Part 50 (1/2)
”Oh, you want me to be David to your Saul,” he said at length.
”Yes.”
”Do, Val,” said Julian. ”I should like it too.”
Valentine, who was sitting near the doctor, looked down thoughtfully on the carpet.
”I'm not in the mood to-day,” he said slowly.
”You are always in the mood enough to cheer and rest me,” Levillier said.
He had driven all the way from Harley Street for his medicine, and it was obvious that he meant to have it. But Valentine still hesitated, and a certain slight confusion became noticeable in his manner. Moving the toe of his right boot to and fro, following the pattern of the carpet, he glanced sideways at the doctor, and an odd smile curved his lips.
”Doctor,” he said, ”d'you believe that talents can die in us while we ourselves live?”
”That's a strange question.”
”It's waiting an answer.”
”Well, my answer is, No; not wholly, unless through the approach of old age, or the development of madness.”
”I'm neither old nor mad.”
Levillier and Julian both looked at Valentine with some amazement.
”Are you talking about yourself?” the doctor asked.
”Certainly.”
”Why? What talent is dead in you?”
”My talent for music. Do you know that for the last few days I've been able neither to sing nor play?”
”Val, you're joking,” exclaimed Julian.
”I am certainly not,” he answered, and quite gravely. ”I am simply stating a fact.”
Doctor Levillier seemed unable to appreciate that he was speaking seriously.
”I have come all this way to hear you sing,” he said. ”I have never asked you in vain yet.”
”Is it my fault if you ask me in vain now?”
Valentine looked him in the face and spoke with a complete sincerity.
The doctor returned the glance, as he sometimes returned the glance of a patient, very directly, with a clear and simple gravity. Having done this he felt completely puzzled.
”The talent for music has died in you?” he asked.
”Entirely. I can do nothing with my piano. I have even locked it.”
As he spoke he went over to it and pulled at the lid to show them that he was speaking the truth.