The Half-Hearted

by John Buchan

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE DINNER AT GALETTI'S

  "I have heard of you so much," Mr. Marker said, "and it was a luckychance which brought me to Bardur to meet you." They had taken theircigars out to the verandah, and were drinking the strong Persian coffee,with a prospect before them of twinkling town lights, and a mountainline of rock and snow. Their host had put on evening clothes and wore abraided dinner-jacket which gave the faintest touch of the foreigner tohis appearance. At dinner he had talked well of a score of things. Hehad answered George's questions on sport with the readiness of anexpert; he had told a dozen good stories, and in an easy, pleasant wayhe had gossiped of books and places, people and politics. His knowledgestruck both men as uncanny. Persons of minute significance inParliament were not unknown to him, and he was ready with a theory or anexplanation on the most recondite matters. But coffee and cigars foundhim a different man. He ceased to be the enthusiast, the omnivorous andversatile inquirer, and relapsed into the ordinary good fellow, who isno cleverer than his neighbours.

  "We're confoundedly obliged to you," said George. "Haystoun is keenenough, but when he was out last time he seems to have been very slackabout the sport."

  "Sort of student of frontier peoples and politics, as the newspaperscall it. I fancy that game is, what you say, 'played out' a littlenowadays. It is always a good cry for alarmist newspapers to send uptheir circulation by, but you and I, my friend, who have mixed withserious politicians, know its value."

  George nodded. He liked to be considered a person of importance, and hewanted the conversation to get back to ibex.

  "I speak as of a different nation," Marker said, looking towards Lewis."But I find the curse of modern times is this mock-seriousness. Somecenturies ago men and women were serious about honour and love andreligion. Nowadays we are frivolous and sceptical about these things,but we are deadly in earnest about fads. Plans to abolish war, schemesto reform criminals, and raise the condition of woman, and supply theBada-Mawidi with tooth-picks are sure of the most respectful treatmentand august patronage."

  "I agree," said Lewis. "The Bada-Mawidi live there?" And he pointed tothe hill line.

  Marker nodded. He had used the name inadvertently as an illustration,and he had no wish to answer questions on the subject.

  "A troublesome tribe, rather?" asked Lewis, noticing the momentaryhesitation.

  "In the past. Now they are quiet enough."

  "But I understood that there was a ferment in the Pamirs. The otherside threatened, you know." He had almost said "your side," but checkedhimself.

  "Ah yes, there are rumours of a rising, but that is further west. TheBada-Mawidi are too poor to raise two swords in the whole tribe. Youwill come across them if you go north, and I can recommend them asexcellent beaters."

  "Is the north the best shooting quarter?" asked Lewis with sharp eyes."I am just a little keen on some geographical work, and if I can joinboth I shall be glad. Due north is the Russian frontier?

  "Due north after some scores of the most precipitous miles in the world.It is a preposterous country. I myself have been on the verge of it,and know it as well as most. The geographical importance, too, isabsurdly exaggerated. It has never been mapped because there is nothingabout it to map, no passes, no river, no conspicuous mountain, nothingbut desolate, unvaried rock. The pass to Yarkand goes to the east, andthe Afghan routes are to the west. But to the north you come to a wall,and if you have wings you may get beyond it. The Bada-Mawidi live insome of the wretched nullahs. There is sport, of course, of a kind, butnot perhaps the best. I should recommend you to try the more easterlyhills."

  The speaker's manner was destitute of all attempt to dissuade, and yetLewis felt in some remote way that this man was trying to dissuade him.The rock-wall, the Bada-Mawidi, whatever it was, something existedbetween Bardur and the Russian frontier which this pleasant gentlemandid not wish him to see.

  "Our plans are all vague," he said, "and of course we are glad of youradvice."

  "And I am glad to give it, though in many ways you know the place betterthan I do. Your book is the work of a very clever and observant man, ifyou will excuse my saying so. I was thankful to find that you were notthe ordinary embryo-publicist who looks at the frontier hills fromBardur, and then rushes home and talks about invasion."

  "You think there is no danger, then?"

  "On the contrary, I honestly think that there is danger, but from adifferent direction. Britain is getting sick, and when she is sickenough, some people who are less sick will overwhelm her. My ownopinion is that Russia will be the people."

  "But is not that one of the old cries that you object to?" and Lewissmiled.

