Текст книги "Zipporah's Daughter"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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The Wager

MY FATHER WAS AT Calais waiting for us when we landed. I was amazed and a little envious to see the overwhelming love he had for my mother, so strong that it could not be hidden. My mother took it for granted and I know felt the same towards him. I was sure she believed that this was how all married people felt towards each other. I often thought that her blind belief in such a bond was so convincing that my father, who was first of all a man of the world, was carried along in her belief. She was innocent of the world, it appeared, and here was an example of the strength of innocence. How different were Charles and myself. There was a passionate attachment, yes; we could say we loved each other with reservations. Yet I had almost succumbed to Dickon and I was sure Charles had his affairs. I accepted this as the state of marriage—the only way in which it could survive. How shocked my mother would be!

But it was heartwarming to see them together and he had a good deal of affection to spare for me. He saw me as the outcome of the great passion of his life. I was very happy to be in their company.

I stayed at Aubigné for a few days. They wanted me to stay longer, but I was longing to get home, to see Charles and my children. I remembered with pleasure that Lisette would be there too. Moreover it was not very comfortable to be in the château in which Sophie had shut herself away.

I should have liked to see her. I wanted to tell her that Lisette was back and it was almost like the old times and how often we talked of her and wished she were with us as she used to be.

‘She doesn’t grow any better,’ my father said, ‘and we have now ceased to try to make her do so. She keeps in her own apartments, presumably happy enough with Jeanne.’

I asked if I could pay a visit to her room but Jeanne let us know that it would not be wise and might bring back unpleasant memories for Sophie.

Armand greeted me with that special brand of cool affection and Marie Louise seemed more remote than ever. My father said her piety increased every day and there was no sign of a child and not likely to be.

Charles welcomed me boisterously and declared he had thought I was never coming back. Chariot hugged me tightly and so did Louis-Charles. As for Claudine, she had become quite a person and now and then uttered a word which was not unintelligible and could walk a few steps. The nicest thing of all was that she knew me and clucked with pleasure when I took her in my arms.

It was good to be home and I was immensely relieved that I had kept my head and my virtue. Here in my home it seemed incredible that I could ever have come near to losing them; and as the days passed Eversleigh with its mad Griselda and Enderby with its ghosts seemed very remote—except perhaps Dickon. The memory of him stayed with me and came back to me vividly in unguarded moments.

Lisette wanted to hear all about it. I told her of Griselda. I did not mention my feelings for Dickon. I felt that was something to be kept secret. She listened and said it had been very dull at Tourville without me.

Charles had lost none of his interest in the war between England and the American colonies. In fact, I told him, he talked of little else.

‘Your people are fighting a losing battle,’ he said. ‘They should know themselves beaten.’

‘I cannot believe they are going to be beaten by colonists who are our own people in any case. It’s like a civil war.’

‘They are the worst. Moreover, my dear, they are going to have the might of France behind them.’

‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Let me tell you something. Your English suffered a massive defeat at Saratoga and at Court they are talking of nothing else but what this means. Our Louis has made a pact with the colonists. What do you think of that?’

‘Against England?’

He grinned at me. ‘Poor Louis, he wants peace. They had a hard task persuading him that he was not running a risk of war. I was getting into a bit of a panic, I don’t mind telling you, because I was fearful that war might be declared while you were still in England.’

‘What would that have meant?’

‘Well, communications wouldn’t have been easy. You might not have been able to get back.’

‘You mean I should have had to stay in England?’

‘Don’t worry. I should have come to fetch you. But it might not have been easy. In any case we are not at war, but the British Ambassador has been recalled from Paris.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘That the English are not very pleased with us.’

‘I pray there won’t be war between our two countries.’

‘You are safely home now, Lottie, and here you are going to stay.’

That summer came early. Claudine was growing up. She had had her second birthday in February and could now chatter to us and run about. She was an enchanting child with a quick temper and a desire to have her own way; but she was also affectionate and her moods changed so quickly that there were dazzling smiles after tears and most of the household were her slaves.

It was the beginning of July when we had a visitor. Lisette and I were in the garden with the children when one of the maids announced that a gentleman was asking for me.

‘He has come a long way, Madame, and particularly asks for you.’

I rose and followed her.

