Chapter XCIV

by William Somerset Maugham

　　Philip asked Mr. Jacobs, the assistant-surgeon for whom he had dressed, todo the operation. Jacobs accepted with pleasure, since he was interestedjust then in neglected talipes and was getting together materials for apaper. He warned Philip that he could not make his foot like the other,but he thought he could do a good deal; and though he would always limp hewould be able to wear a boot less unsightly than that which he had beenaccustomed to. Philip remembered how he had prayed to a God who was ableto remove mountains for him who had faith, and he smiled bitterly."I don't expect a miracle," he answered."I think you're wise to let me try what I can do. You'll find a club-footrather a handicap in practice. The layman is full of fads, and he doesn'tlike his doctor to have anything the matter with him."Philip went into a `small ward', which was a room on the landing, outsideeach ward, reserved for special cases. He remained there a month, for thesurgeon would not let him go till he could walk; and, bearing theoperation very well, he had a pleasant enough time. Lawson and Athelnycame to see him, and one day Mrs. Athelny brought two of her children;students whom he knew looked in now and again to have a chat; Mildred cametwice a week. Everyone was very kind to him, and Philip, always surprisedwhen anyone took trouble with him, was touched and grateful. He enjoyedthe relief from care; he need not worry there about the future, neitherwhether his money would last out nor whether he would pass his finalexaminations; and he could read to his heart's content. He had not beenable to read much of late, since Mildred disturbed him: she would make anaimless remark when he was trying to concentrate his attention, and wouldnot be satisfied unless he answered; whenever he was comfortably settleddown with a book she would want something done and would come to him witha cork she could not draw or a hammer to drive in a nail.They settled to go to Brighton in August. Philip wanted to take lodgings,but Mildred said that she would have to do housekeeping, and it would onlybe a holiday for her if they went to a boarding-house."I have to see about the food every day at home, I get that sick of it Iwant a thorough change."Philip agreed, and it happened that Mildred knew of a boarding-house atKemp Town where they would not be charged more than twenty-five shillingsa week each. She arranged with Philip to write about rooms, but when hegot back to Kennington he found that she had done nothing. He wasirritated."I shouldn't have thought you had so much to do as all that," he said."Well, I can't think of everything. It's not my fault if I forget, is it?"Philip was so anxious to get to the sea that he would not wait tocommunicate with the mistress of the boarding-house."We'll leave the luggage at the station and go to the house and see ifthey've got rooms, and if they have we can just send an outside porter forour traps.""You can please yourself," said Mildred stiffly.She did not like being reproached, and, retiring huffily into a haughtysilence, she sat by listlessly while Philip made the preparations fortheir departure. The little flat was hot and stuffy under the August sun,and from the road beat up a malodorous sultriness. As he lay in his bed inthe small ward with its red, distempered walls he had longed for fresh airand the splashing of the sea against his breast. He felt he would go madif he had to spend another night in London. Mildred recovered her goodtemper when she saw the streets of Brighton crowded with people makingholiday, and they were both in high spirits as they drove out to KempTown. Philip stroked the baby's cheek."We shall get a very different colour into them when we've been down herea few days," he said, smiling.They arrived at the boarding-house and dismissed the cab. An untidy maidopened the door and, when Philip asked if they had rooms, said she wouldinquire. She fetched her mistress. A middle-aged woman, stout andbusiness-like, came downstairs, gave them the scrutinising glance of herprofession, and asked what accommodation they required."Two single rooms, and if you've got such a thing we'd rather like a cotin one of them.""I'm afraid I haven't got that. I've got one nice large double room, andI could let you have a cot.""I don't think that would do," said Philip."I could give you another room next week. Brighton's very full just now,and people have to take what they can get.""If it were only for a few days, Philip, I think we might be able tomanage," said Mildred."I think two rooms would be more convenient. Can you recommend any otherplace where they take boarders?""I can, but I don't suppose they'd have room any more than I have.""Perhaps you wouldn't mind giving me the address."The house the stout woman suggested was in the next street, and theywalked towards it. Philip could walk quite well, though he had to lean ona stick, and he was rather weak. Mildred carried the baby. They went fora little in silence, and then he saw she was crying. It annoyed him, andhe took no notice, but she forced his attention."Lend me a hanky, will you? I can't get at mine with baby," she said in avoice strangled with sobs, turning her head away from him.He gave her his handkerchief, but said nothing. She dried her eyes, and ashe did not speak, went on."I might be poisonous.""Please don't make a scene in the street," he said."It'll look so funny insisting on separate rooms like that. What'll theythink of us?""If they knew the circumstances I imagine they'd think us surprisinglymoral," said Philip.She gave him a sidelong glance."You're not going to give it away that we're not married?" she askedquickly."No.""Why won't you live with me as if we were married then?""My dear, I can't explain. I don't want to humiliate you, but I simplycan't. I daresay