Stories by English Authors: Africa Part 15

"Then you will pay me."

"I will not. I cannot."

"I shall take measures, my friend, to force you to pay me. I have not dealt harshly with you. I came here to help you, and you have insulted me and beaten me."

"Because you are a dog of a Jew, and you have tried to steal my son."

A nasty look came into the Jew's eyes,--a cold, cunning look,--and he was about to reply when the door opened and Xantippe entered. She was well dressed, and wore some ornaments of gold. Amos turned toward her, asking the man:

"This is your wife?"

But Gregorio told Xantippe rapidly the history of his adventures with the boy; and the woman, hearing them, moved quietly to the corner where he slept, and took him in her arms.

The Jew smiled. "I see," he said, "that madam has money. She has taken the advice I gave you the other day. Now I know that you can pay me, and if you do not within two days, Gregorio Livadas, you will repent the insults you have heaped on my head this night."

He walked quietly to the corner of the room, where Xantippe sat nursing the boy, touched the child gently on the forehead with his lips, and then went out.

For some minutes neither Xantippe nor Gregorio spoke, but the man rubbed the infant's forehead with his finger as if to wipe out the stain of the Jew's kiss.

VII--XANTIPPE SPEAKS OUT

At last the silence, roused only by the strident buzzing of the mosquitos, became unendurable. Gregorio gave a preparatory cough and opened his lips to speak, but the words refused to be born. He was unnerved. The odious visitor, the wearying day, the memory of Xantippe's face at the window, combined to make him fearful. He watched, under his half-closed lids, his wife crouching on the far side of the boy. Once or twice, as he was rubbing the youngster's forehead, his fingers touched those of his wife as she waved off the mosquitos; but at each contact with them he s.h.i.+vered and his fears increased. He tried, vainly, to get his thoughts straight, and lit a cigarette with apparent calmness, swaggering to the window; but his legs did not cease to tremble, and the unsteadiness of his gait caused Xantippe to smile as she watched him.

Resting by the window, Gregorio widened the lips of the lattice and let in a stream of moonbeams that rested on wife and child, illumining the dark corner.

"Gregorio!"

"Yes."

"Have you told me all? Is there nothing else to tell em about our son and the Jew?"

Gregorio felt he must now speak; it was not possible to keep silence longer. He was pleased that his wife had begun the conversation, for it seemed easier to answer questions than to frame them. "I have told you the whole story. There is no more to tell. It was by accident I found him in the bazaar, and that devil Amos was bending over him. I could kill that man."

"What good would that do?"

"Fancy if we had lost the boy! Think of the sacrifices we have made for him, and they would have been useless."

"Have you made any sacrifices, Gregorio?"

The question was quietly asked, but there was a ring of irony in the sound of the voice, and Gregorio, to shun his wife's gaze, moved into the friendly shadows. For some minutes he did not answer. At length, with a nervous laugh, he replied:

"Of course. We have both made sacrifices, great sacrifices."

"It is odd," pursued Xantippe, gently, as if speaking to herself, "that you should so flatter yourself. You professed to care for me once; you only regard me now as a slave to earn money for you."

"It is for our son's sake."

"Is it for our son's sake also that you sit with Madam Marx, that you drink her wine, that you kiss her?"

Gregorio could not answer. He felt it were useless to try and explain, though the reason seemed to him clear enough.

"I am glad to have the chance," continued Xantippe, "of talking to you, for we may now understand each other. I have made the greatest sacrifice, and because it was for our son's sake I forgave you. I wept, but, as I wept, I said, 'It is h.e.l.l for Gregorio too.' But when I looked from the window this afternoon I knew it was not h.e.l.l for you. I knew you did not care what became of me. It was pleasant for you to send me away to make money while you drank and kissed at the Penny-farthing Shop. I came suddenly to know that the man had spoken truth."

"What man?" asked Gregorio, huskily.

"The man! The man you bade me find. Because money is not gathered from the pavements. You know that, and you sent me out to get money. When I first came back to you I flung the gold at you; it burned my fingers, and your eagerness for it stung. But I did not quite hate you, though his words had begun to chime in my ears: 'In my country such a husband would be horsewhipped.' When you were kind I was little more than a dog you liked to pet. I thought that was how all women were treated. I know differently now. You will earn money through me, for it is my duty to my son, but you have earned something else."

"Yes?" queried Gregorio.

"My hate. Surely you are not surprised? I have learned what love is these last few days, have learned what a real man is like. I know you to be what he called you, a cur and a coward. I should never have learned this but for you, and I am grateful, very grateful. It is useless to swear and to threaten me with your fists. You dare not strike me, because, were you to injure me, you would lose your money. You have tried to degrade me, and you have failed. I am happier than I have ever been, and far, far wiser. When a woman learns what a man's love is, she becomes wiser in a day than if she had studied books for a hundred years."

Xantippe ceased speaking and, taking her son in her arms, closed her eyes and fell asleep quietly, a gentle smile hovering round her lips.

Gregorio scowled at her savagely, and would have liked to strike her, to beat out his pa.s.sion on her white breast and shoulders. But she had spoken only the truth when she said he dare not touch her. With impotent oaths he sought to let off the anger that boiled in him. He feared to think, and every word she had uttered made him think in spite of himself. The events of sixty hours had destroyed what little of good there was in the man. Save only the idolatrous love for his child, he scarcely retained one enn.o.bling quality.

Little by little his anger cooled, his shame died out of him, and he began to wonder curiously what manner of man this was whose words had so stirred his wife. Wondering he fell asleep, nor did he awaken till the sun was risen.

While eating his breakfast he inquired cunningly concerning this wise teacher of the gospels of love and hate, but Xantippe for a time did not answer.

"Is he a Greek?"

"No."

"A Frenchman?"

"No."

"A German?"

"No."

Suddenly Gregorio felt a kind of cramp at his heart, and he had to pause before he put the next question. He could scarcely explain why he hesitated, but he called to mind the Paradise cafe and the red-faced Englishman. He was ready enough to sacrifice his wife if by so doing money might be gained, but he felt somehow hurt in his vanity at the idea of this ugly, slow-witted Northerner usurping his place. With an effort, however, he put the question:

"Is he an Englishman?"

"Yes."

He was seized with a tumult of anger. He spoke volubly, talking of the ignorance of the English, their brutality, their dull brains, their stupid pride. Xantippe waited till he had finished speaking and then replied quietly:

"It cannot matter to you. It is my concern. You have lost all rights to be angry with me or those connected with me."

Gregorio refused to hear reason, and explained how he begrudged them their wealth and fame. "For these English are a dull people, and we Greeks are greatly superior."

"I do not agree with you," Xantippe replied. "I have learned what a man is since I have known him, and I have learned to hate you. You may have more brains--that I know nothing of, nor do I care. He could not behave as you have behaved, nor have sacrificed me as you have sacrificed me.

Some of his money comes to you. You want money. Be satisfied."

Gregorio felt the justice of her words, and he watched her put on her hat and leave the room. A minute later, looking out of the window, he saw her link her arm in that of the Englishman of the Paradiso, and across the street, at the threshold of the Penny-farthing Shop, Madam Marx waved her hand to himself and laughed.