“You have been a very naughty boy,” the Baron had said. “Very naughty indeed.”
“Do you want some more moules?”
“No. I want something solid.”
“Shouldn’t we have a bouillabaisse, too?”
“Two soups?”
“I’m hungry. And we won’t be here again for a long time.”
“I should think you might be hungry. Good. We’ll have a bouillabaisse and then a good Châteaubriand very rare. I’ll build you up, you bastard.’”
“What are you going to do?”
“The question is what are you going to do. Do you love her?”
“No.”
“That’s much better. It is better for you to leave now. Much better.”
“I promised to spend some time with them for the fishing.”
“If it were the shooting it might be worthwhile,” the Baron had said. “The fishing is very cold and very unpleasant and she has no business to make a fool of her husband.”
“He must know about it.”
“He does not. He knows she is in love with you. That is all. You are a gentleman so whatever you do is all right. But she has no business to make a fool of her husband. You wouldn’t marry her, would you?”
“No.”
“She couldn’t marry you anyway and there is no need that he should be made unhappy unless you are in love with her.”
“I’m not. I know that now.”
“Then I think you should get out.”
“I’m quite sure that I should.”
“I’m so glad that you agree. Now tell me truly, how is she?”
“She’s very well.”
“Don’t be silly. I knew her mother. You should have known her mother.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“You should be. I don’t know how you got yourself mixed up with such good dull people. You don’t need her for your painting or anything like that, do you?”
“No. That’s not the way it’s done. I like her very much. I still like her. But I’m not in love with her and it’s getting very complicated.”
“I’m so glad that you agree. Now where do you think that you will go?”
“We’ve just come from Africa.”
“Exactly. Why don’t you go to Cuba for a while or the Bahamas? I could join you if I get hold of any money at home.”
“Do you think you will get any money at home?”
“No.”
“I think I will stay in Paris for a while. I’ve been away from town for a long time.”
“Paris isn’t town. London is town.”
“I’d like to see what’s going on in Paris.”
“I can tell you what’s going on.”
“No. I mean I want to see the pictures and some people and go to the Six-Day and Auteuil and Enghien and Le Tremblay. Why don’t you stay?”
“I don’t like racing and I can’t afford to gamble.”
And why go on with that? he thought now. The Baron was dead and the Krauts had Paris and the Princess did not have a baby. There would be no blood of his in any royal house, he thought, unless he had a nosebleed sometime in Buckingham Palace, which seemed extremely unlikely. If one of those boys did not come in twenty minutes, he decided, he would go down into the village and get some eggs and some bread. It is a hell of a thing to be hungry in your own house, he thought. But I’m too damned tired to go down there.
Just then he heard someone in the kitchen and he pushed the buzzer that was set in the underside of the big table and heard it burr twice in the kitchen.
The second houseboy came in with his faintly fairy, half Saint Sebastian, sly, crafty, and long-suffering look and said, “You rang?”
“What the hell do you think I did? Where is Mario?”
“He went for the mail.”
“How are all the cats?”
“Very well. Without news. Big Goats fought with El Gordo. But we treated the wounds.”
“Boise looks thin.”
“He goes out much at night.”
“How is Princessa?”
“She was a little sad. But she eats well now.”
“Did you have difficulty getting meat?”
“We got it from Cotorro.”
“How are the dogs?”
“All of them are well. Negrita is with puppies again.”