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diff --git a/14540-h/14540-h.htm b/14540-h/14540-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d722ad9 --- /dev/null +++ b/14540-h/14540-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5090 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>When William Came</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">When William Came, by Saki</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, When William Came, by Saki + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: When William Came + +Author: Saki + +Release Date: December 31, 2004 [eBook #14540] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN WILLIAM CAME*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1914 John Lane edition by David Price, ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<h1>When William Came</h1> +<h2>CHAPTER I: THE SINGING-BIRD AND THE BAROMETER</h2> +<p>Cicely Yeovil sat in a low swing chair, alternately looking at herself +in a mirror and at the other occupant of the room in the flesh. +Both prospects gave her undisguised satisfaction. Without being +vain she was duly appreciative of good looks, whether in herself or +in another, and the reflection that she saw in the mirror, and the young +man whom she saw seated at the piano, would have come with credit out +of a more severely critical inspection. Probably she looked longer +and with greater appreciation at the piano player than at her own image; +her good looks were an inherited possession, that had been with her +more or less all her life, while Ronnie Storre was a comparatively new +acquisition, discovered and achieved, so to speak, by her own enterprise, +selected by her own good taste. Fate had given her adorable eyelashes +and an excellent profile. Ronnie was an indulgence she had bestowed +on herself.</p> +<p>Cicely had long ago planned out for herself a complete philosophy +of life, and had resolutely set to work to carry her philosophy into +practice. “When love is over how little of love even the +lover understands,” she quoted to herself from one of her favourite +poets, and transposed the saying into “While life is with us how +little of life even the materialist understands.” Most people +that she knew took endless pains and precautions to preserve and prolong +their lives and keep their powers of enjoyment unimpaired; few, very +few, seemed to make any intelligent effort at understanding what they +really wanted in the way of enjoying their lives, or to ascertain what +were the best means for satisfying those wants. Fewer still bent +their whole energies to the one paramount aim of getting what they wanted +in the fullest possible measure. Her scheme of life was not a +wholly selfish one; no one could understand what she wanted as well +as she did herself, therefore she felt that she was the best person +to pursue her own ends and cater for her own wants. To have others +thinking and acting for one merely meant that one had to be perpetually +grateful for a lot of well-meant and usually unsatisfactory services. +It was like the case of a rich man giving a community a free library, +when probably the community only wanted free fishing or reduced tram-fares. +Cicely studied her own whims and wishes, experimented in the best method +of carrying them into effect, compared the accumulated results of her +experiments, and gradually arrived at a very clear idea of what she +wanted in life, and how best to achieve it. She was not by disposition +a self-centred soul, therefore she did not make the mistake of supposing +that one can live successfully and gracefully in a crowded world without +taking due notice of the other human elements around one. She +was instinctively far more thoughtful for others than many a person +who is genuinely but unseeingly addicted to unselfishness.</p> +<p>Also she kept in her armoury the weapon which can be so mightily +effective if used sparingly by a really sincere individual—the +knowledge of when to be a humbug. Ambition entered to a certain +extent into her life, and governed it perhaps rather more than she knew. +She desired to escape from the doom of being a nonentity, but the escape +would have to be effected in her own way and in her own time; to be +governed by ambition was only a shade or two better than being governed +by convention.</p> +<p>The drawing-room in which she and Ronnie were sitting was of such +proportions that one hardly knew whether it was intended to be one room +or several, and it had the merit of being moderately cool at two o’clock +on a particularly hot July afternoon. In the coolest of its many +alcoves servants had noiselessly set out an improvised luncheon table: +a tempting array of caviare, crab and mushroom salads, cold asparagus, +slender hock bottles and high-stemmed wine goblets peeped out from amid +a setting of Charlotte Klemm roses.</p> +<p>Cicely rose from her seat and went over to the piano.</p> +<p>“Come,” she said, touching the young man lightly with +a finger-tip on the top of his very sleek, copper-hued head, “we’re +going to have picnic-lunch to-day up here; it’s so much cooler +than any of the downstairs rooms, and we shan’t be bothered with +the servants trotting in and out all the time. Rather a good idea +of mine, wasn’t it?”</p> +<p>Ronnie, after looking anxiously to see that the word “picnic” +did not portend tongue sandwiches and biscuits, gave the idea his blessing.</p> +<p>“What is young Storre’s profession?” some one had +once asked concerning him.</p> +<p>“He has a great many friends who have independent incomes,” +had been the answer.</p> +<p>The meal was begun in an appreciative silence; a picnic in which +three kinds of red pepper were available for the caviare demanded a +certain amount of respectful attention.</p> +<p>“My heart ought to be like a singing-bird to-day, I suppose,” +said Cicely presently.</p> +<p>“Because your good man is coming home?” asked Ronnie.</p> +<p>Cicely nodded.</p> +<p>“He’s expected some time this afternoon, though I’m +rather vague as to which train he arrives by. Rather a stifling +day for railway travelling.”</p> +<p>“And <i>is</i> your heart doing the singing-bird business?” +asked Ronnie.</p> +<p>“That depends,” said Cicely, “if I may choose the +bird. A missel-thrush would do, perhaps; it sings loudest in stormy +weather, I believe.”</p> +<p>Ronnie disposed of two or three stems of asparagus before making +any comment on this remark.</p> +<p>“Is there going to be stormy weather?” he asked.</p> +<p>“The domestic barometer is set rather that way,” said +Cicely. “You see, Murrey has been away for ever so long, +and, of course, there will be lots of things he won’t be used +to, and I’m afraid matters may be rather strained and uncomfortable +for a time.”</p> +<p>“Do you mean that he will object to me?” asked Ronnie.</p> +<p>“Not in the least,” said Cicely, “he’s quite +broad-minded on most subjects, and he realises that this is an age in +which sensible people know thoroughly well what they want, and are determined +to get what they want. It pleases me to see a lot of you, and +to spoil you and pay you extravagant compliments about your good looks +and your music, and to imagine at times that I’m in danger of +getting fond of you; I don’t see any harm in it, and I don’t +suppose Murrey will either—in fact, I shouldn’t be surprised +if he takes rather a liking to you. No, it’s the general +situation that will trouble and exasperate him; he’s not had time +to get accustomed to the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i> like we have. +It will break on him with horrible suddenness.”</p> +<p>“He was somewhere in Russia when the war broke out, wasn’t +he?” said Ronnie.</p> +<p>“Somewhere in the wilds of Eastern Siberia, shooting and bird +collecting, miles away from a railway or telegraph line, and it was +all over before he knew anything about it; it didn’t last very +long, when you come to think of it. He was due home somewhere +about that time, and when the weeks slipped by without my hearing from +him, I quite thought he’d been captured in the Baltic or somewhere +on the way back. It turned out that he was down with marsh fever +in some out-of-the-way spot, and everything was over and finished with +before he got back to civilisation and newspapers.”</p> +<p>“It must have been a bit of a shock,” said Ronnie, busy +with a well-devised salad; “still, I don’t see why there +should be domestic storms when he comes back. You are hardly responsible +for the catastrophe that has happened.”</p> +<p>“No,” said Cicely, “but he’ll come back naturally +feeling sore and savage with everything he sees around him, and he won’t +realise just at once that we’ve been through all that ourselves, +and have reached the stage of sullen acquiescence in what can’t +be helped. He won’t understand, for instance, how we can +be enthusiastic and excited over Gorla Mustelford’s début, +and things of that sort; he’ll think we are a set of callous revellers, +fiddling while Rome is burning.”</p> +<p>“In this case,” said Ronnie, “Rome isn’t +burning, it’s burnt. All that remains to be done is to rebuild +it—when possible.”</p> +<p>“Exactly, and he’ll say we’re not doing much towards +helping at that.”</p> +<p>“But,” protested Ronnie, “the whole thing has only +just happened; ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day,’ and we +can’t rebuild our Rome in a day.”</p> +<p>“I know,” said Cicely, “but so many of our friends, +and especially Murrey’s friends, have taken the thing in a tragical +fashion, and cleared off to the Colonies, or shut themselves up in their +country houses, as though there was a sort of moral leprosy infecting +London.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see what good that does,” said Ronnie.</p> +<p>“It doesn’t do any good, but it’s what a lot of +them have done because they felt like doing it, and Murrey will feel +like doing it too. That is where I foresee trouble and disagreement.”</p> +<p>Ronnie shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>“I would take things tragically if I saw the good of it,” +he said; “as matters stand it’s too late in the day and +too early to be anything but philosophical about what one can’t +help. For the present we’ve just got to make the best of +things. Besides, you can’t very well turn down Gorla at +the last moment.”</p> +<p>“I’m not going to turn down Gorla, or anybody,” +said Cicely with decision. “I think it would be silly, and +silliness doesn’t appeal to me. That is why I foresee storms +on the domestic horizon. After all, Gorla has her career to think +of. Do you know,” she added, with a change of tone, “I +rather wish you would fall in love with Gorla; it would make me horribly +jealous, and a little jealousy is such a good tonic for any woman who +knows how to dress well. Also, Ronnie, it would prove that you +are capable of falling in love with some one, of which I’ve grave +doubts up to the present.”</p> +<p>“Love is one of the few things in which the make-believe is +superior to the genuine,” said Ronnie, “it lasts longer, +and you get more fun out of it, and it’s easier to replace when +you’ve done with it.”</p> +<p>“Still, it’s rather like playing with coloured paper +instead of playing with fire,” objected Cicely.</p> +<p>A footman came round the corner with the trained silence that tactfully +contrives to make itself felt.</p> +<p>“Mr. Luton to see you, Madam,” he announced, “shall +I say you are in?”</p> +<p>“Mr. Luton? Oh, yes,” said Cicely, “he’ll +probably have something to tell us about Gorla’s concert,” +she added, turning to Ronnie.</p> +<p>Tony Luton was a young man who had sprung from the people, and had +taken care that there should be no recoil. He was scarcely twenty +years of age, but a tightly packed chronicle of vicissitudes lay behind +his sprightly insouciant appearance. Since his fifteenth year +he had lived, Heaven knew how, getting sometimes a minor engagement +at some minor music-hall, sometimes a temporary job as secretary-valet-companion +to a roving invalid, dining now and then on plovers’ eggs and +asparagus at one of the smarter West End restaurants, at other times +devouring a kipper or a sausage in some stuffy Edgware Road eating-house; +always seemingly amused by life, and always amusing. It is possible +that somewhere in such heart as he possessed there lurked a rankling +bitterness against the hard things of life, or a scrap of gratitude +towards the one or two friends who had helped him disinterestedly, but +his most intimate associates could not have guessed at the existence +of such feelings. Tony Luton was just a merry-eyed dancing faun, +whom Fate had surrounded with streets instead of woods, and it would +have been in the highest degree inartistic to have sounded him for a +heart or a heartache.</p> +<p>The dancing of the faun took one day a livelier and more assured +turn, the joyousness became more real, and the worst of the vicissitudes +seemed suddenly over. A musical friend, gifted with mediocre but +marketable abilities, supplied Tony with a song, for which he obtained +a trial performance at an East End hall. Dressed as a jockey, +for no particular reason except that the costume suited him, he sang, +“They quaff the gay bubbly in Eccleston Square” to an appreciative +audience, which included the manager of a famous West End theatre of +varieties. Tony and his song won the managerial favour, and were +immediately transplanted to the West End house, where they scored a +success of which the drooping music-hall industry was at the moment +badly in need.</p> +<p>It was just after the great catastrophe, and men of the London world +were in no humour to think; they had witnessed the inconceivable befall +them, they had nothing but political ruin to stare at, and they were +anxious to look the other way. The words of Tony’s song +were more or less meaningless, though he sang them remarkably well, +but the tune, with its air of slyness and furtive joyousness, appealed +in some unaccountable manner to people who were furtively unhappy, and +who were trying to appear stoically cheerful.</p> +<p>“What must be, must be,” and “It’s a poor +heart that never rejoices,” were the popular expressions of the +London public at that moment, and the men who had to cater for that +public were thankful when they were able to stumble across anything +that fitted in with the prevailing mood. For the first time in +his life Tony Luton discovered that agents and managers were a leisured +class, and that office boys had manners.</p> +<p>He entered Cicely’s drawing-room with the air of one to whom +assurance of manner has become a sheathed weapon, a court accessory +rather than a trade implement. He was more quietly dressed than +the usual run of music-hall successes; he had looked critically at life +from too many angles not to know that though clothes cannot make a man +they can certainly damn him.</p> +<p>“Thank you, I have lunched already,” he said in answer +to a question from Cicely. “Thank you,” he said again +in a cheerful affirmative, as the question of hock in a tall ice-cold +goblet was propounded to him.</p> +<p>“I’ve come to tell you the latest about the Gorla Mustelford +evening,” he continued. “Old Laurent is putting his +back into it, and it’s really going to be rather a big affair. +She’s going to out-Russian the Russians. Of course, she +hasn’t their technique nor a tenth of their training, but she’s +having tons of advertisement. The name Gorla is almost an advertisement +in itself, and then there’s the fact that she’s the daughter +of a peer.”</p> +<p>“She has temperament,” said Cicely, with the decision +of one who makes a vague statement in a good cause.</p> +<p>“So Laurent says,” observed Tony. “He discovers +temperament in every one that he intends to boom. He told me that +I had temperament to the finger-tips, and I was too polite to contradict +him. But I haven’t told you the really important thing about +the Mustelford début. It is a profound secret, more or +less, so you must promise not to breathe a word about it till half-past +four, when it will appear in all the six o’clock newspapers.”</p> +<p>Tony paused for dramatic effect, while he drained his goblet, and +then made his announcement.</p> +<p>“Majesty is going to be present. Informally and unofficially, +but still present in the flesh. A sort of casual dropping in, +carefully heralded by unconfirmed rumour a week ahead.”</p> +<p>“Heavens!” exclaimed Cicely, in genuine excitement, “what +a bold stroke. Lady Shalem has worked that, I bet. I suppose +it will go down all right.”</p> +<p>“Trust Laurent to see to that,” said Tony, “he +knows how to fill his house with the right sort of people, and he’s +not the one to risk a fiasco. He knows what he’s about. +I tell you, it’s going to be a big evening.”</p> +<p>“I say!” exclaimed Ronnie suddenly, “give a supper +party here for Gorla on the night, and ask the Shalem woman and all +her crowd. It will be awful fun.”</p> +<p>Cicely caught at the suggestion with some enthusiasm. She did +not particularly care for Lady Shalem, but she thought it would be just +as well to care for her as far as outward appearances went.</p> +<p>Grace, Lady Shalem, was a woman who had blossomed into sudden importance +by constituting herself a sort of foster-mother to the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i>. +At a moment when London was denuded of most of its aforetime social +leaders she had seen her opportunity, and made the most of it. +She had not contented herself with bowing to the inevitable, she had +stretched out her hand to it, and forced herself to smile graciously +at it, and her polite attentions had been reciprocated. Lady Shalem, +without being a beauty or a wit, or a grand lady in the traditional +sense of the word, was in a fair way to becoming a power in the land; +others, more capable and with stronger claims to social recognition, +would doubtless overshadow her and displace her in due course, but for +the moment she was a person whose good graces counted for something, +and Cicely was quite alive to the advantage of being in those good graces.</p> +<p>“It would be rather fun,” she said, running over in her +mind the possibilities of the suggested supper-party.</p> +<p>“It would be jolly useful,” put in Ronnie eagerly; “you +could get all sorts of interesting people together, and it would be +an excellent advertisement for Gorla.”</p> +<p>Ronnie approved of supper-parties on principle, but he was also thinking +of the advantage which might accrue to the drawing-room concert which +Cicely had projected (with himself as the chief performer), if he could +be brought into contact with a wider circle of music patrons.</p> +<p>“I know it would be useful,” said Cicely, “it would +be almost historical; there’s no knowing who might not come to +it—and things are dreadfully slack in the entertaining line just +now.”</p> +<p>The ambitious note in her character was making itself felt at that +moment.</p> +<p>“Let’s go down to the library, and work out a list of +people to invite,” said Ronnie.</p> +<p>A servant entered the room and made a brief announcement.</p> +<p>“Mr. Yeovil has arrived, madam.”</p> +<p>“Bother,” said Ronnie sulkily. “Now you’ll +cool off about that supper party, and turn down Gorla and the rest of +us.”</p> +<p>It was certainly true that the supper already seemed a more difficult +proposition in Cicely’s eyes than it had a moment or two ago.</p> +<blockquote><p>“‘You’ll not forget my only daughter,<br /> +E’en though Saphia has crossed the sea,’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>quoted Tony, with mocking laughter in his voice and eyes.</p> +<p>Cicely went down to greet her husband. She felt that she was +probably very glad that he was home once more; she was angry with herself +for not feeling greater certainty on the point. Even the well-beloved, +however, can select the wrong moment for return. If Cicely Yeovil’s +heart was like a singing-bird, it was of a kind that has frequent lapses +into silence.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER II: THE HOMECOMING</h2> +<p>Murrey Yeovil got out of the boat-train at Victoria Station, and +stood waiting, in an attitude something between listlessness and impatience, +while a porter dragged his light travelling kit out of the railway carriage +and went in search of his heavier baggage with a hand-truck. Yeovil +was a grey-faced young man, with restless eyes, and a rather wistful +mouth, and an air of lassitude that was evidently only a temporary characteristic. +The hot dusty station, with its blended crowds of dawdling and scurrying +people, its little streams of suburban passengers pouring out every +now and then from this or that platform, like ants swarming across a +garden path, made a wearisome climax to what had been a rather wearisome +journey. Yeovil glanced quickly, almost furtively, around him +in all directions, with the air of a man who is constrained by morbid +curiosity to look for things that he would rather not see. The +announcements placed in German alternatively with English over the booking +office, left-luggage office, refreshment buffets, and so forth, the +crowned eagle and monogram displayed on the post boxes, caught his eye +in quick succession.</p> +<p>He turned to help the porter to shepherd his belongings on to the +truck, and followed him to the outer yard of the station, where a string +of taxi-cabs was being slowly absorbed by an outpouring crowd of travellers.</p> +<p>Portmanteaux, wraps, and a trunk or two, much be-labelled and travel-worn, +were stowed into a taxi, and Yeovil turned to give the direction to +the driver.</p> +<p>“Twenty-eight, Berkshire Street.”</p> +<p>“Berkschirestrasse, acht-und-zwanzig,” echoed the man, +a bulky spectacled individual of unmistakable Teuton type.</p> +<p>“Twenty-eight, Berkshire Street,” repeated Yeovil, and +got into the cab, leaving the driver to re-translate the direction into +his own language.</p> +<p>A succession of cabs leaving the station blocked the roadway for +a moment or two, and Yeovil had leisure to observe the fact that Viktoria +Strasse was lettered side by side with the familiar English name of +the street. A notice directing the public to the neighbouring +swimming baths was also written up in both languages. London had +become a bi-lingual city, even as Warsaw.</p> +<p>The cab threaded its way swiftly along Buckingham Palace Road towards +the Mall. As they passed the long front of the Palace the traveller +turned his head resolutely away, that he might not see the alien uniforms +at the gates and the eagle standard flapping in the sunlight. +The taxi driver, who seemed to have combative instincts, slowed down +as he was turning into the Mall, and pointed to the white pile of memorial +statuary in front of the palace gates.</p> +<p>“Grossmutter Denkmal, yes,” he announced, and resumed +his journey.</p> +<p>Arrived at his destination, Yeovil stood on the steps of his house +and pressed the bell with an odd sense of forlornness, as though he +were a stranger drifting from nowhere into a land that had no cognisance +of him; a moment later he was standing in his own hall, the object of +respectful solicitude and attention. Sprucely garbed and groomed +lackeys busied themselves with his battered travel-soiled baggage; the +door closed on the guttural-voiced taxi driver, and the glaring July +sunshine. The wearisome journey was over.</p> +<p>“Poor dear, how dreadfully pulled-down you look,” said +Cicely, when the first greetings had been exchanged.</p> +<p>“It’s been a slow business, getting well,” said +Yeovil. “I’m only three-quarter way there yet.”</p> +<p>He looked at his reflection in a mirror and laughed ruefully.</p> +<p>“You should have seen what I looked like five or six weeks +ago,” he added.</p> +<p>“You ought to have let me come out and nurse you,” said +Cicely; “you know I wanted to.”</p> +<p>“Oh, they nursed me well enough,” said Yeovil, “and +it would have been a shame dragging you out there; a small Finnish health +resort, out of the season, is not a very amusing place, and it would +have been worse for any one who didn’t talk Russian.”</p> +<p>“You must have been buried alive there,” said Cicely, +with commiseration in her voice.</p> +<p>“I wanted to be buried alive,” said Yeovil. “The +news from the outer world was not of a kind that helped a despondent +invalid towards convalescence. They spoke to me as little as possible +about what was happening, and I was grateful for your letters because +they also told me very little. When one is abroad, among foreigners, +one’s country’s misfortunes cause one an acuter, more personal +distress, than they would at home even.”</p> +<p>“Well, you are at home now, anyway,” said Cicely, “and +you can jog along the road to complete recovery at your own pace. +A little quiet shooting this autumn and a little hunting, just enough +to keep you fit and not to overtire you; you mustn’t overtax your +strength.”</p> +<p>“I’m getting my strength back all right,” said +Yeovil. “This journey hasn’t tired me half as much +as one might have expected. It’s the awful drag of listlessness, +mental and physical, that is the worst after-effect of these marsh fevers; +they drain the energy out of you in bucketfuls, and it trickles back +again in teaspoonfuls. And just now untiring energy is what I +shall need, even more than strength; I don’t want to degenerate +into a slacker.”</p> +<p>“Look here, Murrey,” said Cicely, “after we’ve +had dinner together to-night, I’m going to do a seemingly unwifely +thing. I’m going to go out and leave you alone with an old +friend. Doctor Holham is coming in to drink coffee and smoke with +you. I arranged this because I knew it was what you would like. +Men can talk these things over best by themselves, and Holham can tell +you everything that happened—since you went away. It will +be a dreary story, I’m afraid, but you will want to hear it all. +It was a nightmare time, but now one sees it in a calmer perspective.”</p> +<p>“I feel in a nightmare still,” said Yeovil.</p> +<p>“We all felt like that,” said Cicely, rather with the +air of an elder person who tells a child that it will understand things +better when it grows up; “time is always something of a narcotic +you know. Things seem absolutely unbearable, and then bit by bit +we find out that we are bearing them. And now, dear, I’ll +fill up your notification paper and leave you to superintend your unpacking. +Robert will give you any help you want.”</p> +<p>“What is the notification paper?” asked Yeovil.</p> +<p>“Oh, a stupid form to be filled up when any one arrives, to +say where they come from, and their business and nationality and religion, +and all that sort of thing. We’re rather more bureaucratic +than we used to be, you know.”</p> +<p>Yeovil said nothing, but into the sallow greyness of his face there +crept a dark flush, that faded presently and left his colour more grey +and bloodless than before.</p> +<p>The journey seemed suddenly to have recommenced; he was under his +own roof, his servants were waiting on him, his familiar possessions +were in evidence around him, but the sense of being at home had vanished. +It was as though he had arrived at some wayside hotel, and been asked +to register his name and status and destination. Other things +of disgust and irritation he had foreseen in the London he was coming +to—the alterations on stamps and coinage, the intrusive Teuton +element, the alien uniforms cropping up everywhere, the new orientation +of social life; such things he was prepared for, but this personal evidence +of his subject state came on him unawares, at a moment when he had, +so to speak, laid his armour aside. Cicely spoke lightly of the +hateful formality that had been forced on them; would he, too, come +to regard things in the same acquiescent spirit?</p> +<h2>CHAPTER III: “THE METSKIE TSAR”</h2> +<p>“I was in the early stages of my fever when I got the first +inkling of what was going on,” said Yeovil to the doctor, as they +sat over their coffee in a recess of the big smoking-room; “just +able to potter about a bit in the daytime, fighting against depression +and inertia, feverish as evening came on, and delirious in the night. +My game tracker and my attendant were both Buriats, and spoke very little +Russian, and that was the only language we had in common to converse +in. In matters concerning food and sport we soon got to understand +each other, but on other subjects we were not easily able to exchange +ideas. One day my tracker had been to a distant trading-store +to get some things of which we were in need; the store was eighty miles +from the nearest point of railroad, eighty miles of terribly bad roads, +but it was in its way a centre and transmitter of news from the outside +world. The tracker brought back with him vague tidings of a conflict +of some sort between the ‘Metskie Tsar’ and the ‘Angliskie +Tsar,’ and kept repeating the Russian word for defeat. The +‘Angliskie Tsar’ I recognised, of course, as the King of +England, but my brain was too sick and dull to read any further meaning +into the man’s reiterated gabble. I grew so ill just then +that I had to give up the struggle against fever, and make my way as +best I could towards the nearest point where nursing and doctoring could +be had. It was one evening, in a lonely rest-hut on the edge of +a huge forest, as I was waiting for my boy to bring the meal for which +I was feverishly impatient, and which I knew I should loathe as soon +as it was brought, that the explanation of the word ‘Metskie’ +flashed on me. I had thought of it as referring to some Oriental +potentate, some rebellious rajah perhaps, who was giving trouble, and +whose followers had possibly discomfited an isolated British force in +some out-of-the-way corner of our Empire. And all of a sudden +I knew that ‘Nemetskie Tsar,’ German Emperor, had been the +name that the man had been trying to convey to me. I shouted for +the tracker, and put him through a breathless cross-examination; he +confirmed what my fears had told me. The ‘Metskie Tsar’ +was a big European ruler, he had been in conflict with the ‘Angliskie +Tsar,’ and the latter had been defeated, swept away; the man spoke +the word that he used for ships, and made energetic pantomime to express +the sinking of a fleet. Holham, there was nothing for it but to +hope that this was a false, groundless rumour, that had somehow crept +to the confines of civilisation. In my saner balanced moments +it was possible to disbelieve it, but if you have ever suffered from +delirium you will know what raging torments of agony I went through +in the nights, how my brain fought and refought that rumoured disaster.”</p> +<p>The doctor gave a murmur of sympathetic understanding.</p> +<p>“Then,” continued Yeovil, “I reached the small +Siberian town towards which I had been struggling. There was a +little colony of Russians there, traders, officials, a doctor or two, +and some army officers. I put up at the primitive hotel-restaurant, +which was the general gathering-place of the community. I knew +quickly that the news was true. Russians are the most tactful +of any European race that I have ever met; they did not stare with insolent +or pitying curiosity, but there was something changed in their attitude +which told me that the travelling Briton was no longer in their eyes +the interesting respect-commanding personality that he had been in past +days. I went to my own room, where the samovar was bubbling its +familiar tune and a smiling red-shirted Russian boy was helping my Buriat +servant to unpack my wardrobe, and I asked for any back numbers of newspapers +that could be supplied at a moment’s notice. I was given +a bundle of well-thumbed sheets, odd pieces of the <i>Novoe</i> <i>Vremya</i>, +the <i>Moskovskie</i> <i>Viedomosti</i>, one or two complete numbers +of local papers published at Perm and Tobolsk. I do not read Russian +well, though I speak it fairly readily, but from the fragments of disconnected +telegrams that I pieced together I gathered enough information to acquaint +me with the extent of the tragedy that had been worked out in a few +crowded hours in a corner of North-Western Europe. I searched +frantically for telegrams of later dates that would put a better complexion +on the matter, that would retrieve something from the ruin; presently +I came across a page of the illustrated supplement that the <i>Novoe</i> +<i>Vremya</i> publishes once a week. There was a photograph of +a long-fronted building with a flag flying over it, labelled ‘The +new standard floating over Buckingham Palace.’ The picture +was not much more than a smudge, but the flag, possibly touched up, +was unmistakable. It was the eagle of the Nemetskie Tsar. +I have a vivid recollection of that plainly-furnished little room, with +the inevitable gilt ikon in one corner, and the samovar hissing and +gurgling on the table, and the thrumming music of a balalaika orchestra +coming up from the restaurant below; the next coherent thing I can remember +was weeks and weeks later, discussing in an impersonal detached manner +whether I was strong enough to stand the fatigue of the long railway +journey to Finland.</p> +<p>“Since then, Holham, I have been encouraged to keep my mind +as much off the war and public affairs as possible, and I have been +glad to do so. I knew the worst and there was no particular use +in deepening my despondency by dragging out the details. But now +I am more or less a live man again, and I want to fill in the gaps in +my knowledge of what happened. You know how much I know, and how +little; those fragments of Russian newspapers were about all the information +that I had. I don’t even know clearly how the whole thing +started.”</p> +<p>Yeovil settled himself back in his chair with the air of a man who +has done some necessary talking, and now assumes the rôle of listener.</p> +<p>“It started,” said the doctor, “with a wholly unimportant +disagreement about some frontier business in East Africa; there was +a slight attack of nerves in the stock markets, and then the whole thing +seemed in a fair way towards being settled. Then the negotiations +over the affair began to drag unduly, and there was a further flutter +of nervousness in the money world. And then one morning the papers +reported a highly menacing speech by one of the German Ministers, and +the situation began to look black indeed. ‘He will be disavowed,’ +every one said over here, but in less than twenty-four hours those who +knew anything knew that the crisis was on us—only their knowledge +came too late. ‘War between two such civilised and enlightened +nations is an impossibility,’ one of our leaders of public opinion +had declared on the Saturday; by the following Friday the war had indeed +become an impossibility, because we could no longer carry it on. +It burst on us with calculated suddenness, and we were just not enough, +everywhere where the pressure came. Our ships were good against +their ships, our seamen were better than their seamen, but our ships +were not able to cope with their ships plus their superiority in aircraft. +Our trained men were good against their trained men, but they could +not be in several places at once, and the enemy could. Our half-trained +men and our untrained men could not master the science of war at a moment’s +notice, and a moment’s notice was all they got. The enemy +were a nation apprenticed in arms, we were not even the idle apprentice: +we had not deemed apprenticeship worth our while. There was courage +enough running loose in the land, but it was like unharnessed electricity, +it controlled no forces, it struck no blows. There was no time +for the heroism and the devotion which a drawn-out struggle, however +hopeless, can produce; the war was over almost as soon as it had begun. +After the reverses which happened with lightning rapidity in the first +three days of warfare, the newspapers made no effort to pretend that +the situation could be retrieved; editors and public alike recognised +that these were blows over the heart, and that it was a matter of moments +before we were counted out. One might liken the whole affair to +a snap checkmate early in a game of chess; one side had thought out +the moves, and brought the requisite pieces into play, the other side +was hampered and helpless, with its resources unavailable, its strategy +discounted in advance. That, in a nutshell, is the history of +the war.”</p> +<p>Yeovil was silent for a moment or two, then he asked:</p> +<p>“And the sequel, the peace?”