The Master by Colm Tóibín Page B

led by the hand towards him. He greeted her and the nurse and then passed on quickly. When he turned to watch them, he noticed the
nurse speaking gently to the child, and Mona smiling up at her, contented and not in need of anything. He checked all the upper windows once more but there was no one watching.
    A S HE PASSED the Great Hall he saw that the servants were already working, laying the tables, putting the candles in place and decorating the room.
Hammond was not among them.
    He had told Lady Wolseley a second time that morning that he would not wear any form of fancy dress, that he was neither a lord nor a fop, but a poor scribbler. She had told him that he would be
alone at the ball, that the ladies one and all were prepared and no gentleman was coming as himself.
    ‘You are among friends, Mr James,’ she said.
    When she spoke, she stopped for a moment and hesitated, clearly deciding not to make the next statement that had come into her mind. He studied her carefully and directly until she looked almost
embarrassed and then he told her that he would be leaving early in the morning.
    ‘And Hammond? Will you not miss him?’ she asked, attempting to restore a playful tone to their conversation.
    ‘Hammond?’ He looked confused. ‘Oh, the manservant. Yes, thank you, he has been splendid.’
    ‘He’s normally so serious, but all week he has been smiling.’
    ‘You know,’ Henry said, ‘I will miss your hospitality enormously.’
    He determined that he would not speak to Webster that evening, rather he would avoid him at all times. As soon as he reached the stairway on his way to the ball, however, Webster was upon him.
He was dressed in a hunting outfit Henry considered absurd and brandishing an envelope with an air of hideous glee.
    ‘I did not know we had friends in common,’ he said.
    Henry bowed.
    ‘I searched for you this morning,’ Webster said, ‘to tell you that I have a missive here from Mr Wilde, Mr Oscar Wilde, who sends his fond regards to you. At least he says he
does, one can never tell with him. He says that he wishes he were here, and of course he would be a great addition to things and he is a great favourite of her ladyship. His lordship, I understand,
draws the line before him. I don’t think he would have wanted Mr Wilde in his regiment.’
    Webster stopped and moved to go down the stairs with Henry in front of him. Henry remained motionless.
    ‘Of course, Mr Wilde is very busy with the theatre. He tells me that a play of yours was taken off to make way for his second success of the season and he seems rather pleased with the
association. Yours was about a monk, he says. All the Irish are natural writers, my wife says, it comes naturally to them. She adores Mr Wilde.’
    Henry remained silent. When Webster stopped as though to let him speak, he bowed again and motioned Webster to go down the stairs, but Webster did not move.
    ‘Mr Wilde says that he longs to see you in London. He has many friends. Do you know his friends?’
    ‘No, Mr Webster, I do not think that I have had the good fortune to meet his friends.’
    ‘Well, perhaps you know them and are not aware that they are his friends. Lady Wolseley came with us to the play about Ernest. You must join us for the next play. I shall inform Lady
Wolseley that you must.’
    Webster was making a greater effort than usual to be amusing. He also managed somehow to make sure that there was no gap in the conversation so that Henry could take his leave. Clearly, he had
more to say.
    ‘Of course I think artists and politicians have one thing in common. We all pay the price, I think, unless we are lucky and struggle hard. Mr Wilde is having trouble with his wife.
It’s a difficult time for him, as I’m sure you understand. Lady Wolseley tells me that you have no wife. That might be one solution. As long as it doesn’t catch on, I
suppose.’
    He turned and indicated to Henry that they could now walk down the stairs