Chapter 5

by Frank Norris

　　Wednesday morning, Washington's Birthday, McTeague rose veryearly and shaved himself. Besides the six mournfulconcertina airs, the dentist knew one song. Whenever heshaved, he sung this song; never at any other time. Hisvoice was a bellowing roar, enough to make the window sashesrattle. Just now he woke up all the lodgers in his hallwith it. It was a lamentable wail:"No one to love, none to caress,Left all alone in this world's wilderness."As he paused to strop his razor, Marcus came into his room,half-dressed, a startling phantom in red flannels.Marcus often ran back and forth between his room and thedentist's "Parlors" in all sorts of undress. Old Miss Bakerhad seen him thus several times through her half-open door,as she sat in her room listening and waiting. The olddressmaker was shocked out of all expression. She wasoutraged, offended, pursing her lips, putting up her head.She talked of complaining to the landlady. "And Mr. Grannisright next door, too. You can understand how trying it isfor both of us." She would come out in the hall after oneof these apparitions, her little false curls shaking,talking loud and shrill to any one in reach of her voice."Well," Marcus would shout, "shut your door, then, if youdon't want to see. Look out, now, here I come again. Noteven a porous plaster on me this time."On this Wednesday morning Marcus called McTeague out intothe hall, to the head of the stairs that led down to thestreet door."Come and listen to Maria, Mac," said he.Maria sat on the next to the lowest step, her chinpropped by her two fists. The red-headed Polish Jew, theragman Zerkow, stood in the doorway. He was talkingeagerly."Now, just once more, Maria," he was saying. "Tell it to usjust once more." Maria's voice came up the stairway in amonotone. Marcus and McTeague caught a phrase from time totime."There were more than a hundred pieces, and every one ofthem gold--just that punch-bowl was worth a fortune-thick,fat, red gold.""Get onto to that, will you?" observed Marcus. "The oldskin has got her started on the plate. Ain't they a pairfor you?""And it rang like bells, didn't it?" prompted Zerkow."Sweeter'n church bells, and clearer.""Ah, sweeter'n bells. Wasn't that punch-bowl awful heavy?""All you could do to lift it.""I know. Oh, I know," answered Zerkow, clawing at his lips."Where did it all go to? Where did it go?"Maria shook her head."It's gone, anyhow.""Ah, gone, gone! Think of it! The punch-bowl gone, and theengraved ladle, and the plates and goblets. What a sight itmust have been all heaped together!""It was a wonderful sight.""Yes, wonderful; it must have been."On the lower steps of that cheap flat, the Mexican woman andthe red-haired Polish Jew mused long over that vanished,half-mythical gold plate.Marcus and the dentist spent Washington's Birthday acrossthe bay. The journey over was one long agony to McTeague.He shook with a formless, uncertain dread; a dozen times hewould have turned back had not Marcus been with him. Thestolid giant was as nervous as a schoolboy. He fancied thathis call upon Miss Sieppe was an outrageous affront. Shewould freeze him with a stare; he would be shown the door,would be ejected, disgraced.As they got off the local train at B Street station theysuddenly collided with the whole tribe of Sieppes--themother, father, three children, and Trina--equipped forone of their eternal picnics. They were to go to SchuetzenPark, within walking distance of the station. They weregrouped about four lunch baskets. One of the children, alittle boy, held a black greyhound by a rope around itsneck. Trina wore a blue cloth skirt, a striped shirt waist,and a white sailor; about her round waist was a belt ofimitation alligator skin.At once Mrs. Sieppe began to talk to Marcus. He had writtenof their coming, but the picnic had been decided upon afterthe arrival of his letter. Mrs. Sieppe explained this tohim. She was an immense old lady with a pink face andwonderful hair, absolutely white. The Sieppes were aGerman-Swiss family."We go to der park, Schuetzen Park, mit alle dem childern, alittle eggs-kursion, eh not soh? We breathe der freshesair, a celubration, a pignic bei der seashore on. Ach, dotwull be soh gay, ah?""You bet it will. It'll be outa sight," cried