Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh [64]
The idea, however, seemed to take root in his mind; by the time we spoke of the matter again it was firmly established.
'When you're a painter,' he said at Sunday luncheon, 'You'll need a studio.'
'Yes.'
'Well, there isn't a studio here. There isn't even a room you could use decently as a studio. I'm not going to have you painting in the gallery.'
'No. I never meant to.'
'Nor will I have undraped models all over the house, nor critics with their horrible jargon. And I don't like the smell of turpentine. I presume you intend to do the thing thoroughly and use oil paint?' My father belonged to a generation which divided painters into the serious and the amateur, according as they used oil or water.
'I don't suppose I should do much painting the first year. Anyway, I should be working at a school.'
'Abroad?' asked my father hopefully. 'There are some excellent schools abroad, I believe.'
It was all happening rather faster than I intended.
'Abroad or here. I should have to look round first.'
'Look round abroad,' he said.
'Then you agree to my leaving Oxford?'
'Agree? Agree? My dear boy, you're twenty-two.'
'Twenty,' I said, 'twenty-one in October.'
'Is that all? It seems much longer.'
A letter from Lady Marchmain completes this episode.
'My dear Charles,' she wrote, 'Sebastian left me this morning to join his father abroad. Before he went I asked him if he had written to you. He said no, so I must write, tho' I can hardly hope to say in a letter what I could not say on our last walk. But you must not be left in silence.
'The college has sent Sebastian down for a term only, and will take him back after Christmas on condition he goes to live with Mgr Bell. It is for him to decide.
Meanwhile Mr Samgrass has very kindly consented to take charge of him. As soon as his visit to his father is over Mr Samgrass will pick him up and the will go together to the Levant, where Mr Samgrass has long been anxious to investigate a number of orthodox monasteries. He hopes this may be a new interest for Sebastian.
'Sebastian's stay here has not been happy.
'When they come home at Christmas I know Sebastian will want to see you, and so shall we all. I hope your arrangements for next term have not been too much upset and that everything will go well with you.
Yours sincerely, Teresa Marchmain.
'I went to the garden-room this morning and was so very sorry.'
BOOK TWO
BRIDESHEAD DESERTED
1
'AND when we reached the top of the pass,' said Mr Samgrass, we heard the galloping horses behind, and two soldiers rode up to the head of the caravan and turned us back. The General had sent them, and they reached us only just in time. There was a Band, not a mile ahead.'
He paused, and his small audience sat silent, conscious that he had sought, to impress them but in doubt as to how they could politely show their interest.
'A Band?' said Julia.'Goodness!'
Still he seemed to expect more. At last Lady Marchmain said, 'I suppose the sort of folk-music you get in those parts is very monotonous.'
'Dear Lady Marchmain, a Band of Brigands. Cordelia, beside me on the sofa, began to giggle noiselessly. 'The mountains are full of them. Stragglers from Kemal's army; Greeks who got cut off in, the retreat. Very desperate fellows, I assure you.'
'Do pinch me',' whispered Cordelia.
I pinched her and the agitation of the sofa-springs ceased. 'Thanks,' she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
'So you never got to wherever-it-was,' said Julia. 'Weren't you terribly disappointed, Sebastian?'
'Me?' said Sebastian from the shadows beyond the lamplight, beyond the warmth of the burning logs, beyond the family circle, and the photographs spread out on the cardtable. 'Me? Oh, I don't think I was there that day, was I, Sammy?'
'That was the day you were ill.'
'I was ill,' he repeated like an echo, 'so I never should have got to wherever-it-was, should I, Sammy?'
'Now this, Lady Marchmain, is the caravan at Aleppo in the courtyard of the inn.
That's our Armenian