Prunesquallor, who knew from experience that only a fraction of what anyone said ever entered the brains of the twins, permitted himself a good deal of latitude in his conversation, mixing with a certain sycophancy remarks for his own amusement which could never have been made to persons more astute than the twins.
Irma had come forward, her iliac crest reflecting a streak of light.
‘Very charmed, your Ladyships; I said “very, very charmed”.’
She attempted to curtsey, but her dress was too tight.
‘You know my sister, of course, of course, of course. Will you have coffee? Of course you will, and a little wine? Naturally – or what would you prefer?’
But both the Doctor and his sister found that the Ladies Cora and Clarice had not been paying the slightest attention but had been staring at Steerpike more in the manner of a wall staring at a man than a man staring at a wall.
Steerpike in a well-cut uniform of black cloth, advanced to the sisters and bowed. ‘Your Ladyships,’ he said, ‘I am delighted to have the honour of being beneath the same roof. It is an intimacy that I shall never forget.’ And then, as though he were ending a letter – ‘I am your very humble servant,’ he added.
Clarice turned herself to Cora, but kept her eyes on Steerpike.
‘He says he’s glad he’s under the same roof as us,’ she said.
‘Under the same roof,’ echoed Cora. ‘He’s very glad of it.’
‘Why?’ said Clarice emptily. ‘What difference does it make about the roof?’
‘It couldn’t make any difference whatever the roof’s like,’ said her sister.
‘I like roofs,’ said Clarice; ‘they are something I like more than most things because they are on top of the houses they cover, and Cora and I like being over the tops of things because we love power, and that’s why we are both fond of roofs.’
‘That’s why,’ Cora continued. ‘That’s the reason. Anything that’s on top of something else is what we like, unless it is someone we don’t like who’s on top of something we are pleased with like ourselves. We’re not allowed to be on top, except that our own room is high, oh, so high up in the castle wall, with our Tree – our own Tree that grows from the wall, that is so much more important than anything Gertrude has.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Clarice; ‘she hasn’t anything as important as that. But she steals our birds.’
She turned her expressionless eyes to Cora, who met them as though she were her sister’s reflection. It may be that between them they recognized shades of expression in each other’s faces, but it is certain that no one else, however keen his eyesight, could have detected the slightest change in the muscles that presumably governed the lack of expressions of their faces. Evidently this reference to stolen birds was the reason why they came nearer to each other so that their shoulders touched. It was obvious that their sorrow was conjoined.
Dr Prunesquallor had, during all this, been trying to shepherd them into the chairs by the fire, but to no avail. They had no thought for others when their minds were occupied. The room, the persons around them ceased to exist. They had only enough room for one thought at a time.
But now that there was a sudden lull the Doctor, reinforced this time by Irma, managed to shift the twins by means of a mixture of deference and force and to get them established by the fire. Steerpike, who had vanished from the room, now returned with another pot of coffee and two more cups. It was this sort of thing that pleased Irma, and she tilted her head on its neck and turned up the corners of her mouth into something approaching the coy.
But when the coffee was passed to the twins they did not want it. One, taking her cue from the other, decided that she, or the other one, or possibly both, or neither, did not want it.
Would they have anything to drink? Cognac, sherry, brandy, a liqueur, cherry wine …?
They shook their heads profoundly.
‘We only came for a moment,’ said Cora.
‘Because we were passing,’ said Clarice. ‘That’s the only reason.’
But although they refused on those grounds to indulge in a drink of any sort, yet they gave no indication of being in a hurry to go, nor had they for a long time anything to say, but were quite content to sit and stare at Steerpike.
But after a long interval, halfway through which the Doctor and his sister had given up all attempts to make conversation, Cora turned her face to Steerpike.
‘Boy,’ she said, ‘what are you here for?’
‘Yes,’ echoed Clarice, ‘that’s what we want to know.’
‘I want,’ said Steerpike, choosing his words, ‘only your gracious patronage, your Ladyships. Only your favour.’
The twins turned their faces towards each other and then at the same moment they returned them to Steerpike.
‘Say that again,’ said Cora.
‘All of it,’ said Clarice.
‘Only your gracious patronage, your Ladyships. Only your favour. That is what I want.’
‘Well, we’ll give it you,’ said Clarice. But for the first time the sisters were at variance for a moment.
‘Not yet,’ said Cora. ‘It’s too soon for that.’
‘Much too soon,’ agreed Clarice. ‘It’s not time yet to give him any favour at all. What’s his name?’