Marcus,enthusiastic in an instant. "This is m' friend DoctorMcTeague I wrote you about, Mrs. Sieppe.""Ach, der doktor," cried Mrs. Sieppe.McTeague was presented, shaking hands gravely as Marcusshouldered him from one to the other.Mr. Sieppe was a little man of a military aspect, full ofimportance, taking himself very seriously. He was a memberof a rifle team. Over his shoulder was slung a Springfieldrifle, while his breast was decorated by five bronze medals.Trina was delighted. McTeague was dumfounded. She appearedpositively glad to see him."How do you do, Doctor McTeague," she said, smiling at himand shaking his hand. "It's nice to see you again. Look,see how fine my filling is." She lifted a corner of her lipand showed him the clumsy gold bridge.Meanwhile, Mr. Sieppe toiled and perspired. Upon himdevolved the responsibility of the excursion. He seemed toconsider it a matter of vast importance, a veritableexpedition."Owgooste!" he shouted to the little boy with the blackgreyhound, "you will der hound und basket number threecarry. Der tervins," he added, calling to the two smallestboys, who were dressed exactly alike, "will releef oneunudder mit der camp-stuhl und basket number four. Dat iscomprehend, hay? When we make der start, you childern willin der advance march. Dat is your orders. But we do notstart," he exclaimed, excitedly; "we remain. Ach Gott,Selina, who does not arrive."Selina, it appeared, was a niece of Mrs. Sieppe's. They wereon the point of starting without her, when she suddenlyarrived, very much out of breath. She was a slender,unhealthy looking girl, who overworked herself givinglessons in hand-painting at twenty-five cents an hour.McTeague was presented. They all began to talk at once,filling the little station-house with a confusion oftongues."Attention!" cried Mr. Sieppe, his gold-headed cane in onehand, his Springfield in the other. "Attention! Wedepart." The four little boys moved off ahead; thegreyhound suddenly began to bark, and tug at his leash. Theothers picked up their bundles."Vorwarts!" shouted Mr. Sieppe, waving his rifle andassuming the attitude of a lieutenant of infantry leading acharge. The party set off down the railroad track.Mrs. Sieppe walked with her husband, who constantly left herside to shout an order up and down the line. Marcusfollowed with Selina. McTeague found himself with Trina atthe end of the procession."We go off on these picnics almost every week," said Trina,by way of a beginning, "and almost every holiday, too. Itis a custom.""Yes, yes, a custom," answered McTeague, nodding; "a custom--that's the word.""Don't you think picnics are fine fun, Doctor McTeague?" shecontinued. "You take your lunch; you leave the dirty cityall day; you race about in the open air, and when lunchtimecomes, oh, aren't you hungry? And the woods and the grasssmell so fine!""I don' know, Miss Sieppe," he answered, keeping his eyesfixed on the ground between the rails. "I never went ona picnic.""Never went on a picnic?" she cried, astonished. "Oh,you'll see what fun we'll have. In the morning father andthe children dig clams in the mud by the shore, an' we bakethem, and--oh, there's thousands of things to do.""Once I went sailing on the bay," said McTeague. "It was ina tugboat; we fished off the heads. I caught threecodfishes.""I'm afraid to go out on the bay," answered Trina, shakingher head, "sailboats tip over so easy. A cousin of mine,Selina's brother, was drowned one Decoration Day. Theynever found his body. Can you swim, Doctor McTeague?""I used to at the mine.""At the mine? Oh, yes, I remember, Marcus told me you were aminer once.""I was a car-boy; all the car-boys used to swim in thereservoir by the ditch every Thursday evening. One of themwas bit by a rattlesnake once while he was dressing. He wasa Frenchman, named Andrew. He swelled up and began totwitch.""Oh, how I hate snakes! They're so crawly and graceful--but, just the same, I like to watch them. You know thatdrug store over in town that has a showcase full of liveones?""We killed the rattler with a cart whip.""How far do you think you could swim? Did you ever try?D'you think you could swim a mile?""A mile? I don't know. I never tried. I guess I could.""I can swim a little. Sometimes we all go out to theCrystal