After the Race
[...]
He was about twenty-six
years of age, with a soft, light-brown moustache and rather innocent-looking
grey eyes. His father, who had begun life as an advanced Nationalist,
had modified his views early. He had made his money as a butcher in Kingstown,
and by opening shops in Dublin and in the suburbs he had made his money
many times over. He had also been fortunate enough to secure some of the
police contracts and in the end he had become rich enough to be alluded
to in the Dublin newspapers as a merchant prince. He had sent his son
to England to be educated in a big Catholic college and had afterwards
sent him to Dublin University to study law. Jimmy did not study very earnestly
and took to bad courses for a while. He had money and he was popular;
and he divided his time curiously between musical and motoring circles.
Then he had been sent for a term to Cambridge to see a little life. His
father, remonstrative, but covertly proud of the excess, had paid his
bills and brought him home. It was at Cambridge that he had met Ségouin.
They were not much more than acquaintances as yet, but Jimmy found great
pleasure in the society of one who had seen so much of the world and was
reputed to own some of the biggest hotels in France. Such a person (as
his father agreed) was well worth knowing, even if he had not been the
charming companion he was. Villona was entertaining also - a brilliant
pianist - but, unfortunately, very poor.
[...]
There was a yacht
piano in the cabin. Villona played a waltz for Farley and Rivière,
Farley acting as cavalier and Rivière as lady. Then an impromptu
square dance, the men devising original figures. What merriment! Jimmy
took his part with a will; this was seeing life, at least. Then Farley
got out of breath and cried Stop! A man brought in a light supper,
and the young men sat down to it for forms sake. They drank, however:
it was Bohemian. They drank Ireland, England, France, Hungary, the United
States of America. Jimmy made a speech, a long speech, Villona saying
Hear! hear! whenever there was a pause. There was a great clapping
of hands when he sat down. It must have been a good speech. Farley clapped
him on the back and laughed loudly. What jovial fellows! What good company
they were!
Cards! cards! The
table was cleared.
[...]
It was a terrible game. They stopped just before the end of it to drink
for luck. Jimmy understood that the game lay between Routh and Ségouin.
What excitement! Jimmy was excited too; he would lose, of course. How
much had he written away? The men rose to their feet to play the last
tricks, talking and gesticulating. Routh won. The cabin shook with the
young mens cheering and the cards were bundled together. They began then
to gather in what they had won. Farley and Jimmy were the heaviest losers.
He knew that he would
regret it in the morning, but at present he was glad of the rest, glad
of the dark stupor that would cover up his folly. He leaned his elbows
on the table and rested his head between his hands, counting the beats
of his temples. The cabin door opened and he saw the Hungarian standing
in a shaft of grey light:
-Daybreak, gentlemen!
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