between the spirit that is refreshed by artificial woe, andthe backside of Little Lucius that is titillated by a delicate bundle of twigs.
Yet: ‘How sweetly Dionë sings!’ said Paulus.
I said: ‘Yes, she has a pleasant voice. But I cannot say that I am very much in sympathy with such songs. Translated, she is howling:
Oh pity me, pity me, pity me, pity me,
Outcast and forlorn, oh forlorn,
Naked and hungry, yea, hungry and thirsty,
Far, far, far – oh far from my love!
Which is silly; as when, if you will excuse me, your Jaël, plucking a little harp, says that she hangs it on a tree and, with a winning smile, asks how she can sing the Lord’s song in a strange land…. Twang! ’
‘Dionë is extremely beautiful,’ said Paulus, ‘if you will allow me to say so.’
‘She is not a bad-looking girl. But Jaël, surely, is infinitely more beautiful?’ I said.
‘Oh, I grant you, Jaël is beautiful, certainly.’
‘But what?’ I asked.
‘But nothing,’ he said.
‘Pardon. I thought you had something to add. You say: “Oh, I grant you, Jaël is beautiful , certainly,” and there is a kind of shrug in your voice – somewhat as if I were trying to sell Jaël and you were anxious to buy her, but thinking fast to find a fault in her so as to lower the price,’ I said. ‘How long have you been married?’
‘We were betrothed when she was seven years old and I was nine. We were married when Jaël was seventeen and I was nineteen.’
‘A year ago.’
‘Eleven months. You see, sometimes family marries family, fortunes marries fortune, clan marries clan.’
‘Which makes for a certain locking of shields,’ I suggested,‘a certain stability in defence and attack. A strong family is a very fine thing.’
‘Yes. Now my mother and Jaël’s father are very distantly related. Jaël’s parental grandfather’s sister was my mother’s cousin twice removed. Work out the relationship if you like,’ said Paulus.
‘It is remote enough,’ I said.
‘Oh yes. There is a genealogy. We trace our descent to the House of David, my dear sir.’
‘For that matter,’ I said, ‘it seems that one can’t spit around here without splashing the foot of somebody who’d be a prince in Asia Minor if the truth were but known.’ I was thinking of Dionë and her Artavazd, King of Kings. ‘But you are wise to keep such legends for strictly private conversation, my boy. Our friend Jesus of Nazareth had some such notion, I think – and much good it did h i m !’ Paulus did not like to be mentioned in the same breath with Jesus Christ – I hastened to soothe him: ‘Look at me! Stick a pin in me and the blood of Quirinus himself would squirt! In our family we regard Marcus Porcius Cato as little more than a zealous kind of civil servant! We have survived simply because we have taken good care to say nothing at all about it. Wild mares get with foal by the wind, as they say, and we are all sons of the same father. But I was interrupting , my dear Paulus.’
‘Concerning Jaël, and what you were pleased to call my ‘shrugging a but ’.You have sharp eyes, Diomed. Have you never observed how closely Jaël resembles my mother?’
‘There is a resemblance. Only a slight resemblance. But your mother is one of the most beautiful women in Tarsus.’
‘And my sisters?’
‘The resemblance is stronger there, of course – but they are your mother’s daughters, so why should they not resemble her? Also consider this: your mother is not only a beautiful woman, she is a fascinating woman, she has thepower to charm; she is a strong woman, and she can command obedience because she can compel many people to say to themselves: “I wish I were like Paulus’s mother.” There is much more to a resemblance than a physical similarity. If you love and admire someone – especially when you are young – you cannot help imitating that person in the intonation of your voice, in your gestures, in your dress, in your postures,
Yet: ‘How sweetly Dionë sings!’ said Paulus.
I said: ‘Yes, she has a pleasant voice. But I cannot say that I am very much in sympathy with such songs. Translated, she is howling:
Oh pity me, pity me, pity me, pity me,
Outcast and forlorn, oh forlorn,
Naked and hungry, yea, hungry and thirsty,
Far, far, far – oh far from my love!
Which is silly; as when, if you will excuse me, your Jaël, plucking a little harp, says that she hangs it on a tree and, with a winning smile, asks how she can sing the Lord’s song in a strange land…. Twang! ’
‘Dionë is extremely beautiful,’ said Paulus, ‘if you will allow me to say so.’
‘She is not a bad-looking girl. But Jaël, surely, is infinitely more beautiful?’ I said.
‘Oh, I grant you, Jaël is beautiful, certainly.’
‘But what?’ I asked.
‘But nothing,’ he said.
‘Pardon. I thought you had something to add. You say: “Oh, I grant you, Jaël is beautiful , certainly,” and there is a kind of shrug in your voice – somewhat as if I were trying to sell Jaël and you were anxious to buy her, but thinking fast to find a fault in her so as to lower the price,’ I said. ‘How long have you been married?’
‘We were betrothed when she was seven years old and I was nine. We were married when Jaël was seventeen and I was nineteen.’
‘A year ago.’
‘Eleven months. You see, sometimes family marries family, fortunes marries fortune, clan marries clan.’
‘Which makes for a certain locking of shields,’ I suggested,‘a certain stability in defence and attack. A strong family is a very fine thing.’
‘Yes. Now my mother and Jaël’s father are very distantly related. Jaël’s parental grandfather’s sister was my mother’s cousin twice removed. Work out the relationship if you like,’ said Paulus.
‘It is remote enough,’ I said.
‘Oh yes. There is a genealogy. We trace our descent to the House of David, my dear sir.’
‘For that matter,’ I said, ‘it seems that one can’t spit around here without splashing the foot of somebody who’d be a prince in Asia Minor if the truth were but known.’ I was thinking of Dionë and her Artavazd, King of Kings. ‘But you are wise to keep such legends for strictly private conversation, my boy. Our friend Jesus of Nazareth had some such notion, I think – and much good it did h i m !’ Paulus did not like to be mentioned in the same breath with Jesus Christ – I hastened to soothe him: ‘Look at me! Stick a pin in me and the blood of Quirinus himself would squirt! In our family we regard Marcus Porcius Cato as little more than a zealous kind of civil servant! We have survived simply because we have taken good care to say nothing at all about it. Wild mares get with foal by the wind, as they say, and we are all sons of the same father. But I was interrupting , my dear Paulus.’
‘Concerning Jaël, and what you were pleased to call my ‘shrugging a but ’.You have sharp eyes, Diomed. Have you never observed how closely Jaël resembles my mother?’
‘There is a resemblance. Only a slight resemblance. But your mother is one of the most beautiful women in Tarsus.’
‘And my sisters?’
‘The resemblance is stronger there, of course – but they are your mother’s daughters, so why should they not resemble her? Also consider this: your mother is not only a beautiful woman, she is a fascinating woman, she has thepower to charm; she is a strong woman, and she can command obedience because she can compel many people to say to themselves: “I wish I were like Paulus’s mother.” There is much more to a resemblance than a physical similarity. If you love and admire someone – especially when you are young – you cannot help imitating that person in the intonation of your voice, in your gestures, in your dress, in your postures,
Similar Books