And there he was, smiling at me and looking certain of a welcome, making my heart leap about in an uncomfortable fashion and filling me with emotions which were hard to analyse.

‘Dickon,’ I cried.

‘Well, you look pleased to see me, Lottie. I knew you would be. I had business in Paris and being in France I knew you would never forgive me if I did not come to see you.’

‘You should have warned me.’

‘No time. It was decided that I should visit Paris so I came without delay. And here I am.’

‘Well, come in. They’ll take your horse. You must be hungry.’

‘For a sight of you.’

‘Please, Dickon,’ I said, ‘while you are here in my husband’s house … ’

‘Point understood,’ he said. ‘I’ll promise. My behaviour shall be impeccable.’

The maid summoned a groom while I took him into the house.

‘H’m,’ he said. ‘A fine place. I fancied a glimpse of Aubigné but did not call. I had an idea that your mother would make me less welcome. She has never really been a friend of mine. In any case I want to spend as much time as I can with my delectable Lottie.’

‘You promised … ’

‘A delicate compliment to a delightful hostess, nothing more.’

Even as he looked round the hall I saw the speculative look in his eyes. He was assessing the value of everything. He could not help that. That was Dickon.

I sent one of the maids to see if she could find Charles and meanwhile told them to bring some food and prepare a room.

‘You will stay for a few days, I suppose,’ I said.

‘I shall certainly do so if invited.’

‘As a relation, of course you are.’

‘Lottie, you are so beautiful. Do you know, when I am away from you, I forget how beautiful you are. Then it bursts upon me suddenly when I see you and yet I tell myself that I carry an image of you in my heart for ever.’

‘Just another example of self-deceit,’ I said lightly.

Food was brought and I took him into one of the small rooms which led from the hall, and sat with him while he ate. I heard Charles come in and went into the hall.

‘Charles,’ I said, ‘we have a visitor. You have heard of Dickon. He had to come to Paris so he has called to see us.’

The two men seemed to fill the small room. I watched them intently while they took stock of each other.

Dickon was an inch or so taller and he seemed more blond than ever beside Charles’s darkness. Charles’s manner was faintly hostile. I thought: He is seeing Dickon as the persecutor of colonists … but it was more than that. Dickon was smiling, summing up Charles and being rather pleased by what he saw, which I guessed meant that he was discovering defects.

In any case they were making up their minds to dislike each other.

‘Welcome to Tourville,’ said Charles, but his tone belied his words.

‘Thank you,’ replied Dickon, speaking French with an exaggerated English accent. ‘It is a great pleasure to be here and meet you. I have heard so much about you from Lottie.’

‘I have heard of you too,’ said Charles.

‘Sit down, Charles,’ I said, ‘and let Dickon get on with his food. He was very hungry when he came and he has had a long ride.’

Charles sat down and Dickon went on eating. Charles asked him which way he had come and how he had found Paris.

‘In a state of some excitement,’ said Dickon. ‘But then it often is, is it not? They seem to fancy themselves on the brink of war. I had some black looks when certain people discovered my nationality, I was surprised and wondered how I had betrayed myself.’

‘It would be fairly obvious,’ said Charles drily.

‘Well, to tell the truth, I was hoping so. There is all this chatter. So many of them seem eager to leap into combat. I can’t think why.’

‘The French pride themselves on a love of justice.’

‘Do they?’ said Dickon, showing surprise and cutting himself a piece of capon. ‘This is delicious, Lottie. I congratulate you on your cook.’

‘I am glad you are enjoying it.’ I felt I had to change the subject from that of the war as quickly as possible, so I went on: ‘Tell me, how are my grandmother and Sabrina?’

They were uneasy days which followed. Dickon had some purpose and I guessed it was that he had no intention of letting me slip out of his life. He had chosen the first opportunity of coming to Tourville. I wondered if it were true that he had business in Paris and thought it might possibly be so as there had been hints of his being concerned in all sorts of affairs. He was in Court circles, Sabrina had proudly told us, and I wondered whether he was concerned in politics. He did not sit in Parliament but there were other posts … perhaps secret ones. I could imagine Dickon enjoying being involved in such adventures.

Lisette’s comment was that he was an outstandingly attractive man. ‘He has come here to see you, Lottie,’ she said. ‘How lucky you are!’

‘I don’t think it is lucky. I don’t want trouble.’

