131
of bad eggs and the latest sort of diet and walking to take
the Cure, or the Waters, or whatever they call them now, at
a rather inconvenient hour in the morning. And I expect they
give you massage or something. It used to be seaweed. But
this place is somewhere in the mountains. Bavaria or Austria
or somewhere like that. So I don't suppose it would be
seaweed. Shaggy moss, perhaps--sounds like a dog. And
perhaps quite a nice mineral water as well as the eggy
11 sulphury one, I mean. Superb buildings, I understand. The
only thing one is nervous about nowadays is that they never
seem to put banisters in any up-to-date modem buildings.
Flights of marble steps and all that, but nothing to hang on
to.'
1 think I know the place you mean,' said Dr Donaldson.
'It's been publicized a good deal, in the press.'
'Well, you know what one is at my age,' said Lady
Matilda. 'One likes trying new things. Really, I think it
is just to amuse one. It doesn't really make one feel one's
health would be any better. Still, you don't think it would
be a bad idea, do you, Dr Donaldson?'
Dr Donaldson looked at her. He was not so young as
Lady Matilda labelled him in her mind. He was just approaching
forty and he was a tactful and kindly man and
willing to indulge his elderly patients as far as he considered
it desirable, without any actual danger of their attempting
something obviously unsuitable.
'I'm sure it wouldn't do you any harm at all,' he said.
'Might be quite a good idea. Of course travel's a bit tiring
though one flies to places very quickly and easily nowadays.'
'Quickly, yes. Easily, no,' said Lady Matilda. 'Ramps and
moving staircases and in and out of buses from the &i;port
to the plane, and the plane to another airport and Torn
the airport to another bus. All that, you know. But I 'riderstand
one can have wheelchairs in the airports.'
'Of course you can. Excellent idea. If you promise to do
that and not think you can walk everywhere . . .'
'I know, I know,' said his patient, interrupting him 'Y011 do understand. You're really a very understanding m&a- One has one's pride, you know, and while you ci-a still
hobble around with a stick or a little support, you do111 really want to look absolutely a crock or bedridden or something.
It'd be easier if I was a man,' she mused. 'I mean,
one could tie up one's leg with one of those enormous ban^ dages and padded things as though one had the go^ '
mean, gout is aU right for the male sex. Nobody tl"11132
anything the worse of them. Some of their older friends
think they've been tucking in to the port too much because
that used to be the old idea, though I believe that is not
really true at all. Port wine does not give you gout. Yes,
a wheelchair, and I could fly to Munich or somewhere like
that. One could arrange for a car or something at the
other end.'
'You will take Miss Leatheran with you, of course.'
'Amy? Oh, of course. I couldn't do without her. Anyway,
you think no harm would be done?'
'I think it might do you a world of good.'
'You really are a nice man.'
Lady Matilda gave him the twinkle from her eyes with
which now he was becoming familiar.
'You think it'll amuse me and cheer me up to go somewhere
new and see some new faces, and of course you're
quite right. But I like to think that I'm taking a Cure, though
really there's nothing for me to be cured of. Not really, is
there? I mean, except old age. Unfortunately old age doesn't
get cured, it only gets more so, doesn't it?'
The point is really, will you enjoy yourself? Well, I think
you will. When you get tired, by the way, when doing
anything, stop doing it.'
'I shall still drink glasses of water if the water tastes of
rotten eggs. Not because I like them or because frankly I
think they do me any good. But it has a sort of mortifying
feeling. It's like old women in our village always used to
be. They always wanted a nice, strong medicine either coloured
black or purple or deep pink, heavily flavoured with
Peppermint. They thought that did much more good than a
nice little pill or a bottle that only appeared to be full of
ordinary water without any exotic colouring.'
'You know too much about human nature,' said Dr Donaldson.
You're very nice to me,' said Lady Matilda. 'I appreciate
" Amy!'
^Yes, Lady Matilda?'
Get me an atlas, will you. I've lost track of Bavaria and we countries round it.'
