Maurice Guest

by Henry Handel Richardson

  VII.

  Meanwhile, before the blinds in the BRUDERSTRASSE were drawn up again,Maurice had found his way back to Madeleine. When they met, she smiledat him in a somewhat sarcastic manner, but no reference was made to thelittle falling-out they had had, and they began afresh to read and playtogether. On the first afternoon, Maurice was full of his new friends,and described them at length to her. But Madeleine damped his ardour.

  "I know them, yes, of course," she said. "The usual Americans--even theblue-stocking, from whom heaven defend us. The little one is prettyenough as long as she keeps her mouth shut. But the moment she speaks,every illusion is shattered.--Why I don't go there on a Sunday? Goodgracious, do you think they want me?--me, or any other petticoat? Arehonours made to be divided?--No, Maurice, I don't like Americans. I wasonce offered a position in America, as 'professor of piano andvoice-production' in a place called Schenectady; but I didn't hesitate.I said to myself, better one hundred a year in good old England, thanfive in a country where the population is so inflated with itsimportance that I should always be in danger of running amuck. Andbesides that, I should lose my accent, and forget how to say 'leg';while the workings of the stomach would be discussed before me with anunpleasant freedom."

  "You're too hard on them, Madeleine," said Maurice, smiling in spite ofhimself. But he was beginning to stand in awe of her sharp tongue anddecided opinions; and, in the week that followed, he took himselfresolutely together, and did not let a certain name cross his lips.

  Consequently, he was more than surprised on returning to his room oneday, to find a note from Madeleine, saying that she expected Louisethat very afternoon at three.

  It was not news to Maurice that Louise had come home. The eveningbefore, as he turned out of the BRUDERSTRASSE, a closed droschke turnedinto it. After the vehicle had lumbered past him and disappeared, thethought crossed his mind that she might be inside it. He had not thenhad time to go back but early this very morning, he had passed thehouse and found the windows open. So Madeleine had engaged herimmediately! As usual, Furst had kept him waiting for his lesson; itwas nearly three o'clock already, and he was so hurried that he couldonly change his collar; but, on the way there, in a sudden spurt ofgratitude, he ran to a flower-shop, and bought a large bunch ofcarnations.

  He arrived at Madeleine's room in an elation he did not try to hide;and over the carnations they had a mock reconciliation. Madeleinewished to distribute the flowers in different vases about the room, buthe asked her put them all together on the centre table. She laughed andcomplied.

  For several weeks now, musical circles had been in a stir over theadvent of a new piano-teacher named Schrievers--a person who calledhimself a pupil of Liszt, held progressive views, arid, being a freelance, openly ridiculed the antiquated methods of the Conservatorium.Madeleine was extremely interested in the case, and, as they satwaiting, talked about it to Maurice with great warmth, enlargingespecially upon the number of people who had the audacity to callthemselves pupils of Liszt. To Maurice, in his present frame of mind,the matter seemed of no possible consequence--for all he cared, thewhole population of the town might lay claim to having been atWeimar--and he could not understand Madeleine finding it important. Forhe was in one of those moods when the entire consciousness is sointently directed towards some end that, outside this end, nothing hascolour or vitality: all that has previously impressed and interestedone, has no more solidity than papier mache. Meanwhile she spoke on,and did not appear to notice how time was flying. He was forced atlength to take out his watch, and exclaim, in feigned surprise, at thehour.

  "A quarter to four already!"

  "Is it so late?" But on seeing his disturbance, she added: "It will beall right. Louise was never punctual in her life."

  He did his best to look unconcerned, and they spoke of that evening'sABENDUNTERHALTUNG, at which Furst was to play. But by the time theclock struck four, Maurice had relapsed, in spite of himself, intosilence. Madeleine rallied him.

  "You must make shift with my company, Maurice. Not but what I am sureLouise will come. But you see from this what she is--the mostunreliable creature in the world."

  To pass the time, she suggested that he should help her to make tea,and they were both busy, when the electric bell in the passage whizzedharshly, and the next moment there came a knock at the door. But it wasnot Louise. Instead, two persons entered, one of whom was HeinrichKrafft, the other a short, thickset girl, in a man's felt hat and aclosely buttoned ulster.

  On recognising her visitors, Madeleine made a movement of annoyance,and drew her brows together. "You, Heinz!" she said.

