Doctor Claudius, A True Story

by F. Marion Crawford

  CHAPTER VI.

  The Duke was away during the day, and did not receive the Countess'snote until late in the evening. To tell the truth, he was very glad tofind that she was going; but he felt there might be difficulties in theway; for, of course, he was bound to let her know the names of hisremaining guests. She might hesitate when she heard that Claudius andBarker were to be of the party. After all, Barker was the companion whomthe Duke wanted. He knew nothing about Claudius, but he had met enoughmen of all types of eccentricity not to be much surprised at him, and asthe Doctor was evidently a gentleman, there was no objection. Therefore,as soon as the Duke knew of Margaret's determination, he sallied forth,armed with her note, to find Mr. Barker. It was late, but the Americanwas nocturnal in his habits, and was discovered by his friend in a hugecloud of tobacco smoke, examining his nails with that deep interestwhich in some persons betokens thought.

  "It's all right," said the Duke; "she will go."

  "You don't mean it?" said Barker, taking his legs off the sofa andwrinkling his face.

  "There you are. Note. Formal acceptance, and all the rest of it." And hehanded Margaret's letter to Barker.

  "Well, that is pretty smart practice," remarked the latter; "I expectedyou would have difficulties."

  "Said she would take some days to make up her mind. She wrote this thesame evening I called, I am sure. Just like a woman."

  "Well, I think it's deuced lucky, anyhow," said Barker. "Did you tellher who was going?"

  "I told her about my sister. I have not mentioned you or your friendyet. Of course I will do that as soon as I am sure of you both."

  "Well," said Barker, "if you don't mind, perhaps you might write a noteto the Doctor. He might be shy of accepting an invitation by word ofmouth. Do you mind?"

  "Not in the least," said the Englishman; "give me a rag of paper and aquill, and I'll do it now."

  And he accordingly did it, and directed the invitation to Claudius,Phil.D., and Barker pushed it into the crack of the door leading to theapartment where the Doctor was sleeping, lest it should be forgotten.

  The next morning Claudius appeared with the Duke's note in his hand.

  "What does this mean?" he asked. "I hardly know him at all, and here heasks me to cross the Atlantic in his yacht. I wish you would explain."

  "Keep your hair on, my young friend," replied Mr. Barker jocosely. "Hehas asked you and me because his party would not be complete withoutus."

  "And who are 'the party'?"

  "Oh, very small. Principally his sister, I believe. Hold on though, MissSkeat is going."

  "Miss Skeat?" Claudius anticipated some chaff from his friend, and knithis brows a little.

  "Yes; Miss Skeat and the Countess; or, perhaps I should say the Countessand Miss Skeat."

  "Ah!" ejaculated Claudius, "any one else?"

  "Not that I know of. Will you go?"

  "It is rather sudden," said the Doctor reflectively.

  "You must make up your mind one way or the other, or you will spoil theDuke's arrangements."

  "Barker," said Claudius seriously, "do you suppose the Countess knowswho are going?"

  "My dear boy," replied the other, peeling a peach which he had impaledon a fork, "it is not likely the Duke would ask a lady to go with himwithout telling her who the men were to be. Be calm, however; I haveobserved your habits, and in two hours and twenty-three minutes yourmind will be at rest."

  "How so?"

  "It is now thirty-seven minutes past nine. Do you mean to say you havefailed once for weeks past to be at the Countess's as the clock strikestwelve?"

  Claudius was silent. It was quite true; he went there daily at the samehour; for, as appeared in the beginning of this tale, he was a regularman. But he reflected just now that the Countess would not be likely tospeak of the party unless she knew that he was to be one. He had notaccepted his invitation yet, and the Duke would certainly not take hisacceptance as a foregone conclusion. Altogether it seemed probable thathe would be kept in suspense. If he then accepted without being sure ofthe Countess, he was binding himself to leave her. Claudius had manythings to learn yet.

  "If I were you," said Barker, "I would write at once and say 'Yes.' Whycan't you do it now?"

  "Because I have not made up my mind."

  "Well, a bird in the hand is the soul of business, as the good oldproverb says. I have accepted for myself, anyhow; but I would be sorryto leave you on this side."

