Parade's End (70 page)

The real compassion in the voice of that snuffling, half-drunken old man had given her a sense of that enormous wickedness… . These horrors, these infinities of pain, this atrocious condition of the world had been brought about in order that men should indulge themselves in orgies of promiscuity. That in the end was at the bottom of male honour, of male virtue, observance of treaties, upholding of the flag… . An immense warlock’s carnival of appetites, lusts, ebrieties… . And once set in motion there was no stopping it. This state of things would never cease… . Because once they had tasted of the joy – the blood – of this game, who would let it end? These men talked of these things that occupied them there with the lust of men telling dirty stories in smoking-rooms… . That was the only parallel!

There was no stopping it, any more than there was any stopping the by now all but intoxicated ex-sergeant-major. He was off! With, as might be expected, advice to a young couple with differences of opinion! The wine had made him bold!

In the depth of her pictures of these horrors, snatches of his wisdom penetrated to her intelligence… . Queer snatches… . She was getting it certainly in the neck! … Someone, to add to the noise, had started some mechanical musical instrument in an adjacent hall.

‘Corn an’ lasses

Served by Ras’us!’

a throaty voice proclaimed,

‘I’d be tickled to death to know that I could go

And stay right there …’

The ex-sergeant-major was adding to her knowledge the odd detail that when he, Sergeant-Major Cowley, went
to
the wars – seven of them – his missus, Mrs. Cowley, spent the first three days and nights unpicking and re-hemstitching every sheet and pillow-slip in the ’ouse. To keep ’erself f’m thinking … This was apparently meant as a reproof or an exhortation to her, Sylvia Tietjens… . Well, he was all right! Of the same class as Father Consett, and with the same sort of wisdom.

The gramophone howled; a new note of rumbling added itself to the exterior tumult and continued through six mitigated thumps of the gun in the garden… . In the next interval, Cowley was in the midst of a valedictory address to her. He was asking her to remember that the captain had had a sleepless night before.

There occurred to her irreverent mind a sentence of one of the Duchess of Marlborough’s letters to Queen Anne. The duchess had visited the general during one of his campaigns in Flanders. ‘My Lord,’ she wrote, ‘did me the honour three times in his boots!’ … The sort of thing she would remember… . She would – she
would
– have tried it on the sergeant-major, just to see Tietjens’ face, for the sergeant-major would not have understood… . And who cared if he did! … He was bibulously skirting round the same idea.

But the tumult increased to an incredible volume: even the thrillings of the near-by gramophone of two hundred horse-power, or whatever it was, became mere shimmerings of a gold thread in a drab fabric of sound. She screamed blasphemies that she was hardly aware of knowing. She had to scream against the noise; she was no more responsible for the blasphemy than if she had lost her identity under an anæsthetic. She
had
lost her identity… . She was one of this crowd!

The general woke in his chair and gazed malevolently at their group as if they alone were responsible for the noise. It dropped. Dead! You only knew it, because you caught the tail end of a belated woman’s scream from the hall and the general shouting: ‘For God’s sake don’t start that damned gramophone again!’ In the blessed silence, after preliminary wheezings and guitar noises an astonishing voice burst out:

‘Less than the dust…

Before thy char …’

And then, stopping after a murmur of voices, began:

‘Pale hands I loved …’

The general sprang from his chair and rushed to the hall… . He came back crestfallenly.

‘It’s some damned civilian big-wig… . A novelist, they say… . I can’t stop
him
… .’ He added with disgust: ‘The hall’s full of young beasts and harlots… .
Dancing
!’ The melody had indeed, after a buzz, changed to a languorous and interrupted variation of a waltz. ‘Dancing in the dark!’ the general said with enhanced disgust… . ‘And the Germans may be here at any moment… . If they knew what I know! …’

Sylvia called across to him:

‘Wouldn’t it be fun to see the blue uniform with the silver buttons again and some decently set-up men? …’

The general shouted:

‘
I’d
be glad to see them… . I’m sick to death of these… .’