‘With Charles? Well, naturally husbands can’t be expected to like overpowering admirers turning up and throwing themselves on their hospitality.’

‘Dickon is really a relation of mine.’

‘He behaves more like a suitor.’

‘You are imagining things.’

Charles was suspicious of him and of me.

When we were alone in our bedroom on the first night after Dickon’s arrival, he said: ‘You saw him in England?’

‘Of course I saw him. Eversleigh belongs to him and that was where we went. It is where my grandmother lives. Remember I went there because she was ill.’

‘Was he there all the time?’

‘Most of the time.’

‘What is he doing here?’

‘Oh Charles, I am tired of this catechism. I know no more than you do. He has business in France and came to see me and the children.’

‘He hasn’t expressed any great interest in them.’

‘He will. He has two fine sons of his own. Parents always want to compare.’

‘I don’t like him very much.’

‘You don’t know him.’

‘He’s arrogant.’

‘Well, perhaps you are too.’

‘I wouldn’t trust him. What’s he doing here in France?’

‘You said that a moment ago. I can only reply, Ask him.’

‘I might.’

‘All right then.’ I put my arms about his neck. ‘Shall we forget about him now?’

He kissed me then; he was very possessive that night and I felt his mood had something to do with Dickon.

There was danger in the air. I supposed that was inevitable with Dickon there. He seemed to generate trouble and had done so all his life. It might have been because he pursued his own way without caring very much what happened to those whom he encountered in achieving it.

I longed for him to go and yet I wanted him to stay. Every hour that he was in the house seemed fraught with danger and yet at the same time I felt I was living at twice the rate I normally did.

He went round the estate with Charles and me and made comments which I was sure were very much to the point. If he saw anything to praise—which was rare—he did so; mostly he gave veiled criticism and made comparisons between estate management in France and in England, implying the excellence of the latter. He was knowledgeable and more interested than Charles had ever been; and I realized that all the time he was showing his superiority in every possible way.

Charles was inclined to lose his temper whereas Dickon remained serenely good-natured, enjoying the situation enormously. He was maddening.

He went to the nurseries and admired the children. Both Chariot and Louis-Charles were delighted with him, and he hovered between ignoring them and treating them as grownup individuals, which often seemed to earn the admiration of the young. His size and his overwhelming personality won their respect and even Claudine regarded him soberly when he picked her up, and she tried to pull the buttons from his coat, which indicated that she liked them very much.

He charmed my parents-in-law and when Amélie and her husband called to spend the day he did the same with them. He was determined to please everyone in the house except Charles.

Lisette said: ‘I should beware of such a man. He is far too attractive in a wicked way … and they are always the worst.’

‘Never fear,’ I replied, ‘I am on my guard.’

She knew something of him because in the past I used to confide in her. She said: ‘I understand why your mother wanted to keep you away from him. I can also see why you did not want her to succeed.’

‘I never knew anyone quite like Dickon,’ I admitted. ‘And I doubt I ever shall’.

‘Life with him,’ suggested Lisette dreamily, ‘would be one long adventure. Is he very rich?’

‘Very … now, I should imagine. He owns Clavering and Eversleigh and his wife brought him a lot of money.’

‘And you think he is satisfied now … financially?’

‘I should hope so.’

‘He isn’t, I’d be ready to gamble. His sort never are. When he marries again it will be a rich woman.’

‘Is that a prophecy?’

‘As good as,’ said Lisette.

‘Do you realize, I said, ‘that since Dickon has come we talk of little else?’

‘What else could be so interesting?’

‘I shall be glad when he goes. He is causing trouble here. He does, wherever he goes, my mother used to say.’

‘But it is trouble which you can’t help wanting. Come, be honest. You know it will be somewhat dull when he has gone.’

‘He irritates Charles so. Sometimes I don’t know how to get through the evening.’

‘Dickon is enjoying himself, I don’t doubt.’

‘I am sure Charles isn’t.’

In the evenings they would sit up late playing a card game. They both enjoyed gambling, Charles recklessly, his face flushed, his eyes blazing; Dickon calmly, raising the stakes ridiculously high, never showing the least bit of emotion whether he lost or won; but then he always seemed to win.

I would go to bed and leave them and when Charles came up pretend to be asleep.

