Chapter65

hayward’svisitdidphilipagreatdealofgood.eachdayhisthoughtsdweltlessonmildred.he

lookedbackuponthepastwithdisgust.hecouldnotunderstandhowhehadsubmittedtothedishonourofsuchalove;andwhenhethoughtofmildreditwaswithangryhatred,becauseshehadsubmittedhimtosomuchhumiliation.hisimaginationpresentedhertohimnowwithherdefectsofpersonandmannererated,sothatheshudderedatthethoughtofhavingbeenconnectedwithher.

“itjustshowshowdamnedweakiam,”hesaidtohimself.theadventurewaslikeablunderthatonehadcommittedatapartysohorriblethatonefeltnothingcouldbedonetoexcuseit:theonlyremedywastoforget.hishorroratthedegradationhehadsufferedhelpedhim.hewaslikeasnakecastingitsskinandhelookedupontheoldcoveringwithnausea.heexultedinthepossessionofhimselfoncemore;herealisedhowmuchofthedelightoftheworldhehadlostwhenhewasabsorbedinthatmadnesswhichtheycalledlove;hehadhadenoughofit;hedidnotwanttobeinloveanymoreiflovewasthat.philiptoldhaywardsomethingofwhathehadgonethrough.

“wasn’titsophocles,”heasked,“whoprayedforthetimewhenhewouldbedeliveredfromthewildbeastofpassionthatdevouredhisheart-strings?”  philipseemedreallytobebornagain.hebreathedthecircumambientairasthoughhehadneverbreatheditbefore,andhetookachild’spleasureinallthefactsoftheworld.hecalledhisperiodofinsanitysixmonths’hardlabour.

haywardhadonlybeensettledinlondonafewdayswhenphilipreceivedfromblackstable,whereithadbeensent,acardforaprivateviewatsomepicturegallery.hetookhayward,and,onlookingatthecatalogue,sawthatlawsonhadapictureinit.

“isupposehesentthecard,”saidphilip.“let’sgoandfindhim,he’ssuretobeinfrontofhispicture.”

this,aprofileofruthchalice,wastuckedawayinacorner,andlawsonwasnotfarfromit.helookedalittlelost,inhislargesofthatandloose,paleclothes,amongstthefashionablethrongthathadgatheredfortheprivateview.hegreetedphilipwithenthusiasm,andwithhisusualvolubilitytoldhimthathehadcometoliveinlondon,ruthchalicewasahussy,hehadtakenastudio,pariswasplayedout,hehadacommissionforaportrait,andthey’dbetterdinetogetherandhaveagoodoldtalk.philipremindedhimofhisacquaintancewithhayward,andwasentertainedtoseethatlawsonwasslightlyawedbyhayward’selegantclothesandgrandmanner.theysatuponhimbetterthantheyhaddoneintheshabbylittlestudiowhichlawsonandphiliphadshared.

atdinnerlawsonwentonwithhisnews.flanaganhadgonebacktoamerica.cluttonhaddisappeared.hehadcometotheconclusionthatamanhadnochanceofdoinganythingsolongashewasincontactwithartandartists:theonlythingwastogetrightaway.tomakethestepeasierhehadquarrelledwithallhisfriendsinparis.hedevelopedatalentfortellingthemhometruths,whichmadethembearwithfortitudehisdeclarationthathehaddonewiththatcityandwassettlingingerona,alittletowninthenorthofspainwhichhadattractedhimwhenhesawitfromthetrainonhiswaytobarcelona.hewaslivingtherenowalone.

“iwonderifhe’lleverdoanygood,”saidphilip.

hewasinterestedinthehumansideofthatletoexpresssomethingwhichwassoobscureintheman’smindthathewasbecomemorbidandquerulous.philipfeltvaguelythathewashimselfinthesamecase,butwithhimitwastheconductofhislifeasawholethatperplexedhim.thatwashismeansofself-expression,andwhathemustdowithitwasnotclear.buthehadnotimetocontinuewiththistrainofthought,forlawsonpouredoutafrankrecitalofhisaffairwithruthchalice.shehadlefthimforayoungstudentwhohadjustcomefromengland,andwasbehavinginascandalousfashion.lawsonreallythoughtsomeoneoughttostepinandsavetheyoungman.shewouldruinhim.philipgatheredthatlawson’schiefgrievancewasthattherupturehadcomeinthemiddleofaportraithewaspainting.

“womenhavenorealfeelingforart,”hesaid.“theyonlypretendtheyhave.”buthefinishedphilosophicallyenough:“however,igotfourportraitsoutofher,andi’mnotsureifthelastiwasworkingonwouldeverhavebeenaess.”

philipenviedtheeasywayinwhichthepaintermanagedhisloveaffairs.hehadpassedeighteenmonthspleasantlyenough,hadgotanexcellentmodelfornothing,andhadpartedfromherattheendwithnogreatpang.

“andwhataboutcronshaw?”askedphilip.

“oh,he’sdonefor,”answeredlawson,withthecheerfulcallousnessofhisyouth.“he’llbedeadinsixmonths.hegotpneumonialastwinter.hewasintheenglishhospitalforsevenweeks,andwhenhecameouttheytoldhimhisonlychancewastogiveupliquor.”

“poordevil,”smiledtheabstemiousphilip.

“hekeptoffforabit.heusedtogotothelilasallthesame,hecouldn’tkeepawayfromthat,butheusedtodrinkhotmilk,avecdelafleurd’oranger,andhewasdamneddull.”

“itakeityoudidnotconcealthefactfromhim.”

“oh,heknewithimself.alittlewhileagohestartedonwhiskeyagain.hesaidhewastoooldtoturnoveranynewleaves.hewouldratherbehappyforsixmonthsanddieattheendofitthanlingeronforfiveyears.andthenithinkhe’sbeenawfullyharduplately.yousee,hedidn’tearnanythingwhilehewasill,andtheslutheliveswithhasbeengivinghimarottentime.”

“iremember,thefirsttimeisawhimiadmiredhimawfully,”saidphilip.“ithoughthewaswonderful.

itissickeningthatvulgar,middle-classvirtueshouldpay.”

“ofcoursehewasarotter.hewasboundtoendintheguttersoonerorlater,”saidlawson.

philipwashurtbecauselawsonwouldnotseethepityofit.ofcourseitwascauseandeffect,butinthenecessitywithwhichonefollowstheotherlayalltragedyoflife.

“oh,i’dforgotten,”saidlawson.“justafteryoulefthesentroundapresentforyou.ithoughtyou’dbecomingbackandididn’tbotheraboutit,andthenididn’tthinkitworthsendingon;butit’llcomeovertolondonwiththerestofmythings,andyoucancometomystudioonedayandfetchitawayifyouwantit.”

“youhaven’ttoldmewhatitisyet.”

“oh,it’sonlyaedlittlebitofcarpet.ishouldn’tthinkit’sworthanything.iaskedhimonedaywhatthedevilhe’dsentthefilthythingfor.hetoldmehe’dseenitinashopintheruederennesandboughtitforfifteenfrancs.itappearstobeapersianrug.hesaidyou’daskedhimthemeaningoflifeandthatwastheanswer.buthewasverydrunk.”

philiplaughed.

“ohyes,iknow.i’lltakeit.itwasafavouritewheezeofhis.hesaidimustfindoutformyself,orelsetheanswermeantnothing.”