The Illustrated Gormenghast Trilogy полностью

Fuchsia had given a little gasp of surprise, for Steerpike had dived into the lake. A moment before he dived he had waved to them, although as far as they had been able to judge he had not so much as moved his eyes in their direction.

‘What was that?’ said Irma, swivelling her neck about in a most lubricated way. ‘I said, “what was that?”, Bernard. It sounded like a splash; do you hear me, Bernard? I say it sounded like a splash.’

‘That’s why,’ said her brother.

‘“That’s why?” What do you mean, Bernard by “that’s why”? You are so tiresome. I said, you are so tiresome. That’s why what?’

‘That’s why it was like a splash, my butterfly.’

‘But why? Oh, my conscience for a normal brother! Why, Bernard, was-it-like-a-splash?’

‘Only because it happened to be one, peahen,’ he said. ‘It was an authentic, undiluted splash. Ha! ha! ha! An undiluted splash.’

‘Oh!’ cried Mrs Slagg, her fingers plucking at her nether lip, ‘it wasn’t the shark, was it, Doctor sir? Oh, my weak heart, sir! Was it the shark?’

‘Nonsense!’ said Irma. ‘Nonsense, you silly woman! Sharks in Gormenghast Lake! The very idea!’

Fuchsia’s eyes were on Steerpike. He was a strong swimmer and was by now halfway across the lake, the thin white arms obtusely angled at the elbows methodically dipping and emerging.

Cora’s voice said: ‘I can see somebody.’

‘Where?’ said Clarice.

‘In the water.’

‘What? In the lake?’

‘Yes, that’s the only water there is, stupid.’

‘No, it isn’t.’

‘Well, it’s the only water there is that’s near us now.’

‘Oh yes, it’s the only water of that sort.’

‘Can you see him?’

‘I haven’t looked yet.’

‘Well, look now.’

‘Shall I?’

‘Yes. Now.’

‘Oh … I see a man. Do you see a man?’

‘I told you about him. Of course I do.’

‘He’s swimming to me.’

‘Why to you? It might as well be to me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because we’re just the same.’

‘That’s our glory.’

‘And our pride. Don’t forget that.’

‘No, I won’t.’

They stared at the approaching swimmer. His face was most of the time either under water or lying sideways along it to draw breath, and they had no idea that it was Steerpike.

‘Clarice,’ said Cora.

‘Yes.’

‘We are the only ladies present, aren’t we?’

‘Yes. What about it?’

‘Well, we’ll go down to the shore, so that when he arrives we can unbend to him.’

‘Will it hurt?’ said Clarice.

‘Why are you so ignorant of phrases?’ Cora turned her face to her sister’s profile.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ muttered Clarice.

‘I haven’t time to explain about language,’ said Cora. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Doesn’t it?’

‘No. But this is what does.’

‘Oh.’

‘We are being swum to.’

‘Yes.’

‘So we must receive his homage on the shore.’

‘Yes … yes.’

‘So we must go and patronize him now.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, now. Are you ready?’

‘When I get up I’ll be.’

‘Have you finished?’

‘Nearly. Have you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Come on, then.’

‘Where?’

‘Don’t bother me with ignorance. Just walk where I do.’

‘Yes.’

‘Look!’

‘Look!’

Steerpike had found himself in his depth and was standing upright. The water lapped at the base of his ribs, the mud of the lake’s floor oozing between his toes, while he waved his arm over his head to the group, the bright drops falling from them in sparkling strings.

Fuchsia was excited. She loved what he had done. To suddenly see them, to throw off his clothes, to plunge into the deep water and to strike out across the lake to them, and then finally to stand, panting, with the water curling at his narrow wiry waist – was fine, all up on the spur of the moment.

Irma Prunesquallor who had not seen her ‘admirer’ for several weeks gave a shriek as she saw his naked body rising from the lake, and covering her face with her hands she peered between her fingers.

Nannie still couldn’t make out who it was, and months afterwards was still in doubt.

Steerpike’s voice sounded over the shallow water.

‘Well met!’ he shouted, ‘Only just saw you! Lady Fuchsia! good day. It’s delightful to see you again. How is your health? Miss Irma? Excuse my skin. And, Doctor, how’s yours?’

Then he gazed with his dark-red, close-together-eyes at the twins, who were paddling out to meet him, quite unconscious of the water up to their ankles.

‘You’re getting your legs wet, your ladyships. Be careful! Go back!’ cried the youth, in mock alarm, ‘You do me too much honour. For God’s sake, go back!’

It was necessary for him to shout in such a manner as gave no indication that he held authority over them. Indeed, he did not care two straws whether they marched on until they were up to their necks. It was a quaint situation. In the interests of modesty he could move no farther shorewards.

As he intended, they were unable to recognize the authority in his voice which they had learned to obey. The twins moved deeper in the water, and the Doctor, Fuchsia, and Nannie Slagg were amazed to see that they were up to their hips in the lake, the voluminous skirts of their purple dresses floating out magnificently.