Hulbert Footner

“ Almost anybody except the fatuous Dobereiner could have told at a glance what was the relation between those two. Wilfred had no difficulty in reading his employer; a sensual man, weak and shy. It was Joe’s perfect shamelessness which had won him. It was the same with everybody. The satyr in Joe’s hard, bright, close-set eyes encouraged the imprisoned appetites to come out and stretch themselves. Had not Wilfred felt it himself? Only he could not let himself go. He did not blame Mr. Gore; there was something warm and human in the man’s surrender. ”

“ He grimly swallowed it, waiting.
“Suppose one experienced a violent passion,” asked Elaine, with a casual air which concealed nothing from the man who loved her, “how on earth would one know whether it was love or infatuation?”
“By the quality of the object,” he said quickly. “If it was worthy. . . .”
“That’s nonsense!” she said scornfully. “If you were infatuated you would think the object was glorious anyhow.”
Wilfred shook his head. “That’s where the heart comes in. No matter how blinded we may be, we each have a voice in our breasts that whispers the truth. Only we don’t want to listen.” ”

“ In Rivington Street even the air was crowded.
The narrow sidewalk was maggoty with people. The inner side was lined by humble shops, the outer by an endless line of gay pushcarts like boats anchored alongside the curb, stretching for block after block and displaying every manner of goods. The low stoops between the shops were crowded, mostly with women of a complete, unconfined fatness; nearly every one of them suckling an infant. These mothers surveyed the scene with an equanimity that arrested Wilfred. To have a whole lot of children must be one way of solving the riddle. ”

“ It intimidated Wilfred. “I was only speculating,” he said, his eyes trailing away. Inwardly he was in a panic. Was it Joe? . . . It could not be Joe. . . . But he knew that it was Joe! The thought was like the recurrence of a madness. He fought against it blindly. . . . She had not succumbed. She was fighting. Something must be done to help her! . . .
Elaine said, gloomily resting her chin on her palm: “Nobody can help anybody else, really. Each of us has his own particular hell.”
“People could help one another if they were sufficiently honest,” Wilfred insisted. ”

“ Nobody is any better than anybody else—in some ways. If you thought you were getting a paragon you’d be frightfully sold . . . so would I!”
“Not a paragon,” said Wilfred, smiling in his turn. “I know your faults.”
“What are they?” she challenged.
“You are afraid of life. You hate your own emotions. You dissect them while they are alive. You are much too refined. Occasionally you ought to be beaten. You have lived too long in your mind; you ought to give your blood a chance!”
“What makes you say that?” she demanded, startled and affronted.
Wilfred shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking,” he said. ”

“ Wilfred experienced an actual physical pain that made him grit his teeth. “That’s all damn nonsense!” he said, exasperated with compassion. “The rock of a fixed idea that you’ve been knocking your head against through life! Why insist on it, and make yourself wretched? It is equally as true to say that one may sail downstream with life. The purest pleasure I ever experienced was in shooting rapids in a small boat. I didn’t know what was around the bend, either!”
“Oh well, it’s all talk!” said Stanny, smiling and unconvinced. ”

“ Wilfred laughed. “I can see you!” he said unguardedly. “I know you so well!”
She looked at him quickly, started to speak, and thinking better of it, pulled down the corners of her mouth mockingly.
“Oh, sure, that was a fatuous thing to say,” muttered Wilfred, blushing.
“It’s what everybody says to everybody,” she said.
“But I ought to have known better. Nobody knows anybody, really.”
“I don’t know,” said Frances Mary, “when two people live together they may. Because then they have a chance to watch each other in the company of others. But you and I travel in entirely separate orbits. ”

“ What of Stanny whom he knew so well? He ached with compassion. What could a man do to save his friends? Why nothing, of course. Except to be fond of them. He would have loved to slip an arm through one of theirs on either side; but he suspected they wouldn’t like it.
The three friends were sitting in the general room of a miserable village drinking-place which called itself hotel. After all, they had not stopped at a farmhouse, because, as Wilfred knew, in a friendly farmhouse one must pay for one’s entertainment with sociability; and Stanny and Taswell were short of this coin at present. ”

