Jacky S - Suburban Souls, Book I

LILIAN TO JACKY.

Sonis-sur-Marne. August 31, 1898.

As ever, you are right, and I bow down to your experience and wisdom that I do not possess. It is even preferable that you do not come down on Wednesday evening as we had managed. I will go with Granny to the fête. That will make me forget my great disappointment a little, for I felt much joy at the idea of having you again with me for one whole night.

Do not say, my adored one, that I am never contented, but I wish to arrange things with you once and for all.

The life I lead at present is absolutely intolerable. I can only see you now and again and then always running and hiding like a thief, while my dream would be to have you often all to myself and only for me. This dream can be realized in two ways. Here is the first:

We must take a small apartment in Paris: three rooms and a kitchen. I should go and live there in the manner I told you, that is to say with the full consent of my parents to carry on my trade. Thus I should be entirely free; you could come and breakfast and dine with me as often as you chose and I should have you nearly every day. This thought drives me crazy with delight. And you, adored master?

Now for the second plan:

You would take a shop to sell the perfumes you make so well. Naturally, you would want a young girl used to commercial ways and at the same time pleasing to look at, as a saleswoman. I should be that young girl and I can assure you that the business would flourish. In this wise also I could see you as often as we could wish. As you see, two methods offer themselves to us at this moment. You must choose one at once, as later on perhaps we may not have the same opportunity. I await a word from you giving me your decision. If you prefer the apartment, I can start off at once to hunt for one.

Tell me also what day I can see you in Paris, as you can no longer come here?

I think of your dear lips,

LILIAN.

I had been showing Lilian some specimens of perfumery I had made, and had manufactured expressly for her a highly concentrated preparation of musk, as she was fond of violent scents. My chemical studies had of late led me in that direction. She saw money to be made with these odorous extracts. She was fond of money.

I answered, giving an appointment at the usual place, rue de Leipzig. I also informed her that she had a wrong idea of life and life's duties, which I would explain more fully by word of mouth.

LILIAN TO JACKY.

Sonis-sur-Marne. September 1, 1898.

If you have not understood my letter it is because you do not want to, for it was quite explicit enough. I cannot see either how the perspective of being able to see me as often as you wish could make you unhappy. I cannot make you out at all. I will not go to the rue de Leipzig anymore.

Come here in preference one evening, if you have anything to say to me.

And I thought my letter would please you. I am quite perplexed.

She who loves you too much,

LILIAN.

My reply stated that I considered her very silly, very disobedient, and very hard to get on with, but nevertheless I was ready to take the train about nine p.m. on Saturday, Sunday, or Monday night, to talk matters over, if she would kindly choose one of those evenings and let me know in time. I heard no more of her until getting home to dinner at 6:30 p.m. on Sunday, when I found this wire:

LILIAN TO JACKY.

Telegram, received 4 p.m., September 4, 1989.

Can you come at once?

LILIAN.

The telegram had been at my dwelling since half-past four. I had some guests to dinner and could not leave them. I had waited for a letter until Sunday morning before inviting them, and I felt angry to think that Lilian should expect me to be literally at her beck and call. I wrote at once that I could not run about to odd appointments at uncertain times at my age. I could not be her puppet. That she knew I took my meals with my family, and owed a slight amount of politeness to my near relations and others who were ready to dine with me at prearranged fixed hours, etc. That I had kept open three nights for her and she had not answered me properly nor given me due notice. In fact, she was not acting in a straightforward manner and I was disgusted.

This elicited the following epistle, which is ironical, to say the least:

LILIAN TO JACKY.

Sonis-sur-Marne. September 5, 1898.

As ever you are right, and I agree with you that you should not be a puppet, especially at your age. I do not wish to disgust you entirely and if I have done so already, I beg you to excuse me, for I did not mean to, I assure you.

You require a calm and tranquil life and I can only do one thing-trouble your existence.

I humbly beg your pardon for my rudeness, since you say I am impolite.

LILIAN.

JACKY TO LILIAN.

Paris. September 6, 1898.

When one loves anybody it is always nicer to answer letters as quickly as possible. That is what I do this day in reply to your few lines received last night, though perhaps you did not expect me to write?

You ask my pardon? I bear no malice, I am not angry. The way you act has not failed to grieve me momentarily. That is all. Let us say no more about it. I have made up my mind for the worst.

But I forgive you willingly and from the bottom of my heart. And I find that this exchange of bittersweet letters is an essentially stupid thing. It is ridiculous to go in for essays of literary style instead of seeing each other and explaining matters. I accuse myself of this fault and this shall be my last letter.

Your conduct has greatly wounded me. I pity you sincerely, as I fully believe what I have often told you: that you are in a great measure a victim to your nerves.

Being so, you prepare for yourself a life of sad agitation for, almost always, people like yourself possess the peculiar gift of rendering profoundly unhappy those they love the most.

JACKY.

ERIC ARVEL TO JACKY

Sonis-sur-Marne. September 9, 1898.

My dear Jacky,

We are just returned from the land of “wurst,” and are anxious to know how it has fared with you at the place where you consented to bury yourself to get rid of every ache and pain to which you had to make so many concessions. I have to thank you for the manner in which, notwithstanding your absence, you have kept me supplied with papers, and no doubt when I get up to Paris tomorrow I shall find a lot awaiting me, as we have been away a little over three weeks. The garden has suffered considerably during our absence, from the dogs, but they are all looking well, so I suppose we must not complain. Lili is still on heat, she seems never to be off now. Blackamoor is, as you may imagine, very miserable at being compelled to play the part assigned to Abelard.

When shall we see you? It is so dreadfully warm that we are on the verge of starvation, as we can get nothing tender to eat unless we take to boiled meats.

I suppose your family are all enjoying themselves away from Paris? When you write, please remember me to everybody.

All here send their kindest regards and best wishes, in which I most cordially join, remaining ever,

Yours faithfully,

ERIC ARVEL.

ERIC ARVEL TO JACKY.

Sonis-sur-Marne. September 16, 1898.

My dear Jacky,

I was pleased to see you had returned home, but we all regret to find that you have joined the “Tiny-Tiny” division. I want to see you and have a chat with you, but this week I was unable to name a day, having all my accounts to make out as well as to prepare a long series of articles on the gold mines.

Name your own day this coming week, and come and tell us all your adventures by flood and field since we last saw you.

Believe me to remain, cordially and faithfully yours,

ERIC ARVEL.

ERIC ARVEL TO JACKY.