crome yellow(克罗姆·耶娄)-第19章
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arms flung wide to right and left。 A white； relentless light poured down
from a point in the right foreground。 The beast； the fallen man； were
sharply illuminated； round them； beyond and behind them； was the night。
They were alone in the darkness； a universe in themselves。 The horse's
body filled the upper part of the picture； the legs； the great hoofs； frozen to
stillness in the midst of their trampling； limited it on either side。 And
beneath lay the man； his foreshortened face at the focal point in the centre；
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his arms outstretched towards the sides of the picture。 Under the arch of
the horse's belly； between his legs； the eye looked through into an intense
darkness； below； the space was closed in by the figure of the prostrate man。
A central gulf of darkness surrounded by luminous forms。。。
The picture was more than half finished。 Gombauld had been at
work all the morning on the figure of the man； and now he was taking a
restthe time to smoke a cigarette。 Tilting back his chair till it touched
the wall； he looked thoughtfully at his canvas。 He was pleased； and at
the same time he was desolated。 In itself； the thing was good； he knew it。
But that something he was after； that something that would be so terrific if
only he could catch ithad he caught it？ Would he ever catch it？
Three little tapsrat； tat； tat！ Surprised； Gombauld turned his eyes
towards the door。 Nobody ever disturbed him while he was at work； it
was one of the unwritten laws。 〃Come in！〃 he called。 The door； which
was ajar； swung open； revealing； from the waist upwards； the form of
Mary。 She had only dared to mount half…way up the ladder。 If he didn't
want her； retreat would be easier and more dignified than if she climbed to
the top。
〃May I come in？〃 she asked。
〃Certainly。〃
She skipped up the remaining two rungs and was over the threshold in
an instant。 〃A letter came for you by the second post；〃 she said。 〃I
thought it might be important； so I brought it out to you。〃 Her eyes； her
childish face were luminously candid as she handed him the letter。 There
had never been a flimsier pretext。
Gombauld looked at the envelope and put it in his pocket unopened。
〃Luckily；〃 he said； 〃it isn't at all important。 Thanks very much all the
same。〃
There was a silence； Mary felt a little uncomfortable。 〃May I have a
look at what you've been painting？〃 she had the courage to say at last。
Gombauld had only half smoked his cigarette； in any case he wouldn't
begin work again till he had finished。 He would give her the five
minutes that separated him from the bitter end。 〃This is the best place to
see it from；〃 he said。
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Mary looked at the picture for some time without saying anything。
Indeed； she didn't know what to say； she was taken aback； she was at a
loss。 She had expected a cubist masterpiece； and here was a picture of a
man and a horse； not only recognisable as such； but even aggressively in
drawing。 Trompe…l'oeilthere was no other word to describe the
delineation of that foreshortened figure under the trampling feet of the
horse。 What was she to think； what was she to say？ Her orientations
were gone。 One could admire representationalism in the Old Masters。
Obviously。 But in a modern。。。？ At eighteen she might have done so。
But now； after five years of schooling among the best judges； her
instinctive reaction to a contemporary piece of representation was
contemptan outburst of laughing disparagement。 What could
Gombauld be up to？ She had felt so safe in admiring his work before。
But nowshe didn't know what to think。 It was very difficult； very
difficult。
〃There's rather a lot of chiaroscuro； isn't there？〃 she ventured at last；
and inwardly congratulated herself on having found a critical formula so
gentle and at the same time so penetrating。
〃There is；〃 Gombauld agreed。
Mary was pleased； he accepted her criticism； it was a serious
discussion。 She put her head on one side and screwed up her eyes。 〃I
think it's awfully fine；〃 she said。 〃But of course it's a little
too。。。too。。。trompe…l'oeil for my taste。〃 She looked at Gombauld； who
made no response； but continued to smoke； gazing meditatively all the
time at his picture。 Mary went on gaspingly。 〃When I was in Paris this
spring I saw a lot of Tschuplitski。 I admire his work so tremendously。
Of course； it's frightfully abstract nowfrightfully abstract and frightfully
intellectual。 He just throws a few oblongs on to his canvasquite flat；
you know； and painted in pure primary colours。 But his design is
wonderful。 He's getting more and more abstract every day。 He'd given
up the third dimension when I was there and was just thinking of giving up
the second。 Soon； he says； there'll be just the blank canvas。 That's the
logical conclusion。 Complete abstraction。 Painting's finished； he's
finishing it。 When he's reached pure abstraction he's going to take up
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architecture。 He says it's more intellectual than painting。 Do you
agree？〃 she asked； with a final gasp。
Gombauld dropped his cigarette end and trod on it。 〃Tschuplitski's
finished painting；〃 he said。 〃I've finished my cigarette。 But I'm going
on painting。〃 And； advancing towards her； he put his arm round her
shoulders and turned her round； away from the picture。
Mary looked up at him； her hair swung back； a soundless bell of gold。
Her eyes were serene； she smiled。 So the moment had come。 His arm
was round her。 He moved slowly； almost imperceptibly； and she moved
with him。 It was a peripatetic embracement。 〃Do you agree with him？〃
she repeated。 The moment might have come； but she would not cease to
be intellectual； serious。
〃I don't know。 I shall have to think about it。〃 Gombauld loosened
his embrace； his hand dropped from her shoulder。 〃Be careful going
down the ladder；〃 he added solicitously。
Mary looked round； startled。 They were in front of the open door。
She remained standing there for a moment in bewilderment。 The hand that
had rested on her shoulder made itself felt lower down her back； it
administered three or four kindly little smacks。 Replying automatically
to its stimulus； she moved forward。
〃Be careful going down the ladder；〃 said Gombauld once more。
She was careful。 The door closed behind her and she was alone in
the little green close。 She wal
