The Lord Chandos Letter: And Other Writings by Hugo von Hofmannsthal

Author:Hugo von Hofmannsthal [Hofmannsthal, Hugo von]
Language: swe
Format: epub
Tags: Literary Collections, Essays, Fiction, Classics, Literary Criticism, European, German
ISBN: 9781590175439
Google: V40clqb2DZQC
Publisher: New York Review of Books
Published: 2012-05-16T04:31:50+00:00

9. THE INQUEST

“MRS. MIDDLETON,” said the butler with gravity and fi nesse, “sends down word she is binding the canary’s leg—the little fellow broke it; Doctor Vambery is with her.”

“Now what is your honest opinion, March,” said Al Mid dleton, button-holing him, “do you think Dickie’s leg is broken or that it’s just a compound complex, needing psycho analysis. . . . Well, tell her,” he said, sighing, “that the whole left wing is waiting for the outcome. Personally I’m betting on Vambery. Tell her her husband is fighting off a counter revolutionary stroke himself, and that if she isn’t down soon the radicals in the parlor will be so many grease-spots on the rug. Now: what are you going to tell her, March?”

“That you hope she will be down shortly, sir,” said March and wheeled his abdomen about to carry it before him like the banner of his admirable profession.

“A man is never a prophet in his own pantry,” said Al; swallowed his drink and made inquisitively for the library which Merle had “opened” for the reception of the plotters. He stood for a moment listening outside the door; the buzz came out pleasantly like the growing roar of the Stock Exchange when something was brewing. But no sound like the one he wanted most to hear: his own son’s voice raised and bold like the voice of someone who belonged somewhere. The buzz went on; but Emmett played no part.

He opened the door stealthily. “tactics” “I say tactics be damned, Jeffrey” “but boring from within”—“Pardon me!” said Al loudly—and noted with malicious amusement how the steady mumble of voices died down at his entrance; saw with a touch of irritated sympathy how his own son looked up in fear; “pardon me for just stepping right in as though I lived here. My wife is upstairs having a love affair with a sick canary and I got to feeling a little lonely. Ah there, Leonard, glad to see you. So this,” he said with a quick look round, “is the Revolution. Glad to meet you, boys.”

“Please Al, we’re having a d-d-discussion,” said Emmett miserably.

But Bruno Leonard was crossing the room with the swift tact of a woman and took his arm. “Since you’re buying a stake in revolution,” he said genially, “you ought at least to meet the dark horses, Mr. Middleton. Miles Flinders—between the fireplace and sofa, he’s marking it off for firing—Norah and Jeffrey Blake, Arnold Firman and Cornelia Carson, classmates of your son’s—and your own son I think you know.”

“My own son I think I don’t know,” said Al advancing briskly. “Pleased to meet you all.” He swung the hand of each in turn. He was amused at the silence, both hostile and embarrassed, which greeted his appearance. “Well. Have you come to blow me up,” he said pleasantly. Still no one quite reacted. He felt the show was his. “And what a lovely female decoy,” he said, bending to the one called Norah Blake who

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