Griselda rose to her feet, ‘Please do not trouble,’ she said. ‘I don’t think the position is quite what I am looking for.’ She felt entirely regal as she swept from the room; the regality being modified only temporarily by Maudie emitting a long squelching sound through her incorrectly painted lips.
XVI
After purchasing and eating four penny buns and drinking a mugful of Bovril, Griselda decided to seek a job by a different method. She took an omnibus from Liverpool Street to Piccadilly Circus, and rambled through the back streets north of Piccadilly and west of Regent Street, looking in the shops, and seeking also a place where she could possibly want to work. It was what her school had described as the Direct Method. On this occasion, the Direct Method proved immediately efficacious.
The aspect of a certain small bookshop appealed to her greatly. The window was stocked neither with Books of the Month nor with sombre ancients; but with a well chosen selection of books published during the preceding fifty years or thereabouts. Unfortunately for the enlightened management, the shop appeared to be empty. Above the window was the name ‘Tamburlane.’
Griselda entered. A tall, well-made man, with a red face and white fluffy hair, emerged briskly from an inner room.
‘I’m afraid we are out of Housman today,’ he said in a gentle cultivated voice.
‘I already have him, thank you.’
‘Indeed? I must apologize for my precipitancy. I supposed that like my other customers today, you might have been guided here by that thing in The Times.’
‘I’m afraid I missed that particular thing in The Times.’
‘Just as well, really. At least in my opinion. Not that I’ve anything against the old man himself. But The Times does rather dote, don’t you think? On A.E.H. and J.M.B.?’ His articulation of the word ‘dote’ was pleasantly idiosyncratic.
‘Yes,’ said Griselda. ‘Now you mention it, I really believe that The Times does.’
‘Insufficient catholicity. Their enormous parsonical readership is at the back of it. It’s useless attaching blame to the Editor. Quite a broad-minded well-read chap in his private life. I’m told. I wonder if you’d care for a small glass of port? I always indulge myself after luncheon and it’s all too seldom I have a friend to indulge with me.’
‘There’s nothing I’d like better.’
‘Delightful. You have spontaneity, the one real virtue. But I must not let myself stray into compliments. Please sit down.’ He indicated a Chines Chippendale chair. Griselda saw that there were a number of them in the inner room.
‘Are you Mr Tamburlane?’
‘Yes and no. But yes for present purposes. Certainly yes. And you?’
‘Griselda de Reptonville,’
He was filling two beautiful little glasses, from a beautiful little decanter, with assuredly most beautiful port.
‘That is the most delightful name I have ever heard. In what is vulgarly known as “real life”, of course. I do hope I shall enrol you among my permanent customers.’
Griselda swallowed half the contents of the glass at one unsuitable gulp.
‘I really rather hope to be enrolled among your employees.’
He was sipping like a rare and fastidious fowl.
‘Well, nothing could be easier than that. Nothing at all. I take it you love books?’
‘Perhaps I love them more than I know about them.’
‘Indeed I certainly hope so or you would stand little chance here. In view of what you say, you’re engaged. Do you wish to start work now?’
‘Would tomorrow suit you?’
‘Excellently well. Naturally you will not be expected to lower the shutters. Ten o’clock I therefore suggest?’
He recharged the two glasses. The wine looked rich as Faust’s blood.
‘I think I should tell you of my qualifications. For working in a bookshop I have one or two.’
‘They are apparent to me. You have beauty and spontaneity, and you love books. Those things are rare and becoming daily rarer. They suffice. Indeed they suffice.’
‘I shall try very hard indeed,’ said Griselda.
‘Never forget the words of the great Prince Talleyrand: “Surtout, point de zиle.” That advice will carry you far in life. Though I am perfectly sure that you will be carried far in any case.’
‘I have made a sadly slow start.’
‘“He tires betimes, who spurs too fast betimes.” I never can overcome my lust for Shakespeare. Can you?’
‘I haven’t tried. Should I try?’
‘Peasant stuff much of it really; but none the less a genius. Indisputably a genius. I was speaking only figuratively. You mustn’t take anything I say too literally.’
Griselda looked up from her port.
‘Oh, don’t take alarm. My words are not serious, but my deeds move mountains. Or so I sometimes like to flatter myself.’
A man entered the shop and began to explore the shelves.
‘Perhaps I should go,’ said Griselda. ‘Thank you very much indeed for the port. And for the job.’
‘It has been the greatest possible joy to me. Such a lovely head, such lustrous eyes: always about the shop. Blessedness, indeed: beata Beatrix, and all that. And don’t misunderstand me in any particular. My homage is entirely aesthetic; wholly impersonal, so to speak. My eros veers almost entirely towards Adonis.’
The customer looked up at these words, uttered in a voice like a ring of treble bells; and suddenly left the shop.
Griselda noticed the repeated claim of men to be regarding her impersonally. Their motives for this claim seemed as varied as their implication that the process ennobled them was consistent.
‘I entirely understand,’ said Griselda, ‘Good-bye until tomorrow morning.’
‘Take something to read,’ cried Mr Tamburlane. ‘Take this.’ It was Rupert of Hentzau. ‘I presume you’ve read The Prisoner?’
‘I’m afraid that’s one I’ve missed.’
‘Then take The Prisoner too.’
‘You are most thoughtful. I’ll return them very quickly.’
‘Indeed not. You’ll read them for solace in years to come, most blessed damozel.’
It was only later while eating an йclair in Fullers that Griselda realized that this time the matter of wages had not been mentioned at all.
XVII
But it settled itself quite suitably. As soon as Griselda diffidently raised the subject upon her arrival the next morning, Mr Tamburlane cried out: ‘Please, please, please. No more holding back, I beg. Though alas, I cannot be prodigal. You will soon see for yourself the state of business, and I make it my policy to try to confine outgoings to a sum not exceeding takings. Would four pounds per week keep your slim gilt soul, if I may quote my old friend, within your rosy fingered body?’
‘I believe that’s about the market rate,’ replied Griselda, perhaps a little disappointed, however unreasonably. ‘Thank you very much.’ It would be necessary to depart from the Great Exhibition Hotel as soon as possible.
‘The shop shuts at six o’clock, and at one on Saturdays. You will find that much of the business, such as it is, takes place each day during the general matutinal interregnum.’
In many respects the job was an ideal one. The work was of the lightest and unfailingly interesting; and Mr Tamburlane, apparently the only other person connected with the running of the business, became upon further acquaintance more and more likeable and sympathetic. The few customers were mainly artists, aristocrats, idlers, and scholars; persons bashed by life into extreme inoffensiveness, varied in certain cases by mild and appealing eccentricity. There was also a small number of exceedingly beautiful women customers, who lighted up the shop as with nimbuses. The main drawback, perceived by Griselda from the outset, was that the job entirely lacked what she believed to be termed ‘prospects’. Until one knew him, it was difficult to understand what need Mr Tamburlane had of an assistant. After one knew him, it was plain that his need could not truly be translated into financial terms.