Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated)

by William Somerset Maugham

  ‘It’s all very horrible,’ shuddered Julia.

  ‘And so far as the public goes, events have shown that he was right to keep silence. The agitation against him died down for want of matter, and though he is vaguely discredited, nothing is proved definitely against him. Public opinion is very fickle, and already people are beginning to forget, and as they forget they will think they have misjudged him. When it is announced that he has given his services to the King of the Belgians, ten to one there will be a reaction in his favour.’

  They got up from luncheon, and coffee was served to them. They lit their cigarettes. For some time they were silent.

  ‘Lucy wants to see him before he goes,’ said Julia suddenly.

  Dick looked at her and gave an impatient shrug of the shoulders.

  ‘I suppose she wants to indulge a truly feminine passion for making scenes. She’s made Alec quite wretched enough already.’

  ‘Don’t be unkind to her, Dick,’ said Julia, tears welling up in her bright eyes. ‘You don’t know how desperately unhappy she is. My heart bled to see her this morning.’

  ‘Darling, I’ll do whatever you want me to,’ he said, leaning over her.

  Julia’s sense of the ridiculous was always next door to her sense of the pathetic.

  ‘I don’t know why you should kiss me because Lucy’s utterly miserable,’ she said, with a little laugh.

  And then, gravely, as she nestled in his encircling arm:

  ‘Will you try and manage it? She hesitates to write to him.’

  ‘I’m not sure if I had not better leave you to impart the pleasing information yourself,’ he replied. ‘I’ve asked Alec to come here this afternoon.’

  ‘You’re a selfish beast,’ she answered. ‘But in that case you must leave me alone with him, because I shall probably weep gallons of tears, and you’ll only snigger at me.’

  ‘Bless your little heart! Let us put handkerchiefs in every conceivable place.’

  ‘On occasions like this I carry a bagful about with me.’

  XX

  In the afternoon Alec arrived. Julia’s tender heart was touched by the change wrought in him during the three months of his absence from town. At the first glance there was little difference in him. He was still cool and collected, with that air of expecting people to do his bidding which had always impressed her; and there was still about him a sensation of strength, which was very comfortable to weaker vessels. But her sharp eyes saw that he held himself together by an effort of will, and it was singularly painful to the onlooker. The strain had told on him, and there was in his haggard eyes, in the deliberate firmness of his mouth, a tension which suggested that he was almost at the end of his tether. He was sterner than before and more silent. Julia could see how deeply he had suffered, and his suffering had been greater because of his determination to conquer it at all costs. She longed to go to him and beg him not to be too hard upon himself. Things would have gone more easily with him, if he had allowed himself a little weakness. But he was softer too, and she no longer felt the slight awe which to her till then had often made intercourse difficult. His first words were full of an unexpected kindness.

  ‘I’m so glad to be able to congratulate you,’ he said, holding her hand and smiling with that rare, sweet smile of his. ‘I was a little unhappy at leaving Dick; but now I leave him in your hands I’m perfectly content. He’s the dearest, kindest old chap I’ve ever known.’

  ‘Shut up, Alec,’ cried Dick promptly. ‘Don’t play the heavy father, or Julia will burst into tears. She loves having a good cry.’

  But Alec ignored the interruption.

  ‘He’ll be an admirable husband because he’s been an admirable friend.’

  For the first time Julia thought Alec altogether wise and charming.

  ‘I know he will,’ she answered happily. ‘And I’m only prevented from saying all I think of him by the fear that he’ll become perfectly unmanageable.’

  ‘Spare me the chaste blushes which mantle my youthful brow, and pour out the tea, Julia,’ said Dick.

  She laughed and proceeded to do as he requested.

  ‘And are you really starting for Africa so soon?’ Julia asked, when they were settled around the tea-table.

  Alec threw back his head, and his face lit up.

  ‘I am. Everything is fixed up; the bother of collecting supplies and getting porters has been taken off my shoulders, and all I have to do is to get along as quickly as possible.’

