Part 53 (1/2)

Gilbert glanced at the catalogue. ”He was fervently pious, a faithful husband, a fond parent, a kind master, and an enthusiastic lover and patron of the fine arts.”

”How familiar that sort of stuff sounds,” she answered. ”It's written for the schools which come here to see history in the flesh--or wax rather. Every English school girl of the upper middle cla.s.ses has been brought here once in her life. Oh, here's Milton! What does it say about him?”

--”Sold his immortal poem 'Paradise Lost' for the sum of five pounds,”

Lothian answered grimly.

”_Much_ better to be a modern poet, Gilbert dear! But I'm disappointed.

These figures don't thrill one at all. I always thought one was thrilled and astonished here.”

”So you will be, Cupid, soon. Don't you see that all these people are only names to us. Here they are names dressed up in clothes and with pink faces and gla.s.s eyes. They're too remote. Neither of us is going to connect that thing”--he flung a contemptuous movement of his thumb at Milton--”with 'Lycidas.' We shall be interested soon, I'm sure. But won't you have something to eat?”

”No. I don't want food. After all, this is strange and fantastic. We've lots more to see yet, and these kings and queens are only for the schools. Let's explore and explore. And let's talk about it all as we go, Gilbert! Talk to me as you do in your letters. Talk to me as you did at the beginning, illuminating everything with your mind. That's what I want to hear once again!”

She thrust her arm in his, and desire fled away from him. The Dead Sea Fruit, the ”Colloque Sentimental” existed no more, but, humour, the power of keen, incisive phrase awoke in him.

Yes, this was better!--their two minds with play and interplay. It would have been a thousand times better if it had never been anything else save this.

They wandered into the Grand Saloon, made their bow to Sir Thomas Lipton--”Wog and I find his tea really the best and cheapest,” Rita said--decided that the Archbishop of Canterbury had a suave, but uninteresting face, admired the late Mr. Dan Leno, who was posed next to Sir Walter Scott, and gazed without much interest at the royal figures in the same room.

King George the Fifth and his spouse; the Duke of Connaught and Strathearn--Prince Arthur William Patrick Albert, K.G., K.T., K.P., G.C.M.C.; Princess Royal of England--Her Royal Highness Princess Louise Victoria Alexandra Dagmar; and, next to these august people, little Mr. Dan Leno!

”Poor little man,” Rita said, looking at the sad face of the comedian.

”Why should they put him here with the King and the Queen? Do they just plant their figures anywhere in this show?”

Gilbert shook his head. In this abnormal place--one of the strangest and most psychologically interesting places in the world--his freakish humour was to the fore.

”What a little stupid you are, Rita!” he said. ”The man who arranges these groups is one of the greatest philosophers and students of humanity who ever lived. In this particular case the ghost of Heine must have animated him. The court jester! The clown of the monarch--I believe he did once perform at Sandringham--set cheek by jowl with the great people he amused. It completes the picture, does it not?”

”No, Gilbert, since you pretend to see a design in the arrangement, I don't think it _does_ complete the picture. Why should a mere little comic man be set to intrude--?”

He caught her up with whimsical grace. ”Oh, but you don't see it at all!” he cried, and his vibrating voice, to which the timbre and life had returned, rang through ”Room No. 2.”

--”This place is designed for the great ma.s.s of the population. They all visit it. It is a National Inst.i.tution. People like you and me only come to it out of curiosity or by chance. It's out of our beat.

Therefore, observe the genius of the plan! The Populace has room in its great stupid heart for only a few heroes. The King is always one, and the popular comedian of the music halls is always another. These, with Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Toftrees, satisfy all the hunger for symbols to be adored. Thus Dan Leno in this splendid company. Room No. 2 is really a subtle and ironic comment upon the psychology of the crowd!”

Rita laughed happily. ”But where are the Toftrees?” she said.

”In the Chamber of Horrors, probably, for murdering the public taste.

We are sure to find them here, seated before two Remingtons and with the actual books with which the crime was committed on show.”

”Oh, I've heard about the 'Chamber of Horrors.' Can we go, Gilbert? Do let's go. I want to be thrilled. It's such a funereal day.”

”Yes it is, grey as an old nun. I'm sorry I was unkind in the cab, dear. Forgive me.”

”I'll forgive you anything. I'm so unhappy, Gilbert. It's dreadful to think of you being gone. All my days and my nights will be grey now.

However shall I do without you?”