Chapter IV

(i)

HEN to-morrow," said May, with an air of great decision, " we'll see the sunset from the Pincian for the last time. And on Wednesday everyone'll dawdle and pack."

They had done all the proper things in the proper way — St. Peter's twice, the Catacombs, the Forum, a public audience, tea in the Piazza Spagna, St. Mary Major, the models and the almond blossom on the steps of the Trinita, St. John Lateran. They had made the proper remarks about unshaven priests, about the scarlet German seminarians; they had gravely attended Sung Matins in the little Gothic church of All Saints in the Via Babnino on their two Sundays, at eleven, in best clothes; having previously talked out loud during high mass at St. Peter's, sitting on camp-stools; they had cheered the little king as he sat on a high seat in a dog-cart beside his tall wife; they had agreed with an English clergyman that Cardinal Merry del Val was an unscrupulous and incompetent diplomatist. They had conducted themselves, in fact, harmlessly and decorously, and vaguely felt that their horizons were enlarged.

And of real Rome, of course, they had seen nothing at all. Figures had moved before them — the insolent light-blue cloaks of soldiers who resembled French tram-conductors; seedy-looking priests who went hurriedly and softly with downcast eyes; countrymen — real ones, not the sham ones of Trinita — asleep in little canopied carts that roared over the cobblestones; endless companies of handsomely bearded bourgeois clerks and tradesmen, pacing slowly up and down the Corso and eyeing brutally every female figure in range. They had seen crumbling ruins against the sky; little churches, rather dingy, looking squeezed and asleep, between new white houses with balconies and uncountable windows; and they had understood absolutely less than nothing (since they had misconceived the whole) of all that their eyes and ears had taken in. They had believed themselves, for example, to be by nature on the side of the Government and the new hotels and the trams and the clean white squares; they had not understood that that which they dismissed as ecclesiasticism and intransigeance was the only element with which they had anything in common, and that this, and this only, had developed their aristocracy in the past as well as being its only hope for the future. They had not understood that all this, in terms of Italy, was a translation of their own instincts and circumstances at home.

The two lovers had behaved with marvellous discretion. Austin, for instance, saw plainly that something was up, and was not furnished with the faintest handle for rebuke. He found himself allowed to escort Gertie, to hand her into the little cabs, and to give her useful and accurate information, to his heart's content; and scarcely once had Val been otherwise than reasonable and friendly — he seemed quite content to pair off with May and was hardly ever irritable and fractious.

For the bliss that the boy went through was occupation enough for him. The days went by in a delicious dream; since, with the understanding that was now so perfectly established, it contented him quite tolerably to know that Gertie was next door to him, sat opposite to him at table, and, now and then, caught his eyes. Of course they had interviews and exchanged sentences — in dark churches, on terraces; again and again the two were separated from the rest, yet always naturally and sometimes almost unnoticeably; and for one delicious hour they had sat together on the balconies of their respective bedrooms after dark, one low railing only between them, looking out on to the garden as the full moon rose.... But it was all done with an intense and strenuous natural air, which, if it would not have deceived elders, was quite enough for Austin and May.

It was their last evening but two, however; and the strain of living up to the Ideal, coupled with the fact that the sands were running out, was beginning to have its effect on Val. He was a little silent this evening — silent with a touch of feverishness.

They had been playing bridge since dinner, at a little table in the corner of the big hall where smoking was permitted, when May, putting up the cards again into their leather case, had announced the Pincian for the next evening. ( The Vatican galler-ies were to be inspected in the morning and the Palatine in the afternoon.)

" I've got to see a man at the Embassy," announced Austin; " I think I'd better go in the afternoon." Austin was a little too much pleased with " the man at the Embassy," and had mentioned him several times. He had just begun to be aware that importance in the world was as valuable as at Eton. Val sat back in silence and took out his cigarette-case. May stood up.

" Well, I'm off to bed.... All right. We'll settle other things in the morning.... Coming, Gertie? "

Gertie rose obediently, and Val indulged himself with a good look at her.

She really was startlingly pretty; and the hum of talk at the next table died away as she stood up. May was extremely ordinary beside her.

