“I’m glad of that!” said George, striking his knee with his open palm. “That will go a great way toward—”
He paused, and asked suddenly: “Did this marriage take place in France?”
“Yes. You’d better hear me through,” I remonstrated. “When he was taken from the hospital, he was placed in charge of a Professor Keredec, a madman of whom you’ve probably heard.”
“Madman? Why, no; he’s a member of the Institute; a psychologist or metaphysician, isn’t he? — at any rate of considerable celebrity.”
“Nevertheless,” I insisted grimly, “as misty a vapourer as I ever saw; a poetic, self-contradicting and inconsistent orator, a blower of bubbles, a seer of visions, a mystic, and a dreamer — about as scientific as Alice’s White Knight! Harman’s aunt, who lived in London, the only relative he had left, I believe — and she has died since — put him in Keredec’s charge, and he was taken up into the Tyrol and virtually hidden for two years, the idea being literally to give him something like an education — Keredec’s phrase is ‘restore mind to his soul’! What must have been quite as vital was to get him out of his horrible wife’s clutches. And they did it, for she could not find him. But she picked up that rat in the garden out yonder — he’d been some sort of stable-manager for Harman once — and set him on the track. He ran the poor boy down, and yesterday she followed him. Now it amounts to a species of sordid siege.”
“She wants money, of course.”
“Yes, MORE money; a fair allowance has always been sent to her. Keredec has interviewed her notary and she wants a settlement, naming a sum actually larger than the whole estate amounts to. There were colossal expenditures and equally large shrinkages; what he has left is invested in English securities and is not a fortune, but of course she won’t believe that and refuses to budge until this impossible settlement is made. You can imagine about how competent such a man as Keredec would be to deal with the situation. In the mean time, his ward is in so dreadful a state of horror and grief I am afraid it is possible that his mind may really give way, for it was not in a normal condition, of course, though he’s perfectly sane, as I tell you. If it should,” I concluded, with some bitterness, “I suppose Keredec will be still prating upliftingly on the saving of his soul!”
“When was it that Louise saw him?”
“Ah, that,” I said, “is where Keredec has been a poet and a dreamer indeed. It was his PLAN that they should meet.”
“You mean he brought this wreck of Harman, these husks and shreds of a man, down here for Louise to see?” Ward cried incredulously. “Oh, monstrous!”
“No,” I answered. “Only insane. Not because there is anything lacking in Oliver — in Harman, I mean — for I think that will be righted in time, but because the second marriage makes it a useless cruelty that he should have been allowed to fall in love with his first wife again. Yet that was Keredec’s idea of a ‘beautiful restoration,’ as he calls it!”
“There is something behind all this that you don’t know,” said Ward slowly. “I’ll tell you after I’ve seen this Keredec. When did the man make you his confidant?”
“Last night. Most of what I learned was as much a revelation to his victim as it was to me. Harman did not know till then that the lady he had been meeting had been his wife, or that he had ever seen her before he came here. He had mistaken her name and she did not enlighten him.”
“Meeting?” said Ward harshly. “You speak as if—”
“They have been meeting every day, George.”
“I won’t believe it of her!” he cried. “She couldn’t—”
“It’s true. He spoke to her in the woods one day; I was there and saw it. I know now that she knew him at once; and she ran away, but — not in anger. I shouldn’t be a very good friend of yours,” I went on gently, “if I didn’t give you the truth. They’ve been together every day since then, and I’m afraid — miserably afraid, Ward — that her old feeling for him has been revived.”
I have heard Ward use an oath only two or three times in my life, and this was one of them.
“Oh, by God!” he cried, starting to his feet; “I SHOULD like to meet Professor Keredec!”
“I am at your service, my dear sir,” said a deep voice from the veranda. And opening the door, the professor walked into the room.
CHAPTER XIX
HE LOOKED OLD and tired and sad; it was plain that he expected attack and equally plain that he would meet it with fanatic serenity. And yet, the magnificent blunderer presented so fine an aspect of the tortured Olympian, he confronted us with so vast a dignity — the driven snow of his hair tousled upon his head and shoulders, like a storm in the higher altitudes — that he regained, in my eyes, something of his mountain grandeur before he had spoken a word in defence. But sympathy is not what one should be entertaining for an antagonist; therefore I said cavalierly:
“This is Mr. Ward, Professor Keredec. He is Mrs. Harman’s cousin and close friend.”
“I had divined it.” The professor made a French bow, and George responded with as slight a salutation as it has been my lot to see.
“We were speaking of your reasons,” I continued, “for bringing Mr. Harman to this place. Frankly, we were questioning your motive.”
“My motives? I have wished to restore to two young people the paradise which they had lost”.
Ward uttered an exclamation none the less violent because it was half-suppressed, while, for my part, I laughed outright; and as Keredec turned his eyes questioningly upon me, I said:
“Professor Keredec, you’d better understand at once that I mean to help undo the harm you’ve done. I couldn’t tell you last night, in Harman’s presence, but I think you’re responsible for the whole ghastly tragi-comedy — as hopeless a tangle as ever was made on this earth!”