</p> +<p>“The collapse was so complete that I fancy even the enemy were +hardly prepared for the consequences of their victory. No one +had quite realised what one disastrous campaign would mean for an island +nation with a closely packed population. The conquerors were in +a position to dictate what terms they pleased, and it was not wonderful +that their ideas of aggrandisement expanded in the hour of intoxication. +There was no European combination ready to say them nay, and certainly +no one Power was going to be rash enough to step in to contest the terms +of the treaty that they imposed on the conquered. Annexation had +probably never been a dream before the war; after the war it suddenly +became temptingly practical. <i>Warum</i> <i>nicht</i>? became +the theme of leader-writers in the German press; they pointed out that +Britain, defeated and humiliated, but with enormous powers of recuperation, +would be a dangerous and inevitable enemy for the Germany of to-morrow, +while Britain incorporated within the Hohenzollern Empire would merely +be a disaffected province, without a navy to make its disaffection a +serious menace, and with great tax-paying capabilities, which would +be available for relieving the burdens of the other Imperial States. +Wherefore, why not annex? The <i>warum</i> <i>nicht</i>? party +prevailed. Our King, as you know, retired with his Court to Delhi, +as Emperor in the East, with most of his overseas dominions still subject +to his sway. The British Isles came under the German Crown as +a <i>Reichsland</i>, a sort of Alsace-Lorraine washed by the North Sea +instead of the Rhine. We still retain our Parliament, but it is +a clipped and pruned-down shadow of its former self, with most of its +functions in abeyance; when the elections were held it was difficult +to get decent candidates to come forward or to get people to vote. +It makes one smile bitterly to think that a year or two ago we were +seriously squabbling as to who should have votes. And, of course, +the old party divisions have more or less crumbled away. The Liberals +naturally are under the blackest of clouds, for having steered the country +to disaster, though to do them justice it was no more their fault than +the fault of any other party. In a democracy such as ours was +the Government of the day must more or less reflect the ideas and temperament +of the nation in all vital matters, and the British nation in those +days could not have been persuaded of the urgent need for military apprenticeship +or of the deadly nature of its danger. It was willing now and +then to be half-frightened and to have half-measures, or, one might +better say, quarter-measures taken to reassure it, and the governments +of the day were willing to take them, but any political party or group +of statesmen that had said ‘the danger is enormous and immediate, +the sacrifices and burdens must be enormous and immediate,’ would +have met with certain defeat at the polls. Still, of course, the +Liberals, as the party that had held office for nearly a decade, incurred +the odium of a people maddened by defeat and humiliation; one Minister, +who had had less responsibility for military organisation than perhaps +any of them, was attacked and nearly killed at Newcastle, another was +hiding for three days on Exmoor, and escaped in disguise.”</p> +<p>“And the Conservatives?”</p> +<p>“They are also under eclipse, but it is more or less voluntary +in their case. For generations they had taken their stand as supporters +of Throne and Constitution, and when they suddenly found the Constitution +gone and the Throne filled by an alien dynasty, their political orientation +had vanished. They are in much the same position as the Jacobites +occupied after the Hanoverian accession. Many of the leading Tory +families have emigrated to the British lands beyond the seas, others +are shut up in their country houses, retrenching their expenses, selling +their acres, and investing their money abroad. The Labour faction, +again, are almost in as bad odour as the Liberals, because of having +hob-nobbed too effusively and ostentatiously with the German democratic +parties on the eve of the war, exploiting an evangel of universal brotherhood +which did not blunt a single Teuton bayonet when the hour came. +I suppose in time party divisions will reassert themselves in some form +or other; there will be a Socialist Party, and the mercantile and manufacturing +interests will evolve a sort of bourgeoise party, and the different +religious bodies will try to get themselves represented—”</p> +<p>Yeovil made a movement of impatience.</p> +<p>“All these things that you forecast,” he said, “must +take time, considerable time; is this nightmare, then, to go on for +ever?”</p> +<p>“It is not a nightmare, unfortunately,” said the doctor, +“it is a reality.”</p> +<p>“But, surely—a nation such as ours, a virile, highly-civilised +nation with an age-long tradition of mastery behind it, cannot be held +under for ever by a few thousand bayonets and machine guns. We +must surely rise up one day and drive them out.”</p> +<p>“Dear man,” said the doctor, “we might, of course, +at some given moment overpower the garrison that is maintained here, +and seize the forts, and perhaps we might be able to mine the harbours; +what then? In a fortnight or so we could be starved into unconditional +submission. Remember, all the advantages of isolated position +that told in our favour while we had the sea dominion, tell against +us now that the sea dominion is in other hands. The enemy would +not need to mobilise a single army corps or to bring a single battleship +into action; a fleet of nimble cruisers and destroyers circling round +our coasts would be sufficient to shut out our food supplies.”</p> +<p>“Are you trying to tell me that this is a final overthrow?” +said Yeovil in a shaking voice; “are we to remain a subject race +like the Poles?”</p> +<p>“Let us hope for a better fate,” said the doctor. +“Our opportunity may come if the Master Power is ever involved +in an unsuccessful naval war with some other nation, or perhaps in some +time of European crisis, when everything hung in the balance, our latent +hostility might have to be squared by a concession of independence. +That is what we have to hope for and watch for. On the other hand, +the conquerors have to count on time and tact to weaken and finally +obliterate the old feelings of nationality; the middle-aged of to-day +will grow old and acquiescent in the changed state of things; the young +generations will grow up never having known anything different. +It’s a far cry to Delhi, as the old Indian proverb says, and the +strange half-European, half-Asiatic Court out there will seem more and +more a thing exotic and unreal. ‘The King across the water’ +was a rallying-cry once upon a time in our history, but a king on the +further side of the Indian Ocean is a shadowy competitor for one who +alternates between Potsdam and Windsor.”</p> +<p>“I want you to tell me everything,” said Yeovil, after +another pause; “tell me, Holham, how far has this obliterating +process of ‘time and tact’ gone? It seems to be pretty +fairly started already. I bought a newspaper as soon as I landed, +and I read it in the train coming up. I read things that puzzled +and disgusted me. There were announcements of concerts and plays +and first-nights and private views; there were even small dances. +There were advertisements of house-boats and week-end cottages and string +bands for garden parties. It struck me that it was rather like +merrymaking with a dead body lying in the house.”</p> +<p>“Yeovil,” said the doctor, “you must bear in mind +two things. First, the necessity for the life of the country going +on as if nothing had happened. It is true that many thousands +of our working men and women have emigrated and thousands of our upper +and middle class too; they were the people who were not tied down by +business, or who could afford to cut those ties. But those represent +comparatively a few out of the many. The great businesses and +the small businesses must go on, people must be fed and clothed and +housed and medically treated, and their thousand-and-one wants and necessities +supplied. Look at me, for instance; however much I loathe coming +under a foreign domination and paying taxes to an alien government, +I can’t abandon my practice and my patients, and set up anew in +Toronto or Allahabad, and if I could, some other doctor would have to +take my place here. I or that other doctor must have our servants +and motors and food and furniture and newspapers, even our sport. +The golf links and the hunting field have been well-nigh deserted since +the war, but they are beginning to get back their votaries because out-door +sport has become a necessity, and a very rational necessity, with numbers +of men who have to work otherwise under unnatural and exacting conditions. +That is one factor of the situation. The other affects London +more especially, but through London it influences the rest of the country +to a certain extent. You will see around you here much that will +strike you as indications of heartless indifference to the calamity +that has befallen our nation. Well, you must remember that many +things in modern life, especially in the big cities, are not national +but international. In the world of music and art and the drama, +for instance, the foreign names are legion, they confront you at every +turn, and some of our British devotees of such arts are more acclimatised +to the ways of Munich or Moscow than they are familiar with the life, +say, of Stirling or York. For years they have lived and thought +and spoken in an atmosphere and jargon of denationalised culture—even +those of them who have never left our shores. They would take +pains to be intimately familiar with the domestic affairs and views +of life of some Galician gipsy dramatist, and gravely quote and discuss +his opinions on debts and mistresses and cookery, while they would shudder +at ‘D’ye ken John Peel?’ as a piece of uncouth barbarity. +You cannot expect a world of that sort to be permanently concerned or +downcast because the Crown of Charlemagne takes its place now on the +top of the Royal box in the theatres, or at the head of programmes at +State concerts. And then there are the Jews.”</p> +<p>“There are many in the land, or at least in London,” +said Yeovil.</p> +<p>“There are even more of them now than there used to be,” +said Holham. “I am to a great extent a disliker of Jews +myself, but I will be fair to them, and admit that those of them who +were in any genuine sense British have remained British and have stuck +by us loyally in our misfortune; all honour to them. But of the +others, the men who by temperament and everything else were far more +Teuton or Polish or Latin than they were British, it was not to be expected +that they would be heartbroken because London had suddenly lost its +place among the political capitals of the world, and became a cosmopolitan +city. They had appreciated the free and easy liberty of the old +days, under British rule, but there was a stiff insularity in the ruling +race that they chafed against. Now, putting aside some petty Government +restrictions that Teutonic bureaucracy has brought in, there is really, +in their eyes, more licence and social adaptability in London than before. +It has taken on some of the aspects of a No-Man’s-Land, and the +Jew, if he likes, may almost consider himself as of the dominant race; +at any rate he is ubiquitous. Pleasure, of the café and +cabaret and boulevard kind, the sort of thing that gave Berlin the aspect +of the gayest capital in Europe within the last decade, that is the +insidious leaven that will help to denationalise London. Berlin +will probably climb back to some of its old austerity and simplicity, +a world-ruling city with a great sense of its position and its responsibilities, +while London will become more and more the centre of what these people +understand by life.”</p> +<p>Yeovil made a movement of impatience and disgust.</p> +<p>“I know, I know,” said the doctor, sympathetically; “life +and enjoyment mean to you the howl of a wolf in a forest, the call of +a wild swan on the frozen tundras, the smell of a wood fire in some +little inn among the mountains. There is more music to you in +the quick thud, thud of hoofs on desert mud as a free-stepping horse +is led up to your tent door than in all the dronings and flourishes +that a highly-paid orchestra can reel out to an expensively fed audience. +But the tastes of modern London, as we see them crystallised around +us, lie in a very different direction. People of the world that +I am speaking of, our dominant world at the present moment, herd together +as closely packed to the square yard as possible, doing nothing worth +doing, and saying nothing worth saying, but doing it and saying it over +and over again, listening to the same melodies, watching the same artistes, +echoing the same catchwords, ordering the same dishes in the same restaurants, +suffering each other’s cigarette smoke and perfumes and conversation, +feverishly, anxiously making arrangements to meet each other again to-morrow, +next week, and the week after next, and repeat the same gregarious experience. +If they were not herded together in a corner of western London, watching +each other with restless intelligent eyes, they would be herded together +at Brighton or Dieppe, doing the same thing. Well, you will find +that life of that sort goes forward just as usual, only it is even more +prominent and noticeable now because there is less public life of other +kinds.”</p> +<p>Yeovil said something which was possibly the Buriat word for the +nether world. Outside in the neighbouring square a band had been +playing at intervals during the evening. Now it struck up an air +that Yeovil had already heard whistled several times since his landing, +an air with a captivating suggestion of slyness and furtive joyousness +running through it.</p> +<p>He rose and walked across to the window, opening it a little wider. +He listened till the last notes had died away.</p> +<p>“What is that tune they have just played?” he asked.</p> +<p>“You’ll hear it often enough,” said the doctor. +“A Frenchman writing in the <i>Matin</i> the other day called +it the ‘National Anthem of the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i>.’”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV: “ES IST VERBOTEN”</h2> +<p>Yeovil wakened next morning to the pleasant sensation of being in +a household where elaborate machinery for the smooth achievement of +one’s daily life was noiselessly and unceasingly at work. +Fever and the long weariness of convalescence in indifferently comfortable +surroundings had given luxury a new value in his eyes. Money had +not always been plentiful with him in his younger days; in his twenty-eighth +year he had inherited a fairly substantial fortune, and he had married +a wealthy woman a few months later. It was characteristic of the +man and his breed that the chief use to which he had put his newly-acquired +wealth had been in seizing the opportunity which it gave him for indulging +in unlimited travel in wild, out-of-the-way regions, where the comforts +of life were meagrely represented. Cicely occasionally accompanied +him to the threshold of his expeditions, such as Cairo or St. Petersburg +or Constantinople, but her own tastes in the matter of roving were more +or less condensed within an area that comprised Cannes, Homburg, the +Scottish Highlands, and the Norwegian Fiords. Things outlandish +and barbaric appealed to her chiefly when presented under artistic but +highly civilised stage management on the boards of Covent Garden, and +if she wanted to look at wolves or sand grouse, she preferred doing +so in the company of an intelligent Fellow of the Zoological Society +on some fine Sunday afternoon in Regent’s Park. It was one +of the bonds of union and good-fellowship between her husband and herself +that each understood and sympathised with the other’s tastes without +in the least wanting to share them; they went their own ways and were +pleased and comrade-like when the ways happened to run together for +a span, without self-reproach or heart-searching when the ways diverged. +Moreover, they had separate and adequate banking accounts, which constitute, +if not the keys of the matrimonial Heaven, at least the oil that lubricates +them.</p> +<p>Yeovil found Cicely and breakfast waiting for him in the cool breakfast-room, +and enjoyed, with the appreciation of a recent invalid, the comfort +and resources of a meal that had not to be ordered or thought about +in advance, but seemed as though it were there, fore-ordained from the +beginning of time in its smallest detail. Each desire of the breakfasting +mind seemed to have its realisation in some dish, lurking unobtrusively +in hidden corners until asked for. Did one want grilled mushrooms, +English fashion, they were there, black and moist and sizzling, and +extremely edible; did one desire mushrooms <i>à</i> <i>la</i> +<i>Russe</i>, they appeared, blanched and cool and toothsome under their +white blanketing of sauce. At one’s bidding was a service +of coffee, prepared with rather more forethought and circumspection +than would go to the preparation of a revolution in a South American +Republic.</p> +<p>The exotic blooms that reigned in profusion over the other parts +of the house were scrupulously banished from the breakfast-room; bowls +of wild thyme and other flowering weeds of the meadow and hedgerow gave +it an atmosphere of country freshness that was in keeping with the morning +meal.</p> +<p>“You look dreadfully tired still,” said Cicely critically, +“otherwise I would recommend a ride in the Park, before it gets +too hot. There is a new cob in the stable that you will just love, +but he is rather lively, and you had better content yourself for the +present with some more sedate exercise than he is likely to give you. +He is apt to try and jump out of his skin when the flies tease him. +The Park is rather jolly for a walk just now.”</p> +<p>“I think that will be about my form after my long journey,” +said Yeovil, “an hour’s stroll before lunch under the trees. +That ought not to fatigue me unduly. In the afternoon I’ll +look up one or two people.”</p> +<p>“Don’t count on finding too many of your old set,” +said Cicely rather hurriedly. “I dare say some of them will +find their way back some time, but at present there’s been rather +an exodus.”</p> +<p>“The Bredes,” said Yeovil, “are they here?”</p> +<p>“No, the Bredes are in Scotland, at their place in Sutherlandshire; +they don’t come south now, and the Ricardes are farming somewhere +in East Africa, the whole lot of them. Valham has got an appointment +of some sort in the Straits Settlement, and has taken his family with +him. The Collards are down at their mother’s place in Norfolk; +a German banker has bought their house in Manchester Square.”</p> +<p>“And the Hebways?” asked Yeovil.</p> +<p>“Dick Hebway is in India,” said Cicely, “but his +mother lives in Paris; poor Hugo, you know, was killed in the war. +My friends the Allinsons are in Paris too. It’s rather a +clearance, isn’t it? However, there are some left, and I +expect others will come back in time. Pitherby is here; he’s +one of those who are trying to make the best of things under the new +<i>régime</i>.”</p> +<p>“He would be,” said Yeovil, shortly.</p> +<p>“It’s a difficult question,” said Cicely, “whether +one should stay at home and face the music or go away and live a transplanted +life under the British flag. Either attitude might be dictated +by patriotism.”</p> +<p>“It is one thing to face the music, it is another thing to +dance to it,” said Yeovil.</p> +<p>Cicely poured out some more coffee for herself and changed the conversation.</p> +<p>“You’ll be in to lunch, I suppose? The Clubs are +not very attractive just now, I believe, and the restaurants are mostly +hot in the middle of the day. Ronnie Storre is coming in; he’s +here pretty often these days. A rather good-looking young animal +with something mid-way between talent and genius in the piano-playing +line.”</p> +<p>“Not long-haired and Semetic or Tcheque or anything of that +sort, I suppose?” asked Yeovil.</p> +<p>Cicely laughed at the vision of Ronnie conjured up by her husband’s +words.</p> +<p>“No, beautifully groomed and clipped and Anglo-Saxon. +I expect you’ll like him. He plays bridge almost as well +as he plays the piano. I suppose you wonder at any one who can +play bridge well wanting to play the piano.”</p> +<p>“I’m not quite so intolerant as all that,” said +Yeovil; “anyhow I promise to like Ronnie. Is any one else +coming to lunch?”</p> +<p>“Joan Mardle will probably drop in, in fact I’m afraid +she’s a certainty. She invited herself in that way of hers +that brooks of no refusal. On the other hand, as a mitigating +circumstance, there will be a <i>point</i> <i>d’asperge</i> omelette +such as few kitchens could turn out, so don’t be late.”</p> +<p>Yeovil set out for his morning walk with the curious sensation of +one who starts on a voyage of discovery in a land that is well known +to him. He turned into the Park at Hyde Park corner and made his +way along the familiar paths and alleys that bordered the Row. +The familiarity vanished when he left the region of fenced-in lawns +and rhododendron bushes and came to the open space that stretched away +beyond the bandstand. The bandstand was still there, and a military +band, in sky-blue Saxon uniform, was executing the first item in the +forenoon programme of music. Around it, instead of the serried +rows of green chairs that Yeovil remembered, was spread out an acre +or so of small round tables, most of which had their quota of customers, +engaged in a steady consumption of lager beer, coffee, lemonade and +syrups. Further in the background, but well within earshot of +the band, a gaily painted pagoda-restaurant sheltered a number of more +commodious tables under its awnings, and gave a hint of convenient indoor +accommodation for wet or windy weather. Movable screens of trellis-trained +foliage and climbing roses formed little hedges by means of which any +particular table could be shut off from its neighbours if semi-privacy +were desired. One or two decorative advertisements of popularised +brands of champagne and Rhine wines adorned the outside walls of the +building, and under the central gable of its upper story was a flamboyant +portrait of a stern-faced man, whose image and superscription might +also be found on the newer coinage of the land. A mass of bunting +hung in folds round the flag-pole on the gable, and blew out now and +then on a favouring breeze, a long three-coloured strip, black, white, +and scarlet, and over the whole scene the elm trees towered with an +absurd sardonic air of nothing having changed around their roots.</p> +<p>Yeovil stood for a minute or two, taking in every detail of the unfamiliar +spectacle.</p> +<p>“They have certainly accomplished something that we never attempted,” +he muttered to himself. Then he turned on his heel and made his +way back to the shady walk that ran alongside the Row. At first +sight little was changed in the aspect of the well-known exercising +ground. One or two riding masters cantered up and down as of yore, +with their attendant broods of anxious-faced young girls and awkwardly +bumping women pupils, while horsey-looking men put marketable animals +through their paces or drew up to the rails for long conversations with +horsey-looking friends on foot. Sportingly attired young women, +sitting astride of their horses, careered by at intervals as though +an extremely game fox were leading hounds a merry chase a short way +ahead of them; it all seemed much as usual.</p> +<p>Presently, from the middle distance a bright patch of colour set +in a whirl of dust drew rapidly nearer and resolved itself into a group +of cavalry officers extending their chargers in a smart gallop. +They were well mounted and sat their horses to perfection, and they +made a brave show as they raced past Yeovil with a clink and clatter +and rhythmic thud, thud, of hoofs, and became once more a patch of colour +in a whirl of dust. An answering glow of colour seemed to have +burned itself into the grey face of the young man, who had seen them +pass without appearing to look at them, a stinging rush of blood, accompanied +by a choking catch in the throat and a hot white blindness across the +eyes. The weakness of fever broke down at times the rampart of +outward indifference that a man of Yeovil’s temperament builds +coldly round his heartstrings.</p> +<p>The Row and its riders had become suddenly detestable to the wanderer; +he would not run the risk of seeing that insolently joyous cavalcade +come galloping past again. Beyond a narrow stretch of tree-shaded +grass lay the placid sunlit water of the Serpentine, and Yeovil made +a short cut across the turf to reach its gravelled bank.</p> +<p>“Can’t you read either English or German?” asked +a policeman who confronted him as he stepped off the turf.</p> +<p>Yeovil stared at the man and then turned to look at the small neatly-printed +notice to which the official was imperiously pointing; in two languages +it was made known that it was forbidden and <i>verboten</i>, punishable +and <i>straffbar</i>, to walk on the grass.</p> +<p>“Three shilling fine,” said the policeman, extending +his hand for the money.</p> +<p>“Do I pay you?” asked Yeovil, feeling almost inclined +to laugh; “I’m rather a stranger to the new order of things.”</p> +<p>“You pay me,” said the policeman, “and you receive +a quittance for the sum paid,” and he proceeded to tear a counterfoil +receipt for a three shilling fine from a small pocket book.</p> +<p>“May I ask,” said Yeovil, as he handed over the sum demanded +and received his quittance, “what the red and white band on your +sleeve stands for?”</p> +<p>“Bi-lingual,” said the constable, with an air of importance. +“Preference is given to members of the Force who qualify in both +languages. Nearly all the police engaged on Park duty are bi-lingual. +About as many foreigners as English use the parks nowadays; in fact, +on a fine Sunday afternoon, you’ll find three foreigners to every +two English. The park habit is more Continental than British, +I take it.”</p> +<p>“And are there many Germans in the police Force?” asked +Yeovil.</p> +<p>“Well, yes, a good few; there had to be,” said the constable; +“there were such a lot of resignations when the change came, and +they had to be filled up somehow. Lots of men what used to be +in the Force emigrated or found work of some other kind, but everybody +couldn’t take that line; wives and children had to be thought +of. ’Tisn’t every head of a family that can chuck +up a job on the chance of finding another. Starvation’s +been the lot of a good many what went out. Those of us that stayed +on got better pay than we did before, but then of course the duties +are much more multitudinous.”</p> +<p>“They must be,” said Yeovil, fingering his three shilling +State document; “by the way,” he asked, “are all the +grass plots in the Park out of bounds for human feet?”</p> +<p>“Everywhere where you see the notices,” said the policeman, +“and that’s about three-fourths of the whole grass space; +there’s been a lot of new gravel walks opened up in all directions. +People don’t want to walk on the grass when they’ve got +clean paths to walk on.”</p> +<p>And with this parting reproof the bi-lingual constable strode heavily +away, his loss of consideration and self-esteem as a unit of a sometime +ruling race evidently compensated for to some extent by his enhanced +importance as an official.</p> +<p>“The women and children,” thought Yeovil, as he looked +after the retreating figure; “yes, that is one side of the problem. +The children that have to be fed and schooled, the women folk that have +to be cared for, an old mother, perhaps, in the home that cannot be +broken up. The old case of giving hostages.”</p> +<p>He followed the path alongside the Serpentine, passing under the +archway of the bridge and continuing his walk into Kensington Gardens. +In another moment he was within view of the Peter Pan statue and at +once observed that it had companions. On one side was a group +representing a scene from one of the Grimm fairy stories, on the other +was Alice in conversation with Gryphon and Mockturtle, the episode looking +distressingly stiff and meaningless in its sculptured form. Two +other spaces had been cleared in the neighbouring turf, evidently for +the reception of further statue groups, which Yeovil mentally assigned +to Struwelpeter and Little Lord Fauntleroy.</p> +<p>“German middle-class taste,” he commented, “but +in this matter we certainly gave them a lead. I suppose the idea +is that childish fancy is dead and that it is only decent to erect some +sort of memorial to it.”</p> +<p>The day was growing hotter, and the Park had ceased to seem a desirable +place to loiter in. Yeovil turned his steps homeward, passing +on his way the bandstand with its surrounding acreage of tables. +It was now nearly one o’clock, and luncheon parties were beginning +to assemble under the awnings of the restaurant. Lighter refreshments, +in the shape of sausages and potato salads, were being carried out by +scurrying waiters to the drinkers of lager beer at the small tables. +A park orchestra, in brilliant trappings, had taken the place of the +military band. As Yeovil passed the musicians launched out into +the tune which the doctor had truly predicted he would hear to repletion +before he had been many days in London; the “National Anthem of +the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i>.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER V: L’ART D’ETRE COUSINE</h2> +<p>Joan Mardle had reached forty in the leisurely untroubled fashion +of a woman who intends to be comely and attractive at fifty. She +cultivated a jovial, almost joyous manner, with a top-dressing of hearty +good will and good nature which disarmed strangers and recent acquaintances; +on getting to know her better they hastily re-armed themselves. +Some one had once aptly described her as a hedgehog with the protective +mimicry of a puffball. If there was an awkward remark to be made +at an inconvenient moment before undesired listeners, Joan invariably +made it, and when the occasion did not present itself she was usually +capable of creating it. She was not without a certain popularity, +the sort of popularity that a dashing highwayman sometimes achieved +among those who were not in the habit of travelling on his particular +highway. A great-aunt on her mother’s side of the family +had married so often that Joan imagined herself justified in claiming +cousin-ship with a large circle of disconnected houses, and treating +them all on a relationship footing, which theoretical kinship enabled +her to exact luncheons and other accommodations under the plea of keeping +the lamp of family life aglow.</p> +<p>“I felt I simply had to come to-day,” she chuckled at +Yeovil; “I was just dying to see the returned traveller. +Of course, I know perfectly well that neither of you want me, when you +haven’t seen each other for so long and must have heaps and heaps +to say to one another, but I thought I would risk the odium of being +the third person on an occasion when two are company and three are a +nuisance. Wasn’t it brave of me?”</p> +<p>She spoke in full knowledge of the fact that the luncheon party would +not in any case have been restricted to Yeovil and his wife, having +seen Ronnie arrive in the hall as she was being shown upstairs.</p> +<p>“Ronnie Storre is coming, I believe,” said Cicely, “so +you’re not breaking into a tête-à-tête.”</p> +<p>“Ronnie, oh I don’t count him,” said Joan gaily; +“he’s just a boy who looks nice and eats asparagus. +I hear he’s getting to play the piano really well. Such +a pity. He will grow fat; musicians always do, and it will ruin +him. I speak feelingly because I’m gravitating towards plumpness +myself. The Divine Architect turns us out fearfully and wonderfully +built, and the result is charming to the eye, and then He adds another +chin and two or three extra inches round the waist, and the effect is +ruined. Fortunately you can always find another Ronnie when this +one grows fat and uninteresting; the supply of boys who look nice and +eat asparagus is unlimited. Hullo, Mr. Storre, we were all talking +about you.”</p> +<p>“Nothing very damaging, I hope?” said Ronnie, who had +just entered the room.</p> +<p>“No, we were merely deciding that, whatever you may do with +your life, your chin must remain single. When one’s chin +begins to lead a double life one’s own opportunities for depravity +are insensibly narrowed. You needn’t tell me that you haven’t +any hankerings after depravity; people with your coloured eyes and hair +are always depraved.”</p> +<p>“Let me introduce you to my husband, Ronnie,” said Cicely, +“and then let’s go and begin lunch.”</p> +<p>“You two must almost feel as if you were honeymooning again,” +said Joan as they sat down; “you must have quite forgotten each +other’s tastes and peculiarities since you last met. Old +Emily Fronding was talking about you yesterday, when I mentioned that +Murrey was expected home; ‘curious sort of marriage tie,’ +she said, in that stupid staring way of hers, ‘when husband and +wife spend most of their time in different continents. I don’t +call it marriage at all.’ ‘Nonsense,’ I said, +‘it’s the best way of doing things. The Yeovils will +be a united and devoted couple long after heaps of their married contemporaries +have trundled through the Divorce Court.’ I forgot at the +moment that her youngest girl had divorced her husband last year, and +that her second girl is rumoured to be contemplating a similar step. +One can’t remember everything.”</p> +<p>Joan Mardle was remarkable for being able to remember the smallest +details in the family lives of two or three hundred acquaintances.</p> +<p>From personal matters she went with a bound to the political small +talk of the moment.</p> +<p>“The Official Declaration as to the House of Lords is out at +last,” she said; “I bought a paper just before coming here, +but I left it in the Tube. All existing titles are to lapse if +three successive holders, including the present ones, fail to take the +oath of allegiance.”</p> +<p>“Have any taken it up to the present?” asked Yeovil.</p> +<p>“Only about nineteen, so far, and none of them representing +very leading families; of course others will come in gradually, as the +change of Dynasty becomes more and more an accepted fact, and of course +there will be lots of new creations to fill up the gaps. I hear +for certain that Pitherby is to get a title of some sort, in recognition +of his literary labours. He has written a short history of the +House of Hohenzollern, for use in schools you know, and he’s bringing +out a popular Life of Frederick the Great—at least he hopes it +will be popular.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t know that writing was much in his line,” +said Yeovil, “beyond the occasional editing of a company prospectus.”</p> +<p>“I understand his historical researches have given every satisfaction +in exalted quarters,” said Joan; “something may be lacking +in the style, perhaps, but the august approval can make good that defect +with the style of Baron. Pitherby has such a kind heart; ‘kind +hearts are more than coronets,’ we all know, but the two go quite +well together. And the dear man is not content with his services +to literature, he’s blossoming forth as a liberal patron of the +arts. He’s taken quite a lot of tickets for dear Gorla’s +début; half the second row of the dress-circle.”</p> +<p>“Do you mean Gorla Mustelford?” asked Yeovil, catching +at the name; “what on earth is she having a début about?”</p> +<p>“What?” cried Joan, in loud-voiced amazement; “haven’t +you heard? Hasn’t Cicely told you? How funny that +you shouldn’t have heard. Why, it’s going to be one +of the events of the season. Everybody’s talking about it. +She’s going to do suggestion dancing at the Caravansery Theatre.”</p> +<p>“Good Heavens, what is suggestion dancing?” asked Yeovil.</p> +<p>“Oh, something quite new,” explained Joan; “at +any rate the name is quite new and Gorla is new as far as the public +are concerned, and that is enough to establish the novelty of the thing. +Among other things she does a dance suggesting the life of a fern; I +saw one of the rehearsals, and to me it would have equally well suggested +the life of John Wesley. However, that is probably the fault of +my imagination—I’ve either got too much or too little. +Anyhow it is an understood thing that she is to take London by storm.”</p> +<p>“When I last saw Gorla Mustelford,” observed Yeovil, +“she was a rather serious flapper who thought the world was in +urgent need of regeneration and was not certain whether she would regenerate +it or take up miniature painting. I forget which she attempted +ultimately.”</p> +<p>“She is quite serious about her art,” put in Cicely; +“she’s studied a good deal abroad and worked hard at mastering +the technique of her profession. She’s not a mere amateur +with a hankering after the footlights. I fancy she will do well.”</p> +<p>“But what do her people say about it?” asked Yeovil.</p> +<p>“Oh, they’re simply furious about it,” answered +Joan; “the idea of a daughter of the house of Mustelford prancing +and twisting about the stage for Prussian officers and Hamburg Jews +to gaze at is a dreadful cup of humiliation for them. It’s +unfortunate, of course, that they should feel so acutely about it, but +still one can understand their point of view.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see what other point of view they could possibly +take,” said Yeovil sharply; “if Gorla thinks that the necessities +of art, or her own inclinations, demand that she should dance in public, +why can’t she do it in Paris or even Vienna? Anywhere would +be better, one would think, than in London under present conditions.”