Free The Darts of Cupid: Stories by Edith Templeton Page B

about one hundred people here? Roughly?"
    "Oh yes, easily. Certainly no less. But do go on."
    "And you are the only one among them who is dressed," I said. "Not just dressed for dinner, but in the grand manner."
    "Oh yes," he said. "I put on white tie so as not to be taken for a waiter. In self-defense. Because waiters in tails put on black tie, you know. Just so as not to be taken for gents."
    "True. But don’t be beastly. Do come on. Tell me, where are you off to after this? You only came here to make
acte de
présence, to kill time, didn’t you?"
    He lowered his eyelids and bent his head, feigning humility, pretending to be found out. Then, straightening up, he declaimed with sarcastic solemnity, "I’m going high up. To the very heights. To the highest hill. To what you might truly call the Acropolis of Prague."
    "To the castle?" I said. "The President? But you’ve done him already, once."
    "No. But you are getting warm."
    "To the Czernin Palace? That’s Foreign Affairs, isn’t it?"
    "You are getting colder."
    "The Sternberg Palace, the art gallery?"
    "You are getting pretty hot."
    I said, "The Archbishop’s Palace!"
    Once more he went through his mime of humility.
    "Golly. Devastating! The Cardinal Archbishop? Golly."
    He said, "You are repeating yourself."
    "That’s because I’m so devastatingly impressed. ‘Thrilled’ isn’t the word."
    "Oh, do stop your society gushing. You’re trying to sound like your mother. Enough time once you get to her age. Behave, or I’ll never again give you a sip of whiskey from my glass behind your mother’s back. As I did two years ago. That was a do with one hundred, too, wasn’t it?"
    "Yes," I said. "Though we’ve never done such a crowd since. But do tell me, what’s he like, the Cardinal? I’ve only seen him once or twice. That smile, sheer heaven. When he looks at you, you feel all has been forgiven."
    He said, "That smile. Carefully studied in front of the mirror. To me, he means just work. But in private he can be quite . . . Do you know what happened to me the very first time I was presented to him? To start with, there were some people milling around, secretaries and creatures. Then, as they leave—once we are left alone, with the doors closed—I fall on one knee and want to kiss the ring. He says, ‘Cut it out, brother.’ "
    He watched me laughing, remaining grave himself.
    "But the priceless thing happened at another time, at a party at the Austrian embassy. Along comes—I shan’t tell you who, because gentlemen don’t tell. Sufficient to say a cabinet minister. Staggering and weaving, in his usual state of—sufficient to say. He comes up to another guest and utters, ‘You gorgeous creature in red, come and dance with me, I inshist.’ Yes, he did say ‘inshist.’ And the gorgeous creature in red says, ‘I don’t think it’d be a good idea. Because for one thing I’m a man, and, for another, I’m the Cardinal Archbishop of Prague.’ "
    Then, after pretending to be astonished by my laughter, he said, glancing over my shoulder, "There goes our gracious hostess. Always true to her motto—dressed simply but with bad taste."
    And when I just nodded, he went on, "And yet, if she were a grande dame it wouldn’t matter. She could drape herself in her kitchen curtains and get away with it. And she hasn’t even got a walk, have you noticed? She doesn’t walk, she flits like a weasel."
    "You say that because you haven’t been asked to do her."
    He said, "No, it isn’t sour grapes. I haven’t been asked to do her, that’s true. But even if I’d been asked, I would have refused. How could I draw her? She hasn’t got a face."
    I said, "What on earth?"
    "Haven’t you noticed? Each time she gets herself a new lover she takes on a new personality. The image her lover wants her to have."
    I said, "And you can tell all this when you only come here once a year, or not even once in
two
years, and stay only a few weeks? And you can’t hear all our