I
It was six months later that Sebastian Levinne had a letter from Joe.
Dear Sebastian: IтАЩm over in England for a few days. I should love to see you. Yours, Joe.
Sebastian read and reread the brief note. He was at his motherтАЩs house on a few daysтАЩ leave, so it had reached him with no delay. Across the breakfast table he was conscious of his motherтАЩs eyes watching him, and he marvelled as he had often done before, at the quickness of her maternal apprehension. She read his face, which most people found so inscrutable, as easily as he read the note in his hand.
When she spoke it was in ordinary commonplace tones.
тАЬThome more marmalade, dear?тАЭ she said.
тАЬNo, thanks, Mother.тАЭ He answered the spoken question first, then went on to the unspoken one of which he was so keenly conscious. тАЬItтАЩs from Joe.тАЭ
тАЬJoe,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аLevinne. Her voice expressed nothing.
тАЬSheтАЩs in London.тАЭ
There was a pause.
тАЬI see,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аLevinne.
Still her voice expressed nothing. But Sebastian was aware of a whole tumult of feeling. It was the same to him as though his mother had burst out: тАЬMy son, my son! And you were just beginning to forget her! Why does she come back like this? Why canтАЩt she leave you alone? This girl who has nothing to do with us or our race? This girl who was never the right wife for you and never will be.тАЭ
Sebastian rose.
тАЬI think I must go round and see her.тАЭ
His mother answered in the same voice: тАЬI suppose so.тАЭ
They said no more. They understood each other. Each respected the otherтАЩs point of view.
As he swung along the street, it suddenly occurred to Sebastian that Joe had given him no clue as to what name she was staying under at the hotel. Did she call herself Miss Waite or Madame de la Marre? Unimportant, of course, but one of those silly conventional absurdities that made one feel awkward. He must ask for her under one or the other. How like Joe it was to have completely overlooked the point!
But as it happened there was no awkwardness, for the first person he saw as he passed through the swing doors was Joe herself. She greeted him with a glad cry of surprise.
тАЬSebastian! IтАЩd no idea you could possibly have got my letter so soon!тАЭ
She led the way to a retired corner of the lounge and he followed her.
His first feeling was that she had changedтБатАФshe had gone so far away that she was almost a stranger. It was partly, he thought, her clothes. They were ultra-French clothes. Very quiet and dark and discreet, but utterly un-English. Her face, too, was very much made up. Its creamy pallor was enhanced by art, her lips were impossibly red and she had done something to the corners of her eyes.
He thought, тАЬSheтАЩs a strangerтБатАФand yet sheтАЩs Joe! SheтАЩs the same Joe but sheтАЩs gone a long way awayтБатАФso far away that one can only just get in touch with her.тАЭ
But they talked together easily enough, each, as it were, putting out little feelers, as though sounding the distance that separated them. And suddenly the distance itself lessened and the elegant Parisian stranger melted into Joe.
They talked of Vernon. Where was he? He never wrote or told one anything.
тАЬHeтАЩs on Salisbury Plain, near Wiltsbury. He may be going out to France any minute.тАЭ
тАЬAnd Nell married him after all! Sebastian, I feel I was rather a beast about Nell. I didnтАЩt think she had it in her. I donтАЩt think she would have had it in her if it hadnтАЩt been for the war. Sebastian, isnтАЩt the war wonderful? What itтАЩs doing for people, I mean.тАЭ
Sebastian said dryly that he supposed it was very much like any other war. Joe flew out at him vehemently.
тАЬIt isnтАЩt! It isnтАЩt! ThatтАЩs just where youтАЩre wrong. ThereтАЩs going to be a new world after it. People are beginning to see thingsтБатАФthings they never saw before. All the cruelty and the wickedness and the waste of war. And theyтАЩll stand together so that such a thing shall never happen again.тАЭ
Her face was flushed and exalted. Sebastian perceived that the war had, as he phrased it, тАЬgotтАЭ Joe. The war did get people. He had discussed it and deplored it with Jane. It made him sick to read the things that were printed and said about the war. тАЬA world fit for heroes.тАЭ тАЬThe war to end war.тАЭ тАЬThe fight for democracy.тАЭ And really, all the time it was the same old bloody business it always had been. Why couldnтАЩt people speak the truth about it?
