"Aunt Miriam this is Balthazar."
"I've heard so much about you."
"My uncle Frederic. Everyone calls him General. Bal-thazar." "How do you do General."
"I do splendidly when my gout doesn't play up. Do please sit. And what can we warm you up with. Whisky, gin, sherry."
"Well sherry if I may sir."
"You may by jove. Medium dry or that stuff they say is sherry that's very dry.' "Medium. Please."
"Ah, that's a good fellow, know your sherry. Miriam. Sherry.'
"Yes today. We'll have a wee bit. Doctor Romney says I'm to leave off but I think today."
The General standing at a high sideboard of bottles, trays and decanters. Pouring the light brown liquid into thin crystal glasses. His brief smile as the silver tray passes to each. Between two facing long light green sofas. The raven haired girl peeks back into the room as she quietly closes the great door. This grey haired lady raises her chin and lowers eye lids to speak.
"Mr. B I understand you're new to Dublin. How do you find it. Our dear dirty city."
"Most charming."
"O good. Elizabeth tells us you race."
"Yes I do get to the courses now and again. Not much recently however."
"O. You'll be here for Horse Show week. You must not miss that."
"I sincerely hope so."
"Wonderful time of year. We're at our best then. Always brings one back to times when things were not as they are now. Very sad. So much has passed from us."
"Now Miriam, that's not the attitude. What does Mr. B want to know about that for. He's young. He wants to enjoy himself now. Of course we've had a lot of louts and rabblerousers about but things have settled down. Let them blow up a telephone kiosk now and again and they're quite happy. Are you interested in the stars, Mr. B."
"Yes I am."
"Good. After lunch then. We'll show you about. Would you like to see my astronomical laboratory."
"Very much sir. I had an uncle who was very interested in the sky."
"Good. Ah. There we are. The gong. Brought that back from India. Served out there. When I was Brigadier. Bring in your sherry with you."
Two wide white doors folding back. A long dining table. A fire bursting with flaming black chunks of coal. Two tall windows. Look out across lawns and gardens. Pebbled paths. A stone wall and beyond the tops of blossoming apple trees. Little blue dishes of salt set in silver holders with birdlike paws.
"Sit you all down."
The General at the head of table, Miriam at the foot. Prawn cocktail and thin slices of brown bread. Faint tinge of green in white wine poured. A leg of steaming lamb carried in by a big chested girl of blue eyes and large pouting lips. The General carves. The whole silent afternoon outside. White plates with thin little weavings of gold handed down the table. Roasted potatoes. And sprouts moist in butter. A claret wine of gentle red.
"Elizabeth you ought to have Balthazar come when we're having ham. We feed our pigs on peaches you know. When youVe tasted a chappie so fed, I think you'll agree you never realised what ham could be. What.' "I'd very much like that."
"We leave that then to you, Lizzie. Good larder is a man's salvation. People nowadays don't take any trouble. Not the way we used to. Of course then one gets on. Dashed cold winter, what. One of worst in memory. When you get to my age you feel it you know. Get a bit of damned deafness too, it's the wind. Gets up a pressure. You take port my boy."
"Yes sir."
"Good show. Got a bit there decanted. Laid down when I was a subaltern. Yes. A man's best years you know are the thirties. Plenty of polo, outdoors, that's the way of life. The end comes at fifty. You know then there's no going back. If 183 you don't go forward you don't go damn anywhere. What. Yes after fifty it's all over, you know."
"O Frederic, really."
"Can't overlook the facts Miriam. A man's a man till fifty. You might stretch it a year this way or that but largely speaking, that's when a man puts away his gun. Takes out his port. Of course a lot of it is in the mind you know. Half the battle is keeping up appearances. And appearances be damned as well. A shrew for its weight is more fierce than a tiger. It will seize upon a worm and devour it in an instant."
"Frederic please, not while we're eating."
"Shrew of course will easily die of shock. Poor little fellows. Now I don't suppose either of you two zoologists knew that one."
"No sir, that's fascinating."
"Eat their own weight in food every three hours."
"Now Frederic that's not a pleasing subject."
"There you are my boy. Get your innings in while you're young. Ladyfolk have you later on you know. Hound you about a bit. O we'll wait till the reincarnation. Hope I get a good regiment. Cat's got your tongue Elizabeth."
"No uncle. I'm just amused as I always am at your chatter."
"O ravings of a poor old soldier. But when I was a boy we had to tow the line. Not like these days. My father lined us up as boys. Hair had to be properly combed. Hands clean both sides. Chores done at six fifteen A.M. None of your nonsense. Walk with a straight back. See your face in the tip of your shoes or my goodness you would soon get what for across your what you sit on. Where did you serve my boy."
"I was a friendly alien sir. French."
"Pity. The discipline, routine. Good for every lad you know. Not to be shunned. Have a good swallow more now of that wine. One of the lingering pleasures. If one leaves out bridge. We had an awfully funny situation out here not too long ago. Chaps were full of it at the club. Said the papers played it up marvellously. One of your fellow students. Went completely haywire. They thought it was the yellow men from the East. When it was only a chap got lost in the gardens. Likely story. Caused quite a bit of stir.'
The flowing blood up to Miss Fitzdare's pallid face. Her cheeks blossoming bright red. The General sawing across a grey slab of lamb, Miriam ringing the little bell at her place. And the vast breasted servant called Briget going round with the wine once more. Dripping a drop on Balthazar's silk cuff. Briget put her fingers to her lips.
"O excuse me sir."
A smile from Balthazar. As a golden clock on the mantel rings chimes. A portrait of a lady in scarlet robes and ermine. The General clears his throat in his napkin. Miss Fitzdare's face goes crimson again.
"Balthazar, do please say if you would like more lamb.' "Thank you I have had a sufficiency."
"Come come my boy. From my memory of rooms at Trinity it's damn chilly there. A person needs a good Sunday lunch. In my time scholars used to come charging through college on horseback waving sabres a propos of nothing at all. But a deuced good fright thrown into servants and porters. Junior Dean got killed, hit on the head with a grate. Some rough times indeed. Wasn't safe at night, college bloods armed with daggers. Just a little that was before my time. But the chaps left their mark."
Balthazar B remaining to light a cigar with the General at table. As they sampled port. The ladies lightfooted back to the withdrawing room. And there came the tinkle of the harpsicord. Purple shadows of the evening stretching out across the gardens. An old fading moon blunted in the sky. "You know my boy, you'll pardon me I'm an interfering old rascal. Meddle in right where I have no business to. But our Elizabeth has taken a great interest in you. Took us long enough to get her to get you here. Fine girl. Miriam and I love having her with us. She has a wonderful nature that girl. How many of your women these days would spend three afternoons and evenings in the poor wards. Not many I can tell you. Yes, go down the aisles of some of them. Only way they know whether a wretched creature is dead is to smell them. Often said it's not the kind of work for a young lady. She won't listen, insists going right on. Can't say she's wrong to go her own way. Some of these people haven't been out of their garments all their lives. Come into hospital, can't get the clothes off them. Here, little more port for you."