Page:Walpole - Fortitude.djvu/198

 “No, he says nothing. It is only I—as a friend, you understand—”

“Well, thank you very much,” said Peter at last. Herr Gottfried, he reflected, must think that he, Peter, had mints of money if he could so lightly and on so slender a warning propose his abandoning his precious two pounds a week. Moreover there was loyalty to Mr. Zanti to be considered. Anyway, what did it all mean?

“I can't go,” he said at last, “unless Zanti says something to me. But what are they all up to?”

“Seven years,” said Herr Gottfried darkly, “has the Boy been in the shop—of so little enquiring a mind is he.”

And he would say nothing further. Peter followed Herr Lutz' huge body into the street. They took arms when they encountered the fog and went stumbling along together.

“You are in lof,” said Herr Lutz, breathlessly avoiding a lamp post.

“Yes,” said Peter, “I am.”

“Ah,” said Herr Lutz giving Peter's arm a squeeze. “It is the only thing—The—Only—Thing However it may be for you—bad or ill—whether she scold or smile, it is a most blessed state.”

He spoke when under stress of emotion, in capitals with a pause before the important word.

“It won't come to anything,” said Peter. “It can't possibly. I haven't got anything to offer anybody—an uncertain two pounds a week.”

“You have a—Career,” said Herr Lutz solemnly, “I know—I have often watched you. You have written a—Book. Karl Gottfried has told me. But all that does not matter,” he went on impetuously. “It does not matter what you get—It is—Being—in—Love—The—divine—never—to—be—equalled—State—”

The enormous German stopped on an island in the middle of the road and waved his arms. On every side of him through the darkness the traffic rolled and thundered. He waved his arms and exulted because he had been married to a shrew of a wife for thirty years. During that time she had never given him a kind word, not a loving look, but Peter knew that out of all the fog and obscurity that life