'I'm sorry。 I forgot。 But you know that's an extremely funny question。'
'Is it？'
'To me。 Not to you。'
'No； not to me。 It seems to me that without your religion Sebastian would have the chance to be a happy and healthy man。
'It's arguable；' said Brideshead。 'Do you think he will need this elephant's foot again？'
That evening I went across the quad to visit Collins。 He was alone with his texts； working by the failing light at his open window。 'Hullo；' he said。 'e in。 I haven't seen you all the term。 I'm afraid I've nothing to offer you。 Why have you deserted the smart set？'
'I'm the loneliest man in Oxford；' I said。 'Sebastian Flyte's been sent down。'
Presently I asked him what he was doing in the long vacation。 He told me； it sounded excruciatingly dull。 Then I asked him if he had got digs for next term。 Yes； he told me； rather far out but very fortable。 He was sharing with Tyngate； the secretary of the college Essay Society。
。'There's one room we haven't filled yet。 Barker was ing； but he feels； now he's standing for president of the Union； he ought to be nearer in。'
It was in both our minds that perhaps I might take that room。
'Where are you going。？'
'I was going to Merton Street with Sebastian Flyte。 That's no use now。'
Still neither of us made the suggestion and the moment passed。 When I left he said： 'I hope you find someone for Merton Street；' and I said； 'I hope you find someone for the Iffley Road；' and I never spoke to him again。
There was only ten days of term to go； I got through them somehow and returned to London as I had done in such different circumstances the year before； with no plans made。
'That very good…looking friend of yours；' asked my father。 'Is he not with you？'
'No。'
'I quite thought he had taken this over as his home。 I'm sorry； I liked him。'
'Father； do you particularly want me to take my degree？'
'I want you to？ Good gracious； why should I want such a thing？ No use to me。 Not much use to you either； as far as I've seen。'
'That's exactly what I've been thinking。 I thought perhaps it was rather a waste of time going back to Oxford。'
Until then my father had taken only a limited interest in what I was saying： now he put down his book； took off his spectacles； and looked at me hard。 'You've been sent down；' he said。 'My brother warned me of this。'
'No； I've not。'
'Well； then； what's all the talk about？ he asked testily； resuming his spectacles； searching for his place on the page。 'Everyone stays up at least three years。 I knew one man who took seven to get a pass degree in theology。'
'I only thought that if I was not going to take up one of the professions where a degree is necessary； it might be best to start now on what I intend doing。 I intend to be a painter。'
But to this my father made no answer at the time。
The idea； however； seemed to take root in his mind； by the time we spoke of the matter again it was firmly established。
'When you're a painter；' he said at Sunday luncheon； 'You'll need a studio。'
'Yes。'
'Well； there isn't a studio here。 There isn't even a room you could use decently as a studio。 I'm not going to have you painting in the gallery。'
'No。 I never meant to。'
'Nor will I have undraped models all over the house； nor critics with their horrible jargon。 And I don't like the smell of turpentine。 I presume you intend to do the thing thoroughly and use oil paint？' My father belonged to a generation which divided painters into the serious and the amateur； according as they used oil or water。
'I don't suppose I should do much painting the first year。 Anyway； I should be working at a school。'
'Abroad？' asked my father hopefully。 'There are some excellent schools abroad； I believe。'
It was all happening rather faster than I intended。
'Abroad or here。 I should have to look round first。'
'Look round abroad；' he said。
'Then you agree to my leaving Oxford？'
'Agree？ Agree？ My dear boy； you're twenty…two。'
'Twenty；' I said； 'twenty…one in October。'
'Is that all？ It seems much longer。'
A letter from Lady Marchmain pletes this episode。
'My dear Charles；' she wrote； 'Sebastian left me this morning to join his father abroad。 Before he went I asked him if he had written to you。 He said no； so I must write； tho' I can hardly hope to say in a letter what I could not say on our last walk。 But you must not be left in silence。
'The college has sent Sebastian down for a term only； and will take him back after Christmas on condition he goes to live with Mgr Bell。 It is for him to decide。 Meanwhile Mr Samgrass has very kindly consented to take charge of him。 As soon as his visit to his father is over Mr Samgrass will pick him up and the will go together to the Levant； where Mr Samgrass has long been anxious to investigate a number of orthodox monasteries。 He hopes this may be a new interest for Sebastian。
'Sebastian's stay here has not been happy。
'When they e home at Christmas I know Sebastian will want to see you； and so shall we all。 I hope your arrangements for next term have not been too much upset and that everything will go well with you。
Yours sincerely；
Teresa Marchmain。
'I went to the garden…room this morning and was so very sorry。'
BOOK TWO
BRIDESHEAD DESERTED
＇1＇
'AND when we reached the top of the pass；' said Mr Samgrass； we heard the galloping horses behind； and two soldiers rode up to the head of the caravan and turned us back。 The General had sent them； and they reached us only just in time。 There was a Band； not a mile ahead。'
He paused； and his small audience sat silent； conscious that he had sought； to impress them but in doubt as to how they could politely show their interest。
'A Band？' said Julia。'Goodness！'
Still he seemed to expect more。 At last Lady Marchmain said； 'I suppose the sort of folk…music you get in those parts is very monotonous。'
'Dear Lady Marchmain； a Band of Brigands。 Cordelia； beside me on the sofa； began to giggle noiselessly。 'The mountains are full of them。 Stragglers from Kemal's army； Greeks who got cut off in； the retreat。 Very desperate fellows； I assure you。'
'Do pinch me'；' whispered Cordelia。
I pinched her and the agitation of the sofa…springs ceased。 'Thanks；' she said； wiping her eyes with the back of her hand。
'So you never got to wherever…it…was；' said Julia。 'Weren't you terribly disappointed； Sebastian？'
'Me？' said Sebastian from the shadows beyond the lamplight； beyond the warmth of the burning logs； beyond the family circle； and the photographs spread out on the card…table。 'Me？ Oh； I don't think I was there that day； was I； Sammy？'
'That was the day you were ill。'
'I was ill；' he repeated like an echo； 'so I never should have got to wherever…it…was； should I； Sammy？'
'Now this； Lady Marchmain； is the caravan at Aleppo in the courtyard of the inn。 That's our Armenian cook； Begedbian； that's me on the pony； that's the tent folded up； that's a rather tiresome Kurd who would follow us about at the time。。。Here I am in Pontus； Ephesus； Trebizond； Krak…des…chevaliers； Samothrace； Batum … of course； I haven't got them in chronological order yet。'
'All guides and ruins and mules； ' said Cordelia。 'Where's Sebastian？'
'He；' said Mr Samgrass； with a hint of triumph in his voice； as though he had expected the question and prepared the answer； 'he held the camera。 He became quite an expert as soon as he learned not to put his hand over the lens； didn't you； Sebastian？' There was no answer from the shadows。 Mr Samgrass delved again into his pigskin satchel。
'Here；' he said； 'is a group taken by a street photographer on the terrace of the St George Hotel at Beirut。 There's Sebastian。'
'Why； ' I said； 'there's Anthony Blanche surely？'
'Yes； we saw quite a lot of him； met him by chance at Constantinople。' A delightful panion。 I can't think how I missed knowing him。 He came with us all the way to Beirut。'
Tea had been cleared away and the curtains drawn。 It was two days after Christmas； the first evening of my visit； the first； too； of Sebast