‘Did I force you to stay a whole week, eating, drinking, spending my money? That was your own wish. You could have left me at any time. They will ask why you did not.’
‘I stayed just to show you how little I cared …’
‘Tell them that! And see what he will say.’
‘I don’t mind if he does throw me out. I hate everyone here.’
‘How will you keep yourself? Will you work? I think not. You will starve.’
She had a private idea that she could without difficulty become a famous prima donna. But the constant raillery which her family poured upon this ambition had taught her to keep it to herself. She was tired of hearing Kate exalted. She said at once the thing which she thought most likely to torment him:
‘I shall get another lover and live with him.’
Jacob, his large face pale with fury, was silent for a few seconds, hesitating between a choice of outrageous replies. Then he said with a sort of anguished bitterness:
‘You will run away from him after a week?’
‘No, I shan’t. I’d have stayed longer with you, only I wanted to be back for Sanger’s birthday. I was enjoying myself.’
‘But were you? Yet you would not come back?’ he cried, catching at a new idea.
She said instantly that she would, mocking his self-flattery in supposing that she hated him. No! She would not run away again, unless she met somebody nicer. That might, of course, be soon.
He reflected that if she came to him a second time she would not run away because she would have nowhere to go. Sanger’s circus, her only home, was breaking up. She would be, this time, defenceless and altogether at his mercy. He could make her pay a little for her insolence. Since she would not love him, he might find some relief in seeing her suffer. The idea of all that he could do to her filled his imagination with a dark happiness. He turned his back and began tying up bundles of papers, afraid to look at her lest she might read his purpose in his eyes and run away,
‘I would rather be with you than in England,’ she said.
‘That is well.’
‘And I like München.’
‘You will not go there; it is too near. Your uncle might follow us. This Summer I go to Smyrna and you shall come with me.’
He stole a glance to see how she took this, but was obliged to turn quickly away, she looked so young and so white.
‘Oh, yes …’ she agreed in a very little voice. ‘You’re sure that … that it would be quite convenient to you?’
‘I wish it,’ he said grimly.
‘Because … if it wasn’t … I expect I could get work or something. I’ll only come if it’s convenient to you. I don’t want charity. I should think I’d be rather in your way in a place like Smyrna. What did you say?’
He had thrown down his bundle with an oath of renunciation. For he could not do it. Two minutes was the longest space of time in which he could really wish to treat her unkindly. Struggle as he might, he could not help but love her dearly. He gave it up. Cruelty was not natural to him, in any case, and he could often have wished himself a baser man than he was, bewildered by the strife between his appetites and his intrinsic benevolence.
For an instant he stood quite still, regarding curiously the abyss which had for a moment invited him, as a man on the edge of a precipice will play with the idea of a plunge and pass on unscathed. Then he wrenched his mind away from it and forgot it. He said:
‘We will not go to Smyrna. You must not think that your uncle will turn you out of the house. I was laughing at you. You need not be afraid; he will protect you. And your cousin will be sorry for you, I think.’
‘Fool!’ taunted the almost vanquished devil within him. ‘Imbecile! You have lost her.’
‘I should advise,’ he continued valiantly, ‘that you confide in her. It is a pity that you had not such a friend earlier.’
‘Florence!’ cried Antonia, blushing as red as a poppy. ‘I couldn’t possibly tell her.’
‘Then tell him. He will never turn you out. I am the person whom he will blame.’
‘You? Aren’t you giving him a lot of money for us? I don’t see he’ll have any business to be blaming you.’
‘He will think that I am a villain. And that is right. I have seduced you.’
‘Really, Ike, you mustn’t talk like that. I don’t blame you for that, indeed I don’t There’s quite another thing that I can’t forgive you for; not that. You mustn’t worry.’
‘I thought,’ he said, almost to himself, ‘I thought, if it was not I, it would be some other man. I never meant you harm. How could I know that Sanger would die and leave you with no home? Now what is to be done?’
‘There’s nothing to be done. It’s no concern of yours, Ike. It wasn’t your fault that Sanger died.’
‘But it is my concern. I wish that you would go to England as your uncles have decided. It is safer …’
‘That’s what Lewis says. But I can’t let you pay … after …’
‘Why not? How shall I ever understand you?’
She was silent, but she looked more friendly. He still had a hope that he might persuade her to go to England. He shyly ventured to assert a fact which had dominated his horizon since his first conscious thought.
‘I have so much money!’
‘Have you always?’ she asked with vague interest. ‘Or only sometimes, like us. I know you had a lot when I was in München.’
‘Always,’ he said, solemnly. ‘More than I can spend.’
It meant very little to her. He had seen that in Munich, and it had continually exasperated him. For though she had snatched at the good things he gave her, he could not persuade himself that he had bought her. She would take nothing away with her, scorning his lavish offers of clothes and jewels. It was the Sanger spirit of conviviality which brought her. She would have been quite as ready to enjoy herself if he had been a poor man; if he had lodged her in a garret and taken her to the cinema instead of the opera.
