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'
Here
is
Percival
,
'
said
Jinny
.
'
He
has
not
dressed
.
'
'
Here
is
Percival
,
'
said
Bernard
,
's
moothing
his
hair
,
not
from
vanity
(
he
does
not
look
in
the
glass
)
,
but
to
propitiate
the
god
of
decency
.
He
is
conventional
;
he
is
a
hero
.
The
little
boys
trooped
after
him
across
the
playing-fields
.
They
blew
their
noses
as
he
blew
his
nose
,
but
unsuccessfully
,
for
he
is
Percival
.
Now
,
when
he
is
about
to
leave
us
,
to
go
to
India
,
all
these
trifles
come
together
.
He
is
a
hero
.
Oh
yes
,
that
is
not
to
be
denied
,
and
when
he
takes
his
seat
by
Susan
,
whom
he
loves
,
the
occasion
is
crowned
.
We
who
yelped
like
jackals
biting
at
each
other
's
heels
now
assume
the
sober
and
confident
air
of
soldiers
in
the
presence
of
their
captain
.
We
who
have
been
separated
by
our
youth
(
the
oldest
is
not
yet
twenty-five
)
,
who
have
sung
like
eager
birds
each
his
own
song
and
tapped
with
the
remorseless
and
savage
egotism
of
the
young
our
own
snail-shell
till
it
cracked
(
I
am
engaged
)
,
or
perched
solitary
outside
some
bedroom
window
and
sang
of
love
,
of
fame
and
other
single
experiences
so
dear
to
the
callow
bird
with
a
yellow
tuft
on
its
beak
,
now
come
nearer
;
and
shuffling
closer
on
our
perch
in
this
restaurant
where
everybody
's
interests
are
at
variance
,
and
the
incessant
passage
of
traffic
chafes
us
with
distractions
,
and
the
door
opening
perpetually
its
glass
cage
solicits
us
with
myriad
temptations
and
offers
insults
and
wounds
to
our
confidence
--
sitting
together
here
we
love
each
other
and
believe
in
our
own
endurance
.
'
'N
ow
let
us
issue
from
the
darkness
of
solitude
,
'
said
Louis
.
'N
ow
let
us
say
,
brutally
and
directly
,
what
is
in
our
minds
,
'
said
Neville
.
'
Our
isolation
,
our
preparation
,
is
over
.
The
furtive
days
of
secrecy
and
hiding
,
the
revelations
on
staircases
,
moments
of
terror
and
ecstasy
.
'
'
Old
Mrs
Constable
lifted
her
sponge
and
warmth
poured
over
us
,
'
said
Bernard
.
'
We
became
clothed
in
this
changing
,
this
feeling
garment
of
flesh
.
'
'
The
boot-boy
made
love
to
the
scullery-maid
in
the
kitchen
garden
,
'
said
Susan
,
'
among
the
blown-out
washing
.
'
'
The
breath
of
the
wind
was
like
a
tiger
panting
,
'
said
Rhoda
.
'
The
man
lay
livid
with
his
throat
cut
in
the
gutter
,
'
said
Neville
.
'
And
going
upstairs
I
could
not
raise
my
foot
against
the
immitigable
apple
tree
with
its
silver
leaves
held
stiff
.
'
