{"id":1451,"date":"2024-12-27T06:21:09","date_gmt":"2024-12-27T06:21:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=1451"},"modified":"2024-12-27T06:21:09","modified_gmt":"2024-12-27T06:21:09","slug":"the-man-without-a-temperament-by-katherine-mansfield","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/?p=1451","title":{"rendered":"The Man without a Temperament by Katherine Mansfield"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>The Man without a Temperament by <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/miss-brill-by-katherine-mansfield\">Katherine Mansfield<\/a> was first published in Arts and Letters in Spring 1920, and later included the collection Bliss and Other Stories.<\/p>\n<p><em>This post may contain affiliate links that earn us a commission at no extra cost to you.<\/em><\/p>\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">The Man without a Temperament by Katherine Mansfield<\/h2>\n<div class=\"epyt-video-wrapper\">\n<div class=\"__youtube_prefs__ epyt-facade no-lazyload\"><button class=\"epyt-facade-play\"><\/button><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">The Man without a Temperament by Katherine Mansfield<\/h3>\n<p>He stood at the hall door turning the ring, turning the heavy signet ring upon his little finger while his glance travelled coolly, deliberately, over the round tables and basket chairs scattered about the glassed-in verandah. He pursed his lips\u2014he might have been going to whistle\u2014but he did not whistle\u2014only turned the ring\u2014turned the ring on his pink, freshly washed hands.<\/p>\n<p>Over in the corner sat The Two Topknots, drinking a decoction they always drank at this hour\u2014something whitish, greyish, in glasses, with little husks floating on the top\u2014and rooting in a tin full of paper shavings for pieces of speckled biscuit, which they broke, dropped into the glasses and fished for with spoons. Their two coils of knitting, like two snakes, slumbered beside the tray.<\/p>\n<p>The American Woman sat where she always sat against the glass wall, in the shadow of a great creeping thing with wide open purple eyes that pressed\u2014that flattened itself against the glass, hungrily watching her. And she knoo it was there\u2014she knoo it was looking at her just that way. She played up to it; she gave herself little airs. Sometimes she even pointed at it, crying: \u201cIsn\u2019t that the most terrible thing you\u2019ve ever seen! Isn\u2019t that ghoulish!\u201d It was on the other side of the verandah, after all . . . and besides it couldn\u2019t touch her, could it, Klaymongso? She was an American Woman, wasn\u2019t she Klaymongso, and she\u2019d just go right away to her Consul. Klaymongso, curled in her lap, with her torn antique brocade bag, a grubby handkerchief, and a pile of letters from home on top of him, sneezed for reply.<\/p>\n<p>The other tables were empty. A glance passed between the American and the Topknots. She gave a foreign little shrug; they waved an understanding biscuit. But he saw nothing. Now he was still, now from his eyes you saw he listened. \u201cHoo-e-zip-zoo-oo!\u201d sounded the lift. The iron cage clanged open. Light dragging steps sounded across the hall, coming towards him. A hand, like a leaf, fell on his shoulder. A soft voice said: \u201cLet\u2019s go and sit over there\u2014where we can see the drive. The trees are so lovely.\u201d And he moved forward with the hand still on his shoulder, and the light, dragging steps beside his. He pulled out a chair and she sank into it, slowly, leaning her head against the back, her arms falling along the sides.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWon\u2019t you bring the other up closer? It\u2019s such miles away.\u201d But he did not move.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhere\u2019s your shawl?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh!\u201d She gave a little groan of dismay. \u201cHow silly I am, I\u2019ve left it upstairs on the bed. Never mind. Please don\u2019t go for it. I shan\u2019t want it, I know I shan\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019d better have it.\u201d And he turned and swiftly crossed the verandah into the dim hall with its scarlet plush and gilt furniture\u2014conjuror\u2019s furniture\u2014its Notice of Services at the English Church, its green baize board with the unclaimed letters climbing the black lattice, huge \u201cPresentation\u201d clock that struck the hours at the half-hours, bundles of sticks and umbrellas and sunshades in the clasp of a brown wooden bear, past the two crippled palms, two ancient beggars at the foot of the staircase, up the marble stairs three at a time, past the life-size group on the landing of two stout peasant children with their marble pinnies full of marble grapes, and along the corridor, with its piled-up wreckage of old tin boxes, leather trunks, canvas hold-alls, to their room.<\/p>\n<p>The servant girl was in their room, singing loudly while she emptied soapy water into a pail. The windows were open wide, the shutters put back, and the light glared in. She had thrown the carpets and the big white pillows over the balcony rails; the nets were looped up from the beds; on the writing table there stood a pan of fluff and match-ends. When she saw him her small impudent eyes snapped and her singing changed to humming. But he gave no sign. His eyes searched the glaring room. Where the devil was the shawl!