The Magus - John Fowles [90]
is where you nearly die. The happiness line is very, very strong after that." She let go of my hand. "Now can I read yours?" She hesitated a moment, then put her small hand in mine, and I pretended to read it. I tried to read it quite seriously in one way--the Sherlock Holmes way. But even that great master at detecting in a second Irish maidservants from Brixton with a mania for boating and bullseyes would have been baffled. However, Lily's hands were very white, very smooth, very unblemished; whatever else she was she was not a maidservant from anywhere. "You are taking a long time, Mr. Urfe." "My name is Nicholas." "May I call you Nicholas?" "If I may call you...?" "You may call me Lily, Nicholas. But you may not sit for hours pretending to read my hand." "It's a very difficult hand to read. Very obscure. I can only see one thing clearly." "And what is that?" "It's extremely nice to look at and to hold." She snatched it away. "There. You prove what I said. You _are_ treacherous." "Let me have it back. I'll be serious." But she shook her head, and put both her hands behind her, and turned, and looked at me with a perfectly done pert Edwardian rebelliousness. A wisp of hair blew across her face; the wind kindled in her clothes a wantonness, bared her throat, so that she suddenly looked very young, absurdly young, seventeen; a world away from an avenging goddess. I remembered what Conchis had said about the original Lily's gentleness and mischievousness, and I thought how wonderfully well he had cast this Lily--there was, it seemed to me, a natural teasing obliquity in her that couldn't be acted. Not when she was so close, in daylight; she seemed far less sophisticated than she had on the terrace the night before. All the condescension had disappeared. Impulsively she thrust her hand back out at me. I began to read it. "I see all the usual things. Long life. Happiness. Children. And then... intelligence. A lot of intelligence. Some heart. And yes--great acting ability, combined with a strong sense of humour. And this line means that you love mystery. But I think the acting's strongest." A little white cloud floated across the sun, casting shadow over the beach. She took her hand away, and stared down at it in her lap. "And death?" "I said. A long life." "But I am dead. One cannot die twice." I touched her arm. "You're the most living dead person I've ever met." She did not smile; there was swiftly, too swiftly, something very cold and grey in her eyes, a silent trouble. "Oh come on. There is a limit." "Death is the limit." I knew she must be improvising her moods and dialogue with me. The cloud had come; she had brought in death. It was time to call her bluff. "Look --" "You still do not understand." "Of course I'll keep up the pretence in front of Maurice." "We are in front of Maurice." I thought for one mad moment that he had crept up behind us. I even looked round. There was no one; and no place where anyone could have hidden and overheard us. "Lily--I admire him. I like him. I like this extraordinary masque of his. Very much. And I admire you for being so... faithful? But --" She said abruptly, "I have no choice." This was a new tack. I thought I heard a faint note of regret. That he insisted on her keeping up the pretence at all times? On pain of dismissal, perhaps? "Meaning?" "Everything you say to me and I say to you, he hears, he knows." "You have to tell him?" I sounded incredulous. She nodded, then stared out to sea and I knew that she was not unmasking at all. I began to feel exasperated; foiled. "Are we talking about telepathy?" "Telepathy and --" She broke off the sentence, and she shook her head. "And?" "I cannot say any more." She opened out her sunshade, as if she was thinking of going away. It had little black tassels that hung from the ends of the ribs. "Why not?" "Maurice would be angry. He would know." I gave an unbelieving sniff. I thought, then said, "Are you his mistress?" She looked very genuinely shocked. "That is very impertinent. Very rude." She turned her back on me and I grinned--at her skill,