The Magus, A Revised Version (57 page)

‘
You could go.
’

She nodded.
‘
So we made the mistake of listening. It went on for hours, in the end. The gist of it was that though he was truly interested in the theatre
–
really does own this film studio in the Lebanon
–
he had remained much more the doctor than he
’
d led us to believe. That his field had been psychiatry. He even said that he
’
d studied under Jung.
’

‘
I
’
ve had that.
’

‘
I know so little about Jung. Did you think … ?
’

‘
I was convinced at the time.
’

‘
So were we. In the end, and rather against our will. But that day. He kept talking about our helping him cross a frontier to a new world that was half art and half science. A unique psychological and philosophical adventure. What might be an extraordinary voyage into the human unconscious. Those were all phrases he used. Of course we wanted to know what lay behind all the fine words
–
what we were actually expected to do. Then for the first time he mentioned you. That he wanted to mount a situation in which we two were to play parts rather like the ones in the original
Three Hearts
story. And you, without realizing it, would play the Greek poet.
’

‘
But Christ Almighty, you must have
–’

She tilted her head, looked away a moment, beyond the words to express it.
‘
Nicholas, we were flabbergasted. And yet in some way … I don
’
t know, it had somehow always been there. You know, real theatre people are generally rather silly and superficial
off
stage. And Maurice … I remember June said something about feeling insulted. How dare he think he could buy people just because he was so rich. It was the nearest I
’
ve ever seen him to being caught on the raw. Hurt. He made a long speech, and I know for once it was sincere, about the guilt he
’
d always felt over his money. How his only real passion was to know, to exte
nd human knowledge. How his one
dream was to realize a long-held theory, how it was not a selfishness, a mere strange whim … as far as genuineness in that way was concerned, he really was rather impressive. He even silenced June in the end.
’

‘
You must have asked what the theory was.
’

‘
Over and over again. But he came up with the same old thing. If we knew, we would contaminate the purity of the experiment. His words again. He did give us more analogies than we
’
ve ever had since. In one way it was to be a sort of fantastic extension of the Stanislavski method. Improvising realities more real than reality. You were to be like a man following a mysterious voice, several voices, through a forest of alternative possibilities
–
who wouldn
’
t even know themselves … since they were us … what their alternatives really meant. Another parallel was a play, but without a writer or an audience. Only actors.
’

‘
And in the end
–
can we be told then?
’

‘
He
’
s promised that from the beginning.
’

‘
Me as well?
’

‘
He must be dying to know what you
’
re really feeling and thinking. Since you
’
re at the centre of it all. The chief guinea-pig.
’

‘
Obviously he won you over that day.
’

‘
We spent a night talking it over alone. One minute we would, the next we wouldn
’
t. In the end June decided to make a little test.
“
We came down the next morning and said we wanted to go home, as soon as possible. He argued and argued, but we were adamant. In the end he said very well, he
’
d have the yacht come from Nauplia and take us to Athens. But we said no. This day, now. We
’
d catch the steamer back to Athens.
’

‘
And he let you go?
’

‘
We packed, he took us and our luggage round the island in the boat. He was absolutely silent, he didn
’
t say a word. All I could think about was losing the sunlight, everything around us. Dreary old London. It came to the point when we were only a hundred yards from the steamer. I looked at June

‘
And bit the apple.
’
She nodded.
‘
Had he wanted the money back?
’

‘
No. That was another thing. And he was so delighted. He didn
’
t blame us at all.
’
She sighed.
‘
He said it proved his choice was right.
’

Through all this I had waited for a r
eference to the past, to my own
certain knowledge that Conchis had now devoted at least three summers to his
‘
long-held theory
’
, whatever it really was. But I held my tongue. Perhaps Julie sensed that I remained sceptical.

