V
вАЬIt doesnвАЩt seem quite fair, Valentine,вАЭ Mrs.¬†Duchemin said. She was rearranging in a glass bowl some minute flowers that floated on water. They made there, on the breakfast-table, a patch, as it were, of mosaic amongst silver chafing dishes, silver √©pergnes piled with peaches in pyramids, and great silver rose-bowls filled with roses, that drooped to the damask cloth. A congeries of silver largenesses made as if a fortification for the head of the table; two huge silver urns, a great silver kettle on a tripod and a couple of silver vases filled with the extremely tall blue spikes of delphiniums that, spreading out, made as if a fan. The eighteenth century room was very tall and long; panelled in darkish wood. In the centre of each of four of the panels, facing the light, hung pictures, a mellowed orange in tone, representing mists and the cordage of ships in mists at sunrise. On the bottom of each large gold frame was a tablet bearing the ascription: вАЬJ. M. W. Turner.вАЭ The chairs, arranged along the long table that was set for eight people, had the delicate, spidery, mahogany backs of Chippendale; on the golden mahogany sideboard that had behind it green silk curtains on a brass-rail were displayed an immense, crumbed ham, more peaches on an √©pergne, a large meat-pie with a varnished crust, another √©pergne that supported the large pale globes of grapefruit; a galantine, a cube of inlaid meats, encased in thick jelly.
вАЬOh, women have to back each other up in these days,вАЭ Valentine Wannop said. вАЬI couldnвАЩt let you go through this alone after breakfasting with you every Saturday since I donвАЩt know when.вАЭ
вАЬI do feel,вАЭ Mrs.¬†Duchemin said, вАЬimmensely grateful to you for your moral support. I ought not, perhaps, to have risked this morning. But IвАЩve told Parry to keep him out till 10:15.вАЭ
вАЬItвАЩs, at any rate, tremendously sporting of you,вАЭ the girl said. вАЬI think it was worth trying.вАЭ
Mrs. Duchemin, wavering round the table, slightly changed the position of the delphiniums.
вАЬI think they make a good screen,вАЭ Mrs.¬†Duchemin said.
вАЬOh, nobody will be able to see him,вАЭ the girl answered reassuringly. She added with a sudden resolution, вАЬLook here, Edie. Stop worrying about my mind. If you think that anything I hear at your table after nine months as an ash-cat at Ealing, with three men in the house, an invalid wife and a drunken cook, can corrupt my mind, youвАЩre simply mistaken. You can let your conscience be at rest, and letвАЩs say no more about it.вАЭ
Mrs.¬†Duchemin said, вАЬOh, Valentine! How could your mother let you?вАЭ
вАЬShe didnвАЩt know,вАЭ the girl said. вАЬShe was out of her mind for grief. She sat for most of the whole nine months with her hands folded before her in a board and lodging house at twenty-five shillings a week, and it took the five shillings a week that I earned to make up the money.вАЭ She added, вАЬGilbert had to be kept at school of course. And in the holidays, too.вАЭ
вАЬI donвАЩt understand!вАЭ Mrs.¬†Duchemin said. вАЬI simply donвАЩt understand.вАЭ
вАЬOf course you wouldnвАЩt,вАЭ the girl answered. вАЬYouвАЩre like the kindly people who subscribed at the sale to buy my fatherвАЩs library back and present it to my mother. That cost us five shillings a week for warehousing, and at Ealing they were always nagging at me for the state of my print dressesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
She broke off and said:
вАЬLetвАЩs not talk about it any more if you donвАЩt mind. You have me in your house, so I suppose youвАЩve a right to references, as the mistresses call them. But youвАЩve been very good to me and never asked. Still, itвАЩs come up; do you know I told a man on the links yesterday that IвАЩd been a slavey for nine months. I was trying to explain why I was a suffragette; and, as I was asking him a favour, I suppose I felt I needed to give him references too.вАЭ
Mrs. Duchemin, beginning to advance towards the girl impulsively, exclaimed:
вАЬYou darling!вАЭ
Miss Wannop said:
вАЬWait a minute. I havenвАЩt finished. I want to say this: I never talk about that stage of my career because IвАЩm ashamed of it. IвАЩm ashamed of it because I think I did the wrong thing, not for any other reason. I did it on impulse and I stuck to it out of obstinacy. I mean it would probably have been more sensible to go round with the hat to benevolent people, for the keep of mother and to complete my education. But if weвАЩve inherited the Wannop ill-luck, weвАЩve inherited the Wannop pride. And I couldnвАЩt do it. Besides I was only seventeen, and I gave out we were going into the country after the sale. IвАЩm not educated at all, as you know, or only half, because father, being a brilliant man, had ideas. And one of them was that I was to be an athletic, not a classical don at Cambridge, or I might have been, I believe. I donвАЩt know why he had that tic.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But IвАЩd like you to understand two things. One IвАЩve said already: what I hear in this house wonвАЩt ever shock or corrupt me; that itвАЩs said in Latin is neither here nor there. I understand Latin almost as well as English because father used to talk it to me and Gilbert as soon as we talked at all.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And, oh yes: IвАЩm a suffragette because IвАЩve been a slavey. But IвАЩd like you to understand that, though I was a slavey and am a suffragetteвБ†вАФyouвАЩre an old-fashioned woman and queer things are thought about these two thingsвБ†вАФthen IвАЩd like you to understand that in spite of it all IвАЩm pure! Chaste, you know.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Perfectly virtuous.вАЭ
Mrs. Duchemin said:
вАЬOh, Valentine! Did you wear a cap and apron? You! In a cap and apron.вАЭ
Miss Wannop replied:
вАЬYes! I wore a cap and apron and sniffled, вАШMвАЩm!вАЩ to the mistress; and slept under the stairs too. Because I would not sleep with the beast of a cook.вАЭ
Mrs. Duchemin now ran forward and catching Miss Wannop by both hands kissed her first on the left and then on the right cheek.
вАЬOh, Valentine,вАЭ she said, вАЬyouвАЩre a heroine. And you only twenty-two!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IsnвАЩt that the motor coming?вАЭ
But it wasnвАЩt the motor coming and Miss Wannop said:
вАЬOh, no! IвАЩm not a heroine. When I tried to speak to that Minister yesterday, I just couldnвАЩt. It was Gertie who went for him. As for me, I just hopped from one leg to the other and stuttered: вАШVвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ VвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Votes for WвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ WвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ WвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ omen!вАЩвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ If IвАЩd been decently brave I shouldnвАЩt have been too shy to speak to a strange man.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ For that was what it really came to.вАЭ
вАЬBut that surely,вАЭ Mrs.¬†Duchemin saidвБ†вАФshe continued to hold both the girlвАЩs handsвБ†вАФвАЬmakes you all the braver.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs the person who does the thing heвАЩs afraid of whoвАЩs the real hero, isnвАЩt it?вАЭ
вАЬOh, we used to argue that old thing over with father when we were ten. You canвАЩt tell. YouвАЩve got to define the term brave. I was just abject.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I could harangue the whole crowd when I got them together. But speak to one man in cold blood I couldnвАЩt.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Of course I did speak to a fat golfing idiot with bulging eyes, to get him to save Gertie. But that was different.вАЭ
Mrs.¬†Duchemin moved both the girlвАЩs hands up and down in her own.