it's very silly and unreasonable, but it's stronger thanI am. I loved you so much that now..." he broke off. "After all, there'sno accounting for that sort of thing.""A fat lot you must have loved me!" she exclaimed.The boarding-house to which they had been directed was kept by a bustlingmaiden lady, with shrewd eyes and voluble speech. They could have onedouble room for twenty-five shillings a week each, and five shillingsextra for the baby, or they could have two single rooms for a pound a weekmore."I have to charge that much more," the woman explained apologetically,"because if I'm pushed to it I can put two beds even in the single rooms.""I daresay that won't ruin us. What do you think, Mildred?""Oh, I don't mind. Anything's good enough for me," she answered.Philip passed off her sulky reply with a laugh, and, the landlady havingarranged to send for their luggage, they sat down to rest themselves.Philip's foot was hurting him a little, and he was glad to put it up on achair."I suppose you don't mind my sitting in the same room with you," saidMildred aggressively."Don't let's quarrel, Mildred," he said gently."I didn't know you was so well off you could afford to throw away a pounda week.""Don't be angry with me. I assure you it's the only way we can livetogether at all.""I suppose you despise me, that's it.""Of course I don't. Why should I?""It's so unnatural.""Is it? You're not in love with me, are you?""Me? Who d'you take me for?""It's not as if you were a very passionate woman, you're not that.""It's so humiliating," she said sulkily."Oh, I wouldn't fuss about that if I were you."There were about a dozen people in the boarding-house. They ate in anarrow, dark room at a long table, at the head of which the landlady satand carved. The food was bad. The landlady called it French cooking, bywhich she meant that the poor quality of the materials was disguised byill-made sauces: plaice masqueraded as sole and New Zealand mutton aslamb. The kitchen was small and inconvenient, so that everything wasserved up lukewarm. The people were dull and pretentious; old ladies withelderly maiden daughters; funny old bachelors with mincing ways;pale-faced, middle-aged clerks with wives, who talked of their marrieddaughters and their sons who were in a very good position in the Colonies.At table they discussed Miss Corelli's latest novel; some of them likedLord Leighton better than Mr. Alma-Tadema, and some of them liked Mr.Alma-Tadema better than Lord Leighton. Mildred soon told the ladies of herromantic marriage with Philip; and he found himself an object of interestbecause his family, county people in a very good position, had cut him offwith a shilling because he married while he was only a stoodent; andMildred's father, who had a large place down Devonshire way, wouldn't doanything for them because she had married Philip. That was why they hadcome to a boarding-house and had not a nurse for the baby; but they had tohave two rooms because they were both used to a good deal of accommodationand they didn't care to be cramped. The other visitors also hadexplanations of their presence: one of the single gentlemen generally wentto the Metropole for his holiday, but he liked cheerful company and youcouldn't get that at one of those expensive hotels; and the old lady withthe middle-aged daughter was having her beautiful house in London done upand she said to her daughter: "Gwennie, my dear, we must have a cheapholiday this year," and so they had come there, though of course it wasn'tat all the kind of thing they were used to. Mildred found them all verysuperior, and she hated a lot of common, rough people. She liked gentlemento be gentlemen in every sense of the word."When people are gentlemen and ladies," she said, "I like them to begentlemen and ladies."The remark seemed cryptic to Philip, but when he heard her say it two orthree times to different persons, and found that it aroused heartyagreement, he came to the conclusion that it was only obscure to his ownintelligence. It was the first time that Philip and Mildred had beenthrown entirely together. In London he did not see her all day, and whenhe came home the household affairs, the baby, the neighbours, gave themsomething to talk about till he settled down to work. Now he spent thewhole day with her. After breakfast they went down to the beach; themorning went easily enough with a bathe and a stroll along the front; theevening, which they spent on the pier, having put the baby to bed, wastolerable, for there was music to listen to and a constant stream ofpeople to look at; (Philip amused himself by imagining who they were andweaving little stories about them; he had got into the habit of answeringMildred's remarks with his mouth only so that his thoughts remainedundisturbed;) but the afternoons were long and dreary. They sat on thebeach. Mildred said they must get all the benefit they could out of DoctorBrighton, and he could not read because Mildred made observationsfrequently about things in general. If he paid no attention shecomplained."Oh, leave that silly old book alone. It can't be good for you alwaysreading. You'll addle your brain, that's what you'll do, Philip.""Oh, rot!" he answered."Besides, it's so unsociable."He discovered that it was difficult to talk to her. She had not even thepower of attending to what she was herself saying, so that a dog runningin front of her or the passing of a man in a loud blazer would call fortha remark and then she would forget what she had been speaking of. She hada bad memory for names, and it irritated her not to be able to think ofthem, so that she would pause in the middle of some story to rack herbrains. Sometimes she had to give it up, but it often occurred to herafterwards, and when Philip was talking of something she would interrupthim."Collins, that was it. I knew it would come back