Of Human Bondage. Уильям Сомерсет Моэм

dreadful, but a Chinaman, with his yellow skin and flat nose, and his little pig’s eyes! That’s what made it so horrible. It filled one with disgust to think of it.

      “Bitte, bitte,” said Cacilie, with a rapid intake of the breath. “I won’t listen to anything against him.”

      “But it’s not serious?” gasped Frau Erlin.

      “I love him. I love him. I love him.”

      “Gott im Himmel!”

      The Frau Professor stared at her with horrified surprise; she had thought it was no more than naughtiness on the child’s part, and innocent, folly. but the passion in her voice revealed everything. Cacilie looked at her for a moment with flaming eyes, and then with a shrug of her shoulders went out of the room.

      Frau Erlin kept the details of the interview to herself, and a day or two later altered the arrangement of the table. She asked Herr Sung if he would not come and sit at her end, and he with his unfailing politeness accepted with alacrity. Cacilie took the change indifferently. But as if the discovery that the relations between them were known to the whole household made them more shameless, they made no secret now of their walks together, and every afternoon quite openly set out to wander about the hills. It was plain that they did not care what was said of them. At last even the placidity of Professor Erlin was moved, and he insisted that his wife should speak to the Chinaman. She took him aside in his turn and expostulated; he was ruining the girl’s reputation, he was doing harm to the house, he must see how wrong and wicked his conduct was; but she was met with smiling denials; Herr Sung did not know what she was talking about, he was not paying any attention to Fraulein Cacilie, he never walked with her; it was all untrue, every word of it.

      “Ach, Herr Sung, how can you say such things? You’ve been seen again and again.”

      “No, you’re mistaken. It’s untrue.”

      He looked at her with an unceasing smile, which showed his even, little white teeth. He was quite calm. He denied everything. He denied with bland effrontery. At last the Frau Professor lost her temper and said the girl had confessed she loved him. He was not moved. He continued to smile.

      “Nonsense! Nonsense! It’s all untrue.”

      She could get nothing out of him. The weather grew very bad; there was snow and frost, and then a thaw with a long succession of cheerless days, on which walking was a poor amusement. One evening when Philip had just finished his German lesson with the Herr Professor and was standing for a moment in the drawing-room, talking to Frau Erlin, Anna came quickly in.

      “Mamma, where is Cacilie?” she said.

      “I suppose she’s in her room.”

      “There’s no light in it.”

      The Frau Professor gave an exclamation, and she looked at her daughter in dismay. The thought which was in Anna’s head had flashed across hers.

      “Ring for Emil,” she said hoarsely.

      This was the stupid lout who waited at table and did most of the housework. He came in.

      “Emil, go down to Herr Sung’s room and enter without knocking. If anyone is there say you came in to see about the stove.”

      No sign of astonishment appeared on Emil’s phlegmatic face.

      He went slowly downstairs. The Frau Professor and Anna left the door open and listened. Presently they heard Emil come up again, and they called him.

      “Was anyone there?” asked the Frau Professor.

      “Yes, Herr Sung was there.”

      “Was he alone?”

      The beginning of a cunning smile narrowed his mouth.

      “No, Fraulein Cacilie was there.”

      “Oh, it’s disgraceful,” cried the Frau Professor.

      Now he smiled broadly.

      “Fraulein Cacilie is there every evening. She spends hours at a time there.”

      Frau Professor began to wring her hands.

      “Oh, how abominable! But why didn’t you tell me?”

      “It was no business of mine,” he answered, slowly shrugging his shoulders.

      “I suppose they paid you well. Go away. Go.”

      He lurched clumsily to the door.

      “They must go away, mamma,” said Anna.

      “And who is going to pay the rent? And the taxes are falling due. It’s all very well for you to say they must go away. If they go away I can’t pay the bills.” She turned to Philip, with tears streaming down her face. “Ach, Herr Carey, you will not say what you have heard. If Fraulein Forster–“ this was the Dutch spinster–“if Fraulein Forster knew she would leave at once. And if they all go we must close the house. I cannot afford to keep it.”

      “Of course I won’t say anything.”

      “If she stays, I will not speak to her,” said Anna.

      That evening at supper Fraulein Cacilie, redder than usual, with a look of obstinacy on her face, took her place punctually; but Herr Sung did not appear, and for a while Philip thought he was going to shirk the ordeal. At last he came, very smiling, his little eyes dancing with the apologies he made for his late arrival. He insisted as usual on pouring out the Frau Professor a glass of his Moselle, and he offered a glass to Fraulein Forster. The room was very hot, for the stove had been alight all day and the windows were seldom opened. Emil blundered about, but succeeded somehow in serving everyone quickly and with order. The three old ladies sat in silence, visibly disapproving: the Frau Professor had scarcely recovered from her tears; her husband was silent and oppressed. Conversation languished. It seemed to Philip that there was something dreadful in that gathering which he had sat with so often; they looked different under the light of the two hanging lamps from what they had ever looked before; he was vaguely uneasy. Once he caught Cacilie’s eye, and he thought she looked at him with hatred and contempt. The room was stifling. It was as though the beastly passion of that pair troubled them all; there was a feeling of Oriental depravity; a faint savour of joss-sticks, a mystery of hidden vices, seemed to make their breath heavy. Philip could feel the beating of the arteries in his forehead. He could not understand what strange emotion distracted him; he seemed to feel something infinitely attractive, and yet he was repelled and horrified.

      For several days things went on. The air was sickly with the unnatural passion which all felt about them, and the nerves of the little household seemed to grow exasperated. Only Herr Sung remained unaffected; he was no less smiling, affable, and polite than he had been before: one could not tell whether his manner was a triumph of civilisation or an expression of contempt on the part of the Oriental for the vanquished West. Cacilie was flaunting and cynical. At last even the Frau Professor could bear the position no longer. Suddenly panic seized her; for Professor Erlin with brutal frankness had suggested the possible consequences of an intrigue which was now manifest to everyone, and she saw her good name in Heidelberg and the repute of her house ruined by a scandal which could not possibly be hidden. For some reason, blinded perhaps by her interests, this possibility had never occurred to her; and now, her wits muddled by a terrible fear, she could hardly be prevented from turning the girl out of the house at once. It was due to Anna’s good sense that a cautious letter was written to the uncle in Berlin suggesting that Cacilie should be taken away.

      But having made up her mind to lose the two lodgers, the Frau Professor could not resist the satisfaction of giving rein to the ill-temper she had curbed so long. She was free now to say anything she liked to Cacilie.

      “I have written to your uncle, Cacilie, to take you away. I cannot have you in my house any longer.”

      Her little round eyes sparkled when she noticed the sudden whiteness of the girl’s face.

      “You’re shameless. Shameless,” she went on.

      She