For Gertie's southern blood seemed less exotic here in Rome. She was in the very height of health; and this tearing about in the Easter sun of Italy had deepened the wholesome pallor of her face. She was in white this evening, with a blue flower in her hair, and suggestions of embroidery here and there upon her dress; she carried on her white shoulders a scarf, as the evenings were chilly; and her dark eyes blazed with tiredness and pleasure. She wore Val's turquoise on her finger. She looked upright and bright and keen — as she nodded to the boys, and moved off behind May with that admirable arrogance that a certain kind of breeding and life seems to confer....

" Play you montana," said Val suddenly. Austin sank down again, with just a touch of indulgence that Val sometimes found trying. " Well, one game, if you like," he said.

Montana is perhaps the most trying game invented by man — to temperaments, at any rate, that are in the least degree nervous. It is a kind of double patience; but the excitement lies in the fact that the packs which are gradually built up are common to both sides, with result that the virtue of patience is perhaps the last one required. One needs quick sight, unerring judgment, immense decision of character, ruthlessness, and, above all, a kind of intoxicated yet clear-headed dash such as a cavalry-leader might need. There come moments when the losing player, fascinated and paralysed, has all that he can do not to cry out that his opponent must be cheating, as he sees cards, fired with the speed of Maxim bullets, flying to their several places. There come moments when the winning player, after such a run, when his cards have shifted and melted like magic, has all that he can do not to laugh and triumph aloud. It is practically impossible to smoke, so swift and violent is the game; it is sometimes difficult even to breathe aright....

Twenty minutes later Val, a little flushed, swept up his cards and began to reshuffle.

" That's nine points to you/' he said. " It was that knave I dropped, you know."

" I said only one game," said Austin. " I'm "

" Oh! that's rot. It was a wretched game.... That knave did me. We must have one more."

Austin lifted his eyebrows with a deliberate weariness. He took up his cards.

" Well, a short one. Up to twenty."

Val said nothing, but began to deal out his preliminary seven heaps.

Contempt was never very far away from Austin's view of Val. It was, as has been hinted before, the main sort of self-protection that he allowed himself. Certainly he was superior to Val in practically everything. He rode better, shot better, had been more successful in work, had been in " Pop " at Eton, and on the Committee of the Pitt Club at Cam-bridge. But Val was never very far behind him, and occasionally shot up with a kind of fitful brilliance, as, for instance, when he had stopped Gertie's runaway horse. He had too a kind of interior intensity which Austin lacked — a fervour and a positiveness that might be dangerous some day. For Austin's peace of mind, then, an arranged attitude towards Val was necessary; he must be self-con-trolled and modest, where Val tended to be spasmodic and boastful; and together with these ingredients there was added, as has been said, a touch of contempt.

Take card-games, for example. At purely intellectual games Austin was undoubtedly the superior; at games which required dash and speed Val won at least as often as he lost. But Val, Austin reflected, showed too much keenness for absolutely good form; he was apt to sparkle too much when he won and to be too silent when he lost. Montana was a kind of symbol between them. Val won perhaps three times out of four; and it was necessary therefore to allow him to play this sometimes when he had been unfortunate at bridge. This restored serenity to the atmosphere and gave Austin a sense of generous rectitude.

They played in silence for a few minutes; and indeed, with the exception of sudden cries and exclamations, it is difficult to play montana except in silence. Val began well; his cards fell right; and he called for a truce to order something to drink. Austin regarded him coldly, and determined to win.

" I think mine/' said Val firmly, producing a crumpled nine of hearts from beneath Austin's; the two had dashed upon the uncovered eight almost exactly at the same moment.

Obviously it was Val's. Austin registered one more resolution, and drew his chair an inch nearer. Ten minutes later one of those developments appeared which occasionally do assert themselves inexplicably. Every card of Austin's fell right; every card of Val's wrong. Twice Val flew into a breach a fraction of a second late.... There was a whirling of hands and cards.... Austin's heaps vanished like snow in sunshine. Val fumbled badly; dropped a card; and when he had it again Austin's heaps had gone.

" That was a pretty good run," remarked Austin, flushed with victory, beginning to push back his chair. (It was plain that the "twenty " was more than reached.)

Now Val was in that indescribably irritated state that games do seem sometimes to produce in their players. He was the more annoyed as he considered himself Austin's superior in montana.

" We generally use only one hand," he said in a head-voice, beginning to rake his widespread cards together.

" That's what I thought," said Austin, perceiving that war was declared.

" I thought I saw you use two," pursued Val, with the same air of deadly detachment. " When I was picking up the card I had dropped."

" You thought wrong then," said Austin. " I did nothing of the sort."

