Well, you’ve only yourself to blame. It was you that ran away.You can’t expect everything of telepathy. After a bit the lines of communication get over-extended. At least, it always feels like telepathy, doesn’t it? But what I really mean is that if you don’t know very much about a person you’ve only a certain amount of material out of which to supply their thoughts.’
‘I didn’t say I had anyone else to blame. I think I’m probably to blame for the whole mistake.’
‘When did you decide it was a mistake?’
‘When you made love to me, it felt to me like a put up job. As though you were fulfilling a napoleonic master-plan, rather than actually being attracted by me. Had you, in fact, been standing in the library telling yourself you could carry it off, you were Superman, you were the great seducer?’
‘Not exactly’, he said. ‘But if I thought more about what I’d like to be than what you really were—well, you’d removed yourself from view.’
‘I had the same feeling of a put up job when you called me a bitch.’
‘It is possible’, he cautiously admitted, ‘that I squealed rather louder about that than I’d actually been hurt.’
‘I’m just not’, she said, making her voice comically rueful, ‘as attractive as I’d supposed.’
The music in the ballroom came to a stop and was replaced by chatter.
‘Obviously’, Don Giovanni said, ‘I can’t say anything to contradict that— now. The whole situation is a minefield. I’m not sure which of us mined it. ButI think I’d better just stand still for a bit and not move an inch either way.’
Presently Anna said, raising her voice slightly to surmount the chattering from below:
‘I’d like to be attractive not as a person but as a thing. Not to be made use of—no monetary value: I’d like to be a useless thing. I’d like to be neither warm-blooded nor cold-blooded but just for there to be no question of blood at all. Nobody would worry if I was alive or dead providing I was made of something that had never been either. Of course, I should like to be an ornamental thing, but not a work of art, because people feel remorse towards those and guilt if they let them be destroyed, so simply a work of craft, a decoration, something very contrived, very highly wrought, that wouldn’t touch the heart at all …’
‘If it’s any consolation’, he said after a moment, ‘though you’re not in the least beautiful, you’re the most ornamental person I’ve ever met.’
‘Thank you.’
He stopped leaning on the parapet, stood up straight and brushed the dust—if there was any—off the front of his costume, ‘Where does all this get us?’
‘Nowhere.’
‘Wouldn’t we do better to go and seek pleasure, even if it does embarrass you a little?’
‘Yes’, she said, standing up straight, too. ‘Shall we go down and dance?’
‘Yes.’
He opened the small door in the gallery wall.Behind them in the ballroom all the lights went out.
‘What’s happening now?’
They groped forward to the parapet and peered into the ballroom, where the people had been struck with silence in the dark. Here and there a giggle flared up and then went out, like a match. In one corner someone did light a match. It went out.
A single steel-blue spotlight came on, felt round among the people, mowing swathes through them like machine gun fire, and quickly focused on the shallow wooden platform where the band had been but which was now empty apart from the piano and a double bass leaning against the piano stool. The blue light blanched the wooden boards of the platform until they looked like wood turned to ash.
‘I think it’s going to be the cabaret’, Anna said.
‘Damn’, he said. ‘We’d better stay up here for a bit.’
8
A S soon as the spotlight established itself, the people were reassured, even though it was not they it was illuminating. Without waiting to see who was going to step into the light, they filled the ballroom
‘I didn’t say I had anyone else to blame. I think I’m probably to blame for the whole mistake.’
‘When did you decide it was a mistake?’
‘When you made love to me, it felt to me like a put up job. As though you were fulfilling a napoleonic master-plan, rather than actually being attracted by me. Had you, in fact, been standing in the library telling yourself you could carry it off, you were Superman, you were the great seducer?’
‘Not exactly’, he said. ‘But if I thought more about what I’d like to be than what you really were—well, you’d removed yourself from view.’
‘I had the same feeling of a put up job when you called me a bitch.’
‘It is possible’, he cautiously admitted, ‘that I squealed rather louder about that than I’d actually been hurt.’
‘I’m just not’, she said, making her voice comically rueful, ‘as attractive as I’d supposed.’
The music in the ballroom came to a stop and was replaced by chatter.
‘Obviously’, Don Giovanni said, ‘I can’t say anything to contradict that— now. The whole situation is a minefield. I’m not sure which of us mined it. ButI think I’d better just stand still for a bit and not move an inch either way.’
Presently Anna said, raising her voice slightly to surmount the chattering from below:
‘I’d like to be attractive not as a person but as a thing. Not to be made use of—no monetary value: I’d like to be a useless thing. I’d like to be neither warm-blooded nor cold-blooded but just for there to be no question of blood at all. Nobody would worry if I was alive or dead providing I was made of something that had never been either. Of course, I should like to be an ornamental thing, but not a work of art, because people feel remorse towards those and guilt if they let them be destroyed, so simply a work of craft, a decoration, something very contrived, very highly wrought, that wouldn’t touch the heart at all …’
‘If it’s any consolation’, he said after a moment, ‘though you’re not in the least beautiful, you’re the most ornamental person I’ve ever met.’
‘Thank you.’
He stopped leaning on the parapet, stood up straight and brushed the dust—if there was any—off the front of his costume, ‘Where does all this get us?’
‘Nowhere.’
‘Wouldn’t we do better to go and seek pleasure, even if it does embarrass you a little?’
‘Yes’, she said, standing up straight, too. ‘Shall we go down and dance?’
‘Yes.’
He opened the small door in the gallery wall.Behind them in the ballroom all the lights went out.
‘What’s happening now?’
They groped forward to the parapet and peered into the ballroom, where the people had been struck with silence in the dark. Here and there a giggle flared up and then went out, like a match. In one corner someone did light a match. It went out.
A single steel-blue spotlight came on, felt round among the people, mowing swathes through them like machine gun fire, and quickly focused on the shallow wooden platform where the band had been but which was now empty apart from the piano and a double bass leaning against the piano stool. The blue light blanched the wooden boards of the platform until they looked like wood turned to ash.
‘I think it’s going to be the cabaret’, Anna said.
‘Damn’, he said. ‘We’d better stay up here for a bit.’
8
A S soon as the spotlight established itself, the people were reassured, even though it was not they it was illuminating. Without waiting to see who was going to step into the light, they filled the ballroom
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