</p> +<p>He had given Joan the indication that she was looking for as to his +attitude towards the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i>. Without asking +a question she had discovered that husband and wife were divided on +the fundamental issue that underlay all others at the present moment. +Cicely was weaving social schemes for the future, Yeovil had come home +in a frame of mind that threatened the destruction of those schemes, +or at any rate a serious hindrance to their execution. The situation +presented itself to Joan’s mind with an alluring piquancy.</p> +<p>“You are giving a grand supper-party for Gorla on the night +of her début, aren’t you?” she asked Cicely; “several +people spoke to me about it, so I suppose it must be true.”</p> +<p>Tony Luton and young Storre had taken care to spread the news of +the projected supper function, in order to ensure against a change of +plans on Cicely’s part.</p> +<p>“Gorla is a great friend of mine,” said Cicely, trying +to talk as if the conversation had taken a perfectly indifferent turn; +“also I think she deserves a little encouragement after the hard +work she has been through. I thought it would be doing her a kindness +to arrange a supper party for her on her first night.”</p> +<p>There was a moment’s silence. Yeovil said nothing, and +Joan understood the value of being occasionally tongue-tied.</p> +<p>“The whole question is,” continued Cicely, as the silence +became oppressive, “whether one is to mope and hold aloof from +the national life, or take our share in it; the life has got to go on +whether we participate in it or not. It seems to me to be more +patriotic to come down into the dust of the marketplace than to withdraw +oneself behind walls or beyond the seas.”</p> +<p>“Of course the industrial life of the country has to go on,” +said Yeovil; “no one could criticise Gorla if she interested herself +in organising cottage industries or anything of that sort, in which +she would be helping her own people. That one could understand, +but I don’t think a cosmopolitan concern like the music-hall business +calls for personal sacrifices from young women of good family at a moment +like the present.”</p> +<p>“It is just at a moment like the present that the people want +something to interest them and take them out of themselves,” said +Cicely argumentatively; “what has happened, has happened, and +we can’t undo it or escape the consequences. What we can +do, or attempt to do, is to make things less dreary, and make people +less unhappy.”</p> +<p>“In a word, more contented,” said Yeovil; “if I +were a German statesman, that is the end I would labour for and encourage +others to labour for, to make the people forget that they were discontented. +All this work of regalvanising the social side of London life may be +summed up in the phrase ‘<i>travailler</i> <i>pour</i> <i>le</i> +<i>roi</i> <i>de</i> <i>Prusse</i>.’”</p> +<p>“I don’t think there is any use in discussing the matter +further,” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“I can see that grand supper-party not coming off,” said +Joan provocatively.</p> +<p>Ronnie looked anxiously at Cicely.</p> +<p>“You can see it coming on, if you’re gifted with prophetic +vision of a reliable kind,” said Cicely; “of course as Murrey +doesn’t take kindly to the idea of Gorla’s enterprise I +won’t have the party here. I’ll give it at a restaurant, +that’s all. I can see Murrey’s point of view, and +sympathise with it, but I’m not going to throw Gorla over.”</p> +<p>There was another pause of uncomfortably protracted duration.</p> +<p>“I say, this is a top-hole omelette,” said Ronnie.</p> +<p>It was his only contribution to the conversation, but it was a valuable +one.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI: HERR VON KWARL</h2> +<p>Herr Von Kwarl sat at his favourite table in the Brandenburg Café, +the new building that made such an imposing show (and did such thriving +business) at the lower end of what most of its patrons called the Regentstrasse. +Though the establishment was new it had already achieved its unwritten +code of customs, and the sanctity of Herr von Kwarl’s specially +reserved table had acquired the authority of a tradition. A set +of chessmen, a copy of the <i>Kreuz</i> <i>Zeitung</i> and the <i>Times</i>, +and a slim-necked bottle of Rhenish wine, ice-cool from the cellar, +were always to be found there early in the forenoon, and the honoured +guest for whom these preparations were made usually arrived on the scene +shortly after eleven o’clock. For an hour or so he would +read and silently digest the contents of his two newspapers, and then +at the first sign of flagging interest on his part, another of the café’s +regular customers would march across the floor, exchange a word or two +on the affairs of the day, and be bidden with a wave of the hand into +the opposite seat. A waiter would instantly place the chessboard +with its marshalled ranks of combatants in the required position, and +the contest would begin.</p> +<p>Herr von Kwarl was a heavily built man of mature middle-age, of the +blond North-German type, with a facial aspect that suggested stupidity +and brutality. The stupidity of his mien masked an ability and +shrewdness that was distinctly above the average, and the suggestion +of brutality was belied by the fact that von Kwarl was as kind-hearted +a man as one could meet with in a day’s journey. Early in +life, almost before he was in his teens, Fritz von Kwarl had made up +his mind to accept the world as it was, and to that philosophical resolution, +steadfastly adhered to, he attributed his excellent digestion and his +unruffled happiness. Perhaps he confused cause and effect; the +excellent digestion may have been responsible for at least some of the +philosophical serenity.</p> +<p>He was a bachelor of the type that is called confirmed, and which +might better be labelled consecrated; from his early youth onward to +his present age he had never had the faintest flickering intention of +marriage. Children and animals he adored, women and plants he +accounted somewhat of a nuisance. A world without women and roses +and asparagus would, he admitted, be robbed of much of its charm, but +with all their charm these things were tiresome and thorny and capricious, +always wanting to climb or creep in places where they were not wanted, +and resolutely drooping and fading away when they were desired to flourish. +Animals, on the other hand, accepted the world as it was and made the +best of it, and children, at least nice children, uncontaminated by +grown-up influences, lived in worlds of their own making.</p> +<p>Von Kwarl held no acknowledged official position in the country of +his residence, but it was an open secret that those responsible for +the real direction of affairs sought his counsel on nearly every step +that they meditated, and that his counsel was very rarely disregarded. +Some of the shrewdest and most successful enactments of the ruling power +were believed to have originated in the brain-cells of the bovine-fronted +<i>Stammgast</i> of the Brandenburg Café.</p> +<p>Around the wood-panelled walls of the Café were set at intervals +well-mounted heads of boar, elk, stag, roe-buck, and other game-beasts +of a northern forest, while in between were carved armorial escutcheons +of the principal cities of the lately expanded realm, Magdeburg, Manchester, +Hamburg, Bremen, Bristol, and so forth. Below these came shelves +on which stood a wonderful array of stone beer-mugs, each decorated +with some fantastic device or motto, and most of them pertaining individually +and sacredly to some regular and unfailing customer. In one particular +corner of the highest shelf, greatly at his ease and in nowise to be +disturbed, slept Wotan, the huge grey house-cat, dreaming doubtless +of certain nimble and audacious mice down in the cellar three floors +below, whose nimbleness and audacity were as precious to him as the +forwardness of the birds is to a skilled gun on a grouse moor. +Once every day Wotan came marching in stately fashion across the polished +floor, halted mid-way to resume an unfinished toilet operation, and +then proceeded to pay his leisurely respects to his friend von Kwarl. +The latter was said to be prouder of this daily demonstration of esteem +than of his many coveted orders of merit. Several of his friends +and acquaintances shared with him the distinction of having achieved +the Black Eagle, but not one of them had ever succeeded in obtaining +the slightest recognition of their existence from Wotan.</p> +<p>The daily greeting had been exchanged and the proud grey beast had +marched away to the music of a slumberous purr. The <i>Kreuz</i> +<i>Zeitung</i> and the <i>Times</i> underwent a final scrutiny and were +pushed aside, and von Kwarl glanced aimlessly out at the July sunshine +bathing the walls and windows of the Piccadilly Hotel. Herr Rebinok, +the plump little Pomeranian banker, stepped across the floor, almost +as noiselessly as Wotan had done, though with considerably less grace, +and some half-minute later was engaged in sliding pawns and knights +and bishops to and fro on the chess-board in a series of lightning moves +bewildering to look on. Neither he nor his opponent played with +the skill that they severally brought to bear on banking and statecraft, +nor did they conduct their game with the politeness that they punctiliously +observed in other affairs of life. A running fire of contemptuous +remarks and aggressive satire accompanied each move, and the mere record +of the conversation would have given an uninitiated onlooker the puzzling +impression that an easy and crushing victory was assured to both the +players.</p> +<p>“Aha, he is puzzled. Poor man, he doesn’t know +what to do . . . Oho, he thinks he will move there, does he? +Much good that will do him. . . . Never have I seen such a mess +as he is in . . . he cannot do anything, he is absolutely helpless, +helpless.”</p> +<p>“Ah, you take my bishop, do you? Much I care for that. +Nothing. See, I give you check. Ah, now he is in a fright! +He doesn’t know where to go. What a mess he is in . . . +”</p> +<p>So the game proceeded, with a brisk exchange of pieces and incivilities +and a fluctuation of fortunes, till the little banker lost his queen +as the result of an incautious move, and, after several woebegone contortions +of his shoulders and hands, declined further contest. A sleek-headed +piccolo rushed forward to remove the board, and the erstwhile combatants +resumed the courteous dignity that they discarded in their chess-playing +moments.</p> +<p>“Have you seen the <i>Germania</i> to-day?” asked Herr +Rebinok, as soon as the boy had receded to a respectful distance.</p> +<p>“No,” said von Kwarl, “I never see the <i>Germania</i>. +I count on you to tell me if there is anything noteworthy in it.”</p> +<p>“It has an article to-day headed, ‘Occupation or Assimilation,’” +said the banker. “It is of some importance, and well written. +It is very pessimistic.”</p> +<p>“Catholic papers are always pessimistic about the things of +this world,” said von Kwarl, “just as they are unduly optimistic +about the things of the next world. What line does it take?”</p> +<p>“It says that our conquest of Britain can only result in a +temporary occupation, with a ‘notice to quit’ always hanging +over our heads; that we can never hope to assimilate the people of these +islands in our Empire as a sort of maritime Saxony or Bavaria, all the +teaching of history is against it; Saxony and Bavaria are part of the +Empire because of their past history. England is being bound into +the Empire in spite of her past history; and so forth.”</p> +<p>“The writer of the article has not studied history very deeply,” +said von Kwarl. “The impossible thing that he speaks of +has been done before, and done in these very islands, too. The +Norman Conquest became an assimilation in comparatively few generations.”</p> +<p>“Ah, in those days, yes,” said the banker, “but +the conditions were altogether different. There was not the rapid +transmission of news and the means of keeping the public mind instructed +in what was happening; in fact, one can scarcely say that the public +mind was there to instruct. There was not the same strong bond +of brotherhood between men of the same nation that exists now. +Northumberland was almost as foreign to Devon or Kent as Normandy was. +And the Church in those days was a great international factor, and the +Crusades bound men together fighting under one leader for a common cause. +Also there was not a great national past to be forgotten as there is +in this case.”</p> +<p>“There are many factors, certainly, that are against us,” +conceded the statesman, “but you must also take into account those +that will help us. In most cases in recent history where the conquered +have stood out against all attempts at assimilation, there has been +a religious difference to add to the racial one—take Poland, for +instance, and the Catholic parts of Ireland. If the Bretons ever +seriously begin to assert their nationality as against the French, it +will be because they have remained more Catholic in practice and sentiment +than their neighbours. Here there is no such complication; we +are in the bulk a Protestant nation with a Catholic minority, and the +same may be said of the British. Then in modern days there is +the alchemy of Sport and the Drama to bring men of different races amicably +together. One or two sportsmanlike Germans in a London football +team will do more to break down racial antagonism than anything that +Governments or Councils can effect. As for the Stage, it has long +been international in its tendencies. You can see that every day.”</p> +<p>The banker nodded his head.</p> +<p>“London is not our greatest difficulty,” continued von +Kwarl. “You must remember the steady influx of Germans since +the war; whole districts are changing the complexion of their inhabitants, +and in some streets you might almost fancy yourself in a German town. +We can scarcely hope to make much impression on the country districts +and the provincial towns at present, but you must remember that thousands +and thousands of the more virile and restless-souled men have emigrated, +and thousands more will follow their example. We shall fill up +their places with our own surplus population, as the Teuton races colonised +England in the old pre-Christian days. That is better, is it not, +to people the fat meadows of the Thames valley and the healthy downs +and uplands of Sussex and Berkshire than to go hunting for elbow-room +among the flies and fevers of the tropics? We have somewhere to +go to, now, better than the scrub and the veldt and the thorn-jungles.”</p> +<p>“Of course, of course,” assented Herr Rebinok, “but +while this desirable process of infiltration and assimilation goes on, +how are you going to provide against the hostility of the conquered +nation? A people with a great tradition behind them and the ruling +instinct strongly developed, won’t sit with their eyes closed +and their hands folded while you carry on the process of Germanisation. +What will keep them quiet?”</p> +<p>“The hopelessness of the situation. For centuries Britain +has ruled the seas, and been able to dictate to half the world in consequence; +then she let slip the mastery of the seas, as something too costly and +onerous to keep up, something which aroused too much jealousy and uneasiness +in others, and now the seas rule her. Every wave that breaks on +her shore rattles the keys of her prison. I am no fire-eater, +Herr Rebinok, but I confess that when I am at Dover, say, or Southampton, +and see those dark blots on the sea and those grey specks in the sky, +our battleships and cruisers and aircraft, and realise what they mean +to us my heart beats just a little quicker. If every German was +flung out of England to-morrow, in three weeks’ time we should +be coming in again on our own terms. With our sea scouts and air +scouts spread in organised network around, not a shipload of foodstuff +could reach the country. They know that; they can calculate how +many days of independence and starvation they could endure, and they +will make no attempt to bring about such a certain fiasco. Brave +men fight for a forlorn hope, but the bravest do not fight for an issue +they know to be hopeless.”</p> +<p>“That is so,” said Herr Rebinok, “as things are +at present they can do nothing from within, absolutely nothing. +We have weighed all that beforehand. But, as the <i>Germania</i> +points out, there is another Britain beyond the seas. Supposing +the Court at Delhi were to engineer a league—”</p> +<p>“A league? A league with whom?” interrupted the +statesman. “Russia we can watch and hold. We are rather +nearer to its western frontier than Delhi is, and we could throttle +its Baltic trade at five hours’ notice. France and Holland +are not inclined to provoke our hostility; they would have everything +to lose by such a course.”</p> +<p>“There are other forces in the world that might be arrayed +against us,” argued the banker; “the United States, Japan, +Italy, they all have navies.”</p> +<p>“Does the teaching of history show you that it is the strong +Power, armed and ready, that has to suffer from the hostility of the +world?” asked von Kwarl. “As far as sentiment goes, +perhaps, but not in practice. The danger has always been for the +weak, dismembered nation. Think you a moment, has the enfeebled +scattered British Empire overseas no undefended territories that are +a temptation to her neighbours? Has Japan nothing to glean where +we have harvested? Are there no North American possessions which +might slip into other keeping? Has Russia herself no traditional +temptations beyond the Oxus? Mind you, we are not making the mistake +Napoleon made, when he forced all Europe to be for him or against him. +We threaten no world aggressions, we are satiated where he was insatiable. +We have cast down one overshadowing Power from the face of the world, +because it stood in our way, but we have made no attempt to spread our +branches over all the space that it covered. We have not tried +to set up a tributary Canadian republic or to partition South Africa; +we have dreamed no dream of making ourselves Lords of Hindostan. +On the contrary, we have given proof of our friendly intentions towards +our neighbours. We backed France up the other day in her squabble +with Spain over the Moroccan boundaries, and proclaimed our opinion +that the Republic had as indisputable a mission on the North Africa +coast as we have in the North Sea. That is not the action or the +language of aggression. No,” continued von Kwarl, after +a moment’s silence, “the world may fear us and dislike us, +but, for the present at any rate, there will be no leagues against us. +No, there is one rock on which our attempt at assimilation will founder +or find firm anchorage.”</p> +<p>“And that is—?”</p> +<p>“The youth of the country, the generation that is at the threshold +now. It is them that we must capture. We must teach them +to learn, and coax them to forget. In course of time Anglo-Saxon +may blend with German, as the Elbe Saxons and the Bavarians and Swabians +have blended with the Prussians into a loyal united people under the +sceptre of the Hohenzollerns. Then we should be doubly strong, +Rome and Carthage rolled into one, an Empire of the West greater than +Charlemagne ever knew. Then we could look Slav and Latin and Asiatic +in the face and keep our place as the central dominant force of the +civilised world.”</p> +<p>The speaker paused for a moment and drank a deep draught of wine, +as though he were invoking the prosperity of that future world-power. +Then he resumed in a more level tone:</p> +<p>“On the other hand, the younger generation of Britons may grow +up in hereditary hatred, repulsing all our overtures, forgetting nothing +and forgiving nothing, waiting and watching for the time when some weakness +assails us, when some crisis entangles us, when we cannot be everywhere +at once. Then our work will be imperilled, perhaps undone. +There lies the danger, there lies the hope, the younger generation.”</p> +<p>“There is another danger,” said the banker, after he +had pondered over von Kwarl’s remarks for a moment or two amid +the incense-clouds of a fat cigar; “a danger that I foresee in +the immediate future; perhaps not so much a danger as an element of +exasperation which may ultimately defeat your plans. The law as +to military service will have to be promulgated shortly, and that cannot +fail to be bitterly unpopular. The people of these islands will +have to be brought into line with the rest of the Empire in the matter +of military training and military service, and how will they like that? +Will not the enforcing of such a measure enfuriate them against us? +Remember, they have made great sacrifices to avoid the burden of military +service.”</p> +<p>“Dear God,” exclaimed Herr von Kwarl, “as you say, +they have made sacrifices on that altar!”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII: THE LURE</h2> +<p>Cicely had successfully insisted on having her own way concerning +the projected supper-party; Yeovil had said nothing further in opposition +to it, whatever his feelings on the subject might be. Having gained +her point, however, she was anxious to give her husband the impression +of having been consulted, and to put her victory as far as possible +on the footing of a compromise. It was also rather a relief to +be able to discuss the matter out of range of Joan’s disconcerting +tongue and observant eyes.</p> +<p>“I hope you are not really annoyed about this silly supper-party,” +she said on the morning before the much-talked-of first night. +“I had pledged myself to give it, so I couldn’t back out +without seeming mean to Gorla, and in any case it would have been impolitic +to cry off.”</p> +<p>“Why impolitic?” asked Yeovil coldly.</p> +<p>“It would give offence in quarters where I don’t want +to give offence,” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“In quarters where the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i> is an object +of solicitude,” said Yeovil.</p> +<p>“Look here,” said Cicely in her most disarming manner, +“it’s just as well to be perfectly frank about the whole +matter. If one wants to live in the London of the present day +one must make up one’s mind to accept the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i> +with as good a grace as possible. I do want to live in London, +and I don’t want to change my way of living and start under different +conditions in some other place. I can’t face the prospect +of tearing up my life by the roots; I feel certain that I shouldn’t +bear transplanting. I can’t imagine myself recreating my +circle of interests in some foreign town or colonial centre or even +in a country town in England. India I couldn’t stand. +London is not merely a home to me, it is a world, and it happens to +be just the world that suits me and that I am suited to. The German +occupation, or whatever one likes to call it, is a calamity, but it’s +not like a molten deluge from Vesuvius that need send us all scuttling +away from another Pompeii. Of course,” she added, “there +are things that jar horribly on one, even when one has got more or less +accustomed to them, but one must just learn to be philosophical and +bear them.”</p> +<p>“Supposing they are not bearable?” said Yeovil; “during +the few days that I’ve been in the land I’ve seen things +that I cannot imagine will ever be bearable.”</p> +<p>“That is because they’re new to you,” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“I don’t wish that they should ever come to seem bearable,” +retorted Yeovil. “I’ve been bred and reared as a unit +of a ruling race; I don’t want to find myself settling down resignedly +as a member of an enslaved one.”</p> +<p>“There’s no need to make things out worse than they are,” +protested Cicely. “We’ve had a military disaster on +a big scale, and there’s been a great political dislocation in +consequence. But there’s no reason why everything shouldn’t +right itself in time, as it has done after other similar disasters in +the history of nations. We are not scattered to the winds or wiped +off the face of the earth, we are still an important racial unit.”</p> +<p>“A racial unit in a foreign Empire,” commented Yeovil.</p> +<p>“We may arrive at the position of being the dominant factor +in that Empire,” said Cicely, “impressing our national characteristics +on it, and perhaps dictating its dynastic future and the whole trend +of its policy. Such things have happened in history. Or +we may become strong enough to throw off the foreign connection at a +moment when it can be done effectually and advantageously. But +meanwhile it is necessary to preserve our industrial life and our social +life, and for that reason we must accommodate ourselves to present circumstances, +however distasteful they may be. Emigration to some colonial wilderness, +or holding ourselves rigidly aloof from the life of the capital, won’t +help matters. Really, Murrey, if you will think things over a +bit, you will see that the course I am following is the one dictated +by sane patriotism.”</p> +<p>“Whom the gods wish to render harmless they first afflict with +sanity,” said Yeovil bitterly. “You may be content +to wait for a hundred years or so, for this national revival to creep +and crawl us back into a semblance of independence and world-importance. +I’m afraid I haven’t the patience or the philosophy to sit +down comfortably and wait for a change of fortune that won’t come +in my time—if it comes at all.”</p> +<p>Cicely changed the drift of the conversation; she had only introduced +the argument for the purpose of defining her point of view and accustoming +Yeovil to it, as one leads a nervous horse up to an unfamiliar barrier +that he is required eventually to jump.</p> +<p>“In any case,” she said, “from the immediately +practical standpoint England is the best place for you till you have +shaken off all traces of that fever. Pass the time away somehow +till the hunting begins, and then go down to the East Wessex country; +they are looking out for a new master after this season, and if you +were strong enough you might take it on for a while. You could +go to Norway for fishing in the summer and hunt the East Wessex in the +winter. I’ll come down and do a bit of hunting too, and +we’ll have house-parties, and get a little golf in between whiles. +It will be like old times.”</p> +<p>Yeovil looked at his wife and laughed.</p> +<p>“Who was that old fellow who used to hunt his hounds regularly +through the fiercest times of the great Civil War? There is a +picture of him, by Caton Woodville, I think, leading his pack between +King Charles’s army and the Parliament forces just as some battle +was going to begin. I have often thought that the King must have +disliked him rather more than he disliked the men who were in arms against +him; they at least cared, one way or the other. I fancy that old +chap would have a great many imitators nowadays, though, when it came +to be a question of sport against soldiering. I don’t know +whether anyone has said it, but one might almost assert that the German +victory was won on the golf-links of Britain.”</p> +<p>“I don’t see why you should saddle one particular form +of sport with a special responsibility,” protested Cicely.</p> +<p>“Of course not,” said Yeovil, “except that it absorbed +perhaps more of the energy and attention of the leisured class than +other sports did, and in this country the leisured class was the only +bulwark we had against official indifference. The working classes +had a big share of the apathy, and, indirectly, a greater share of the +responsibility, because the voting power was in their hands. They +had not the leisure, however, to sit down and think clearly what the +danger was; their own industrial warfare was more real to them than +anything that was threatening from the nation that they only knew from +samples of German clerks and German waiters.”</p> +<p>“In any case,” said Cicely, “as regards the hunting, +there is no Civil War or national war raging just now, and there is +no immediate likelihood of one. A good many hunting seasons will +have to come and go before we can think of a war of independence as +even a distant possibility, and in the meantime hunting and horse-breeding +and country sports generally are the things most likely to keep Englishmen +together on the land. That is why so many men who hate the German +occupation are trying to keep field sports alive, and in the right hands. +However, I won’t go on arguing. You and I always think things +out for ourselves and decide for ourselves, which is much the best way +in the long run.”</p> +<p>Cicely slipped away to her writing-room to make final arrangements +over the telephone for the all-important supper-party, leaving Yeovil +to turn over in his mind the suggestion that she had thrown out. +It was an obvious lure, a lure to draw him away from the fret and fury +that possessed him so inconveniently, but its obvious nature did not +detract from its effectiveness. Yeovil had pleasant recollections +of the East Wessex, a cheery little hunt that afforded good sport in +an unpretentious manner, a joyous thread of life running through a rather +sleepy countryside, like a merry brook careering through a placid valley. +For a man coming slowly and yet eagerly back to the activities of life +from the weariness of a long fever, the prospect of a leisurely season +with the East Wessex was singularly attractive, and side by side with +its attractiveness there was a tempting argument in favour of yielding +to its attractions. Among the small squires and yeoman farmers, +doctors, country tradesmen, auctioneers and so forth who would gather +at the covert-side and at the hunt breakfasts, there might be a local +nucleus of revolt against the enslavement of the land, a discouraged +and leaderless band waiting for some one to mould their resistance into +effective shape and keep their loyalty to the old dynasty and the old +national cause steadily burning. Yeovil could see himself taking +up that position, stimulating the spirit of hostility to the <i>fait</i> +<i>accompli</i>, organising stubborn opposition to every Germanising +influence that was brought into play, schooling the youth of the countryside +to look steadily Delhiward. That was the bait that Yeovil threw +out to his conscience, while slowly considering the other bait that +was appealing so strongly to his senses. The dry warm scent of +the stable, the nip of the morning air, the pleasant squelch-squelch +of the saddle leather, the moist earthy fragrance of the autumn woods +and wet fallows, the cold white mists of winter days, the whimper of +hounds and the hot restless pushing of the pack through ditch and hedgerow +and undergrowth, the birds that flew up and clucked and chattered as +you passed, the hearty greeting and pleasant gossip in farmhouse kitchens +and market-day bar-parlours—all these remembered delights of the +chase marshalled themselves in the brain, and made a cumulative appeal +that came with special intensity to a man who was a little tired of +his wanderings, more than a little drawn away from the jarring centres +of life. The hot London sunshine baking the soot-grimed walls +and the ugly incessant hoot and grunt of the motor traffic gave an added +charm to the vision of hill and hollow and copse that flickered in Yeovil’s +mind. Slowly, with a sensuous lingering over detail, his imagination +carried him down to a small, sleepy, yet withal pleasantly bustling +market town, and placed him unerringly in a wide straw-littered yard, +half-full of men and quarter-full of horses, with a bob-tailed sheep-dog +or two trying not to get in everybody’s way, but insisting on +being in the thick of things. The horses gradually detached themselves +from the crowd of unimportant men and came one by one into momentary +prominence, to be discussed and appraised for their good points and +bad points, and finally to be bid for. And always there was one +horse that detached itself conspicuously from the rest, the ideal hunter, +or at any rate, Yeovil’s ideal of the ideal hunter. Mentally +it was put through its paces before him, its pedigree and brief history +recounted to him; mentally he saw a stable lad put it over a jump or +two, with credit to all concerned, and inevitably he saw himself outbidding +less discerning rivals and securing the desired piece of horseflesh, +to be the chief glory and mainstay of his hunting stable, to carry him +well and truly and cleverly through many a joyous long-to-be-remembered +run. That scene had been one of the recurring half-waking dreams +of his long days of weakness in the far-away Finnish nursing-home, a +dream sometimes of tantalising mockery, sometimes of pleasure in the +foretaste of a joy to come. And now it need scarcely be a dream +any longer, he had only to go down at the right moment and take an actual +part in his oft-rehearsed vision. Everything would be there, exactly +as his imagination had placed it, even down to the bob-tailed sheep-dogs; +the horse of his imagining would be there waiting for him, or if not +absolutely the ideal animal, something very like it. He might +even go beyond the limits of his dream and pick up a couple of desirable +animals—there would probably be fewer purchasers for good class +hunters in these days than of yore. And with the coming of this +reflection his dream faded suddenly and his mind came back with a throb +of pain to the things he had for the moment forgotten, the weary, hateful +things that were symbolised for him by the standard that floated yellow +and black over the frontage of Buckingham Palace.</p> +<p>Yeovil wandered down to his snuggery, a mood of listless dejection +possessing him. He fidgetted aimlessly with one or two books and +papers, filled a pipe, and half filled a waste-paper basket with torn +circulars and accumulated writing-table litter. Then he lit the +pipe and settled down in his most comfortable armchair with an old note-book +in his hand. It was a sort of disjointed diary, running fitfully +through the winter months of some past years, and recording noteworthy +days with the East Wessex.</p> +<p>And over the telephone Cicely talked and arranged and consulted with +men and women to whom the joys of a good gallop or the love of a stricken +fatherland were as letters in an unknown alphabet.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII: THE FIRST-NIGHT</h2> +<p>Huge posters outside the Caravansery Theatre of Varieties announced +the first performance of the uniquely interesting Suggestion Dances, +interpreted by the Hon. Gorla Mustelford. An impressionist portrait +of a rather severe-looking young woman gave the public some idea of +what the <i>danseuse</i> might be like in appearance, and the further +information was added that her performance was the greatest dramatic +event of the season. Yet another piece of information was conveyed +to the public a few minutes after the doors had opened, in the shape +of large notices bearing the brief announcement, “house full.” +For the first-night function most of the seats had been reserved for +specially-invited guests or else bespoken by those who considered it +due to their own importance to be visible on such an occasion.</p> +<p>Even at the commencement of the ordinary programme of the evening +(Gorla was not due to appear till late in the list) the theatre was +crowded with a throng of chattering, expectant human beings; it seemed +as though every one had come early to see every one else arrive. +As a matter of fact it was the rumour-heralded arrival of one personage +in particular that had drawn people early to their seats and given a +double edge to the expectancy of the moment.</p> +<p>At first sight and first hearing the bulk of the audience seemed +to comprise representatives of the chief European races in well-distributed +proportions, but if one gave it closer consideration it could be seen +that the distribution was geographically rather than ethnographically +diversified. Men and women there were from Paris, Munich, Rome, +Moscow and Vienna, from Sweden and Holland and divers other cities and +countries, but in the majority of cases the Jordan Valley had supplied +their forefathers with a common cradle-ground. The lack of a fire +burning on a national altar seemed to have drawn them by universal impulse +to the congenial flare of the footlights, whether as artists, producers, +impresarios, critics, agents, go-betweens, or merely as highly intelligent +and fearsomely well-informed spectators. They were prominent in +the chief seats, they were represented, more sparsely but still in fair +numbers, in the cheaper places, and everywhere they were voluble, emphatic, +sanguine or sceptical, prodigal of word and gesture, with eyes that +seemed to miss nothing and acknowledge nothing, and a general restless +dread of not being seen and noticed. Of the theatre-going London +public there was also a fair muster, more particularly centred in the +less expensive parts of the house, while in boxes, stalls and circles +a sprinkling of military uniforms gave an unfamiliar tone to the scene +in the eyes of those who had not previously witnessed a first-night +performance under the new conditions.