Lake of Geneva where the boats are moored and
the water stretches across to the mountain shore. The little dark green car,
leaving it all behind, reaches the lodge. Anne sounds the horn. Theo, wrapped
up, now, in a heavy coat, stands evidently forewarned; he unlocks the gate and
swings it wide.
When they have reached the main road and are off, he goes
indoors; there he writes down the number of their car on a scribbling block
which he has set out ready in the hall.
His wife stands by in her cord-trimmed dressing-gown.
âWhy are you doing that?â she says.
âI donât know, Clara. But seeing Iâve been told to expect
an all-night spell of duty without any relief-man, Iâve been taking a note of
all numbers. I donât know, Clara, I really donât know why.â He tears off the
sheet and crumples it, tossing it on the sitting-room fire.
âWhatâs wrong with the relief-men tonight?â Clara says.
âWhereâs Conrad, whereâs Bernard, whereâs Jean-Albert, whereâs Stephen? Why
donât they send Pablo, whatâs he doing with them up there at the house? My sleep
is terrible, how can I sleep?â
âIâm a simple man,â says Theo, âand your dreams give me
the jitters, but setting all that aside I smell a crisis. The Baroness hasnât
been playing the game, and thatâs about it. Why did she let herself go to rack
and ruin? They say she was a fine-looking woman a year ago. Lovely
specimen.â
âShe used to keep her hair frosted or blond-streaked,â
Clara whispers. âShe shouldnât have let go her shape. Why did she suddenly start
to go natural? She must have started to be sincere with someone.â
âDonât be frightened, Clara. Donât be afraid.â
âItâs true what I say, Theo. She changed all of a sudden.
I showed you her in the magazines in her ski-outfit. Wasnât she
magnificent?â
âGo to bed, Clara. I say, go up to bed, dear.â
âCanât I have the wireless on for company?â
âAll right. Keep it low. We arenât supposed to be here to
enjoy ourselves, you know.â
Theo steps forth from his doorway as another car
approaches the gate, flicking its large headlights.
The chauffeur puts his head out while Theo opens the
gate, but Theo speaks first, apparently recognizing the occupant of the back
seat.
âHis Excellency, Prince Eugene,â Theo says,
respectfully.
The chauffeurâs mouth smiles a little, his eyes drooping,
perhaps with boredom, perhaps with tiredness.
âIâm pretty sure theyâre not at home. Were they expecting
his Excellency?â Theo says.
âYes,â says the visitor from the depths of the back
seat.
âIâll just call the house,â says Theo and returns to the
lodge.
âDrive on,â says Prince Eugene to his driver. âDonât wait
for him and all that rot. I said to Klopstock Iâd look in after dinner and Iâm
looking in after dinner. He should have told his porter to expect me.â As he
speaks, the car is already off on its meander towards the house.
Lister is waiting at the door. He runs down the steps
towards the big car as the driver gets out to open the door for the prince.
âThe Baron and Baroness are not at home,â Lister
says.
Prince Eugene has got out and looks at Lister. âWho are
you?â he says.
âExcuse me, your Excellency, that Iâm in my off-duty
clothes,â Lister says. âIâm Lister, the butler.â
âYou look like a Secretary of State.â
âThank you, sir,â says Lister.
âIt isnât a compliment,â says the prince. âWhat do you
mean, theyâre not at home? I saw the Baron this morning and he asked me to drop
in after dinner. Theyâre expecting me.â He mounts the steps, Lister following
him, and enters the house.
In the hall he nods towards the library door from
Odd Arne Westad, J. M. Roberts