Ayn Rand - The Early Ayn Rand

I knew I was not blind, but I did not see anything. I did not hear a sound... When I began to hear again I noticed that I was repeating senselessly, "... one minute... one minute..."

Henry's picture, which I held, fell to the floor. I looked at it. Then, suddenly, I saw clearly, wholly, and exactly what had happened and what was going to happen. It lasted less than a second, as though in the glow of a sudden lightning, but it seized me at the throat, like pincers of red-hot iron. And I shouted. I uttered a cry. It was not even a cry, it was not a human sound. It was the wild howl of a wounded animal; the primitive, ferocious cry of life for help.

I heard running footsteps on the staircase. "What happened?" cried Henry, knocking at my door.

"Nothing," I answered. "I saw a mouse." I heard him go downstairs.

I wanted to move, to take some steps. But the floor was running under my feet, running down, down. And there was a black smoke in my room that turned, turned, turned in columns with a frightful speed. I fell...

When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the floor. It was quite dark in the room, and cold. A window had been left open and the curtains moved slowly, blown by the wind. "I was unconscious," I said to myself.

I rose to my feet and tried to stand. My knees seemed broken. I let myself slowly down again. Then I saw his picture on the floor. A long shudder ran through all my body.

I took the picture and put it in an armchair. Then I whispered, and my voice was human now, weak and trembling: "Henry... Henry... my Henry... that is nothing... It is not true, is it, Henry? It was a dream, perhaps, and we shall awaken soon... And I will not cry. Don't look at my eyes, Henry, lam not crying... it will be over... in a minute... Because, you see, it was hard... I think it was even very hard... But that is nothing. You are with me, aren't you, Henry?... And you know everything... You do... I am foolish to grieve like this, am I not, Henry? Say that I am... Smile, Henry, and laugh at me... and scold me for torturing myself like this, when there is nothing... nothing at all... Nothing happened... and you know everything... You see, I am smiling... And you love me... You are my Henry... I am a little tired, you know, but I will take a rest... and it will be over... No, I am not crying, Henry... I love you... Henry…"

Tears ran down my cheeks, big, heavy, silent tears. I did not cry, there were no sobs, no sound. I spoke and I smiled. Only tears rolled down, without interruption, without sound, without end...

I do not remember much about the months that followed. We had applied for a divorce, on the ground of wife's unfaithfulness. Waiting for it, I lived in Henry's house. But we did not meet often. When we met, we greeted one another politely.

I managed to live, somehow. I remember that I read books, lots of books. But I cannot remember a word of them now, their titles or how they looked; not one of them. I walked much too, in the little deserted streets of the poorest neighborhoods, where nobody could see me. I think I was calm then. Only I remember that I once heard a boy say, pointing at me: "Here's one that's goofy!"

I met Gerald Gray often, as often as I could, and I flirted with him, I had to. I do not remember one of our meetings. But I must have played my part perfectly well, for I remember, as though out of a deep fog, one sentence said by him: "You are the most bewitching, the most exquisite of women, Mrs. Stafford, and your husband is a fool... for which I am immensely happy." I do not know how I could have done it; I must have acted with the precision and unconsciousness of a lunatic.

One thing I remember well: I watched Henry. He spent all his time with Claire. His eyes were brilliant, and sparkling, and smiling, now. I, who knew him so well, who understood every line of his face, I saw that he was happy. He seemed to have come out of a heavy nightmare, which his existence for the last months had been, and to breathe life again, and as before to be young, strong, beautiful, oh! too beautiful!

I watched Claire, also. She loved Henry. It was not a mere flirt for her, or a victory that flattered her pride. It was a deep, great passion, the first in her life, perhaps. She was no "vamp." She was a clever, noble, refined woman, as clever as she was beautiful... He will be happy.

I saw them together once. They were walking in the street. They were talking and smiling. She wore an elegant white suit. They looked perfectly happy.

The town was indignant at our divorce, indignant with me, of course. I was not admitted in any house any more. Many persons did not greet me in the street. I noticed disdainful, mocking smiles, despising grins on the faces of persons that had been my friends. I met Mrs. Brogan once. She stopped and told me plainly, for she always said what she thought: "You dirty creature! Do you think nobody understands that you sold yourself for Gray's money?" And Patsy Tillins approached me once in the street and said: "You've made a bad bargain, dearie: I wouldn't have changed Henry Stafford for no one, from heaven to hell!"

The day came when we got the divorce... I was Irene Wilmer again; divorced for unfaithfulness to my husband. That was all.

When Henry spoke to me about money that I might need, I refused to take anything and said cynically: "Mr. Gray has more money than you!"

Gerald Gray was to leave for New York, just on the next day, to take a ship for Europe from there. I was to go with him.

That evening, Mr. Barnes called upon me. He had been out of town for the last months and, returning only today, heard about everything. He came to me immediately. "Now, Irene," he said very seriously, and his voice trembled in spite of him, "there is some terrible mistake in what I have heard. Would you tell me?"

"Why, Mr. Barnes," I answered calmly, "I don't think there could be any mistake: I am divorced, just today."

"But... but... but is it really your fault? Are you really guilty?"

"Well, if you call it guilty... I love Gerald Gray, that's all."

His face grew red, purple, then white. He could not speak for some long minutes. "You... you don't love your husband?" he muttered at last.

"Henry Stafford, you mean? He is not my husband any longer... No, I don't love him."

"Irene..." He tried to speak calmly and there was a strange solemn strength in his voice. "Irene, it is not true. I will tell everybody that you could not have done it."

"I'm no saint."

He stepped back and his grayish old head shook piteously. "Irene," he said again, and there was almost a plea in his voice, "you could not have traded a man like your husband for that silly snob."

"I did."

"You, Irene, you? I cannot believe it!"

"Don't. Who cares?"

This was too much. He raised his head. "Then," he said slowly, "I have nothing more to say... Farewell, Irene."

"Bye-bye!" I answered with an indifferent insolence.

I looked through the window, when he was going away. His poor old figure seemed more bent and heavy than ever. "Farewell, Mr. Barnes," I whispered. "Farewell... and forgive me."

That night, the last night I spent in my home, I awoke very late. When all was silent in the house, I went noiselessly downstairs. I thought that I could not say farewell to Henry, tomorrow, and I wanted to say it. I cautiously opened the bedroom door: he was sleeping. I entered. I raised slightly the window curtain, to see him. I stood by his bed, that had been mine also. I looked at him. His face was calm and serene. The dark lashes of his closed eyes were immobile on his cheeks. His beautiful lips seemed carved of marble on his face, pale in the darkness. I did not dare to touch him. I put my hand slowly and cautiously on the pillow, near his head.

Then I knelt down, by the bed. I could not kiss his lips; it would have awakened him. I took his hand cautiously and pressed it to my lips. "Henry," I whispered, "you shall never know. And you must not know. Be happy, very happy... And I shall go through life with one thing, one right only left to me: the right to say that I loved you, Henry... and the right to love you... till the end." I kissed his hand with a long, long kiss.