THE MOON AND SIXPENCE, W Somerset Maugham, New Narration, Part Three

Added: 2026-06-02

[00:00:13][music] The moon and sixpence part 3 chapter 24 Shortly before Christmas Durk Stro came to ask me to spend the holiday with him.

[00:00:31]He had a characteristic sentimentality about the day and wanted to pass it among his friends with suitable ceremonies. Neither of us had seen Strickland for 2 or 3 weeks. I because I had been busy with friends who were spending a little while in Paris, and Strove, because having quarreled with him more violently than usual, he had made up his mind to have nothing more to do with him. Strickland was impossible, and he swore never to speak to him again. But the season touched him with gentle feeling, and he hated the thought of Strickland spending Christmas Day by himself. He ascribed his own emotions to him and could not bear that on an occasion given up to good fellowship.

[00:01:12]The lonely painter should be abandoned to his own melancholy.

[00:01:17]Stro had set up a Christmas tree in his studio, and I suspected that we should both find absurd little presents hanging on its festive branches, but he was shy about seeing Strickland again. It was a little humiliating to forgive so easily insults so outrageous, and he wished me to be present at the reconciliation on which he was determined.

[00:01:40]We walked together down the avenue deci, but Strickland was not in the cafe. It was too cold to sit outside, and we took our places on leather benches within. It was hot and stuffy, and the air was gray with smoke. Strickland did not come, but presently we saw the French painter who occasionally played chess with him. I had formed a casual acquaintance with him, and he sat down at our table.

[00:02:08]Strove asked him if he had seen Strickland. He's ill, he said. Didn't you know? Seriously? Very, I understand.

[00:02:18]Stro's face grew white. Why didn't he write and tell me? How stupid of me to quarrel with him. We must go to him at once. He can have no one to look after him. Where does he live? I have no idea, said the Frenchman. We discovered that none of us knew how to find him. Stro grew more and more distressed.

[00:02:39]He might die, and not a soul would know anything about it. It's dreadful. I can't bear the thought. We must find him at once.

[00:02:48]I tried to make Stro understand that it was absurd to hunt vaguely about Paris.

[00:02:54]We must first think of some plan.

[00:02:57]Yes, but all this time he may be dying, and when we get there it may be too late to do anything. Sit still and let us think, I said impatiently. The only address I knew was the hotel debelge, but Strickland had long left that, and they would have no recollection of him.

[00:03:13]With that queer idea of his to keep his whereabouts secret, it was unlikely that on leaving he had said where he was going. Besides, it was more than 5 years ago. I felt pretty sure that he had not moved far. If he continued to frequent the same cafe as when he had stayed at the hotel, it was probably because it was the most convenient. Suddenly, I remembered that he had got his commission to paint a portrait through the baker from whom he bought his bread, and it struck me that there one might find his address.

[00:03:48]I called for a directory and looked out the bakers. There were five in the immediate neighborhood, and the only thing was to go to all of them. Stroe accompanied me unwillingly. His own plan was to run up and down the streets that led out of the avenue to cliche and ask at every house if Strickland lived there. My commonplace scheme was, after all, effective, for in the second shop we asked at the woman behind the counter acknowledged that she knew him. She was not certain where he lived, but it was in one of the three houses opposite.

[00:04:21]Luck favored us, and in the first we tried, the concierge told us that we should find him on the top floor.

[00:04:29]It appears that he's ill, said Stro.

[00:04:33]It may be, answered the concierge indifferently. On a fee, I have not seen him for several days.

[00:04:40]Strove ran up the stairs ahead of me, and when I reached the top floor, I found him talking to a workman in his shirt sleeves, who had opened a door at which Strove had knocked. He pointed to another door. He believed that the person who lived there was a painter. He had not seen him for a week. Strove made as though he were about to knock and then turned to me with a gesture of helplessness.

[00:05:05]I saw that he was panicstricken.

[00:05:08]supposing he's dead. Not he, I said. I knocked. There was no answer. I tried the handle and found the door unlocked.

[00:05:17]I walked in and strove followed me. The room was in darkness. I could only see that it was an attic with a sloping roof, and a faint glimmer, no more than a less profound obscurity came from a skylight. "Strickland," I called. There was no answer. It was really rather mysterious, and it seemed to me that Stro, standing just behind, was trembling in his shoes. For a moment I hesitated to strike a light. I dimly perceived a bed in the corner, and I wondered whether the light would disclose lying on it a dead body.

[00:05:52]"Haven't you got a match, you fool?"

[00:05:55]Strickland's voice coming out of the darkness harshly made me start. Strove cried out, "Oh my god, I thought you were dead."

[00:06:04]I struck a match and looked about for a candle. I had a rapid glimpse of a tiny apartment, half room, half studio, in which was nothing but a bed, canvases with their faces to the wall, an easel, a table, and a chair. There was no carpet on the floor. There was no fireplace. On the table, crowded with paints, pallet knives, and litter of all kinds, was the end of a candle. I lit it. Strickland was lying in the bed uncomfortably because it was too small for him, and he had put all his clothes over him for warmth. It was obvious at a glance that he was in a high fever.

[00:06:44]Stro, his voice cracking with emotion, went up to him. Oh, my poor friend, what is the matter with you? I had no idea you were ill. Why didn't you let me know? You must know I'd have done anything in the world for you. Were you thinking of what I said? I didn't mean it. I was wrong. It was stupid of me to take offense. Go to hell, said Strickland. Now, be reasonable. Let me make you comfortable. Haven't you anyone to look after you? He looked round the squalid attic in dismay. He tried to arrange the bedclo.

[00:07:18]Strickland, breathing laboriously, kept an angry silence. He gave me a resentful glance. I stood quite quietly looking at him. "If you want to do something for me, you can get me some milk," he said at last. "I haven't been able to get out for 2 days." There was an empty bottle by the side of the bed which had contained milk and in a piece of newspaper a few crumbs.

[00:07:43]"What have you been having?" I asked.

[00:07:45]"Nothing." "For how long!" cried Stro.

[00:07:48]Do you mean to say you've had nothing to eat or drink for two days? It's horrible. I've had water. His eyes dwelt for a moment on a large can within reach of an outstretched arm. I'll go immediately, said Stro. Is there anything you fancy?

[00:08:05]I suggested that he should get a thermometer and a few grapes and some bread. Strove, glad to make himself useful, clattered down the stairs. Damn fool," muttered Strickland. I felt his pulse. It was beating quickly and feebly. I asked him one or two questions, but he would not answer, and when I pressed him, he turned his face irritably to the wall. The only thing was to wait in silence. In 10 minutes, strove, panting, came back. Besides what I had suggested, he brought candles and meat juice and a spirit lamp. He was a practical little fellow, and without delay, set about making bread and milk.

[00:08:44]I took Strickland's temperature. It was 104. He was obviously very ill.

[00:08:50]Chapter 25.

[00:08:54]Presently, we left him. Durk was going home to dinner, and I proposed to find a doctor and bring him to see Strickland.

[00:09:00]But when we got down into the street fresh after the stuffy attic, the Dutchman begged me to go immediately to his studio. He had something in mind which he would not tell me, but he insisted that it was very necessary for me to accompany him. Since I did not think a doctor could at the moment do any more than we had done, I consented.

