Christina Walshe{244}
AT Kilindir two men loved the same woman. Marania was tall and dark and ge{245}ntle; he had the devotion of a dog; his instinct for self-sacrifice was as great as that of a good woman for the husband she loves. Sobraji, on the other hand, was small and fair and cunning; as a boy he tortured animals, and as a man he tortured his mother and sisters.
The name of the woman was Pabasca. She was very dainty and pretty, and her cheeks were like red poppies seen in the half-light. But she was also very evil.
It was Sobraji whom Pabasca loved, but Sobraji was poor; Marania, on the other hand, owned land and cattle.
“If I am careful,” said Pabasca to herself one evening, as she sat outside her mother’s cottage, “if I am careful, I can have both Sobraji’s love and Marania’s money. It has been done before—I have seen it.”
This thought had lain broodingly in her mind for weeks, but she had spoken of it to no one—not even to Sobraji. 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 ardent2 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 supple3 body.... I sometimes think your soul is in my hands.”
It was impossible not {246}to be pleased by these phrases that her mean little soul could only half understand, but her pleasure was tinged4 with contempt.
Sobraji did not make love in that way. He wrote no letters. When he met her at night he whispered amorous5 indecencies in her ear which made her laugh and laugh.
Nearly every sentence began with: “How I would like to ...!” and there was no end to the ingenious ways of love his cunning mind devised.
But she had kept her body untouched by both men. Though love was heady and intoxicating6, she was too calculating, too distrustful, to give her body: when the time came, her body should be sold. But Sobraji had begun to demand, and Marania to pray for, an answer to the question each had put so many times. It was tiresome7, she thought, to be driven to speech when she was not ready for speech. If Sobraji came to-night, she would have to tell him her plan.
He did come. It was dark. He crept among the bushes, and she heard him. Then, stealthily, he emerged from the plantation8 and touched her on the shoulder. His hand slid down her arm to her hip9 and lingered there. She bent10 over to him, and he seized her roughly, brutally11, as a faun might seize a virgin12, and pulled her body to his.
“Come into the plantation!” he urged.
She obeyed, and when they were among the trees, he seized her so savagely15 that she turned upon him with fear and anger.
“What are you doing?” she asked, placing her hands on his shoulders and pushing him violently away.
“Well, you won’t marry me!” he protested. “What is a man to do if the girl he loves won’t marry him? It isn’t as though you don’t love me—you do: you know you do.”
“If I married you, I should starve,” she said; “or, at all events, I should have to work so hard that I should have no joy in you. Listen while I tell you something.”
And then in a very low voice she revealed her plan to him.
“I will be Marania’s wife, but you shall be my lover. We will meet in secret. And some of the money he gives me I will hand over to you.”
She spoke1 for a long time, her voice excited but very low, urging upon him the advantages of this scheme. She explained how he had everything to gain and nothing to lose, whilst she stood to lose everything.
“But if he found out!” interrupted Sobraji, “he would kill me! Surely he would kill me!”
Pabasca stirred angrily in his arms.
“You must risk that!” she said disgustedly, though she knew very well that Marania was too gentle, too long-suffering, and too profound a believer in Fate, to wish to kill any one.
“When will you marry him?” he asked.{248}
“Soon. Now. In a fortnight.”
“Very well,” said he; “then let me love you now.”
But she drew away from him, pushing him back with her white arms.
“Your beautiful teeth—how white they are!” he said; “and I can almost see your white breasts through your....”
“Hush!” she warned, as she heard footsteps on the pathway leading to the cottage. “It is Marania. I will go to him and tell him I love him and will marry him.”
Sobraji lingered a minute after she had gone, his body a-tremble with desire. Then, in the dark, he parted the bushes with his hands and went his own way.
Marania met Pabasca with a smile that could be seen even in the darkness. He took her hand in his for a moment and patted it gently.
“Though I cannot see you,” he said, “I know you are as beautiful as the night itself.”
He led her down the pathway on to the ill-made road. Embarrassed, she remained silent.
“Listen!” he said; “that’s the nightingale I heard last night—I’m sure it is—the one I wrote to you about.... Did you like my letter?”
“Oh, yes: of course I did. But what did you mean when you said my voice was in its throat?”
“Well, as I lay in bed, it was so easy to imagine that it was you singing.”{249}
“But I never sing.”
“No? But if you did, you would sing like that. Listen!”
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.”
“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.”
“Yes, children,” she said softly, deceiving him. “And a woman is not really a woman until she has borne a child.”
She had read that in a book and had wondered at it; she was very glad that she had remembered it now.
“Won’t you marry me, Pabasca?” he asked hopelessly, for he had asked this question many times, and had always been blankly refused.
“I don’t know,” she replied.
His heart leapt and he drew nearer to her, placing his arm about her waist. They were still standing17, and the nightingale was pouring out his heart. He held her firmly and, stretching out his arm to its utmost limit, his hand closed gently on her breast.
“You are changing?” he asked; “you are growing to like me better—to love me?”{250}
Her body yielded to his embrace and she turned to face him.
But he kissed her brow instead of her mouth. A wave of irritation19 passed over her.
