cb.coldheart canyon-第3部分

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g　places　of　the　old　that　had　moved　Willem；　it　was　the　endless　rows　of　tiny　crosses　that　marked　the　graves　of　infants：　babies　lost　to　pneumonia；　malnutrition　and　simple　frailty。　The　grief　that　was　represented　by　these　hundreds　of　graves　had　moved　him　deeply：　the　pain　of　mothers；　the　unshed　tears　of　fathers　and　grandfathers。　It　was　nothing　he　had　remotely　expected；　and　it　had　made　him　sick　with　sorrow。
　 For　her　part；　Katya　had　seemed　untouched　by　the　sight；　talking　only　of　her　memories　of　her　grandparents　and　their　eccentricities。　But　then　this　was　the　world　in　which　she'd　been　raised；　it　wasn't　so　surprising；　perhaps；　that　she　took　all　this　suffering　for　granted。　Hadn't　she　once　told　him　she'd　had　fourteen　brothers　and　sisters；　and　only　six　of　them　were　left　living？　Perhaps　the　other　eight　had　been　lain　to　rest　in　the　very　cemetery　where　they'd　walked　together。　And　certainly　it　would　not　be　unmon　for　Katya　to　look　coldly　on　the　business　of　the　heart。　It　was　what　made　her　so　strong；　and　it　was　her　strength…visible　in　her　eyes　and　in　her　every　movement…that　endeared　her　to　her　audiences；　particularly　the　women。
　 Zeffer　understood　that　coldness　better　now　that　he'd　spent　time　here　with　her。　Seeing　the　house　where　she'd　been　born　and　brought　up；　the　streets　she'd　trudged　as　a　child；　meeting　the　mother　who　must　have　viewed　her　appearance　in　their　midst　as　something　close　to　a　miracle：　this　perfect　rosebud　child　whose　dark　eyes　and　bright　smile　set　her　utterly　apart　from　any　other　child　in　the　village。　In　fact；　Katya's　mother　had　put　such　beauty　to　profitful　work　at　the　age　of　twelve；　when　the　girl　had　been　taken　from　town　to　town　to　dance　in　the　streets；　and…at　least　according　to　Katya…offer　her　favors　to　men　who'd　pay　to　have　such　tender　flesh　in　their　bed　for　the　night。　She　had　quickly　fled　such　servitude；　only　to　find　that　what　she'd　had　to　do　for　her　family's　sake　she　had　no　choice　but　to　do　for　herself。　By　the　age　of　fifteen　（when　Zeffer　had　met　her；　singing　for　her　supper　on　the　streets　of　Bucharest）　Katya　had　been　a　woman　in　all　but　years；　her　flowering　an　astonishment　to　all　who　witnessed　it。　For　three　nights　he'd　e　to　the　square　where　she　sang；　there　to　join　the　group　of　admirers　who　were　gathered　around　to　watch　this　child…enchantress。　It　hadn't　taken　him　long　to　conceive　of　the　notion　that　he　should　bring　her　back　with　him　to　America。　Though　he'd　had　at　that　time　no　experience　in　the　world　of　the　cinema　（few　people　did；　the　year　was　1916；　and　film　was　a　fledging）；　his　instincts　told　him　there　was　something　special　in　the　face　and　bearing　of　this　creature。　He　had　influential　friends　on　the　West　Coast…mostly　men　who'd　grown　tired　of　Broadway's　petty　disloyalties　and　piddling　profits；　and　were　looking　for　a　new　place　to　put　their　talents　and　their　investments…who　reported　to　him　that　cinema　was　a　grand　new　frontier；　and　that　talent　scouts　on　the　West　Coast　were　looking　for　faces　that　the　camera；　and　the　public；　would　love。　Did　this　child…woman　not　have　such　a　face；　he'd　thought？　Would　the　camera　not　grow　stupid　with　infatuation　to　look　into　those　guileful　yet　lovely　eyes？　And　if　the　camera　fell；　could　the　public　be　far　behind？

　 He'd　inquired　as　to　the　girl's　name。　She　was　one　Katya　Lubescu　from　the　village　of　Ravbac。　He　approached　her；　spoke　to　her；　told　her；　over　a　meal　of　cabbage　rolls　and　cheese；　what　he　was　thinking。　She　was　curiously　sanguine　about　his　whole　proposal；　practically　indifferent。　Yes；　she　conceded；　it　sounded　interesting；　but　she　wasn't　sure　if　she　would　ever　want　to　leave　Romania。　If　she　went　too　far　from　home；　she　would　miss　her　family。
