In the prosecution of this last duty
Belacqua
was called upon to sustain every kind of abusive denial and suffer Lucy's posthumous temperature to be thrown in his face, as though she were a bottle of white Burgundy.
Samuel Beckett
We can't straddle the fence nicer than that.
Her name it was Thelma bboggs, younger daughter of Mr and Mrs Otto Olaf bboggs. She was not beautiful in the sense that Lucy was; nor could she be said to tran- scend beauty, as the Alba seemed to do; nor yet to have slammed her life and person in its face, as Ruby perhaps had. She brought neither the old men running nor the
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 117
young men to a standstill. To be quite plain she was and always had been so definitely not beautiful that once she was seen she was with difficulty forgotten, which is more than can be said for, say, the Venus Callipyge. Her trouble was to get herself seen in the first instance. But what she did have, as Belacqua never wearied of asserting to him- self, was a most cherharming personality, together with intense appeal, as he repudiated with no less insistence, from the strictly sexual standpoint.
Otto Olaf had made his money in toilet requisites and necessaries. His hobby, since retiring from active participa- tion in the affairs of the splendid firm that was his life-work, brain-child, labour of love and the rest, was choice furni- ture. He was said to have the finest and most comprehen- sive collection of choice furniture in North Great George's Street, from which lousy locality, notwithstanding the prayers of his wife and first-born for a home of their own very own in Foxrock, he refused coarsely to remove. The fondest memories of his boyhood, beguiled as a plumber's improver; the most copious sweats and triumphs of his prime, both in business and (with a surly look at Mrs bboggs) the office and affairs of love, from the vernal equinox, in his self-made sanitary phrase, to the summer solstice of his life; all the ups and downs of a strenuous career, instituted in the meanest household fixture and closing now in the glories of Hepplewhites and bombe commodes, were bound up in good old grand old North Great George's Street, in consideration of which he had pleasure in referring his wife and first-born to that portion of himself which he never desired any person to kick nor volunteered to kiss in another.
The one ground lay under Mr bboggs's contempt for Belacqua and Thelma's consent to be his bride: he was a poet. A poet is indeed a very nubile creature, dowered,
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don't you know, with the love of love, like La Roche- foucauld's woman from her second passion on. So nubile that the women, God bless them, cant resist them, God help them. Except of course those intended merely for breeding and innocent of soul, who prefer, as less likely to upset them, the more balanced and punctual raptures of a chartered accountant or a publisher's reader. Now Thelma, however much she left to be desired, was not a brood- maiden. She had at least the anagram of a good face, while as for soul, sparkling or still as preferred, it was her speciality. Which explains how Belacqua had merely to hold out against no and its derivatives to have her fly in the end, as a swallow to its eave or a long losing jenny down the whirlpool of a pocket, into his keycold embrace.
Mr bboggs, on the other hand, was of Coleridge's opin- ion that every literary man ought to have an illiterate pro- fession. Indeed he seemed to go a step further than Cole- ridge when he asserted, to the embarrassment of Mrs bboggs and Thelma, the satisfaction of his elder daughter Una, for whom an ape had already been set aside in hell, and the alarm of Belacqua, that when he looked round and saw what they called a poet allowing his bilge to interfere with his business he developed a Beltschmerz of such in- tensity that he was obliged to leave the room. The poet present, observing that Mr bboggs remained seated, plucked up courage to exclaim:
"Beltschmerz, Mr bboggs sir, did I hear you say? "
Mr bboggs threw back his head until it seemed as though his dewlap must burst and sang, in the slight sweet tenor that never failed to electrify those that heard it for the first time:
"He wore a belt Whenever he felt
"He took quinine
. "
"Otto" cried Mrs bboggs. "Enough. "
"As clear as a bell" said Belacqua "and I was never told. "
"Yes" said Mr bboggs, "a real quality voice. " He closed his eyes and was back in the bathrooms of his beginnings. "A trifle fine" he conceded.
"Fine how are you! " cried Belacqua. "A real three di- mensional organ, Mr bboggs sir, I give you my word and honour. "
Mrs bboggs had a lover in the Land Commission, so much so in fact that certain ill-intentioned ladies of her acquaintance lost no occasion to insist on the remarkable disparity, in respect not only of physique but of tempera- ment, between Mr bboggs and Thelma: he so sanguine, so bland and solid in every way, which properties, observe, were no less truly to be predicated of his Una; and she such a black wisp of a creature. A most extraordinary anomaly, to put it mildly, and one that could scarcely be ignored by any friend of the family.
The presumptive cuckoo, if not exactly one of those dap-
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 119
A pain in his tiddlypush,
A chemical vest
To cover his chest
When cannoning off the cush. "
Belacqua said in a grieved tone to Mrs bboggs, appre- ciation being most penetrating when oblique:
"I never knew Mr bboggs had such a voice. "
This endowment Mr bboggs, when the dewlap, like a bagful of ferrets, had settled down after a brief convul- sion, proceeded to demean further:
. .
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per little bureaucrats that give the impression of having come into the world dressed by Austin Reed, presented some of the better-known differentiae: the dimpled chin, the bright brown doggy eyes that were so appealing, the unrippled surface of vast white brow whose area was at least double that of the nether face, and anchored there for all eternity the sodden cowlick that looked as though it were secreting macassar to discharge into his eye. With his high heels he attained to five foot five, his nose was long and straight and his shoes a size and a half too large to bear it out. A plug of moustache cowered at his nostrils like a frightened animal before its lair, at the least sign of danger it would scurry up into an antrum. He expelled his words with gentle discrimination, as a pastry-cook squirts icing upon a cake. He had a dirty mind, great assurance and ability towards women, and a cap for every joke, ancient and modern. He drank just a little in public for the sake of sociability, but made up for it in private. His name was Walter Draffin.
The horns of Otto Olaf sat easily upon him. He knew all there was to be known about Walter Draffin and treated him with special consideration. Any man who saved him trouble, as Walter had for so many years, could rely on his esteem. Thus the treacherous bureaucrat was made free of the house in North Great George's Street where, as formerly he had abused that privilege in the bed of his host, so now he did out of his decanter. Indeed he was subject to such vertiginous satisfactions in his elevated position on Saint Augustine's ladder, the deeds of shame with Mrs bboggs beyond recall in the abyss, that the power to tell himself when would desert him completely.
Bridie bboggs was nothing at all, neither as wife, as Otto Olaf had been careful to ascertain before he made her one, nor as mistress, which suited Walter's taste for
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 121
moderation in all things. Unless some small positive value be allowed her in right of the fascination which she seemed to exert over her domestic staff, whose obstinacy in the employment of a mistress neutral to the point of idiocy moved such others as were better equipped and worse served to expressions of admiration that were not free of malice, no doubt.
The elder daughter was very dull. Think of holy Juliana of Norwich, to her aspect add a dash of souring, to her tissue half a hundredweight of adipose, abstract the char- ity and prayers, spray in vain with opopanax and assa- foetida, and behold a radiant Una after a Hammam and a face massage. But withal she rejoiced in one accomplish- ment for which Belacqua had no words to express his re- spect, namely, an ability to play from memory, given the opening bar, any Mozart sonata whatsoever, with a xylo- phonic precision and an even-handed mezzo forte that scorned to observe the least distinction between those notes that were significant and those that were not. Belacqua, anxious to improve his position with Una, who held him and all that pertained to him in the greatest abhorrence, would control these feats, choking with ad- miration, in Augener's edition; which trouble, however, he very soon learned to spare himself.
A little bird whispered when to Walter Draffin who, with his right hand thus released, drew from his pocket a card and read, printed in silver on an azure ground:
Mr and Mrs Otto Olaf bboggs request the pleasure of
Mr Walter Drafrm's Company
at the marriage of their daughter Thelma
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with
Mr Belacqua Shuah
at the Church of Saint Tamar Glasnevin
on Saturday, 1st August,
at 2:30 p. m.
and afterwards
at 55 North Great George's Street
55 North Great George's Street
R. S. V. P.
How like an epitaph it read, with the terrible sigh in the end-pause of each line. And yet, thought Walter, quenching the conceit as he did so, one might have ex- pected a little enjambment in an invitation to such an oc- casion. Ha! He drew back his head from the card in order that he might see it as a whole. A typical Bridie bboggs production. What did it remind him of? A Church of Ire- land Sunday School certificate of good conduct and regu- lar attendance? No. They had his in the old home locked up in the family Bible, marking the place where Lamen- tations ended and Ezekiel began. Then perhaps the menu of an Old Boys Reunion Dinner, incorporating the School colours? No. Walter heaved a heavy sigh. He knew it re- minded him of something, but what that something was, over and above Bridie and her sense of style, he could not discover. No doubt it would come back to him when he was least expecting it. But his little enjambment joke was pretty hot. He slaked it a second time. The only thing he did not like about it was its slight recondity, so few people knowing what an enjambment was. For example, it could not be expected to convulse a snug. Well, he must just put it into his book.
Under separate cover by the same post he received a note from Mrs bboggs : "Dear Walter, Both Otto and I are
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 123
most anxious that you, as such an old friend of the family, should propose the health of the happy couple. We do hope, dear Walter, and I feel confident, that you will. " To which he hastened to reply: "Dear Bridie, Of course I shall be most happy and honoured to perform. "
Dear Otto Olaf! Wrapped up in his tables and chairs and allowing himself to be duped, as he knew, by Walter and, as he thought, by Belacqua. Let Mr Draffin, who had been of service, drink his whiskey; and Thelma, that by- product of a love-encounter, bestow herself on whom she pleased. Let there be a circus wedding by all means, his house invaded and his furniture wrecked. The days that came after would be of better rest. Dear Otto Olaf!
