Man and Maid. Glyn Elinor

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ with it when finished, occupy it when I did come to Paris—lend it to friends?—I don't remember—Now it seems a sepulchre where I can retire my maimed body to and wait for the end.

      Nina once proposed to stay with me here, no one should know, Nina?—would she come now?—How dare they make this noise at the door—what is it?—Nina!

      Sunday—it was actually Nina herself—"Poor darling Nicholas," she said. "The kindest fate sent me across—I 'wangled' a passport—really serious war work, and here I am for a fortnight, even in war time one must get a few clothes—"

      I could see I was a great shock to her, my attraction for her had gone—I was just "poor darling Nicholas," and she began to be motherly—Nina motherly!—She would have been furious at the very idea once. Nina is thirty-nine years old, her boy has just gone into the flying corps, she is so glad the war will soon be over.

      She loves her boy.

      She gave me news of the world, our old world of idle uselessness, which is now one of solid work.

      "Why have you completely cut yourself off from everything and everybody, ever since you first went out to fight?—Very silly of you."

      "When I was a man and could fight, I liked fighting, and never wanted to see any of you again. You all seemed rotters to me, so I spent my leaves in the country or here. Now you seem glorious beings, and I the rotter. I am no use at all—"

      Nina came close to me and touched my hand—

      "Poor darling Nicholas," she said again.

      Something hurt awfully, as I realized that to touch me now caused her no thrill. No woman will ever thrill again when I am near.

      Nina does know all about clothes! She is the best-dressed Englishwoman I have ever seen. She has worked awfully well for the war, too, I hear, she deserves her fortnight in Paris.

      "What are you going to do, Nina?" I asked her.

      She was going out to theatres every night, and going to dine with lots of delicious 'red tabs' whose work was over here, whom she had not seen for a long time.

      "I'm just going to frivol, Nicholas, I am tired of work."

      Nothing could exceed her kindness—a mother's kindness.

      I tried to take an interest in everything she said, only it seemed such aeons away. As though I were talking in a dream.

      She would go plodding on at her war job when she got back again, of course, but she, like everyone else, is war weary.

      "And when peace comes—it will soon come now probably—what then?"

      "I believe I shall marry again."

      I jumped—I had never contemplated the possibility of Nina marrying, she has always been a widowed institution, with her nice little house in Queen Street, and that wonderful cook.

      "What on earth for?"

      "I want the companionship and devotion of one man."

      "Anyone in view?"

      "Yes—one or two—they say there is a shortage of men, I have never known so many men in my life."

      Then presently, when she had finished her tea, she said—

      "You are absolutely out of gear, Nicholas—Your voice is rasping, your remarks are bitter, and you must be awfully unhappy, poor boy."

      I told her that I was—there was no use in lying.

      "Everything is finished," I said, and she bent down and kissed me as she said good-bye—a mother's kiss.

      And now I am alone, and what shall I do all the evening? or all the other evenings—? I will send for Suzette to dine.

      Night—Suzette—was amusing—. I told her at once I did not require her to be affectionate.

      "You can have an evening's rest from blandishments, Suzette."

      "Merci!"—and then she stretched herself, kicked up her little feet, in their short-vamped, podgy little shoes, with four-inch heels, and lit a cigarette.

      "Life is hard, Mon ami"—she told me—"And now that the English are here, it is difficult to keep from falling in love."

      For a minute I thought she was going to insinuate that I had aroused her reflection—I warmed—but no—She had taken me seriously when I told her I required no blandishments.

      That ugly little twinge came to me again.

      "You like the English?"

      "Yes."

      "Why?"

      "They are very bons garçons, they are clean, and they are fine men, they have sentiment, too—Yes, it is difficult not to feel," she sighed.

      "What do you do when you fall in love then, Suzette?"

      "Mon ami, I immediately go for a fortnight to the sea—one is lost if one falls in love dans le metier—The man tramples then—tramples and slips off—For everything good one must never feel."

      "But you have a kind heart Suzette—you feel for me?"

      "Hein?"—and she showed all her little white pointed teeth—"Thou?—Thou art very rich, mon chou. Women will always feel for thee!"

      It went in like a knife it was so true—.

      "I was a very fine Englishman once," I said.

      "It is possible, thou art still, sitting, and showing the right profile—and full of chic—and then rich, rich!"

      "You could not forget that I am rich, Suzette?"

      "If I did I might love you—Jamais!"

      "And does the sea help to prevent an attack?"—

      "Absence—and I go to a poor place I knew when I was young, and I wash and cook, and make myself remember what la vie dure was—and would be again if one loved—Bah! that does it. I come back cured—and ready only to please such as thou, Nicholas!—rich, rich!"

      And she laughed again her rippling gay laugh—

      We had a pleasant evening, she told me the history of her life—or some of it—They were ever the same from Lucien's Myrtale.

      When all of me is aching—Shall I too, find solace if I go to the sea?

      Who knows?

II

       Table of Contents

СКАЧАТЬ