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He
pictured
himself
in
an
adobe
house
in
Mexico
,
half-reclining
on
a
rug-covered
couch
,
his
slender
,
artistic
fingers
closed
on
a
cigarette
while
he
listened
to
guitars
strumming
melancholy
undertones
to
an
age-old
dirge
of
Castile
and
an
olive-skinned
,
carmine-lipped
girl
caressed
his
hair
.
Here
he
might
live
a
strange
litany
,
delivered
from
right
and
wrong
and
from
the
hound
of
heaven
and
from
every
God
(
except
the
exotic
Mexican
one
who
was
pretty
slack
himself
and
rather
addicted
to
Oriental
scents
)
--
delivered
from
success
and
hope
and
poverty
into
that
long
chute
of
indulgence
which
led
,
after
all
,
only
to
the
artificial
lake
of
death
.
There
were
so
many
places
where
one
might
deteriorate
pleasantly
:
Port
Said
,
Shanghai
,
parts
of
Turkestan
,
Constantinople
,
the
South
Seas
--
all
lands
of
sad
,
haunting
music
and
many
odors
,
where
lust
could
be
a
mode
and
expression
of
life
,
where
the
shades
of
night
skies
and
sunsets
would
seem
to
reflect
only
moods
of
passion
:
the
colors
of
lips
and
poppies
.
STILL
WEEDING
Once
he
had
been
miraculously
able
to
scent
evil
as
a
horse
detects
a
broken
bridge
at
night
,
but
the
man
with
the
queer
feet
in
Phoebe
's
room
had
diminished
to
the
aura
over
Jill
.
His
instinct
perceived
the
fetidness
of
poverty
,
but
no
longer
ferreted
out
the
deeper
evils
in
pride
and
sensuality
.
There
were
no
more
wise
men
;
there
were
no
more
heroes
;
Burne
Holiday
was
sunk
from
sight
as
though
he
had
never
lived
;
Monsignor
was
dead
.
Amory
had
grown
up
to
a
thousand
books
,
a
thousand
lies
;
he
had
listened
eagerly
to
people
who
pretended
to
know
,
who
knew
nothing
.
The
mystical
reveries
of
saints
that
had
once
filled
him
with
awe
in
the
still
hours
of
night
,
now
vaguely
repelled
him
.
The
Byrons
and
Brookes
who
had
defied
life
from
mountain
tops
were
in
the
end
but
flaneurs
and
poseurs
,
at
best
mistaking
the
shadow
of
courage
for
the
substance
of
wisdom
.
The
pageantry
of
his
disillusion
took
shape
in
a
world-old
procession
of
Prophets
,
Athenians
,
Martyrs
,
Saints
,
Scientists
,
Don
Juans
,
Jesuits
,
Puritans
,
Fausts
,
Poets
,
Pacifists
;
like
costumed
alumni
at
a
college
reunion
they
streamed
before
him
as
their
dreams
,
personalities
,
and
creeds
had
in
turn
thrown
colored
lights
on
his
soul
;
each
had
tried
to
express
the
glory
of
life
and
the
tremendous
significance
of
man
;
each
had
boasted
of
synchronizing
what
had
gone
before
into
his
own
rickety
generalities
;
each
had
depended
after
all
on
the
set
stage
and
the
convention
of
the
theatre
,
which
is
that
man
in
his
hunger
for
faith
will
feed
his
mind
with
the
nearest
and
most
convenient
food
.
Women
--
of
whom
he
had
expected
so
much
;
whose
beauty
he
had
hoped
to
transmute
into
modes
of
art
;
whose
unfathomable
instincts
,
marvellously
incoherent
and
inarticulate
,
he
had
thought
to
perpetuate
in
terms
of
experience
--
had
become
merely
consecrations
to
their
own
posterity
.
Isabelle
,
Clara
,
Rosalind
,
Eleanor
,
were
all
removed
by
their
very
beauty
,
around
which
men
had
swarmed
,
from
the
possibility
of
contributing
anything
but
a
sick
heart
and
a
page
of
puzzled
words
to
write
.
Amory
based
his
loss
of
faith
in
help
from
others
on
several
sweeping
syllogisms
.
Granted
that
his
generation
,
however
bruised
and
decimated
from
this
Victorian
war
,
were
the
heirs
of
progress
.
Waving
aside
petty
differences
of
conclusions
which
,
although
they
might
occasionally
cause
the
deaths
of
several
millions
of
young
men
,
might
be
explained
away
--
supposing
that
after
all
Bernard
Shaw
and
Bernhardi
,
Bonar
Law
and
Bethmann-Hollweg
were
mutual
heirs
of
progress
if
only
in
agreeing
against
the
ducking
of
witches
--
waiving
the
antitheses
and
approaching
individually
these
men
who
seemed
to
be
the
leaders
,
he
was
repelled
by
the
discrepancies
and
contradictions
in
the
men
themselves
.
There
was
,
for
example
,
Thornton
Hancock
,
respected
by
half
the
intellectual
world
as
an
authority
on
life
,
a
man
who
had
verified
and
believed
the
code
he
lived
by
,
an
educator
of
educators
,
an
adviser
to
Presidents
--
yet
Amory
knew
that
this
man
had
,
in
his
heart
,
leaned
on
the
priest
of
another
religion
.