  ‘I wish to goodness you’d give up these horrible explorations,’ cried Dick. ‘They make the rest of us feel so abominably unadventurous.’

  ‘But they’re the very breath of my nostrils,’ answered Alec. ‘You don’t know the exhilaration of the daily dangers, the joy of treading where only the wild beasts have trodden before.’

  ‘I freely confess that I don’t want to,’ said Dick.

  Alec sprang up and stretched his legs. As he spoke all signs of lassitude disappeared, and he was seized with an excitement that was rarely seen in him.

  ‘Already I can hardly bear my impatience when I think of the boundless country and the enchanting freedom. Here one grows so small, so mean; but in Africa everything is built to a nobler standard. There the man is really a man. There one knows what are will and strength and courage. You don’t know what it is to stand on the edge of some great plain and breathe the pure keen air after the terrors of the forest.’

  ‘The boundless plain of Hyde Park is enough for me,’ said Dick. ‘And the aspect of Piccadilly on a fine day in June gives me quite as many emotions as I want.’

  But Julia was moved by Alec’s unaccustomed rhetoric, and she looked at him earnestly.

  ‘But what will you gain by it now that your work is over — by all the danger and all the hardships?’

  He turned his dark, solemn eyes upon her.

  ‘Nothing. I want to gain nothing. Perhaps I shall discover some new species of antelope or some unknown plant. I may be fortunate enough to find a new waterway. That is all the reward I want. I love the sense of power and the mastery. What do you think I care for the tinsel rewards of kings and peoples!’

  ‘I always said you were melodramatic,’ said Dick. ‘I never heard anything so transpontine.’

  ‘And the end of it?’ asked Julia, almost in a whisper. ‘What will be the end?’

  A faint smile played for an instant upon Alec’s lips. He shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘The end is death. But I shall die standing up. I shall go the last journey as I have gone every other.’

  He stopped, for he would not add the last two words. Julia said them for him.

  ‘Without fear.’

  ‘For all the world like the wicked baronet,’ cried the mocking Dick. ‘Once aboard the lugger, and the gurl is mine.’

  Julia reflected for a little while. She did not want to resist the admiration with which Alec filled her. But she shuddered. He did not seem to fit in with the generality of men.

  ‘Don’t you want people to remember you?’ she asked.

  ‘Perhaps they will,’ he answered slowly. ‘Perhaps in a hundred years, in some flourishing town where I discovered nothing but wilderness, they will commission a second-rate sculptor to make a fancy statue of me. And I shall stand in front of the Stock Exchange, a convenient perch for birds, to look eternally upon the shabby deeds of human kind.’

  He gave a short, abrupt laugh, and his words were followed by silence. Julia gave Dick a glance which he took to be a signal that she wished to be alone with Alec.

  ‘Forgive me if I leave you for one minute,’ he said.

  He got up and left the room. The silence still continued, and Alec seemed immersed in thought. At last Julia answered him.

  ‘And is that really all? I can’t help thinking that at the bottom of your heart there is something that you’ve never told to a living soul.’

  He looked at her, and their eyes met. He felt suddenly her extraordinary sympathy and her passionate desire
to help him. And as though the bonds of the flesh were loosened, it seemed to him that their very souls faced one another. The reserve which was his dearest habit fell away from him, and he felt an urgent desire to say that which a curious delicacy had prevented him from every betraying to callous ears.

  ‘I daresay I shall never see you again, and perhaps it doesn’t much matter what I say to you. You’ll think me very silly, but I’m afraid I’m rather — patriotic. It’s only we who live away from England who really love it. I’m so proud of my country, and I wanted so much to do something for it. Often in Africa I’ve thought of this dear England and longed not to die till I had done my work.’

  His voice shook a little, and he paused. It seemed to Julia that she saw the man for the first time, and she wished passionately that Lucy could hear those words of his which he spoke so shyly, and yet with such a passionate earnestness.