Baths.""The Crystal Baths, huh? Can you swim across the tank?""Oh, I can swim all right as long as papa holds my chin up.Soon as he takes his hand away, down I go. Don't you hateto get water in your ears?""Bathing's good for you.""If the water's too warm, it isn't. It weakens you."Mr. Sieppe came running down the tracks, waving his cane."To one side," he shouted, motioning them off the track;"der drain gomes." A local passenger train was just passingB Street station, some quarter of a mile behind them.The party stood to one side to let it pass. Marcus put anickel and two crossed pins upon the rail, and waved his hatto the passengers as the train roared past. The childrenshouted shrilly. When the train was gone, they all rushedto see the nickel and the crossed pins. The nickel had beenjolted off, but the pins had been flattened out so that theybore a faint resemblance to opened scissors. A greatcontention arose among the children for the possession ofthese "scissors." Mr. Sieppe was obliged to intervene. Hereflected gravely. It was a matter of tremendous moment.The whole party halted, awaiting his decision."Attend now," he suddenly exclaimed. "It will not be sohsoon. At der end of der day, ven we shall have homegecommen, den wull it pe adjudge, eh? A reward of meritto him who der bes' pehaves. It is an order. Vorwarts!""That was a Sacramento train," said Marcus to Selina as theystarted off; "it was, for a fact.""I know a girl in Sacramento," Trina told McTeague. "She'sforewoman in a glove store, and she's got consumption.""I was in Sacramento once," observed McTeague, "nearly eightyears ago.""Is it a nice place--as nice as San Francisco?""It's hot. I practised there for a while.""I like San Francisco," said Trina, looking across the bayto where the city piled itself upon its hills."So do I," answered McTeague. "Do you like it better thanliving over here?""Oh, sure, I wish we lived in the city. If you want to goacross for anything it takes up the whole day.""Yes, yes, the whole day--almost.""Do you know many people in the city? Do you know anybodynamed Oelbermann? That's my uncle. He has a wholesale toystore in the Mission. They say he's awful rich.""No, I don' know him.""His stepdaughter wants to be a nun. Just fancy! And Mr.Oelbermann won't have it. He says it would be just likeburying his child. Yes, she wants to enter the conventof the Sacred Heart. Are you a Catholic, Doctor McTeague?""No. No, I--""Papa is a Catholic. He goes to Mass on the feast days oncein a while. But mamma's Lutheran.""The Catholics are trying to get control of the schools,"observed McTeague, suddenly remembering one of Marcus'spolitical tirades."That's what cousin Mark says. We are going to send thetwins to the kindergarten next month.""What's the kindergarten?""Oh, they teach them to make things out of straw andtoothpicks--kind of a play place to keep them off thestreet.""There's one up on Sacramento Street, not far from PolkStreet. I saw the sign.""I know where. Why, Selina used to play the piano there.""Does she play the piano?""Oh, you ought to hear her. She plays fine. Selina's veryaccomplished. She paints, too.""I can play on the concertina.""Oh, can you? I wish you'd brought it along. Next time youwill. I hope you'll come often on our picnics. You'll seewhat fun we'll have.""Fine day for a picnic, ain't it? There ain't a cloud.""That's so," exclaimed Trina, looking up, "not a singlecloud. Oh, yes; there is one, just over Telegraph Hill.""That's smoke.""No, it's a cloud. Smoke isn't white that way.""'Tis a cloud.""I knew I was right. I never say a thing unless I'm prettysure.""It looks like a dog's head.""Don't it? Isn't Marcus fond of dogs?""He got a new dog last week--a setter.""Did he?""Yes. He and I took a lot of dogs from his hospital outfor a walk to the Cliff House last Sunday, but we had towalk all the way home, because they wouldn't follow. You'vebeen out to the Cliff House?""Not for a long time. We had a picnic there one Fourth ofJuly, but it rained. Don't you love the ocean?""Yes--yes, I like it pretty well.""Oh, I'd like to go off in one of those big sailing ships.Just away, and away, and away, anywhere. They're differentfrom a little yacht. I'd love to travel.""Sure; so would I.""Papa and mamma came over in a sailing