To Prime the Pump - A. Bertram Chandler [47]
"Yes," said Marlene at last. "It was haunted. There was the faithless Princess Magda, who used to run screaming through the corridors, the hilt of her husband's dagger still protruding from between her breasts. There was Butcher Hermann, who met his end in the torture chamber at the hands of his own bastard son. There was S. S. General von Stolzberg, roasted in this very fireplace by his slave-labor farm workers when the Third Reich collapsed . . ."
"We could do without them, "de Messigny stated.
"Hermann and the General, perhaps," cackled the Duchess. "But Magda would have been at home here." As she said this she ceased to be the Grande Dame, looked more, thought Grimes, like the Madam of a whorehouse.
"Yes," agreed the Comte. "She would have been." Had he not looked so long and hard at Marlene as he said it, the remark would have been inoffensive.
Eulalia laughed again. "I have often wondered why some men persist in attaching such great importance to the supremely unimportant." She shrugged her slim, elegant shoulders. "But, of course, Lobenga has no cause to worry about me. Not even on this world. Perhaps, Henri, we could enroll you in a course of study in the so-called Black Arts."
"That filth!" exploded this Comte.
"Sir," the huge Negro told him gravely, "it is not filth. We have seen, on this planet, what happens when Man gets too far away from the mud and blood of his first beginnings. Every member of the Committee of Management, with the exception of Lord Tarlton . . ."
"That materialist!" interjected his wife.
". . . agrees that we are on the right track. There is disagreement regarding which method to employ. Her Grace, for example, pins her faith in super-civilized but decadent orgies . . ."
"Thank you, Lobenga," said the old woman sardonically.
"On the other hand, Her Highness concurs with me that a sacrifice is necessary."
"Then," put in de Messigny, "why were not such few criminals as we have discovered on El Dorado executed here, instead of being sent to their deaths somewhere in outer space?"
"You heard what was said about Hermann von Stolzberg and his descendant, the S. S. General. We can do without such raw material."
"Rubbish!" The Comte's normally pale face was flushed. "Marlene carries in her veins the blood of her murderous ancestors. We all of us carry in our veins the blood of ancestors guilty of every crime—yes, and of every sin—known to Man."
"There has been a certain refining process," the Duchess told him.
"Perhaps that's the trouble. Perhaps we are all too refined. Or perhaps we have culminated in a new species of Mankind that is sterile."
The Duchess cackled. "That from you, Henri? I recall, just the other day, that you were telling me about your illegitimate children on Caribbea and Austral" Then, maliciously, "But are you sure that they are yours?"
"There is a strong family resemblance," he snapped.
"And so, Henri, you alone on El Dorado are capable of the act of procreation. Why don't you . . ."
"I didn't mean it that way, Honoria."
"We have a guest," Marlene reminded the others.
"And so we have," agreed de Messigny, tossing down almost a full glass of wine. "Or so you have. But we must not offend Mr. Grimes' delicate susceptibilities, although I am sure that an officer of the Survey Service will be able to take the rough with the smooth." He managed to make the last word sound obscene.
"Henri. You know very well that that would be entirely contrary to the rules by which we live."
"You have always made your own rules, Marlene. As we all, at this table, know."
"As we all know," stated Lobenga.
"That is my privilege," she said. "As it is the privilege of all on El Dorado."
"But you told us," complained the Duchess, "that you would, for the good of us all, cooperate. Cooperate, did I say? As I recall it, you were to play a leading part in one of the schemes."