p&c.brimstone-第15部分

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array　of　items：　several　pieces　of　old　silver；　an　antique　gasogene；　some　lovely　Roman　glass　perfume　bottles；　and　a　small　Etruscan　bronze。　
　It　was　the　painting　above　the　mantelpiece；　however；　that　startled　Pendergast。　It　appeared　to　be　a　Vermeer；　depicting　a　lady　at　a　leaded…glass　window　examining　a　piece　of　lace；　the　cool　Flemish　light　from　the　window　shone　through　the　lace；　which　cast　a　faint　shadow　across　the　woman's　dress。　Pendergast　was　familiar　with　all　thirty…five　of　Vermeer's　known　paintings。　This　was　not　one　of　them。　And　yet　it　could　not　be　a　forgery：　no　forger　had　been　able　to　duplicate　Vermeer's　light。　
　His　eye　roamed　farther。　On　the　opposite　wall　was　an　unfinished　painting　in　the　Caravaggesque　style；　showing　the　conversion　of　Paul　on　the　road　to　Damascus。　It　was　a　smaller　and　even　more　intense　version　of　Caravaggio's　famous　painting　in　Santa　Maria　del　Popolo　in　Rome。　The　more　Pendergast　looked　at　it；　the　more　he　doubted　it　was　a　copy　or　a　〃school　of〃　rendering。　In　fact；　it　looked　like　a　study　in　the　master's　own　hand。　
　Pendergast　now　turned　his　attention　to　the　right…hand　wall；　where　a　third　painting　hung：　a　little　girl　in　a　dark　room；　reading　a　book　by　candlelight。　Pendergast　recognized　it　as　very　similar　to…yet　not　a　copy　of…a　series　of　paintings　on　the　same　subject；The　Education　of　the　Virgin　by　the　mysterious　French　painter　Georges　de　la　Tour。　Could　it　possibly　be　real？　
　They　were　the　only　three　paintings　in　the　room：　three　breathtaking　gems。　But　they　weren't　displayed　with　pomp　and　pretense；　instead；　they　seemed　to　be　part　of　the　environment　of　the　room；　placed　for　private　enjoyment　rather　than　public　envy。　None　of　the　paintings　even　bore　a　label。　
　His　curiosity　about　Fosco　increased。　
　More　faint　sounds　emanated　from　chambers　beyond。　Immediately；　the　agent's　preternatural　hearing　focused　on　them。　A　distant　door　had　opened；　and　Pendergast　could　hear　the　whistling　of　a　bird；　the　light　patter　of　footsteps；　and　a　deep；　gentle　voice。　
　Pendergast　listened　intently。　
　〃e　out　and　hop　upstairs！　One；　two；　three；　and　up！　Three；　two；　one…and　down！〃　
　A　burst　of　chirping　and　twittering；　bined　with　another　sound…clacking　and　whirring…floated　into　the　room　from　beyond；　mingled　with　cheerful　exhortations。　Then；　softly；　a　beautiful　tenor　voice　sounded；　singing　the　notes　of　a　bel　canto　aria。　The　bird…if　that's　what　it　was…fell　silent；　as　if　under　a　spell。　The　voice　rose　in　pitch　and　volume；　then　faded　slowly　away；　and　as　it　did；　the　butler　returned。　
　〃The　count　will　see　you　now。〃　
　Pendergast　rose　and　followed　him　down　a　long；　broad　corridor；　lined　with　books；　to　a　studio　beyond。　
　The　count　stood　in　all　his　corpulent　majesty　in　a　capacious　studio；　one　end　with　floor…to…ceiling　glass；　his　back　turned；　looking　out　on　a　small　balcony　framed　with　rosebushes；　sinking　into　twilight。　He　was　wearing　slacks　and　a　crisp　white　shirt；　open　at　the　collar。　Beside　him　was　an　immaculate　worktable。　At　least　a　hundred　tools　were　lined　up　on　the　table　in　geometric　precision：　tiny　screwdrivers；　pinpoint　soldering　irons；　tiny　jeweler's　saws；　watchmaker's　vises　and　files。　Laid　out　next　to　them　was　an　array　of　exquisitely　small　gears；　ratchets；　springs；　levers；　and　other　finely　machined　metal　parts；　along　with　chips；　small　circuit　boards；　bundles　of　fiber…optic　cabling；　LEDs；　bits　of　rubber　and　plastic；　and　other　electronic　objects　of　mysterious　function。　
