iancaldwell&dustinthomason.theruleoffour-第76章

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us；　then　we　felt　like　ghosts　afterward；　when　everyone　began　to　forget。　The　university's　memorial　service　for　Paul　was　held　in　the　chapel；　but　could've　fit　in　a　small　classroom　for　the　tiny　crowd　it　drew；　hardly　as　many　students　as　professors；　and　most　of　those　just　members　of　the　EMT　squad　or　of　Ivy；　showing　up　out　of　passion　for　Charlie　or　Gil。　The　only　faculty　member　who　approached　me　after　the　service　was　Professor　LaRoque；　the　woman　who　first　sent　Paul　to　see　Taft…and　even　she　seemed　interested　only　in　the　Hypnerotomachia；　in　Paul's　discovery　rather　than　in　Paul　himself。　I　told　her　nothing；　and　made　a　point　of　doing　the　same　every　time　the　Hypnerotomachia　came　up　after　that。　I　thought　it　was　the　least　I　could　do；　not　giving　away　to　strangers　the　secret　Paul　had　worked　so　hard　to　keep　between　friends。
　What　briefly　caused　a　resurgence　of　interest　was　the　discovery；　a　week　after　the　headline　about　the　underground　parking　lot；　that　Richard　Curry　had　liquidated　his　assets　just　before　leaving　New　York　for　Princeton。　He　had　placed　the　money　in　a　private　trust；　along　with　the　residual　properties　of　his　auction　house。　When　banks　refused　to　reveal　the　terms　of　the　trust；　Ivy　asserted　a　right　to　the　money；　as　pensation　for　its　damages。　Only　when　the　club's　board　decided　that　not　a　stone　of　the　new　building　would　be　bought　with　Curry's　money　did　the　flap　subside。　Meanwhile；　papers　flocked　to　the　news　that　Richard　Curry　had　left　all　of　his　money　to　an　unnamed　trustee；　and　a　few　even　suggested　what　I　already　believed…that　the　money　was　meant　for　Paul。
　Knowing　nothing　of　Paul's　thesis；　though；　the　greater　public　could　make　little　sense　of　Curry's　intentions；　so　they　dug　into　his　friendship　with　Taft　until　the　two　men　became　a　farce；　an　explanation　for　all　evil　that　was　no　explanation　at　all。　Taft's　home　at　the　Institute　became　a　ghost　house。　New　Institute　Fellows　refused　to　live　there；　and　townie　teenagers　dared　each　other　to　break　in。
　The　only　benefit　of　the　new　climate；　the　one　of　fantastic　theories　and　sensational　headlines；　was　that　it　soon　became　impossible　to　suggest　that　Gil　and　Charlie　and　I　had　done　anything　wrong　at　all。　We　weren't　flamboyant　enough　to　play　a　role　in　what　had　happened；　bizarre　as　everyone　thought　it　was；　not　when　the　local　news　could　fill　its　coverage　with　pictures　of　Rasputin　Taft　and　the　lunatic　Curry　who　killed　him。　The　police　and　the　university　both　acknowledged　that　they　had　no　intention　of　pursuing　any　action　against　us；　and　I　suppose　it　made　a　difference　to　our　parents　that　we　would　graduate　without　disgrace。　None　of　it　mattered　much　to　Gil；　since　that　sort　of　thing　never　did；　and　I　couldn't　get　around　to　giving　much　of　a　damn　myself。
　Still；　I　think　it　took　a　load　off　Charlie's　mind。　He　lived　increasingly　in　the　shadow　of　what　had　happened。　Gil　called　it　a　persecution　plex；　the　way　he　expected　misfortune　at　every　turn；　but　I　think　Charlie　had　simply　convinced　himself　that　he　could've　saved　Paul。　Whatever　it　was；　there　was　going　to　be　a　reckoning　for　his　failures…if　not　at　Princeton；　then　in　the　future。　It　wasn't　so　much　persecution　Charlie　feared；　it　was　judgment。
　　
　The　only　hint　of　pleasure　in　my　final　days　of　college　came　from　Katie。　At　first　she　brought　food　to　Gil　and　me；　while　Charlie　was　still　in　the　hospital。　In　the　wake　of　the　fire；　she　and　other　Ivy　sophomores　had　begun　a　co…op；　buying　their　own　food　and　making　their　own　meals。　Afraid　that　we　weren't　eating；　she　always　cooked　for　three。　Later；　she　would　take　me　on　walks；　insisting　that　the　sun　had　restorative　powers；　that　there　were　traces　of　lithium　in　cosmic　rays　you　could　only　catch　at　dawn。　She　even　took　pictures　of　us；　as　if　she　saw　something　in　those　days　worth　remembering。　The　photographer　in　her　was　convinced　that　the　solution　lay　somehow　in　the　right　exposure　to　light。