  So Claudius went to the Countess as usual, and found her in hermorning-room awaiting him. He bent over her hand, but as he took it hethought it was a trifle colder than usual. It might have beenimagination, but he fancied her whole manner was less cordial thanbefore. And he said to himself, "She has heard I am going, and she isannoyed, and is not glad to see me." There was a preternatural solemnityabout their conversation which neither of them could break through, andin a few minutes they both looked as though they had not smiled foryears.

  Now Claudius was entirely mistaken. Margaret had not heard that he wasgoing. If she had, she would have spoken frankly, as was her nature todo always, if she spoke at all. Margaret had accepted the Duke'sinvitation, and intended to keep her word, and she had no suspicionwhatever of who the other guests might be. She foresaw that such ajourney would break up her acquaintance with Claudius, and she regrettedit; and especially she regretted having allowed the Doctor so muchintimacy and so many visits. Not that he had taken advantage of thefooting on which he was received, for any signs of such a disposition onhis part would have abruptly terminated the situation; he had been thevery model of courtesy from the first. But she knew enough of men toperceive that this gentle homage clothed a more sincere admiration thanlay at the root of the pushing attentions of some other men she hadknown. Therefore she made up her mind that as there were yet threeweeks before sailing, after the expiration of which she would never belikely to see Claudius again, she would let him down easily, so tospeak, that there might be no over-tender recollections on his part, norany little stings of remorse on her own. He had interested her; they hadspent a couple of pleasant months; she had given him no encouragement,and he was gone without a sigh: that was the way in which CountessMargaret hoped to remember Dr. Claudius by that time next month. And so,fearing lest she might inadvertently have been the least shade toocordial, she began to be a little more severe, on this hot morning whenClaudius, full of indecision, followed her out to their favouritereading-place under the trees. It was the same spot where they had satwhen Barker first brought him to see her. Margaret had no particularfeeling about the little nook under the trees. It was merely the mostconvenient place to sit and work; that was all. But to Claudius thecircle of green sward represented the temple of his soul, and Margaretwas to him Rune Wife and prophetess as well as divinity. In such places,and of such women, his fair-haired forefathers, bare-armed andsword-girt, had asked counsel in trouble, and song-inspiration in peace.

  Here they sat them down, she determined to do the right by him, andthinking it an easy matter; he utterly misunderstanding her. Without asmile, they set to work at their reading. They read for an hour or more,maintaining the utmost gravity, when, as luck would have it, the word"friendship" occurred in a passage of the book. Claudius paused amoment, his broad hand laid flat on the open page.

  "That is one of the most interesting and one of the most singularlymisunderstood words in all languages," he said.

  "What word?" inquired Margaret, looking up from her work, to which shehad attentively applied herself while he was reading.

  "Friendship."

  "Will you please define what it means?" said she.

  "I can define what I myself mean by it, or rather what I think I mean byit. I can define what a dozen writers have meant by it. But I cannottell what it really means, still less what it may ultimately come tomean."

  "You will probably be best able to explain what you mean by ityourself," answered Margaret rather coldly. "Will you please begin?"

  "It seems to me," Claudiu
s began, "that the difficulty lies in thecontradiction between the theory and the fact. Of course, as in all suchcases, the theory loses the battle, and we are left groping for anexplanation of the fact which we do not understand. Perhaps that is alittle vague?" Claudius paused.

  "A little vague--yes," said she.

  "I will try and put it more clearly. First take the fact. No one willdeny that there have occasionally in the world's history existedfriendships which have stood every test and which have lasted to thevery end. Such attachments have been always affairs of the heart, evenbetween man and man. I do not think you can name an instance of alasting friendship on a purely intellectual basis. True friendshipimplies the absence of envy, and the vanity of even the meanestintellect is far too great to admit of such a condition out of purethought-sympathy."

  "I do not see any contradiction, even admitting your last remark, whichis cynical enough." Margaret spoke indifferently, as making a merecriticism.

  "But I believe most people connect the idea of friendship, beyondordinary liking, with intellectual sympathy. They suppose, for instance,that a man may love a woman wholly and entirely with the best kind oflove, and may have at the same time a friend with whom he is in entiresympathy."

  "And why not?" she asked.

  "Simply because he cannot serve two masters. If he is in entire sympathywith more than one individual he must sometimes not only contradicthimself, as he would rightly do for one or the other alone, but he mustalso contradict one in favour of the other in case they disagree. Insuch a case he is no longer in entire sympathy with both, and either hislove or his friendship must be imperfect." Claudius looked at theCountess to see what impression he had made. She did not return hisglance.

