Island - Aldous Huxley [30]
“How do you do, Mr. Bahu,” she said without a smile and, quickly turning away, started to busy herself with the straps of the canvas bag she was carrying.
“Your Highness has probably forgotten,” said Mr. Bahu; “but I had to have an operation last summer. For hernia,” he specified. “Well, this young lady used to come and wash me every morning. Punctually at eight-forty-five. And now, after having vanished for all these months, here she is again!”
“Synchronicity,” said the Rani oracularly. “It’s all part of the Plan.”
“I’m supposed to give Mr. Farnaby an injection,” said the little nurse, looking up, still unsmiling, from her professional bag.
“Doctor’s orders are doctor’s orders,” cried the Rani, overacting the role of royal personage deigning to be playfully gracious. “To hear is to obey. But where’s my chauffeur?”
“Your chauffeur’s here,” called a familiar voice.
Beautiful as a vision of Ganymede, Murugan was standing in the doorway. A look of amusement appeared on the little nurse’s face.
“Hullo, Murugan—I mean, Your Highness.” She bobbed another curtsy, which he was free to take as a mark of respect or of ironic mockery.
“Oh, hullo, Radha,” said the boy in a tone that was meant to be distantly casual. He walked past her to where his mother was sitting. “The car,” he said, “is at the door. Or rather the so-called car.” With a sarcastic laugh, “It’s a Baby Austin, 1954 vintage,” he explained to Will. “The best that this highly civilized country can provide for its royal family. Rendang gives its ambassador a Bentley,” he added bitterly.
“Which will be calling for me at this address in about ten minutes,” said Mr. Bahu, looking at his watch. “So may I be permitted to take leave of you here, Your Highness?”
The Rani extended her hand. With all the piety of a good Catholic kissing a cardinal’s ring, he bent over it; then, straightening himself up, he turned to Will.
“I’m assuming—perhaps unjustifiably—that Mr. Farnaby can put up with me for a little longer. May I stay?”
Will assured the Ambassador that he would be delighted.
“And I hope,” said Mr. Bahu to the little nurse, “that there will be no objections on medical grounds?”
“Not on medical grounds,” said the girl in a tone that implied the existence of the most cogent nonmedical objections.
Assisted by Murugan, the Rani hoisted herself out of her chair. “Au revoir, mon cher Farnaby,” she said as she gave him her jeweled hand. Her smile was charged with a sweetness that Will found positively menacing.
“Good-bye, ma’am.”
She turned, patted the little nurse’s cheek, and sailed out of the room. Like a pinnace in the wake of a full-rigged ship of the line, Murugan trailed after her.
6
“GOLLY!” THE LITTLE NURSE EXPLODED, WHEN THE DOOR WAS safely closed behind them.
“I entirely agree with you,” said Will.
The Voltairean light twinkled for a moment on Mr. Bahu’s evangelical face. “Golly,” he repeated. “It was what I heard an English schoolboy saying when he first saw the Great Pyramid. The Rani makes the same kind of impression. Monumental. She’s what the Germans call eine grosse Seele.” The twinkle had faded, the face was unequivocally Savonarola’s, the words, it was obvious, were for publication.
The little nurse suddenly started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Will asked.
“I suddenly saw the Great Pyramid all dressed up in white muslin,” she gasped. “Dr. Robert calls it the mystic’s uniform.”
“Witty, very witty!” said Mr. Bahu. “And yet,” he added diplomatically, “I don’t know why mystics shouldn’t wear uniforms, if they feel like it.”
The little nurse drew a deep breath, wiped the tears of merriment from her eyes, and began to make her preparations for giving the patient his injection.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” she said to Will. “You’re thinking I’m much too young to do a good job.”
“I certainly think you’re very young.”
“You people go to a university at eighteen and stay there for four years. We start at sixteen and go on with our education till we’re twenty-four—half-time study