The Portuguese Escape by Ann Bridge

Torrens later described as a basilisk’s eye.
    â€˜May I know?—this Monsieur de X. attached importance to opposing the ferry scheme, whatever this may be?’
    â€˜Certainly he did’—Richard, rather negligently, answered for Julia.
    â€˜And withdraws his opposition at his wife’s wish, because she will see a princess married?’
    â€˜Just that. Men are often rather at the mercy of their wives.’
    â€˜But for this man, this Minister, it was a matter of principle to oppose?’
    â€˜One imagines so, or he would hardly have made so much fuss for so long,’ Richard said frankly. ‘But why, Countess? Does it matter?’ He was astonished at her persistence.
    â€˜To me such a thing is infamous,’ Hetta Páloczy said, once again with that ring in her voice. ‘To sacrifice a principle for a social occasion! Where I come from people
die
for a principle!’
    Of course that led to an awkward little pause. It was broken by Julia Probyn, who said gently—‘I expect we all lead frightfully low, unworthy lives by comparison with the people you have been accustomed to live among. I’m sorry. That’s the way we are—we have been too safe, and had it too easy, for too long. You’ll have to be patient with us—I hope you will be.’
    â€˜Oh,
you
are nice—you are
true
! I knew this at once! Please forgive me—everything here is so strange!’ She looked ready to burst into tears.
    â€˜Of course it’s strange to you—and in fact we are probably a lot of miserable bastards, as Miss Probyn says,’ Richard said comfortingly. ‘Don’t worry, Hetta—if I may call you that?’
    â€˜Hetti, please,’ she said, the tears now falling.
    â€˜Very well. Dear Hetti, go upstairs with Julia and powder your nose, and then come and have coffee in the garden.’
    The garden was really only a small flagged terrace atthe back of the house, shaded by a vine trained over a trellis, with two or three narrow flower-beds; its low walls were both faced and topped with glossy blue-and-yellow
azulejos
. There was an azulejo-topped table too, and some garden-chairs with cushions, but when the two girls came out Torrens and Atherley were sitting on the wall, enjoying the view.
    â€˜Oh, how pretty!’ Hetta said, with her little
grande dame
air, to Richard’s relief entirely ignoring the scene she had created only a few minutes before. ‘But this is perfectly charming.’ She went to the wall and looked over. ‘Another garden—is this yours also?’ she asked him.
    â€˜No, that belongs to one of my neighbours,’ he said. In fact the gardens of the little houses below came right up to the foot of the wall; the nearest was full of ancient and enormous medlar-trees with grey leathery leaves, vegetables growing among them; similar gardens, divided from one another by the frailest of fences draped in runner beans, spread right down to the houses at the bottom. Torrens turned to examine them, standing with a foot on the wall.
    â€˜Where does that track between the houses go to?’ he asked.
    â€˜It leads out into a maze of little streets, down towards the river, and that level crossing where the goods trains hoot so frightfully at 2 a.m. Lady Loseley is always grumbling to the Commandant of the City about it; she says the noise comes right in at the Embassy windows,’ Atherley said.
    â€˜Perfect get-away if you wanted one—drop off the wall and down through those shrubs and creepers,’ Torrens pursued.
    â€˜Ah, but I enjoy diplomatic immunity, so I don’t have to think of those things, Torrens. Hetti, have some coffee?’
    â€˜Richard, I think I’ve persuaded Countess Hetta to come out and have supper at the Guincho on Tuesday,’ Julia said—‘Will you come too? Hugh, of course, goes without saying.’
    â€˜Julia, I don’t go
anywhere
without