'Let
me see now. An atlas. There'll be one in the
lib:
(j ary' ^ suppose. There must be some old atlases about,
"ng back to about 1920 or thereabouts, I suppose.'
, pondered if we had anything a little more modem.' ^tias,' said Amy, deep in reflection.
not, you can buy one and bring it along tomorrow
133
morning. It's going to be very difficult because all the
names are different, the countries are different, and I shan'-i know where I am. But you'll have to help me with that.
Find a big magnifying glass, will you? I have an idea I was reading in bed with one the other day and it probably
slipped down between the bed and the wall.'
Her requirements took a little time to satisfy but the
atlas, the magnifying glass and an older atlas by which to
check, were finally produced and Amy, nice woman that
she was. Lady Matilda thought, was extremely helpful.
'Yes, here it is. It still seems to be called Monbriigge or
something like that. It's either in the Tyrol or Bavaria.
Everything seems to have changed places and got different
names--'
Lady Matilda looked round her bedroom in the Gasthaus.
It was well appointed. It was very expensive. It combined
comfort with an appearance of such austerity as might lead
the inhabitant to identify herself with an ascetic course of
exercises, diet and possibly painful courses of massage. Its
furnishings, she thought, were interesting. They provided
for all tastes. There was a large framed Gothic script on
the wall. Lady Matilda's German was not as good as it had
been in her girlhood, but it dealt, she thought, with the
golden and enchanting idea of a return to youth. Not only
did youth hold the future in its hands but the old were
being nicely indoctrinated to feel that they themselves might
know such a second golden flowering.
Here there were gentle aids so as to enable one to pursue
the doctrine of any of the many paths in life wb.;ch attracted
different classes of people. (Always presuml'ig that
they had enough money to pay for it.) Beside the bed wa5
a Gideon Bible such as Lady Matilda when travei' the United States had often found by her bedsid
picked it up approvingly, opened it at random and '
a finger on one particular verse. She read it, node
head contentedly and made a brief note of it on a r,
that was lying on her bed table. She had often d
in the course
of her life--it was her way of obtainin guidance at short notice.
/ have been young and now am old, yet have I not ''righteous
forsaken.
She made further researches of the room. Handil
but not too apparent was an Almanach de Gotha, modestly
situated on a lower shelf of the bedside table. A most
invaluable book for those who wished to familiarize themselves
with the higher strata of society reaching back for
several hundred years and which were still being observed
and noted and checked by those of aristocratic lineage or
interested in the same. It will come in handy, she thought, I can read up a good deal on that.
Near the desk, by the stove of period porcelain, were
paperback editions of certain preachings and tenets by the
modern prophets of the world. Those who were now or
had recently been crying in the wilderness were here to be
studied and approved by young followers with haloes of
hair, strange raiment, and earnest hearts. Marcuse, Guevara,
Levi-Strauss, Fanon.
In case she was going to hold any conversations with
golden youth she had better read up a little on that also.
At that moment there was a timid tap on the door. It
opened slightly and the face of the faithful Amy came
round the corner. Amy, Lady Matilda thought suddenly,
would look exactly like a sheep when she was ten years
older. A nice, faithful, kindly sheep. At the moment, Lady
Matilda was glad to think, she looked still like a very
agreeable plump lamb with nice curls of hair, thoughtful
and kindly eyes, and able to give kindly baa's rather than
to bleat.
'I do hope you slept well.'
'Yes, my dear, I did, excellently. Have you got that thing?'
Amy always knew what she meant. She handed it to her
employer.
'Ah, my diet sheet. I see.' Lady Matilda perused it, then said, 'How incredibly unattractive 1 What's this water like
one's supposed to drink?'
'It doesn't taste very nice.'
'No, I don't suppose it would. Come back in half an hour. 1 ^ got a letter I want you to post.'
Moving aside her breakfast tray, she moved over to the ^sk. She thought for a few minutes and then wrote her "ater. 'It ought to do the trick,' she murmured.
1 beg your pardon. Lady Matilda, what did you say?'
