Read Henry James: Complete Stories 1864-1874 Online

Authors: Henry James

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Henry James: Complete Stories 1864-1874 (95 page)

 
Page 564
was only for the Masterthe idea of a little talkthat he had sat up and that, not finding him, he had been on the point of going to bed.
Well, you know, I don't smokemy wife doesn't let me, said St. George, looking for a place to sit down. It's very good for mevery good for me. Let us take that sofa.
Do you mean smoking is good for you?
No, no, her not letting me. It's a great thing to have a wife who proves to one all the things one can do without. One might never find them out for oneself. She doesn't allow me to touch a cigarette.
They took possession of the sofa, which was at a distance from the group of smokers, and St. George went on: Have you got one yourself?
Do you mean a cigarette?
Dear no! a wife.
No; and yet I would give up my cigarette for one.
You would give up a good deal more than that, said St. George. However, you would get a great deal in return. There is a great deal to be said for wives, he added, folding his arms and crossing his outstretched legs. He declined tobacco altogether and sat there without returning fire. Paul Overt stopped smoking, touched by his courtesy; and after all they were out of the fumes, their sofa was in a far-away corner. It would have been a mistake, St. George went on, a great mistake for them to have separated without a little chat; for I know all about you, he said, I know you're very remarkable. You've written a very distinguished book.
And how do you know it? Overt asked.
Why, my dear fellow, it's in the air, it's in the papers, it's everywhere, St. George replied, with the immediate familiarity of a
confrère
a tone that seemed to his companion the very rustle of the laurel. You're on all men's lips and, what's better, you're on all women's. And I've just been reading your book.
Just? You hadn't read it this afternoon, said Overt.
How do you know that?
You know how I know it, the young man answered, laughing.
I suppose Miss Fancourt told you.
 
Page 565
No, indeed; she led me rather to suppose that you had.
Yes; that's much more what she would do. Doesn't she shed a rosy glow over life? But you didn't believe her? asked St. George.
No, not when you came to us there.
Did I pretend? did I pretend badly? But without waiting for an answer to this St. George went on: You ought always to believe such a girl as thatalways, always. Some women are meant to be taken with allowances and reserves; but you must take
her
just as she is.
I like her very much, said Paul Overt.
Something in his tone appeared to excite on his companion's part a momentary sense of the absured; perhaps it was the air of deliberation attending this judgment. St. George broke into a laugh and returned: It's the best thing you can do with her. She's a rare young lady! In point of fact, however, I confess I hadn't read you this afternoon.
Then you see how right I was in this particular case not to believe Miss Fancourt.
How right? how can I agree to that, when I lost credit by it?
Do you wish to pass for exactly what she represents you? Certainly you needn't be afraid, Paul said.
Ah, my dear young man, don't talk about passingfor the likes of me! I'm passing awaynothing else than that. She has a better use for her young imagination (isn't it fine?) than in representing in any way such a weary, wasted, used-up animal! St. George spoke with a sudden sadness which produced a protest on Paul's part; but before the protest could be uttered he went on, reverting to the latter's successful novel: I had no idea you were so goodone hears of so many things. But you're surprisingly good.
I'm going to be surprisingly better, said Overt.
I see that and it's what fetches me. I don't see so much elseas one looks aboutthat's going to be surprisingly better. They're going to be consistently worsemost of the things. It's so much easier to be worseheaven knows I've found it so. I'm not in a great glow, you know, about what's being attempted, what's being done. But you
must
be betteryou must keep it up. I haven't, of course. It's very difficult
 
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that's the devil of the whole thing; but I see you can. It will be a great disgrace if you don't.
It's very interesting to hear you speak of yourself; but I don't know what you mean by your allusions to your having fallen off, Paul Overt remarked, with pardonable hypocrisy. He liked his companion so much now that it had ceased for the moment to be vivid to him that there had been any decline.
Don't say thatdon't say that, St. George replied gravely, with his head resting on the top of the back of the sofa and his eyes on the ceiling. You know perfectly what I mean. I haven't read twenty pages of your book without seeing that you can't help it.
You make me very miserable, Paul murmured.
I'm glad of that, for it may serve as a kind of warning. Shocking enough it must be, especially to a young, fresh mind, full of faith,the spectacle of a man meant for better things sunk at my age in such dishonour. St. George, in the same contemplative attitude, spoke softly but deliberately, and without perceptible emotion. His tone indeed suggested an impersonal lucidity which was cruelcruel to himselfand which made Paul lay an argumentative hand on his arm. But he went on, while his eyes seemed to follow the ingenuities of the beautiful Adams ceiling: Look at me well and take my lesson to heart, for it
is
a lesson. Let that good come of it at least that you shudder with your pitiful impression and that this may help to keep you straight in the future. Don't become in your old age what I am in minethe depressing, the deplorable illustration of the worship of false gods!
What do you mean by your old age? Paul Overt asked.
It has made me old. But I like your youth.
Overt answered nothingthey sat for a minute in silence. They heard the others talking about the governmental majority. Then, What do you mean by false gods? Paul inquired.
The idols of the marketmoney and luxury and the world, placing one's children and dressing one's wifeeverything that drives one to the short and easy way. Ah, the vile things they make one do!
But surely one is right to want to place one's children.
 
