A Modern Mephistopheles, and A Whisper in the Dark. Louisa May Alcott

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СКАЧАТЬ regardless of his chafing, went on calmly, as if to a willing hearer, eying him vigilantly the while, though now his own manner was as persuasive as it had been imperative before.

      “I ask no more than many parents do, and will give you my reasons for the demand, though that was not among the stipulations.”

      “A starving man does not stop to weigh words, or haggle about promises. I was desperate, and you offered me salvation; can you wonder that I clutched the only hand held out to me?” demanded Canaris, with a world of conflicting emotions in his expressive face, as he paused before his master.

      “I am not speaking of the first agreement, that was brief as simple. The second bargain was a more complicated matter. You were not desperate then; you freely entered into it, reaped the benefits of it, and now wish to escape the consequences of your own act. Is that fair?”

      “How could I dream that you would exact such obedience as this? I am too young; it is a step that may change my whole life; I must have time,” murmured Canaris, while a sudden change passed over his whole face, his eye fell before the glance bent on him, as the other spoke.

      “It need not change your life, except to make it freer, perhaps happier. Hitherto you have had all the pleasure, now I desire my share. You often speak of gratitude; prove it by granting my request, and, in adding a new solace to my existence, you will find you have likewise added a new charm to your own.”

      “It is so sudden,—I do desire to show my gratitude,—I have tried to do my part faithfully so far,” began Canaris, as if a look, a word, had tamed his high spirit, and enforced docility sorely against his will.

      “So far, I grant that, and I thank you for the service which I desire to lessen by the step you decline to take. I have spoilt you for use, but not for ornament. I still like to see you flourish; I enjoy your success; I cannot free you; but I can give you a mate, who will take your place and amuse me at home, while you sing and soar abroad. Is that sufficiently poetical for a poet’s comprehension?” and Helwyze smiled, that satiric smile of his, still watching the young man’s agitated countenance.

      “But why need I marry? Why cannot”—there Canaris hesitated, for he lacked the courage to make the very natural suggestion Olivia had done.

      Helwyze divined the question on his lips, and answered it with stern brevity.

      “That is impossible;” then added, with the sudden softening of tone which made his voice irresistibly seductive, “I have given one reason for my whim: there are others, which affect you more nearly and pleasantly, perhaps. Little more than a year ago, your first book came out, making you famous for a time. You have enjoyed your laurels for a twelvemonth, and begin to sigh for more. The world has petted you, as it does any novelty, and expects to be paid for its petting, else it will soon forget you.”

      “No fear of that!” exclaimed the other, with the artless arrogance of youth.

      “If I thought you would survive the experiment, I would leave you to discover what a fickle mistress you serve. But frost would soon blight your budding talent, so we will keep on the world’s sunny side, and tempt the Muse, not terrify her.”

      Nothing could be smoother than the voice in which these words were said; but a keen ear would have detected an accent of delicate irony in it, and a quick eye have seen that Canaris winced, as if a sore spot had been touched.

      “I should think marriage would do that last, most effectually,” he answered, with a scornful shrug, and an air of great distaste.

      “Not always: some geniuses are the better for such bondage. I fancy you are one of them, and wish to try the experiment. If it fails, you can play Byron, to your heart’s content.”

      “A costly experiment for some one.” Canaris paused in his impatient march, to look down with a glance of pity at the dead lily still knotted in his button-hole.

      Helwyze laughed at the touch of sentiment,—a low, quiet laugh; but it made the young man flush, and hastily fling away the faded flower, whose pure loveliness had been a joy to him an hour ago. With a half docile, half defiant look, he asked coldly,—

      “What next, sir?”

      “Only this: you have done well. Now, you must do better, and let the second book be free from the chief fault which critics found,—that, though the poet wrote of love, it was evident he had never felt it.”

      “Who shall say that?” with sudden warmth.

      “I, for one. You know nothing of love, though you may flatter yourself you do. So far, it has been pretty play enough, but I will not have you waste yourself, or your time. You need inspiration, this will give it you. At your age, it is easy to love the first sweet woman brought near you, and almost impossible for any such to resist your wooing. An early marriage will not only give heart and brain a fillip, but add the new touch of romance needed to keep up the world’s interest in the rising star, whose mysterious advent piques curiosity as strongly as his work excites wonder and delight.”

      Composure and content had been gradually creeping back into the listener’s mien, as a skilful hand touched the various chords that vibrated most tunefully in a young, imaginative, ardent nature. Vivid fancy painted the “sweet woman” in a breath, quick wit saw at once the worldly wisdom of the advice, and ambition found no obstacle impassable.

      “You are right, sir, I submit; but I claim the privilege of choosing my inspirer,” he said, warily.

      “You have already chosen, if I am not much mistaken. A short wooing, but a sure one; for little Gladys has no coquetry, and will not keep you waiting for her answer.”

      “Gladys is a child,” began Canaris, still hesitating to avow the truth.

      “The fitter mate for you.”

      “But, sir, you are mistaken: I do not love her.”

      “Then, why teach her to love you?”

      “I have not: I was only kind. Surely I cannot be expected to marry every young girl who blushes when I look at her,” he said, with sullen petulance, for women had spoilt the handsome youth, and he was as ungrateful as such idols usually are.

      “Then, who?—ah! I perceive; I had forgotten that a boy’s first tendresse is too often for a woman twice his age. May I trouble you?” and Helwyze held up the empty glass with which he had been toying while he talked.

      Among the strew of books upon the table at his elbow stood an antique silver flagon, coolly frosted over by the iced wine it held. This Canaris obediently lifted; and, as he stooped to fill the rosy bowl of the Venetian goblet, Helwyze leaned forward, till the two faces were so close that eye looked into eye, as he said, in one swift sentence, “It was to win Olivia for yourself, then, that you wooed Gladys for me, three hours ago?”

      The flagon was not heavy, but it shook in the young man’s grasp, and the wine overflowed the delicate glass, dyeing red the hand that held it. One face glowed with shame and anger; the other remained unmoved, except a baffling smile upon the lips, that added, in mild reproach,—

      “My Ganymede has lost his skill; it is time I filled his place with a neat-handed Hebe. Make haste, and bring her to me soon.”

      Mutely Canaris removed all traces of the treacherous mishap, inwardly cursing his imprudent confidences, wondering СКАЧАТЬ