"After all," said the Duchess vaguely, "there are certain things you
can't get away from. Right and wrong, good conduct and moral rectitude,
have certain well-defined limits."
"So, for the matter of that," replied Reginald, "has the Russian Empire.
The trouble is that the limits are not always in the same place."
Reginald and the Duchess regarded each other with mutual distrust,
tempered by a scientific interest. Reginald considered that the Duchess
had much to learn; in particular, not to hurry out of the Carlton as
though afraid of losing one's last 'bus. A woman, he said, who is
careless of disappearances is capable of leaving town before Goodwood,
and dying at the wrong moment of an unfashionable disease.
The Duchess thought that Reginald did not exceed the ethical standard
which circumstances demanded.
"Of course," she resumed combatively, "it's the prevailing fashion to
believe in perpetual change and mutability, and all that sort of thing,
and to say we are all merely an improved form of primeval ape--of course
you subscribe to that doctrine?"
"I think it decidedly premature; in most people I know the process is far
from complete."
"And equally of course you are quite irreligious?"
"Oh, by no means. The fashion just now is a Roman Catholic frame of mind
with an Agnostic conscience: you get the mediaeval picturesqueness of the
one with the modern conveniences of the other."
The Duchess suppressed a sniff. She was one of those people who regard
the Church of England with patronising affection, as if it were something
that had grown up in their kitchen garden.
"But there are other things," she continued, "which I suppose are to a
certain extent sacred even to you. Patriotism, for instance, and Empire,
and Imperial responsibility, and blood-is-thicker-than-water, and all
that sort of thing."
Reginald waited for a couple of minutes before replying, while the Lord
of Rimini temporarily monopolised the acoustic possibilities of the
theatre.
"That is the worst of a tragedy," he observed, "one can't always hear
oneself talk. Of course I accept the Imperial idea and the
responsibility. After all, I would just as soon think in Continents as
anywhere else. And some day, when the season is over and we have the
time, you shall explain to me the exact blood-brotherhood and all that
sort of thing that exists between a French Canadian and a mild Hindoo and
a Yorkshireman, for instance."
"Oh, well, 'dominion over palm and pine,' you know," quoted the Duchess
hopefully; "of course we mustn't forget that we're all part of the great
Anglo-Saxon Empire."
"Which for its part is rapidly becoming a suburb of Jerusalem. A very
pleasant suburb, I admit, and quite a charming Jerusalem. But still a
suburb."
"Really, to be told one's living in a suburb when one is conscious of
spreading the benefits of civilisation all over the world! Philanthropy--I
suppose you will say _that_ is a comfortable delusion; and yet even you
must admit that whenever want or misery or starvation is known to exist,
however distant or difficult of access, we instantly organise relief on
the most generous scale, and distribute it, if need be, to the uttermost
ends of the earth."
The Duchess paused, with a sense of ultimate triumph. She had made the
same observation at a drawing-room meeting, and it had been extremely
well received.
"I wonder," said Reginald, "if you have ever walked down the Embankment
on a winter night?"
"Gracious, no, child! Why do you ask?"
"I didn't; I only wondered. And even your philanthropy, practised in a
world where everything is based on competition, must have a debit as well
as a credit account. The young ravens cry for food."
"And are fed."
"Exactly. Which presupposes that something else is fed upon."
"Oh, you're simply exasperating. You've been reading Nietzsche till you
haven't got any sense of moral proportion left. May I ask if you are
governed by _any_ laws of conduct whatever?"
"There are certain fixed rules that one observes for one's own comfort.
For instance, never be flippantly rude to any inoffensive grey-bearded
stranger that you may meet in pine forests or hotel smoking-rooms on the
Continent. It always turns out to be the King of Sweden."
"The restraint must be dreadfully irksome to you. When I was younger,
boys of your age used to be nice and innocent."
"Now we are only nice. One must specialise in these days. Which reminds
me of the man I read of in some sacred book who was given a choice of
what he most desired. And because he didn't ask for titles and honours
and dignities, but only for immense wealth, these other things came to
him also."
"I am sure you didn't read about him in any sacred book."
"Yes; I fancy you will find him in Debrett."