the gathering must have something to do with the imminence of war. The scenes in Vienna the night before and the excited, news-hungry crowds that she had seen in Warsaw that morning were still fresh in her memory.
The Polish officers on either side of her and Major Bauer opposite were all striving to secure her attention. She was polite to the Germans and to all appearances enjoying a mild flirtation with the other two, but actually her smiling acceptances of their compliments were almost automatic. She had long since learned that men love to show off before a beautiful woman, and that an occasional exclamation of apparent interest will keep them talking endlessly about themselves and any field of endeavour in which they have achieved personal success. Jaljusz, the tall, fair man on her right, was a famous horseman who had won cups for jumping at half a dozen international horse-shows; Josef, a smaller, dark-haired man on her left, who said he came from Southern Poland, was an Air Force officer and one of the crack airmen of his country. In competition with their rather boyish boastings, the stolid German opposite seemed to have no personal triumphs to offer, so he confined himself to occasional aggressive pronouncements about the greatness of Adolf Hitler and the reflected glory which shone on all who were privileged to work for him.
But all three might have saved their breath as far as making an impression on Marie Lou was concerned. Twenty-four hours earlier she had been dining alone with her dear Richard at ‘
Die Drei Hussaren
’ in Vienna, carefree and happy, hardly conscious of the clashing wills of great sections of the human race which now threatened to engulf them all in one vast maelstrom of blood, tears and death.
The position had not perceptibly worsened since, and around her were a score of people all chattering unconcernedly, intent only upon the rich dishes placed before them and the contents of the tall flagons of cool wine. Yet, now she was terribly conscious that all of them and every soul she knew and cared for were standing on the edge of the abyss.
If war came, how would it affect her nearest and dearest? Everyone said this would be a young man’s war, so Richard would not be involved, at all events to begin with; besides,food would be important, and he would be needed at home to get every possible ounce out of the estate. Fleur was still only a schoolgirl. How Marie Lou thanked God now that she had never had a son. Greyeyes was too old to be accepted in any fighting service, and Simon would never pass the doctors. The United States would almost certainly remain neutral, so that let Rex out. She heaved a mental sigh of relief as she thought how incredibly lucky she was at this time when nine out of ten women all over Europe stood in grave danger of having to part with a husband, a lover, a son, or at least some man they loved dearly.
But was she really going to be so lucky after all? None of these men she loved were stay-at-homes by nature. Not even Simon, who always pretended that he was a born coward. Not even Richard, although he often swore that he would rather spend the rest of his life at home than anywhere else in the world. No question of neutrality would ever stop Rex from fighting for England in a struggle such as this, if he could possibly find a way to do it. And Greyeyes? Would he be content to work for the Red Cross and take cigarettes to wounded men in hospital? Of course not. She knew well that he spent an hour every morning of his life practising special exercises, taught him long ago by a Japanese, which kept his slender limbs as flexible and strong as steel, and he was still one of the finest shots in Europe. Age would prove no bar to him, and before the war was a week old he would be in it. Not in uniform perhaps, but engaged in some secret, deadly, dangerous business where subtle trickery, high courage and quick wits could serve Britain better than bayonets and guns. And the
The Polish officers on either side of her and Major Bauer opposite were all striving to secure her attention. She was polite to the Germans and to all appearances enjoying a mild flirtation with the other two, but actually her smiling acceptances of their compliments were almost automatic. She had long since learned that men love to show off before a beautiful woman, and that an occasional exclamation of apparent interest will keep them talking endlessly about themselves and any field of endeavour in which they have achieved personal success. Jaljusz, the tall, fair man on her right, was a famous horseman who had won cups for jumping at half a dozen international horse-shows; Josef, a smaller, dark-haired man on her left, who said he came from Southern Poland, was an Air Force officer and one of the crack airmen of his country. In competition with their rather boyish boastings, the stolid German opposite seemed to have no personal triumphs to offer, so he confined himself to occasional aggressive pronouncements about the greatness of Adolf Hitler and the reflected glory which shone on all who were privileged to work for him.
But all three might have saved their breath as far as making an impression on Marie Lou was concerned. Twenty-four hours earlier she had been dining alone with her dear Richard at ‘
Die Drei Hussaren
’ in Vienna, carefree and happy, hardly conscious of the clashing wills of great sections of the human race which now threatened to engulf them all in one vast maelstrom of blood, tears and death.
The position had not perceptibly worsened since, and around her were a score of people all chattering unconcernedly, intent only upon the rich dishes placed before them and the contents of the tall flagons of cool wine. Yet, now she was terribly conscious that all of them and every soul she knew and cared for were standing on the edge of the abyss.
If war came, how would it affect her nearest and dearest? Everyone said this would be a young man’s war, so Richard would not be involved, at all events to begin with; besides,food would be important, and he would be needed at home to get every possible ounce out of the estate. Fleur was still only a schoolgirl. How Marie Lou thanked God now that she had never had a son. Greyeyes was too old to be accepted in any fighting service, and Simon would never pass the doctors. The United States would almost certainly remain neutral, so that let Rex out. She heaved a mental sigh of relief as she thought how incredibly lucky she was at this time when nine out of ten women all over Europe stood in grave danger of having to part with a husband, a lover, a son, or at least some man they loved dearly.
But was she really going to be so lucky after all? None of these men she loved were stay-at-homes by nature. Not even Simon, who always pretended that he was a born coward. Not even Richard, although he often swore that he would rather spend the rest of his life at home than anywhere else in the world. No question of neutrality would ever stop Rex from fighting for England in a struggle such as this, if he could possibly find a way to do it. And Greyeyes? Would he be content to work for the Red Cross and take cigarettes to wounded men in hospital? Of course not. She knew well that he spent an hour every morning of his life practising special exercises, taught him long ago by a Japanese, which kept his slender limbs as flexible and strong as steel, and he was still one of the finest shots in Europe. Age would prove no bar to him, and before the war was a week old he would be in it. Not in uniform perhaps, but engaged in some secret, deadly, dangerous business where subtle trickery, high courage and quick wits could serve Britain better than bayonets and guns. And the
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