FullReads

They fidgeted about the drawing-room and tried to make conversation. But an obstinate silence again and again reasserted itself. The candles in the chandelier had burnt low and the wax fell in greasy drops on the carpet. The atmosphere was heavy with the smell of food and the fumes of the wines which mingled with the voluptuous perfume of carnations and heliotrope, exhaled by Helena’s bridal bouquet that lay on a side-table.

At last he went up to her, held out his arms, and said in a voice which he hoped sounded natural:

“And now you are my wife!”

“What do you mean?” was Helena’s brusque reply.

Completely taken aback, he allowed his arms to drop to his sides. But he pulled himself together again, almost immediately, and said with a self-conscious smile:

“I mean to say that we are husband and wife.”

Helena looked at him as if she thought that he had taken leave of his senses.

“Explain your words!” she said.

That was just what he couldn’t do. Philosophy and ethics failed him; he was faced by a cold and exceedingly unpleasant reality.

“It’s modesty,” he thought. “She’s quite right, but I must attack and do my duty.”

“Have you misunderstood me?” asked Helena and her voice trembled.

“No, of course not, but, my dear child, h’m–we–h’m….”

“What language is that? Dear child? What do you take me for? What do you mean? Albert, Albert!”–she rushed on without waiting for a reply, which she didn’t want–“Be great, be noble, and learn to see in women something more than sex. Do that, and you will be happy and great!”

Albert was beaten. Crushed with shame and furious with his false friend who had counselled him wrongly, he threw himself on his knees before her and stammered:

“Forgive me, Helena, you are nobler, purer, better than I; you are made of finer fibre and you will lift me up when I threaten to perish in coarse matter.”

“Arise and be strong, Albert,” said Helena, with the manner of a prophetess. “Go in peace and show to the world that love and base animal passion are two very different things. Good-night!”

Albert rose from his knees and stared irresolutely after his wife who went into her room and shut the door behind her.

Full of the noblest and purest sentiments he also went into his room. He took off his coat and lighted a cigar. His room was furnished like a bachelor’s room: a bed-sofa, a writing table, some book shelves, a washstand.

When he had undressed, he dipped a towel into his ewer and rubbed himself all over. Then he lay down on his sofa and opened the evening paper. He wanted to read while he smoked his cigar. He read an article on Protection. His thoughts began to flow in a more normal channel, and he considered his position.

Was he married or was he still a bachelor? He was a bachelor as before, but there was a difference–he now had a female boarder who paid nothing for her board. The thought was anything but pleasant, but it was the truth. The cook kept house, the housemaid attended to the rooms. Where did Helena come in? She was to develop her individuality! Oh, rubbish! he thought, I am a fool! Supposing his friend had been right? Supposing women always behaved in this silly way under these circumstances? She could not very well come to him–he must go to her. If he didn’t go, she would probably laugh at him to-morrow, or, worse still, be offended. Women were indeed incomprehensible. He must make the attempt.

He jumped up, put on his dressing-gown and went into the drawing-room. With trembling knees he listened outside Helena’s door.

Not a sound. He took heart of grace, and approached a step or two. Blue flashes of lightning darted before his eyes as he knocked.

No answer. He trembled violently and beads of perspiration stood on his forehead.

He knocked again. And in a falsetto voice, proceeding from a parched throat, he said: