Gerald Cumberland

“ They stopped walking, and he placed his hand upon her shoulder.
“When I think of you, that’s how my heart feels,” he said. “All people must be happy when they think of you.”
“Marania, you think too well of me,” she said craftily.
“My heart is empty because you do not love me, and my house is as empty as my heart. Think of it!—that big house with no one in it save myself and my deaf and dumb servant, Cesiphos. It is not a home: it is only a house. No house can be a home without children.” ”

“ A great accession of strength seemed to flow through Marie’s body and limbs from her brain; her excitement and terror were inexhaustible sources of energy. With a superhuman effort, she released herself from Tansy’s grasp, and rushed like a flame across the room to the bed on which Alys, only half-conscious, was now stretched. Throwing herself upon Adolph from behind, she put her long fingers about his throat, and it appeared to her as though her will to destroy pumped wave after wave of power along her shoulders, down her arms, and into her fingers, and made them stronger than steel. ”

“ Orosdi, having stood irresolute a moment, suddenly stepped to his lover’s side, kicked away the bones that lay at her knees, threw his arms around the girl’s body, lifted her from the ground,{15} and carried her away to the shadow of the little stone building in which, hidden in rows of sacks, lie the bones of Ajvatli’s dead. There was no sound save a small hysterical laugh of joy from the girl. The old man heard them sighing in the shadow, and, like a knife, the thought of his own honeymoon stabbed his soul. ”

“ The sun had already set when Orosdi went forth from Langaza to see his love at Ajvatli, and he pulled his body together sensually as he trod the long, white road. Frogs splashed and croaked in the ditches, nightingales sang, a big moon stared. But he cared for none of these things. The world to him was one woman: a woman whose kisses were fierce, and whose clasp would not let him go.
His mood was a little bitter and cruel. Stephanie had played with him too long. She would not marry him and she would not let him.... ”

“ His brain fastened itself on the past—on mythology—the sweet legend of Hylas, and on the golden story of Helen of Troy. It is so easy to make the past more real than the present: it is so pleasant to do this, so fruitful of happiness. So Vuk Karadjitch lived in the days that were long before his birth.
And as he worked in the orchards that lie above Kirekoj—working at night to keep robbers away—he stared continually at the moon, the moon that was to him the oldest and most tired thing in all God’s universe. ”

“ Oh, mamma, I do love men, don’t you?”
“I used to, dear. But now I love only your father.”
“Poor mamma! But how awfully sweet for father!”
They sat in silence for a few minutes whilst the still garden hummed with insects; the sun smote the flowers, and a trickle of water made a tepid sound in the well close by.
Then, suddenly, Mrs. Kontorompa, having brushed away a fly that had settled on her nose, turned to her daughter.
“I will persuade your father to let us join him in Salonika for a fortnight. I will really, Katya. I know how to do it. We will go next month.” ”

“ What is her name?”
“Her name is Drusilla.”
“And she loves thee?” asked Aristarchus, encouragingly.
“I think she does. I have prayed that she may.”
They walked on in silence for a little while, Paul’s eyes bent on the ground.
“What dost thou say of it, dear Father?” asked Lycastus, timidly.
“If thou hast been praying to Jesus Christ and He has helped thee, what can I say? Those who must marry must marry. But I shall lose thee as I have lost Aristarchus.”
“Oh, Master: thou knowest well thou hast not lost me!” exclaimed Aristarchus, reproachfully. “We love and serve the same God. ”

“ And yet if she were to carry her plan into effect, Sobraji was the one man in all the world who must be told.
It was time something was done, for the ardent love of the two men was wearing her down. Only this morning she had received another of Marania’s strange letters. She could remember some of its phrases.
“Last night I lay awake listening to a nightingale; your voice was in that bird’s throat.... The rushes bending in the wind this afternoon were like your supple body.... I sometimes think your soul is in my hands.” ”

