“You mean that you don’t believe all these things you say about Briey and banking and capitalism?” demanded Graham.
Mathis smiled faintly. “That is the joke about which I told you. For a time I was free. I could command my wife and I became more fond of her. I was a manager in a big factory. And then a terrible thing happened. I found that I had begun to believe these things I said. The books I read showed me that I had found a truth. I, a Royalist by instinct, became a socialist by conviction. Worse, I became a socialist martyr. There was a strike in the factory and I, a manager, supported the strikers. I did not belong to a union. Naturally! And so I was dismissed. It was ridiculous.” He shrugged. “So here I am! I have become a man in my home at the price of becoming a bore outside it. It is funny, is it not?”
Graham smiled. He had decided that he liked Monsieur Mathis. He said: “It would be funny if it were wholly true. But I can assure you that it was not because I was bored that I did not listen to you last night.”
“You are very polite,” began Mathis dubiously; “but …”
“Oh, there is no question of politeness. You see, I work for an armaments manufacturer, and so I have been more than interested in what you have had to say. On some points I find myself in agreement with you.”
A change came over the Frenchman’s face. He flushed slightly; a small delighted smile hovered round his lips; for the first time Graham saw the tense frown relax. “On which points do you not agree?” he demanded eagerly.
At that moment Graham realised that, whatever else had happened to him on the Sestri Levante, he had made at least one friend.
They were still arguing when Josette came out on deck. Unwillingly, Mathis interrupted what he was saying to acknowledge her presence.
“Madame.”
She wrinkled her nose at them. “What are you discussing? It must be very important that you have to stand in the rain to talk about it.”