<\/p>\n<p>\u201cVous desirez, Monsieur?\u201d mocked the servant girl.<\/p>\n<p>No answer. He had seen it. He strode across the room, grabbed the grey cobweb and went out, banging the door. The servant girl\u2019s voice at its loudest and shrillest followed him along the corridor.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, there you are. What happened? What kept you? The tea\u2019s here, you see. I\u2019ve just sent Antonio off for the hot water. Isn\u2019t it extraordinary? I must have told him about it sixty times at least, and still he doesn\u2019t bring it. Thank you. That\u2019s very nice. One does just feel the air when one bends forward.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThanks.\u201d He took his tea and sat down in the other chair. \u201cNo, nothing to eat.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh do! Just one, you had so little at lunch and it\u2019s hours before dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Her shawl dropped off as she bent forward to hand him the biscuits. He took one and put it in his saucer.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, those trees along the drive,\u201d she cried, \u201cI could look at them for ever. They are like the most exquisite huge ferns. And you see that one with the grey-silver bark and the clusters of cream coloured flowers, I pulled down a head of them yesterday to smell and the scent\u201d\u2014she shut her eyes at the memory and her voice thinned away, faint, airy\u2014\u201cwas like freshly ground nutmegs.\u201d A little pause. She turned to him and smiled. \u201cYou do know what nutmegs smell like\u2014do you, Robert?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>And he smiled back at her. \u201cNow how am I going to prove to you that I do?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Back came Antonio with not only the hot water\u2014with letters on a salver and three rolls of paper.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, the post! Oh, how lovely! Oh, Robert, they mustn\u2019t be all for you! Have they just come, Antonio?\u201d Her thin hands flew up and hovered over the letters that Antonio offered her, bending forward.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cJust this moment, Signora,\u201d grinned Antonio. \u201cI took-a them from the postman myself. I made-a the postman give them for me.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNoble Antonio!\u201d laughed she. \u201cThere\u2014those are mine, Robert; the rest are yours.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Antonio wheeled sharply, stiffened, the grin went out of his face. His striped linen jacket and his flat gleaming fringe made him look like a wooden doll.<\/p>\n<p>Mr. Salesby put the letters into his pocket; the papers lay on the table. He turned the ring, turned the signet ring on his little finger and stared in front of him, blinking, vacant.<\/p>\n<p>But she\u2014with her teacup in one hand, the sheets of thin paper in the other, her head tilted back, her lips open, a brush of bright colour on her cheek-bones, sipped, sipped, drank . . . drank. . . .<\/p>\n<p>\u201cFrom Lottie,\u201d came her soft murmur. \u201cPoor dear . . . such trouble . . . left foot. She thought . . . neuritis . . . Doctor Blyth . . . flat foot . . . massage. So many robins this year . . . maid most satisfactory . . . Indian Colonel . . . every grain of rice separate . . . very heavy fall of snow.\u201d And her wide lighted eyes looked up from the letter. \u201cSnow, Robert! Think of it!\u201d And she touched the little dark violets pinned on her thin bosom and went back to the letter.<\/p>\n<p>. . . Snow. Snow in London. Millie with the early morning cup of tea. \u201cThere\u2019s been a terrible fall of snow in the night, Sir.\u201d \u201cOh, has there, Millie?\u201d The curtains ring apart, letting in the pale, reluctant light. He raises himself in the bed; he catches a glimpse of the solid houses opposite framed in white, of their window boxes full of great sprays of white coral. . . . In the bathroom\u2014overlooking the back garden. Snow\u2014heavy snow over everything. The lawn is covered with a wavy pattern of cat\u2019s paws; there is a thick, thick icing on the garden table; the withered pods of the laburnum tree are white tassels; only here and there in the ivy is a dark leaf showing. . . . Warming his back at the dining-room fire, the paper drying over a chair. Millie with the bacon. \u201cOh, if you please, Sir, there\u2019s two little boys come as will do the steps and front for a shilling, shall I let them?\u201d . . . And then flying lightly, lightly down the stairs\u2014Jinnie. \u201cOh, Robert, isn\u2019t it wonderful! Oh, what a pity it has to melt. Where\u2019s the pussy-wee?\u201d \u201cI\u2019ll get him from Millie\u201d . . . \u201cMillie, you might just hand me up the kitten if you\u2019ve got him down there.\u201d \u201cVery good, Sir.