Tietjens took up something he had been saying to Cowley. What it was Sylvia did not hear, but Cowley answered, still droning on with an idea Sylvia thought they had got past:

‘I remember when I was sergeant in Quetta, I detailed a man – called Herring – for watering the company horses, after he begged off it because he had a fear of horses… . A horse got him down in the river and drowned ’im… . Fell with him and put its foot on his face… . A fair sight he was… . It wasn’t any good my saying anything about military exigencies… . Fair put me off my feed, it did… . Cost me a fortune in Epsom salts… .’

Sylvia was about to scream out that if Tietjens did not like men being killed it ought to sober him in his war-lust, but Cowley continued meditatively:

‘Epsom salts they say is the cure for it… . For seeing your dead … And of course you should keep off women for a fortnight… . I know I did. Kept seeing Herring’s face with the hoof-mark. And … there was a piece, a decent bit of goods in what we called the Government Compound… .’

He suddenly exclaimed:

‘Saving your … Ma’am, I’m …’ He stuck the stump of the cigar into his teeth and began assuring Tietjens that he could be trusted with the draft next morning, if only Tietjens would put him into the taxi.

He went away, leaning on Tietjens’ arm, his legs at an angle of sixty degrees with the carpet… .

‘He can’t…’ Sylvia said to herself, ‘he can’t, not… if he’s a gentleman… . After all that old fellow’s hints… . He’d be a damn coward if he kept off… . For a fortnight … And who else is there not a public …’ She said: ‘O God! …’

The old general, lying in his chair, turned his face aside to say:

‘I wouldn’t, madam, not if I were you, talk about the blue uniform with silver buttons here… .
We
, of course, understand… .’

To herself she said: ‘You see … even that extinct volcano … He’s undressing me with his eyes full of blood veins… . Then why can’t
he
? …’

She said aloud:

‘Oh, but even you, general, said you were sick of your companions!’

She said to herself:

‘Hang it! … I will have the courage of my convictions… . No man shall say I am a coward… .’

She said:

‘Isn’t it saying the same thing as you, general, to say that I’d rather be made love to by a well-set-up man in blue and silver – or anything else! – than by most of the people one sees here! …’

The general said:

‘Of course, if you put it that way, madam… .’

She said:

‘What other way should a woman put it?’ … She reached to the table and filled herself a lot of brandy. The old general was leering towards her:

‘Bless me,’ he said, ‘a lady who takes liquor like that …’

She said:

‘You’re a Papist, aren’t you? With the name of O’Hara and the touch of the brogue you have … And the devil you no doubt are with … You know what… . Well, then … It’s with a special intention! … As you say your Hail Marys …’

With the liquor burning inside her she saw Tietjens loom in the dim light.

The general, to her bitter amusement, said to him:

‘Your friend was more than a bit on… . Not the society surely for madam!’

Tietjens said:

‘I never expected to have the pleasure of dining with Mrs. Tietjens to-night… . That officer was celebrating his commission and I could not put him off… .’ The general said: ‘Oh, ah! … Of course not… . I dare say …’ and settled himself again in his chair.

Tietjens was overwhelming her with his great bulk. She had still lost her breath… . He stooped over and said: It was the luck of the half-drunk:

‘They’re dancing in the lounge… .’

She coiled herself passionately into her wickerwork. It had dull blue cushions. She said:

‘Not with anyone else… . I don’t want any introductions… .’ Fiercely! … He said:

‘There’s no one there that I could introduce you to… .’

She said:

‘Not if it’s a charity!’

He said:

‘I thought it might be rather dull… . It’s six months since I danced… .’ She felt beauty flowing over all her limbs. She had a gown of gold tissue. Her matchless hair was coiled over her ears. She was humming Venusberg music; she knew music if she knew nothing else… .

She said: ‘You call the compounds where you keep the Waacs Venusbergs, don’t you? Isn’t it queer that Venus should be your own? … Think of poor Elisabeth!’

