cc.iceberg-第37节

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　Pitt　pulled　Tidi　out　on　the　terrace　and　slowly　walked　her　to　a　corner　away　from　the　mainstream　of　the　crowd。　He　watched　the　small　groups　of　guests　milling　about　the　expansive　double　doors；　catching　them　looking　his　way　and　then　turning　back；　not　in　embarrassment；　but　rather　as　if　they　were　scientists　observing　an　experiment　and　discussing　its　probable　oute。　He　began　to　get　the　uneasy　feeling　that　ing　into　Rondheim's　lair　was　a　mistake。　He　was　just　in　the　process　of　thinking　up　an　excuse　to　leave　when　Kirsti　Fyrie　spied　them　and　came　alongside。
　〃Would　you　care　to　be　seated　in　the　study？　We're　almost　ready　to　begin。〃
　〃Who　is　giving　the　reading？〃　Tidi　asked。
　
　Kirsti's　face　brightened。　〃Why；　Oskar；　of　course。〃
　〃Oh；　dear　God；〃　Pitt　mumbled　under　his　breath。
　
　Like　a　lamb　to　slaughter；　he　let　Kirsti　lead　him　to　the　study　with　Tidi　tagging　behind。
　
　By　the　time　they　reached　the　study　and　found　a　seat　among　the　long　circular　rows　of　plush　armchairs　grouped　around　a　raised　dais；　the　room　was　nearly　brimming　to　capacity。　It　was　small　consolation；　but　Pitt　considered　he　and　Tidi　fortunate　to　sit　in　the　last　row　near　the　doorway；　offering　a　possible　means　of　unnoticed　departure　when　the　opportunity　arose。　Then　his　hopes　went　up　in　smoke…a　servant　closed　and　bolted　the　doors。
　
　After　a　few　moments；　the　servant　turned　a　rheostat　and　dimmed　the　lights；　throwing　the　study　into　solid　darkness。　Then　Kirsti　climbed　the　dais　and　two　soft；　pink　spotlights　came　on；　giving　her　the　aura　of　a　sculptured　Greek　goddess　standing　serenely　on　her　pedestal　in　the　Louvre。　Pitt　mentally　undressed　her；　trying　to　imagine　what　an　awesome　picture　she　would　have　made　in　that　revealing　condition。　He　stole　a　glance　at　Tidi。
　
　The　enraptured　quality　of　her　expression　made　him　wonder　if　it　were　possible　that　her　thoughts　were　similar　to　his。　He　groped　for　her　hand；　found　it　and　squeezed　the　fingers　tightly。　Tidi　was　so　absorbed　with　the　vision　on　the　dais；　she　didn't　even　notice　or　respond　to　Pitts　touch。
　
　Standing　there　motionless；　soaking　up　the　stares　from　an　audience　still　invisible　beyond　the　glare　of　the　spotlight　。　Fyrie　smiled　confidently　with　that　inner　glow　of　self…assurance　that　only　a　woman　truly　secure　in　her　loveliness　can　possess。
　
　She　bowed　her　head　toward　the　hushed　bodies　in　the　darkness　and　began　to　speak。　〃Ladies　and　gentlemen；　distinguished　guests。　Tonight；　our　host；　Mr。　Oskar　Rondheim；　will　offer　for　your　enjoyment　his　latest　work。　This　he　will　read　in　our　native　Icelandic　tongue。
　
　Then；　since　most　of　you　understand　English；　he　will　read　selected　verses　from　the　marvelous　new　contemporary　Irish　poet；　Sean　Magee。〃
　
　Pitt　turned　and　whispered　to　Tidi。　〃I　should　have　fortified　myself　with　at　least　ten　more　cups　of　that　punch。〃
　
　He　couldn't　see　Tidi's　face。　He　didn't　have　to…he　felt　her　elbow　jab　him　sharply　in　the　ribs。　When　he　turned　back　to　Kirsti；　she　had　disappeared　and　Rondheim　hid　taken　her　place。
　