Belacqua prepared to negotiate a loan sufficient to meet his obligations, which fell heavily on a man of his modest condition. There was the ring (Lucy's redeemed), the endless fees relative to the ceremony, duties to vicar, verger, organist, officiating clergymen and bell-ringers, the big bridal bouquet, the little nosegays for the maids, new linen and other indispensable household effects, to say nothing at all of the price of a quick honeymoon, which fiasco, touring Connemara in a borrowed car, he had no intention of allowing to run away with more than a week or ten days.
His best man helped him to work it out over a bottle. —
"I do not propose " said Belacqua, when the average of their independent estimates had been augmented by ten pounds for overhead expenses.
"Overhead! " cackled the best man. "Very good! " Belacqua shrank in a most terrifying manner.
"Either I misunderstand you" he said "or you forget
yourself. "
"Beg pardon" said the best man, "beg pardon, beg par-
don. No offence. "
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Belacqua came back into the picture at his own conven- ience.
"I do not propose" he resumed "to affront you with a gift on this delicate occasion. "
The best man bridled and squirmed at the mere sugges- tion.
"But" Belacqua made haste to extenuate this refinement of feeling "if you would care to have the original manu- script of my Hypothalamion, corrected, autographed, dated, inscribed and half-bound in time-coloured skivers, you are more than welcome. "
Capper Quin, for so we must call him, known to his admirers as Hairy, he was so glabrous, and to the ladies as Tiny, he was so enormous, was not merely a bachelor, and thus qualified to attend Belacqua without violence to etiquette, but also one of the coming writers, which ac- counts for his alacrity to hold the hat of a member of the Cuttings Association. He now choked with gratification.
. " and broke down. To construct a sentence with subject, predicate and
object Hairy required a pencil and a sheet of paper. "Capper" said Belacqua, "say no more. I'll have it made
up for you. "
When Hairy had quite done panting his pleasure he
held up his hand.
"Well" said Belacqua.
"Thyme-coloured" said Hairy, and broke down.
"Well" said Belacqua.
"Sage-green" said Hairy. "Am I right? "
In the dead silence that followed this suggestion Hairy
received the impression that his patron's spirit had left its prison, on ticket of leave at all events, and was already casting about for something light and hey nonny that
"Oh" he gasped "really I
. . .
really you
. .
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 125
would serve to cover his own departure when Belacqua made answer, in a voice blistered with emotion:
"Ouayseau bleheu, couleurre du temps, Vole a mouay, promptement. "
and bust into tears.
Hairy rose and trode with penetrating softness to the
door. Tact, he thought, tact, tact, the need for tact at a time like this.
"Study our duties" sobbed Belacqua "and call me not later than twelve. "
The bboggses were gathered together in conclave.
"Thelma" said Una with asperity "let us kindly have your attention. "
For Thelma's thoughts, truant to the complicated ma- noeuvres required of a snow-white bride, had flown on the usual wings to Galway, Gate of Connaught and dream of stone, and more precisely to the Church of Saint Nicolas whither Belacqua projected, if it were not closed when they arrived, to repair without delay and kneel, with her on his right hand at last for a pleasant change, and invoke, in pursuance of a vow of long standing, the spirits of Crusoe and Columbus, who had knelt there before him. Then no doubt, as they returned by the harbour to inte- grate their room in the Great Southern, she would see the sun sink in the sea. How was it possible to give them her attention with such a prospect opening up before her? Oh well is thee, and happy shalt thou be.
Otto Olaf sang a little song. Mrs bboggs just sat, a big blank beldam, scarcely alive. Una struck the table sharply with a big pencil. When some measure of order had been restored, some little show of attention, she said, consulting her list:
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"We have only five maids: the Clegg twins and the Purefoy triplets. "
This statement was not disputed. It seemed to Otto Olaf that five was a very respectable haul. It would have been considered so in his day.
"But we need nine" cried Una.
By good fortune a thought now presented itself to Mrs bboggs.
"My dear" she said, "would not seven be ample? "
For two pins Una would have walked out of the con- ference.
"I think not" she said.
The idea! As though it were the wind-up of the football season.
"However" she added "it is not my wedding. "
The ironical tone conveyed to this concession provoked Thelma to side with her mother for once. At no time in- deed was this an easy matter, Mrs bboggs being almost as non-partisan as Pope Celestine the fifth. Dante would probably have disliked her on this account.
"I am all in favour" said Thelma "of as few as is decent. "
"It's a very distinguished quorum" said Otto Olaf, "more so even than nine. "
"As head maid" said Una "I protest. "
Again Mrs bboggs came to the rescue. She had never been in such form.
"Then that leaves one" she said.
"What about Ena Nash? " said Thelma.
"Impossible" said Una. "She reeks. "
"Then the McGillycuddy woman" said Otto Olaf.
Mrs bboggs sat up.
"I know of no McGillycuddy woman" said Una.
"Mother, do you know of any McGillycuddy woman? " No, Mrs bboggs was completely in the dark. She and
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 127
Una therefore began to wait indignantly for an explana- tion.
"Sorry" said Otto Olaf, "no offence. "
"But who is the woman? " cried mother and daughter together.
"I spoke without thinking" said Otto Olaf.
Mrs bboggs was utterly nonplussed. How was it possible to name a woman without thinking? The thing was psy- chologically impossible. With mouth ajar and nostrils dilated she goggled psychological impossibilities at the offender.
"Hell roast the pair of you" he said in a sudden pet, "I was only joking. "
Mrs bboggs, though still entirely at a loss, made up her mind in a flash to accept this explanation. Una was not in the least amused. In fact she was sorely tempted to wash her hands of the whole affair.
"I propose Alba Perdue" she said. It was really more a nomination than a proposal.
"That is her last word" observed Otto Olaf.
Alba Perdue, it may be remembered, was the nice little girl in A Wet Night. Thelma, whom Belacqua had favored with his version of that half-remembered love, could hardly dissemble her great satisfaction. When the
turmoil of her blood had sufficiently abated she pro- nounced, in a voice just loud enough to be heard, this most depreciative hyperbole.
"I second that. "
Now it was Otto Olafs turn to make inquiries.
"I understand" said Una who, unlike her father, could
give a plain answer to a plain question, "correct me, Thelma, if I am wrong, an old flame of the groom. "
"Then she won't act" said the simple Otto Olaf.
Even Mrs bboggs could not refrain from joining in the
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outburst of merriment that greeted this fatuity. Una in particular seemed certain to do herself an injury. She trembled and perspired in a most fearful manner.
"Oh my God! " she panted, "won't act! "
But Nature takes care of her own and a loud rending noise was heard. Una stopped laughing and remained perfectly still. Her bodice had laid down its life to save hers.
Belacqua was so quiescent during the fortnight that preceded the ceremony that it almost seemed as though he were to suffer a complete metamorphosis. He had left all the arrangements to the discretion of Capper Quin, saying: "Here is the money, do the best you can. "
But before being overtaken by this inertia, which pro- ceeded partly from fatigue and partly no doubt from the need for self-purification, he had been kept busy in a num- ber of ways: finding a usurer, redeeming the ring, and searching among the hags for two to tally with Mr and Mrs bboggs in the interest of the nuptial jamboree.
In the prosecution of this last duty Belacqua was called upon to sustain every kind of abusive denial and suffer Lucy's posthumous temperature to be thrown in his face, as though she were a bottle of white Burgundy. Until finally a female cousin, so remote as to be scarcely credible, and a kind of moot Struldbrug, to whom Belacqua's father had used to refer as "dear old Jimmy the Duck," agreed to rise to the occasion. Hermione Nautzsche and James Skyrm were the names of these two deadbeats. Belacqua had not laid eyes on either of them since he was an infant prodigy.
Except for a short daily visit from Thelma, swallowed as being all in the game. Belacqua's retreat was undis- turbed. The wedding gifts flowed in, not upon him, for
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 129
he was friendless, but upon her, and she encouraged him day by day with the bulletin of their development.
She arrived one afternoon in a state of some excitement. Belacqua raised himself in the bed to be kissed, which he was with such unexpected voracity that he went weak before the end. Poor fellow, he had not been giving due attention to his meals.
"Your present is got" she said.
To Belacqua, who had been setting aside a portion of each day for polyglot splendours, this phrase came as a great shock. Perhaps the present would make him amends.
"It came this morning" she said.
"At what time exactly? " said Belacqua, easing his nerves in the usual sneer. "That is most important. "
"What devil" said Thelma, her gaiety all gone, "makes you so beastly? "
Ah, if he only knew.
"But it so happens" she said "that I can tell you. " Belacqua thought for a bit and then plumped for saying
nothing.
"Because" she proceeded "the first thing I did was to
set it. "
The hideous truth dawned on his mind.
"Not a clock" he implored, "don't say a grandfather
clock. "
"The grandfather and mother" she did say "of a period
clock. "
He turned his face to the wall. He who of late years
and with the approval of Lucy would not tolerate a chronometer of any kind in the house, for whom the local publication of the hours was six of the best on the brain every hour, and even the sun's shadow a torment, now to have this time-fuse deafen the rest of his days. It was enough to make him break off the engagement.
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Long after she had gone he tossed and turned until the thought, like God appearing to a soul in hell, that he could always spike the monster's escapement and turn its death's-head to the wall, came in the morning with the canticle of the ring-doves. Then he slept.