[00:09:19]We found Blanch strove laying the table for dinner. Durk went up to her and took both her hands. "Dear one, I want you to do something for me," he said. She looked at him with the grave cheerfulness which was one of her charms. His red face was shining with sweat, and he had a look of comic agitation, but there was in his round, surprised eyes an eager light.

[00:09:44]Strickland is very ill. He may be dying.

[00:09:47]He is alone in a filthy attic, and there is not a soul to look after him. I want you to let me bring him here." She withdrew her hands quickly. I had never seen her make so rapid a movement, and her cheeks flushed. Oh, no. Oh, my dear one, don't refuse. I couldn't bear to leave him where he is. I shouldn't sleep a wink for thinking of him. I have no objection to your nursing him. Her voice was cold and distant. But he'll die. Let him. Stro gave a little gasp. He wiped his face. He turned to me for support, but I did not know what to say. He's a great artist. What do I care? I hate him. Oh, my love, my precious. You don't mean that. I beseech you to let me bring him here. We can make him comfortable.

[00:10:36]Perhaps we can save him. He shall be no trouble to you. I will do everything.

[00:10:40]We'll make him up a bed in the studio.

[00:10:42]We can't let him die like a dog. It would be inhuman.

[00:10:46]Why can't he go to a hospital? A hospital? He needs the care of loving hands. He must be treated with infinite tact.

[00:10:55]I was surprised to see how moved she was. She went on laying the table, but her hands trembled.

[00:11:02]I have no patience with you. Do you think if you were ill, he would stir a finger to help you? But what does that matter? I should have you to nurse me.

[00:11:12]It wouldn't be necessary. And besides, I'm different. I'm not of any importance.

[00:11:18]You have no more spirit than a mongrel curr. You lie down on the ground and ask people to trample on you. Stro gave a little laugh. He thought he understood the reason of his wife's attitude. Oh, my poor dear, you're thinking of that day he came here to look at my pictures.

[00:11:34]What does it matter if he didn't think them any good? It was stupid of me to show them to him. I dare say they're not very good. He looked round the studio rofully. On the easel was a half-finished picture of a smiling Italian peasant holding a bunch of grapes over the head of a darkeyed girl.

[00:11:54]Even if he didn't like them, he should have been civil. He needn't have insulted you. He showed that he despised you and you lick his hand. Oh, I hate him. Dear child, he has genius. You don't think I believe that I have it. I wish I had, but I know it when I see it, and I honor it with all my heart. It's the most wonderful thing in the world.

[00:12:16]It's a great burden to its possessors.

[00:12:19]We should be very tolerant with them and very patient.

[00:12:23]I stood apart, somewhat embarrassed by the domestic scene, and wondered why Stro had insisted on my coming with him.

[00:12:31]I saw that his wife was on the verge of tears. But it's not only because he's a genius that I ask you to let me bring him here. It's because he's a human being. And he is ill and poor. I will never have him in my house. Never. Stro turned to me. Tell her that it's a matter of life and death.

[00:12:52]It's impossible to leave him in that wretched hole.

[00:12:56]It's quite obvious that it would be much easier to nurse him here, I said. But of course, it would be very inconvenient. I have an idea that someone will have to be with him day and night.

[00:13:07]My love, it's not you who would sherk a little trouble. If he comes here, I shall go, said Mrs. Stro violently. I don't recognize you. You're so good and kind. Oh, for goodness sake, let me be.

[00:13:21]You drive me to distraction.

[00:13:23]Then at last the tears came. She sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook convulsively.

[00:13:33]In a moment Durk was on his knees beside her with his arms round her, kissing her, calling her all sorts of pet names, and the fasile tears ran down his own cheeks. Presently she released herself and dried her eyes.

[00:13:48]Leave me alone, she said not unkindly.

[00:13:52]And then to me, trying to smile. What must you think of me?

[00:13:57]Stro, looking at her with perplexity, hesitated. His forehead was all puckered, and his red mouth set in a pout. He reminded me oddly of an agitated guinea pig. "Then it's no, darling," he said at last. She gave a gesture of latitude. She was exhausted.

[00:14:16]The studio is yours. Everything belongs to you. If you want to bring him here, how can I prevent you? A sudden smile flashed across his round face. Then you consent?

[00:14:29]I knew you would. Oh, my precious.

[00:14:33]Suddenly, she pulled herself together.

[00:14:35]She looked at him with haggarded eyes.

[00:14:37]She clasped her hands over her heart as though its beating were intolerable.

[00:14:42]Oh, Durk. I've never since we met asked you to do anything for me.

[00:14:47]You know there's nothing in the world that I wouldn't do for you.

[00:14:52]I beg you not to let Strickland come here. Anyone else you like. Bring a thief, a drunkard, any outcast off the streets, and I promise you I'll do everything I can for them gladly. But I beseech you not to bring Strickland here. But why? I'm frightened of him. I don't know why, but there's something in him that terrifies me. He'll do us some great harm. I know it. I feel it. If you bring him here, it can only end badly.

[00:15:19]But how unreasonable.

[00:15:21]No, no, I know I'm right. Something terrible will happen to us.

[00:15:27]Because we do a good action.

[00:15:29]She was panting now, and in her face was a terror which was inexplicable.

[00:15:35]I do not know what she thought. I felt that she was possessed by some shapeless dread which robbed her of all self-control.

[00:15:43]As a rule, she was so calm. Her agitation now was amazing.

[00:15:49]Stro looked at her for a while with puzzled constonation.

[00:15:53]You are my wife. You are dearer to me than anyone in the world. No one shall come here without your entire consent.

[00:16:03]She closed her eyes for a moment, and I thought she was going to faint. I was a little impatient with her. I'd not suspected that she was so neurotic a woman. Then I heard Stro's voice again.

[00:16:15]It seemed to break oddly on the silence.

[00:16:18]Haven't you been in bitter distress once when a helping hand was held out to you?

[00:16:23]You know how much it means. Couldn't you like to do someone a good turn when you have the chance?

[00:16:28]The words were ordinary enough, and to my mind there was in them something so horty that I almost smiled. I was astonished at the effect they had on Blanch strove. She started a little and gave her husband a long look. His eyes were fixed on the ground. I did not know why he seemed embarrassed. A faint color came into her cheeks, and then her face became white, more than white, ghastly.

[00:16:54]You felt that the blood had shrunk away from the whole surface of her body, and even her hands were pale. A shiver passed through her. The silence of the studio seemed to gather body so that it became an almost palpable presence. I was bewildered. Bring Strickland here, Durk. I'll do my best for him. My precious, he smiled. He wanted to take her in his arms, but she avoided him.

[00:17:22]Don't be affectionate before strangers, Durk, she said. It makes me feel such a fool.

[00:17:29]Her manner was quite normal again, and no one could have told that so shortly before she'd been shaken by such a great emotion.

[00:17:37]Chapter 26.

[00:17:41]Next day we moved Strickland. It needed a good deal of firmness and still more patience to induce him to come. But he was really too ill to offer any effective resistance to Stro's intreaties and to my determination. We dressed him while he feebly cursed us, got him downstairs into a cab, and eventually to Stro's studio. He was so exhausted by the time we arrived that he allowed us to put him to bed without a word. He was ill for 6 weeks. At one time it looked as though he could not live more than a few hours, and I am convinced that it was only through the Dutchman's doggedness that he pulled through. I have never known a more difficult patient. It was not that he was exacting and quirulous. On the contrary, he never complained. He asked for nothing. He was perfectly silent.

