The Magus - John Fowles [215]
they had said kept on coming back, with dreadful double meanings; a constant dramatic irony. Almost every line Conchis and Lily had spoken was ironic; right up to that last, transparently double-meaning, dialogue with June. _Wind and running water._ _I cannot stand dishonesty in personal relationships._ _I cannot believe Maurice is evil._ _You will understand._ _A whole summer of tomorrows._ _Perhaps a young English master who is newly married_... That blank weekend: of course they had cancelled it to give me reasonable time to receive the "letter of reference" from the bank; holding me back only to hurl me faster down the slope. That day she had murmured, down at Moutsa, when I said I loved her: _I want you to love me_. She might just as well have said, My real name is Circe. Again and again images of Lily, the Lily of the Julie phase, surged back; moments of passion, that last almost total surrender of herself--and other moments of gentleness, sincerity, spontaneous moments that could not have been rehearsed but could only have sprung out of a deep identification with the part she was playing. I even went back to that earlier theory I had had, that she was acting under hypnosis. Our final wild struggle had seemed a struggle in Lily herself, a wanting to let go but a knowledge that she mustn't let go; though the inhibition was certainly not virginal, there had been something to inhibit. Then I recalled her appearance afterwards, when she seemed so professional; coldly solicitous for me, but above all professional. Hypnotism explained nothing. I lit another Philip Morris. I tried to think of the present. But everything drove me back to the same anger, the same profound humiliation. Only one thing could ever give me relief. Some equal humiliation of Lily. It made me furious that I had not been more violent with her before. That was indeed the ultimate indignity: that my own small stock of decency had been used against me. There was noise outside, and the door opened. The crewcut blond German came in; behind him was another man, in the same black trousers, black shirt, black gym shoes. And behind him came Anton. He was in a doctor's collarless white overall. A pocket with pens. A bright German-accented voice; as if on his rounds. And he had no limp. "How are you feeling?" I stared at him; controlled myself. "Wonderful. Enjoying every minute of it." He looked at the breakfast tray. "You would like more coffee?" I nodded. He gestured to the second man, who took the tray out. Anton sat on the chair by the table, and the other man leaned easily against the door. Beyond appeared a long corridor, and right at the end steps leading up to daylight. It was much too big a cistern for a private house. Anton watched me. I refused to speak, and we sat there in silence for some time. "I am a doctor. I come to examine you." He studied me, then smiled. "You feel... not too bad?" I didn't answer, but leant back against the wall; stared at him. He waved his finger reprovingly. "Please to answer." "I love being humiliated. I love having a girl I like trampling over every human affection and decency. Every time that stupid old bugger tells me another lie I feel thrills of ecstasy run down my spine." I shouted. "Now where the hell am I?" He gave the impression that my words were meaningless; it was my manner he was watching. He said slowly, "Good. You have awoken up." He sat with his legs crossed, leaning back a little; a very fair imitation of a doctor in his consulting room. "Where's that little tart?" He seemed not to understand. "Lily. Julie. Whatever her name is." He smiled. "Ah so. 'Tart' means bad woman?" I shut my eyes. My head was beginning to ache. I had to keep cool. The man in the door turned; the second man appeared down the distant steps with a tray and came and put it on the table. Anton poured out a cup for me and one for himself. The blondhead reached me mine. Anton swallowed his quickly. "My friend, you are wrong. She is a good girl. Very pretty. Very intelligent. Very brave. Oh yes." He contradicted my sneer. "Very brave." "All