B007TB5SP0 EBOK (35 page)

‘I dare say she consoled herself with the fruit … There’s a garden on the way to Itea … You never
saw
such apples!’

‘I dare say that’s gone too.’

‘Be careful in Olympia.’

‘What
does
one do in Olympia? Tell me, please!’

Mrs Viviott fetched a sigh.

‘Oh, well,’ she said, ‘of course one sits, and sits, and sits, and
sits
, before the Praxiteles … And then, if two people come together there I warn you they’re sure to fall in love …’

Miss O’Brookomore bowed.

‘Here’re more mourners!’ she exclaimed.

‘Oh, isn’t it gruesome, Gerald?’

‘We turned in here, dear,’ Mrs Cowsend said. ‘I didn’t feel I wanted to go on …’

‘That turquoise tinsel thing –
violet
, I should say – the pall!’

The Historian seemed to touch it.

‘It was her doom, poor dear … On the voyage out I’ve a recollection still of the way she sat on board while the waves burst over her.’

‘At any rate she had the sad satisfaction of dying in Greece.’

‘My dear, there was no time for reflections!’

Miss Collins covered her face.

‘Was there no post-mortem?’ she inquired.

Mrs Cowsend showed distress.

‘Have you been to look at the coiffures yet?’ she asked. ‘It’s to-day my husband holds his classes, and they’re all in the Vase Room now.’

‘There’s a room set aside somewhere for the “Obscene”,’ Miss Collins said. ‘Where is it?’

‘My dear, how could one think of such a thing at such a minute!’

‘Only to distract us.’

‘The Professor’s classes are more likely to do that.’

‘In Arcadia,’ Miss O’Brookomore declared, ‘I intend to coil my hair like rams’ horns.’

Mrs Viviott vibrated.

‘My dear,’ she said, ‘I never vary. I
couldn’t
!’

‘In Arcadia you’ll find the continual singing of the cicadas require some excluding.’

Lady Dorinda raised a hand.

‘Were I the wife of a gunner,’ she protested, ‘it would make no difference. I should always be high!’

Miss Collins slipped an arm about her companion’s waist.

‘Oh … It’s a Dance of the Hours, Gerald!’

‘Dance of the Drumerdairies, my dear.’

‘Whose doing was it?’

Miss O’Brookomore appeared absorbed … For a moment Time hovered, wobbled, swerved. Miss Collins aged for her.

‘It’s lovely, Mabel,’ she said, ‘when— Oh, Mabel!’ she said.

Miss Collins started.

‘This caps everything!’ she exclaimed.

‘Is there anything wrong, dear?’

‘Mrs Arbanel’s actually dressing …’

Mrs Viviott glided forward.

‘Geneviève!’ she implored – ‘Geneviève
Erso-En-n-is
!’

Miss Collins caught at the Historian.

‘Let us go, Gerald,’ she said, ‘before it happens again.’

‘It’s nice to be in Delphi, Gerald!’

‘After Athens,’ Miss O’Brookomore said, ‘it really is delightful.’

‘… We never saw the king and queen, dear.’

‘No more we did!’

‘This morning I followed an empty river bed for miles and miles …’

‘To do justice to the walks,’ Miss O’Brookomore observed, ‘one would need to have legs as hard, pink and resisting as a ballerina.’

‘Aren’t you going round to look at the Auriga as usual?’

‘I hardly know. Possibly I may take a turn presently in the direction of Parnassos …’

‘There’s a shrub in the garden, Gerald, all covered in mauve rosettes!’

‘It’s perhaps a Delphinium.’

‘Oh! I do think it sweet!’

‘I wonder who’s here beside ourselves.’

‘I noticed the names of Cyril Cloudcap and of Charlie Cumston in the Visitors’ Book …’

‘That sounds English.’

‘They left yesterday for Olympia, and there was a Mrs Clacton, Gerald.’

‘Has she gone too?’

‘The Count said we weren’t to be surprised if—’

‘My dear, if Pastorelli turns up here we move on.’

‘Fussy, fidgety thing!’

‘When he makes that sort of
clearing
noise … No! Really—’

‘That’s nothing, Gerald. Why I do it myself.’

Miss O’Brookomore stared hard at the floor.

‘I miss a carpet,’ she said.

‘In my bedroom at home, Gerald, the carpet has big blue tulips on a yellow ground.’

‘Has the postman been?’

‘He’s been.’

‘Wasn’t there anything?’

‘There was a letter from mum. And another from Daisy.’

‘I thought she couldn’t write.’