What time Capper Quin was here, there and every- where, attending to the interests of his principal. Con- scious of his own shortcomings in a matter so far removed from the integrities of self-expression, he engaged, on the basis of a modest inverted commission, to aid him in his work, one Sproule, a lately axed jobber to a firm in the City, whose winning manner and familiarity with the shopping centres north of the river were beyond rubies. Bright and early on the fateful Saturday they met to buy the bouquets, the big one for the bride and the seven nosegays.
"Mrs bboggs" said Hairy, "ought we? " "Ought we what? " said Sproule.
"I thought maybe a bloom" said Hairy. "Superfoetation" said Sproule.
He led the way to a florist's off Mary Street. The proprietress, having just discovered among her stock an antirrhinum with the rudiment of a fifth stamen, was highly delighted.
"Oh, Mr Sproule sir" she exclaimed, "would you be-
. "
lieve it . .
"Good morning" said Sproule. "One large orchid and
seven of your best ox-eyes. "
Now Capper Quin, however unsuited to strike a bar-
gain, was endowed with a sense of fitness, and one so ex- quisite indeed that he could make himself clear in its defence.
"On behalf of my client" he said "I must insist on two orchids. "
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 131
"By all means" said Sproule. "Make it three, make it a dozen. "
"Two" repeated Hairy.
"Two large orchids" said Sproule "and seven of your best ox-eyes. "
As though by magic wand the nine blooms appeared in her hand.
"Four lots" said Sproule, "one, two, three and one with orchids. " Rapidly he equated addresses and consignments on a sheet of paper. "So" he said, "first thing. "
She now mentioned a sum that caused the buyer great amusement. He appealed to Hairy.
"Mr Quin" he said, "do I wake or sleep? "
She not merely made good her figures but mentioned that she had to live. Sproule could not see the connexion. He pinched his cheek to make sure he was not in Nassau Street.
"My dear madam" he said, "we do not have to live in Nassau Street. "
This thrust so weakened his adversary that she suffered him to place specie in her hand.
"Take this" he said, in a eucharistic voice, "or leave it. "
The cold alloy in her hot palm, conjoined with the de- pression and the urge to live, determined the issue in Sproule's favour. Upon which the combatants shook hands with great heartiness. How could there be any question of rancour when both were fully satisfied of having ob- tained the victory?
Sproule, his duties at an end, received his commission in the Oval bar, where nothing would do him but that Hairy should toast his employer in gin and peppermint.
"Happy dawg" said Sproule. He had come unscathed through the Great War.
The hyperaesthesia of Hairy was so great that the mere
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fact of standing on licensed ground, without the least reference to its liberties, was of force sufficient to ex- hilarate him. Now therefore, under the influence of his situation, he dilated with splendid incoherence on the contradiction involved in the idea of a happy Belacqua and on the impertinence of desiring that he should dero- gate into such an anomaly.
"Fornication" he vociferated "before the Shekinah. "
This observation was accompanied and graced by a spasm of such passionate repugnance that it was no less an act of charity on the part of the ex-jobber, who was familiar with Boy Scouts and their ways and knew that he might never pass that way again, to substitute his empty glass for the bumper of his agitated companion.
In the bright street a bitter-sweet sorrow entered into Sproule, sweet at parting, bitter at the knowledge that his services were no longer required.
"Farewell" he said, flinging out his dreadful hand, "may luck rise with you on the way. "
But Hairy was too full, too overcome by the fumes of his position, to shake, let alone reply. He stepped, as upon an Underground escalator, into the stream of pedestrians and was gone. Sproule raised his sad eyes to the sky and saw the day, its outstanding hours that could not be numbered, in the form of a beautiful Girl Guide galante, reclining among the clouds. She beckoned to him with her second finger, like one preparing a certificate in piano- forte, Junior Grade, at the Leinster School of Music. Closing his mind softly on this delicious vision, feeling it in his mind like a sponge of toilet vinegar on a fever, he advanced into the Oval towards it.
Whom should Hairy meet on the crest of the Metal Bridge but Walter Draffin, fresh from his effeminate ablutions and as spruce and keen as a new-ground hatchet
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 133
in his miniature tails and stripes. The sun shone bright upon him, his languorous poll, for he carried his topper crown downward in his hand. The two gentlemen were on speaking terms.
"This is where I stand" said the little creature, with a sigh that made Hairy look nervously round for prisons and palaces, "and watch the Liffey swim. "
"Blue-eyed cats" quoted the colossal Capper, for no other reason than that the phrase had been running in his mind and now here was a chance to discharge it on a wit, "are always deaf. "
Walter smiled, he felt greatly pleased, he held up his little face to the kindly sun like a child to be kissed.
"The burrowing tucutucu" he answered "is occasionally blind, but the mole is never sober. "
The mole is never sober. A profound mot. Hairy, having tried all he knew to say as much, hung his head, a gallant loser, consoled by the certitude that Walter would take the will for the deed. Poor Hairy, there was a great deal he understood, but he could not make this known in the absence of a battery of writing materials.
"That unspeakable invite" exclaimed Walter, "of all things to be destitute of enjambment! "
He was confirmed in his initial misgiving by Hairy's having clearly no idea what he was talking about. There was nothing for it but to put it into his book. Walter's book was a long time in coming out because he refused to regard it as anything more than a mere dump for what- ever he could not get off his chest in the ordinary way.
"So off you go" he said "to attend your happy client, and I to buy myself a buttonhole. "
This, ensuing so soon upon mole and enjambment, brought Hairy's brain to the boil, and out of his mouth came the one word "rose" like a big bubble.
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"Blood-red and newly born" said Walter "to aromatic pain. Eh? "
Hairy, with a sudden feeling that he was wasting his client's time and his own precarious energies on a kind of rubber Stalin, took his departure with a more than boorish abruptness, leaving Walter to enjoy the great central agency and hang out as it were his cowlick to air or dry. A passing humorist dropped a penny into the empty hat, it fell on the rich wadding without a sound, and so the joke was lost.
In Parliament Street a funeral passed and Hairy did not uncover. Many of the chief mourners, consoling them- selves in no small measure with the reverence expressed by every section of the community, noticed with rage in their hearts that he did not, though to be sure they made no allusion to it at the time. Let this be a lesson to young men, strangers perhaps to sorrow, to uncover when- ever a funeral passes, less in act of respect towards the de- funct than in sympathetic acknowledgment of the sur- vivors. One of these fine days Hairy will observe, from where he sits bearing up bravely behind the hearse in a family knot, a labourer let go of his pick with one hand, or gay dandy snatch both his out of his pockets, in a ges- ture of more value and comfort than a ton of lilies. Take the case of Belacqua, who ever since the commitment of his Lucy wears a hat, contrary to his inclination, on the off chance of his encountering a cortege.
The best man had received instructions to collect in Molesworth Street the Morgan, fast but noisy, lent for the period of the high time journey by a friend of the bboggses. Needless to say some eejit had parked it so far up towards the arty end that luckless Hairy, coming from the west upon the stand after the usual Duke Street com-
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 135
plications, hastening along the shady southern pavement because he felt there was not a moment to lose, was almost in despair of ever finding the solitary hind-wheel that he had been advised to look out for. He was much relieved to espy it at last, last but one or two in the row, but embarrassed also to remark a group made up of small boys, loafers and the official stand attendant gathered round and passing judgment on the strange machine's design and performance. He kept his head none the less and examined the car, as he had been strictly enjoined to do, for any hymeneal insignia that might have been annexed, doubtless with the very best intentions, to its body, such as a boot, an inscription or other shameful badge. Satisfied that there were none, he hoisted his vast frame on board the light weight which thereupon reduced
the expert comment of the bystanders, if we except the attendant who was most grave and attentive, to jeers and laughter, by rocking like a cockle-shell. Hairy, wondering what on earth to do next, sat blushing and hopeless at the controls. The general provisions for starting a motor engine were familiar to him, and these in every imagi- nable combination he fruitlessly applied to that, excep- tional presumably, fitted to the Morgan. The boys were most anxious to push, the loafers to give a tow, while the at- tendant could not be deterred from flooding the car- burettor and swinging the engine, which started most perversely and unexpectedly with a backfire that broke the obliging fellow's arm. Hairy was so pressed for time that he hardened his heart to the consistence of an Ueber- mensch's, roared his engine and found himself abruptly, in a paroxysm of plunges and saccades, cutting the corner of Kildare Street under the prow of a bus, which happily did no more than remove the back number-plate and thus
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provide, not merely a neat instance of poetic justice, but the winged attendant with the nucleus of compensation.
All these little encounters and contretemps take place in a Dublin flooded with sunshine.
Belacqua had passed an excellent night, as he always did when he condescended to assign precise value to the content of his mind, no matter whether that were joy or sorrow, and did not awake when Hairy stalled the ma- chine beneath his window on the cruel stroke of midday. Much liquor in secret the previous evening may have contributed to this torpor, but scarcely if at all, for many and many a time when footless, and simply because the forces in his mind would not resolve, he had tossed and turned like the Florence of Sordello, and found all pos- tures painful.
He opened his burning eyes on Hairy, rose, bathed, shaved and decked himself out, all in silence and without the least assistance. They plunged the packed bag in the well of the Morgan. Belacqua stood before the pier-glass.
"It's a small thing, Hairy" he said, and his voice, after so long silence, grated on his ear, "separates lovers. "
"Not mountain chain" said Hairy.
"No, nor city ramparts" said Belacqua.
Hairy made a lunge of condolence at his companion,
he simply could not help it, and was repulsed.
"Am I all right behind? " asked Belacqua.
