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Fabulous characters shoot across his pages like gaily dressed performers
on the trapeze。 There are extraordinary adventures and still more
extraordinary speculations。 Intelligences and emotions； relieved of all the
imbecile preoccupations of civilised life； move in intricate and subtle
dances； crossing and recrossing； advancing； retreating； impinging。 An
immense erudition and an immense fancy go hand in hand。 All the ideas
of the present and of the past； on every possible subject； bob up among the
Tales； smile gravely or grimace a caricature of themselves； then disappear
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to make place for something new。 The verbal surface of his writing is
rich and fantastically diversified。 The wit is incessant。 The。。。〃
〃But couldn't you give us a specimen；〃 Denis broke in〃a concrete
example？〃
〃Alas！〃 Mr。 Scogan replied； 〃Knockespotch's great book is like the
sword Excalibur。 It remains struck fast in this door； awaiting the coming
of a writer with genius enough to draw it forth。 I am not even a writer； I
am not so much as qualified to attempt the task。 The extraction of
Knockespotch from his wooden prison I leave； my dear Denis； to you。〃
〃Thank you；〃 said Denis。
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CHAPTER XV。
〃In the time of the amiable Brantome；〃 Mr。 Scogan was saying； 〃every
debutante at the French Court was invited to dine at the King's table；
where she was served with wine in a handsome silver cup of Italian
workmanship。 It was no ordinary cup； this goblet of the debutantes； for；
inside； it had been most curiously and ingeniously engraved with a series
of very lively amorous scenes。 With each draught that the young lady
swallowed these engravings became increasingly visible； and the Court
looked on with interest； every time she put her nose in the cup； to see
whether she blushed at what the ebbing wine revealed。 If the debutante
blushed； they laughed at her for her innocence； if she did not； she was
laughed at for being too knowing。〃
〃Do you propose；〃 asked Anne； 〃that the custom should be revived at
Buckingham Palace？〃
〃I do not；〃 said Mr。 Scogan。 〃I merely quoted the anecdote as an
illustration of the customs； so genially frank； of the sixteenth century。 I
might have quoted other anecdotes to show that the customs of the
seventeenth and eighteenth； of the fifteenth and fourteenth centuries； and
indeed of every other century； from the time of Hammurabi onward； were
equally genial and equally frank。 The only century in which customs were
not characterised by the same cheerful openness was the nineteenth； of
blessed memory。 It was the astonishing exception。 And yet； with what
one must suppose was a deliberate disregard of history； it looked upon its
horribly pregnant silences as normal and natural and right； the frankness
of the previous fifteen or twenty thousand years was considered abnormal
and perverse。 It was a curious phenomenon。〃
〃I entirely agree。〃 Mary panted with excitement in her effort to bring
out what she had to say。 〃Havelock Ellis says。。。〃
Mr。 Scogan； like a policeman arresting the flow of traffic； held up his
hand。 〃He does； I know。 And that brings me to my next point： the
nature of the reaction。〃
〃Havelock Ellis。。。〃
〃The reaction； when it cameand we may say roughly that it set in a
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little before the beginning of this centurythe reaction was to openness；
but not to the same openness as had reigned in the earlier ages。 It was to
a scientific openness； not to the jovial frankness of the past； that we
returned。 The whole question of Amour became a terribly serious one。
Earnest young men wrote in the public prints that from this time forth it
would be impossible ever again to make a joke of any sexual matter。
Professors wrote thick books in which sex was sterilised and dissected。
It has become customary for serious young women； like Mary； to discuss；
with philosophic calm； matters of which the merest hint would have
sufficed to throw the youth of the sixties into a delirium of amorous
excitement。 It is all very estimable； no doubt。 But still〃Mr。 Scogan
sighed。〃I for one should like to see； mingled with this scientific ardour； a
little more of the jovial spirit of Rabelais and Chaucer。〃
〃I entirely disagree with you；〃 said Mary。 〃Sex isn't a laughing
matter； it's serious。〃
〃Perhaps；〃 answered Mr。 Scogan； 〃perhaps I'm an obscene old man。
For I must confess that I cannot always regard it as wholly serious。〃
〃But I tell you。。。〃 began Mary furiously。 Her face had flushed with
excitement。 Her cheeks were the cheeks of a great ripe peach。
〃Indeed；〃 Mr。 Scogan continued； 〃it seems to me one of few
permanently and everlastingly amusing subjects that exist。 Amour is the
one human activity of any importance in which laughter and pleasure
preponderate； if ever so slightly； over misery and pain。〃
〃I entirely disagree；〃 said Mary。 There was a silence。
Anne looked at her watch。 〃Nearly a quarter to eight；〃 she said。 〃I
wonder when Ivor will turn up。〃 She got up from her deck… chair and；
leaning her elbows on the balustrade of the terrace； looked out over the
valley and towards the farther hills。 Under the level evening light the
architecture of the land revealed itself。 The deep shadows； the bright
contrasting lights gave the hills a new solidity。 Irregularities of the
surface； unsuspected before； were picked out with light and shade。 The
grass； the corn； the foliage of trees were stippled with intricate shadows。
The surface of things had taken on a marvellous enrichment。
〃Look！〃 said Anne suddenly； and pointed。 On the opposite side of the
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valley； at the crest of the ridge； a cloud of dust flushed by the sunlight to
rosy gold was moving rapidly along the sky…line。 〃It's Ivor。 One can tell
by the speed。〃
The dust cloud descended into the valley and was lost。 A horn with
the voice of a sea…lion made itself heard； approaching。 A minute later
Ivor came leaping round the corner of the house。 His hair waved in the
wind of his own speed； he laughed as he saw them。
〃Anne； darling；〃 he cried； and embraced her； embraced Mary； very
nearly embraced Mr。 Scogan。 〃Well； here I am。 I've come with
incredulous speed。〃 Ivor's vocabulary was rich； but a little erratic。 〃I'm
not late for dinner； am I？〃 He hoisted himself up on to the balustrade；
and sat there； kicking his heels。 With one arm he embraced a large stone
flower…pot； leaning his head sideways against its hard and lichenous flanks
in an attitude of trustful affection。 He had brown； wavy hair； and his eyes
were of a very brilliant； pale； improbable blue。 His head was narrow； his
face thin and rather long； his nose aquiline。 In old age though it was
difficult to imagine Ivor oldhe might grow to have an Iron Ducal
grimness。 But now； at twenty…six； it was not the structure of his face that
impressed one； it was its expression。 That was charming and vivacious；
and his smile was an irradiation。 He was forever moving； restlessly and
rapidly； but with an engaging gracefulness。 His frail and slender body
seemed to be fed by a spring of inexhaustible energy。
〃No； you're not late。〃