cb.imajica2-第87节

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　〃That's　why　you　despise　me；　isn't　it？〃　Jude　went　on。　〃That's　why　I'm　the　woman　who　stinks　of　coitus。　Because　I　lay　down　with　a　piece　of　the　same　God　that　you　did；　and　you　don't　like　to　be　reminded　of　the　fact。〃
　〃Don't　judge　me；　woman！〃　Celestine　suddenly　shouted。
　〃Then　don't　you　judge　me！　Woman。　I　did　what　I　wanted　with　the　man　I　wanted；　and　I'm　carrying　the　consequences。　You　did　the　same。　I'm　not　ashamed　of　it。　You　are。　That's　why　we're　not　sisters；　Celestine。〃
　She'd　said　her　piece；　and　she　wasn't　much　interested　in　a　further　round　of　insults　and　denials；　so　she　turned　her　back　and　had　her　hand　on　the　door　when　Celestine　spoke。　There　were　no　denials。　She　spoke　softly；　half　lost　to　memory。
　〃It　was　a　city　of　iniquities；〃　she　said。　〃But　how　was　I　to　know　that？　I　thought　I　was　blessed　among　women；　to　have　been　chosen。　To　be　God's…〃
　〃Bride？〃　Jude　said；　turning　back　from　the　door。
　〃That's　a　kind　word；〃　Celestine　said。　〃Yes。　Bride。〃　She　drew　a　deep　breath。　〃I　never　even　saw　my　husband。〃
　〃What　did　you　see？〃
　〃Nobody。　The　city　was　full；　I　know　it　was　full；　I　saw　shadows　at　the　window；　I　saw　them　close　up　the　doors　when　I　passed；　but　nobody　showed　their　faces。〃
　〃Were　you　afraid？〃
　〃No。　It　was　too　beautiful。　The　stones　were　full　of　light；　and　the　houses　were　so　high　you　could　barely　see　the　sky。　It　was　like　nothing　I'd　ever　seen。　And　I　walked；　and　I　walked；　and　I　kept　thinking；　He'll　send　an　angel　for　me　soon；　and　I'll　be　carried　to　His　palace。　But　there　were　no　angels。　There　was　just　the　city；　going　on　and　on　in　every　direction；　and　I　got　tired　after　a　time。　I　sat　down；　just　to　rest　for　a　few　minutes；　and　I　fell　asleep。〃
　〃You　fell　asleep？〃
　〃Yes。　Imagine！　I　was　in　the　City　of　God；　and　I　fell　asleep。　And　I　dreamed　I　was　back　at　Tyburn；　where　Dowd　had　found　me。　I　was　watching　a　man　being　hanged；　and　I　dug　through　the　crowd　until　I　was　standing　under　the　gallows。〃　She　raised　her　head。　〃I　remember　looking　up　at　him；　kicking　at　the　end　of　his　rope。　His　breeches　were　unbuttoned；　and　his　rod　was　poking　out。〃
　The　look　on　her　face　was　all　disgust；　but　she　drove　herself　on　to　finish　the　story。
　〃And　I　lay　down　under　him。　I　lay　down　in　the　dirt　in　front　of　all　these　people；　with　him　kicking；　and　his　rod　getting　redder　and　redder。　And　as　he　died　he　spilled　his　seed。　I　wanted　to　get　up　before　it　touched　me；　but　my　legs　were　open；　and　it　was　too　late。　Down　it　came。　Not　much。　Just　a　few　spurts。　But　I　felt　every　drop　inside　me　like　a　little　fire；　and　I　wanted　to　cry　out。　But　I　didn't；　because　that　was　when　I　heard　the　voice。〃　。
　〃What　voice？〃
　〃It　was　in　the　ground　underneath　me。　Whispering。〃
　〃What　did　it　say？〃
　〃The　same　thing；　over　and　over　again：　Nisi　Nirvana；　Nisi　Nirvana。　Nisi。。。　Nirvana。〃
　In　the　process　of　repeating　the　words；　tears　began　to　flow　copiously。　She　made　no　attempt　to　stem　them；　but　the　repetition　faltered。
　〃Was　it　Hapexamendios　talking　to　you？〃　Jude　asked。
　Celestine　shook　her　head。　〃Why　should）　He　speak　to　me？　He　had　what　He　needed。　I'd　lain　down　and　dreamed　while　He　dropped　His　seed。　He　was　already　gone；　back　to　His　angels。〃