　 A　year　or　two　later；　when　her　career　had　begun　to　take　off　in　America…she　no　longer　Katya　Lupescu　by　then　but　Katya　Lupi；　and　Willem　her　manager…they'd　revisited　this　very　conversation；　and　Zeffer　had　reminded　her　how　uninterested　she'd　seemed　in　his　grand　plan。　Her　coolness　had　all　been　an　illusion；　she'd　confessed；　a　way　in　part　to　keep　herself　from　seeming　too　gauche　in　his　eyes；　and　in　part　a　way　to　prevent　her　hopes　getting　too　high。
　 But　that　was　only　part　of　the　answer。　There　was　also　a　sense　in　which　the　indifference　she'd　demonstrated　that　first　day　they'd　met　（and…more　recently…in　the　cemetery）　was　a　real　part　of　her　nature；　bred　into　her；　perhaps；　by　a　bloodline　that　had　suffered　so　much　loss　and　anguish　over　the　generations　that　nothing　was　allowed　to　impress　itself　too　severely：　neither　great　happiness　nor　great　sadness。　She　was；　by　her　own　design；　a　creature　who　held　her　extremes　in　reserve；　providing　glimpses　only　for　public　consumption。　It　was　these　glimpses　that　the　audience　in　the　square　had　e　to　witness　night　after　night。　And　it　was　this　same　power　she　would　unleash　when　she　appeared　before　the　cinematrographic　camera。
　
　 Interestingly；　Katya　had　shown　none　of　this　quality　to　Father　Sandru　the　previous　day。
　 In　fact；　it　was　almost　as　though　she'd　been　playing　a　part：　the　role　of　a　rather　bland　God…fearing　girl　in　the　presence　of　a　beloved　priest。　Her　gaze　had　been　respectfully　downcast　much　of　the　time；　her　voice　softer　than　usual；　her　vocabulary…which　often　tended　to　the　salty…sweet　and　pliant。
　 Zeffer　had　found　the　performance　almost　ical；　it　was　so　exaggerated；　but　the　Father　had　apparently　been　pletely　taken　in　by　it。　At　one　point　he'd　put　his　hand　under　Katya's　chin　to　raise　her　face；　telling　her　there　was　no　reason　to　be　shy。
　 Shy！　Zeffer　had　thought。　If　only　Sandru　knew　what　this　so…called　shy　woman　was　capable　of！　The　parties　she'd　master…minded　up　in　her　Canyon…the　place　gossip…columnists　had　dubbed　Coldheart　Canyon；　the　excesses　she'd　choreographed　behind　the　walls　of　her　pound；　the　sheer　filth　she　was　capable　of　inventing　when　the　mood　took　her。　If　the　mask　she'd　been　wearing　had　slipped　for　a　heartbeat；　and　the　poor；　deluded　Father　Sandru　had　glimpsed　the　facts　of　the　matter；　he　would　have　locked　himself　in　a　cell　and　sealed　the　door　with　prayers　and　holy　water　to　keep　her　out。
　 But　Katya　was　too　good　an　actress　to　let　him　see　the　truth。
　 Perhaps　in　one　sense；　Katya　Lupi's　whole　life　had　now　bee　a　performance。　When　she　appeared　on　screen　she　played　the　role　of　simpering；　abused　orphans　half　her　age；　and　large　portions　of　the　audience　seemed　to　believe　that　this　was　reality。　Meanwhile；　every　weekend　or　so；　out　of　sight　of　the　people　who　thought　she　was　moral　perfection；　she　threw　the　sort　of　parties　for　the　other　idols　of　Hollywood…the　vamps　and　the　clowns　and　the　adventurers…which　would　have　horrified　her　fans　had　they　known　what　was　going　on。　Which　Katya　Lupi　was　the　real　one？　The　weeping　child　who　was　the　idol　of　millions；　or　the　Scarlet　Woman　who　was　the　Mistress　of　Coldheart　Canyon？　The　orphan　of　the　storm　or　the　dope…fiend　in　her　lair？　Neither？　Both？
　 Zeffer　turned　these　thoughts　over　as　Sandru　took　him　from　room　to　room；　showing　him　tables　and　chairs；　carpets　and　paintings；　even　mantelpieces。
　 〃Does　anything　catch　your　eye？〃　Sandru　asked　him　eventually。　〃Not　really；　Father；〃　Zeffer　replied；　quite　honestly。　〃I　can　get　carpets　as　fine　as　these　in　America。　I　don't　need　to　e　out　into　the　wilds　of　Romania　to　find　work　like　this。〃