\u201d He feels the little beating heart under his hand. \u201cCome on, old chap, your Missus wants you.\u201d \u201cOh, Robert, do show him the snow\u2014his first snow. Shall I open the window and give him a little piece on his paw to hold? . . .\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell, that\u2019s very satisfactory on the whole\u2014very. Poor Lottie! Darling Anne! How I only wish I could send them something of this,\u201d she cried, waving her letters at the brilliant, dazzling garden. \u201cMore tea, Robert? Robert dear, more tea?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo, thanks, no. It was very good,\u201d he drawled.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell mine wasn\u2019t. Mine was just like chopped hay. Oh, here comes the Honeymoon Couple.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Half striding, half running, carrying a basket between them and rods and lines, they came up the drive, up the shallow steps.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMy! have you been out fishing?\u201d cried the American Woman.<\/p>\n<p>They were out of breath, they panted: \u201cYes, yes, we have been out in a little boat all day. We have caught seven. Four are good to eat. But three we shall give away. To the children.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Mrs. Salesby turned her chair to look; the Topknots laid the snakes down. They were a very dark young couple\u2014black hair, olive skin, brilliant eyes and teeth. He was dressed \u201cEnglish fashion\u201d in a flannel jacket, white trousers and shoes. Round his neck he wore a silk scarf; his head, with his hair brushed back, was bare. And he kept mopping his forehead, rubbing his hands with a brilliant handkerchief. Her white skirt had a patch of wet; her neck and throat were stained a deep pink. When she lifted her arms big half-hoops of perspiration showed under her arm-pits; her hair clung in wet curls to her cheeks. She looked as though her young husband had been dipping her in the sea, and fishing her out again to dry in the sun and then\u2014in with her again\u2014all day.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWould Klaymongso like a fish?\u201d they cried. Their laughing voices charged with excitement beat against the glassed-in verandah like birds, and a strange saltish smell came from the basket.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou will sleep well to-night,\u201d said a Topknot, picking her ear with a knitting needle while the other Topknot smiled and nodded.<\/p>\n<p>The Honeymoon Couple looked at each other. A great wave seemed to go over them. They gasped, gulped, staggered a little and then came up laughing\u2014laughing.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe cannot go upstairs, we are too tired. We must have tea just as we are. Here\u2014coffee. No\u2014tea. No\u2014coffee. Tea\u2014coffee, Antonio!\u201d Mrs. Salesby turned.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cRobert! Robert!\u201d Where was he? He wasn\u2019t there. Oh, there he was at the other end of the verandah, with his back turned, smoking a cigarette. \u201cRobert, shall we go for our little turn?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cRight.\u201d He stumped the cigarette into an ash-tray and sauntered over, his eyes on the ground. \u201cWill you be warm enough?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, quite.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSure?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell,\u201d she put her hand on his arm, \u201cperhaps\u201d\u2014and gave his arm the faintest pressure\u2014\u201cit\u2019s not upstairs, it\u2019s only in the hall\u2014perhaps you\u2019d get me my cape. Hanging up.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He came back with it and she bent her small head while he dropped it on her shoulders. Then, very stiff, he offered her his arm. She bowed sweetly to the people on the verandah while he just covered a yawn, and they went down the steps together.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cVous avez voo \u00e7a!\u201d said the American Woman.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHe is not a man,\u201d said the Two Topknots, \u201che is an ox. I say to my sister in the morning and at night when we are in bed, I tell her\u2014No man is he, but an ox!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Wheeling, tumbling, swooping, the laughter of the Honeymoon Couple dashed against the glass of the verandah.<\/p>\n<p>The sun was still high. Every leaf, every flower in the garden lay open, motionless, as if exhausted, and a sweet, rich, rank smell filled the quivering air. Out of the thick, fleshy leaves of a cactus there rose an aloe stem loaded with pale flowers that looked as though they had been cut out of butter; light flashed upon the lifted spears of the palms; over a bed of scarlet waxen flowers some big black insects \u201czoom-zoomed\u201d; a great, gaudy creeper, orange splashed with jet, sprawled against a wall.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI don\u2019t need my cape after all,\u201d said she. \u201cIt\u2019s really too warm.