</p> +<p>Yeovil, while standing aloof from his wife’s participation +in this social event, had made private arrangements for being a personal +spectator of the scene; as one of the ticket-buying public he had secured +a seat in the back row of a low-priced gallery, whence he might watch, +observant and unobserved, the much talked-of début of Gorla Mustelford, +and the writing of a new chapter in the history of the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i>. +Around him he noticed an incessant undercurrent of jangling laughter, +an unending give-and-take of meaningless mirthless jest and catchword. +He had noticed the same thing in streets and public places since his +arrival in London, a noisy, empty interchange of chaff and laughter +that he had been at a loss to account for. The Londoner is not +well adapted for the irresponsible noisiness of jesting tongue that +bubbles up naturally in a Southern race, and the effort to be volatile +was the more noticeable because it so obviously was an effort. +Turning over the pages of a book that told the story of Bulgarian social +life in the days of Turkish rule, Yeovil had that morning come across +a passage that seemed to throw some light on the thing that had puzzled +him:</p> +<p>“Bondage has this one advantage: it makes a nation merry. +Where far-reaching ambition has no scope for its development the community +squanders its energy on the trivial and personal cares of its daily +life, and seeks relief and recreation in simple and easily obtained +material enjoyment.” The writer was a man who had known +bondage, so he spoke at any rate with authority. Of the London +of the moment it could not, however, be said with any truth that it +was merry, but merely that its inhabitants made desperate endeavour +not to appear crushed under their catastrophe. Surrounded as he +was now with a babble of tongues and shrill mechanical repartee, Yeovil’s +mind went back to the book and its account of a theatre audience in +the Turkish days of Bulgaria, with its light and laughing crowd of critics +and spectators. Bulgaria! The thought of that determined +little nation came to him with a sharp sense of irony. There was +a people who had not thought it beneath the dignity of their manhood +to learn the trade and discipline of arms. They had their reward; +torn and exhausted and debt-encumbered from their campaigns, they were +masters in their own house, the Bulgarian flag flew over the Bulgarian +mountains. And Yeovil stole a glance at the crown of Charlemagne +set over the Royal box.</p> +<p>In a capacious box immediately opposite the one set aside for royalty +the Lady Shalem sat in well-considered prominence, confident that every +press critic and reporter would note her presence, and that one or two +of them would describe, or misdescribe, her toilet. Already quite +a considerable section of the audience knew her by name, and the frequency +with which she graciously nodded towards various quarters of the house +suggested the presence of a great many personal acquaintances. +She had attained to that desirable feminine altitude of purse and position +when people who go about everywhere know you well by sight and have +never met your dress before.</p> +<p>Lady Shalem was a woman of commanding presence, of that type which +suggests a consciousness that the command may not necessarily be obeyed; +she had observant eyes and a well-managed voice. Her successes +in life had been worked for, but they were also to some considerable +extent the result of accident. Her public history went back to +the time when, in the person of her husband, Mr. Conrad Dort, she had +contested two hopeless and very expensive Parliamentary elections on +behalf of her party; on each occasion the declaration of the poll had +shown a heavy though reduced majority on the wrong side, but she might +have perpetrated an apt misquotation of the French monarch’s traditional +message after the defeat of Pavia, and assured the world “all +is lost save honours.” The forthcoming Honours List had +duly proclaimed the fact that Conrad Dort, Esquire, had entered Parliament +by another door as Baron Shalem, of Wireskiln, in the county of Suffolk. +Success had crowned the lady’s efforts as far as the achievement +of the title went, but her social ambitions seemed unlikely to make +further headway. The new Baron and his wife, their title and money +notwithstanding, did not “go down” in their particular segment +of county society, and in London there were other titles and incomes +to compete with. People were willing to worship the Golden Calf, +but allowed themselves a choice of altars. No one could justly +say that the Shalems were either oppressively vulgar or insufferably +bumptious; probably the chief reason for their lack of popularity was +their intense and obvious desire to be popular. They kept open +house in such an insistently open manner that they created a social +draught. The people who accepted their invitations for the second +or third time were not the sort of people whose names gave importance +to a dinner party or a house gathering. Failure, in a thinly-disguised +form, attended the assiduous efforts of the Shalems to play a leading +rôle in the world that they had climbed into. The Baron +began to observe to his acquaintances that “gadding about” +and entertaining on a big scale was not much in his line; a quiet after-dinner +pipe and talk with some brother legislator was his ideal way of spending +an evening.</p> +<p>Then came the great catastrophe, involving the old order of society +in the national overthrow. Lady Shalem, after a decent interval +of patriotic mourning, began to look around her and take stock of her +chances and opportunities under the new régime. It was +easier to achieve distinction as a titled oasis in the social desert +that London had become than it had been to obtain recognition as a new +growth in a rather overcrowded field. The observant eyes and agile +brain quickly noted this circumstance, and her ladyship set to work +to adapt herself to the altered conditions that governed her world. +Lord Shalem was one of the few Peers who kissed the hand of the new +Sovereign, his wife was one of the few hostesses who attempted to throw +a semblance of gaiety and lavish elegance over the travesty of a London +season following the year of disaster. The world of tradesmen +and purveyors and caterers, and the thousands who were dependent on +them for employment, privately blessed the example set by Shalem House, +whatever their feelings might be towards the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i>, +and the august newcomer who had added an old Saxon kingdom and some +of its accretions to the Teutonic realm of Charlemagne was duly beholden +to an acquired subject who was willing to forget the bitterness of defeat +and to help others to forget it also. Among other acts of Imperial +recognition an earldom was being held in readiness for the Baron who +had known how to accept accomplished facts with a good grace. +One of the wits of the Cockatrice Club had asserted that the new earl +would take as supporters for his coat of arms a lion and a unicorn oublié.</p> +<p>In the box with Lady Shalem was the Gräfin von Tolb, a well-dressed +woman of some fifty-six years, comfortable and placid in appearance, +yet alert withal, rather suggesting a thoroughly wide-awake dormouse. +Rich, amiable and intelligent were the adjectives which would best have +described her character and her life-story. In her own rather +difficult social circle at Paderborn she had earned for herself the +reputation of being one of the most tactful and discerning hostesses +in Germany, and it was generally suspected that she had come over and +taken up her residence in London in response to a wish expressed in +high quarters; the lavish hospitality which she dispensed at her house +in Berkeley Square was a considerable reinforcement to the stricken +social life of the metropolis.</p> +<p>In a neighbouring box Cicely Yeovil presided over a large and lively +party, which of course included Ronnie Storre, who was for once in a +way in a chattering mood, and also included an American dowager, who +had never been known to be in anything else. A tone of literary +distinction was imparted to the group by the presence of Augusta Smith, +better known under her pen-name of Rhapsodic Pantril, author of a play +that had had a limited but well-advertised success in Sheffield and +the United States of America, author also of a book of reminiscences, +entitled “Things I Cannot Forget.” She had beautiful +eyes, a knowledge of how to dress, and a pleasant disposition, cankered +just a little by a perpetual dread of the non-recognition of her genius. +As the woman, Augusta Smith, she probably would have been unreservedly +happy; as the super-woman, Rhapsodic Pantril, she lived within the border-line +of discontent. Her most ordinary remarks were framed with the +view of arresting attention; some one once said of her that she ordered +a sack of potatoes with the air of one who is making enquiry for a love-philtre.</p> +<p>“Do you see what colour the curtain is?” she asked Cicely, +throwing a note of intense meaning into her question.</p> +<p>Cicely turned quickly and looked at the drop-curtain.</p> +<p>“Rather a nice blue,” she said.</p> +<p>“Alexandrine blue—<i>my</i> colour—the colour of +hope,” said Rhapsodie impressively.</p> +<p>“It goes well with the general colour-scheme,” said Cicely, +feeling that she was hardly rising to the occasion.</p> +<p>“Say, is it really true that His Majesty is coming?” +asked the lively American dowager. “I’ve put on my +nooest frock and my best diamonds on purpose, and I shall be mortified +to death if he doesn’t see them.”</p> +<p>“There!” pouted Ronnie, “I felt certain you’d +put them on for me.”</p> +<p>“Why no, I should have put on rubies and orange opals for you. +People with our colour of hair always like barbaric display—”</p> +<p>“They don’t,” said Ronnie, “they have chaste +cold tastes. You are absolutely mistaken.”</p> +<p>“Well, I think I ought to know!” protested the dowager; +“I’ve lived longer in the world than you have, anyway.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Ronnie with devastating truthfulness, “but +my hair has been this colour longer than yours has.”</p> +<p>Peace was restored by the opportune arrival of a middle-aged man +of blond North-German type, with an expression of brutality on his rather +stupid face, who sat in the front of the box for a few minutes on a +visit of ceremony to Cicely. His appearance caused a slight buzz +of recognition among the audience, and if Yeovil had cared to make enquiry +of his neighbours he might have learned that this decorated and obviously +important personage was the redoubtable von Kwarl, artificer and shaper +of much of the statecraft for which other men got the public credit.</p> +<p>The orchestra played a selection from the “Gondola Girl,” +which was the leading musical-comedy of the moment. Most of the +audience, those in the more expensive seats at any rate, heard the same +airs two or three times daily, at restaurant lunches, teas, dinners +and suppers, and occasionally in the Park; they were justified therefore +in treating the music as a background to slightly louder conversation +than they had hitherto indulged in. The music came to an end, +episode number two in the evening’s entertainment was signalled, +the curtain of Alexandrine blue rolled heavily upward, and a troupe +of performing wolves was presented to the public. Yeovil had encountered +wolves in North Africa deserts and in Siberian forest and wold, he had +seen them at twilight stealing like dark shadows across the snow, and +heard their long whimpering howl in the darkness amid the pines; he +could well understand how a magic lore had grown up round them through +the ages among the peoples of four continents, how their name had passed +into a hundred strange sayings and inspired a hundred traditions. +And now he saw them ride round the stage on tricycles, with grotesque +ruffles round their necks and clown caps on their heads, their eyes +blinking miserably in the blaze of the footlights. In response +to the applause of the house a stout, atrociously smiling man in evening +dress came forward and bowed; he had had nothing to do either with the +capture or the training of the animals, having bought them ready for +use from a continental emporium where wild beasts were prepared for +the music-hall market, but he continued bowing and smiling till the +curtain fell.</p> +<p>Two American musicians with comic tendencies (denoted by the elaborate +rags and tatters of their costumes) succeeded the wolves. Their +musical performance was not without merit, but their comic “business” +seemed to have been invented long ago by some man who had patented a +monopoly of all music-hall humour and forthwith retired from the trade. +Some day, Yeovil reflected, the rights of the monopoly might expire +and new “business” become available for the knockabout profession.</p> +<p>The audience brightened considerably when item number five of the +programme was signalled. The orchestra struck up a rollicking +measure and Tony Luton made his entrance amid a rousing storm of applause. +He was dressed as an errand-boy of some West End shop, with a livery +and box-tricycle, as spruce and decorative as the most ambitious errand-boy +could see himself in his most ambitious dreams. His song was a +lively and very audacious chronicle of life behind the scenes of a big +retail establishment, and sparkled with allusions which might fitly +have been described as suggestive—at any rate they appeared to +suggest meanings to the audience quite as clearly as Gorla Mustelford’s +dances were likely to do, even with the aid, in her case, of long explanations +on the programmes. When the final verse seemed about to reach +an unpardonable climax a stage policeman opportunely appeared and moved +the lively songster on for obstructing the imaginary traffic of an imaginary +Bond Street. The house received the new number with genial enthusiasm, +and mingled its applause with demands for an earlier favourite. +The orchestra struck up the familiar air, and in a few moments the smart +errand-boy, transformed now into a smart jockey, was singing “They +quaff the gay bubbly in Eccleston Square” to an audience that +hummed and nodded its unstinted approval.</p> +<p>The next number but one was the Gorla Mustelford début, and +the house settled itself down to yawn and fidget and chatter for ten +or twelve minutes while a troupe of talented Japanese jugglers performed +some artistic and quite uninteresting marvels with fans and butterflies +and lacquer boxes. The interval of waiting was not destined, however, +to be without its interest; in its way it provided the one really important +and dramatic moment of the evening. One or two uniforms and evening +toilettes had already made their appearance in the Imperial box; now +there was observable in that quarter a slight commotion, an unobtrusive +reshuffling and reseating, and then every eye in the suddenly quiet +semi-darkened house focussed itself on one figure. There was no +public demonstration from the newly-loyal, it had been particularly +wished that there should be none, but a ripple of whisper went through +the vast audience from end to end. Majesty had arrived. +The Japanese marvel-workers went through their display with even less +attention than before. Lady Shalem, sitting well in the front +of her box, lowered her observant eyes to her programme and her massive +bangles. The evidence of her triumph did not need staring at.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX: AN EVENING “TO BE REMEMBERED”</h2> +<p>To the uninitiated or unappreciative the dancing of Gorla Mustelford +did not seem widely different from much that had been exhibited aforetime +by exponents of the posturing school. She was not naturally graceful +of movement, she had not undergone years of arduous tutelage, she had +not the instinct for sheer joyous energy of action that is stored in +some natures; out of these unpromising negative qualities she had produced +a style of dancing that might best be labelled a conscientious departure +from accepted methods. The highly imaginative titles that she +had bestowed on her dances, the “Life of a fern,” the “Soul-dream +of a topaz,” and so forth, at least gave her audience and her +critics something to talk about. In themselves they meant absolutely +nothing, but they induced discussion, and that to Gorla meant a great +deal. It was a season of dearth and emptiness in the footlights +and box-office world, and her performance received a welcome that would +scarcely have befallen it in a more crowded and prosperous day. +Her success, indeed, had been waiting for her, ready-made, as far as +the managerial profession was concerned, and nothing had been left undone +in the way of advertisement to secure for it the appearance, at any +rate, of popular favour. And loud above the interested applause +of those who had personal or business motives for acclaiming a success +swelled the exaggerated enthusiasm of the fairly numerous art-satellites +who are unstinted in their praise of anything that they are certain +they cannot understand. Whatever might be the subsequent verdict +of the theatre-filling public the majority of the favoured first-night +audience was determined to set the seal of its approval on the suggestion +dances, and a steady roll of applause greeted the conclusion of each +item. The dancer gravely bowed her thanks; in marked contradistinction +to the gentleman who had “presented” the performing wolves +she did not permit herself the luxury of a smile.</p> +<p>“It teaches us a great deal,” said Rhapsodic Pantril +vaguely, but impressively, after the Fern dance had been given and applauded.</p> +<p>“At any rate we know now that a fern takes life very seriously,” +broke in Joan Mardle, who had somehow wriggled herself into Cicely’s +box.</p> +<p>As Yeovil, from the back of his gallery, watched Gorla running and +ricochetting about the stage, looking rather like a wagtail in energetic +pursuit of invisible gnats and midges, he wondered how many of the middle-aged +women who were eagerly applauding her would have taken the least notice +of similar gymnastics on the part of their offspring in nursery or garden, +beyond perhaps asking them not to make so much noise. And a bitterer +tinge came to his thoughts as he saw the bouquets being handed up, thoughts +of the brave old dowager down at Torywood, the woman who had worked +and wrought so hard and so unsparingly in her day for the well-being +of the State—the State that had fallen helpless into alien hands +before her tired eyes. Her eldest son lived invalid-wise in the +South of France, her second son lay fathoms deep in the North Sea, with +the hulk of a broken battleship for a burial-vault; and now the grand-daughter +was standing here in the limelight, bowing her thanks for the patronage +and favour meted out to her by this cosmopolitan company, with its lavish +sprinkling of the uniforms of an alien army.</p> +<p>Prominent among the flowers at her feet was one large golden-petalled +bouquet of gorgeous blooms, tied with a broad streamer of golden riband, +the tribute rendered by Cæsar to the things that were Cæsar’s. +The new chapter of the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i> had been written +that night and written well. The audience poured slowly out with +the triumphant music of Jancovius’s <i>Kaiser</i> <i>Wilhelm</i> +march, played by the orchestra as a happy inspiration, pealing in its +ears.</p> +<p>“It has been a great evening, a most successful evening,” +said Lady Shalem to Herr von Kwarl, whom she was conveying in her electric +brougham to Cicely Yeovil’s supper party; “an important +evening,” she added, choosing her adjectives with deliberation. +“It should give pleasure in high quarters, should it not?”</p> +<p>And she turned her observant eyes on the impassive face of her companion.</p> +<p>“Gracious lady,” he replied with deliberation and meaning, +“it has given pleasure. It is an evening to be remembered.”</p> +<p>The gracious lady suppressed a sigh of satisfaction. Memory +in high places was a thing fruitful and precious beyond computation.</p> +<p>Cicely’s party at the Porphyry Restaurant had grown to imposing +dimensions. Every one whom she had asked had come, and so had +Joan Mardle. Lady Shalem had suggested several names at the last +moment, and there was quite a strong infusion of the Teutonic military +and official world. It was just as well, Cicely reflected, that +the supper was being given at a restaurant and not in Berkshire Street.</p> +<p>“Quite like ole times,” purred the beaming proprietor +in Cicely’s ear, as the staircase and cloak-rooms filled up with +a jostling, laughing throng.</p> +<p>The guests settled themselves at four tables, taking their places +where chance or fancy led them, late comers having to fit in wherever +they could find room. A babel of tongues in various languages +reigned round the tables, amid which the rattle of knives and forks +and plates and the popping of corks made a subdued hubbub. Gorla +Mustelford, the motive for all this sound and movement, this chatter +of guests and scurrying of waiters, sat motionless in the fatigued self-conscious +silence of a great artist who has delivered a great message.</p> +<p>“Do sit at Lady Peach’s table, like a dear boy,” +Cicely begged of Tony Luton, who had come in late; “she and Gerald +Drowly have got together, in spite of all my efforts, and they are both +so dull. Try and liven things up a bit.”</p> +<p>A loud barking sound, as of fur-seals calling across Arctic ice, +came from another table, where Mrs. Mentieth-Mendlesohnn (one of the +Mendlesohnns of Invergordon, as she was wont to describe herself) was +proclaiming the glories and subtleties of Gorla’s achievement.</p> +<p>“It was a revelation,” she shouted; “I sat there +and saw a whole new scheme of thought unfold itself before my eyes. +One could not define it, it was thought translated into action—the +best art cannot be defined. One just sat there and knew that one +was seeing something one had never seen before, and yet one felt that +one had seen it, in one’s brain, all one’s life. That +was what was so wonderful—yes, please,” she broke off sharply +as a fat quail in aspic was presented to her by a questioning waiter.</p> +<p>The voice of Mr. Mauleverer Morle came across the table, like another +seal barking at a greater distance.</p> +<p>“Rostand,” he observed with studied emphasis, “has +been called <i>le</i> <i>Prince</i> <i>de</i> <i>l’adjectif</i> +<i>Inopinè</i>; Miss Mustelford deserves to be described as the +Queen of Unexpected Movement.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I say, do you hear that?” exclaimed Mrs. Mentieth-Mendlesohnn +to as wide an audience as she could achieve; “Rostand has been +called—tell them what you said, Mr. Morle,” she broke off, +suddenly mistrusting her ability to handle a French sentence at the +top of her voice.</p> +<p>Mr. Morle repeated his remark.</p> +<p>“Pass it on to the next table,” commanded Mrs. Mentieth-Mendlesohnn. +“It’s too good to be lost.”</p> +<p>At the next table however, a grave impressive voice was dwelling +at length on a topic remote from the event of the evening. Lady +Peach considered that all social gatherings, of whatever nature, were +intended for the recital of minor domestic tragedies. She lost +no time in regaling the company around her with the detailed history +of an interrupted week-end in a Norfolk cottage.</p> +<p>“The most charming and delightful old-world spot that you could +imagine, clean and quite comfortable, just a nice distance from the +sea and within an easy walk of the Broads. The very place for +the children. We’d brought everything for a four days’ +stay and meant to have a really delightful time. And then on Sunday +morning we found that some one had left the springhead, where our only +supply of drinking water came from, uncovered, and a dead bird was floating +in it; it had fallen in somehow and got drowned. Of course we +couldn’t use the water that a dead body had been floating in, +and there was no other supply for miles round, so we had to come away +then and there. Now what do you say to that?”</p> +<p>“‘Ah, that a linnet should die in the Spring,’” +quoted Tony Luton with intense feeling.</p> +<p>There was an immediate outburst of hilarity where Lady Peach had +confidently looked for expressions of concern and sympathy.</p> +<p>“Isn’t Tony just perfectly cute? Isn’t he?” +exclaimed a young American woman, with an enthusiasm to which Lady Peach +entirely failed to respond. She had intended following up her +story with the account of another tragedy of a similar nature that had +befallen her three years ago in Argyllshire, and now the opportunity +had gone. She turned morosely to the consolations of a tongue +salad.</p> +<p>At the centre table the excellent von Tolb led a chorus of congratulation +and compliment, to which Gorla listened with an air of polite detachment, +much as the Sheikh Ul Islam might receive the homage of a Wesleyan Conference. +To a close observer it would have seemed probable that her attitude +of fatigued indifference to the flattering remarks that were showered +on her had been as carefully studied and rehearsed as any of her postures +on the stage.</p> +<p>“It is something that one will appreciate more and more fully +every time one sees it . . . One cannot see it too often . . . I could +have sat and watched it for hours . . . Do you know, I am just looking +forward to to-morrow evening, when I can see it again. . . . I +knew it was going to be good, but I had no idea—” so chimed +the chorus, between mouthfuls of quail and bites of asparagus.</p> +<p>“Weren’t the performing wolves wonderful?” exclaimed +Joan in her fresh joyous voice, that rang round the room like laughter +of the woodpecker.</p> +<p>If there is one thing that disturbs the complacency of a great artist +of the Halls it is the consciousness of sharing his or her triumphs +with performing birds and animals, but of course Joan was not to be +expected to know that. She pursued her subject with the assurance +of one who has hit on a particularly acceptable topic.</p> +<p>“It must have taken them years of training and concentration +to master those tricycles,” she continued in high-pitched soliloquy. +“The nice thing about them is that they don’t realise a +bit how clever and educational they are. It would be dreadful +to have them putting on airs, wouldn’t it? And yet I suppose +the knowledge of being able to jump through a hoop better than any other +wolf would justify a certain amount of ‘side.’”</p> +<p>Fortunately at this moment a young Italian journalist at another +table rose from his seat and delivered a two-minute oration in praise +of the heroine of the evening. He spoke in rapid nervous French, +with a North Italian accent, but much of what he said could be understood +by the majority of those present, and the applause was unanimous. +At any rate he had been brief and it was permissible to suppose that +he had been witty.</p> +<p>It was the opening for which Mr. Gerald Drowly had been watching +and waiting. The moment that the Italian enthusiast had dropped +back into his seat amid a rattle of hand-clapping and rapping of forks +and knives on the tables, Drowly sprang to his feet, pushed his chair +well away, as for a long separation, and begged to endorse what had +been so very aptly and gracefully, and, might he add, truly said by +the previous speaker. This was only the prelude to the real burden +of his message; with the dexterity that comes of practice he managed, +in a couple of hurried sentences, to divert the course of his remarks +to his own personality and career, and to inform his listeners that +he was an actor of some note and experience, and had had the honour +of acting under—and here followed a string of names of eminent +actor managers of the day. He thought he might be pardoned for +mentioning the fact that his performance of “Peterkin” in +the “Broken Nutshell,” had won the unstinted approval of +the dramatic critics of the Provincial press. Towards the end +of what was a long speech, and which seemed even longer to its hearers, +he reverted to the subject of Gorla’s dancing and bestowed on +it such laudatory remarks as he had left over. Drawing his chair +once again into his immediate neighbourhood he sat down, aglow with +the satisfied consciousness of a good work worthily performed.</p> +<p>“I once acted a small part in some theatricals got up for a +charity,” announced Joan in a ringing, confidential voice; “the +<i>Clapham</i> <i>Courier</i> said that all the minor parts were very +creditably sustained. Those were its very words. I felt +I must tell you that, and also say how much I enjoyed Miss Mustelford’s +dancing.”</p> +<p>Tony Luton cheered wildly.</p> +<p>“That’s the cleverest speech so far,” he proclaimed. +He had been asked to liven things up at his table and was doing his +best to achieve that result, but Mr. Gerald Drowly joined Lady Peach +in the unfavourable opinion she had formed of that irrepressible youth.</p> +<p>Ronnie, on whom Cicely kept a solicitous eye, showed no sign of any +intention of falling in love with Gorla. He was more profitably +engaged in paying court to the Gräfin von Tolb, whose hospitable +mansion in Belgrave Square invested her with a special interest in his +eyes. As a professional Prince Charming he had every inducement +to encourage the cult of Fairy Godmother.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, agreed, I will come and hear you play, that is a +promise,” said the Gräfin, “and you must come and dine +with me one night and play to me afterwards, that is a promise, also, +yes? That is very nice of you, to come and see a tiresome old +woman. I am passionately fond of music; if I were honest I would +tell you also that I am very fond of good-looking boys, but this is +not the age of honesty, so I must leave you to guess that. Come +on Thursday in next week, you can? That is nice. I have +a reigning Prince dining with me that night. Poor man, he wants +cheering up; the art of being a reigning Prince is not a very pleasing +one nowadays. He has made it a boast all his life that he is Liberal +and his subjects Conservative; now that is all changed—no, not +all; he is still Liberal, but his subjects unfortunately are become +Socialists. You must play your best for him.”</p> +<p>“Are there many Socialists over there, in Germany I mean?” +asked Ronnie, who was rather out of his depth where politics were concerned.</p> +<p>“<i>Ueberall</i>,” said the Gräfin with emphasis; +“everywhere, I don’t know what it comes from; better education +and worse digestions I suppose. I am sure digestion has a good +deal to do with it. In my husband’s family for example, +his generation had excellent digestions, and there wasn’t a case +of Socialism or suicide among them; the younger generation have no digestions +worth speaking of, and there have been two suicides and three Socialists +within the last six years. And now I must really be going. +I am not a Berliner and late hours don’t suit my way of life.”</p> +<p>Ronnie bent low over the Gräfin’s hand and kissed it, +partly because she was the kind of woman who naturally invoked such +homage, but chiefly because he knew that the gesture showed off his +smooth burnished head to advantage.</p> +<p>The observant eyes of Lady Shalem had noted the animated conversation +between the Gräfin and Ronnie, and she had overheard fragments +of the invitation that had been accorded to the latter.</p> +<p>“Take us the little foxes, the little foxes that spoil the +vines,” she quoted to herself; “not that that music-boy +would do much in the destructive line, but the principle is good.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER X: SOME REFLECTIONS AND A “TE DEUM”</h2> +<p>Cicely awoke, on the morning after the “memorable evening,” +with the satisfactory feeling of victory achieved, tempered by a troubled +sense of having achieved it in the face of a reasonably grounded opposition. +She had burned her boats, and was glad of it, but the reek of their +burning drifted rather unpleasantly across the jubilant incense-swinging +of her <i>Te</i> <i>Deum</i> service.</p> +<p>Last night had marked an immense step forward in her social career; +without running after the patronage of influential personages she had +seen it quietly and tactfully put at her service. People such +as the Gräfin von Tolb were going to be a power in the London world +for a very long time to come. Herr von Kwarl, with all his useful +qualities of brain and temperament, might conceivably fall out of favour +in some unexpected turn of the political wheel, and the Shalems would +probably have their little day and then a long afternoon of diminishing +social importance; the placid dormouse-like Gräfin would outlast +them all. She had the qualities which make either for contented +mediocrity or else for very durable success, according as circumstances +may dictate. She was one of those characters that can neither +thrust themselves to the front, nor have any wish to do so, but being +there, no ordinary power can thrust them away.</p> +<p>With the Gräfin as her friend Cicely found herself in altogether +a different position from that involved by the mere interested patronage +of Lady Shalem. A vista of social success was opened up to her, +and she did not mean it to be just the ordinary success of a popular +and influential hostess moving in an important circle. That people +with naturally bad manners should have to be polite and considerate +in their dealings with her, that people who usually held themselves +aloof should have to be gracious and amiable, that the self-assured +should have to be just a little humble and anxious where she was concerned, +these things of course she intended to happen; she was a woman. +But, she told herself, she intended a great deal more than that when +she traced the pattern for her scheme of social influence. In +her heart she detested the German occupation as a hateful necessity, +but while her heart registered the hatefulness the brain recognised +the necessity. The great fighting-machines that the Germans had +built up and maintained, on land, on sea, and in air, were three solid +crushing facts that demonstrated the hopelessness of any immediate thought +of revolt. Twenty years hence, when the present generation was +older and greyer, the chances of armed revolt would probably be equally +hopeless, equally remote-seeming. But in the meantime something +could have been effected in another way. The conquerors might +partially Germanise London, but, on the other hand, if the thing were +skilfully managed, the British element within the Empire might impress +the mark of its influence on everything German. The fighting men +might remain Prussian or Bavarian, but the thinking men, and eventually +the ruling men, could gradually come under British influence, or even +be of British blood. An English Liberal-Conservative “Centre” +might stand as a bulwark against the Junkerdom and Socialism of Continental +Germany. So Cicely reasoned with herself, in a fashion induced +perhaps by an earlier apprenticeship to the reading of <i>Nineteenth</i> +<i>Century</i> articles, in which the possible political and racial +developments of various countries were examined and discussed and put +away in the pigeon-holes of probable happenings. She had sufficient +knowledge of political history to know that such a development might +possibly come to pass, she had not sufficient insight into actual conditions +to know that the possibility was as remote as that of armed resistance. +And the rôle which she saw herself playing was that of a deft +and courtly political intriguer, rallying the British element and making +herself agreeable to the German element, a political inspiration to +the one and a social distraction to the other. At the back of +her mind there lurked an honest confession that she was probably over-rating +her powers of statecraft and personality, that she was more likely to +be carried along by the current of events than to control or divert +its direction; the political day-dream remained, however, as day-dreams +will, in spite of the clear light of probability shining through them. +At any rate she knew, as usual, what she wanted to do, and as usual +she had taken steps to carry out her intentions. Last night remained +in her mind a night of important victory. There also remained +the anxious proceeding of finding out if the victory had entailed any +serious losses.</p> +<p>Cicely was not one of those ill-regulated people who treat the first +meal of the day as a convenient occasion for serving up any differences +or contentions that have been left over from the day before or overlooked +in the press of other matters. She enjoyed her breakfast and gave +Yeovil unhindered opportunity for enjoying his; a discussion as to the +right cooking of a dish that he had first tasted among the Orenburg +Tartars was the prevailing topic on this particular morning, and blended +well with trout and toast and coffee. In a cosy nook of the smoking-room, +in participation of the after-breakfast cigarettes, Cicely made her +dash into debatable ground.</p> +<p>“You haven’t asked me how my supper-party went off,” +she said.</p> +<p>“There is a notice of it in two of the morning papers, with +a list of those present,” said Yeovil; “the conquering race +seems to have been very well represented.”