Works of E F Benson

by E. F. Benson

  “That’s very bourgeois,” said the Princess. “You are rather a bourgeois race. You are very hearty, and pleased to see one, and all that. There’s Lord Chesterford. You’re a great friend of his, aren’t you? He looks very distinguished. I should say he was usually bored.”

  “He was my husband’s first cousin,” said Dodo. Princess Alexandrina of course knew that Miss Vane was a widow. “I was always an old friend of his — as long as I can remember, that’s to say. Jack and I are going up towards the Eiffel to watch the sunset. Come with us.”

  “I think I’ll see the sunset from here,” she said. “You’re going up a hill, I suppose?”

  “Oh, but you can’t see it from here,” said Dodo. “That great mass of mountain is in the way.”

  The Princess considered.

  “I don’t think I want to see the sunset after all,” she said. “I’ve just found the Kreutzer Sonata. I’ve been rural enough for one day, and I want a breath of civilised air. Do you know, I never feel bored when you are talking to me.”

  “Oh, that’s part of my charm, isn’t it?” said Dodo to Jack, who had lounged up to where they were sitting.

  “Dodo’s been lecturing me, Lord Chesterford,” said the Princess. “Does she ever lecture you?”

  “She gave me quite a long lecture once,” said he. “She recommended me to live in a cathedral town.”

  “A cathedral town,” said the Princess. “That’s something fearful, isn’t it? Why did you tell him to do that?” she said.

  “I think it was a mistake,” said Dodo. “Anyhow, Jack didn’t take my advice. I shouldn’t recommend him to do it now, but he has a perfect genius for being domestic. Everyone is very domestic in cathedral towns. They all dine at seven and breakfast at a quarter past eight — next morning, you understand. That quarter past is delightful. But Jack said he didn’t want to score small successes,” she added, employing a figure grammatically known as “hiatus.”

  “My husband is very domestic,” said the Princess. “But he isn’t a bit like Lord Chesterford. He would like to live with me in a little house in the country, and never have anyone to stay with us. That would be so cheerful during the winter months.”

  “Jack, would you like to live with your wife in a little house in the country?” demanded Dodo.

  “I don’t think I should ever marry a woman who wanted to,” remarked Jack, meeting Dodo’s glance.

  “Imagine two people really liking each other better than all the rest of the world,” said the Princess, “and living on milk, and love, and wild roses, and fresh eggs! I can’t bear fresh eggs.”

  “My egg this morning wasn’t at all fresh,” said Dodo. “I wish I’d thought of sending it to your room.”

  “Would you never get tired of your wife, don’t you think,” continued the Princess, “if you shut yourselves up in the country? Supposing she wished to pick roses when you wanted to play lawn tennis?”

  “Oh, Jack, it wouldn’t do,” said Dodo. “You’d make her play lawn tennis.”

  “My husband and I never thought of playing lawn tennis,” said the Princess. “I shall try that when we meet next. It’s very amusing, isn’t it?”

  “It makes you die of laughing,” said Dodo, solemnly. “Come, Jack, we’re going to see the sunset. Good-bye, dear. Go and play with your maid. She can go out of the room while you think of something, and then come in and guess what you’ve thought of.”

  Jack and Dodo strolled up through the sweet-smelling meadows towards the Riffelberg. A cool breeze was streaming down from the “furrow cloven alls” of the glacier, heavy with the clean smell of pine woods and summer flowers, and thick with a hundred mingling sounds. The cows were being driven homewards, and the faint sounds of bells were carried down to them from the green heights above. Now and then they passed a herd of goats, still nibbling anxiously at the wayside grass, followed by some small ragged shepherd, who brushed his long hair away from his eyes to get a better look at this dazzling, fair-skinned woman, who evidently belonged to quite another order of beings from his wrinkled, early-old mother. One of them held out to Dodo a wilted little bunch of flowers, crumpled with much handling, but she did not seem to notice him. After they had passed he tossed them away, and ran off after his straying flock. Southwards, high above them, stretched the long lines of snow spread out under the feet of the Matterhorn, which sat like some huge sphinx, unapproachable, remote. Just below lay the village, sleeping in the last rays of the sun, which shone warmly on the red, weathered planks. Light blue smoke curled slowly up from the shingled roofs, and streamed gently down the valley in a thin, transparent haze.

