Gladiator

by Philip Wylie

  II

  Before the summer was ended, however, a new twist of his life andaffairs started the mechanism of the professor's imagination again. Itwas announced to him when he returned from summer school on a hotafternoon. He dropped his portfolio on the parlour desk, one corner ofwhich still showed the claw-marks of the miscreant Samson, and sat downwith a comfortable sigh.

  "Abednego." His wife seldom addressed him by his first name.

  "Yes?"

  "I--I--I want to tell you something."

  "Yes?"

  "Haven't you noticed any difference in me lately?"

  He had never noticed a difference in his wife. When they reached oldage, he would still be unable to discern it. He shook his head andlooked at her with some apprehension. She was troubled. "What's thematter?"

  "I suppose you wouldn't--yet," she said. "But--well--I'm with child."

  The professor folded his upper lip between his thumb and forefinger."With child? Pregnant? You mean--"

  "I'm going to have a baby."

  Soon after their marriage the timid notion of parenthood had escapedthem. They had, in fact, avoided its mechanics except on those rareevenings when tranquillity and the reproductive urge conspired to imbuehim with courage and her with sinfulness. Nothing came of thatinfrequent union. They never expected anything.

  And now they were faced with it. He murmured: "A baby."

  Faint annoyance moved her. "Yes. That's what one has. What are we goingto do?"

  "I don't know, Matilda. But I'm glad."

  She softened. "So am I, Abednego."

  Then a hissing, spattering sound issued from the kitchen. "The beans!"Mrs. Danner said. The second idyl of their lives was finished.

  Alone in his bed, tossing on the humid muslin sheets, Danner struggledwithin himself. The hour that was at hand would be short. The logicalstep after the tadpoles and the kitten was to vaccinate the human mammalwith his serum. To produce a super-child, an invulnerable man. As ascientist he was passionately intrigued by the idea. As a husband hewas dubious. As a member of society he was terrified.

  That his wife would submit to the plan or to the step it necessitatedwas beyond belief. She would never allow a sticky tube of foreign animalmatter to be poured into her veins. She would not permit the will of Godto be altered or her offspring to be the subject of experiment. Anotherman would have laughed at the notion of persuading her. Mr. Danner neverlaughed at matters that involved his wife.

  There was another danger. If the child was female and became a womanlike his wife, then the effect of such strength would be awful indeed.He envisioned a militant reformer, an iron-bound Calvinist, remodellingthe world single-handed. A Scotch Lilith, a matronly Gabriel, ashe-Hercules. He shuddered.

  A hundred times he denied his science. A hundred and one times it beggedhim to be served. Each decision to drop the idea was followed by aneffort to discover means to inoculate her without her knowledge. To hiswakeful ears came the reverberation of her snores. He rose and paced thefloor. A scheme came to him. After that he was lost.

  Mrs. Danner was surprised when her husband brought a bottle ofblackberry cordial to her. It was his first gift to her in more than ayear. She was fond of cordial. He was not. She took a glass after supperand then a second, which she drank "for him." He smiled nervously andurged her to drink it. His hands clenched and unclenched. When shefinished the second glass, he watched her constantly.

  "I feel sleepy," she said.

  "You're tired." He tried to dissemble the eagerness in his voice. "Whydon't you lie down?"

  "Strange," she said a moment later. "I'm not usually so--so--misty."

  He nodded. The opiate in the cordial was working. She lay on the couch.She slept. The professor hastened to his laboratory. An hour later heemerged with a hypodermic syringe in his hand. His wife lay limply, onehand touching the floor. Her stern, dark face was relaxed. He sat besideher. His conscience raged. He hated the duplicity his task required. Hiseyes lingered on the swollen abdomen. It was cryptic, enigmatic, filledwith portent. He jabbed the needle. She did not stir. After that hesubstituted a partly empty bottle of cordial for the drugged liquor. Itwas, perhaps, the most practical thing he had ever done in his life.

  Mrs. Danner could not explain herself on the following morning. Shebelaboured him. "Why didn't you wake me and make me go to bed? Sleepingin my clothes! I never did such a thing in my life."

  "I couldn't wake you. I tried."

  "Rubbish."

  "You were sleeping so hard--you refused to move."

  "Sometimes, old as you are, I'd like to thrash you."

  Danner went to the college. There was nothing more to do, nothing moreto require his concentration. He could wait--as he had waited before. Hetrembled occasionally with the hope that his child would be a boy--asane, healthy boy. Then, in the end, his work might bear fruit. "The_Euglena viridis_," he said in flat tones, "will be the subject ofto-morrow's study. I want you gentlemen to diagram the structure of the_Euglena viridis_ and write five hundred words on its vital principlesand processes. It is particularly interesting because it sharesproperties that are animal with properties that are vegetable."

  September, October, November. Chilly winds from the high mountains. Theday-by-day freezing over of ponds and brooks. Smoke at the tops ofchimneys. Snow. Thanksgiving. And always Mrs. Danner growing with theburden of her offspring. Mr. Danner sitting silent, watching, wondering,waiting. It would soon be time.

  On Christmas morning there entered into Mrs. Danner's vitals a pain thatwas indefinable and at the same time certain. It thrust all thought fromher mind. Then it diminished and she summoned her husband. "Get thedoctor. It's coming."

  Danner tottered into the street and executed his errand. The doctorsmiled cheerfully. "Just beginning? I'll be over this afternoon."

  "But--good Lord--you can't leave her like--"

  "Nonsense."

  He came home and found his wife dusting. He shook his head. "Get Mrs.Nolan," she said. Then she threw herself on the bed again.

  Mrs. Nolan, the nearest neighbour, wife of Professor Nolan and mother offour children, was delighted. This particular Christmas was going to bea day of some excitement. She prepared hot water and bustled withunessential occupation. Danner sat prostrate in the parlour. He had doneit. He had done more--and that would be known later. Perhaps it wouldfail. He hoped it would fail. He wrung his hands. The concept of anotherperson in his house had not yet occurred to him. Birth was his wife'ssickness--until it was over.

  The doctor arrived after Danner had made his third trip. Mrs. Nolanprepared lunch. "I love to cook in other people's kitchens," she said.He wanted to strike her. Curious, he thought. At three-thirty theindustry of the doctor and Mrs. Nolan increased and the silence of thetwo, paradoxically, increased with it.

  Then the early twilight fell. Mrs. Danner lay with her lank blackhair plastered to her brow. She did not moan. Pain twisted andconvulsed her. Downstairs Danner sat and sweated. A cry--his wife's.Another--unfamiliar. Scurrying feet on the bare parts of the floor. Helooked up. Mrs. Nolan leaned over the stair well.

  "It's a boy, Mr. Danner. A beautiful boy. And husky. You never saw sucha husky baby."

  "It ought to be," he said. They found him later in the back yard,prancing on the snow with weird, ungainly steps. A vacant smile lightedhis features. They didn't blame him.