cb.imajica1-第5节

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urned　on　the　little　electric　fire；　made　himself　a　cup　of　fake　coffee　with　fake　milk；　and；　under　its　influence；　thought　about　deception。
　The　last　six　years　of　his　life…since　Judith；　in　fact…had　been　a　series　of　duplicities。　This　was　not　of　itself　disastrous…after　tonight　it　would　once　more　be　his　profess　sion…but　whereas　painting　had　a　tangible　end　result　（two；　if　he　included　the　repense）；　pursuit　and　seduction　always　left　him　naked　and　empty…handed。　An　end　to　that；　tonight。　He　made　a　vow；　toasted　in　bad　coffee；　to　the　God　of　Forgers；　whoever　he　was；　to　bee　great。　If　duplicity　was　his　genius；　why　waste　it　on　deceiving　husbands　and　mistresses？　He　should　turn　it　to　a　profounder　end；　produc　ing　masterpieces　in　another　man's　name。　Time　would　validate　him；　the　way　Klein　had　said　it　would：　uncover　his　many　works　and　show　him；　at　last；　as　the　visionary　he　was　about　to　bee。　And　if　it　didn't…if　Ktein　was　wrong　and　his　handiwork　remained　undiscovered　forever…then　that　was　the　truest　vision　of　all。　Invisible；　he　would　be　seen；　un　known；　he'd　be　influential。　It　was　enough　to　make　him　for　get　women　entirely。　At　least　for　tonight。
　
　
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　AT　DUSK　THE　CLOUDS　OVER　MANHATTAN；　which　had　threatened　snow　all　day；　cleared　and　revealed　a　pristine　sky；　its　color　so　ambiguous　it　might　have　fueled　a　philosophical　debate　as　to　the　nature　of　blue。　Laden　as　she　was　with　her　day's　purchases；　Jude　chose　to　walk　back　to　Marlin's　apartment　at　Park　Avenue　and　80th。　Her　arms　ached；　but　it　gave　her　time　to　turn　over　in　her　head　the　encounter　which　had　marked　the　day　and　decide　whether　she　wanted　to　share　it　with　Martin　or　not。　Unfortunately；　he　had　a　lawyer's　mind：　at　best；　cool　and　analytical；　at　worst；　reductionist。　She　knew　herself　well　enough　to　know　that　if　he　challenged　her　account　in　the　latter　mode　she'd　almost　certainly　lose　her　temper　with　him；　and　then　the　atmosphere　between　them；　which　had　been　（with　the　exception　of　his　overtures）　so　easy　and　undemanding；　would　be　spoiled。　It　was　better　to　work　out　what　she　believed　about　the　events　of　the　previous　two　hours　before　she　shared　it　with　Marlin。　Then　he　could　dissect　it　at　will。
　Already；　after　going　over　the　encounter　a　few　times；　it　was　being；　like　the　blue　overhead；　ambiguous。　But　she　held　on　hard　to　the　facts　of　the　matter。　She'd　been　in　the　menswear　department　of　Bloomingdale's；　looking　for　a　sweater　for　Marlin。　It　was　crowded；　and　there　was　nothing　on　display　that　she　thought　appropriate。　She'd　started　to　pick　up　the　purchases　at　her　feet　when　she'd　caught　sight　of　a　face　she　knew；　looking　straight　at　her　through　the　moving　mesh　of　people。　How　long　had　she　seen　the　face　for？　A　second；　two　at　most？　Long　enough　for　her　heart　to　jump　and　her　face　to　flush；　long　enough　for　her　mouth　to　open　and　shape　the　word　Gentle。　Then　the　traffic　between　them　had　thickened；　and　he'd　disappeared。　She'd　fixed　the　place　where　he'd　been；　stooped　to　pick　up　her　baggage；　and　gone　after　him；　not　doubting　that　it　was　he。