[00:18:30]But he seemed to resent the care that was taken of him. He received all inquiries about his feelings or his needs with a jbe, a snear, or an oath. I found him detestable, and as soon as he was out of danger, I had no hesitation in telling him so. "Go to hell," he answered briefly. "Durk strove, giving up his work entirely, nursed Strickland with tenderness and sympathy. He was dextrous to make him comfortable, and he exercised a cunning of which I should never have thought him capable to induce him to take the medicines prescribed by the doctor. Nothing was too much trouble for him, though his means were adequate to the needs of himself and his wife, he certainly had no money to waste, but now he was wantingly extravagant in the purchase of delicacies out of season and dear, which might tempt Strickland's capriccious appetite.

[00:19:24]I shall never forget the tactful patience with which he persuaded him to take nourishment.

[00:19:29]He was never put out by Strickland's rudeness. If it was merely sullen, he appeared not to notice it. If it was aggressive, he only chuckled. When Strickland, recovering somewhat, was in a good humor, and amused himself by laughing at him, he deliberately did absurd things to excite his ridicule.

[00:19:48]Then he would give me little happy glances so that I might notice in how much better form the patient was.

[00:19:55]Stro was sublime. But it was Blanch who most surprised me. She proved herself not only a capable but a devoted nurse.

[00:20:05]There was nothing in her to remind you that she had so vehemently struggled against her husband's wish to bring Strickland to the studio. She insisted on doing her share of the offices needful to the sick. She arranged his bed so that it was possible to change the sheet without disturbing him. She washed him. When I remarked on her competence, she told me with that pleasant little smile of hers that for a while she had worked in a hospital. She gave no sign that she hated Strickland so desperately. She did not speak to him much, but she was quick to forestall his wants. For a fortnight it was necessary that someone should stay with him all night, and she took turns at watching with her husband.

[00:20:48]I wondered what she thought during the long darkness as she sat by the bedside.

[00:20:53]Strickland was a weird figure as he lay there, thinner than ever, with his ragged red beard, and his eyes staring feverishly into vacancy. His illness seemed to have made them larger, and they had an unnatural brightness. "Does he ever talk to you in the night?" I asked her once, "Never. Do you dislike him as much as you did? More, if anything?"

[00:21:16]She looked at me with her calm, gray eyes.

[00:21:20]Her expression was so placid, it was hard to believe that she was capable of the violent emotion I had witnessed.

[00:21:28]"Has he ever thanked you for what you do for him?" "No," she smiled. "He's inhuman. He's abominable."

[00:21:37]Stro was, of course, delighted with her.

[00:21:40]He could not do enough to show his gratitude for the wholehearted devotion with which she had accepted the burden he laid on her, but he was a little puzzled by the behavior of Blanch and Strickland towards one another. Do you know, I've seen them sit there for hours together without saying a word. On one occasion, when Strickland was so much better that in a day or two he was to get up, I sat with them in the studio.

[00:22:06]Durk and I were talking. Mrs. Stro sewed, and I thought I recognized the shirt he was mending as Strickland's. He lay on his back. He did not speak. Once I saw that his eyes were fixed on Blanch Strove, and there was in them a curious irony. Feeling their gaze, she raised her own, and for a moment they stared at one another. I could not quite understand her expression. Her eyes had in them a strange perplexity and perhaps but why alarm? In a moment Strickland looked away and idly surveyed the ceiling, but she continued to stare at him, and now her look was quite inexplicable.

[00:22:44]In a few days Strickland began to get up. He was nothing but skin and bone.

[00:22:50]His clothes hung upon him like rags on a scarecrow. With his untidy beard and long hair, his features always a little larger than life, now emphasized by illness, he had an extraordinary aspect, but it was so odd that it was not quite ugly. There was something monumental in his ungainainliness. I do not know how to express precisely the impression he made upon me. It was not exactly spirituality that was obvious, though the screen of the flesh seemed almost transparent, because there was in his face an outrageous sensuality. But though it sounds nonsense, it seemed as though his sensuality were curiously spiritual. There was in him something primitive. He seemed to partake of those obscure forces of nature which the Greeks personified in shapes part human and part beast, the sata and the thorn.

[00:23:43]I thought of Marcus, whom the god flayed because he had dared to rival him in song. Strickland seemed to bear in his heart strange harmonies and unadventured patterns, and I foraw for him an end of torture and despair. I had again the feeling that he was possessed of a devil, but you could not say that it was a devil of evil, for it was a primitive force that existed before good and ill.

[00:24:11]He was still too weak to paint and he sat in the studio silent, occupied with god knows what dreams or reading. The books he liked were queer. Sometimes I would find him pouring over the poems of Malam, and he read them as a child reads, forming the words with his lips, and I wondered what strange emotion he got from those subtle cadences and obscure phrases. And again, I found him absorbed in the detective novels of Gabborio. I amused myself by thinking that in his choice of books he showed pleasantly the irreconcilable sides of his fantastic nature. It was singular to notice that even in the weak state of his body he had no thought for its comfort. Stro liked his ease, and in his studio were a couple of heavily upholstered armchairs and a large dean.

[00:25:04]Strickland would not go near them, not from any affectation of stoicism, for I found him seated on a three-legged stool when I went into the studio one day, and he was alone, but because he did not like them. For choice he sat on a kitchen chair without arms. It often exasperated me to see him. I never knew a man so entirely indifferent to his surroundings.

[00:25:29]Chapter 27.

[00:25:33]Two or three weeks passed. One morning, having come to a pause in my work, I thought I would give myself a holiday, and I went to the Louvre. I wandered about looking at the pictures I knew so well, and let my fancy play idly with the emotions they suggested.

[00:25:48]I sauntered into the long gallery, and there suddenly saw Strove. I smiled for his appearance, so rotunded and yet so startled could never fail to excite his smile. And then as I came nearer, I noticed that he seemed singularly disconulate.

[00:26:05]He looked wobiggone and yet ridiculous, like a man who has fallen into the water with all his clothes on, and being rescued from death, frightened still, feels that he only looks a fool.

[00:26:18]Turning round, he stared at me, but I perceived that he did not see me. His round blue eyes looked harassed behind his glasses.

[00:26:29]Stro, I said. He gave a little start and then smiled, but his smile was roful.

[00:26:35]Why are you idling in this disgraceful fashion? I asked Gaye. It's a long time since I was at the Louv. I thought I'd come and see if they had anything new.

[00:26:47]But you told me you had to get a picture finished this week. Strickland's painting in my studio. Well, I suggested it myself. He's not strong enough to go back to his own place yet. I thought we could both paint there. Lots of fellows in the quarter share a studio. I thought it would be fun. I've always thought it would be jolly to have someone to talk to when one was tired of work. He said all this slowly, detaching statement from statement with a little awkward silence, and he kept his kind, foolish eyes fixed on mine. They were full of tears.

[00:27:22]I don't think I understand, I said.

[00:27:25]Strickland can't work with anyone else in the studio. Damn it all. It's your studio. That's his lookout. He looked at me pitifully. His lips were trembling.