ship. They weretwenty-one days. Mamma's uncle used to be a sailor. He wascaptain of a steamer on Lake Geneva, in Switzerland.""Halt!" shouted Mr. Sieppe, brandishing his rifle. They hadarrived at the gates of the park. All at once McTeagueturned cold. He had only a quarter in his pocket. What washe expected to do--pay for the whole party, or for Trina andhimself, or merely buy his own ticket? And even in thislatter case would a quarter be enough? He lost his wits,rolling his eyes helplessly. Then it occurred to him tofeign a great abstraction, pretending not to know that thetime was come to pay. He looked intently up and down thetracks; perhaps a train was coming. "Here we are," criedTrina, as they came up to the rest of the party, crowdedabout the entrance. "Yes, yes," observed McTeague, his headin the air."Gi' me four bits, Mac," said Marcus, coming up. "Here'swhere we shell out.""I--I--I only got a quarter," mumbled the dentist,miserably. He felt that he had ruined himself forever withTrina. What was the use of trying to win her? Destiny wasagainst him. "I only got a quarter," he stammered. He wason the point of adding that he would not go in the park.That seemed to be the only alternative."Oh, all right!" said Marcus, easily. "I'll pay for you,and you can square with me when we go home."They filed into the park, Mr. Sieppe counting them offas they entered."Ah," said Trina, with a long breath, as she and McTeaguepushed through the wicket, "here we are once more, Doctor."She had not appeared to notice McTeague's embarrassment.The difficulty had been tided over somehow. Once moreMcTeague felt himself saved."To der beach!" shouted Mr. Sieppe. They had checked theirbaskets at the peanut stand. The whole party trooped downto the seashore. The greyhound was turned loose. Thechildren raced on ahead.From one of the larger parcels Mrs. Sieppe had drawn forth asmall tin steamboat--August's birthday present--a gaudylittle toy which could be steamed up and navigated by meansof an alcohol lamp. Her trial trip was to be made thismorning."Gi' me it, gi' me it," shouted August, dancing around hisfather."Not soh, not soh," cried Mr. Sieppe, bearing it aloft. "Imust first der eggsperimunt make.""No, no!" wailed August. "I want to play with ut.""Obey!" thundered Mr. Sieppe. August subsided. A littlejetty ran part of the way into the water. Here, after acareful study of the directions printed on the cover of thebox, Mr. Sieppe began to fire the little boat."I want to put ut in the wa-ater," cried August."Stand back!" shouted his parent. "You do not know so wellas me; dere is dandger. Mitout attention he willeggsplode.""I want to play with ut," protested August, beginning tocry."Ach, soh; you cry, bube!" vociferated Mr. Sieppe. "Mommer,"addressing Mrs. Sieppe, "he will soh soon be ge-whipt, eh?""I want my boa-wut," screamed August, dancing."Silence!" roared Mr. Sieppe. The little boat began to hissand smoke."Soh," observed the father, "he gommence. Attention! I puthim in der water." He was very excited. The perspirationdripped from the back of his neck. The little boat waslaunched. It hissed more furiously than ever. Cloudsof steam rolled from it, but it refused to move."You don't know how she wo-rks," sobbed August."I know more soh mudge as der grossest liddle fool as you,"cried Mr. Sieppe, fiercely, his face purple."You must give it sh--shove!" exclaimed the boy."Den he eggsplode, idiot!" shouted his father. All at oncethe boiler of the steamer blew up with a sharp crack. Thelittle tin toy turned over and sank out of sight before anyone could interfere."Ah--h! Yah! Yah!" yelled August. "It's go-one!"Instantly Mr. Sieppe boxed his ears. There was a lamentablescene. August rent the air with his outcries; his fathershook him till his boots danced on the jetty, shouting intohis face:"Ach, idiot! Ach, imbecile! Ach, miserable! I tol' you heeggsplode. Stop your cry. Stop! It is an order. Do youwish I drow you in der water, eh? Speak. Silence, bube!Mommer, where ist mein stick? He will der grossest whippunever of his life receive."Little by little the boy subsided, swallowing his sobs,knuckling his eyes, gazing ruefully at the spot where theboat had sunk. "Dot is better soh," commented Mr. Sieppe,finally releasing him. "Next dime