The Quest Page #2

"The Quest" is a short story by Hector Hugh Munro, also known as Saki, known for its wit and satirical edge. The tale revolves around a man's search for meaning and fulfillment in a world filled with societal expectations and superficiality. Through a series of encounters and ironic twists, Munro explores themes of desire, disillusionment, and the absurdity of human nature. The story ultimately highlights the complexities of human relationships and the quest for authenticity amidst the chaos of life.

• Short story

								

preliminary tug was given to set it in motion. From the hollow depths
of the cylinder came an earsplitting roar, drowning even the vocal
efforts of the squalling baby, and immediately afterwards there crept
forth a white-pinafored infant with a mop of tow-coloured hair tied
over one temple with a pale blue ribbon.  There was no mistaking either
the features or the lung-power of the new arrival.

"Our own little Erik," screamed Mrs. Momeby, pouncing on him and nearly
smothering him with kisses; "did he hide in the roly-poly to give us
all a big fright?"

This was the obvious explanation of the child's sudden disappearance
and equally abrupt discovery.  There remained, however, the problem of
the interloping baby, which now sat whimpering on the lawn in a
disfavour as chilling as its previous popularity had been unwelcome.
The Momebys glared at it as though it had wormed its way into their
short-lived affections by heartless and unworthy pretences.  Miss
Gilpet's face took on an ashen tinge as she stared helplessly at the
bunched-up figure that had been such a gladsome sight to her eyes a few
moments ago.

"When love is over, how little of love even the lover understands,"
quoted Clovis to himself.

Rose-Marie was the first to break the silence.

"If that is Erik you have in your arms, who is--that?"

"That, I think, is for you to explain," said Mrs. Momeby stiffly.

"Obviously," said Clovis, "it's a duplicate Erik that your powers of
faith called into being.  The question is: What are you going to do
with him?"

The ashen pallor deepened in Rose-Marie's cheeks.  Mrs. Momeby clutched
the genuine Erik closer to her side, as though she feared that her
uncanny neighbour might out of sheer pique turn him into a bowl of
gold-fish.

"I found him sitting in the middle of the road," said Rose-Marie weakly.

"You can't take him back and leave him there," said Clovis; "the
highway is meant for traffic, not to be used as a lumber-room for
disused miracles."

Rose-Marie wept.  The proverb "Weep and you weep alone," broke down as
badly on application as most of its kind.  Both babies were wailing
lugubriously, and the parent Momebys had scarcely recovered from their
earlier lachrymose condition.  Clovis alone maintained an unruffled
cheerfulness.

"Must I keep him always?" asked Rose-Marie dolefully.

"Not always," said Clovis consolingly; "he can go into the Navy when
he's thirteen."  Rose-Marie wept afresh.

"Of course," added Clovis, "there may be no end of a bother about his
birth certificate.  You'll have to explain matters to the Admiralty,
and they're dreadfully hidebound."

It was rather a relief when a breathless nursemaid from the Villa
Charlottenburg over the way came running across the lawn to claim
little Percy, who had slipped out of the front gate and disappeared
like a twinkling from the high road.

And even then Clovis found it necessary to go in person to the kitchen
to make sure about the asparagus sauce.
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes