The Song Of Songs Part 96

How ridiculous, how pitiful it all was!

She longed to sink at his feet and cry to him:

"Forgive me, forgive me--take me as I am, do not spurn me."

Instead, she lied on, shamelessly, desperately, like an ordinary adventuress on the verge of discovery.

"Will you do me the favour to hunt for the picture?"

"Why do you want to torture yourself?"

"Please, I beg of you."

Further resistance was out of the question. She fetched the key of the secretary from a basket, opened the drawers at random, rummaged among the papers without half looking, and actually found it. There it was.

She had not seen it for years.

The white-lashed eyes looked haughty and cunning.

"Lie and deceive, lie and deceive," they seemed to say. "That's just what I used to do."

"Here it is."

He stepped to the lamp, and stared at the picture long. His lips twitched from time to time, the picture quivered jerkily in his hands.

"Exactly the way I stood in front of the rich orphan's photograph,"

thought Lilly. But that was long ago.

Then she heard him speak. His voice was hoa.r.s.e.

"Will you answer a question upon which much depends?"

"Ask it, my love."

"Do you still count upon--upon this young man's return?"

Whither did the question lead? Lilly felt she need merely say "no," and every obstacle was removed. But if she said no, all her falsehoods about Walter and his friend would have had no significance.

So she had to choose a middle course.

"Sometimes I have my doubts," she managed to say, lingering over the words. "I am waiting for two now. My father seems to be gone--gone for good. And I don't hear from him either."

"Do you consider yourself bound, just as you did then?"

She felt the halter tightening about her neck.

"Tell me."

Something in his tone seemed to bar escape. It left no nook to hide in.

Her answer meant life or death.

She held up her arms as if swearing an oath.

"Since I know you I don't care one way or the other. If you want me to be true to him, I'll wait for him--till Judgment Day. If you want me to throw him overboard, I'll throw him overboard."

He threw his head back and closed his eyes, and stood there as he had in the park. She became alarmed again for his sake.

"Why does he torture himself so?" she thought. Then it occurred to her for the first time that he took her and everything she had said seriously; that he, who himself practiced loyalty, a.s.sumed that loyalty was a life principle of hers, too.

Oh, if he knew!

She was so ashamed she did not dare to speak or approach him.

He drew himself up energetically, and his forehead glowed with the wrathful will, which from the first had intimidated her.

"Listen," he said. "After everything you've told me, I know I acted on a false a.s.sumption. You are _not_ neglected, the world has _not_ done you wrong. On the contrary, you are protected and cared for, and you're looking forward to a future, no matter how uncertain it may now be. You would lose all that through me. The instant your friend were to suspect my existence, he would, of course, withdraw his support. And all the others who now const.i.tute your world would go with him."

Lilly wanted to burst out laughing, and give vent to her utter contempt for everything that had const.i.tuted her former life. But another thought instantly restrained her. Dr. Rennschmidt must continue to think that Richard should not suspect his existence. To defy her past and present was to bring about a catastrophe which would irremediably expose the wretchedness of her situation. She might be his only in dark secret hours.

He continued:

"What I have to offer in return is nothing. I have nothing but my work--you know. And even my work is still in the clouds. Why, I'm not even certain of myself. If I think of what I have just--" He turned his eyes aside.

"Of course, if you don't love me," said Lilly, dejectedly.

He threw himself in front of her, placing one knee on a vacant part of the seat of her chair, and putting his arms about her body.

"Have mercy on me. You see how I'm suffering. Don't make it _harder_ for me. Every day, every hour, I should say to myself: 'Over in America there's a man toiling and moiling for her. He doesn't write simply because he's ashamed to admit that he has accomplished nothing on account of his mangled body.' I can't conceive any other motive for his silence. A man doesn't forget a woman like you. In the meantime I sit here with you in secret, and hold you in my arms. I don't know--I--a person can debauch, he can commit adultery--so far as I'm concerned it wouldn't matter. But to rob a poor cripple of his all--I think the lowest scoundrel would draw the line at that. I don't know how I'll get over it--" He collapsed. His forehead hit against the arm of Lilly's chair, and dry sobs shook his body. "But--it would be better--immediately--on the spot--better than later--when it's too late--for both--of us."

The blow had fallen. How cleverly she thought she had garbled the truth, and here she was caught in her own net of lies.

"For G.o.d's sake," she screamed, "do you mean to say you will--"

He rose to his feet.

"Farewell," he said. "Think of me in peace. Thank you."

"If I tell him the truth, he'll be all the more certain to go," she thought, looking about helplessly.

His hands, stretched toward her, were waiting, his eyes hung on her thirstily, as if to drink in the picture forever.

"I will plant myself at the door," she thought, "and throw myself on him, and stifle him with kisses."

But the desire not to lose his respect made her small and timorous.

"Not this instant," she implored, clasping his hands. "One hour--one parting hour--just one."

He gently extricated his hands from her grasp, and turned to the door.