209.Chapter Eighteen（10）

thewhipwashangingonanailbythedoor，readytohandagainstthearrivalofreporters。

***inafrenzythesavageranbacktothehouse，seizedit，whirledit。

theknottedcordsbitintohisflesh。

“strumpet！

strumpet”

heshoutedateveryblowasthoughitwerelenina（andhowfrantically，withoutknowingit，hewisheditwere），white，warm，scented，infamousleninathathewasdoggingthus。

“strumpet”

andthen，inavoiceofdespair，“oh，linda，forgiveme。

forgiveme，god。

i’mbad。

i’mwicked。

i’m…no，no，youstrumpet，youstrumpet”

fromhiscarefullyconstructedhideinthewoodthreehundredmetresaway，darwinbonaparte，thefeelycorporation’smostexpertbiggamephotographerhadwatchedthewholeproceedings。

patienceandskillhadbeenrewarded。

hehadspentthreedayssittinginsidetheboleofanartificialoaktree，threenightscrawlingonhisbellythroughtheheather，hidingmicrophonesingorsebushes，buryingwiresinthesoftgreysand。

seventy-twohoursofprofounddiscomfort。

butnowthegreatmomenthadcome–thegreatest，darwinbonapartehadtimetoreflect，ashemovedamonghisinstruments，thegreatestsincehistakingofthefamousall-howlingstereoscopicfeelyofthegorillas’wedding。

“splendid，”

hesaidtohimself，asthesavagestartedhisastonishingperformance。

“splendid”

hekepthistelescopiccamerascarefullyaimed–gluedtotheirmovingobjective；clappedonahigherpowertogetaclose-upofthefranticanddistortedface（admirable！

）；switchedover，forhalfaminute，toslowmotion（anexquisitelycomicaleffect，hepromisedhimself）；listenedin，meanwhile，totheblows，thegroans，thewildandravingwordsthatwerebeingrecordedonthesound-trackattheedgeofhisfilm，triedtheeffectofalittleamplification（yes，thatwasdecidedlybetter）；wasdelightedtohear，inamomentarylull，theshrillsingingofalark；wishedthesavagewouldturnroundsothathecouldgetagoodclose-upofthebloodonhisback–andalmostinstantly（whatastonishingluck！

）theaccommodatingfellowdidturnround，andhewasabletotakeaperfectclose-up。