вАЬAs you know, Valentine,вАЭ she said, вАЬIвАЩm an old-fashioned woman. I believe that womanвАЩs true place is at her husbandвАЩs side. At the same timeвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Miss Wannop moved away.
вАЬNow, donвАЩt, Edie, donвАЩt!вАЭ she said. вАЬIf you believe that, youвАЩre an anti. DonвАЩt run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. ItвАЩs your defect really.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I tell you IвАЩm not a heroine. I dread prison: I hate rows. IвАЩm thankful to goodness that itвАЩs my duty to stop and housemaid-typewrite for mother, so that I canвАЩt really do things.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Look at that miserable, adenoidy little Gertie, hiding upstairs in our garret. She was crying all last nightвБ†вАФbut thatвАЩs just nerves. Yet sheвАЩs been in prison five times, stomach-pumped and all. Not a moment of funk about her!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But as for me, a girl as hard as a rock that prison wouldnвАЩt touch.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Why, IвАЩm all of a jump now. ThatвАЩs why IвАЩm talking nonsense like a pert schoolgirl. I just dread that every sound may be the police coming for me.вАЭ
Mrs.¬†Duchemin stroked the girlвАЩs fair hair and tucked a loose strand behind her ear.
вАЬI wish youвАЩd let me show you how to do your hair,вАЭ she said. вАЬThe right man might come along at any moment.вАЭ
вАЬOh, the right man!вАЭ Miss Wannop said. вАЬThanks for tactfully changing the subject. The right man for me, when he comes along, will be a married man. ThatвАЩs the Wannop luck!вАЭ
Mrs. Duchemin said, with deep concern:
вАЬDonвАЩt talk like that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Why should you regard yourself as being less lucky than other people? Surely your motherвАЩs done well. She has a position; she makes money.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬAh, but mother isnвАЩt a Wannop,вАЭ the girl said, вАЬonly by marriage. The real WannopsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ theyвАЩve been executed, and attaindered, and falsely accused and killed in carriage accidents and married adventurers or died penniless like father. Ever since the dawn of history. And then, motherвАЩs got her mascotвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬOh, whatвАЩs that?вАЭ Mrs.¬†Duchemin asked, almost with animation, вАЬa relicвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬDonвАЩt you know motherвАЩs mascot?вАЭ the girl asked. вАЬShe tells everybody.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ DonвАЩt you know the story of the man with the champagne? How mother was sitting contemplating suicide in her bed-sitting room and there came in a man with a name like Tea-tray; she always calls him the mascot and asks us to remember him as such in our prayers.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He was a man whoвАЩd been at a German university with father years before and loved him very dearly, but not kept touch with him. And heвАЩd been out of England for nine months when father died and round about it. And he said: вАШNow Mrs.¬†Wannop, whatвАЩs this?вАЩ And she told him. And he said, вАШWhat you want is champagne!вАЩ And he sent the slavey out with a sovereign for a bottle of Veuve Cliquot. And he broke the neck of the bottle off against the mantelpiece because they were slow in bringing an opener. And he stood over her while she drank half the bottle out of her tooth-glass. And he took her out to lunchвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ oh, itвАЩs cold!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And lectured herвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And got her a job to write leaders on a paper he had shares inвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Mrs. Duchemin said:
вАЬYouвАЩre shivering!вАЭ
вАЬI know I am,вАЭ the girl said. She went on very fast. вАЬAnd of course, mother always wrote fatherвАЩs articles for him. He found the ideas, but couldnвАЩt write, and sheвАЩs a splendid style.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And, since then, heвБ†вАФthe mascotвБ†вАФTea-trayвБ†вАФhas always turned up when sheвАЩs been in tight places. Then the paper blew her up and threatened to dismiss her for inaccuracies! SheвАЩs frightfully inaccurate. And he wrote her out a table of things every leader writer must know, such as that вАШA. EborвАЩ is the Archbishop of York, and that the Government is Liberal. And one day he turned up and said: вАШWhy donвАЩt you write a novel on that story you told me?вАЩ And he lent her the money to buy the cottage weвАЩre in now to be quiet and write inвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Oh, I canвАЩt go on!вАЭ
Miss Wannop burst into tears.
вАЬItвАЩs thinking of those beastly days,вАЭ she said. вАЬAnd that beastly, beastly yesterday!вАЭ She ran the knuckles of both her hands fiercely into her eyes, and determinedly eluded Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs handkerchief and embraces. She said almost contemptuously:
вАЬA nice, considerate person I am. And you with this ordeal hanging over you! Do you suppose I donвАЩt appreciate all your silent heroism of the home, while weвАЩre marching about with flags and shouting? But itвАЩs just to stop women like you being tortured, body and soul, week in, week out, that weвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Mrs. Duchemin had sat down on a chair near one of the windows; she had her handkerchief hiding her face.
вАЬWhy women in your position donвАЩt take loversвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ the girl said, hotly. вАЬOr that women in your position do take loversвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Mrs. Duchemin looked up; in spite of its tears her white face had an air of serious dignity.
вАЬOh, no, Valentine,вАЭ she said, using her deeper tones. вАЬThereвАЩs something beautiful, thereвАЩs something thrilling about chastity. IвАЩm not narrow-minded. Censorious! I donвАЩt condemn! But to preserve in word, thought and action a lifelong fidelity.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ItвАЩs no mean achievement.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬYou mean like an egg and spoon race,вАЭ Miss Wannop said.
вАЬIt isnвАЩt,вАЭ Mrs.¬†Duchemin replied gently, вАЬthe way I should have put it. IsnвАЩt the real symbol Atalanta, running fast and not turning aside for the golden apple? That always seemed to me the real truth hidden in the beautiful old legend.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬI donвАЩt know,вАЭ Miss Wannop said, вАЬwhen I read what Ruskin says about it in the Crown of Wild Olive. Or no! ItвАЩs the Queen of the Air. ThatвАЩs his Greek rubbish, isnвАЩt it? I always think it seems like an egg-race in which the young woman didnвАЩt keep her eyes in the boat. But I suppose it comes to the same thing.вАЭ
Mrs. Duchemin said:
вАЬMy dear! Not a word against John Ruskin in this house.вАЭ
Miss Wannop screamed.
An immense voice had shouted:
вАЬThis way! This way!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The ladies will be here!вАЭ
Of Mr.¬†DucheminвАЩs curatesвБ†вАФhe had three of them, for he had three marshland parishes almost without stipend, so that no one but a very rich clergyman could have held themвБ†вАФit was observed that they were all very large men with the physiques rather of prizefighters than of clergy. So that when by any chance at dusk, Mr.¬†Duchemin, who himself was of exceptional stature, and his three assistants went together along a road the hearts of any malefactors whom in the mist they chanced to encounter went pit-a-pat.
