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All the King's Men - Robert Penn Warren [101]

By Root 17536 0
“darkness and trouble,” at the very moment of his agony and repudiation, he had to take one last backward look even at the risk of being turned into a pillar of salt. “Her face was not large tough a little given to fullness. Her mouth was strong but the lips were red and moist and seemed to be slightly parted or about to part themselves. The chin was short and firmly molded. Her skin was of a great whiteness, it seemed then before the candles were lit, but afterward I was to see what it had a bloom of color upon it. Her hair, which was in a remarkable abundance and of great fairness, was drawn back from her face and worn in large coils low down to the neck. Her waist was very small and her breasts, which seemed naturally high and round and full, were the higher for the corseting. Her dress, of a dark blue silk I remember, was cut low to the very downward curve of the shoulders, and in the front showed how the breasts were lifted like twin orbs.”

Cass described her in that way. He admitted that her face was not beautiful. “Though agreeable in its proportions,” he added. But the hair was beautiful, and “of an astonishing softness, upon you hand softer and fine than you thought of silk.” So even in that moment, in the midst of the “darkness and trouble,” the recollection intrudes into the journal of how that abundant, fair hair had slipped across his fingers. “But,” he added, “her beauty was her eyes.”

He had remarked how, when she first came in, into the shadowy room, her eyes had seemed black. But he had been mistaken, he was to discover, and that discovery was the first step toward his undoing. After the greeting (“she greeted me with great simplicity and courtesy and bade me again take my seat”), she remarked on how dark the room was and how the autumn always came to take one unaware. Then she touched a bellpull and a Negro boy entered. “She commanded him to bring light and to mend the fire, which was sunk to ash, or near so. He came back presently with a seven branched candlestick which he put upon the table back of the couch on which I sat. He struck a lucifer but she said, ‘Let me light the candles.’ I remember it as if it were only yesterday when I sat on that couch. I had turned my head idly to watch her light the candles and applied the lucifer to the wicks, one after another. She was leaning over, and I saw how the corset lifted her breasts together, but because she was leaning the eyelids shaded her eyes from my sight. Then she raised her head a little and looked straight at me over the new candle flames, and I saw all at once that her eyes were not black. They were blue, but a blue so deep that I can only compare it to the color of the night sky in autumn when the weather is clear and there is no moon and the stars have just well come out. And I had not known how large they were. I remember saying that to myself with perfect clearness, ‘I had not known how large they were,’ several times, slowly, like a man marveling. Then I knew that I was blushing and I felt my tongue dry like ashes in my mouth and I was in the manly state.

“I can see perfectly clearly the expression on her face even now, but I cannot interpret it. Sometimes I have thought of it as having a smiling hidden in it, but I cannot be sure. (I am only sure of this: that man is never safe and damnation is ever at hand, O God and my Redeemer!) I sat there, one hand clenched upon my knee and the other holding an empty glass, and I felt that I could not breathe. Then she said to her husband, who stood in the room behind me, ‘Duncan, do you see that Mr. Mastern is in need of refreshment?’ “

The year passed. Cass, who was a good deal younger than Duncan Trice, and as a matter of fact several years younger than Annabelle Trice, became a close companion of Duncan Trice and learned much from him, for Duncan Trice was rich, fashionable, clever, and high-spirited (“much given to laughter and full-blooded”). Duncan Trice led Cass to the bottle, the gaming table and the racecourse, but not to the “illicit sweetness of the flesh.” Duncan Trice was passionately and single-minded devoted to his wife. (

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