XXXV

THE LISTENING ELFRIDA GRIBB had made a decision; her delicate jaw was firmly set. She waited, anxious but resolved, for the emerging Flapping Eagle.

He dragged himself out of the bar and immediately fell against the wall. His head rolled slightly; for all the world to see he was a man in the last stages of physical and mental exhaustion. And so badly dressed, too, thought Elfrida. So dirty.

—Sir, she said as firmly as she could.

Flapping Eagle’s head rolled in her direction. The woman … it was the beautiful woman … yes, there, the donkey … He couldn’t understand what she wanted.

—Sir, persisted Elfrida, you cannot stay here.

—Uh? he asked.

—You must come with me, said Elfrida categorically. If you are indeed in earnest about wishing to settle in K, you could not have made a worse start. First Mr Virgil Jones and now this … this unruly, wanton rabble. No, sir, you come away with me. My husband and I have a guest room where you can sleep. Does the thought of clean linen please you? And good meals, too, though I say it myself. Do come, sir. The Cherkassovs are our friends and neighbours. Count Cherkassov values my husband’s advice highly. I assure you it is quite the best thing you can do. Only do make haste, please, or they will come for you.

Flapping Eagle understood that this beautiful woman was offering him her hospitality. Not knowing her addiction to good works, he had no idea why, and was too tired to think. What he was quite clear about was that she was a great deal prettier than Flann O’Toole, so his choice was clear. Even if he had heard the word “husband”.

He attempted to draw himself up. —Flapping Eagle, he mumbled.

She laughed under her breath. —You do look comic, Mr Eagle, if You’ll forgive my saying so; but a night’s rest will work wonders. I am Elfrida Gribb. My husband is Mr Ignatius Gribb, the philosopher.

—And I, attempted Flapping Eagle, am the philosopher’s millstone. He lurched.

—What, she said, can this be wit? I’m sure that in your condition you could do no more than transmute base metals into fool’s gold. Now hurry, do.

—I … I’ll need your help.

Half-leaning on her he made his way to where the donkey stood; after some more trouble they were both astride her, Mrs Gribb in front; and they moved off down the Cobble-way to that place which had haunted Flapping Eagle earlier in the evening: home.

By the time they passed the House of the Rising Son, Flapping Eagle was asleep, one arm round Mrs Gribb’s waist to hold himself on to their mount, his head resting against the back of her neck.

—My, my, thought Elfrida Gribb, this is an adventure.

The long night was nearly over.