The young man thought it over—for all the world as though he were at a bazaar and I were pressing him to buy something that he didn't want! I was beside myself...
"I should like to meet her," he was good enough to say. "She may be useful. All right, I'll do it this once."
And, do you know, it was on the tip of my tongue to say that never should he set foot inside my house! First of all inviting himself to dinner, then trying to make me pay him for coming... An artist I can understand; and a tradesman I can understand. But this hybrid...
And on the night he insisted on my presenting him to the princess. Insisted! There is no other word... She, of course, was too sweet ... made no objection and even complimented him. I kept thinking of the old days. When my niece Phyllida came out just before the war, Brackenbury gave a ball for her and asked me to do what I could (Ruth is worse than useless on such occasions, because she tries to cover up her ignorance by saying it doesn't matter—and being obstinate about it). I ordered the band—from those really nice people in Clifford Street—; and the princess was present on that occasion too. I wondered what we should have thought if the leader had strolled up, baton in hand, and said: "Oh, won't you present me to Her Royal Highness?" ...
I will say this boy played well. Magnetically... The whole room was silent and motionless. One looked up through a mist, as it were, and saw rows of rapt faces, a regiment of men by the walls, a mere black and white cloud by the door.
At first I did not notice...
I mean, one cannot be expected to identify eighty or a hundred people all at once; the princess was obviously my first concern, and, when this young fellow ceased playing and I stood up, naturally I imagined that they would all come forward. So they did ... some of them. I am not good at recognizing people, so I made allowances for myself; but, even so, a great many of the faces were unfamiliar. Nothing in that, you may say; a little music and some light refreshments—sandwiches and cake, you know, with perhaps claret-cup and coffee—afford a wonderful opportunity for making a little return to people whom one truly honestly doesn't want to have dining; I'm sure you understand! There is nothing wrong with them or I would not invite them to have the honour of meeting the princess; but, as Will would say, they just don't pull their weight in the boat... I recognized one or two ... and then, really, I did not know what to make of it. After anything I may have said to the princess about the unpleasantly go-as-you-please, enjoy-yourself-and-don't-ask-questions character of modern London, you may be sure that I had not encouraged anybody to collect the first half-dozen waifs and strays from the street and bring them in. Every one had been told that the princess would be there, so that they might equip themselves accordingly; yet, when I looked round the room, I did not know a tenth of the people!
It was like a bad dream! You know my drawing-room in Mount Street: windows on the south side, and between them a sofa on which I was sitting with the princess; to the left, at the far end, the piano; to the right, the door. At one moment—a perfect picture! Dear old Lord Fenchurch with his St. George, Brackenbury with the Bath, my boy with his war medals—almost every one with a little something to enhance what will always be the most dignified dress in the world. Repose... Distinction. And then, at the door, an invading army! Men I had never seen before, some in uniform, some in those detestable little jackets and limp, pleated shirts; flushed, dishevelled... And all of them unknown to me as the man in the moon! The princess, perhaps you know, abominates the smell of tobacco; need I say that a positive cloud of smoke was bursting in from the stair-case? ...
If it had been the men alone, I could have borne it. Somehow one would have carried it off... I made my way, through this sea of strange faces, to the door—and I really believe that, if I had found the Jacquerie in possession, I could hardly have been more astounded. With the men there were girls, scores and scores of them, surging up to the door, lolling about on the stairs, smoking cigarettes in the hall, powdering their horrible little noses. One glance was enough... The dresses alone—skirts that hardly reached their knees, bodices that hardly reached their waists, "the shoe and shoulder-strap brigade", as my boy calls them. A reek of powder and cheap scent...
"What," I said, "what have I done to deserve this?"