Jane had disagreed with him. She maintained that the claptrap (for she agreed it was claptrap) which was written about war was inevitable, a kind of accompanying phenomenon inseparable from it. It was NatureтАЩs way of providing a way of escapeтБатАФyou had to have that wall of illusion and lies to help you to endure the solid facts. It was, to her, pitiable and almost beautifulтБатАФthese things that we wanted to believe and told ourselves so speciously.
Sebastian had said: тАЬI dare say, but itтАЩs going to play hell with the nation afterwards.тАЭ
He was saddened and a little depressed by JoeтАЩs fiery enthusiasm. And yet, after all, it was typical of Joe. Her enthusiasm always was red-hot. It was a toss-up which camp he found her in, that was all. She might just as easily have been a white-hot pacifist, embracing martyrdom with fervour.
She said now accusingly to Sebastian: тАЬYou donтАЩt agree! You think everythingтАЩs going to be just the same.тАЭ
тАЬThere have always been wars, and they have never made any great difference.тАЭ
тАЬYes, but this is a different kind of war altogether.тАЭ
He smiled. He could not help it.
тАЬMy dear Joe, the things that happen to us personally are always different.тАЭ
тАЬOh! IтАЩve no patience with you. ItтАЩs people like youтБатАФтАЭ
She stopped.
тАЬYes,тАЭ said Sebastian encouragingly. тАЬPeople like meтБатАФтАЭ
тАЬYou usenтАЩt to be like that. You used to have ideas. NowтБатАФтАЭ
тАЬNow,тАЭ said Sebastian gravely, тАЬI am sunk in money. IтАЩm a capitalist. Everyone knows what a hoggish creature the capitalist is.тАЭ
тАЬDonтАЩt be absurd. But I do think that money is ratherтБатАФwell, stifling.тАЭ
тАЬYes,тАЭ said Sebastian, тАЬthatтАЩs true enough. But thatтАЩs a question of effect on an individual. I will quite agree with you that poverty is a blessed state. Talking in terms of art, itтАЩs probably as valuable as manure in a garden. But itтАЩs nonsense to say that because IтАЩve got money, IтАЩm unfit to make prognostications as to the future, and especially as to the state obtaining after the war. Just because IтАЩve got money IтАЩm all the more likely to be a good judge. Money has got a lot to do with war.тАЭ
тАЬYes, but because you think of everything in terms of money, you say that there always will be wars.тАЭ
тАЬI didnтАЩt say anything of the kind. I think war will eventually be abolished. IтАЩd give it roughly another two hundred years.тАЭ
тАЬAh! you do admit that by then we may have purer ideals.тАЭ
тАЬI donтАЩt think itтАЩs got anything to do with ideals. ItтАЩs probably a question of transport. Once you get flying going on a commercial scale and you fuse countries together. Air charabancs to the Sahara Wednesdays and Saturdays. That kind of thing. Countries getting mixed up and matey. Trade revolutionized. For all practical purposes, you make the world smaller. You reduce it in time to the level of a nation with counties in it. I donтАЩt think whatтАЩs always alluded to as the Brotherhood of Man will ever develop from fine ideasтБатАФit will be a simple matter of common sense.тАЭ
тАЬOh, Sebastian!тАЭ
тАЬIтАЩm annoying you. IтАЩm sorry, Joe dear.тАЭ
тАЬYou donтАЩt believe in anything.тАЭ
тАЬWell, itтАЩs you who are the atheist, you know. Though, as a matter of fact, that word has gone out of fashion. We say nowadays that we believe in Something! Personally IтАЩm quite satisfied with Jehovah. But I know what you meant when you said that, and youтАЩre wrong. I believe in beauty, in creation, in things like VernonтАЩs music. I canтАЩt see any real defence for them economically, and yet IтАЩm perfectly sure that they matter more than anything else in the world. IтАЩm even prepared (sometimes) to drop money over them. ThatтАЩs a lot for a Jew!тАЭ
Joe laughed in spite of herself. Then she asked: тАЬWhat was The Princess in the Tower really like? Honestly, Sebastian?тАЭ
тАЬOh, rather like a giant toddlingтБатАФan unconvincing performance, and yet a performance on a different scale from anything else.тАЭ
тАЬYou think that some dayтБатАФтАЭ
тАЬIтАЩm sure of it. ThereтАЩs nothing IтАЩm so sure of as that. If only he isnтАЩt killed in this bloody war.тАЭ
Joe shivered.