  Undaunted by this greeting, Krafft advanced to her and, taking herhands, kissed them, one after the other. He was also about to kiss heron the lips, but she defended herself. "Stop! We are not alone."

  "Just for that reason," said the girl in the ulster drily.

  "What ill wind blows you here to-day?" Madeleine asked him.

  As he was still wearing his hat, she took it off, and dropped it on thefloor beside him; then she recollected Maurice, and made him known tothe other two. Coming forward, Maurice recalled to Krafft's memorywhere they had already met, and what had passed between them. Before hehad finished speaking, Krafft burst into an unmannerly peal oflaughter. Madeleine laughed, too, and shook her finger at him. "Youhave been up to your tricks again!" Avery Hill, the girl in the ulster,did not laugh aloud, but a smile played round her mouth, which Mauricefound even more disagreeable than the mirth of which he had been theinnocent cause. He coloured, and withdrew to the window.

  Krafft was so convulsed that he was obliged to sit down on the sofa,where Madeleine fanned him with a sheet of music. He had been seized bya kind of paroxysm, and laughed on and on, in a mirthless way, tillAvery Hill said suddenly and angrily: "Stop laughing at once, Heinz!You will have hysterics."

  In an instant he was sobered, and now he seemed to fall, withouttransition, into a mood of dejection. Taking out his penknife, he setto paring his nails, in a precise and preoccupied manner. Madeleineturned to Maurice.

  "You'll wonder what all this is about," she said apologetically. "ButHeinz is never happier than when he has succeeded in imposing on someone--as he evidently did on you."

  "Indeed!" said Maurice. Their laughter had been offensive to him, andhe found Krafft, and Madeleine with him, exceedingly foolish.

  There was a brief silence. Krafft was absorbed in what he was doing,and Avery Hill, on sitting down, had lighted a cigarette, which shesmoked steadily, in long-drawn whiffs. She was a pretty girl, in spiteof her severe garb, in spite, too, of her expression, which was toocomposed and too self-sure to be altogether pleasing. Her face wasfresh of skin, below smooth fair hair, and her lips were the red, ripelips of Botticelli's angels and Madonnas. But the under one, beingfuller than the other, gave the mouth a look of over-decision, and itwould be difficult to imagine anything less girlish than were the coldgrey eyes.

  "We came for the book you promised to lend Heinz," she said, blowingoff the spike of ash that had accumulated at the tip of the cigarette."He could not rest till he had it."

  Madeleine placed a saucer on the table with the request to use it as anash-tray, and taking down a volume of De Quincey from the hangingshelf, held it out to Krafft.

  "There you are. It will interest me to hear what you make of it."

  Krafft ceased his paring to glance at the title-page. "I shall probablynot open it," he said.

  Madeleine laughed, and gave him a light blow on the hand with the book."How like you that is! As soon as you know that you can get a thing,you don't want it any longer."

  "Yes, that's Heinz all over," said Avery Hill. "Only what he hasn'tgot, seems worth having."

  Krafft shut his knife with a click, and put it back in his pocket. "Andthat's what you women can't understand, isn't it?--that the best ofthings is the wishing for them. Once there, and they are nothing--onlyanother delusion. The happiest man is the man whose wishes are neverfulfilled. He always has a moon to c
ry for."

  "Come, come now," said Madeleine. "We know your love for paradox. Butnot to-day. There's no time for philosophising today. Besides, you arein a pessimistic mood, and that's a bad sign."

  "I and pessimism? Listen, heart of my heart, I have a new story foryou." He moved closer to her, and put his arm round her neck. "Therewas once a man and his wife----"

  But, at the first word, Madeleine put her hands to her ears.

  "Mercy, have mercy, Heinz! No stories, I entreat you. And behaveyourself, too. Take your arm away." She tried to remove it. "I havetold you already, I can't have you here to-day. I'm expecting avisitor."

  He laid his head on her shoulder. "Let him come. Let the whole worldcome. I don't budge. I am happy here."

  "You must go and be happy elsewhere," said Madeleine more decisivelythan she had yet spoken. "And before she comes, too."

  "She? What she?"

  "Never mind."

  "For that very reason, Mada."

