Maurice Guest Part 26

"DREI TAUSEND MARK!--ALLE EHRE!"

Again Krafft leaned forward with a maudlin laugh.

"JAWOHL--but on what condition?"

"Heinz, you ferret out things like a pig's snout," said Furst with an exaggerated, tipsy disgust.

"What, the old louse made conditions, did she?"

"Is she jealous?"

There was another roar at this. Schilsky looked as black as thunder.

Again Furst strove to intercede. "Jealous?--in seven devils' name, why jealous? The old scarecrow! She hasn't an ounce of flesh to her bones."

Schilsky laughed. "Much you know about it, you fool! Flesh or no flesh, she's as troublesome as the plumpest. I wouldn't go through the last month again for all you could offer me. Month?--no, nor the last six months either! It's been a h.e.l.l of a life. Three of 'em, whole d.a.m.ned three, at my heels, and each ready to tear the others' eyes out."

"Three! Hullo!"

"Three? Bah!--what's three?" sneered the painted youth.

Schilsky turned on him. "What's three? Go and try it, if you want to know, you pap-sodden suckling! Three, I said, and they've ended by making the place too hot to hold me. But I'm done now. No more for me!--if my name's what it is."

Having once broken through his reserve, he talked on, with heated fluency; and the longer he spoke, the more he was carried away by his grievances. For, all he had asked for, he a.s.sured his hearers, had been peace and quiet--the peace necessary to important work. "Jesus and Mary! Are a fellow's chief obligations not his obligations to himself?"

At the same time, it was not his intention to put any of the blame on Lulu's shoulders: she couldn't help herself. "Lulu is Lulu. I'm d.a.m.ned fond of Lulu, boys, and I've always done my best by her--is there anyone here who wants to say I haven't?"

There was none; a chorus of sympathetic ayes went up from the party that was drinking at his expense.

Mollified, he proceeded, a.s.serting vehemently that he would have gone miles out of his way to avoid causing Lulu pain. "I'm a soft-hearted fool--I admit it!--where a woman is concerned." But he had yielded to her often enough--too often--as it was; the time had come for him to make a stand. Let those present remember what he had sacrificed only that summer for Lulu's sake. Would anyone else have done as much for his girl? He made bold to doubt it. For a man like Zeppelin to come to him, and to declare, with tears in his eyes, that he could teach him no more--could he afford to treat a matter like that with indifference?

Had he really been free to make a choice?

Again he looked round the table with emphasis, and those who had their muscles sufficiently under control, hastened to lay their faces in seemly folds.

Then, however, Schilsky's mood changed; he struck the table so that the gla.s.ses danced. "And shall I tell you what my reward has been for not going? Do you want to know how Lulu has treated me for staying on here?

'You are a quarter of an hour late: where have you been? You've only written two bars since I saw you this morning: what have you been doing? A letter has come in a strange writing: who is it from? You've put on another tie: who have you been to see?' HIMMELSAKRAMENT!" He drained his gla.s.s. "I've had the life of a dog, I tell you--of a dog!

There's not been a moment in the day when she hasn't spied on me, and followed me, and made me ridiculous. Over every trifle she has got up a fresh scene. She's even gone so far as to come to my room and search my pockets, when she knew I wasn't at home."

"Yes, yes," sneered Krafft. "Exactly! And so, gentlemen he was now for slinking off without a word to her."

"Oh, PFUI!" spat the American.

"Call him a liar!" said a voice.

"Liar?" repeated Schilsky dramatically. "Why liar? I don't deny it. I would have done it gladly if I could--isn't that just what I've been saying? Lulu would have got over it all the quicker alone. And then, why shouldn't I confess it? You're all my friends here." He dropped his voice. "I'm afraid of Lulu, boys. I was afraid she'd get round me, and then my chance was gone. She might have shot me, but she wouldn't have let me go. You never know how a woman of that type'll break out--never!"

"But she didn't!" said Krafft. "You live."

Schilsky understood him.

"Some brute," he cried savagely, "some dirty brute had nothing better to do than to tell her."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the painted boy.

Furst blew his nose. "It wasn't me. I was mum. 'Pon my honour, I was."

"My G.o.d!" said Schilsky, and fell to remembering it. "What a time I've been through with her this afternoon!" He threatened to be overcome by the recollection, and supported his head on his hands. "A woman has no grat.i.tude," he murmured, and drew his handkerchief from his pocket. "It is a weak, childish s.e.x--with no inkling of higher things." Here, however, he suddenly drew himself up. "Life is very hard!" he cried, in a loud voice. "The perpetual struggle between duty and inclination for a man of genius ...!"

He grew franker, and gave gratuitous details of the scene that had taken place in his room that afternoon. Most of those present were in ecstasies at this divulging of his private life, which went forward to the accompaniment of snores from Ford, and the voice of Dove, who, with portentous gravity, sang over and over again, the first strophe of THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER.

