"I think you knew my father," he said to it over the soup.
"I sent for you this evening," he continued, "because I want you to
do me a good turn; in fact I must insist on it."
There was nothing eccentric about the man except for this habit of
addressing an empty chair, certainly he was eating as good a dinner
as any sane man could wish for.
After the Burgundy had been served he became more voluble in his
monologue, not that he spoiled his wine by drinking excessively.
"We have several acquaintances in common," he said. "I met King Seti
a year ago in Thebes. I think he has altered very little since you knew
him. I thought his forehead a little low for a king's. Cheops has left the
house that he built for your reception, he must have prepared for you
for years and years. I suppose you have seldom been entertained like
that. I ordered this dinner over a week ago. I thought then that a lady
might have come with me, but as she wouldn't I've asked you. She may
not after all be as lovely as Helen of Troy. Was Helen very lovely? Not
when you knew her, perhaps. You were lucky in Cleopatra, you must
have known her when she was in her prime.
"You never knew the mermaids nor the fairies nor the lovely goddesses
of long ago, that's where we have the best of you."
He was silent when the waiters came to his table, but rambled merrily
on as soon as they left, still turned to the empty chair.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25