Mr.¬†HorsleyвБ†вАФthe number twoвБ†вАФhad in addition an enormous voice. He shouted four or five words, interjected tee-hee, shouted four or five words more and again interjected tee-hee. He had enormous wrist-bones that protruded from his clerical cuffs, an enormous AdamвАЩs apple, a large, thin, close-cropped, colourless face like a skull, with very sunken eyes, and when he was once started speaking it was impossible to stop him, because his own voice in his ears drowned every possible form of interruption.
This morning, as an inmate of the house, introducing to the breakfast-room Messrs. Tietjens and Macmaster, who had driven up to the steps just as he was mounting them, he had a story to tell. The introduction was, therefore, not, as such, a success.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
вАЬA State of Siege, Ladies! Tee-hee!вАЭ he alternately roared and giggled. вАЬWeвАЩre living in a regular state of siege.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ What withвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ It appeared that the night before, after dinner, Mr.¬†Sandbach and rather more than half-a-dozen of the young bloods who had dined at Mountby, had gone scouring the country lanes, mounted on motor bicycles and armed with loaded canesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ for suffragettes! Every woman they had come across in the darkness they had stopped, abused, threatened with their loaded canes and subjected to cross-examination. The countryside was up in arms.
As a story this took, with the appropriate reflections and repetitions, a long time in telling, and afforded Tietjens and Miss Wannop the opportunity of gazing at each other. Miss Wannop was frankly afraid that this large, clumsy, unusual-looking man, now that he had found her again, might hand her over to the police whom she imagined to be searching for herself, and her friend Gertie, Miss Wilson, at that moment in bed, under the care, as she also imagined, of Mrs.¬†Wannop. On the links he had seemed to her natural and in place; here, with his loosely hung clothes and immense hands, the white patch on the side of his rather cropped head and his masked rather shapeless features, he affected her queerly as being both in and out of place. He seemed to go with the ham, the meatpie, the galantine and even at a pinch with the roses; but the Turner pictures, the aesthetic curtain and Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs flowing robes, amber and rose in the hair did not go with him at all. Even the Chippendale chairs hardly did. And she felt herself thinking oddly, beneath her perturbations, of a criminal and the voice of the Rev. Horsley that his Harris tweeds went all right with her skirt, and she was glad that she had on a clean, cream-coloured silk blouse, not a striped pink cotton.
She was right as to that.
In every man there are two minds that work side by side, the one checking the other; thus emotion stands against reason, intellect corrects passion and first impressions act just a little, but very little, before quick reflection. Yet first impressions have always a bias in their favour, and even quiet reflection has often a job to efface them.
The night before Tietjens had given several thoughts to this young woman. General Campion had assigned her to him as ma√Ѓtresse en t√Ѓtre. He was said to have ruined himself, broken up his home and spent his wifeвАЩs money on her. Those were lies. On the other hand they were not inherent impossibilities. Upon occasion and given the right woman, quite sound men have done such things. He might, heaven knows, himself be so caught. But that he should have ruined himself over an unnoticeable young female who had announced herself as having been a domestic servant, and wore a pink cotton blouseвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ that had seemed to go beyond the bounds of even the unreason of club gossip!
That was the strong, first impression! It was all very well for his surface mind to say that the girl was not by birth a tweeny maid; she was the daughter of Professor Wannop and she could jump! For Tietjens held very strongly the theory that what finally separated the classes was that the upper could lift its feet from the ground whilst common people couldnвАЩt.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But the strong impression remained. Miss Wannop was a tweeny maid. Say a ladyвАЩs help, by nature. She was of good family, for the Wannops were first heard of at Birdlip in Gloucestershire in the year 1417вБ†вАФno doubt enriched after Agincourt. But even brilliant men of good family will now and then throw daughters who are lady helps by nature. That was one of the queernesses of heredity.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And, though Tietjens had even got as far as to realise that Miss Wannop must be a heroine who had sacrificed her young years to her motherвАЩs gifts, and no doubt to a brother at schoolвБ†вАФfor he had guessed as far as thatвБ†вАФeven then Tietjens couldnвАЩt make her out as more than a lady help. Heroines are all very well; admirable, they may even be saints; but if they let themselves get careworn in face and go shabby.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Well, they must wait for the gold that shall be amply stored for them in heaven. On this earth you could hardly accept them as wives for men of your own set. Certainly you wouldnвАЩt spend your own wifeвАЩs money on them. That was what it really came to.
But, brightened up as he now suddenly saw her, with silk for the pink cotton, shining coiled hair for the white canvas hat, a charming young neck, good shoes beneath neat ankles, a healthy flush taking the place of yesterdayвАЩs pallor of fear for her comrade; an obvious equal in the surroundings of quite good people; small, but well-shaped and healthy; immense blue eyes fixed without embarrassment on his own.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
вАЬBy JoveвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ he said to himself: вАЬItвАЩs true! What a jolly little mistress sheвАЩd make!вАЭ
He blamed Campion, Sandbach and the club gossips for the form the thought had taken. For the cruel, bitter and stupid pressure of the world has yet about it something selective; if it couples male and female in its inexorable rings of talk it will be because there is something harmonious in the union. And there exists then the pressure of suggestion!
He took a look at Mrs. Duchemin and considered her infinitely commonplace and probably a bore. He disliked her large-shouldered, many-yarded style of blue dress and considered that no woman should wear clouded amber, for which the proper function was the provision of cigarette holders for bounders. He looked back at Miss Wannop, and considered that she would make a good wife for Macmaster; Macmaster liked bouncing girls and this girl was quite lady enough.
He heard Miss Wannop shout against the gale to Mrs. Duchemin:
вАЬDo I sit beside the head of the table and pour out?вАЭ
Mrs. Duchemin answered:
вАЬNo! IвАЩve asked Miss Fox to pour out. SheвАЩs nearly stone deaf.вАЭ Miss Fox was the penniless sister of a curate deceased. вАЬYouвАЩre to amuse Mr.¬†Tietjens.вАЭ
Tietjens noticed that Mrs.¬†Duchemin had an agreeable turret voice; it penetrated the noises of Mr.¬†Horsley as the missel-thrushвАЩs note a gale. It was rather agreeable. He noticed that Miss Wannop made a little grimace.
Mr.¬†Horsley, like a megaphone addressing a crowd, was turning from side to side, addressing his hearers by rotation. At the moment he was bawling at Macmaster; it would be TietjensвАЩ turn again in a moment to hear a description of the heart attacks of old Mrs.¬†Haglen at Nobeys. But TietjensвАЩ turn did not come.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
A high-complexioned, round-cheeked, forty-fivish lady, with agreeable eyes, dressed rather well in the black of the not-very-lately widowed, entered the room with precipitation. She patted Mr. Horsley on his declamatory right arm and, since he went on talking, she caught him by the hand and shook it. She exclaimed in high, commanding tones:
вАЬWhich is Mr.¬†Macmaster, the critic?вАЭ and then, in the dead lull to Tietjens: вАЬAre you Mr.¬†Macmaster, the critic? No!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Then you must be.вАЭ
Her turning to Macmaster and the extinction of her interest in himself had been one of the rudest things Tietjens had ever experienced, but it was an affair so strictly businesslike that he took it without any offence. She was remarking to Macmaster:
вАЬOh, Mr.¬†Macmaster, my new book will be out on Thursday week,вАЭ and she had begun to lead him towards a window at the other end of the room.