  She whispered a word in his ear. He looked at her, incredulously atfirst, then whimsically, with a sham dismay; and then, as if Mauricehad only just taken shape for him, he turned and looked at him also,and from him to Madeleine, and back to him, finally bursting afreshinto a roar of laughter. Madeleine laid her hand over his mouth. "Takehim away, do," she said to Avery Hill--"as a favour to me."

  "Yes, when I have finished my cigarette," said the girl withoutstirring.

  Unsettled all the same, it would seem, by what he had heard, Krafftrose and shuffled about the room, with his hands in his pockets.Approaching Maurice, he even stood for a moment and contemplated him,with a kind of mock gravity. Maurice acted as if he did not see Krafft;long since, he had taken up a magazine, and, half hidden in a chairbetween window and writing-table, pretended to bury himself in itscontents. But he heard very plainly all that passed, and, at the effectproduced on Krafft by the name of the expected visitor, his handstrembled with anger. If the fellow had stood looking at him for anothersecond, he would have got up and knocked him down. But Krafft turnednonchalantly to the piano, where his attention was caught by a songthat was standing on the rack. He chuckled, and set about makingmerciless fun of the music--the composer was an elderlysinging-teacher, of local fame. Madeleine grew angry, and tried to takeit from him.

  "Hold your tongue, Heinz! If your own songs were more like this, theywould have a better chance of success. Now be quiet! I won't hearanother word. Herr Wendling is a very good friend of mine."

  "A friend! Heavens! She says friend as if it were an excuse forhim.--Mada, let your friend cease making music if he hopes forsalvation. Let him buy a broom and sweep the streets--let him----"

  "You are disgusting!"

  She had got the music from him, but he was already at the piano,parodying, from memory, the conventional accompaniment and sentimentalwords of the song. "And this," he said, "from the learned ass who isnot yet convinced that the FEUERZAUBER is music, and who groans like adredge when the last act of SIEGFRIED is mentioned. Wendling andWagner! Listen to this!--for once, I am a full-blooded Wagnerite."

  He felt after the chords that prelude Brunnhilde's awakening bySiegfried. Until now, Avery Hill had sat indifferent, as though whatwent on had nothing to do with her; but no sooner had Krafft commencedto play than she grew uneasy; her eyes lost their cold assurance, and,suddenly getting up and going round to the front of the piano, shepushed the young man's hands from the keys. Krafft yielded his place toher, and, taking up the chords where he had left them, she went on. Sheplayed very well--even Maurice in his disturbance could, not but noticeit--with a firm, masculine touch, and that inborn ease, that enviableappearance of perfect fitness, of being one with the instrument, whicheven the greatest players do not always attain. She had, besides, gripand rhythm, and long, close-knit hands insinuated themselves artfullyamong the complicated harmonies.

  When she began to play, Madeleine made "Tch, tch, tch!" and shook herhead, in despair of now ever being rid of them. Krafft remainedstanding behind the piano at the window leaning his forehead on theglass. Maurice, who watched them both surreptitiously, saw his facechange, and grow thoughtful as he stood there; but when Avery Hillceased abruptly on a discord, he wheeled round at once and patted heron the back. While looking over to Maurice, he said: "No doubt youfound that very pretty and affecting?"

  "I think that's none of your business," said Maurice.

  But Krafft did not take umbrage. "You don't say so?" he murmured with ashow of surprise.

  "Now, go, go, go!" cried Madeleine. "What have I done to be subjectedto such a visitation? No, Heinz, you don't sit down again. Here's yourhat. Away with you!--or I'll have you put out by force."

  And at last they really did go, to a cool bow from Maurice, who stillsat holding his magazine. But Madeleine had hardly closed the doorbehind them, when, like a whirlwind, Krafft burst into the room again.

  "Mada, I forgot to ask you something," he said in a stage-whisper,drawing her aside. "Tell me--you KUPPLERIN, you!--does he know her?" Hepointed over his shoulder with his thumb at Maurice.

  Madeleine shook her head, in real vexation and distress, and laid afinger on her lip. But it was of no use. Stepping over to Maurice,Krafft bowed low, and held his hat against his breast.

  "It is impossible for you to understand how deeply it has interested meto meet you," he said. "Allow me, from the bottom of my heart, to wishyou success." Whereupon, before Maurice could say "damn!" he was goneagain, leaving his elfin laugh behind him in the air, like smoke.

