When the door was shut, Hadrian remained quite motionless on the
throne; and set Himself to review what He had said. He wondered whether
He for once had got-down to and laid-bare the root of the matter:
whether He for once had made His argument clear and convincing.--Good
God! Who even could hope to be convincing?--He flung the thing away
from Him; and for ever closed that volume of the book of His life.
He rose; and went straight into the bedroom. Here He stripped, and
stood erect, knees and feet close: gripped a pair of ten-pound
dumb-bells; and swung them with the alternating gesture of a right and
left overhand bowler, rhythmically swaying from the hips. He counted
up to a hundred; and went to another movement: a full round over-head
sweep of both arms together, expanding the long-breathing lungs,
quickening the pulses, brightening the eyes. His skin became moist and
warm. He washed His face and hands in oatmeal-water with no soap; and
went into the bath-room, turning on the high tap and letting the cold
soft water rain-down upon Him until He was numbed. He quickly dried
Himself; and put on completely clean clothes, rolling up those which
He had discarded and thrusting them into a linen bag. Then, He emerged
all flushed and white and fresh; and summoned Sir Iulo to the secret
chamber.
"And so you are thinking of marriage, carino;" Hadrian said, putting
the young man into a chair and bestowing fumificables.
Sir Iulo went almost as scarlet as his uniform: his eyes and teeth
gleamed. Hadrian handed to him a sheet of paper containing six stanzas
of passionate expression in rhyme, under the heading "Vorrei che tu
ascoltassi la mia voce."
"Don't leave your sonnets about. And don't be so terrified, you silly
boy. Well: is it true?"
The lover's face twitched rather. "I l-o-v-e her," he said with an
enormous vocal expansion of the middle word. "But I will not to abandon
You, Santità:" he added with fixed eyes.
"Who is she? Is she good? Has she any money?"
"She is the little daughter of the dentist. But good? But, yes. But no
money:" was the categorical reply.
"Does she love you?"
"Oh, but how she loves me!"
"How long have you known her?"
"Since Christmas, Santità, when the father of that has scaled the my
tooths."
"Have you spoken to 'the father of that' about 'that'?"
"Oh, but not yet, Santità. Nothing of less, he knows. I gave him to
know without the word."
"And he didn't drive you out of the house?"
"But no: for behold me not the assassin of that dentist."
Hadrian laughed. "Can you describe her?"
"Oh that I might to describe her to one who is so dear, so wise----"
"Describe her."
"Is named Evnica. Is example of goodness, of intellectuality. For
example: yesterday with the favour of the Most Holy I make a visit. I
am entering the saloon in the manner of cat, softly, softly. Behold in
a book reads the Signorina Evnica--not book of novels, not journal of
_Don Chisciotte_. No. I look over her shoulder, reading titles. Behold,
book of piety entitled _Office to the Proximate_----"
"_Office to the Proximate_? What book of piety is that?"
Sir Iulo repeated the title in Italian.
"Ah yes, _The Duty towards our Neighbour_. Yes: a very good sign in a
girl. Go on."
Sir Iulo fixed his bright green eyes upon a mental image; and described
each point as he observed it, using his gorgeously florid Tuscan idiom.
"Has a face to make burn Jove, and to return to ram, eagle or bull;
and to make scorn to medals old and new. Blond she has the hair like
thread of gold. The cheeks appear like a rose damasked. The mouth and
the eyes are worth a treasure. Has looks angelic, divine: but in the
effects and all the motions, human; and the her excellencies not have
end. She has what they call a good and fine hand: is white like snow
of mountains. Is literate; and makes to talk Tuscan; and in life not a
flaw can be found. There is not who better to a swan understands me.
Does great things, enough facts, little eats: not drinks never in the
middle of eating and not at afternoon-tea (merenda). More, I say. She
is in her proper acts so learned, that all I have in the world, or
small or great, I should have given to her pleasure at a stroke. The
more beautiful to my day I never saw: none more servitial: none more
prudent: nor acts in a girl more courteous and gay. Has Petrarch and
Dante in her hand; and, at time and place if I command, she vomits a
little sonnet lightly. Girl of all perfect qualities; and holds me in
pledge there if mine----"
"Well now: suppose that you marry her, will you be good to her?"
