Chapter 15 fifteen

Edward.Driffield worked nights, and Rosie had nothing to do but enjoyed going out with some friend or another of hers.She loves luxury, and Quentin.Ford has a lot of money.He used to hire a carriage to pick her up and take her to dinner at the Keltner or the Savoy, and Rosie would dress him in her best clothes, Harry.Retford, though penniless, looked as if she were rich, and hired a pony to drive her about, and took her to the Romano's, or to those who were becoming fashionable in Soho. Eat at this or that little restaurant.He is an actor and is very good at acting, but it is difficult to find suitable roles for him, so he is often unemployed.He was about thirty or so, and ugly, but not obnoxious; when he spoke, he often cut off the beginning and the end of his articulation, which sounded very funny.Rosie liked his nonchalant attitude to life, the way he swaggered about in unpaid suits from the best tailors in London, betting five pounds he didn't have on a racehorse The recklessness with which he appeared on the Internet, and the boldness with which he spent money when he got lucky.He has a cheerful personality, charming demeanor, strong vanity, loves to talk big, and has no scruples.Rosie told me that once he pawned his watch to take her out to dinner and later took her to a play, the tickets were given by a show manager, and Harry borrowed a few pounds from the manager so that after the show ended Ask him to have supper with them.

But she also loves and Lionel.Hillier went to his studio, ate the ribs they cooked together, and talked there in the evenings, but she and I seldom went out to dinner.I always came to fetch her after dinner at the flat in Vincent Square, and she dined with Driffield then.We used to go to a vaudeville theater together in a stagecoach to see a performance.We went to the theaters too, either at the Pavilion or at the Tivoli, and sometimes at the Metropolitan if there happened to be something we wanted to see; but our favorite place was the Canterbury Theatre. .Tickets are cheap there, but the performances are not bad.We ordered a few beers and I smoked a pipe.Rosie looked around excitedly, looking at the smoky and black theater, which was packed from bottom to top with residents of south London who came to see the play.

"I like the Canterbury Theatre," she said, "it's really like home here." I found out that she has read a lot of books.She liked history, but only a certain kind of history, like the lives of queens and mistresses of princes and nobles.She would tell me, with childish amazement, the anecdotes she had read in books.She knew the life experience of Henry VIII's six wives like the back of his hand, and had a secret marriage to Mrs. Fitzherbert. ] and Mrs. Hamilton [Note: British Admiral Nelson's mistress. ]'s deeds are also well known.Her appetite for reading is amazing, from Lucretia.Borgia [Note: The illegitimate daughter of Pope Alexander VI, who has been married many times. ] to King Philip of Spain [Note: Refers to Philip II, who had three marriages. ]'s wives' lives; she has also read the long string of mistresses of the kings of France.From Agnes.Sorel [Note: Mistress of King Charles VII of France. ] until Mrs. Du Barry [Note: The last mistress of King Louis XV of France. ], there is no one she does not know, and there is no one thing about them that she does not understand.

I like to see real things.She said, I don't like reading novels very much. She likes to gossip about all kinds of little things about Black House, and I think it's because of my connection to that place that she likes to go out with me.She seemed to know everything that happened in that town. I go there to see my mother about every week or so, she says, just for one night. To the town of Heishan? I feel very surprised. No, not to Heishan Town.Rosie laughed and said, I don't really want to go there right now.I'm going to Haversham.Mother will come to see me.I live in the same hotel where I used to work.

She is not a talkative person.When the weather was fine, we often decided to walk back after an evening show at the vaudeville, and she never spoke.But her silence made you feel at ease.You don't feel excluded from her solitary thoughts, but you feel that you, too, are immersed in an atmosphere of pervasive peace. Once I asked Lionel.Hillier talked about Rosie, and I said I couldn't understand how she had gone from the bright, pleasant-looking young woman I'd first known to the almost universally recognized beauty she was now.Some people don't fully agree with this view.Of course she has a good figure, they say, but I personally don't appreciate her face like that.Others said: Yes, of course she is a very beautiful woman, but it is a pity that she lacks a little distinctive feature.