</p> +<p>“Several races were represented,” said Cicely; “a +function of that sort, celebrating a dramatic first-night, was bound +to be cosmopolitan. In fact, blending of races and nationalities +is the tendency of the age we live in.”</p> +<p>“The blending of races seems to have been consummated already +in one of the individuals at your party,” said Yeovil drily; “the +name Mentieth-Mendlesohnn struck me as a particularly happy obliteration +of racial landmarks.”</p> +<p>Cicely laughed.</p> +<p>“A noisy and very wearisome sort of woman,” she commented; +“she reminds one of garlic that’s been planted by mistake +in a conservatory. Still, she’s useful as an advertising +agent to any one who rubs her the right way. She’ll be invaluable +in proclaiming the merits of Gorla’s performance to all and sundry; +that’s why I invited her. She’ll probably lunch to-day +at the Hotel Cecil, and every one sitting within a hundred yards of +her table will hear what an emotional education they can get by going +to see Gorla dance at the Caravansery.”</p> +<p>“She seems to be like the Salvation Army,” said Yeovil; +“her noise reaches a class of people who wouldn’t trouble +to read press notices.”</p> +<p>“Exactly,” said Cicely. “Gorla gets quite +good notices on the whole, doesn’t she?”</p> +<p>“The one that took my fancy most was the one in the <i>Standard</i>,” +said Yeovil, picking up that paper from a table by his side and searching +its columns for the notice in question. “‘The wolves +which appeared earlier in the evening’s entertainment are, the +programme assures us, trained entirely by kindness. It would have +been a further kindness, at any rate to the audience, if some of the +training, which the wolves doubtless do not appreciate at its proper +value, had been expended on Miss Mustelford’s efforts at stage +dancing. We are assured, again on the authority of the programme, +that the much-talked-of Suggestion Dances are the last word in Posture +dancing. The last word belongs by immemorial right to the sex +which Miss Mustelford adorns, and it would be ungallant to seek to deprive +her of her privilege. As far as the educational aspect of her +performance is concerned we must admit that the life of the fern remains +to us a private life still. Miss Mustelford has abandoned her +own private life in an unavailing attempt to draw the fern into the +gaze of publicity. And so it was with her other suggestions. +They suggested many things, but nothing that was announced on the programme. +Chiefly they suggested one outstanding reflection, that stage-dancing +is not like those advertised breakfast foods that can be served up after +three minutes’ preparation. Half a life-time, or rather +half a youth-time is a much more satisfactory allowance.’”</p> +<p>“The <i>Standard</i> is prejudiced,” said Cicely; “some +of the other papers are quite enthusiastic. The <i>Dawn</i> gives +her a column and a quarter of notice, nearly all of it complimentary. +It says the report of her fame as a dancer went before her, but that +her performance last night caught it up and outstripped it.”</p> +<p>“I should not like to suggest that the <i>Dawn</i> is prejudiced,” +said Yeovil, “but Shalem is a managing director on it, and one +of its biggest shareholders. Gorla’s dancing is an event +of the social season, and Shalem is one of those most interested in +keeping up the appearance, at any rate, of a London social season. +Besides, her début gave the opportunity for an Imperial visit +to the theatre—the first appearance at a festive public function +of the Conqueror among the conquered. Apparently the experiment +passed off well; Shalem has every reason to feel pleased with himself +and well-disposed towards Gorla. By the way,” added Yeovil, +“talking of Gorla, I’m going down to Torywood one day next +week.”</p> +<p>“To Torywood?” exclaimed Cicely. The tone of her +exclamation gave the impression that the announcement was not very acceptable +to her.</p> +<p>“I promised the old lady that I would go and have a talk with +her when I came back from my Siberian trip; she travelled in eastern +Russia, you know, long before the Trans-Siberian railway was built, +and she’s enormously interested in those parts. In any case +I should like to see her again.”</p> +<p>“She does not see many people nowadays,” said Cicely; +“I fancy she is breaking up rather. She was very fond of +the son who went down, you know.”</p> +<p>“She has seen a great many of the things she cared for go down,” +said Yeovil; “it is a sad old life that is left to her, when one +thinks of all that the past has been to her, of the part she used to +play in the world, the work she used to get through. It used to +seem as though she could never grow old, as if she would die standing +up, with some unfinished command on her lips. And now I suppose +her tragedy is that she has grown old, bitterly old, and cannot die.”</p> +<p>Cicely was silent for a moment, and seemed about to leave the room. +Then she turned back and said:</p> +<p>“I don’t think I would say anything about Gorla to her +if I were you.”</p> +<p>“It would not have occurred to me to drag her name into our +conversation,” said Yeovil coldly, “but in any case the +accounts of her dancing performance will have reached Torywood through +the newspapers—also the record of your racially-blended supper-party.”</p> +<p>Cicely said nothing. She knew that by last night’s affair +she had definitely identified herself in public opinion with the Shalem +clique, and that many of her old friends would look on her with distrust +and suspicion on that account. It was unfortunate, but she reckoned +it a lesser evil than tearing herself away from her London life, its +successes and pleasures and possibilities. These social dislocations +and severing of friendships were to be looked for after any great and +violent change in State affairs. It was Yeovil’s attitude +that really troubled her; she would not give way to his prejudices and +accept his point of view, but she knew that a victory that involved +estrangement from him would only bring a mockery of happiness. +She still hoped that he would come round to an acceptance of established +facts and deaden his political <i>malaise</i> in the absorbing distraction +of field sports. The visit to Torywood was a misfortune; it might +just turn the balance in the undesired direction. Only a few weeks +of late summer and early autumn remained before the hunting season, +and its preparations would be at hand, and Yeovil might be caught in +the meshes of an old enthusiasm; in those few weeks, however, he might +be fired by another sort of enthusiasm, an enthusiasm which would sooner +or later mean voluntary or enforced exile for his part, and the probable +breaking up of her own social plans and ambitions.</p> +<p>But Cicely knew something of the futility of improvising objections +where no real obstacle exists. The visit to Torywood was a graceful +attention on Yeovil’s part to an old friend; there was no decent +ground on which it could be opposed. If the influence of that +visit came athwart Yeovil’s life and hers with disastrous effect, +that was “Kismet.”</p> +<p>And once again the reek from her burned and smouldering boats mingled +threateningly with the incense fumes of her <i>Te</i> <i>Deum</i> for +victory. She left the room, and Yeovil turned once more to an +item of news in the morning’s papers that had already arrested +his attention. The Imperial <i>Aufklärung</i> on the subject +of military service was to be made public in the course of the day.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI: THE TEA SHOP</h2> +<p>Yeovil wandered down Piccadilly that afternoon in a spirit of restlessness +and expectancy. The long-awaited <i>Aufklärung</i> dealing +with the new law of military service had not yet appeared; at any moment +he might meet the hoarse-throated newsboys running along with their +papers, announcing the special edition which would give the terms of +the edict to the public. Every sound or movement that detached +itself with isolated significance from the general whirr and scurry +of the streets seemed to Yeovil to herald the oncoming clamour and rush +that he was looking for. But the long endless succession of motors +and ’buses and vans went by, hooting and grunting, and such newsboys +as were to be seen hung about listlessly, bearing no more attractive +bait on their posters than the announcement of an “earthquake +shock in Hungary: feared loss of life.”</p> +<p>The Green Park end of Piccadilly was a changed, and in some respects +a livelier thoroughfare to that which Yeovil remembered with affectionate +regret. A great political club had migrated from its palatial +home to a shrunken habitation in a less prosperous quarter; its place +was filled by the flamboyant frontage of the Hotel Konstantinopel. +Gorgeous Turkey carpets were spread over the wide entrance steps, and +boys in Circassian and Anatolian costumes hung around the doors, or +dashed forth in un-Oriental haste to carry such messages as the telephone +was unable to transmit. Picturesque sellers of Turkish delight, +attar-of-roses, and brass-work coffee services, squatted under the portico, +on terms of obvious good understanding with the hotel management. +A few doors further down a service club that had long been a Piccadilly +landmark was a landmark still, as the home of the Army Aeronaut Club, +and there was a constant coming and going of gay-hued uniforms, Saxon, +Prussian, Bavarian, Hessian, and so forth, through its portals. +The mastering of the air and the creation of a scientific aerial war +fleet, second to none in the world, was an achievement of which the +conquering race was pardonably proud, and for which it had good reason +to be duly thankful. Over the gateways was blazoned the badge +of the club, an elephant, whale, and eagle, typifying the three armed +forces of the State, by land and sea and air; the eagle bore in its +beak a scroll with the proud legend: “The last am I, but not the +least.”</p> +<p>To the eastward of this gaily-humming hive the long shuttered front +of a deserted ducal mansion struck a note of protest and mourning amid +the noise and whirl and colour of a seemingly uncaring city. On +the other side of the roadway, on the gravelled paths of the Green Park, +small ragged children from the back streets of Westminster looked wistfully +at the smooth trim stretches of grass on which it was now forbidden, +in two languages, to set foot. Only the pigeons, disregarding +the changes of political geography, walked about as usual, wondering +perhaps, if they ever wondered at anything, at the sudden change in +the distribution of park humans.</p> +<p>Yeovil turned his steps out of the hot sunlight into the shade of +the Burlington Arcade, familiarly known to many of its newer frequenters +as the Passage. Here the change that new conditions and requirements +had wrought was more immediately noticeable than anywhere else in the +West End. Most of the shops on the western side had been cleared +away, and in their place had been installed an “open-air” +café, converting the long alley into a sort of promenade tea-garden, +flanked on one side by a line of haberdashers’, perfumers’, +and jewellers’ show windows. The patrons of the café +could sit at the little round tables, drinking their coffee and syrups +and <i>apéritifs</i>, and gazing, if they were so minded, at +the pyjamas and cravats and Brazilian diamonds spread out for inspection +before them. A string orchestra, hidden away somewhere in a gallery, +was alternating grand opera with the <i>Gondola</i> <i>Girl</i> and +the latest gems of Transatlantic melody. From around the tightly-packed +tables arose a babble of tongues, made up chiefly of German, a South +American rendering of Spanish, and a North American rendering of English, +with here and there the sharp shaken-out staccato of Japanese. +A sleepy-looking boy, in a nondescript uniform, was wandering to and +fro among the customers, offering for sale the <i>Matin</i>, <i>New</i> +<i>York</i> <i>Herald</i>, <i>Berliner</i> <i>Tageblatt</i>, and a host +of crudely coloured illustrated papers, embodying the hard-worked wit +of a world-legion of comic artists. Yeovil hurried through the +Arcade; it was not here, in this atmosphere of staring alien eyes and +jangling tongues, that he wanted to read the news of the Imperial <i>Aufklärung</i>.</p> +<p>By a succession of by-ways he reached Hanover Square, and thence +made his way into Oxford Street. There was no commotion of activity +to be noticed yet among the newsboys; the posters still concerned themselves +with the earthquake in Hungary, varied with references to the health +of the King of Roumania, and a motor accident in South London. +Yeovil wandered aimlessly along the street for a few dozen yards, and +then turned down into the smoking-room of a cheap tea-shop, where he +judged that the flourishing foreign element would be less conspicuously +represented. Quiet-voiced, smooth-headed youths, from neighbouring +shops and wholesale houses, sat drinking tea and munching pastry, some +of them reading, others making a fitful rattle with dominoes on the +marble-topped tables. A clean, wholesome smell of tea and coffee +made itself felt through the clouds of cigarette smoke; cleanliness +and listlessness seemed to be the dominant notes of the place, a cleanliness +that was commendable, and a listlessness that seemed unnatural and undesirable +where so much youth was gathered together for refreshment and recreation. +Yeovil seated himself at a table already occupied by a young clergyman +who was smoking a cigarette over the remains of a plateful of buttered +toast. He had a keen, clever, hard-lined face, the face of a man +who, in an earlier stage of European history, might have been a warlike +prior, awkward to tackle at the council-board, greatly to be avoided +where blows were being exchanged. A pale, silent damsel drifted +up to Yeovil and took his order with an air of being mentally some hundreds +of miles away, and utterly indifferent to the requirements of those +whom she served; if she had brought calf’s-foot jelly instead +of the pot of China tea he had asked for, Yeovil would hardly have been +surprised. However, the tea duly arrived on the table, and the +pale damsel scribbled a figure on a slip of paper, put it silently by +the side of the teapot, and drifted silently away. Yeovil had +seen the same sort of thing done on the musical-comedy stage, and done +rather differently.</p> +<p>“Can you tell me, sir, is the Imperial announcement out yet?” +asked the young clergyman, after a brief scrutiny of his neighbour.</p> +<p>“No, I have been waiting about for the last half-hour on the +look-out for it,” said Yeovil; “the special editions ought +to be out by now.” Then he added: “I have only just +lately come from abroad. I know scarcely anything of London as +it is now. You may imagine that a good deal of it is very strange +to me. Your profession must take you a good deal among all classes +of people. I have seen something of what one may call the upper, +or, at any rate, the richer classes, since I came back; do tell me something +about the poorer classes of the community. How do they take the +new order of things?”</p> +<p>“Badly,” said the young cleric, “badly, in more +senses than one. They are helpless and they are bitter—bitter +in the useless kind of way that produces no great resolutions. +They look round for some one to blame for what has happened; they blame +the politicians, they blame the leisured classes; in an indirect way +I believe they blame the Church. Certainly, the national disaster +has not drawn them towards religion in any form. One thing you +may be sure of, they do not blame themselves. No true Londoner +ever admits that fault lies at his door. ‘No, I never!’ +is an exclamation that is on his lips from earliest childhood, whenever +he is charged with anything blameworthy or punishable. That is +why school discipline was ever a thing repugnant to the schoolboard +child and its parents; no schoolboard scholar ever deserved punishment. +However obvious the fault might seem to a disciplinarian, ‘No, +I never’ exonerated it as something that had not happened. +Public schoolboys and private schoolboys of the upper and middle class +had their fling and took their thrashings, when they were found out, +as a piece of bad luck, but ‘our Bert’ and ‘our Sid’ +were of those for whom there is no condemnation; if <i>they</i> were +punished it was for faults that ‘no, they never’ committed. +Naturally the grown-up generation of Berts and Sids, the voters and +householders, do not realise, still less admit, that it was they who +called the tune to which the politicians danced. They had to choose +between the vote-mongers and the so-called ‘scare-mongers,’ +and their verdict was for the vote-mongers all the time. And now +they are bitter; they are being punished, and punishment is not a thing +that they have been schooled to bear. The taxes that are falling +on them are a grievous source of discontent, and the military service +that will be imposed on them, for the first time in their lives, will +be another. There is a more lovable side to their character under +misfortune, though,” added the young clergyman. “Deep +down in their hearts there was a very real affection for the old dynasty. +Future historians will perhaps be able to explain how and why the Royal +Family of Great Britain captured the imaginations of its subjects in +so genuine and lasting a fashion. Among the poorest and the most +matter-of-fact, for whom the name of no public man, politician or philanthropist, +stands out with any especial significance, the old Queen, and the dead +King, the dethroned monarch and the young prince live in a sort of domestic +Pantheon, a recollection that is a proud and wistful personal possession +when so little remains to be proud of or to possess. There is +no favour that I am so often asked for among my poorer parishioners +as the gift of the picture of this or that member of the old dynasty. +‘I have got all of them, only except Princess Mary,’ an +old woman said to me last week, and she nearly cried with pleasure when +I brought her an old <i>Bystander</i> portrait that filled the gap in +her collection. And on Queen Alexandra’s day they bring +out and wear the faded wild-rose favours that they bought with their +pennies in days gone by.”</p> +<p>“The tragedy of the enactment that is about to enforce military +service on these people is that it comes when they’ve no longer +a country to fight for,” said Yeovil.</p> +<p>The young clergyman gave an exclamation of bitter impatience.</p> +<p>“That is the cruel mockery of the whole thing. Every +now and then in the course of my work I have come across lads who were +really drifting to the bad through the good qualities in them. +A clean combative strain in their blood, and a natural turn for adventure, +made the ordinary anæmic routine of shop or warehouse or factory +almost unbearable for them. What splendid little soldiers they +would have made, and how grandly the discipline of a military training +would have steadied them in after-life when steadiness was wanted. +The only adventure that their surroundings offered them has been the +adventure of practising mildly criminal misdeeds without getting landed +in reformatories and prisons; those of them that have not been successful +in keeping clear of detection are walking round and round prison yards, +experiencing the operation of a discipline that breaks and does not +build. They were merry-hearted boys once, with nothing of the +criminal or ne’er-do-weel in their natures, and now—have +you ever seen a prison yard, with that walk round and round and round +between grey walls under a blue sky?”</p> +<p>Yeovil nodded.</p> +<p>“It’s good enough for criminals and imbeciles,” +said the parson, “but think of it for those boys, who might have +been marching along to the tap of the drum, with a laugh on their lips +instead of Hell in their hearts. I have had Hell in my heart sometimes, +when I have come in touch with cases like those. I suppose you +are thinking that I am a strange sort of parson.”</p> +<p>“I was just defining you in my mind,” said Yeovil, “as +a man of God, with an infinite tenderness for little devils.”</p> +<p>The clergyman flushed.</p> +<p>“Rather a fine epitaph to have on one’s tombstone,” +he said, “especially if the tombstone were in some crowded city +graveyard. I suppose I am a man of God, but I don’t think +I could be called a man of peace.”</p> +<p>Looking at the strong young face, with its suggestion of a fighting +prior of bygone days more marked than ever, Yeovil mentally agreed that +he could not.</p> +<p>“I have learned one thing in life,” continued the young +man, “and that is that peace is not for this world. Peace +is what God gives us when He takes us into His rest. Beat your +sword into a ploughshare if you like, but beat your enemy into smithereens +first.”</p> +<p>A long-drawn cry, repeated again and again, detached itself from +the throb and hoot and whir of the street traffic.</p> +<p>“Speshul! Military service, spesh-ul!”</p> +<p>The young clergyman sprang from his seat and went up the staircase +in a succession of bounds, causing the domino players and novelette +readers to look up for a moment in mild astonishment. In a few +seconds he was back again, with a copy of an afternoon paper. +The Imperial Rescript was set forth in heavy type, in parallel columns +of English and German. As the young man read a deep burning flush +spread over his face, then ebbed away into a chalky whiteness. +He read the announcement to the end, then handed the paper to Yeovil, +and left without a word.</p> +<p>Beneath the courtly politeness and benignant phraseology of the document +ran a trenchant searing irony. The British born subjects of the +Germanic Crown, inhabiting the islands of Great Britain and Ireland, +had habituated themselves as a people to the disuse of arms, and resolutely +excluded military service and national training from their political +system and daily life. Their judgment that they were unsuited +as a race to bear arms and conform to military discipline was not to +be set aside. Their new Overlord did not propose to do violence +to their feelings and customs by requiring from them the personal military +sacrifices and services which were rendered by his subjects German-born. +The British subjects of the Crown were to remain a people consecrated +to peaceful pursuits, to commerce and trade and husbandry. The +defence of their coasts and shipping and the maintenance of order and +general safety would be guaranteed by a garrison of German troops, with +the co-operation of the Imperial war fleet. German-born subjects +residing temporarily or permanently in the British Isles would come +under the same laws respecting compulsory military service as their +fellow-subjects of German blood in the other parts of the Empire, and +special enactments would be drawn up to ensure that their interests +did not suffer from a periodical withdrawal on training or other military +calls. Necessarily a heavily differentiated scale of war taxation +would fall on British taxpayers, to provide for the upkeep of the garrison +and to equalise the services and sacrifices rendered by the two branches +of his Majesty’s subjects. As military service was not henceforth +open to any subject of British birth no further necessity for any training +or exercise of a military nature existed, therefore all rifle clubs, +drill associations, cadet corps and similar bodies were henceforth declared +to be illegal. No weapons other than guns for specified sporting +purposes, duly declared and registered and open to inspection when required, +could be owned, purchased, or carried. The science of arms was +to be eliminated altogether from the life of a people who had shown +such marked repugnance to its study and practice.</p> +<p>The cold irony of the measure struck home with the greater force +because its nature was so utterly unexpected. Public anticipation +had guessed at various forms of military service, aggressively irksome +or tactfully lightened as the case might be, in any event certain to +be bitterly unpopular, and now there had come this contemptuous boon, +which had removed, at one stroke, the bogey of compulsory military service +from the troubled imaginings of the British people, and fastened on +them the cruel distinction of being in actual fact what an enemy had +called them in splenetic scorn long years ago—a nation of shopkeepers. +Aye, something even below that level, a race of shopkeepers who were +no longer a nation.</p> +<p>Yeovil crumpled the paper in his hand and went out into the sunlit +street. A sudden roll of drums and crash of brass music filled +the air. A company of Bavarian infantry went by, in all the pomp +and circumstance of martial array and the joyous swing of rapid rhythmic +movement. The street echoed and throbbed in the Englishman’s +ears with the exultant pulse of youth and mastery set to loud Pagan +music. A group of lads from the tea-shop clustered on the pavement +and watched the troops go by, staring at a phase of life in which they +had no share. The martial trappings, the swaggering joy of life, +the comradeship of camp and barracks, the hard discipline of drill yard +and fatigue duty, the long sentry watches, the trench digging, forced +marches, wounds, cold, hunger, makeshift hospitals, and the blood-wet +laurels—these were not for them. Such things they might +only guess at, or see on a cinema film, darkly; they belonged to the +civilian nation.</p> +<p>The function of afternoon tea was still being languidly observed +in the big drawing-room when Yeovil returned to Berkshire Street. +Cicely was playing the part of hostess to a man of perhaps forty-one +years of age, who looked slightly older from his palpable attempts to +look very much younger. Percival Plarsey was a plump, pale-faced, +short-legged individual, with puffy cheeks, over-prominent nose, and +thin colourless hair. His mother, with nothing more than maternal +prejudice to excuse her, had discovered some twenty odd years ago that +he was a well-favoured young man, and had easily imbued her son with +the same opinion. The slipping away of years and the natural transition +of the unathletic boy into the podgy unhealthy-looking man did little +to weaken the tradition; Plarsey had never been able to relinquish the +idea that a youthful charm and comeliness still centred in his person, +and laboured daily at his toilet with the devotion that a hopelessly +lost cause is so often able to inspire. He babbled incessantly +about himself and the accessory futilities of his life in short, neat, +complacent sentences, and in a voice that Ronald Storre said reminded +one of a fat bishop blessing a butter-making competition. While +he babbled he kept his eyes fastened on his listeners to observe the +impression which his important little announcements and pronouncements +were making. On the present occasion he was pattering forth a +detailed description of the upholstery and fittings of his new music-room.</p> +<p>“All the hangings, <i>violette</i> <i>de</i> <i>Parme</i>, +all the furniture, rosewood. The only ornament in the room is +a <i>replica</i> of the Mozart statue in Vienna. Nothing but Mozart +is to be played in the room. Absolutely, nothing but Mozart.”</p> +<p>“You will get rather tired of that, won’t you?” +said Cicely, feeling that she was expected to comment on this tremendous +announcement.</p> +<p>“One gets tired of everything,” said Plarsey, with a +fat little sigh of resignation. “I can’t tell you <i>how</i> +tired I am of Rubenstein, and one day I suppose I shall be tired of +Mozart, and <i>violette</i> <i>de</i> <i>Parme</i> and rosewood. +I never thought it possible that I could ever tire of jonquils, and +now I simply won’t have one in the house. Oh, the scene +the other day because some one brought some jonquils into the house! +I’m afraid I was dreadfully rude, but I really couldn’t +help it.”</p> +<p>He could talk like this through a long summer day or a long winter +evening.</p> +<p>Yeovil belonged to a race forbidden to bear arms. At the moment +he would gladly have contented himself with the weapons with which nature +had endowed him, if he might have kicked and pommelled the abhorrent +specimen of male humanity whom he saw before him.</p> +<p>Instead he broke into the conversation with an inspired flash of +malicious untruthfulness.</p> +<p>“It is wonderful,” he observed carelessly, “how +popular that Viennese statue of Mozart has become. A friend who +inspects County Council Art Schools tells me you find a copy of it in +every class-room you go into.”</p> +<p>It was a poor substitute for physical violence, but it was all that +civilisation allowed him in the way of relieving his feelings; it had, +moreover, the effect of making Plarsey profoundly miserable.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII: THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS</h2> +<p>The train bearing Yeovil on his visit to Torywood slid and rattled +westward through the hazy dreamland of an English summer landscape. +Seen from the train windows the stark bare ugliness of the metalled +line was forgotten, and the eye rested only on the green solitude that +unfolded itself as the miles went slipping by. Tall grasses and +meadow-weeds stood in deep shocks, field after field, between the leafy +boundaries of hedge or coppice, thrusting themselves higher and higher +till they touched the low sweeping branches of the trees that here and +there overshadowed them. Broad streams, bordered with a heavy +fringe of reed and sedge, went winding away into a green distance where +woodland and meadowland seemed indefinitely prolonged; narrow streamlets, +lost to view in the growth that they fostered, disclosed their presence +merely by the water-weed that showed in a riband of rank verdure threading +the mellower green of the fields. On the stream banks moorhens +walked with jerky confident steps, in the easy boldness of those who +had a couple of other elements at their disposal in an emergency; more +timorous partridges raced away from the apparition of the train, looking +all leg and neck, like little forest elves fleeing from human encounter. +And in the distance, over the tree line, a heron or two flapped with +slow measured wing-beats and an air of being bent on an immeasurably +longer journey than the train that hurtled so frantically along the +rails. Now and then the meadowland changed itself suddenly into +orchard, with close-growing trees already showing the measure of their +coming harvest, and then strawyard and farm buildings would slide into +view; heavy dairy cattle, roan and skewbald and dappled, stood near +the gates, drowsily resentful of insect stings, and bunched-up companies +of ducks halted in seeming irresolution between the charms of the horse-pond +and the alluring neighbourhood of the farm kitchen. Away by the +banks of some rushing mill-stream, in a setting of copse and cornfield, +a village might be guessed at, just a hint of red roof, grey wreathed +chimney and old church tower as seen from the windows of the passing +train, and over it all brooded a happy, settled calm, like the dreaming +murmur of a trout-stream and the far-away cawing of rooks.</p> +<p>It was a land where it seemed as if it must be always summer and +generally afternoon, a land where bees hummed among the wild thyme and +in the flower beds of cottage gardens, where the harvest-mice rustled +amid the corn and nettles, and the mill-race flowed cool and silent +through water-weeds and dark tunnelled sluices, and made soft droning +music with the wooden mill-wheel. And the music carried with it +the wording of old undying rhymes, and sang of the jolly, uncaring, +uncared-for miller, of the farmer who went riding upon his grey mare, +of the mouse who lived beneath the merry mill-pin, of the sweet music +on yonder green hill and the dancers all in yellow—the songs and +fancies of a lingering olden time, when men took life as children take +a long summer day, and went to bed at last with a simple trust in something +they could not have explained.</p> +<p>Yeovil watched the passing landscape with the intent hungry eyes +of a man who revisits a scene that holds high place in his affections. +His imagination raced even quicker than the train, following winding +roads and twisting valleys into unseen distances, picturing farms and +hamlets, hills and hollows, clattering inn yards and sleepy woodlands.</p> +<p>“A beautiful country,” said his only fellow-traveller, +who was also gazing at the fleeting landscape; “surely a country +worth fighting for.”</p> +<p>He spoke in fairly correct English, but he was unmistakably a foreigner; +one could have allotted him with some certainty to the Eastern half +of Europe.</p> +<p>“A beautiful country, as you say,” replied Yeovil; then +he added the question, “Are you German?”</p> +<p>“No, Hungarian,” said the other; “and you, you +are English?” he asked.</p> +<p>“I have been much in England, but I am from Russia,” +said Yeovil, purposely misleading his companion on the subject of his +nationality in order to induce him to talk with greater freedom on a +delicate topic. While living among foreigners in a foreign land +he had shrunk from hearing his country’s disaster discussed, or +even alluded to; now he was anxious to learn what unprejudiced foreigners +thought of the catastrophe and the causes which had led up to it.</p> +<p>“It is a strange spectacle, a wonder, is it not so?” +resumed the other, “a great nation such as this was, one of the +greatest nations in modern times, or of any time, carrying its flag +and its language into all parts of the world, and now, after one short +campaign, it is—”</p> +<p>And he shrugged his shoulders many times and made clucking noises +at the roof of his voice, like a hen calling to a brood of roving chickens.</p> +<p>“They grew soft,” he resumed; “great world-commerce +brings great luxury, and luxury brings softness. They had everything +to warn them, things happening in their own time and before their eyes, +and they would not be warned. They had seen, in one generation, +the rise of the military and naval power of the Japanese, a brown-skinned +race living in some island rice fields in a tropical sea, a people one +thought of in connection with paper fans and flowers and pretty tea-gardens, +who suddenly marched and sailed into the world’s gaze as a Great +Power; they had seen, too, the rise of the Bulgars, a poor herd of <i>zaptieh</i>-ridden +peasants, with a few students scattered in exile in Bukarest and Odessa, +who shot up in one generation to be an armed and aggressive nation with +history in its hands. The English saw these things happening around +them, and with a war-cloud growing blacker and bigger and always more +threatening on their own threshold they sat down to grow soft and peaceful. +They grew soft and accommodating in all things in religion—”</p> +<p>“In religion?” said Yeovil.</p> +<p>“In religion, yes,” said his companion emphatically; +“they had come to look on the Christ as a sort of amiable elder +Brother, whose letters from abroad were worth reading. Then, when +they had emptied all the divine mystery and wonder out of their faith +naturally they grew tired of it, oh, but dreadfully tired of it. +I know many English of the country parts, and always they tell me they +go to church once in each week to set the good example to the servants. +They were tired of their faith, but they were not virile enough to become +real Pagans; their dancing fauns were good young men who tripped Morris +dances and ate health foods and believed in a sort of Socialism which +made for the greatest dulness of the greatest number. You will +find plenty of them still if you go into what remains of social London.”</p> +<p>Yeovil gave a grunt of acquiescence.</p> +<p>“They grew soft in their political ideas,” continued +the unsparing critic; “for the old insular belief that all foreigners +were devils and rogues they substituted another belief, equally grounded +on insular lack of knowledge, that most foreigners were amiable, good +fellows, who only needed to be talked to and patted on the back to become +your friends and benefactors. They began to believe that a foreign +Minister would relinquish long-cherished schemes of national policy +and hostile expansion if he came over on a holiday and was asked down +to country houses and shown the tennis court and the rock-garden and +the younger children. Listen. I once heard it solemnly stated +at an after-dinner debate in some literary club that a certain very +prominent German statesman had a daughter at school in England, and +that future friendly relations between the two countries were improved +in prospect, if not assured, by that circumstance. You think I +am laughing; I am recording a fact, and the men present were politicians +and statesmen as well as literary dilettanti. It was an insular +lack of insight that worked the mischief, or some of the mischief. +We, in Hungary, we live too much cheek by jowl with our racial neighbours +to have many illusions about them. Austrians, Roumanians, Serbs, +Italians, Czechs, we know what they think of us, and we know what to +think of them, we know what we want in the world, and we know what they +want; that knowledge does not send us flying at each other’s throats, +but it does keep us from growing soft. Ah, the British lion was +in a hurry to inaugurate the Millennium and to lie down gracefully with +the lamb. He made two mistakes, only two, but they were very bad +ones; the Millennium hadn’t arrived, and it was not a lamb that +he was lying down with.”