"Oh, that she shall be the my life and the my delight, dressed in
velvet, guarded as a queen, for fear that if she goes about too much
should not be robbed by some little hypocrite: that she shall live on
collops and bread of baker----"
"How amusing you are! Well: marry that paragon, and be good and happy.
You must have an apartment in the City for her, you know;--and, about
your duties here:--you can come when you like. You are not dismissed:
but John and James will suffice. Understand, boy, you are wanted,
wanted here, always."
"I am here always, Santità."
"No. Go-away and marry. 'The most certain softeners of a man's moral
skin, and sweeteners of his blood, are domestic intercourse and a happy
marriage and brotherly intercourse with the poor.' Always remember
that. By the bye, what are you going to live on?"
"If I am always a Gentleman of Hadrian, I am having a plenty of money."
"Ah, but you always will not be a Gentleman of Hadrian, because Hadrian
will not be always; and, when He is not, His successor will say 'Via!
Via!' to you."
"And then I shall do some things?"
"Ah, but what things?"
"Who knows? But I shall do things."
Hadrian went to the safe in the bedroom: then to the writing-table, and
wrote. He came back with some papers in His hand.
"Attend! Take this note to Plowden by the Post-office. He will give you
a thousand sterling. That is a marriage-gift to you, so that you may
get an apartment in the City and marry that little daughter of the
dentist. Don't be silly. Listen. What do you know about photography?"
"About photography? But I know to use that kodak, the gift della Sua
osservantissima e venerabilissima Santità."
"And you do it very well. You are one of the few men now alive who
perceive the right moment for pressing the button. Understand?"
"I see with eyes."
"But there is something beside seeing with eyes. There is a mind which
ponders and selects."
"Too much of honour."
"No. No honour at all: a stated fact. Well now: think of negatives.
They are dense in places: clear in places; and, in other places, more
or less dense. Understand? Under the negative you put a certain paper;
and expose it to light. Light goes through the clear places and stains
the paper black: it partly goes through the more or less dense places;
and stains the paper grey in various gradations of tint. It fails to
go through the dense places and leaves the paper white. There is your
photograph, a little black a little white and many different greys.
Understand?"
"Yes, Santità."
"Your photograph is an image of the form, the contours, the modelling,
the morbidezza, of the object before your lens. It lacks one thing. It
has not colour. The process has tralated colour into monochrome. Do you
see that?"
"Yes, Santità."
"Now white means a blend of all colours; and black means the absence
of all colours. Then grey should mean some colours, of this quality or
that, of this quantity or that, according to the clarity or the density
of the grey. Understand?"
"Yes, Santità."
"Your negative is black and white and many greys."
"Yes, Santità."
"Then understand that all colours lie hidden in the black and white and
greys of the negative. In the black, lie all colours: it produces the
positive white. In the white lie no colours: it produces the positive
black. In the various greys, lie various colours--why are you jumping
about? Keep still and listen, wriggling lizard that you are! What do
you want to do?"
"To liberate those poor colours."
"So does everybody. At least, everybody wants to photograph in colours:
so they paint on the backs of the films; and they play the fool with
triply-coloured negatives. Only one man in the world knows that the
colour already is there--already is there, my boy--stored in the black
white grey negative; and that the black white grey ordinary negative
will give up its imprisoned colours to him who has the key.--Well now:
take the second envelope. The key's there; and it's yours. (Don't stare
like that!) There are three other things as well, which may be useful.
(Don't say a word!) Read all those papers until you understand them.
They're quite simple. Then practise. When you can do the trick, you
will want a little help to do it greatly, to make it useful. (Get off
the floor!) Then take the third envelope to Plowden--it's mentioned in
the first,--and he will give you two thousand sterling. (Don't touch
that foot!) That will be enough if you are industrious. Now you are
trusted, Iulo mio. Be good always; and be kind to everybody. No don't
move. We are going into the gardens with Flavio. You stay here till
you feel better.--Ptlee-bl ptlee-bl ptlee-bl," Hadrian mewed to His
delighted and excited and persequent cat.