Eden Part 6

"Why, no, you little simpleton, I didn't see him; but I haven't got a husband of my own for nothing."

"Do you mean that your husband deceives you?"

"Deceives me? no, not a bit of it. He only thinks he does. Is that what has been the matter with you?"

"Laura----"

"And was it because you caught your husband in a cab that you couldn't come to dinner? But, heavens and earth! if other women were to act like you no one would even dare to attempt to entertain. As it is," Mrs.

Manhattan grumbled to herself, "the Mayor ought to pa.s.s an ordinance on the subject. He has little enough to do in return for his double lamp-posts."

"No, Laura, how absurd you are!" Eden exclaimed. "John was detained on business."

"Ah! I see." And Mrs. Manhattan looked at her in a gingerly fashion out of the corner of one eye.

"Yes, he sent me word that he was detained on business and for me to send word to you."

"That was most thoughtful of him. And it was after you got the note that the cab episode occurred?"

"No, it was just before."

"Yes, yes, I can understand." Mrs. Manhattan paused a moment. To anyone else save Eden the pause would have been significant. "H'm," she went on, "business may mean other men's money, or it may mean other men's wives. I do hope, though, you were sensible enough not to mention anything about the lady and the cab."

"Oh, but indeed, I did. He explained the whole thing at once."

"From the cab window?"

"When he came back, I mean--in the evening."

"Some little time must have intervened."

"Yes, two hours, I should judge."

Mrs. Manhattan nodded. "Well," she said, with an air of profound sapience, "no man ever talks to a woman for two hours unless he keeps saying the same thing all the time."

"Laura, that is not like you. You know perfectly well that friendship can exist between a man and a woman without there being any thought of love-making."

"Oh, I know what you are going to say. But there is the difference between love and friendship. To those who have witnessed a bull-fight, the circus I hear is commonplace."

"You mean to imply that my husband was enjoying a bull-fight?"

"I don't mean anything of the sort. But what a way you have of reducing generalities to particulars! No, I don't mean that at all. I am speaking in the air. What I meant to imply was that love has consolations which friendship does not possess."

"Laura, you don't understand. It is not a question of that. This woman's husband has got into trouble and John was trying to get him out."

Mrs. Manhattan eyed her again in the same gingerly fashion as before.

"He said that, did he?"

Eden nodded.

"I hope you pretended to believe him."

"Pretended! Why, I did believe him. I believed him at once."

"Yes, that's a good way." Mrs. Manhattan tormented the point of her nose reflectively. "I used to too," she added. "Now I simply don't see. That I find even better. It makes everything go so smoothly. No arguments, no recriminations, perfect peace. Nicholas, as you know, is the most delightful man in the world. I have the highest respect for him. If he took it into his head to leave the planet and me behind, I should feel it my duty as a Christian woman to see that the trappings of my woe were becoming to his memory. But--but, well, I should feel that I had been vaccinated. I should feel that a minor evil had protected me from a greater one. In other words, I would not marry again. It is my opinion, an opinion I believe which is shared by a good many other people, that a woman who marries a second time does not deserve to have lost her first husband. Now, as I say of Nicholas, I have the greatest respect for him. He is charming. I haven't the vaguest idea how he would get along without me. I do everything for him, but I am careful not to exact the impossible. We get along splendidly together. He makes the most elaborate efforts to throw dust in my eyes, and I aid him to the best of my ability, but I always know what he is up to. I can tell at a glance where he is in any affair. The moment he gives up his after-dinner cigar I can hear the fifes in the distance--he is making himself agreeable to someone with whom he intends to pa.s.s the evening. The second stage is when he comes in of an afternoon with a rose in his b.u.t.ton-hole. That means that he has been sending flowers and that the siege is progressing. The third stage is when he begins to smoke again. That means that the castle has capitulated and further diplomacy is unnecessary. The fourth and final stage is when he says in an off-hand way, 'Laura, I saw some stones this afternoon at Tiffany's.' That means remorse and reward--remorse at his own wickedness, and reward for my non-interference. There is nothing in the world that a man appreciates more than that. Yes, I certainly do my duty. Nicholas, as you know, was a widower when I married him. By his first wife he had one child and a great deal to put up with. Whereas, now--why, Eden, what are you crying about?"

