Chapter 13

by William Somerset Maugham

　　Some weeks later Dr Porhoet was sitting among his books in the quiet, lowroom that overlooked the Seine. He had given himself over to a pleasingmelancholy. The heat beat down upon the noisy streets of Paris, and thedin of the great city penetrated even to his fastness in the Ile SaintLouis. He remembered the cloud-laden sky of the country where he wasborn, and the south-west wind that blew with a salt freshness. The longstreets of Brest, present to his fancy always in a drizzle of rain, withthe lights of cafes reflected on the wet pavements, had a familiar charm.Even in foul weather the sailor-men who trudged along them gave one acurious sense of comfort. There was delight in the smell of the sea andin the freedom of the great Atlantic. And then he thought of the greenlanes and of the waste places with their scented heather, the fair broadroads that led from one old sweet town to another, of the Pardons andtheir gentle, sad crowds. Dr Porhoet gave a sigh.'It is good to be born in the land of Brittany,' he smiled.But his bonne showed Susie in, and he rose with a smile to greet her.She had been in Paris for some time, and they had seen much of oneanother. He basked in the gentle sympathy with which she interestedherself in all the abstruse, quaint matters on which he spent his time;and, divining her love for Arthur, he admired the courage with which sheeffaced herself. They had got into the habit of eating many of theirmeals together in a quiet house opposite the Cluny called La ReineBlanche, and here they had talked of so many things that theiracquaintance was grown into a charming friendship.'I'm ashamed to come here so often,' said Susie, as she entered. 'Matildeis beginning to look at me with a suspicious eye.''It is very good of you to entertain a tiresome old man,' he smiled,as he held her hand. 'But I should have been disappointed if you hadforgotten your promise to come this afternoon, for I have much to tellyou.''Tell me at once,' she said, sitting down.'I have discovered an MS. at the library of the Arsenal this morning thatno one knew anything about.'He said this with an air of triumph, as though the achievement were ofnational importance. Susie had a tenderness for his innocent mania; and,though she knew the work in question was occult and incomprehensible,congratulated him heartily.'It is the original version of a book by Paracelsus. I have not read ityet, for the writing is most difficult to decipher, but one point caughtmy eye on turning over the pages. That is the gruesome fact thatParacelsus fed the homunculi he manufactured on human blood. Onewonders how he came by it.'Susie gave a little start, which Dr Porhoet noticed.'What is the matter with you?''Nothing,' she said quickly.He looked at her for a moment, then proceeded with the subject thatstrangely fascinated him.'You must let me take you one day to the library of the Arsenal. Thereis no richer collection in the world of books dealing with the occultsciences. And of course you know that it was at the Arsenal that thetribunal sat, under the suggestive name of chambre ardente, to dealwith cases of sorcery and magic?''I didn't,' smiled Susie.'I always think that these manuscripts and queer old books, which arethe pride of our library, served in many an old trial. There are volumesthere of innocent appearance that have hanged wretched men and sentothers to the stake. You would not believe how many persons of fortune,rank, and intelligence, during the great reign of Louis XIV, immersedthemselves in these satanic undertakings.'Susie did not answer. She could not now deal with these matters in anindifferent spirit. Everything she heard might have some bearing on thecircumstances which she had discussed with Dr Porhoet times out ofnumber. She had never been able to pin him down to an affirmation offaith. Certain strange things had manifestly happened, but what theexplanation of them was, no man could say. He offered analogies fromhis well-stored memory. He gave her books to read till she was saturatedwith occult science. At one moment, she was inclined to throw them allaside impatiently, and, at another, was ready to believe that everythingwas possible.Dr Porhoet stood up and stretched out a meditative finger. He spoke inthat agreeably academic manner which, at the beginning of theiracquaintance, had always entertained Susie, because it contrasted soabsurdly with his fantastic utterances.'It was a strange dream that these wizards cherished. They sought to makethemselves beloved of those they cared for and to revenge themselves onthose they hated; but, above all, they sought to become greater than thecommon run of men and to wield the power of the gods. They hesitated atnothing to gain their ends. But Nature with difficulty allows her secretsto be wrested from her. In vain they lit their furnaces, and in vain theystudied their crabbed books, called up the dead, and conjured ghastlyspirits. Their reward was disappointment and wretchedness, poverty, thescorn of men, torture, imprisonment, and shameful death. And yet, perhapsafter all, there may be some particle of truth hidden away in these darkplaces.''You never go further than the cautious perhaps,' said Susie. 