Волны

           Thenoteisofdistinguishedpovertyandmilitaryconnections.Ahunter’shoofonthewritingtable--afavouritehorse."Doyouride?""Yes,sir,Iloveriding.""Mydaughterexpectsusinthedrawing-room."Myheartpoundsagainstmyribs.Sheisstandingatalowtable;shehasbeenhunting;shemunchessandwicheslikeatomboy.ImakeafairlygoodimpressionontheColonel.Iamnottooclever,hethinks;Iamnottooraw.AlsoIplaybilliards.Thenthenicemaidwhohasbeenwiththefamilythirtyyearscomesin.ThepatternontheplatesisofOrientallong-tailedbirds.Hermother’sportraitinmuslinhangsoverthefireplace.Icansketchthesurroundingsuptoapointwithextraordinaryease.ButcanImakeitwork?CanIhearhervoice--theprecisetonewithwhich,whenwearealone,shesays"Bernard"?Andthenwhatnext?

           ’ThetruthisthatIneedthestimulusofotherpeople.Alone,overmydeadfire,Itendtoseethethinplacesinmyownstories.Therealnovelist,theperfectlysimplehumanbeing,couldgoon,indefinitely,imagining.Hewouldnotintegrate,asIdo.Hewouldnothavethisdevastatingsenseofgreyashesinaburnt-outgrate.Someblindflapsinmyeyes.Everythingbecomesimpervious.Iceasetoinvent.

           ’Letmerecollect.Ithasbeenonthewholeagoodday.Thedropthatformsontheroofofthesoulintheeveningisround,many-coloured.Therewasthemorning,fine;therewastheafternoon,walking.Ilikeviewsofspiresacrossgreyfields.Ilikeglimpsesbetweenpeople’sshoulders.Thingskeptpoppingintomyhead.Iwasimaginative,subtle.Afterdinner,Iwasdramatic.