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the unbearable bassington-第11章

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accessories on the wicker table; and quietly receded from the 

landscape。  Elaine sat like a grave young goddess about to dispense 

some mysterious potion to her devotees。  Her mind was still sitting 

in judgment on the Jewish question。



Comus scrambled to his feet。



〃It's too hot for tea;〃 he said; 〃I shall go and feed the swans。〃



And he walked off with a little silver basket…dish containing brown 

bread…and…butter。



Elaine laughed quietly。



〃It's so like Comus;〃 she said; 〃to go off with our one dish of 

bread…and…butter。〃



Youghal chuckled responsively。  It was an undoubted opportunity for 

him to put in some disparaging criticism of Comus; and Elaine sat 

alert in readiness to judge the critic and reserve judgment on the 

criticised。



〃His selfishness is splendid but absolutely futile;〃 said Youghal; 

〃now my selfishness is commonplace; but always thoroughly practical 

and calculated。  He will have great difficulty in getting the swans 

to accept his offering; and he incurs the odium of reducing us to a 

bread…and…butterless condition。  Incidentally he will get very 

hot。〃



Elaine again had the sense of being thoroughly baffled。  If Youghal 

had said anything unkind it was about himself。



〃If my cousin Suzette had been here;〃 she observed; with the shadow 

of a malicious smile on her lips; 〃I believe she would have gone 

into a flood of tears at the loss of her bread…and…butter; and 

Comus would have figured ever after in her mind as something black 

and destroying and hateful。  In fact I don't really know why we 

took our loss so unprotestingly。〃



〃For two reasons;〃 said Youghal; 〃you are rather fond of Comus。  

And I … am not very fond of bread…and…butter。〃



The jesting remark brought a throb of pleasure to Elaine's heart。  

She had known full well that she cared for Comus; but now that 

Courtenay Youghal had openly proclaimed the fact as something 

unchallenged and understood matters seemed placed at once on a more 

advanced footing。  The warm sunlit garden grew suddenly into a 

Heaven that held the secret of eternal happiness。  Youth and 

comeliness would always walk here; under the low…boughed mulberry 

trees; as unchanging as the leaden otter that for ever preyed on 

the leaden salmon on the edge of the old fountain; and somehow the 

lovers would always wear the aspect of herself and the boy who was 

talking to the four white swans by the water steps。  Youghal was 

right; this was the real Heaven of one's dreams and longings; 

immeasurably removed from that Rue de la Paix Paradise about which 

one professed utterly insincere hankerings in places of public 

worship。  Elaine drank her tea in a happy silence; besides being a 

brilliant talker Youghal understood the rarer art of being a non…

talker on occasion。



Comus came back across the grass swinging the empty basket…dish in 

his hand。



〃Swans were very pleased;〃 he cried; gaily; 〃and said they hoped I 

would keep the bread…and…butter dish as a souvenir of a happy tea…

party。  I may really have it; mayn't I?〃 he continued in an anxious 

voice; 〃it will do to keep studs and things in。  You don't want 

it。〃



〃It's got the family crest on it;〃 said Elaine。  Some of the 

happiness had died out of her eyes。



〃I'll have that scratched off and my own put on;〃 said Comus。



〃It's been in the family for generations;〃 protested Elaine; who 

did not share Comus's view that because you were rich your lesser 

possessions could have no value in your eyes。



〃I want it dreadfully;〃 said Comus; sulkily; 〃and you've heaps of 

other things to put bread…and…butter in。〃



For the moment he was possessed by an overmastering desire to keep 

the dish at all costs; a look of greedy determination dominated his 

face; and he had not for an instant relaxed his grip of the coveted 

object。



Elaine was genuinely angry by this time; and was busily telling 

herself that it was absurd to be put out over such a trifle; at the 

same moment a sense of justice was telling her that Comus was 

displaying a good deal of rather shabby selfishness。  And somehow 

her chief anxiety at the moment was to keep Courtenay Youghal from 

seeing that she was angry。



〃I know you don't really want it; so I'm going to keep it;〃 

persisted Comus。 



〃It's too hot to argue;〃 said Elaine。



〃Happy mistress of your destinies;〃 laughed Youghal; 〃you can suit 

your disputations to the desired time and temperature。  I have to 

go and argue; or what is worse; listen to other people's arguments; 