"You know what it is" said Hairy, asserting thus and
with a clarity quite unusual in him his independence and intolerance of all posterior aspects, "you perish in your own plenty. "
Belacqua pressed apart his lips with his forefinger.
"If what I love" he said "were only in Australia. " Capper the faithful companion simply faded away, at
least for the purposes of conversation.
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 137
"Whereas what I am on the look out for" said Belacqua, pursuing it would almost seem his train of thought, "is nowhere as far as I can see. "
"Vobiscum" whispered Capper. "Am I right? "
A cloud obscured the sun, the room grew dark, the light ebbed from the pier-glass and Belacqua, feeling his eyes moist, turned away from the blurred image of himself.
"Remember" he said, "true of me now who have ceased to Charleston: Dum vivit aut bibit aut minxit. Take a note of it now. "
The Quaker's get!
Then driving through the City it occurred to him that an empty buttonhole would be the haporth of tar and no error. So he entered a flower-shop and came out with a purple tassel of veronica, fixed in the wrong lapel. Hairy stared. What startled him was not so much the breach of etiquette as the foolhardiness of getting married in a turned suit.
A pestilential hotel was their next stop. Hairy changed his clothes and looked more mangy king of beasts than ever. Belacqua lunched frugally on stout and scallions, scarcely the meal, one would have thought, for a man about to be married for the second time. However.
At the Church of Saint Tamar, pointed almost to the point of indecency, the maids, attired in glove-tight gos- samer and sporting the awful ox-eyes, having just been joined by Mrs bboggs, who had chosen gauze and a bunch of omphalodes in her bosom, and Walter, very shaky and exalted, were massed in the porch when Morgante and Morgutte, to adopt the venomous reference of Una, not arm in arm but in single file, came forward. All but Walter were taken quite aback by the bridegroom's breath. Mrs bboggs buried her face (poor little Thelma! ) in the omphalodes, the Cleggs turned scarlet in unison, the
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Purefoys crowded into a shade, while Una was only re- strained by her hatred of anything in the nature of sacri- lege from spitting it out. Miss Perdue found the smell rather refreshing. The cad and his faithful companion advanced to the chancel and took up their stand beside the gate, the latter to the right and a little to the rear, holding a hat in each hand.
The south pews were plentifully furnished with mem- bers and adherents of the bboggs clan, while those to the north were empty save for two grotesques, seated far apart: Jimmy the Duck Skyrm, an aged cretin, outrageous in pepper and salt, Lavalliere and pull-over, gnashing his teeth without ceasing at invisible spaghetti; and Hermione Nautzsche, a powerfully built nymphomaniac panting in black and mauve between shipped crutches. Her missing sexual hemisphere, despite a keen look out all her life long, had somehow never entered her orbit, and now, bursting as she was with chalk at every joint, she had no great hopes of being rounded off in that interesting sense. Little does she dream what a flurry she has set up in the spirits of Skyrm, as he gobbles and mumbles the air at
the precise remove of enchantment behind her.
"Ecce" hissed Hairy, according to plan, and Belacqua's heart made a hopeless dash against the wall of its box, the church suddenly cruciform cage, the bulldogs of heaven holding the chancel, the procession about to give tongue in the porch, the transepts culs-de-sac. The organist darted into his loft like an assassin and set in motion the various forces that could be relied on to mature in
a merry peal all in good time. Thelma, looking very strik- ing and illegitimate in grey and green pieds de poule, split skirt and pique insertions of negress pink, swept up the aisle on the right arm of Otto Olaf, in whose head
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 139
since leaving 55 a snatch had been churning and did not now desert him:
Drink little at a time,
Put water in your wine,
Miss your glass when you can, And go off the first man.
Wise old Otto Olaf! He died in the end of clot and left his cellar to the cuckoo.
The maids, terminating in the curious deltoid forma- tion of the Alba, Mrs bboggs and Walter, took their speed from the bride and their demeanour from the head-maid, with the result that their advance was at once rapid and sullen, for Una had become aware of an uncontrollable and ill-placed dehiscence in the stuff of her gossamer. The dread lest this should come to a head as she braced her- self to receive her foul little sister's gloves and bouquet, over and above an habitual misanthropy aggravated by the occasion, had made her, and hence her team of maids, appear as cross as two sticks. Always excepting the Alba who, bating the old pain in the core of her vitals that seemed to be a permanent part of her existence, could scarcely have been more diverted had she been the bride herself instead of the odd maid out. Also with Walter so close on her heels she was kept busy.
Without going so far as to say that Belacqua felt God or Thelma the sum of the Apostolic series, still there was in some indeterminate way communicated to the solem- nisation a kind or sort of mystical radiance that Joseph Smith would have found touching. Belacqua passed the ring like a mouse belling the cat, with a quick prayer all his own that the marriage knuckle of his love might so
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swell against the token and pledge as to spare her the pain of ever reading, inscribed on its inner periphery: Mens mea Lucia lucescit luce tua. His state of mind was so tense and complex at this stage (not to be wondered at when we consider all that he had gone through: the bereavement, obliging him to wear a hat at all seasons; the sweet and fierce pain of his passion for Miss bboggs; the long retreat in bed that had landed him in a nice marasmus; the stout and scallions; and now the sense of being cauterized with an outward and visible sign) that it might be likened to that of his dear departed Lucy listening pale and agog for the second incidence of
in the first movement of the Unbuttoned Symphony. Say what you will, you can't keep a dead mind down.
Talking of cats, Thelma remained throughout the serv- ice feline and inscrutable and was not at all incommoded by the famous viticultural passage which so abashed, or perhaps better angered, Belacqua that his platter face went from its native dingy to scarlet and back again throughlivid. Shouldhethenavailhimselfofthefirst . . . opportunity to sulphurate his bride and thus make sure? No, that would be doing the dirty on man's innocency. And make sure of what? Olives? The absurdity of the figure and all its harmonics like muscae volitantes pro- voked him to a copious scoff that would have put the kibosh on the sacrament altogether had it not been for the coolness and skill of the priest who covered as with a hand this coarseness with a collect.
Talking of hands, Thelma's right, as it danced through the find-the-lady sleights recommended in the liturgy, had quite bewitched the chancel. The curate swore he had
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 141
never seen anything like it outside the Musee Rodin, it reminded the clerk of a Diirer cartoon and the priest of his incumbency, and it indicted Belacqua, tempest of stifled groans at having to produce anti-clockwise eyes and ges- tures for so long at a stretch, with Maupassant's scorching phrase: phylloxera of the spirit.
At length they had consented together beyond all pos- sibility of cavil, the dearly beloved had for ever after held their peace and then let their cry come with a rush, and Otto Olaf's rendering of:
Be present, awful Father! To give away this bride
had so moved the Sidneian heart of Skyrm that he trans- ferred himself, for better for worse, into the pew where Hermione sat as on a thwart, and there, under cover of a kinsman's seasonable emotion, rooted and snuffled his way into her affections with a suilline avidity that can only have seemed horrible to any decent person not con- versant with the phenomenon of crystallisation. The vestry was over, its signatures, duties and busses, and Mrs bboggs was back in 55, whipping the muslin off the Delikatessen, almost before the organist had regained control of his instrument. The Alba went with Walter in a taxi, Otto Olaf and Morgutte took a tram, the two grotesques never knew how they got there, while as for the maids, all but Una who wisely huddled on a cloak and cadged a lift, why they just floated on foot like brownies through the garish thoroughfares.
These are the little things that are so important.
To say that the drawing-room was thronged would be to put it mildly. It was stiff with guests. Otto Olaf found himself in that most painful of all possible positions, con-
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strained to see his furniture, his loved ones, suffer and know himself helpless to relieve them.
There was something so bright and meaty about the assembly, something so whorled in its disposition with the procession loosely coiled in the midst waiting to move off, that Walter was slowly but surely put in mind of a Benozzo fresco and said so in his high-smelling voice to the Alba.
"Ass and all" she replied, with indescribable bitterness.
Una stamped her foot like a sheep and like sheep all present turned scared faces towards her. She had some- how contrived to consolidate and shore up her gossamer, but now she had fresh grounds for complaint, namely, that the newly married couple, who should have been first home and in position for congratulations, had actually not yet turned up. Thus the action was brought to a dead halt. In its present headless condition the procession could not uncoil itself out through the door as arranged, and it was obvious that until the procession uncoiled itself there could be no relief for the congestion of casual ladies and gentlemen of which it was, so to speak, the mainspring. But let the truant pair appear and take their station and lo the press, as though by magic, would tick off merrily to its stand-up lunch. In the meantime, what a waste of good saliva!
"Raise me up Mr Quin" cried Una, in her anger throw- ing caution to the winds.
Hairy looked wildly at the bust of his partner, for so she was in pursuance of the regulations, they together forming —to vary the figure slightly—the fourth link of this nup- tial hawser, in the immediate rear, that is, of Mrs bboggs and Skyrm, who in their turn surveyed the massive flitches of Hermione, sagging and flagging in her crutches as in a quicksand, and poor Otto Olaf, trembling in every limb
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 143
—looked wildly at it for a point of purchase at once effec- tive and respectful, some form of nelson that would not be too familiar, though for what purpose she desired to be raised he did not pause to inquire.
But before he could begin to make a mess of it in his flushing blushing panting ponderous way a great pertur- bation, dominated by the voice of Belacqua raised in abuse, made itself heard in the vestibule. This was they at last, but escorted by a pukkah Civic Guard of the highest rank compatible with duty and the stricken car- park attendant, as pale as a stone and clutching in his whole hand the damning number-plate.
