Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (64 page)

Mantravers
had
my
promise
before
I
left
his
flat,
though
it
took him
the
best
part
of
an
hour
to
obtain
it.

The
turmoil
in
my
young
mind
is
understandable
without
detailed description.
England
was
at
war
with
Germany,
I
was
in
the
Army, my
regiment
absorbed
my
thoughts
.
.
.
For
a
couple
of
hours
Mantravers
had
torn
my
interest
away
to
his
own
amazing
story,
but
the moment
I
left
him
the
war
and
its
immediate
personal
claims
returned.
I
cursed
myself
for
having
given
that
promise.
At
the
same time
I
was
gripped
by
the
unusual
tale.
I
had
a
deep
respect
for
my cousin.
If
his
reputation,
with
its
semi-legendary
atmosphere
of
suggesting
the
impossible
and
supernatural,
made
me
uneasy
in
his
presence,
his
personality
impressed
me
to
a
point
that
made
me
feel
he was
not
quite
as
other
men
are.
He-was
un-ordinary
in
some
peculiar way,
extremely
gifted,
of
course,
as
well;
I
knew
his
courage;
I
looked up
to
him.
His
invitation
probably
flattered
me
into
the
bargain
.
.
. I
was
a
little
scared,
to
tell
the
truth,
rather
as
a
schoolboy
might
be scared,
and
the
idea
occurred
to
me
to
get
in
touch
with
Dr.
Vronski, his
friend
and
companion
in
adventure.
I
felt
the
need
of
advice. Time,
however,
made
this
out
of
the
question.
I
expected
to
get
my army
orders
any
moment.

In
the
end
I
kept
my
promise,
kept
the
appointment
punctually.

And,
once
again,
the
first
thing
that
impressed
me
when
we
met in
the
club
was
his
uncommon,
even
uncanny,
youthfulness.
I
swear he
might
have
been
my
Captain.
I
mention
this
particularly
because of
what
came
later,
if
a
good
deal
later,
and
that
it
should
have
struck me
so
vividly
that
at
first
it
ousted
my
thoughts
and
fears
of
the
adventure
to
follow
is
worth
emphasis.
Coming
straight
from
a
feverish, excited
day
full
of
thoughts
about
kit,
orders,
fighting,
France,
even about
being
killed,
I
found
myself
registering
first
this
conviction,
this positive
certainty,
that
he
had
somehow
managed
to
evade
a
long
toll of
years.
His
air
and
attitude,
his
very
atmosphere,
conveyed
this
ridiculous
assurance
in
a
way
I
cannot
describe,
though
the
unwelcome shiver
it
caused
in
my
spine
is
easily
told.
A
moment
later,
then,
I found
myself,
instantly
and
unaccountably,
swept
up
into
his
mood, into
his
stream
of
thought
and
feeling,
so
that
this
world's
affairs,
even a
war
with
Germany,
seemed
somehow
of
less
account
than
what
he had
afoot.
His
face,
curiously
unlined
and
young,
was
also
distinctly pale,
there
was
a
shrinking
in
his
manner.
Had
I
not
known
his courage,
I
should
perhaps
have
credited
him
with
what
we
youngsters called
"cold
feet."