　In　the　center　of　the　worktable　stood　a　wooden　T…bar　stand；　and　on　the　stand　stood　a　strange　object　that　at　first　glance　looked　like　a　Triton　cockatoo；　brilliant　white　with　a　lemon…colored　crest；　but　which　on　closer　inspection　proved　to　be　a　mechanical　device：　a　robotic　bird。　
　The　butler　indicated　politely　for　Pendergast　to　seat　himself　on　a　nearby　stool。　As　if　by　magic；　his　half…drunken　glass　of　amontillado　appeared；　then　the　butler　vanished　like　a　ghost。　
　Pendergast　watched　the　count。　With　his　free　hand；　he　plucked　a　casuarina　nut　from　a　tray；　placed　it　between　his　fat　lips；　then　protruded　it。　With　a　whistle　of　excitement；　the　robot　cockatoo　climbed　to　Fosco's　shoulder；　then　to　his　ear；　and…leaning　forward　with　a　whirring　of　gears…plucked　the　seed　from　the　projecting　lips；　cracked　it　with　its　mechanical　bill；　and　made　every　appearance　of　eating　it。　
　〃Ah！　My　pretty；　playtime　is　over！〃　cooed　the　count。　〃Back　to　your　perch。〃　He　gave　his　gloved　hand　a　little　wave。　The　cockatoo　gave　a　screech　of　displeasure　and　flared　his　mechanical　crest；　but　made　no　further　movement。　
　〃Ah；　stubborn　today；　I　see。〃　The　count　spoke　louder；　more　firmly。　〃Back　to　your　perch；　my　pretty；　or　you　will　be　eating　millet　instead　of　nuts　the　rest　of　the　day。〃　
　With　another　screech；　the　cockatoo　hopped　off　his　shoulder　onto　the　table；　waddled　over　to　the　stand；　climbed　it　with　metal　claws；　and　resumed　its　place；　casting　its　beady　LED　eyes　on　Pendergast。　
　And　now　at　last；　the　count　turned　with　a　smile　and　bow；　offering　Pendergast　his　hand。　〃I　am　so　sorry　to　keep　you　waiting。　My　friend…as　you　see…requires　his　exercise。〃　
　〃Most　interesting；〃　said　Pendergast　dryly。　
　〃No　doubt　it　is！　It　is　true；　I　cut　a　ridiculous　figure　with　my　pets。〃　
　〃Pets？〃　
　〃Yes。　And　you　see　how　they　love　me！　My　cockatoo　and…〃　He　inclined　his　suety　head　toward　the　other　side　of　the　room；　where　what　looked　like　a　pack　of　mice　were　disporting　themselves　within　an　elaborate　wire　pagoda　with　various　clicks　and　whirs　and　digital　squeaks。　〃And　my　dear　little　white　mice！　But；　of　course；　of　all　my　pretties；　Bucephalus　here　is　my　pride　and　joy。〃　And　Fosco　turned　toward　the　cockatoo。　〃Are　you　not；　my　pretty？〃　
　The　bird's　only　response　was　to　bury　its　massive　black　bill　within　a　fluff　of　fake　beak　feathers；　as　if　rendered　timid　by　the　pliment。　
　〃You　must　forgive　Bucephalus！〃　Fosco　said；　tut…tutting。　〃He　is　not　partial　to　strangers。　He　is　slow　to　make　friends　and　screams　when　displeased…ah；　my　friend；　such　screams　as　you　would　not　believe！　I　have　been　forced　to　take　the　two　apartments　adjoining　this　and　keep　them　unoccupied；　at　great　personal　expense。　Mere　walls；　you　see；　are　no　defense　against　the　lungs　of　this　magnificent　creature！〃　
　The　robotic　cockatoo　gave　no　acknowledgment　of　this　panegyric；　continuing　to　eye　Pendergast　motionlessly。　
　〃But　they　are　all　quite　fond　of　opera。　As　Congreve　said；　music　hath　charms　et　cetera。　Perhaps　you　heard　my　poor　singing。　Did　you　recognize　the　piece？〃　
　Pendergast　nodded。　〃Pollione's　aria　fromNorma　；　'Abbandonarmi　così　potresti。'〃　
　〃Ah！　Then　you　liked　it。〃　
　〃I　said　I　recognized　it。　Tell　me；　Count；　did　you　build　these　robots　yourself？〃　
　〃Yes。　I　am　a　lover　of　animals　and　gadgets。　Would　you　like　to　see　my　canaries？　The　real　ones；　I　mean：　I　rarely　distinguish　between　my　own　children　and　those　of　nature。〃　
　〃Thank　you；　no。〃　
