The Twilight of the Souls Part 22

"Diplomacy is the finest profession in the world," she said, sharply.

"There's nothing above it.... It's just those new ideas, dear, which Granny can't keep up with and which make her so sad, because she doesn't understand them...."

"Granny, I can't bear to see you crying like this."

He sat down beside her, took her hand, looked into her eyes. She mistook his gentleness:

"Won't you think it over, Addie?" she asked, softly and coaxingly:

"No, Granny," he said, in a calm, decided tone. "I can't do that."

"You mean, you won't."

"I can't, I mustn't, Granny."

"You mustn't?"

"No, Granny. Do try to realize, Granny dear, that I _mustn't_."

The old woman's head went up and down, nodding bitter reproaches....

"Granny, may I promise you to try my hardest ... to do you credit, one of these days ... as a doctor?"

She gave an angry, contemptuous smile through her tears. He kissed her very tenderly....

"Ah," he thought to himself, "how we all drag with us--every one of us--that burden of vanity in our souls ... which prevents us from living, from really _living_!..."

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Oh, dear!

[2] Mistress.

CHAPTER XII

Yes, Gerrit had quite forgotten the golden glint of those two laughing eyes which he had seemed to recognize; he had only just reflected, lightly and vaguely, that he must have been mistaken. And great was his surprise, a few days later, when, on his way to the Witte after dinner, a woman came up to him near the club, in the dusk of the evening, and, as she pa.s.sed, flashed a laughing glance into his eyes and whispered very tenderly, almost in his ear:

"Good-evening, Gerrit!"

He knew the voice, even as he had known the eyes: a drowsy, deep-throated note, with a slight roll of the "r's." Yes, he recognized her: it was really Pauline; she was back at the Hague. After twelve years' time!... Well, he took no notice of her, walked on, turned the corner and reached the Witte at once. He ran up the steps, almost as though fleeing from something outside; and his face was red, his temples throbbed. He stayed talking to his friends for an hour or so, curious to learn whether they too had happened to see Pauline. But the others--younger officers than himself, he reflected--did not know her; and he did not hear her name mentioned....

He went home early. The impudent wench, to _dare_ to speak to him! He went to bed early, man of regular habits that he had become in the course of years; and, while Adeline was already asleep in the other bed, he saw the golden eyes laughing, heard his name murmured by that drowsy, provocative voice, heard it whispered almost close to his ear.... He fell asleep and, in his dreams, saw the golden eyes....

Well, he thought next morning, if he was to start dreaming of all the eyes into which he had looked, his sleep would be one great firmament of eyes! And, as he got up and took his bath, he threw the thing off him, washed those eyes out of his mind.... Then he breakfasted, quickly, with his pretty children, vigorous and fair-haired, around him; and then he rode to the barracks....

But, two days later, walking back from barracks with a couple of officers, at six or half-past, he came upon Pauline under the fading trees beside the Alexandersveld. He repressed a movement of impatience and thought:

"Is she mad? Is she pursuing me deliberately?" But he did not let the others notice anything. One of them said:

"A fine girl. Who is she?"

But none of them knew; and they went on. Gerrit did not look round.

The thing began to get on his nerves. What did the d.a.m.ned wench want to come back to Holland for and why must she look at him and speak to him, why must she go walking past the barracks? Was she mad, was she mad?...

He felt angry and uneasy.... And, a day or two after, as though he had a presentiment, he hung about the barracks, so as to go away alone, quite late.

He met her; and, in the dim light under the fading trees, her eyes laughed towards him through the distance like gold, with that gay, wicked glint of mockery.

"d.a.m.n it all!" he cursed.

And, resolved to take up a firm att.i.tude, he squared his chest, put his shoulders back, apparently wis.h.i.+ng to fill the whole lane with his manly determination to force his way through every ambush and snare. But she stopped right in front of him and said, in that drowsy, seductive voice:

"Good-evening, Gerrit!"

"Look here, clear off, will you? And be d.a.m.ned quick about it!" said Gerrit, angrily.

"It's so nice, meeting you again!"

"Yes, but I don't think it a bit nice, see? So be off!"

And he tried to walk on, broad-chested and imposing, the strong man who would trample on every smiling and mocking temptation that blocked his way under the fading trees.

"Gerrit, I _must_ speak to you," she implored.

"Yes, but I don't want to speak to you."

"Oh, but I _must_ speak to you, Gerrit!" murmured the languorous, maddening voice. "I must, I must speak to you. Not here, but just ...

just inside the Woods."

"What do you want to speak to me about?"

"Only for a second.... I can't tell you here."

"Well, no, d'you see?" said Gerrit, roughly. "I don't want to have anything to do with you."

"Yes, yes, Gerrit.... Please, Gerrit ... only for a second...."

And he walked on.

She followed him:

"Gerrit...."

"I say, if you don't hurry up and clear out...!"