one time while he and Kurt lived together。 Kurt was ill and had a wound that wouldn't heal。 Sebastian saw him through that。 Then they went to Greece when Kurt got well。 You know how Germans sometimes seem to discover a sense of decency when they get to a classical country。 It seems to have worked With Kurt。 Sebastian says he became quite human in Athens。 Then he got sent to prison； I couldn't quite make out why； apparently it wasn't particularly his fault … some brawl with an official。 Once he was locked up the German authorities got at him。 It was the time when they were rounding up all their nationals from all parts of the world to make them into Nazis。 Kurt didn't want to leave Greece； but the Greeks didn't want him； and he was marched straight from prison with a lot of other toughs into a German boat and shipped home。
'Sebastian went after him； and for a year could find no trace。 Then in the end he ran him to earth dressed as a storm…trooper in a provincial town。 At first he wouldn't have anything to do with Sebastian； spouted all the official jargon about the rebirth of his country； and his belonging to his country； and finding self…realization in the life of the race。 But it was only skin deep with him。 Six years of Sebastian had taught him more than a year of Hitler； eventually he chucked it； admitted he hated Germany； and wanted to get out。 I don't know how much it was simply the call of the easy life； sponging on Sebastian； bathing in the Mediterranean； sitting about in caf閟； having his shoes polished。 Sebastian says it wasn't entirely that； Kurt had just begun to grow up in Athens。 It may be he's right。 Anyway； he decided to try and get out。 But it didn't work。 He always got into trouble whatever he did； Sebastian said。 They caught him and put him in a concentration camp。 Sebastian couldn't get near him or hear a word of him； he couldn't even find what camp he was in； he hung about for nearly a year in Germany； drinking again； until one day in his cups he took up with a man who was just out of the camp where Kurt had been； and learned that he had hanged himself in his hut the first week。
'So that was the end of Europe for Sebastian。 He went back to Morocco； where he had been happy； and gradually drifted down the coast； from place to place； until one day when he had sobered up … his drinking goes in pretty regular bouts now … he conceived the idea of escaping to the savages。 And there he was。
'I didn't suggest his ing home。 I knew he wouldn't and he was too weak still to argue it out。 He seemed quite happy by the time I left。 He'll never be able to go into the bush； of course； or join the order； but the Father Superior is going to take charge of him。 They had the idea of making him a sort of under…porter； there are usually a few odd hangers…on in a religious house； you know； people who can't quite fit in either to the world or the monastic rule。 I suppose I'm something of the sort myself But as I don't happen to drink； I'm more employable。'
We had reached the turn in our walk； the stone bridge at the foot of the last and smallest lake； under which the swollen waters fell in a cataract to the stream below； beyond； the path doubled back towards the house。 We paused at the parapet looking down into the dark water。
'I once had a governess who jumped off this bridge and drowned herself。'
'Yes； I know。'
'How could you know？'
'It was the first thing I ever heard about you … before I ever met you。'
'How very odd。。。'
'Have you told Julia this about Sebastian？'
'The substance of it； not quite as I told you。 She never loved him； you know； as we do。'
'Do'。 The word reproached me； there was no past tense in Cordelia's verb 'to love'。
'Poor Sebastian！' I said。 'It's too pitiful。 How will it end？'
'I think I can tell you exactly； Charles。 I've seen others like him； and I believe they are very near and dear to God。 He'll live on； half in； half out of； the munity； a familiar figure pottering round with his broom and his bunch of keys。 He'll be a great favourite with the old fathers； something of a joke to the novices。 Everyone will know about his drinking； he'll disappear for two or three days every month or so； and they'll all nod and smile and say in their various accents； 〃Old Sebastian's on the spree again；〃 and then he'll e back dishevelled and shamefaced and be more devout for a day or two in the chapel。 He'll probably have little hiding places about the garden where he keeps a bottle and takes a swig now and then on the sly。 They'll bring him forward to act as guide； whenever they have an English speaking visitor； and he will be pletely charming so that before they go； they'll ask about him and perhaps be given a hint that he has high connections at home。 If he lives long enough； generations of missionaries in all kinds of remote places will think of him as a queer old character who was somehow part of the Home of their student days； and remember him in their masses。 He'll develop little eccentricities of devotion； intense personal cults of his own； he'll be found in the chapel at odd times and missed when he's expected。 Then one morning； after one of his drinking bouts； he'll be picked up at the gate dying； and show by a mere flicker of the eyelid that he is conscious when they give him the last sacraments。 It's not such a bad way of getting through one's life。'
I thought of the youth with the teddy…bear under the flowering chestnuts。 'It's not what one would have foretold；' I said。 'I suppose he doesn't suffer？'
'Oh； yes； I think he does。 One can have no idea what the suffering may be； to be maimed as he is … no dignity； no power of will。 No one is ever holy without suffering。 It's taken that form with him。。。I've seen so much suffering in the last few years； there's so much ing for everybody soon。 It's the spring of love。。。' and then in condescension to my paganism； she added： 'He's in a very beautiful place you know by the sea … white cloisters； a bell tower； rows of green vegetables； and a monk watering them when the sun is low。'
I laughed。 'You knew I wouldn't understand？'
'You and Julia。。。' she said。 And then； as we moved on towards the house； 'When you met me last night did you think； 〃Poor Cordelia； such an engaging child； grown up a plain and pious spinster； full of good works〃？ Did you think 〃thwarted〃？'
It was no time for prevarication。 'Yes；' I said； 'I did； I don't now； so much。'
'It's funny；' she said； 'that's exactly the word I thought of for you and Julia。 When we were up in the nursery with nanny。 〃Thwarted passion；〃 I thought。'
She spoke with that gentle； infinitesimal inflection of mockery which descended to her from her mother； but later that evening the words came back to me poignantly。
Julia wore the embroidered Chinese robe which she often used when we were dining alone at Brideshead； it was a robe whose weight and stiff folds stressed her repose； her neck rose exquisitely from the plain gold circle at her throat； her hands lay still among the dragons in her lap。 It was thus that I had rejoiced to see her nights without number； and that night； watching her as she sat between the firelight and the shaded lamp； unable to look away for love of her beauty； I suddenly thought； 'When else have I seen her like this？ Why am I reminded of another moment of vision？' And it came back to me that this was how she had sat in the liner； before the storm； this was how she had looked； and I realized that s he had regained what I thought she had lost for ever； the magical sadness which had drawn me to her； the thwarted look that had seemed to say； 'Surely I was made for some other purpose than this？'
That night I woke in the darkness and lay awake turning over in my mind the conversation with Cordelia。 How I had said； 'You knew I would not understand。' How often； it seemed to me； I was brought up short； like a horse in full stride suddenly refusing an obstacle； backing against the spurs； too shy even to put his nose at it and look at the thing。
And another image came to me； of an arctic hut and a trapper alone with his furs and oil lamp and log fire； everything dry and ship…shape and warm inside； and outside t