The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

he had got a reprieve, as he thought, for two days;⁠—but it did not make him happy or even comfortable. As he walked back to his lodgings he knew it would have been better for him to have had the interview over. But, at any rate, he could now think of Hetta Carbury, and the words he had spoken to her. Had he heard that declaration which she had made to her mother, he would have been able for the hour to have forgotten Mrs. Hurtle. XL “Unanimity Is the Very Soul of These Things.”

That evening Montague was surprised to receive at the Beargarden a note from Mr. Melmotte, which had been brought thither by a messenger from the city⁠—who had expected to have an immediate answer, as though Montague lived at the club.

“Dear Sir,” said the letter,

If not inconvenient would you call on me in Grosvenor Square tomorrow, Sunday, at half past eleven. If you are going to church, perhaps you will make an appointment in the afternoon; if not, the morning will suit best. I want to have a few words with you in private about the Company. My messenger will wait for answer if you are at the club.

Yours truly,

Augustus Melmotte.

Paul Montague, Esq., The Beargarden.

Paul immediately wrote to say that he would call at Grosvenor Square at the hour appointed⁠—abandoning any intentions which he might have had in reference to Sunday morning service. But this was not the only letter he received that evening. On his return to his lodgings he found a note, containing only one line, which Mrs. Hurtle had found the means of sending to him after her return from Southend. “I am so sorry to have been away. I will expect you all tomorrow. W. H.” The period of the reprieve was thus curtailed to less than a day.

On the Sunday morning he breakfasted late and then walked up to Grosvenor Square, much pondering what the great man could have to say to him. The great man had declared himself very plainly in the Boardroom⁠—especially plainly after the Board had risen. Paul had understood that war was declared, and had understood also that he was to fight the battle single-handed, knowing nothing of such strategy as would be required, while his antagonist was a great master of financial tactics. He was prepared to go to the wall in reference to his money, only hoping that in doing so he might save his character and keep the reputation of an honest man. He was quite resolved to be guided altogether by Mr. Ramsbottom, and intended to ask Mr. Ramsbottom to draw up for him such a statement as would be fitting for him to publish. But it was manifest now that Mr. Melmotte would make some proposition, and it was impossible that he should have Mr. Ramsbottom at his elbow to help him.

He had been in Melmotte’s house on the night of the ball, but had contented himself after that with leaving a card. He had heard much of the splendour of the place, but remembered simply the crush and the crowd, and that he had danced there more than once or twice with Hetta Carbury. When he was shown into the hall he was astonished to find that it was not only stripped, but was full of planks, and ladders, and trussels, and mortar. The preparations for the great dinner had been already commenced. Through all this he made his way to the stairs, and was taken up to a small room on the second floor, where the servant told him that Mr. Melmotte would come to him. Here he waited a quarter of an hour looking out into the yard at the back. There was not a book in the room, or even a picture with which he could amuse himself. He was beginning to think whether his own personal dignity would not be best consulted by taking his departure, when Melmotte himself, with slippers on his feet and enveloped in a magnificent dressing-gown, bustled into the room. “My dear sir, I am so sorry. You are a punctual man I see. So am I. A man of business should be punctual. But they ain’t always. Brehgert⁠—from the house of Todd, Brehgert, and Goldsheiner, you know⁠—has just been with me. We had to settle something about the Moldavian loan. He came a quarter late, and of course he went a quarter late. And how is a man to catch a quarter of an hour? I never could do it.” Montague assured the great man that the delay was of no consequence. “And I am so sorry to ask you into such a place as this. I had Brehgert in my room downstairs, and then the house is so knocked about! We get into a furnished house a little way off in Bruton Street tomorrow. Longestaffe lets me his house for a month till this affair of the dinner is over. By the by, Montague, if you’d like to come to the dinner, I’ve got a ticket I can let you have. You know how they’re run after.” Montague had heard of the dinner, but had perhaps heard as little of it as any man frequenting a club at the west end of London. He did not in the least want to be at the dinner, and certainly did not wish to receive any extraordinary civility from Mr. Melmotte’s hands. But he was very anxious to know why Mr. Melmotte should offer it. He excused himself saying that he was not particularly fond of big dinners, and that he did not like standing in the way of other people. “Ah, indeed,” said Melmotte. “There are ever so many people of title would give anything for a ticket. You’d be astonished at the persons who have asked. We’ve had to squeeze in a chair on one side for the Master of the Buckhounds, and on another for the Bishop of⁠—; I forget what