Page 567
One has no business to have any children, St. George declared, placidly. I mean of course if one wants to do something good.
But aren't they an inspirationan incentive?
An incentive to damnation, artistically speaking.
You touch on very deep thingsthings I should like to discuss with you, Paul Overt said. I should like you to tell me volumes about yourself. This is a festival for
me
!
Of course it is, cruel youth. But to show you that I'm still not incapable, degraded as I am, of an act of faith, I'll tie my vanity to the stake for you and burn it to ashes. You must come and see meyou must come and see us. Mrs. St. George is charming; I don't know whether you have had any opportunity to talk with her. She will be delighted to see you; she likes great celebrities, whether incipient or predominant. You must come and dinemy wife will write to you. Where are you to be found?
This is my little addressand Overt drew out his pocketbook and extracted a visiting-card. On second thoughts, however, he kept it back, remarking that he would not trouble his friend to take charge of it but would come and see him straightway in London and leave it at his door if he should fail to obtain admittance.
Ah! you probably will fail; my wife's always out, or when she isn't out she's knocked up from having been out. You must come and dinethough that won't do much good either, for my wife insists on big dinners. You must come down and see us in the country, that's the best way; we have plenty of room, and it isn't bad.
You have a house in the country? Paul asked, enviously.
Ah, not like this! But we have a sort of place we go toan hour from Euston. That's one of the reasons.
One of the reasons?
Why my books are so bad.
You must tell me all the others! Paul exclaimed, laughing. St. George made no direct rejoinder to this; he only inquired rather abruptly: Why have I never seen you before?
The tone of the question was singularly flattering to his new comrade; it seemed to imply that he perceived now that for years he had missed something. Partly, I suppose, because
 
Page 568
there has been no particular reason why you should see me. I haven't lived in the worldin your world. I have spent many years out of England, in different places abroad.
Well, please don't do it any more. You must do Englandthere's such a lot of it.
Do you mean I must write about it? Paul asked, in a voice which had the note of the listening candour of a child.
Of course you must. And tremendously well, do you mind? That takes off a little of my esteem for this thing of yoursthat it goes on abroad. Hang abroad! Stay at home and do things heredo subjects we can measure.
I'll do whatever you tell me, said Paul Overt, deeply attentive. But excuse me if I say I don't understand how you have been reading my book, he subjoined. I've had you before me all the afternoon, first in that long walk, then at tea on the lawn, till we went to dress for dinner, and all the evening at dinner and in this place.
St. George turned his face round with a smile. I only read for a quarter of an hour.
A quarter of an hour is liberal, but I don't understand where you put it in. In the drawing-room, after dinner, you were not reading, you were talking to Miss Fancourt.
It comes to the same thing, because we talked about
Ginistrella.
She described it to meshe lent it to me.
Lent it to you?
She travels with it.
It's incredible, Paul Overt murmured, blushing.
It's glorious for you; but it also turned out very well for me. When the ladies went off to bed she kindly offered to send the book down to me. Her maid brought it to me in the hall and I went to my room with it. I hadn't thought of coming here, I do that so little. But I don't sleep early, I always have to read for an hour or two. I sat down to your novel on the spot, without undressing, without taking off anything but my coat. I think that's a sign that my curiosity had been strongly roused about it. I read a quarter of an hour, as I tell you, and even in a quarter of an hour I was greatly struck.
Ah, the beginning isn't very goodit's the whole thing!
 
Page 569
said Overt, who had listened to this recital with extreme interest. And you laid down the book and came after me? he asked.
That's the way it moved me. I said to myself, I see it's off his own bat, and he's there, by the way, and the day's over and I haven't said twenty words to him. It occurred to me that you would probably be in the smoking-room and that it wouldn't be too late to repair my omission. I wanted to do something civil to you, so I put on my coat and came down. I shall read your book again when I go up.
Paul Overt turned round in his placehe was exceedingly touched by the picture of such a demonstration in his favour. You're really the kindest of men.
Cela s'est passé comme ça?
and I have been sitting here with you all this time and never apprehended it and never thanked you!
Thank Miss Fancourtit was she who wound me up. She has made me feel as if I had read your novel.
She's an angel from heaven! Paul Overt exclaimed.
She is indeed. I have never seen anyone like her. Her interest in literature is touchingsomething quite peculiar to herself; she takes it all so seriously. She feels the arts and she wants to feel them more. To those who practise them it's almost humiliatingher curiosity, her sympathy, her good faith. How can anything be as fine as she supposes it?
She's a rare organisation, Paul Overt sighed.
The richest I have ever seenan artistic intelligence really of the first order. And lodged in such a form! St. George exclaimed.
One would like to paint such a girl as that, Overt continued.
Ah, there it isthere's nothing like life! When you're finished, squeezed dry and used up and you think the sack's empty, you're still spoken to, you still get touches and thrills, the idea springs upout of the lap of the actualand shows you there's always something to be done. But I shan't do itshe's not for me!
How do you mean, not for you?
Oh, it's all overshe's for you, if you like.
Ah, much less! said Paul Overt. She's not for a dingy

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