In due course, that is exactly in the course of time prescribed by
nature, and unaffected by changed meteorological conditions, Eva gave
birth to a son, who, though both Frank Dickin and Christopher de Jones
were anxious to claim his paternity, proved to be, on inspection,
without the remotest shadow of a doubt, the second Baron Ottercove of
Ottercove. And all day long he laughed to himself.
“That’s all right,” said de Jones, on being admitted. “But let him not
expect too much of the new world. For we came crying hither: thou
know’st the first time we smell the air we waul and cry.”
“Alack! alack the day!”
“When we are born, we cry that we are come to this (small) stage of
fools.”
“What shall we call him?” asked his overjoyed mother. And many nice
names were suggested.
“Rex Alexander,” by Eva herself, in undying memory of his illustrious
father.
“Christopher,” by Lord de Jones, in honour of himself and Christopher
Columbus, the explorer, and Christopher Morley, the American critic.
“Ferdinand,” by Ferdinand, and in honour of Ferdinand, “Ex-King of
Greece,” he explained when Lord de Jones frowned on him.
“Call him Adam,” suggested Herr Kogl. “For he is the first-born of this
new earth.”
“Yes, yes, Adam,” said Eva.
And he was called Adam. In honour of the late Miss Adams (which was
Frank’s mother’s maiden name), as Frank liked to think fondly but on
insufficient evidence.
Eva had become very competent. The Pension Kogl was transferred into a
day and night nursery; the kitchen was used for drying the second Baron
Ottercove’s garments; and when the men argued as to whether their world
could survive, she invariably cut short the discussion by saying, What
mattered the world? It was the survival of baby that mattered.
“I wish,” she said, “Pilling could have seen my baby.”
“Damn Pilling! Didn’t you think of your mother when you were making your
selection for your Noah’s ark?”
“Well, darling, I thought she wouldn’t be alone in all this. She would
have all the other people with her. And Mummy always loved crowds.”
Chris looked away, ashamed. “It was no use,” he said at last. “It was a
hopeless, incurable race. A perverted mentality. Nothing to be done with
them. Even the best of them were beyond salvation. Take my aunt. An
amiable old lady, yet cruel in her very kindness. During the last war,
like most old ladies, she had been vehemently, almost indecently,
anti-German. After the war, travelling about in Italy and being the
really nice old English lady that she was, she confessed to a feeling of
shame at the snarling attitude of _The Continental Daily Mail_, while so
many titled Germans were about. What she most quickly recovered was her
interest in the imperial family of Germany, and she confessed a
heart-felt sympathy for the ex-Kaiser. ‘Rather a fascinating man,’ she
said, ‘and after all, he was the grandson of our own dear Queen
Victoria, so we shouldn’t be too hard on him.’ The dear old lady! I can
see her now as she walked beside me, stopping every few paces to recover
her breath, but pretending she was doing so to bring home a point in
our conversation: ‘Now isn’t that remarkable!’ or else to examine a
bicycle propped up in front of a shop: ‘What an unusual bicycle!’ or to
read a poster: ‘Have you seen this?’ She was a good woman, and the very
stuff our race was made of. You might have thought that it would have
profited by its mistakes and devised a working social order. But (as
Goethe said about politics) men would not learn, and God did not seem to
want it.”
“That is so, but if anything you have made things worse.”
“Hardly worse,” said de Jones. “I have in my pocket a newspaper
fragment. Let me read it aloud so that you may realise what you have
been saved from. Here it is. It is entitled ‘Royal Month of February,’
and it goes on: ‘_Many famous hostesses have already come to town, and
during the next few days will make the final preparations for their
participation in the stately pageant in the House of Lords when the King
opens Parliament in state to-morrow week. New Court gowns will be tried
on in Mayfair, St. James’s, and Belgravia, and priceless family jewels
will be brought from the strong-rooms of historic banks._’
“Almighty God!
“‘_Among the weddings within the next week or two will be that of Major
the Hon. Maurice Duff Glayton and Lady Ursula Blaming at St. Margaret’s,
Westminster. The Marquis of Lillingsworth’s two charming daughters will
be among the bridesmaids. Both bride and bridegroom are well known in
the yachting world of Cowes._’
“Almighty God!
“‘_The Marquis and Marchioness of Epping spent the week-end in town in
Curzon-street. Lord and Lady Castle have come from Kent, Lady Walden de
Munford from Paris, the Dowager Duchess of Hawke from Ireland, and the
American Ambassador from the United States. Countess Buxham and her
daughter are back again in Eaton-place._’
“God Almighty!” He wiped his brow with his handkerchief, and as he
walked away he stopped every few paces and said:
“God Almighty! God Almighty!”