　rest　of　us；　of　course。　In　retrospect；　I　think　he　arrived　at　Princeton　so　used　to　the　affluence　of　Exeter　that　wealth　and　the　distinctions　it　imposed　on　life　had　bee　invisible　to　him。　The　only　meaningful　yardstick　in　his　eyes　was　character；　and　maybe　that　was　why；　during　our　first　semester；　Gil　was　drawn　immediately　to　Charlie；　and　through　Charlie；　to　us。　His　charm　always　managed　to　smooth　over　the　differences；　and　I　couldn't　help　but　feel　that　to　be　with　Gil　was　to　be　in　the　thick　of　things。
　At　meals　and　parties　he　always　reserved　a　place　for　us；　and　while　Paul　and　Charlie　quickly　decided　that　his　idea　of　a　social　life　wasn't　exactly　like　theirs；　I　found　that　I　enjoyed　Gil's　pany　most　when　we　were　sitting　around　a　dining　table　or　sidled　up　at　a　bar　in　the　Ivy　Club　taproom；　whether　with　friends　or　alone。　If　Paul　was　at　home　in　a　classroom　or　in　a　book；　and　Charlie　was　at　home　in　an　ambulance；　then　Gil　was　at　home　wherever　a　good　conversation　was　to　be　had；　and　the　rest　of　the　world　be　damned。　Many　of　the　best　nights　I　remember　at　Princeton　were　with　him。
　Late　sophomore　spring；　the　time　came　for　us　to　choose　our　eating　clubs…and　for　the　clubs　to　choose　us。　By　then；　most　of　the　clubs　were　using　a　lottery　system　to　determine　selection：　candidates　added　their　names　to　an　open　list；　and　the　new　section　of　the　club　was　chosen　at　random。　But　a　few　maintained　the　older　system；　known　as　bicker。　Bicker　resembles　rush　at　a　fraternity；　in　that　bicker　clubs　choose　their　new　members　based　on　merit　rather　than　on　chance。　And　like　fraternities；　the　definitions　of　merit　they　use　tend　not　to　be　the　same　ones　you　might　find；　say；　in　a　dictionary。　Charlie　and　I　entered　our　names　in　the　lottery　at　Cloister　Inn；　where　our　mutual　friends　seemed　to　be　gathering。　Gil；　of　course；　decided　to　bicker。　And　Paul；　under　the　influence　of　Richard　Curry；　an　old　Ivy　member　himself；　threw　caution　to　the　wind　and　bickered　too。
　From　the　outset；　Gil　was　a　shoe…in　at　Ivy。　He　satisfied　every　possible　criterion　for　admission；　from　being　the　son　of　a　club　alum；　to　being　a　prominent　member　of　the　right　circles　on　campus。　He　was　handsome　in　an　effortless　way…always　stylish；　never　flashy；　dashing　yet　gentlemanly；　bright　but　not　bookish。　That　his　father　was　a　wealthy　stockbroker　who　gave　his　only　son　a　scandalous　allowance　did　nothing　to　hurt　his　chances。　It　came　as　no　more　surprise　when　he　was　admitted　to　Ivy　that　spring　than　when　he　was　elected　its　president　a　year　later。
　Paul's　acceptance　at　Ivy　was　the　product　of　a　different　logic；　I　think。　It　helped　that　Gil；　and　more　distantly　Richard　Curry；　stood　in　his　corner；　making　his　case　in　crowds　where　Paul　would　never　tread。　But　it　wasn't　to　those　connections　alone　that　he　owed　his　success。　Paul　was　also；　by　that　time；　acknowledged　as　one　of　the　academic　luminaries　of　our　class。　Unlike　the　bookworms　who　never　ventured　from　Firestone；　he　was　driven　by　a　curiosity　that　made　him　a　pleasure　to　meet　and　converse　with。　Upperclassmen　at　Ivy　seemed　to　find　something　charming　about　a　sophomore　who　had　no　skill　with　the　tired　banter　of　the　selection　process；　but　referred　to　dead　authors　by　their　first　names；　and　seemed　to　know　them　just　that　well。　It　didn't　even　surprise　Paul　when　they　accepted　him。　When　he　returned　that　spring　night；　soaked　with　celebratory　champagne；　I　thought　he'd　found　a　new　home。