Miss Wannop said:
вАЬWhat have you done with Gertie?вАЭ
вАЬGertie!вАЭ Mrs.¬†Wannop exclaimed with the surprise of one coming out of a dream. вАЬOh yes! SheвАЩs fast asleep. SheвАЩll sleep till four. I told Hannah to give a look at her now and then.вАЭ
Miss WannopвАЩs hands fell open at her side.
вАЬOh, mother!вАЭ forced itself from her.
вАЬOh, yes,вАЭ Mrs.¬†Wannop said, вАЬweвАЩd agreed to tell old Hannah we didnвАЩt want her today. So we had!вАЭ She said to Macmaster: вАЬOld Hannah is our charwoman,вАЭ wavered a little and then went on brightly: вАЬOf course it will be of use to you to hear about my new book. To you journalists a little bit of previous explanationвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ and she dragged off Macmaster, who seemed to bleat faintly.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
That had come about because just as she had got into the dogcart to be driven to the rectoryвБ†вАФfor she herself could not drive a horseвБ†вАФMiss Wannop had told her mother that there would be two men at breakfast, one whose name she didnвАЩt know; the other, a Mr.¬†Macmaster, a celebrated critic. Mrs.¬†Wannop had called up to her:
вАЬA critic? Of what?вАЭ her whole sleepy being electrified.
вАЬI donвАЩt know,вАЭ her daughter had answered. вАЬBooks, I daresay.вАЭ
A second or so after, when the horse, a large black animal that wouldnвАЩt stand, had made twenty yards or so at several bounds, the handy man who drove had said:
вАЬYer motherвАЩs вАЩowlinвАЩ after yer.вАЭ But Miss Wannop had answered that it didnвАЩt matter. She was confident that she had arranged for everything. She was to be back to get lunch; her mother was to give an occasional look at Gertie Wilson in the garret; Hannah, the daily help, was to be told she could go for the day. It was of the highest importance that Hannah should not know that a completely strange young woman was asleep in the garret at eleven in the morning. If she did, the news would be all over the neighbourhood at once, and the police instantly down on them.
But Mrs. Wannop was a woman of business. If she heard of a reviewer within driving distance she called on him with eggs as a present. The moment the daily help had arrived, she had set out and walked to the rectory. No consideration of danger from the police would have stopped her; besides, she had forgotten all about the police.
Her arrival worried Mrs. Duchemin a good deal, because she wished all her guests to be seated and the breakfast well begun before the entrance of her husband. And this was not easy. Mrs. Wannop, who was uninvited, refused to be separated from Mr. Macmaster. Mr. Macmaster had told her that he never wrote reviews in the daily papers, only articles for the heavy quarterlies, and it had occurred to Mrs. Wannop that an article on her new book in one of the quarterlies was just what was needed. She was, therefore, engaged in telling Mr. Macmaster how to write about herself, and twice after Mrs. Duchemin had succeeded in shepherding Mr. Macmaster nearly to his seat, Mrs. Wannop had conducted him back to the embrasure of the window. It was only by sitting herself firmly in her chair next to Macmaster that Mrs. Duchemin was able to retain for herself this all-essential, strategic position. And it was only by calling out:
вАЬMr.¬†Horsley, do take Mrs.¬†Wannop to the seat beside you and feed her,вАЭ that Mrs.¬†Duchemin got Mrs.¬†Wannop out of Mr.¬†DucheminвАЩs own seat at the head of the table, for Mrs.¬†Wannop, having perceived this seat to be vacant and next to Mr.¬†Macmaster, had pulled out the Chippendale armchair and had prepared to sit down in it. This could only have spelt disaster, for it would have meant turning Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs husband loose amongst the other guests.
Mr.¬†Horsley, however, accomplished his duty of leading away this lady with such firmness that Mrs.¬†Wannop conceived of him as a very disagreeable and awkward person. Mr.¬†HorsleyвАЩs seat was next to Miss Fox, a grey spinster, who sat, as it were, within the fortification of silver urns and deftly occupied herself with the ivory taps of these machines. This seat, too, Mrs.¬†Wannop tried to occupy, imagining that, by moving the silver vases that upheld the tall delphiniums, she would be able to get a diagonal view of Macmaster and so to shout to him. She found, however, that she couldnвАЩt, and so resigned herself to taking the chair that had been reserved for Miss Gertie Wilson, who was to have been the eighth guest. Once there she sat in distracted gloom, occasionally saying to her daughter:
вАЬI think itвАЩs very bad management. I think this partyвАЩs very badly arranged.вАЭ Mr.¬†Horsley she hardly thanked for the sole that he placed before her; Tietjens she did not even look at.
Sitting beside Macmaster, her eyes fixed on a small door in the corner of a panelled wall, Mrs. Duchemin became a prey to a sudden and overwhelming fit of apprehension. It forced her to say to her guest, though she had resolved to chance it and say nothing:
вАЬIt wasnвАЩt perhaps fair to ask you to come all this way. You may get nothing out of my husband. HeвАЩs aptвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ especially on Saturdays.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
She trailed off into indecision. It was possible that nothing might occur. On two Saturdays out of seven nothing did occur. Then an admission would be wasted; this sympathetic being would go out of her life with a knowledge that he neednвАЩt have hadвБ†вАФto be a slur on her memory in his mind.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But then, overwhelmingly, there came over her the feeling that, if he knew of her sufferings, he might feel impelled to remain and comfort her. She cast about for words with which to finish her sentence. But Macmaster said:
вАЬOh, dear lady!вАЭ (And it seemed to her to be charming to be addressed thus!) вАЬOne understandsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ One is surely trained and adapted to understandвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ that these great scholars, these abstracted cognoscentiвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Mrs.¬†Duchemin breathed a great вАЬAh!вАЭ of relief. Macmaster had used the exactly right words.
вАЬAnd,вАЭ Macmaster was going on, вАЬmerely to spend a short hour; a swallow flightвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАШAs when the swallow gliding from lofty portal to lofty portalвАЩвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ You know the linesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ in these, your perfect surroundingsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Blissful waves seemed to pass from him to her. It was in this way that men should speak; in that wayвБ†вАФsteel-blue tie, true-looking gold ring, steel-blue eyes beneath black brows!вБ†вАФthat men should look. She was half-conscious of warmth; this suggested the bliss of falling asleep, truly, in perfect surroundings. The roses on the table were lovely; their scent came to her.
A voice came to her:
вАЬYou do do the thing in style, I must say.вАЭ
The large, clumsy but otherwise unnoticeable being that this fascinating man had brought in his train was setting up pretensions to her notice. He had just placed before her a small blue china plate that contained a little black caviar and a round of lemon; a small S√®vres, pinkish, delicate plate that held the pinkest peach in the room. She had said to him: вАЬOhвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ a little caviar! A peach!вАЭ a long time before, with the vague underfeeling that the names of such comestibles must convey to her person a charm in the eyes of Caliban.
