"I can manage very happily with the icing," said Lamotte. "To think of a woman as a walking butcher's shop revolts me."
"And the icing is so various that it is a life study in itself," said McVarish. "The tricks women get up to! I know a hairdresser who tells me that women come to the manicurist-and-superfluous-hair lady in his salon, and the things they ask for! The pubic hair plucked and shaped into hearts, or darts, and they will endure any amount of hot-wax treatment to get the desired result. Then they want it hennaed! 'There's fire down below', as the sailors sing – certainly as they sing when they behold the result!"
"They needn't bother," said Roberta. "People will put up with anything for the old houghmagandy. Or rather, Nature gently assists them to do so. Intercourse brings about a considerable loss of perceptive capacity; sight, hearing, taste, touch, and smell are all dulled, whatever the sex-technique books pretend to the contrary. The plain lover looks handsome for the moment; the broken veins and the red nose are scarcely perceptible, the grunting is not comic, bad breath is hardly noticed. And that's not love, René, but Nature coming to the rescue of love. And man is the only creature to know love as a complex emotion: man is also, in the whole of Nature, the only creature to turn sex into a hobby. Oh, it's a complex study, let me tell you."
" 'Love not as do the flesh-imprisoned men,' " said Lamotte, pretending to stop his ears. "I'll bet neither of you can continue the sonnet."
It was getting on for the time when I should suggest to the Warden that we rise for coffee and cognac, if anybody wanted it. I had some trouble getting his attention because he and Mrs. Skeldergate and Ludlow were still hard at it about the nature of a university.
"Ludlow talks about the university as a town," said the Warden, "but I'm not so sure that's the right definition."
"Surely a university is a city of youth," said Mrs. Skeldergate.
"Not a bit of it," said the Warden. "Lots of youth in a university, fortunately, but youth alone could not sustain such an institution. It is a city of wisdom, and the heart of the university is its body of learned men; it can be no better than they, and it is at their fire the young come to warm themselves. Because the young come and go, but we remain. They are the minute-hand, we the hour-hand of the academic clock. Intelligent societies have always preserved their wise men in institutions of one kind or another, where their chief business is to be wise, to conserve the fruits of wisdom and to add to them if they can. Of course the pedants and the opportunists get in somehow, as we are constantly reminded; and as Ludlow points out we have our scoundrels and our thieves – St. Nicholas's clerks, indeed. But we are the preservers and custodians of civilization, and never more so than in the present age, where there is no aristocracy to do the job. A city of wisdom; I would be content to leave it at that."
But he was not permitted to leave it at that, for in universities nobody is ever fully satisfied with somebody else's definition. Deloney spoke: "Not just a city, I think, Warden; more like an Empire, in a large university like this, composed of so many colleges that were once independent, and which still retain a measure of independence under the federation of the University itself. The President is an Emperor, presiding over a multitude of realms, each of which has its ruler, and the Principals, Rectors, Wardens, and so forth are very like the great dukes and rulers of mighty fiefdoms, with here and there a Prince Bishop, like the head of St. Brendan's, or a mitred abbot, like the Rector of Spook; all jealous of their own powers, but all subject to the Emperor. Universities were creations of the Middle Ages, and much of the Middle Ages still clings to them, not only in their gowns and official trappings, but deep in their hearts."
"When you speak of 'learned men', Warden, don't you think you should say 'and women', to avoid any injustice?" said Mrs. Skeldergate.
"As the Warden's legal counsellor I can assure you that whenever he says 'men' the word 'women' is also to be understood," said Ludlow.
"And neuter, to avoid any discrimination or hurt feelings in a university community," said the Warden, who was not wholly without humour.
"Will you take coffee, Warden?" said I, in the approved formula. The Warden rose, and the table broke up, and for the last few minutes of the evening, new groups formed.
Arthur Cornish approached me. "I haven't had a chance to tell you how much I appreciate what you did this afternoon," he said. "Of course everybody assumes that I have inherited enormously from Uncle Frank, but in the complexity of a big family business it becomes impersonal, and I wanted something to remember him by. We were more alike than you might suppose. He got away young and devoted himself to his art collections; I think he pretended to be more impractical than he was to escape the burdens of business. He was extraordinarily sharp, you know, after a bargain. Steal a dead fly from a blind spider, he would, when he was among dealers. But he was kind to lots of painters, as well, so I suppose it cancels out, in a sort of way. But tell me, how did you know I was interested in musical manuscripts?"
"A friend of yours, and a friend of mine, told me: Miss Theotoky. We were talking one day after class about methods of musical notation in the early Middle Ages, and she spoke of it."
"I remember mentioning it to her once, but I didn't think she was paying much attention."
"She was. She told me everything you said."
"I'm glad to hear that. Her taste in music and mine aren't very close."
"She's interested in medieval music, and in trying to find out what she can about earlier music. It's very mysterious; we know Nero fiddled, but what precisely did he fiddle? When Jesus and the Apostles had sung an hymn, they went up into the Mount of Olives; but what was the hymn? If we heard it now, would we be appalled to hear the Saviour of Mankind whining and yowling through his nose? It's only in the past few hundred years that music of the past has been recoverable, yet music is the key to feeling, very often. Something Hollier ought to be interested in."
"Perhaps Maria is doing it for Hollier; she seems to be very much under his spell."
"Did I hear the name of Maria?" said McVarish, joining us. "That marvellous creature pops up everywhere. By the way, I hope you didn't think I was being too familiar with her presence this afternoon? But ever since I spotted that little Venus among your uncle's bits and pieces I have been obsessed by its resemblance to her, and now I've had it home and studied it in detail I'm even more delighted. I shall have her always near me – tying her sandal, so innocently, as if she were quite alone. If you ever want a reminder, Arthur, do come to my place. She's very fond of you, you know."
"What makes you think so?" said Arthur.
"Because I know a lot about what she thinks. A friend of mine whom you don't know, I believe – a most amusing creature called Parlabane – knows her intimately. He devils for Hollier – calls himself Hollier's famulus, which is delightful – and so he sees a lot of Maria, who works in Hollier's rooms. They have great old chats, and Maria tells him everything. Not directly, I gather, but Parlabane is an old hand at reading between lines. And though of course Hollier is her great enthusiasm, she likes you a lot. As who wouldn't, my dear boy."
He touched Arthur lightly on the sleeve, as he had touched me before this evening. Urky is a great toucher.
"You mustn't imagine I'm trying to muscle in," he went on, "although Maria comes to my lectures and sits in the front row. Which gives me immense pleasure, because students are not, on the whole, decorative, and I can't resist decorative women. I adore women, you know. Unlike Rabelais, but very much like Sir Thomas Urquhart, I think." And he moved on to say good night to the Warden.