  "In other words?" was her question.

  "In other words," he answered in a tone of conviction, "friendship isonly a substitute for love, and cannot exist beside it unless lover andfriend be one and the same person. Friendship purely intellectual is afallacy, owing to the manifest imperfections of human nature. It must,then, be an affair of the heart, whatever you may define that to be, andcannot, therefore, exist at the same time with any other affair of theheart without inevitable contradiction. How often has love separated oldfriends, and friendship bred discord between lovers!"

  "I never heard that argument before," said Margaret, who, to tell thetruth, was surprised at the result of the Doctor's discourse.

  "What do you think of it?" he asked.

  "I am not sure, but the point is interesting. I think you are a littlevague about what an 'affair of the heart,' as you call it, really is."

  "I suppose an affair of the heart to be such a situation of the feelingsthat the heart rules the head and the actions by the head. The primeessence of love is that it should be complete, making no reservationsand allowing of no check from the reason."

  "A dangerous state of things."

  "Yes," said Claudius. "When the heart gets the mastery it knows neitherrest nor mercy. If the heart is good the result will be good, if it isbad the result will be evil. Real love has produced incalculably greatresults in the lives of individuals and in the life of the world."

  "I suppose so," said Margaret; "but you made out friendship to be alsoan 'affair of the heart,' so far as you believe in it at all. Is truefriendship as uncalculating as true love? Does it make no reservations,and does it admit of no check from the reason?"

  "I think, as I said, that friendship is a substitute for love, secondbest in its nature and second best, too, in its unselfishness."

  "Many people say love is selfishness itself."

  "I know," answered the Doctor, and paused as if thinking.

  "Do you not want to smoke?" asked Margaret, with a tinge of irony, "itmay help you to solve the difficulty."

  "Thank you, no," said he, "the difficulty is solved, and it is nodifficulty at all. The people who say that do not know what they aretalking about, for they have never been in love themselves. Love, worththe name, is complete; and being complete, demands the whole, and isnot satisfied with less than the whole any more than it is satisfiedwith giving less than all that it has. The selfishness lies in demandingand insisting upon having everything, while only offering rags andshreds in return; and if one may find this fault in ordinary loveaffairs, one may find it tenfold in ordinary friendships. Friendship maybe heroic but love is godlike."

  Margaret had become interested in spite of herself, though she hadpreserved the constrained manner she had first assumed. Now, however, asClaudius turned his flashing blue eyes to hers, she understood that shehad allowed the conversation to go far enough, and she marvelled that onthe very day when she was trying to be most unapproachable he shouldhave said more to show what was next his heart than ever before. She didnot know enough of exceptional natures like his to be aware that a touchof the curb is the very thing to rouse the fierce blood. True, he spokegenerally, and even argumentatively, and his deep voice was calm enough,but there was a curious light in his eyes that dazzled her even in themid-day sun, and she looked away.

  "I am not sure I agree with you," she said, "but you put it veryclearly. Shall we go on reading?"

  Claudius was some time in finding his place in the open book, and thenwent on. Again he misunderstood her, for though he could not remembersaying anything he regretted, he fancied she had brought theconversation to a somewhat abrupt close. He read on, feeling veryuncomfortable, and longing for one of those explanations that areimpossible between acquaintances and emotional between lovers. He feltalso that if he ever spoke out and told her he loved her it would be insome such situation as the present. Margaret let her needlework drop andleaned back in the long chair, staring at a very uninteresting-lookingtree on the other side of the garden. Claudius read in a steadydetermined tone, emphasising his sentences with care, and never oncetaking his eyes from the book. At last, noticing how quietly he wasdoing his work, Margaret looked at him, not furtively or as by stealth,but curiously and thoughtfully. He was good to look at, so strong andstraight, even as he sat at ease with the book in his hand, and thequivering sunlight through the leaves played over his yellow beard andwhite forehead. She knew well enough now that he admired her greatly,and she hoped it would not be very hard for him when she went away.Somehow, he was still to her the professor, the student, quiet anddignified and careless of the world, as she had first known him. Shecould not realise Claudius as a man of wealth and power, who was as wellable to indulge his fancies as the Duke himself,--perhaps more so, forthe Duke's financial affairs were the gossip of Europe, and always hadbeen since he came of age.

  Meanwhile the Doctor reached the end of the chapter, and there was apause. Neither spoke, and the silence was becoming awkward, when aservant came across the lawn announcing the Duke.