“ Now Salonika is the City of Evil Women, and not a few rapacious demireps prowl like sleek tigers, subtle and wise, through the garish rooms and prim gardens of the White Tower. They are wonderful to look upon; their voices are like soft music; their hands are fluttering white moths; their mouths are innocently crooked. Gorgeous works of art they are, and, as works of art, entirely commendable; but to speak to them is to be poisoned, and to embrace them is to place one’s arms around Death. ”

“ As a boy, he frequently had felt an aching desire to give himself to the sea—to swim out into the depths and, spreading out his arms, swoon away into nothingness, making himself a part of that water. Sometimes, even, he had wanted to give himself to fire, to walk naked into a white, inviting furnace. And, always, when on the edge of a cliff, he felt the great pull of space—a quick eagerness to disappear, to dissipate himself into nothingness.... To give himself—no matter to what, if only it were greater than he—was the passion that haunted him continually. ”

“ But he had one of the secrets of happiness: he could look at things and not see them: better, far better, he could see things that were not there. Stein’s steel-walled shop did not exist: Orosdi Back had never been there with his wine and pickles: Tiring was only the faint echo of a name. Salonika’s life-blood moved sluggishly in that main artery; but the slowness was a predatory slowness—the cautious movement of men and women for ever on the prowl. ”

“ But though Fallon saw a good deal of the two ladies during the next few days, there was something in his manner that made Mrs. Kontorompa suspect he had no intention of marrying her daughter. He was in love with her—yes; but it was not quite the kind of love that leads to marriage. Rather was it the kind of hot, uneasy passion that persecutes a man until he has gained his desire, when it shrinks and dies like an orchid in a night of frost. But Katya, of course, was extraordinarily clever: ignobly so. ”

“ EVERY few years, gathering his small savings together, he left intolerable Salonika and went to Athens where he dreamed away a month of spring on the Acropolis, in the great weed-overgrown cemetery where remnants of ancient beauty lie broken and marred, and in the Temple of Jupiter in which he imagined he could hear faint music, and where, of a surety, he witnessed dim processional rites unseen by others. ”

“ You are a part of everything that is good.”
He again drew her to his breast. Her thoughts fastened on Sobraji, her imagination transforming Marania’s body into that of the man she loved. She threw her arms about him wildly.
“Kiss me!” she murmured; “kiss me on the mouth!”
Incredulous, he hesitated a moment; then, with a smothered cry, he placed his lips on hers, and he stood in that deep silence lost in the sweet bitterness of unaccomplished love.
Cesiphos, the deaf and dumb servant of Marania, had no interest in life save to please his master. ”

“ When a mile from Langaza Lake, the car was drawn up by the side of the deserted road, and their chauffeur spread out their lunch under the shade of a little grove of poplars.
In silence they ate and drank. The sun-baked plain sent waves of visible heat into the sky. No birds sang. The bronze sound of a sheep-bell came from afar.
“Life passes,” said Katya, at length, “and we grow older.”
“True,” answered he, mockingly. “It is only the grass that never withers. ”

“ He was there waiting for her, for he had run rapidly round the pool, and now stood with his flute in his hand, his face full of ecstasy, with white teeth shining in the sun.
For a few moments he stood thus on a high rock looking down upon her. But when she had reached the cleft where her clothes were hidden, and when he saw her take them in her hands, his face instantly changed from ecstasy to bewilderment, and then from bewilderment to loathing.
“It’s you—you—you! You dreadful black woman!” he called out.
She raised her head to look at him, and saw that he was trembling with anger. ”

“ The crooked village was full of black shadows, and even to him who was familiar with them, the twisting, inconsequent streets were like a maze; nevertheless, Orosdi could without difficulty have found his way blindfolded to Stephanie’s house. His nearest way there lay past the central inn, outside which many men were sitting, drinking. For a moment the young farmer hesitated; then, calling for a bottle of mavrodaphne, he flung himself down in a chair and peered around him to see if he could discern the face of Stephanie’s father by the light of the one lamp that hung outside the inn. ”