[00:27:35]What happened? I asked rather sharply.

[00:27:38]He hesitated and flushed. He glanced unhappily at one of the pictures on the wall. He wouldn't let me go on painting.

[00:27:45]He told me to get out.

[00:27:48]But why didn't you tell him to go to hell? He turned me out. I couldn't very well struggle with him. He threw my hat after me and locked the door. I was furious with Strickland and was indignant with myself because Durk strove cut such an absurd figure that I felt inclined to laugh.

[00:28:06]But what did your wife say? She'd gone out to do the marketing. Is he going to let her in? I don't know. I gazed at Stro with perplexity. He stood like a school boy with whom a master is finding fault. Shall I get rid of Strickland for you? I asked. He gave a little start and his shining face grew very red. No, you'd better not do anything. He nodded to me and walked away. It was clear that for some reason he did not want to discuss the matter. I did not understand.

[00:28:38]Chapter 28.

[00:28:42]The explanation came a week later. It was about 10:00 at night. I had been dining by myself at a restaurant, and having returned to my small apartment, was sitting in my parlor reading. I heard the cracked tinkling of the bell, and going into the corridor, opened the door.

[00:29:00]Stro stood before me. "Can I come in?"

[00:29:04]he asked. In the dimness of the landing, I could not see him very well, but there was something in his voice that surprised me. I knew he was of abious habit or I should have thought he had been drinking. I led the way into my sitting room and asked him to sit down.

[00:29:21]"Thank God I found you," he said.

[00:29:24]"What's the matter?" I asked in astonishment at his vehements. "I was able now to see him well. As a rule, he was neat in his person, but now his clothes were in disorder. He looked suddenly bedraggled. I was convinced he had been drinking, and I smiled. I was on the point of chaffing him on his state. "I didn't know where to go," he burst out. "I came here earlier, but you weren't in." "I dined late," I said. I changed my mind. It was not liquor that had driven him to this obvious desperation. His face, usually so rosy, was now strangely mottled. His hands trembled. "Has anything happened?" I asked. My wife has left me. He could hardly get the words out. He gave a little gasp, and the tears began to trickle down his round cheeks. I did not know what to say. My first thought was that she had come to the end of her forbearance with his infatuation for Strickland, and goed by the latter's cynical behavior, had insisted that he should be turned out. I knew her capable of temper for all the calmness of her manner, and if Stro still refused, she might easily have flung out of the studio with vows never to return. But the little man was so distressed that I could not smile. My dear fellow, don't be unhappy. She'll come back. You mustn't take very seriously what women say when they're in a passion. You don't understand. She's in love with Strickland.

[00:30:57]What? I was startled at this, but the idea had no sooner taken possession of me than I saw it was absurd. How can you be so silly? You don't mean to say you're jealous of Strickland. I almost laughed. You know very well that she can't bear the sight of him. You don't understand, he moaned. You're an hysterical ass, I said a little impatiently. Let me give you a whiskey and soda, and you'll feel better. I suppose that for some reason or other, and heaven knows what ingenuity men exercise to torment themselves, Durk had got it into his head that his wife cared for Strickland, and with his genius for blundering, he might quite well have offended her, so that to anger him perhaps, she had taken pains to foster his suspicion. "Look here," I said, "let's go back to your studio. If you've made a fool of yourself, you must eat humble pie. Your wife doesn't strike me as the sort of woman to bear malice.

[00:31:55]How can I go back to the studio? He said wearily. They're there. I've left it to them.

[00:32:02]Then it's not your wife who's left you.

[00:32:05]It's you who've left your wife. For God's sake, don't talk to me like that.

[00:32:10]Still, I could not take him seriously.

[00:32:13]I did not for a moment believe what he had told me, but he was in very real distress.

[00:32:20]Well, you've come here to talk to me about it. You'd better tell me the whole story.

[00:32:26]This afternoon, I couldn't stand it anymore. I went to Strickland and told him I thought he was quite well enough to go back to his own place. I wanted the studio myself. No one but Strickland would have needed telling, I said. What did he say?

[00:32:42]He laughed a little. You know how he laughs, not as though he were amused, but as though you were a damned fool and said he'd go at once. He began to put his things together. You remember I fetched from his room what I thought he needed, and he asked Blanch for a piece of paper and some string to make a parcel. Stro stopped, gasping, and I thought he was going to faint. This was not at all the story I had expected him to tell me. She was very pale, but she brought the paper and the string. He didn't say anything. He made the parcel and he whistled a tune. He took no notice of either of us. His eyes had an ironic smile in them. My heart was like lead. I was afraid something was going to happen. And I wished I hadn't spoken.

[00:33:29]He looked round for his hat. Then she spoke.

[00:33:33]I'm going with Strickland Durk. She said, I can't live with you anymore.

[00:33:40]I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Strickland didn't say anything. He went on whistling as though it had nothing to do with him.

[00:33:49]Strove stopped again and mopped his face. I kept quite still. I believed him now, and I was astounded, but all the same I could not understand. Then he told me in a trembling voice, with the tears pouring down his cheeks, how he had gone up to her, trying to take her in his arms, but she had drawn away and begged him not to touch her. He implored her not to leave him. He told her how passionately he loved her and reminded her of all the devotion he had lavished upon her. He spoke to her of the happiness of their life. He was not angry with her. He did not reproach her.

[00:34:28]Please let me go quietly, Durk, she said at last. Don't you understand that I love Strickland? Where he goes, I shall go. But you must know that he'll never make you happy. For your own sake, don't go. You don't know what you've got to look forward to. It's your fault. You insisted on his coming here. He turned to Strickland. Have mercy on her, he implored him. You can't let her do anything so mad. She can do as she chooses," said Strickland. "She's not forced to come." "My choice is made," she said in a dull voice. Strickland's injurious calm robbed Strove of the rest of his self-control. Blind rage seized him, and without knowing what he was doing, he flung himself on Strickland.

[00:35:14]Strickland was taken by surprise, and he staggered, but he was very strong, even after his illness, and in a moment he did not exactly know how, Strove found himself on the floor. "You funny little man," said Strickland. Stro picked himself up. He noticed that his wife had remained perfectly still, and to be made ridiculous before her increased his humiliation. His spectacles had tumbled off in the struggle, and he could not immediately see them. She picked them up and silently handed them to him. He seemed suddenly to realize his unhappiness, and though he knew he was making himself still more absurd, he began to cry. He hid his face in his hands. The others watched him without a word. They did not move from where they stood. "Oh, my dear," he groaned at last. "How can you be so cruel?"

[00:36:09]"I can't help myself, Durk," she answered. I've woripped you as no woman was ever worshiped before. If in anything I did, I displeased you. Why didn't you tell me and I'd have changed?

[00:36:20]I've done everything I could for you."

[00:36:22]She did not answer. Her face was set, and he saw that he was only boring her.

[00:36:28]She put on a coat and her hat. She moved towards the door, and he saw that in a moment she would be gone. He went up to her quickly and fell on his knees before her, seizing her hands. He abandoned all self-respect.

[00:36:43]Oh, don't go, my darling. I can't live without you. I shall kill myself. If I've done anything to offend you, I beg you to forgive me. Give me another chance. I'll try harder still to make you happy. Get up, Durk. You're making yourself a perfect fool. He staggered to his feet, but still he would not let her go.

