Chapter LIX

by William Somerset Maugham

　　Philip passed the evening wretchedly. He had told his landlady that hewould not be in, so there was nothing for him to eat, and he had to go toGatti's for dinner. Afterwards he went back to his rooms, but Griffiths onthe floor above him was having a party, and the noisy merriment made hisown misery more hard to bear. He went to a music-hall, but it was Saturdaynight and there was standing-room only: after half an hour of boredom hislegs grew tired and he went home. He tried to read, but he could not fixhis attention; and yet it was necessary that he should work hard. Hisexamination in biology was in little more than a fortnight, and, though itwas easy, he had neglected his lectures of late and was conscious that heknew nothing. It was only a viva, however, and he felt sure that in afortnight he could find out enough about the subject to scrape through. Hehad confidence in his intelligence. He threw aside his book and gavehimself up to thinking deliberately of the matter which was in his mindall the time.He reproached himself bitterly for his behaviour that evening. Why had hegiven her the alternative that she must dine with him or else never seehim again? Of course she refused. He should have allowed for her pride. Hehad burnt his ships behind him. It would not be so hard to bear if hethought that she was suffering now, but he knew her too well: she wasperfectly indifferent to him. If he hadn't been a fool he would havepretended to believe her story; he ought to have had the strength toconceal his disappointment and the self-control to master his temper. Hecould not tell why he loved her. He had read of the idealisation thattakes place in love, but he saw her exactly as she was. She was notamusing or clever, her mind was common; she had a vulgar shrewdness whichrevolted him, she had no gentleness nor softness. As she would have put itherself, she was on the make. What aroused her admiration was a clevertrick played on an unsuspecting person; to `do' somebody always gave hersatisfaction. Philip laughed savagely as he thought of her gentility andthe refinement with which she ate her food; she could not bear a coarseword, so far as her limited vocabulary reached she had a passion foreuphemisms, and she scented indecency everywhere; she never spoke oftrousers but referred to them as nether garments; she thought it slightlyindelicate to blow her nose and did it in a deprecating way. She wasdreadfully anaemic and suffered from the dyspepsia which accompanies thatailing. Philip was repelled by her flat breast and narrow hips, and hehated the vulgar way in which she did her hair. He loathed and despisedhimself for loving her.The fact remained that he was helpless. He felt just as he had feltsometimes in the hands of a bigger boy at school. He had struggled againstthe superior strength till his own strength was gone, and he was renderedquite powerless--he remembered the peculiar languor he had felt in hislimbs, almost as though he were paralysed--so that he could not helphimself at all. He might have been dead. He felt just that same weaknessnow. He loved the woman so that he knew he had never loved before. He didnot mind her faults of person or of character, he thought he loved themtoo: at all events they meant nothing to him. It did not seem himself thatwas concerned; he felt that he had been seized by some strange force thatmoved him against his will, contrary to his interests; and because he hada passion for freedom he hated the chains which bound him. He laughed athimself when he thought how often he had longed to experience theoverwhelming passion. He cursed himself because he had given way to it. Hethought of the beginnings; nothing of all this would have happened if hehad not gone into the shop with Dunsford. The whole thing was his ownfault. Except for his ridiculous vanity he would never have troubledhimself with the ill-mannered slut.At all events the occurrences of that evening had finished the wholeaffair. Unless he was lost to all sense of shame he could not go back. Hewanted passionately to get rid of the love that obsessed him; it wasdegrading and hateful. He must prevent himself from thinking of her. In alittle while the anguish he suffered must grow less. His mind went back tothe past. He wondered whether Emily Wilkinson and Fanny Price had enduredon his account anything like the torment that he suffered now. He felt apang of remorse."I didn't know then what it was like," he said to himself.He slept very badly. The next day was Sunday, and he worked at hisbiology. He sat with the book in front of him, forming the words with hislips in order to fix his attention, but he could remember nothing. Hefound his thoughts going back to Mildred every minute, and he repeated tohimself the exact words of the quarrel they had had. He had to forcehimself back to his book. He went out for a walk. The streets