Brother of Daphne

by Dornford Yates

  “My name,” said I, “is Norval. And I want to know the way to the pageant-ground, and when does your scene come on?”

  “It is a nice dress, isn’t it?”

  She rose and stood smoothing her frock and apron.

  “Sweet. Only you ought to have bare brown legs.”

  “My dear man, this isn’t the Garden of Eden.”

  “No? Some other Paradise, I suppose. Old Omar’s, perhaps. Besides, I forgot. Dolls never go barefoot, do they?”

  “Dolls?”

  “Yes. Aren’t you the ‘great big beautiful doll’ they sing of?”

  She threw back her head, and laughed at that, pleasedly. Then she began to sing softly:

  “Oh, you beautiful doll,

  You great big beautiful doll…”

  We finished the verse together, the cows watching us with big eyes.

  “I think we’re rather good,” said I, when it was over.

  “I know we’re both mad,” said she. “And I don’t feel a bit like singing really, either.”

  “Oh, great and beautiful one,” said I, “what is the matter? Indicate to me the fly that dares to lurk in this fair bowl of ointment.”

  She looked away over the river. Then:

  “After all, it’s nothing to do with you.”

  “Nothing whatever,” said I.

  “Then why do you ask?”

  “Something to say, I suppose. Is not the clemency of the weather delightful?”

  “Yes, but those cows belong to me.”

  I laughed scornfully. Then:

  “My aunt has four eggs,” I said simply.

  She turned away, ostensibly to pick a flower, but I saw her shoulders shaking. At length:

  “There is a pig in the grass,” she said. “Its name is Norval.”

  “The doll is on its hind legs,” I replied, getting up. “As for me, is it not that I shall have been about to go? Adieu, mademoiselle.”

  “Er – au revoir, monsieur.”

  “That’s better,” said I. “And now, what’s the trouble, my dear?”

  Well, it was about the chauffeur. You see, she was spending the summer here in the château. Yes, the château above us, white on the hillside. She and a companion – a girl – alone, with a household of their own, very happy, very comfortable…

  “We are really, you know. Don’t think we’re suffragists. Truth is, I’d got about sick of men, and thought I’d take a rest. I heard of this old place to be let furnished, came to see if it was half as nice as it sounded, and never even went back to England to collect Betty. Just couldn’t leave it. Betty followed post-haste with the servants and heavy luggage, and – and—”

  “And the parrot?” I hazarded.

  “No. Oh, the linen and everything. I’d got the car with me. We’ve been here nearly two months now, and I love it more every day. Don’t miss men a bit, either.” This last in an inimitable tone, half nonchalant, half defiant.

  “I expect they do most of the missing.”

  “Thanks, awfully. However, I may tell you the family’s been rather narky—”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Narky. Like a nark.”

  “Of course. How stupid of me! Same root as ‘snirksome.’ As you were.”

  “Well, rather ratty about it all. Said it was all ridiculous and unheard of.”

  “Did they use the word ‘proceeding’?”

  “They did.”

  “Ah!”

  “The one thing that sort of stopped them from really doing anything was the fact that Betty was with me. Betty’s a dear, and they all know it. And her being here, I suppose, seemed to save it from being what’s called ‘an impossible position.’ Well, a week ago comes a letter from the Brethes – that’s my uncle and aunt – saying they’re motoring through Austria to Italy, and are going to stay a night at Laipnik on the way. Would like to run over and see me, as they understand Savavic – that’s me – is only thirty miles away. All very nice.”

  “Sweet of them,” I agreed.

  “Isn’t it? Only, three days ago Betty gets a wire to say her mother’s ill, and she has to bolt for the night train to Paris.”

  “Ah!”

  “Yes. So that uncle dear mustn’t come to Savavic at any price. If he does, Betty’s absence becomes apparent, and the good old ‘impossible position’ arises at once. Consequently, I send a nice letter to the one hotel at Laipnik ‘to await arrival,’ saying the road’s so bad and hard to find that I’ll come over to them instead of their coming here.”