[00:37:03]"Where are you going?" he said hastily.

[00:37:06]"You don't know what Strickland's place is like. You can't live there. It would be awful.

[00:37:13]If I don't care, I don't see why you should. Stay a minute longer. I must speak. After all, you can't grudge me that.

[00:37:23]What is the good? I've made up my mind.

[00:37:26]Nothing that you can say will make me alter it. He gulped and put his hand to his heart to ease its painful beating.

[00:37:34]I'm not going to ask you to change your mind, but I want you to listen to me for a minute. It's the last thing I shall ever ask you. Don't refuse me that." She paused, looking at him with those reflective eyes of hers, which now were so different to him. She came back into the studio and leaned against the table.

[00:37:55]"Well," Strove made a great effort to collect himself. "You must be a little reasonable. You can't live on air. You know, Strickland hasn't got a penny. I know.

[00:38:07]You'll suffer the most awful privations.

[00:38:09]You know why he took so long to get well? He was half starved. I can earn money for him. How? I don't know. I shall find a way.

[00:38:20]A horrible thought passed through the Dutchman's mind, and he shuddered. I think you must be mad. I don't know what has come over you. She shrugged her shoulders. Now, may I go? Wait one second longer.

[00:38:35]He looked round his studio wearily. He had loved it because her presence had made it gay and homelike. He shut his eyes for an instant, then he gave her a long look as though to impress on his mind the picture of her. He got up and took his hat. No, I'll go. You? She was startled. She did not know what he meant. I can't bear to think of you living in that horrible filthy attic.

[00:39:00]After all, this is your home just as much as mine. You'll be comfortable here. You'll be spared at least the worst privations."

[00:39:08]He went to the drawer in which he kept his money and took out several bank notes. I would like to give you half what I've got here. He put them on the table. Neither Strickland nor his wife spoke. Then he recollected something else. Will you pack up my clothes and leave them with the concierge? I'll come and fetch them tomorrow. He tried to smile. Goodbye, my dear. I'm grateful for all the happiness you gave me in the past. He walked out and closed the door behind him. With my mind's eye, I saw Strickland throw his hat on a table and sitting down begin to smoke a cigarette.

[00:39:48]Chapter 29.

[00:39:52]I kept silence for a little while, thinking of what Strove had told me. I could not stomach his weakness, and he saw my disapproval. "You know as well as I do how Strickland lived," he said tremulously. "I couldn't let her live in those circumstances. I simply couldn't."

[00:40:08]"That's your business," I answered.

[00:40:11]"What would you have done?" he asked.

[00:40:14]She went with her eyes open. If she had to put up with certain inconveniences, it was her own lookout.

[00:40:21]Yes, but you see, you don't love her. Do you love her still? Oh, more than ever.

[00:40:27]Strickland isn't the man to make a woman happy. It can't last. I want her to know that I shall never fail her. Does that mean that you're prepared to take her back? I shouldn't hesitate.

[00:40:39]Why, she'll want me more than ever then.

[00:40:42]When she's alone and humiliated and broken, it would be dreadful if she had nowhere to go.

[00:40:49]He seemed to bear no resentment. I suppose it was common place in me that I felt slightly outraged at his lack of spirit.

[00:40:58]Perhaps he guessed what was in my mind, for he said, "I couldn't expect her to love me as I loved her. I'm a buffoon.

[00:41:07]I'm not the sort of man that women love.

[00:41:09]I've always known that. I can't blame her if she's fallen in love with Strickland. You certainly have less vanity than any man I've ever known. I said, I love her so much better than myself. It seems to me that when vanity comes into love, it can only be because really you love yourself best. After all, it constantly happens that a man when he's married falls in love with somebody else. When he gets over it, he returns to his wife and she takes him back and everyone thinks it very natural.

[00:41:41]Why should it be different with women?

[00:41:44]I dare say that's logical. I smiled. But most men are made differently and they can't. But while I talked to Stro, I was puzzling over the suddeness of the whole affair. I could not imagine that he had had no warning. I remembered the curious look I had seen in Blanch Stro's eyes.

[00:42:02]Perhaps its explanation was that she was growing dimly conscious of a feeling in her heart that surprised and alarmed her.

[00:42:11]Did you have no suspicion before today that there was anything between them? I asked. He did not answer for a while.

[00:42:18]There was a pencil on the table and unconsciously he drew a head on the blotting paper. Please say so if you hate my asking you questions, I said it eases me to talk. Oh, if you knew the frightful anguish in my heart. He threw the pencil down. Yes, I've known it for a fortnight. I knew it before she did.

[00:42:40]Why on earth didn't you send Strickland packing? I couldn't believe it. It seemed so improbable. She couldn't bear the sight of him. It was more than improbable. It was incredible. I thought it was merely jealousy. You see, I've always been jealous, but I trained myself never to show it. I was jealous of every man she knew. I was jealous of you. I knew she didn't love me as I loved her. That was only natural, wasn't it? But she allowed me to love her, and that was enough to make me happy. I forced myself to go out for hours together in order to leave them by themselves. I wanted to punish myself for suspicions which were unworthy of me. And when I came back, I found they didn't want me, not Strickland. He didn't care if I was there or not, but Blanch.

[00:43:31]She shuddered when I went to kiss her.

[00:43:33]When at last I was certain I didn't know what to do. I knew they'd only laugh at me if I made a scene. I thought if I held my tongue and pretended not to see, everything would come right. I made up my mind to get him away quietly without quarreling.

[00:43:49]Oh, if you only knew what I've suffered.

[00:43:53]Then he told me again of his asking Strickland to go. He chose his moment carefully and tried to make his request sound casual, but he could not master the trembling of his voice, and he felt himself that into words that he wished to seem jovial and friendly, there crept the bitterness of his jealousy. He had not expected Strickland to take him up on the spot, and make his preparations to go there. And then, above all, he had not expected his wife's decision to go with him. I saw that now he wished with all his heart that he had held his tongue. He preferred the anguish of jealousy to the anguish of separation.

[00:44:32]I wanted to kill him and I only made a fool of myself.

[00:44:36]He was silent for a long time and then he said what I knew was in his mind. If I'd only waited, perhaps it would have gone all right. I shouldn't have been so impatient. Oh, poor child. What have I driven her to?

[00:44:52]I shrugged my shoulders but did not speak. I had no sympathy for Blanch strove but knew that it would only pain poor Durk if I told him exactly what I thought of her. He had reached that stage of exhaustion when he could not stop talking. He went over again every word of the scene. Now something occurred to him that he had not told me before. Now he discussed what he ought to have said instead of what he did say.

[00:45:19]Then he lamented his blindness. He regretted that he had done this and blamed himself that he had omitted the other. It grew later and later, and at last I was as tired as he. What are you going to do now? I said finally. What can I do? I shall wait till she sends for me. Why don't you go away for a bit?

[00:45:40]No, no. I must be at hand when she wants me. For the present, he seemed quite lost. He had made no plans. When I suggested that he should go to bed, he said he could not sleep. He wanted to go out and walk about the streets till day.

[00:45:56]He was evidently in no state to be left alone. I persuaded him to stay the night with me, and I put him into my own bed.