  "Ask his Grace to come outside," said Margaret, and the representativeof the aristocracy was striding over the green, hat in hand, a momentafterwards. Margaret put out her hand and Claudius rose. Each felt thatthe _deus ex machina_ had arrived, and that the subject of the yachtingexcursion would be immediately broached.

  "Immense luck, finding you both," remarked the Duke when he was seated.

  "We have been reading. It is so pleasant here," said Margaret, to saysomething.

  "I have come to thank you for your kind note, Countess. It is extremelygood of you to go in such a party, with your taste for literature andthose sort of things."

  "I am sure it is I who ought to thank you, Duke. But when are we tosail?"

  "About the tenth of next month, I should say. Will that be convenient?"

  Margaret turned to Claudius.

  "Do you think we can finish our book by the tenth, Dr. Claudius?"

  "If not," broke in the Duke, "there is no reason why you should notfinish it on board. We shall have lovely weather."

  "Oh no!" said Margaret, "we must finish it before we start. I could notunderstand a word of it alone."

  "Alone?" inquired the Duke. "Ah! I forgot. Thought he had told you. Ihave asked Dr. Claudius to gi
ve us the pleasure of his company."

  "Oh, indeed!" said Margaret. "That will be very nice." She did not lookas if she thought so, however. Her expression was not such as led theDuke to believe she was pleased, or Claudius to think she would like hisgoing. To tell the truth, she was annoyed for more than one reason. Shethought the Duke, although he was such an old friend, should haveconsulted her before making up the list of men for the party. She wasannoyed with Claudius because he had not told her he was going, when hereally thought she knew it, and was displeased at it. And most of all,she was momentarily disconcerted at being thus taken off her guard.Besides, the Duke must have supposed she liked Claudius very much, andhe had perhaps contrived the whole excursion in order to throw themtogether. Her first impulse was to change her mind and not go after all.

  Meanwhile Claudius was much astonished at the turn things had taken.Margaret had known nothing about the invitation to the Doctor after all,and her coldness this morning must be attributed to some other cause.But now that she did know she looked less pleased than ever. She did notwant him. The Doctor was a proud man in his quiet way, and he was,moreover, in love, not indeed hopelessly as yet, for love is neverwholly irrevocable until it has survived the crucial test, attainment ofits object; but Claudius loved, and he knew it. Consequently his priderevolted at the idea of thrusting himself where he was not wanted, andhis love forbade him to persecute the woman he worshipped. He also saidto himself, "I will not go." He had not yet accepted the invitation.

  "I had intended to write to you this afternoon," he said, turning to theDuke. "But since it is my good fortune to be able to thank you in personfor your kind invitation, let me do so now."

  "I hope you are going," said the Duke.

  "I fear," answered Claudius, "that I shall be prevented from joiningyou, much as I would like to do so. I have by no means decided toabandon my position in Heidelberg."

  Neither Margaret nor the Duke were in the least prepared for this pieceof news. The Duke was taken aback at the idea that any human being couldrefuse such an invitation. Following on his astonishment that Margaretshould not be delighted at having the Doctor on board, the intelligencethat the Doctor did not want to go at all threw the poor man into thegreatest perplexity. He had made a mistake somewhere, evidently; butwhere or how he could not tell.

  "Barker," he said to himself, "is an ass. He has made me muff the wholething." However, he did not mean to give up the fight.

  "I am extremely sorry to hear you say that, Dr. Claudius," he saidaloud, "and I hope you will change your mind, if I have to send you aninvitation every day until we sail. You know one does not ask people onone's yacht unless one wants them very much, and we want you. It is justlike asking a man to ride your favourite hunter; you would not ask himunless you meant it, for fear he would." The Duke seldom made so long aspeech, and Claudius felt that the invitation was really genuine, whichgave his wounded pride a pleasant little respite from its aches. He wasgrateful, and he said so. Margaret was silent and plied her needle,planning how she might escape the party if Claudius changed his mind andwent, and how she could with decency leave herself the option of goingif he remained. She did not intend to give people any farther chance ofpairing her off with Claudius or any one else whom they thought shefancied, and she blamed herself for having given people even the shadowof an idea that such officious party-making would please her.