  “Much as you would have loved them to see Savavik.”

  “Exactly. You’re rather intelligent.”

  “Oh I’m often like that. It’s in the blood. Grandpa got his B.A.,” I explained. “We’ve loaned his hood to the Wallace Collection. Go on.”

  “Well, that all sounds very nice and easy doesn’t it? Then, to put the lid on, my chauffeur breaks his arm yesterday afternoon.”

  “And the uncle’s due when?”

  “Slept at Laipnik last night. I was to have lunched with them today. Oh, the fat’s in the fire all right this time. I may expect them any time after three.”

  I reflected a moment. Then:

  “I’ll drive you to Laipnik,” said I. “I’m as safe as a house at the wheel.”

  “You’re awfully good and kind,” said the girl, shaking her head, “but it’s no good. Think. How on earth would I explain you?”

  “It is unnecessary to explain a chauffeur.”

  “Oh, but you can’t—”

  “Certainly I can. At any rate, I’m going to. Come along and get changed, mistress.” I scrambled to my feet. “If you show me the way to the garage, I’ll be looking over the car. What is she, by the way? And where does your late chauffeur keep his boots?”

  “Are you an angel?” said the girl, getting up.

  “Who told you?” said I.

  The boots were much too big and the gaiters a little small. Still, they did. A long dust coat came down over the tops of the gaiters, making the uniform unnecessary. I took the cap to wear when we reached the town. Gloves, near enough.

  It was a big, open car, and all the way to Laipnik the girl, looking priceless in a fawn-coloured dress, sat by my side. We went like the wind. After a while:

  “He drives well,” said my companion, half to herself.

  “Thank you, beautiful doll – I should say madam. Is that right?”

  “Quite, thanks. How are the boots?”

  “A bit spacious. I’m afraid I’ve lost one of my toes already.”

  “You poor man. Which one?”

  “Baldwin,” said I. “He’s got separated from the others, you know. I’ll be able to look for him when we get to Laipnik. Told them to keep together, too,” I added bitterly.

  She gave a little peal of laughter. Then:

  “How tiresome!” she said. “I’m afraid your calves weren’t made for those gaiters.”

  “I admit they don’t fit as well as your stockings, but—”

  “Norval.”

  “Madam?”

  “Behave yourself.”

  “Very good, madam. By the way, what about my wages?”

  “What do you suggest? I shan’t object to anything reasonable.”

  “No? Well, I was getting eleven-three a yar – day in my last place, and all found – especially all.”

  “‘All found’s’ rather a dangerous phrase.”

  “Not at all. It only means washing and beer and the English papers, when you’ve done with them, and meat on Sundays. A smile, too, when I’m tired, and a word of thanks after seventy miles in the rain with a head wind.”

  “It might cover a multitude of sins, Norval.”

  Here I saved a dog’s life and passed two wagons before their drivers had had time to inspire the horses with the terror they felt themselves. Then:

  “‘All found’s’ all right, if you know your man,” said I.

  “But I don’t.”

  I caught her
laughing eyes in the windscreen, and straightway drank to them from an imaginary wine-glass. She smiled gently, and the eyes looked away with the look that sees at once not at all and yet farthest. She was gazing down the vista of memory.

  “Then it’s a compact,” I said quietly. “Sealed with a drink.”

  “I never drank to you this time, Norval.”

  “Yes, you did,” said I. “Only with thine eyes, doll beautiful.”

  “You forget yourself.”

  “I remember you. You were wearing a black and gold dress. Sweet you looked.”

  She turned away and pointed to a church we were leaving on our right.

  “That,” she said, “is a church.”

  “You amaze me. I thought it was a swimming-bath.” She bit the lip that wanted to smile. “To return to you, who are my mutton, I wish this road wasn’t so narrow. I can’t look at you except in the screen.”

  “We first met in a looking-glass.”

  “True. But now I want something more – more tangible.”

  “Indeed?”

  I glanced down.

