1929 · CLOSE READING
Moonchild
Moonchild (1929), PDF p. 215
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"It is a great programme. Qui vivra verra. Meanwhile, I suppose I report to
General Cripps."
"You will meet him, running hard, I expect, somewhere in France. It will
be a fluke if Paris is saved. As you know, it always takes England three years
to put her boots on. If we had listened to the men who knew — like 'Bobs' —
and fixed up an army of three millions, there could have been no war — at
least, not in this particular tangle of alliances. There would have been a
Social Revolution, more likely, an ignoble business of greed against greed,
which would have left men viler and more enslaved than ever. As it is, the
masses on both sides think they are fighting for ideals; only the governments
know what hypocrisy and sham it is; so the ideals will win, both in defeat and
victory. Man! only three days ago France was the France of Panama, and
Dreyfus, and Madame Humbert, and Madame Steinheil, and Madame
Caillaux; and to-day she is already the France of Roland and Henri Quatre
and Danton and Napoleon and Gambetta and Joan of Arc!"
"And England of the Boer wars, and the Irish massacres, and the Marconi
scandals, and Tranby Croft?"
"Oh, give England time! She'll have to be worse before she's better!"
"Talking of time, I must pack up if I'm to catch the morning train for the
Land of Hope and Glory."
"The train service is disorganized. I came from Toulon in a destroyer;
she'll take you back there. Jack Manners is in command. Report at Toulon to
the O.C.! You'd better start in half-an-hour, I'll see you safe on board. My
car's at the door. Here s your commission!"
Cyril Grey thrust the document into his pocket, and the two men went up
into the house.
An hour later they were aboard the destroyer; [302] they shook hands in
silence. Simon Iff went down the gangway, and Manners gave the word. As
they raced northward, they passed under the lee of Abdul's yacht, where Lisa,
up to the eyes in champagne, was fondling her new lover.
Her little pig-like eyes sparkled through their rolls of fat; her cheeks, the
colour and consistency of ripe Camembert cheese, sagged pendulous upon a
many-chinned neck which looked almost goitrous; and the whole surmounted
one of those figures dear to engineers, because they afford endless food for
speculation as to the means of support. The moon was now exercising her full
influence, totally unchecked and unbalanced; and the woman's nature being
wholly of the body, with as little brain in proportion as a rhinoceros, the
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