She buckled about her her armour of charm; Tietjens was gazing with large, fishish eyes at the caviar before her.
вАЬHow do you get that, for instance?вАЭ he asked.
вАЬOh!вАЭ she answered: вАЬIf it wasnвАЩt my husbandвАЩs doing it would look like ostentation. IвАЩd find it ostentatious for myself.вАЭ She found a smile, radiant, yet muted. вАЬHeвАЩs trained Simpkins of New Bond Street. For a telephone message overnight special messengers go to Billingsgate at dawn for salmon, and red mullet, this, in ice, and great blocks of ice, too. ItвАЩs such pretty stuffвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and then by seven the car goes to Ashford Junction.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ All the same, itвАЩs difficult to give a breakfast before ten.вАЭ
She didnвАЩt want to waste her careful sentences on this grey fellow; she couldnвАЩt, however, turn back, as she yearned to do, to the kindredly running phrasesвБ†вАФas if out of books she had read!вБ†вАФof the smaller man.
вАЬAh, but it isnвАЩt,вАЭ Tietjens said, вАЬostentation. ItвАЩs the great Tradition. You mustnвАЩt ever forget that your husbandвАЩs Breakfast Duchemin of Magdalen.вАЭ
He seemed to be gazing, inscrutably, deep into her eyes. But no doubt he meant to be agreeable.
вАЬSometimes I wish I could,вАЭ she said. вАЬHe doesnвАЩt get anything out of it himself. HeвАЩs ascetic to unreasonableness. On Fridays he eats nothing at all. It makes me quite anxiousвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ for Saturdays.вАЭ
Tietjens said:
вАЬI know.вАЭ
She exclaimedвБ†вАФand almost with sharpness:
вАЬYou know!вАЭ
He continued to gaze straight into her eyes:
вАЬOh, of course one knows all about Breakfast Duchemin!вАЭ he said. вАЬHe was one of RuskinвАЩs road-builders. He was said to be the most Ruskin-like of them all!вАЭ
Mrs.¬†Duchemin cried out: вАЬOh!вАЭ Fragments of the worst stories that in his worst moods her husband had told her of his old preceptor went through her mind. She imagined that the shameful parts of her intimate life must be known to this nebulous monster. For Tietjens, turned sideways and facing her, had seemed to grow monstrous, and as if with undefined outlines. He was the male, threatening, clumsily odious and external! She felt herself say to herself: вАЬI will do you an injury, if everвБ†вАФвАЭ For already she had felt herself swaying the preferences, the thoughts and the future of the man on her other side. He was the male, tender, in-fitting; the complement of the harmony, the meat for consumption, like the sweet pulp of figs.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It was inevitable; it was essential to the nature of her relationship with her husband that Mrs.¬†Duchemin should have these feelings.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
She heard, almost without emotion, so great was her disturbance, from behind her back the dreaded, high, rasping tones:
вАЬPost coitum tristia! Ha! Ha. ThatвАЩs what it is?вАЭ The voice repeated the words and added sardonically: вАЬYou know what that means?вАЭ But the problem of her husband had become secondary; the real problem was: вАЬWhat was this monstrous and hateful man going to say of her to his friend, when, for long hours, they were away?вАЭ
He was still gazing into her eyes. He said nonchalantly, rather low:
вАЬI wouldnвАЩt look round if I were you. Vincent Macmaster is quite up to dealing with the situation.вАЭ
His voice had the familiarity of an elder brotherвАЩs. And at once Mrs.¬†Duchemin knewвБ†вАФthat he knew that already close ties were developing between herself and Macmaster. He was speaking as a man speaks in emergencies to the mistress of his dearest friend. He was then one of those formidable and to be feared males who possess the gift of right intuitions.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
Tietjens said: вАЬYou heard!вАЭ
To the gloating, cruel tones that had asked:
вАЬYou know what that means?вАЭ Macmaster had answered clearly, but with the snappy intonation of a reproving Don:
вАЬOf course I know what it means. ItвАЩs no discovery!вАЭ That was exactly the right note. TietjensвБ†вАФand Mrs.¬†Duchemin tooвБ†вАФcould hear Mr.¬†Duchemin, invisible behind his rampart of blue spikes and silver, give the answering snuffle of a reproved schoolboy. A hard-faced, small man, in grey tweed that buttoned, collar-like, tight round his throat, standing behind the invisible chair, gazed straight forward into infinity.
Tietjens said to himself:
вАЬBy God! Parry! the Bermondsey light middleweight! HeвАЩs there to carry Duchemin off if he becomes violent!вАЭ
During the quick look that Tietjens took round the table Mrs. Duchemin gave, sinking lower in her chair, a short gasp of utter relief. Whatever Macmaster was going to think of her, he thought now. He knew the worst! It was settled, for good or ill. In a minute she would look round at him.
Tietjens said:
вАЬItвАЩs all right, Macmaster will be splendid. We had a friend up at Cambridge with your husbandвАЩs tendencies, and Macmaster could get him through any social occasion.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Besides, weвАЩre all gentlefolk here!вАЭ
He had seen the Rev. Horsley and Mrs.¬†Wannop both interested in their plates. Of Miss Wannop he was not so certain. He had caught, bent obviously on himself, from large, blue eyes, a glance that was evidently appealing. He said to himself: вАЬShe must be in the secret. SheвАЩs appealing to me not to show emotion and upset the applecart! It is a shame that she should be here: a girl!вАЭ and into his answering glance he threw the message: вАЬItвАЩs all right as far as this end of the table is concerned.вАЭ
But Mrs.¬†Duchemin had felt come into herself a little stiffening of morale. Macmaster by now knew the worst; Duchemin was quoting snuffingly to him the hot licentiousness of the Trimalchion of Petronius; snuffing into MacmasterвАЩs ear. She caught the phrase: Festinans, puer callide.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Duchemin, holding her wrist with the painful force of the maniac, had translated it to her over and over again.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ No doubt that, too, this hateful man beside her would have guessed!
She said: вАЬOf course we should be all gentlefolk here. One naturally arranges that.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Tietjens began to say:
вАЬAh! But it isnвАЩt so easy to arrange nowadays. All sorts of bounders get into all sorts of holies of holies!вАЭ
Mrs.¬†Duchemin turned her back on him right in the middle of his sentence. She devoured MacmasterвАЩs face with her eyes, in an infinite sense of calm.