berhaps you will yourfat'er better pelief. Now, no more. We will der glams ge-dig, Mommer, a fire. Ach, himmel! we have der pfefferforgotten."The work of clam digging began at once, the little boystaking off their shoes and stockings. At first Augustrefused to be comforted, and it was not until his fatherdrove him into the water with his gold-headed cane that heconsented to join the others.What a day that was for McTeague! What a never-to-be-forgotten day! He was with Trina constantly. They laughedtogether--she demurely, her lips closed tight, her littlechin thrust out, her small pale nose, with its adorablelittle freckles, wrinkling; he roared with all the force ofhis lungs, his enormous mouth distended, striking sledge-hammer blows upon his knee with his clenched fist.The lunch was delicious. Trina and her mother made aclam chowder that melted in one's mouth. The lunch basketswere emptied. The party were fully two hours eating. Therewere huge loaves of rye bread full of grains of chickweed.There were weiner-wurst and frankfurter sausages. There wasunsalted butter. There were pretzels. There was coldunderdone chicken, which one ate in slices, plastered with awonderful kind of mustard that did not sting. There weredried apples, that gave Mr. Sieppe the hiccoughs. Therewere a dozen bottles of beer, and, last of all, a crowningachievement, a marvellous Gotha truffle. After lunch cametobacco. Stuffed to the eyes, McTeague drowsed over hispipe, prone on his back in the sun, while Trina, Mrs.Sieppe, and Selina washed the dishes. In the afternoon Mr.Sieppe disappeared. They heard the reports of his rifle onthe range. The others swarmed over the park, now around theswings, now in the Casino, now in the museum, now invadingthe merry-go-round.At half-past five o'clock Mr. Sieppe marshalled the partytogether. It was time to return home.The family insisted that Marcus and McTeague should takesupper with them at their home and should stay over night.Mrs. Sieppe argued they could get no decent supper if theywent back to the city at that hour; that they could catch anearly morning boat and reach their business in good time.The two friends accepted.The Sieppes lived in a little box of a house at the foot ofB Street, the first house to the right as one went up fromthe station. It was two stories high, with a funny redmansard roof of oval slates. The interior was cut up intoinnumerable tiny rooms, some of them so small as to behardly better than sleeping closets. In the back yard was acontrivance for pumping water from the cistern thatinterested McTeague at once. It was a dog-wheel, a hugerevolving box in which the unhappy black greyhound spentmost of his waking hours. It was his kennel; he slept init. From time to time during the day Mrs. Sieppe appearedon the back doorstep, crying shrilly, "Hoop, hoop!" Shethrew lumps of coal at him, waking him to his work.They were all very tired, and went to bed early. Aftergreat discussion it was decided that Marcus would sleep uponthe lounge in the front parlor. Trina would sleep withAugust, giving up her room to McTeague. Selina went to herhome, a block or so above the Sieppes's. At nine o'clockMr. Sieppe showed McTeague to his room and left him tohimself with a newly lighted candle.For a long time after Mr. Sieppe had gone McTeague stoodmotionless in the middle of the room, his elbows pressedclose to his sides, looking obliquely from the corners ofhis eyes. He hardly dared to move. He was in Trina's room.It was an ordinary little room. A clean white matting wason the floor; gray paper, spotted with pink and greenflowers, covered the walls. In one corner, under a whitenetting, was a little bed, the woodwork gayly painted withknots of bright flowers. Near it, against the wall, was ablack walnut bureau. A work-table with spiral legs stood bythe window, which was hung with a green and gold windowcurtain. Opposite the window the closet door stood ajar,while in the corner across from the bed was a tiny washstandwith two clean towels.And that was all. But it was Trina's room. McTeague was inhis lady's bower; it seemed to him a little nest, intimate,discreet. He felt hideously out of place. He was anintruder; he, with his enormous feet, his colossal bones,his crude, brutal gestures. The mere weight