Charles would be angry. I would hear him banging things about before he came to bed. Sometimes he lay sleepless beside me; at others he would wake me and indulge in a kind of stormy passion which meant that he was thinking of Dickon. He knew of course of Dickon’s feelings for me and that there had been some arrangement between us in my extreme youth. It didn’t help.

Dickon must go soon.

There was a good deal of talk about the war.

I remember that evening well. We were at table with my parents-in-law, Charles, Dickon and I, and Dickon, as he often did, turned the conversation to the war. The attitude of the two of them towards the war was typical of their entire relationship. It was almost a personal war. Charles delighted in the Colonists’ successes, which Dickon dismissed as mere skirmishes. But mostly Dickon would attack the intervention of the French and would become very eloquent in his denunciation of the folly of those who did so.

That night he sat there, his eyes a brilliant blue as they were when he was excited, his cravat a dazzling white against the blue velvet of his jacket, his strong hands with the gold signet ring on the table before him—calm and still as though to call attention to Charles’s gesticulations.

He continued on the theme of the war and the folly of French intervention.

‘It is beyond understanding. Here is this country … think of it. No one could say it is in robust health. Turgot … Necker … they have made brave attempts to grapple with finances and without very happy results. King Louis inherited disaster. Why, I have heard that his grandfather prophesied that it would come after him. It could come … soon. Your house is crumbling to ruin and instead of setting yourself to rebuild it, you turn your backs on it and rush off to harry your neighbours.’

‘The French have always been interested in just causes,’ said Charles. ‘These people overseas—mostly your own Englishmen—are being unfairly taxed. Quite rightly, they revolt and every Frenchman is in sympathy with them, as he must be with those who suffer from such harsh treatment.’

‘As I have noticed in France,’ cut in Dickon, smiling blandly. ‘How long is it since we had the Guerre des Farines when one class of people were in revolt against the injustice meted out to them by another? Would it not be better for the French to look first to their own before they worry so nobly about the wrongs of foreigners? Your country is verging on revolt. Can’t you see it coming? Did you know that it takes very little provocation for riots to break out in your towns? It is happening all the time. We don’t hear much about it because it is on a small scale … as yet. But it is there. It is a warning but you don’t see it because your eyes are staring overseas. I would say, “Frenchmen, put your own house in order first!”’

‘I can see,’ said Charles maliciously, ‘that you are very uneasy because of the strong feeling here in favour of the oppressed Colonists.’

‘Naturally we would rather not have those such as the Marquis de Lafayette raising men and shouting about bringing freedom to the world. At the moment the Comte de Brouillard is raising forces in Angouleme. He speaks in the square most eloquently and the crowd obediently shouts, “Down with the English! To America!”’

‘I know it,’ said Charles. ‘I have a mind to join him.’

‘Have you, indeed? Then why not, my friend? It is always well to follow one’s inclinations if one feels them strongly enough because if they are brushed aside they return to pester one all one’s days.’

Charles’s eyes were shining. ‘It is a great cause and my heart is in it.’

‘Then you should go.’

‘So you would urge me to what you consider an act of folly?’

‘I do not urge, and you do not see it as folly. It would be your act, and to you it is the way of chivalry—the strong defending the weak. If I felt as you did I should certainly go.’

‘Then why do you not go and fight for your King?’

‘I do not feel strongly as you do. I do not speak, as you know, of the rights and wrongs of this stupid war. What I have always stressed is the folly of a country such as France—in dire difficulties financially and, even worse, creaking with social injustice, to meddle in a cause which really does not concern it.’

‘And I have said that oppression should be fought wherever it occurs.’

‘And I have said that is a noble sentiment, but it is best to begin in your own backyard.’

‘You seem to know a great deal about my country.’

‘The looker-on often sees that which is not so obvious to those who are involved. Regard me as a looker-on. I hear of the odd riot now and then in the little towns all over the country; I hear the murmurs of the people, class against class. The Queen’s brother, Emperor Joseph, is a wise man. Do you know what he said when he was asked for his opinion of this cause for which you speak so nobly? He said, “I am a royalist by profession.” He meant that it is unwise to question the authority of kings, for when there is a precedent it creates uncertainty for those who come after. You are an aristocrat by profession, yet you talk of liberty … you stress the Tightness of those who take up arms against the monarchy. That is my point.’

‘You take a cynical view.’