Macmaster four minutes before had been the only one to see the entrance, from a small panelled door that had behind it another of green baize, of the Rev. Mr.¬†Duchemin, and following him a man whom Macmaster, too, recognised at once as Parry, the ex-prize fighter. It flashed through his mind at once that this was an extraordinary conjunction. It flashed through his mind, too, that it was extraordinary that anyone so ecstatically handsome as Mrs.¬†DucheminвАЩs husband should not have earned high preferment in a church always hungry for male beauty. Mr.¬†Duchemin was extremely tall, with a slight stoop of the proper clerical type. His face was of alabaster; his grey hair, parted in the middle, fell brilliantly on his high brows; his glance was quick, penetrating, austere; his nose very hooked and chiselled. He was the exact man to adorn a lofty and gorgeous fane, as Mrs.¬†Duchemin was the exact woman to consecrate an episcopal drawing-room. With his great wealth, scholarship and tradition.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ вАЬWhy then,вАЭ went through Macmasters mind in a swift pinprick of suspicion, вАЬisnвАЩt he at least a dean?вАЭ
Mr.¬†Duchemin had walked swiftly to his chair which Parry, as swiftly walking behind him, drew out. His master slipped into it with a graceful, sideways motion. He shook his head at grey Miss Fox who had moved a hand towards an ivory urn-tap. There was a glass of water beside his plate, and round it his long, very white fingers closed. He stole a quick glance at Macmaster and then looked at him steadily with laughingly glittering eyes. He said: вАЬGood morning, doctor,вАЭ and then, drowning MacmasterвАЩs quiet protest: вАЬYes! Yes! The stethoscope meticulously packed into the top-hat and the shining hat left in the hall.вАЭ
The prizefighter, in tight box-cloth leggings, tight whipcord breeches, and a short tight jacket that buttoned up at the collar to his chinвБ†вАФthe exact stud-groom of a man of property, gave a quick glance of recognition to Macmaster and then to Mr.¬†DucheminвАЩs back another quick look, raising his eyebrows. Macmaster, who knew him very well because he had given Tietjens boxing lessons at Cambridge, could almost hear him say: вАЬA queer change this, sir! Keep your eyes on him a second!вАЭ and, with the quick, light tiptoe of the pugilist he slipped away to the sideboard. Macmaster stole a quick glance on his own account at Mrs.¬†Duchemin. She had her back to him, being deep in conversation with Tietjens. His heart jumped a little when, looking back again, he saw Mr.¬†Duchemin, half raised to his feet, peering round the fortifications of silver. But he sank down again in his chair, and surveying Macmaster with an expression of cunning singular on his ascetic features, exclaimed:
вАЬAnd your friend? Another medical man! All with stethoscope complete. It takes, of course, two medical man to certifyвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
He stopped and with an expression of sudden, distorted rage, pushed aside the arm of Parry, who was sliding a plate of sole-fillets on to the table beneath his nose.
вАЬTake away,вАЭ he was beginning to exclaim thunderously, вАЬthese conducements to the filthy lusts ofвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ But with another cunning and apprehensive look at Macmaster, he said: вАЬYes! yes! Parry! ThatвАЩs right. Yes! Sole! A touch of kidney to follow. Another! Yes! Grapefruit! With sherry!вАЭ He had adopted an old Oxford voice, spread his napkin over his knees and hastily placed in his mouth a morsel of fish.
Macmaster with a patient and distinct intonation said that he must be permitted to introduce himself. He was Macmaster, Mr.¬†DucheminвАЩs correspondent on the subject of his little monograph. Mr.¬†Duchemin looked at him, hard, with an awakened attention that gradually lost suspicion and became gloatingly joyful:
вАЬAh, yes, Macmaster!вАЭ he said. вАЬMacmaster. A budding critic. A little of a hedonist perhaps? And yesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ you wired that you were coming. Two friends! Not medical men! Friends!вАЭ He moved his face closer to Macmaster and said:
вАЬHow tired you look! Worn! Worn!вАЭ
Macmaster was about to say that he was rather hard-worked when, in a harsh, high cackle close to his face, there came the Latin words. Mrs.¬†DucheminвБ†вАФand Tietjens!вБ†вАФhad heard. He knew then what he was up against. He took another look at the prizefighter; moved his head to one side to catch a momentary view of the gigantic Mr.¬†Horsley, whose size took on a new meaning. Then he settled down in his chair and ate a kidney. The physical force present was no doubt enough to suppress Mr.¬†Duchemin should he become violent. And trained! It was one of the curious, minor coincidences of life that, at Cambridge, he had once thought of hiring this very Parry to follow round his dear friend Sim. Sim, the most brilliant of sardonic ironists, sane, decent and ordinarily a little prudish on the surface, had been subject to just such temporary lapses as Mr.¬†Duchemin. On society occasions he would stand up and shout or sit down and whisper the most unthinkable indecencies. Macmaster, who had loved him very much, had run round with Sim as often as he could, and had thus gained skill in dealing with these manifestations.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He felt suddenly a certain pleasure! He thought he might gain prestige in the eyes of Mrs.¬†Duchemin if he dealt quietly and efficiently with this situation. It might even lead to an intimacy. He asked nothing better!
He knew that Mrs. Duchemin had turned towards him: he could feel her listening and observing him; it was as if her glance was warm on his cheek. But he did not look round; he had to keep his eyes on the gloating face of her husband. Mr. Duchemin was quoting Petronius, leaning towards his guest. Macmaster consumed kidneys stiffly.
He said:
вАЬThat isnвАЩt the amended version of the iambics. Willamovitz M√ґllendorf that we usedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
To interrupt him Mr.¬†Duchemin put his thin hand courteously on MacmasterвАЩs arm. It had a great cornelian seal set in red gold on the third finger. He went on, reciting in ecstasy; his head a little on one side as if he were listening to invisible choristers. Macmaster really disliked the Oxford intonation of Latin. He looked for a short moment at Mrs.¬†Duchemin; her eyes were upon him; large, shadowy, full of gratitude. He saw, too, that they were welling over with wetness.
He looked quickly back at Duchemin. And suddenly it came to him; she was suffering! She was probably suffering intensely. It had not occurred to him that she would sufferвБ†вАФpartly because he was without nerves himself, partly because he had conceived of Mrs.¬†Duchemin as firstly feeling admiration for himself. Now it seemed to him abominable that she should suffer.
Mrs. Duchemin was in an agony. Macmaster had looked at her intently and looked away! She read into his glance contempt for her situation, and anger that he should have been placed in such a position. In her pain she stretched out her hand and touched his arm.
Macmaster was aware of her touch; his mind seemed filled with sweetness. But he kept his head obstinately averted. For her sake he did not dare to look away from the maniacal face. A crisis was coming. Mr. Duchemin had arrived at the English translation. He placed his hands on the tablecloth in preparation for rising; he was going to stand on his feet and shout obscenities wildly to the other guests. It was the exact moment.
Macmaster made his voice dry and penetrating to say:
вАЬвАКвАШYouth of tepid lovesвАЩ is a lamentable rendering of puer callide! ItвАЩs lamentably antiquatedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Duchemin chewed and said:
вАЬWhat? What? WhatвАЩs that?вАЭ
вАЬItвАЩs just like Oxford to use an eighteenth century crib. I suppose thatвАЩs Whiston and Ditton? Something like thatвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He observed Duchemin, brought out of his impulse, to be waveringвБ†вАФas if he were coming awake in a strange place! He added:
вАЬAnyhow itвАЩs wretched schoolboy smut. Fifth form. Or not even that. Have some galantine. IвАЩm going to. Your soleвАЩs cold.вАЭ
Mr. Duchemin looked down at his plate.