　It　might　have　been　said　that　Pitt　suffered　the　agonies　of　the　damned　for　the　next　hour　and　a　half。　But　he　didn't。　Five　minutes　after　Rondheim　began　delivering　his　Icelandic　saga　in　a　rolling　monotone；　Pitt　was　sound　asleep；　content　in　the　fact　that　no　one　would　notice　his　lack　of　poetry　appreciation　in　the　darkened　surroundings。
　
　No　sooner　had　the　first　wave　of　unconsciousness　swept　over　him　than　Pitt　found　himself　back　on　the　beach　for　the　hundredth　time；　cradling　Dr。　Hunnewell's　head　in　his　arms。　Over　and　over　he　watched　helplessly　as　Hunnewell　stared　vacantly　into　Pitts　eyes；　trying　to　speak；　fighting　desperately　to　make　himself　understood。
　
　Then　finally；　barely　uttering　those　three　words　that　seemingly　had　no　meaning；　a　cloud　passed　over　his　tired　old　features　and　he　was　dead。
　
　The　strange　phenomenon　of　the　dream　wasn't　its　actual　recurrence；　but　rather　the　fact　that　no　two　sequences　were　exactly　the　same。　Each　time　that　Hunnewell　died；　something　was　different。　In　one　dream　the　children　would　be　present　on　the　beach　as　they　had　been　in　reality。　In　the　next；　they　would　be　missing；　nowhere　in　sight'。　Once　the　black　jet　circled　overhead；　dipping　its　wings　in　an　unexpected　salute。　Even　Sandecker　appeared　in　one　scene；　standing　over　Pitt　and　Hunnewell　and　sadly　shaking　his　head。　The　weather；　the　layout　of　the　beach；　the　color　of　the　sea…they　all　differed　from　fantasy　to　fantasy。　Only　one　small　detail　always　remained　faithfully…Hunnewell's　last　words。
　
　The　audience's　applause　woke　Pitt　up。　He　stared　at　nothing　in　particular；　stupidly　gathering　his　thoughts。
　
　The　lights　had　e　on　and　he　spent　several　moments　blinking　and　getting　his　eyes　accustomed　to　the　glare。
　
　Rondheim　was　still　on　the　dais；　smugly　accepting　the　generous　acclaim。　He　held　up　his　hands　for　silence。
　〃As　most　of　you　know；　my　favorite　diversion　is　memorizing　verse。　With　all　due　modesty；　I　must　honestly　state　that　my　acquired　knowledge　is　quite　formidable。　I　would；　at　this　time；　like　to　put　my　reputation　on　the　block　and　invite　any　of　you　in　the　audience　to　begin　a　line　of　any　verse　that　es　to　your　mind。　If　I　cannot　finish　the　stanza　that　follows　or；　plete　the　poem　to　your　total　satisfaction；　I　shall　personally　donate　fifty　thousand　dollars　to　your　favorite　charity。〃　He　waited　until　the　murmur　of　excited　voices　tapered　to　silence　once　more。
　〃Shall　we　begin？　Who　will　be　first　to　challenge　my　memory？〃
　
　Sir　Eric　Marks　stood。〃　'Should　the　guardian　friend　or　mother…'　Try　that　one　for　an　introduction；　Oskar。〃
　
　Rondheim　nodded。　〃　'Tell　the　woes　of　wilful　waste；　Scorn　their　counsel；　scorn　their　pother；　You　can　hang　or　drown　at　last！'　〃　He　paused　for　effect。　〃　'One　and　Twenty'　by　Samuel　Johnson。〃
　
　Marks　bowed　in　acknowledgment。　〃Absolutely　correct。〃
　
　F。　James　Kelly　rose　next。　〃Finish　this　one　if　you　can　and　name　the　author。　'Now　all　my　days　are　trances；　And　all　my　nightly　dreams…'　〃　Rondheim　hardly　skipped　a　beat。
　〃　'Are　where　thy　grey　eye　glances；　And　where　thy　footstep　gleams…In　what　ethereal　dances；　By　what　eternal　streams！'　'The　tine　in　Paradise'　and　it　was　written　by　Edgar　Allan　Poe。〃