This was even more roughly spoken than I had intended, but it did not cause him to look less mildly upon me, nor was there the faintest shadow of resentment in his big voice when he replied:
“In this world things may be tangled, they may be sad, yet they may be good.”
“I’m afraid that seems rather a trite generality. I beg you to remember that plain-speaking is of some importance just now.”
“I shall remember.”
“Then we should be glad of the explanation,” said Ward, resting his arms on my table and leaning across it toward Keredec.
“We should, indeed,” I echoed.
“It is simple,” began the professor. “I learned my poor boy’s history well, from those who could tell me, from his papers — yes, and from the bundles of old-time letters which were given me — since it was necessary that I should know everything. From all these I learned what a strong and beautiful soul was that lady who loved him so much that she ran away from her home for his sake. Helas! he was already the slave of what was bad and foolish, he had gone too far from himself, was overlaid with the habit of evil, and she could not save him then. The spirit was dying in him, although it was there, and IT was good—”
Ward’s acrid laughter rang out in the room, and my admiration went unwillingly to Keredec for the way he took it, which was to bow gravely, as if acknowledging the other’s right to his own point of view.
“If you will study the antique busts,” he said, “you will find that Socrates is Silenus dignified. I choose to believe in the infinite capacities of all men — and in the spirit in all. And so I try to restore my poor boy his capacities and his spirit. But that was not all. The time was coming when I could do no more for him, when the little education of books would be finish’ and he must go out in the world again to learn — all newly — how to make of himself a man of use. That is the time of danger, and the thought was troubling me when I learned that Madame Harman was here, near this inn, of which I knew. So I brought him.”
“The inconceivable selfishness, the devilish brutality of it!” Ward’s face was scarlet. “You didn’t care how you sacrificed her—”
“Sacrificed!” The pr
ofessor suddenly released the huge volume of his voice. “Sacrificed!” he thundered. “If I could give him back to her as he is now, it would be restoring to her all that she had loved in him, the real SELF of him! It would be the greatest gift in her life.”
“You speak for her?” demanded Ward, the question coming like a lawyer’s. It failed to disturb Keredec, who replied quietly:
“It is a quibble. I speak for her, yes, my dear sir. Her action in defiance of her family and her friends proved the strength of what she felt for the man she married; that she have remained with him three years — until it was impossible — proved its persistence; her letters, which I read with reverence, proved its beauty — to me. It was a living passion, one that could not die. To let them see each other again; that was all I intended. To give them their new chance — and then, for myself, to keep out of the way. That was why—” he turned to me— “that was why I have been guilty of pretending to have that bad rheumatism, and I hope you will not think it an ugly trick of me! It was to give him his chance freely; and though at first I had much anxiety, it was done. In spite of all his wicked follies theirs had been a true love, and nothing in this world could be more inevitable than that they should come together again if the chance could be given. And they HAVE, my dear sirs! It has so happened. To him it has been a wooing as if for the first time; so she has preferred it, keeping him to his mistake of her name. She feared that if he knew that it was the same as his own he might ask questions of me, and, you see, she did not know that I had made this little plan, and was afraid—”
“We are not questioning Mrs. Harman’s motives,” George interrupted hotly, “but YOURS!”
“Very well, my dear sir; that is all. I have explained them.”
“You have?” I interjected. “Then, my dear Keredec, either you are really insane or I am! You knew that this poor, unfortunate devil of a Harman was tied to that hyenic prowler yonder who means to fatten on him, and will never release him; you knew that. Then why did you bring him down here to fall in love with a woman he can never have? In pity’s name, if you didn’t hope to half kill them both, what DID you mean?”
“My dear fellow,” interposed George quickly, “you underrate Professor Keredec’s shrewdness. His plans are not so simple as you think. He knows that my cousin Louise never obtained a divorce from her husband.”
“What?” I said, not immediately comprehending his meaning.
“I say, Mrs. Harman never obtained a divorce.”
“Are you delirious?” I gasped.
“It’s the truth; she never did.”
“I saw a notice of it at the time. ‘A notice?’ I saw a hundred!”
“No. What you saw was that she had made an application for divorce. Her family got her that far and then she revolted. The suit was dropped.”
“It is true, indeed,” said Keredec. “The poor boy was on the other side of the world, and he thought it was granted. He had been bad before, but from that time he cared nothing what became of him. That was the reason this Spanish woman—”
I turned upon him sharply. “YOU knew it?”
“It is a year that I have known it; when his estate was—”
“Then why didn’t you tell me last night?”
“My dear sir, I could not in HIS presence, because it is one thing I dare not let him know. This Spanish woman is so hideous, her claim upon him is so horrible to him I could not hope to control him — he would shout it out to her that she cannot call him husband. God knows what he would do!”
“Well, why shouldn’t he shout it out to her?”
“You do not understand,” George interposed again, “that what Professor Keredec risked for his ‘poor boy,’ in returning to France, was a trial on the charge of bigamy!”
The professor recoiled from the definite brutality. “My dear sir! It is not possible that such a thing can happen.”
“I conceive it very likely to happen,” said George, “unless you get him out of the country before the lady now installed here as his wife discovers the truth.”
