The Painted Veil. W. Somerset Maugham
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу The Painted Veil - W. Somerset Maugham страница 14
Название: The Painted Veil
Автор: W. Somerset Maugham
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Зарубежная классика
isbn: 9781420972252
isbn:
“Has it occurred to you that he’s madly in love with me?”
He did not answer, but he smiled at her with roguish eyes. She knew and loved that charming look of his.
“Well, what is it? I know you’re going to say something awful.”
“Well, you know, women are often under the impression that men are much more madly in love with them than they really are.”
For the first time she laughed. His confidence was catching.
“What a monstrous thing to say!”
“I put it to you that you haven’t been bothering much about your husband lately. Perhaps he isn’t quite so much in love with you as he was.”
“At all events I shall never delude myself that you are madly in love with me,” she retorted.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
Ah, how good it was to hear him say that! She knew it and her belief in his passion warmed her heart. As he spoke he rose from the bed and came and sat down beside her on the sandalwood box. He put his arm round her waist.
“Don’t worry your silly little head a moment longer,” he said. “I promise you there’s nothing to fear. I’m as certain as I am of anything that he’s going to pretend he knows nothing. You know, this sort of thing is awfully difficult to prove. You say he’s in love with you; perhaps he doesn’t want to lose you altogether. I swear I’d accept anything rather than that if you were my wife.”
She leaned towards him. Her body became limp and yielding against his arm. The love she felt for him was almost torture. His last words had struck her: perhaps Walter loved her so passionately that he was prepared to accept any humiliation if sometimes she would let him love her. She could understand that; for that was how she felt towards Charlie. A thrill of pride passed through her, and at the same time a faint sensation of contempt for a man who could love so slavishly.
She put her arm lovingly round Charlie’s neck.
“You’re simply wonderful. I was shaking like a leaf when I came here and you’ve made everything all right.”
He took her face in his hand and kissed her lips.
“Darling.”
“You’re such a comfort to me,” she sighed.
“I’m sure you need not be nervous. And you know I’ll stand by you. I won’t let you down.”
She put away her fears, but for an instant unreasonably she regretted that her plans for the future were shattered. Now that all danger was past she almost wished that Walter were going to insist on a divorce.
“I knew I could count on you,” she said.
“So I should hope.”
“Oughtn’t you to go and have your tiffin?”
“Oh, damn my tiffin.”
He drew her more closely to him and now she was held tight in his arms. His mouth sought hers.
“Oh, Charlie, you must let me go.”
“Never.”
She gave a little laugh, a laugh of happy love and of triumph; his eyes were heavy with desire. He lifted her to her feet and not letting her go but holding her close to his breast he locked the door.
XXI
All through the afternoon she thought of what Charlie had said about Walter. They were dining out that evening and when he came back from the Club she was dressing. He knocked at her door.
“Come in.”
He did not open.
“I’m going straight along to dress. How long will you be?”
“Ten minutes.”
He said nothing more, but went to his own room. His voice had that constrained note which she had heard in it the night before. She felt fairly sure of herself now. She was ready before he was and when he came downstairs she was already seated in the car.
“I’m afraid I’ve kept you waiting,” he said.
“I shall survive it,” she replied, and she was able to smile as she spoke.
She made an observation or two as they drove down the hill, but he answered curtly. She shrugged her shoulders; she was growing a trifle impatient: if he wanted to sulk, let him, she didn’t care. They drove in silence till they reached their destination. It was a large dinner party. There were too many people and too many courses. While Kitty chatted gaily with her neighbours she watched Walter. He was deathly pale and his face was pinched.
“Your husband is looking rather washed out. I thought he didn’t mind the heat. Has he been working very hard?”
“He always works hard.”
“I suppose you’re going away soon?”
“Oh, yes, I think I shall go to Japan as I did last year,” she said. “The doctor says I must get out of the heat if I don’t want to go all to pieces.”
Walter did not as usual when they were dining out give her a little smiling glance now and then. He never looked at her. She had noticed that when he came down to the car he kept his eyes averted, and he did the same when, with his usual politeness, he gave her his hand to alight. Now, talking with the women on either side of him, he did not smile, but looked at them with steady and unblinking eyes; and really his eyes looked enormous and in that pale face coal black. His face was set and stern.
“He must be an agreeable companion,” thought Kitty ironically.
The idea of those unfortunate ladies trying to indulge in small talk with that grim mask not a little diverted her.
Of course he knew; there was no doubt about that, and he was furious with her. Why hadn’t he said anything? Was it really because, though angry and hurt, he loved her as much that he was afraid she would leave him. The thought made her ever so slightly despise him, but good-naturedly: after all, he was her husband and he provided her with board and lodging; so long as he didn’t interfere with her and let her do as she liked she would be quite nice to him. On the other hand, perhaps his silence was due merely to a morbid timidity. Charlie was right when he said that no one would hate a scandal more than Walter. He never made a speech if he could help it. He had told her once that when he was subpoenaed as a witness on a case where he was to give expert evidence he had hardly slept for a week before. His shyness was a disease.
And there was another thing: men were very vain, and so long as no one knew what had happened it might be that Walter would be content to ignore it. Then she wondered whether by any possibility Charlie was right when he suggested that Walter knew which side his bread was buttered. СКАЧАТЬ