The talk went merrily, one good story calling up another. But Merle could not help noticing the steely gleam of Ferdinand Holm’s eyes, even when he laughed.
The talk fell on new doings in Egypt, and as Peer heard more and more of these, it seemed to her that his look changed. His glance, too, seemed to have that glint of steel, there was something strange and absent in his face; was he feeling, perhaps, that wife and children were but a drag on a man, after all? He seemed like an old war-horse waking suddenly at the sound of trumpets.
“There’s a nice little job waiting for you, by the way,” said Ferdinand Holm, lifting his glass to Peer.
“Very kind of you, I’m sure. A sub-directorship under you?”
“You’re no good under any one. You belong on top.” Ferdinand illustrated his words with a downward and an upward pointing of the finger. “The harnessing of the Tigris and Euphrates will have to be taken in hand. It’s only a question of time.”
“Thanks very much!” said Peer, his eyes wide open now.
“The plan’s simply lying waiting for the right man. It will be carried out, it may be next year, it may be in ten years—whenever the man comes along. I would think about it, if I were you.”
All looked at Peer; Merle fastened her eyes on him, too. But he laughed. “Now, what on earth would be the satisfaction to me of binding in bands those two ancient and honourable rivers?”
“Well, in the first place, it would mean an increase of many millions of bushels in the corn production of the world. Wouldn’t you have any satisfaction in that?”
“No,” said Peer, with a touch of scorn.