Somerset Maugham - The Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (33 Works in One Edition)

'You see, dear friend, the children are determined that there should not be enmity between us. And when the little ones love you so dearly, can you think that I should hate you?'

And when they left he had accompanied them to the gates and been quite affectionate in his farewell.

At last the night came and I could shut myself up in my room. I thought with a bitter smile that it was the hour at which I was used to go to Giulia. And now I should never go to Giulia again. My unhappiness was too great for wrath; I felt too utterly miserable to think of my grievances, or of my contempt. I only felt broken-hearted. I could not keep the tears back, and burying my face in the pillows, I cried my heart out. It was years and years since I had wept, not since I was quite a boy, but this blow had taken from me all manliness, and I gave myself over to my grief, passionately, shamelessly. I did not care that I was weak; I had no respect for myself, or care for myself. The sobs came, one on the heels of another like waves, and the pain, as they tore my chest, relieved the anguish of my mind. Exhaustion came at last, and with it sleep.

But I knew I could not hide the change in me, and Matteo soon noticed it.

'What is the matter with you, Filippo?' he asked. I blushed and hesitated.

'Nothing,' I answered at last.

'I thought you were unhappy.'

Our eyes met, but I could not stand his inquiring glance and looked down. He came to me, and sitting on the arm of my chair, put his hand on my shoulder and said affectionately,—

'We're friends, aren't we, Filippo?'

'Yes,' I answered, smiling and taking his hand.

'Won't you trust me?'

After a pause I answered,—

'I should so much like to.' I felt as if indeed it would relieve me to be able to confide in somebody, I wanted sympathy so badly.

He passed his hand gently over my hair.

I hesitated a little, but I could not help myself, and I told him the whole story from beginning to end.

'Poverino!' he said, when I had finished; then, clenching his teeth, 'She is a beast, that woman!'

'I ought to have taken your warning, Matteo, but I was a fool.'

'Who ever does take warning!' he answered, shrugging his shoulders. 'How could you be expected to believe me?'

'But I believe you now. I am horrified when I think of her vice and cruelty.'

'Ah, well, it is over now.'

'Quite! I hate her and despise her. Oh, I wish I could get her face to face and tell her what I think of her.'

I thought my talk with Matteo had relieved me, I thought the worst was over; but at night melancholy came on me stronger than ever, and I groaned as I threw myself on my bed. I felt so terribly alone in the world.... I had no relation but a half-brother, a boy of twelve, whom I had hardly seen; and as I wandered through the land, an exile, I had been continually assailed by the hateful demon of loneliness. And sometimes in my solitude I had felt that I could kill myself. But when I found I was in love with Giulia, I cried aloud with joy.... I threw everything to the winds, gathering myself up for the supreme effort of passion. All the storm and stress were passed; I was no longer alone, for I had someone to whom I could give my love. I was like the ship that arrives in the harbour, and reefs her sails and clears her deck, settling down in the quietness of the waters.

And now all was over! Oh God, to think that my hopes should be shattered in so short a time, that the ship should be so soon tossed about in the storm, and the stars hidden by the clouds! And the past delight made the present darkness all the more bitter. I groaned. In my misery I uttered a prayer to God to help me. I could not think I should live henceforth. How could I go on existing with this aching void in my heart? I could not spend days and weeks and years always with this despair. It was too terrible to last. My reason told me that time would remedy it; but time was so long, and what misery must I go through before the wound was healed! And as I thought of what I had lost, my agony grew more unbearable. It grew vivid, and I felt Giulia in my arms. I panted as I pressed my lips against hers, and I said to her,—

'How could you!'

I buried my face in my hands, so as better to enjoy my dream. I smelt the perfume of her breath; I felt on my face the light touch of her hair. But it would not last. I tried to seize the image and hold it back, but it vanished and left me broken-hearted....

I knew I did not hate her. I had pretended to, but the words came from the mouth. In my heart I loved her still, more passionately than ever. What did I care if she was heartless and cruel and faithless and vicious! It was nothing to me as long as I could hold her in my arms and cover her with kisses. I did despise her; I knew her for what she was, but still I loved her insanely. Oh, if she would only come back to me! I would willingly forget everything and forgive her. Nay, I would ask her forgiveness and grovel before her, if she would only let me enjoy her love again.

I would go back to her and fall on my knees, and pray her to be merciful. Why should I suppose she had changed in the few days. I knew she would treat me with the same indifference, and only feel a wondering contempt that I should so abase myself. It came like a blow in the face, the thought of her cold cruelty and her calmness. No, I vowed I would never subject myself to that again. I felt myself blush at the remembrance of the humiliation. But perhaps she was sorry for what she had done. I knew her pride would prevent her from coming or sending to me, and should I give her no opportunity? Perhaps, if we saw one another for a few moments everything might be arranged, and I might be happy again. An immense feeling of hope filled me. I thought I must be right in my idea; she could not be so heartless as to have no regret. How willingly I would take her back! My heart leaped. But I dared not go to her house. I knew I should find her on the morrow at her father's, who was going to give a banquet to some friends. I would speak to her there, casually, as if we were ordinary acquaintances; and then at the first sign of yielding on her part, even if I saw but a tinge of regret in her eyes, I would burst out. I was happy in my plan, and I went to sleep with the name of Giulia on my lips and her image in my heart.

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I went to the Moratini Palace, and with beating heart looked round for Giulia. She was surrounded by her usual court, and seemed more lively and excited than ever. I had never seen her more beautiful. She was dressed all in white, and her sleeves were sewn with pearls; she looked like a bride. She caught sight of me at once, but pretended not to see me, and went on talking.

I approached her brother Alessandro and said to him casually,—

'I am told a cousin of your sister has come to Forli. Is he here to-day?'

He looked at me inquiringly, not immediately understanding.

'Giorgio dall' Aste,' I explained.

'Oh, I didn't know you meant him. No, he's not here. He and Giulia's husband were not friends, and so—'

'Why were they not friends?' I interrupted, on the spur of the moment, not seeing the impertinence of the question till I had made it.

'Oh, I don't know. Relations always are at enmity with one another; probably some disagreement with regard to their estates.'

'Was that all?'

'So far as I know.'

I recollected that in a scandal the persons most interested are the last to hear it. The husband hears nothing of his wife's treachery till all the town knows every detail.

'I should like to have seen him,' I went on.

'Giorgo? Oh, he's a weak sort of creature; one of those men who commit sins and repent!'

'That is not a fault of which you will ever be guilty, Alessandro,' I said, smiling.