The storm of London: a social rhapsodyBlaze de Bury, Fernande
Science
The storm of London: a social rhapsody
Blaze de Bury, Fernande
London (England) -- Fiction; Science fiction
Temple brought the luncheon tray about 1.30; only a couple of kidneys, a
glass of Apollinaris water; it would be sufficient for that day, as he
could not get out that afternoon and have a ride. Then more thinking,
with as little attention as before. After that, tea with a bit of toast
and no butter, and more thinking, interrupted at times by sudden glances
through the window. Temple came once or twice to his master’s door with
all the news that was afloat in the areas, butlers’ pantries,
saddle-rooms, and although this gossip originated on the backstairs, it
was welcomed by the heir of great estates, for, at this moment he could
get no direct information, and what his valet brought him was as good as
he could ever get. The valet had reminded my lord that to-day was the
Levee, which the latter was to attend. This amused him very much, for
was it likely that the Admiral, the Field-Marshal, the latest V.C. would
ever venture beyond their bed-rug—oh! that even was gone—to go and meet
their ruler in their skins? No, these things were impossible, and the
structure of Society would soon crumble to ashes if one man unadorned
was to meet another man unclad. Of course Lord Somerville was very
anxious to know whether all London was in the same condition, to which
the faithful valet replied, that he had it from the milkman that
Belgravia was as silent as a tomb, Bayswater a wilderness, and
Buckingham Palace a desert. As to the omnibuses, after one journey up
and down they had given up running at all, as no one wanted a drive, and
the few servants and working-men about preferred walking. Towards seven
o’clock, Lionel felt inclined to have a little food, and he ordered a
grilled sole and a custard. That would do for him, but evidently it did
not do for Temple, who was quite shocked at his master’s abstemiousness,
and recoiled before appearing in front of the cook with such a meagre
menu. “He would be capable of throwing a dish at my head, my lord; he
hardly believed me when I told him your lordship wanted two kidneys for
lunch.”
But Lionel was determined, and would hear of nothing more for dinner and
sent the cook to Jericho through the intermediary of Temple, adding that
he could not eat more when he had no proper exercise, that he had had
sufficient, having eaten when he felt hungry and left off when he had
had enough—which he had not done for many years.
“Yes, my lord,” had respectfully answered the faithful valet, who
perhaps at the same time thought his master’s remark a wise one.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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