\u201d So he took it off and carried it over his arm. \u201cLet us go down this path here. I feel so well to-day\u2014marvellously better. Good heavens\u2014look at those children! And to think it\u2019s November!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>In a corner of the garden there were two brimming tubs of water. Three little girls, having thoughtfully taken off their drawers and hung them on a bush, their skirts clasped to their waists, were standing in the tubs and tramping up and down. They screamed, their hair fell over their faces, they splashed one another. But suddenly, the smallest, who had a tub to herself, glanced up and saw who was looking. For a moment she seemed overcome with terror, then clumsily she struggled and strained out of her tub, and still holding her clothes above her waist. \u201cThe Englishman! The Englishman!\u201d she shrieked and fled away to hide. Shrieking and screaming, the other two followed her. In a moment they were gone; in a moment there was nothing but the two brimming tubs and their little drawers on the bush.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHow\u2014very\u2014extraordinary!\u201d said she. \u201cWhat made them so frightened? Surely they were much too young to . . .\u201d She looked up at him. She thought he looked pale\u2014but wonderfully handsome with that great tropical tree behind him with its long, spiked thorns.<\/p>\n<p>For a moment he did not answer. Then he met her glance, and smiling his slow smile, \u201cTr\u00e8s rum!\u201d said he.<\/p>\n<p>Tr\u00e8s rum! Oh, she felt quite faint. Oh, why should she love him so much just because he said a thing like that. Tr\u00e8s rum! That was Robert all over. Nobody else but Robert could ever say such a thing. To be so wonderful, so brilliant, so learned, and then to say in that queer, boyish voice. . . . She could have wept.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou know you\u2019re very absurd, sometimes,\u201d said she.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI am,\u201d he answered. And they walked on.<\/p>\n<p>But she was tired. She had had enough. She did not want to walk any more.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cLeave me here and go for a little constitutional, won\u2019t you? I\u2019ll be in one of these long chairs. What a good thing you\u2019ve got my cape; you won\u2019t have to go upstairs for a rug. Thank you, Robert, I shall look at that delicious heliotrope. . . . You won\u2019t be gone long?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo\u2014no. You don\u2019t mind being left?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSilly! I want you to go. I can\u2019t expect you to drag after your invalid wife every minute. . . . How long will you be?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He took out his watch. \u201cIt\u2019s just after half-past four. I\u2019ll be back at a quarter past five.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBack at a quarter past five,\u201d she repeated, and she lay still in the long chair and folded her hands.<\/p>\n<p>He turned away. Suddenly he was back again. \u201cLook here, would you like my watch?\u201d And he dangled it before her.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh!\u201d She caught her breath. \u201cVery, very much.\u201d And she clasped the watch, the warm watch, the darling watch in her fingers. \u201cNow go quickly.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The gates of the Pension Villa Excelsior were open wide, jammed open against some bold geraniums. Stooping a little, staring straight ahead, walking swiftly, he passed through them and began climbing the hill that wound behind the town like a great rope looping the villas together. The dust lay thick. A carriage came bowling along driving towards the Excelsior. In it sat the General and the Countess; they had been for his daily airing. Mr. Salesby stepped to one side but the dust beat up, thick, white, stifling like wool. The Countess just had time to nudge the General.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThere he goes,\u201d she said spitefully.<\/p>\n<p>But the General gave a loud caw and refused to look.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt is the Englishman,\u201d said the driver, turning round and smiling. And the Countess threw up her hands and nodded so amiably that he spat with satisfaction and gave the stumbling horse a cut.<\/p>\n<p>On\u2014on\u2014past the finest villas in the town, magnificent palaces, palaces worth coming any distance to see, past the public gardens with the carved grottoes and statues and stone animals drinking at the fountain, into a poorer quarter. Here the road ran narrow and foul between high lean houses, the ground floors of which were scooped and hollowed into stables and carpenters\u2019 shops. At a fountain ahead of him two old hags were beating linen. As he passed them they squatted back on their haunches, stared, and then their \u201cA-hak-kak-kak!\u201d with the slap, slap, of the stone on the linen sounded after him.