Unknown - Isherwood, Christopher (The Berlin Stories - The Last of Mr Norris - Goodbye to Berlin) (TXT)

letters full of the most preposterous threats and demands for

money. I simply disregarded them. Since then, I’ve heard

nothing more.”

“He’s never turned up at Frl. Schroeder’s?”

“Thank God, no. Not up to now. It’s one of my nightmares

that he’ll somehow discover the address.”

“I suppose he’s more or less bound to, sooner or later?” “Don’t say that, William. Don’t say that, please. … I

have enough to worry me as it is. The cup of my afflictions

would indeed be full.”

As we walked to the restaurant on the evening of the dinner-party, Arthur primed me with final instructions.

“You will be most careful, won’t you, dear boy, not to let drop any reference to Bayer or to our political beliefs?”

“I’m not completely mad.”

“Of course not, William. Please don’t think I meant anything offensive. But even the most cautious of us betray ourselves at times… . Just one other little point: perhaps, at this stage of the proceedings, it would be more politic not

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to address Pregnitz by his Christian name. It’s as well to preserve one’s distance. That sort of thing’s so easily misunderstood.”

“Don’t you worry. I’ll be as stiff as a poker.”

“Not stiff, dear boy, I do beg. Perfectly easy, perfectly natural. A shade formal, perhaps, just at first. Let him make the advances. A little polite reserve, that’s all.”

“If you go on much longer, you’ll get me into such a c Irate that I shan’t be able to open my mouth.”

We arrived at the restaurant to find Kuno already seated at the table Arthur had reserved. The cigarette between his fingers was burnt down almost to the end; his face wore an expression of well-bred boredom. At the sight of him, Arthur positively gasped with horror.

“My dear Baron, do forgive me, please. I wouldn’t have had this happen for the world. Did I say half-past? I did? And you’ve been waiting a quarter of an hour? You overwhelm me with shame. Really, I don’t know how to apologize enough.”

Arthur’s fulsomeness seemed to embarrass the Baron as much as it did myself. He made a faint, distasteful gesture with his fin-like hand and murmured something which I couldn’t hear.

“… too stupid of me. I simply can’t conceive how I can have been so foolish… .”

We all sat down. Arthur prattled on and on; his apologies developed like an air with variations. He blamed his memory and recalled other instances when it had failed him. (“I’m reminded of a most unfortunate occasion in Washington on which I entirely forgot to attend an important diplomatic function at the house of the Spanish Ambassador.”) He found fault with his watch; lately, he told us, it had been gaining. ( “I usually make a point, about this time of year, of sending it to the makers in Zürich to be overhauled.”) And he assured the Baron, at least five times, that I had no responsibility whatever for the mistake. I wished I could sink through the floor. Arthur, I could see, was nervous and un-105

sure of himself; the variations wavered uneasily and threatened, at every moment, to collapse into discords. I had seldom known him to be so verbose and never so boring. Kuno had retired behind his monocle. His face was as discreet as the menu, and as unintelligible.

By the middle of the fish, Arthur had talked himself out. A silence followed which was even more uncomfortable than his chatter. We sat round the elegant little dinner-table like three people absorbed in a difficult chess problem. Arthur manipulated his chin and cast furtive, despairing glances in my direction, signalling for help. I declined to respond. I was sulky and resentful. I’d come here this evening on the understanding that Arthur had already more or less patched things up with Kuno; that the way was paved to a general reconciliation. Nothing of the kind. Kuno was still suspicious of Arthur, and no wonder, considering the way he was behaving now. I felt his eye questioningly upon me from time to time and went on eating, looking neither to right nor to left.

“Mr. Bradshaw’s just returned from England.” It was as though Arthur had given me a violent push into the middle of the stage. His tone implored me to play my part. They were both looking at me, now. Kuno was interested but cautious; Arthur frankly abject. They were so funny in their different ways that I had to smile.

“Yes,” I said, “at the beginning of the month.” ,

“Excuse me, you were in London?”

“Part of the time, yes.”

“Indeed?” Kuno’s eye lit up with a tender gleam. “And how was it there, may I ask?”

“We had lovely weather in September.”

“Yes, I see. …” A faint, fishy smile played over his lips; he seemed to savour delicious memories. His monocle shone with a dreamy light. His distinguished, preserved profile became pensive and maudlin and sad.

“I shall always maintain,” put in the incorrigible Arthur, “that London in September has a charm all its own. I re—

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member one exceptionally beautiful autumn—in nineteen hundred and five. I used to stroll down to Waterloo Bridge before breakfast and admire St. Paul’s. At that time, I had a suite at the Savoy Hotel… .”

Kuno appeared not to have heard him.

“And, excuse me, how are the Horse Guards?”

“Still sitting there.”

“Yes? I am glad to hear this, you see. Very glad… .”

I grinned. Kuno smiled, fishy and subtle. Arthur uttered a surprisingly coarse snigger which he instantly checked with his hand. Then Kuno threw back his head and laughed out loud: “Ho! Ho! Ho!” I had never heard him really laugh before. His laugh was a curiosity, an heirloom; something handed down from the dinner-tables of the last century; aristocratic, manly and sham, scarcely to be heard nowadays except on the legitimate stage. He seemed a little ashamed of it himself, for, recovering, he added, in a tone of apology:

“You see, excuse me, I can remember them very well.”

“I’m reminded,” Arthur leaned forward across the table; his tone became spicy, “of a story which used to be told about a certain peer of the realm … let’s call him Lord X. I can vouch for it, because I met him once in Cairo, a most eccentric man… .”

There was no doubt about it, the party had been saved. I began to breathe more freely. Kuno relaxed by imperceptible stages, from polite suspicion to positive jollity. Arthur, recovering his nerve, was naughty and funny. We drank a good deal of brandy and three whole bottles of Pommard. I told an extremely stupid stoiy about the two Scotsmen who went into a synagogue. Kuno started to nudge me with his foot. In an absurdly short space of time I looked at the clock and saw it was eleven.

“Good gracious!” exclaimed Arthur. “If you’ll forgive me, I must fly. A little engagement …”

I looked at Arthur questioningly. I had never known him to make appointments at this hour of the night; besides, it

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wasn’t Anni’s evening. Kuno didn’t seem at all put out, however. He was most gracious.

“Don’t mention it, my dear fellow… . We quite understand.” His foot pressed mine under the table.

“You know,” I said, when Arthur had left us, “I really ought to be getting home, too.”

“Oh, surely not.”

“I think so,” I said firmly, smiling and moving my foot away. He was squeezing a corn.

“You see, I should like so very much to show you my new flat. We can be there in the car in ten minutes.”

“I should love to see it; some other time.”

He smiled faintly.

“Then may I, perhaps, give you a lift home?”

“Thank you very much.”

The remarkably handsome chauffeur saluted pertly, tucked us into the depths of the vast black limousine. As we slid forward along the Kurfürstendamm, Kuno took my hand under the fur rug.