The House in Paris by Elizabeth Bowen Read Free Book Online Page B

always to see you standing on top of the rock in your long blue coat, looking down so intently as though you wanted to dive? Never to see you again, I mean? Here (you will see by the top I am at Mentone) I crawl about in the sun, like the many other old women, remembering friends who forgot. Old people, I know, must not make too many demands. And I expect your life is absorbingly full these days.
    It comes suddenly into my mind — Do you like prim little girls? I hardly think that you do, but I throw this out. Henrietta, the younger of those two problem grand-daughters (Caroline married last year, she was the one you met) is being sent out to me, to finish the winter here. Her invaluable governess is away, ill, and her father does not know what else to do with her. One is not, as I said before, a grandmother for nothing.
    Arrangements for the child's journey seem to devolve on me. Caroline has been unusually effective and found her as escorts two travelling women, one to Paris, one as far as Nice. (Nobody for the through train, unfortunately.) But the first woman insists on travelling overnight from London, the second on leaving Paris late the following day. Which leaves the child in mid-air for the day in Paris between (it is next Thursday she will be arriving in Paris, by that, I fear, very early train at the Gare du Nord). She could, of course, spend the day at a G.F.S., or some such, but as a first view of Paris that sounds a little sad! Though prim, we have our own ideas of things. Whereas a day chez toi would be a red letter for her. Dear Kingfisher, could you, I wonder, allow this to be possible? You must not feel bound in any way to amuse her; she reads anything anywhere. Though of course, if you should be free, a flying glimpse of Paris would be a delight; she has been nowhere yet and one is only eleven once. She is a responsive, susceptible little person and would, I don't doubt, adore you: in fact, I shall expect to hear for many days of the Kingfisher who forgot me and did not write.
    But how I jump to conclusions! There is no reason at all why you should meet Henrietta: no time for this, I expect, in a life that I imagine now absorbing and full. Someone (should I like her?) I don't doubt now claims Kingfisher's heart and time. If, however, you should think of meeting Henrietta, will you wire Caroline (now Mrs Wade-Trefusis, 195 Pelham Crescent, S.W.) for times of trains (arrivals, departures, etc.) full instructions and names of the two travelling women, which I fear I forget? I have worked out a dear little system of cherry-pink cockades: one for Henrietta, in order that you may know her at the Gare du Nord, one for yourself for her to know you by (in case you should meet her, always in case!) and one for the second woman to wear at the Gare de Lyon, for Henrietta and you to know her by. Please also see Henrietta pins on her cockade again before going to G. de L. The second woman (who is, now I remember, called either Watts or Wilson) may not know who she is. I have posted all these cockades to Caroline: see that she writes to you, confirming all this and sending you the cockades. She is lazy and given to telegrams. If it is not possible for you to meet Henrietta (as I hardly expect it will be) Caroline must post your cockade to the G.F.S. So perhaps you'd be sweet enough to wire her, either way? I am sorry I cannot give you the times of the trains or the names of the two women, but I find they are in my other handbag at home, and I am writing this on a seat under a palm. However, Caroline knows all that.
    No, I must not make claims on you, my dear Kingfisher: my remembering you more often than you remember me is not any reason to do that. If you really did take in Henrietta for Thursday I confess it would be a weight off my mind. Keep accounts of telegrams, taxis and any other expenses and remind Henrietta, who will have money with her, to pay you these back before saying Goodbye. She cannot learn too young to