тАЬItтАЩs so awful,тАЭ she murmured. тАЬIтАЩve been working in the hospitals in Paris. Some of the things one sees!тАЭ
тАЬI know. If heтАЩs only maimed it doesnтАЩt matterтБатАФnot like a violinist who is finished if he loses his right hand. No, they can mess up his body any way they like, so long as his brain is left untouched. That sounds brutal, but you know what I mean.тАЭ
тАЬI know. But sometimesтБатАФeven thenтБатАФтАЭ She broke off and then went on, speaking in a new tone of voice. тАЬSebastian, IтАЩm married.тАЭ
If something in him winced he didnтАЩt show it.
тАЬAre you, my dear? Did La Marre get a divorce?тАЭ
тАЬNo. I left him. He was a beastтБатАФa beast, Sebastian.тАЭ
тАЬI can imagine he might be.тАЭ
тАЬNot that I regret anything. One has to live oneтАЩs lifeтБатАФto gain experience. Anything is better than shrinking from life. ThatтАЩs just what people like Aunt Myra canтАЩt understand. IтАЩm not going near them at Birmingham. IтАЩm not ashamed or repentant of anything IтАЩve done.тАЭ
She gazed at him defiantly and his mind went back to Joe in the woods at Abbots Puissants. He thought: тАЬSheтАЩs just the same. Wrongheaded, rebellious, adorable. One might have known then that sheтАЩd do this sort of thing.тАЭ
He said gently: тАЬIтАЩm only sorry that youтАЩve been unhappy. Because you have been unhappy, havenтАЩt you?тАЭ
тАЬHorribly. But IтАЩve found my real life now. There was a boy in hospitalтБатАФterribly badly wounded. They gave him morphia.тБатАФHeтАЩs been discharged nowтБатАФcured, though of course he isnтАЩt fit for service. But the morphiaтБатАФitтАЩs got hold of him. ThatтАЩs why we were married. A fortnight ago. WeтАЩre going to fight it together.тАЭ
Sebastian did not trust himself to speak. Joe all over. But why, in the name of fortune, couldnтАЩt she have been content with physical disabilities? Morphia. A ghastly business.
And suddenly a pang shot through him. It was as though he resigned his last hope of her. Their ways led in opposite directionsтБатАФJoe amongst her lost causes and her lame dogs, and he on an upward route. He might, of course, be killed in the war, but somehow he didnтАЩt think he would be. He was almost certain that he wouldnтАЩt even be picturesquely wounded. He felt a kind of certitude that he would come through safely, probably with moderate distinction, that he would come back to his enterprises, reorganizing and revitalizing them; that he would be successful, notably successful, in a world that did not tolerate failures. And the higher he climbed the further he would be separated from Joe.
He thought bitterly, тАЬThereтАЩs always some woman to pull you out of a pit, but nobody will come and keep you company on a mountain peak, and yet you may be damned lonely there.тАЭ
He didnтАЩt quite know what to say to Joe. No good depressing her, poor child. He said rather weakly:
тАЬWhatтАЩs your name now?тАЭ
тАЬValni├иre. You must meet Fran├зois some time. IтАЩve just come over to settle up some legal bothers. Father died about a month ago, you know.тАЭ
Sebastian nodded. He remembered hearing of Major WaiteтАЩs death.
Joe went on.
тАЬI want to see Jane. And I want to see Vernon and Nell.тАЭ
It was settled that he should motor her down to Wiltsbury on the following day.