'You nevergive me any definite opinion.''In these matters it is discreet to have no definite opinion,' he smiled,with a shrug of the shoulders. 'If a wise man studies the science of theoccult, his duty is not to laugh at everything, but to seek patiently,slowly, perseveringly, the truth that may be concealed in the night ofthese illusions.'The words were hardly spoken when Matilde, the ancient bonne, openedthe door to let a visitor come in. It was Arthur Burdon. Susie gave a cryof surprise, for she had received a brief note from him two days before,and he had said nothing of crossing the Channel.'I'm glad to find you both here,' said Arthur, as he shook hands withthem.'Has anything happened?' cried Susie.His manner was curiously distressing, and there was a nervousness abouthis movements that was very unexpected in so restrained a person.'I've seen Margaret again,' he said.'Well?'He seemed unable to go on, and yet both knew that he had somethingimportant to tell them. He looked at them vacantly, as though all he hadto say was suddenly gone out of his mind.'I've come straight here,' he said, in a dull, bewildered fashion. 'Iwent to your hotel, Susie, in the hope of finding you; but when they toldme you were out, I felt certain you would be here.''You seem worn out, cher ami,' said Dr Porhoet, looking at him. 'Willyou let Matilde make you a cup of coffee?''I should like something,' he answered, with a look of utter weariness.'Sit still for a minute or two, and you shall tell us what you want towhen you are a little rested.'Dr Porhoet had not seen Arthur since that afternoon in the previous yearwhen, in answer to Haddo's telegram, he had gone to the studio in the RueCampagne Premiere. He watched him anxiously while Arthur drank hiscoffee. The change in him was extraordinary; there was a cadaverousexhaustion about his face, and his eyes were sunken in their sockets. Butwhat alarmed the good doctor most was that Arthur's personality seemedthoroughly thrown out of gear. All that he had endured during these ninemonths had robbed him of the strength of purpose, the matter-of-factsureness, which had distinguished him. He was now unbalanced andneurotic.Arthur did not speak. With his eyes fixed moodily on the ground, hewondered how much he could bring himself to tell them. It revolted himto disclose his inmost thoughts, yet he was come to the end of his tetherand needed the doctor's advice. He found himself obliged to deal withcircumstances that might have existed in a world of nightmare, and hewas driven at last to take advantage of his friend's peculiar knowledge.Returning to London after Margaret's flight, Arthur Burdon had thrownhimself again into the work which for so long had been his only solace.It had lost its savour; but he would not take this into account, and heslaved away mechanically, by perpetual toil seeking to deaden hisanguish. But as the time passed he was seized on a sudden with a curiousfeeling of foreboding, which he could in no way resist; it grew instrength till it had all the power of an obsession, and he could notreason himself out of it. He was sure that a great danger threatenedMargaret. He could not tell what it was, nor why the fear of it was sopersistent, but the idea was there always, night and day; it haunted himlike a shadow and pursued him like remorse. His anxiety increasedcontinually, and the vagueness of his terror made it more tormenting. Hefelt quite certain that Margaret was in imminent peril, but he did notknow how to help her. Arthur supposed that Haddo had taken her back toSkene; but, even if he went there, he had no chance of seeing her. Whatmade it more difficult still, was that his chief at St Luke's was away,and he was obliged to be in London in case he should be suddenly calledupon to do some operation. But he could think of nothing else. He feltit urgently needful to see Margaret. Night after night he dreamed thatshe