p&c.brimstone-第82部分

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　〃I'm　Viola　Maskelene；〃　she　replied　in　a　rich；　warm　English　accent。　
　As　they　released　each　other's　hand；　D'Agosta　realized　Pendergast　had　uncharacteristically　forgotten　to　introduce　him。　〃And　I'm　Sergeant　Vincent　D'Agosta；　Southampton　Police。〃　
　The　woman　turned　to　him；　as　if　noticing　him　for　the　first　time。　But　the　smile　she　gave　him　was　full　of　warmth。　〃Wele　to　Capraia；　Sergeant。〃　
　Another　awkward　silence。　D'Agosta　glanced　at　Pendergast。　He　had　a　most　uncharacteristic　look　of　surprise　on　his　face；　as　if　somebody　had　just　dropped　a　scoop　of　ice　cream　down　his　back。　What　was　going　on？　
　〃Well；〃　said　Lady　Maskelene　with　another　smile；　〃I　assume　you're　here　to　see　me；　Mr。　Pendergast？〃　
　〃Yes；〃　he　said　hastily。　〃Yes；　we　are。　It　concerns…〃　
　She　held　up　her　finger。　〃A　hot　vineyard　is　no　place　to　have　a　civilized　conversation。　Let's　go　back　to　my　house　and　enjoy　something　cool　on　theterrazza　；　shall　we？〃　
　〃Yes；　of　course。〃　
　She　smiled　again：　a　dazzling；　dimpled　smile。　〃Follow　me。〃　She　set　off　across　the　field；　her　big　boots　clomping　through　the　clods　of　earth。　Theterrazza　was　shaded　by　a　pergola　draped　with　wisteria；　and　bordered　by　blooming　rosemary　and　miniature　lemon　trees。　It　was　like　being　perched　on　the　edge　of　the　known　world；　the　cliffs　dropping　away　to　an　infinity　of　blue；　stretching　to　the　horizon　and　merging　imperceptibly　with　the　sky。　The　expanse　was　broken　by　a　single；　tiny　black　reef；　about　a　mile　offshore；　which　only　served　to　increase　the　sense　of　distance；　of　infinity。　
　Lady　Maskelene　seated　them　around　an　old　tiled　table；　in　battered　wooden　chairs；　and　then　disappeared　into　the　house。　A　minute　later　she　returned　with　a　wine　bottle　without　a　label；　filled　with　a　pale　amber　liquid；　some　glasses；　a　bottle　of　olive　oil；　and　a　battered　clay　platter　heaped　with　thick　pieces　of　rough…cut　bread。　She　set　down　the　glasses　and；　moving　around　the　table；　filled　them　with　white　wine。　As　she　passed　D'Agosta　his　glass；　he　caught　her　faint　scent；　a　perfume　of　grapevines；　earth；　and　the　sea。　
　Pendergast　took　a　sip。　〃Is　it　yours；　Lady　Maskelene？〃　
　〃Yes。　The　olive　oil　is　mine　also。　There's　something　marvelously　satisfying　about　working　your　own　piece　of　ground。〃　
　〃plimenti。〃Pendergast　took　another　sip；　dipped　a　piece　of　the　rough　bread　in　a　dish　of　olive　oil。　〃Excellent。〃　
　〃Thank　you。〃　
　〃Allow　me　to　tell　you　why　we've　e；　Lady　Maskelene。〃　
　〃No；〃　she　said　in　a　low　voice；　looking　not　at　him；　but　far　out　to　sea；　her　hazel　eyes　almost　blue　in　the　intense　light；　a　strange　smile　on　her　lips。　〃Don't　spoil　this　。　。　。　particular　moment　just　yet。〃　
　D'Agosta　wondered　just　what　particular　moment　she　might　be　talking　about。　The　faint　sound　of　surf　and　the　cries　of　seagulls　drifted　from　the　edge　of　the　cliff。　
　〃What　an　enchanting　villa　you　have　here；　Lady　Maskelene。〃　
　She　laughed。　〃A　villa　it　is　not…just　a　simple　seaside　bungalow。　That's　why　I　love　it。　Here　I　have　my　books；　my　music；　my　vines；　my　olive　trees…and　the　sea。　What　more　could　you　ask　for？〃　