　〃My　pliments。　Oskar。〃　Kelly　was　visibly　impressed。　〃You　rate　an　A　plus。〃
　
　Rondheim　looked　about　the　room；　a　smile　slowly　spreading　across　his　chiseled　face　as　a　familiar　figure　rose　in　the　back。　〃Do　you　wish　to　try　your　luck；　Major　Pitt？〃
　
　Pitt　looked　at　Rondheim　somberly。　〃I　can　only　offer　you　three　words。〃
　〃I　accept　the　challenge；〃　Rondheim　said　confidently。　〃Please　state　them。〃
　〃　'God　save　thee；'　〃　Pitt　said　very　slowly；　almost　as　if　he　were　skeptical　of　any　additional　tines。
　
　Rondheim　laughed。　〃Elementary；　Major。　You've　done　me　the　kindness　of　allowing　me　to　quote　from　my　favorite　verse。〃　The　contempt　in　Rondheim's　voice　was　there；　everyone　in　the　room　could　feel　it。〃　'God　save　thee；　ancient　Mariner；　From　the　fiends；　that　plague　thee　thus。　Why　look'st　thou　so？　With　my　crossbow　I　shot　the　albitross。　The　sun　now　rose　upon　the　right。　Out　on　the　sea　came　he；　Still　hid　in　mist；　and　on　the　left　went　cioN；n　into　the　sea。　And　the　good　south　wind　still　blew　behind；　But　no　sweet　bird　did　follow；　Nor　any　day　for　lo…；mid　or　Dlay　Came　to　the　mariners'　hollo。　And　I　had　done　a　hellish　time；　And　it　would　work　'em　woe。　For　all　averred　I　had　killed　the　bird　That　made　the　breeze　to　blow。'　〃　Then　suddenly　Rondheim　stopped；　looking　at　Pitt　curiously。　〃There's　little　need　to　continue。　It's　obvious　to　all　present　that　you　have　asked　me　to　quote　'The　Rime　of　the　Ancient　Mariner'　by　Samuel　Taylor　Coleridge。〃
　
　Pitt　began　to　breathe　a　little　easier。　The　light　suddenly　became　brighter　at　the　end　of　the　tunnel。　He　knew　something　that　he　hadn't　known　before。　It　wasn't　over　yet；　but　things　were　looking　up。　He　was　glad　now　that　he　had　played　the　proverbial　long　shot。　The　gamble　had　paid　off　in　unexpected　answers。　The　nightmare　of　Hunnewell's　death　would　never　trouble　his　sleep　again。
　
　A　satisfied　smile　touched　his　lips。　〃Thank　you；　Mr。　Rondheim。　Your　memory　serves　you　well。〃
　
　There　was　something　about　Pitts　tone　that　made　Rondheim　uneasy。　〃The　pleasure　is　mine；　Major。〃　He　didn't　like　the　smile　on　Pitt's　face…he　didn't　like　it　at　all。
　
　Chapter　14
　
　Pitt　suffered　for　another　half　hour　as　rondheim　continued　to　awe　the　audience　with　his　vast　repertoire　of　verse。　At　last　the　program　was　over。　The　doors　were　opened　and　the　crowded　room　drained　into　the　main　salon；　the　women　escorted　onto　the　terrace　to　engage　in　small　talk　and　sip　a　sweet　alcoholic　concoction　passed　about　by　the　servants；　the　men　directed　to　the　trophy　room　for　cigars　and　one　hundred…year…old　Rouche　brandy。
　
　The　cigars　were　carried　into　the　room　within　a　sterling　silver　case　and　presented　for　everyone's　selection　except　Pitt。　He　was　blithely　ignored。　After　the　lighting　ritual；　each　man　holding　his　cigar　over　a　candle；　warming　it　to　the　desired　temperature；　the　servants　passed　around　the　Rouche　brandy；　the　heavy；　yellowbrown　fluid　in　exotically　designed　snifter　glasses。　Again　Pitt　was　left　empty…handed。
　
　Apart　from　himself　and　Oskar　Rondheim；　Pitt　counted　thirty…two　men　gathered　around　the　flames　crackling　in　the　immense　fireplace　at　the　end　of　the　trophy　room。　The　reaction　to　Pitts