Free The Unburied by Charles Palliser Page B

that he didn’t intend to answer I said: ‘Do you mean that all that is important is the fate of your soul?’
    I meant to keep from my tone any note of sarcasm as I pronounced those last words. But Austin smiled bitterly. ‘You accused me just now of believing in “eternal life and all that nonsense”.’
    ‘I apologize. I momentarily forgot myself. It is quite contrary to my principles to ridicule the beliefs of another.’
    ‘However ridiculous?’ he asked with the merest hint of irony.
    ‘Historically, most men in most societies have believed in the survival of the soul after death. In believing in a heavenly reward you have at least the weight of opinion on your side.’
    He held up a hand to stop me. ‘I haven’t made myself clear. I do believe in good and evil and redemption and damnation. I accept them utterly and without question. They are as real to me as the chair I am sitting on. More real. You say I’m taken in by the idea of eternal life, but I tell you, damnation is more real and convincing to me than salvation. And certainly more probable.’
    Just as I believed I was close to understanding him, comprehension was snatched away. ‘Why do you say that?’
    He held my gaze until I looked away. ‘Let me ask you the question you just put to me: What does matter? What ultimately matters to you?’
    I found it hard to answer. ‘I suppose scholarship. Truth. Humanity.’ I broke off. ‘Oh for God’s sake, Austin, that’s a question for undergraduates. What matters is trying to live decently. Trying to do one’s best. I mean, trying to behave with respect and understanding towards other people. And finding some degree of intellectual fulfilment, social sustenance and aesthetic pleasure.’
    ‘There you have the difference between us. Let me put this to you. Suppose you had to describe your life as if it were a journey, then what would you say about it?’
    ‘I don’t understand.’
    ‘I am suggesting that for you life is a slow progress across a wide plain – you can see the land ahead and behind for many miles.’
    ‘I understand. And you don’t see your life in such terms?’
    He smiled. ‘Hardly. For me, life is a dangerous quest through thick mist and darkness along a narrow ridge with a steep drop on either side. At moments the mist and the darkness lift and I see the giddying drop on either side of me, but I also see the peak towards which I am making my way.’
    ‘My life is not without its moments of unexpected excitement. For example, when I found the reference to the possibility of the Library here having that manuscript ...’
    ‘I’m not talking about manuscripts,’ Austin interrupted. ‘What about passion?’
    I smiled in irritation. ‘At our age, Austin ...’
    ‘At our age! What nonsense. You sound like an old man.’
    ‘Austin, we’re no longer young. We’re both nearly fifty.’
    ‘Fifty! That’s no age at all. We have several decades of life before us.’
    ‘Be that as it may, I think I’ve had enough passion for one lifetime.’
    ‘I assume that you are referring to ...?’
    ‘Don’t speak of it, Austin. Really, I have no wish to rake it up.’
    ‘And since then?’
    ‘Since then?’
    ‘It’s been more than twenty years. Did everything but your professional life end at that moment?’
    ‘My professional life – which you seem to dismiss as insignificant – has been rich and rewarding. I have my pupils, my colleagues, my scholarly papers and my books. I believe I am a respected member of my college and of my profession. I think I can say that many of the young men I teach even feel a degree of affection for me as I do towards them.’
    ‘You talk of it as if it is in the past. Have you no desire for that Chair or are you perfectly content to see that man – Scuttard, is it? – carry it away?’
    ‘I’ve told you, I won’t stoop to obtain it. And it would be a risk.’
    ‘A risk?’
    ‘If I were known to have sought it and failed, I would be