No More Parades, Ford Madox Ford [best ereader for pdf TXT] 📗

Looking round that scene Sylvia’s humour calmed her and she heard the general say:

“She’s supposed to walk on my arm to that table and sign the settlement⁠ ⁠… We’re supposed to be the first to sign it together⁠ ⁠… But she won’t. Because of the price of coal. It appears that she has hothouses in miles. And she thinks the English have put up the price of coal as if⁠ ⁠… damn it you’d think we did it just to keep her hothouse stoves out.”

The duchess had delivered, apparently, a vindictive, cold, calm, and uninterruptible oration on the wickedness of her country’s allies as people who should have allowed France to be devastated and the flower of her youth slain in order that they might put up the price of a comestible that was absolutely needed in her life. There was no arguing with her. There was no British soul there who both knew anything about economics and spoke French. And there she sat, apparently immovable. She did not refuse to sign the marriage contract. She just made no motion to go to it and, apparently, the resulting marriage would be illegal if that document were brought to her!

The general said:

“Now, what the deuce will Christopher find to say to her? He’ll find something because he could talk the hind legs off anything. But what the deuce will it be?⁠ ⁠…”

It almost broke Sylvia’s heart to see how exactly Christopher did the right thing. He walked up that path to the sun and made in front of the duchess a little awkward nick with his head and shoulders that was rather more like a curtsy than a bow. It appeared that he knew the duchess quite well⁠ ⁠… as he knew everybody in the world quite well. He smiled at her and then became just suitably grave. Then he began to speak an admirable, very old-fashioned French with an atrocious English accent. Sylvia had no idea that he knew a word of the language⁠—that she herself knew very well indeed. She said to herself that upon her word it was like hearing Chateaubriand talk⁠—if Chateaubriand had been brought up in an English hunting country⁠ ⁠… Of course Christopher would cultivate an English accent: to show that he was an English country gentleman. And he would speak correctly⁠—to show that an English Tory can do anything in the world if he wants to⁠ ⁠…

The British faces in the room looked blank: the French faces turned electrically upon him. Sylvia said:

“Who would have thought⁠ ⁠… ?” The duchess jumped to her feet and took Christopher’s arm. She sailed with him imperiously past the general and past Sylvia. She was saying that that was just what she would have expected of a milor Anglais⁠ ⁠… Avec un spleen tel que vous l’avez!

Christopher, in short, had told the duchess that as his family owned almost the largest stretch of hothouse coal-burning land in England and her family the largest stretch of hothouses in the sister-country of France, what could they do better than make an alliance? He would instruct his brother’s manager to see that the duchess was supplied for the duration of hostilities and as long after as she pleased with all the coal needed for her glass at the pithead prices of the Middlesbrough-Cleveland district as the prices were on the 3rd of August, nineteen fourteen⁠ ⁠… He repeated: “The pithead price⁠ ⁠… livrable au prix de l’houillemaigre dans l’enceinte des puits de ma campagne.”⁠ ⁠… Much to the satisfaction of the duchess, who knew all about prices⁠ ⁠… A triumph for Christopher was at that moment so exactly what Sylvia thought she did not want that she decided to tell the general that Christopher was a Socialist. That might well take him down a peg or two in the general’s esteem⁠ ⁠… for the general’s arm-patting admiration for Tietjens, the man who did not argue but acted over the price of coal, was as much as she could bear⁠ ⁠… But, thinking it over in the smoking-room after dinner, by which time she was a good deal more aware of what she did want, she was not so certain that she had done what she wanted⁠ ⁠… Indeed, even in the octagonal room during the economical festivities that followed the signatures, she had been far from certain that she had not done almost exactly what she did not want⁠ ⁠…

It had begun with the general’s exclaiming to her:

“You know your man’s the most unaccountable fellow⁠ ⁠… He wears the damn-shabbiest uniform of any officer I ever have to talk to. He’s said to be unholily hard up⁠ ⁠… I even heard he had a cheque sent back to the club⁠ ⁠… Then he goes and makes a princely gift like that⁠—just to get Levin out of ten minutes’ awkwardness⁠ ⁠… I wish to goodness I could understand the fellow⁠ ⁠… He’s got a positive genius for getting all sorts of things out of the most beastly muddles⁠ ⁠… Why, he’s even been useful to me⁠ ⁠… And then he’s got a positive genius for getting into the most disgusting messes⁠ ⁠… You’re too young to have heard of Dreyfus⁠ ⁠… But I always say that Christopher is a regular Dreyfus⁠ ⁠… I shouldn’t be astonished if he didn’t end by being drummed out of the army⁠ ⁠… which heaven forfend!”

It had been then that Sylvia had said:

“Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that Christopher was a Socialist?”

For the first time in her life Sylvia saw her husband’s godfather look grotesque⁠ ⁠… His jaw dropped down, his white hair became disarrayed, and he dropped his pretty cap with all the gold oakleaves and the scarlet. When he rose from picking it up his thin old face was purple and distorted. She wished she hadn’t said it: she wished she hadn’t said it. He exclaimed:

“Christopher!⁠ ⁠… A So⁠ ⁠…” He gasped as if he could not pronounce the word. He said: “Damn it all!⁠ ⁠… I’ve loved that boy⁠ ⁠… He’s my only godson⁠ ⁠… His father was my best friend⁠ ⁠… I’ve watched over him⁠ ⁠… I’d have married his mother if she would have