‘She sets her mark.’

‘Let me see.’

‘It’s only a smear.’

‘Is the house disposed of – does your mother say?’

‘I conclude it isn’t. She says the greenfly this year has destroyed almost everything. Hardly anybody has been spared. At Patchpole Park the peaches just dried on the walls as though they were dates. And she’s quite in despair about Daisy! She says she gets more hopeless hourly. She’s taking her into York so as to have her ears pierced, poor mite. And papa, he’s at Helstan with Napier – it’s that new seaside—’

‘Is the Count aware you’re fidanzata?’

‘I didn’t tell him I wasn’t quite free, and I don’t think I will. I must write to Napier, I suppose, and break it off – I feel sorry for him, poor boy.’

Miss O’Brookomore wandered to the window.

‘It’s going to be hot to-day.’

‘In the Gulf there’s been rain in two places.’

‘Here we’ve the sun.’

‘What ever would the vines do, Gerald, without the olives to hold them up?’

‘I can’t think.’

‘They always say at home nothing can compare with the view from Mockbird Hill. On a clear day you can see to Ditchley.’

Miss O’Brookomore shaded her eyes.

‘There’s an arrival,’ she said.

‘Oh!’

‘What is it?’

‘He’s here!’

‘Oh! Mabel!’

‘Oh! Gerald!’

‘Oh! Mabel!’

‘Oh! Gerald!’

Hand meeting hand, palm meeting palm (the vitality of the one rambling off into the other), they sought to find vent to their emotion.

The inn of the Pythian Apollo winked its lights.

Moving about the bare boards of her room, Miss O’Brookomore made her box. Now bending, now rising, now falling to her knees, it appeared from the road below as though she were imploring for forgiveness.

‘For I am the old King’s daughter,

The
youngest
, sir, said she!

The King he is my father,

And my name is Marjorie …

Oh, my name is Marjorie, she said,

My father he is the King,

I am the youngest child he had,

And what will to-morrow bring?

What will to-morrow bring, she said,

Oh, what will to-morrow bring?

The King he is my father,

And what will to-morrow bring?’

‘… Gerald, she always sings as she packs! Just making it up as she goes—’

‘Why is she in such a hurry to be off?’

‘I don’t know. To-day she’s been all veins and moods, whims and foibles.’

‘Induce her to remain.’

‘If only she would … We haven’t yet been up to the Cave of the Nymphs!’

‘Ecco!’

‘It’s annoying to have to miss it.’

‘One night I sat upon the stairs

And heard him call my name!

I crept into the darkness

And covered my head for shame.

I covered my head for shame, she said,

Oh, I covered my head for shame!

The King he is my father,

And I covered my head for shame.’

‘Sometimes when she starts to sing she’ll keep it up for hours. It depends on what she’s doing!’

‘My sister Yoland she is dead,

And Ygrind is no more …

They went away to Ireland,

And nobody knows where they are!

Nobody knows where they are at all,

No one seems able to say—’

‘Will you come for a little stroll?’

‘Where ever to?’

‘Anywhere.’

She raised her eyes towards Parnassos, whose cold white heights glimmered amid the stars.

‘Oh, it gets grimmish!’

‘You shouldn’t be afraid.’

‘Tell me,’ she asked, ‘would it be a Pension?’

‘A Pension?’

‘Those apartments of your mother’s.’

‘What does it matter now?’

‘Oh! … Perhaps I ought to aid poor Gerald!’

‘Aiding harms the hands.’

‘Mine are spoilt already.’

‘I can’t believe it.’

‘Mum pretends my hands are large because Time hangs heavy upon them.’

‘Time in the country, they say, is apt to drag.’

‘Not if there’s a farm. Who could be bored by watching the manners of some old surly bull, or a dog on the scent of things, or a dove paying visits?’

‘Very likely!’

‘You’re blasé.’

‘Nothing of the sort.’

‘Poor little Geraldine, her weariness exceeds most things. She says the world’s an “8”.’

‘That’s better than an “o”.’

‘The repetition palls.’

‘There is always a nuance.’

‘It’s better to be an Indifferentist, she says. Not to care! But if anything ever goes wrong … It’s impossible not to smile at her philosophy.’

‘You must be her comfort.’

‘I don’t know what she’d do without me. Because the maid’s a perfect fool. When we arrive anywhere usually it’s I who improve the terms … Gerald hates to bargain. She seems to think it sordid. So I do it for her. Oh, it’s such fun! … Is it to be a back room or a front room, with a double bed or a single bed, or would the lady disdain a back bedroom without any balcony? Then Gerald asserts herself. “The lady requires a balcony with an unobstructed horizon” – and if there isn’t such a thing, then we try elsewhere.’