Val smiled deliberately and carefully with one side of his mouth.

Anger rose within Austin like a torrent. He looked quickly from side to side, and saw that the room was nearly empty. Then he stood up, leaning forward with his hands upon the table.

'' You shouldn't play games if you can't keep your temper," he said in a sharp undertone. " To accuse me of cheating is simply ridiculous; and you know it."

Then he wheeled away without a word, seeing Val's pale face flush suddenly into fury.

(n)

When a storm breaks after a prolonged drought, it is usually rather a severe one; since weather averages must be preserved at all costs; and the quarrel of the two brothers took the same course. They had not openly quarrelled or insulted one another for at least three months. Val had been at Cambridge and Austin in London nearly all that time, and there simply had been no opportunity at all until the journey; as has been remarked, Val's Ideal had kept him pacific ever since they had left Victoria Station.

The girls, of course, noticed nothing next morning, except that the two were alternately polite to one another and unconscious of one another's presence; but for all that the fires burned deeply. Austin kept on telling himself that Val was an ill-mannered cub who could not keep his temper, and Val kept on telling himself that Austin had cheated (though he knew perfectly well he had not), and that he was simply impossible....

They inspected the Vatican galleries in the morning, with their sense of duty more apparent than that of beauty, and got home in unusually good time for lunch. But they set out in two cabs — Austin and Gertie together in the one, Val and May in the other — resolutely enough, at half-past two.

They were more polite than ever to one another on the Palatine — polite with irony as visible as a dagger-blade among flowers. Val offered Austin his Baedeker, and begged him to read aloud the information, as he read so well; and Austin returned with many apologies a small tin match-box which he noticed fall out of Val's pocket as he pulled out his handkerchief. Gertie eyed the two sharply once or twice, and then was more affectionate than ever to May.

To tell the truth, all four were becoming a little worn out with sight-seeing. It is not easy in the Italian climate to take an intelligent interest in antiquities and churches, every day for a fortnight, from ten to twelve and two to five, without showing signs of weariness or irritation; and an atmosphere of relief became very visible as they emerged again at last by the Arch of Titus.

" I say, it isn't four yet," said Austin....

May sighed.

" I can't help it," she said. " And I'm just dying for tea. Let's go home and have it, and then walk uj) the Pincian afterwards before sunset. I'm nearly dead."

" Our cabs are waiting over there," said Val, nodding towards the Coliseum.

Something of regret, however — in fact, a real and inexplicable depression — came on him as he drove back with Gertie. (They had changed partners this time.) It seemed to him as if the evening and the morrow that still remained to them, the journey home together, and the three or four days that Gertie would spend at Medhurst, were little better than mockeries.... He said so, sitting carefully apart in his corner in the little victoria, lest the others should turn and see them.

"Gertie," he said, "I feel beastly. Only one more day here, and then that vile Cambridge." (It was sweet to them both to talk in this way — as husband and wife might talk, without endearments. They had discovered its peculiarly exquisite aroma during the journey out.) She assumed the maternal pose.

" My dear boy, don't be ridiculous. We've had a heavenly time; and there's... there's nearly a week more altogether."

Val sighed again, looking rather cross.

" Is anything the matter between you and Austin?"

" Oh, yes! " said Val wearily. " He can't behave himself at cards. And I told him so."

A bubble of laughter broke from the girl.

" Oh! you boys," she said.

" Austin really won't do at all, you know," went on Val, with the air of forty-five finding fault with seventeen. " He cannot keep his temper."

" Tell me what happened."

" I asked him whether he hadn't used two hands by mistake at montana. Lots of people do, you know. And he flew into a violent temper and be-came offensive."

"And you?"

" I said nothing whatever."

" Oh! you boys," said Gertie again. " Really, you're old enough to have got over that sort of thing."

" I can't help it if Austin behaves like a cad," pursued Val, intent on his wrongs, and really not conscious that he had misrepresented anything. Had he not told the literal truth?

" I think you're rather annoying sometimes to him, you know, Val," went on Gertie, seriously. (She happened to remember at this moment how great a woman's influence ought to be for good.)

Val shrugged his shoulders slightly and spread his hands in a little Italian gesture.

" Oh! I must put up with him, I know. But he's the kind of person you can't ask favours from, you know. I asked him to play last night, and this is the result."

"But you won't quarrel any more with him?" "Oh! I shall be polite to him all right. But, as I say, no more favours from him."