A Question of Upbringing - Anthony Powell [66]
“But they have both of them been behaving in the most pompous way imaginable, making life impossible for everyone else. I quite see that Lundquist should not have sent sneaks over the net like that, but Örn ought to be used to them by now. Anyway, if Örn did rap out something a bit stiff, he could easily have said he was sorry. What do you think the word meant?”
“I have no idea what the word meant,” said Widmerpool, “nor am I in the least interested to learn. I agree with you that Lundquist’s play from a certain aspect – I repeat from a certain aspect – might be said to leave something to be desired; that is to say from the purest, and, to my mind, somewhat high-flown, sportsmanship. On the other hand there was no question of cheating.”
“It is a pretty feeble way of winning a service.”
“Games,” said Widmerpool, “are played to be won, whatever people may say and write to the contrary. Lundquist has never found that service to fail. Can he, therefore, be blamed for using it?”
He folded his arms and stared fixedly past me, as if he were looking out into the night in search of further dialectical ammunition, if I were to remain unconvinced by his argument.
“But you wouldn’t use that service yourself?”
“Everyone has his own standards of conduct,” said Widimerpool. “I trust mine are no lower than other people’s.”
“Anyhow,” I said, as I was getting tired of the subject, “what did you do to bring them together?”
“First of all I went to Lundquist,” said Widmerpool, relaxing a little the stringency of his manner; “I explained to him that we all understood that Örn should not have spoken as he did.”
“But we don’t know what Örn said.”
Widmerpool made a nervous movement with his hands to show his irritation; He seemed half-inclined to break off his narrative, but changed his mind, and went on: “I told him that we all knew Örn was a bit of a rough diamond, as Lundquist himself understood, as much – or even more – than the rest of us. It was therefore no good expecting anything very courtly from Örn in the way of behaviour,”
“How did Lundquist take that?”
“He fully agreed. But he emphasised that such defects, attributed by him to inherent weaknesses in the Norwegian system of education, did not alter the fact that his, Lundquist’s, honour had been insulted.”
Widmerpool stopped speaking at this point, and looked at me rather threateningly, as if he was prepared for such a statement on Lundquist’s part to arouse comment. As I remained silent, he continued: “That argument was hard to answer. I asked him, accordingly, if I had his permission to speak to Örn on the same subject.”
“What did he say to that?”
“He bowed.”
“It all sounds very formal.”
“It was very formal,” said Widmerpool. “Why should it have been otherwise?”
Not knowing the answer, I did not take up this challenge; thinking that perhaps he was right.
“I went straight to Örn,” said Widmerpool, “and told him that we all understood his most justifiable annoyance at Lundquist’s service; but that he, Örn, must realise, as the rest of us did, that Lundquist is a proud man. No one could be in a better position to appreciate that fact than Örn himself, I said. I pointed out that it could not fail to be painful to Lundquist’s amour-propre to lose so frequently – even though he were losing to a better tennis-player.”
“Did all this go on in French?”
Widmerpool took no notice of this question; which, both Scandinavians knowing some English, seemed to me of interest. “Örn was more obstinate than Lundquist,” said Widmerpool. “Örn kept on repeating that, if Lundquist wished to play pat-ball with the girls – or little boys, he added – there was plenty of opportunity for him to do so. He, Örn, liked to play with men – hommes – he shouted the word rather loud. He said that, in his own eyes, hommes might be stretched to include Paul-Marie and Jean- Népomucène, but did not include Lundquist.”
Widmerpool paused.
“And he stuck to that?” I asked.
Widmerpool shook his head