Otto Olaf inserted his elbow in the eye of Hermione's crutch and released a dig.
Her name it was Thelma bboggs, younger daughter of Mr and Mrs Otto Olaf bboggs. She was not beautiful in the sense that Lucy was; nor could she be said to tran- scend beauty, as the Alba seemed to do; nor yet to have slammed her life and person in its face, as Ruby perhaps had. She brought neither the old men running nor the
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 117
young men to a standstill. To be quite plain she was and always had been so definitely not beautiful that once she was seen she was with difficulty forgotten, which is more than can be said for, say, the Venus Callipyge. Her trouble was to get herself seen in the first instance. But what she did have, as Belacqua never wearied of asserting to him- self, was a most cherharming personality, together with intense appeal, as he repudiated with no less insistence, from the strictly sexual standpoint.
Otto Olaf had made his money in toilet requisites and necessaries. His hobby, since retiring from active participa- tion in the affairs of the splendid firm that was his life-work, brain-child, labour of love and the rest, was choice furni- ture. He was said to have the finest and most comprehen- sive collection of choice furniture in North Great George's Street, from which lousy locality, notwithstanding the prayers of his wife and first-born for a home of their own very own in Foxrock, he refused coarsely to remove. The fondest memories of his boyhood, beguiled as a plumber's improver; the most copious sweats and triumphs of his prime, both in business and (with a surly look at Mrs bboggs) the office and affairs of love, from the vernal equinox, in his self-made sanitary phrase, to the summer solstice of his life; all the ups and downs of a strenuous career, instituted in the meanest household fixture and closing now in the glories of Hepplewhites and bombe commodes, were bound up in good old grand old North Great George's Street, in consideration of which he had pleasure in referring his wife and first-born to that portion of himself which he never desired any person to kick nor volunteered to kiss in another.
The one ground lay under Mr bboggs's contempt for Belacqua and Thelma's consent to be his bride: he was a poet. A poet is indeed a very nubile creature, dowered,
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don't you know, with the love of love, like La Roche- foucauld's woman from her second passion on. So nubile that the women, God bless them, cant resist them, God help them. Except of course those intended merely for breeding and innocent of soul, who prefer, as less likely to upset them, the more balanced and punctual raptures of a chartered accountant or a publisher's reader. Now Thelma, however much she left to be desired, was not a brood- maiden. She had at least the anagram of a good face, while as for soul, sparkling or still as preferred, it was her speciality. Which explains how Belacqua had merely to hold out against no and its derivatives to have her fly in the end, as a swallow to its eave or a long losing jenny down the whirlpool of a pocket, into his keycold embrace.
Mr bboggs, on the other hand, was of Coleridge's opin- ion that every literary man ought to have an illiterate pro- fession. Indeed he seemed to go a step further than Cole- ridge when he asserted, to the embarrassment of Mrs bboggs and Thelma, the satisfaction of his elder daughter Una, for whom an ape had already been set aside in hell, and the alarm of Belacqua, that when he looked round and saw what they called a poet allowing his bilge to interfere with his business he developed a Beltschmerz of such in- tensity that he was obliged to leave the room. The poet present, observing that Mr bboggs remained seated, plucked up courage to exclaim:
"Beltschmerz, Mr bboggs sir, did I hear you say? "
Mr bboggs threw back his head until it seemed as though his dewlap must burst and sang, in the slight sweet tenor that never failed to electrify those that heard it for the first time:
"He wore a belt Whenever he felt
"He took quinine
. "
"Otto" cried Mrs bboggs. "Enough. "
"As clear as a bell" said Belacqua "and I was never told. "
"Yes" said Mr bboggs, "a real quality voice. " He closed his eyes and was back in the bathrooms of his beginnings. "A trifle fine" he conceded.
"Fine how are you! " cried Belacqua. "A real three di- mensional organ, Mr bboggs sir, I give you my word and honour. "
Mrs bboggs had a lover in the Land Commission, so much so in fact that certain ill-intentioned ladies of her acquaintance lost no occasion to insist on the remarkable disparity, in respect not only of physique but of tempera- ment, between Mr bboggs and Thelma: he so sanguine, so bland and solid in every way, which properties, observe, were no less truly to be predicated of his Una; and she such a black wisp of a creature. A most extraordinary anomaly, to put it mildly, and one that could scarcely be ignored by any friend of the family.
The presumptive cuckoo, if not exactly one of those dap-
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 119
A pain in his tiddlypush,
A chemical vest
To cover his chest
When cannoning off the cush. "
Belacqua said in a grieved tone to Mrs bboggs, appre- ciation being most penetrating when oblique:
"I never knew Mr bboggs had such a voice. "
This endowment Mr bboggs, when the dewlap, like a bagful of ferrets, had settled down after a brief convul- sion, proceeded to demean further:
. .
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per little bureaucrats that give the impression of having come into the world dressed by Austin Reed, presented some of the better-known differentiae: the dimpled chin, the bright brown doggy eyes that were so appealing, the unrippled surface of vast white brow whose area was at least double that of the nether face, and anchored there for all eternity the sodden cowlick that looked as though it were secreting macassar to discharge into his eye. With his high heels he attained to five foot five, his nose was long and straight and his shoes a size and a half too large to bear it out. A plug of moustache cowered at his nostrils like a frightened animal before its lair, at the least sign of danger it would scurry up into an antrum. He expelled his words with gentle discrimination, as a pastry-cook squirts icing upon a cake. He had a dirty mind, great assurance and ability towards women, and a cap for every joke, ancient and modern. He drank just a little in public for the sake of sociability, but made up for it in private. His name was Walter Draffin.
The horns of Otto Olaf sat easily upon him. He knew all there was to be known about Walter Draffin and treated him with special consideration. Any man who saved him trouble, as Walter had for so many years, could rely on his esteem. Thus the treacherous bureaucrat was made free of the house in North Great George's Street where, as formerly he had abused that privilege in the bed of his host, so now he did out of his decanter. Indeed he was subject to such vertiginous satisfactions in his elevated position on Saint Augustine's ladder, the deeds of shame with Mrs bboggs beyond recall in the abyss, that the power to tell himself when would desert him completely.
Bridie bboggs was nothing at all, neither as wife, as Otto Olaf had been careful to ascertain before he made her one, nor as mistress, which suited Walter's taste for
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 121
moderation in all things. Unless some small positive value be allowed her in right of the fascination which she seemed to exert over her domestic staff, whose obstinacy in the employment of a mistress neutral to the point of idiocy moved such others as were better equipped and worse served to expressions of admiration that were not free of malice, no doubt.
The elder daughter was very dull. Think of holy Juliana of Norwich, to her aspect add a dash of souring, to her tissue half a hundredweight of adipose, abstract the char- ity and prayers, spray in vain with opopanax and assa- foetida, and behold a radiant Una after a Hammam and a face massage. But withal she rejoiced in one accomplish- ment for which Belacqua had no words to express his re- spect, namely, an ability to play from memory, given the opening bar, any Mozart sonata whatsoever, with a xylo- phonic precision and an even-handed mezzo forte that scorned to observe the least distinction between those notes that were significant and those that were not. Belacqua, anxious to improve his position with Una, who held him and all that pertained to him in the greatest abhorrence, would control these feats, choking with ad- miration, in Augener's edition; which trouble, however, he very soon learned to spare himself.
A little bird whispered when to Walter Draffin who, with his right hand thus released, drew from his pocket a card and read, printed in silver on an azure ground:
Mr and Mrs Otto Olaf bboggs request the pleasure of
Mr Walter Drafrm's Company
at the marriage of their daughter Thelma
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with
Mr Belacqua Shuah
at the Church of Saint Tamar Glasnevin
on Saturday, 1st August,
at 2:30 p. m.
and afterwards
at 55 North Great George's Street
55 North Great George's Street
R. S. V. P.
How like an epitaph it read, with the terrible sigh in the end-pause of each line. And yet, thought Walter, quenching the conceit as he did so, one might have ex- pected a little enjambment in an invitation to such an oc- casion. Ha! He drew back his head from the card in order that he might see it as a whole. A typical Bridie bboggs production. What did it remind him of? A Church of Ire- land Sunday School certificate of good conduct and regu- lar attendance? No. They had his in the old home locked up in the family Bible, marking the place where Lamen- tations ended and Ezekiel began. Then perhaps the menu of an Old Boys Reunion Dinner, incorporating the School colours? No. Walter heaved a heavy sigh. He knew it re- minded him of something, but what that something was, over and above Bridie and her sense of style, he could not discover. No doubt it would come back to him when he was least expecting it. But his little enjambment joke was pretty hot. He slaked it a second time. The only thing he did not like about it was its slight recondity, so few people knowing what an enjambment was. For example, it could not be expected to convulse a snug. Well, he must just put it into his book.
Under separate cover by the same post he received a note from Mrs bboggs : "Dear Walter, Both Otto and I are
WHAT A MISFORTUNE 123
most anxious that you, as such an old friend of the family, should propose the health of the happy couple. We do hope, dear Walter, and I feel confident, that you will. " To which he hastened to reply: "Dear Bridie, Of course I shall be most happy and honoured to perform. "
Dear Otto Olaf! Wrapped up in his tables and chairs and allowing himself to be duped, as he knew, by Walter and, as he thought, by Belacqua. Let Mr Draffin, who had been of service, drink his whiskey; and Thelma, that by- product of a love-encounter, bestow herself on whom she pleased. Let there be a circus wedding by all means, his house invaded and his furniture wrecked. The days that came after would be of better rest. Dear Otto Olaf!
