RESERVOIRES, VERSAILLES.
September 10th.
How I love Versailles--the jolliest old hole on earth--(I wonder why one
uses slang like this, I had written those words as an exact reflection
of my thoughts--and nothing could be more inexact as a description of
Versailles! It is as far from being "jolly" as a place can be--nor is it
a "hole!") It is the greatest monument which the vanity of one man ever
erected, and like all other superlatives it holds and interests. If the
_Grand Monarque_ squandered millions to build it, France has reaped
billions from the pockets of strangers who have come to look at it. And
so everything that is well done brings its good. Each statue is a
personal friend of mine--and since I was a boy I have been in love with
the delicious nymph with the shell at the bottom of the horse-shoe
descent before you come to the _tapis vert_ on the right hand side. She
has two dimples in her back--I like to touch them--.
Why did I not come here sooner? I am at peace with the world--Burton
wheels me up onto the terrace every evening to watch the sunset from the
top of the great steps. All the masterpieces are covered with pent
houses of concrete faced with straw, but the lesser gods and goddesses
must take their chance.
And sitting here with peaceful families near me--old
gentlemen--soldiers on leave--a pretty war widow with a great white
dog--children with spades--all watching the glorious sky, seated in
groups on the little iron park chairs, a sense of stupefaction comes
over me--for a hundred or two kilometres away men are killing one
another--women are searching for some trace of their homes--the ground
is teeming with corpses--the air is foetid with the smell of death!
And yet we enjoy the opal sunset at Versailles and smile at the quaint
appearance of the camouflaged bronzes!
Thus custom deadens all painful recollections and so are we able to
live.
I wonder what Louis XIV would say if he could return and be among us?
He, with all his faults being a well bred person, would probably adapt
himself to circumstances, as the Duchesse does.
Suzette suggested that she should come and stay the week end out
here--She wants change of air she says. I have consented.--Miss Sharp
does not bring her eternal block and pencil until Tuesday--when Suzette
will have left.
Now that I am peaceful and have forgotten my perturbations, Suzette will
jolly me up--I have used the right term there!--Suzette does jolly
one--! I feel I could write out here, but not about William and Mary
furniture--! I could write a cynical story of the Duc de Richelieu's
loves.--Armande, the present duc, tells me that he has a dispatch box
filled with the love letters his ancestor received--their preservation
owed to a faithful valet who kept them all separated in bundles tied
with different ribbons--and every lock of hair and souvenir attached to
each.--There is an idea!--I wonder if Burton has ever thought of keeping
mine? He would not have had a heavy job in these last years--!
I read all the mornings, seated in the sun--I read Plato--I want to
furbish up my Greek--For no reason on earth except that it is difficult,
and perhaps if I start doing difficult things I may get more will.
* * * * *
Suzette arrived in an entirely new set of garments--the "_geste_" had
altered, she said, one had to have a different look, and she was sure
the autumn fashions would be even more pronounced.
"As you can readily understand, my friend, one cannot be _démodé, dans
le metier_,--especially in war time!--"
Naturally I agreed with her--.
"The only unfortunate part is that it obliged me to break into the sum
for Georgine's education."
"That is at least reparable"--I answered, and reached for my
cheque-book--Suzette is such a good little sort--and clothes give her
pleasure--and fancy being able to give _real pleasure_ for a few
thousand francs--pleasure, not comfort, or charity, or any respectable
thing, but just _pleasure_! The only worry about this cheque was that
Suzette was a little too affectionate after it!--I would nearly always
rather only talk to her--now.
She accompanied my bath chair on to the terrace. Her ridiculous little
outline and high heels contradicting all ideas of balance, and yet
presenting an indescribable elegance. She prattled gaily--then when no
one was looking she slipped her hand into mine.
"_Mon cher! Mon petit chou!_" she said.
We had the gayest dinner in my sitting-room--.
"The war was certainly nearing its close--Toinette, the friend of one of
the Generals, assured her--people were thoroughly bored, and it was an
excellent thing to finish it--."
"But even when peace comes, never again the restaurants open all night
to dance, Nicholas!--there is a sadness, my friend!"
That was one of the really bad aspects of wars--the way they upset
people's habits--, she told me. Even "_dans le metier_" things became of
an uncertainty! '--One was never sure if the _amant_ would not be
killed--and it might be difficult to replace him advantageously!'
"It is perhaps fortunate for you that I am wounded and an institution,
Suzette!"
"Thou--Nicholas!--Just as if I did not understand--I represent nothing
but an agreeable passing of some moments to thee--Thou art not an
_Amant_!--Not even a little pretense of loving me thou showest!"--
"But you said you never allowed yourself to care--perhaps I have the
same idea--"
She shook with laughter.
"An artist at love thou, Nicholas--but no lover!"
"It is a nice distinction--would you like me better if I were a lover?"
"We have before spoken of this, _Mon ami_--If you were a lover--that is,
if you loved--you would be dangerous even with your one leg and your one
eye--a woman could be foolish for you. There is that air of _Grand
seigneur_--that air of--mocking--of--_Mon Dieu!_ Something which I can't
find my word for--Thou art _rudement chic cheri_!"
I wished then that I had made the cheque larger--because there was
something in her merry black eyes which told me she meant what she
said--at the moment. I must be grateful to my money though after all--I
could not be "_rudement chic_" or a "_Grand seigneur_" without it--Thus
we get back to material things again!
----I wonder if material things could affect Miss Sharp?--One side of
her certainly--or she could not have played that dance music----What
can she think about all day?--certainly not my affairs, attending to
them must be purely mechanical--. I know she is not stupid. She plays
beautifully--she thinks--she has an air, and knowledge of the world. If
I were not so afraid of losing her I would act toward her quite
differently--I would chance annoying her by making her talk--but that
fear holds me back.
George Harcourt says that between men and women, no matter what the
relation may be, one or the other holds the reins and is the real
arbiter of things, and that if you find yourself not in the happy
position of master, there are many occasions when a man must look
ridiculous.--I feel ridiculous when I think about Miss Sharp. I am
"demand" and she is "supply"--I am wanting every moment of her time, and
to know all her thoughts--and she is entirely uninterested in me, and
grants nothing.
* * * * *
Suzette left last evening in the best of moods--I made the cheque
larger--and now I am awaiting Miss Sharp in my sitting-room--I love this
hotel--it has an air of indifference about it which is soothing, and the
food is excellent.
* * * * *
Miss Sharp arrived about eleven to-day. Her cheeks were quite pink when
she came in, and I could see she was warm with walking.--I wish I had
remembered to send to the station to meet her.
"Do you think we shall be able to work here?" I asked her--"we have only
the _résumé_ chapter to do, and then the book will be finished."
"Why not here as well as any other place?"
"Does not environment matter to you?"
"I suppose it would if I were creating it, it does not matter now."
"Do you ever write--I mean write on your own?"
"Sometimes."
"What sort of things?"
She hesitated for a moment and then said as though she regretted having
to speak the truth.--
"I write a journal."