[00:46:04]I had a dean in my sitting room and could very well sleep on that. He was by now so worn out that he could not resist my firmness. I gave him a sufficient dose of veronal to ensure his unconsciousness for several hours. I thought that was the best service I could render him.

[00:46:23]Chapter 30.

[00:46:26]But the bed I made up for myself was sufficiently uncomfortable to give me a wakeful night, and I thought a good deal of what the unlucky Dutchman had told me. I was not so much puzzled by Blanch Stro's action, for I saw in that merely the result of a physical appeal.

[00:46:41]I do not suppose she had ever really cared for her husband, and what I had taken for love was no more than the feminine response to caresses and comfort, which in the minds of most women passes for it. It is a passive feeling capable of being roused for any object, as the vine can grow on any tree, and the wisdom of the world recognizes its strength when it urges a girl to marry the man who wants her with the assurance that love will follow. It is an emotion made up of the satisfaction in security, pride of property, the pleasure of being desired, the gratification of a household, and it is only by an amiable vanity that women ascribe to its spiritual value. It is an emotion which is defenseless against passion. I suspected that Blanch Stro's violent dislike of Strickland had in it from the beginning a vague element of sexual attraction. Who am I that I should seek to unravel the mysterious intricacies of sex? Perhaps Stro's passion excited without satisfying that part of her nature, and she hated Strickland because she felt in him the power to give her what she needed. I think she was quite sincere when she struggled against her husband's desire to bring him into the studio. I think she was frightened of him, though she knew not why, and I remembered how she had foreseen disaster. I think in some curious way the horror which she felt for him was a transference of the horror which she felt for herself, because he so strangely troubled her. His appearance was wild and uncou. There was aloofness in his eyes and sensuality in his mouth. He was big and strong. He gave the impression of untamed passion, and perhaps she felt in him, too, that sinister element which had made me think of those wild beings of the world's early history, when matter, retaining its early connection with the earth, seemed to possess yet a spirit of its own. If he affected her at all, it was inevitable that she should love or hate him. She hated him. And then, I fancy that the daily intimacy with the sick man moved her strangely. She raised his head to give him food, and it was heavy against her hand. When she had fed him, she wiped his sensual mouth and his red beard. She washed his limbs, they were covered with thick hair, and when she dried his hands, even in his weakness, they were strong and sineuy. His fingers were long, they were the capable fashioning fingers of the artist. And I know not what troubling thoughts they excited in her. He slept very quietly without a movement so that he might have been dead. And he was like some wild creature of the woods, resting after a long chase. And she wondered what fancies passed through his dreams. Did he dream of the nymph flying through the woods of Greece with the sat in hot pursuit? She fled, swift of foot and desperate, but he gained on her step by step till she felt his hot breath on her neck. And still she fled silently and silently he pursued. And when at last he seized her, was it terror that thrilled her heart? Or was it ecstasy?

[00:50:02]Blanch strove was in the cruel grip of appetite. Perhaps she hated Strickland still, but she hungered for him, and everything that had made up her life till then became of no account. She ceased to be a woman, complex, kind and petulant, considerate, and thoughtless.

[00:50:19]She was a mayad. She was desire. But perhaps this is very fanciful, and it may be that she was merely bored with her husband and went to Strickland out of a callous curiosity. She may have had no particular feeling for him, but succumbed to his wish from propinquity or idleness, to find then that she was powerless in a snare of her own contriving. How did I know what were the thoughts and emotions behind that placid brow and those cool gray eyes? But if one could be certain of nothing in dealing with creatures so incalculable as human beings, there were explanations of Blanch Stro's behavior, which were at all events plausible. On the other hand, I did not understand Strickland at all.

[00:51:04]I racked my brain, but could in no way account for an action so contrary to my conception of him. It was not strange that he should so heartlessly have betrayed his friend's confidence, nor that he hesitated not at all to gratify a whim at the cost of another's misery.

[00:51:22]That was in his character. He was a man without any conception of gratitude. He had no compassion. The emotions common to most of us simply did not exist in him. And it was as absurd to blame him for not feeling them as for blaming the tiger because he is fierce and cruel.

[00:51:42]But it was the whim I could not understand.

[00:51:45]I could not believe that Strickland had fallen in love with Blanch Stro. I did not believe him capable of love. That is an emotion in which tenderness is an essential part. But Strickland had no tenderness either for himself or for others. There is in love a sense of weakness, a desire to protect, an eagerness to do good and to give pleasure, if not unselfishness at all events, a selfishness which marvelously conceals itself. It has in it a certain diffidence. These were not traits which I could imagine in Strickland. Love is absorbing. It takes the lover out of himself. The most clear-sighted, though he may know, cannot realize that his love will cease. It gives body to what he knows is illusion. And knowing it is nothing else, he loves it better than reality. It makes a man a little more than himself, and at the same time a little less. He ceases to be himself. He is no longer an individual, but a thing, an instrument to some purpose foreign to his ego. Love is never quite devoid of sentimentality, and Strickland was the least inclined to that infirmity of any man I have known. I could not believe that he would ever suffer that possession of himself which love is, he could never endure a foreign yoke. I believed him capable of uprooting from his heart, though it might be with agony, so that he was left battered and in sanguin, anything that came between himself and that uncomprehended craving that urged him constantly to he knew not what. If I have succeeded at all in giving the complicated impression that Strickland made on me, it will not seem outrageous to say that I felt he was at once too great and too small for love.

[00:53:34]But I suppose that everyone's conception of the passion is formed on his own idiosyncrasies, and it is different with every different person. A man like Strickland would love in a manner peculiar to himself, it was vain to seek the analysis of his emotion.

[00:53:53]Chapter 31.

[00:53:56]Next day, though I pressed him to remain, Strove left me. I offered to fetch his things from the studio, but he insisted on going himself. I think he hoped they had not thought of getting them together so that he would have an opportunity of seeing his wife again, and perhaps inducing her to come back to him, but he found his traps waiting for him in the porter's lodge, and the concierge told him that Blanch had gone out. I do not think he resisted the temptation of giving her an account of his troubles. I found that he was telling them to everyone he knew. He expected sympathy, but only excited ridicule. He bore himself most unbecomingly.

[00:54:37]Knowing at what time his wife did her shopping one day, unable any longer to bear not seeing her, he way laid her in the street. She would not speak to him, but he insisted on speaking to her. He spluttered out words of apology for any wrong he had committed towards her. He told her he loved her devotedly and begged her to return to him. She would not answer. She walked hurriedly with averted face. I imagined him with his fat little legs trying to keep up with her, panting a little in his haste. He told her how miserable he was. He besought her to have mercy on him. He promised if she would forgive him, to do everything she wanted. He offered to take her for a journey. He told her that Strickland would soon tire of her. When he repeated to me the whole sorted little scene, I was outraged. He had shown neither sense nor dignity. He had omitted nothing that could make his wife despise him. There is no cruelty greater than a woman's to a man who loves her and whom she does not love. She has no kindness then, no tolerance, even. She has only an insane irritation.

