| Set Display | Please Turn On Your Virtual Bookmarks | You Can Help This Site | Table of Contents | Arnold Bennett |
MR. PROHACK'S TRIUMPH - Mr. Prohack
| | Page 220 of 230 | | |
He glanced secretly at the boy Charles, and said to himself: "To that boy I am like a god. He was dead, and I have resurrected him. He may achieve an enormous reputation after all. Anyhow he is an amazing devil of a fellow, and he's my son, and no one comprehends him as I do." And Mr. Prohack became jolly to the point of uproariousness--without touching a glass. He was intoxicated, not by the fermentation of grapes, but by the magnitude and magnificence of his own gesture. He was the monarch of the company, and getting a bit conceited about it.
The sole creature who withstood him in any degree was Sissie. She had firmness. "She has married the right man,-" said Mr. Prohack to himself. "The so-called feminine instinct is for the most part absurd, but occasionally it justifies its reputation. She has chosen her husband with unerring insight into her needs and his. He will be happy; she will have the anxieties of responsible power. But _I_ am not her husband." And he spoke aloud, masterfully:
"Sissie!"
"Yes, dad? What now?"
"I've satisfactorily transacted affairs with my son. I will now try to do the same with my daughter. A few moments with you in the council-chamber, please. Oswald also, if you like."
Sissie smiled kindly at her awaiting spouse.
"Perhaps I'd better deal with my own father alone, darling."
Ozzie accepted the decision.
"Look here. I think I must be off," Charlie put in. "I've got a lot of work to do."
"I expect you have," Mr. Prohack concurred. "By the way, you might meet me at Smathe and Smathe's at ten fifteen in the morning."
Charlie nodded and slipped away.
"Infant," said Mr. Prohack to the defiantly smiling bride who awaited him in the council chamber. "Has your mother said anything to you about our wedding present?"
"No, dad."
"No, of course she hasn't. And do you know why? Because she daren't! With your infernal independence you've frightened the life out of the poor lady; that's what you've done. Your mother will doubtless have a talk with me to-night. And to-morrow she will tell you what she has decided to give you. Please let there be no nonsense. Whatever the gift is, I shall be obliged if you will accept it--and use it, without troubling us with any of your theories about the proper conduct of life. Wisdom and righteousness existed before you, and there's just a chance that they'll exist after you. Do you take me?"
"Quite, father."
"Good. You may become a great girl yet. We are now going home. Thanks for a very pleasant evening."
In the car, beautifully alone with Eve, who was in a restful mood, Mr. Prohack said:
"I shall be very ill in a few hours. Pate de foi gras is the devil, but caviare is Beelzebub himself."
Eve merely gazed at him in gentle, hopeless reproach. He prophesied truly. He was very ill. And yet through the succeeding crises he kept smiling, sardonically. 
 | |||||||||||
 |
|
|
|||||||||