Belacqua prepared to negotiate a loan sufficient to meet his obligations, which fell heavily on a man of his modest condition. There was the ring (Lucy's redeemed), the endless fees relative to the ceremony, duties to vicar, verger, organist, officiating clergymen and bell-ringers, the big bridal bouquet, the little nosegays for the maids, new linen and other indispensable household effects, to say nothing at all of the price of a quick honeymoon, which fiasco, touring Connemara in a borrowed car, he had no intention of allowing to run away with more than a week or ten days.
His best man helped him to work it out over a bottle. —
"I do not propose " said Belacqua, when the average of their independent estimates had been augmented by ten pounds for overhead expenses.
"Overhead! " cackled the best man. "Very good! " Belacqua shrank in a most terrifying manner.
"Either I misunderstand you" he said "or you forget
yourself. "
"Beg pardon" said the best man, "beg pardon, beg par-
don. No offence. "
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Belacqua came back into the picture at his own conven- ience.
"I do not propose" he resumed "to affront you with a gift on this delicate occasion. "
The best man bridled and squirmed at the mere sugges- tion.
"But" Belacqua made haste to extenuate this refinement of feeling "if you would care to have the original manu- script of my Hypothalamion, corrected, autographed, dated, inscribed and half-bound in time-coloured skivers, you are more than welcome. "
Capper Quin, for so we must call him, known to his admirers as Hairy, he was so glabrous, and to the ladies as Tiny, he was so enormous, was not merely a bachelor, and thus qualified to attend Belacqua without violence to etiquette, but also one of the coming writers, which ac- counts for his alacrity to hold the hat of a member of the Cuttings Association. He now choked with gratification.
. " and broke down. To construct a sentence with subject, predicate and
object Hairy required a pencil and a sheet of paper. "Capper" said Belacqua, "say no more. I'll have it made
up for you. "
When Hairy had quite done panting his pleasure he
held up his hand.
"Well" said Belacqua.
"Thyme-coloured" said Hairy, and broke down.
"Well" said Belacqua.
"Sage-green" said Hairy. "Am I right? "
In the dead silence that followed this suggestion Hairy
received the impression that his patron's spirit had left its prison, on ticket of leave at all events, and was already casting about for something light and hey nonny that
"Oh" he gasped "really I
. . .
really you
. .
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would serve to cover his own departure when Belacqua made answer, in a voice blistered with emotion:
"Ouayseau bleheu, couleurre du temps, Vole a mouay, promptement. "
and bust into tears.
Hairy rose and trode with penetrating softness to the
door. Tact, he thought, tact, tact, the need for tact at a time like this.
"Study our duties" sobbed Belacqua "and call me not later than twelve. "
The bboggses were gathered together in conclave.
"Thelma" said Una with asperity "let us kindly have your attention. "
For Thelma's thoughts, truant to the complicated ma- noeuvres required of a snow-white bride, had flown on the usual wings to Galway, Gate of Connaught and dream of stone, and more precisely to the Church of Saint Nicolas whither Belacqua projected, if it were not closed when they arrived, to repair without delay and kneel, with her on his right hand at last for a pleasant change, and invoke, in pursuance of a vow of long standing, the spirits of Crusoe and Columbus, who had knelt there before him. Then no doubt, as they returned by the harbour to inte- grate their room in the Great Southern, she would see the sun sink in the sea. How was it possible to give them her attention with such a prospect opening up before her? Oh well is thee, and happy shalt thou be.
Otto Olaf sang a little song. Mrs bboggs just sat, a big blank beldam, scarcely alive. Una struck the table sharply with a big pencil. When some measure of order had been restored, some little show of attention, she said, consulting her list:
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"We have only five maids: the Clegg twins and the Purefoy triplets. "
This statement was not disputed. It seemed to Otto Olaf that five was a very respectable haul. It would have been considered so in his day.
"But we need nine" cried Una.
By good fortune a thought now presented itself to Mrs bboggs.
"My dear" she said, "would not seven be ample? "
For two pins Una would have walked out of the con- ference.
"I think not" she said.
The idea! As though it were the wind-up of the football season.
"However" she added "it is not my wedding. "
The ironical tone conveyed to this concession provoked Thelma to side with her mother for once. At no time in- deed was this an easy matter, Mrs bboggs being almost as non-partisan as Pope Celestine the fifth. Dante would probably have disliked her on this account.
"I am all in favour" said Thelma "of as few as is decent. "
"It's a very distinguished quorum" said Otto Olaf, "more so even than nine. "
"As head maid" said Una "I protest. "
Again Mrs bboggs came to the rescue. She had never been in such form.
"Then that leaves one" she said.
"What about Ena Nash? " said Thelma.
"Impossible" said Una. "She reeks. "
"Then the McGillycuddy woman" said Otto Olaf.
Mrs bboggs sat up.
"I know of no McGillycuddy woman" said Una.
"Mother, do you know of any McGillycuddy woman? " No, Mrs bboggs was completely in the dark. She and
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Una therefore began to wait indignantly for an explana- tion.
"Sorry" said Otto Olaf, "no offence. "
"But who is the woman? " cried mother and daughter together.
"I spoke without thinking" said Otto Olaf.
Mrs bboggs was utterly nonplussed. How was it possible to name a woman without thinking? The thing was psy- chologically impossible. With mouth ajar and nostrils dilated she goggled psychological impossibilities at the offender.
"Hell roast the pair of you" he said in a sudden pet, "I was only joking. "
Mrs bboggs, though still entirely at a loss, made up her mind in a flash to accept this explanation. Una was not in the least amused. In fact she was sorely tempted to wash her hands of the whole affair.
"I propose Alba Perdue" she said. It was really more a nomination than a proposal.
"That is her last word" observed Otto Olaf.
Alba Perdue, it may be remembered, was the nice little girl in A Wet Night. Thelma, whom Belacqua had favored with his version of that half-remembered love, could hardly dissemble her great satisfaction. When the
turmoil of her blood had sufficiently abated she pro- nounced, in a voice just loud enough to be heard, this most depreciative hyperbole.
"I second that. "
Now it was Otto Olafs turn to make inquiries.
"I understand" said Una who, unlike her father, could
give a plain answer to a plain question, "correct me, Thelma, if I am wrong, an old flame of the groom. "
"Then she won't act" said the simple Otto Olaf.
Even Mrs bboggs could not refrain from joining in the
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outburst of merriment that greeted this fatuity. Una in particular seemed certain to do herself an injury. She trembled and perspired in a most fearful manner.
"Oh my God! " she panted, "won't act! "
But Nature takes care of her own and a loud rending noise was heard. Una stopped laughing and remained perfectly still. Her bodice had laid down its life to save hers.
Belacqua was so quiescent during the fortnight that preceded the ceremony that it almost seemed as though he were to suffer a complete metamorphosis. He had left all the arrangements to the discretion of Capper Quin, saying: "Here is the money, do the best you can. "
But before being overtaken by this inertia, which pro- ceeded partly from fatigue and partly no doubt from the need for self-purification, he had been kept busy in a num- ber of ways: finding a usurer, redeeming the ring, and searching among the hags for two to tally with Mr and Mrs bboggs in the interest of the nuptial jamboree.
In the prosecution of this last duty Belacqua was called upon to sustain every kind of abusive denial and suffer Lucy's posthumous temperature to be thrown in his face, as though she were a bottle of white Burgundy. Until finally a female cousin, so remote as to be scarcely credible, and a kind of moot Struldbrug, to whom Belacqua's father had used to refer as "dear old Jimmy the Duck," agreed to rise to the occasion. Hermione Nautzsche and James Skyrm were the names of these two deadbeats. Belacqua had not laid eyes on either of them since he was an infant prodigy.
Except for a short daily visit from Thelma, swallowed as being all in the game. Belacqua's retreat was undis- turbed. The wedding gifts flowed in, not upon him, for
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he was friendless, but upon her, and she encouraged him day by day with the bulletin of their development.
She arrived one afternoon in a state of some excitement. Belacqua raised himself in the bed to be kissed, which he was with such unexpected voracity that he went weak before the end. Poor fellow, he had not been giving due attention to his meals.
"Your present is got" she said.
To Belacqua, who had been setting aside a portion of each day for polyglot splendours, this phrase came as a great shock. Perhaps the present would make him amends.
"It came this morning" she said.
"At what time exactly? " said Belacqua, easing his nerves in the usual sneer. "That is most important. "
"What devil" said Thelma, her gaiety all gone, "makes you so beastly? "
Ah, if he only knew.
"But it so happens" she said "that I can tell you. " Belacqua thought for a bit and then plumped for saying
nothing.
"Because" she proceeded "the first thing I did was to
set it. "
The hideous truth dawned on his mind.
"Not a clock" he implored, "don't say a grandfather
clock. "
"The grandfather and mother" she did say "of a period
clock. "
He turned his face to the wall. He who of late years
and with the approval of Lucy would not tolerate a chronometer of any kind in the house, for whom the local publication of the hours was six of the best on the brain every hour, and even the sun's shadow a torment, now to have this time-fuse deafen the rest of his days. It was enough to make him break off the engagement.
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Long after she had gone he tossed and turned until the thought, like God appearing to a soul in hell, that he could always spike the monster's escapement and turn its death's-head to the wall, came in the morning with the canticle of the ring-doves. Then he slept.