in a hot and doctored atmosphere suitable to an invalid lizard。〃



〃You haven't got to argue about a bread…and…butter dish;〃 said 

Elaine。



〃Chiefly about bread…and…butter;〃 said Youghal; 〃our great 

preoccupation is other people's bread…and…butter。  They earn or 

produce the material; but we busy ourselves with making rules how 

it shall be cut up; and the size of the slices; and how much butter 

shall go on how much bread。  That is what is called legislation。  

If we could only make rules as to how the bread…and…butter should 

be digested we should be quite happy。〃



Elaine had been brought up to regard Parliaments as something to be 

treated with cheerful solemnity; like illness or family re…unions。  

Youghal's flippant disparagement of the career in which he was 

involved did not; however; jar on her susceptibilities。  She knew 

him to be not only a lively and effective debater but an 

industrious worker on committees。  If he made light of his labours; 

at least he afforded no one else a loophole for doing so。  And 

certainly; the Parliamentary atmosphere was not inviting on this 

hot afternoon。



〃When must you go?〃 she asked; sympathetically。



Youghal looked ruefully at his watch。  Before he could answer; a 

cheerful hoot came through the air; as of an owl joyously 

challenging the sunlight with a foreboding of the coming night。  He 

sprang laughing to his feet。



〃Listen!  My summons back to my galley;〃 he cried。  〃The Gods have 

given me an hour in this enchanted garden; so I must not complain。〃



Then in a lower voice he almost whispered; 〃It's the Persian debate 

to…night;〃



It was the one hint he had given in the midst of his talking and 

laughing that he was really keenly enthralled in the work that lay 

before him。  It was the one little intimate touch that gave Elaine 

the knowledge that he cared for her opinion of his work。



Comus; who had emptied his cigarette…case; became suddenly 

clamorous at the prospect of being temporarily stranded without a 

smoke。  Youghal took the last remaining cigarette from his own case 

and gravely bisected it。



〃Friendship could go no further;〃 he observed; as he gave one…half 

to the doubtfully appeased Comus; and lit the other himself。



〃There are heaps more in the hall;〃 said Elaine。



〃It was only done for the Saint Martin of Tours effect;〃 said 

Youghal; 〃I hate smoking when I'm rushing through the air。  Good…

bye。〃



The departing galley…slave stepped forth into the sunlight; radiant 

and confident。  A few minutes later Elaine could see glimpses of 

his white car as it rushed past the rhododendron bushes。  He woos 

best who leaves first; particularly if he goes forth to battle or 

the semblance of battle。



Somehow Elaine's garden of Eternal Youth had already become clouded 

in its imagery。  The girl…figure who walked in it was still 

distinctly and unchangingly herself; but her companion was more 

blurred and undefined; as a picture that has been superimposed on 

another。



Youghal sped townward well satisfied with himself。  To…morrow; he 

reflected; Elaine would read his speech in her morning paper; and 

he knew in advance that it was not going to be one of his worst 

efforts。  He knew almost exactly where the punctuations of laughter 

and applause would burst in; he knew that nimble fingers in the 

Press Gallery would be taking down each gibe and argument as he 

flung it at the impassive Minister confronting him; and that the 

fair lady of his desire would be able to judge what manner of young 

man this was who spent his afternoon in her garden; lazily chaffing 

himself and his world。



And he further reflected; with an amused chuckle; that she would be 

vividly reminded of Comus for days to come; when she took her 

afternoon tea; and saw the bread…and…butter reposing in an 

unaccustomed dish。







CHAPTER VII







TOWARDS four o'clock on a hot afternoon Francesca stepped out from 

a shop entrance near the Piccadilly end of Bond Street and ran 

almost into the arms of Merla Blathlington。  The afternoon seemed 

to get instantly hotter。  Merla was one of those human flies that 

buzz; in crowded streets; at bazaars and in warm weather; she 

attained to the proportions of a human bluebottle。  Lady Caroline 

Benaresq had openly predicted 
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