Part 32 (2/2)
”Ah,” William said. ”He's not a mere hothead then.”
”If you're going to be sarcastic-”
”No, no,” he retreated, ”I'm simply looking for information. You spoke of a camp. I believe it was a camp. -For what purpose?”
”I told you. To discuss ideology and things. To train for the future. They're talking about having a World Youth Rally-that's just an example of the kind of preparation we'd need. It would be all the races on earth congregated in one place.”
”I see,” William said. ”You're not thinking of bringing all the races on earth down to your father's beach?”
”Oh William! Will you, will you? You'll let us have the estate then?” she crowed; he had given himself away. ”Oh look, I don't mean for the Rally-the Rally's not till next year, and anyhow it's going to have a million people. It might be Moscow or it might be Stockholm, we haven't heard yet. But we're hoping for Moscow. It's the logical place to celebrate.”
”Moscow,” he repeated. ”To celebrate what?”
”I don't know-I can't bear lawyer-questions. I guess peace and freedom, things like that. Revolutionary things. Because the world's changing!” She flew out of her chair. ”All we want is the camp. Just for this one summer! There's no rush about that museum, it doesn't matter about that museum-it's a crank idea, that museum! Oh please, William. Just June and July and maybe August. Fix it up!”
”It can't be fixed,'” he said thoughtfully. ”There's the trust.”
”The trust, the trust!” She whirled around him, spitting words. ”I hate that trust!”
”I hate your camp,” he said.
”What do you mean?”
They stood a.s.sessing one another.
”I mean it's abhorrent to me. It should be abhorrent to you.”
”It's what I want,” she said stubbornly.
”It won't last. It will burn itself out.”
”Not the Movement!”
”Your devotion to it.”
”My devotion is to justice.”
”For whom?” he asked calmly; he was in control now; it was very like an examination before trial; he felt the root of his confidence.
”For the downtrodden! For the workers!” she threw out.
”And what about justice for your father?” he inquired.
”Oh what's that?”-impatient: as though he were a fool.
”To fulfil his plan. Not to betray his wishes. Not to betray the trust.”
”The trust again! A piece of paper! He was rich, now he's dead: they don't need justice, the rich and the dead. You see?” she said sourly, ”That's just the difference between the capitalists and us. It's the workers we think of.”
He was against argument-as much dispute with a cloud. But resignedly he said, ”Then you don't think far enough. You don't think beyond sensationalism into sound economics.” He finished: ”The conversion of the estate will open jobs that never existed before.”
”Jobs for fis.h.!.+” she scoffed.
”Jobs for men.”
”Pie in the sky!”
”What an adept you are,” he said tiredly.
”You're reneging. It's just that you don't want the camp.”
”No,” he agreed. ”I don't want it.”
”You don't want anything,” she said acidly.
He looked at her. Her eyes s.h.i.+mmered like a pair of teacups.
He said, ”Have the camp. Just as you wish.”
But he felt her confusion. He felt her suspicion. ”June and July and August?” she demanded.
”June and July and August,” he a.s.sented.
”All the house and all the grounds? The beach too? The woods?”
”All,” he p.r.o.nounced. ”Just as you wish.”
”You can really fix it?”
”I can ignore it. I can postpone beginning. I can wait,” he said.
”Oh, if you wait for us to burn out you'll wait a long time!”
”Perhaps,” he proposed, ”you won't ignite at all.”
”Pooh,” she said. ”People always catch fire at a camp, if it's enthusiasm you're talking about. It's because nowadays there are techniques. The Youth Leader knows them all. He can start anything from scratch.”
”A firebrand,” William said warily.
”Oh, an inflammatory, call him what you want, we don't care. It doesn't matter-just so long as there's progress. Call it sedition!-the main thing is having the camp.'
”I thought the main thing was peace and freedom.”
”Well of course! But there's a different thing for each different condition. It's important to be practical and expedient as well as just idealistic,” she gravely explained.
”I see,” he took in. ”Your Youth Leader is a clever man.”
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