　〃I　should　have　been　born　an　American；　a　Thomas　Edison；　where　my　inventiveness　would　have　been　encouraged。　But　instead　I　was　born　into　the　stifling；　decaying　Florentine　aristocracy；　where　skills　such　as　mine　are　useless。　Where　I　e　from；　counts　are　supposed　to　keep　both　feet　firmly　in　the　eighteenth　century；　if　not　earlier。〃　
　Pendergast　stirred。　〃May　I　trouble　you　with　some　questions；　Count　Fosco？〃　
　The　count　waved　his　hand。　〃Let　us　do　away　with　this　'Count'　business。　We　are　in　America；　and　here　I　am　Isidor。　May　I　call　you　Aloysius？〃　
　There　was　a　short　silence　before　Pendergast　spoke　again；　voice　cool。　〃If　it's　all　the　same　to　you；　Count；　I　would　prefer　to　keep　this　interview　on　a　formal　level。〃　
　〃As　you　like。　I　see　the　good　Pinketts　supplied　you　with　refreshment。　He's　a　treasure；　don't　you　think？　The　English　lorded　it　over　the　Italians　for　so　many　centuries　that　it　gives　me　pleasure　to　have　at　least　one　Englishman　under　my　thumb。　You're　not　English；　are　you？〃　
　〃No。〃　
　〃Well　then；　we　can　speak　freely　of　the　English。　Bah！　Imagine；　the　only　poser　of　note　they　ever　produced　was　a　man　named　Byrd。〃　The　count　settled　himself　into　a　wing　chair　opposite；　and　as　he　did　so；　Pendergast　noted　again　how　lightly　and　easily　the　enormous　man　seemed　to　move；　how　delicately　he　seated　himself。　
　〃My　first　question；　Count　Fosco；　involves　the　dinner　party。　When　did　you　arrive？〃　
　The　count　placed　his　white　hands　together　reverently；　as　if　about　to　pray；　and　sighed。　〃Grove　wanted　us　at　seven。　And　on　a　Monday　night；　too…very　unlike　him。　We　came　straggling　in；　fashionably　late；　between　seven…thirty　and　eight。　I　was　the　first　to　arrive。〃　
　〃What　was　Grove's　mental　state？〃　
　〃Very　poor；　I　should　say。　As　I　told　you；　he　seemed　nervous；　high…strung。　No　so　much　that　he　couldn't　entertain。　He　had　a　cook；　but　he　prepared　the　main　dishes　himself。　He　was　quite　a　good　chef。　He　prepared　an　exquisite　sole；　lightly　grilled　over　the　fire；　with　lemon。　Nothing　more；　nothing　less。　Perfection。　Then　he　followed　with…〃　
　〃I　already　have　the　menu；　thank　you。　Did　he　give　any　indication　why　he　was　nervous？〃　
　〃No。　In　fact；　he　seemed　to　be　at　great　pains　to　hide　it。　His　eyes　darted　everywhere。　He　locked　the　door　after　each　guest　was　let　in。　He　hardly　drank；　which　was　quite　out　of　character。　He　was　a　man　who　normally　liked　a　good　claret；　and　even　on　this　occasion；　he　served　some　excellent　wines；　starting　with　Tocai　from　Friuli　and　then　a　'90　Petrus；　truly　magnificent。〃　
　Chateau　Petrus　1990；　considered　the　best　since　the　fabled　'61；　was　one　of　Pendergast's　own　most　prized　wines；　he　had　a　dozen　bottles　of　the　2；000　Pomerol　laid　down　in　his　cellar　in　the　Dakota。　He　chose　not　to　mention　this　fact。　
　The　count　continued　his　description　with　great　good　humor　and　volubility。　〃Grove　also　opened；　quite　spontaneously；　a　wine　from　the　Castello　di　Verrazzano；　their　so…calledbottiglia　particolare　；　the　one　with　the　silk　label。　Exceptional。〃　
　〃Did　you　know　the　other　guests？〃　
　The　count　smiled。　〃Lady　Milbanke　I　know　quite　well。　Vilnius　I'd　met　a　few　times。　Jonathan　Frederick　I　knew　only　from　his　writings。〃　
　〃What　did　you　talk　about　at　dinner？〃　
　The　smile　widened。　〃It　was　most　peculiar。〃　
　〃Yes？〃　
　〃The　first　part　of　the　dinner　was　taken　up　with　a　conversation　about　the　Georges　de　la　Tour　painting　you　saw　in　my　sitting　room。　What　do　you　think　of　it；　Agent　Pendergast？〃　
　〃Shall　we　stay　on　the　subject；　Count　Fosco？〃　
　〃Thisis　the　subject。　Bear　with　me。　Do　you　th