of his limbs,he was sure, would crush the little bed-stead like aneggshell.Then, as this first sensation wore off, he began to feel thecharm of the little chamber. It was as though Trina wereclose by, but invisible. McTeague felt all the delight ofher presence without the embarrassment that usuallyaccompanied it. He was near to her--nearer than he had everbeen before. He saw into her daily life, her little waysand manners, her habits, her very thoughts. And was therenot in the air of that room a certain faint perfume that heknew, that recalled her to his mind with marvellousvividness?As he put the candle down upon the bureau he saw her hair-brush lying there. Instantly he picked it up, and, withoutknowing why, held it to his face. With what a deliciousodor was it redolent! That heavy, enervating odor of herhair--her wonderful, royal hair! The smell of that littlehairbrush was talismanic. He had but to close his eyes tosee her as distinctly as in a mirror. He saw her tiny,round figure, dressed all in black--for, curiously enough,it was his very first impression of Trina that came back tohim now--not the Trina of the later occasions, not the Trinaof the blue cloth skirt and white sailor. He saw her as hehad seen her the day that Marcus had introduced them: sawher pale, round face; her narrow, half-open eyes, blue likethe eyes of a baby; her tiny, pale ears, suggestive ofanaemia; the freckles across the bridge of her nose; herpale lips; the tiara of royal black hair; and, above all,the delicious poise of the head, tipped back as though bythe weight of all that hair--the poise that thrust out herchin a little, with the movement that was so confiding, soinnocent, so nearly infantile.McTeague went softly about the room from one object toanother, beholding Trina in everything he touched or lookedat. He came at last to the closet door. It was ajar. Heopened it wide, and paused upon the threshold.Trina's clothes were hanging there--skirts and waists,jackets, and stiff white petticoats. What a vision! For aninstant McTeague caught his breath, spellbound. If he hadsuddenly discovered Trina herself there, smiling at him,holding out her hands, he could hardly have been moreovercome. Instantly he recognized the black dress she hadworn on that famous first day. There it was, the littlejacket she had carried over her arm the day he had terrifiedher with his blundering declaration, and still others, andothers--a whole group of Trinas faced him there. He wentfarther into the closet, touching the clothes gingerly,stroking them softly with his huge leathern palms. As hestirred them a delicate perfume disengaged itself from thefolds. Ah, that exquisite feminine odor! It was not onlyher hair now, it was Trina herself--her mouth, her hands,her neck; the indescribably sweet, fleshly aroma that was apart of her, pure and clean, and redolent of youth andfreshness. All at once, seized with an unreasoned impulse,McTeague opened his huge arms and gathered the littlegarments close to him, plunging his face deep amongst them,savoring their delicious odor with long breaths of luxuryand supreme content.* * * * * * * * * * *The picnic at Schuetzen Park decided matters. McTeaguebegan to call on Trina regularly Sunday and Wednesdayafternoons. He took Marcus Schouler's place. SometimesMarcus accompanied him, but it was generally to meet Selinaby appointment at the Sieppes's house.But Marcus made the most of his renunciation of his cousin.He remembered his pose from time to time. He made McTeagueunhappy and bewildered by wringing his hand, by ventingsighs that seemed to tear his heart out, or by givingevidences of an infinite melancholy. "What is my life!" hewould exclaim. "What is left for me? Nothing, by damn!"And when McTeague would attempt remonstrance, he would cry:"Never mind, old man. Never mind me. Go, be happy. Iforgive you."Forgive what? McTeague was all at sea, was harassed withthe thought of some shadowy, irreparable injury he had donehis friend."Oh, don't think of me!" Marcus would exclaim at othertimes, even when Trina was by. "Don't think of me; I don'tcount any more. I ain't in it." Marcus seemed to takegreat pleasure in contemplating the wreck of his life.There is no doubt he enjoyed himself hugely during thesedays.The Sieppes