“But she must not!” Keredec lifted both hands toward Ward appealingly; they trembled, and his voice betrayed profound agitation. “She cannot! She has never suspected such a thing; there is nothing that could MAKE her suspect it!”
“One particular thing would be my telling her,” said Ward quietly.
“Never!” cried the professor, stepping back from him. “You could not do that!”
“I not only could, but I will, unless you get him out of the country — and quickly!”
“George!” I exclaimed, coming forward between them. “This won’t do at all. You can’t—”
“That’s enough,” he said, waving me back, and I saw that his hand was shaking, too, like Keredec’s. His face had grown very white; but he controlled himself to speak with a coolness that made what he said painfully convincing. “I know what you think,” he went on, addressing me, “but you’re wrong. It isn’t for myself. When I sailed for New York in the spring I thought there was a chance that she would carry out the action she begun four years ago and go through the form of ridding herself of him definitely; that is, I thought there was some hope for me; I believed there was until this morning. But I know better now. If she’s seen him again, and he’s been anything except literally unbearable, it’s all over with ME. From the first, I never had a chance against him; he was a hard rival, even when he’d become only a cruel memory.” His voice rose. “I’ve lived a sober, decent life, and I’ve treated HER with gentleness and reverence since she was born, and HE’S done nothing but make a stew-pan of his life and neglect and betray her when he had her. Heaven knows why it is; it isn’t because of anything he’s done or has, it’s just because it’s HIM, I suppose, but I know my chance is gone for good! THAT leaves me free to act for her; no one can accuse me of doing it for myself. And I swear she sha’n’t go through that slough of despond again while I have breath in my body!”
“Steady, George!” I said.
“Oh, I’m steady enough,” he cried. “Professor Keredec shall be convinced of it! My cousin is not going into the mire again; she shall be freed of it for ever: I speak as her relative now, the representative of her family and of those who care for her happiness and good. Now she SHALL make the separation definite — and LEGAL! And let Professor Keredec get his ‘poor boy’ out of the country. Let him do it quickly! I make it as a condition of my not informing the woman yonder and her lawyer. And by my hope of salvation I warn you—”
“George, for pity’s sake!” I shouted, throwing my arm about his shoulders, for his voice had risen to a pitch of excitement and fury that I feared must bring the whole place upon us. He caught himself up suddenly, stared at me blankly for a moment, then sank into a chair with a groan. As he did so I became aware of a sound that had been worrying my subconsciousness for an indefinite length of time, and realised what it was. Some one was knocking for admission.
I crossed the room and opened the door. Miss Elizabeth stood there, red-faced and flustered, and behind her stood Mr. Cresson Ingle, who looked dubiously amused.
“Ah — come in,” I said awkwardly. “George is here. Let me present Professor Keredec—”
“‘George is here!’” echoed Miss Elizabeth, interrupting, and paying no attention whatever to an agitated bow on the part of the professor. “I should say he WAS! They probably know THAT all the way to Trouville!”
“We were discussing—” I began.
“Ah, I know what you were discussing,” she said impatiently. “Come in, Cresson.” She turned to Mr. Ingle, who was obviously reluctant. “It is a family matter, and you’ll have to go through with it now.”
“That reminds me,” I said. “May I offer—”
“Not now!” Miss Elizabeth cut short a rather embarrassed handshake which her betrothed and I were exchanging. “I’m in a very nervous and distressed state of mind, as I suppose we all are, for that matter. This morning I learned the true situation over here; and I�
�m afraid Louise has heard; at least she’s not at Quesnay. I got into a panic for fear she had come here, but thank heaven she does not seem to — Good gracious! What’s THAT?”
It was the discordant voice of Mariana la Mursiana, crackling in strident protest. My door was still open; I turned to look and saw her, hot-faced, tousle-haired, insufficiently wrapped, striving to ascend the gallery steps, but valiantly opposed by Madame Brossard, who stood in the way.
“But NO, madame,” insisted Madame Brossard, excited but darkly determined. “You cannot ascend. There is nothing on the upper floor of this wing except the apartment of Professor Keredec.”
“Name of a dog!” shrilled the other. “It is my husband’s apartment, I tell you. Il y a une femme avec lui!”
“It is Madame Harman who is there,” said Keredec hoarsely in my ear. “I came away and left them together.”
“Come,” I said, and, letting the others think what they would, sprang across the veranda, the professor beside me, and ran toward the two women who were beginning to struggle with more than their tongues. I leaped by them and up the steps, but Keredec thrust himself between our hostess and her opponent, planting his great bulk on the lowest step. Glancing hurriedly over my shoulder, I saw the Spanish woman strike him furiously upon the breast with both hands, but I knew she would never pass him.
I entered the salon of the “Grande Suite,” and closed the door quickly behind me.
Louise Harman was standing at the other end of the room; she wore the pretty dress of white and lilac and the white hat. She looked cool and beautiful and good, and there were tears in her eyes. To come into this quiet chamber and see her so, after the hot sunshine and tawdry scene below, was like leaving the shouting market-place for a shadowy chapel.
Collected Works of Booth Tarkington Page 108