Page 113 - BraveNewWorld

IDPH 113

packed off to an Adult Re-conditioning Centre and the film ended happily and
decorously, with the Beta blonde becoming the mistress of all her three rescu-
ers. They interrupted themselves for a moment to sing a synthetic quartet, with
full super- orchestral accompaniment and gardenias on the scent organ. Then
the bearskin made a final appearance and, amid a blare of saxophones, the last
stereoscopic kiss faded into darkness, the last electric titillation died on the lips
like a dying moth that quivers, quivers, ever more feebly, ever more faintly, and
at last is quiet, quite still.

But for Lenina the moth did not completely die. Even after the lights had gone
up, while they were shuffling slowly along with the crowd towards the lifts, its
ghost still fluttered against her lips, still traced fine shuddering roads of anxiety
and pleasure across her skin. Her cheeks were flushed. She caught hold of the
Savage’s arm and pressed it, limp, against her side. He looked down at her for a
moment, pale, pained, desiring, and ashamed of his desire. He was not worthy,
not. Their eyes for a moment met. What treasures hers promised! A queen’s
ransom of temperament. Hastily he looked away, disengaged his imprisoned
arm. He was obscurely terrified lest she should cease to be something he could
feel himself unworthy of.
“I don’t think you ought to see things like that,” he said, making haste to trans-
fer from Lenina herself to the surrounding circumstances the blame for any past
or possible future lapse from perfection.

“Things like what, John?”
“Like this horrible film.”
“Horrible?” Lenina was genuinely astonished. “But I thought it was lovely.”

“It was base,” he said indignantly, “it was ignoble.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.” Why was he so queer?
Why did he go out of his way to spoil things?

In the taxicopter he hardly even looked at her. Bound by strong vows that had
never been pronounced, obedient to laws that had long since ceased to run,
he sat averted and in silence. Sometimes, as though a finger had plucked at
some taut, almost breaking string, his whole body would shake with a sudden
nervous start.
The taxicopter landed on the roof of Lenina’s apartment house. “At last,” she
thought exultantly as she stepped out of the cab. At last-even though he had
been so queer just now. Standing under a lamp, she peered into her hand mirror.
At last. Yes, her nose was a bit shiny. She shook the loose powder from her puff.
While he was paying off the taxi-there would just be time. She rubbed at the
shininess, thinking: “He’s terribly good-looking. No need for him to be shy like

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