It was this lordly relish for life, a fiery abundance of spirit enriching everything in its orbit, which had first attracted him to Sanger. He now saw it repeated in Sanger’s children. To himself money had always meant too much; it pervaded his entire existence, intervening and robbing him of the full fruits of experience. It had furnished him with all his assets, his pleasures, and the position which he held in the musical world. In moments of depression he was inclined to fear that it had provided his friendships; he used to wonder how many people would have tolerated him without it. He had the instincts of a patriarch and would have liked to beget children and found a family, a household, but he had purchased so many women that he despaired of finding one who was not venal. His short association with Tony had taught him that she was neither sensual nor mercenary, and that, in her least thought, she was guided by an impulse which had been denied to him. She demanded only to feel; she asked of life only that it should play a tune to her dancing. A queer wife she would be! A darling wife! The dearest company in the world for the man who could win her love. To have her confidence, to cherish and protect her and give her everything she wanted, to set safeguards about her incautious, headlong career, seemed to him a most satisfactory ambition for a man. His own money would be a benediction, if he could spend it so.
‘You should get a husband who will be kind to you,’ he told her. ‘You must not waste your beauty always upon lovers. You should have a home and little babies of your own.’
She gave him a quick look under her eyelashes, but said nothing. She had fine, slender hands like her mother. He stood looking at them now. In many ways she was like Evelyn; she had that spark which sets men aflame. It was not only in her beauty, it was in her voice, her laugh, her smallest gesture. It was her portion in that dower of genius which belonged to all her kindred; she carried it like a torch. Beside her he felt like a senseless clod of earth, lacking life, for she was like fire, wonderful, dangerous, necessary. He thought of the children he desired and it seemed to him that they
, too, would be dull creatures unless they were also hers. He was wearied of his life. He was no longer young, now that his friend Sanger was dead. He had exhausted the distractions which wealth could bring him; he had nothing to contemplate now but the things that he could never do, the limitations which age would increase. She seemed to offer him escape. He wanted to make her his wife and get children by her, new patterns of his youth, bolder creatures than himself, who would accomplish things that were beyond his striving. Yet she hated him. He had wronged her. The love which should have saved him had made him wretched. He said imploringly:
‘Could you not marry me? Indeed, I love you. I would try to make you happy.’
‘Ike!’ She sprang off the table. ‘What’s come over you? Are you drunk?’
‘I am not. I mean it. I want you for my wife. Marry me, and then you need not go to England. You cannot wish to go to England. I would give you …’
This invincible instinct for a bargain betrayed him; he knew it, almost as soon as the words passed his lips. Quick alarm leaped into her eyes and she moved away from him, asserting:
‘I want to go away and never see you again.’
‘Oh, Tony, tell me! You torture me. Why are you still so angry? You say that you can never forgive me; and then you say that I must not blame myself. Why can you not forgive me?’
‘For being such a fool!’ she said furiously. ‘For being so stupid. Couldn’t you have seen …’
Her lovely eyes filled with tears. She wept for a few minutes, quietly and bitterly, almost with resignation. He would have soothed and comforted her if he had known how, but he dared not touch her lest she should turn on him. He watched her with a torn heart as she sobbed, a little turned away from him, her face hidden in her apron. Presently she made an end of it and looked round, exclaiming in surprise:
‘Why, Ike! Are you crying too?’
He discovered that there were tears on his own face, and, producing a silk handkerchief, he mopped them up in some embarrassment.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Antonia tactlessly.
‘Du lieber allmächtiger Gott!’ shouted Jacob. ‘Have I not said? You torture me. Always you are angry and you will not say. How shall I know what you are thinking? You drive me mad.’
‘Really you are very stupid! Listen! I’ll tell you. When we were down in Genoa, and you asked me the first time to come to live with you, I said I wouldn’t. You remember?’
‘I remember.’
‘And then I said I would. Do you know why? Because you looked so very sad. I was very fond of you, then; I wasn’t going to have you as unhappy as that. You really looked as if you didn’t know how to get on, unless I came. That made me more fond of you; I mean, that a very clever person like you with everything so grand as you have things, should need anyone like me to look after him. Do you understand that? But then you annoyed me by boasting about how wonderful everything was at your house and all the things you’d give me. You didn’t think that I was going to give you anything; you didn’t seem to think I could love you. Really, I might have been Linda! You quite disgusted me. I thought you didn’t deserve I should come. And I meant to tease you a little before I had it out with you.’
She looked ready to cry again. Jacob, seeing dimly the quarter whence the blow was coming, sat down by the table and hid his face in his hands, bidding her, in a muffled voice, to continue.
‘I thought … I thought I’d stay a week, and to punish you I’d never be at all kind until just the end. And the last day, when you would be thinking I was going away, and would be very sad, I’d tell you quite suddenly that you were my dear lover. Then you’d know better for ever afterwards. I planned I’d tell you when we were out shopping or something, quite casually, so you’d hardly know at first whether to believe it. I thought it would be such fun. But … you spoilt it all.’
‘I understand.’
‘You see, I quite trusted you. I thought you’d wait till … till I was ready. I never thought you would play me a trick as you did. It was horrible of you. You couldn’t have loved me.’