  ‘Behind all the soldiers and the statesmen whose fame is imperishable there is a long line of men who’ve built up the empire piece by piece. Their names are forgotten, and only students know their history, but each one of them gave a province to his country. And I too have my place among them. Year after year I toiled, night and day, and at last I was able to hand over to the commissioner a broad tract of land, rich and fertile. After my death England will forget my faults and my mistakes; and I care nothing for the flouts and gibes with which she has repaid all my pain, for I have added another fair jewel to her crown. I don’t want rewards; I only want the honour of serving this dear land of ours.’

  Julia went up to him and laid her hand gently on his arm.

  ‘Why is it, when you’re so nice really, that you do all you can to make people think you utterly horrid?’

  ‘Don’t laugh at me because you’ve found out that at bottom I’m nothing more than a sentimental old woman.’

  ‘I don’t want to laugh at you. But if I didn’t think it would embarrass you so dreadfully, I should certainly kiss you.’

  He smiled and lifting her hand to his lips, lightly kissed it.

  ‘I shall begin to think I’m a very wonderful woman if I’ve taught you to do such pretty things as that.’

  She made him sit down, and then she sat by his side.

  ‘I’m very glad you came to-day. I wanted to talk to you. Will you be very angry if I say something to you?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he smiled.

  ‘I want to speak to you about Lucy.’

  He drew himself suddenly together, and the expansion of his mood disappeared. He was once more the cold, reserved man of their habitual intercourse.

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ he said briefly.

  But Julia was not to be so easily put off.

  ‘What would you do if she came here to-day?’ she asked.

  He turned round and looked at her sharply, then answered with great deliberation.

  ‘I have always lived in polite society. I should never dream of outraging its conventions. If Lucy happened to come, you may be sure that I should be scrupulously polite.’

  ‘Is that all?’ she cried.

  He did not answer, and into his face came a wild fierceness that appalled her. She saw the effort he was making at self-control. She wished with all her heart that he would be less brave.

  ‘I think you might not be so hard if you knew how desperately Lucy has suffered.’

  He looked at her again, and his eyes were filled with bitterness, with angry passion at the injustice of fate. Did she think that he had not suffered? Because he did not whine his misery to all and sundry, did she think he did not care? He sprang up and walked to the other end of the room. He did not want that woman, for all her kindness, to see his face. He was not the man to fall in and out of love with every pretty girl he met. All his life he had kept an ideal before his eyes. He turned to Julia savagely.

  ‘You don’t know what it meant to me to fall in love. I felt that I had lived all my life in a prison, and at last Lucy came and took me by the hand, and led me out. And for the first time I breathed the free air of heaven.’

  He stopped abruptly, clenching his jaws. He would not tell her how bitterly he had suffered for it, he would not tell her of his angry rebelliousness because all that pain should have come to him. He wanted nobody to know the depths of his agony and of his despair. But he would not give way. He felt that, if he did not keep a tight hold on himself, he would break down and shake with passionate sobbing. He felt a sudden flash of hatred for Julia because she sat there and watched his weakness. But as though she saw at what a crisis of emotion he was, Julia turned her eyes from him and looked down at the ground. She did not speak. She felt the effort he was making to master himself, and she was infinitely disturbed. She wanted to go to him and comfort him, but she knew he would repel her. He wanted to fight his battle unaided.

  At last he conquered, but when he spoke again, his voice was singularly broken. It was hoarse and low.

  ‘My love was the last human weakness I had. It was right that I should drink that bitter cup. And I’ve drunk its very dregs. I should have known that I wasn’t meant for happiness and a life of ease. I have other work to do in the world.’

  He paused for a moment, and his calmness was restored to him.

  ‘And now that I’ve overcome this last temptation I am ready to do it.’

  ‘But haven’t you any pity for yourself? Haven’t you any thought for Lucy?’

  ‘Must I tell you, too, that everything I did was for Lucy’s sake? And still I love her with all my heart and soul.’

