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The Alexandria Quartet - Lawrence Durrell [239]

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’s good fortune, he might easily show pique at not having been consulted according to custom by the Principal Private Secretary. Anyway. He retired to his now empty office and plunged into the latest copy of The Times, waiting with ill-concealed impatience for the Chancery clock to mark out midday with its jangling whirrs and gasps. Then he went downstairs and slipped into the Residence again through the padded door, walking with his swift limping walk across the polished floors with their soft archipelagos of neutral rug. Every-thing smelt of disuse and Mansion polish; in the curtains a smell of cigar-smoke. At every window a screen of tossing snowflakes. Merritt the valet was starting up the staircase with a tray con-taining a cocktail shaker full of Martini and a single glass. He was a pale heavily-built man who cultivated the gravity of a church-warden while he moved about his tasks in the Residence. He stopped as Mountolive drew level and said hoarsely: ‘He’s just up and dressing for a duty lunch, sir.’ Mountolive nodded and passed him, taking the stairs two at a time. The servant turned back to the buttery to add a second glass to his tray.

Sir Louis whistled dispiritedly at his own reflection in the great mirror as he dressed himself. ‘Ah, my boy’ he said vaguely as Mountolive appeared behind him. ‘Just dressing. I know, I know. It’s my unlucky day. Chancery rang me at eleven. So you have done it at last. Congratulations.’

Mountolive sat down at the foot of the bed with relief to find the news taken so lightly. His Chief went on wrestling with a tie and a starched collar as he said: ‘I suppose you’ll want to go off at once, eh? It’s a loss to us.’

‘It would be convenient’ admitted Mountolive slowly.

‘A pity. I was hoping you’d see me out. But anyway’ he made a flamboyant gesture with a disengaged hand ‘you’ve done it. From tricorne and dirk to bicorne and sword — the final apotheosis.’

He groped for cuff-links and went on thoughtfully. ‘Of course, you could stay a bit; it’ll take time to get agrément. Then you’ll have to go to the Palace and kiss hands and all that sort of thing. Eh?’

‘I have quite a lot of leave due’ said Mountolive with the faintest trace of firmness underlying his diffident tone. Sir Louis retired to the bathroom and began scrubbing his false teeth under the tap. ‘And the next Honours List?’ he shouted into the small mirror on the wall. ‘You ’ll wait for that?’

‘I suppose.’ Merritt came in with the tray and the old man shouted ‘Put it anywhere. An extra glass?’

‘Yes sir.’

As the servant retired closing the door softly behind him, Mountolive got up to pour the cocktail. Sir Louis was talking to himself in a grumbling tone. ‘It’s damn hard on the Mission. Well, anyway, David, I bet your first reaction to the news was: now I’m free to act, eh?’ He chuckled like a fowl and returned to his dressing-table in a good humour. His junior paused in the act of pouring out, startled by such unusual insight. ‘How on earth did you know that?’ he said, frowning. Sir Louis gave another self-satisfied cluck.

‘We all do. We all do. The final delusion. Have to go through it like the rest of us, you know. It’s a tricky moment. You find yourself throwing your weight about — committing the sin against the Holy Ghost if you aren’t careful.’

‘What would that be?’

‘In diplomacy it means trying to build a policy on a minority view. Everyone’s weak spot. Look how often we are tempted to build something on the Right here. Eh? Won’t do. Minorities are no use unless they’re prepared to fight. That’s the thing.’ He accepted his drink in rosy old fingers, noting with approval the

breath of dew upon the cold glasses. They toasted each other and smiled affectionately. In the last two years they had become the greatest of friends. ‘I shall miss you. But then, in another three months I shall be out of this … this place myself.’ He said the words with undisguised fervour. ‘No more nonsense about Objectivity. Eastern can find some nice impartial products of the London School of Economics to do their reporting.’ Recently the Foreign Office had complained that the Mission

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