  Claudius rose to go. The position was not tenable any longer, and it washis only course. The Countess bade him good morning with more cordialitythan she had displayed as yet; for, in spite of her annoyance, shewould have been sorry to wound his feelings. The change of tone atfirst gave Claudius a thrill of pleasure, which gave way to an increasedsense of mortification as he reflected that she was probably onlyshowing that she was glad to be rid of him--a clumsy, manlike thought,which his reason would soon get the better of. So he departed.

  There was silence for some minutes after he had gone, for Margaret andthe Englishman were old friends, and there was no immediate necessityfor making conversation. At last he spoke with a certain amount ofembarrassment.

  "I ought to have told you before that I had asked those two men."

  "Who is the other?" she inquired without looking up.

  "Why, Barker, his friend."

  "Oh, of course! But it would have been simpler to have told me. It madeit rather awkward, for of course Dr. Claudius thought I knew he wasasked and wondered why I did not speak of it. Don't you see?" she raisedher eyes as she put the question.

  "It was idiotic of me, and I am very sorry. Please forgive me."

  "As he is not going, it does not make any difference, of course, and soI forgive you."

  Considering that Barker had suggested the party, that it was Barker whomthe Duke especially wanted to amuse him on the trip, that Barker hadproposed Margaret and Claudius, and that, finally, the whole affair wasa horrid mess, the Duke did not see what he could have done. But he knewit was good form to be penitent whenever it seemed to be expected, andhe liked Margaret well enough to hope that she would go. He did notcare very much for the society of women at any time. He was more or lessmarried when he was at home, which was never for long together, and whenhe was away he preferred the untrammelled conversational delights of aforeign green-room to the twaddle of the embassies or to the mingledsnobbery and philistinism produced by the modern fusion of the almightydollar and the _ancienne noblesse_.

  And so he was in trouble just now, and his one idea was to submit toeverything the Countess might say, and then to go and "give it" to Mr.Barker for producing so much complication. But Margaret had nothing moreto say about the party, and launched out into a discussion of thevoyage. She introduced a cautious "if" in most of her sentences. "_If_ Igo I would like to see Madeira," and "_if_ we join you, you must takecare of Miss Skeat, and give her the best cabin," etc. etc. The Dukewisely abstained from pressing his cause, or asking why she qualifiedher plans. At last he got away, after promising to do every conceivableand inconceivable thing which she should now or at any future timeevolve from the depths of her inventive feminine consciousness.

  "By the way, Duke," she called after him, as he went over the, lawn,"may I take old Vladimir if I go?"

  "If you go," he answered, moving back a step or two, "you may bring allthe Imperial Guards if you choose, and I will provide transports forthose that the yacht won't hold."

  "Thanks; that is all," she said laughing, and the stalwart peer vanishedthrough the house. The moment he was gone Margaret dropped her work andlay back in her long chair to think. The heavy lids half closed overher dark eyes, and the fingers of her right hand slowly turned round andround the ring she wore upon her left. Miss Skeat was upstairs readingLord Byron's _Corsair_ in anticipation of the voyage. Margaret did notknow this, or the thought of the angular and well-bred Scotchwomanbounding over the glad waters of the dark blue sea would have made hersmile. As it was, she looked serious.

  "I am sorry," she thought to herself. "It was nice of him to say hewould not go."

  Meanwhile the strong-legged nobleman footed it merrily towards Barker'shotel. It was a good two miles, and the Duke's ruddy face shone againunder the August sun. But the race characteristic was strong in him, andhe liked to make himself unnecessarily hot; moreover he was really fondof Barker, and now he was going to pitch into him, as he said tohimself, so it was indispensable to keep the steam up. He found hisfriend as usual the picture of dried-up coolness, so to say. Mr. Barkernever seemed to be warm, but he never seemed to feel cold either, and atthis moment, as he sat in a half-lighted room, clad in a variety ofdelicate gray tints, with a collar that looked like fresh-baked biscuitware, and a pile of New York papers and letters beside him, he wasrefreshing to the eye.

  "Upon my word, Barker, you always look cool," said the Duke, as he sathimself down in an arm-chair, and passed his handkerchief round hiswrists. "I would like to know how you do it."

  "To begin with, I do not rush madly about in the sun in the middle ofthe day. T
hat may have something to do with it."

  The Duke sneezed loudly, from the mingled dust and sunshine he had beeninhaling.

  "And then I don't come into a cold room and catch cold, like you. Here Isit in seclusion and fan myself with the pages of my newspapers as Iturn them over."

