One of my favourite scenes in "Percival's Recovery" is Fosco shaving Percy. 😌 Writing it was a delight. (And so was Fosco talking about the power of lubrication. 😁) Also, my Percival is golden blond, because he looks like Oliver Darley's version of him in the musical.
"The next morning, I wanted a mirror. I had the irrational fear that my face had been burned and scarred, that I was now disfigured and ugly, like my father. The mirror showed no such horrors. I was still myself, still had my good looks, though I was not looking my best. I was frightfully pale, and I had deep shadows under my eyes. I had lost weight. My side whiskers had grown too long, and I had a many days’ growth of beard. I wish I could say that my blond whiskers and beard made me look like a lion, but they did not. I looked unkempt, and very ill, and I still felt weak as a kitten. I have always been very particular about my appearance. Seeing myself like that both pained me and angered me. However, I still could not bear to be touched by servants. Even if I could, my stupid manservant, William, was ill at the time, too. Apparently, he had gone into shock because of what happened to me. Stupid man! He was not the one who got burned. But now that idiot could not help me shave, or get dressed. It seemed that I was recovering my health only to discover once again the uselessness of my servants. And my hands were shaking too badly to enable me to shave myself.
Fosco shaved my beard. He sat me in a comfortable easy-chair, in front of my dressing table, and winked at me in the mirror. I rolled my eyes at him. He started singing Figaro’s song from The Barber Of Seville, while gently lathering my cheeks and chin.
“Could we dispense with that?” I sighed, irritably.
“How could I shave you without the soap and shaving cream, my good friend? Dear Percy, you have such soft, delicate skin. When we gentlemen venture to defy the dictates of nature - such as when we shave, for instance - we need the power of lubrication.”
“I don’t mean that! I mean your singing, Fosco. I could do with a little peace and quiet in my own home.”
“My good Percival, as your doctor and your friend, I declare that you have had enough peace and quiet, and need some cheering up.”
He smiled at me, and the singing continued. Figaro qua, Figaro là, Figaro su, Figaro giù. I wanted to vent my anger at him, but he put a straight razor to my throat.
“Percy, relax. You are so tense and nervous, my poor dear friend. There, there, just rest your head like that… lift your chin a little. Didn’t I tell you to leave everything in my hands? That includes your beard. By the way, I rather liked your beard. It made you look different, and it was so soft. But the duties of friendship are sacred to me! If my friend wants my help to get rid of anything, be it a beard or a wife - Fosco is at his service!”
So he went on, stopping talking only to continue to sing. And he needed not have reminded me of that unpleasant business with Laura. God knows I had enough unpleasantness without those bad memories. It was all past and gone. But present, past, or future - I would always be in Fosco’s power, and I knew he liked that.
He was smooth and skilful with the razor, the blade’s touch to my skin almost a caress, but the beard disappearing quickly. Again, I had this sensation of being in his power, which was both pleasant and shameful. I could see myself blushing a little in the mirror, and I looked away from him.
“There, now - Percival, clean-shaven! Do you like the result, my friend?”
“Whyever not, Percival? Isn’t that stubborn perfect chin perfectly smooth? Isn't that delicate pale English skin free of the slightest cuts? Am I not the most skilful barber in existence? Am I a friend to be treasured in the best corner of your heart, or am I not? Or should I shave off those side whiskers, too?”
“Leave my side whiskers! I look terrible.” It was even more evident without the beard. I looked pale and tired and ill. And older than I remembered myself, too. I was a wreck of myself. I was not so handsome anymore. I looked as miserable as I felt.
“My dear Percival, you are very handsome, as you well know. Give yourself time, my friend, and give me time to make you get better. You have been very ill, and you need to recuperate your strength and regain your health. We might go for a walk soon - the weather is getting warmer, and you need some fresh air. You also need to eat better, and to drink less.”
snowghoul
titsay
izzy806
kianamaiart
2087
