“You aren’t in a fit condition now,” Humphries said.
“You don’t understand me at all, do you? I only want to talk to her. We aren’t all bloody lechers, Humphries. There’s a quality about María. She doesn’t belong…”
“She’s a whore like all the rest, I suppose,” Doctor Humphries said, clearing his throat. Doctor Plarr was soon to learn that, whenever Humphries disapproved of a subject, his throat clogged with phlegm.
“And that’s where you’re both of you so bloody wrong,” Charley Fortnum said, although Doctor Plarr had not expressed an opinion. “She is different from all the others. She’s got a sort of refinement. Her family comes from Cordoba. There’s good blood in her or else I’m not Charley Fortnum. I know you think I’m a fool, but there’s something well… almost virginal about that girl.”
“And you’re the Consul here, honorary or not. You’ve no business to be seen in a low dive like that.”
“I respect the girl,” Charley Fortnum said, “I respect her even when I sleep with her.”
“It’s all you are capable of doing tonight.”
After a little more harsh persuasion, Fortnum allowed himself to be assisted to-Doctor Plarr’s car.
There he brooded in silence for a time, while his chin shook to the movement of the engine. “One grows old I suppose,” he said suddenly. “You are young. You don’t suffer from memories, regrets… Are you married?” he asked abruptly as they drove up San Martin.
“No.”
“I was married once,” Fortnum said, “twenty-five years ago-it seems a century now. It didn’t work out. She was an intellectual if you understand what I mean. She didn’t understand human nature.” He switched-by an association of ideas Doctor Plarr found it impossible, to follow-to his present condition. “I always feel a great deal more human,” he said, “when I’ve drunk just over half a bottle. A little less than half-that’s no use at all, but a little more… Of course the effect doesn’t last, but half an hour of feeling really good is worth some sadness afterward.”
“Are you talking of wine?” Doctor Plarr asked with incredulity. He couldn’t believe that Fortnum had been so moderate.
“Wine, whisky, gin, it’s all the same. It’s the measure that counts. There’s something psychological in the measure. Less than half a bottle and Charley Fortnum’s a poor lonely bastard with only Fortnum’s Pride for company.”
“Fortnum’s Pride?”
“My proud and well-groomed steed. But one glass over the half-bottle-any glass, even a liqueur glass, it’s just the measure that counts and Charley Fortnum’s quite himself again. Fit for royalty. You know I went on a picnic with some royals once among the rums. We had two bottles among the three of us, and it was quite a day, I can tell you, but that’s another story. Like Captain Izquierdo. Remind me to tell you one day about Captain Izquierdo.” It was very hard for a stranger to follow Charley Fortnum’s associations.
“Where’s the Consulate? Is it the next turning on the left?”
“Yes, but we could take the second or third just as well and make a little turn. I enjoy your company, doctor. What did you say your name was?”
“Plarr.”
“Do you know what my name is?”
“Yes.”
“Mason.”
“I thought…”
“That’s what they called me at school. Mason. Fortnum and Mason, the inseparable twins. It was the best English school In B. A. My career though was less than distinguished. A good word to get out so distinct… so well. The right measure you see. Not too much and not too little. I was never a prefect, and the marble team was the only one I made. Not recognized officially. We were a snobbish school. All the same the headmaster, not the one I knew, that was Arden-we called him Smells-well, this new man wrote me a letter of congratulation when I became Honorary Consul. I wrote to him first, of course, and told him the glad news, so I suppose he couldn’t very well ignore me altogether.”
“Will you tell me when we get to the Consulate?”
“We’ve passed it, old man, but never you mind. I’ve got a clear head. You just take another turn. First to the right and then left again. I’m in the sort of mood when I could drive like this all night. In sympathetic company. No need to pay attention to the one-way signs. Diplomatic privilege. The CC on the car. I can talk to you, doctor, as I can talk to no other man in this city. Spaniards. A proud people but they have no sentiment. Not as we English know it. No sense of Home. Soft slippers, the feet on the table, the friendly glass, the ever-open door. Humphries is not a bad chap-he’s as English as you or me, or is he Scotch?—but he has the soul of a-pedagogue. Another good word that. He always tries to correct my morals, and yet I don’t do much that’s wrong, not really wrong. Tonight, if I’m a little pissed, it was the fault of the glasses. What’s your other name, doctor?”
“Eduardo.”
“But I thought you were English?”
“My mother’s Paraguayan.”
“Call me Charley. Would you mind if I called you Ted?”
“Call me what you like, but for God’s sake tell me where the Consulate is.”
“The next corner. But don’t go expecting too much. No marble halls, no chandeliers and potted palms. It’s only a bachelor’s digs-a bureau, a bedroom-all the usual offices, of course. The best the buggers at home are ready to provide. No sense of national pride. Penny wise, pound foolish. You must come out to my camp-that’s where my real home is. Nearly a thousand acres. Eight hundred anyway. Some of the best maté In the country. We could drive there now-it’s only three quarters of an hour from here. A good night’s sleep and afterward-a hair of the dog. I can give you real Scotch.”
“Not tonight. I have patients to see in the morning.”
They stopped outside an old colonial house with Corinthian pillars; the white plaster gleamed in the moonlight. On the first floor a flagstaff projected and a shield bore the royal arms. Charley Fortnum swayed a little on the pavement, gazing up. “Is it true?” he asked.
“Is what true?”
“The flagstaff. Isn’t it leaning over a bit too much?”
“It looks all right to me.”
“I wish we had a simpler flag than the Union Jack. I hung it upside down once on the Queen’s birthday. I could see nothing wrong with the bloody thing, but Humphries was angry-he said he was going to write to the Ambassador. Come up and have a glass.”
“I must be getting home-if you can manage by yourself.”
“I promise you it’s real Scotch. I get Long John from the Embassy. They all prefer Haig there. But Long John gives you a free glass with every bottle. Very nice glasses, too, with the measures marked. Women, Men, and Shipmaster. I count myself, of course, a Shipmaster. I’ve got dozens of Long John glasses out at the camp. I like that name Shipmaster. Better than Captain which could be a mere military term.”