Sacred and Profane Love Part 25

I was aware of the extreme difficulty of curing a drunkard, of the immense proportion of failures. But, I thought, if a woman such as I cannot by the lavishing of her whole soul and body deliver from no matter what fiend a man such as Diaz, then the world has changed, and the eternal Aphrodite is dead.

'I can save him!' I repeated.

Oh, heavenly moment!

'Aren't you coming in?' I addressed him quietly. 'I've been waiting for you.'

'Have you?' he angrily replied. 'I waited long enough for you.'

'Well,' I said, 'come in.'

'Who is it?' he demanded. 'I inzizt--who is it?'

'It's I,' I answered; 'Magda.'

'That's no' wha' I mean,' he went on. 'And wha's more--you know it. Who is it addrezzes you, madame?'

'Why,' I humoured him, 'it's you, of course--Diaz.'

There was the sound of a door opening on one of the lower storeys, and I hoped I had pacified him, and that he would enter; but I was mistaken. He stamped his foot furiously on the landing.

'Diaz!' he protested, shouting. 'Who dares call me Diaz? Wha's my full name?'

'Emilio Diaz,' I murmured meekly.

'That's better,' he grumbled. 'What am I?'

I hesitated.

'Wha' am I?' he roared; and his voice went up and down the echoing staircase. 'I won't put foot ev'n on doormat till I'm told wha' I am here.'

'You are the--the master,' I said. 'But do come in.'

'The mas'r! Mas'r of wha'?'

'Master of the pianoforte,' I answered at once.

He smiled, suddenly appeased, and put his foot unsteadily on the doormat.

'Good!' he said. 'But, un'stan', I wouldn't ev'n have pu' foot on doormat--no, not ev'n on doormat--'

And he came in, and I shut the door, and I was alone with my wild beast.

'Kiss me,' he commanded.

I kissed him on the mouth.

'You don't put your arms roun' me,' he growled.

So I deposited the candle on the floor, and put my arms round his neck, standing on tip-toe, and kissed him again.

He went past me, staggering and growling, into the sitting-room at the end of the pa.s.sage, and furiously banged down the lid of the piano, so that every cord in it jangled deafeningly.

'Light the lamp,' he called out.

'In one second,' I said.

I locked the outer door on the inside, slipped the key into my pocket, and picked up the candle.

'What were you doing out there?' he demanded.

'Nothing,' I said. 'I had to pick the candle up.'

He seized my hat from the table and threw it to the floor. Then he sat down.

'Nex' time,' he remarked, 'you'll know better'n to keep me waiting.'

I lighted a lamp.

'I'm very sorry,' I said. 'Won't you go to bed?'

'I shall go to bed when I want,' he answered. 'I'm thirsty. In the cupboard you'll see a bottle. I'll trouble you to give it me, with a gla.s.s and some water.'

'This cupboard?' I said questioningly, opening a cupboard papered to match the rest of the wall.

'Yes.'

'But surely you can't be thirsty, Diaz?' I protested.

'Must I repea' wha' I said?' he glared at me. 'I'm thirsty. Give me the bottle.'

I took out the bottle nearest to hand. It was of a dark green colour, and labelled 'Extrait d'Absinthe. Pernod fils.'

'Not this one, Diaz?'

'Yes,' he insisted. 'Give it me. And get a gla.s.s and some water.'

'No,' I said firmly.

'Wha'? You won't give it me?'

'No.'

He jumped up recklessly and faced me. His hat fell off the back of his head.

'Give me that bottle!'

His breath poisoned the room.