on the Southside of the river were dingy enough on week-days, but there was an energy,a coming and going, which gave them a sordid vivacity; but on Sundays,with no shops open, no carts in the roadway, silent and depressed, theywere indescribably dreary. Philip thought that day would never end. But hewas so tired that he slept heavily, and when Monday came he entered uponlife with determination. Christmas was approaching, and a good many of thestudents had gone into the country for the short holiday between the twoparts of the winter session; but Philip had refused his uncle's invitationto go down to Blackstable. He had given the approaching examination as hisexcuse, but in point of fact he had been unwilling to leave London andMildred. He had neglected his work so much that now he had only afortnight to learn what the curriculum allowed three months for. He set towork seriously. He found it easier each day not to think of Mildred. Hecongratulated himself on his force of character. The pain he suffered wasno longer anguish, but a sort of soreness, like what one might be expectedto feel if one had been thrown off a horse and, though no bones werebroken, were bruised all over and shaken. Philip found that he was able toobserve with curiosity the condition he had been in during the last fewweeks. He analysed his feelings with interest. He was a little amused athimself. One thing that struck him was how little under thosecircumstances it mattered what one thought; the system of personalphilosophy, which had given him great satisfaction to devise, had notserved him. He was puzzled by this.But sometimes in the street he would see a girl who looked so like Mildredthat his heart seemed to stop beating. Then he could not help himself, hehurried on to catch her up, eager and anxious, only to find that it was atotal stranger. Men came back from the country, and he went with Dunsfordto have tea at an A. B. C. shop. The well-known uniform made him somiserable that he could not speak. The thought came to him that perhapsshe had been transferred to another establishment of the firm for whichshe worked, and he might suddenly find himself face to face with her. Theidea filled him with panic, so that he feared Dunsford would see thatsomething was the matter with him: he could not think of anything to say;he pretended to listen to what Dunsford was talking about; theconversation maddened him; and it was all he could do to prevent himselffrom crying out to Dunsford for Heaven's sake to hold his tongue.Then came the day of his examination. Philip, when his turn arrived, wentforward to the examiner's table with the utmost confidence. He answeredthree or four questions. Then they showed him various specimens; he hadbeen to very few lectures and, as soon as he was asked about things whichhe could not learn from books, he was floored. He did what he could tohide his ignorance, the examiner did not insist, and soon his ten minuteswere over. He felt certain he had passed; but next day, when he went up tothe examination buildings to see the result posted on the door, he wasastounded not to find his number among those who had satisfied theexaminers. In amazement he read the list three times. Dunsford was withhim."I say, I'm awfully sorry you're ploughed," he said.He had just inquired Philip's number. Philip turned and saw by his radiantface that Dunsford had passed."Oh, it doesn't matter a bit," said Philip. "I'm jolly glad you're allright. I shall go up again in July."He was very anxious to pretend he did not mind, and on their way backalong The Embankment insisted on talking of indifferent things. Dunsfordgood-naturedly wanted to discuss the causes of Philip's failure, butPhilip was obstinately casual. He was horribly mortified; and the factthat Dunsford, whom he looked upon as a very pleasant but quite stupidfellow, had passed made his own rebuff harder to bear. He had always beenproud of his intelligence, and now he asked himself desperately whether hewas not mistaken in the opinion he held of himself. In the three months ofthe winter session the students who had joined in October had alreadyshaken down into groups, and it was clear which were brilliant, which wereclever or industrious, and which were `rotters.' Philip was conscious thathis failure was a surprise to no one but himself. It was tea-time, and heknew that a lot of men would be having tea in the basement of the MedicalSchool: those who had passed the examination would be exultant, those whodisliked him would look at him with satisfaction, and the poor devils whohad failed would sympathise with him in order to receive sympathy. Hisinstinct was not to go near the hospital for a week, when the affair wouldbe no more thought of, but, because he hated so much to go just then, hewent: he wanted to inflict suffering upon himself. He forgot for themoment his maxim of life to follow his inclinations with due regard