IV
He got to Covent Garden late. Peer Gynt had begun. The scene was IngridтАЩs wedding and Vernon arrived just at the moment of the first brief meeting of Peer and Solveig. He wondered if Jane were nervous. She managed to look marvellously young with her fair plaits and her innocent calm bearing. She looked nineteen. The act ended with the carrying off of Ingrid by Peer.
Vernon found himself interested less in the music than in Jane. Tonight was JaneтАЩs ordeal. She had to make good or go under. Vernon knew how anxious she was, above everything else, to justify RadmaagerтАЩs trust in her.
Presently he knew that all was well. Jane was the perfect Solveig. Her voice, clear and trueтБатАФthe crystal thread, as Radmaager had called itтБатАФsang unfalteringly and her acting was wonderful. The calm steadfast personality of Solveig dominated the opera.
Vernon found himself for the first time interested in the story of the weak, storm-torn Peer, the coward who ran from reality at every opportunity. The music of PeerтАЩs conflict with the great Boyg stirred him, reminding him of his childish terror of the Beast. It was the same formless bogey fear of childhood. Unseen, SolveigтАЩs clear voice delivered him from it. The scene in the forest where Solveig comes to Peer was infinitely beautiful, ending with Peer bidding Solveig remain while he went out to take up his burden. Her reply: тАЬIf it is so heavy it is best two should share it.тАЭ And then PeerтАЩs departure, his final evasion: тАЬBring sorrow on her? No. Go roundabout, Peer, go roundabout.тАЭ
The Whitsuntide music was the most beautiful, but in atmosphere very Radmaagian, Vernon thought. It led up to and prepared for the effect of the final scene. The weary Peer asleep with his head on SolveigтАЩs lap, and Solveig, her hair silvered, a Madonna blue cloak round her in the middle of the stage, her head silhouetted against the rising sun, singing valiantly against the buttonsтАЩ moulder.
It was a wonderful duetтБатАФChavaranov, the famous Russian bass, his voice deepening and deepening, and Jane, with her silver thread singing steadily upward and ever upward, higher and higherтБатАФtill the last note was left to herтБатАФhigh and incredibly pure.тБатАКтБатАж And the sun rose.тБатАКтБатАж
Vernon, feeling boyishly important, went behind afterwards. The opera had been a terrific success. The applause had been long and enthusiastic. He found Radmaager holding Jane by the hand and kissing her with artistic fervour and thoroughness.
тАЬYou are an angelтБатАФyou are magnificentтБатАФyes, magnificent! You are an artist. Ah!тАЭ he burst into a torrent of words in his native language, then reverted to English. тАЬI will reward youтБатАФyes, little one, I will reward you. I know very well how to do it. I will persuade the long Sebastian. Together we willтБатАФтАЭ
тАЬHush,тАЭ said Jane.
Vernon came forward awkwardly, said shyly: тАЬIt was splendid!тАЭ
He squeezed JaneтАЩs hand, and she gave him a brief affectionate smile.
тАЬWhereтАЩs Sebastian? WasnтАЩt he here just now?тАЭ
Sebastian was no longer to be seen. Vernon volunteered to go in search of him and bring him along to supper. He said vaguely that he thought he knew where he was. Jane knew nothing of the news about Joe, and he didnтАЩt see how he could tell her at the moment.
He got a taxi and drove to SebastianтАЩs house, but did not find him. Vernon wondered if perhaps Sebastian might be at his own rooms where he had left him earlier in the evening. He drove there straight away. He was feeling suddenly elated and triumphant. Even Joe did not seem to matter for the moment. He felt suddenly convinced that his own work was goodтБатАФor rather that it would be some day. And somehow or other he also felt that things were coming right with Nell. She had clung to him differently tonightтБатАФmore closelyтБатАФmore as though she could not bear to let him go.тБатАКтБатАж Yes, he was sure of it. Everything was coming right.
He ran up the stairs to his room. It was in darkness. Sebastian was not here then. He switched on the lightтБатАФlooked round. A note lay on the table, sent by hand. He picked it up. It was addressed to him in NellтАЩs handwriting. He tore it open.тБатАКтБатАж
He stood there a long time. Then, carefully and methodically he drew up a chair to the table, setting it very exactly straight, as though that were important, and sat down holding the note in his hand. He read it again for the tenth or eleventh time:
Dearest VernonтБатАФforgive meтБатАФplease forgive me. I am going to marry George Chetwynd. I donтАЩt love him like I love you, but I shall be safe with him. AgainтБатАФdo forgive meтБатАФplease.
He said aloud: тАЬSafe with him. What does she mean by that? SheтАЩd have been safe with me. Safe with him? That hurts.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ
He sat there. Minutes passed.тБатАКтБатАж Hours passed.тБатАКтБатАж He sat there, motionless, almost unable to think.тБатАКтБатАж Once the thought rose dully in his brain, тАЬWas this how Sebastian felt? I didnтАЩt understand.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ
When he heard a rustle in the doorway he didnтАЩt look up. His first sight of Jane was when she came round the table, dropped on her knees beside him.
тАЬVernon, my dear, what is it? I knew there was something when you didnтАЩt come to the supper. I came to see.тАЭ
Dully, mechanically, he held out the note to her. She took it and read it. She laid it down again on the table.
He said in a dull bewildered voice: тАЬShe neednтАЩt have said that about not being safe with me. She would have been safe with me.тАЭ
тАЬOh, VernonтБатАФmy dearтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ
Her arms went round him. He clutched at her suddenlyтБатАФa frightened clutch such as a child might give at its mother. A sob burst from his throat. He laid his face down on the gleaming white skin of her neck.
тАЬOh! JaneтБатАКтБатАж JaneтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ
She held him closer. She stroked his hair. He murmured:
тАЬStay with meтБатАКтБатАж Stay with meтБатАКтБатАж DonтАЩt leave meтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ
She answered: тАЬI wonтАЩt leave you. ItтАЩs all right.тАЭ
Her voice was tenderтБатАФmotherly. Something broke in him like the breaking of a dam. Ideas swirled and rushed through his head. His father kissing Winnie at Abbots PuissantsтБатАКтБатАж the statue in the South KensingtonтБатАКтБатАж JaneтАЩs bodyтБатАКтБатАж her beautiful body.
He said hoarsely: тАЬStay with meтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ
Her arms round him, her lips on his forehead, she murmured back: тАЬIтАЩll stay with you, dear.тАЭ
Like a mother to a child.
He wrenched himself suddenly free.
тАЬNot like that. Not like that. Like this.тАЭ
His lips fastened on hersтБатАФfiercely, hungrilyтБатАФhis hand clutched at the roundness of her breast. HeтАЩd always wanted herтБатАФalways. He knew it now. It was her body he wanted, that beautiful gracious body that Boris Androv had known so well.
He said again: тАЬStay with me.тАЭ
There was a long pauseтБатАФit seemed to him as though minutes, hours, years passed before she answered:
She said: тАЬIтАЩll stayтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