J^as writing to the old friend I mentioned to you.'
yea ?one you said you havea>t seen for about fifty or sixty
^ady Matilda nodded.
do hope--' Amy was apologetic. 1 mean-^I--it's such
135
a long time. People have short memories nowadays. I do
hope that she'll remember all about you and everything.'
'Of course she will,' said Lady Matilda. "The people you
don't forget are the people you knew when you were about
ten to twenty. They stick in your mind for ever. You
remember what hats they wore, and the way they laughed,
and you remember their faults and their good qualities and
everything about them. Now anyone I met twenty years
ago, shall we say, I simply can't remember who they are.
Not if they're mentioned to me, and not if I saw them even.
Oh yes, she'll remember about me. And all about Lausanne.
You get that letter posted. I've got to do a little homework.'
She picked up the Almanach de Gotha and returned to bed,
where she made a serious study of such items as might
come in useful. Some family relationships and various other
kinships of the useful kind. Who had married whom, who
had lived where, what misfortunes had overtaken others. Not
that the person whom she had in mind was herself likely to
be found in the Almanach de Gotha. But she lived in a part
of the world, had come there deliberately to live in a Schloss
belonging to originally noble ancestors, and she had absorbed
the local respect and adulation for those above all of good
breeding. To good birth, even impaired with poverty, she
herself, as Lady Matilda well knew, had no claim whatever.
She had had to make do with money. Oceans of money.
Incredible amounts of money.
Lady Matilda Cleckheaton had no doubt at all that she
herself, the daughter of an eighth Duke, would be bidden
to some kind of festivity. Coffee, perhaps, and delicious
creamy cakes.
Lady Matilda Cleckheaton made her entrance into csw of
the grand reception rooms of the Schloss. It had b ; a
fifteen-mile drive. She had dressed herself with somf 'are,
though somewhat to the disapproval of Amy. Amy s'" ^;T1 offered advice, but she was so anxious for her pnn'ip" to succeed in whatever she was undertaking that st"' b'10 ventured this time on a moderate remonstrance.
'You don't think your red dress is really a little w-rn. it
you know what I mean. I mean just beneath the arm in '
well, there are two or three very shiny patches--' .
I know, my dear, I know. It is a shabby dress b i4 ^ nevertheless a Patou model. It is old but it was enor ^ 136
expensive. I am not trying to look rich or extravagant. I
am an impoverished member of an aristocratic family. Anyone
of under fifty, no doubt, would despise me. But my hostess
is living and has lived for some years in a part of the world
where the rich will be kept waiting for their meal while the hostess will be willing to wait for a shabby, elderly woman of
impeccable descent. Family traditions are things that one
does not lose easily. One absorbs them, even, when one goes
to a new neighbourhood. In my trunk, by the way, you will
find a feather boa.'
'Are you going to put on a feather boa?*
'Yes, I am. An ostrich feather one.'
'Oh dear, that must be years old.'
'It is, but I've kept it very carefully. You'll see. Charlotte
will recognize what it is. She will think one of the best
families in England was reduced to wearing her old clothes
that she had kept carefully for years. And I'll wear my
sealskin coat, too. That's a little worn, but such a magnificent
coat in its time.'
Thus arrayed, she set forth. Amy went with her as a
well-dressed though only quietly smart attendant.
Matilda Cleckheaton had been prepared for what she
saw. A whale, as Stafford had told her. A wallowing whale,
a hideous old woman sitting in a room surrounded with
pictures worth a fortune. Rising with some difficulty from
a throne-like chair which could have figured on a stage
representing the palace of some magnificent prince from any
age from the Middle Ages down.
'Matilda!'
'Charlotte!'
'Ah! After all these years. How strange it seems!'
