Wratislav

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　The Grfin's two elder sons had made deplorable marriages. Itwas, observed Clovis, a family habit. The youngest boy,Wratislav, who was the black sheep of a rather greyish family, hadas yet made no marriage at all."There is certainly this much to be said for viciousness," saidthe Grfin, "it keeps boys out of mischief.""Does it?" asked the Baroness Sophie, not by way of questioningthe statement, but with a painstaking effort to talkintelligently. It was the one matter in which she attempted tooverride the decrees of Providence, which had obviously neverintended that she should talk otherwise than inanely."I don't know why I shouldn't talk cleverly," she would complain;"my mother was considered a brilliant conversationalist.""These things have a way of skipping one generation," said theGrfin."That seems so unjust," said Sophie; "one doesn't object to one'smother having outshone one as a clever talker, but I must admitthat I should be rather annoyed if my daughters talkedbrilliantly.""Well, none of them do," said the Grfin consolingly."I don't know about that," said the Baroness, promptly veeringround in defence of her offspring. "Elsa said something quiteclever on Thursday about the Triple Alliance. Something about itbeing like a paper umbrella, that was all right as long as youdidn't take it out in the rain. It's not every one who could saythat.""Every one has said it; at least every one that I know. But thenI know very few people.""I don't think you're particularly agreeable to-day.""I never am. Haven't you noticed that women with a really perfectprofile like mine are seldom even moderately agreeable?""I don't think your profile is so perfect as all that," said theBaroness."It would be surprising if it wasn't. My mother was one of themost noted classical beauties of her day.""These things sometimes skip a generation, you know," put in theBaroness, with the breathless haste of one to whom repartee comesas rarely as the finding of a gold-handled umbrella."My dear Sophie," said the Grfin sweetly, "that isn't in theleast bit clever; but you do try so hard that I suppose I oughtn'tto discourage you. Tell me something: has it ever occurred to youthat Elsa would do very well for Wratislav? It's time he marriedsomebody, and why not Elsa?""Elsa marry that dreadful boy!" gasped the Baroness."Beggars can't be choosers," observed the Grfin."Elsa isn't a beggar!""Not financially, or I shouldn't have suggested the match. Butshe's getting on, you know, and has no pretensions to brains orlooks or anything of that sort.""You seem to forget that she's my daughter.""That shows my generosity. But, seriously, I don't see what thereis against Wratislav. He has no debts--at least, nothing worthspeaking about.""But think of his reputation! If half the things they say abouthim are true--""Probably three-quarters of them are. But what of it? You don'twant an archangel for a son-in-law.""I don't want Wratislav. My poor Elsa would be miserable withhim.""A little misery wouldn't matter very much with her; it would goso well with the way she does her hair, and if she couldn't get onwith Wratislav she could always go and do good among the poor."The Baroness picked up a framed photograph from the table."He certainly is very handsome," she said doubtfully; adding evenmore doubtfully, "I dare say dear Elsa might reform him."The Grfin had the presence of mind to laugh in the right key.. . . . . . . . .Three weeks later the Grfin bore down upon the Baroness Sophie ina foreign bookseller's shop in the Graben, where she was,possibly, buying books of devotion, though it was the wrongcounter for them."I've just left the dear children at the Rodenstahls'," was theGrfin's greeting."Were they looking very happy?" asked the Baroness."Wratislav was wearing some new English clothes, so, of course, hewas quite happy. I overheard him telling Toni a rather amusingstory about a nun and a mousetrap, which won't bear repetition.Elsa was telling every one else a witticism about the TripleAlliance being like a paper umbrella--which seems to bearrepetition with Christian fortitude.""Did they seem much wrapped up in each other?""To be candid, Elsa looked as if she were wrapped up in a horse-rug. And why let her wear saffron colour?""I always think it goes with her complexion.""Unfortunately it doesn't. It stays with it. Ugh. Don't forget,you're lunching with me on Thursday."The Baroness was late for her luncheon engagement the followingThursday."Imagine what has happened!" she screamed as she burst into theroom."Something remarkable, to make you late for a meal," said theGrfin."Elsa has run away with the Rodenstahls' chauffeur!""Kolossal!""Such a thing as that no one in our family has ever done," gaspedthe Baroness."Perhaps he didn't appeal to them in the same way," suggested theGrfin judicially.The Baroness began to feel that she was not getting theastonishment and sympathy to which her catastrophe entitled her."At any rate," she snapped, "now she can't marry Wratislav.""She couldn't in any case," said the Grfin; he left suddenly forabroad last night.""For abroad! Where?""For Mexico, I believe.""Mexico! But what for? Why Mexico?""The English have a proverb, 'Conscience makes cowboys of usall.'""I didn't know Wratislav had a conscience.""My dear Sophie, he hasn't. It's other people's consciences thatsend one abroad in a hurry. Let's go and eat."