The Greatest Works of Aleister Crowley. Aleister Crowley

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      Chapter II.

       Indian Summer

       Table of Contents

      We went out gritting our teeth with Mingled rage and dejection. We walked on aimlessly in silence. A taxi offered itself. We climbed into it listlessly and drove back here. We threw ourselves on our beds. The idea of lunch was disgusting. We were too weak and too annoyed to do anything. We could not trust ourselves to speak; we should have quarrelled. I fell into a state of sleepless agony. Our visit to the studio had burnt itself into my mind. I imagined the flesh of my soul sizzling beneath the white hot branding iron of Lamus's Will.

      I reached out my hands for this diary. It has relieved me to write it down in all this detail.

      I found myself on fire with passionate determination to fight H. and C. to a finish; and my hands were tied behind my back, my feet were fettered by a chain and ball. I wouldn't be made to stop by that beast. We'd get it despite him. We wouldn't be treated like children ; we'd get as much as we wanted and we'd take it all the time, if it killed us.

      The conflict in myself raged all the afternoon. Cockie had gone to sleep. He snored and groaned. He was like one's idea of a convict. He hadn't shaved for two days. My own nails were black. I felt sticky and clammy all over. I hadn't dressed myself. I had thrown my clothes on carelessly.

      Cockie woke about dinner-time. We couldn't go down as we were. We were suddenly stung by the realisation that we were making durselves conspicuous in the hotel. We had a horrible fear of being found out. They might do something. It was all the worse that we didn't quite know what. And we felt so helpless, almost too weak to move a finger.

       Oh, couldn't we find some anywhere I...

      My God ! what a bit of luck. What a fool I am. There was one packet of H. in the pocket of my travelling dress. We crawled towards each other and shared it. After the long abstention, the effect was miraculous.

      Cockie picked himself up almost fiercely. The desperate anguish of our necessity drove him to swift resolute action. He sent for the barber and the waiter. We had the maid pack our things. We paid the bill and left our heavy trunks in the hotel, explaining that we had been called away suddenly on business. We put our dressing cases into a taxi and said, " Euston, main line."

      Cockie stopped the man at Cambridge Circus. " Look here," he said in an eager whisper, " we want some rooms in Soho. Some French or Italian place."

      The man was equal to the problem. He found us a dirty dark little room on the ground floor in Greek Street. The landlady was some kind of Southerner with a dash of black blood. Her face told us that she was exactly the kind of woman we wanted.

      We paid the taxi. Cockie was very restless. He wanted to get the man to do what we wanted. He was itching all over, but he was afraid. We sat down on the bed, and began to make plans.

      August 21

      I don't remember anything. I must have gone off suddenly to sleep as I was. Cockie is out....

      He has been going round town all night ; the clubs and that. He got two sniffs from Mabel Black ; but she was shy herself. He and Dick Wickham went down to Limehouse. No luck I They nearly got into a row with some sailors....

      Madame Bellini has brought breakfast. Horrible, beastly food. We must eat some ; I'm so weak....

      She came in to clear it away and do the room. I got her talking about her life. She has been in England nearly thirty years, I worked round to the interesting subject. She doesn't know much about it. She thinks she can help. One of the women lodgers injects. She asked could we pay. It's really rather comic. Eight thousand a year and one of the most beautiful houses near London. And here we are in this filthy hole being asked "can we pay!" by a hag that never saw a sovereign in her life unless she stole it from some drunken client.

      Cockie seems to have lost his sense. He flashed a fifty-pound note in her face. It was because he was angry at her attitude. She rather shut up. Either she thinks we're police spies or she's made up her mind to rob us.

      The sight of the cash knocked her out of time ! It destroyed her sense of proportion. It put all her ideas of straight dealing out of her mind. Her manner changed. She went off.

      Pete told me to go and see the dope girl myself. It's the first time he ever spoke to me like that. All sexual feeling is dead between us. We've tried to work up the old passion. It was artificial, horrible, repulsive ; a degradation and a blasphemy. Why is it ? The snow intensified love beyond every possibility. Yet I love him more than ever. He's my boy. I think he must be ill. I wish I weren't so tired. I'm not looking after him properly, and I can't think about anything except getting H. I don't seem to mind so much about C. I never liked C. much. It made me dizzy and ill.

      We have no amusements now. We get through the day in a dark, dreary dream. I can't fix my mind on anything. The more I want H. the less I am able to think and act as I should to get anything else I wanted.

      Cockie went out slamming the door. It swung open again.

      I couldn't go to the woman like this. I've written this to try to keep from crying.

      But I am crying, only the tears won't come.

      I'm snivelling like a woman I once saw when I visited the hospital.

      I haven't got a handkerchief.

      I can't bring myself to wash in that dirty cracked basin. We've brought no soap. The towel's soiled and torn. I must have some H....

      I've just been to see Lillie Fitzroy. How can men give her money ? Her hair is gray, crudely dyed. She has wrinkles and rotten teeth. She was in bed, of course. I shook her roughly to wake her. I've lost every feeling for others, and people see it, and it spoils my own game. I must pretend to have the kindness and gentleness which I used to have so much; which used to make people think me an amiable fool.

      Some one told me once that adjectives spoilt nouns in literature, and you can certainly cut out that one.

      She's a good sort, all the same, poor flabby old thing. She only takes M., and only gets that in solution ready to inject. She saw I was all in, and gave me a dose in the thigh. It doesn't touch the spot like H., but it stops the worst of the suffering. She never gets up till tea-time. I left her a fiver. She promised to see what she could do that night with the man who gets it for her.

      She СКАЧАТЬ