What time Capper Quin was here, there and every- where, attending to the interests of his principal. Con- scious of his own shortcomings in a matter so far removed from the integrities of self-expression, he engaged, on the basis of a modest inverted commission, to aid him in his work, one Sproule, a lately axed jobber to a firm in the City, whose winning manner and familiarity with the shopping centres north of the river were beyond rubies. Bright and early on the fateful Saturday they met to buy the bouquets, the big one for the bride and the seven nosegays.
"Mrs bboggs" said Hairy, "ought we? " "Ought we what? " said Sproule.
"I thought maybe a bloom" said Hairy. "Superfoetation" said Sproule.
He led the way to a florist's off Mary Street. The proprietress, having just discovered among her stock an antirrhinum with the rudiment of a fifth stamen, was highly delighted.
"Oh, Mr Sproule sir" she exclaimed, "would you be-
. "
lieve it . .
"Good morning" said Sproule. "One large orchid and
seven of your best ox-eyes. "
Now Capper Quin, however unsuited to strike a bar-
gain, was endowed with a sense of fitness, and one so ex- quisite indeed that he could make himself clear in its defence.
"On behalf of my client" he said "I must insist on two orchids. "
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"By all means" said Sproule. "Make it three, make it a dozen. "
"Two" repeated Hairy.
"Two large orchids" said Sproule "and seven of your best ox-eyes. "
As though by magic wand the nine blooms appeared in her hand.
"Four lots" said Sproule, "one, two, three and one with orchids. " Rapidly he equated addresses and consignments on a sheet of paper. "So" he said, "first thing. "
She now mentioned a sum that caused the buyer great amusement. He appealed to Hairy.
"Mr Quin" he said, "do I wake or sleep? "
She not merely made good her figures but mentioned that she had to live. Sproule could not see the connexion. He pinched his cheek to make sure he was not in Nassau Street.
"My dear madam" he said, "we do not have to live in Nassau Street. "
This thrust so weakened his adversary that she suffered him to place specie in her hand.
"Take this" he said, in a eucharistic voice, "or leave it. "
The cold alloy in her hot palm, conjoined with the de- pression and the urge to live, determined the issue in Sproule's favour. Upon which the combatants shook hands with great heartiness. How could there be any question of rancour when both were fully satisfied of having ob- tained the victory?
Sproule, his duties at an end, received his commission in the Oval bar, where nothing would do him but that Hairy should toast his employer in gin and peppermint.
"Happy dawg" said Sproule. He had come unscathed through the Great War.
The hyperaesthesia of Hairy was so great that the mere
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fact of standing on licensed ground, without the least reference to its liberties, was of force sufficient to ex- hilarate him. Now therefore, under the influence of his situation, he dilated with splendid incoherence on the contradiction involved in the idea of a happy Belacqua and on the impertinence of desiring that he should dero- gate into such an anomaly.
"Fornication" he vociferated "before the Shekinah. "
This observation was accompanied and graced by a spasm of such passionate repugnance that it was no less an act of charity on the part of the ex-jobber, who was familiar with Boy Scouts and their ways and knew that he might never pass that way again, to substitute his empty glass for the bumper of his agitated companion.
In the bright street a bitter-sweet sorrow entered into Sproule, sweet at parting, bitter at the knowledge that his services were no longer required.
"Farewell" he said, flinging out his dreadful hand, "may luck rise with you on the way. "
But Hairy was too full, too overcome by the fumes of his position, to shake, let alone reply. He stepped, as upon an Underground escalator, into the stream of pedestrians and was gone. Sproule raised his sad eyes to the sky and saw the day, its outstanding hours that could not be numbered, in the form of a beautiful Girl Guide galante, reclining among the clouds. She beckoned to him with her second finger, like one preparing a certificate in piano- forte, Junior Grade, at the Leinster School of Music. Closing his mind softly on this delicious vision, feeling it in his mind like a sponge of toilet vinegar on a fever, he advanced into the Oval towards it.
Whom should Hairy meet on the crest of the Metal Bridge but Walter Draffin, fresh from his effeminate ablutions and as spruce and keen as a new-ground hatchet
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in his miniature tails and stripes. The sun shone bright upon him, his languorous poll, for he carried his topper crown downward in his hand. The two gentlemen were on speaking terms.
"This is where I stand" said the little creature, with a sigh that made Hairy look nervously round for prisons and palaces, "and watch the Liffey swim. "
"Blue-eyed cats" quoted the colossal Capper, for no other reason than that the phrase had been running in his mind and now here was a chance to discharge it on a wit, "are always deaf. "
Walter smiled, he felt greatly pleased, he held up his little face to the kindly sun like a child to be kissed.
"The burrowing tucutucu" he answered "is occasionally blind, but the mole is never sober. "
The mole is never sober. A profound mot. Hairy, having tried all he knew to say as much, hung his head, a gallant loser, consoled by the certitude that Walter would take the will for the deed. Poor Hairy, there was a great deal he understood, but he could not make this known in the absence of a battery of writing materials.
"That unspeakable invite" exclaimed Walter, "of all things to be destitute of enjambment! "
He was confirmed in his initial misgiving by Hairy's having clearly no idea what he was talking about. There was nothing for it but to put it into his book. Walter's book was a long time in coming out because he refused to regard it as anything more than a mere dump for what- ever he could not get off his chest in the ordinary way.
"So off you go" he said "to attend your happy client, and I to buy myself a buttonhole. "
This, ensuing so soon upon mole and enjambment, brought Hairy's brain to the boil, and out of his mouth came the one word "rose" like a big bubble.
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"Blood-red and newly born" said Walter "to aromatic pain. Eh? "
Hairy, with a sudden feeling that he was wasting his client's time and his own precarious energies on a kind of rubber Stalin, took his departure with a more than boorish abruptness, leaving Walter to enjoy the great central agency and hang out as it were his cowlick to air or dry. A passing humorist dropped a penny into the empty hat, it fell on the rich wadding without a sound, and so the joke was lost.
In Parliament Street a funeral passed and Hairy did not uncover. Many of the chief mourners, consoling them- selves in no small measure with the reverence expressed by every section of the community, noticed with rage in their hearts that he did not, though to be sure they made no allusion to it at the time. Let this be a lesson to young men, strangers perhaps to sorrow, to uncover when- ever a funeral passes, less in act of respect towards the de- funct than in sympathetic acknowledgment of the sur- vivors. One of these fine days Hairy will observe, from where he sits bearing up bravely behind the hearse in a family knot, a labourer let go of his pick with one hand, or gay dandy snatch both his out of his pockets, in a ges- ture of more value and comfort than a ton of lilies. Take the case of Belacqua, who ever since the commitment of his Lucy wears a hat, contrary to his inclination, on the off chance of his encountering a cortege.
The best man had received instructions to collect in Molesworth Street the Morgan, fast but noisy, lent for the period of the high time journey by a friend of the bboggses. Needless to say some eejit had parked it so far up towards the arty end that luckless Hairy, coming from the west upon the stand after the usual Duke Street com-
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plications, hastening along the shady southern pavement because he felt there was not a moment to lose, was almost in despair of ever finding the solitary hind-wheel that he had been advised to look out for. He was much relieved to espy it at last, last but one or two in the row, but embarrassed also to remark a group made up of small boys, loafers and the official stand attendant gathered round and passing judgment on the strange machine's design and performance. He kept his head none the less and examined the car, as he had been strictly enjoined to do, for any hymeneal insignia that might have been annexed, doubtless with the very best intentions, to its body, such as a boot, an inscription or other shameful badge. Satisfied that there were none, he hoisted his vast frame on board the light weight which thereupon reduced
the expert comment of the bystanders, if we except the attendant who was most grave and attentive, to jeers and laughter, by rocking like a cockle-shell. Hairy, wondering what on earth to do next, sat blushing and hopeless at the controls. The general provisions for starting a motor engine were familiar to him, and these in every imagi- nable combination he fruitlessly applied to that, excep- tional presumably, fitted to the Morgan. The boys were most anxious to push, the loafers to give a tow, while the at- tendant could not be deterred from flooding the car- burettor and swinging the engine, which started most perversely and unexpectedly with a backfire that broke the obliging fellow's arm. Hairy was so pressed for time that he hardened his heart to the consistence of an Ueber- mensch's, roared his engine and found himself abruptly, in a paroxysm of plunges and saccades, cutting the corner of Kildare Street under the prow of a bus, which happily did no more than remove the back number-plate and thus
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provide, not merely a neat instance of poetic justice, but the winged attendant with the nucleus of compensation.
All these little encounters and contretemps take place in a Dublin flooded with sunshine.
Belacqua had passed an excellent night, as he always did when he condescended to assign precise value to the content of his mind, no matter whether that were joy or sorrow, and did not awake when Hairy stalled the ma- chine beneath his window on the cruel stroke of midday. Much liquor in secret the previous evening may have contributed to this torpor, but scarcely if at all, for many and many a time when footless, and simply because the forces in his mind would not resolve, he had tossed and turned like the Florence of Sordello, and found all pos- tures painful.
He opened his burning eyes on Hairy, rose, bathed, shaved and decked himself out, all in silence and without the least assistance. They plunged the packed bag in the well of the Morgan. Belacqua stood before the pier-glass.
"It's a small thing, Hairy" he said, and his voice, after so long silence, grated on his ear, "separates lovers. "
"Not mountain chain" said Hairy.
"No, nor city ramparts" said Belacqua.
Hairy made a lunge of condolence at his companion,
he simply could not help it, and was repulsed.
"Am I all right behind? " asked Belacqua.