[00:55:44]Blanch strove stopped suddenly and as hard as she could slapped her husband's face. She took advantage of his confusion to escape and ran up the stairs to the studio. No word had passed her lips. When he told me this, he put his hand to his cheek as though he still felt the smart of the blow, and in his eyes was a pain that was heart-rending, and an amazement that was ludicrous. He looked like an overblown school boy, and though I felt so sorry for him, I could hardly help laughing. Then he took to walking along the street which she must pass through to get to the shops, and he would stand at the corner on the other side as she went along. He dared not speak to her again, but sought to put into his round eyes the appeal that was in his heart. I suppose he had some idea that the sight of his misery would touch her. She never made the smallest sign that she saw him. She never even changed the hour of her errands or sought an alternative route. I have an idea that there was some cruelty in her indifference. Perhaps she got enjoyment out of the torture she inflicted. I wondered why she hated him so much. I begged Stro to behave more wisely. His want of spirit was exasperating.

[00:57:02]"You're doing no good at all by going on like this," I said. "I think you'd have been wiser if you'd hit her over the head with a stick. She wouldn't have despised you as she does now.

[00:57:13]I suggested that he should go home for a while. He had often spoken to me of the silent town somewhere up in the north of Holland where his parents still lived.

[00:57:23]They were poor people. His father was a carpenter and they dwelt in a little old red brick house, neat and clean by the side of a sluggish canal. The streets were wide and empty. For 200 years the place had been dying, but the houses had the homely stateliness of their time.

[00:57:41]rich merchants sending their wares to the distant indies had lived in them calm and prosperous lives and in their decent decay they kept still an aroma of their splendid past. You could wander along the canal till you came to broad green fields with windmills here and there in which cattle black and white grazed lazily.

[00:58:05]I thought that among those surroundings with their recollections of his boyhood, Durk Stro would forget his unhappiness, but he would not go. "I must be here when she needs me," he repeated. "It would be dreadful if something terrible happened, and I were not at hand."

[00:58:24]"What do you think is going to happen?"

[00:58:26]I asked. "I don't know, but I'm afraid."

[00:58:30]I shrugged my shoulders. For all his pain, Durk strove remained a ridiculous object. He might have excited sympathy if he had grown worn and thin. He did nothing of the kind. He remained fat, and his round red cheeks shone like ripe apples. He had great neatness of person, and he continued to wear his spruce black coat and his bowler hat, always a little too small for him in a dapper, jaunty manner. He was getting something of a pornch, and sorrow had no effect on it. He looked more than ever like a prosperous bagman. It is hard that a man's exterior should tally so little sometimes with his soul. Durk Stro had the passion of Romeo in the body of Satobi Belch. He had a sweet and generous nature, and yet was always blundering, a real feeling for what was beautiful, and the capacity to create only what was commonplace, a peculiar delicacy of sentiment and gross manners.

[00:59:27]He could exercise tact when dealing with the affairs of others, but none when dealing with his own. What a cruel, practical joke old nature played when she flung so many contradictory elements together, and left the man face to face with the perplexing callousness of the universe.

[00:59:45]Chapter 32.

[00:59:48]I did not see Strickland for several weeks. I was disgusted with him, and if I had had an opportunity, should have been glad to tell him so. But I saw no object in seeking him out for the purpose. I am a little shy of any assumption of moral indignation. There is always in it an element of self-satisfaction which makes it awkward to anyone who has a sense of humor. It requires a very lively passion to steal me to my own ridicule. There was a sardonic sincerity in Strickland which made me sensitive to anything that might suggest a pose. But one evening when I was passing along the avenue decli in front of the cafe which Strickland frequented and which I now avoided, I ran straight into him. He was accompanied by Blanch Strove, and they were just going to Strickland's favorite corner. Where the devil have you been all this time? said he. I thought you must be away. His cordiality was proof that he knew I had no wish to speak to him. He was not a man with whom it was worthwhile wasting politeness. "No," I said, "I haven't been away." "Why haven't you been here? There are more cafes in Paris than one at which to trifle away an idle hour."

[01:01:03]Blanch then held out her hand and bade me good evening. I do not know why I had expected her to be somehow changed. She wore the same gray dress that she wore so often, neat and becoming, and her brow was as candid, her eyes as untroubled as when I had been used to see her occupied with her household duties in the studio. "Come and have a game of chess," said Strickland. "I do not know why, at the moment I could think of no excuse. I followed them rather sulkily to the table at which Strickland always sat, and he called for the board and the chessmen. They both took the situation so much as a matter of course that I felt it absurd to do otherwise.

[01:01:46]Mrs. Strove watched the game with inscrable face. She was silent, but she had always been silent. I looked at her mouth for an expression that could give me a clue to what she felt. I watched her eyes for some telltale flash, some hint of dismay or bitterness. I scanned her brow for any passing line that might indicate a settling emotion. Her face was a mask that told nothing. Her hands lay on her lap, motionless, one in the other, loosely clasped. I knew from what I had heard that she was a woman of violent passions, and that injurious blow that she had given Durk, the man who had loved her so devotedly betrayed a sudden temper and a horrid cruelty.

[01:02:29]She had abandoned the safe shelter of her husband's protection, and the comfortable ease of a well-provided establishment, for what she could not but see was an extreme hazard. It showed an eagerness for adventure, a readiness for the hand-to-mouth, which the care she took of her home, and her love of good housewifeery made not a little remarkable. She must be a woman of complicated character, and there was something dramatic in the contrast of that with her demure appearance. I was excited by the encounter and my fancy worked busily while I sought to concentrate myself on the game I was playing. I always tried my best to beat Strickland because he was a player who despised the opponent he vanquished. His exaltation in victory made defeat more difficult to bear. On the other hand, if he was beaten, he took it with complete good humor. He was a bad winner and a good loser. Those who think that a man betrays his character nowhere more clearly than when he is playing a game might on this draw subtle inferences.

[01:03:32]When he had finished, I called the waiter to pay for the drinks and left them. The meeting had been devoid of incident. No word had been said to give me anything to think about, and any summises I might make were unwarranted.

[01:03:47]I was intrigued. I could not tell how they were getting on. I would have given much to be a disembodied spirit so that I could see them in the privacy of the studio and hear what they talked about.

[01:03:58]I had not the smallest indication on which to let my imagination work.

[01:04:03]Chapter 33.

[01:04:07]Two or three days later, Durk Stro called on me. I hear you've seen Blanch, he said. How on earth did you find out?

[01:04:15]I was told by someone who saw you sitting with them. Why didn't you tell me? I thought it would only pain you.

[01:04:22]What do I care if it does? You must know that I want to hear the smallest thing about her. I waited for him to ask me questions.

[01:04:31]What does she look like? He said, "Absolutely unchanged. Does she seem happy?" I shrugged my shoulders. "How can I tell? We were in a cafe. We were playing chess. I had no opportunity to speak to her." "Oh, but couldn't you tell by her face?" I shook my head. I could only repeat that by no word, by no hinted gesture, had she given an indication of her feelings. He must know better than I, how great were her powers of self-control.

[01:05:00]He clasped his hands emotionally. "Oh, I'm so frightened. I know something is going to happen, something terrible, and I can do nothing to stop it." "What sort of thing?" I asked. "Oh, I don't know," he moaned, seizing his head with his hands. I foresee some terrible catastrophe.

