Upton Sinclair - The Metropolis

Conversation was general about the table, but it was not easy conversation to follow. It consisted mostly of what is known as "joshing" and involved acquaintance with intimate details of personalities and past events. Also, there was a great deal of slang used, which kept a stranger's wits on the jump. However, Montague concluded that all his deficiencies were made up for by his brother, whose sallies were the cause of the loudest laughter. Just now he seemed to

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the other more Uke the OUver he had known of old — for Montague had already noted a change in him. At home there had never been any end to his gaiety and fun, and it was hard to get him to take anything seriously; but now he kept all his jokes for company, and when he was alone he was in deadly earnest. Apparently he was working hard over his pleasures.

Montague could understand how this was possible. Someone, for instance, had worked hard over the ordering of the lunch — to secure the maximum of explosive effect. It began with icecream, moulded in fancy shapes and then buried in white of egg and baked brown. Then there was a turtle soup, thick and green and greasy; and then — horror of horrors — a great steaming plum-pudding. It was served in a strange f)henomenon of a platter, with six long, silver egs; and the waiter set it in front of Robbie WalHng and lifted the cover with a sweeping gesture — and then removed it and served it himself. Montague had about made up his. mind that this was the end, and begun to fill up on bread and butter, when there appeared cold asparagus, served in individual silver holders resembling andirons. Then — appetite now being sufficiently whetted — there came quail, in piping hot little casseroles; and then half a grape-fruit set in a block of ice and filled with wine; and then little squab ducklings, bursting fat, and an artichoke; and then a cafe parfait; and then — as if to crown the audacity — huge thick slices of roast beef! Montague had given up long ago — he could keep no track oi the

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deluge of food which poured forth. And between all the courses there were wines of precious brands, tumbled helter-skelter, — sherry and port, champagne and claret and Uqueur. Montague watched poor "Baby" de Mille out of the corner of his eye, and pitied her; for it was evident that she could not resist the impulse to eat whatever was put before her, and she was visibly suffering. He wondered whether he might not manage to divert her by conversation, but he lacked the courage to make the attempt.

The meal was over at four o'clock. By that time most of the other parties were far on their way to New York, and the inn was deserted. They possessed themselves of their belongings, and one by one their cars whirled away toward "Black Forest."

Montague had been told that it was a " shooting-lodge." He had a vision of some kind of a rustic shack, and wondered dimly how so many people would be stowed away. When they turned off the main road, and his brother remarked, " Here we are," he was surprised to see a rather large building of OTanite, with an archway spanning the road. He was still more surprised when they whizzed through and went on.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"To 'Black Forest,'" said OUver.

"And what was that we passed?"

"That was the gatekeeper's lodge," was Oliver's reply.

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CHAPTER IV

THEY ran for about three miles upon a broad macadamised avenue, laid straight as an arrow's flight through the forest; and then the sound of the sea came to them, and before them was a mighty granite pile, looming grim in the twiUght, with a drawbridge and moat, and four

great castellated towers. "Black Forest" was uilt in imitation of a famous old fortress in Provence — only the fortress had forty small rooms, and its modern prototype had seventy large ones» and now every window was blazing with lights. A man does not let himself be caught twice in such a blunder; and having visited a "shooting-lodge" which had cost three-quarters of a million dollars and was set in a preserve of ten thousand acres, he was prepared for Adirondack "camps" which had cost half a million and Newport " cottages" which had cost a million or two.

Liveried servants took the car, and others opened the door and took their coats. The first thing they saw was a huge fireplace, a fireplace ai dozen feet across, made of great boulders, and with whole sections of a pine tree blazing in it. Underfoot was polished hardwood, with skins of bear and buffalo. The firehght flickered upon shields and battle-axes and broadswords, hung-upon the oaken pillars; while between them were tapestries, picturing the Song of Roland and the battle of Roncevalles. One followed the pillars

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of the great hall to the vaulted roof, whose glass was glowing blood-red in the western light. A broad stairway ascended to the second floor, which opened upon galleries about the hall.

Montague went to the fire, and stood rubbing his hands before the grateful blaze. " Scotch or Irish, sir.?" inquired a lackey, hovering at his side. He had scarcely given his order when the door opened and a second motor load of the party appeared, shivering and rushing for the lire. In a couple of minutes they were all assembled — and roaring with laughter over "Baby" de Mille's account of how her car had run over a dachshund. "Oh, do you know," she cried, "he simply popped!"

Half a dozen attendants hovered about, and soon the tables in the hall were covered with trays containing decanters and siphons. By this means everybody in the party was soon warmed up, and then in groups they scattered to amuse themselves.

There was a great hall for indoor tennis, and there were half a dozen squash-courts. Montague knew neither of these games, but he was interested in watching the water-polo in the swimming-tank, and in studying the appointments of this part of the building. The tank, with the walls and floor about it, were all of marble; there was a bronze gallery running about it, from which one might gaze into the green depths of the water. There were luxurious dressing rooms for men and women, with hot and cold needle-baths, steam-rooms with rubbers in attendance, and weighing and lifting machines.

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electric machines for producing "violet rays," and electric air-blasts for the drying of the women's hair.

He watched several games, in which men and women took part; and later on, when the tennis and other players appeared, he joined them in a plunge. Afterward, he entered one of the electric elevators and was escorted to his room, where he found his bag unpacked, and his evening attire laid out upon the bed.

It was about nine when the party went into the dining room, which opened upon a granite terrace and loggia facing the sea. The room was finished in some rare black wood, the name of which he did not know; soft radiance suffused it, and the table was lighted by electric candles set in silver sconces, and veiled by silk shades. It gleamed with its load of crystal and silver, set off by scattered groups of orchids and ferns. The repast of the afternoon had been simply a lunch, it seemed — and now they had an elaborate dinner, prepared by Robbie Wal-ling's famous ten-thousand-dollar chef. In contrast with the uproar of the inn was the cloistral stillness of this dining room, where the impassive footmen seemed to move on padded slippers, and the courses appeared and vanished as if by magic. Montague did his best to accustom himself to the gowns of the women, which were cut lower than any he had ever seen in his life; but he hesitated every time he turned to speak to the young lady beside him, because he could look so deep down into her bosom, and it was difficult for him to realise that she did not mind it.