They exchanged words of greeting and pleasure, talking
Partly in German and partly in English. Lady Matilda's
German was slightly faulty. Charlotte spoke excellent German,
excellent English though with a strong guttural accent, and
occasionally English with an American accent. She was really,
Lady Matilda thought, quite splendidly hideous. For a mo- "tent she felt a fondness almost dating back to the past ^though, she reflected the next moment. Charlotte had been a ^ost detestable girl. Nobody had really liked her and she
erself had certainly not done so. But there is a great bond,
y what we wiU, in the memories of old schooldays. Whether
lott e had uked her or not she did n&t know- But char" ^ e, she remembered, had certainly--what used to be called
inose days--sucked up to her. She had had visions, pos137
sibly, of staying in a ducal castle in England. Lady Matilda's
father, though of most praiseworthy lineage, had been onfr of the most impecunious of English dukes. His estate had
only been held together by the rich wife he had married whoro he had treated with the utmost courtesy, and who had
enjoyed bullying him whenever able to do so. Lady Matilda
had been fortunate enough to be his daughter by a second
marriage. Her own mother had been extremely agreeable and
also a very successful actress, able to play the part of looking
a duchess far more than any real duchess could do.
They exchanged reminiscences of past days, the tortures
they had inflicted on some of their instructors, the fortunate
and unfortunate marriages that had occurred to some of
their schoolmates. Matilda made a few mentions of certain
alliances and families culled from the pages of the Almanach
de Gotha--'but of course that must have been a terrible
marriage for Elsa. One of the Bourbons de Panne, was it
not? Yes, yes, well, one knows what that leads to. Mo&t
unfortunate.'
Coffee was brought, delicious coffee, plates of millefeuille
pastry and delicious cream cakes.
'I should not touch any of this,' cried Lady Matilda. 'No
indeed 1 My doctor, he is most severe. He said that I must
adhere strictly to the Cure while I was here. But after all,
this is a day of holiday, is it not? Of renewal of youth.
That is what interests me so much. My great-nephew who
visited you not long ago--I forget who brought him here,
the Countess--ah, it began with a Z, I cannot remember
her name.'
The Countess Renata Zerkowski--'
'Ah, that was the name, yes. A very charming young woman, I believe. And she brought him to visit you. It. was
most kind of her. He was so impressed. Impressed, too,
with all your beautiful possessions. Your way of living, and
indeed, the wonderful things which he had heard about you.
How you have a whole movement of--oh, I do not know
how to give the proper term. A Galaxy of Youth. Golden,
beautiful youth. They flock round you. They worship you.
What a wonderful life you must live. Not that I could support
such a life. I have to live very quietly. Rheumatoid
arthritis. And also the financial difficulties. Difficulty in
keeping up the family house. Ah well, you know what it is for
us in England--our taxation troubles.'
'I remember that nephew of yours, yes. He was agreeable,
a very agreeable man. The Diplomatic Service, I understand?'
138
'Ah yes. But it is--well, you know, I cannot feel that
his talents are being properly recognized. He does not say
much. He does not complain, but he feels that he is--well,
he feels that he has not been appreciated as he should. The
powers that be, those who hold office at present, what are
they?'
'Canaille!' said Big Charlotte.
'Intellectuals with no savoir faire in life. Fifty years ago
it would have been different,' said Lady Matilda, 'but nowadays
his promotion has been not advanced as it should. I
will even tell you, in confidence, of course, that he has been
distrusted. They suspect him, you know, of being in with--
what shall I call it?--rebellious, revolutionary tendencies.
And yet one must realize what the future could hold for a
man who could embrace more advanced views.'
'You mean he is not, then, how do you say it in England,
in sympathy with the Establishment, as they call it?'
'Hush, hush, we must not say these things. At least / must
not,' said Lady Matilda.
'You interest me,' said Charlotte. Matilda Cleckheaton sighed.
'Put it down, if you like, to the fondness of an elderly
relative. Staffy has always been a favourite of mine. He
has charm and wit. I think also he has ideas. He envisages
the future, a future that should differ a good deal from
what we have at present. Our country, alas, is politically
in a very bad state. Stafford seems to be very much impressed
by things you said to him or showed to him. You've
done so much for music, I understand. What we need I
cannot but feel is the ideal of the super race.'