　〃You　mentioned　music。　Do　you　play　an　instrument？〃　
　A　hesitation。　〃The　violin。〃　
　Now　we're　getting　somewhere；　thought　D'Agosta。　As　usual；　Pendergast　was　sliding　into　the　subject　sideways。　
　〃You　are　here　year…round？〃　
　〃Oh；　no。　I'd　get　bored。　I'm　notthat　much　of　a　recluse。〃　
　〃Where　do　you　spend　the　rest　of　your　time？〃　
　〃I　lead　a　rather　decadent　life。　Fall　in　Rome；　December　in　Luxor；　at　the　Winter　Palace。〃　
　〃Egypt？　That's　a　curious　place　to　spend　the　winter。〃　
　〃I'm　directing　a　small　dig　in　the　Valley　of　the　Nobles。〃　
　〃You're　an　archaeologist；　then？〃　
　〃An　Egyptologist　and　philologist。　There's　a　difference；　you　know…we　study　a　great　deal　more　than　dirt；　pots；　and　bones。　We've　been　excavating　the　tomb　of　a　Nineteenth　Dynasty　scribe；　full　of　fascinating　hieratic　inscriptions。　Of　course；　the　tomb　was　looted　in　antiquity；　but　fortunately　all　the　looters　wanted　were　the　gold　and　gems。　They　left　the　scrolls　and　inscriptions　intact。　We　found　the　scribe　himself　in　his　sarcophagus；　holding　a　bundle　of　mysterious　scrolls　full　of　magical　formulas　which　we　have　yet　to　unroll　and　translate。　They're　exceedingly　delicate。〃　
　〃Fascinating。〃　
　〃And　then；　e　spring；　I　go　to　Cornwall；　the　family　place。〃　
　〃Spring；　in　England？〃　
　She　laughed。　〃I　love　mud。　And　freezing　rain。　And　sprawling　on　a　fur　rug　in　front　of　a　roaring　fire　reading　a　good　book。　How　about　you；　Mr。　Pendergast？　What　doyou　love？〃　
　The　question　seemed　to　take　Pendergast　by　surprise；　and　he　covered　his　confusion　with　a　sip　of　wine。　〃I　love　this　wine　of　yours。　Fresh；　simple；　unpretentious。〃　
　〃It's　made　from　malvasia　vines　brought　to　the　island　almost　four　thousand　years　ago　by　Minoan　traders。　For　me；　the　flavor　somehow　evokes　history　itself；　the　Minoans　crossing　the　wine…dark　sea　in　trireme　ships；　bound　for　distant　islands　。　。　。〃　She　laughed；　sweeping　her　black　hair　from　her　face。　〃I'm　an　incurable　romantic。　When　I　was　a　child；　I　wanted　to　grow　up　to　be　Odysseus。〃　She　looked　at　Pendergast。　〃And　you？　When　you　were　a　child；　what　did　you　want　to　be？〃　
　〃A　great　white　hunter。〃　
　She　laughed。　〃What　a　curious　ambition！　And　did　you　bee　one？〃　
　〃In　a　way。　But　on　a　hunt　in　Tanzania　。　。　。　I　discovered　quite　suddenly　that　I　had　lost　the　taste　for　it。〃　
　More　silence。　D'Agosta　gave　up　trying　to　make　sense　of　what　tack　Pendergast　was　taking。　He　sipped　the　wine　with　renewed　interest。　It　was　very　pleasant；　if　a　bit　dry。　And　the　bread　was　fabulous；　thick　and　chewy；　the　olive　oil　so　fresh　it　was　spicy。　He　dipped　a　piece　of　bread；　stuffed　it　in　his　mouth；　followed　with　another。　He　hadn't　eaten　breakfast　and　had　been　a　bit　too　severe　with　his　diet。　He　glanced　surreptitiously　at　his　watch。　If　Pendergast　didn't　hurry　things　up；　they'd　miss　the　ferry。　
　Then；　to　D'Agosta's　surprise；　the　woman　brought　the　subject　up　herself。　
　〃Speaking　of　history；　there's　quite　a　lot　of　that　in　my　own　family。　You　know　of　my　great…grandfather；　Luciano　Toscanelli？〃　
　〃I　do。〃　
　〃He　did　two　things　in　life　exceptionally　well：　playing　the　violin　and　seducing　women。　He　was　the　Mick　Jagger　of　his　age。　His　groupies　were　countesses；　baronesses；　princesses。　Sometimes　he　would　have　two　or　three　women　in　a　day；　and　not　always　at　different　times。〃　She　laughed　lightly。　