  Madeleine shut the door energetically and gave a sigh of relief.

  "Thank goodness! I thought they would never go. And now, the chancesare, they'll run into Louise on the stairs. You'll wonder why I was sobent on getting rid of them. It's a long story. I'll tell it to yousome other time. But if Louise had found them here when she came, shewould not have stayed. She won't have anything to do with Heinz."

  "I don't wonder at it," said Maurice. He stood up and threw themagazine on the table.

  Madeleine displayed more astonishment than she felt. "Why what's thematter? You're surely not going to take what Heinz said, seriously? Hewas in a bad mood to-day, I know, and I noticed you were very shortwith him. But you mustn't be foolish enough to be offended by him. Noone ever is. He is allowed to say and do just what he likes. He's ourspoilt child."

  Maurice laughed. "The fellow is either a cad, or an unutterable fool.You, Madeleine, may find his impertinence amusing. I tell you candidly,I don't!" and he went on to make it clear to her that the fault wouldnot be his, were Krafft and he ever in the same room together again."The kind of man one wants to kick downstairs. What the deuce did hemean by guffawing like that when you told him who was coming?"

  "You mean about Louise?" Madeleine gave a slight shrug. "Yes,Maurice--unfortunately that was not to be avoided. But sit down again,and let me explain things to you. When you hear----"

  But he did not want explanations; he did not even want an answer to thequestion he had put; his chief concern now was to get away. To staythere, in that room, for another quarter of an hour, would beimpossible, on such tenterhooks was he. To stay--for what? Only tolisten to more slanderous hints, of the kind he had heard before. As itwas, he did not believe he could face her frankly, should she stillcome. He felt as if, in some occult way, he had assisted at a tamperingwith her good name.

  "You will surely not be so childish?" said Madeleine, on seeing himtake up his hat.

  "Childish?--you call it childish?" he exclaimed, growing angry withher, too. "Do you know what time it is? Three o'clock, you write me,and it's now a quarter past five. I have sat here doing nothing forover two mortal hours. It seems to me that's enough, without being madethe butt of your friends' wit into the bargain. I'm sick of the wholething. Good-bye."

  "We seem bound to quarrel," said Madeleine calmly. "And always aboutLouise. But there's no use in being angry. I am not responsible forwhat Heinz says and does. And on the mere chance of his coming into-day, to sit down and unroll another
savoury story to you, about youridol--would you have thanked me for it? Remember the time I did try toopen you eyes!--It's not fair either to blame me because Louise hasn'tcome. I did my best for you. I can't help it if she's as stable aswater."

  "I think you dislike her too much to want to help it," said Mauricegrimly. He stood staring at the carnations, and his resentment gave wayto depression, as he recalled the mood which he had bought them.

  "Come back as soon as you feel better. I'm not offended, remember!"Madeleine called after him as he went down the stairs. When she wasalone, she said "Silly boy!" and, still smiling, made excuses for him:he had come with such pleasurable anticipations, and everything hadgone wrong. Heinz had behaved disagracefully, as only he could. Whileas for Louise, one was no more able to rely on her than on a wispstraw; and she, Madeleine, was little better than a fool not to haveknown it.

  She moved about the room, putting chairs and papers in their places,for she could not endure disorder of any kind. Then she sat down towrite a letter; and when, some half hour later, the girl for whom theyhad waited, actually came, she met her with exclamations of genuinesurprise.

  "Is it really you? I had given you up long ago. Pray, do you know whattime it is?"

  She took out her watch and dangled it before the other's eyes. ButLouise Dufrayer hardly glanced at it. As, however, Madeleine persisted,she said: "I'm late, I know. But it was not my fault. I couldn't getaway."

  She unpinned her hat, and shook back her hair; and Madeleine helped herto take off her jacket, talking all the time. "I have been much annoyedwith you. Does it never occur to you that you may put other people inawkward positions, by not keeping your word? But you are just the sameas of old--incorrigible."

  "Then why try to improve me?" said the other with a show of lightness.But almost simultaneously she turned away from Madeleine'smatter-of-fact tone, passed her handkerchief over her lips, and aftermaking a vain attempt to control herself, burst into tears.

  Madeleine eyed her shrewdly. "What's the matter with you?"

