The Palliser Novels: Complete Series - All 6 Books in One Edition. Anthony Trollope

I thought he would have gone into a fit. When I asked him why, he gave me such a look. I know he’ll make a goose of himself;—and he’ll make geese of us, too; which is worse.”

      On that afternoon, as they were walking together, Mr Palliser told the important secret to his new friend, Mr Grey. He could not deny himself the pleasure of talking about this great event. “It is a matter, you see, of such immense importance to me,” Mr Palliser said.

      “Indeed, it is,” said Grey. “Every man feels that when a child is about to be born to him.” But this did not at all satisfy Mr Palliser.

      “Yes,” said he. “That’s of course. It is an important thing to everybody;—very important, no doubt. But, when a man—. You see, Grey, I don’t think a man is a bit better because he is rich, or because he has a title; nor do I think he is likely to be in any degree the happier. I am quite sure that he has no right to be in the slightest degree proud of that which he has had no hand in doing for himself.”

      “Men usually are very proud of such advantages,” said Grey.

      “I don’t think that I am; I don’t, indeed. I am proud of some things. Whenever I can manage to carry a point in the House, I feel very proud of it. I don’t think I ever knocked under to any one, and I am proud of that.” Perhaps, Mr Palliser was thinking of a certain time when his uncle the Duke had threatened him, and he had not given way to the Duke’s threats. “But I don’t think I’m proud because chance has made me my uncle’s heir.”

      “Not in the least, I should say.”

      “But I do feel that a son to me is of more importance than it is to most men. A strong anxiety on the subject, is, I think, more excusable in me than it might be in another. I don’t know whether I quite make myself understood?”

      “Oh, yes! When there’s a dukedom and heaven knows how many thousands a year to be disposed of, the question of their future ownership does become important.”

      “This property is so much more interesting to one, if one feels that all one does to it is done for one’s own son.”

      “And yet,” said Grey, “of all the great plunderers of property throughout Europe, the Popes have been the most greedy.”

      “Perhaps it’s different, when a man can’t have a wife,” said Mr Palliser.

      From all this it may be seen that Mr Palliser and Mr Grey had become very intimate. Had chance brought them together in London they might have met a score of times before Mr Palliser would have thought of doing more than bowing to such an acquaintance. Mr Grey might have spent weeks at Matching, without having achieved anything like intimacy with its noble owner. But things of that kind progress more quickly abroad than they do at home. The deck of an ocean steamer is perhaps the most prolific hotbed of the growth of sudden friendships; but an hotel by the side of a Swiss lake does almost as well.

      For some time after this Lady Glencora’s conduct was frequently so indiscreet as to drive her husband almost to frenzy. On the very day after the news had been communicated to him, she proposed a picnic, and made the proposition not only in the presence of Alice, but in that of Mr Grey also! Mr Palliser, on such an occasion, could not express all that he thought; but he looked it.

      “What is the matter, now, Plantagenet?” said his wife.

      “Nothing,” said he;—”nothing. Never mind.”

      “And shall we make this party up to the chapel?”

      The chapel in question was Tell’s chapel—ever so far up the lake. A journey in a steamboat would have been necessary.

      “No!” said he, shouting out his refusal at her. “We will not.”

      “You needn’t be angry about it,” said she;—as though he could have failed to be stirred by such a proposition at such a time. On another occasion she returned from an evening walk, showing on her face some sign of the exercise she had taken.

      “Good G––––! Glencora,” said he, “do you mean to kill yourself?”

      He wanted her to eat six or seven times a day; and always told her that she was eating too much, remembering some ancient proverb about little and often. He watched her now as closely as Mrs Marsham and Mr Bott had watched her before; and she always knew that he was doing so. She made the matter worse by continually proposing to do things which she knew he would not permit, in order that she might enjoy the fun of seeing his agony and amazement. But this, though it was fun to her at the moment, produced anything but fun, as its general result.

      “Upon my word, Alice, I think this will kill me,” she said. “I am not to stir out of the house now, unless I go in the carriage, or he is with me.”

      “It won’t last long.”

      “I don’t know what you call long. As for walking with him, it’s out of the question. He goes about a mile an hour. And then he makes me look so much like a fool. I had no idea that he would be such an old coddle.”

      “The coddling will all be given to some one else, very soon.”

      “No baby could possibly live through it, if you mean that. If there is a baby—”

      “I suppose there will be one, by-and-by,” said Alice.

      “Don’t be a fool! But, if there is, I shall take that matter into my own hands. He can do what he pleases with me, and I can’t help myself; but I shan’t let him or anybody do what they please with my baby. I know what I’m about in such matters a great deal better than he does. I’ve no doubt he’s a very clever man in Parliament; but he doesn’t seem to me to understand anything else.”

      Alice was making some very wise speech in answer to this, when Lady Glencora interrupted her.

      “Mr Grey wouldn’t make himself so troublesome, I’m quite sure.” Then Alice held her tongue.

      When the first consternation arising from the news had somewhat subsided,—say in a fortnight from the day in which Mr Palliser was made so triumphant,—and when tidings had been duly sent to the Duke, and an answer from his Grace had come, arrangements were made for the return of the party to England. The Duke’s reply was very short:—

      My dear Plantagenet,—Give my kind love to Glencora. If it’s a boy, of course I will be one of the godfathers. The Prince, who is very kind, will perhaps oblige me by being the other. I should advise you to return as soon as convenient.

      Your affectionate uncle,

      Omnium.

      That was the letter; and short as it was, it was probably the longest that Mr Palliser had ever received from the Duke.

      There was great trouble about the mode of their return.

      “Oh, what nonsense,” said Glencora. “Let us get into an express train, and go right through to London.” Mr Palliser looked at her with a countenance full of rebuke and sorrow. He was always so looking at her now. “If you mean, Plantagenet, that we are to be dragged all across the Continent in that horrible carriage, and be a thousand days on the road, I for one won’t submit to it.” “I wish I had never told him a word about it,” she said afterwards to Alice. “He would never have found it out himself, till this thing was all over.”

      Mr Palliser did at last consent to take the joint opinion of a Swiss doctor and an English one who was settled at Berne; and who, on the occasion, was summoned to Lucerne. They suggested the railway; and as letters arrived for Mr Palliser,—medical letters,—in which the same opinion was broached, it was agreed, at last, that they should return by railway; but they were to make various halts on the road, stopping at each halting-place for a day. The first was, of course, Basle, and from Basle they were to go on to Baden.

      “I particularly want to see Baden again,” Lady Glencora said; “and perhaps I may be able to get back my napoleon.”