　Pendergast　cleared　his　throat；　took　a　piece　of　bread。　
　〃He　had　one　great　love；　however；　and　that　was　my　great…grandmother。　The　Duchess　of　Cumberland。　He　gave　her　an　illegitimate　daughter；　my　grandmother。〃　She　paused；　looked　at　Pendergast　curiously。　〃Thisis　why　you　came；　isn't　it？〃　
　It　took　Pendergast　a　moment　to　reply。　〃Yes；　it　is。〃　
　She　sighed。　〃My　great…grandfather　ended　up　like　so　many　in　the　days　before　penicillin：　with　a　bad　dose　of　venereal　disease。〃　
　〃Lady　Maskelene；〃　said　Pendergast　hastily；　〃please　don't　think　I　have　e　to　pry　into　your　family's　private　affairs。　I　really　only　have　one　question　that　needs　answering。〃　
　〃I　know　what　that　question　is。　But　first；　I　want　you　to　know　the　history　of　my　family。〃　
　〃There　is　no　need…〃　
　Maskelene　blushed；　her　hand　touching　the　buttons　of　her　shirt。　〃I　want　you　to　know　it　up　front；　that's　all。　Then　we　won't　have　to　speak　of　it　again。〃　
　D'Agosta　listened　with　surprise。I　want　you　to　know　it　up　front　。　Up　front　of　what？　Pendergast　seemed　equally　nonplussed。　In　any　case；　when　he　had　no　answer　for　this；　she　began　again。　
　〃So　my　great…grandfather　got　syphilis。　It　eventually　progressed　to　the　tertiary　stage；　where　the　spirochetes　attack　the　brain。　His　playing　changed。　It　grew　bizarre。　He　gave　a　concert　in　Florence　where　he　was　pelted　by　the　audience。　The　family　who　owned　the　violin　demanded　it　back。　He　wouldn't　give　it　up。　He　fled　to　escape　them　and　their　agents；　traveling　from　city　to　city；　driven　by　a　rising　insanity　and　aided　by　countless　women。　The　family's　agents　and　private　detectives　pursued　him　doggedly…but　quietly；　because　keeping　the　family　name　secret　was　of　the　utmost　importance。　My　great…grandfather　stayed　one　step　ahead。　He　played　in　his　hotel　rooms　at　night：　insane；　shocking；　even　terrifying　renderings　of　Bach；　Beethoven；　Brahms；　executed…so　the　story　goes…with　enormous　technical　virtuosity　but　cold；　strange；　all　wrong。　Those　who　heard　him　say　it　was　as　if　the　devil　himself　had　taken　up　the　violin。〃　
　She　paused。　
　〃Go　on；〃　said　Pendergast　gently。　
　〃The　family　who　owned　the　Stormcloud　was　very　powerful。　They　were　related　by　blood　to　some　of　the　royal　families　of　Europe。　Even　so；　they　couldn't　catch　my　great…grandfather。　They　pursued　him　from　one　end　of　Europe　to　the　other。　The　chase　finally　ended　in　the　small　village　of　Siusi　in　the　South　Tyrol。　There；　under　the　peaks　of　the　Dolomites；　they　cornered　him。　He　was　betrayed　by　a　woman；　naturally。　He　escaped　out　the　back　of　a　smallalbergo　and　fled　into　the　high　mountains　with　nothing　but　the　violin　and　the　clothes　on　his　back。　He　ascended　the　great　Sciliar。　Do　you　know　it？〃　
　〃No；〃　said　Pendergast。　
　〃It's　a　high　Alpine　plateau　wedged　between　the　peaks　of　the　Dolomites；　cut　by　ravines　and　sheer　cliffs。　They　say　it's　where　the　witches　once　held　their　black　masses。　In　the　summer；　a　few　hardy　shepherds　graze　their　flocks　there。　But　this　was　fall　and　the　Sciliar　was　deserted。　That　night　it　snowed　heavily。　The　next　day