<\/p>\n<p>He reached the top of the hill; he turned a corner and the town was hidden. Down he looked into a deep valley with a dried up river bed at the bottom. This side and that was covered with small dilapidated houses that had broken stone verandahs where the fruit lay drying, tomato lanes in the garden, and from the gates to the doors a trellis of vines. The late sunlight, deep, golden, lay in the cup of the valley; there was a smell of charcoal in the air. In the gardens the men were cutting grapes. He watched a man standing in the greenish shade, raising up, holding a black cluster in one hand, taking the knife from his belt, cutting, laying the bunch in a flat boat-shaped basket. The man worked leisurely, silently, taking hundreds of years over the job. On the hedges on the other side of the road there were grapes small as berries, growing wild, growing among the stones. He leaned against a wall, filled his pipe, put a match to it. . . .<\/p>\n<p>Leaned across a gate, turned up the collar of his mackintosh. It was going to rain. It didn\u2019t matter, he was prepared for it. You didn\u2019t expect anything else in November. He looked over the bare field. From the corner by the gate there came the smell of swedes, a great stack of them, wet, rank coloured. Two men passed walking towards the straggling village. \u201cGood day!\u201d \u201cGood day!\u201d By Jove! he had to hurry if he was going to catch that train home. Over the gate, across a field, over the stile, into the lane, swinging along in the drifting rain and dusk. . . . Just home in time for a bath and a change before supper. . . . In the drawing-room; Jinnie is sitting pretty nearly in the fire. \u201cOh, Robert, I didn\u2019t hear you come in. Did you have a good time? How nice you smell! A present?\u201d \u201cSome bits of blackberry I picked for you. Pretty colour.\u201d \u201cOh, lovely, Robert! Dennis and Beaty are coming to supper.\u201d Supper\u2014cold beef, potatoes in their jackets, claret, household bread. They are gay\u2014everybody\u2019s laughing. \u201cOh, we all know Robert,\u201d says Dennis, breathing on his eyeglasses and polishing them. \u201cBy the way, Dennis, I picked up a very jolly little edition of . . .\u201d<\/p>\n<p>A clock struck. He wheeled sharply. What time was it. Five? A quarter past? Back, back the way he came. As he passed through the gates he saw her on the look-out. She got up, waved and slowly she came to meet him, dragging the heavy cape. In her hand she carried a spray of heliotrope.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re late,\u201d she cried gaily. \u201cYou\u2019re three minutes late. Here\u2019s your watch, it\u2019s been very good while you were away. Did you have a nice time? Was it lovely? Tell me. Where did you go?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI say\u2014put this on,\u201d he said, taking the cape from her.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, I will. Yes, it\u2019s getting chilly. Shall we go up to our room?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>When they reached the lift she was coughing. He frowned.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s nothing. I haven\u2019t been out too late. Don\u2019t be cross.\u201d She sat down on one of the red plush chairs while he rang and rang, and then, getting no answer, kept his finger on the bell.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, Robert, do you think you ought to?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOught to what?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The door of the salon opened. \u201cWhat is that? Who is making that noise?\u201d sounded from within. Klaymongso began to yelp. \u201cCaw! Caw! Caw!\u201d came from the General. A Topknot darted out with one hand to her ear, opened the staff door, \u201cMr. Queet! Mr. Queet!\u201d she bawled. That brought the manager up at a run.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIs that you ringing the bell, Mr. Salesby? Do you want the lift? Very good, Sir. I\u2019ll take you up myself. Antonio wouldn\u2019t have been a minute, he was just taking off his apron\u2014\u2014\u201d And having ushered them in, the oily manager went to the door of the salon. \u201cVery sorry you should have been troubled, ladies and gentlemen.\u201d Salesby stood in the cage, sucking in his cheeks, staring at the ceiling and turning the ring, turning the signet ring on his little finger. . . .<\/p>\n<p>Arrived in their room he went swiftly over to the washstand, shook the bottle, poured her out a dose and brought it across.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSit down. Drink it. And don\u2019t talk.\u201d And he stood over her while she obeyed. Then he took the glass, rinsed it and put it back in its case. \u201cWould you like a cushion?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo, I\u2019m quite all right. Come over here. Sit down by me just a minute, will you, Robert? Ah, that\u2019s very nice.\u201d She turned and thrust the piece of heliotrope in the lapel of his coat. \u201cThat,\u201d she said, \u201cis most becoming.\u201d And then she leaned her head against his shoulder, and he put his arm round her.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cRobert\u2014\u2014\u201d her voice like a sigh\u2014like a breath.