“You do not love me!” she said.
“Not love you, little dear?”
He held her away from him for a few moments, looking inquiringly into her face; but she closed her eyes and set her mouth. “How stupid he is!” she thought. He could just see the dusky red of her cheeks. The nightingale’s song ceased suddenly.
“Not love you?” he repeated. “Why, you are everything to me—the moon and the stars, my food and drink, my dreams and my work. 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 smothered20 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. His happiness was greatest when Marania, with a sm{251}ile and a sign, thanked him for some work he had done. On these occasions, Cesiphos would return to his quarters with a glad heart and singing eyes. His master was pleased with him: that was all that mattered.
But when Marania brought home his wife, Pabasca, Cesiphos felt cold and angry. No longer would he be first in his master’s eyes. The work in which he took so much delight would be done not for Marania alone, but for Marania’s wife also; moreover, Pabasca herself would superintend the working of the household, and he, Cesiphos, would be relegated21 to the position simply of a paid servant.
But matters did not turn out quite as Cesiphos had anticipated. It is true that he had to work for Pabasca as well as for his master, but he was mistaken in thinking she would superintend the household. Pabasca did nothing at all. She conducted herself like a Salonika lady. All day long she was idle and peevish22, and whilst Marania was sweating in the fields she was either lying in bed or wandering aimlessly about the house.
One day when Cesiphos was working with the other men in the orchard23, he looked down from the ladder on which he was standing and saw Pabasca staring at him in a most curious manner. He flushed hotly and went on with his work, and though he could feel that his master’s wife was still gazing upon him, he did not look down again. His figure stretched to its full extent was that of a giant, and his long arms, busy among the branches, were brown and muscular.
Like many people of bright intellect who are{252} deprived of one or more senses, Cesiphos appeared to possess a sixth sense, and there was little that transpired24 in Marania’s household of which he was not conscious. He soon discovered that Pabasca had no love for her husband; so he watched her—always watched, suspicious, contemptuous, angry.
There came a day when Marania announced that he was going to Salonika for four days on business. When he signalled this news to Cesiphos and told him that he was leaving his wife in his servant’s charge, Cesiphos, proud and grave, inclined his head, and then turned his gaze swiftly upon Pabasca who, in return, gave him the curious look she had bestowed25 upon him in the orchard. It was a look of invitation, of lust26. Cesiphos’ stern face did not betray that he had understood, or even noticed, the look she had given him.
At midday Marania departed, and immediately he had gone Pabasca’s spirits rose. She took from a cupboard her three dresses and, leaving her bedroom door open, tried on each in turn. Then she went into the room which Cesiphos used as a kitchen and prepared herself a meal. Towards dusk she left the house, but returned soon and went to bed.
Cesiphos sat up smoking his pipe. After a time, he rose, climbed rather noisily upstairs, went to his room and closed the door. For a little while he stood motionless as though listening; then, having taken off his boots, he opened his bedroom door with elaborate carefulness, stepped on to the little landing, closed the door silently, and crept soundlessly downstairs{253}.
Some instinct told him that Pabasca would not sleep alone that night, and he knew very well that her visitor would be Sobraji, for many times before her marriage, Cesiphos had seen her and Sobraji together at night in lonely places. In all probability, Pabasca had given him the key of the front entrance; indeed, when Cesiphos examined the door and found it unbolted, he was sure of this. So he took up his place in the entrance and waited.
After Cesiphos had waited a long time, the door opened slowly and Sobraji entered. In the darkness he did not see Marania’s servant crouching27 there, and without hurry he closed the door behind him and locked it.
Then suddenly Cesiphos sprang upon him, his large hands encircling Sobraji’s throat; squeezing his victim hard, he banged his head against the wall, until the little man hung heavy and limp in Cesiphos’ hands. Then the servant unlocked the door and opened it; gathering28 Sobraji in his arms, he threw him out into the night and locked the door upon him.
During his struggle with Sobraji, Cesiphos had been too excited to pay any attention to Pabasca, who, almost as soon as the struggle had begun, had come downstairs with a lamp. She had stood quietly by watching eagerly. It was too late for her to interrupt; indeed, after her first shock of surprise and dismay, she had no wish to do so. She was thrilled by Cesiphos’ strength, by his skill, by his machine-like calmness.{254}
Cesiphos, having locked the door, turned round and saw Pabasca. The light of the lamp fell full on her face, and she smiled at him. In return, he frowned, looked away from her, and quickly made his way upstairs. He entered his room and closed his door. Almost immediately Pabasca followed him, and placed the lamp upon the floor.
Approaching Cesiphos, she took his hand, gazed lingeringly into his eyes for a moment. He shook himself free from her, and his eyes blazed. Again she approached him, her arms outstretched; but his anger became so fierce and his face worked so terribly, that she shrank from him, and, leaving the lamp on the floor, hurriedly went to her own room.
During the days that passed before Marania’s return, Cesiphos went about his work with a grave face. Whenever he was in Pabasca’s presence, he averted29 his eyes. Each night when he went to rest, she could hear him dragging his bed across the floor and fixing it against the door.
