They all had a nip of something. The butler, shy yet beaming, stood on one leg beside the table, with the tray in his hand. 'Earthquake, sir, BIG earthquake!' he repeated enthusiastically. He was bursting with eagerness to talk; so, for that matter, was everyone else. An extraordinary joie de vivre had come over them all as soon as the shaky feeling departed from their legs. An earthquake is such fun when it is over. It is so exhilarating to reflect that you are not, as you well might be, lying dead under a heap of ruins. With oneaccord they all burst out talking: 'My dear, I've never HAD such a shock--I fell absolutely FLAT on my back--I thought it was a dam' pariah dog scratching itself under the floor--I thought it must be an explosion somewhere--' and so on and so forth; the usual earthquake-chatter. Even the butler was included in the conversation...
...The Europeans stayed in the Club till midnight, and the butler popped into the room as many as half a dozen times, to relate a new anecdote. So far from snubbing him, the Europeans even encouraged him to talk. There is nothing like an earthquake for drawing people together. One more tremor, or perhaps two, and they would have asked the butler to sit down at table with them.
Posted by Bobby Farouk at January 11, 2005 12:45 PMThat's very good. Had completely forgotten that part. Thanks.
Posted by: Martha Bridegam at January 11, 2005 01:33 PMI'm taking a wild guess that you aren't talking about this.
Posted by: Alan Hogue at January 11, 2005 02:47 PMIt's the scene I remember most from the book, especially because of the line, An earthquake is such fun when it is over.
How much more power it could have had if the butler had cried out: DY-NO-MITE!
Posted by: Bobby Farouk at January 12, 2005 07:49 AMWestern civilization would have to wait another forty years, alas.
Posted by: Alan Hogue at January 13, 2005 09:36 AM