was at the point of death, and heavy fetters prevented him fromstretching out a hand to help her. At last he could stand it no more. Hetold a brother surgeon that private business forced him to leave London,and put the work into his hands. With no plan in his head, merely urgedby an obscure impulse, he set out for the village of Venning, which wasabout three miles from Skene.It was a tiny place, with one public-house serving as a hotel to the raretravellers who found it needful to stop there, and Arthur felt that someexplanation of his presence was necessary. Having seen at the station anadvertisement of a large farm to let, he told the inquisitive landladythat he had come to see it. He arrived late at night. Nothing could bedone then, so he occupied the time by trying to find out something aboutthe Haddos.Oliver was the local magnate, and his wealth would have made him an easytopic of conversation even without his eccentricity. The landlady roundlycalled him insane, and as an instance of his queerness told Arthur, tohis great dismay, that Haddo would have no servants to sleep in thehouse: after dinner everyone was sent away to the various cottages inthe park, and he remained alone with his wife. It was an awful thoughtthat Margaret might be in the hands of a raving madman, with not a soulto protect her. But if he learnt no more than this of solid fact, Arthurheard much that was significant. To his amazement the old fear of thewizard had grown up again in that lonely place, and the garrulous womangravely told him of Haddo's evil influence on the crops and cattle offarmers who had aroused his anger. He had had an altercation with hisbailiff, and the man had died within a year. A small freeholder in theneighbourhood had refused to sell the land which would have rounded offthe estate of Skene, and a disease had attacked every animal on his farmso that he was ruined. Arthur was impressed because, though she reportedthese rumours with mock scepticism as the stories of ignorant yokels andold women, the innkeeper had evidently a terrified belief in their truth.No one could deny that Haddo had got possession of the land he wanted;for, when it was put up to auction, no one would bid against him, and hebought it for a song.As soon as he could do so naturally, Arthur asked after Margaret. Thewoman shrugged her shoulders. No one knew anything about her. She nevercame out of the park gates, but sometimes you could see her wanderingabout inside by herself. She saw no one. Haddo had long since quarrelledwith the surrounding gentry; and though one old lady, the mother of aneighbouring landowner, had called when Margaret first came, she had notbeen admitted, and the visit was never returned.'She'll come to no good, poor lady,' said the hostess of the inn. 'Andthey do say she's a perfect picture to look at.'Arthur went to his room. He longed for the day to come. There was nocertain means of seeing Margaret. It was useless to go to the park gates,since even the tradesmen were obliged to leave their goods at the lodge;but it appeared that she walked alone, morning and afternoon, and itmight be possible to see her then. He decided to climb into the park andwait till he came upon her in some spot where they were not likely tobe observed.Next day the great heat of the last week was gone, and the melancholy skywas dark with lowering clouds. Arthur inquired for the road which led toSkene, and set out to walk the three miles which separated him from it.The country was grey and barren. There was a broad waste of heath, withgigantic boulders strewn as though in pre-historic times Titans had wagedthere a mighty battle. Here and there were trees, but they seemed hardlyto withstand the fierce winds of winter; they were old and bowed beforethe storm. One of them attracted his attention. It had been struck bylightning and was riven asunder, leafless; but the maimed branches werecuriously set on the trunk so that they gave it the appearance of a humanbeing writhing in the torture of infernal agony. The wind whistledstrangely. Arthur's heart sank as he walked on. He had never seen acountry so desolate.He came to the park gates at last and stood for some time in front ofthem. At the end of a long avenue, among the trees, he could see part ofa splendid house. He walked along the wooden palisade that surrounded thepark. Suddenly he came to a spot where a board had been broken down. Helooked up and down the road. No one was in sight. He climbed up the low,steep bank, wrenched down a piece more of the fence, and slipped in.He found himself in a dense