His simple nature was badly bruised30 by what had happened. He had always known that life was not all good, but evil had never come so close to him as now. All through the day and during a portion of each night he tortured himself by asking how much, or how little, he must tell his master when he returned. Clearly it was his duty to disclose to Marania the conduct of Sobraji, but it seemed to him unwise to tell the story in such a way that Pabasca would be implicated31. Besides, he had no proof that Pabasca had expected Sobraji to visit her, though in his heart he knew that an assignation had been made and {255}nearly kept.
Upon one thing he was resolved: he would say nothing about Pabasca’s overtures32 to himself, for that might lead to unimaginable misery33 for all of them. Nevertheless, it tortured him to keep any of these things secret, but he knew not a soul to whom he could unburden his mind.
On the evening of the fourth day Cesiphos slipped unseen from the house and went to the station to meet his master. It was a cool evening with a feeling of largeness in the air, but Cesiphos was weighed down with anxiety and nervousness. How much should he tell? In what manner should he tell it? Should he break straight into the subject, or should he introduce it in a roundabout fashion?
These questions which he had been asking himself for four days were still unanswered when he saw Marania, carrying two very large parcels, step from the train. Cesiphos hurried up to him, and Marania placed both parcels on the ground whilst he shook hands with his servant. He was in good spirits and glad to be home again. Cesiphos, having picked up one of the parcels, led the way from the station, his chin upon his breast, his heart heavy within him.
They had covered but a short distance when Cesiphos plucked his master’s sleeve and indicated that he wished to speak with him. With a sigh of impatience34, Marania put his package on the ground and sat upon it. Cesiphos followed his example, and began to talk on his fingers by the light of the moon.{256}
“Master, I have something I would tell you.”
Marania bowed his head.
“Very late in the night following the day you left, Sobraji entered your house. He had a key, the door was unbolted.”
He stopped, hoping his master would say something; but Marania only stared at him wonderingly and again bowed his head.
“I was waiting for him....”
Marania interrupted his servant by placing a hand upon his arm.
“Why were you waiting for him?”
Cesiphos fumbled35 with his fingers, but spelled out not a single word. Marania struck him lightly on the arm and again asked:
“Why?”
“Because ... because, somehow, I thought he was coming. The door was unbolted.”
His master shook him angrily.
“Why were you waiting for him?” he asked a third time. “How did you know he was coming?”
Cesiphos began to tremble. He did not know why he had believed Sobraji would come that night. Something in his mind had whispered it to him—instinct, suspicion, hatred36. But he could not explain this to Marania. So he sat fumbling37 with his fingers. At length his master signed to him:
“Go on with your story.”{257}
“I was waiting for him behind the door. He entered and closed it after him. I sprang upon him and nearly choked him. I banged his head against the wall. Then I opened the door and threw him outside.”
“Does your mistress know of this?”
“Yes. She came down with a lamp in her hand and watched us.”
His hands stopped working. Very deliberately38 Marania rose, lifted his parcel and proceeded on his way home, Cesiphos followed him in deep dejection. The servant knew that his master had not accepted his story: yet it was true—every word of it.
They soon reached Marania’s farm. Pabasca was waiting outside to receive her husband. She ran to him with a cry of delight and threw her arms about his neck. He embraced her, at first tenderly, then with passion.
In the meantime, Cesiphos had carried his package into the house and had begun to prepare food for his master. It was with a great effort that he moved his body about, so sick he felt, so dismayed, so full of apprehension39. Through the open door he saw his master and mistress go to their living-room. He could feel them talking together. For a long time they talked until, suddenly, with blazing eyes, Marania entered, rushed up to his servant and dealt him a heavy blow between the eyes. Cesiphos staggered and fell. He rose, whimpering.
Marania then went to the entrance-door and opened it wide. Pointing with one hand to the door, he seized his servant wit{258}h the other and violently dragged him into the passage. Still whimpering Cesiphos stumbled into the night. The master whom he had loved and served now hated him.
Marania locked and bolted the door, and returned to his wife.
But though she was weeping he would not comfort her, and that night and for ever afterwards he slept in the room that Cesiphos had occupied.
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1
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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2
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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3
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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4
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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5
amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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6
intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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7
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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8
plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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9
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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10
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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11
brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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12
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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13
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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14
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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15
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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16
craftily
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| 狡猾地，狡诈地 | |
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17
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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18
pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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19
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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20
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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21
relegated
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| v.使降级( relegate的过去式和过去分词 )；使降职；转移；把…归类 | |
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22
peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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23
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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24
transpired
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| （事实，秘密等）被人知道( transpire的过去式和过去分词 )； 泄露； 显露； 发生 | |
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25
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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27
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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28
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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29
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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30
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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31
implicated
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| adj.密切关联的；牵涉其中的 | |
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32
overtures
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| n.主动的表示，提议；（向某人做出的）友好表示、姿态或提议( overture的名词复数 )；（歌剧、芭蕾舞、音乐剧等的）序曲，前奏曲 | |
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33
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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35
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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36
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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37
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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38
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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39
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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