were at first puzzled as well over this changeof front."Trina has den a new younge man," cried Mr. Sieppe. "FirstSchouler, now der doktor, eh? What die tevil, I say!"Weeks passed, February went, March came in very rainy,putting a stop to all their picnics and Sunday excursions.One Wednesday afternoon in the second week in MarchMcTeague came over to call on Trina, bringing hisconcertina with him, as was his custom nowadays. As he gotoff the train at the station he was surprised to find Trinawaiting for him."This is the first day it hasn't rained in weeks," sheexplained, "an' I thought it would be nice to walk.""Sure, sure," assented McTeague.B Street station was nothing more than a little shed. Therewas no ticket office, nothing but a couple of whittled andcarven benches. It was built close to the railroad tracks,just across which was the dirty, muddy shore of SanFrancisco Bay. About a quarter of a mile back from thestation was the edge of the town of Oakland. Between thestation and the first houses of the town lay immense saltflats, here and there broken by winding streams of blackwater. They were covered with a growth of wiry grass,strangely discolored in places by enormous stains of orangeyellow.Near the station a bit of fence painted with a cigaradvertisement reeled over into the mud, while under its leelay an abandoned gravel wagon with dished wheels. Thestation was connected with the town by the extension of BStreet, which struck across the flats geometricallystraight, a file of tall poles with intervening wiresmarching along with it. At the station these were headed byan iron electric-light pole that, with its supports andoutriggers, looked for all the world like an immensegrasshopper on its hind legs.Across the flats, at the fringe of the town, were the dumpheaps, the figures of a few Chinese rag-pickers moving overthem. Far to the left the view was shut off by the immensered-brown drum of the gas-works; to the right it was boundedby the chimneys and workshops of an iron foundry.Across the railroad tracks, to seaward, one saw the longstretch of black mud bank left bare by the tide, which wasfar out, nearly half a mile. Clouds of sea-gulls wereforever rising and settling upon this mud bank; a wreckedand abandoned wharf crawled over it on tottering legs; closein an old sailboat lay canted on her bilge.But farther on, across the yellow waters of the bay,beyond Goat Island, lay San Francisco, a blue line of hills,rugged with roofs and spires. Far to the westward openedthe Golden Gate, a bleak cutting in the sand-hills, throughwhich one caught a glimpse of the open Pacific.The station at B Street was solitary; no trains passed atthis hour; except the distant rag-pickers, not a soul was insight. The wind blew strong, carrying with it the mingledsmell of salt, of tar, of dead seaweed, and of bilge. Thesky hung low and brown; at long intervals a few drops ofrain fell.Near the station Trina and McTeague sat on the roadbed ofthe tracks, at the edge of the mud bank, making the most outof the landscape, enjoying the open air, the salt marshes,and the sight of the distant water. From time to timeMcTeague played his six mournful airs upon his concertina.After a while they began walking up and down the tracks,McTeague talking about his profession, Trina listening, veryinterested and absorbed, trying to understand."For pulling the roots of the upper molars we use the cow-horn forceps," continued the dentist, monotonously. "We getthe inside beak over the palatal roots and the cow-horn beakover the buccal roots--that's the roots on the outside, yousee. Then we close the forceps, and that breaks rightthrough the alveolus--that's the part of the socket in thejaw, you understand."At another moment he told her of his one unsatisfied desire."Some day I'm going to have a big gilded tooth outside mywindow for a sign. Those big gold teeth are beautiful,beautiful--only they cost so much, I can't afford one justnow.""Oh, it's raining," suddenly exclaimed Trina, holding outher palm. They turned back and reached the station in adrizzle. The afternoon was closing in dark and rainy. Thetide was coming back, talking and lapping for miles alongthe mud bank. Far off across the flats, at the edge of thetown, an electric car went