　Without　Ivy　in　her　life；　Katie　seemed　even　closer　to　what　I　wanted　her　to　be；　and　even　less　like　the　side　of　Gil　I　never　understood。　Her　spirits　were　always　up；　and　her　hair　was　always　down。　The　night　before　graduation；　she　invited　me　back　to　her　room　after　a　movie；　claiming　she　wanted　me　to　say　good…bye　to　her　roommates。　I　knew　she　meant　something　else；　but　that　night　I　told　her　I　couldn't　do　it。　There　would　be　too　many　pictures　of　the　certainties　she　carried　with　her；　family　and　old　friends　and　the　dog　at　the　foot　of　her　bed　in　New　Hampshire。　A　final　night　in　a　room　surrounded　by　all　her　fixed　stars　would　only　remind　me　of　how　much　my　own　life　was　in　flux。
　We　watched　in　those　final　weeks　as　the　investigation　into　the　fire　at　Ivy　drew　to　a　close。　At　last；　on　the　Friday　before　mencement；　as　though　the　announcement　had　been　timed　to　give　closure　to　the　academic　year；　the　local　authorities　acknowledged　that　Richard　Curry；　〃in　a　way　coincident　with　firsthand　accounts；　precipitated　a　fire　within　the　Ivy　Club；　causing　the　death　of　both　men　inside　the　building。〃　In　support　of　this；　they　advanced　two　shards　of　a　human　jaw；　which　matched　Curry's　dental　records。　The　explosion　of　the　gas　main　had　left　little　else。
　Yet　the　investigation　remained　open　and　nothing　specific　was　ever　said　of　Paul。　I　knew　why。　Just　three　days　after　the　explosion；　an　investigator　had　confessed　to　Gil　that　they　held　out　hope　of　Paul's　survival：　the　remains　they'd　found　were　merely　scraps；　and　what　few　of　them　were　identifiable　were　Curry's。　For　the　following　days；　then；　we　waited　hopefully　for　Paul's　return。　But　when　he　never　did　return；　never　staggered　from　the　woods　or　turned　up　in　a　familiar　place；　having　forgotten　himself　for　a　time；　the　investigators　seemed　to　realize　it　was　better　to　be　silent　than　to　ply　us　with　false　hope。
　　
　Graduation　came　warm　and　green；　without　a　whisper　of　wind；　as　though　such　a　thing　as　Easter　weekend　could　never　have　been。　There　was　even　a　butterfly　in　the　air；　fluttering　like　a　displaced　emblem；　as　I　sat　in　the　yard　of　Nassau　Hall；　surrounded　by　classmates　in　our　robes　and　tassels；　waiting　to　be　pronounced。　Up　there；　in　the　tower；　I　imagined　a　bell　tolling　silently　without　a　clapper：　Paul；　celebrating　our　fortune；　just　behind　the　creases　of　the　world。
　There　were　phantoms　everywhere　in　that　daylight。　Women　in　evening　gowns；　from　the　Ivy　ball；　dancing　in　the　sky　like　nativity　angels；　announcing　a　new　season。　Nude　Olympians　streaking　in　the　courtyards；　unashamed　of　their　nakedness；　in　a　specter　of　the　season　just　passed。　The　salutatorian　quipped　in　Latin；　jokes　I　didn't　understand；　and　for　an　instant　I　imagined　that　it　was　Taft　up　there　who　addressed　us；　Taft；　and　behind　him　Francesco　Colonna；　and　behind　them　a　chorus　of　wizened　philosophers　who　all　delivered　a　solemn　refrain；　like　drunken　apostles　singing　the　〃Battle　Hymn　of　the　Republic。〃
　The　three　of　us　returned　to　the　room　one　last　time　after　the　ceremony。　Charlie　was　heading　back　to　Philadelphia　for　a　summer　of　ambulance　work　before　medical　school　in　the　fall。　He　had　chosen　the　University　of　Pennsylvania；　he　told　us　finally；　after　wavering　for　so　long。　He　wanted　to　stay　near　home。　Gil　was　collecting　the　knickknacks　from　his　bedroom　with　a　touch　of　eagerness　I　half　expected。　He　confessed　to　having　a　ticket　out　of　New　York　that　evening。　Going　to　Europe　for　a　while；　he　said。　To　Italy；　of　all　places。　He　needed　some　time　to　figure　things　out。
　We　collected　our　last　day's　mail　together；　Charlie　and　I；　once　Gil　was　gone。　Inside　the　box　were　four　small　envelopes；　identical　in　size。　They　contained　registration　slips　for　the　alumni　directory；　one　to　each　of　us。　I　placed　mine　in　my　pocket；　and　took　Paul's；　as　well；　realizing　he　hadn't　been　stricken　from　our　class　list。　I　wondered　for　a　moment　if　they'd　drawn　up　a　diploma　for　him；　too；　which　now　sat　somewhere　uncollected。　But　on　the　fourth　envelope；　the　one　addressed　to　Gil；　his　name　had　been　crossed　off；　and　mine　had　been　written　in　his　hand。　I　opened　it　and　read。　The　form　had　been　pleted；　with　an　address　penned　out　for　a　hotel　in　Italy。　Dear　Tom；　it　said；　across　the　inside　lip　of　the　envelope。　I　left　Paul's　here　for　you。　I　thought　you　would　want　it。　Tell　Charlie　I'm　sorry　for　leaving　in　a　rush。　I　know　you　understand。　If　in　Italy；　please　call。　…G。
　I　hugged　Charlie　before　we　parted。　A　week　later；　he　called　me　at　home　to　ask　if　I　planned　to　attend　ou