fingernails into the palms of his hands, and got up and began to pace the floor. Every time he
turned toward the bell-button in the reception-room he had an impulse to press it. He was
paying for service, and wasn't receiving it, and he was getting up steam to demand it. But just
at that juncture a nurse came through the room, cast one of her conventional smiles upon him,
and remarked: "Soyez tranquille, monsieur. Tout va bien."
V
Lanny called his mother on the telephone. Beauty Budd had been through this adventure two
and a half times—so she said—and spoke as one having authority. There wasn't a thing he
could do, so why not come home and have something to eat, instead of worrying himself and
getting in other people's way? This was the woman's job, and nobody in all creation was so
superfluous as the husband. Lanny answered that he wasn't hungry, and he wasn't being
allowed to bother anybody.
He went back to his seat in the reception-room, and thought about ladies. They were, as a
rule, a highly individualistic lot; each on her own, and sharply aware of the faults of the
others. He thought of those who made up his mother's set, and therefore had played a large part
in his own life; he recalled the sly little digs he had heard them give one another, the lack of
solidarity he had seen them display. They had been polite to Irma, but he was certain that behind
her back, and behind his, they found it difficult to forgive her for being so favored of fortune.
However, as her pregnancy had moved to its climax they had seemed to gather about her and
become tender and considerate; they would have come and helped to fetch and carry, to hold
her hands and pull against them in her spasms of pain, had it not been for the fact that there
were professional women trained for these services.
Lanny thought about his mother, and her role in this drama, the stage entrance of another
soul. Beauty had been an ideal mother-in-law so far. She had worked hard to make this
marriage, for she believed in money; there was in her mind no smallest doubt of money's
rightness, or of money's right to have its way. Had not her judgment been vindicated by the
events of a dreadful Wall Street panic? Where would they all have been, what would have
become of them, if it hadn't been for Irma's fortune? Who was there among Irma's friends who
hadn't wanted help? Go ahead and pretend to be contemptuous of money if you pleased; indulge
yourself in Pink talk, as Lanny did—but sooner or later it was proved that it is money which
makes the mare go, and which feeds the mare, takes care of her shiny coat, and provides her
with a warm and well-bedded stall.
Beauty Budd was going to become a grandmother. She pretended to be distressed at the idea;
she made a moue, exclaiming that it would set the seal of doom upon her social career. Other
handicaps you might evade by one device or another. You might fib about the number of your
years, and have your face lifted, and fill your crow's-feet with skin enamel; but when you were
a grandmother, when anyone could bring that charge publicly and you had to keep silent, that
was the end of you as a charmer, a butterfly, a professional beauty.
But that was all mere spoofing. In reality Beauty was delighted at the idea of there being a
little one to inherit the Barnes fortune and to be trained to make proper use of the prestige and
power it conferred. That meant to be dignified and splendid, to be admired and courted, to be the
prince or princess of that new kind of empire which the strong men of these days had created.
Beauty's head was buzzing with romantic notions derived from the fairytales she had read as a
child. She had brought these imaginings with her to Paris and merged them with the realities of
splendid equipages, costly furs and jewels, titles and honors—and then the figure of a young
Prince Charming, the son of a munitions manufacturer from her homeland. Beauty Budd's had
been a Cinderella story, and it was now being carried further than the fairytales usually go.
Grandma Cinderella!
VI
Lanny couldn't stand any more of this suspense, this premonition of impending calamity. He
rang the bell and demanded to see the head nurse; yes, even he, the superfluous husband, had
some rights in a crisis like this! The functionary made her appearance; grave, stiff with starch
and authority, forbidding behind pincenez. In response to Lanny's demand she consented to
depart from the established formula, that all was going well and that he should be tranquil .
With professional exactitude she explained that in the female organism there are tissues which
have to be stretched, passages which have to be widened—the head nurse made a gesture of the
hands— and there is no way for this to be accomplished save the way of nature, the efforts of
the woman in labor. The accoucheur would pay a visit in the course of the next hour or so,
and he perhaps would be able to put monsieur's mind at rest.