　〃So　who　was　it？〃
　〃I　don't　know。　I've　thought　about　it　over　and　over。　I　even　made　it　into　a　story；　to　tell　the　child；　so　that　when　I'd　gone　he'd　have　the　mystery　for　himself。　But　I　don't　think　I　ever　really　wanted　to　know。　I　was　afraid　my　heart　would　burst　if　I　ever　knew　the　answer。　I　was　afraid　the　heart　of　the　world　would　burst。〃
　She　looked　up　at　Jude。
　〃So　now　you　know　my　shame；〃　she　said。
　〃I　know　your　story；〃　said　Jude。　〃But　I　don't　see　any　reason　for　shame。〃
　Her　own　tears；　which　she'd　been　holding　back　since　Celestine　had　begun　to　share　this　horror　with　her；　fell　now；　flowing　a　little　for　the　pain　she　felt　and　a　little　for　the　doubt　that　still　churned　in　her；　but　mostly　for　the　smile　that　came　onto　Celestine's　face　when　she　heard　Jude's　reply；　and　for　the　sight　of　the　other　woman　opening　her　arms　and　crossing　the　room；　to　embrace　her　like　a　loved　one　who'd　been　lost　and　found　again　before　some　final　fire。
　
　
　22
　
　If　ing　to　the　moment　of　Reconciliation　had　been　for　Gentle　a　series　of　rememberings；　leading　him　back　to　himself；　then　the　greatest　of　those　rememberings；　and　the　one　he　was　least　prepared　for；　was　the　Reconciliation　itself。
　Though　he'd　performed　the　working　before；　the　circumstances　had　been　radically　different。　For　one；　there'd　been　all　the　hoopla　of　a　grand　event。　He'd　gone　into　the　circle　like　a　prizefighter；　with　an　air　of　congratulation　hanging　around　his　head　before　he'd　even　worked　up　a　sweat；　his　patrons　and　admirers　a　cheering　throng　at　the　sidelines。　This　time　he　was　alone。　For　another；　he'd　had　his　eyes　on　what　the　world　would　shower　on　him　when　the　work　was　done：　what　women　would　fall　to　him；　what　wealth　and　glory　would　e。　This　time；　the　prize　in　sight　was　a　different　thing　entirely；　and　wouldn't　be　counted　in　stained　sheets　and　coinage。　He　was　the　instrument　of　a　higher　and　wiser　power。
　That　fact　took　the　fear　away。　When　he　opened　his　mind　to　the　pfocess；　he　felt　a　calm　e　upon　him；　subduing　the　unease　he'd　felt　climbing　the　stairs。　He'd　told　Jude　and　Clem　that　forces　would　run　through　the　house　the　likes　of　which　its　bricks　had　never　known；　and　it　was　true。　He　felt　them　fuel　his　weakening　mind；　ushering　his　thoughts　out　of　his　head　to　gather　the　Dominion　to　the　circle。
　That　gleaning　began　with　the　place　he　was　sitting　in。　His　mind　spread　to　all　pass　points；　and　up　and　down；　to　have　the　sum　of　the　room。　It　was　an　easy　space　to　grasp。　Generations　of　prison　poets　had　made　the　analogies　for　him；　and　he　borrowed　them　freely。　The　walls　were　his　body's　limits；　the　door　his　mouth；　the　windows　his　eyes：　monplace　similitudes；　taxing　his　power　of　parison　not　a　jot。　He　dissolved　the　boards；　the　plaster；　the　glass；　and　all　the　thousand　tiny　details　in　the　same　lyric　of　confinement　and；　having　made　them　part　of　him；　broke　their　bounds　to　stray　farther　afield。
　As　his　imagination　headed　down　the　stairs　and　up　onto　the　roof；　he　felt　the　beginnings　of　momentum。　His　intellect；　dogged　by　literalism；　was　already　lagging　behind　a　sensibility　more　mercurial；　which　was　delivering　back　to　him　similitudes　for　the　whole　house　before　his　logical　faculties　had　even　reached　the　hallway。
