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e。'
'The boys can do as they like。 We must refuse。'
'And I have asked Mrs Hacking Brunner to luncheon。 She has a charming daughter。 Sebastian and his friend will like her。'
'Sebastian and his friend are more interested in Bellini than heiresses。'
'But that is what I have always wished；' said Cara； changing her point of attack adroitly。 'I have been here more times than I can count and Alex has not once let me inside San Marco； even。 We will bee tourists； yes？'
We became tourists； Cara enlisted as guide a midget Venetian nobleman to whom all doors were open and with him at her side and a guide book in her hand； she came with us； flagging sometimes but never giving up； a neat； prosaic figure amid the immense splendours of the place。
The fortnight at Venice passed quickly and sweetly … perhaps too sweetly； I was drowning in honey； stingless。 On some days life kept pace with the gondola； as we nosed through the sidecanals and the boatman uttered his plaintive musical bird…cry of warning； on other days with the speed…boat bouncing over the lagoon in a stream of sun…lit foam； it left a confused memory of fierce sunlight on the sands and cool； marble interiors； of water everywhere； lapping on smooth stone； reflected in a dapple of light on painted ceilings； of a night at the Corombona palace such as Byron might have known； and another Byronic night fishing for scampi in the shallows of Chioggia； the phosphorescent wake of the little ship； the lantern swinging in the prow； and the net ing up full of weed and sand and floundering fishes； of melon and prosciutto on the balcony in the cool of the morning； of hot cheese sandwiches and champagne cocktails at Harry's bar。
I remember Sebastian looking up at the Colleoni statue and saying； 'It's rather sad to think that whatever happens you and I can never possibly get involved in a war。'
I remember most particularly one conversation towards the end of my visit。
Sebastian had gone to play tennis with his father and Cara at last admitted to fatigue。 We sat in the late afternoon at the windows overlooking the Grand Canal； she on the sofa with a piece of needlework； I in an armchair； idle。 It was the first time we had been alone together。
'I think you are very …fond of Sebastian；' she said。
'Why； certainly。'
'I know of these romantic friendships of the English and the Germans。 They are not Latin。 I think they are very good if they do not go on too long。'
She was so posed and matter…of…fact that I could not take her amiss； but I failed to find an answer。 She seemed not to expect one but continued stitching； pausing sometimes to match the silk from a work…bag at her side。
'It is a kind of love that es to children before they know its meaning。 In England it es when you are almost men； I think I like that。 It is better to have that kind of love for another boy than for a girl。 Alex you see had it for a girl； for his wife。 Do you think he loves me？'
'Really； Cara； you ask the most embarrassing questions。 How should I know？ I assume。。。'
'He does not。 But not the littlest piece。 Then why does he stay with me？ I will tell you； because I protect him from Lady Marchmain。 He hates her； but you can have no conception how he hates her。 You would think him so calm and English … the milord； rather blas？ all passion dead； wishing to be fortable and not to be worried； following the sun； with me to look after that one thing that no man can do for himself。 My friend； he is a volcano of hate。 He cannot breathe the same air as she。 He will not set foot in England because it is her home； he can scarcely be happy with Sebastian because he is her son。 But Sebastian hates her too。'
'I'm sure you're wrong there。'
'He may not admit it to you。 He may not admit it to himself； they are full of hate … hate of themselves。 Alex and his family。。。Why do you think he will never go into Society？'
'I always thought people had turned against him。'
'My dear boy； you are very young。 People turn against a handsome； clever； wealthy man like Alex？ Never in your life。 It is he who has driven them away。 Even now they e back again and again to be snubbed and laughed at。 And all for Lady Marchmain。 He will not touch a hand which may have touched hers。 When we have guests I see him thinking； 〃Have they perhaps just e from Brideshead？ Are they on their way to Marchmain House？ Will they speak of me to my wife？ Are they a link between me and her whom I hate？〃 But； seriously； with my heart； that is how he thinks。 He is mad。 And how has she deserved all this hate？ She has done nothing except to be loved by someone who was not grown up。 I have never met Lady Marchmain； I have seen her once only； but if you live with a man you e to know the other woman he has loved。 I know Lady Marchmain very well。 She is a good and simple woman who has been loved in the wrong way。
'When people hate with all that energy； it is something in themselves they are hating。 Alex is hating all the illusions of boyhood … innocence； God； hope。 Poor Lady Marchmain has to bear all that。 A woman has not all these ways of loving。
'Now Alex is very fond of me and I protect him from his own innocence。 We are fortable。
'Sebastian is in love with his own childhood。 That will make him very unhappy。 His teddy…bear； his nanny and he is nineteen years old。。。 '
She stirred on her sofa； shifting her weight so that she could look down at the passing boats； and said in fond； mocking tones： 'How good it is to sit in the shade and talk of love；' and then added with a sudden swoop to earth； 'Sebastian drinks too much。'
'I suppose we both do。'
'With you it does not matter。 I have watched you together。 With Sebastian it is different。 He will be a drunkard if someone does not e to stop him。 I have known so many。 Alex was nearly a drunkard when he met me； it is in the blood。 I see it in the way Sebastian drinks。 It is not your way。'
We arrived in London on the day before term began。 On the way from Charing Cross I dropped Sebastian in the forecourt of his mother's house； 'Here is 〃Marchers〃；' he said with a sigh which meant the end of a holiday。 'I won't ask you in； the place is probably full of my family。 We'll meet at Oxford'； I drove across the park to my home。
My father greeted me with； his usual air of mild regret。
'Here today；' he said； 'gone tomorrow。 I seem to see very little of you。 Perhaps it is dull for you here。 How could it be otherwise？ You have enjoyed yourself。'
'Very much。 I went to Venice。'
'Yes。 Yes。 I suppose so。 The weather was fine？' When he went to bed after an evening of silent study； he paused to ask： 'The friend you were so much concerned about； did he die？'
'No。'
'I am very thankful。 You should have written to tell me。 I worried about him so much。'
＇5＇
'IT is typical of Oxford；' I said； 'to start the new year in autumn。'
Everywhere； on cobble and gravel and lawn； the leaves were falling and in the college gardens the smoke of the bonfires joined the wet river mist； drifting across the grey walls； the flags were oily underfoot and as； one by one； the lamps were lit in the windows round the quad； the gol