Read Online Casanova's Chinese Restaurant by Anthony Powell - Free Book Online Page B

for professional purposes. A wife who could handle that side of his life would undoubtedly be an advantage to him. Conversationally, too, Matilda was equipped to meet him on his own ground. Moreland’s talk when pursuing a girl varied little, if at all, from his conversation at any other time. Some women found this too severe an intellectual burden; others were flattered, even when incapable of keeping pace. With Matilda, this level of dialogue seemed just what was required. She was a clever girl, with a good all-round knowledge of the arts: one who liked being treated as a serious person. This was apparent by the time we reached the restaurant, where Moreland at once began to discuss the play.
    ‘ “The lusty spring smells well; but drooping autumn tastes well,” ’ he said. ‘How like:
Pauvre automne
Meurs en blancheur et en richesse
De neige et de fruits mûrs
    or:
Je suis soumis au Chef du Signe de I’Automne
Partant j’aime les fruits je déteste les fleurs
    I was thinking the other day one might make an anthology of the banker poets … Guillaume Apollinaire … T. S. Eliot … Robert W. Service …’
    He put down the menu which he had been studying.
    ‘A wonderful idea,’ said Matilda, who had been adding magenta to her lips to emphasise the whiteness of her skin or offset the colour of her dress, ‘but first of all make up your mind what you are going to eat. I have already decided on Sole Bonne Femme, but I know we shall have to start all over again when the waiter comes.’
    Clearly she possessed a will of her own, and had already learnt something of Moreland’s habits; for example, that persuading him to choose a dish at a restaurant was a protracted affair. When faced with a menu Moreland’s first thought was always to begin some lengthy discussion that postponed indefinitely the need to make a decision about food.
    ‘What do you think I should like?’ he said.
    ‘Oeufs Meyerbeer,’ she said. ‘You always enjoy them.’
    Moreland took up the menu again irresolutely.
    ‘What do you think?’ he said. ‘I hate being hurried about any of my appetites. What are you going to eat, Nick? I am afraid you may order something that will make me regret my own choice. You have done that in the past. It is very disloyal of you. You know I think Gossage – in as much as he possesses any sexual feelings at all – derives a certain vicarious satisfaction from contemplating the loves of Norman Chandler and Mrs Foxe. The situation manages to embrace within one circumference Gossage’s taste for rich ladies and good-looking young men – together with a faint spice of musical background.’
    ‘Gossage says there is talk of putting on Marlowe’s Tamburlaine the Great,” said Matilda.
    Moreland once again abandoned the menu.
    ‘ “Holla, ye pampered jades of Asia,” ’ he cried. ‘ “What, can ye draw but twenty miles a day?” That is rather what I feel about the newspaper criticism of Gossage and Maclintick. I should like them to drag me to concerts, as the kings drew Tamerlaine, in a triumphal coach. They would be far better employed doing that than pouring out all that stuff for their respective periodicals every week. Perhaps that is not fair to Maclintick. It is certainly true of Gossage.’
    ‘I am sure Maclintick would draw you to the Queen’s Hall in a rickshaw if you asked him,’ said Matilda. ‘He admires you so much.’
    She turned to the waiter, ordered whatever she and I had agreed to eat, and Oeufs Meyerbeer for Moreland, who, still unable to come to a decision about food, accepted her ruling on this matter without dissent.
    ‘I think there is just a chance I might be cast for Zenocrate,’ she said, ‘if they did ever do Tamburlaine . In any case, the show wouldn’t be coming on for ages.’
    ‘I wouldn’t limit it to Maclintick and Gossage,’ Moreland said. ‘I should like to be dragged along by all the music critics, arranged in order of height, tallest in front, midgets