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes\u2014\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n<p>They sat there for a long while. The sky flamed, paled; the two white beds were like two ships. . . . At last he heard the servant girl running along the corridor with the hot water cans, and gently he released her and turned on the light.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, what time is it? Oh, what a heavenly evening. Oh, Robert, I was thinking while you were away this afternoon . . .\u201d<\/p>\n<p>They were the last couple to enter the dining-room. The Countess was there with her lorgnette and her fan, the General was there with his special chair and the air cushion and the small rug over his knees. The American Woman was there showing Klaymongso a copy of the Saturday Evening Post. . . . \u201cWe\u2019re having a feast of reason and a flow of soul.\u201d The Two Topknots were there feeling over the peaches and the pears in their dish of fruit, and putting aside all they considered unripe or overripe to show to the manager, and the Honeymoon Couple leaned across the table, whispering, trying not to burst out laughing.<\/p>\n<p>Mr. Queet, in everyday clothes and white canvas shoes, served the soup, and Antonio, in full evening dress, handed it round.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo,\u201d said the American Woman, \u201ctake it away, Antonio. We can\u2019t eat soup. We can\u2019t eat anything mushy, can we, Klaymongso?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cTake them back and fill them to the rim!\u201d said the Topknots, and they turned and watched while Antonio delivered the message.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat is it? Rice? Is it cooked?\u201d The Countess peered through her lorgnette. \u201cMr. Queet, the General can have some of this soup if it is cooked.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cVery good, Countess.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The Honeymoon Couple had their fish instead.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGive me that one. That\u2019s the one I caught. No it\u2019s not. Yes, it is. No it\u2019s not. Well, it\u2019s looking at me with its eye so it must be. Tee! Hee! Hee!\u201d Their feet were locked together under the table.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cRobert, you\u2019re not eating again. Is anything the matter?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo. Off food, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, what a bother. There are eggs and spinach coming. You don\u2019t like spinach, do you. I must tell them in future . . .\u201d<\/p>\n<p>An egg and mashed potatoes for the General.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMr. Queet! Mr. Queet!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, Countess.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe General\u2019s egg\u2019s too hard again.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCaw! Caw! Caw!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cVery sorry, Countess. Shall I have you another cooked, General?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>. . . They are the first to leave the dining-room. She rises, gathering her shawl and he stands aside, waiting for her to pass, turning the ring, turning the signet ring on his little finger. In the hall Mr. Queet hovers. \u201cI thought you might not want to wait for the lift. Antonio\u2019s just serving the finger bowls. And I\u2019m sorry the bell won\u2019t ring, it\u2019s out of order. I can\u2019t think what\u2019s happened.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, I do hope . . .\u201d from her.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGet in,\u201d says he.<\/p>\n<p>Mr. Queet steps after them and slams the door. . . .<\/p>\n<p>. . . \u201cRobert, do you mind if I go to bed very soon? Won\u2019t you go down to the salon or out into the garden? Or perhaps you might smoke a cigar on the balcony. It\u2019s lovely out there. And I like cigar smoke. I always did. But if you\u2019d rather . . .\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo, I\u2019ll sit here.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He takes a chair and sits on the balcony. He hears her moving about in the room, lightly, lightly, moving and rustling. Then she comes over to him. \u201cGood night, Robert.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cGood night.\u201d He takes her hand and kisses the palm. \u201cDon\u2019t catch cold.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The sky is the colour of jade. There are a great many stars; an enormous white moon hangs over the garden. Far away lightning flutters\u2014flutters like a wing\u2014flutters like a broken bird that tries to fly and sinks again and again struggles.<\/p>\n<p>The lights from the salon shine across the garden path and there is the sound of a piano. And once the American Woman, opening the French window to let Klaymongso into the garden, cries: \u201cHave you seen this moon?\u201d But nobody answers.