вАЬYes! Yes!вАЭ he muttered. вАЬYes! With sugar and vinegar sauce!вАЭ The prizefighter slipped away to the sideboard, an admirable quiet fellow; as unobtrusive as a burying beetle. Macmaster said:
вАЬYou were about to tell me something for my little monograph. What became of MaggieвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Maggie Simpson. The Scots girl who was model for Alla Finestra del Cielo?вАЭ
Mr. Duchemin looked at Macmaster with sane, muddled, rather exhausted eyes:
вАЬAlla Finestra!вАЭ he exclaimed: вАЬOh yes! IвАЩve got the watercolour. I saw her sitting for it and bought it on the spot.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He looked again at his plate, started at sight of the galantine and began to eat ravenously: вАЬA beautiful girl!вАЭ he said. вАЬVery long neckedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ She wasnвАЩt of courseвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ehвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ respectable! SheвАЩs living yet, I think. Very old. I saw her two years ago. She had a lot of pictures. Relics of course!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ In the Whitechapel Road she lived. She was naturally of that class.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He went muttering on, his head over his plate. Macmaster considered that the fit was over. He was irresistibly impelled to turn to Mrs.¬†Duchemin; her face was rigid, stiff. He said swiftly:
вАЬIf heвАЩll eat a little: get his stomach filledвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ It calls the blood down from the head.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
She said:
вАЬOh, forgive! ItвАЩs dreadful for you! Myself I will never forgive!вАЭ
He said:
вАЬNo! No!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Why; itвАЩs what IвАЩm for!вАЭ
A deep emotion brought her whole white face to life.
вАЬOh, you good man!вАЭ she said in her profound tones, and they remained gazing at each other.
Suddenly, from behind MacmasterвАЩs back, Mr.¬†Duchemin shouted:
вАЬI say he made a settlement on her, duma casta et sola, of course. Whilst she remained chaste and alone!вАЭ
Mr. Duchemin, suddenly feeling the absence of the powerful will that had seemed to overweigh his own like a great force in the darkness, was on his feet, panting and delighted:
вАЬChaste!вАЭ He shouted. вАЬChaste, you observe! What a world of suggestion in the wordвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He surveyed the opulent broadness of his tablecloth; it spread out before his eyes as if it had been a great expanse of meadow in which he could gallop, relaxing his limbs after long captivity. He shouted three obscene words and went on in his Oxford Movement voice: вАЬBut chastityвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Mrs. Wannop suddenly said:
вАЬOh!вАЭ and looked at her daughter, whose face grew slowly crimson as she continued to peel a peach. Mrs.¬†Wannop turned to Mr.¬†Horsley beside her and said:
вАЬYou write, too, I believe, Mr.¬†Horsley. No doubt something more learned than my poor readers would care forвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Mr.¬†Horsley had been preparing, according to his instructions from Mrs.¬†Duchemin, to shout a description of an article he had been writing about the Mosella of Ausonius, but as he was slow in starting the lady got in first. She talked on serenely about the tastes of the large public. Tietjens leaned across to Miss Wannop and, holding in his right hand a half-peeled fig, said to her as loudly as he could:
вАЬIвАЩve got a message for you from Mr.¬†Waterhouse. He says if youвАЩllвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
The completely deaf Miss FoxвБ†вАФwho had had her training by writingвБ†вАФremarked diagonally to Mrs.¬†Duchemin:
вАЬI think we shall have thunder today. Have you remarked the number of minute insects.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
вАЬWhen my revered preceptor,вАЭ Mr.¬†Duchemin thundered on, вАЬdrove away in the carriage on his wedding day he said to his bride: вАШWe will live like the blessed angels!вАЩ How sublime! I, too, after my nuptialsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Mrs. Duchemin suddenly screamed:
вАЬOhвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ no!вАЭ
As if checked for a moment in their stride all the others pausedвБ†вАФfor a breath. Then they continued talking with polite animation and listening with minute attention. To Tietjens that seemed the highest achievement and justification of English manners!
Parry, the prizefighter, had twice caught his master by the arm and shouted that breakfast was getting cold. He said now to Macmaster that he and the Rev. Horsley could get Mr.¬†Duchemin away, but thereвАЩd be a hell of a fight. Macmaster whispered: вАЬWait!вАЭ and, turning to Mrs.¬†Duchemin he said: вАЬI can stop him. Shall I?вАЭ She said:
вАЬYes! Yes! Anything!вАЭ He observed tears; isolated upon her cheeks, a thing he had never seen. With caution and with hot rage he whispered into the prizefighterвАЩs hairy ear that was held down to him:
вАЬPunch him in the kidney. With your thumb. As hard as you can without breaking your thumbвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Mr. Duchemin had just declaimed:
вАЬI, too, after my nuptialsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ He began to wave his arms, pausing and looking from unlistening face to unlistening face. Mrs.¬†Duchemin had just screamed.
Mr. Duchemin thought that the arrow of God struck him. He imagined himself an unworthy messenger. In such pain as he had never conceived of he fell into his chair and sat huddled up, a darkness covering his eyes.
вАЬHe wonвАЩt get up again,вАЭ Macmaster whispered to the appreciative pugilist. вАЬHeвАЩll want to. But heвАЩll be afraid to.вАЭ
He said to Mrs. Duchemin:
вАЬDearest lady! ItвАЩs all over. I assure you of that. ItвАЩs a scientific nerve counterirritant.вАЭ
Mrs. Duchemin said:
вАЬForgive!вАЭ with one deep sob: вАЬYou can never respectвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She felt her eyes explore his face as the wretch in a cell explores the face of his executioner for a sign of pardon. Her heart stayed still: her breath suspended itself.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
Then complete heaven began. Upon her left palm she felt cool fingers beneath the cloth. This man knew always the exact right action! Upon the fingers, cool, like spikenard and ambrosia, her fingers closed themselves.
In complete bliss, in a quiet room, his voice went on talking. At first with great neatness of phrase, but with what refinement! He explained that certain excesses being merely nervous cravings, can be combated if not, indeed, cured altogether, by the fear of, by the determination not to ensue, sharp physical painвБ†вАФwhich of course is a nervous matter, too!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
Parry, at a given moment, had said into his masterвАЩs ear:
вАЬItвАЩs time you prepared your sermon for tomorrow, sir,вАЭ and Mr.¬†Duchemin had gone as quietly as he had arrived, gliding over the thick carpet to the small door.