Lanny was disturbed because this personage was not in attendance upon Irma now. The
husband had assumed that when he agreed to the large fee requested, he was entitled to have
the man sit by Irma's bedside and watch her, or at any rate be in the building, prepared for
emergencies. But here the fellow had gone about other duties, or perhaps pleasures. He was an
Englishman, and was probably having a round or two of golf; then he would have his shower, and
his indispensable tea and conversation; after which he expected to stroll blandly in and look at
Irma—and meanwhile whatever dreadful thing was happening might have gone so far as to be
irremediable!
Lanny resumed his seat in the well-cushioned chair, and tried to read the popular novel, and
wished he had brought something more constructive. The conversation of these fashionable
characters was too much like that which was now going on in the casinos and tearooms and
drawing-rooms of this playground of Europe. The financial collapse overseas hadn't sobered
these people; they were still gossiping and chattering; and Lanny Budd was in rebellion
against them, but didn't know what to do about it. Surely in the face of the awful thing that
was happening in this hospice— knowing it to be their own fate through the ages—the women
ought to be having some serious concern about life, and doing something to make it easier for
others! They ought to be feeling for one another some of the pity which Lanny was feeling for
Irma!
VII
The door to the street opened, and there entered a tall, vigorous-appearing American of thirty-
five or so, having red hair and a cheerful smile: Lanny's one-time tutor and dependable friend,
Jerry Pendleton from the state of Kansas, now proprietor of a tourist bureau in Cannes. Beauty
had phoned to him: "Do go over there and stop his worrying." Jerry was the fellow for the job,
because he had been through this himself, and had three sturdy youngsters and a cheerful
little French wife as evidence that la nature wasn't altogether out of her wits. Jerry knew
exactly how to kid his friend along and make him take it; he seated himself in the next chair and
commanded: "Cheer up! This isn't the Meuse-Argonne!"
Yes, ex-Lieutenant Jerry Pendleton, who had enlisted and begun as a machine-gun expert,
knew plenty about blood and suffering. Mostly he didn't talk about it; but once on a long motor
ride, and again sitting out in the boat when the fish didn't happen to be biting, he had opened
up and told a little of what he had seen. The worst of it was that the men who had suffered and
died hadn't accomplished anything, so far as a survivor could see; France had been saved, but
wasn't making much use of her victory, nor was any other nation. This battle that Irma was
fighting in the other room was of a more profitable kind; she'd have a little something for her
pains, and Lanny for his—so said the former doughboy, with a grin.
More than once Lanny had been glad to lean on this sturdy fellow . That dreadful time when
Marcel Detaze had leaped from a stationary balloon in flames it had been Jerry who had driven
Lanny and his mother up to the war zone and helped to bring the broken man home and nurse
him back to life. So now when he chuckled and said: "You ain't seen nothin' yet," Lanny
recognized the old doughboy spirit.
The tourist agent had troubles of his own at present. He mentioned how fast business was
falling off, how many Americans hadn't come to the Riviera that season. Apparently the hard
times were going to spread to Europe. Did Lanny think so? Lanny said he surely did, and told
how he had argued the matter with his father. Maybe the money values which had been wiped out
in Wall Street were just paper, as so many declared; but it was paper that you had been able to
spend for anything you wanted, including steamship tickets and traveler's checks. Now you
didn't have it, so you didn't spend it. Lanny and his wife could have named a score of people
who had braved the snow and sleet of New York the past winter and were glad if they had the
price of meal tickets.
Jerry said he'd been hard up more than once, and could stand it again. He'd have to let his
office force go, and he and Cerise would do the work. Fortunately they had their meal tickets,
for they still lived in the Pension Flavin, owned and run by the wife's mother and aunt. "You'll
have to take me fishing some more and let me carry home the fish," said the ex-tutor; and
Lanny replied: "Just as soon as I know Irma's all right, we'll make a date." The moment he said
this his heart gave a jump. Was he ever going to know that Irma was all right? Suppose her heart
was failing at this moment, and the nurses were frantically trying to restore it!
