Read Online House of All Nations by Christina Stead - Free Book Online

look, by no means paternal. ‘Eyes opened by Adam? Nice conversations you must have, about—pah!’
    Henrietta said, ‘We talk about nobler subjects. The cause of the people. And how detestable it is to be the spoiled daughter of a richman!’ She was egging him on, having had a very good lunch.
    Achitophelous laughed offensively, ‘Oh, he is worried about that, is he? He seems smarter than I thought.’
    Henrietta cried, ‘He is, but not the way you mean, the horrible, criminal way you mean. Oh, such degradation! My father can only think foully. It’s possible for even a capitalist to be refined,’ she told him severely. ‘In fact’ (she sighed), ‘as Adam Constant says, that is our great weakness: we have neither art, learning, science, nor refinement yet on our side. You have them all. We have nothing but history.’ She broke off, looked at her father. ‘Do you want to hear what he said yesterday?’
    â€˜It won’t make me a penny, but I should very much like it.’ He smiled and put his hands behind his back.
    She pouted her breast unconsciously and recited, ‘The earth parched by privilege will be planted by our seed.’
    â€˜Well,’ said Achitophelous, looking at her speculatively, under his eyebrows, and taking a promenade, ‘well, a nice prospect. That’s what he offers you? Let me tell you, sentiments like that are cheap as dirt. He can’t keep you on that sort of literature. You’re a fool. A young fool. One of you is a sucker.’
    Jules came back with Michel Alphendéry. ‘Achitophelous, are you at it again? This is Mr. Alphendéry.’
    â€˜You are a friend of Adam’s,’ said Henrietta trying not to be shy.
    Alphendéry said, ‘Well, Jules has told me all about it—or not quite all, I suppose. Now, have I got to convert the father or the daughter? I can do either.’
    â€˜The father.’
    â€˜The daughter!’
    â€˜I’ll talk to your daughter, Mr. Achitophelous,’ said Alphendéry cheerfully. ‘Can I take her to lunch tomorrow?’
    Achitophelous shot him a suspicious glance, but after a minute’s study, said, ‘Yes, why not? With pleasure.’
    Henrietta bridled at being the center of attention and became a little fatuous. But Achitophelous turned to Jules. ‘Well, that’s done. Have you got a man called Mouradzian round here?’ He stopped in the middle of a sentence when Henrietta took her leave, and shook his head. ‘A son,’ he said to Jules, ‘is a gilt-edged security, but a daughter is goods that have to be given away with a bonus. Have you sons?’
    â€˜Four,’ said Jules carelessly, ‘do you know Henri Léon?’
    â€˜Not much,’ said Achitophelous, troubled, ‘he’s all right. Sell, he can. He can sell last week’s bait for tomorrow’s halibut. He’s all right. Is he in business down here then?’
    â€˜Oh, he’s a friend of mine,’ said Jules. ‘You want to see Mouradzian?’ He reached for the telephone. ‘Tell Mouradzian to come up here.’
    Achitophelous sank into a chair. ‘My wife is pure as an angel,’ he said heavily. ‘Where did Henrietta get such traits? Her mother is like snow. Such a temperament!’ He flushed and giggled. ‘She gets it from me, all right.’
    * * *
    Scene Four: Whoopee Party
    I n the evening the women had their war paint on and Léon was in fine feather. He had spent a couple of hours at the Turkish bath with Paul Méline. They sat late in the restaurant of the Café de la Paix. Léon liked its loaded serving tables and gilded pillars. As a poor boy he had dreamed of fleshpots like this one: this was his way of telling himself he had arrived and that he was really a rich man and everything his to command. He was showering questions on them, interspersing questions with anecdotes of his