Arnold Bennett

“ Audrey jumped up, smiling, and lifting her veil. She could not help smiling. The studio, the lamp, Rosamund with her miraculous self-complacency, Nick with her soft, mad eyes and wistful voice, the blundering ruthless Miss Ingate, all seemed intensely absurd to her. Everything seemed absurd except dancing and revelry and coloured lights and strange disguises and sensuous contacts. She had the most careless contempt, stiffened by a slight loathing, for political movements and every melancholy effort to reform the world. The world did not need reforming and did not want to be reformed. ”

“ The principal gates of Flank Hall were slightly ajar, as arranged with Aguilar, and she passed with a suddenly aroused heart up the drive towards the front entrance of the house. In spite of herself she could not get rid of an absurd fear that either Mr. Hurley or Inspector Keeble or both would jump out of the dark bushes and slip handcuffs upon her wrists. And the baffling invisibility of the sky further affected her nerves. There ought to have been a lamp in the front hall, but no ray showed through the eighteenth century fanlight over the door. ”

“ Audrey admitted. “But I’ve been thinking a good deal about all this, and at last I’ve come to the conclusion that one thing-isn’t enough for me, not nearly enough. And I’m not going to be peculiar at any price. Neither a fanatic nor a monomaniac, nor anything like that.”
“You are in love,” asserted Rosamund.
“And what if I am? If you ask me, I think a girl who isn’t in love ought to be somewhat ashamed of herself, or at least sorry for herself. And I am sorry for myself, because I am not in love. I wish I was. Why shouldn’t I be? It must be lovely to be in love. ”

“ It was incredible that this straightforward, simple girl at the table should be the world-renowned Jane Foley. What most impressed Audrey in Jane was Jane’s happiness. Jane was happy, as Audrey had not imagined that anyone could be happy. She had within her a supply of happiness that was constantly bubbling up. The ridiculousness and the total futility of such matters as motor-cars, fine raiment, beautiful boudoirs and correctness smote Audrey severely. She saw that there was only one thing worth having, and that was the mysterious thing that Jane Foley had. ”

“ And Jane Foley and Audrey turned their backs upon all that, and—Jane concealing her limp as much as possible—sauntered with affected nonchalance towards the precincts of the Joy Wheel enclosure. Audrey was inexpressibly uplifted. She felt as if she had stepped straight into romance. And she was right—she had stepped into the most vivid romance of the modern age, into a world of disguises, flights, pursuits, chicane, inconceivable adventures, ideals, martyrs and conquerors, which only the Renaissance or the twenty-first century could appreciate. ”

“ For it was Audrey who had created it. Having months ago comprehended that a formal and splendid debut was necessary for Musa if he was to succeed within a reasonable space of time, she had willed the debut within her own brain. She alone had thought of it. And now the realisation seemed to her to be absolutely a miracle. Had she read of such an affair a year earlier in a newspaper—with the words “Paris,” “tout Paris,” “young genius,” and so on—she would have pictured it as gloriously, thrillingly romantic, and it indeed was gloriously and thrillingly romantic. ”

“ Audrey stared uncertain for a moment, and then let the mass subside. Whereupon Miss Ingate with all her strength lifted both legs to the height of her waist, giving Musa the appearance of a wheelless barrow.
“You want to let the blood run into his head,” said Miss Ingate with a self-conscious grin at the increasing crowd. “People only faint because the blood leaves their heads—that’s why they go pale.”
Musa’s cheeks showed a tinge of red. You could almost see the precious blood being decanted by Miss Ingate out of the man’s feet into his head. ”

“ In due time Jane Foley quietly rose from the table, and Audrey did likewise. All around them stretched the imposing blue architecture of the Exhibition, forming vistas that ended dimly either in the smoke of Birmingham or the rustic haze of Worcestershire. And, although the Imperial Hall was crammed, every vista was thickly powdered with pleasure-seekers and probably pleasure-finders. Bands played. Flags waved. Brass glinted. Even the sun feebly shone at intervals through the eternal canopy of soot. It was a great day in the annals of the Blue City and of Liberalism. ”

“ Mathew Moze and his ancestors. In the village, and to the village, she was Miss Ingate, a natural phenomenon, like the lie of the land and the river Moze. Her opinions offended nobody, not Mr. Moze himself—she was Miss Ingate. She was laughed at, beloved and respected. Her sagacity had one flaw, and the flaw sprang from her sincere conviction that human nature in that corner of Essex, which she understood so profoundly, and where she was so perfectly at home, was different from, and more fondly foolish than, human nature in any other part of the world. ”