</p> +<p>“You do not like the English, I gather,” said Yeovil, +as the Hungarian went off into a short burst of satirical laughter.</p> +<p>“I have always liked them,” he answered, “but now +I am angry with them for being soft. Here is my station,” +he added, as the train slowed down, and he commenced to gather his belongings +together. “I am angry with them,” he continued, as +a final word on the subject, “because I <i>hate</i> the Germans.”</p> +<p>He raised his hat punctiliously in a parting salute and stepped out +on to the platform. His place was taken by a large, loose-limbed +man, with florid face and big staring eyes, and an immense array of +fishing-basket, rod, fly-cases, and so forth. He was of the type +that one could instinctively locate as a loud-voiced, self-constituted +authority on whatever topic might happen to be discussed in the bars +of small hotels.</p> +<p>“Are you English?” he asked, after a preliminary stare +at Yeovil.</p> +<p>This time Yeovil did not trouble to disguise his nationality; he +nodded curtly to his questioner.</p> +<p>“Glad of that,” said the fisherman; “I don’t +like travelling with Germans.”</p> +<p>“Unfortunately,” said Yeovil, “we have to travel +with them, as partners in the same State concern, and not by any means +the predominant partner either.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that will soon right itself,” said the other with +loud assertiveness, “that will right itself damn soon.”</p> +<p>“Nothing in politics rights itself,” said Yeovil; “things +have to be righted, which is a different matter.”</p> +<p>“What d’y’mean?” said the fisherman, who +did not like to have his assertions taken up and shaken into shape.</p> +<p>“We have given a clever and domineering people a chance to +plant themselves down as masters in our land; I don’t imagine +that they are going to give us an easy chance to push them out. +To do that we shall have to be a little cleverer than they are, a little +harder, a little fiercer, and a good deal more self-sacrificing than +we have been in my lifetime or in yours.”</p> +<p>“We’ll be that, right enough,” said the fisherman; +“we mean business this time. The last war wasn’t a +war, it was a snap. We weren’t prepared and they were. +That won’t happen again, bless you. I know what I’m +talking about. I go up and down the country, and I hear what people +are saying.”</p> +<p>Yeovil privately doubted if he ever heard anything but his own opinions.</p> +<p>“It stands to reason,” continued the fisherman, “that +a highly civilised race like ours, with the record that we’ve +had for leading the whole world, is not going to be held under for long +by a lot of damned sausage-eating Germans. Don’t you believe +it! I know what I’m talking about. I’ve travelled +about the world a bit.”</p> +<p>Yeovil shrewdly suspected that the world travels amounted to nothing +more than a trip to the United States and perhaps the Channel Islands, +with, possibly, a week or fortnight in Paris.</p> +<p>“It isn’t the past we’ve got to think of, it’s +the future,” said Yeovil. “Other maritime Powers had +pasts to look back on; Spain and Holland, for instance. The past +didn’t help them when they let their sea-sovereignty slip from +them. That is a matter of history and not very distant history +either.”</p> +<p>“Ah, that’s where you make a mistake,” said the +other; “our sea-sovereignty hasn’t slipped from us, and +won’t do, neither. There’s the British Empire beyond +the seas; Canada, Australia, New Zealand, East Africa.”</p> +<p>He rolled the names round his tongue with obvious relish.</p> +<p>“If it was a list of first-class battleships, and armoured +cruisers and destroyers and airships that you were reeling off, there +would be some comfort and hope in the situation,” said Yeovil; +“the loyalty of the colonies is a splendid thing, but it is only +pathetically splendid because it can do so little to recover for us +what we’ve lost. Against the Zeppelin air fleet, and the +Dreadnought sea squadrons and the new Gelberhaus cruisers, the last +word in maritime mobility, of what avail is loyal devotion plus half-a-dozen +warships, one keel to ten, scattered over one or two ocean coasts?”</p> +<p>“Ah, but they’ll build,” said the fisherman confidently; +“they’ll build. They’re only waiting to enlarge +their dockyard accommodation and get the right class of artificers and +engineers and workmen together. The money will be forthcoming +somehow, and they’ll start in and build.”</p> +<p>“And do you suppose,” asked Yeovil in slow bitter contempt, +“that the victorious nation is going to sit and watch and wait +till the defeated foe has created a new war fleet, big enough to drive +it from the seas? Do you suppose it is going to watch keel added +to keel, gun to gun, airship to airship, till its preponderance has +been wiped out or even threatened? That sort of thing is done +once in a generation, not twice. Who is going to protect Australia +or New Zealand while they enlarge their dockyards and hangars and build +their dreadnoughts and their airships?”</p> +<p>“Here’s my station and I’m not sorry,” said +the fisherman, gathering his tackle together and rising to depart; “I’ve +listened to you long enough. You and me wouldn’t agree, +not if we was to talk all day. Fact is, I’m an out-and-out +patriot and you’re only a half-hearted one. That’s +what you are, half-hearted.”</p> +<p>And with that parting shot he left the carriage and lounged heavily +down the platform, a patriot who had never handled a rifle or mounted +a horse or pulled an oar, but who had never flinched from demolishing +his country’s enemies with his tongue.</p> +<p>“England has never had any lack of patriots of that type,” +thought Yeovil sadly; “so many patriots and so little patriotism.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII: TORYWOOD</h2> +<p>Yeovil got out of the train at a small, clean, wayside station, and +rapidly formed the conclusion that neatness, abundant leisure, and a +devotion to the cultivation of wallflowers and wyandottes were the prevailing +influences of the station-master’s life. The train slid +away into the hazy distance of trees and meadows, and left the traveller +standing in a world that seemed to be made up in equal parts of rock +garden, chicken coops, and whiskey advertisements. The station-master, +who appeared also to act as emergency porter, took Yeovil’s ticket +with the gesture of a kind-hearted person brushing away a troublesome +wasp, and returned to a study of the <i>Poultry</i> <i>Chronicle</i>, +which was giving its readers sage counsel concerning the ailments of +belated July chickens. Yeovil called to mind the station-master +of a tiny railway town in Siberia, who had held him in long and rather +intelligent converse on the poetical merits and demerits of Shelley, +and he wondered what the result would be if he were to engage the English +official in a discussion on Lermontoff—or for the matter of that, +on Shelley. The temptation to experiment was, however, removed +by the arrival of a young groom, with brown eyes and a friendly smile, +who hurried into the station and took Yeovil once more into a world +where he was of fleeting importance.</p> +<p>In the roadway outside was a four-wheeled dogcart with a pair of +the famous Torywood blue roans. It was an agreeable variation +in modern locomotion to be met at a station with high-class horseflesh +instead of the ubiquitous motor, and the landscape was not of such a +nature that one wished to be whirled through it in a cloud of dust. +After a quick spin of some ten or fifteen minutes through twisting hedge-girt +country roads, the roans turned in at a wide gateway, and went with +dancing, rhythmic step along the park drive. The screen of oak-crowned +upland suddenly fell away and a grey sharp-cornered building came into +view in a setting of low growing beeches and dark pines. Torywood +was not a stately, reposeful-looking house; it lay amid the sleepy landscape +like a couched watchdog with pricked ears and wakeful eyes. Built +somewhere about the last years of Dutch William’s reign, it had +been a centre, ever since, for the political life of the countryside; +a storm centre of discontent or a rallying ground for the well affected, +as the circumstances of the day might entail. On the stone-flagged +terrace in front of the house, with its quaint leaden figures of Diana +pursuing a hound-pressed stag, successive squires and lords of Torywood +had walked to and fro with their friends, watching the thunderclouds +on the political horizon or the shifting shadows on the sundial of political +favour, tapping the political barometer for indications of change, working +out a party campaign or arranging for the support of some national movement. +To and fro they had gone in their respective generations, men with the +passion for statecraft and political combat strong in their veins, and +many oft-recurring names had echoed under those wakeful-looking casements, +names spoken in anger or exultation, or murmured in fear and anxiety: +Bolingbroke, Charles Edward, Walpole, the Farmer King, Bonaparte, Pitt, +Wellington, Peel, Gladstone—echo and Time might have graven those +names on the stone flags and grey walls. And now one tired old +woman walked there, with names on her lips that she never uttered.</p> +<p>A friendly riot of fox terriers and spaniels greeted the carriage, +leaping and rolling and yelping in an exuberance of sociability, as +though horses and coachman and groom were comrades who had been absent +for long months instead of half an hour. An indiscriminately affectionate +puppy lay flat and whimpering at Yeovil’s feet, sending up little +showers of gravel with its wildly thumping tail, while two of the terriers +raced each other madly across lawn and shrubbery, as though to show +the blue roans what speed really was. The laughing-eyed young +groom disentangled the puppy from between Yeovil’s legs, and then +he was ushered into the grey silence of the entrance hall, leaving sunlight +and noise and the stir of life behind him.</p> +<p>“Her ladyship will see you in her writing room,” he was +told, and he followed a servant along the dark passages to the well-remembered +room.</p> +<p>There was something tragic in the sudden contrast between the vigour +and youth and pride of life that Yeovil had seen crystallised in those +dancing, high-stepping horses, scampering dogs, and alert, clean-limbed +young men-servants, and the age-frail woman who came forward to meet +him.</p> +<p>Eleanor, Dowager Lady Greymarten, had for more than half a century +been the ruling spirit at Torywood. The affairs of the county +had not sufficed for her untiring activities of mind and body; in the +wider field of national and Imperial service she had worked and schemed +and fought with an energy and a far-sightedness that came probably from +the blend of caution and bold restlessness in her Scottish blood. +For many educated minds the arena of politics and public life is a weariness +of dust and disgust, to others it is a fascinating study, to be watched +from the comfortable seat of a spectator. To her it was a home. +In her town house or down at Torywood, with her writing-pad on her knee +and the telephone at her elbow, or in personal counsel with some trusted +colleague or persuasive argument with a halting adherent or half-convinced +opponent, she had laboured on behalf of the poor and the ill-equipped, +had fought for her idea of the Right, and above all, for the safety +and sanity of her Fatherland. Spadework when necessary and leadership +when called for, came alike within the scope of her activities, and +not least of her achievements, though perhaps she hardly realised it, +was the force of her example, a lone, indomitable fighter calling to +the half-caring and the half-discouraged, to the laggard and the slow-moving.</p> +<p>And now she came across the room with “the tired step of a +tired king,” and that look which the French so expressively called +<i>l’air</i> <i>défait</i>. The charm which Heaven +bestows on old ladies, reserving its highest gift to the end, had always +seemed in her case to be lost sight of in the dignity and interest of +a great dame who was still in the full prime of her fighting and ruling +powers. Now, in Yeovil’s eyes, she had suddenly come to +be very old, stricken with the forlorn languor of one who knows that +death will be weary to wait for. She had spared herself nothing +in the long labour, the ceaseless building, the watch and ward, and +in one short autumn week she had seen the overthrow of all that she +had built, the falling asunder of the world in which she had laboured. +Her life’s end was like a harvest home when blight and storm have +laid waste the fruit of long toil and unsparing outlay. Victory +had been her goal, the death or victory of old heroic challenge, for +she had always dreamed to die fighting to the last; death or victory—and +the gods had given her neither, only the bitterness of a defeat that +could not be measured in words, and the weariness of a life that had +outlived happiness or hope. Such was Eleanor, Dowager Lady Greymarten, +a shadow amid the young red-blooded life at Torywood, but a shadow that +was too real to die, a shadow that was stronger than the substance that +surrounded it.</p> +<p>Yeovil talked long and hurriedly of his late travels, of the vast +Siberian forests and rivers, the desolate tundras, the lakes and marshes +where the wild swans rear their broods, the flower carpet of the summer +fields and the winter ice-mantle of Russia’s northern sea. +He talked as a man talks who avoids the subject that is uppermost in +his mind, and in the mind of his hearer, as one who looks away from +a wound or deformity that is too cruel to be taken notice of.</p> +<p>Tea was served in a long oak-panelled gallery, where generations +of Mustelfords had romped and played as children, and remained yet in +effigy, in a collection of more or less faithful portraits. After +tea Yeovil was taken by his hostess to the aviaries, which constituted +the sole claim which Torywood possessed to being considered a show place. +The third Earl of Greymarten had collected rare and interesting birds, +somewhere about the time when Gilbert White was penning the last of +his deathless letters, and his successors in the title had perpetuated +the hobby. Little lawns and ponds and shrubberies were partitioned +off for the various ground-loving species, and higher cages with interlacing +perches and rockwork shelves accommodated the birds whose natural expression +of movement was on the wing. Quails and francolins scurried about +under low-growing shrubs, peacock-pheasants strutted and sunned themselves, +pugnacious ruffs engaged in perfunctory battles, from force of habit +now that the rivalry of the mating season was over; choughs, ravens, +and loud-throated gulls occupied sections of a vast rockery, and bright-hued +Chinese pond-herons and delicately stepping egrets waded among the waterlilies +of a marble-terraced tank. One or two dusky shapes seen dimly +in the recesses of a large cage built round a hollow tree would be lively +owls when evening came on.</p> +<p>In the course of his many wanderings Yeovil had himself contributed +three or four inhabitants to this little feathered town, and he went +round the enclosures, renewing old acquaintances and examining new additions.</p> +<p>“The falcon cage is empty,” said Lady Greymarten, pointing +to a large wired dome that towered high above the other enclosures, +“I let the lanner fly free one day. The other birds may +be reconciled to their comfortable quarters and abundant food and absence +of dangers, but I don’t think all those things could make up to +a falcon for the wild range of cliff and desert. When one has +lost one’s own liberty one feels a quicker sympathy for other +caged things, I suppose.”</p> +<p>There was silence for a moment, and then the Dowager went on, in +a wistful, passionate voice:</p> +<p>“I am an old woman now, Murrey, I must die in my cage. +I haven’t the strength to fight. Age is a very real and +very cruel thing, though we may shut our eyes to it and pretend it is +not there. I thought at one time that I should never really know +what it meant, what it brought to one. I thought of it as a messenger +that one could keep waiting out in the yard till the very last moment. +I know now what it means. . . . But you, Murrey, you are young, +you can fight. Are you going to be a fighter, or the very humble +servant of the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i>?”</p> +<p>“I shall never be the servant of the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i>,” +said Yeovil. “I loathe it. As to fighting, one must +first find out what weapon to use, and how to use it effectively. +One must watch and wait.”</p> +<p>“One must not wait too long,” said the old woman. +“Time is on their side, not ours. It is the young people +we must fight for now, if they are ever to fight for us. A new +generation will spring up, a weaker memory of old glories will survive, +the <i>éclat</i> of the ruling race will capture young imaginations. +If I had your youth, Murrey, and your sex, I would become a commercial +traveller.”</p> +<p>“A commercial traveller!” exclaimed Yeovil.</p> +<p>“Yes, one whose business took him up and down the country, +into contact with all classes, into homes and shops and inns and railway +carriages. And as I travelled I would work, work on the minds +of every boy and girl I came across, every young father and young mother +too, every young couple that were going to be man and wife. I +would awaken or keep alive in their memory the things that we have been, +the grand, brave things that some of our race have done, and I would +stir up a longing, a determination for the future that we must win back. +I would be a counter-agent to the agents of the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i>. +In course of time the Government would find out what I was doing, and +I should be sent out of the country, but I should have accomplished +something, and others would carry on the work. That is what I +would do. Murrey, even if it is to be a losing battle, fight it, +fight it!”</p> +<p>Yeovil knew that the old lady was fighting her last battle, rallying +the discouraged, and spurring on the backward.</p> +<p>A footman came to announce that the carriage waited to take him back +to the station. His hostess walked with him through the hall, +and came out on to the stone-flagged terrace, the terrace from which +a former Lady Greymarten had watched the twinkling bonfires that told +of Waterloo.</p> +<p>Yeovil said good-bye to her as she stood there, a wan, shrunken shadow, +yet with a greater strength and reality in her flickering life than +those parrot men and women that fluttered and chattered through London +drawing-rooms and theatre foyers.</p> +<p>As the carriage swung round a bend in the drive Yeovil looked back +at Torywood, a lone, grey building, couched like a watchdog with pricked +ears and wakeful eyes in the midst of the sleeping landscape. +An old pleading voice was still ringing in his ears:</p> +<blockquote><p><i>Imperious</i> <i>and</i> <i>yet</i> <i>forlorn</i>,<br /> +<i>Came</i> <i>through</i> <i>the</i> <i>silence</i> <i>of</i> <i>the</i> +<i>trees</i>,<br /> +<i>The</i> <i>echoes</i> <i>of</i> <i>a</i> <i>golden</i> <i>horn</i>,<br /> +<i>Calling</i> <i>to</i> <i>distances</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Somehow Yeovil knew that he would never hear that voice again, and +he knew, too, that he would hear it always, with its message, “Be +a fighter.” And he knew now, with a shamefaced consciousness +that sprang suddenly into existence, that the summons would sound for +him in vain.</p> +<p>The weary brain-torturing months of fever had left their trail behind, +a lassitude of spirit and a sluggishness of blood, a quenching of the +desire to roam and court adventure and hardship. In the hours +of waking and depression between the raging intervals of delirium he +had speculated, with a sort of detached, listless indifference, on the +chances of his getting back to life and strength and energy. The +prospect of filling a corner of some lonely Siberian graveyard or Finnish +cemetery had seemed near realisation at times, and for a man who was +already half dead the other half didn’t particularly matter. +But when he had allowed himself to dwell on the more hopeful side of +the case it had always been a complete recovery that awaited him; the +same Yeovil as of yore, a little thinner and more lined about the eyes +perhaps, would go through life in the same way, alert, resolute, enterprising, +ready to start off at short notice for some desert or upland where the +eagles were circling and the wild-fowl were calling. He had not +reckoned that Death, evaded and held off by the doctors’ skill, +might exact a compromise, and that only part of the man would go free +to the West.</p> +<p>And now he began to realise how little of mental and physical energy +he could count on. His own country had never seemed in his eyes +so comfort-yielding and to-be-desired as it did now when it had passed +into alien keeping and become a prison land as much as a homeland. +London with its thin mockery of a Season, and its chattering horde of +empty-hearted self-seekers, held no attraction for him, but the spell +of English country life was weaving itself round him, now that the charm +of the desert was receding into a mist of memories. The waning +of pleasant autumn days in an English woodland, the whir of game birds +in the clean harvested fields, the grey moist mornings in the saddle, +with the magical cry of hounds coming up from some misty hollow, and +then the delicious abandon of physical weariness in bathroom and bedroom +after a long run, and the heavenly snatched hour of luxurious sleep, +before stirring back to life and hunger, the coming of the dinner hour +and the jollity of a well-chosen house-party.</p> +<p>That was the call which was competing with that other trumpet-call, +and Yeovil knew on which side his choice would incline.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV: “A PERFECTLY GLORIOUS AFTERNOON”</h2> +<p>It was one of the last days of July, cooled and freshened by a touch +of rain and dropping back again to a languorous warmth. London +looked at its summer best, rain-washed and sun-lit, with the maximum +of coming and going in its more fashionable streets.</p> +<p>Cicely Yeovil sat in a screened alcove of the Anchorage Restaurant, +a feeding-ground which had lately sprung into favour. Opposite +her sat Ronnie, confronting the ruins of what had been a dish of prawns +in aspic. Cool and clean and fresh-coloured, he was good to look +on in the eyes of his companion, and yet, perhaps, there was a ruffle +in her soul that called for some answering disturbance on the part of +that superbly tranquil young man, and certainly called in vain. +Cicely had set up for herself a fetish of onyx with eyes of jade, and +doubtless hungered at times with an unreasonable but perfectly natural +hunger for something of flesh and blood. It was the religion of +her life to know exactly what she wanted and to see that she got it, +but there was no possible guarantee against her occasionally experiencing +a desire for something else. It is the golden rule of all religions +that no one should really live up to their precepts; when a man observes +the principles of his religion too exactly he is in immediate danger +of founding a new sect.</p> +<p>“To-day is going to be your day of triumph,” said Cicely +to the young man, who was wondering at the moment whether he would care +to embark on an artichoke; “I believe I’m more nervous than +you are,” she added, “and yet I rather hate the idea of +you scoring a great success.”</p> +<p>“Why?” asked Ronnie, diverting his mind for a moment +from the artichoke question and its ramifications of <i>sauce</i> <i>hollandaise</i> +or <i>vinaigre</i>.</p> +<p>“I like you as you are,” said Cicely, “just a nice-looking +boy to flatter and spoil and pretend to be fond of. You’ve +got a charming young body and you’ve no soul, and that’s +such a fascinating combination. If you had a soul you would either +dislike or worship me, and I’d much rather have things as they +are. And now you are going to go a step beyond that, and other +people will applaud you and say that you are wonderful, and invite you +to eat with them and motor with them and yacht with them. As soon +as that begins to happen, Ronnie, a lot of other things will come to +an end. Of course I’ve always known that you don’t +really care for me, but as soon as the world knows it you are irrevocably +damaged as a plaything. That is the great secret that binds us +together, the knowledge that we have no real affection for one another. +And this afternoon every one will know that you are a great artist, +and no great artist was ever a great lover.”</p> +<p>“I shan’t be difficult to replace, anyway,” said +Ronnie, with what he imagined was a becoming modesty; “there are +lots of boys standing round ready to be fed and flattered and put on +an imaginary pedestal, most of them more or less good-looking and well +turned out and amusing to talk to.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I dare say I could find a successor for your vacated niche,” +said Cicely lightly; “one thing I’m determined on though, +he shan’t be a musician. It’s so unsatisfactory to +have to share a grand passion with a grand piano. He shall be +a delightful young barbarian who would think Saint Saëns was a +Derby winner or a claret.”</p> +<p>“Don’t be in too much of a hurry to replace me,” +said Ronnie, who did not care to have his successor too seriously discussed. +“I may not score the success you expect this afternoon.”</p> +<p>“My dear boy, a minor crowned head from across the sea is coming +to hear you play, and that alone will count as a success with most of +your listeners. Also, I’ve secured a real Duchess for you, +which is rather an achievement in the London of to-day.”</p> +<p>“An English Duchess?” asked Ronnie, who had early in +life learned to apply the Merchandise Marks Act to ducal titles.</p> +<p>“English, oh certainly, at least as far as the title goes; +she was born under the constellation of the Star-spangled Banner. +I don’t suppose the Duke approves of her being here, lending her +countenance to the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i>, but when you’ve +got republican blood in your veins a Kaiser is quite as attractive a +lodestar as a King, rather more so. And Canon Mousepace is coming,” +continued Cicely, referring to a closely-written list of guests; “the +excellent von Tolb has been attending his church lately, and the Canon +is longing to meet her. She is just the sort of person he adores. +I fancy he sincerely realises how difficult it will be for the rich +to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, and he tries to make up for it by being +as nice as possible to them in this world.”</p> +<p>Ronnie held out his hand for the list.</p> +<p>“I think you know most of the others,” said Cicely, passing +it to him.</p> +<p>“Leutnant von Gabelroth?” read out Ronnie; “who +is he?”</p> +<p>“In one of the hussar regiments quartered here; a friend of +the Gräfin’s. Ugly but amiable, and I’m told +a good cross-country rider. I suppose Murrey will be disgusted +at meeting the ‘outward and visible sign’ under his roof, +but these encounters are inevitable as long as he is in London.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t know Murrey was coming,” said Ronnie.</p> +<p>“I believe he’s going to look in on us,” said Cicely; +“it’s just as well, you know, otherwise we should have Joan +asking in her loudest voice when he was going to be back in England +again. I haven’t asked her, but she overheard the Gräfin +arranging to come and hear you play, and I fancy that will be quite +enough.”</p> +<p>“How about some Turkish coffee?” said Ronnie, who had +decided against the artichoke.</p> +<p>“Turkish coffee, certainly, and a cigarette, and a moment’s +peace before the serious business of the afternoon claims us. +Talking about peace, do you know, Ronnie, it has just occurred to me +that we have left out one of the most important things in our <i>affaire</i>; +we have never had a quarrel.”</p> +<p>“I hate quarrels,” said Ronnie, “they are so domesticated.”</p> +<p>“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you talk +about your home,” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“I fancy it would apply to most homes,” said Ronnie.</p> +<p>“The last boy-friend I had used to quarrel furiously with me +at least once a week,” said Cicely reflectively; “but then +he had dark slumberous eyes that lit up magnificently when he was angry, +so it would have been a sheer waste of God’s good gifts not to +have sent him into a passion now and then.”</p> +<p>“With your excursions into the past and the future you are +making me feel dreadfully like an instalment of a serial novel,” +protested Ronnie; “we have now got to ‘synopsis of earlier +chapters.’”</p> +<p>“It shan’t be teased,” said Cicely; “we will +live in the present and go no further into the future than to make arrangements +for Tuesday’s dinner-party. I’ve asked the Duchess; +she would never have forgiven me if she’d found out that I had +a crowned head dining with me and hadn’t asked her to meet him.”</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>A sudden hush descended on the company gathered in the great drawing-room +at Berkshire Street as Ronnie took his seat at the piano; the voice +of Canon Mousepace outlasted the others for a moment or so, and then +subsided into a regretful but gracious silence. For the next nine +or ten minutes Ronnie held possession of the crowded room, a tense slender +figure, with cold green eyes aflame in a sudden fire, and smooth burnished +head bent low over the keyboard that yielded a disciplined riot of melody +under his strong deft fingers. The world-weary Landgraf forgot +for the moment the regrettable trend of his subjects towards Parliamentary +Socialism, the excellent Gräfin von Tolb forgot all that the Canon +had been saying to her for the last ten minutes, forgot the depressing +certainty that he would have a great deal more that he wanted to say +in the immediate future, over and above the thirty-five minutes or so +of discourse that she would contract to listen to next Sunday. +And Cicely listened with the wistful equivocal triumph of one whose +goose has turned out to be a swan and who realises with secret concern +that she has only planned the rôle of goosegirl for herself.</p> +<p>The last chords died away, the fire faded out of the jade-coloured +eyes, and Ronnie became once more a well-groomed youth in a drawing-room +full of well-dressed people. But around him rose an explosive +clamour of applause and congratulation, the sincere tribute of appreciation +and the equally hearty expression of imitative homage.</p> +<p>“It is a great gift, a great gift,” chanted Canon Mousepace, +“You must put it to a great use. A talent is vouchsafed +to us for a purpose; you must fulfil the purpose. Talent such +as yours is a responsibility; you must meet that responsibility.”</p> +<p>The dictionary of the English language was an inexhaustible quarry, +from which the Canon had hewn and fashioned for himself a great reputation.</p> +<p>“You must gom and blay to me at Schlachsenberg,” said +the kindly-faced Landgraf, whom the world adored and thwarted in about +equal proportions. “At Christmas, yes, that will be a good +time. We still keep the Christ-Fest at Schlachsenberg, though +the ‘Sozi’ keep telling our schoolchildren that it is only +a Christ myth. Never mind, I will have the Vice-President of our +Landtag to listen to you; he is ‘Sozi’ but we are good friends +outside the Parliament House; you shall blay to him, my young friendt, +and gonfince him that there is a Got in Heaven. You will gom? +Yes?”</p> +<p>“It was beautiful,” said the Gräfin simply; “it +made me cry. Go back to the piano again, please, at once.”</p> +<p>Perhaps the near neighbourhood of the Canon inspired this command, +but the Gräfin had been genuinely charmed. She adored good +music and she was unaffectedly fond of good-looking boys.</p> +<p>Ronnie went back to the piano and tasted the matured pleasure of +a repeated success. Any measure of nervousness that he may have +felt at first had completely passed away. He was sure of his audience +and he played as though they did not exist. A renewed clamour +of excited approval attended the conclusion of his performance.</p> +<p>“It is a triumph, a perfectly <i>glorious</i> triumph,” +exclaimed the Duchess of Dreyshire, turning to Yeovil, who sat silent +among his wife’s guests; “isn’t it just <i>glorious</i>?” +she demanded, with a heavy insistent intonation of the word.</p> +<p>“Is it?” said Yeovil.</p> +<p>“Well, isn’t it?” she cried, with a rising inflection, +“isn’t it just <i>perfectly</i> glorious?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” confessed Yeovil; “you see +glory hasn’t come very much my way lately.” Then, +before he exactly realised what he was doing, he raised his voice and +quoted loudly for the benefit of half the room:</p> +<blockquote><p>“‘Other Romans shall arise,<br /> +Heedless of a soldier’s name,<br /> +Sounds, not deeds, shall win the prize,<br /> +Harmony the path to fame.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>There was a sort of shiver of surprised silence at Yeovil’s +end of the room.</p> +<p>“Hell!”</p> +<p>The word rang out in a strong young voice.</p> +<p>“Hell! And it’s true, that’s the worst of +it. It’s damned true!”</p> +<p>Yeovil turned, with some dozen others, to see who was responsible +for this vigorously expressed statement.</p> +<p>Tony Luton confronted him, an angry scowl on his face, a blaze in +his heavy-lidded eyes. The boy was without a conscience, almost +without a soul, as priests and parsons reckon souls, but there was a +slumbering devil-god within him, and Yeovil’s taunting words had +broken the slumber. Life had been for Tony a hard school, in which +right and wrong, high endeavour and good resolve, were untaught subjects; +but there was a sterling something in him, just that something that +helped poor street-scavenged men to die brave-fronted deaths in the +trenches of Salamanca, that fired a handful of apprentice boys to shut +the gates of Derry and stare unflinchingly at grim leaguer and starvation. +It was just that nameless something that was lacking in the young musician, +who stood at the further end of the room, bathed in a flood of compliment +and congratulation, enjoying the honey-drops of his triumph.</p> +<p>Luton pushed his way through the crowd and left the room, without +troubling to take leave of his hostess.</p> +<p>“What a strange young man,” exclaimed the Duchess; “now +do take me into the next room,” she went on almost in the same +breath, “I’m just dying for some iced coffee.”</p> +<p>Yeovil escorted her through the throng of Ronnie-worshippers to the +desired haven of refreshment.</p> +<p>“Marvellous!” Mrs. Menteith-Mendlesohnn was exclaiming +in ringing trumpet tones; “of course I always knew he could play, +but this is not mere piano playing, it is tone-mastery, it is sound +magic. Mrs. Yeovil has introduced us to a new star in the musical +firmament. Do you know, I feel this afternoon just like Cortez, +in the poem, gazing at the newly discovered sea.”</p> +<p>“‘Silent upon a peak in Darien,’” quoted +a penetrating voice that could only belong to Joan Mardle; “I +say, can any one picture Mrs. Menteith-Mendlesohnn silent on any peak +or under any circumstances?”</p> +<p>If any one had that measure of imagination, no one acknowledged the +fact.</p> +<p>“A great gift and a great responsibility,” Canon Mousepace +was assuring the Gräfin; “the power of evoking sublime melody +is akin to the power of awakening thought; a musician can appeal to +dormant consciousness as the preacher can appeal to dormant conscience. +It is a responsibility, an instrument for good or evil. Our young +friend here, we may be sure, will use it as an instrument for good. +He has, I feel certain, a sense of his responsibility.”</p> +<p>“He is a nice boy,” said the Gräfin simply; “he +has such pretty hair.”</p> +<p>In one of the window recesses Rhapsodie Pantril was talking vaguely +but beautifully to a small audience on the subject of chromatic chords; +she had the advantage of knowing what she was talking about, an advantage +that her listeners did not in the least share. “All through +his playing there ran a tone-note of malachite green,” she declared +recklessly, feeling safe from immediate contradiction; “malachite +green, <i>my</i> colour—the colour of striving.”</p> +<p>Having satisfied the ruling passion that demanded gentle and dextrous +self-advertisement, she realised that the Augusta Smith in her craved +refreshment, and moved with one of her over-awed admirers towards the +haven where peaches and iced coffee might be considered a certainty.