"I am not crying." In a moment Eden had choked back a sob. Her eyes flashed the more brilliant for their tears, but her voice had lost its former gentleness, it had grown vibrant and resolute. "Laura, if he has deceived me, I will leave him."

"If who has deceived you? Surely Nicholas----"

"Laura, I am in no mood for jest. Last night I believed my husband, to-day I do not. If I can get proof, I leave him."

"That is what we all say, but we don't."

"If he has deceived me----"

"Eden, how foolish you are! No, but, Eden, you are simply childish. You are sunshine one minute and tornado the next. Why, I haven't a doubt in the world but that Mr. Usselex was trying to get the cab-lady's husband out of trouble. I haven't the faintest doubt of it."

"Nor had I before you came."

"Oh, Eden, forgive me. What I said was idle chatter. There, do be your old sweet self again."

Eden stood up and pinioned her forehead with her hands. "I wonder," she exclaimed, "I wonder--Laura, do you know that it is of a thing like this that hatred comes?"

"My dear, I had no idea that you were so much in love."

But as she spoke there came into Eden's face an expression so new and unlike her own, that Mrs. Manhattan started. "Sit down," she said coaxingly. "Do sit down." She took the girl's hands in hers and drew her gently to the lounge on which she was seated. "Eden," she continued, after a moment, "between ourselves, I think you are--how shall I say?--a little--" And Mrs. Manhattan touched her forehead and nodded significantly.

"I? Not a bit."

"So much the worse, then. It would be an excuse. Now listen to me. They say that when a woman gets to be thirty the first thing she does is to ignore her age, and that by the time she is forty it has escaped her memory entirely. I am not forty yet, but I am old enough--well, I am old enough to be wiser than you, and I say this--you can contradict it as much as you please, but I will say it all the same--you have more pride in yourself than love for your husband."

"Which means?"

"I mean this, that when pride gets the upper hand, love is bound to be throttled. In some, pride is a screen; behind it they rage at their ease: in others it is a bag of wind; p.r.i.c.k it and behold, a tempest.

With you, just at present, it is a screen; haven't I seen you torment your rings ever since I came in? Well, torment them, but for goodness sake don't change the screen into a balloon. There is nothing as bad form as that, and nothing as ineffectual. My dear, if you want to keep your husband, think of yourself not first, but last, or, if you can't think in that way, act as though you did."

"And be a hypocrite."

"Eden, you are impossible. Be a hypocrite? Why, of course you must be a hypocrite. Hypocrisy is Christianity's most admirable invention. Banish it, and what do you find? Not skeletons in the closet, but catacombs of distasteful things. No, Eden, be a hypocrite. We all are; everyone prefers it. There was a man once who got up in the morning with the idea of telling everybody the truth. By sunset he was safe in an asylum.

People don't want the truth; they content themselves with sighing for it; they know very well that when they get in its way, it bites. It is vicious, truth is. It makes us froth at the mouth. If you haven't had the forethought to cuira.s.s yourself with indifference, truth can cause a hydrophobia for which the only Pasteur is time. No, hypocrisy has had the sanction of pope and prelate. Let us hold to it; let us hold to what we may and not try to prove anything."

"What are you talking about then?"

"How irritating you are, Eden! I am talking about you. I am trying to give you some advice. No one gave me any. I had to gather it on the way.

I come here, and finding you melancholy as a comic paper, I try to offer the fruit of two decades of worldly experience, and instead of thanking me, you ask what I am talking about." Mrs. Manhattan sank back in her ample folds and laughed. "Don't you have any tea in this house?"

"You are right, Laura; I am irritating, I am absurd." As she spoke, she left the lounge. The tragedy-air had departed. She rang the bell, gave the order for tea, and during the remainder of Mrs. Manhattan's visit, comported herself so sagaciously that she succeeded in casting dust in that lady's eyes in a manner which would have thrown that lady's husband into stupors of admiration.

When her friend at last decided to take herself and her experience away, Eden remained in the drawing-room. Down the adjacent corner she saw the sun decline. On the horizon it left an aigrette of gold. Then that disappeared. Day closed its window, and Night, that queen who reigns only when she falls, shook out the shroud she wears for gown.