  “At any rate, I’ve got your feet, bless them. I shall compose a sonnet to them, beautiful doll.”

  “And I’ll write an epic about yours.”

  Five minutes passed.

  “How’s the epic going?” said I.

  “I’ve only done four lines.”

  “Let’s have them.”

  “The beetling beetle-crushing baulks of boots

  Crashed on their thunderous way, while men-at-arms,

  Who knew no fear, shuddered and crossed themselves,

  And little children whimpered with a fright

  Too fierce for tears.”

  “Very good,” said I. “Now you shall have mine.

  I thought they were stars,

  And I know they were shining,

  But so brightly.

  The daintiest things that were ever created.

  They danced on my heart from the moment I saw them,

  But so lightly

  That while they were there my heart became lighter,

  Yet on it they made an enduring impression,

  Lasting and deep. Fairies’ steps may be slighter,

  But so slightly.

  You’ll think I am mad, but I’m only a blighter.

  I thought they were stars,

  And I know they were shining.”

  “Thank you very much. I didn’t know you were a poet.”

  “Nor was I till I entered your service,” said I.

  So presently we came to Laipnik. I stopped outside the little town, put on my cap, and settled the girl on the back seat. Five minutes later we rolled up to the hotel.

  On the steps stood a stout man with a serious face, looking suspiciously at the cigar he had just lighted.

  “Hullo, Uncle Dick,” said my mistress.

  “My dear child, I am glad you’ve come. You aunt’s upstairs rather tired, but wild to see you. We’re going to stay another night here and go on early tomorrow.”

  “Are you? I’ll come up at once.”

  I opened the door of the car and handed her out. She kissed her relative and turned to me.

  “Er - will you – er—”

  I coughed.

  “You will get your own lunch, Norval, and come to the office for orders at half past two.”

  “Very good, madam.”

  As I raised my cap:

  “Oh, I feel such a beast,” she murmured.

  I never gave Berry and the others a thought till I had eaten my lunch and was musing over my coffee with a cigarette. They were coming in the car from Salzburg, and were going to join me this evening at a farm called Poganec, where I had slept last night and where we were all going to stay. We had told people we were going to fish. I think Jonah meant it. We others were going to sleep and watch him and sleep again. Now, Poganec and Savavic were only seven miles apart, and were served by the same post office. In fact, they were at opposite ends of the same valley, in the midst of which, halfway between the two, our common village slept in the hot sun. It was in the course of my first walk that I had come upon Savavic. And now, instead of being at Poganec to welcome them this afternoon, here was I at Laipnik pretending to be a chauffeur. What did it matter? I should be back that evening. Only seven miles…

  At half past two I was at the office, and at twenty-nine minutes to three my lady appeared in the hall. I went to her, cap in hand. She turned and walked to a little lounge place out of sight of the office. I followed her there. For a moment she did not speak. Then:

  “Oh, I feel such a beast!” she said passionately. “Such a beast! Don’t take your cap off to me. Put it on. For heaven’s sake, put it on! And sit down. Sprawl about. Light a cigarette. Shake me. Kiss me, if you like. Anything to show you’re my own class and not a servant.” She stopped and passed a hand over her eyes. Then she spoke hopelessly. “And all the time it’s no good. You’ve got to take us out for a drive, and I’ve got to treat you – you like a servant. And you’ve got to say ‘Yes, madam,’ and ‘No, madam,’ and have your tea alone, and – Oh, what on earth did I do it for?”

  She was on the verge of tears. I put my hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes.

  “My dear beautiful doll, don’t take it all so seriously. It’s only a game. We’re both play-acting. You’ve just got to keep it up and order me about in the most monstrously imperious manner this afternoon, and then in the evening we’re going to drive home together. And I’m going to get some of my own back then, I don’t mind telling you. I’ll sprawl and smoke cigarettes and shake you, and – What else was it you said? I haven’t forgotten that you agreed to ‘all found,’ you know. You wait. And I think your eyes are absolutely wonderful. How did it go?