wood. There was no sign of a path, and headvanced cautiously. The bracken was so thick and high that it easilyconcealed him. Dead owners had plainly spent much care upon the place,for here alone in the neighbourhood were trees in abundance; but of lateit had been utterly neglected. It had run so wild that there were notraces now of its early formal arrangement; and it was so hard to makeone's way, the vegetation was so thick, that it might almost have beensome remnant of primeval forest. But at last he came to a grassy path andwalked along it slowly. He stopped on a sudden, for he heard a sound. Butit was only a pheasant that flew heavily through the low trees. Hewondered what he should do if he came face to face with Oliver. Theinnkeeper had assured him that the squire seldom came out, but spent hisdays locked in the great attics at the top of the house. Smoke came fromthe chimneys of them, even in the hottest days of summer, and weird taleswere told of the devilries there committed.Arthur went on, hoping in the end to catch sight of Margaret, but hesaw no one. In that grey, chilly day the woods, notwithstanding theirgreenery, were desolate and sad. A sombre mystery seemed to hang overthem. At last he came to a stone bench at a cross-way among the trees,and, since it was the only resting-place he had seen, it struck him thatMargaret might come there to sit down. He hid himself in the bracken.He had forgotten his watch and did not know how the time passed; heseemed to be there for hours.But at length his heart gave a great beat against his ribs, for all atonce, so silently that he had not heard her approach, Margaret came intoview. She sat on the stone bench. For a moment he dared not move in casethe sound frightened her. He could not tell how to make his presenceknown. But it was necessary to do something to attract her attention,and he could only hope that she would not cry out.'Margaret,' he called softly.She did not move, and he repeated her name more loudly. But still shemade no sign that she had heard. He came forward and stood in front ofher.'Margaret.'She looked at him quietly. He might have been someone she had never seteyes on, and yet from her composure she might have expected him to bestanding there.'Margaret, don't you know me?''What do you want?' she answered placidly.He was so taken aback that he did not know what to say. She kept gazingat him steadfastly. On a sudden her calmness vanished, and she sprang toher feet.'Is it you really?' she cried, terribly agitated. 'I thought it was onlya shape that mimicked you.''Margaret, what do you mean? What has come over you?'She stretched out her hand and touched him.'I'm flesh and blood all right,' he said, trying to smile.She shut her eyes for a moment, as though in an effort to collectherself.'I've had hallucinations lately,' she muttered. 'I thought it was sometrick played upon me.'Suddenly she shook herself.'But what are you doing here? You must go. How did you come? Oh, whywon't you leave me alone?''I've been haunted by a feeling that something horrible was going tohappen to you. I was obliged to come.''For God's sake, go. You can do me no good. If he finds out you've beenhere--'She stopped, and her eyes were dilated with terror. Arthur seized herhands.'Margaret, I can't go--I can't leave you like this. For Heaven's sake,tell me what is the matter. I'm so dreadfully frightened.'He was aghast at the difference wrought in her during the two monthssince he had seen her last. Her colour was gone, and her face had thegreyness of the dead. There were strange lines on her forehead, and hereyes had an unnatural glitter. Her youth had suddenly left her. Shelooked as if she were struck down by mortal illness.'What is that matter with you?' he asked.'Nothing.' She looked about her anxiously. 'Oh, why don't you go? How canyou be so cruel?''I must do something for you,' he insisted.She shook her head.'It's too late. Nothing can help me now.' She paused; and when she spokeagain it was with a voice so ghastly that it might have come from thelips of a corpse. 'I've found out at last what he's going to do with meHe wants me for his great experiment, and the time is growing shorter.''What do you mean by saying he wants you?''He wants--my life.'Arthur gave a cry of dismay, but she put up her hand.'It's no use resisting. It can't do any good--I think I shall be gladwhen the moment comes. I shall at least cease to suffer.''But you must be mad.''I don't know. I know that he is.''But if your life is in danger, come away for God's sake. After all,you're free. He can't stop you.''I should have to go back to him, as I did last time,' she answered,shaking her head. 