Читать книгу The Coward - Robert Hugh Benson - Страница 22

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A Riffelalp table d’hôte presents as remarkable contrasts as any table d’hôte in the world, since it comprises specimens of the most active and the most passive types of the human race. There are large, stately ladies there, suspiciously bright-eyed, in silk petticoats, with their lace-fringed parasols leaning in the corner; and there are lean, sun-dried athletes, who have ascended Monte Rosa yesterday and propose to start for the Weisshorn to-morrow. The complexions of the former are often perfectly preserved, since they have come up here in a litter, and have done no more than stroll for a quarter of a mile along the level path leading towards the Findelen glacier; the complexions of the latter are usually non-existent: at the best they are of a rich dry-leaf tint, at the worst they are olive, with a pink, peeled nose and puckered eyes set in the midst.

It was at the end of one of the two long tables, furnished with guests of these varieties, that the party of five sat down at about a quarter-past twelve. The parents had taken it easily, and appeared now, scarcely flushed—Mrs. Meredith a rather round-faced, happy-looking lady, in a blouse and twill skirt; Mr. Meredith a dry, thin man, looking to be exactly what he was—a lawyer—in a neat grey tailed suit, with a high forehead and humorous, sharp eyes. As a matter of fact, he was a K.C., sitting, so to speak, on the very edge of the bench.

“Now, Tom,” he said, “tell us all about them. Who’s here? I mean of your sort.”

Tom took another careful survey of the faces and began. It was a big room, high-ceilinged and wide-windowed, looking straight out at the end by which the new party sat upon the Matterhorn end of the valley. There sat the monster, guarded by the little, black Hoinbi at his base, as a giant might sit with a small dog between his knees. And the whole view was sublime; it glimmered, from these windows, with the blue of a London riding-school. But it was not with this that Val was interested just now.

It was extraordinarily fascinating to Val, for there were at least two climbers at the table that day of whom he had actually read in printed books; and one of them James Armstrong, Secretary of the Alpine Club. (With infinite envy he saw Tom presently nod at him and receive a nod in return.) There were also, it appeared, staying in the hotel, though not present at this moment, a party of four men whom Tom had met and climbed with last year. They had gone for what was called a “training-walk” up to the top of the Breithorn, and would be back by evening. Tom had learned all those things from the hotel-porter upon his arrival.

“And what are you boys going to do this afternoon?”

“Riffelhorn, father.”

His mother glanced at Val.

“You don’t look very strong, Mr. Val,” she said. “Are you sure——”

“Oh! I’m all right, thanks.”

He had determined to take a firm line at once. He was not going to be mothered.

“And you’ll be back ... ?”

“For table d’hôte, anyhow,” said Tom.

“You three alone?”

“Oh! we’ll go up the easy way, of course, unless Armstrong’ll come. I’ll ask him afterwards. Here he comes, by gad.”

It was a very pleasant man, thought Val, and very admirable looking, who came and sat down by them on his way out. But he seemed very unsensational-looking for the Secretary of the Alpine Club, and indeed, with his short whiskers and bald forehead, rather resembled a Low Church clergyman. He was not even in knickerbockers, but in a grey flannel suit, and carried a white canvas hat. He actually had a gentian in his buttonhole. He moved slowly and easily, as if his limbs were loosely attached to his body.

“And what are you going to begin with, Tom?” he asked, when all the proper things had been said. “Monte Rosa between tea and dinner?”

“Riffelhorn,” said Tom decisively. “We start in ten minutes from now. I wish you’d come.”

The Secretary grinned.

“And you walked up from Zermatt this morning! And your friends?”

“They’re coming too.”

“Gentlemen,” said the other gravely to the two boys, “I solemnly warn you against Mr. Thomas Meredith. I hope you won’t stand it for one moment. And wouldn’t you much sooner sit quietly in the verandah for the rest of the day?”

Val dissented enthusiastically. (He thoroughly approved of this man.)

“Well, well; and so it’s the Riffelhorn. Glacier side?”

Tom explained that his friends had never been in Switzerland before; he had proposed the easy way up, but if Mr. Armstrong would come they could take a rope and do the sky-line.

Mr. Armstrong sniffed.

“You’ll be getting into mischief. I see that. Yes, I’ll come if you’ll give me half an hour for a cigar and won’t walk too fast.... Yes, I should think we might manage the sky-line together.”

He glanced at the three faces with an approving humour that made Val’s heart leap with pleasure.