Septimus Part 28

"For my heels when they had blisters after a long day's march."

The effect of these words on Sypher was electrical. He brought both hands down on the table, leaned back in his chair, and looked at Septimus.

"Good heavens!" he cried, changing color, "it never occurred to me."

"What?"

"Why--blistered heels--marching. Don't you see? It will cure the sore feet of the Armies of the World. It's a revelation! It will be in the knapsack of every soldier who goes to manoeuvers or to war! It will be a jolly sight more useful than a marshal's baton! It will bring soothing comfort to millions of brave men! Why did I never think of it? I must go round to all the War Offices of the civilized globe. It's colossal. It makes your brain reel. Friend of Humanity? I shall be the Benefactor of the Human Race."

"What will you have to drink?" asked Septimus.

"Anything. _Donnez-moi un bock_," he said impatiently, obsessed by his new idea. "Tell me, Monsieur Cruchot, you who have used the _Cure Sypher_. It is well known in the French army is it not? You had it served out from the regimental medical stores?"

"Ah, no, Monsieur. It is my mother who rubbed it on my heels."

Sypher's face expressed disappointment, but he cheered up again immediately.

"Never mind. It is the idea that you have given me. I am very grateful to you, Monsieur Cruchot."

Hegisippe laughed. "It is to my mother you should be grateful, Monsieur."

"I should like to present her with a free order for the Cure for life--if I knew where she lived."

"That is easy," said Hegisippe, "seeing that she is concierge in the house where the _belle dame_ of Monsieur has her _appartement_."

"Her _appartement_?" Sypher turned sharply to Septimus. "What's that? I thought you lived at the Hotel G.o.det."

"Of course," said Septimus, feeling very uncomfortable. "I live in the hotel, and Emmy lives in a flat. She couldn't very well stay in the Hotel G.o.det, because it isn't a nice place for ladies. There's a dog in the courtyard that howls. I tried to throw him some cold ham the other morning about six o'clock to stop him; but it hit a sort of dustman, who ate it and looked up for more. It was very good ham, and I was going to have it for supper."

"But, my dear man," said Sypher, laying his hand on his friend's shoulder, and paying no heed to the dog, ham, and dustman story, "aren't you two living together?"

"Oh, dear, not" said Septimus, in alarm, and then, catching at the first explanation--"you see, our hours are different."

Sypher shook his head uncomprehendingly. The proprietor of the establishment, in dingy shirt-sleeves, set down the beer before him.

Hegisippe, who had mixed his absinthe and was waiting politely until their new friend should be served, raised his gla.s.s.

"Just before you came, Monsieur," said he, "I was about to drink to the health--"

"Of _L'Armee-Francaise_," interrupted Septimus, reaching out his gla.s.s.

"But no," laughed Hegisippe. "It was to Monsieur, Madame, et Bebe."

"Bebe?" cried Sypher, and Septimus felt his clear, swift glance read his soul.

They clinked gla.s.ses. Hegisippe, defying the laws governing the absorption of alcohols, tossed off his absinthe in swashbuckler fashion, and rose.

"Now I leave you. You have many things to talk about. My respectful compliments to Madame. Messieurs, au revoir."

He shook hands, saluted and swaggered off, his chechia at the very back of his head, leaving half his shaven crown uncovered in front.

"A fine fellow, your friend, an intelligent fellow--" said Sypher, watching him.

"He's going to be a waiter," said Septimus.

"Now that he has had his heels rubbed with the cure he may be more ambitious. A valuable fellow, for having given me a stupendous idea--but a bit indiscreet, eh? Never mind," he added, seeing the piteous look on Septimus's face. "I'll have discretion for the two of us. I'll not breathe a word of it to anybody."

"Thank you," said Septimus.

There was an awkward silence. Septimus traced a diagram on the table with the spilled tea. Sypher lighted a cigar, which he smoked in the corner of his mouth, American fashion.

"Well, I'm d.a.m.ned!" he muttered below his breath.

He looked hard at Septimus, intent on his tea drawing. Then he shifted his cigar impatiently to the other side of his mouth. "No, I'm d.a.m.ned if I am.

I can't be."

"You can't be what?" asked Septimus, catching his last words.

"d.a.m.ned."

"Why should you be?"

"Look here," said Sypher, "I've rushed in rather unceremoniously into your private affairs. I'm sorry. But I couldn't help taking an interest in the two of you, both for your own sake and that of Zora Middlemist."

"I suppose you would do anything for her."

"Yes."

"So would I," said Septimus, in a low voice. "There are some women one lives for and others one dies for."

"She is one of the women for whom one would live."

Septimus shook his head. "No, she's the other kind. It's much higher. I've had a lot of time to think the last few months," he continued after a pause. "I've had no one but Emmy and Hegisippe Cruchot to talk to--and I've thought a great deal about women. They usedn't to come my way, and I didn't know anything at all about them."

"Do you now?" asked Sypher, with a smile.

"Oh, a great deal," replied Septimus seriously. "It's astonishing what a lot of difference there is between them and between the ways men approach different types. One woman a man wants to take by the hand and lead, and another--he's quite content if she makes a carpet of his body and walks over it to save her feet from sharp stones. It's odd, isn't it?"

"Not very," said Sypher, who took a more direct view of things than Septimus. "It's merely because he has got a kindly feeling for one woman and is desperately in love with the other."

"Perhaps that's it," said Septimus.

Sypher again looked at him sharply, as a man does who thinks he has caught another man's soul secret. It was only under considerable stress of feeling that such coherence of ideas could have been expressed by his irrelevant friend. What he had learned the last few minutes had been a surprise, a pain, and a puzzle to him. The runaway marriage held more elements than he had imagined. He bent forward confidentially.

"You would make a carpet of your body for Zora Middlemist?"

"Why, of course," replied the other in perfect simplicity.

"Then, my friend, you're desperately in love with her."