Read Online Ah King by W. Somerset Maugham - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: W. Somerset Maugham
Ads: Link
body in face of the world.
On occasion they went to Port Wallace. It was a change, but Anne was always glad to get home. She was never quite at her ease there. She was conscious that none of the people they met liked Alban. They were very ordinary people, middle-class and suburban and dull, without any of the intellectual interests that made life so full and varied to Alban and her, and many of them were narrow-minded and ill-natured; but since they had to pass the better part of their lives in contact with them, it was tiresome that they should feel so unkindly towards Alban. They said he was conceited. He was always very pleasant with them, but she was aware that they resented his cordiality. When he tried to be jovial they said he was putting on airs, and when he chaffed them they thought he was being funny at their expense.
Once they stayed at Government House, and Mrs Hannay, the Governor’s wife, who liked her, talked to her about it. Perhaps the Governor had suggested that she should give Anne a hint.
“You know, my dear, it’s a pity your husband doesn’t try to be more come-hither with people. He’s very intelligent; don’t you think it would be better if he didn’t let others see he knows it quite so clearly? My husband said to me only yesterday: Of course I know Alban Torel is the cleverest young man in the Service, but he does manage to put my back up more than anyone I know. I am the Governor, but when he talks to me he always gives me the impression that he looks upon me as a damned fool.”
The worst of it was that Anne knew how low an opinion Alban had of the Governor’s parts.
“He doesn’t mean to be superior,” Anne answered, s milin g. “And he really isn’t in the least conceited. I think it’s only because he has a straight nose and high cheek-bones.”
“You know, they don’t like him at the club. They call him Powder-Puff Percy.”
Anne flushed. She had heard that before and it made her very angry. Her eyes filled with tears.
“I think it’s frightfully unfair.”
Mrs Hannay took her hand and gave it an affectionate little squeeze.
“My dear, you know I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Your husband can’t help rising very high in the Service. He’d make things so much easier for himself if he were a little more human. Why doesn’t he play football?”
“It’s not his game. He’s always only too glad to play tennis.”
“He doesn’t give that impression. He gives the impression that there’s no one here who’s worth his while to play with.”
“Well, there isn’t,” said Anne stung.
Alban happened to be an extremely good tennis-player. He had played a lot of tournaments in England and Anne knew that it gave him a grim satisfaction to knock those beefy, hearty men all over the court. He could make the best of them look foolish. He could be maddening on the tennis court and Anne was aware that sometimes he could not resist the temptation.
“He does play to the gallery, doesn’t he?” said Mrs Hannay.
“I don’t think so. Believe me, Alban has no idea he isn’t popular. As far as I can see he’s always pleasant and friendly with everybody.”
“It’s then he’s most offensive,” said Mrs Hannay dryly.
“I know people don’t like us very much,” said Anne, smiling a little. “I’m very sorry, but really I don’t know what we can do about it.”
“Not you, my dear,” cried Mrs Hannay. “Everybody adores you. That’s why they put up with your husband. My dear, who could help liking you?”
“I don’t know why they should adore me,” said Anne.
But she did not say it quite sincerely. She was deliberately playing the part of the dear little woman and within her she bubbled with amusement. They disliked Alban because he had such an air of distinction, and because he was interested in art and literature; they did not understand these things and so thought them unmanly; and they disliked him because his capacity was greater than theirs.
On occasion they went to Port Wallace. It was a change, but Anne was always glad to get home. She was never quite at her ease there. She was conscious that none of the people they met liked Alban. They were very ordinary people, middle-class and suburban and dull, without any of the intellectual interests that made life so full and varied to Alban and her, and many of them were narrow-minded and ill-natured; but since they had to pass the better part of their lives in contact with them, it was tiresome that they should feel so unkindly towards Alban. They said he was conceited. He was always very pleasant with them, but she was aware that they resented his cordiality. When he tried to be jovial they said he was putting on airs, and when he chaffed them they thought he was being funny at their expense.
Once they stayed at Government House, and Mrs Hannay, the Governor’s wife, who liked her, talked to her about it. Perhaps the Governor had suggested that she should give Anne a hint.
“You know, my dear, it’s a pity your husband doesn’t try to be more come-hither with people. He’s very intelligent; don’t you think it would be better if he didn’t let others see he knows it quite so clearly? My husband said to me only yesterday: Of course I know Alban Torel is the cleverest young man in the Service, but he does manage to put my back up more than anyone I know. I am the Governor, but when he talks to me he always gives me the impression that he looks upon me as a damned fool.”
The worst of it was that Anne knew how low an opinion Alban had of the Governor’s parts.
“He doesn’t mean to be superior,” Anne answered, s milin g. “And he really isn’t in the least conceited. I think it’s only because he has a straight nose and high cheek-bones.”
“You know, they don’t like him at the club. They call him Powder-Puff Percy.”
Anne flushed. She had heard that before and it made her very angry. Her eyes filled with tears.
“I think it’s frightfully unfair.”
Mrs Hannay took her hand and gave it an affectionate little squeeze.
“My dear, you know I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Your husband can’t help rising very high in the Service. He’d make things so much easier for himself if he were a little more human. Why doesn’t he play football?”
“It’s not his game. He’s always only too glad to play tennis.”
“He doesn’t give that impression. He gives the impression that there’s no one here who’s worth his while to play with.”
“Well, there isn’t,” said Anne stung.
Alban happened to be an extremely good tennis-player. He had played a lot of tournaments in England and Anne knew that it gave him a grim satisfaction to knock those beefy, hearty men all over the court. He could make the best of them look foolish. He could be maddening on the tennis court and Anne was aware that sometimes he could not resist the temptation.
“He does play to the gallery, doesn’t he?” said Mrs Hannay.
“I don’t think so. Believe me, Alban has no idea he isn’t popular. As far as I can see he’s always pleasant and friendly with everybody.”
“It’s then he’s most offensive,” said Mrs Hannay dryly.
“I know people don’t like us very much,” said Anne, smiling a little. “I’m very sorry, but really I don’t know what we can do about it.”
“Not you, my dear,” cried Mrs Hannay. “Everybody adores you. That’s why they put up with your husband. My dear, who could help liking you?”
“I don’t know why they should adore me,” said Anne.
But she did not say it quite sincerely. She was deliberately playing the part of the dear little woman and within her she bubbled with amusement. They disliked Alban because he had such an air of distinction, and because he was interested in art and literature; they did not understand these things and so thought them unmanly; and they disliked him because his capacity was greater than theirs.
Similar Books
