V
Mr. Prohack was really a most absurd person. _Smack Your Face_, when itcame to an end, towards midnight, had established itself as an authenticenormous success; and because Mr. Prohack did not care for it, becauseit bored him, because he found it vulgar and tedious and expensive,because it tasted in his mouth like a dust-and-ashes sandwich, thefellow actually felt sad; he felt even bitter. He hated to see thefashionable and splendid audience unwilling to leave the theatre,cheering one super-favourite, five arch-favourites and fifteenfavourites, and cheering them again and again, and sending the curtainup and down and up and down time after time. He could not bear that whathe detested should be deliriously admired. He went so far as to formviews about the decadence of the theatre as an institution. Most of allhe was disgusted because his beloved Eve was not disgusted. Eve saidplacidly that she did not think much of the affair, but that she hadthoroughly enjoyed it and wouldn't mind coming on the next night to seeit afresh. He said gloomily:
"And I've been bringing you up for nearly twenty-five years."
As for Sissie, she was quietly and sternly enthusiastic about a lot ofthe dancing. She announced her judgment as an expert, and Charlie agreedwith her, and there was no appeal, and Mr. Prohack had the air of anignorant outsider whose opinions were negligible. Further, he was absurdin that, though he assuredly had no desire whatever to go to the dance,he fretted at the delay in getting there. Even when they had all got outto the porch of the theatre he exhibited a controlled but intenseimpatience because Charlie did not produce the car instantly from amidstthe confused hordes of cars that waited in the surrounding streets.Moreover, as regards the ball, he had foolishly put himself in a falseposition; for he was compelled to pretend that he had purchased thetickets because he personally wanted to go to the ball. Had he not beenlearning to dance? Now the fact was that he looked forward to the ballwith terror. He had never performed publicly. He proceeded from onepretence to another. When Charlie stated curtly that he, Charlie, wasgoing to no ball, he feigned disappointment, saying that Charlie oughtto go for his sister's sake. Yet he was greatly relieved at Charlie'sdeparture (even in Lady Massulam's car); he could not stomach thenotion of Charlie cynically watching his infant steps on the polished,treacherous floor. In the matter of Charlie, Oswald Morfey also feigneddisappointment, but for a different reason. Ozzie wanted to have Sissieas much as possible to himself.
Mr. Prohack yawned in the car.
"You're over-tired, Arthur. It's the Turkish bath," said Eve withcommiseration. This was a bad enough mistake on her part, but sheworsened it by adding: "Perhaps the wisest thing would be for us all togo home."
Mr. Prohack was extremely exhausted, and would have given his head to gohome; but so odd, so contrary, so deceitful and so silly was his naturethat he replied:
"Darling! Where on earth do you get these ideas from? There's nothinglike a Turkish bath for stimulating you, and I'm not at all tired. Inever felt better in my life. But the atmosphere of that theatre wouldmake anybody yawn."
The ball was held in a picture-gallery where an exhibition of theInternational Portrait Society was in progress. The crush of cars at theportals was as keen as that at the portals of the Metropolitan. And allthe persons who got out of the cars seemed as fresh as if they had justgot out of bed. Mr. Prohack was astonished at the vast number of peoplewho didn't care what time they went to bed because they didn't care whattime they arose; he was in danger of being morbidly obsessed by theextraordinary prevalence of idleness. The rooms were full of brilliantidlers in all colours. Everybody except chorus girls had thought fit toappear at this ball in aid of the admirably charitable Chorus Girls' AidAssociation. And as everybody was also on the walls, the dancers had tocompete with their portraits--a competition in which many of them werewell beaten.
After they had visited the supper-room, where both Sissie and her motherdid wonderful feats of degustation and Mr. Prohack drank all that wasgood for him, Sissie ordered her father to dance with her. He refused.She went off with Ozzie, while her parents sat side by side on goldchairs like ancestors. Sissie repeated her command, and Mr. Prohack wasabout to disobey when Eliza Fiddle dawned upon the assemblage.
