Part 33 (1/2)

”Loyalty to your country comes first,” he said; ”it must. Everything else goes by the board. I did not know you felt that way about Germany; but since you do There is no more to be said. Go back to your own country of course. You can't help yourself.”

I have no doubt that Gorman meant exactly what he said. If he had been in Ascher's position, if once the issue became quite plain to him and the tangle of political alliances were swept away, he would have thrown all his interests and every other kind of honour to the wind. He would have sacrificed his business, would if necessary have parted with his wife; he would have been loyal to the land of his birth, entirely contemptuous of any other call or any claim.

Mrs. Ascher clung tightly to her husband's arm. ”Words,” she said, ”words, only words. You must not listen to him.”

Ascher felt for her hands again, grasped them and held them pressed close against him. He turned from Gorman to me.

”And you,” he said, ”what are you going to do?”

The question took me by surprise. I had no difficult decision to make.

My course was in clear daylight. Besides, it did not matter to any one what I did.

”You, yourself,” said Ascher again. ”What are you going to do?”

”Oh,” I said, ”I'm going back to my regiment. I suppose they'll take me.

Anyhow I shall offer myself.”

”And fight?” said Ascher.

”Well, yes. I suppose I shall fight. This war won't be over in a week.

I'm pretty sure to get my turn. Yes, I shall almost certainly fight.”

”Why?” said Ascher. ”What will you fight for?”

It was Gorman who answered the question. He had recovered from his brief outburst, and had become the normal Gorman again.

”The war,” he said, ”is for the liberation of Europe. It is a vast struggle, an Armageddon in which the forces of reaction, absolutism, tyranny, a military caste are ranged against democracy. It is their last appearance upon the stage of history. Vindicated now, the principles of democracy----”

”If you think,” I said, ”that I'm going out to fight for the principles of democracy, you're making a big mistake. There's nothing in the world I dislike more than that absurd democracy of yours.”

”Then why?” said Ascher, mildly persistent. ”Why are you going to fight?”

”Well,” I said, ”I don't want to say anything offensive about your people, Ascher. The Germans have a lot of fine qualities, but if they were to win this war, if they were to succeed in imposing their civilisation and their mentality on us all, if they were to Germanise the world, the sense of humour would perish from among men. n.o.body would any longer be able to laugh. We--we should find ourselves taking governments and officials seriously. Just imagine! To live under a bureaucracy and not to see that it was funny! Surely it's worth while fighting for the right to laugh.”

”You Iris.h.!.+” said Ascher. ”Even in times like this your love of paradox----”

”Don't say it,” I said. ”If you can possibly help it don't say that. I admit that I brought it on myself and deserve it. I apologise. That is not my real reason for going back to my regiment. I only gave it to you because I don't know what my real reason is. It's not patriotism. I haven't got any country to be patriotic about. It's not any silly belief in liberty or democracy. I don't know why I'm doing it. I just have to.

That's all.”

”n.o.blesse oblige,” said Ascher. ”Your honour as a gentleman.”

I shuddered. Ascher--there is no other way of putting it--is grossly indecent. A woman has a sense of modesty about her body. It would be considered an outrage to strip her and leave her stark naked in the middle of the room. I cannot see why a man should not be credited with some feeling of modesty about his soul. I detest having my last garments plucked from me in public. Complete spiritual nudity causes me very great embarra.s.sment.

”You can put it that way if you like,” I said. ”The plain fact is I can't help myself. I must go back to my regiment. I have no choice.”

”I have come to see,” said Ascher, ”that I have no choice either. There is such a thing, though perhaps Mr. Gorman will not believe me--there is such a thing as the honour of a banker. It compels me.”

He put his arm round his wife's waist as he spoke. Still holding her hands in one of his, he led her from the room. Her head drooped against his shoulder as they went out.