by, stringing out a long row ofdiamond sparks on the overhead wires."Say, Miss Trina," said McTeague, after a while, "what's thegood of waiting any longer? Why can't us two get married?"Trina still shook her head, saying "No" instinctively,in spite of herself."Why not?" persisted McTeague. "Don't you like me wellenough?""Yes.""Then why not?""Because.""Ah, come on," he said, but Trina still shook her head."Ah, come on," urged McTeague. He could think of nothingelse to say, repeating the same phrase over and over againto all her refusals."Ah, come on! Ah, come on!"Suddenly he took her in his enormous arms, crushing down herstruggle with his immense strength. Then Trina gave up, allin an instant, turning her head to his. They kissed eachother, grossly, full in the mouth.A roar and a jarring of the earth suddenly grew near andpassed them in a reek of steam and hot air. It was theOverland, with its flaming headlight, on its way across thecontinent.The passage of the train startled them both. Trinastruggled to free herself from McTeague. "Oh, please!please!" she pleaded, on the point of tears. McTeaguereleased her, but in that moment a slight, a barelyperceptible, revulsion of feeling had taken place in him.The instant that Trina gave up, the instant she allowed himto kiss her, he thought less of her. She was not sodesirable, after all. But this reaction was so faint, sosubtle, so intangible, that in another moment he had doubtedits occurrence. Yet afterward it returned. Was there notsomething gone from Trina now? Was he not disappointed inher for doing that very thing for which he had longed? WasTrina the submissive, the compliant, the attainable just thesame, just as delicate and adorable as Trina theinaccessible? Perhaps he dimly saw that this must be so,that it belonged to the changeless order of things--the mandesiring the woman only for what she withholds; the womanworshipping the man for that which she yields up to him.With each concession gained the man's desire cools; withevery surrender made the woman's adoration increases. Butwhy should it be so?Trina wrenched herself free and drew back from McTeague, herlittle chin quivering; her face, even to the lobes of herpale ears, flushed scarlet; her narrow blue eyes brimming.Suddenly she put her head between her hands and began tosob."Say, say, Miss Trina, listen--listen here, Miss Trina,"cried McTeague, coming forward a step."Oh, don't!" she gasped, shrinking. "I must go home," shecried, springing to her feet. "It's late. I must. I must.Don't come with me, please. Oh, I'm so--so,"--she could notfind any words. "Let me go alone," she went on. "You may--you come Sunday. Good-by.""Good-by," said McTeague, his head in a whirl at thissudden, unaccountable change. "Can't I kiss you again?"But Trina was firm now. When it came to his pleading--amere matter of words--she was strong enough."No, no, you must not!" she exclaimed, with energy. She wasgone in another instant. The dentist, stunned, bewildered,gazed stupidly after her as she ran up the extension of BStreet through the rain.But suddenly a great joy took possession of him. He had wonher. Trina was to be for him, after all. An enormous smiledistended his thick lips; his eyes grew wide, and flashed;and he drew his breath quickly, striking his mallet-likefist upon his knee, and exclaiming under his breath:"I got her, by God! I got her, by God!" At the same timehe thought better of himself; his self-respect increasedenormously. The man that could win Trina Sieppe was a manof extraordinary ability.Trina burst in upon her mother while the latter was settinga mousetrap in the kitchen."Oh, mamma!""Eh? Trina? Ach, what has happun?"Trina told her in a breath."Soh soon?" was Mrs. Sieppe's first comment. "Eh, well,what you cry for, then?""I don't know," wailed Trina, plucking at the end of herhandkerchief."You loaf der younge doktor?""I don't know.""Well, what for you kiss him?""I don't know.""You don' know, you don' know? Where haf your sensus gone,Trina? You kiss der doktor. You cry, and you don' know.Is ut Marcus den?""No, it's not Cousin Mark.""Den ut must be der doktor."Trina made no answer."Eh?""I--I guess so.""You loaf him?""I don't know."Mrs. Sieppe set down the mousetrap with such violence thatit sprung with a sharp snap.