p&c.brimstone-第74部分
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terrazza 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 they found his body； frozen to death； in one of the deserted shepherd's huts。 The Stormcloud was gone。 There were no tracks in the snow around the hut； no clues。 They concluded that on the way up the Sciliar； in the grip of madness； he had flung the violin into the Falls of the Sciliar。〃
〃Is this what you believe？〃
〃Reluctantly； yes。〃
Pendergast leaned forward。 His normally calm； almost honeyed southern tones had taken on an unusual intensity。 〃Lady Maskelene； I am here to tell you that the Stormcloud exists。〃
Her eyes gazed at him steadily。 〃I've heard that before。〃
〃I will prove it to you。〃
She continued looking at him with a grave； steady face。 Finally she gave a wan smile and shook her head sadly。 〃I'll believe it when I see it。〃
〃Iwill get it back。 And I will place it in your hands myself。〃
D'Agosta listened with surprise。 He might be wrong； but he was pretty sure Pendergast's aim in ing here wasn't to inform this woman of the violin's existence。 Fact was； he felt surprised Pendergast even mentioned it。
She shook her head more vigorously。 〃There are hundreds of Stormcloud fakes and copies out there。 They were churned out by the gross in the late nineteenth century； sold for nine pounds apiece。〃
〃When I bring you the violin； Lady Maskelene…〃
〃Enough of this 'Lady Maskelene' business。 Every time you say that； I think my mother must have stepped into the room。 Call me Viola。〃
〃Certainly。 Viola。〃
〃That sounds better。 And I'll call you Aloysius。〃
〃Of course。〃
〃What an unusual funny name； though。 Did your mother read a lot of Russian novels？〃
〃Unusual names are a tradition in my family。〃
Viola laughed。 〃Just as musical names were in mine。 Now tell me about the Stormcloud。 Where in the world did you find it？ If you did really find it； that is。〃
〃I'll tell you the whole story when I bring it to you。 You'll play it…and then you'll know。〃
〃It is too much to hope for。 Still； I should love to hear it before I die。〃
〃It would also clear your family name。〃
Maskelene laughed； waved her hand。 〃What rot。 I hate