He stooped a little.

‘It’s the case of a courier,’ he said.

‘I think we ought to turn.’

‘We will,’ he answered, ‘when the road bends. Remember, the world’s an “8”!’

‘Will you talk to me about the Moon and Stars? … Would it amuse you?’

Miss O’Brookomore raised herself … A young man whom she had never seen until now stood before her.

‘I shall be delighted to talk to you about anything,’ she replied.

‘When did you arrive?’

‘My dear, we only got here yesterday.’

There came a voice of protest.

‘Oh, Gerald! It was the day before.’

‘What are your impressions of Olympia?’

‘I love it, I think it sweet.’

‘Everybody says the same.’

Miss O’Brookomore breathed a sigh.

‘I should like you to be my Literary Executor,’ she said.

He knelt down and took her hand.

‘No, my dear Thing!’ he answered. ‘I’m sorry – but I simply can’t. Simply I should love to, my dear Thing! But it’s impossible …’

Miss Collins rose discreetly.

‘Gerald – I think I shall leave you,’ she said.

‘Who ever was it, Gerald? …’

Seated before a mirror, her shoulders gilded by the evening sun, Miss O’Brookomore drew a net of sapphire stones across her hair.

‘Some god of the woods – no doubt!’

‘That’s only for a diary … It doesn’t do for me …’

‘Things do happen so quickly!’

‘Very likely it was Cyril Cloudcap …’

‘It may have been Charlie Cumston.’

‘Mer-cy! Gerald.’

‘How soon will you be ready?’

‘I’ve no appetite, Gerald. While the Count’s at Delphi I don’t seem to care.’

‘Foolish girl!’

‘Oh! I do long to be married, Gerald … It’s what I long to be most. Just married, dear.’

‘Not without your parents’ consent.’

‘Nonsense, Gerald!’

‘It’s a caprice that will pass.’

‘Oh, Gerald, his love talk with me and what I reply – it’s a real duet!’

Miss O’Brookomore tucked a few mauve satin flowers into her frock.

‘Aren’t they heavenly?’ she inquired. ‘Especially the purple ones …’

‘Oh, Gerald!’

‘My poor puss—’

‘People’s lives, dearie, don’t seem to be a bit their own once they’re in love.’

‘Love is a seed that needs watering from day to day. Otherwise it dies.’

‘With me it all accumulates.’

‘Don’t let’s miss the sunset – the later half.’

‘It’s a sunset and a sobset, Gerald. Oh, it’s so sad …’

‘In the end everything has to be paid for.’

‘Principally for that I’d sooner I didn’t dine. It really isn’t worth it, Gerald …’

‘No dinner?’

‘Even gratis. Oh, Gerald!’

‘We’re sure to meet the Arbanels.’

‘I tapped at their door as I came along.’

‘I fear that was intrusive.’

‘Directly it dawned upon her it was me she flew forward brandishing a powder-puff.’

‘Her behaviour’s getting Byzantine – more and more.’

Miss Collins folded an arm about her friend.

‘Why do you think it’s Byzantine, Gerald? What ever makes you think it is?’

‘On certain natures environment frequently reacts. I can recall the Queen of Snowland (when a guest at Windsor) frisking off one afternoon into the town in search of lodgings. She came to the very house where I was writing her life … and we met in the front hall.’

‘Oh, good gracious!’

‘Similarly, I feel inclined to believe that Mrs Arbanel in Egypt would be less vivid and more
Athenian
in her ways.’

‘Can a leopard change its spots, Gerald?’

‘My dear, it can modify them.’

‘I’m surprised you lend her Palmer.’

‘I’ve only offered her, of course, until the faithless Clint can be replaced. Mrs Arbanel hopes to secure someone locally.’

‘I shouldn’t think there were many maids to be found locally, Gerald. I shouldn’t think there was one. Not in Olympia.’

‘The deciphering of their characters, in any case, would require a skilful student,’ Miss O’Brookomore observed as Palmer came in.

Miss Collins rolled her eyes.

‘Thank heaven!’ she exclaimed.

‘It didn’t take you long!’

‘I was as quick with her, miss, as I could be.’

‘We were prepared to hear some screams …’

‘Were I to be stabbed, Miss Mabel, I should endeavour to be considerate.’

‘Violets!’

‘I suppose, poor thing, she is still very dazed?’