"A fury!" said Schilsky. "A ... a what do you call it?--a ... Meg ... a Meg--" He gave it up and went on: "By G.o.d, but Lulu knows how! Keep clear of her nails, boys--I'd advise you!" At this point, he pulled back his collar, and exhibited a long, dark scratch on the side of his neck. "A little remembrance she gave me to take away with me!" While he displayed it, he seemed to be rather proud of it; but immediately afterwards, his mood veered round again to one of bitter resentment. To ill.u.s.trate the injustice she had been guilty of, and his own long-suffering, he related, at length, the story of his flirtation with Ephie, and the infinite pains he had been at to keep Louise in ignorance of what was happening. He grew very tender with himself as he told it. For, according to him, the whole affair had come about without any a.s.sistance of his. "What the deuce was I to do? Chucked herself full at my head, did the little one. No invitation necessary--a ripe plum, boys! Touch the plum--and off it tumbles! As pretty a little thing, too, as ever was made! Had everything arranged by the second meeting. Papa to set us up; house in New York; money IN HULLE UND FULLE!"

At the mention of New York, the lean American looked grave. "Look here, you, don't think you're the whole shoot because you've got a wave in your hair!" he murmured in English.

But Schilsky did not hear him; his voice droned on, giving the full particulars of this particular case. He grew momentarily opener.

"One no sooner out of the door than the other was in," he a.s.serted, and laughed long to himself.

For some time past, Maurice had been possessed by the idea that what was happening concerned him very nearly, and that he ought to interfere and put his foot down. His hands had grown cold, and he sat vainly trying to speak: nothing, however, came, but little drunken gulps and hiccups. But the first mention of Ephie's name seemed to put new strength into him; he made a violent effort, and rose to his feet, holding on to the table with both hands. He could not, however, manage to attract attention; no one took any notice of him; and besides this, he had himself no notion what it was that he really wanted to say.

"And drowns his sorrows in the convivial gla.s.s!" he suddenly shouted in English, at the top of his voice, which he had found. He had a vague belief that he was quoting a well-known line of poetry, and, though he did not in the least understand how it applied to the situation, he continued to repeat it, with varying shades of fervour, till some one called out: "Oh, stop your blasted rot!"

He laughed hoa.r.s.ely at this, could not check himself, and was so exhausted when he had finished that it took him some time to remember why he was on his feet. Schilsky was still relating: his face was darkly red, his voice husky, and he flapped his arms with meaningless gestures. A pa.s.sionate rebellion, a kind of primitive hatred, gripped Maurice, and when Schilsky paused for breath, he could contain himself no longer. He felt the burning need of contradicting the speaker, even though he could not catch the drift of what was said.

"It's a lie!" he cried fiercely, with such emphasis that every face was turned to him. "A d.a.m.ned lie!"

"A lie? What the devil do you mean?" responded not one but many voices--the whole table seemed to be asking him, with the exception of Dove, who sang on in an ever decreasing tempo.

"Get out!--Let him alone; he's drunk. He doesn't know what he's saying--He's got rats in his head!" he heard voices a.s.serting.

Forthwith he began a lengthy defence of himself, broken only by gaps in which his brain refused to work. Conscious that no one was listening to him, he bawled more and more loudly.

"Oh, quit it, you double-barrelled a.s.s!" said the American.

Schilsky, persuaded by those next him to let the incident pa.s.s unnoticed, contented himself with a: "VERFLUCHTE SCHWEINEREI!" spat, after Furst's gurgled account of Maurice's previous insobriety, across the floor behind him, to express his contempt, and proceeded as dominatingly as before with the narration of his love-affairs.

The blood rushed to Maurice's head at the sound of this voice which he could neither curb nor understand. Rage mastered him--a vehement desire to be quits. He kicked back his chair, and rocked to and fro.

"It's a lie--a dirty lie!" he cried. "You make her unhappy--G.o.d, how unhappy you make her! You illtreat her. You've never given her a day's happiness. S ... said so ... herself. I heard her ... I swear ... I----"

His voice turned to a whine; his words came thick and incoherent.

Schilsky sprang to his feet and aimed the contents of a half-emptied gla.s.s at Maurice's face. "Take that, you blasted spy!--you Englishman!"

he spluttered. "I'll teach you to mix your dirty self in my affairs!"

Every one jumped up; there was noise and confusion; simultaneously two waiters entered the room, as if they had not been unprepared for something of this kind. Furst and another man restrained Schilsky by the arms, reasoning with him with more force than coherence. Maurice, the beer dripping from chin, collar and s.h.i.+rt-front, struggled furiously with some one who held him back.

"Let me get at him--let me get at him!" he cried. "I'll teach him to treat a woman as he does. The sneak--the cur--the filthy cad! He's not fit to touch her hand--her beautiful hand--her beau ... ti ... ful----"

Here, overpowered by his feelings, as much as by superior strength, he sank on a chair and wept.

"I'll break his bones!" raved Schilsky. "What the h.e.l.l does he mean by it?--the INFAME SCHUFT, the AAS, the dirty ENGLANDER! Thinks he'll sneak after her himself, does he?--What in Jesus' name is it to him how I treat her? I'll take a stick to her if I like--it's none of his blasted business! Look here, do you see that?" He freed one hand, fumbled in his pocket, and, almost inarticulate with rage and liquor, brandished a key across the table. "Do you see that? That's a key, isn't it, you drunken hog? Well, with that key, I can let myself into Lulu's room at any hour I want to; I can go there now, this very minute, if I like--do you think she'll turn me out, you infernal spy?