The room where they were dancing was very dark… . It was queer to be in his arms… . She had known better dancers… . He had looked ill… . Perhaps he was… . Oh, poor Valentine-Elisabeth… . What a funny position! … The good gramophone played… .
Destiny!
… . You see, father! … In his arms! Of course, dancing is not really… . But so near the real thing! So near! … ‘Good luck to the special intention! …’ She had almost kissed him on the lips… . All but! …
Effleurer
, the French call it… . But she was not as humble… . He had pressed her tighter… . All these months without… My lord did me honour … Good for Malbrouck
s’en va-t-en guerre
… . He
knew
she had almost kissed him on the lips… . And that his lips had almost responded… . The civilian, the novelist, had turned out the last light… . Tietjens said, ‘Hadn’t
we
better talk? …’ She said: ‘In my room, then! I’m dog-tired… . I haven’t slept for six nights… . In spite of drugs… .’ He said: ‘Yes. Of course! Where else? …’ Astonishingly… . Her gown of gold tissue was like the colobium sindonis the King wore at the coronation… . As they mounted the stairs she thought what a fat tenor Tannhäuser always was! … The Venusberg music was dinning in her ears… . She said: ‘Sixty-six inexpressibles! I’m as sober as a judge … I need to be!’

PART THREE

A SHADOW – THE
shadow of the General Officer Commanding in Chief – falling across the bar of light that the sunlight threw in at his open door seemed providentially to awaken Christopher Tietjens, who would have thought it extremely disagreeable to be found asleep by that officer. Very thin, graceful, and gay with his scarlet and gilt oak-leaves, and ribbons, of which he had many, the general was stepping attractively over the sill of the door, talking backwards over his shoulder, to someone outside. So, in the old days, Gods had descended! It was, no doubt, really the voices from without that had awakened Tietjens, but he preferred to think the matter a slight intervention of Providence, because he felt in need of a sign of some sort! Immediately upon awakening he was not perfectly certain of where he was, but he had sense enough to answer with coherence the first question that the general put to him and to stand stiffly on his legs. The general had said:

‘Will you be good enough to inform me, Captain Tietjens, why you have no fire-extinguishers in your unit? You are aware of the extremely disastrous consequences that would follow a conflagration in your lines?’

Tietjens said stiffly:

‘It seems impossible to obtain them, sir.’

The general said:

‘How is this? You have indented for them in the proper quarter. Perhaps you do not know what the proper quarter is?’

Tietjens said:

‘If this were a British unit, sir, the proper quarter would be the Royal Engineers.’ When he had sent his indent in for them to the Royal Engineers they informed him that this being a unit of troops from the Dominions,
the
quarter to which to apply was the Ordnance. On applying to the Ordnance, he was informed that no provision was made of fire-extinguishers for troops from the Dominions under Imperial officers, and that the proper course was to obtain them from a civilian firm in Great Britain, charging them against barrack damages… . He had applied to several firms of manufacturers, who all replied that they were forbidden to sell these articles to anyone but to the War Office direct… . ‘I am still applying to civilian firms,’ he finished.

The officer accompanying the general was Colonel Levin, to whom, over his shoulder, the general said: ‘Make a note of that, Levin, will you? And get the matter looked into.’ He said again to Tietjens:

‘In walking across your parade-ground I noticed that your officer in charge of your physical training knew conspicuously nothing about it. You had better put him on to cleaning out your drains. He was unreasonably dirty.’

Tietjens said:

‘The sergeant-instructor, sir, is quite competent. The officer is an R.A.S.C. officer. I have at the moment hardly any infantry officers in the unit. But officers have to be on these parades – by A.C.I. They give no orders.’

The general said drily:

‘I was aware from the officer’s uniform of what arm he belonged to. I am not saying you do not do your best with the material at your command.’ From Campion on parade this was an extraordinary graciousness. Behind the general’s back Levin was making signs with his eyes which he meaningly closed and opened. The general, however, remained extraordinarily dry in manner, his face having its perfectly expressionless air of studied politeness which allowed no muscle of its polished-cherry surface to move. The extreme politeness of the extremely great to the supremely unimportant!

He glanced round the hut markedly. It was Tietjens’ own office and contained nothing but the blanket-covered tables and, hanging from a strut, an immense calendar on which days were roughly crossed out in red ink and blue pencil. He said:

‘Go and get your belt. You will go round your cook-houses with me in a quarter of an hour. You can tell your
sergeant-cook. What sort of cooking arrangements have you?’

Tietjens said:

‘Very good cook-houses, sir.’