  "It was; now it is ceasing to be a cry, and passing into a fact, or asmuch a fact as that erroneous form of gratuity, prophecy, can be. Lookat Western Europe and you cannot disbelieve the evidence of your owneyes. In France you have anarchy, the vulgarest frivolity and thecheapest scepticism, joined with a sort of dull capacity for routinework. Germany, the very heart of it eaten out with sentiment, eitherthe cheap military or the vague socialist brand. Spain and Italyshadows, Denmark and Sweden farces, Turkey a sinful anachronism."

  "And Britain?" George asked.

  "My Scotch blood gives me the right to speak my mind," said the man,laughing. "Honestly I don't find things much better in Britain. Youwere always famous for a dogged common sense which was never trickedwith catch-words, and yet the British people seem to be growing nervousand ingenuous. The cult of abstract ideals, which has been the curse ofthe world since Adam, is as strong with you as elsewhere. Thephilosophy of 'gush' is good enough in its place, but it is the devil inpolitics."

  "That is true enough," said Lewis solemnly. "And then you are losinggrip. A belief in sentiment means a disbelief in competence andstrength, and that is the last and fatalest heresy. And a belief insentiment means a foolish scepticism towards the great things of life.There is none of the blood and bone left for honest belief. You holdyour religion half-heartedly. Honest fanaticism is a thing intolerableto you. You are all mild, rational sentimentalists, and I would notgive a ton of it for an ounce of good prejudice." George and Lewislaughed.

  "And Russia?" they asked.

  "Ah, there I have hope. You have a great people, uneducated andunspoiled. They are physically strong, and they have been trained bycenturies of serfdom to discipline and hardships. Also, there is firesmouldering somewhere. You must remember that Russia is thestepdaughter of the East. The people are northern in the truest sense,but they have a little of Eastern superstition. A rational, sentimentalpeople live in towns or market gardens, like your English country, butgreat lonely plains and forests somehow do not agree with that sort ofcreed. That slow people can still believe freshly and simply, and someday when the leader arrives they will push beyond their boundaries andsweep down on Western Europe, as their ancestors did thirteen hundredyears ago. And you have no walls of Rome to resist them, and I do notthink you will find a Charlemagne. Good heavens! What can yourlatter-day philosophic person, who weighs every action and believes onlyin himself, do against an unwearied people with the fear of God in theirhearts? When that day comes, my masters, we shall have a new empire,the Holy Eastern Empire, and this rotten surface civilization of ourswill be swept off. It is always the way. Men get into the habit ofbelieving that they can settle everything by talk, and fancy themselvesthe arbiters of the world, and then suddenly the great man arrives, yourCaesar or Cromwell, and clears out the talkers."

  "I've heard something like that before. In fact, on occasions I havesaid it myself. It's a pretty idea. How long do you give this_Volkerwanderung_ to get started?"

  "It will not be in our time," said the man sadly. "I confess I amrather anxious for it to come off. Europe is a dull place at present,given up to Jews and old women. But I am an irreclaimable wanderer, andit is some time since I have been home. Things may be alreadychanging."

  "Scarcely," said Lewis. "And meantime where is this Slav invasion goingto begin
? I suppose they will start with us here, before they cross theChannel?"

  "Undoubtedly. But Britain is the least sick of the crew, so she may beleft in peace till the confirmed invalids are destroyed. At the best itwill be a difficult work. Our countrymen, you will permit the name, myfriends, have unexpected possibilities in their blood. And even thisIndia will be a hard nut to crack. It is assumed that Russia has but tofind Britain napping, buy a passage from the more northerly tribes, andsweep down on the Punjab. I need not tell you how impossible such aland invasion is. It is my opinion that when the time comes the attackwill be by sea from some naval base on the Persian Gulf. It is a merematter of time till Persia is the Tsar's territory, and then they maybegin to think about invasion."

  "You think the northern road impossible! I suppose you ought to know."

  "I do, and I have some reason for my opinion. I know Afghanistan andChitral as few Europeans know it."

  "But what about Bardur, and this Kashmir frontier? I can understand thedifficulties of the Khyber, but this Kashmir road looks promising."

  Marker laughed a great, good-humoured, tolerant, incredulous laugh. "Mydear sir, that's the most utter nonsense. How are you to bring an armyover a rock wall which a chamois hunter could scarcely climb? Aninvading army is not a collection of winged fowl. I grant you Bardur isa good starting-point if it were once reached. But you might as wellthink of a Chinese as of a Russian invasion from the north. It would bea good deal more possible, for there is a road to Yarkand, andrespectable passes to the north-east. But here we are shut off from theOxus by as difficult a barrier as the Elburz. Go up and see. There issome shooting to be had, and you will see for yourself the sort ofcountry between here and Taghati."