‘I take a realist’s view which until now I thought was something the French always prided themselves in doing.’

I broke in: ‘I have had enough of this talk of war. You two seem to think of nothing else.’

Dickon looked at me reproachfully. ‘It is a matter of some importance to my country. If we lost it would mean giving up our foothold in North America. But win or lose, it means a great deal more to France.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Charles. ‘I can see the English are beginning to get very worried.’

‘Not beginning to,’ retorted Dickon. ‘They have been so from the start. They believed victory would be easier than it is proving to be. They did not realize how difficult it is to carry on a war so far from home.’

‘Come. Admit defeat.’

‘It is not over yet. There are many Frenchmen who are straining to go to the rescue. As you are, for instance. I can see the appeal. Lafayette, Segur, and this man in Angouleme … they have a point. Adventure … knightly, chivalrous adventure … a journey overseas …You can understand it well. I wonder you don’t take the trip.’

‘I would not be averse to it.’

‘How amusing if you and I met on opposite sides of the battlefield. A little different, eh … from our fighting our battles across the table.’

Determinedly I talked about the additions one of our neighbours was planning to make to his house. It was a subject which interested them both and I managed again to turn the conversation from the war. But they were in a strange mood and I noticed that Charles was drinking more heavily than usual.

When we rose from the table Dickon suggested cards. My parents-in-law were already nodding as they did after a meal in the evening, but they accompanied us into the small salon where there was a card table.

I sat with the old people while the two men played. At first they played quietly and there was silence in the room. I felt an intense uneasiness which I believed was due to the conversation at the dinner table, though why I should have felt more than usually disturbed I did not know. Dickon had baited Charles no more than usual, but somehow there had been a certain intensity behind his remarks, something which I construed as motive.

Charles continued to drink a great deal; Dickon took very little, and from his occasional laugh of triumph, I guessed that he was winning. I was not unduly disturbed because I knew that Charles could pay his debts; but there was something about Dickon on that night. His eyes burned with that brilliant blue light which I had noticed in moments of excitement. It had been there in Enderby when he had thought I was on the point of surrender. It was there now. It meant triumph in battle.

He would be leaving in a few days and I must really be relieved when he went. While he was here I could not stop myself waiting for disaster to break; and it would be of his making.

Why had he come? To see me. Yet if he could not seduce me in his home, it was hardly likely that he would in mine. Perhaps the more difficult the chase, the more it appealed to him.

I think there was some other reason. He knew so much about France. His knowledge amazed me. How did he learn of these outbreaks all over the country? People did not speak much of them. I fancied that the King and his ministers had no desire for the people to know of the unrest which was growing among the peasant classes. The King wanted no trouble with England. A war would be disastrous to France at this moment, but these adventurous aristocrats with the notion of liberty for others were doing their best to provoke war. Whatever their sympathies were, they would have been wise to keep them to themselves, for as Dickon said there was trouble brewing in their own backyard. How did Dickon become so knowledgeable about this? He was involved in Court circles, and knowing his adventurous nature I could imagine in what direction he would go. It could be that he had come to France as an ordinary traveller visiting relations. There was nothing to arouse suspicion in that. At the same time he could learn a great deal about what was going on. He would discover the strength of those expeditions to the New World; he could test the opinion in France.

He had been in Paris; he had travelled through the country and seen for himself what was happening there, and being Dickon he had implied that he had come to see me.

I was aroused from my reverie by the talk of the two at the card table. They had stopped and were discussing stakes.

‘Let us wager something other than money,’ suggested Dickon. ‘It makes the game more exciting. Some object … your signet ring against mine.’

‘I wouldn’t care whether I won your signet ring or not.’

Charles was speaking in a rather slurred tone. He had drunk too much. I would remind him that it was getting late and try to stop the game.

‘There must be something that you could be interested in. Your house? Men have staked houses before. Your house against mine.’

‘Of what use would a house in England be to me?’

‘It is hard to find something I have which you want,’ said Dickon. ‘This living in different countries makes it a little difficult. Let me think, what have you which I want?’

He had lifted his eyes and caught mine. I looked away quickly. I could not meet that brilliant blue gaze.

‘I see,’ Dickon went on, ‘that we are not going to reach any satisfaction. But I do feel there is something … I have it!’

