Lilian did not come near me. I stopped with Pa; he showed me a small smoker's table, garnished with tobacco jar, ashtray, cigar-cutter, etc., that his two women had bought for him. He added that he hated receiving presents from them. He told me he had given Lilian a purse with money in it, but he did not speak of any gift he had made to his wife. He took me upstairs to wash my hands. The bedrooms were no longer on the ground floor.
It was too cold, I was told, and the second story was now used nightly, as there were three rooms, opening one into the other. The doors were left open, it appears, and one portable stove kept them all warm. One bedroom was occupied by Pa and Ma, another by Lilian, and the third by Granny, who was installed there, ready to take charge of the house when Mr. and Mrs. Arvel had left for the Riviera.
He pointed to one bed and I saw an expression in his face and a light in his eye that I had never seen before, as he said to me, with a devilish grin, and his mouth full of saliva:
“That's where Scraggy sleeps!”
And he stroked the pillow with an affectionate gesture of his stubby, nailless fingers. Then he showed me a suit of pyjamas on his bed, and told me that Lilian had made them for him.
The dinner passed off without notable incidents, but afterwards Lilian calmly asked me to go out with her and the dogs, in the dark, leaving Pa and Ma at home. It seemed to be a recognized thing now, that I could walk out with her at night. No doubt Mamma knew I could not hurt her now.
I must confess, with due shame, that I have no particular recollection of our chat, although it ought to have been important enough after what had passed at our last meeting.
My impression is that I waited to hear Lilian complain of having been accused of lying venality by me, and that she never alluded to anything, but seemed to want me to forget everything and start afresh. So I was bound to think that I had guessed aright; should I be forced to despise her now?
All I can find in my scribbling diary is one word: “Reconciliation.” So we must have patched up a peace somehow or the other. Lilian went so far as to repeat that she had tried to forget me and could not. She also said that the old couple, who had dined with us on the twenty-sixth of December, had put me down as her fiancé. This was certainly one of Lilian's little crammers to see what I would say, and she had placed her own thoughts, words, and ideas in the mouths of these strangers.
“I suppose, one day when I get down here, I shall be introduced to some nice young man, and Mamma will say: 'Mr. S., allow me, — Mr. So-and-so, — Lilian's betrothed!'“
“Oh! That will never happen,” she exclaimed, adding a peculiar half-sigh, half-groan, that I was fated to hear twice more later on, and which seemed to be the strongest expression of anguish to which she could give vent.
She told me that she was not going to Nice. That was no lie, at all events, and she said she would try and manage to see me while she was alone at the villa with her Granny. She was very impressive in informing me that she could not get to Paris without good and valid reasons, but I did not grumble about that. I knew she could do pretty much as she liked. I let her chatter as she chose, and was careful not to commit myself in any way. She could have no suspicion of what I thought. I almost lost my presence of mind, however, when she told me that she had broken off the marriage between Charlotte and Raoul. She said that they did not meet any more. How she managed it, she would not tell. I dared not press the point, but the sister slept with the lad's mistress and they were still friends, but Lolotte was not to see Adèle's son any more. What did it all mean? I jumped to the conclusion that Papa was now fairly ensconced in Lilian's heart and bed, and together they had jockeyed Raoul's sweetheart. Mamma spoke about the rupture of the marriage and hinted that Charlotte had too many lovers. Wicked Lilian had betrayed her brother's betrothed, but was artful enough to still be friends with her. No wonder she called Charlotte a little goose.
Lilian was not well. She looked pale, worn, and worried. A doctor had been consulted, and she was taking cod-liver oil. I had guessed aright about her anemia in November, but I held my tongue now, and did not recur to her fit of blind rage, when I had dared to say she was poor-blooded. I would not quarrel any more with her.
Lilian kissed me rapturously and promised to write to me soon.
“Not at all,” I answered, “I want to see you as soon as possible.”
“No, no; you must wait.”
“Then you don't love me. All right, darling, let all be over between us.”
“Oh! No, do not say that,” and she showed great concern and alarm, as she always did when I spoke of a real farewell.
“When do your parents leave?” I asked.
“On Tuesday, the tenth.”
“Then I shall take the nine o'clock train on Tuesday night. You can bring the dogs out at a quarter past nine, and I'll walk about the Avenue de la Gare up to the Place d'Armes, until I see you.”
“Perhaps I'll come and perhaps I shan't.”
“I'll bring you a pretty book I want you to read. It is all about cruelty, with pictures.”
“Oh! I should like that!”
“And it is in French too. I have never lent you a French book yet. Now perhaps, you will come out to get the volume, which is quite decent and proper, and meant for young girls at school.”
She laughed, and gave me her luscious mouth, as we finished our little walk. I wished her parents bon voyage, and promised to keep Papa supplied with papers during his absence. Mamma said Lilian had such a lot of work to do that she could not go with them, which was a great pity.
I did not believe Mamma. They were leaving Lilian at home for a purpose. What was it? Was it for me? I began to think I was not of much importance. She had other lovers-real ones-who she did not want to stay away from, for interested motives. Or did Mamma, now knowing Lilian was on an equality with her, refuse to travel in her company? These were the little mysteries I never was able to solve, with many more, which I hope will not bother the reader as much as they did me. I rather liked getting on the track of this series of traps and pitfalls. I felt my sense of penetration growing very acute, and was as pleased as the schoolboy who deciphers a rebus, knowing that the year before, I had been totally unable to reason as I could then.
January 10, 1899.
I popped the first volume of the original edition of Justine et Juliette (by the notorious Marquis de Sade, in ten parts, with 101 engravings,) in my pocket, and at nine p.m., well wrapped up, with a good cigar in my mouth, I took the train to Sonis. I was scarcely out of the station when I met my charmer, who I noticed, without saying anything, had freshened herself up, and put on a very nice hat and cloak.
Lilian began her old trick of trying to tease me by asking me ironically why I took the trouble to come down and leave my warm fireside. She also made a fuss when I wished to kiss her. So I retorted, and told her that I found she lacked all true feminine tenderness and pleasing politeness.
“I do not mean the ordinary politeness of society, which is a kind of light varnish which cracks and peels off at the slightest scratch, but true politeness of the heart; that which is to be found in worldly manifestations, as well as in sentiment, and in sensual affairs, just the same as in social associations.”
Lilian said I was too serious.