‘
That story last night. About Seidevarre. I think that
’
s some kind of clue. The place of mystery in life. Not taking anything for granted. A world where nothing is certain. That
’
s what he
’
s trying to create here.
’

‘
With himself cast as God.
’

‘
But not out of vanity. Out of intellectual curiosity. As a hypothesis. To see how we react. And not one kind of god. Several.
’

‘
He keeps telling me hazard rules everything. But you can
’
t knowingly pretend to be God as Hazard.
’

‘
I
think he means us to realize that.
’
She added,
‘
He even jokes about it sometimes. We see far less of him, ever since you appeared. Much more only to do with whatever
’
s happening. It
’
s as if he
’
s withdrawn. He says it. We can
’
t expect to question God.
’

I surveyed her bent head, the line of her body, her closeness; and almost heard Conchis
’
s voice answering my doubt of hazard. Then why are you here with this girl? Or, Does it matter, as long as you are here with her?

‘
June says he questions you about me.
’

Her eyes went skywards a moment.
‘
You
’
ve no idea. It
’
s not only you. What 7 feel. Whether I believe you … even what I think
’
s going on in his, Maurice
’
s, mind. You can
’
t imagine.
’

‘
It must have been obvious I was no actor.
’

‘
It wasn
’
t at all. I thought you were
brilliant
. Acting as if you couldn
’
t act.
’
She turned and lay on her stomach, head towards me.
‘
We
’
ve long realized that the first line he gave us
–
that we should mystify you
–
was a blind. According to the script we deceive you. But the deceiving deceives us even more.
’

‘
This script?
’

‘
“
Script
”
is a joke. He tells us roughly when to appear and disappear
–
in terms of exits and entries. The sort of atmosphere to create. Sometimes lines.
’

‘
That theological talk last night?
’

‘
Yes. He asked me to say that.
’
She gave a little half-apologetic glance up.
‘
And I do believe it a little, anyway.
’

‘
But otherwise you improvise?
’

‘
All along he says that if things don
’
t go quite as planned it doesn
’
t matter. As long as we keep to the main development.
’
She said,
‘
It
’
s also all about role-playing. How people behave in situations they don
’
t understand. I told you. He has said that
’
s part of it.
’

‘
One thing
’
s obvious. He wants us to think he
’
s putting all sorts of obstacles between us. Then gives us all these opportunities to destroy them,
’

‘
To begin with there was no talk of getting you to fall in love with me except in a very distant nineteen-fifteeny sort of way. Then by that second week he persuaded me that I had to make some com
promise between my 1915 false self and your 1953 true one. He asked
me what I
’
d do if you wanted to kiss me.
’
She shrugged.
‘
One
’
s kissed men on stage. In the end I said, If it was absolutely necessary. That second Sunday I hadn
’
t decided. That
’
s why I put on that dreadful act.
’

‘
It was a nice act.
’

‘
That first conversation with you. I had terrible
trac.
Far worse than I
’
ve ever had on a real stage.
’

‘
But you forced yourself to let me kiss you.
’

‘
Only because I thought I had to.
’
I followed the hollow of her arched back. She had raised one blue-stockinged foot backwards in the air and, chin cupped in her hands, was avoiding my eyes. She said,
‘
I think for him it
’
s like some mathematical proposition. Except that we
’
re all x, and he can put us where he likes in his equation.
’
There was a little silence.
‘
I
’
m not being honest. I wanted to know what it was like being kissed by you.
’

‘
Despite the adverse propaganda.
’

‘
That didn
’
t begin till after that Sunday afternoon. Though he had said all along that I mustn
’
t get emotionally involved with you.
’

She stared at the rug. A yellow butterfly hovered over us, then glided away.

‘
Did he give a reason?
’

‘
Yes. That one day I might have to make you … dislike me.
’
She stared down.
‘
Because you
’
d have to start feeling attracted to June. It all goes back to the ridiculous
Three Hearts
thing again. The poet character did transfer his affections. One sister was fickle, the other caught him on the rebound … you know.
’
She added,
‘
He does keep running you down terribly. To both of us. As if he
’
s apologizing to
the hounds for having provided such an awful fox. Which is palpably absurd. Especially when you
’
ve done all the hunting.
’
She looked up.
‘
Do you remember that speech he gave me, when I was Lily, about your having no poetry? No humour, and all the rest? I
’
m sure it was meant just as much for me as for you.
’