  ‘I thought they were stars,

  And I know they were shining.’”

  She looked me full in the eyes now, and a grand smile swept into her face. Then she put her arms round my neck and kissed me. The next moment she was halfway up the broad stairs.

  Ten minutes later I brought the car round to the door.

  Niece and uncle and aunt all sat together on the back seat. As I shut the door:

  “We don’t want to go too far, Norval, or too fast. Lady Brethe is rather tired. I think about twenty miles out and twenty back will do. About two hours altogether.”

  “Yes, madam. Shall I go towards Savavic?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  We had done our twenty miles out, and I was looking for a place to turn the car, when I caught sight of Poganec below us in the valley, by road some three or four miles away. Then suddenly for the first time a terrible thought flashed into my mind. We were on the very road which Berry and the others must take, coming from Salzburg. Supposing we met them…

  Here the road broadened, so I slowed down and, in response to a nod from my mistress, proceeded to turn round. I accomplished the manoeuvre as in a dream, and ended by stopping the engine. This brought me to my senses. As we started off again, I became cooler. After all, very likely we should not meet them. The chances were against it. And if we did, I could accelerate and push by them before they knew where they were. Again –

  Here we swung round a corner, and there, fifty paces away, by the side of the road in the hot afternoon sun, stood our car, my car, Berry and Co.’s car. The bonnet was open, and Jonah’s head and hands were inside it. Daphne sat still on the back seat, while Jill was sitting on the bank, a posy of wild flowers in her hand. Berry leaned easily against the side of the car, his hat over his eyes, watching Jonah at work. From his attitude he appeared to be offering idiotic advice. So I saw them for less than a second, for the instant they heard us coming, all four started and looked up. I was wondering whether I dared accelerate and dash by like a madman. I dare say the girl was thinking the same. But her uncle settled it.

  “Hullo,” he said. “Fellow-motorists in trouble? English, apparently, too. Wonder if we—”

  And the worthy
aunt put the lid on.

  “Why,” she said, “if it isn’t those nice children we met at the Europe at Salzburg, Dick.”

  There was nothing to be done now. I just slowed down. Very slowly we drew abreast, and all the time, till we stopped, I leaned forward and gazed at the four in turn – open-mouthed they were – bending my brows into the fiercest frown and laying my fingers on my lips. Then:

  “How d’ye do?” said Lord Brethe.

  Berry swallowed, said “Er – oh, how d’ye do?” and took off his hat.

  The next moment he had himself in hand. Daphne got out of the car, and Jonah and Jill came up. Greetings were exchanged between them and the Brethes, and my mistress was introduced. I sat as one in a trance. Then I heard the girl saying nervously: “I don’t know whether my chauffeur can be of any assistance.” I pulled myself together and got out of the car.

  There never was such a situation. The Brethes knew nothing and thought nothing. The girl, unaware that these were my own people, saw me being used and treated as a chauffeur by four strangers, while she looked on and got the thanks; and the thought made her writhe. Berry and the others found me about to call them “Sir” and “Madam” and to serve them by mending my own car in the capacity of chauffeur to somebody they had never seen. And I wanted to burst out into hysterical laughter, swear, kick Berry, and hide in the woods. Instead of which, I went up to Jonah, who had gone back to the engine.

  “What’s the trouble, sir?”

  Jonah put his head into the bonnet and exploded with silent laughter. I put my head in, too, and swore at him in a whisper. Then:

  “One of the cylinders has been missing since Krainbach,” he said. “I think that’s the seat of the trouble. But I’ve only just—”

  “I think it’s the carburettor, sir,” said I, with a finger on the float. “There’s practically no petrol in it.”

  I tried the pressure pump, but it was no good. The petrol pipe was stopped up properly.

  “You’ll have to have the pipe down, sir. It’s the only way.”

  “How long will that take?” said Lord Brethe, who was standing on the other side of the car, talking to Berry.

  “It’s half-an-hour’s job at least, my lord.”