Max
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CHAPTER XXXII
Perfect self-deception can be a rare, almost a precious thing, rankingwith all absurd, delightful faiths from the child's sweet certainty offairydom to the enthusiast's belief in the potency of his own star.
Maxine, in her little white bedroom, arraying herself for Blake, waswrapped in a cloud of illusion, translated to a sphere above the commonearth by this magic blindness. Never again while life lasted was she tostand as she stood to-night, eyes searching her mirror with perfectsteadfast sincerity, lips parted in breathless joy of confidence. Neveragain! But for the moment the illusion was complete. She saw thetriumphing soul of Max glimmer through her own fair body, saw the boy'sfaith carried like a banner in her woman's hands.
Her dressing was a tremulous affair, tinged with a fine excitement.Again she clothed herself in the soft white dress, the long gray cloakof former meetings; but, banishing the willing Jacqueline, she coiledher hair with her own hands and last, most significant touch, pinned awhite rose at her breast.
It was the night of nights! No need to assure herself of the fact; theknowledge sang in her blood, burned in her cheeks. The night of nights!When Maxine would receive the soul of Blake and place it, mystic andsacramental, in the keeping of Max!
The folly of the affair, the naivety of it, made for tears as well assmiles; and Maxine, glowing to the eternal, aspiring flame, looked herlast into the little mirror that had so carefully preserved its secrets,and passed across the hall to the _salon_, where the night stretchedbeckoning, velvet fingers through the open window.
Young, luxurious summer palpitated through the dusk, fanning the ardorin her heart. She ran forward, drawn by its allurement; then, all atonce, she stopped, her hand flying to her heart, her breath suspended ina little cry of surprise. Blake had slipped unheard into the_appartement_, and was awaiting her on the balcony.
At her cry, he turned--wheeled round toward her--and his eyes scannedher surprised, betraying face.
"You are glad!" he cried, in sudden self-expression. "You are glad tosee me!" The words were hot as they were abrupt, they seared her withtheir swiftness and their conviction, they were as a raiding army beforewhich all ramparts fell. Mentally, morally, she felt herself sway untilpreconceived ideas drifted to and fro, weeds upon a tide.
"Yes," she answered, scarcely aware of her own voice. "I am glad."
Where now were the subtle ways, the divers interlacing paths whereinMaxine was to pursue her chase, delivering her quarry into the hands ofMax? Where were the barbed and potent shafts whereby that capture was tobe achieved? All had vanished into the night; she stood before herintended victim unarmed, ungirt, and--miracle of miracles--undismayed!
She and Blake confronted each other. Their lips were dumb, but theirlooks embraced. Fate--life--was in the air, in the myriad voices of thenight, the myriad pulses of their bodies, the myriad thoughts thatwheeled and flashed within their brains.
This knowledge rushed in upon her swimming senses, upon eyes suddenlyopened, ears suddenly made free of the music of the spheres; and herhand--the hand that had first girded on her boy's attire--went out toBlake like that of any girl.
It was nature's signal, stronger in its frailty than any attained art ofwoman; and he answered to it as man has ever answered--ever will answer.
"Oh, my love!" he cried. "My love!" And his arms went round her.
It is sacrilege to attempt analysis of birth or love or death. Death andbirth, the mysteries! Love, the revelation! Man, as he has existedthrough all time, had being in Blake's embrace; woman, as she has beenfrom the first, lived in Maxine's leap of the heart, her leap of thespirit as the ecstasy of his touch thrilled her. Here was no coldness;here was no sensuality. Divinity manifested itself, no longer above, butwithin them. The lights in the sky were divine, but so were the lightsof the town. Divinity fired their souls, merging each in each; but astruly it fired their clasping hands, their lips trembling to kiss.
Maxine--removed by fabulous distances from Max, from the studio, fromall accepted things--breathed her wonderment in an unconscious appeal.
"Speak to me!"
And Blake, awed and enraptured, whispered his answer.
"There is nothing to say that you do not know. I worship you. I bent myknee and kissed the hem of your garment the first moment it brushed mypath. There is nothing to say that you do not know. I have waited all mylife for this."
"All your life?"
"All my life. But love is not reckoned by time. One dreams--and onewakes."
"You dreamed--" She closed her eyes, her ears drank in the cadences ofhis voice.
"Always! As a child, I dreamed over my play; as a boy, I dreamed overmy books--and as a man, over my loves. I was never in love withwoman--always in love with love."
"And now?"
"I am awake--I have come into my inheritance! My love! My love!" It wasan instant of intense sensation. She could feel the beating of hisheart; his fingers and hers were interlaced. "Maxine! Open your eyes!Look at me!"
Obediently--any woman to any man--she opened them and met his gaze.
"You know? You understand?"
She stood rigid, her eyes wide, her nostrils dilated--a creature swayingupon the verge of an abyss, contemplating a plunge into space.
"Maxine!" he said again. "Maxine!"
It was the primitive human cry. She heard and acknowledged it in everyfibre of her being; she drew a swift, sharp breath, then, with a freegesture, cast her arms about his neck.
"Ned! Ned! Say again that you love me! Say it a thousand, say it amillion times and for every time you say it, I will tell you twice thatI love you."
Passion, intoxication sped the words, and Blake's mouth, closing uponhers, broke the ecstasy of speech.
"I love you! I worship you! You are my life. You are myself."
Reality vibrated through his speech; and Maxine, hearing, lost herself.With arms still clasped about him, she leaned her body backward, gazinginto his face.
"Again! Say it again!"
"You are my life! We are one! Maxine! Maxine!" His glance burned her,his arms were close about her. With a sudden ardent movement, shecaught his face between her hands, drew it down, and kissed it full uponthe mouth, not once but many times, fiercely, closely; then, with alittle cry, inarticulate as the cry of an animal, she freed herself andfled through the _salon_, through the hall and out upon the landing, thedoor of the _appartement_ closing behind her.