Egbert came into the large, dimly lit drawing-room with the air of aman who is not certain whether he is entering a dovecote or a bombfactory, and is prepared for either eventuality. The littledomestic quarrel over the luncheon-table had not been fought to adefinite finish, and the question was how far Lady Anne was in amood to renew or forgo hostilities. Her pose in the arm-chair bythe tea-table was rather elaborately rigid; in the gloom of aDecember afternoon Egbert's pince-nez did not materially help him todiscern the expression of her face.By way of breaking whatever ice might be floating on the surface hemade a remark about a dim religious light. He or Lady Anne wereaccustomed to make that remark between 4.30 and 6 on winter and lateautumn evenings; it was a part of their married life. There was norecognised rejoinder to it, and Lady Anne made none.Don Tarquinio lay astretch on the Persian rug, basking in thefirelight with superb indifference to the possible ill-humour ofLady Anne. His pedigree was as flawlessly Persian as the rug, andhis ruff was coming into the glory of its second winter. The page-boy, who had Renaissance tendencies, had christened him DonTarquinio. Left to themselves, Egbert and Lady Anne wouldunfailingly have called him Fluff, but they were not obstinate.Egbert poured himself out some tea. As the silence gave no sign ofbreaking on Lady Anne's initiative, he braced himself for anotherYermak effort."My remark at lunch had a purely academic application," heannounced; "you seem to put an unnecessarily personal significanceinto it."Lady Anne maintained her defensive barrier of silence. Thebullfinch lazily filled in the interval with an air from Iphigenieen Tauride. Egbert recognised it immediately, because it was theonly air the bullfinch whistled, and he had come to them with thereputation for whistling it. Both Egbert and Lady Anne would havepreferred something from The Yeomen of the Guard, which was theirfavourite opera. In matters artistic they had a similarity oftaste. They leaned towards the honest and explicit in art, apicture, for instance, that told its own story, with generousassistance from its title. A riderless warhorse with harness inobvious disarray, staggering into a courtyard full of pale swooningwomen, and marginally noted "Bad News", suggested to their minds adistinct interpretation of some military catastrophe. They couldsee what it was meant to convey, and explain it to friends of dullerintelligence.The silence continued. As a rule Lady Anne's displeasure becamearticulate and markedly voluble after four minutes of introductorymuteness. Egbert seized the milkjug and poured some of its contentsinto Don Tarquinio's saucer; as the saucer was already full to thebrim an unsightly overflow was the result. Don Tarquinio looked onwith a surprised interest that evanesced into elaborateunconsciousness when he was appealed to by Egbert to come and drinkup some of the spilt matter. Don Tarquinio was prepared to playmany roles in life, but a vacuum carpet-cleaner was not one of them."Don't you think we're being rather foolish?" said Egbertcheerfully.If Lady Anne thought so she didn't say so."I dare say the fault has been partly on my side," continued Egbert,with evaporating cheerfulness. "After all, I'm only human, youknow. You seem to forget that I'm only human."He insisted on the point, as if there had been unfounded suggestionsthat he was built on Satyr lines, with goat continuations where thehuman left off.The bullfinch recommenced its air from Iphigenie en Tauride. Egbertbegan to feel depressed. Lady Anne was not drinking her tea.Perhaps she was feeling unwell. But when Lady Anne felt unwell shewas not wont to be reticent on the subject. "No one knows what Isuffer from indigestion" was one of her favourite statements; butthe lack of knowledge can only have been caused by defectivelistening; the amount of information available on the subject wouldhave supplied material for a monograph.Evidently Lady Anne was not feeling unwell.Egbert began to think he was being unreasonably dealt with;naturally he began to make concessions."I dare say," he observed, taking as central a position on thehearth-rug as Don Tarquinio could be persuaded to concede him, "Imay have been to blame. I am willing, if I can thereby restorethings to a happier standpoint, to undertake to lead a better life."He wondered vaguely how it would be possible. Temptations came tohim, in middle age, tentatively and without insistence, like aneglected butcher-boy who asks for a Christmas box in February forno more hopeful reason that than he didn't get one in December. Hehad no more idea of succumbing to them than he had of purchasing thefish-knives and fur boas that ladies are impelled to sacrificethrough the medium of advertisement columns during twelve months ofthe year. Still, there was something impressive in this unasked-forrenunciation of possibly latent enormities.Lady Anne showed no sign of being impressed.Egbert looked at her nervously through his glasses. To get theworst of an argument with her was no new experience. To get theworst of a monologue was a humiliating novelty."I shall go and dress for dinner," he announced in a voice into whichhe intended some shade of sternness to creep.At the door a final access of weakness impelled him to make afurther appeal."Aren't we being very silly?""A fool" was Don Tarquinio's mental comment as the door closed onEgbert's retreat. Then he lifted his velvet forepaws in the air andleapt lightly on to a bookshelf immediately under the bullfinch'scage. It was the first time he had seemed to notice the bird'sexistence, but he was carrying out a long-formed theory of actionwith the precision of mature deliberation. The bullfinch, who hadfancied himself something of a despot, depressed himself of a suddeninto a third of his normal displacement; then he fell to a helplesswing-beating and shrill cheeping. He had cost twenty-sevenshillings without the cage, but Lady Anne made no sign ofinterfering. She had been dead for two hours.
Munro uses drama, humor, and surprise to parody both manners and marriage during the Edwardian era in England. I don't think that Munro was trying to condemn marriage in general, but I do think he made a very effective point about some marriages in some parts of society during a very specific period in England's history.
This story is featured in our collection of Short-Short Stories to read when you have five minutes to spare.
zpostcode
Recruit
weather
mreligion
Yellowpages
sport
constellation
shopping
name
game
directory
literature
Word
tour
furnish
Lottery
tftnews
lyrics
News
digital
car
dir
Edu
Finance