  There was no bitterness in his tone now; it was gentle and resigned. He had, indeed, won the battle. Julia’s eyes were filled with tears, and she could not answer. He came forward and shook hands with her.

  ‘You mustn’t cry,’ he said, smiling. ‘You’re one of those persons whose part it is to bring sunshine into the lives of those with less fortunate dispositions. You must always be happy and childlike.’

  ‘I’ve got lots of handkerchiefs, thanks,’ she sobbed, laughing the while.

  ‘You must forget all the nonsense I’ve talked to you,’ he said.

  He smiled once more and was gone.

  Dick was sitting in his bedroom, reading an evening paper, and she flung herself sobbing into his arms.

  ‘Oh, Dick, I’ve had such a lovely cry, and I’m so happy and so utterly wretched. And I’m sure I shall have a red nose.’

  ‘Darling, I’ve long discovered that you only weep because you’re the only person in the world to whom it’s thoroughly becoming.’

  ‘Don’t be horrid and unsympathetic. I think Alec MacKenzie’s a perfect dear. I wanted to kiss him, only I was afraid it would frighten him to death.’

  ‘I’m glad you didn’t. He would have thought you a forward hussy.’

  ‘I wish I could have married him, too,’ cried Julia, ‘I’m sure he’d make a nice husband.’

  XXI

  The days went by, spent by Alec in making necessary preparations for his journey, spent by Lucy in sickening anxiety. The last two months had been passed by her in a conflict of emotions. Love had planted itself in her heart like a great forest tree, and none of the storms that had assailed it seemed to have power to shake its stubborn roots. Season, common decency, shame, had lost their power. She had prayed God that a merciful death might free her from the dreadful uncertainty. She was spiritless and cowed. She despised herself for her weakness. And sometimes she rebelled against the fate that crushed her with such misfortunes; she had tried to do her duty always, acting humbly according to her lights, and yet everything she was concerned in crumbled away to powder at her touch. She, too, began to think that she was not meant for happiness. She knew that she ought to hate Alec, but she could not. She knew that his action should fill her with nameless horror, but against her will she could not believe that he was false and wicked. One thing she was determined on, and that was to keep her word to Robert Boulger; but he himself gave her back her freedom.

  He came to
her one day, and after a little casual conversation broke suddenly into the middle of things.

  ‘Lucy, I want to ask you to release me from my engagement to you,’ he said.

  Her heart gave a great leap against her breast, and she began to tremble. He went on.

  ‘I’m ashamed to have to say it; I find that I don’t love you enough to marry you.’

  She looked at him silently, and her eyes filled with tears. The brutality with which he spoke was so unnatural that it betrayed the mercifulness of his intention.

  ‘If you think that, there is nothing more to be said,’ she answered.

  He gave her a look of such bitterness that she felt it impossible to continue a pretence which deceived neither of them.

  ‘I’m unworthy of your love,’ she cried. ‘I’ve made you desperately wretched.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter about me,’ he said. ‘But there’s no reason for you to be wretched, too.’

  ‘I’m willing to do whatever you wish, Bobbie.’

  ‘I can’t marry you simply because you’re sorry for me. I thought I could, but — it’s asking too much of you. We had better say no more about it.’

  ‘I’m very sorry,’ she whispered.

  ‘You see, you’re still in love with Alec MacKenzie.’

  He said it, vainly longing for a denial; but he knew in his heart that no denial would come.

  ‘I always shall be, notwithstanding everything. I can’t help myself.’

  ‘No, it’s fate.’

  She sprang to her feet with vehement passion.

  ‘Oh, Bobbie, don’t you think there’s some chance that everything may be explained?’

  He hesitated for a moment. It was very difficult to answer.

  ‘It’s only fair to tell you that now things have calmed down, there are a great many people who don’t believe Macinnery’s story. It appears that the man’s a thorough blackguard, whom MacKenzie loaded with benefits.’

  ‘Do you still believe that Alec caused George’s death?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Lucy leaned back in her chair, resting her face on her hand. She seemed to reflect deeply.