Frictions
by
His eyes had been opened. He realised the perversity of the world, but he lacked the power to penetrate the darkness and discover the cause of this perversity; therefore he gave himself up to despair, a disillusioned man. Then he fell in love with a girl who married somebody else. He complained of her conduct to his friends, male and female, but they only laughed at him. For a little while longer he trod his solitary path alone and misunderstood. He belonged to “society,” and joined in its pursuits, because it distracted him; but at the bottom of his heart he had nothing but contempt for its amusements, which he took no pains to conceal.
One evening he was present at a ball. He danced with a young woman of unusual beauty and animation. When the band ceased playing, he remained standing by her side. He knew he ought to talk to her but he did not know what to say. After a while the girl broke the silence.
“You are fond of dancing, Baron?” she said with a cold, smile.
“Oh no! not at all,” he answered. “Are you?”
“I can’t imagine anything more foolish,” she replied.
He had met his man, or rather his woman.
“Why do you dance, then?” he asked.
“For the same reason that you do.”
“Can you read my mind?”
“Easily enough; if two people think alike, the other always knows.”
“H’m! You’re a strange woman! Do you believe in love?”
“No!”
“Nor do I! You and I ought to get married.”
“I’m beginning to think so myself.”
“Would you marry me?”
“Why not? At any rate, we shouldn’t fight.”
“Horrible idea! But how can you be so sure?”
“Because we think alike.”
“Yes, but that might become monotonous. We should have nothing to talk about, because the one would always know what the other is thinking.”
“True; but wouldn’t it be even more monotonous if we remained unmarried and misunderstood?”
“You are right! Would you like to think it over?”
“Yes, until the cotillon.”
“No longer?”
“Why any longer?”
He took her back to the drawing-room and left her there, drank several glasses of champagne and watched her during supper. She allowed two young members of the Diplomatic Corps to wait on her, but made fun of them all the time and treated them as if they were footmen.
As soon as the cotillon began, he went to her and offered her a bouquet.
“Do you accept me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
And so they were engaged.
It’s a splendid match, said the world. They are made for one another. They are equals as far as social position and money are concerned. They hold the same blase views of life. By blase the world meant that they cared very little for dances, theatres, bazaars, and other noble sports without which life is not really worth living.
They were like carefully wiped twin slates, exactly alike; but utterly unable to surmise whether or not life would write the same legend on both. They never asked one another during the tender moments of their engagement: Do you love me? They knew quite well that it was impossible, because they did not believe in love. They talked little, but they understood one another perfectly.
And they married.
He was always attentive, always polite, and they were good friends.
When the baby was born, it had but one effect on their relationship; they had something to talk about now.
But by-and-by the husband began to reveal a certain energy. He had a sense of duty, and moreover, he was sick of being idle. He had a private income, but was in no way connected with politics or the Government. Now he looked round for some occupation which would fill the void in his life. He had heard the first morning call of the awakening spirits and felt it his duty to do his share of the great work of research into the causes of human misery. He read much, made a careful study of politics and eventually wrote an article and sent it to a paper. The consequence was that he was elected a member of the Board of Education. This necessitated hard reading in future, for all questions were to be threshed out thoroughly.