forthe policeman round the corner; or, if he acted in accordance with it,there must have been some strange morbidity in his nature which made himtake a grim pleasure in self-torture.But later on, when he had endured the ordeal to which he forced himself,going out into the night after the noisy conversation in the smoking-room,he was seized with a feeling of utter loneliness. He seemed to himselfabsurd and futile. He had an urgent need of consolation, and thetemptation to see Mildred was irresistible. He thought bitterly that therewas small chance of consolation from her; but he wanted to see her even ifhe did not speak to her; after all, she was a waitress and would beobliged to serve him. She was the only person in the world he cared for.There was no use in hiding that fact from himself. Of course it would behumiliating to go back to the shop as though nothing had happened, but hehad not much self-respect left. Though he would not confess it to himself,he had hoped each day that she would write to him; she knew that a letteraddressed to the hospital would find him; but she had not written: it wasevident that she cared nothing if she saw him again or not. And he kept onrepeating to himself:"I must see her. I must see her."The desire was so great that he could not give the time necessary to walk,but jumped in a cab. He was too thrifty to use one when it could possiblybe avoided. He stood outside the shop for a minute or two. The thoughtcame to him that perhaps she had left, and in terror he walked in quickly.He saw her at once. He sat down and she came up to him."A cup of tea and a muffin, please," he ordered.He could hardly speak. He was afraid for a moment that he was going tocry."I almost thought you was dead," she said.She was smiling. Smiling! She seemed to have forgotten completely thatlast scene which Philip had repeated to himself a hundred times."I thought if you'd wanted to see me you'd write," he answered."I've got too much to do to think about writing letters."It seemed impossible for her to say a gracious thing. Philip cursed thefate which chained him to such a woman. She went away to fetch his tea."Would you like me to sit down for a minute or two?" she said, when shebrought it."Yes.""Where have you been all this time?""I've been in London.""I thought you'd gone away for the holidays. Why haven't you been inthen?"Philip looked at her with haggard, passionate eyes."Don't you remember that I said I'd never see you again?""What are you doing now then?"She seemed anxious to make him drink up the cup of his humiliation; but heknew her well enough to know that she spoke at random; she hurt himfrightfully, and never even tried to. He did not answer."It was a nasty trick you played on me, spying on me like that. I alwaysthought you was a gentleman in every sense of the word.""Don't be beastly to me, Mildred. I can't bear it.""You are a funny feller. I can't make you out.""It's very simple. I'm such a blasted fool as to love you with all myheart and soul, and I know that you don't care twopence for me.""If you had been a gentleman I think you'd have come next day and beggedmy pardon."She had no mercy. He looked at her neck and thought how he would like tojab it with the knife he had for his muffin. He knew enough anatomy tomake pretty certain of getting the carotid artery. And at the same time hewanted to cover her pale, thin face with kisses."If I could only make you understand how frightfully I'm in love withyou.""You haven't begged my pardon yet."He grew very white. She felt that she had done nothing wrong on thatoccasion. She wanted him now to humble himself. He was very proud. For oneinstant he felt inclined to tell her to go to hell, but he dared not. Hispassion made him abject. He was willing to submit to anything rather thannot see her."I'm very sorry, Mildred. I beg your pardon."He had to force the words out. It was a horrible effort."Now you've said that I don't mind telling you that I wish I had come outwith you that evening. I thought Miller was a gentleman, but I'vediscovered my mistake now. I soon sent him about his business."Philip gave a little gasp."Mildred, won't you come out with me tonight? Let's go and dinesomewhere.""Oh, I can't. My aunt'll be expecting me home.""I'll send her a wire. You can say you've been detained in the shop; shewon't know any better. Oh, do come, for God's sake. I haven't seen you forso long, and I want to talk to you."She looked down at her clothes."Never mind about that. We'll go somewhere where it doesn't matter howyou're dressed. And we'll go to a music-hall afterwards. Please say yes.It would give me so much pleasure."She hesitated a moment; he looked at her with pitifully appealing eyes."Well, I don't mind if I do. I haven't been out anywhere since I don'tknow how long."It was with the greatest difficulty he could prevent himself from seizingher hand there and then to cover it with kisses.