The Song Of Songs Part 75

But Lilly feared to listen to this voice.

She felt she was worthless because she was defenceless.

And because n.o.body was there who understood her and held out his hand to her.

Frequently, on the evenings she was left to herself, she slipped out of the house as if she were committing an evil deed, and took a seat in the gallery of some good theatre, where she thought no one would recognise her; or at a concert, among the music students, who sat on the steps or leaned against the railings, following the selections with thick scores in their hands. Lilly behaved as if she were one of them.

But concerts no longer touched her. She felt uneasy and out of place, and turned her attention to some young man because of his bold profile or his fine head of hair.

"He is one of those favoured talented persons," she thought, tormented, and looked at him long and languishly, until he returned her dallying with ardour.

Though she burned to have him speak to her, she lacked the courage to grant him additional signs of her favour, having before her eyes Mrs.

Jula's appalling example. Besides, the throbbing of her heart was sufficient enjoyment.

Already she was so completely under the spell of an erotic world that every excitement of her mood was immediately trans.m.u.ted into a desirous love game.

And the longing, that eternal toothache, of which Mrs. Jula had spoken, had begun to drill her nerves.

It had come like a thief in the night. It filled her sleep with flaming pictures and converted her waking hours into a twilight doze.

She waited, but n.o.body came. n.o.body took the trouble to pick up her lost soul from out of the dust.

There was only one man who observed her and seemed to have a suspicion of what was taking place in her soul.

He was Dr. Salmoni.

Dr. Salmoni was considered a great man, one of the luminaries in Berlin's intellectual life. He was editor of an art magazine, which had once conducted a revolutionary campaign against the great men of the old school, and had fashioned new G.o.ds, erected new altars at which the ma.s.ses might burn incense. But the steady burning of incense was not in Dr. Salmoni's line. He promptly bethought himself that the divinities before whom every Tom, d.i.c.k, or Harry was crawling on his knees, were, at bottom, creations of his and of his friends, fetiches to be rejected, just as they had been exalted. And he began a merry war upon them also.

People easily endured Dr. Salmoni's hate; his quips sputtered in the air harmless as skyrockets; n.o.body believed his imputations. The only time he was dangerous was when he showed pitying benevolence. Then somebody's reputation was surely at stake. In certain circles Dr. Salmoni's praise was equivalent to a death sentence.

As in the previous winter, the distinguished Dr. Salmoni condescended every now and then to take part in the innocent sport of the little circle whose forte was not exactly intellectuality. His appearance always caused a flutter of joyous reverence; the company instantly moved closer to make place for him, and as soon as he leaned back gently in his chair, smiled his sad, compa.s.sionate smile, and stroked the peak of his light-brown Van d.y.k.e beard, they hung on his lips expectantly awaiting a t.i.tillating stream of spiteful sallies.

But the jester's role did not always suit him. He plunged into profound tete-a-tetes, or dreamed in silence, according to his mood. Sometimes he even showed a nave, trusting side of his nature, like a leopard playing with dogs.

He seldom addressed Lilly; but his piercing eyes often glided over her face, as if to spy upon her feelings and grope about in her soul.

One evening he seated himself next to her, and asked her to cut his meat for him--he had strained his wrist throttling a certain celebrity.

Waxing more intimate, he next asked her to feed him, though his left hand had by no means been disabled.

So for the first time they entered into a conversation.

Lilly quailed. She feared she might not acquit herself creditably.

"I am surprised," he said. "You've been going about with this loud crew for over a year, and I don't read the slang in your eyes yet."

"Slang in my eyes? What do you mean by slang in a person's eyes?"

"Do me the favour to regard the women here." He pointed furtively at Mrs. Jula, Mrs. Welter, Karla, and a few others. "Look at the way they roll their eyes and exchange glances. It's the lingo of a--well, I won't say vice--I despise words without nuance--I'll say of a thievish fancy.

Do you understand?"

"I think so," faltered Lilly.

"But you still have some of the childlike expression you had when you made your debut. Not altogether. A fleck of disdain is in your eyes.

Disdain is not the right word. At the edge of deserts there are certain salt seas--dark green and empty. Do you catch the idea? Because the ground is poisonous."

"Possibly," said Lilly, constrained.

"Nevertheless, it's wonderful. Your soul's like a filter. It a.s.similates nothing but what it wants to. Or have you a secret store to draw on, which gives you the right to mock at us--some constant ideal--some goal in the hazy distance--some great song--a Song of Songs?"

Lilly started up with a faint outcry, but not so faint as to fail to attract general attention.

"I merely stepped on her foot," Dr. Salmoni explained, "and she is still innocent enough _not_ to consider it unintentional."

All laughed.

"A joke exactly suited to their understanding," he whispered, bending toward her shoulder. "I'll pretend not to have heard your involuntary avowal. That alone has value in my estimation which is voluntary. And I will not ask you as I did a year ago: 'What is thy quest here, lovely lady?' I will ask you: 'What hast thou to lose here?' I myself will furnish the answer. Your style--you have your style to lose. You are on the point of becoming styleless; which is always a misfortune and a crime. To me style is virtue, greatness, genuineness, force, religion, a G.o.d-ordained quality--all in one and a few things more. Remain bodily and spiritually intangible. Rise to a healthy, gladsome vice--_tant mieux_. Dress your hair for evening prayers, or let it flow over the pillow like a bacchante--but decide which."

"I believe a moment ago you were pleading for nuance," said Lilly, the edge of whose wit was sharpened by his, "and now you're advocating a dogma."

"Hear, hear!" he praised her. "Excellent. But no. I'm not preaching a dogma. I'm preaching the exercise of one's will, the will to personality. Do you understand? The result will be rich enough in nuances. Undoubtedly you have the material in you for a _grande amoureuse_, but alas not the courage."

"Well, then, not the material," she flashed back happily.

He laughed like a child.

"In one's old age one gets lectures on logic from little, virtuous women." He magnanimously allowed her the pleasure of having outdone him in repartee.

Thereafter Lilly reflected much upon the conversation. What a vast deal he knew of her! Was he in alliance with supernatural powers?

"The will to personality," he had said.

She felt blissful. Up to the heights again!

On another occasion, as they were walking behind their companions along Friederichstra.s.se, still gaily alive at midnight, he adopted a different tone.

"I have a sure feeling that you are afraid of me," he said.

"I?" she queried, confused and drawing a deep breath. "Why should I be?"

"Because you know I have a message for you, a message to which, in the bottom of your heart, you don't feel equal."

"I don't understand," she stammered, though she fully took in his meaning. She knew precisely what role he could play in her life if--

"I am a man who likes tones pianissimo. I don't care to blow my sensations on a comb. Otherwise your ears might have tingled on certain occasions. However, I must say, it's abominable to see a woman like you, a woman created to wander on the heights of thought and enjoyment, seduced by a few Bismarck herrings into cutting capers with them. I won't mention names, but I a.s.sure you, you can't get drunk on lukewarm dish water, and intoxication is the great thing in life, at least while our blood runs lively in our veins."

Lilly trembled on his arm.