'I thought I was free then, but gradually I knew thathe was calling me. I tried to resist, but I couldn't. I simply had to goto him.''But it's awful to think that you are alone with a man who's practicallyraving mad.''I'm safe for today,' she said quietly. 'It can only be done in the veryhot weather. If there's no more this year, I shall live till nextsummer.''Oh, Margaret, for God's sake don't talk like that. I love you--I want tohave you with me always. Won't you come away with me and let me take careof you? I promise you that no harm shall come to you.''You don't love me any more; you're only sorry for me now.''It's not true.''Oh yes it is. I saw it when we were in the country. Oh, I don't blameyou. I'm a different woman from the one you loved. I'm not the Margaretyou knew.''I can never care for anyone but you.'She put her hand on his arm.'If you loved me, I implore you to go. You don't know what you expose meto. And when I'm dead you must marry Susie. She loves you with all herheart, and she deserves your love.''Margaret, don't go. Come with me.''And take care. He will never forgive you for what you did. If he can, hewill kill you.'She started violently, as though she heard a sound. Her face wasconvulsed with sudden fear.'For God's sake go, go!'She turned from him quickly, and, before he could prevent her, hadvanished. With heavy heart he plunged again into the bracken.When Arthur had given his friends some account of this meeting, hestopped and looked at Dr Porhoet. The doctor went thoughtfully to hisbookcase.'What is it you want me to tell you?' he asked.'I think the man is mad,' said Arthur. 'I found out at what asylum hismother was, and by good luck was able to see the superintendent on my waythrough London. He told me that he had grave doubts about Haddo's sanity,but it was impossible at present to take any steps. I came straight herebecause I wanted your advice. Granting that the man is out of his mind,is it possible that he may be trying some experiment that entails asacrifice of human life?''Nothing is more probable,' said Dr Porhoet gravely.Susie shuddered. She remembered the rumour that had reached her ears inMonte Carlo.'They said there that he was attempting to make living creatures by amagical operation.' She glanced at the doctor, but spoke to Arthur. 'Justbefore you came in, our friend was talking of that book of Paracelsus inwhich he speaks of feeding the monsters he has made on human blood.'Arthur gave a horrified cry.'The most significant thing to my mind is that fact about Margaret whichwe are certain of,' said Dr Porhoet. 'All works that deal with the BlackArts are unanimous upon the supreme efficacy of the virginal condition.''But what is to be done?' asked Arthur is desperation. 'We can't leaveher in the hands of a raving madman.' He turned on a sudden deathlywhite. 'For all we know she may be dead now.''Have you ever heard of Gilles de Rais?' said Dr Porhoet, continuing hisreflections. 'That is the classic instance of human sacrifice. I know thecountry in which he lived; and the peasants to this day dare not pass atnight in the neighbourhood of the ruined castle which was the scene ofhis horrible crimes.''It's awful to know that this dreadful danger hangs over her, and to beable to do nothing.''We can only wait,' said Dr Porhoet.'And if we wait too long, we may be faced by a terrible catastrophe.''Fortunately we live in a civilized age. Haddo has a great care of hisneck. I hope we are frightened unduly.'It seemed to Susie that the chief thing was to distract Arthur, and sheturned over in her mind some means of directing his attention to othermatters.'I was thinking of going down to Chartres for two days with MrsBloomfield,' she said. 'Won't you come with me? It is the most lovelycathedral in the world, and I think you will find it restful to wanderabout it for a little while. You can do no good, here or in London.Perhaps when you are calm, you will be able to think of somethingpractical.'Dr Porhoet saw what her plan was, and joined his entreaties to hers thatArthur should spend a day or two in a place that had no associations forhim. Arthur was too exhausted to argue, and from sheer wearinessconsented. Next day Susie took him to Chartres. Mrs Bloomfield was notrouble to them, and Susie induced him to linger for a week in thatpleasant, quiet town. They passed many hours in the stately cathedral,and they wandered about the surrounding country. Arthur was obliged toconfess that the change had