"You know what it is" said Hairy, asserting thus and
with a clarity quite unusual in him his independence and intolerance of all posterior aspects, "you perish in your own plenty. "
Belacqua pressed apart his lips with his forefinger.
"If what I love" he said "were only in Australia. " Capper the faithful companion simply faded away, at
least for the purposes of conversation.
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"Whereas what I am on the look out for" said Belacqua, pursuing it would almost seem his train of thought, "is nowhere as far as I can see. "
"Vobiscum" whispered Capper. "Am I right? "
A cloud obscured the sun, the room grew dark, the light ebbed from the pier-glass and Belacqua, feeling his eyes moist, turned away from the blurred image of himself.
"Remember" he said, "true of me now who have ceased to Charleston: Dum vivit aut bibit aut minxit. Take a note of it now. "
The Quaker's get!
Then driving through the City it occurred to him that an empty buttonhole would be the haporth of tar and no error. So he entered a flower-shop and came out with a purple tassel of veronica, fixed in the wrong lapel. Hairy stared. What startled him was not so much the breach of etiquette as the foolhardiness of getting married in a turned suit.
A pestilential hotel was their next stop. Hairy changed his clothes and looked more mangy king of beasts than ever. Belacqua lunched frugally on stout and scallions, scarcely the meal, one would have thought, for a man about to be married for the second time. However.
At the Church of Saint Tamar, pointed almost to the point of indecency, the maids, attired in glove-tight gos- samer and sporting the awful ox-eyes, having just been joined by Mrs bboggs, who had chosen gauze and a bunch of omphalodes in her bosom, and Walter, very shaky and exalted, were massed in the porch when Morgante and Morgutte, to adopt the venomous reference of Una, not arm in arm but in single file, came forward. All but Walter were taken quite aback by the bridegroom's breath. Mrs bboggs buried her face (poor little Thelma! ) in the omphalodes, the Cleggs turned scarlet in unison, the
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Purefoys crowded into a shade, while Una was only re- strained by her hatred of anything in the nature of sacri- lege from spitting it out. Miss Perdue found the smell rather refreshing. The cad and his faithful companion advanced to the chancel and took up their stand beside the gate, the latter to the right and a little to the rear, holding a hat in each hand.
The south pews were plentifully furnished with mem- bers and adherents of the bboggs clan, while those to the north were empty save for two grotesques, seated far apart: Jimmy the Duck Skyrm, an aged cretin, outrageous in pepper and salt, Lavalliere and pull-over, gnashing his teeth without ceasing at invisible spaghetti; and Hermione Nautzsche, a powerfully built nymphomaniac panting in black and mauve between shipped crutches. Her missing sexual hemisphere, despite a keen look out all her life long, had somehow never entered her orbit, and now, bursting as she was with chalk at every joint, she had no great hopes of being rounded off in that interesting sense. Little does she dream what a flurry she has set up in the spirits of Skyrm, as he gobbles and mumbles the air at
the precise remove of enchantment behind her.
"Ecce" hissed Hairy, according to plan, and Belacqua's heart made a hopeless dash against the wall of its box, the church suddenly cruciform cage, the bulldogs of heaven holding the chancel, the procession about to give tongue in the porch, the transepts culs-de-sac. The organist darted into his loft like an assassin and set in motion the various forces that could be relied on to mature in
a merry peal all in good time. Thelma, looking very strik- ing and illegitimate in grey and green pieds de poule, split skirt and pique insertions of negress pink, swept up the aisle on the right arm of Otto Olaf, in whose head
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since leaving 55 a snatch had been churning and did not now desert him:
Drink little at a time,
Put water in your wine,
Miss your glass when you can, And go off the first man.
Wise old Otto Olaf! He died in the end of clot and left his cellar to the cuckoo.
The maids, terminating in the curious deltoid forma- tion of the Alba, Mrs bboggs and Walter, took their speed from the bride and their demeanour from the head-maid, with the result that their advance was at once rapid and sullen, for Una had become aware of an uncontrollable and ill-placed dehiscence in the stuff of her gossamer. The dread lest this should come to a head as she braced her- self to receive her foul little sister's gloves and bouquet, over and above an habitual misanthropy aggravated by the occasion, had made her, and hence her team of maids, appear as cross as two sticks. Always excepting the Alba who, bating the old pain in the core of her vitals that seemed to be a permanent part of her existence, could scarcely have been more diverted had she been the bride herself instead of the odd maid out. Also with Walter so close on her heels she was kept busy.
Without going so far as to say that Belacqua felt God or Thelma the sum of the Apostolic series, still there was in some indeterminate way communicated to the solem- nisation a kind or sort of mystical radiance that Joseph Smith would have found touching. Belacqua passed the ring like a mouse belling the cat, with a quick prayer all his own that the marriage knuckle of his love might so
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swell against the token and pledge as to spare her the pain of ever reading, inscribed on its inner periphery: Mens mea Lucia lucescit luce tua. His state of mind was so tense and complex at this stage (not to be wondered at when we consider all that he had gone through: the bereavement, obliging him to wear a hat at all seasons; the sweet and fierce pain of his passion for Miss bboggs; the long retreat in bed that had landed him in a nice marasmus; the stout and scallions; and now the sense of being cauterized with an outward and visible sign) that it might be likened to that of his dear departed Lucy listening pale and agog for the second incidence of
in the first movement of the Unbuttoned Symphony. Say what you will, you can't keep a dead mind down.
Talking of cats, Thelma remained throughout the serv- ice feline and inscrutable and was not at all incommoded by the famous viticultural passage which so abashed, or perhaps better angered, Belacqua that his platter face went from its native dingy to scarlet and back again throughlivid. Shouldhethenavailhimselfofthefirst . . . opportunity to sulphurate his bride and thus make sure? No, that would be doing the dirty on man's innocency. And make sure of what? Olives? The absurdity of the figure and all its harmonics like muscae volitantes pro- voked him to a copious scoff that would have put the kibosh on the sacrament altogether had it not been for the coolness and skill of the priest who covered as with a hand this coarseness with a collect.
Talking of hands, Thelma's right, as it danced through the find-the-lady sleights recommended in the liturgy, had quite bewitched the chancel. The curate swore he had
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never seen anything like it outside the Musee Rodin, it reminded the clerk of a Diirer cartoon and the priest of his incumbency, and it indicted Belacqua, tempest of stifled groans at having to produce anti-clockwise eyes and ges- tures for so long at a stretch, with Maupassant's scorching phrase: phylloxera of the spirit.
At length they had consented together beyond all pos- sibility of cavil, the dearly beloved had for ever after held their peace and then let their cry come with a rush, and Otto Olaf's rendering of:
Be present, awful Father! To give away this bride
had so moved the Sidneian heart of Skyrm that he trans- ferred himself, for better for worse, into the pew where Hermione sat as on a thwart, and there, under cover of a kinsman's seasonable emotion, rooted and snuffled his way into her affections with a suilline avidity that can only have seemed horrible to any decent person not con- versant with the phenomenon of crystallisation. The vestry was over, its signatures, duties and busses, and Mrs bboggs was back in 55, whipping the muslin off the Delikatessen, almost before the organist had regained control of his instrument. The Alba went with Walter in a taxi, Otto Olaf and Morgutte took a tram, the two grotesques never knew how they got there, while as for the maids, all but Una who wisely huddled on a cloak and cadged a lift, why they just floated on foot like brownies through the garish thoroughfares.
These are the little things that are so important.
To say that the drawing-room was thronged would be to put it mildly. It was stiff with guests. Otto Olaf found himself in that most painful of all possible positions, con-
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strained to see his furniture, his loved ones, suffer and know himself helpless to relieve them.
There was something so bright and meaty about the assembly, something so whorled in its disposition with the procession loosely coiled in the midst waiting to move off, that Walter was slowly but surely put in mind of a Benozzo fresco and said so in his high-smelling voice to the Alba.
"Ass and all" she replied, with indescribable bitterness.
Una stamped her foot like a sheep and like sheep all present turned scared faces towards her. She had some- how contrived to consolidate and shore up her gossamer, but now she had fresh grounds for complaint, namely, that the newly married couple, who should have been first home and in position for congratulations, had actually not yet turned up. Thus the action was brought to a dead halt. In its present headless condition the procession could not uncoil itself out through the door as arranged, and it was obvious that until the procession uncoiled itself there could be no relief for the congestion of casual ladies and gentlemen of which it was, so to speak, the mainspring. But let the truant pair appear and take their station and lo the press, as though by magic, would tick off merrily to its stand-up lunch. In the meantime, what a waste of good saliva!
"Raise me up Mr Quin" cried Una, in her anger throw- ing caution to the winds.
Hairy looked wildly at the bust of his partner, for so she was in pursuance of the regulations, they together forming —to vary the figure slightly—the fourth link of this nup- tial hawser, in the immediate rear, that is, of Mrs bboggs and Skyrm, who in their turn surveyed the massive flitches of Hermione, sagging and flagging in her crutches as in a quicksand, and poor Otto Olaf, trembling in every limb
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—looked wildly at it for a point of purchase at once effec- tive and respectful, some form of nelson that would not be too familiar, though for what purpose she desired to be raised he did not pause to inquire.
But before he could begin to make a mess of it in his flushing blushing panting ponderous way a great pertur- bation, dominated by the voice of Belacqua raised in abuse, made itself heard in the vestibule. This was they at last, but escorted by a pukkah Civic Guard of the highest rank compatible with duty and the stricken car- park attendant, as pale as a stone and clutching in his whole hand the damning number-plate.
Otto Olaf inserted his elbow in the eye of Hermione's crutch and released a dig.
