Lewis and Irene lived an Oriental life behind closed shutters. But they
were no longer on an island, and some of the warm, ribald charm of the
months gone by lingered in the empty streets, and when the tourists'
chars-à-bancs had disappeared there remained in the air something
eager, dexterous and precious, which Paris will always retain, even when
there are no more Frenchmen to live there.
They saw no one. Irene disliked people. She never spoke to them. "In
Paris," she said, "people always seem to be expecting you to surprise
them. I have nothing to give them. I only expect you, Lewis. So long as
I am alone with you I am happy. I like the lower classes, children and
animals: but here children always look ill, animals are ill-treated, and
the work-people are nothing but greedy snobs."
They spent the mornings in bed. Lewis had kept some of his racehorses.
He telephoned from his bed to Orne and Calvados to hear the latest about
their shoes, their teeth and their tendons. The days passed, each one
like the last. In the evening they emptied champagne bottles outside
Paris in cardboard mills with old-fashioned bar parlours; they had
foreign foods cooked at their table with so much brandy in the sauces
that they ate in the midst of flames.
"We are spending money recklessly," said Irene, "and we are making none.
We must think of that. Call me cheeseparing if you like."
"Bah!" answered Lewis. "It is bad enough not to have any money; but its
far worse to stint oneself when one has."
They never went into Society. Lewis' marriage had been received with
boisterous silence. He accepted the fact philosophically.
"Our union is far from being blessed; we cannot hope to please people.
Both on your side and mine a certain number of people were annoyed, but
the greater number were quite indifferent. Nothing is left but the
natural hostility evoked by the sight of a happy couple and which we
must get used to. If we ever want to see people again we have only to
suffer some of those misfortunes which make it possible for our friends
to breathe the same air as we do."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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