The supernatural creature had been rehearsing until 3 a.m., she had beentrying on clothes from 9 a.m. until 5 p.m. She had borne the chiefweight of _Smack Your Face_, on her unique shoulders for nearly threehours and a half. She had changed into an unforgettable blackball-dress, cut to demonstrate in the clearest fashion that hershoulders had suffered no harm; and here she was as fresh as Aphroditefrom the foam. She immediately set herself to bear the chief weight ofthe ball on those same defenceless shoulders; for she was, in theory atany rate, the leading organiser of the affair, and according to theentire press it was "her" ball. As soon as he saw her Mr. Prohack had amost ridiculous fear lest she should pick him out for a dance, and toprotect himself he said "All right" to his daughter.
A fox-trot announced itself. In his own drawing-room, with the doorlocked, Mr. Prohack could and did treat a fox-trot as child's play. Butnow he realised that he had utterly forgotten every movement of theinfernal thing. Agony as he stood up and took his daughter's hand! Anawful conviction that everybody (who was anybody) was staring to witnessthe Terror of the departments trying to jazz in public for the firsttime. A sick, sinking fear lest some of his old colleagues from theTreasury might be lurking in corners to guy him! Agony as he collectedhimself and swayed his body slightly to catch the rhythm of the tune!Where in heaven's name was the first beat in the bar?
"Walk first," said Sissie professionally.... He was in motion.
"Now!" said Sissie. "_One_, two. _One_, two." Miraculously he wasdancing! It was as though the whole room was shouting: "They're off!"Sissie steered him.
"Don't look at your feet!" said she sharply, and like a schoolboy hechucked his chin obediently up.... Then he was steering her. Althoughher feet were the reverse of enormous he somehow could not keep offthem; but that girl was made of hardy stuff and never winced. He wasdoing better. Pride was puffing him. Yet he desired the music to stop.The music did stop.
"Thanks," he breathed.
"Oh, no!" said she. "That's not all." The dancers clapped and theorchestra resumed. He started again. Couples surged around him, andsometimes he avoided them and sometimes he did not. Then he saw a headbobbing not far away, as if it were one cork and he another on a choppysea. It resembled Eve's head. It was Eve's head. She was dancing withOswald Morfey. He had never supposed that Eve could dance these newdances.
"Let's stop," said he.
"Certainly not," Sissie forbade. "We must finish it." He finished it,rather breathless and dizzy. He had lived through it.
"You're perfectly wonderful, Arthur," said Eve when they met.
"Oh no! I'm no good."
"I was frightfully nervous about you at first," said Sissie.
He said briefly:
"You needn't have been. I wasn't."
A little later Eve said to him:
"Aren't you going to ask _me_ to dance, Arthur?"
Dancing with Eve was not quite like dancing with Sissie, but they safelysurvived deadly perils. And Mr. Prohack perspired in a very healthyfashion.
"You dance really beautifully, dear," said Eve, benevolently smiling.
After that he cut himself free and roamed about. He wanted to ask ElizaFiddle to dance, and also he didn't want to ask her to dance. However,he had apparently ceased to exist for her. Ozzie had introduced him toseveral radiant young creatures. He wanted to ask them to dance; but hedared not. And he was furious with himself. To dance with one's daughterand wife was well enough in its way, but it was not the real thing. Itwas without salt. One or two of the radiances glanced at him withinviting eyes, but no, he dared not face it. He grew gloomy, gloomier.He thought angrily: "All this is not for me. I'm a middle-aged fool, andI've known it all along." Life lost its savour and became repugnant.Fatigue punished him, and simultaneously reduced two hundred and fiftythousand pounds to the value of ab
out fourpence. It was Eve who got himaway.
"Home," he called to Carthew, after Eve and Sissie had said good-bye toOzzie and stowed themselves into the car.
"Excuse me," said Sissie. "You have to deliver me at the Grand Babylonfirst."
He had forgotten! This detour was the acutest torture of the night. Hecould no longer bear not to be in bed. And when, after endless nocturnalmiles, he did finally get home and into bed, he sighed as one taken offthe rack. Ah! The delicious contact with the pillow!