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“What cause is that?” he asked curtly, for now he had the upper hand.

“You will do something for the oppressed women, won’t you?”

“Where are the oppressed women?”

“What? Have you deserted our great cause? Are you leaving us in the lurch?”

“What cause are you talking about?”

“The Women’s Cause!”

“I know nothing about it.”

“You know nothing about it? Oh, come! You must admit that the position of the women of the lower classes is deplorable.”

“No, I can’t see that their position is any worse than the position of the men. Deliver the men from their exploiters and the women too will be free.”

“But the unfortunates who have to sell themselves, and the scoundrels who–“

“The scoundrels who pay! Has ever a man taken payment for a pleasure which both enjoy?”

“That is not the question! The question is whether it is just that the law of the land should punish the one and let the other go scotfree.”

“There is no injustice in that. The one has degraded herself until she has become a source of infection, and therefore the State treats her as it treats a mad dog. Whenever you find a man, degraded to that degree, well, put him under police control, too. Oh, you pure angels, who despise men and look upon them as unclean beasts!…”

“Well, what is it? What do you want me to do?”

He noticed that she had taken a manuscript from the sideboard and held it in her hand. Without waiting for a reply, he took it from her and began to examine it. “A bill to be introduced into Parliament! I’m to be the man of straw who introduces it! Is that moral? Strictly speaking, is it honest?”

Helena rose from her chair, threw herself on the sofa and burst into tears.

He, too, rose and went to her. He took her hand in his and felt her pulse, afraid lest her attack might be serious. She seized his hand convulsively, and pressed it against her bosom.

“Don’t leave me,” she sobbed, “don’t go. Stay, and let me keep faith in you.”

For the first time in his life he saw her giving way to her emotions. This delicate body, which he had loved and admired so much, could be warmed into life! Red, warm blood flowed in those blue veins. Blood which could distil tears. He gently stroked her brow.

“Oh!” she sighed, “why aren’t you always good to me like that? Why hasn’t it always been so?”

“Well,” he answered, “why hasn’t it? Tell me, why not?”

Helena’s eyelids drooped. “Why not?” she breathed, softly.

She did not withdraw her hand and he felt a gentle warmth radiating from her velvety skin; his love for her burst into fresh flames, but this time he felt that there was hope.

At last she rose to her feet.

“Don’t despise me,” she said, “don’t despise me, dear.”

And she went into her room.

What was the matter with her? Albert wondered as he went up to town. Was she passing through a crisis of some sort? Was she only just beginning to realise that she was his wife?

He spent the whole day in town. In the evening he went to the theatre. They played Le monde ou l’on s’ennuit. As he sat and watched platonic love, the union of souls, unmasked and ridiculed, he felt as if a veil of close meshed lies were being drawn from his reason; he smiled as he saw the head of the charming beast peeping from underneath the card-board wings of the stage-angel; he almost shed tears of amusement at his long, long self-deception; he laughed at his folly. What filth and corruption lay behind this hypocritical morality, this insane desire for emancipation from healthy, natural instincts. It was the ascetic teaching of idealism and Christianity which had implanted this germ into the nineteenth century.

He felt ashamed! How could he have allowed himself to be duped all this time!

There was still light in Helena’s room as he passed her door on tip-toe so as not to wake her. He heard her cough.