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PARTISANREVIEW
Doane, I was somewhat offended that she could take as much pleasure in
exposition as in our flirtation. Before we went back to the house,
therefore, I tried to tease her. I asked her to confess: Who was her own
Alpha, her own Omega?
"Oh," she said, "others perceive such things better than onesel£ Tell
me your impressions of how they shape up
in
me."
"Oh," I said in imitation of her voice, "I think your Alpha is
full
of loyalty and your Omega is as treacherous as the tides. Alpha is surfeited
with chastity, and Omega is unbalanced with sacrilege. You're a sponta–
neous child on one side and an empire-builder on the other."
"You 're a devil through and through," she said, and gave me an–
other kiss on the lips.
Nothing will ever tell me for certain whether Harlot saw that small
embrace or merely sensed it. As we walked back, hand in hand, we came
on him standing above a rock. He had been holding a view of our ap–
proach. I have no idea how long he had been there, but some constraint
in the pit of my heart seemed confirmed. He certainly did not alter his
manner, but intimacy between Kittredge and me was
singed
by his pres–
ence. The word is just. When we came near, my eyebrows felt like ash: I
wondered if I would pay for my hour with his fiancee when I joined the
C.I.A.
What I have next to relate is painful. That Easter Sunday evening,
Dr. Gardiner gave vent to the buried furies in his throat, and honored
his
guests: by the light of the fire in his den, he read Shakespeare aloud to
us.
He offered an early work:
Titus Andronicus .
An odd choice. I
would not recognize how bizarre until I knew the family better. Dr.
Gardiner considered
Titus Andronicus
one of Shakespeare's poorest plays.
Uninspired, and much too dreadful. Yet Dr. Gardiner read from it on
Sunday night with a voice full of passion, choosing the terrible speech
where Titus tells Chiron and Demetrius that in consequence of their vile
acts on his family - they have severed his hand and cut off both hands of
his daughter, Lavinia - he, Titus, will now revenge himsel£
Hark, wreuhes! How I mean to martyr you,
This one hand yet is left
to
cut your throats,
Whilst Lavinia 'tween her stumps doth hold
The basin that receives your guilty blood.
Hark, villains, I will grind your bones
to
dust,
And with your blood and it I'll make a paste;
And
of
the paste a coffin I will rear;
And make two pasties
of
your shamiful heads.
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