　 Sandru　nodded。　〃Yes；　of　course；〃　he　said。　He　looked　a　little　defeated。　Zeffer　took　the　opportunity　to　glance　at　his　watch。　〃Perhaps　I　should　be　getting　back　to　Katya；〃　he　said。　In　fact；　the　prospect　of　returning　to　the　village　and　sitting　in　the　little　house　where　Katya　had　been　born；　there　to　be　plied　with　thick　coffee　and　sickeningly　sweet　cake；　while　Katya's　relatives　came　by　to　stare　at　（and　touch；　as　if　in　disbelief）　their　American　visitors；　did　not　enthrall　him　at　all。　But　this　visit　with　Father　Sandru　was　being　increasingly　futile；　and　now　that　the　Father　had　made　his　mercenary　ambitions　so　plain；　not　a　little　embarrassing。　There　wasn't　anything　here　that　Zeffer　could　imagine　transporting　back　to　Los　Angeles。
　 He　reached　into　his　coat　to　take　out　his　wallet；　intending　to　give　the　Father　a　hundred　dollars　for　his　troubles。　But　before　he　could　produce　the　note；　the　Father's　expression　changed　to　one　of　profound　seriousness。
　 〃Wait；〃　he　said。　〃Before　you　dismiss　me　let　me　say　this：　I　believe　we　understand　one　another。　You　are　looking　to　buy　something　you　could　find　in　no　other　place。　Something　that's　one　of　a　kind；　yes？　And　I　am　looking　to　make　a　sale。〃
　 〃So　is　there　something　here　you　haven't　shown　me？〃　Zeffer　said。　〃Something　special？〃
　 Sandru　nodded。　〃There　are　some　parts　of　the　Fortress　I　have　not　shared　with　you；〃　he　said。　〃And　with　good　reason；　let　me　say。　You　see　there　are　people　who　should　not　see　what　I　have　to　show。　But　I　think　I　understand　you　now；　Mister　Zeffer。　You　are　a　man　of　the　world。〃
　 〃You　make　it　all　sound　very　mysterious；〃　Zeffer　said。
　 〃I　don't　know　if　it's　mysterious；〃　the　priest　said。　〃It　is　sad；　I　think；　and　human。　You　see；　Duke　Goga　the　man　who　built　this　Fortress…was　not　a　good　soul。　The　stories　your　Katya　said　she　had　been　told　as　a　child…〃
　 〃Were　true？〃
　 〃In　a　manner　of　speaking。　Goga　was　a　great　hunter。　But　he　did　not　always　limit　his　quarry　to　animals。〃
　 〃Good　God。　So　she　was　right　to　be　afraid。〃
　 〃The　truth　is；　we　are　all　a　little　afraid　of　what　happened　here；〃　Sandru　replied；　〃Because　we　are　none　of　us　certain　of　the　truth。　All　we　can　do；　young　and　old；　is　say　our　prayers；　and　put　our　souls　into　God's　care　when　we're　in　this　place。〃
　 Zeffer　was　intrigued　now。
　 〃Tell　me　then；〃　he　said　to　Sandru。　〃I　want　to　know　what　went　on　in　this　place。〃
　 〃Believe　me　please　when　I　tell　you　I　would　not　know　where　to　begin；〃　the　good　man　replied。　〃I　do　not　have　the　words。〃
　 〃Truly？〃
　 〃Truly。〃
　 Zeffer　studied　him　with　new　eyes；　with　a　kind　of　envy。　Surely　it　was　a　blessed　state；　to　be　unable　to　find　words　for　the　terribleness　of　certain　deeds。　To　be　mute　when　it　came　to　atrocity；　instead　of　gabbily　familiar　with　it。　He　found　his　curiosity　similarly　muted。　It　seemed　distasteful…not　to　mention　pointless…to　press　the　man　to　say　more　than　he　expressed　himself　capable　of　saying。
　 〃Let's　change　the　subject。　Show　me　something　utterly　out　of　the　ordinary；〃　Zeffer　said。　〃Then　I'll　be　satisfied。〃
　 Sandru　put　on　a　smile；　but　it　wasn't　convincing。　〃It　isn't　much；〃　he　said。
　 〃Oh　sometimes　you　find　beauty　in　the　strangest　places；〃　Zeffer　said；　and　as　he　spoke　the　little　face　of　Katya　Lupescu　came　into　his　mind's　eye；　pale　in　a　blue　twilight。
　
　
　TWO
　 Sandru　led　the　way　down　the　passageway　to　another　door；　this　one　rather　smaller　than　the　oak　door　they'd　e　through　to　get　to　this　level。　Out　came　his　keys。　He　unlocked　the　door；　and　to　Zeffer's　surprise　he　and　the　priest　were　presented　with　another　flight　of　steps；　taking　them　yet　deeper　into　the　Fortress。
　 〃Are　you　ready？〃　the　Father　asked。
　 〃Absolutely；〃　Zeffer　said。
　 Down　they　went。　The　stairs　were　steep；　the　air　being　noticeably　more　frigid　as　they　descended。　Father　Sandru　said　nothing　as　they　went；　he　glanced　back　over　his　shoulder　two　or　three　times；　to　be　sure　that　he　still　had　Zeffer　on　his　heels；　but　the　expression　on　his　face　was　far　from　happy；　as　though　he　rather　regretted　making　the　decision　to　bring　Zeffer　here；　and　would　have　turned　on　his　heel　and　headed　back　up　to　the　relative　fort　of　the　floor　above　at　the　least　invitation。
　 At　the　bottom　of　t