Decline and Fall

EPILOGUE

It was Paul's third year of uneventful residence at Scone. Stubbs finished his cocoa, knocked out his pipe and rose to go. 'I must be off to my digs, he said. 'You're lucky staying in college. It's a long ride back to Walton Street on a night like this.

'D'you want to take Von Hugel? asked Paul.

'No, not to‑night. May I leave it till to‑morrow?

Stubbs picked up his scholar's gown and wrapped it round his shoulders. 'That was an interesting paper to‑night about the Polish plebiscites.

'Yes, wasn't it? said Paul.

Outside there was a confused roanng and breaking of glass.

'The Bollinger seem to be enjoying themselves, said Paul. 'Whose rooms are they in this time?

'Pastmaster's, I think. That young man seems to be going a bit fast for his age.

'Well, I hope he enjoys it, said Paul. 'Good night.

'Good night, Paul, said Stubbs.

Paul put the chocolate biscuits back in the cupboard, refilled his pipe, and settled down in his chair.

Presently he heard footsteps and a knock at his door.

'Come in, he said, looking round.

Peter Pastmaster came into the room. He was dressed in the bottle‑green and white evening coat of the Bollinger Club. His face was flushed and his dark hair slightly disordered.

'May I come in?

'Yes, do.

'Have you got a drink?

'You seem to have had a good many already.

'I've had the Boller in my rooms. Noisy lot. Oh, hell! I must have a drink.

'There's some whisky in the cupboard. You're drinking rather a lot these days, aren't you, Peter?

Peter said nothing, but helped himself to some whisky and soda.

'Feeling a bit ill, he said. Then, after a pause, 'Paul why have you been cutting me all this time?

'I don't know. I didn't think there was much to be gained by our knowing each other.

'Not angry about anything?

'No, why should I be?

'Oh, I don't know. Peter turned his glass in his hand, staring at it intently. 'I've been rather angry with you, you know.

'Why?

'Oh, I don't know ‑ about Margot and the man Maltravers and everything.

'I don't think I was much to blame.

'No, I suppose not, only you were part of it all.

'How's Margot?

'She's all right ‑ Margot Metroland. D'you mind if I take another drink?

'I suppose not.

'Viscountess Metroland, said Peter. 'What a name! What a man! Still, she's got Alastair all the time. Metroland doesn't mind. He's got what he wanted. I don't see much of them really. What do you do all the time, Paul?

'I'm going to be ordained soon.

'Wish I didn't feel so damned ill. What were we saying? Oh yes, about Metroland. You know, Paul, I think it was a mistake you ever got mixed up with us; don't you? We're different somehow. Don't quite know how. Don't think that's rude, do you, Paul?

'No, I know exactly what you mean. You're dynamic, and I'm static.

'Is that it? Expect you're right. Funny thing you used to teach me once; d'you remember? Llanabba ‑ Latin sentences, Quominus and Quin, and the organ; d'you remember?

'Yes, I remember, said Paul.

'Funny how things happen. You used to teach me the organ; d'you remember?

'Yes, I remember, said Paul.

'And then Margot Metroland wanted to marry you; d'you remember?

'Yes, said Paul.

'And then you went to prison, and Alastair ‑ that's Margot Metroland's young man ‑ and Metroland ‑ that's her husband ‑ got you out; d'you remember?

'Yes, said Paul, 'I remember.

'And here we are talking to one another like this, up here, after all that! Funny, isn't it?

'Yes, it is rather.

'Paul, do you remember a thing you said once at the Ritz ‑ Alastair was there ‑ that's Margot Metroland's young man, you know ‑ d'you remember? I was rather tight then too. You said, "Fortune, a much‑maligned lady." D'you remember that?

'Yes, said Paul, 'I remember.

'Good old Paul! I knew you would. Let's drink to that now; shall we? How did it go? Damn, I've forgotten it. Never mind. I wish I didn't feel so ill.

'You drink too much, Peter.

'Oh, damn, what else is there to do? You going to be a clergyman, Paul?

'Yes.

'Damned funny that. You know you ought never to have got mixed up with me and Metroland. May I have another drink?

'Time you went to bed, Peter, don't you think?

'Yes, I suppose it is. Didn't mind my coming in, did you? After all, you used to teach me the organ; d'you remember? Thanks for the whisky!

So Peter went out, and Paul settled down again in his chair. So the ascetic Ebionites used to turn towards Jerusalem when they prayed. Paul made a note of it. Quite right to suppress them. Then he turned out the light and went into his bedroom to sleep.