“ The doctor had disappointed her by his light optimism, but he could not smile away Musa’s moral indisposition. The large vagueness of the studio, the very faint twilight still showing through the great window, the silence and intimacy, the sounds of the French language, the gleam of the white sling, all combined to permeate her with delicious melancholy. And not for everlasting bliss would she have had Musa strong, obstinate, and certain of success.
“A week!” he murmured. “It is for ever. A week of practice lost is eternally lost. And on Wednesday one had invited me to play at Foa’s. ”

“ Audrey and Miss Ingate meekly following. The great roof of the station resounded to whistles and the escape of steam and the clashing of wagons.
Beyond the platforms there were droves of people, of whom nearly every individual was preoccupied and hurried. And what people! Audrey had in her heart expected a sort of glittering white terminus full of dandiacal men and elegant Parisiennes who had stepped straight out of fashion-plates, and who had no cares—for was not this Paris? ”

“ While the travellers spruced themselves up in different bedrooms, Tommy chattered through one pair of double doors ajar, and Nick through the other, and Musa strummed with many mistakes on an antique Pleyel piano. And as Audrey listened to the talk of these acquaintances, Tommy and Nick, who in half an hour had put on the hue of her lifelong friends, and as she heard the piano, and felt the vibration of cars far beneath, she decided that she was still growing happier and happier, and that life and the world were marvellous. ”

“ Moncreiff!” exclaimed Rosamund.
“Certainly, your hobby,” Audrey persisted.
“I have sacrificed everything to it,” said Rosamund.
“Pardon me,” said Audrey. “I don’t think you’ve sacrificed anything to it. You just enjoy bossing other people above everything, and it gives you every chance to boss. And you enjoy plots too, and look at the chances you get for that’. Mind you, I like you for it. I think you’re splendid. Only I don’t want to be a monomaniac, and I won’t be.” ”

“ The more detailed part of Audrey’s toilette had been accomplished subsequent to Miss Ingate’s departure, for Audrey had been at pains to inform Miss Ingate that she, Audrey, was even less interested than usual in her appearance that afternoon. They were close and mutually reliable friends; but every friendship has its reservations. Elise also was out; indeed, Miss Ingate had taken her.
Audrey had the weight of all the world on her, and so long as she was alone she permitted herself to look as though she had. She had to be wise, not only for Audrey Moze, but for others. ”

“ Flank Hall, which for a hundred years had been called “the new hall,” was a seemly Georgian residence, warm in colour, with some quaint woodwork; and like most such buildings in Essex, it made a very happy marriage with the landscape. Its dormers and fine chimneys glowed amid the dark bare trees, and they alone would have captivated a Londoner possessing those precious attributes, fortunately ever spreading among the enlightened middle-classes, a motor-car, a cultured taste in architecture, and a desire to enter the squirearchy. Audrey loathed the house. ”

“ Then the door leading from Mademoiselle’s bedroom opened sharply, and Mademoiselle appeared, with her grey hair, her pale shining forehead, her sardonic grin, and the new dress of those Empire colours, magenta and green. Elise stood behind, trembling with satisfaction.
“Well——” Audrey began. But she heard the automobile, and told Elise to run and be ready to open the front door of the flat.
“Rather showy, isn’t it? Rather daring?” said Miss Ingate, advancing self-consciously and self-deprecating.
“Winnie,” answered Audrey. “It’s a nice question between you and the Queen of Sheba.” ”

“ If they were leaving a shop, the automobile sprang into life, dogs, menials, and all, the door was opened, the woman slipped in like a mechanical toy, the door banged, the menial jumped, and with trumpet tones the entire machine curved and swept away. The aspect of these women made Audrey feel glad that she was wearing her best clothes, and simultaneously made her feel that her best clothes were worse than useless. ”

“ Do you think it would be very amusing for me to be the wife of a famous man that was run after by every silly creature in Paris or London or New York? Not quite! And I don’t see myself. You don’t like young girls. I don’t like young men. They’re rude and selfish and conceited. They’re like babies.”
“The fact is,” Musa broke in, “you are in love with the old Gilman.”
“He is not old!” cried Audrey. “In some ways he is much less worn out than you are. And supposing I am in love with Mr. Gilman? Does it regard you? Do not be rude. Mr. Gilman is at any rate polite. He is not capricious. ”