</p> +<p>The refreshment alcove, which was really a good-sized room, a sort +of chapel-of-ease to the larger drawing-room, was already packed with +a crowd who felt that they could best discuss Ronnie’s triumph +between mouthfuls of fruit salad and iced draughts of hock-cup. +So brief is human glory that two or three independent souls had even +now drifted from the theme of the moment on to other more personally +interesting topics.</p> +<p>“Iced mulberry salad, my dear, it’s a <i>spécialité</i> +<i>de</i> <i>la</i> <i>maison</i>, so to speak; they say the roving +husband brought the recipe from Astrakhan, or Seville, or some such +outlandish place.”</p> +<p>“I wish my husband would roam about a bit and bring back strange +palatable dishes. No such luck, he’s got asthma and has +to keep on a gravel soil with a south aspect and all sorts of other +restrictions.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think you’re to be pitied in the least; +a husband with asthma is like a captive golf-ball, you can always put +your hand on him when you want him.”</p> +<p>“All the hangings, <i>violette</i> <i>de</i> <i>Parme</i>, +all the furniture, rosewood. Nothing is to be played in it except +Mozart. Mozart only. Some of my friends wanted me to have +a replica of the Mozart statue at Vienna put up in a corner of the room, +with flowers always around it, but I really couldn’t. I +<i>couldn’t</i>. One is <i>so</i> tired of it, one sees +it everywhere. I couldn’t do it. I’m like that, +you know.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I’ve secured the hero of the hour, Ronnie Storre, +oh yes, rather. He’s going to join our yachting trip, third +week of August. We’re going as far afield as Fiume, in the +Adriatic—or is it the Ægean? Won’t it be jolly. +Oh no, we’re not asking Mrs. Yeovil; it’s quite a small +yacht you know—at least, it’s a small party.”</p> +<p>The excellent von Tolb took her departure, bearing off with her the +Landgraf, who had already settled the date and duration of Ronnie’s +Christmas visit.</p> +<p>“It will be dull, you know,” he warned the prospective +guest; “our Landtag will not be sitting, and what is a bear-garden +without the bears? However, we haf some wildt schwein in our woods, +we can show you some sport in that way.”</p> +<p>Ronnie instantly saw himself in a well-fitting shooting costume, +with a Tyrolese hat placed at a very careful angle on his head, but +he confessed that the other details of boar-hunting were rather beyond +him.</p> +<p>With the departure of the von Tolb party Canon Mousepace gravitated +decently but persistently towards a corner where the Duchess, still +at concert pitch, was alternatively praising Ronnie’s performance +and the mulberry salad. Joan Mardle, who formed one of the group, +was not openly praising any one, but she was paying a silent tribute +to the salad.</p> +<p>“We were just talking about Ronnie Storre’s music, Canon,” +said the Duchess; “I consider it just perfectly glorious.”</p> +<p>“It’s a great talent, isn’t it, Canon,” put +in Joan briskly, “and of course it’s a responsibility as +well, don’t you think? Music can be such an influence, just +as eloquence can; don’t you agree with me?”</p> +<p>The quarry of the English language was of course a public property, +but it was disconcerting to have one’s own particular barrow-load +of sentence-building material carried off before one’s eyes. +The Canon’s impressive homily on Ronnie’s gift and its possibilities +had to be hastily whittled down to a weakly acquiescent, “Quite +so, quite so.”</p> +<p>“Have you tasted this iced mulberry salad, Canon?” asked +the Duchess; “it’s perfectly luscious. Just hurry +along and get some before it’s all gone.”</p> +<p>And her Grace hurried along in an opposite direction, to thank Cicely +for past favours and to express lively gratitude for the Tuesday to +come.</p> +<p>The guests departed, with a rather irritating slowness, for which +perhaps the excellence of Cicely’s buffet arrangements was partly +responsible. The great drawing-room seemed to grow larger and +more oppressive as the human wave receded, and the hostess fled at last +with some relief to the narrower limits of her writing-room and the +sedative influences of a cigarette. She was inclined to be sorry +for herself; the triumph of the afternoon had turned out much as she +had predicted at lunch time. Her idol of onyx had not been swept +from its pedestal, but the pedestal itself had an air of being packed +up ready for transport to some other temple. Ronnie would be flattered +and spoiled by half a hundred people, just because he could conjure +sounds out of a keyboard, and Cicely felt no great incentive to go on +flattering and spoiling him herself. And Ronnie would acquiesce +in his dismissal with the good grace born of indifference—the +surest guarantor of perfect manners. Already he had social engagements +for the coming months in which she had no share; the drifting apart +would be mutual. He had been an intelligent and amusing companion, +and he had played the game as she had wished it to be played, without +the fatigue of keeping up pretences which neither of them could have +believed in. “Let us have a wonderfully good time together” +had been the single stipulation in their unwritten treaty of comradeship, +and they had had the good time. Their whole-hearted pursuit of +material happiness would go on as keenly as before, but they would hunt +in different company, that was all. Yes, that was all. . . .</p> +<p>Cicely found the effect of her cigarette less sedative than she was +disposed to exact. It might be necessary to change the brand. +Some ten or eleven days later Yeovil read an announcement in the papers +that, in spite of handsome offers of increased salary, Mr. Tony Luton, +the original singer of the popular ditty “Eccleston Square,” +had terminated his engagement with Messrs. Isaac Grosvenor and Leon +Hebhardt of the Caravansery Theatre, and signed on as a deck hand in +the Canadian Marine.</p> +<p>Perhaps after all there had been some shred of glory amid the trumpet +triumph of that July afternoon.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XV: THE INTELLIGENT ANTICIPATOR OF WANTS</h2> +<p>Two of Yeovil’s London clubs, the two that he had been accustomed +to frequent, had closed their doors after the catastrophe. One +of them had perished from off the face of the earth, its fittings had +been sold and its papers lay stored in some solicitor’s office, +a tit-bit of material for the pen of some future historian. The +other had transplanted itself to Delhi, whither it had removed its early +Georgian furniture and its traditions, and sought to reproduce its St. +James’s Street atmosphere as nearly as the conditions of a tropical +Asiatic city would permit. There remained the Cartwheel, a considerably +newer institution, which had sprung into existence somewhere about the +time of Yeovil’s last sojourn in England; he had joined it on +the solicitation of a friend who was interested in the venture, and +his bankers had paid his subscription during his absence. As he +had never been inside its doors there could be no depressing comparisons +to make between its present state and aforetime glories, and Yeovil +turned into its portals one afternoon with the adventurous detachment +of a man who breaks new ground and challenges new experiences.</p> +<p>He entered with a diffident sense of intrusion, conscious that his +standing as a member might not be recognised by the keepers of the doors; +in a moment, however, he realised that a rajah’s escort of elephants +might almost have marched through the entrance hall and vestibule without +challenge. The general atmosphere of the scene suggested a blend +of the railway station at Cologne, the Hotel Bristol in any European +capital, and the second act in most musical comedies. A score +of brilliant and brilliantined pages decorated the foreground, while +Hebraic-looking gentlemen, wearing tartan waistcoats of the clans of +their adoption, flitted restlessly between the tape machines and telephone +boxes. The army of occupation had obviously established a firm +footing in the hospitable premises; a kaleidoscopic pattern of uniforms, +sky-blue, indigo, and bottle-green, relieved the civilian attire of +the groups that clustered in lounge and card rooms and corridors. +Yeovil rapidly came to the conclusion that the joys of membership were +not for him. He had turned to go, after a very cursory inspection +of the premises and their human occupants, when he was hailed by a young +man, dressed with strenuous neatness, whom he remembered having met +in past days at the houses of one or two common friends.</p> +<p>Hubert Herlton’s parents had brought him into the world, and +some twenty-one years later had put him into a motor business. +Having taken these pardonable liberties they had completely exhausted +their ideas of what to do with him, and Hubert seemed unlikely to develop +any ideas of his own on the subject. The motor business elected +to conduct itself without his connivance; journalism, the stage, tomato +culture (without capital), and other professions that could be entered +on at short notice were submitted to his consideration by nimble-minded +relations and friends. He listened to their suggestions with polite +indifference, being rude only to a cousin who demonstrated how he might +achieve a settled income of from two hundred to a thousand pounds a +year by the propagation of mushrooms in a London basement. While +his walk in life was still an undetermined promenade his parents died, +leaving him with a carefully-invested income of thirty-seven pounds +a year. At that point of his career Yeovil’s knowledge of +him stopped short; the journey to Siberia had taken him beyond the range +of Herlton’s domestic vicissitudes.</p> +<p>The young man greeted him in a decidedly friendly manner.</p> +<p>“I didn’t know you were a member here,” he exclaimed.</p> +<p>“It’s the first time I’ve ever been in the club,” +said Yeovil, “and I fancy it will be the last. There is +rather too much of the fighting machine in evidence here. One +doesn’t want a perpetual reminder of what has happened staring +one in the face.”</p> +<p>“We tried at first to keep the alien element out,” said +Herlton apologetically, “but we couldn’t have carried on +the club if we’d stuck to that line. You see we’d +lost more than two-thirds of our old members so we couldn’t afford +to be exclusive. As a matter of fact the whole thing was decided +over our heads; a new syndicate took over the concern, and a new committee +was installed, with a good many foreigners on it. I know it’s +horrid having these uniforms flaunting all over the place, but what +is one to do?”</p> +<p>Yeovil said nothing, with the air of a man who could have said a +great deal.</p> +<p>“I suppose you wonder, why remain a member under those conditions?” +continued Herlton. “Well, as far as I am concerned, a place +like this is a necessity for me. In fact, it’s my profession, +my source of income.”</p> +<p>“Are you as good at bridge as all that?” asked Yeovil; +“I’m a fairly successful player myself, but I should be +sorry to have to live on my winnings, year in, year out.”</p> +<p>“I don’t play cards,” said Herlton, “at least +not for serious stakes. My winnings or losings wouldn’t +come to a tenner in an average year. No, I live by commissions, +by introducing likely buyers to would-be sellers.”</p> +<p>“Sellers of what?” asked Yeovil.</p> +<p>“Anything, everything; horses, yachts, old masters, plate, +shootings, poultry-farms, week-end cottages, motor cars, almost anything +you can think of. Look,” and he produced from his breast +pocket a bulky note-book illusorily inscribed “engagements.”</p> +<p>“Here,” he explained, tapping the book, “I’ve +got a double entry of every likely client that I know, with a note of +the things he may have to sell and the things he may want to buy. +When it is something that he has for sale there are cross-references +to likely purchasers of that particular line of article. I don’t +limit myself to things that I actually know people to be in want of, +I go further than that and have theories, carefully indexed theories, +as to the things that people might want to buy. At the right moment, +if I can get the opportunity, I mention the article that is in my mind’s +eye to the possible purchaser who has also been in my mind’s eye, +and I frequently bring off a sale. I started a chance acquaintance +on a career of print-buying the other day merely by telling him of a +couple of good prints that I knew of, that were to be had at a quite +reasonable price; he is a man with more money than he knows what to +do with, and he has laid out quite a lot on old prints since his first +purchase. Most of his collection he has got through me, and of +course I net a commission on each transaction. So you see, old +man, how useful, not to say necessary, a club with a large membership +is to me. The more mixed and socially chaotic it is, the more +serviceable it is.”</p> +<p>“Of course,” said Yeovil, “and I suppose, as a +matter of fact, a good many of your clients belong to the conquering +race.”</p> +<p>“Well, you see, they are the people who have got the money,” +said Herlton; “I don’t mean to say that the invading Germans +are usually people of wealth, but while they live over here they escape +the crushing taxation that falls on the British-born subject. +They serve their country as soldiers, and we have to serve it in garrison +money, ship money and so forth, besides the ordinary taxes of the State. +The German shoulders the rifle, the Englishman has to shoulder everything +else. That is what will help more than anything towards the gradual +Germanising of our big towns; the comparatively lightly-taxed German +workman over here will have a much bigger spending power and purchasing +power than his heavily taxed English neighbour. The public-houses, +bars, eating-houses, places of amusement and so forth, will come to +cater more and more for money-yielding German patronage. The stream +of British emigration will swell rather than diminish, and the stream +of Teuton immigration will be equally persistent and progressive. +Yes, the military-service ordinance was a cunning stroke on the part +of that old fox, von Kwarl. As a civilian statesman he is far +and away cleverer than Bismarck was; he smothers with a feather-bed +where Bismarck would have tried to smash with a sledge-hammer.”</p> +<p>“Have you got me down on your list of noteworthy people?” +asked Yeovil, turning the drift of the conversation back to the personal +topic.</p> +<p>“Certainly I have,” said Herlton, turning the pages of +his pocket directory to the letter Y. “As soon as I knew +you were back in England I made several entries concerning you. +In the first place it was possible that you might have a volume on Siberian +travel and natural history notes to publish, and I’ve cross-referenced +you to a publisher I know who rather wants books of that sort on his +list.”</p> +<p>“I may tell you at once that I’ve no intentions in that +direction,” said Yeovil, in some amusement.</p> +<p>“Just as well,” said Herlton cheerfully, scribbling a +hieroglyphic in his book; “that branch of business is rather outside +my line—too little in it, and the gratitude of author and publisher +for being introduced to one another is usually short-lived. A +more serious entry was the item that if you were wintering in England +you would be looking out for a hunter or two. You used to hunt +with the East Wessex, I remember; I’ve got just the very animal +that will suit that country, ready waiting for you. A beautiful +clean jumper. I’ve put it over a fence or two myself, and +you and I ride much the same weight. A stiffish price is being +asked for it, but I’ve got the letters D.O. after your name.”</p> +<p>“In Heaven’s name,” said Yeovil, now openly grinning, +“before I die of curiosity tell me what D.O. stands for.”</p> +<p>“It means some one who doesn’t object to pay a good price +for anything that really suits him. There are some people of course +who won’t consider a thing unless they can get it for about a +third of what they imagine to be its market value. I’ve +got another suggestion down against you in my book; you may not be staying +in the country at all, you may be clearing out in disgust at existing +conditions. In that case you would be selling a lot of things +that you wouldn’t want to cart away with you. That involves +another set of entries and a whole lot of cross references.”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid I’ve given you a lot of trouble,” +said Yeovil drily.</p> +<p>“Not at all,” said Herlton, “but it would simplify +matters if we take it for granted that you are going to stay here, for +this winter anyhow, and are looking out for hunters. Can you lunch +with me here on Wednesday, and come and look at the animal afterwards? +It’s only thirty-five minutes by train. It will take us +longer if we motor. There is a two-fifty-three from Charing Cross +that we could catch comfortably.”</p> +<p>“If you are going to persuade me to hunt in the East Wessex +country this season,” said Yeovil, “you must find me a convenient +hunting box somewhere down there.”</p> +<p>“I <i>have</i> found it,” said Herlton, whipping out +a stylograph, and hastily scribbling an “order to view” +on a card; “central as possible for all the meets, grand stabling +accommodation, excellent water-supply, big bathroom, game larder, cellarage, +a bakehouse if you want to bake your own bread—”</p> +<p>“Any land with it?”</p> +<p>“Not enough to be a nuisance. An acre or two of paddock +and about the same of garden. You are fond of wild things; a wood +comes down to the edge of the garden, a wood that harbours owls and +buzzards and kestrels.”</p> +<p>“Have you got all those details in your book?” asked +Yeovil; “‘wood adjoining property, O.B.K.’”</p> +<p>“I keep those details in my head,” said Herlton, “but +they are quite reliable.”</p> +<p>“I shall insist on something substantial off the rent if there +are no buzzards,” said Yeovil; “now that you have mentioned +them they seem an indispensable accessory to any decent hunting-box. +Look,” he exclaimed, catching sight of a plump middle-aged individual, +crossing the vestibule with an air of restrained importance, “there +goes the delectable Pitherby. Does he come on your books at all?”</p> +<p>“I should say!” exclaimed Herlton fervently. “The +delectable P. nourishes expectations of a barony or viscounty at an +early date. Most of his life has been spent in streets and squares, +with occasional migrations to the esplanades of fashionable watering-places +or the gravelled walks of country house gardens. Now that <i>noblesse</i> +is about to impose its obligations on him, quite a new catalogue of +wants has sprung into his mind. There are things that a plain +esquire may leave undone without causing scandalised remark, but a fiercer +light beats on a baron. Trigger-pulling is one of the obligations. +Up to the present Pitherby has never hit a partridge in anger, but this +year he has commissioned me to rent him a deer forest. Some pedigree +Herefords for his ‘home farm’ was another commission, and +a dozen and a half swans for a swannery. The swannery, I may say, +was my idea; I said once in his hearing that it gave a baronial air +to an estate; you see I knew a man who had got a lot of surplus swan +stock for sale. Now Pitherby wants a heronry as well. I’ve +put him in communication with a client of mine who suffers from superfluous +herons, but of course I can’t guarantee that the birds’ +nesting arrangements will fall in with his territorial requirement. +I’m getting him some carp, too, of quite respectable age, for +a carp pond; I thought it would look so well for his lady-wife to be +discovered by interviewers feeding the carp with her own fair hands, +and I put the same idea into Pitherby’s mind.”</p> +<p>“I had no idea that so many things were necessary to endorse +a patent of nobility,” said Yeovil. “If there should +be any miscarriage in the bestowal of the honour at least Pitherby will +have absolved himself from any charge of contributory negligence.”</p> +<p>“Shall we say Wednesday, here, one o’clock, lunch first, +and go down and look at the horse afterwards?” said Herlton, returning +to the matter in hand.</p> +<p>Yeovil hesitated, then he nodded his head.</p> +<p>“There is no harm in going to look at the animal,” he +said.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI: SUNRISE</h2> +<p>Mrs. Kerrick sat at a little teak-wood table in the verandah of a +low-pitched teak-built house that stood on the steep slope of a brown +hillside. Her youngest child, with the grave natural dignity of +nine-year old girlhood, maintained a correct but observant silence, +looking carefully yet unobtrusively after the wants of the one guest, +and checking from time to time the incursions of ubiquitous ants that +were obstinately disposed to treat the table-cloth as a foraging ground. +The wayfaring visitor, who was experiencing a British blend of Eastern +hospitality, was a French naturalist, travelling thus far afield in +quest of feathered specimens to enrich the aviaries of a bird-collecting +Balkan King. On the previous evening, while shrugging his shoulders +and unloosing his vocabulary over the meagre accommodation afforded +by the native rest-house, he had been enchanted by receiving an invitation +to transfer his quarters to the house on the hillside, where he found +not only a pleasant-voiced hostess and some drinkable wine, but three +brown-skinned English youngsters who were able to give him a mass of +intelligent first-hand information about the bird life of the region. +And now, at the early morning breakfast, ere yet the sun was showing +over the rim of the brown-baked hills, he was learning something of +the life of the little community he had chanced on. “I was +in these parts many years ago,” explained the hostess, “when +my husband was alive and had an appointment out here. It is a +healthy hill district and I had pleasant memories of the place, so when +it became necessary, well, desirable let us say, to leave our English +home and find a new one, it occurred to me to bring my boys and my little +girl here—my eldest girl is at school in Paris. Labour is +cheap here and I try my hand at farming in a small way. Of course +it is very different work to just superintending the dairy and poultry-yard +arrangements of an English country estate. There are so many things, +insect ravages, bird depredations, and so on, that one only knows on +a small scale in England, that happen here in wholesale fashion, not +to mention droughts and torrential rains and other tropical visitations. +And then the domestic animals are so disconcertingly different from +the ones one has been used to; humped cattle never seem to behave in +the way that straight-backed cattle would, and goats and geese and chickens +are not a bit the same here that they are in Europe—and of course +the farm servants are utterly unlike the same class in England. +One has to unlearn a good deal of what one thought one knew about stock-keeping +and agriculture, and take note of the native ways of doing things; they +are primitive and unenterprising of course, but they have an accumulated +store of experience behind them, and one has to tread warily in initiating +improvements.”</p> +<p>The Frenchman looked round at the brown sun-scorched hills, with +the dusty empty road showing here and there in the middle distance and +other brown sun-scorched hills rounding off the scene; he looked at +the lizards on the verandah walls, at the jars for keeping the water +cool, at the numberless little insect-bored holes in the furniture, +at the heat-drawn lines on his hostess’s comely face. Notwithstanding +his present wanderings he had a Frenchman’s strong homing instinct, +and he marvelled to hear this lady, who should have been a lively and +popular figure in the social circle of some English county town, talking +serenely of the ways of humped cattle and native servants.</p> +<p>“And your children, how do they like the change?” he +asked.</p> +<p>“It is healthy up here among the hills,” said the mother, +also looking round at the landscape and thinking doubtless of a very +different scene; “they have an outdoor life and plenty of liberty. +They have their ponies to ride, and there is a lake up above us that +is a fine place for them to bathe and boat in; the three boys are there +now, having their morning swim. The eldest is sixteen and he is +allowed to have a gun, and there is some good wild fowl shooting to +be had in the reed beds at the further end of the lake. I think +that part of the joy of his shooting expeditions lies in the fact that +many of the duck and plover that he comes across belong to the same +species that frequent our English moors and rivers.”</p> +<p>It was the first hint that she had given of a wistful sense of exile, +the yearning for other skies, the message that a dead bird’s plumage +could bring across rolling seas and scorching plains.</p> +<p>“And the education of your boys, how do you manage for that?” +asked the visitor.</p> +<p>“There is a young tutor living out in these wilds,” said +Mrs. Kerrick; “he was assistant master at a private school in +Scotland, but it had to be given up when—when things changed; +so many of the boys left the country. He came out to an uncle +who has a small estate eight miles from here, and three days in the +week he rides over to teach my boys, and three days he goes to another +family living in the opposite direction. To-day he is due to come +here. It is a great boon to have such an opportunity for getting +the boys educated, and of course it helps him to earn a living.”</p> +<p>“And the society of the place?” asked the Frenchman.</p> +<p>His hostess laughed.</p> +<p>“I must admit it has to be looked for with a strong pair of +field-glasses,” she said; “it is almost as difficult to +get a good bridge four together as it would have been to get up a tennis +tournament or a subscription dance in our particular corner of England. +One has to ignore distances and forget fatigue if one wants to be gregarious +even on a limited scale. There are one or two officials who are +our chief social mainstays, but the difficulty is to muster the few +available souls under the same roof at the same moment. A road +will be impassable in one quarter, a pony will be lame in another, a +stress of work will prevent some one else from coming, and another may +be down with a touch of fever. When my little girl gave a birthday +party here her only little girl guest had come twelve miles to attend +it. The Forest officer happened to drop in on us that evening, +so we felt quite festive.”</p> +<p>The Frenchman’s eyes grew round in wonder. He had once +thought that the capital city of a Balkan kingdom was the uttermost +limit of social desolation, viewed from a Parisian standpoint, and there +at any rate one could get <i>café</i> <i>chantant</i>, tennis, +picnic parties, an occasional theatre performance by a foreign troupe, +now and then a travelling circus, not to speak of Court and diplomatic +functions of a more or less sociable character. Here, it seemed, +one went a day’s journey to reach an evening’s entertainment, +and the chance arrival of a tired official took on the nature of a festivity. +He looked round again at the rolling stretches of brown hills; before +he had regarded them merely as the background to this little shut-away +world, now he saw that they were foreground as well. They were +everything, there was nothing else. And again his glance travelled +to the face of his hostess, with its bright, pleasant eyes and smiling +mouth.</p> +<p>“And you live here with your children,” he said, “here +in this wilderness? You leave England, you leave everything, for +this?”</p> +<p>His hostess rose and took him over to the far side of the verandah. +The beginnings of a garden were spread out before them, with young fruit +trees and flowering shrubs, and bushes of pale pink roses. Exuberant +tropical growths were interspersed with carefully tended vestiges of +plants that had evidently been brought from a more temperate climate, +and had not borne the transition well. Bushes and trees and shrubs +spread away for some distance, to where the ground rose in a small hillock +and then fell away abruptly into bare hillside.</p> +<p>“In all this garden that you see,” said the Englishwoman, +“there is one tree that is sacred.”</p> +<p>“A tree?” said the Frenchman.</p> +<p>“A tree that we could not grow in England.”</p> +<p>The Frenchman followed the direction of her eyes and saw a tall, +bare pole at the summit of the hillock. At the same moment the +sun came over the hilltops in a deep, orange glow, and a new light stole +like magic over the brown landscape. And, as if they had timed +their arrival to that exact moment of sunburst, three brown-faced boys +appeared under the straight, bare pole. A cord shivered and flapped, +and something ran swiftly up into the air, and swung out in the breeze +that blew across the hills—a blue flag with red and white crosses. +The three boys bared their heads and the small girl on the verandah +steps stood rigidly to attention. Far away down the hill, a young +man, cantering into view round a corner of the dusty road, removed his +hat in loyal salutation.</p> +<p>“That is why we live out here,” said the Englishwoman +quietly.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII: THE EVENT OF THE SEASON</h2> +<p>In the first swelter room of the new Osmanli Baths in Cork Street +four or five recumbent individuals, in a state of moist nudity and self-respecting +inertia, were smoking cigarettes or making occasional pretence of reading +damp newspapers. A glass wall with a glass door shut them off +from the yet more torrid regions of the further swelter chambers; another +glass partition disclosed the dimly-lit vault where other patrons of +the establishment had arrived at the stage of being pounded and kneaded +and sluiced by Oriental-looking attendants. The splashing and +trickling of taps, the flip-flap of wet slippers on a wet floor, and +the low murmur of conversation, filtered through glass doors, made an +appropriately drowsy accompaniment to the scene.</p> +<p>A new-comer fluttered into the room, beamed at one of the occupants, +and settled himself with an air of elaborate languor in a long canvas +chair. Cornelian Valpy was a fair young man, with perpetual surprise +impinged on his countenance, and a chin that seemed to have retired +from competition with the rest of his features. The beam of recognition +that he had given to his friend or acquaintance subsided into a subdued +but lingering simper.</p> +<p>“What is the matter?” drawled his neighbour lazily, dropping +the end of a cigarette into a small bowl of water, and helping himself +from a silver case on the table at his side.</p> +<p>“Matter?” said Cornelian, opening wide a pair of eyes +in which unhealthy intelligence seemed to struggle in undetermined battle +with utter vacuity; “why should you suppose that anything is the +matter?”</p> +<p>“When you wear a look of idiotic complacency in a Turkish bath,” +said the other, “it is the more noticeable from the fact that +you are wearing nothing else.”</p> +<p>“Were you at the Shalem House dance last night?” asked +Cornelian, by way of explaining his air of complacent retrospection.</p> +<p>“No,” said the other, “but I feel as if I had been; +I’ve been reading columns about it in the <i>Dawn</i>.”</p> +<p>“The last event of the season,” said Cornelian, “and +quite one of the most amusing and lively functions that there have been.”</p> +<p>“So the <i>Dawn</i> said; but then, as Shalem practically owns +and controls that paper, its favourable opinion might be taken for granted.”</p> +<p>“The whole idea of the Revel was quite original,” said +Cornelian, who was not going to have his personal narrative of the event +forestalled by anything that a newspaper reporter might have given to +the public; “a certain number of guests went as famous personages +in the world’s history, and each one was accompanied by another +guest typifying the prevailing characteristic of that personage. +One man went as Julius Cæsar, for instance, and had a girl typifying +ambition as his shadow, another went as Louis the Eleventh, and his +companion personified superstition. Your shadow had to be someone +of the opposite sex, you see, and every alternate dance throughout the +evening you danced with your shadow-partner. Quite a clever idea; +young Graf von Schnatelstein is supposed to have invented it.”</p> +<p>“New York will be deeply beholden to him,” said the other; +“shadow-dances, with all manner of eccentric variations, will +be the rage there for the next eighteen months.”</p> +<p>“Some of the costumes were really sumptuous,” continued +Cornelian; “the Duchess of Dreyshire was magnificent as Aholibah, +you never saw so many jewels on one person, only of course she didn’t +look dark enough for the character; she had Billy Carnset for her shadow, +representing Unspeakable Depravity.”</p> +<p>“How on earth did he manage that?”</p> +<p>“Oh, a blend of Beardsley and Bakst as far as get-up and costume, +and of course his own personality counted for a good deal. Quite +one of the successes of the evening was Leutnant von Gabelroth, as George +Washington, with Joan Mardle as his shadow, typifying Inconvenient Candour. +He put her down officially as Truthfulness, but every one had heard +the other version.”</p> +<p>“Good for the Gabelroth, though he does belong to the invading +Horde; it’s not often that any one scores off Joan.”</p> +<p>“Another blaze of magnificence was the loud-voiced Bessimer +woman, as the Goddess Juno, with peacock tails and opals all over her; +she had Ronnie Storre to represent Green-eyed Jealousy. Talking +of Ronnie Storre <i>and</i> of jealousy, you will naturally wonder whom +Mrs. Yeovil went with. I forget what her costume was, but she’d +got that dark-headed youth with her that she’s been trotting round +everywhere the last few days.”</p> +<p>Cornelian’s neighbour kicked him furtively on the shin, and +frowned in the direction of a dark-haired youth reclining in an adjacent +chair. The youth in question rose from his seat and stalked into +the further swelter room.</p> +<p>“So clever of him to go into the furnace room,” said +the unabashed Cornelian; “now if he turns scarlet all over we +shall never know how much is embarrassment and how much is due to the +process of being boiled. La Yeovil hasn’t done badly by +the exchange; he’s better looking than Ronnie.”</p> +<p>“I see that Pitherby went as Frederick the Great,” said +Cornelian’s neighbour, fingering a sheet of the <i>Dawn</i>.</p> +<p>“Isn’t that exactly what one would have expected Pitherby +to do?” said Cornelian. “He’s so desperately +anxious to announce to all whom it may concern that he has written a +life of that hero. He had an uninspiring-looking woman with him, +supposed to represent Military Genius.”</p> +<p>“The Spirit of Advertisement would have been more appropriate,” +said the other.</p> +<p>“The opening scene of the Revel was rather effective,” +continued Cornelian; “all the Shadow people reclined in the dimly-lit +centre of the ballroom in an indistinguishable mass, and the human characters +marched round the illuminated sides of the room to solemn processional +music. Every now and then a shadow would detach itself from the +mass, hail its partner by name, and glide out to join him or her in +the procession. Then, when the last shadows had found their mates +and every one was partnered, the lights were turned up in a blaze, the +orchestra crashed out a whirl of nondescript dance music, and people +just let themselves go. It was Pandemonium. Afterwards every +one strutted about for half an hour or so, showing themselves off, and +then the legitimate programme of dances began. There were some +rather amusing incidents throughout the evening. One set of lancers +was danced entirely by the Seven Deadly Sins and their human exemplars; +of course seven couples were not sufficient to make up the set, so they +had to bring in an eighth sin, I forget what it was.”</p> +<p>“The sin of Patriotism would have been rather appropriate, +considering who were giving the dance,” said the other.</p> +<p>“Hush!” exclaimed Cornelian nervously. “You +don’t know who may overhear you in a place like this. You’ll +get yourself into trouble.”</p> +<p>“Wasn’t there some rather daring new dance of the ‘bunny-hug’ +variety?” asked the indiscreet one.</p> +<p>“The ‘Cubby-Cuddle,’” said Cornelian; “three +or four adventurous couples danced it towards the end of the evening.”</p> +<p>“The <i>Dawn</i> says that without being strikingly new it +was strikingly modern.”</p> +<p>“The best description I can give of it,” said Cornelian, +“is summed up in the comment of the Gräfin von Tolb when +she saw it being danced: ‘if they <i>really</i> love each other +I suppose it doesn’t matter.’ By the way,” he +added with apparent indifference, “is there any detailed account +of my costume in the <i>Dawn</i>?”</p> +<p>His companion laughed cynically.</p> +<p>“As if you hadn’t read everything that the <i>Dawn</i> +and the other morning papers have to say about the ball hours ago.”</p> +<p>“The naked truth should be avoided in a Turkish bath,” +said Cornelian; “kindly assume that I’ve only had time to +glance at the weather forecast and the news from China.”