The Painted Veil / Узорный покров. Уильям Сомерсет Моэм

She put her arm lovingly round Charlie’s neck.

      “You’re simply wonderful. I was shaking like a leaf when I came here and you’ve made everything all right.”

      He took her face in his hands and kissed her lips.

      “Darling.”

      She gave a little laugh, a laugh of happy love and of triumph; his eyes were heavy with desire. He lifted her to her feet and not letting her go but holding her close to his breast he locked the door.

      XXI

      All through the afternoon she thought of what Charlie had said about Walter. They were dining out that evening and when he came back from the Club she was dressing. He knocked at her door.

      “Come in.”

      He did not open.

      “I’m going straight along to dress. How long will you be?”

      “Ten minutes.”

      He said nothing more, but went to his own room. His voice had that constrained note which she had heard in it the night before. She felt fairly sure of herself now. When he came downstairs she was already in the car.

      “I’m afraid I’ve kept you waiting,” he said.

      “I shall survive it,” she replied, and she was able to smile as she spoke.

      They drove in silence till they reached their destination. It was a large dinner party. There were too many people. While Kitty chatted gaily with her neighbours she watched Walter. He was deathly pale and his face was pinched.

      Walter did not as usual give her a smiling glance now and then. He never looked at her. She had noticed that when he came down to the car he kept his eyes averted, and he did the same when, with his usual politeness, he gave her his hand to alight. Now, talking with the women on either side of him, he did not smile, but looked at them with steady and unblinking eyes. His face was stern.

      Of course he knew; there was no doubt about that, and he was furious with her. Why hadn’t he said anything? Was it really because, though angry and hurt, he loved her so much that he was afraid she would leave him? The thought made her slightly despise him, but good-naturedly: after all, he was her husband and he provided her with everything; so long as he didn’t interfere with her and let her do as she liked she would be quite nice to him. On the other hand perhaps his silence was due merely to his shyness. Charlie was right when he said that no one would hate a scandal more than Walter. His shyness was a disease.

      And there was another thing: men were very vain, and so long as no one knew what had happened it might be that Walter would be content to ignore it. Then she wondered whether Charlie was right when he suggested that Walter knew which side his bread was buttered. Charlie was the most popular man in the Colony and soon would be Colonial Secretary. He could be very useful to Walter. You never knew; perhaps his seriousness was merely a mask for a mean nature. The more she considered it the more likely it seemed that Charlie was right.

      It happened that just then the women on either side of him were talking with their neighbours and he was left alone. He was staring straight in front of him, forgetful of the party, and his eyes were filled with a mortal sadness. It gave Kitty a shock.

      XXII

      Next day when she was lying down after lunch, dozing, she was aroused by a knock at her door.

      “Who is it?” she cried irritably.

      At that hour she was unaccustomed to be disturbed.

      “I.”

      She recognized her husband’s voice and she sat up quickly.

      “Come in.”

      “Did I wake you?” he asked as he entered.

      “You did,” she answered in the natural tone she had adopted with him for the last two days.

      “Will you come into the next room. I want to have a little talk with you.”

      Her heart gave a sudden beat.

      “I’ll put on a dressing gown.”

      He left her. She slipped her bare feet into mules and wrapped herself in a kimono. She looked in the glass; she was very pale and she put on some rouge. She stood at the door for a moment, and then with a bold face joined him.

      “Won’t you sit down?”

      He did not look at her. He spoke gravely. She was glad to do as he asked: her knees were a little shaky. He sat also and lit a cigarette. His eyes wandered restlessly about the room. Suddenly he looked at her; and his direct gaze gave her a real fright.

      “Have you ever heard of Mei-Tan-Fu?” he asked. “There’s been a lot about it in the papers lately.”

      She stared at him in astonishment. She hesitated.

      “Is that the place where there’s cholera? Mr. Arbuthnot was talking about it last night.”

      “There’s an epidemic. I believe it’s the worst they’ve had for years. There was a medical missionary there. He died of cholera three days ago. There’s a French convent there and of course there’s the Customs man. Everyone else has got out.”

      His eyes were still fixed on her and she could not lower hers. She tried to read his expression, but she was nervous, and she could only see a strange watchfulness. How could he look so steadily? He did not even blink.

      “The French nuns are doing what they can. They’ve turned the orphanage into an infirmary. But the people are dying like flies. I’ve offered to go and take charge.”

      “You?”

      She started violently. Her first thought was that if he went she would be free and could see Charlie. But the thought shocked her. She felt herself go red in the face. Why did he watch her like that? She looked away in embarrassment.

      “Is that necessary?” she asked.

      “There’s not a foreign doctor in the place.”

      “But you’re not a doctor, you’re a bacteriologist.”

      “I am an M. D., you know, and before I specialized I did a lot of general work in a hospital. The fact that I’m a bacteriologist is all to the good. It will be an admirable chance for research work.”

      When she glanced at him she was surprised to see in his eyes a gleam of mockery. She could not understand.

      “But won’t it be awfully dangerous?”

      “Awfully.”

      He smiled. She leaned her forehead on her hand. Suicide. Dreadful! She had not thought he would take it like that. She couldn’t let him do that. It was cruel. It was not her fault if she did not love him. She couldn’t bear the thought that he should kill himself for her sake. Tears flowed softly down her cheeks.