VIII
The surgeon arrived at last: a middle-aged Englishman, smooth-shaven, alert, and precise; his
cheeks were rosy from a "workout" in the sunshine followed by a showerbath. He had talked
with the head nurse over the telephone; everything was going excellently. Lanny could
understand that a surgeon has to take his job serenely; he cannot suffer with all his patients;
whatever others may do, he has to accept la nature and her ways. He said he would see Mrs.
Budd and report.
Lanny and his friend resumed their discussion of depressions and their cause. Lanny had a
head full of theories, derived from the Red and Pink papers he took. Jerry's reading was
confined mostly to the Saturday Evening Post and the Paris edition of the New York Tribune;
therefore he was puzzled, and couldn't figure out what had become of all the money that people
had had early in October 1929, and where it had gone by the end of that month. Lanny explained
the credit structure: one of those toy balloons, shining brightly in the sunshine, dancing merrily
in the breeze, until someone sticks a pin into it. Jerry said: "By heck, I ought to study up on
those things!"
The surgeon reappeared, as offensively cheerful as ever. Mrs. Budd was a patient to be
proud of; she was just the way a young woman ought to keep herself. The "bearing-down
pains," as they were called, might continue for some little time yet. Meanwhile there was
nothing to be done. Lanny was dismayed, but knew there was no use exhibiting his feelings; he too
must maintain the professional manner. "I'll be within call," said the surgeon. "You might as
well get it off your mind for a while." Lanny thanked him.
After the surgeon had gone, Jerry said: "When do we eat?" Lanny wanted to say that he
couldn't eat, but he knew that Jerry was there for the purpose of making him change his mind. It
was dinner-hour at the Pension Flavin, and Jerry recited a jingle to the effect that he knew a
boarding-house not far away where they had ham and eggs three times a day. "Oh, how those
boarders yell when they hear the dinner-bell!"—and so on. This was the sporting way to deal
with the fact that your mother-in-law runs a medium-priced pension in the most fashionable of
Riviera towns. Lanny knew also that he hadn't visited the Pendleton family for some time, and
that, having won the biggest matrimonial sweepstakes, it was up to him to show that he didn't
mean to "high-hat" his poor friends.
"All right," he said; "but I'll be glum company."
' The boarders know all about it," responded Jerry.
Indeed they did! Wherever the boarders came from and whatever they were, they knew about
the Budd family and felt themselves members of it. For sixteen years Jerry Pendleton had
been going fishing with Lanny Budd, and the boarders had eaten the fish. At the outset Jerry
had been a boarder like themselves, but after he had driven the Boches out of France he had
married the daughter of the pension. And then had come the time when another of the
boarders had married Lanny's mother; from that time on, the boarders had all regarded
themselves as Budds, and entitled to every scrap of gossip concerning the family.
IX
Driving back to the hospital, Lanny took the precaution to stop and purchase several
magazines, French, English, and American. He would equip himself for a siege, and if one
subject failed to hold his attention he would try others. Arriving at the reception-room, he
found that he was no longer alone; in one of the chairs sat a French gentleman, stoutish and
prosperous, betraying in aspect and manner those symptoms which Lanny recognized.
The stranger's misery loved company, and he introduced himself as an avocat from a near-by
town. It was his wife's first accouchement, and he was in a terrible state of fidgets and could
hardly keep his seat; he wanted to bother the nurses with questions every time one entered the
room. He seemed to Lanny absurdly naive; he actually didn't know about the "bearing-down
pains," that they were according' to the arrangements of la nature, and that women didn't very
often die of them. Speaking as a veteran of some ten hours, Lanny explained about the
stretching of tissues, and comforted the stranger as best he could. Later on, seeing that his