　Once　again；　his　body　was　the　measure　of　all　things：　the　cellar；　his　bowels；　the　roof；　his　scalp；　the　stairs；　his　spine。　Their　proofs　delivered；　his　thoughts　flew　out　of　the　house；　rising　up　over　the　slates　and　spreading　through　the　streets。　He　gave　passing　consideration　to　Sartori　as　he　went；　knowing　his　other　was　out　here　in　the　night　somewhere；　skulking。
　But　his　mind　was　quicksilver；　and　too　exhilarated　by　its　speed　and　capacity　to　go　searching　in　the　shadows　for　an　enemy　already　defeated。
　With　speed　came　ease。　The　streets　were　no　more　difficult　to　claim　than　the　house　he'd　already　devoured。　His　body　had　its　conduits　and　its　intersections；　had　its　places　of　excrement　and　its　fine；　dandified　facades；　had　its　rivers；　moving　from　a　springing　place；　and　its　parliament；　and　its　holy　seat；　The　whole　city；　he　began　to　see；　could　be　analogized　to　his　flesh；　bone；　and　blood。　And　why　should　that　be　so　surprising？　When　an　architect　turned　his　mind　to　the　building　of　a　city；　where　would　he　look　for　inspiration？　To　the　flesh　where　he'd　lived　since　birth。　It　was　the　first　model　for　any　creator。　It　was　a　school　and　an　eating　house　and　an　abattoir　and　a　church；　it　could　be　a　prison　and　a　brothel　and　Bedlam。　There　wasn't　an　edifice　in　any　street　in　London　that　hadn't　begun　somewhere　in　the　private　city　of　an　architect's　anatomy；　and　all　Gentle　had　to　do　was　open　his　mind　to　that　fact　and　the　districts　were　his；　running　back　to　swell　the　assembly　in　his　head。
　He　flew　north；　through　Highbury　and　Finsbury　Park；　to　Palmer's　Green　and　Cockfosters。　He　went　east　with　the　river；　past　Greenwich；　where　the　clock　that　marked　the　ing　of　midnight　stood；　and　on　towards　Tilbury。　West　took　him　through　Marylebone　and　Hammersmith；　south　through　Lambeth　and　Streatham；　where　he'd　first　met　Pie　'oh'　pah；　long　ago。
　But　the　names　soon　became　irrelevant。　Like　the　ground　seen　from　a　rising　plane；　the　particulars　of　a　street　or　a　district　became　part　of　another　pattern；　even　more　appetizing　to　his　ambitious　spirit。　He　saw　the　Wash　glittering　to　the　east；　and　the　Channel　to　the　south；　becalmed　on　this　humid　night。　Here　was　a　fine　new　challenge。　Was　his　body；　which　had　proved　the　equal　of　a　city；　also　the　measure　of　this　vaster　geography？　Why　not？　Water　flowed　by　the　same　laws　everywhere；　whether　the　conduit　was　a　groove　in　his　brow　or　a　rift　between　the　continents。　And　were　his　hands　not　like　two　countries；　laid　side　by　side　in　his　lap；　their　peninsulas　almost　touching；　their　landscapes　scarred　and　grooved？
　There　was　nothing　outside　his　substance　that　was　not　mirrored　within：　no　sea；　no　city；　no　street；　no　roof；　no　room。　He　was　in　the　Fifth；　and　the　Fifth　in　him；　gathering　to　be　carried　into　the　Ana　as　a　proof　and　a　map　and　a　poem；　written　in　praise　of　all　things　being　One。。
　In　the　other　Dominions　the　same　pursuit　of　similitude　was　under　way。
　From　his　circle　on　the　Mount　of　Lipper　Bayak；　Tick　Raw　had　already　drawn　into　his　net　of　dissolution　both　the　city　of　Pata