Invisible man - Ralph Ellison [165]
Her apartment was located in one of the better sections of the city, and I must have revealed my surprise upon entering the spacious living room.
"You can see, Brother" -- the glow she gave the word was disturbing -- "it is really the spiritual values of Brotherhood that interest me. Through no effort of my own, I have economic security and leisure, but what is that, really, when so much is wrong with the world? I mean when there is no spiritual or emotional security, and no justice?"
She was slipping out of her coat now, looking earnestly into my face, and I thought, Is she a Salvationist, a Puritan-with-reverse-English? -- remembering Brother Jack's private description of wealthy members who, he said, sought political salvation by contributing financially to the Brotherhood. She was going a little fast for me and I looked at her gravely.
"I can see that you've thought deeply about this thing," I said.
"I've tried," she said, "and it's most perplexing -- But make yourself comfortable while I put away my things."
She was a small, delicately plump woman with raven hair in which a thin streak of white had begun almost imperceptibly to show, and when she reappeared in the rich red of a hostess gown she was so striking that I had to avert my somewhat startled eyes.
"What a beautiful room you have here," I said, looking across the rich cherry glow of furniture to see a life-sized painting of a nude, a pink Renoir. Other canvases were hung here and there, and the spacious walls seemed to flash alive with warm, pure color. What does one say to all this? I thought, looking at an abstract fish of polished brass mounted on a piece of ebony.
"I'm glad you find it pleasant, Brother," she said. "We like it ourselves, though I must say that Hubert finds so little time to enjoy it. He's much too busy."
"Hubert?" I said.
"My husband. Unfortunately he had to leave. He would have loved to've met you, but then he's always dashing off. Business, you know."
"I suppose it's unavoidable," I said with sudden discomfort.
"Yes, it is," she said. "But we're going to discuss Brotherhood and ideology, aren't we?"
And there was something about her voice and her smile that gave me a sense of both comfort and excitement. It was not merely the background of wealth and gracious living, to which I was alien, but simply the being there with her and the sensed possibility of a heightened communication; as though the discordantly invisible and the conspicuously enigmatic were reaching a delicately balanced harmony. She's rich but human, I thought, watching the smooth play of her relaxed hands.
"There are so many aspects to the movement," I said. "Just where shall we start? Perhaps it's something that I'm unable to handle."
"Oh, it's nothing that profound," she said. "I'm sure you'll straighten out my little ideological twists and turns. But sit here on the sofa, Brother; it's more comfortable."
I sat, seeing her go toward a door, the train of her gown trailing sensuously over the oriental carpet. Then she turned and smiled.
"Perhaps you'd prefer wine or milk instead of coffee?"
"Wine, thank you," I said, finding the idea of milk strangely repulsive. This isn't at all what I expected, I thought. She returned with a tray holding two glasses and a decanter, placing them before us on a low cocktail table, and I could hear the wine trickle musically into the glasses, one of which she placed in front of me.
"Here's to the movement," she said, raising her glass with smiling eyes.
"To the movement," I said.
"And to Brotherhood."
"And to Brotherhood."
"This is very nice," I said, seeing her nearly closed eyes, her chin tilting upward, toward me, "but just what phase of our ideology should we discuss?"
"All of it," she said. "I wish to embrace the whole of it. Life is so terribly empty and disorganized without it. I sincerely believe that only Brotherhood offers any hope of making life worth living again -- Oh, I know that it's too vast a philosophy to grasp immediately, as it were; still, it's so vital and alive that one gets the feeling