[01:05:19]Stro had always been excitable, but now he was beside himself. There was no reasoning with him. I thought it probable enough that Blanch Stro would not continue to find life with Strickland tolerable. But one of the falsest of proverbs is that you must lie on the bed that you have made. The experience of life shows that people are constantly doing things which must lead to disaster, and yet by some chance manage to evade the result of their folly. When Blanch quarreled with Strickland, she had only to leave him, and her husband was waiting humbly to forgive and forget. I was not prepared to feel any great sympathy for her. "You see, you don't love her," said Stro.

[01:06:03]"After all, there's nothing to prove that she is unhappy. For all we know, they may have settled down into a most domestic couple.

[01:06:11]Stro gave me a look with his woeful eyes. Of course, it doesn't much matter to you, but to me, it's so serious, so intensely serious.

[01:06:21]I was sorry if I had seemed impatient or flippant. Will you do something for me?

[01:06:26]asked Stro willingly. Will you write to Blanch for me? Why can't you write yourself? I've written over and over again. I didn't expect her to answer. I don't think she reads the letters. You make no account of feminine curiosity.

[01:06:43]Do you think she could resist? She could mine. I looked at him quickly. He lowered his eyes. That answer of his seemed to me strangely humiliating. He was conscious that she regarded him with an indifference so profound that the sight of his handwriting would have not the slightest effect on her. Do you really believe that she'll ever come back to you? I asked. I want her to know that if the worst comes to the worst, she can count on me. That's what I want you to tell her.

[01:07:16]I took a sheet of paper. What is it exactly you wish me to say? This is what I wrote. Dear Mrs. Strove, Durk wishes me to tell you that if at any time you want him, he will be grateful for the opportunity of being of service to you.

[01:07:32]He has no ill feeling towards you on account of anything that has happened.

[01:07:36]His love for you is unaltered.

[01:07:40]You will always find him at the following address.

[01:07:44]Chapter 34.

[01:07:47]But though I was no less convinced than Strove that the connection between Strickland and Blanch would end disastrously, I did not expect the issue to take the tragic form it did. The summer came, breathless and sultry, and even at night there was no coolness to rest one's jaded nerves. The sunbaked street seemed to give back the heat that had beat down on them during the day, and the passers by dragged their feet along them wearily. I had not seen Strickland for weeks. Occupied with other things, I had ceased to think of him and his affairs. Durk, with his vain lamentations, had begun to bore me, and I avoided his society. It was a sorted business, and I was not inclined to trouble myself with it further. One morning I was working. I sat in my pajamas. My thoughts wandered, and I thought of the sunny beaches of Britany, and the freshness of the sea. By my side was the empty bowl in which the concierge had brought me my cafe Olay, and the fragment of quason, which I had not had appetite enough to eat. I heard the concierge in the next room emptying my bath. There was a tinkle at my bell, and I left her to open the door. In a moment, I heard Stro's voice asking if I was in. Without moving, I shouted to him to come. He entered the room quickly and came up to the table at which I sat.

[01:09:11]She's killed herself, he said horsely.

[01:09:14]What do you mean? I cried, startled. He made movements with his lips as though he were speaking, but no sound issued from them. He jibbered like an idiot. My heart thumped against my ribs, and I do not know why, I flew into a temper. "For God's sake, collect yourself, man," I said. "What on earth are you talking about?" He made desparing gestures with his hands, but still no words came from his mouth. He might have been struck dumb. "I do not know what came over me."

[01:09:45]I took him by the shoulders and shook him. Looking back, I am vexed that I made such a fool of myself. I suppose the last restless nights had shaken my nerves more than I knew. "Let me sit down," he gasped at length.

[01:10:00]I filled a glass with St. Galmier and gave it to him to drink. I held it to his mouth as though he were a child. He gulped down a mouthful, and some of it was spilt on his shirt front. Who's killed herself?

[01:10:14]I do not know why I asked, for I knew whom he meant. He made an effort to collect himself. They had a row last night. He went away. Is she dead? No, they've taken her to the hospital. Then what are you talking about? I cried impatiently.

[01:10:30]Why did you say she'd killed herself?

[01:10:33]Don't be cross with me. I can't tell you anything if you talk to me like that. I clenched my hands, seeking to control my irritation.

[01:10:43]I attempted a smile. I'm sorry. Take your time. Don't hurry. There's a good fellow. His round blue eyes behind the spectacles were ghastly with terror. The magnifying glasses he wore distorted them. When the concierge went up this morning to take a letter, she could get no answer to her ring. She heard someone groaning. The door wasn't locked and she went in. Blanch was lying on the bed.

[01:11:08]She'd been frightfully sick. There was a bottle of oxylic acid on the table. Stro hid his face in his hands and swayed backwards and forwards, groaning.

[01:11:19]Was she conscious?

[01:11:21]Yes. Oh, if you knew how she's suffering. I can't bear it. I can't bear it. His voice rose to a shriek. Damn it all. You haven't got to bear it. I cried impatiently. She's got to bear it. How can you be so cruel? What have you done?

[01:11:38]They sent for a doctor and for me, and they told the police. I'd given the concierge 20 franks and told her to send for me if anything happened.

[01:11:48]He paused a minute and I saw that what he had to tell me was very hard to say.

[01:11:55]When I went, she wouldn't speak to me.

[01:11:58]She told them to send me away. I swore that I forgave her everything, but she wouldn't listen. She tried to beat her head against the wall. The doctor told me that I mustn't remain with her. She kept on saying, "Send him away." I went and waited in the studio. And when the ambulance came and they put her on a stretcher, they made me go in the kitchen so that she shouldn't know I was there. While I dressed, for Stro wished me to go at once with him to the hospital. He told me that he had arranged for his wife to have a private room, so that she might at least be spared the sorded promiscuity of a ward.

[01:12:34]On our way, he explained to me why he desired my presence. If she still refused to see him, perhaps she would see me. He begged me to repeat to her that he loved her still. He would reproach her for nothing, but desired only to help her. He made no claim on her, and on her recovery would not seek to induce her to return to him. She would be perfectly free. But when we arrived at the hospital, a gaunt, cheerless building, the mere sight of which was enough to make one's heart sick, and after being directed from this official to that, up endless stairs and through long bare corridors, found the doctor in charge of the case. We were told that the patient was too ill to see anyone that day. The doctor was a little bearded man in white with an off-hand manner. He evidently looked upon a case as a case and anxious relatives as a nuisance which must be treated with firmness. Moreover, to him the affair was commonplace. It was just an hysterical woman who had quarreled with her lover and taken poison. It was constantly happening. At first he thought that Durk was the cause of the disaster and he was needlessly brusk with him. When I explained that he was the husband anxious to forgive, the doctor looked at him suddenly with curious searching eyes. I seemed to see in them a hint of mockery. It was true that Stro had the head of the husband who is deceived.

[01:14:04]The doctor faintly shrugged his shoulders. "There is no immediate danger," he said in answer to our questioning. "One doesn't know how much she took. It may be that she will get off with a fright. Women are constantly trying to commit suicide for love, but generally they take care not to succeed.

[01:14:23]It's generally a gesture to arouse pity or terror in their lover. There was in his tone a frigid contempt. It was obvious that to him Blanch Stro was only a unit to be added to the statistical list of attempted suicides in the city of Paris during the current year. He was busy and could waste no more time on us.

[01:14:45]He told us that if we came at a certain hour next day, should Blanch be better, it might be possible for her husband to see her.