  “Decidedly, it’s a very nice world,” said Dodo. “I’m so glad I wasn’t born a Russian. The Princess never enjoys anything at all, except telling one how bored she is. But she’s very amusing, and I gave her a great deal of good advice.”

  “What have you been telling her to do,” asked Jack.

  “Oh, anything. I recommended her to sit in the meadows, and throw stones and get her feet wet. It’s not affectation at all in her, she really is hopelessly bored. It’s as easy for her to be bored as for me not to be. Jack, what will you do to me if I get bored when we’re married?”

  “I shall tell you to throw stones,” said he.

  “As long as you don’t look at me reproachfully,” said Dodo, “I sha’n’t mind. Oh, look at the Matterhorn. Isn’t it big?”

  “I don’t like it,” said Jack; “it always looks as if it was taking notice, and reflecting how dreadfully small one is.”

  “I used to think Vivy was like that,” said Dodo. “She was very good to me once or twice. I wonder what I shall be like when I’m middle-aged. I can’t bear the thought of getting old, but that won’t stop it. I don’t want to sit by the fire and purr. I don’t think I could do it.”

  “One won’t get old all of a sudden, though,” said Jack; “that’s a great consideration. The change will come so gradually that one won’t know it.”

  “Ah, don’t,” said Dodo quickly. “It’s like dying by inches, losing hold of life gradually. It won’t come to me like that. I shall wake up some morning and find I’m not young any more.”

  “Well, it won’t come yet,” said Jack with sympathy.

  “Well, I’m not going to bother my head about it,” said Dodo, “there isn’t time. There’s Maud and her little Spencer. He’s a dear little man, and he ought to be put in a band-box with some pink cotton-wool, and taken out every Sunday morning.”

  Dodo whistled shrilly on her fingers to attract their attention.

  Mr. Spencer had been gathering flowers and putting them into a neat, little tin box, which he slung over his shoulders. He was dressed in a Norfolk jacket carefully buttoned round his waist, with knickerbockers and blue worsted stockings. He wore a small blue ribbon in his top button-hole, and a soft felt hat. He carried his flowers home in the evening, and always remembered to press them before he went to bed. He and Maud were sitting on a large grey rock by the wayside, reading the Psalms for the seventeenth evening of the month.

  Dodo surveyed her critically, and laid herself out to be agreeable.

  “Well, Algy,” she said, “how are the flowers going on? Oh, what a sweet little gentian. Where did you get it? We’re going to have some theatricals this evening, and you must come. It’s going to be a charade, and you’ll have to guess the word afterwards. Jack and I are going to look at the sunset. We shall be late for dinner. What’s that book, Maud?”

  “We were reading the Psalms for the evening,” said Maud.

  “Oh, how dear of you!” said Dodo. “What a lovely church this makes. Algy, why don’t you have service out of doors at Gloucester? I always feel so much more devotional on fine evenings out in the open air. I think that’s charming. Good-bye. Jack and I must go on.”

  Dodo was a good walker, and they were soon among the pines that climb up the long steep slope to the Eiffel. Their steps were silent on the carpet of needles, and they walked on, not talk
ing much, but each intensely conscious of the presence of the other. At a corner high up on the slope they stopped, for the great range in front of them had risen above the hills on the other side of the valley, and all the snow was flushed with the sunset.

  Dodo laid her hand on Jack’s.

  “How odd it is that you and I should be here together, and like this,” she said. “I often used to wonder years ago whether this would happen. Jack, you will make me very happy? Promise me that.”

  And Jack promised.

  “I often think of Chesterford,” Dodo went on. “He wished for this, you know. He told me so as he was dying. Did you ever know, Jack—” even Dodo found it hard to get on at this moment— “did you ever know — he knew all? I began to tell him, and he stopped me, saying he knew.”

