[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.He felt a deep and lastingsatisfaction, knowing that he personally had killed the alien life-form. Now we can get going. 8ON THE BRIGHTLY-LIT stage colorful shapes danced and gestured.The costumed figures sang lustily,bustily; scenery glimmered with a high sparkle: a small square of brilliance cut in the far end of thehall.The third act was coming to an end.All the characters were on stage; with infinite precision theygave forth their melodic lines.In the pit, the orchestra classical and exact labored furiously.Dominating the opera loomed the aged, wallowing figure of Gaetano Tabelli, long past his primebut still a splendid singer and actor.Purple-faced, near-sighted, the fabulous Tabelli waddled aboutthe stage, an expression of dumbfounded bewilderment on his huge wrinkled features, strugglinggrotesquely to find his way through the maze of shadows that made up the world of Beaumarchais.Peering through his eye-glass, Tabelli grossly scrutinized his fellows, bellowing all the while in hisvast, familiar, booming bass-baritone.A greater Don Bartolo there never was.And never would be.This performance, this zenith of consummate operatic staging, dramatic force, and perfected vocalartistry, had been frozen for all time.Tabelli was dead, now, ten years.The bright figures on the stagewere scrupulous robot imitations.But even so, the performance was wholly convincing.Relaxed and comfortable in his deep chair,Cussick watched with passive appreciation.He enjoyed Le Nozze di Figaro.He had seen Tabelli manytimes; he had never become tired of the great performer s finest role.And he enjoyed the gaycostumes, the uninterrupted flow of lyrical melody, the pink-cheeked chorus singing peasantinterludes for all they were worth.The music and phantasmagoria of colors had gradually put him in asoporific state.Dreaming, half-asleep, he leaned back in his seat and happily absorbed it all.But something was wrong.Awakened, he pulled himself upright.Beside him, Nina sat slumped in rapt satisfaction; her moodwas unbroken.Before he realized what he was doing, he had slid to his feet.Blinking, Nina broke out of her trance. What? she whispered, astonished.He made a silencingmotion and pushed his way down the row to the aisle.A moment later he was plodding stonily pastrows of attentive faces to the carpeted steps in the rear, and the packed standing room.There hepaused to take one final look at the stage.The feeling remained, even at this distance.He stepped past the calcified ushers and reached thelobby.There, in the now empty, carpeted vault that still smelled of cigar smoke and women sperfume, he halted and lit a fresh cigarette.He was the only person in the whole deserted lobby.Behind him, through the half-open doors, rangthe sounds and voices and the sweet fluttering whirr of a Viennese symphony orchestra.Vaguelyirritated, he prowled around.His restlessness remained; and it hadn t been helped by the quick glare ofdisapproval that had hardened on Nina s face.He had seen it before; he knew what it meant.Explanations were going to be needed.He winced at the thought.How could he explain?Beyond the lobby of the opera house stretched the night street, sunk in desolate stillness.On thefar side were deserted office buildings, black and empty, locked up for the week-end.The entrance of one glowed; a night-light flickered dully.In the concrete well lay heaps of rubbish blown there by thenight wind.Posters, scraps of paper, urban trash of various kinds.Even from where he stood, insulatedby thick plate glass doors, by the descending flight of concrete steps, by the wide sidewalk and streetitself, Cussick could make out the letters on a crumpled poster.PATRIOrally aof the maJONES WILLpublic inviTorn across the middle, the poster lay sightlessly sprawled.But for every one that had been rippeddown by the police, a thousand still plastered walls, doorways; hung in restaurants, store windows,bars, lavatories, gas stations, schools, offices, private houses.The Pied Piper and his flock& the reekof burning gasoline.When the final thunderous roar of applause burst out, Cussick tensed himself.Already, a few eagerpeople scurried from the open doorways; ushers appeared and rapidly fixed the doors aside.Now thefirst phalanx of the throng burst forth; laughing and conversing, pulling their wraps around them, thewell-dressed citizens of the main floor poured into the lobby, like a jar of expensive costume jewelryabruptly overturned.Down the wide stairs, less elaborately dressed patrons descended.In a moment,Cussick was surrounded by a solid pack of talking, murmuring, noisily gesturing people.Presently Nina fought her way over to him. Hello, he said uncomfortably. What happened? Nina inquired, half-anxiously, half in exasperation, Did you have some sort offit? Sorry. It was a difficult thing to explain to her. That last act scenery reminded me ofsomething.Dismal, like that.People creeping around in the darkness. Lightly, Nina said: Reminded you of business? Police prisons, maybe? Her voice was tense,sharpened with momentary accusation. Guilty conscience? He felt his face flushing. No, that isn t it
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]