Then Macmaster said to her:
вАЬYou come from Edinburgh? YouвАЩll know the Fifeshire coast then.вАЭ
вАЬDo I not?вАЭ she said. His hand remained in hers. He began to talk of the whins on the links and the sanderlings along the flats, with such a Scots voice and in phrases so vivid that she saw her childhood again, and had in her eyes a wetness of a happier order. She released his cool hand after a long gentle pressure. But when it was gone it was as if much of her life went. She said: вАЬYouвАЩll be knowing Kingussie House, just outside your town. It was there I spent my holidays as a child.вАЭ
He answered:
вАЬMaybe I played round it a barefoot lad and you in your grandeur within.вАЭ
She said:
вАЬOh, no! Hardly! There would be the difference of our ages! AndвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And indeed there are other things I will tell you.вАЭ
She addressed herself to Tietjens, with all her heroic armour of charm buckled on again:
вАЬOnly think! I find Mr.¬†Macmaster and I almost played together in our youths.вАЭ
He looked at her, she knew, with a commiseration that she hated:
вАЬThen youвАЩre an older friend than I,вАЭ he asked, вАЬthough IвАЩve known him since I was fourteen, and I donвАЩt believe you could be a better. HeвАЩs a good fellow.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
She hated him for his condescension towards a better man and for his warningвБ†вАФshe knew it was a warningвБ†вАФto her to spare his friend.
Mrs.¬†Wannop gave a distinct, but not an alarming, scream. Mr.¬†Horsley had been talking to her about an unusual fish that used to inhabit the Moselle in Roman times. The Mosella of Ausonius, the subject of the essay he was writing, is mostly about fish.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
вАЬNo,вАЭ he shouted, вАЬitвАЩs been said to be the roach. But there are no roach in the river now. Vannulis viridis, oculisque. No. ItвАЩs the other way round: Red finsвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
Mrs.¬†WannopвАЩs scream and her wide gestureвБ†вАФher hand, indeed, was nearly over his mouth and her trailing sleeve across his plate!вБ†вАФwere enough to interrupt him.
вАЬTietjens!вАЭ she again screamed. вАЬIs it possible?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
She pushed her daughter out of her seat and, moving round beside the young man, she overwhelmed him with vociferous love. As Tietjens had turned to speak to Mrs.¬†Duchemin she had recognised his aquiline half-profile as exactly that of his father at her own wedding-breakfast. To the table that knew it by heartвБ†вАФthough Tietjens himself didnвАЩt!вБ†вАФshe recited the story of how his father had saved her life, and was her mascot. And she offered the sonвБ†вАФfor to the father she had never been allowed to make any returnвБ†вАФher horse, her purse, her heart, her time, her all. She was so completely sincere that, as the party broke up, she just nodded to Macmaster and, catching Tietjens forcibly by the arm, said perfunctorily to the critic:
вАЬSorry I canвАЩt help you any more with the article. But my dear Chrissie must have the books he wants. At once! This very minute!вАЭ
She moved off, Tietjens grappled to her, her daughter following as a young swan follows its parents. In her gracious manner Mrs.¬†Duchemin had received the thanks of her guests for her wonderful breakfast and had hoped that now that they had found their ways there.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
The echoes of the dispersed festival seemed to whisper in the room. Macmaster and Mrs.¬†Duchemin faced each other, their eyes waryвБ†вАФand longing.
He said:
вАЬItвАЩs dreadful to have to go now. But I have an engagement.вАЭ
She said:
вАЬYes! I know! With your great friends.вАЭ
He answered:
вАЬOh, only with Mr.¬†Waterhouse and General CampionвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ and Mr.¬†Sandbach, of courseвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
She had a moment of fierce pleasure at the thought that Tietjens was not to be of the company: her man would be out-soaring the vulgarian of his youth, of his past that she didnвАЩt know.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Almost harshly she exclaimed:
вАЬI donвАЩt want you to be mistaken about Kingussie House. It was just a holiday school. Not a grand place.вАЭ
вАЬIt was very costly,вАЭ he said, and she seemed to waver on her feet.
вАЬYes! yes!вАЭ she said, nearly in a whisper. вАЬBut youвАЩre so grand now! I was only the child of very poor bodies. Johnstons of Midlothian. But very poor bodies.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ He bought me, you might say. You know.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Put me to very rich schools: when I was fourteenвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ my people were glad.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ But I think if my mother had known when I marriedвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She writhed her whole body. вАЬOh, dreadful! dreadful!вАЭ she exclaimed. вАЬI want you to knowвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
His hands were shaking as if he had been in a jolting cart.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
Their lips met in a passion of pity and tears. He removed his mouth to say: вАЬI must see you this evening.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I shall be mad with anxiety about you.вАЭ She whispered: вАЬYes! yes!вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ In the yew walk.вАЭ Her eyes were closed, she pressed her body fiercely into his. вАЬYou are theвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ firstвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ manвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ she breathed.
вАЬI will be the only one forever,вАЭ he said.
He began to see himself: in the tall room, with the long curtains: a round, eagle mirror reflected them gleaming: like a bejewelled picture with great depths: the entwined figures.
They drew apart to gaze at each other: holding hands.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The voice of Tietjens said:
вАЬMacmaster! YouвАЩre to dine at Mrs.¬†WannopвАЩs tonight. DonвАЩt dress; I shanвАЩt.вАЭ He was looking at them without any expression, as if he had interrupted a game of cards; large, grey, fresh-featured, the white patch glistening on the side of his grizzling hair.
Macmaster said:
вАЬAll right. ItвАЩs near here, isnвАЩt it?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ IвАЩve got an engagement just afterвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Tietjens said that that would be all right: he would be working himself. All night probably. For WaterhouseвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
Mrs. Duchemin said with swift jealousy:
вАЬYou let him order you aboutвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Tietjens was gone.
Macmaster said absently:
вАЬWho? Chrissie?вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Yes! Sometimes I him, sometimes he me.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ We make engagements. My best friend. The most brilliant man in England, of the best stock too. Tietjens of Groby.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ Feeling that she didnвАЩt appreciate his friend he was abstractly piling on commendations: вАЬHeвАЩs making calculations now. For the Government that no other man in England could make. But heвАЩs goingвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ
An extreme languor had settled on him, he felt weakened but yet triumphant with the cessation of her grasp. It occurred to him numbly that he would be seeing less of Tietjens. A grief. He heard himself quote:
вАЬвАКвАШSince when we stand side by side!вАЩвАКвАЭ His voice trembled.
вАЬAh yes!вАЭ came in her deep tones: вАЬThe beautiful linesвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ TheyвАЩre true. We must part. In this worldвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ They seemed to her lovely and mournful words to say; heavenly to have them to say, vibratingly, arousing all sorts of images. Macmaster, mournfully too, said:
вАЬWe must wait.вАЭ He added fiercely: вАЬBut tonight, at dusk!вАЭ He imagined the dusk, under the yew hedge. A shining motor drew up in the sunlight under the window.
вАЬYes! yes!вАЭ she said. вАЬThereвАЩs a little white gate from the lane.вАЭ She imagined their interview of passion and mournfulness amongst dim objects half seen. That she could allow herself of glamour.
Afterwards he must come to the house to ask after her health and they would walk side by side on the lawn, publicly, in the warm light, talking of indifferent but beautiful poetries, a little wearily, but with what currents electrifying and passing between their flesh.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ And then: long, circumspect years.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶
Macmaster went down the tall steps to the car that gleamed in the summer sun. The roses shone over the supremely levelled turf. His heel met the stones with the hard tread of a conqueror. He could have shouted aloud!