to me some time. Collins,that's the name I couldn't remember."It exasperated him because it showed that she was not listening toanything he said, and yet, if he was silent, she reproached him forsulkiness. Her mind was of an order that could not deal for five minuteswith the abstract, and when Philip gave way to his taste for generalisingshe very quickly showed that she was bored. Mildred dreamt a great deal,and she had an accurate memory for her dreams, which she would relateevery day with prolixity.One morning he received a long letter from Thorpe Athelny. He was takinghis holiday in the theatrical way, in which there was much sound sense,which characterised him. He had done the same thing for ten years. He tookhis whole family to a hop-field in Kent, not far from Mrs. Athelny's home,and they spent three weeks hopping. It kept them in the open air, earnedthem money, much to Mrs. Athelny's satisfaction, and renewed their contactwith mother earth. It was upon this that Athelny laid stress. The sojournin the fields gave them a new strength; it was like a magic ceremony, bywhich they renewed their youth and the power of their limbs and thesweetness of the spirit: Philip had heard him say many fantastic,rhetorical, and picturesque things on the subject. Now Athelny invited himto come over for a day, he had certain meditations on Shakespeare and themusical glasses which he desired to impart, and the children wereclamouring for a sight of Uncle Philip. Philip read the letter again inthe afternoon when he was sitting with Mildred on the beach. He thought ofMrs. Athelny, cheerful mother of many children, with her kindlyhospitality and her good humour; of Sally, grave for her years, with funnylittle maternal ways and an air of authority, with her long plait of fairhair and her broad forehead; and then in a bunch of all the others, merry,boisterous, healthy, and handsome. His heart went out to them. There wasone quality which they had that he did not remember to have noticed inpeople before, and that was goodness. It had not occurred to him till now,but it was evidently the beauty of their goodness which attracted him. Intheory he did not believe in it: if morality were no more than a matter ofconvenience good and evil had no meaning. He did not like to be illogical,but here was simple goodness, natural and without effort, and he thoughtit beautiful. Meditating, he slowly tore the letter into little pieces; hedid not see how he could go without Mildred, and he did not want to gowith her.It was very hot, the sky was cloudless, and they had been driven to ashady corner. The baby was gravely playing with stones on the beach, andnow and then she crawled up to Philip and gave him one to hold, then tookit away again and placed it carefully down. She was playing a mysteriousand complicated game known only to herself. Mildred was asleep. She laywith her head thrown back and her mouth slightly open; her legs werestretched out, and her boots protruded from her petticoats in a grotesquefashion. His eyes had been resting on her vaguely, but now he looked ather with peculiar attention. He remembered how passionately he had lovedher, and he wondered why now he was entirely indifferent to her. Thechange in him filled him with dull pain. It seemed to him that all he hadsuffered had been sheer waste. The touch of her hand had filled him withecstasy; he had desired to enter into her soul so that he could shareevery thought with her and every feeling; he had suffered acutely because,when silence had fallen between them, a remark of hers showed how fartheir thoughts had travelled apart, and he had rebelled against theunsurmountable wall which seemed to divide every personality from everyother. He found it strangely tragic that he had loved her so madly and nowloved her not at all. Sometimes he hated her. She was incapable oflearning, and the experience of life had taught her nothing. She was asunmannerly as she had always been. It revolted Philip to hear theinsolence with which she treated the hard-worked servant at theboarding-house.Presently he considered his own plans. At the end of his fourth year hewould be able to take his examination in midwifery, and a year more wouldsee him qualified. Then he might manage a journey to Spain. He wanted tosee the pictures which he knew only from photographs; he felt deeply thatEl Greco held a secret of peculiar moment to him; and he fancied that inToledo he would surely find it out. He did not wish to do things grandly,and on a hundred pounds he might live for six months in Spain: ifMacalister put him on to another good thing he could make that easily. Hisheart warmed at the thought of those old beautiful cities, and the tawnyplains of Castile. He was convinced that more might be got out of lifethan offered itself at present, and he thought that in Spain he could livewith greater intensity: it might be possible to practise in one of thoseold cities, there were a good many foreigners, passing or resident, and heshould be able to pick up a living. But that would be much later; first hemust get one or two hospital appointments; they gave experience and madeit easy to get jobs afterwards. He wished to get a berth as ship's doctoron one of the large tramps that took things leisurely enough for a man tosee something of the places at which they stopped. He wanted to go to theEast; and his fancy was rich with pictures of Bangkok and Shanghai, andthe ports of Japan: he pictured to himself palm-trees and skies blue andhot, dark-skinned people, pagodas; the scents of the Orient intoxicatedhis nostrils. His heart but with passionate desire for the beauty and thestrangeness of the world.Mildred awoke."I do believe I've been asleep," she said. "Now then, you naughty girl,what have you been doing to yourself? Her dress was clean yesterday andjust look at it now, Philip."