Part 6 (1/2)
”Mean?” said I, for once feeling no resentment at her manner.
”By leaving--this way,” she explained with impatience.
”You heard Mr. Roebuck's telegram,” said I.
”You are angry with me,” she persisted.
”No, Carlotta,” said I. ”I was, but I am not. As soon as I saw what you wished, I was grateful, not angry.”
”What did I wish?”
”To let me know as gently and kindly as you could that you purposed to end our engagement. And I guess you are right. We do not seem to care for each other as we ought if we--”
”You misunderstood me,” she said, pale and with flas.h.i.+ng eyes, and in such a struggle with her emotions that she could say no more.
If I had not seen that only her pride and her vanity were engaged in the struggle, and her heart not at all, I think I should have abandoned my comfortable self-deception that my own pride forbade discussion with her. As it was, I was able to say: ”Don't try to spare me, Carlotta, I'm glad you had the courage and the good sense not to let us both drift into irrevocable folly. I thank you.” I opened the door into the hall.
”Let us talk no more about it. We could say to each other only the things that sting or the things that stab. Let us be friends. You must give me your friends.h.i.+p, at least.” I took her hand.
She looked strangely at me. ”You want me to humble myself, to crawl at your feet and beg your pardon,” said she between her teeth. ”But I shan't.” She s.n.a.t.c.hed away her hand and threw back her head.
”I wish nothing but what is best for us both,” said I. ”But let us not talk of it now--when neither of us is calm.”
”You don't care for me!” she cried.
”Do _you_ love _me_?” I rejoined.
Her eyes s.h.i.+fted. I waited for her reply and, when it did not come, I said: ”Let us go to breakfast.”
”I'll not go in just now,” she answered, in a quiet tone, a sudden and strange s.h.i.+ft from that of the moment before. And she let me take her hand, echoed my good-by, and made no further attempt to detain me.
That was a gloomy breakfast despite my efforts to make my own seeming of good-humor permeate to the others. Mrs. Ramsay hid a somber face behind the coffee-urn; Ed ate furiously, noisily, choking every now and then.
He drove me to the station; his whole body was probably as damp from his emotions as were his eyes and his big friendly hand. The train got under way; I drew a long breath. I was free.
But somehow freedom did not taste as I had antic.i.p.ated. Though I reminded myself that I had acted as any man with pride and self-respect would have acted in such delicate circ.u.mstances, and though I knew that Carlotta was no more in love with me than I was with her, this end to our engagement seemed even more humiliating to me than its beginning had seemed. It was one more instance of that wretched fatality which has pursued me through life, which has made every one of my triumphs come to me in mourning robes and with a gruesome face. In the glittering array of ”prizes” that tempts man to make a beast and a fool of himself in the gladiatorial show called Life, the sorriest, the most ironic, is the grand prize, Victory.
The parlor car was crowded; its only untaken seat was in the smoking compartment, which had four other occupants, deep in a game of poker.
Three of them were types of commonplace, prosperous Americans; the fourth could not be so easily cla.s.sed and, therefore, interested me--especially as I was in the mood to welcome anything that would crowd to the background my far from agreeable thoughts.
The others called him ”Doc,” or Woodruff. As they played, they drank from flasks produced by each in turn. Doc drank with the others, and deeper than any of them. They talked more and more, he less and less, until finally he interrupted their noisy volubility only when the game compelled. I saw that he was one of those rare men upon whom amiable conversation or liquor or any other relaxing force has the reverse of the usual effect. Instead of relaxing, he drew himself together and concentrated more obstinately upon his game. Luck, so far as the cards controlled it, was rather against him, and the other three players took turns at audacious and by no means unskilful play. I was soon admiring the way he ”sized up” and met each in turn. Prudence did not make him timid. He advanced and retreated, ”bluffed” and held aloof, with acuteness and daring.
At a station perhaps fifty miles from Chicago, the other three left,--and Doc had four hundred-odd dollars of their money.
I dropped into the seat opposite him--it was by the window--and amused myself watching him, while waiting for a chance to talk with him; for I saw that he was a superior person, and, in those days, when I was inconspicuous and so was not compelled constantly to be on guard, I never missed a chance to benefit by such exchanges of ideas.
He was apparently about forty years old, to strike a balance between the youth of eyes, mouth, and contour, and the age of deep lines and grayish, thinning hair. He had large, frank, blue eyes, a large nose, a strong forehead and chin, a grossly self-indulgent mouth,--there was the weakness, there, as usual! Evidently, the strength his mind and character gave him went in pandering to physical appet.i.tes. In confirmation of this, there were two curious marks on him,--a nick in the rim of his left ear, a souvenir of a bullet or a knife, and a scar just under the edge of his chin to the right. When he compressed his lips, this scar, not especially noticeable at other times, lifted up into his face, became of a sickly, bluish white, and transformed a careless, good-humored cynic into a man of danger, of terror.
His reverie began, as I gathered from his unguarded face, in cynical amus.e.m.e.nt, probably at his triumph over his friends. It pa.s.sed on to still more agreeable things,--something in the expression of the mouth suggested thoughts of how he was going to enjoy himself as he ”blew in”
his winnings. Then his features shadowed, darkened, and I had my first view of the scar terrible. He shook his big head and big shoulders, roused himself, made ready to take a drink, noticed me, and said, ”Won't you join me?” His look was most engaging.