“Nothing near,” said Francis simply.
“But that’s all we want, isn’t it?” said Bernard.
“It’s not all I want,” said Mavis, finishing the last of a fine bunch of sea-grapes, “what I want is to get the Mer King restored to his sorrowing relations.”
The Mer Princess pressed her hand affectionately.
“So do I,” said Francis, “but I want something more than that even. I want to stop this war. For always. So that there’ll never be any more of it.”
“But how can you,” said the Mer Princess, leaning her elbows on the table, “there’s always been war; there always will be.”
“Why?” asked Francis.
“I don’t know; it’s Merman nature, I suppose.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Francis earnestly, “not for a minute I don’t. Why, don’t you see, all these people you’re at war with are nice. Look how kind the Queen is to Cathay—look how kind Ulfin is to us—and the Librarian, and the Keeper of the Archives, and the soldiers who lent us the horses. They’re all as decent as they can stick, and all the Mer-people are nice too—and then they all go killing each other, and all those brave, jolly soldier fish too, just all about nothing. I call it simply rot.”
“But there always has been war I tell you,” said the Mer-Princess. “People would get slack and silly and cowardly if there were no wars.”