“ Daisy quickly caught hold of Wilfred’s sleeve, and pulled him by. A light broke upon him. She intended that he should stay! He trembled with internal laughter. His heart began to beat faster. They walked on a little way in silence. Wilfred, grinning, studied Daisy’s face in the light of a street lamp. It still bore an expression of ferocious outraged virtue. What somersaults women could perform without losing their faces!
When they got back, the vestibule was empty. He followed Daisy into the house without anything further being said; and into her own little place on the first floor above. ”

“ Wilfred smiled into the fire.
“Oh well, if it amuses you . . . !” said Elaine, shrugging.
“You know that big statue of Barnard’s,” she presently went on; “I Feel Two Natures Struggling Within Me”?
“All rot!” he said rousing himself. “I imagine that is just a little joke of Barnard’s on the dear public. What he is really portraying is the Triumph of Youth Over Age! It was a favorite subject during the renaissance. . . . Two natures! Life is not so simple! That is merely a theological distinction. Body and soul are not at war with each other. We can’t get anywhere without Body. ”

“ Jasper’s face wore a sleepy smile; but Stanny looked disgruntled. On this night he had had no luck.
Wilfred’s turgid feelings almost strangled utterance. “By God! but you fellows are dear to me!” he cried, pressing their arms against his ribs. “What would I do without you? I suppose I’m drunk. When I froth up like this I know I make a fool of myself. I don’t care. I’ve got to tell you how I feel. . . . I’ve been as miserable as hell lately. Well, that’s over. I’ve made a stage. . . . You think and think and get nowhere. No fixed point! Like a squirrel in a revolving cage! ”

“ Respectable West Eleventh street was already settling down. Most of the outer doors were closed, and many bedroom windows showed rectangles of an agreeable apricot light filtering through the lowered shades. Wilfred had turned East, seeking life. At the corner of Fifth Avenue he was struck by the effect of the new arc lights. Hanging two to a pole, the mellow pinkish globes stretched far into the distance in two gradually converging lines. Like insect lights they climbed the Thirty-Fourth street hill at last and disappeared. Fruit of Night, Wilfred whispered to himself. ”

“ Do you think I am effeminate, Stanny?”
“Oh, for God’s sake . . . !”
He does think so; thought Wilfred; but it doesn’t matter if he is my friend.
“It isn’t important,” said Stanny, groping for expression; “all this bunk about manliness . . . if you have mind . . . if you have character. . . .”
“Yes, but have I?” demanded Wilfred.
“Don’t worry about it . . . ! You’re too self-conscious.”
“Sure! But how can I help that? You’re like my Aunts. When I was little they were always telling me I was too thin-skinned. You might as well blame a man for being blind.” ”

“ Elaine herself never thought, though she liked to suppose that she did: all her acts, words were struck out of her, instant and bright as fire. How natural for her to despise one like him! She did despise him sub-consciously, though they were good friends; her speculative glance often confessed it. That high air of hers was a continual challenge to his masculinity, and he dared not take it up. Wilfred believed that she was just a little higher with him than with others. It suggested that she believed he was a coward in the presence of women. ”

“ You’re quite healed, aren’t you, and ready for fresh experiments? You know nothing of the agony of repression. For years! For years! Everything comes out of you like a child’s babbling. You know nothing of the wolves that tear. . . . Oh, why don’t you go?”
Wilfred recognized the element of truth in her portrait of him, but was not dismayed. He could no longer repress the delighted grin. “I’m not afraid of your wolves,” he said. “. . . I hail them!”
“Be quiet!” cried Frances Mary. But the new quality in his grin arrested her. She stared; her angry face all at a pause.
Wilfred stood up. ”

“ IV Into a brilliantly lighted, well-filled saloon on the corner of Seventh avenue and Thirty-fourth street, strolled Joe Kaplan. He was wearing an overcoat of English tweed; a white Angora muffler around his neck; and a fashionable soft hat. Evening dress was suggested beneath. Accustomed to being stared at, his expression was bland; but could not altogether conceal the quality of electric alertness which attracted people’s eyes, without their knowing why. Making his way to the bar, he ordered a drink of whiskey. He looked at nobody, but was visibly holding himself in readiness to be hailed. ”