“ It was also true that in consequence the saloon breakfast had been abrogated, that even the saloon lunch lacked vicacity, and that at least one passenger was at that moment dozing in his cabin. But not on account of fatigue and somnolence was Audrey remaining in the saloon instead of taking the splendid summer afternoon on deck under the awning. She felt neither tired nor sleepy. The true secret was that she feared the crowd of village idlers, quidnuncs, tattlers and newsmongers who all day gazed from Lousey Hard at the wonder-yacht. ”

“ The detective gone, Mr. Gilman walked to and fro, breathing more loudly than ever, and unsuccessfully pretending to a scattered audience, which consisted of the skipper, Mr. Price, Dr. Cromarty, and sundry deck-hands, that he had done nothing in particular and was not a hero. As Audrey approached him he seemed to lay all his glory with humble pride at her feet.
“Well, he brought that on himself!” said Audrey, smiling.
“He did,” Mr. Gilman concurred, gazing at the Hard with inimical scorn.
“She can’t come—now,” said Audrey. “It wouldn’t be safe. He means to stay on the Hard till we’re gone. ”

“ But Rosamund’s voice was audible in a monologue, and Miss Ingate trembled for Audrey and for the future.
“This is the most important political movement in the history of the world,” Rosamund was saying, not at all in a speechifying manner, but quite intimately and naturally. “Everybody admits that, and that’s what makes it so extraordinarily interesting, and that is why we have had such magnificent help from women in the very highest positions who wouldn’t dream of touching ordinary politics. It’s a marvellous thing to be in the movement, if we can only realise it. ”

“ And Audrey perceived that just as she was regarding the Polish woman as romantic, so the whole company was regarding herself and Miss Ingate as romantic. She could feel the polite, curious eyes of twenty men upon her; and her mind seemed to stiffen into a formidable resolve. She grew conscious of the lifting of all depression, all anxiety. Her conscience was at rest. She had been thinking for more than a week past: “I ought to go to London.” How often had she not said to herself: “If any woman should be in this movement, I should be in this movement. ”

“ Without more words they transformed the studio, by a few magical strokes, from a drawing-room into a bedroom. Audrey, the last to retire, extinguished the lamp, and tripped to her bed behind her screen. Only a few slight movements disturbed the silence.
“Winnie,” said Audrey suddenly. “I do believe you’re one of those awful people who compromise. You’re always right in the middle of the raft.”
But Miss Ingate, being fast asleep, offered no answer. ”

“ Musa sneered.
“I do not know what you mean,” said Audrey.
“Ah!” said Musa. “Once I told you that Tommy and Nick lent me the money with which to live. For me, since then, you have never been the same being. How stupid I was to tell you! You could not comprehend such a thing. Your soul is too low to comprehend it. Permit me to say that I have already repaid Nick. And at the first moment I shall repay Tommy. My position is secure. I have only to wait. But you will not wait. You are a bourgeoise of the most terrible sort. Opulence fascinates you. Mr. Gilman has opulence. He has nothing else. ”

“ It was quite possible to see in them the born leader who had dominated thousands of women and played a drawn game with the British Government itself. But Audrey, at the very moment when she was feeling the overbearing magic of that gaze, happened to remember the scene in Madame Piriac’s automobile on the night of her first arrival in Paris, when she herself was asleep and Rosamund, not knowing that she was asleep, had been solemnly addressing her. Miss Ingate’s often repeated account of the scene always made her laugh, and the memory of it now caused her to smile faintly. ”

“ And he appealed to Audrey as-a woman incapable of illusions. And Audrey agreed with Dauphin. And while she was agreeing she kept saying to herself: “Why do I pretend to agree with him? He is not sincere. He knows he is not sincere. We all know—except perhaps Winnie Ingate. The concert is a failure. If it were not a failure, Madame Foa would not be so sympathetic. She is more subtle even than Madame Piriac. I shall never be subtle like that. I wish I could be. I wish I was at Moze. I am too Essex for all this. And Winnie here is too comic for words.” ”

“ Audrey wondered what a galley could be, and the mystery of that name, and the mystery of the two closed doors, merely made the whole yacht perfect. The sleeping-cabins surpassed all else—they were so compact, so complex, so utterly complete. No large bedchamber, within Audrey’s knowledge, held so much apparatus, and offered so much comfort and so much wardrobe room as even the least of these cabins. It was impossible, to be sure, that in one’s amused researches one had not missed a cupboard ingeniously disguised somewhere. ”