“ She wished to love him just for an hour, to have those slender arms about her body, to feel his curved, inexperienced lips against her own. But he was shy and a little afraid. Yes, she was sure he was afraid, for every time she had crossed his path he had hastened his pace to almost a run, and had never once looked back to meet her inquiring and inviting gaze. His fear of her spurred her on to an adventure with him, for she could not understand his sexless eyes, and to her it was ridiculous that a handsome youth should run away from a beautiful and willing girl. ”

“ I do not think that in all Salonika, and perhaps in all the world, there was so happy a man that night as the Dreamer in his hours of watching and longing.
He lingered in his doorway until the streets became silent. She was not coming. Not to-night. She was not coming with her everlasting youth, bringing with her also his own renewed youth. For many years he had waited, but every night she had disappointed him.
The night was now full-starred, for the moon had gone. A dog, shapeless in the dark, nosed in the gutter. Two whispering old men passed close by. ”

“ I want to give you myself so that I may prove to you that we are all one—that our souls are one soul. If my soul can depart from my body into your bodies, then you will know that we are, in truth, all one, and that to hate or hurt your neighbour is to hurt and hate yourselves, and that to injure yourselves by wickedness is to injure all the souls in all the world. ”

“ He came: not hurriedly, as an anxious lover moves, but with long, lazy strides, his baby-face all smiles, his selfish, rounded chin thrust a little forward. He stood by her side and then, in imagination, she made him bend down suddenly and kiss her shoulder....
She sighed in a luxury of love, and “Orosdi! Or-os-di!” she murmured. And she thought for the thousandth time: “I am the most beautiful girl in Ajvatli, and Orosdi is the most handsome lad of all who walk on the plain of Langaza.” ”

“ One afternoon, sitting among her roses in the silent garden, she began to think of Captain Pierre Lacroix, her Brussels lover, in whose arms she had nestled so often the previous year. He had really been quite perfect, and since she had returned home to Greece she had frequently, when lying awake at night, reproached herself for not having yielded to his wild solicitations. Never in the years that remained to her was she likely to meet so fine an animal, so fierce a lover, so fascinating a personality. ”

“ It is impossible for us to love others more than we love ourselves, if our souls cling to us in this despairing way. Loving is giving: loving is surrender of one’s self: one’s self is one’s soul.... But my soul refuses to be surrendered. ”

“ You must talk: it is good for every man to talk. Perhaps you are wise, and no one understands wise men.”
This comforted Vuk a little.
“Perhaps I am,” he said; “I do not know.” He paused for a moment. “Have you—have you ever noticed at night how, though it may be very silent, it is still more silent when the moon appears?”
His companion considered a moment.
“No, I don’t think I have,” he answered, shifting uneasily in his chair.
Vuk took another mouthful of wine.
“Well, you listen one night and you’ll hear. Especially when the moon is just rising—red and swollen on the horizon. ”

“ My husband is rich: he adores me. I have many friends. I play the piano better than any one in the whole city of Salonika. And, dear Pierre, I have you to dream of in my idle hours.... Take my advice and marry a nice simple girl and settle down; but she must not be so clever as I am, nor so beautiful, nor so mysterious. And you must not love her as much as you once loved (and perhaps now love?) me.
“Do not forget: when we meet we must kiss as sister and brother.
“From your Katya.” ”

“ I have tried many times to determine precisely what it was about those cavernous baths that gave me the impression of wickedness, and because my attempts have always been unsuccessful I have been driven to entertain the possibility that the wickedness lay in myself, and was evoked by the semi-darkness, the drip of water, the lamps that flickered but did not die, the humid air, the long treacherous corridors, the dirty domes, and the soft secrecy of scandals stealing up the stair. ”

“ Knumf had left the room and softly turned the handle: it was locked.
Without a word and with a faint smile she approached Alys.
“Do not take your clothes off,” she said; “let us sleep as we are.”
Leaving the candles still burning, she lay down by her sister. Folded in each other’s arms, they lay for a long time without sleeping. Vague noises, whether in the house or not they could not tell, disturbed them from time to time.
“The fire’s coming nearer,” whispered Alys at length. “I know it is: I feel it is. Marie, let us go away from here: we shall be caught.” ”