  "But people come over here sometimes."

  "Yes, from the south, or by Afghanistan."

  "Not always. What about the Korabaut Pass into Chitral? Ianoff and theCossacks came through it."

  "That's true," said the man, as if in deep thought. "I had forgotten,but the band was small and the thing was a real adventure."

  "And then you have Gromchevtsky. He brought his people right downthrough the Pamirs."

  For a second the man's laughing ease deserted him. He leaned his headforward and peered keenly into Lewis's face. Then, as if to cover hisdiscomposure, he fell into the extreme of bluff amusement. Theexaggeration was plain to both his hearers.

  "Oh yes, there was poor old Gromchevtsky. But then you know he was whatyou call 'daft,' and one never knew how much to believe. He had hatredof the English on the brain, and he went about the northern valleysmaking all sorts of wild promises on the part of the Tsar. A greatRussian army was soon to come down from the hills and restore thevalleys to their former owners. And then, after he had talked all thisnonsense, and actually managed to create some small excitement among thetribesmen, the good fellow disappeared. No man knows where he went.The odd thing is that I believe he has never been heard of again inRussia to this day. Of course his mission, as he loved to call it, wasperfectly unauthorized, and the man himself was a creature of farce. Heprobably came either by the Khyber or the Korabaut Pass, possibly evenby the ordinary caravan-route from Yarkand, but felt it necessary forhis mission's sake to pretend he had found some way through the rockbarrier. I am afraid I cannot allow him to be taken seriously."

  Lewis yawned and reached out his hand for the cigars. "In any case itis merely a question of speculative interest. We shall not fall justyet, though you think so badly of us."

  "You will not fall just yet," said Marker slowly, "but that is not yourfault. You British have sold your souls for something less than theconventional mess of pottage. You are ruled in the first place bymoney-bags, and the faddists whom they support to blind your eyes. If Iwere a young man in your country with my future to make, do you knowwhat I would do? I would slave in the Stock Exchange. I would spend mydays and nights in the pursuit of fortune, and, by heaven, I would getit. Then I would rule the market and break, crush, quietly andruthlessly, the whole gang of Jew speculators and vulgarians who wouldcorrupt a great country. Money is power with you, and I should attainit, and use it to crush the leeches who suck our blood."

  "Good man," said George, laughing. "That's my way of thinking. Neverheard it better put."

  "I have felt the same," said Lewis. "When I read of 'rings' and'corners' and 'trusts' and the misery and vulgarity of it all, I haveoften wished to have a try myself, and see whether average brains andclean blood could not beat these fellows on their own ground."

  "Then why did you not?" asked Marker. "You were rich enough to make aproper beginning."

  "I expect I was too slack. I wanted to try the thing, but there was somuch that was repulsive that I never quite got the length of trying.Besides, I have a bad habit of seeing both sides of a question. Theordinary arguments seemed to me weak, and it was too much fag to workout an attitude for oneself."

  Marker looked sharply at Lewis, and George for a moment saw andcontrasted the two faces. Lewis's keen, kindly, humorous, cultured,with strong lines ending weakly, a face over-bred, brave and finical;the other's sharp, eager, with the hungry wolf-like air of ambition,every line graven in steel, and the whole transfused, as it were, by thefire of the eyes into the living presentment of human vigour.

  It was the eternal contrast of qualities, and for a moment in George'smind there rose a delight that two such goodly pieces of manhood shouldhave found a meeting-ground.

  "I think, you know, that we are not quite so bad as you make out," saidLewis quietly. "To an outsider we must appear on the brink ofincapacity, but then it is not the first time we have produced thatimpression. You will still find men who in all their spiritual sicknesshave kept something of that restless, hard-bitten northern energy, andthat fierce hunger for righteousness, which is hard to fight with.Scores of people, who can see no truth in the world and are sick withdoubt and introspection and all the latter-day devils, have yetsomething of pride and honour in their souls which will make them showwell at the last. If we are going to fall our end will not be quiteinglorious."

  Marker laughed and rose. "I am afraid I must leave you now. I have tosee my servant, for I am off to-morrow. This has been a delightfulmeeting. I propose that we drink to its speedy repetition."

  They drank, clinking glasses in continental fashion, and the host shookhands and departed.

  "Good chap," was George's comment. "Put us up to a wrinkle or two, andseemed pretty sound in his politics. I wish I could get him to come andstop with me at home. Do you think we shall run across him again?"

  Lewis was looking at the fast vanishing lights of the town. "I shouldthink it highly probable," he said.