Parade's End

you were a Socialist.”

“He would,” Tietjens commented. “Didn’t I tell you he was beginning to learn things?…”

Levin exclaimed:

“But you aren’t a So…”

Tietjens said:

“Of course, if your father came from Constantinople and his mother was a Georgian, it accounts for your attractiveness. You are a most handsome fellow. And intelligent…. If the general has put you on to inquire whether I am a Socialist I will answer your questions.”

Levin said:

“No…. That’s one of the questions he’s reserving for himself to ask. It appears that if you answer that you are a Socialist he intends to cut you out of his will….”

Tietjens said:

“His will!… Oh, yes, of course, he might very well leave me something. But doesn’t that supply rather a motive for me to say that I am? I don’t want his money.”

Levin positively jumped a step backwards. Money, and particularly money that came by way of inheritance, being one of the sacred things of life for him, he exclaimed:

“I don’t see that you can joke about such a subject!”

Tietjens answered good-humouredly:

“Well, you don’t expect me to play up to the old gentleman in order to get his poor old shekels.” He added “Hadn’t we better get it over?”

Levin said:

“You’ve got hold of yourself?”

Tietjens answered:

“Pretty well…. you’ll excuse my having been emotional so far. You aren’t English, so it won’t have embarrassed you.”

Levin exclaimed in an outraged manner:

“Hang it, I’m English to the backbone! What’s the matter with me?”

Tietjens said:

“Nothing…. Nothing in the world. That’s just what makes you un-English. We’re all… well, it doesn’t matter what’s wrong with us…. What did you gather about my relations with Miss Wannop?”

The question was so unemotionally put and Levin was still so concerned as to his origins that he did not at first grasp what Tietjens had said. He began to protest that he had been educated at Winchester and Magdalen. Then he exclaimed, “Oh!” And took time for reflection.

“If,” he said finally, “the general had not let out that she was young and attractive… at least, I suppose attractive… I should have thought that you regarded her as an old maid…. You know, of course, that it came to me as a shock, the thought that there was anyone…. That you had allowed yourself… Anyhow… I suppose I’m simple….”

Tietjens said:

“What did the general gather?”

“He…” Levin said, “he stood over you with his head held to one side, looking rather cunning… like a magpie listening at a hole it’s dropped a nut into…. First he looked disappointed, then quite glad. A simple kind of gladness. Just glad, you know… When we got outside the hut he said ‘I suppose in vino veritas,’ and then he asked me the Latin for ‘sleep’… But I had forgotten it too….”

Tietjens said:

“What did I say?”

“It’s…” Levin hesitated, “extraordinarily difficult to say what you did say…. I don’t profess to remember long speeches to the letter…. Naturally it was a good deal broken up…. I tell you, you were talking to a young lady about matters you don’t generally talk to young ladies about…. And obviously you were trying to let your… Mrs. Tietjens, down easily…. You were trying to explain also why you had definitely decided to separate from Mrs. Tietjens…. And you took it that the young lady might be troubled… at the separation….”

Tietjens said carelessly:

“This is rather painful. Perhaps you would let me tell you exactly what did happen last night…”

Levin said:

“If you only would!” He added rather diffidently: “If you would not mind remembering that I am a military court of inquiry. It makes it easier for me to report to the general if you say things dully and in the order they happened.”

Tietjens said:

“Thank you…” and after a short interval, “I retired to rest with my wife last night at…. I cannot say the hour exactly. Say half-past one. I reached this camp at half-past four, taking rather over half an hour to walk. What happened, as I am about to relate, took place therefore before four.”

“The hour,” Levin said, “is not material. We know the incident occurred in the small hours. General O’Hara made his complaint to me at three-thirty-five. He probably took five minutes to reach my quarters.”

Tietjens asked:

“The exact charge was…”

“The complaints,” Levin answered, “were very numerous indeed…. I could not catch them all. The succinct charge was at first being drunk and striking a superior officer, then merely that of conduct prejudicial in that you struck… There is also a subsidiary charge of conduct prejudicial in that you improperly marked a charge-sheet in your orderly room…. I did not catch what all that was about…. You appear to have had a quarrel with him about his red-caps….”

“That,” Tietjens said, “is what it is really all about.” He asked: “The officer I was said to have struck was? …”

Levin said:

“Perowne…” dryly.

Tietjens said:

“You are sure it was not himself. I am prepared to plead guilty to striking General O’Hara.”

“It is not,” Levin said, “a question of pleading guilty. There is no charge to that effect against you, and you are perfectly aware that you are not under arrest…. An order to perform any duty after you have been placed under arrest in itself releases you and dissolves the arrest.”

Tietjens said coolly:

“I am perfectly aware of that. And that that was General Campion’s intention in ordering me to accompany him round my cook-houses…. But I doubt… I put it to you for your serious attention whether that is the best way to hush this matter up…. I think it would be more expedient that I should plead guilty to a charge of striking General O’Hara. And naturally to being drunk. An officer does not strike a general when he is sober. That would be a quite inconspicuous affair. Subordinate officers are broken every day for being drunk.”

Levin had said “Wait a minute,” twice. He now exclaimed with a certain horror:

“Your mania for sacrificing yourself makes you lose all… all sense of proportion. You forget that General Campion is a gentleman. Things cannot be done in a hole-and-corner manner in this command….”

Tietjens said:

“They’re done unbearably…. It would be nothing to me to be broke for being drunk, but raking up all this is hell.”

Levin said:

“The general is anxious to know exactly what has happened. You will kindly accept an order to relate exactly what happened.”

Tietjens said:

“That is what is perfectly damnable….” He remained silent for nearly a minute, Levin slapping his leggings with his riding-crop in a nervously passionate rhythm. Tietjens stiffened himself and began:

“General O’Hara came to my wife’s room and burst in the door. I was there. I took him to be drunk. But from