done him good, and a certain apathy succeededthe agitation from which he had suffered so long. Finally Susie persuadedhim to spend three or four weeks in Brittany with Dr Porhoet, who wasproposing to revisit the scenes of his childhood. They returned to Paris.When Arthur left her at the station, promising to meet her again in anhour at the restaurant where they were going to dine with Dr Porhoet, hethanked her for all she had done.'I was in an absurdly hysterical condition,' he said, holding her hand.'You've been quite angelic. I knew that nothing could be done, and yet Iwas tormented with the desire to do something. Now I've got myself inhand once more. I think my common sense was deserting me, and I was onthe point of believing in the farrago of nonsense which they call magic.After all, it's absurd to think that Haddo is going to do any harm toMargaret. As soon at I get back to London, I'll see my lawyers, and Idaresay something can be done. If he's really mad, we'll have to put himunder restraint, and Margaret will be free. I shall never forget yourkindness.'Susie smiled and shrugged her shoulders.She was convinced that he would forget everything if Margaret came backto him. But she chid herself for the bitterness of the thought. She lovedhim, and she was glad to be able to do anything for him.She returned to the hotel, changed her frock, and walked slowly to theChien Noir. It always exhilarated her to come back to Paris; and shelooked with happy, affectionate eyes at the plane trees, the yellow tramsthat rumbled along incessantly, and the lounging people. When shearrived, Dr Porhoet was waiting, and his delight at seeing her again wasflattering and pleasant. They talked of Arthur. They wondered why he waslate.In a moment he came in. They saw at once that something quiteextraordinary had taken place.'Thank God, I've found you at last!' he cried.His face was moving strangely. They had never seen him so discomposed.'I've been round to your hotel, but I just missed you. Oh, why did youinsist on my going away?''What on earth's the matter?' cried Susie.'Something awful has happened to Margaret.'Susie started to her feet with a sudden cry of dismay.'How do you know?' she asked quickly.He looked at them for a moment and flushed. He kept his eyes upon them,as though actually to force his listeners into believing what he wasabout to say.'I feel it,' he answered hoarsely.'What do you mean?''It came upon me quite suddenly, I can't explain why or how. I only knowthat something has happened.'He began again to walk up and down, prey to an agitation that wasfrightful to behold. Susie and Dr Porhoet stared at him helplessly. Theytried to think of something to say that would calm him.'Surely if anything had occurred, we should have been informed.'He turned to Susie angrily.'How do you suppose we could know anything? She was quite helpless. Shewas imprisoned like a rat in a trap.''But, my dear friend, you mustn't give way in this fashion,' said thedoctor. 'What would you say of a patient who came to you with such astory?'Arthur answered the question with a shrug of the shoulders.'I should say he was absurdly hysterical.''Well?''I can't help it, the feeling's there. If you try all night you'll neverbe able to argue me out of it. I feel it in every bone of my body. Icouldn't be more certain if I saw Margaret lying dead in front of me.'Susie saw that it was indeed useless to reason with him. The only coursewas to accept his conviction and make the best of it.'What do you want us to do?' she asked.'I want you both to come to England with me at once. If we start now wecan catch the evening train.'Susie did not answer, but she got up. She touched the doctor on the arm.'Please come,' she whispered.He nodded and untucked the napkin he had already arranged over hiswaistcoat.'I've got a cab at the door,' said Arthur.'And what about clothes for Miss Susie?' said the doctor.'Oh, we can't wait for that,' cried Arthur. 'For God's sake, comequickly.'Susie knew that there was plenty of time to fetch a few necessary thingsbefore the train started, but Arthur's impatience was too great to bewithstood.'It doesn't matter,' she said. 'I can get all I want in England.'He hurried them to the door and told the cabman to drive to the stationas quickly as ever he could.'For Heaven's sake, calm down a little,' said Susie. 'You'll be no goodto anyone in that state.''I feel certain we're too late.''Nonsense! I'm convinced that you'll find Margaret safe and sound.'He did not answer. He gave a sigh of relief as they drove into thecourtyard of the station.