　For　a　while；　in　fact；　Charlie　and　I　worried　that　the　club's　magnetism　would　draw　the　two　of　them　away　from　us。　It　didn't　help　that；　by　then；　Richard　Curry　had　bee　a　prominent　influence　in　Paul's　life。　The　two　had　met　early　in　our　freshman　year；　when　I　agreed　to　have　dinner　with　Curry　on　a　rare　trip　to　New　York。　The　interest　the　man　showed　in　me　after　my　father's　death　had　always　struck　me　as　a　strange；　selfish　thing…I'd　never　known　which　of　us　was　the　surrogate；　the　childless　father　or　the　fatherless　child…so　I　asked　Paul　to　join　us　for　dinner；　hoping　to　use　him　as　a　buffer。　It　worked　better　than　I　intended。　The　connection　was　instant：　the　vision　Curry　always　seemed　to　have　of　my　personal　potential；　which　he　claimed　my　father　shared；　was　realized　all　at　once　in　Paul。　Paul's　interest　in　the　Hypnerotomachia　resurrected　memories　of　Curry's　glory　days　working　on　the　book　with　my　father　and　Vincent　Taft；　and　it　was　only　a　semester　later　that　he　offered　to　send　Paul　to　Italy　for　a　summer　of　research。　By　then；　the　intensity　of　the　man's　support　for　Paul　had　begun　to　worry　me。
　But　if　Charlie　and　I　feared　that　we　were　losing　our　two　friends；　then　we　were　reassured　soon　enough。　At　the　end　of　junior　year；　it　was　Gil　who　suggested　that　the　four　of　us　live　together　as　seniors；　a　decision　that　meant　he　was　willing　to　give　up　living　in　the　President's　Room　at　Ivy　to　keep　us　as　his　roommates　on　campus。　Paul　immediately　agreed。　And　so；　with　a　mediocre　draw　at　the　housing　lottery；　we　found　ourselves　in　a　quad　at　the　north　end　of　Dod。　Charlie　argued　that　a　fourth…floor　room　would　force　us　to　get　more　exercise；　but　convenience　and　good　sense　prevailed；　and　the　ground…floor　suite；　well　furnished　thanks　to　Gil；　became　home　for　our　final　year　at　Princeton。
　　
　Now；　as　Gil；　Paul；　and　I　reach　the　courtyard　between　the　university　chapel　and　the　lecture　hall；　we're　greeted　by　a　strange　sight。　More　than　a　dozen　open…air　canopies　have　been　set　up　in　the　snow；　each　with　a　long　table　of　food　beneath　it。　I　know　immediately　what　it　means；　I　just　can't　believe　it。　The　lecture　organizers　intend　to　serve　refreshments　outside。
　Like　a　country　carnival　just　before　a　hurricane；　the　tables　are　pletely　deserted。　The　ground　beneath　the　canopies　is　choppy　with　mud　and　tufts　of　grass。　Snow　is　creeping　in　from　the　edges；　and　in　the　hectic　wind　the　white　tablecloths　flutter　uneasily；　anchored　by　large　dispensers　of　what　will　soon　be　hot　chocolate　or　coffee；　and　by　cold　platters　of　cookies　and　petits　fours　in　cocoons　of　plastic　wrap。　It　cuts　a　peculiar　image　in　the　silent　courtyard；　like　a　city　extinguished　in　midmotion　by　a　calamity；　a　makeshift　Pompeii。
　〃You've　got　to　be　kidding；〃　Gil　says　as　we　park。　We　get　out　of　the　car；　and　he　starts　toward　the　lecture　hall；　pausing　to　shake　the　support　poles　of　the　nearest　tent。　The　whole　structure　trembles。　〃Wait　till　Charlie　sees　this。〃
　On　cue；　Charlie　appears　at　the　door　of　the　lecture　hall。　For　some　reason　he's