</p> +<p>“Oh, very well,” said the other; “your costume +isn’t described; you simply come amid a host of others as ‘Mr. +Cornelian Valpy, resplendent as the Emperor Nero; with him Miss Kate +Lerra, typifying Insensate Vanity.’ Many hard things have +been said of Nero, but his unkindest critics have never accused him +of resembling you in feature. Until some very clear evidence is +produced I shall refuse to believe it.”</p> +<p>Cornelian was proof against these shafts; leaning back gracefully +in his chair he launched forth into that detailed description of his +last night’s attire which the Dawn had so unaccountably failed +to supply.</p> +<p>“I wore a tunic of white Nepaulese silk, with a collar of pearls, +real pearls. Round my waist I had a girdle of twisted serpents +in beaten gold, studded all over with amethysts. My sandals were +of gold, laced with scarlet thread, and I had seven bracelets of gold +on each arm. Round my head I had a wreath of golden laurel leaves +set with scarlet berries, and hanging over my left shoulder was a silk +robe of mulberry purple, broidered with the signs of the zodiac in gold +and scarlet; I had it made specially for the occasion. At my side +I had an ivory-sheathed dagger, with a green jade handle, hung in a +green Cordova leather—”</p> +<p>At this point of the recital his companion rose softly, flung his +cigarette end into the little water-bowl, and passed into the further +swelter room. Cornelian Valpy was left, still clothed in a look +of ineffable complacency, still engaged, in all probability, in reclothing +himself in the finery of the previous evening.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII: THE DEAD WHO DO NOT UNDERSTAND</h2> +<p>The pale light of a November afternoon faded rapidly into the dusk +of a November evening. Far over the countryside housewives put +up their cottage shutters, lit their lamps, and made the customary remark +that the days were drawing in. In barn yards and poultry-runs +the greediest pullets made a final tour of inspection, picking up the +stray remaining morsels of the evening meal, and then, with much scrambling +and squawking, sought the places on the roosting-pole that they thought +should belong to them. Labourers working in yard and field began +to turn their thoughts homeward or tavernward as the case might be. +And through the cold squelching slush of a water-logged meadow a weary, +bedraggled, but unbeaten fox stiffly picked his way, climbed a high +bramble-grown bank, and flung himself into the sheltering labyrinth +of a stretching tangle of woods. The pack of fierce-mouthed things +that had rattled him from copse and gorse-cover, along fallow and plough, +hedgerow and wooded lane, for nigh on an hour, and had pressed hard +on his life for the last few minutes, receded suddenly into the background +of his experiences. The cold, wet meadow, the thick mask of woods, +and the oncoming dusk had stayed the chase—and the fox had outstayed +it. In a short time he would fall mechanically to licking off +some of the mud that caked on his weary pads; in a shorter time horsemen +and hounds would have drawn off kennelward and homeward.</p> +<p>Yeovil rode through the deepening twilight, relying chiefly on his +horse to find its way in the network of hedge-bordered lanes that presumably +led to a high road or to some human habitation. He was desperately +tired after his day’s hunting, a legacy of weakness that the fever +had bequeathed to him, but even though he could scarcely sit upright +in his saddle his mind dwelt complacently on the day’s sport and +looked forward to the snug cheery comfort that awaited him at his hunting +box. There was a charm, too, even for a tired man, in the eerie +stillness of the lone twilight land through which he was passing, a +grey shadow-hung land which seemed to have been emptied of all things +that belonged to the daytime, and filled with a lurking, moving life +of which one knew nothing beyond the sense that it was there. +There, and very near. If there had been wood-gods and wicked-eyed +fauns in the sunlit groves and hill sides of old Hellas, surely there +were watchful, living things of kindred mould in this dusk-hidden wilderness +of field and hedge and coppice.</p> +<p>It was Yeovil’s third or fourth day with the hounds, without +taking into account a couple of mornings’ cub-hunting. Already +he felt that he had been doing nothing different from this all his life. +His foreign travels, his illness, his recent weeks in London, they were +part of a tapestried background that had very slight and distant connection +with his present existence. Of the future he tried to think with +greater energy and determination. For this winter, at any rate, +he would hunt and do a little shooting, entertain a few of his neighbours +and make friends with any congenial fellow-sportsmen who might be within +reach. Next year things would be different; he would have had +time to look round him, to regain something of his aforetime vigour +of mind and body. Next year, when the hunting season was over, +he would set about finding out whether there was any nobler game for +him to take a hand in. He would enter into correspondence with +old friends who had gone out into the tropics and the backwoods—he +would do something.</p> +<p>So he told himself, but he knew thoroughly well that he had found +his level. He had ceased to struggle against the fascination of +his present surroundings. The slow, quiet comfort and interest +of country life appealed with enervating force to the man whom death +had half conquered. The pleasures of the chase, well-provided +for in every detail, and dovetailed in with the assured luxury of a +well-ordered, well-staffed establishment, were exactly what he wanted +and exactly what his life down here afforded him. He was experiencing, +too, that passionate recurring devotion to an old loved scene that comes +at times to men who have travelled far and willingly up and down the +world. He was very much at home. The alien standard floating +over Buckingham Palace, the Crown of Charlemagne on public buildings +and official documents, the grey ships of war riding in Plymouth Bay +and Southampton Water with a flag at their stern that older generations +of Britons had never looked on, these things seemed far away and inconsequent +amid the hedgerows and woods and fallows of the East Wessex country. +Horse and hound-craft, harvest, game broods, the planting and felling +of timber, the rearing and selling of stock, the letting of grasslands, +the care of fisheries, the up-keep of markets and fairs, they were the +things that immediately mattered. And Yeovil saw himself, in moments +of disgust and self-accusation, settling down into this life of rustic +littleness, concerned over the late nesting of a partridge or the defective +draining of a loose-box, hugely busy over affairs that a gardener’s +boy might grapple with, ignoring the struggle-cry that went up, low +and bitter and wistful, from a dethroned dispossessed race, in whose +glories he had gloried, in whose struggle he lent no hand. In +what way, he asked himself in such moments, would his life be better +than the life of that parody of manhood who upholstered his rooms with +art hangings and rosewood furniture and babbled over the effect?</p> +<p>The lanes seemed interminable and without aim or object except to +bisect one another; gates and gaps disclosed nothing in the way of a +landmark, and the night began to draw down in increasing shades of darkness. +Presently, however, the tired horse quickened its pace, swung round +a sharp corner into a broader roadway, and stopped with an air of thankful +expectancy at the low doorway of a wayside inn. A cheerful glow +of light streamed from the windows and door, and a brighter glare came +from the other side of the road, where a large motorcar was being got +ready for an immediate start. Yeovil tumbled stiffly out of his +saddle, and in answer to the loud rattle of his hunting crop on the +open door the innkeeper and two or three hangers-on hurried out to attend +to the wants of man and beast. Flour and water for the horse and +something hot for himself were Yeovil’s first concern, and then +he began to clamour for geographical information. He was rather +dismayed to find that the cumulative opinions of those whom he consulted, +and of several others who joined unbidden in the discussion, placed +his destination at nothing nearer than nine miles. Nine miles +of dark and hilly country road for a tired man on a tired horse assumed +enormous, far-stretching proportions, and although he dimly remembered +that he had asked a guest to dinner for that evening he began to wonder +whether the wayside inn possessed anything endurable in the way of a +bedroom. The landlord interrupted his desperate speculations with +a really brilliant effort of suggestion. There was a gentleman +in the bar, he said, who was going in a motorcar in the direction for +which Yeovil was bound, and who would no doubt be willing to drop him +at his destination; the gentleman had also been out with the hounds. +Yeovil’s horse could be stabled at the inn and fetched home by +a groom the next morning. A hurried embassy to the bar parlour +resulted in the news that the motorist would be delighted to be of assistance +to a fellow-sportsman. Yeovil gratefully accepted the chance that +had so obligingly come his way, and hastened to superintend the housing +of his horse in its night’s quarters. When he had duly seen +to the tired animal’s comfort and foddering he returned to the +roadway, where a young man in hunting garb and a livened chauffeur were +standing by the side of the waiting car.</p> +<p>“I am so very pleased to be of some use to you, Mr. Yeovil,” +said the car-owner, with a polite bow, and Yeovil recognised the young +Leutnant von Gabelroth, who had been present at the musical afternoon +at Berkshire Street. He had doubtless seen him at the meet that +morning, but in his hunting kit he had escaped his observation.</p> +<p>“I, too, have been out with the hounds,” the young man +continued; “I have left my horse at the Crow and Sceptre at Dolford. +You are living at Black Dene, are you not? I can take you right +past your door, it is all on my way.”</p> +<p>Yeovil hung back for a moment, overwhelmed with vexation and embarrassment, +but it was too late to cancel the arrangement he had unwittingly entered +into, and he was constrained to put himself under obligation to the +young officer with the best grace he could muster. After all, +he reflected, he had met him under his own roof as his wife’s +guest. He paid his reckoning to mine host, tipped the stable lad +who had helped him with his horse, and took his place beside von Gabelroth +in the car.</p> +<p>As they glided along the dark roadway and the young German reeled +off a string of comments on the incidents of the day’s sport, +Yeovil lay back amid his comfortable wraps and weighed the measure of +his humiliation. It was Cicely’s gospel that one should +know what one wanted in life and take good care that one got what one +wanted. Could he apply that test of achievement to his own life? +Was this what he really wanted to be doing, pursuing his uneventful +way as a country squire, sharing even his sports and pastimes with men +of the nation that had conquered and enslaved his Fatherland?</p> +<p>The car slackened its pace somewhat as they went through a small +hamlet, past a schoolhouse, past a rural police-station with the new +monogram over its notice-board, past a church with a little tree-grown +graveyard. There, in a corner, among wild-rose bushes and tall +yews, lay some of Yeovil’s own kinsfolk, who had lived in these +parts and hunted and found life pleasant in the days that were not so +very long ago. Whenever he went past that quiet little gathering-place +of the dead Yeovil was wont to raise his hat in mute affectionate salutation +to those who were now only memories in his family; to-night he somehow +omitted the salute and turned his head the other way. It was as +though the dead of his race saw and wondered.</p> +<p>Three or four months ago the thing he was doing would have seemed +an impossibility, now it was actually happening; he was listening to +the gay, courteous, tactful chatter of his young companion, laughing +now and then at some joking remark, answering some question of interest, +learning something of hunting ways and traditions in von Gabelroth’s +own country. And when the car turned in at the gate of the hunting +lodge and drew up at the steps the laws of hospitality demanded that +Yeovil should ask his benefactor of the road to come in for a few minutes +and drink something a little better than the wayside inn had been able +to supply. The young officer spent the best part of a half hour +in Yeovil’s snuggery, examining and discussing the trophies of +rifle and collecting gun that covered the walls. He had a good +knowledge of woodcraft, and the beasts and birds of Siberian forests +and North African deserts were to him new pages in a familiar book. +Yeovil found himself discoursing eagerly with his chance guest on the +European distribution and local variation of such and such a species, +recounting peculiarities in its habits and incidents of its pursuit +and capture. If the cold observant eyes of Lady Shalem could have +rested on the scene she would have hailed it as another root-fibre thrown +out by the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i>.</p> +<p>Yeovil closed the hall door on his departing visitor, and closed +his mind on the crowd of angry and accusing thoughts that were waiting +to intrude themselves. His valet had already got his bath in readiness +and in a few minutes the tired huntsman was forgetting weariness and +the consciousness of outside things in the languorous abandonment that +steam and hot water induce. Brain and limbs seemed to lay themselves +down in a contented waking sleep, the world that was beyond the bathroom +walls dropped away into a far unreal distance; only somewhere through +the steam clouds pierced a hazy consciousness that a dinner, well chosen, +was being well cooked, and would presently be well served—and +right well appreciated. That was the lure to drag the bather away +from the Nirvana land of warmth and steam. The stimulating after-effect +of the bath took its due effect, and Yeovil felt that he was now much +less tired and enormously hungry. A cheery fire burned in his +dressing-room and a lively black kitten helped him to dress, and incidentally +helped him to require a new tassel to the cord of his dressing-gown. +As he finished his toilet and the kitten finished its sixth and most +notable attack on the tassel a ring was heard at the front door, and +a moment later a loud, hearty, and unmistakably hungry voice resounded +in the hall. It belonged to the local doctor, who had also taken +part in the day’s run and had been bidden to enliven the evening +meal with the entertainment of his inexhaustible store of sporting and +social reminiscences. He knew the countryside and the countryfolk +inside out, and he was a living unwritten chronicle of the East Wessex +hunt. His conversation seemed exactly the right accompaniment +to the meal; his stories brought glimpses of wet hedgerows, stiff ploughlands, +leafy spinneys and muddy brooks in among the rich old Worcester and +Georgian silver of the dinner service, the glow and crackle of the wood +fire, the pleasant succession of well-cooked dishes and mellow wines. +The world narrowed itself down again to a warm, drowsy-scented dining-room, +with a productive hinterland of kitchen and cellar beyond it, and beyond +that an important outer world of loose box and harness-room and stable-yard; +further again a dark hushed region where pheasants roosted and owls +flitted and foxes prowled.</p> +<p>Yeovil sat and listened to story after story of the men and women +and horses of the neighbourhood; even the foxes seemed to have a personality, +some of them, and a personal history. It was a little like Hans +Andersen, he decided, and a little like the <i>Reminiscences</i> <i>of</i> +<i>an</i> <i>Irish</i> <i>R</i>.<i>M</i>., and perhaps just a little +like some of the more probable adventures of Baron Munchausen. +The newer stories were evidently true to the smallest detail, the earlier +ones had altered somewhat in repetition, as plants and animals vary +under domestication.</p> +<p>And all the time there was one topic that was never touched on. +Of half the families mentioned it was necessary to add the qualifying +information that they “used to live” at such and such a +place; the countryside knew them no longer. Their properties were +for sale or had already passed into the hands of strangers. But +neither man cared to allude to the grinning shadow that sat at the feast +and sent an icy chill now and again through the cheeriest jest and most +jovial story. The brisk run with the hounds that day had stirred +and warmed their pulses; it was an evening for comfortable forgetting. +Later that night, in the stillness of his bedroom, with the dwindling +noises of a retiring household dropping off one by one into ordered +silence, a door shutting here, a fire being raked out there, the thoughts +that had been held away came crowding in. The body was tired, +but the brain was not, and Yeovil lay awake with his thoughts for company. +The world grew suddenly wide again, filled with the significance of +things that mattered, held by the actions of men that mattered. +Hunting-box and stable and gun-room dwindled to a mere pin-point in +the universe, there were other larger, more absorbing things on which +the mind dwelt. There was the grey cold sea outside Dover and +Portsmouth and Cork, where the great grey ships of war rocked and swung +with the tides, where the sailors sang, in doggerel English, that bitter-sounding +adaptation, “Germania rules t’e waves,” where the +flag of a World-Power floated for the world to see. And in oven-like +cities of India there were men who looked out at the white sun-glare, +the heat-baked dust, the welter of crowded streets, who listened to +the unceasing chorus of harsh-throated crows, the strident creaking +of cart-wheels, the buzz and drone of insect swarms and the rattle call +of the tree lizards; men whose thoughts went hungrily to the cool grey +skies and wet turf and moist ploughlands of an English hunting country, +men whose memories listened yearningly to the music of a deep-throated +hound and the call of a game-bird in the stubble. Yeovil had secured +for himself the enjoyment of the things for which these men hungered; +he had known what he wanted in life, slowly and with hesitation, yet +nevertheless surely, he had arrived at the achievement of his unconfessed +desires. Here, installed under his own roof-tree, with as good +horseflesh in his stable as man could desire, with sport lying almost +at his door, with his wife ready to come down and help him to entertain +his neighbours, Murrey Yeovil had found the life that he wanted—and +was accursed in his own eyes. He argued with himself, and palliated +and explained, but he knew why he had turned his eyes away that evening +from the little graveyard under the trees; one cannot explain things +to the dead.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX: THE LITTLE FOXES</h2> +<blockquote><p>“Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil +the vines”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>On a warm and sunny May afternoon, some ten months since Yeovil’s +return from his Siberian wanderings and sickness, Cicely sat at a small +table in the open-air restaurant in Hyde Park, finishing her after-luncheon +coffee and listening to the meritorious performance of the orchestra. +Opposite her sat Larry Meadowfield, absorbed for the moment in the slow +enjoyment of a cigarette, which also was not without its short-lived +merits. Larry was a well-dressed youngster, who was, in Cicely’s +opinion, distinctly good to look on—an opinion which the boy himself +obviously shared. He had the healthy, well-cared-for appearance +of a country-dweller who has been turned into a town dandy without suffering +in the process. His blue-black hair, growing very low down on +a broad forehead, was brushed back in a smoothness that gave his head +the appearance of a rain-polished sloe; his eyebrows were two dark smudges +and his large violet-grey eyes expressed the restful good temper of +an animal whose immediate requirements have been satisfied. The +lunch had been an excellent one, and it was jolly to feed out of doors +in the warm spring air—the only drawback to the arrangement being +the absence of mirrors. However, if he could not look at himself +a great many people could look at him.</p> +<p>Cicely listened to the orchestra as it jerked and strutted through +a fantastic dance measure, and as she listened she looked appreciatively +at the boy on the other side of the table, whose soul for the moment +seemed to be in his cigarette. Her scheme of life, knowing just +what you wanted and taking good care that you got it, was justifying +itself by results. Ronnie, grown tiresome with success, had not +been difficult to replace, and no one in her world had had the satisfaction +of being able to condole with her on the undesirable experience of a +long interregnum. To feminine acquaintances with fewer advantages +of purse and brains and looks she might figure as “that Yeovil +woman,” but never had she given them justification to allude to +her as “poor Cicely Yeovil.” And Murrey, dear old +soul, had cooled down, as she had hoped and wished, from his white heat +of disgust at the things that she had prepared herself to accept philosophically. +A new chapter of their married life and man-and-woman friendship had +opened; many a rare gallop they had had together that winter, many a +cheery dinner gathering and long bridge evening in the cosy hunting-lodge. +Though he still hated the new London and held himself aloof from most +of her Town set, yet he had not shown himself rigidly intolerant of +the sprinkling of Teuton sportsmen who hunted and shot down in his part +of the country.</p> +<p>The orchestra finished its clicking and caracoling and was accorded +a short clatter of applause.</p> +<p>“The <i>Danse</i> <i>Macabre</i>,” said Cicely to her +companion; “one of Saint-Saëns’ best known pieces.”</p> +<p>“Is it?” said Larry indifferently; “I’ll +take your word for it. ’Fraid I don’t know much about +music.”</p> +<p>“You dear boy, that’s just what I like in you,” +said Cicely; “you’re such a delicious young barbarian.”</p> +<p>“Am I?” said Larry. “I dare say. I +suppose you know.”</p> +<p>Larry’s father had been a brilliantly clever man who had married +a brilliantly handsome woman; the Fates had not had the least intention +that Larry should take after both parents.</p> +<p>“The fashion of having one’s lunch in the open air has +quite caught on this season,” said Cicely; “one sees everybody +here on a fine day. There is Lady Bailquist over there. +She used to be Lady Shalem you know, before her husband got the earldom—to +be more correct, before she got it for him. I suppose she is all +agog to see the great review.”</p> +<p>It was in fact precisely the absorbing topic of the forthcoming Boy-Scout +march-past that was engaging the Countess of Bailquist’s earnest +attention at the moment.</p> +<p>“It is going to be an historical occasion,” she was saying +to Sir Leonard Pitherby (whose services to literature had up to the +present received only a half-measure of recognition); “if it miscarries +it will be a serious set-back for the <i>fait</i> <i>accompli</i>. +If it is a success it will be the biggest step forward in the path of +reconciliation between the two races that has yet been taken. +It will mean that the younger generation is on our side—not all, +of course, but some, that is all we can expect at present, and that +will be enough to work on.”</p> +<p>“Supposing the Scouts hang back and don’t turn up in +any numbers,” said Sir Leonard anxiously.</p> +<p>“That of course is the danger,” said Lady Bailquist quietly; +“probably two-thirds of the available strength will hold back, +but a third or even a sixth would be enough; it would redeem the parade +from the calamity of fiasco, and it would be a nucleus to work on for +the future. That is what we want, a good start, a preliminary +rally. It is the first step that counts, that is why to-day’s +event is of such importance.”</p> +<p>“Of course, of course, the first step on the road,” assented +Sir Leonard.</p> +<p>“I can assure you,” continued Lady Bailquist, “that +nothing has been left undone to rally the Scouts to the new order of +things. Special privileges have been showered on them, alone among +all the cadet corps they have been allowed to retain their organisation, +a decoration of merit has been instituted for them, a large hostelry +and gymnasium has been provided for them in Westminster, His Majesty’s +youngest son is to be their Scoutmaster-in-Chief, a great athletic meeting +is to be held for them each year, with valuable prizes, three or four +hundred of them are to be taken every summer, free of charge, for a +holiday in the Bavarian Highlands and the Baltic Seaboard; besides this +the parent of every scout who obtains the medal for efficiency is to +be exempted from part of the new war taxation that the people are finding +so burdensome.”</p> +<p>“One certainly cannot say that they have not had attractions +held out to them,” said Sir Leonard.</p> +<p>“It is a special effort,” said Lady Bailquist; “it +is worth making an effort for. They are going to be the Janissaries +of the Empire; the younger generation knocking at the doors of progress, +and thrusting back the bars and bolts of old racial prejudices. +I tell you, Sir Leonard, it will be an historic moment when the first +corps of those little khaki-clad boys swings through the gates of the +Park.”</p> +<p>“When do they come?” asked the baronet, catching something +of his companion’s zeal.</p> +<p>“The first detachment is due to arrive at three,” said +Lady Bailquist, referring to a small time-table of the afternoon’s +proceedings; “three, punctually, and the others will follow in +rapid succession. The Emperor and Suite will arrive at two-fifty +and take up their positions at the saluting base—over there, where +the big flag-staff has been set up. The boys will come in by Hyde +Park Corner, the Marble Arch, and the Albert Gate, according to their +districts, and form in one big column over there, where the little flags +are pegged out. Then the young Prince will inspect them and lead +them past His Majesty.”</p> +<p>“Who will be with the Imperial party?” asked Sir Leonard.</p> +<p>“Oh, it is to be an important affair; everything will be done +to emphasise the significance of the occasion,” said Lady Bailquist, +again consulting her programme. “The King of Würtemberg, +and two of the Bavarian royal Princes, an Abyssinian Envoy who is over +here—he will lend a touch of picturesque barbarism to the scene—the +general commanding the London district and a whole lot of other military +bigwigs, and the Austrian, Italian and Roumanian military attachés.”</p> +<p>She reeled off the imposing list of notables with an air of quiet +satisfaction. Sir Leonard made mental notes of personages to whom +he might send presentation copies of his new work “Frederick-William, +the Great Elector, a Popular Biography,” as a souvenir of to-day’s +auspicious event.</p> +<p>“It is nearly a quarter to three now,” he said; “let +us get a good position before the crowd gets thicker.”</p> +<p>“Come along to my car, it is just opposite to the saluting +base,” said her ladyship; “I have a police pass that will +let us through. We’ll ask Mrs. Yeovil and her young friend +to join us.”</p> +<p>Larry excused himself from joining the party; he had a barbarian’s +reluctance to assisting at an Imperial triumph.</p> +<p>“I think I’ll push off to the swimming-bath,” he +said to Cicely; “see you again about tea-time.”</p> +<p>Cicely walked with Lady Bailquist and the literary baronet towards +the crowd of spectators, which was steadily growing in dimensions. +A newsboy ran in front of them displaying a poster with the intelligence +“Essex wickets fall rapidly”—a semblance of county +cricket still survived under the new order of things. Near the +saluting base some thirty or forty motorcars were drawn up in line, +and Cicely and her companions exchanged greetings with many of the occupants.</p> +<p>“A lovely day for the review, isn’t it?” cried +the Gräfin von Tolb, breaking off her conversation with Herr Rebinok, +the little Pomeranian banker, who was sitting by her side. “Why +haven’t you brought young Mr. Meadowfield? Such a nice boy. +I wanted him to come and sit in my carriage and talk to me.”</p> +<p>“He doesn’t talk you know,” said Cicely; “he’s +only brilliant to look at.”</p> +<p>“Well, I could have looked at him,” said the Gräfin.</p> +<p>“There’ll be thousands of other boys to look at presently,” +said Cicely, laughing at the old woman’s frankness.</p> +<p>“Do you think there will be thousands?” asked the Gräfin, +with an anxious lowering of the voice; “really, thousands? +Hundreds, perhaps; there is some uncertainty. Every one is not +sanguine.”</p> +<p>“Hundreds, anyway,” said Cicely.</p> +<p>The Gräfin turned to the little banker and spoke to him rapidly +and earnestly in German.</p> +<p>“It is most important that we should consolidate our position +in this country; we must coax the younger generation over by degrees, +we must disarm their hostility. We cannot afford to be always +on the watch in this quarter; it is a source of weakness, and we cannot +afford to be weak. This Slav upheaval in south-eastern Europe +is becoming a serious menace. Have you seen to-day’s telegrams +from Agram? They are bad reading. There is no computing +the extent of this movement.”</p> +<p>“It is directed against us,” said the banker.</p> +<p>“Agreed,” said the Gräfin; “it is in the nature +of things that it must be against us. Let us have no illusions. +Within the next ten years, sooner perhaps, we shall be faced with a +crisis which will be only a beginning. We shall need all our strength; +that is why we cannot afford to be weak over here. To-day is an +important day; I confess I am anxious.”</p> +<p>“Hark! The kettledrums!” exclaimed the commanding +voice of Lady Bailquist. “His Majesty is coming. Quick, +bundle into the car.”</p> +<p>The crowd behind the police-kept lines surged expectantly into closer +formation; spectators hurried up from side-walks and stood craning their +necks above the shoulders of earlier arrivals.</p> +<p>Through the archway at Hyde Park Corner came a resplendent cavalcade, +with a swirl of colour and rhythmic movement and a crash of exultant +music; life-guards with gleaming helmets, a detachment of Würtemberg +lancers with a flutter of black and yellow pennons, a rich medley of +staff uniforms, a prancing array of princely horsemen, the Imperial +Standard, and the King of Prussia, Great Britain, and Ireland, Emperor +of the West. It was the most imposing display that Londoners had +seen since the catastrophe.</p> +<p>Slowly, grandly, with thunder of music and beat of hoofs, the procession +passed through the crowd, across the sward towards the saluting base, +slowly the eagle standard, charged with the leopards, lion and harp +of the conquered kingdoms, rose mast-high on the flag-staff and fluttered +in the breeze, slowly and with military precision the troops and suite +took up their position round the central figure of the great pageant. +Trumpets and kettledrums suddenly ceased their music, and in a moment +there rose in their stead an eager buzz of comment from the nearest +spectators.</p> +<p>“How well the young Prince looks in his scout uniform.” +. . . “The King of Würtemberg is a much younger man than +I thought he was.” . . . “Is that a Prussian or Bavarian +uniform, there on the right, the man on a black horse?” . . . +“Neither, it’s Austrian, the Austrian military attaché” +. . . “That is von Stoppel talking to His Majesty; he organised +the Boy Scouts in Germany, you know.” . . . “His Majesty +is looking very pleased.” “He has reason to look pleased; +this is a great event in the history of the two countries. It +marks a new epoch.” . . . “Oh, do you see the Abyssinian +Envoy? What a picturesque figure he makes. How well he sits +his horse.” . . . “That is the Grand Duke of Baden’s +nephew, talking to the King of Würtemberg now.”</p> +<p>On the buzz and chatter of the spectators fell suddenly three sound +strokes, distant, measured, sinister; the clang of a clock striking +three.</p> +<p>“Three o’clock and not a boy scout within sight or hearing!” +exclaimed the loud ringing voice of Joan Mardle; “one can usually +hear their drums and trumpets a couple of miles away.”</p> +<p>“There is the traffic to get through,” said Sir Leonard +Pitherby in an equally high-pitched voice; “and of course,” +he added vaguely, “it takes some time to get the various units +together. One must give them a few minutes’ grace.”</p> +<p>Lady Bailquist said nothing, but her restless watchful eyes were +turned first to Hyde Park Corner and then in the direction of the Marble +Arch, back again to Hyde Park Corner. Only the dark lines of the +waiting crowd met her view, with the yellow newspaper placards flitting +in and out, announcing to an indifferent public the fate of Essex wickets. +As far as her searching eyes could travel the green stretch of tree +and sward remained unbroken, save by casual loiterers. No small +brown columns appeared, no drum beat came throbbing up from the distance. +The little flags pegged out to mark the positions of the awaited scout-corps +fluttered in meaningless isolation on the empty parade ground.</p> +<p>His Majesty was talking unconcernedly with one of his officers, the +foreign attachés looked steadily between their chargers’ +ears, as though nothing in particular was hanging in the balance, the +Abyssinian Envoy displayed an untroubled serenity which was probably +genuine. Elsewhere among the Suite was a perceptible fidget, the +more obvious because it was elaborately cloaked. Among the privileged +onlookers drawn up near the saluting point the fidgeting was more unrestrained.</p> +<p>“Six minutes past three, and not a sign of them!” exclaimed +Joan Mardle, with the explosive articulation of one who cannot any longer +hold back a truth.</p> +<p>“Hark!” said some one; “I hear trumpets!”</p> +<p>There was an instant concentration of listening, a straining of eyes.</p> +<p>It was only the toot of a passing motorcar. Even Sir Leonard +Pitherby, with the eye of faith, could not locate as much as a cloud +of dust on the Park horizon.</p> +<p>And now another sound was heard, a sound difficult to define, without +beginning, without dimension; the growing murmur of a crowd waking to +a slowly dawning sensation.</p> +<p>“I wish the band would strike up an air,” said the Gräfin +von Tolb fretfully; “it is stupid waiting here in silence.”</p> +<p>Joan fingered her watch, but she made no further remark; she realised +that no amount of malicious comment could be so dramatically effective +now as the slow slipping away of the intolerable seconds.</p> +<p>The murmur from the crowd grew in volume. Some satirical wit +started whistling an imitation of an advancing fife and drum band; others +took it up and the air resounded with the shrill music of a phantom +army on the march. The mock throbbing of drum and squealing of +fife rose and fell above the packed masses of spectators, but no answering +echo came from beyond the distant trees. Like mushrooms in the +night a muster of uniformed police and plain clothes detectives sprang +into evidence on all sides; whatever happened there must be no disloyal +demonstration. The whistlers and mockers were pointedly invited +to keep silence, and one or two addresses were taken. Under the +trees, well at the back of the crowd, a young man stood watching the +long stretch of road along which the Scouts should come. Something +had drawn him there, against his will, to witness the Imperial Triumph, +to watch the writing of yet another chapter in the history of his country’s +submission to an accepted fact. And now a dull flush crept into +his grey face; a look that was partly new-born hope and resurrected +pride, partly remorse and shame, burned in his eyes. Shame, the +choking, searing shame of self-reproach that cannot be reasoned away, +was dominant in his heart. <i>He</i> had laid down his arms—there +were others who had never hoisted the flag of surrender. He had +given up the fight and joined the ranks of the hopelessly subservient; +in thousands of English homes throughout the land there were young hearts +that had not forgotten, had not compounded, would not yield.</p> +<p>The younger generation had barred the door.</p> +<p>And in the pleasant May sunshine the Eagle standard floated and flapped, +the black and yellow pennons shifted restlessly, Emperor and Princes, +Generals and guards, sat stiffly in their saddles, and waited.</p> +<p>And waited. . . .</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN WILLIAM CAME***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 14540-h.htm or 14540-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/5/4/14540 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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