　The　crowd　slowed　her　progress；　but　she　soon　caught　sight　of　him　again；　heading　towards　the　door。　This　time　she　yelled　his　name；　not　giving　a　damn　if　she　looked　a　fool；　and　dove　after　him。　She　was　impressive　in　full　flight；　and　the　crowd　yielded；　so　that　by　the　time　she　reached　the　door　he　was　only　yards　away。　Third　Avenue　was　as　thronged　as　the　store；　but　there　he　was；　heading　across　the　street。　The　lights　changed　as　she　got　to　the　curb。　She　went　after　him　anyway；　daring　the　traffic。　As　she　yelled　again　he　was　buffeted　by　a　shopper；　on　some　business　as　urgent　as　hers；　and　he　turned　as　he　was　struck；　giving　her　a　second　glimpse　of　him。　She　might　have　laughed　out　loud　at　the　absurdity　of　her　error　had　it　not　disturbed　her　so。　Either　she　was　losing　her　mind；　or　she'd　followed　the　wrong　man。　Either　way；　this　black　man；　his　ringleted　hair　gleaming　on　his　shoulders；　was　not　Gentle。　Momentarily　undecided　as　to　whether　to　go　on　looking　or　to　give　up　the　chase　there　and　then；　her　eyes　lingered　on　the　stranger's　face；　and　for　a　heartbeat　or　less　his　features　blurred　and　in　their　flux；　caught　as　if　by　the　sun　off　a　wing　in　the　stratosphere；　she　saw　Gentle；　his　hair　swept　back　from　his　high　forehead；　his　gray　eyes　al！　yearning；　his　mouth；　which　she'd　not　known　she　missed　till　now；　ready　to　break　into　a　smile。　It　never　came。　The　wing　dipped；　the　stranger　turned；　Gentle　was　gone。　She　stood　in　the　throng　for　several　seconds　while　he　disappeared　downtown。　Then；　gathering　herself　together；　she　turned　her　back　on　the　mystery　and　started　home。
　It　didn't　leave　her　thoughts；　of　course。　She　was　a　woman　who　trusted　her　senses；　and　to　discover　them　so　deceptive　distressed　her。　But　more　vexing　still　was　why　it　should　be　that　particular　face；　of　all　those　in　her　memory's　catalogue；　she'd　chosen　to　configure　from　that　of　a　perfect　stranger。　Klein's　Bastard　Boy　was　out　of　her　life；　and　she　out　of　his。　It　was　six　years　since　she'd　crossed　the　bridge　from　where　they'd　stood　together；　and　the　river　that　flowed　between　was　a　torrent。　Her　marriage　to　Estabrook　had　e　and　gone　along　that　river；　and　a　good　deal　of　pain　with　it。　Gentle　was　still　on　the　other　shore；　part　of　her　history：　irretrievable。　So　why　had　she　conjured　him　now？
　As　she　came　within　a　block　of　Marlin's　building　she　remembered　something　she'd　utterly　put　out　of　her　head　for　that　six…year　span。　It　had　been　a　glimpse　of　Gentle；　not　so　unlike　the　one　she'd　just　had；　that　had　propelled　her　into　her　near…suicidal　affair　with　him。　She'd　met　him　at　one　of　Klein's　parties…a　casual　encounter…and　had　given　him　very　little　conscious　thought　subsequently。　Then；　three　nights　later；　she'd　been　visited　by　an　erotic　dream　that　regularly　haunted　her。　The　scenario　was　always　the　same。　She　was　lying　naked　on　bare　boards　in　an　empty　room；　not　bound　but　somehow　bounded；　and　a　man　whose　face　she　could　never　see；　his　mouth　so　sweet　it　was　like　eating　candy　to　kiss　him；　made　violent　Jove　to　her。　Only　this　time　the　fire　that　burned　in　the　grate　close　by　showed　her　the　face　of　her　dream　lover；　and　it　had　been　Gentle's　face。　The　shock；　after　so　many　years　of　never　knowing　who　the　man　was；　woke　her；　but　with　such　a　sense　of　loss　at　this　interrupted　coitus　she　couldn't　sleep　again　for　mourning　it。　The　next　day　she'd　discovered　his　whereabouts　from　Klein；　who'd　warned　her　in　no　uncertain　manner　that　John　Zacharias　was　bad　news　for　tender　hearts。　She'd　ignored　the　warning　and　gone　to　see　him　that　very　afternoon；　in　the　studio　off　the　Edgware　Road。　They　scarcely　left　it　for　the　next　two　weeks；　their　passion　putting　her　dreams　to　shame。