“ Varick, an anæmic little woman who kept up a fire of virtuous platitudes. One could safely agree with everything she said, while one looked about.
A little late, when all the estimable guests were visibly becoming uneasy, a woman entered the room, who changed the whole complexion of the party. Like a wild bird lighting in the poultry yard, Wilfred thought. She was about his own age with miscellaneous American features, not in the least beautiful. But she had the divine carriage of Diana, and Diana’s arrowy glance. Never had Wilfred beheld that proud, free glance in living woman. ”

“ Relief filled Wilfred’s breast at the sight of Stanny in his usual place, over against the wall, his back to the door. Impossible to tell if he were drunk. It required more than a casual glance to discover that in Stanny. Opposite him sat Mitzi of course, with her seraphic, unchanging smile. The wide-eyed, soulless, pretty creature!—Not soulless, really; one must be fair; soulless only to them. Stanny, brooding upon her face, was giving everything away in his eyes. ”

“ His face—close-set sharp black eyes; longish nose; lips suggesting the beak of a predatory bird; was all lighted up by that all-knowing, zestful leer. A wicked, dirty, comely face; it was the zest expressed there that dishonored Wilfred.
Without turning around, the boy with a slight derisive cock of his head conveyed an invitation to Wilfred to join the circle. Wilfred, gasping, hastened by with lowered head, a hot tide pouring up and scorching his cheeks and forehead. The boy’s mocking laughter pursued him.
“Hey, wait a minute, Kid!” ”

“ Gore was so respectable and scary, he saw that it would be up to him to make all the running. In the end his man might escape him out of sheer funk. It was necessary for him to have a private word or two with Mr. Gore before the evening was over; and how was that to be managed when the millionaire was continually surrounded by admiring listeners, who obliged him to play the respectable. That’s what’s the matter with him, thought Joe, thinking of the pained roll to his eyeballs; there’s always people watching him, and he never has a chance to be bad. ”

“ The edge of the bureau was blackened by many cigarette burns. The men who had laid those cigarettes down, their bodies had burned!
The girl came, and passed an arm around his shoulders. “You’re a wonderful fella!” she murmured. “I like you.”
Oh, yes! thought Wilfred. Flattery is a part of her business.
On the hand that lay on the bureau, Wilfred sported an antique ring of no great value. She turned it round on his finger. “Give it to me for a keepsake, fella,” she whispered cajolingly.
Wilfred thought: She knows that normal men have a moment of tenderness now. But not me. I feel nothing. ”

“ One of the leaders of men! Wilfred thought with twisted bitterness. Well . . . one must face it! He felt reluctantly drawn to Joe. For the thousandth time he wished he were not so at the mercy of physical beauty. But presently the bitterness passed with the thrilling thought: What regions there are in man still to explore!
“You still live in New York?” Elaine said to Wilfred. “How is it we never see you?”
“Well, we hardly move in the same circles,” said Wilfred smiling, and immediately sensible that he could scarcely have said a worse thing. ”

“ Joe returned to the fireplace and flung himself into one of the big chairs. “Oh God! you do try a man’s patience!” he exclaimed. “You want me, and you don’t want me! Where is this going to end?”
“I’m afraid of you,” Elaine said suddenly. She had turned, and was looking at him somberly. The fear she spoke of was not evident in her glance.
Joe laughed softly. “That’s flattering,” he said: “for you’re the bravest woman I know.”
She went a step or two towards him. She seemed to speak by a power outside herself. “In our maddest moments your eyes are still measuring me. You never lose yourself. ”

“ This was bitter for Wilfred. “I’m not afraid of them,” he said quickly.
Joe laughed again. “Aw, come on,” he said.
“I’m not dressed. . . .”
“It don’t matter,” said Joe. “So long as you have the price.”
“But I haven’t,” said Wilfred desperately.
“Oh Hell!” said Joe. “I didn’t suppose you had. This is on me. . . . Look!” He produced a wallet from his breast pocket, and partly opening it, revealed a thick stuffing of crisp new yellow-backed bills. “That’s my Sunday money. I’ll go halves with you.”
“I . . . I couldn’t,” stammered Wilfred, grinding his teeth.
“Why not? Money means nothing to me. ”