  "You have got us all into the deuce of a mess with your confoundedcoolness," said the Duke after a pause, during which he had in vainsearched all his pockets for his cigar-case. Barker had watched him, andpushed an open box of Havanas across the table. But the Duke wasdetermined to be sulky, and took no notice of the attention. Thecircular wrinkle slowly furrowed its way round Barker's mouth, and hisunder jaw pushed forward. It always amused him to see sanguine peopleangry. They looked so uncomfortable, and "gave themselves away" sorecklessly.

  "If you won't smoke, have some beer," he suggested. But his Grace fumedthe redder.

  "I don't understand how a man of your intelligence, Barker, can go andput people into such awkward positions," he said. "I think it isperfectly idiotic."

  "Write me down an ass, by all means," said Barker calmly; "but pleaseexplain what you mean. I told you not to buy in the Green Swash Mine,and now I suppose you have gone and done it, because I said it mightpossibly be active some day."

  "I have been to see the Countess this morning," said the Duke, beatingthe dust from his thick walking-boot with his cane.

  "Ah!" said Barker, without any show of interest. "Was she at home?"

  "I should think so," said the Duke. "Very much at home, and Dr. Claudiuswas there too."

  "Oh! so you are jealous of Claudius, are you?" The ducal wrath rose.

  "Barker, you are insufferably ridiculous."

  "Duke, you had much better go to bed," returned his friend.

  "Look here, Barker--"

  "Do not waste your vitality in that way," said the American. "I wish Ihad half of it. It quite pains me to see you. Now I will put the wholething clearly before you as I suppose it happened, and you shall tell meif it is my fault or not, and whether, after all, it is such a veryserious matter. Countess Margaret did not know that Claudius was going,and did not speak of the trip. Claudius thought she was angry, and whenyou arrived and let the cat out of the bag the Countess thought you weretrying to amuse yourself by surprising her, and she was angry too. Thenthey both made common cause and would have nothing more to do with you,and told you to go to the devil, and at this moment they are planning toremain here for the next forty or fifty years, and are sending off ajoint telegram to Professor Immanuel Spencer, or whatever his name is,to hurry up and get some more books ready for them to read. I am gladyou have not bought Green Swash, though, really." There was a pause, andthe Duke glared savagely at the cigar-box.

  "Is your serene highness satisfied that I know all about it?" askedBarker at last.

  "No, I am not. And I am not serene. She says she will go, and Claudiussays he won't. And it is entirely your fault."

  "It is not of any importance what he says, or whether it is my fault ornot. If you had bestirred yourself to go and see her at eleven beforeClaudius arrived it would not have happened. But he will go all thesame; never fear. And the Countess will persuade him too, without ourdoing anything in the matter."

  "You would not have thought so if you had seen the way she received thenews that he was invited," grumbled the Duke.

  "If you associated more with women you would understand them better,"replied the other.

  "I dare say." The Englishman was cooler, and at last made up his mind totake one of Mr. Barker's cigars. When he had lit it, he looked across athis friend. "How do you expect to manage it?" he inquired.

  "If you will write a simple little note to the Countess, and say you aresorry there should have been any misunderstanding, and if you and Ileave those two to themselves for ten days, even if she invites us todinner, they will manage it between them, depend upon it. They are inlove, you know perfectly well."

  "I suppose they are," said the Duke, as if he did not understand thatkind of thing. "I think I will have some curacao and potass;" and herang the bell.

  "That's not half a bad idea," he said when he was refreshed. "I begin tothink you are not so idiotic as I supposed."

  "Waal," said Barker, suddenly affecting the accents of his native shore,"I _ain't_ much on the drivel _this_ journey _any_how." The Dukelaughed; he always laughed at Americanisms.

  "I guess _so_," said the Duke, trying ineffectually to mimic his friend.Then he went on in his natural voice, "I have an idea."

  "Keep it," said Barker; "they are scarce."

  "No; seriously. If we must leave them alone, why--why should we not godown and look at the yacht?"

  "Not bad at all. As you say, we might go round and see how she looks.Where is she?"

  "Nice."

  So the one went down and the other went round, but they went together,and saw the yacht, and ran over to Monte Carlo, and had a good taste ofthe dear old green-table, now that they could not have it in Baden anylonger. And they enjoyed the trip, and were temperate and well dressedand cynical, after their kind. But Claudius stayed where he was.