　Only　later；　when　she　was　in　love　with　him　and　it　was　too　late　for　mon　sense　to　qualify　her　feelings；　did　she　learn　more　about　him。　He　trailed　a　reputation　for　womanizing　that；　even　if　it　was　ninety　percent　invention；　as　she　assumed；　was　still　prodigious。　If　she　mentioned　his　name　in　any　circle；　however　jaded　it　was　by　gossip；　there　was　always　somebody　who　had　some　tidbit　about　him。　He　even　went　by　a　variety　of　names。　Some　referred　to　him　as　the　Furie；　some　as　Zach　or　Zacho；　or　Mr。　Zee；　others　called　him　Gentle；　which　was　the　name　she　knew　him　by；　of　course；　still　others；　John　the　Divine。　Enough　names　for　half　a　dozen　lifetimes。　She　wasn't　so　blindly　devoted　to　him　that　she　didn't　accept　there　was　truth　in　these　rumors。　Nor　did　he　do　much　to　temper　them。　He　liked　the　air　of　legend　that　hung　about　his　head。　He　claimed；　for　instance；　not　to　know　how　old　he　was。　Like　herself；　he　had　a　very　slippery　grasp　on　the　past。　And　he　frankly　admitted　to　being　obsessed　with　her　sex。　Some　of　the　talk　she'd　heard　was　of　cradle…snatching；　some　of　deathbed　fucks：　he　played　no　favorites。
　So；　here　was　her　Gentle：　a　man　known　to　the　doormen　of　every　exclusive　club　and　hotel　in　the　city；　who；　after　ten　years　of　high　living　had　survived　the　ravages　of　every　excess；　who　was　still　lucid；　still　handsome；　still　alive。　And　this　same　man；　this　Gentle；　told　her　he　was　in　love　with　her　and　put　the　words　together　so　perfectly　she　disregarded　all　she'd　heard　but　those　he　spoke。
　She　might　have　gone　on　listening　forever　but　for　her　rage；　which　was　the　legend　she　trailed。　A　volatile　thing；　apt　to　ferment　in　her　without　her　even　being　aware　of　it。　That　had　been　the　case　with　Gentle。　After　half　a　year　of　their　affair；　she'd　begun　to　wonder；　wallowing　in　his　affection；　how　a　man　whose　history　had　been　one　infidelity　after　another　had　mended　his　ways；　which　thought　led　to　the　possibility　that　perhaps　he　hadn't。　In　fact　she　had　no　reason　to　suspect　him。　His　devotion　bordered　on　the　obsessive　in　some　moods；　as　though　he　saw　in　her　a　woman　she　didn't　even　know　herself；　an　ancient　soul　mate。　She　was；　she　began　to　think；　unlike　any　other　woman　he'd　ever　met；　the　love　that　had　changed　his　life。　When　they　were　so　intimately　joined；　how　would　she　not　know　if　he　was　cheating　on　her？　She'd　have　surety　sensed　the　other　woman。　Tasted　her　on　his　tongue；　or　smelled　her　on　his　skin。　And　if　not　there；　then　in　the　subtleties　of　their　exchanges。　But　she'd　underestimated　him。　When；　by　the　sheerest　fluke；　she'd　j　discovered　he　had　not　one　other　woman　on　the　side　but　two；　it　drove　her　to　near　insanity。　She　began　by　destroying　the　contents　of　the　studio；　slashing　all　his　canvases；　painted　or　not；　then　tracking　th