  But the girl who had sunk into a corner of the sofa merely shook herhead, and sobbed; and Madeleine, to whom such emotional outbreaks weredistasteful, went to the writing-table and busied herself there, withher back to the room. She did not ask for an explanation, nor did hercompanion offer any.

  Louise abandoned herself to her tears with as little restraint asthough she were alone, holding her handkerchief to her eyes with bothhands and giving deep, spasmodic sobs, which had apparently been heldfor some time in cheek.

  Afterwards, she sat with her elbow on the end of the sofa, her face onher hand, and, still shaken at intervals by a convulsive breath,watched Madeleine make fresh tea. But when she took the cup that washanded to her, she was so far herself again as to inquire whom she wasto have met, although her voice still did not obey her properly.

  "Some one who is anxious to know you," replied Madeleine an air ofmystery. "But he couldn't, or rather would not, wait so long."

  Louise showed no further curiosity. But when Madeleine said withmeaning emphasis that Krafft had also been there in the course of theafternoon, she shrank perceptibly and flushed.

  "What! Does he still exist?" she asked with an effort at playfulness.

  "As you very well know," answered Madeleine drily. "Tell me, Louise,how do you manage to keep out of his way?"

  Louise made no rejoinder; she raised her cup to her lips, and the darkblood that had stained her face, in a manner distressing to see, slowlyretreated. She continued to look down, and, the light of her big, darkeyes gone out, her face seemed wan and dead. Madeleine, studying her,asked herself, not for the first time, but, as always, with an unclearirritation, what the secret of the other's charm was. Beautiful she hadnever thought Louise; she was not even pretty, in an honest way--atbest, a strange, foreign-looking creature, dark-skinned, black of eyesand hair, with flashing teeth, and a wonderfully mobile mouth--and somepeople, hopeless devotees of a pink and white fairness, had been knownto call her plain. At this moment, she was looking her worst; theheavy, blue-black lines beneath her eyes were deepened by crying; herrough hair had been hastily coiled, unbrushed; and she was wearing ashabby red blouse that was pinned across in front, where a button wasmissing. There was nothing young or fresh about her; she looked hertwenty-eight years, every day of them--and more.

  And yet, Madeleine knew that those who admired Louise would find her asdesirable at this moment as at any other. Hers was a nameless charm; itwas present in each gesture of the slim hands, in each turn of thehead, in every movement of, the broad, slender body. Strangers felt itinstantly; her very walk seemed provocative of notice; there wassomething in the way her skirts clung, and moved with her, that wasdifferent from the motion of other women's. And those whose type sheembodied went crazy about her. Madeleine remembered as though it wereyesterday, the afternoon on which Heinz had burst in to rave to her ofhis discovery; and how he would have dragged her out hatless to seethis miracle. She remembered, too, after--days, when she had had himthere, pacing the floor, and pouring out his feelings to her,infatuated, mad. An he was not the only one; they bowled over likeninepins; an it would be the same for years to come--was there anyreason to wonder at Maurice Guest?

  Meanwhile, as Madeleine sat thinking these and similar things, Mauricewas tramping through the ROSENTAL. The May afternoon, of lucentsunshine and heaped, fleecy clouds, had tempted a host of people intothe great park, but he soon left them all behind him, for he walked asthough he were pursued. These people, placid, and content of face, andthe brightness of the day, jarred on him; he was out of patience withhimself, with Madeleine, with the World at large. Especially withMadeleine, he bore her a grudge for her hints and innuendoes, for beingbehind the scenes, as it were, and also for being so ready to enlightenhim; but, most of all, for a certain malicious gratification, which wasto be felt in ever word she said about Louise.

  He went steadily on, against the level bars of the afternoon sun and,by the time he had tired himself bodily, he had worked off his inwardvexation as well. As he walked back towards the town, he was almostready to smile at his previous heat. What did all these others matterto him? They could not hinder him from carrying through what he had sethis mind on. To-morrow was a day, and the next was another, and thenext again; and life, considered thus in days and opportunities, wasinfinitely long.

  He now felt not only an aversion to dwelling on his thoughts of an hourback, but also the need of forgetting them altogether. And, in nearingthe LESSINGSTRASSE, he followed an impulse to go to Ephie and to lether merry laugh wipe out the last traces of his ill-humour.