  Jack’s face was grave.

  “He told me he knew,” he said; “at least, I saw he did. I never felt so much ashamed. It was my fault. I would have given a great deal to save him that knowledge.”

  “God forgive me if I was cruel to him,” said Dodo. “But, oh, Jack, I did try. I was mad that night I think.”

  “Don’t talk of it,” said he suddenly; “it was horrible; it was shameful.”

  They were silent a moment. Then Jack said, —

  “Dodo, let us bury the thought of that for ever. There are some memories which are sacred to me. The memory of Chesterford is one. He was very faithful, and he was very unhappy. I feel as if I was striking his dead body when you speak of it. Requiescat.”

  They rose and went down to the hotel; the sun had set, and it grew suddenly cold.

  The theatricals that night were a great success. Dodo was simply inimitable. Two maiden ladies left the hotel the next morning.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

  Dodo’s marriage was announced in September. It was to be celebrated at the beginning of December, and was to be very grand indeed. Duchesses were expected to be nothing accounted of. She was still in Switzerland when it was made known, and events had developed themselves. The announcement came out in the following manner. She had taken her moonlight walk, but not with Prince Waldenech. She had mentioned to him incidentally that Jack was coming as well, and after dinner the Prince found he had important despatches waiting for him. Dodo was rather amused at the inadequacy of this statement, as no post had come in that morning. The thought that the Prince particularly wished to take a romantic walk with her was entertaining. Next morning, however, while Dodo was sitting in her room, looking out over the wide, green valley, her maid came in and asked if Prince Waldenech might have permission to speak to her.

  “Good morning,” said Dodo affably, as he entered. “I wish you had been with us last night. We had a charming walk, but Jack was dreadfully dull. Why didn’t you come?”

  The Prince twisted his long moustaches.

  “Certainly I had no despatches,” he declared with frankness; “that was — how do you call it? — oh, a white lie.”

  “Did you expect me to believe it?” asked Dodo.

  “Assuredly not,” he returned. “It would have been an insult to your understanding. But such statements are better than the truth sometimes. But I came here for another purpose — to say good-bye.”

  “You’re not going?” said Dodo surprisedly.

  “Unless you tell me to stop,” he murmured, advancing to her.

  Dodo read his meaning at once, and determined to stop his saying anything more.

  “Certainly I tell you to stop,” she said. “You mustn’t break up our charming party so soon. Besides, I have a piece of news for you this morning. I ask for your congratulations.”

  “Ah, those despatches,” murmured the Prince.

  “No, it was not the fault of your despatches,” said Dodo, laughing. “It was settled some time ago. I shall be Lady Chesterford again next year. Allow me to introduce the Marchioness of Chesterford elect to your Highness,” and she swept him a little curtsey.

  The Prince bowed.

  “The Marquis of Chesterford is a very fortunate man,” he said. “Decidedly I had better go away to-morrow.”

  Dodo felt annoyed with him. “I thought he was clever enough not to say that,” she thought to herself.

  “No, my dear Prince, you shall do nothing of the sort,” she said. “You are very happy here, and I don’t choose that you should go away — I tell you to stop. You said you would if I told you.”

  “I am a man of honour still,” said he, with mock solemnity. He put both hands together and bowed. “I shall be the first to congratulate the Marquis,” he said, “and may I hope the Marchioness will think with pity on those less fortunate than he.”

  Dodo smiled benignantly. He really had got excellent manners. The scene was artistic, and it pleased her.

  “I should think you were too proud to accept pity,” she said.

  “Have you ever seen me other than humble — to you?” he asked.

  “Take it then,” said Dodo; “as much as your case requires. But I feel it is insolent of me to offer it.”

  “I take all the pity you have,” said he, smiling gravely. “I want it more than any other poor devil you might think of bestowing it on.”

  He bowed himself gracefully out of the room. He and Dodo had been discussing English proverbs the day before, and Dodo asserted broadly that they were all founded on universal truths. The Prince thought that pity was quite a promising gift.