“ The notion that passion must decide is fatal. I know it! I know it!”
“You may be right,” she said with a half smile that he could not interpret. “By all means let us talk it out!” Her serene glance was raised again; but it did not rest on Wilfred. She was looking at the kettle, meditatively. “If you do not love me, why do you want to marry me?”
“I do love you,” said Wilfred. “But not. . . .” ”

“ When they had gone a block, Stanny stopped short, and faced Wilfred. “I know I’m a bloody fool,” he said ill-temperedly. “Now are you satisfied?”
Wilfred slipped his arm through Stanny’s “I’m a bloodier fool than you, old fellow, and my heart’s just as heavy!”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” cried Stanny passionately. “You and your heart! Do you think I can’t see that you’re saying that just to make me feel better? Nothing can touch you! I wish to God you’d give over trying to manage me like a woman!” ”

“ They all laughed.
“Just the same,” grumbled Taswell, “it destroys everything to say that the best men go to the bottom!”
“Your best need not be my best,” said Wilfred.
Taswell stared at him in exasperation.
“I like that figure about the rapids,” said Stanny, off on a tack of his own. “That’s what life is, a rapids. And you have no boat. You are up to your knees in it; or your waist; or your neck; just as your luck may be. With the current tearing at you without a letup. And no shores to climb out on. Steep walls of rock on either side. ”

“ Said Wilfred, concluding his story:
“Above all, avoid a high-brow boarding-house. Intellectual table-talk is no compensation for watery hash.”
At that Jessie exploded. It was not a loud explosion, but it had force. “You make me sick, Wilfred! Does that reach you? I’d like to smack your grinning face . . . !”
“Why . . . go ahead!” said Wilfred, astonished, but grinning still.
“Don’t speak to me! Or you’ll make me say something I’ll regret! You’re a fool, do you hear? All men are fools, and you’re the greatest! ”

“ What I mean is, that you only see in me what you wish to see, and there is never anybody else around to upset your self-pleasing notions.”
“Oh, come!” said Wilfred.
“It’s just as well,” said Frances Mary with her mocking smile—she was mocking herself now. “Who wants the truth to be known about oneself? Especially a woman. Mystery is her existence. No matter how clever she is, she cannot escape the common fate of woman. Her own concerns are so unreal to her! ”

“ At such moments, Wilfred thought, Jasper under his unsure manner revealed richer ore than any of them.
The supply of Nebiola had given out; and they went cascading down the four flights of stairs for a fresh supply. They found Maria’s restaurant empty; and in the back room Binks banged on the piano while the others danced. Oh! the combination of Hilgy’s grave, sad head and skittish legs. Hilgy never laughed; he only caused the others to. It seemed to Wilfred that as his friends became wilder, he grew ever more sober. ”

“ The two crossed the room as a matter of course; and Stanny asked him politely if they might share his table.
“Certainly!” stammered Wilfred, keeping his eyes down. He simply had not the courage to look at them so near to.
They sat down side by side opposite him. Wilfred’s breast was in a commotion. His confusion must have affected the other two, for they were silent at first. Undoubtedly they thought him a churl, who hugged his solitude. He could not bring himself to look at them. He was bitterly upbraiding himself. You fool! What a poor figure you are cutting! Why can’t you be natural? ”

“ These hours that Wilfred spent alone with her had been specially contrived by her. Nothing happened by accident in Elaine’s busy life. In dealing with men, she enveloped herself in an atmosphere of high mystery. During Wilfred’s hour she never volunteered the least information as to how she had spent the other twenty-three. It tormented him unbearably. He knew that other men came to the house on other days. ”

“ I haven’t seen Joe but about half a dozen times in my life. From the first he has represented to me the principle of evil; that which destroys us! I have seen how he debauches everyone with whom he comes in contact. He calls to the evil in the natures of others. He goes on unharmed because he feels nothing. ”