  Mrs. Cayhill and Johanna were both reading in the sitting room, andthough Johanna agreeably laid aside her book, conversation languished.Ephie was sent for, but did not come, and Maurice was beginning to wishhe had thought twice before calling, when her voice was heard in thepassage, and, a moment later, she burst into the room, with her armsfull of lilac, branches of lilac, which she explained had been boughtearly that morning at the flower-market, by one of theirfellow-boarders. She hardly greeted Maurice, but going over to him heldup her scented burden, and was not content till he had buried his facein it.

  "Isn't it just sweet?" she cried holding it high for all to see. "Andthe very first that is to be had. Again, Maurice again, put your faceright down into the middle of it--like that."

  Mrs. Cayhill laughed, as Maurice obediently bowed his head, but Johannareproved her sister.

  "Don't be silly, Ephie. You behave as if you had never seen lilacbefore."

  "Well, neither I have--not such lilac as this, and Maurice hasn'teither," answered Ephie. "You shall smell it too, old Joan!"--and inspite of Johanna's protests, she forced her sister also to sink herface in the fragrant white and purple blossoms. But then she left themlying on the table, and it was Johanna who put them in water.

  Mrs. Cayhill withdrew to her bedroom to be undisturbed, and Johannawent out on an errand. Maurice and Ephie sat side by side on the sofa,and he helped her to
distinguish chords of the seventh, and watched hermake, in her music-book, the big, tailless notes, at which she herselfwas always hugely tickled, they`reminded her so of eggs. But on thisparticular evening, she was not in a studious mood, and bock, penciland india-rubber slid to the floor. Both windows were wide open; theair that entered was full of pleasant scents, while that of the roomwas heavy with lilac. Ephie had taken a spray from one of the vases,and was playing with it; and when Maurice chid her for thoughtlesslydestroying it, she stuck the pieces in her hair. Not content with this,she also put bits behind Maurice's ears, and tried to twist one in thepiece of hair that fell on his forehead. Having thus bedizened them,she leaned back, and, with her hands clasped behind her head, began totease the young man. A little bird, it seemed, had whispered her anynumber of interesting things about Madeleine and Maurice, and she hadstored them all up. Now, she repeated them, with a charmingimpertinence, and was so provoking that, in laughing exasperation,Maurice took her fluffy, flower-bedecked head between his hands, andstopped her lips with two sound kisses.

  He acted impulsively, without reflecting, but, as soon as it was done,he felt a curious sense of satisfaction, which had nothing to do withEphie, and was like a kind of unconscious revenge taken on some oneelse. He was not, however, prepared for the effect of his hasty deed.Ephie turned scarlet, and jumping up from the sofa, so that all theblossoms fell from her hair at once, stamped her foot.

  "Maurice Guest! How dare you!" she cried angrily, and, to his surprise,the young man saw that she had tears in her eyes.

  He had never known Ephie to be even annoyed, and was consequentlydumfounded; he could not believe, after the direct provocation she hadgiven him, that his crime had been so great.

  "But Ephie dear!" he protested. "I had no idea, upon my word I hadn't,that you would take it like this. What's the matter? It was nothing.Don't cry. I'm a brute."

  "Yes, you are, a horrid brute! I shall never forgive you--never!" saidEphie, and then she began to cry in earnest.

  He put his arm round her, and coaxing her to sit down, wiped away hertears with his own handkerchief. In vain did he beg her to tell him whyshe was so vexed. To all he said, she only shook her head, andanswered: "You had no right to do it."

  He vowed solemnly that it should never happen again, but at least aquarter of an hour elapsed before he succeeded in comforting her, andeven then, she remained more subdued than usual. But when Maurice hadgone, and she had dropped the scattered sprays of lilac out of thewindow on his head, she clasped her hands at the back of her neck, anddropped a curtsy to herself in the locking-glass.

  "Him, too!" she said aloud.

  She nodded at her reflected self, but her face was grave; for betweenthese two, small, blue-robed figures was a deep and unsuspected secret.

  And Maurice, as he walked away, wondered to himself for still a littlewhy she should have been so disproportionately angry; but not for long;for, when he was not actually with Ephie, he was not given to thinkingmuch about her. Besides, from there, he went straight to the latterhalf of an ABENDANTERKALTUNG, to hear Furst play Brahms' VARIATIONS ONA THEME BY HANDEL