CHAPTER XX
THE WAY BACK
It had been a wet night. Pools of water lay on the glistening pavements,but the rain had ceased. We ran steadily until we came in sight ofPiccadilly Circus, and there our fear left us suddenly. It was like thecutting off of a switch. We stopped in the street, gasping for breath.
"This is really absurd," I observed; "we must learn to controlourselves."
"We can't control an emotion of that strength, Harden. It'soverwhelming. It's all the emotion we had before concentrated into asingle expression. No, it's going to be a nuisance."
"The worst of it is that we cannot foresee it. We get no warning. Itsprings out of the unknown like a tiger."
We walked slowly across the Circus. It was thronged with a night crowd,and seemed like some strange octagonal room, walled by moving colouredlights. Here lay a scene that remained eternally the same whatever theconditions of life--a scene that neither war, nor pestilence, nor faminecould change. We stood by the fountain, immersed in our thoughts. "Iused to enjoy this kind of thing," said Sarakoff at length.
"And now?"
"Now it is curiously meaningless--absolutely indecipherable."
We walked on and entered Coventry Street. Here Sarakoff suddenly pushedopen a door and I followed him. We found ourselves in a brilliantlyilluminated restaurant. A band was playing. We sat down at an unoccupiedtable.
"Harden, I wish to try an experiment. I want to see if, by an effort, wecan get back to the old point of view."
He beckoned to the waiter and ordered champagne, cognac, oysters andcaviare. Then he leaned back in his seat and smiled.
"Somehow I feel it won't work," I began.
He held up his hand.
"Wait. It is an experiment. You must give it a fair chance. Come, let usbe merry."
I nodded.
"Let us eat, drink and be merry," I murmured.
I watched the flushed faces and sparkling eyes around us. So far we hadattracted no attention. Our table was in a corner, behind a pillar. Thewaiter hurried up with a laden tray, and in a moment the table wascovered with bottles and plates.
"Now," said Sarakoff, "we will begin with a glass of brandy. Let us tryto recall the days of our youth--a little imagination, Harden, and thenperhaps the spell will be broken. A toast--Leonora!"
"Leonora," I echoed.
We raised our glasses. I took a sip and set down my glass. Our eyes met.
"Is the brandy good?"
"It is of an admirable quality," said Sarakoff. He put his glass on thetable and for some time we sat in silence.
"Excuse me," I said. "Don't you think the caviare is a trifle----?"
He made a gesture of determination.
"Harden, we will try champagne."
He filled two glasses.
"Let us drink off the whole glass," he said. "Really, Harden, we musttry."
I managed to take two gulps. The stuff was nasty. It seemed like weakmethylated spirits.
"Continue," said Sarakoff firmly; "let us drink ourselves into theglorious past, whither the wizard of alcohol transports all men."
I took two more gulps. Sarakoff did the same. It was something in thenature of a battle against an invisible resistance. I gripped the tablehard with my free hand, and took another gulp.
"Sarakoff," I gasped. "I can't take any more. If you want to get alcoholinto my system you must inject it under my skin. I can't do it thisway."
He put down his glass. It was half full. There were beads ofperspiration on his brow.
"I'll finish that glass somehow," he observed. He passed his hand acrosshis forehead. "This is extraordinary. It's just like taking poison,Harden, and yet it is an excellent brand of wine."
"Do get these oysters taken away," I said. "They serve no purpose lyinghere. They only take up room."
"Wait till I finish my glass."
With infinite trouble he drank the rest of the champagne. The efforttired him. He sat, breathing quickly and staring before him.
"That's a pretty woman," he observed. "I did not notice her before."
I followed the direction of his gaze. A young woman, dressed in emeraldgreen, sat at a table against the opposite wall. She was talking veryexcitedly, making many gestures and seemed to me a little intoxicated.
Sarakoff poured out some more champagne.
"I am getting back," he muttered. He looked like a man engaged in someterrific struggle with himself. His breath was short and thick, his eyeswere reddened. Perspiration covered his face and hands. He finished thesecond glass.
"Yes, she is pretty," he said, "I like that white skin against thebrilliant green. She's got grace, too. Have you noticed white-skinnedwomen always are graceful, and have little ears, Harden?"
He laughed suddenly, with his old boisterousness and clapped me on theshoulder.
"This is the way out!" he shouted, and pointed to the silver tub thatcontained the champagne bottle.
His voice sounded loudly above the music.
"The way out!" he repeated. He got to his feet. His eyes were congested.The sweat streamed down his cheeks. "Here," he called in his deeppowerful voice, "here, all you who are afraid--here is the way out." Hewaved his arms. People stopped drinking and talking to turn and stare athim. "Back to the animals!" he shouted. "Back to the fur and hair andflesh! I was up on the mountain top, but I've found the way back. Hereit is--here is the magic you need, if you're tired of the frozenheights!"
He swayed as he spoke. Strangely interested, I stared up at him.
"He's delirious," called out the emerald young woman. "He's got thathorrid disease."
The manager and a couple of waiters came up. "It's coming," shoutedSarakoff; "I saw it sweeping over the world. See, the world is white,like snow. They have robbed it of colour." The manager grasped his armfirmly.
"Come with me," he said. "You are ill. I will put you in a taxi."
"You don't understand," said Sarakoff. "You are in it still. Don't yousee I'm a traveller?"
"He is mad," whispered a waiter in my ear.
"A traveller," shouted the Russian. "But I've come back. Greeting,brothers. It was a rough journey, but now I hear and see you."
"If you do not leave the establishment at once I will get a policeman,"said the manager with a hiss.
Sarakoff threw out his hands.
"Make ready!" he cried. "The great uprooting!" He began to laughunsteadily. "The end of disease and the end of desire--there's nodifference. You never knew that, brothers. I've come back to tellyou--thousands and thousands of miles--into the great dimension of helland heaven. It was a mistake and I'm going back. Look! She'sfading--further and further----" He pointed a shaking hand across theroom and suddenly collapsed, half supported by the manager.
"Dead drunk," remarked a neighbour.
I turned.
"No. Live drunk," I said. "The champagne has brought him back to theworld of desire."
The speaker, a clean-shaven young man, stared insolently.
"You have no business to come into a public place with that disease," hesaid with a sneer.
"You are right. I have no business here. My business is to warn theworld that the end of desire is at hand." I signalled to a waiter andtogether we managed to get Sarakoff into a taxi-cab.
As we drove home, all that lay behind Sarakoff's broken confused wordsrevealed itself with increasing distinctness to me.
Sarakoff spoke again.
"Harden," he muttered thickly, "there was a flaw--in the dream----"
"Yes," I said. "I was sure there would be a flaw. I hadn't noticed itbefore----"
"We're cut off," he whispered. "Cut off."
The Blue Germ Page 20