I can explain that to you in a moment, Lionel.When you first saw her, Hillier said, she was just a bright, buxom country girl, and I made her beautiful. I forget how I answered him at the time, but my words must have been vulgar. All right.It just shows that you don't know what beauty is at all.Nobody thought Rosie had anything special about her looks until I found her like a silvery sun.It wasn't until I drew her portrait that people saw that her hair was the most beautiful thing in the world. And did you also make her neck, her breasts, her manners, her bones?I asked. Yes, damn it!That's what I've made.

Whenever Hillier spoke of her looks in Rosie's presence, she listened gravely, smiling; a flush came over her pale cheeks.Probably when she first heard Hillier talking about her beauty, she thought he was just joking with her; later, when she found out that Hillier was not joking and painted her in silvery golden yellow, she It was not affected in any particular way.She was only slightly amused, of course pleased and a little surprised, but she didn't get carried away. She thought Hillier was a little crazy, and I often wondered if there was any unusual relationship between the two of them.I can't forget all those rumors I heard about Rosie in Black Sheep, or what I saw in the parsonage garden;Ford and Harry.Retford's relationship also felt a little doubtful.I've been paying attention to how they behave when they're with her.She didn't seem particularly intimate with them, but rather like a loyal friend; she often made appointments with them openly and within earshot; That naughty childish smile, I only discovered her mysterious beauty in this smile at that time.I watched her face a few times when we sat side by side in a vaudeville theater; I didn't think I was in love with her, I just liked to sit quietly next to her and look at her pale gold The hair and the pale golden skin feel.Lionel.Hillier was right, of course; the strange thing was that this golden tint on Rosie did give off a strange moonlight look.She was as serene as the sun fading from a clear sky on a summer evening.There was nothing dull about her infinite serenity, but as much life as the calm and shining sea off the coast of Kent in the August sun.She can't help reminding me of a little sonata composed by an old Italian composer, in whose melancholy and melancholy melody there is an elegant and lively sentiment, but in the light and ups and downs of joy, there are trembling sighs echoed.Sometimes, she sensed that I was looking at her, and she turned her head and looked straight into my face for a moment.She didn't speak.I don't know what she is thinking.

I remember one time when I went to pick her up on Lympas Road, the maid told me she wasn't ready yet and asked me to wait in the living room.Then she came in, all in black velvet and a sombrero full of ostrich feathers (we were going to the Pavilion that evening, and she was dressed for that), and she looked It's so beautiful and cute, I was stunned for a moment, I couldn't believe it.Her dress that day added to her demeanor.Her innocent beauty (sometimes she looks a lot like the exquisite Psyche statue in the Naples museum) stands out in that solemn body. The dress looks particularly charming against the backdrop.She had a feature that seemed to me very rare: the skin under the eyes had a bluish tinge, as if wet with dew.Sometimes I can't believe the color is natural.I once asked her if she put petroleum jelly under her eyes.This effect occurs after applying petroleum jelly.She laughed and took out a handkerchief and handed it to me.

Come and wipe it to see if there is any.she says. Then one night we were walking home from the Canterbury Theater and I sent her to the door to leave, but when I held out my hand to say good-bye she gave a snort and leaned forward. You big fool.she says. She kissed me on the mouth, it was neither a quick kiss nor a passionate one.Her lips, her very full, red lips lingered on mine for a while, giving me the fullest sense of its shape, its warmth, its softness.Then she calmly drew back her lips, pushed open the door without saying a word, stepped in, and left me outside.I was so astonished that I couldn't say anything.I foolishly accepted her kiss, still standing there dumbfounded.After a while I turned and walked back to my apartment.I still seem to hear Rosie's laughter in my ears.Her laughter had nothing contemptuous or meant to hurt my feelings, but was frank and kind, as if she was laughing because she liked me.