<\/p>\n<p>He gets very cold sitting there, staring at the balcony rail. Finally he comes inside. The moon\u2014the room is painted white with moonlight. The light trembles in the mirrors; the two beds seem to float. She is asleep. He sees her through the nets, half sitting, banked up with pillows, her white hands crossed on the sheet. Her white cheeks, her fair hair pressed against the pillow, are silvered over. He undresses quickly, stealthily and gets into bed. Lying there, his hands clasped behind his head. . . .<\/p>\n<p>. . . In his study. Late summer. The Virginia creeper just on the turn. . . .<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWell, my dear chap, that\u2019s the whole story. That\u2019s the long and the short of it. If she can\u2019t cut away for the next two years and give a decent climate a chance she don\u2019t stand a dog\u2019s\u2014h\u2019m\u2014show. Better be frank about these things.\u201d \u201cOh, certainly. . . .\u201d \u201cAnd hang it all, old man, what\u2019s to prevent you going with her? It isn\u2019t as though you\u2019ve got a regular job like us wage earners. You can do what you do wherever you are\u2014\u2014\u201d \u201cTwo years.\u201d \u201cYes, I should give it two years. You\u2019ll have no trouble about letting this house you know. As a matter of fact . . .\u201d<\/p>\n<p>. . . He is with her. \u201cRobert, the awful thing is\u2014I suppose it\u2019s my illness\u2014I simply feel I could not go alone. You see\u2014you\u2019re everything. You\u2019re bread and wine, Robert, bread and wine. Oh, my darling\u2014what am I saying? Of course I could, of course I won\u2019t take you away. . . .\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He hears her stirring. Does she want something?<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBoogles?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Good Lord! She is talking in her sleep. They haven\u2019t used that name for years.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBoogles. Are you awake?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, do you want anything?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, I\u2019m going to be a bother. I\u2019m so sorry. Do you mind? There\u2019s a wretched mosquito inside my net\u2014I can hear him singing. Would you catch him? I don\u2019t want to move because of my heart.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo, don\u2019t move. Stay where you are.\u201d He switches on the light, lifts the net. \u201cWhere is the little beggar? Have you spotted him?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, there, over by the corner. Oh, I do feel such a fiend to have dragged you out of bed. Do you mind dreadfully?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo, of course not.\u201d For a moment he hovers in his blue and white pyjamas. Then, \u201cgot him,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, good. Was he a juicy one?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBeastly.\u201d He went over to the washstand and dipped his fingers in water. \u201cAre you all right now? Shall I switch off the light?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYes, please. No. Boogles! Come back here a moment. Sit down by me. Give me your hand.\u201d She turns his signet ring. \u201cWhy weren\u2019t you asleep? Boogles, listen. Come closer. I sometimes wonder\u2014do you mind awfully being out here with me?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>He bends down. He kisses her. He tucks her in, he smoothes the pillow.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cRot!\u201d he whispers.<\/p>\n<p>If you enjoyed The Man without a Temperament by Katherine Mansfield, you can read <a href=\"https:\/\/quizlit.org\/miss-brill-by-katherine-mansfield\">Miss Brill by Katherine Mansfield<\/a> here<\/p>\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading has-text-align-center\">Best Katherine Mansfield Books<\/h2>\n<div class=\"wp-block-spacer\"><\/div>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/3XPCoRm\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/43gtoFU\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/44jY1vA\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><\/a><br \/>\nClick on the image to get a copy<\/p>\n<p>Narrated by Marina47, courtesy of Librivox<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The Man without a Temperament by Katherine Mansfield was first published in Arts and Letters in Spring 1920, and later included the collection Bliss and Other Stories. This post may contain affiliate links that earn us a commission at no extra cost to you. The Man without a Temperament by Katherine Mansfield The Man without [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":0,"featured_media":1452,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1451","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-bookreviews"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1451"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1451"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1451\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1452"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1451"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1451"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bookloves.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1451"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}