‘I did love you. I do now. I always shall.’
‘If you had, you’d have known. You’d have waited. I can’t forgive you for being such a fool. I loved you. I came to München because I loved you. And all of a sudden you turned into an enemy; it nearly killed me.’
He said nothing, but stared at her in such palpable misery that she could not endure it. She continued consolingly:
‘I’m not angry now. I see you’re sorry. You can’t help being stupid. I know you didn’t mean to be unkind.’ And then, a little anxiously: ‘Don’t look like that! It’s worse than when you were in Genoa. Let’s quite forget it.’
‘I cannot.’
‘Well, don’t look so dreadfully unhappy!’
‘There is cause,’ he stated.
‘There’s no cause, silly! I’ve forgiven it.’
‘I do not forgive myself.’
‘You can’t really be trying then.’
‘How can I? Consider! I love you. And you have told me how by my own folly I have lost you.’
‘Soon you’ll forget me.’
‘Never in life.’
She looked him over doubtfully and said, after a long pause:
‘I believe you’re right. I can’t bear it; you shan’t go on looking like this. Would you like it if I married you?’
‘If I would like it! But you must do what is best for you. You should, I think, go to England with the uncle.’
‘But Ike, I don’t want to go to England with the uncle.’
‘That name! Must you call me by that name? I detest it.’
‘Very well then, Jacob! I don’t want to go to England with the uncle. I’d rather stay here with you, because when you start looking as if you’d got toothache I feel as if I love you too much to leave you. Now try to look pleased. Haven’t I said enough? What more do you want?’
‘You have said quite enough.’
But he took a little time to cheer up and explained to her, after a pause, that his head was thick and resisted a new idea. Also they had traversed so many emotions in half an hour.
‘ “Methought I was enamoured of an ass,” ’ she quoted fondly.
‘You were. You are. You must never expect too much of him. I will interview the uncle immediately.’
‘Well, don’t boast,’ she advised him, ‘and perhaps he’ll believe you. Herr Je! This has been quick work!’
They had certainly accomplished a great deal in a short time. Gradually he got more accustomed to these strange, new altitudes which they had achieved, where Tony, with the adaptability of her sex, was already trying her wings. Her delightful security cheered him up, and by the time that Lewis came in, bearing another basket of unsorted letters, he looked like a happy man. Lewis gaped at them, muttered an apology, and was for withdrawing, but they called him back and informed him of their betrothal. He thought that they must have gone out of their senses and was, moreover, much irritated by their complacent appearance so that his congratulations were not given with much warmth.
His own infatuation gathered strength with every day that passed, and with every faint attempt to get the better of it, There was nothing to soothe it in the spectacle of Birnbaum kissing Tony. He stalked off, back to the annexe and the Concerto in which he seemed to be stuck fast as in a frightful quagmire. Very bitter were his inward comments upon the folly of Jacob in thus sacrificing his independence for the sake of a chit not worth the little finger of Florence Churchill. It was absurd to marry Tony. For the other lady such a sacrifice might possibly be considered, though the idea was a wild one. Something must be done to abate this fever, for he was beginning to fear that he might go clean distracted. He was ready for a desperate remedy.
He had asked himself more than once if it was possible that she should be accessible on any other terms. And always he decided that it was not possible, though she was ready, surprisingly ready, to make herself pleasant to him. He could
have sworn at times that she was no better than the others; that behind her gentle affability there lurked a discreet invitation. But a certain unfamiliarity in the style of these veiled signals disconcerted him and caused him to doubt his own perceptions. It was in fact the first time that he had been pursued for his intellect rather than his person, and the shy creature scarcely knew what to make of it. He wondered if she would have him, if he proposed marriage to her.
‘It is better,’ he said to himself, ‘it is certainly better to marry than to burn, as Moses puts it.’
He was rather pleased with this quotation, dimly recalled from his childhood when he had been made to attend a Sunday school. And of the party at the Karindehütte it is probable that only the despised Robert could have corrected his impression that Moses said it. For Florence had not, unfortunately, read her Bible with quite the same intelligence and attention which she accorded to other and inferior books.
10
Later in the day Antonia sought out her uncle and confided to him all those circumstances which delicacy had prevented her from mentioning to Florence. The ensuing uproar took some days to subside, for the Churchills were divided in their view of the affair, and Charles, in England, was written to passionately by both parties. Robert was the least surprised of the two; he was scandalised but resigned. An hour with Sanger’s circus had put him in a frame of mind to expect any sort of discovery. Having enquired into the circumstances and intentions of Jacob Birnbaum, he was disposed to make the best of a bad business and consent to an immediate wedding.
Florence, on the other hand, was astounded but inclined to be compassionate. Jacob was clearly an unprincipled scoundrel and poor little Tony a victim, undeserving of the punishment implied by so iniquitous a marriage. She should be taken to England and helped to live it down.
But Antonia blankly refused to go to England. She persisted in saying that she loved Jacob, and that she wished to marry him in spite of his villainy. No persuasions had any effect on her.
The Constant Nymph Page 13