  Dodo was a little uneasy after he had gone. She was always a trifle afraid of him, though, to do her justice, no one would have guessed it. He had acted the rejected lover in the theatricals of the week before, and his acting had been rather too good. The scene she had just gone through reminded her very forcibly of it. She had found that she could not get the play out of her head afterwards, and had had long waking dreams that night, in which the Prince appeared time after time, and her refusal got more faint as he pressed his suit. She felt that he was the stronger of the two, and such a scene as the last inspired her with a kind of self-distrust. “He will not make himself ‘cheap,’” Dodo said to herself. She was very glad he was going to stop, and had been surprised to feel how annoyed she was when he said he had come to wish good-bye. But she felt he had a certain power over her, and did not quite like it. She would take Jack out for a walk and make things even. Jack had no power over her, and she thought complacently how she could turn him round her little finger. Dear old Jack! What a good time they were going to have.

  She went downstairs and met the Prince and Jack on the verandah. The former was murmuring congratulatory speeches, and Jack was saying “Thanks awfully” at intervals. He had once said to Dodo that the Prince was “an oily devil,” which was putting it rather strongly. Dodo had stuck up for him. “You only say he’s oily,” she said, “because he’s got much better manners than you, and can come into the room without looking ridiculous, and I rather like devils as a rule, and him in particular, though I don’t say he is one. Anyhow he is a friend of mine, and you can talk about something else.”

  Jack followed Dodo into the square, and sat down by her.

  “What made you tell that chap that we were engaged?” he asked.

  “Oh, I had excellent reasons,” said Dodo.

  The memory of the interview was still rather strong in her mind, and she felt not quite sure of herself.

  “No doubt,” said Jack; “but I wish you’d tell me what they were.”

  “Don’t talk as if you were the inquisition, old boy,” she said. “I don’t see why I should tell you if I don’t like.”

  “Please yourself,” said Jack crossly, and got up to walk away.

  “Jack, behave this minute,” said Dodo. “Apologise instantly for speaking like that.”

  “I beg its little pardon,” said Jack contentedly.

  He liked being hauled over the coals by Dodo.

  “That’s right; now, if you’ll be good, I’ll tell you. Has he gone quite away?”

  “Quite; thank goodness,” said Jack.

  �
��Well,” said Dodo, “I told him because he was just going to propose to me himself, and I wanted to stop him.”

  “Nasty brute,” said Jack. “I hope you gave it him hot.”

  “That’s a very rude thing to say, Jack,” said she. “It argues excellent taste in him. Besides, you did it yourself. Nasty brute!”

  “What right has he got to propose to you, I should like to know?” asked Jack.

  “Just as much as you had.”

  “Then I ought to be kicked for doing it.”

  Dodo applied the toe of a muddy shoe to Jack’s calf.

  “Now, I’ve dirtied your pretty stockings,” she said. “Serves you right for proposing to me. How dare you, you nasty brute!”

  Jack made a grab at her foot, and made his fingers dirty.

  “Jack, behave,” said Dodo; “there are two thousand people looking.”

  “Let them look,” said Jack recklessly. “I’m not going to be kicked in broad daylight within shouting distance of the hotel. Dodo, if you kick me again I shall call for help.”

  “Call away,” said Dodo.

  Jack opened his mouth and howled. An old gentleman, who was just folding his paper into a convenient form for reading, on a seat opposite, put on his spectacles and stared at them in blank amazement.

  “I told you I would,” remarked Jack parenthetically, “It’s only Lord Chesterford,” exclaimed Dodo, in a shrill, treble voice, to the old gentleman. “I don’t think he’s very well. I daresay it’s nothing.”

  “Most distressin’,” said the old gentleman, in a tone of the deepest sarcasm, returning to his paper.

  “Most distressin’,” echoed Dodo pianissimo to Jack, who was laughing in a hopeless internal manner.

  Dodo led him speechless away, and they wandered off to the little, low wall that separates the street from the square.