The Alexandria Quartet - Lawrence Durrell [200]
The supper-room however was comparatively quiet, and here I found Pursewarden, uncowled and apparently rather tipsy, talking to Mountolive as the latter walked with his curious gliding, limping walk round the table, loading a plate with slices of cold turkey and salad. Pursewarden was inveighing somewhat incoherently against
the Cervonis for serving Spumante instead of champagne. ‘I should watch it’ he called out to me, ‘there’s a headache in every mouthful.’ But he had his glass refilled almost at once, holding it with exaggerated steadiness. Mountolive turned a speculative and gent le eye upon me as I seized a plate, and then greeted me by name with evident relief. ‘Ah, Darley’ he said, ‘for a moment I thought you were one of my secretaries. They’ve been following me around all evening. Spoiling my fun. Errol simply refuses to violate pro-tocol and leave before his Chief of Mission; so I had to hide in the garden until they thought I had left, poor dears. As a junior I have so often cursed my Minister for keeping me up on boring evenings that I made a vow never to make my juniors suffer in the same way if I should ever become Head of Mission.’ His light effortless con-versation with its unaffectedness of delivery always made him seem immediately sympathetic, though I realized that his manner was a professional one, the bedside manner of the trained diplomat. He had spent so many years in putting his inferiors at their ease, and in hiding his spirit’s condescension, that he had at last achieved an air of utterly professional sincerity which while seeming true to nature could not, in reality, have been less false. It had all the fidelity of great acting. But it was annoying that I should always find myself liking him so much. We circled the table slowly to-gether, talking and filling our plates.
‘What did you see in the garden, David?’ said Pursewarden in a teasing tone, and the Minister’s eye rested speculatively on him for a minute, as if to warn him against saying something which would be indiscreet or out of place. ‘I saw’ said Mountolive smiling and reaching for a glass, ‘I saw the amorous Amaril by the lake — talk-ing to a woman in a domino. Perhaps his dreams have come true?’
Amaril’s passion was well-known to everyone. ‘I do hope so.’
‘And what else?’ said Pursewarden in a challenging, rather vulgar tone, as if he shared a private secret with him. ‘What else, who else did you see, David?’ He was slightly tipsy and his voice, though friendly, had a bullying note. Mountolive flushed and looked down at his plate.
At this I left them and made my way back, equipped with loaded plate and glass. I felt a certain scorn in my heart for Pursewarden, and a rush of sympathy for Mountolive at the thought of him being put out of countenance. I wanted to be alone, to eat in silence and
think about Justine. My cargo of food was nearly upset by three heavily-rouged Graces, all of them men to judge by the deep voices, who were scuffling in the hall. They were attacking each others’ private parts with jocular growls, like dogs. I had the sud-den idea of going up to the library which would surely be empty at this time. I wondered if the new Cavafy manuscripts would be there, and whether the collection was unlocked, for Cervoni was a great collector of books.
On the first floor, a fat man with spindly legs, dressed in the costume of Red Riding Hood, was hammering on a lavatory door; servants were sucking the soot from the carpets of the rooms with Hoovers and talking in undertones. The library was on the floor