There was a moment of tense silence in the room. I thought they might hear the violent beating of my heart. In those seconds I was thinking: He should never have come here. There is always trouble where he is. And what now? What does he plan?’

Dickon was speaking quietly, almost persuasively. ‘You said you wanted to go. I wonder whether I should too. What an adventure! I should like to see the New World. They say it is very beautiful. A variety of scenery. Tobacco … cotton … though perhaps not where we should go. This is what I suggest we play. The loser goes into battle. You to fight for the rights of the oppressed; I on the side of the oppressor.’

‘What a ridiculous idea!’ I cried. ‘I never heard anything so absurd. The idea of staking such a thing … on a card game!’

‘Alas, my friend, your wife forbids it.’

There was no mistaking the pity in Dickon’s voice for the man who could not choose for himself. Poor Charles, he was implying, you are not allowed a will of your own. Your wife decides for you.

He knew that would sting Charles into action.

‘I think it is an amusing idea,’ he said.

‘This is the first time you have agreed with Dickon,’ I reminded him. ‘And over such a foolish matter!’

‘It excites me,’ said Dickon. ‘The fall of a card … and one’s future changed. That is the true spirit of gambling.’

‘Deal the cards,’ said Charles.

‘Three games,’ cried Dickon, ‘as it is such an important issue. Too much so to be decided in one.’

I knew what he was doing. He wanted to be rid of Charles. But how could he be sure? Something told me that Dickon was always sure.

I looked at my father-in-law. He was asleep now. His wife was nodding. I could not take my eyes from the table.

The first game went to Charles. He was very merry.

‘I don’t think you are going to like it there,’ he said to Dickon.

‘If I go I shall make the best of it,’ retorted Dickon. ‘As I am sure you will.’

‘One up to me,’ said Charles. ‘The next one could be decisive. I have only to win one and there will be no need for a third.’

‘Here’s to me,’ said Dickon. ‘If you win this one it will cut short the excitement.’

I said: ‘Of course you are not serious.’

‘Deadly so,’ replied Dickon.

The game had begun. I heard the seconds tick away and then the final cry of triumph. Dickon was the winner.

Now I found the suspense unbearable. If Dickon went to America I might never see him again. I might not in any case. I ought not to. He was dangerous. There was no peace where he was. But I did not think he would ever go to America. If he lost he would find some excuse for staying at home.

The deciding game had started. I watched them, my heart throbbing. The silence seemed to go on for a long time. And then … Dickon was laying his cards on the table. He was smiling at Charles. I could not understand what Charles’s expression meant and neither of them spoke.

I could endure no more. I rose and went to the table.

‘Well?’ I demanded.

Dickon smiled at me. ‘Your husband will be leaving for North America to fight in the cause of justice.’

I was so angry with them both that I swept the cards from the table.

Dickon stood up and looked at me ruefully. ‘You should not blame the cards,’ he said; and taking my hand kissed it and bade me good-night.

I helped Charles to bed. He was bemused both by the wine he had drunk and the wager he had made. I don’t think he quite realized then what it meant.

‘An evening’s nonsense,’ I called it. I said: ‘I suppose it was a way of putting a bit of excitement into a card game.’

Charles slept heavily and in the morning he had fully recovered. I had slept very fitfully because although I had tried to assure myself that it was an evening’s nonsense, I was not at all certain of that.

Charles sat on the bed and said: ‘I shall have to go.’

‘How ridiculous!’

‘I have always paid my debts at cards. It is a matter of honour.’

‘This was just a bit of nonsense between you two.’

‘No. It was meant. I have often thought I ought to go and this has decided me. I shall go and see Brouillard today.’

‘You mean that man at Angoulême!’

‘It will be easier to go with him. Doubtless there will be several I know among his recruits.’

‘Charles, are you seriously meaning to go abroad?’

‘It is only for a short time. We’ll get the English on the run and it will be over soon. I’d like to be in on the end.’

‘So you really are serious!’

‘Never more.’

‘My God!’ I cried. ‘How foolish can men get!’

Two days later Dickon left and Charles had already made contact with the Comte de Brouillard and was in constant touch with the noblemen who were to form part of the Comte’s expedition.

Dickon was well pleased when he said au revoir to me. He wouldn’t have said goodbye. ‘Too final,’ he said. ‘We shall see each other soon, I promise you.’