Mrs.Decie presently came out, also carrying a candle, and went to her brother's room.She stood before his chair, with folded hands.
"Nicholas, what is to be done?"
Mr.Treffry was pouring whisky into a glass.
"Damn it, Con!" he answered; "how should I know?""There's something in Christian that makes interference dangerous.Iknow very well that I've no influence with her at all.""You're right there, Con," Mr.Treffry replied.
Mrs.Decie's pale eyes, fastened on his face, forced him to look up.
"I wish you would leave off drinking whisky and attend to me.Paul is an element--""Paul," Mr.Treffry growled, "is an ass!""Paul," pursued Mrs.Decie, "is an element of danger in the situation; any ill-timed opposition of his might drive her to I don't know what.Christian is gentle, she is 'sympathetic' as they say;but thwart her, and she is as obstinate as....
"You or I! Leave her alone!"
"I understand her character, but I confess that I am at a loss what to do.""Do nothing!" He drank again.
Mrs.Decie took up the candle.
"Men!" she said with a mysterious intonation; shrugging her shoulders, she walked out.
Mr.Treffry put down his glass.
'Understand?' he thought; 'no, you don't, and I don't.Who understands a young girl? Vapourings, dreams, moonshine I....What does she see in this painter fellow? I wonder!' He breathed heavily.'By heavens! I wouldn't have had this happen for a hundred thousand pounds!'
XIII
For many hours after Dawney had taken him to his hotel, Harz was prostrate with stunning pains in the head and neck.He had been all day without food, exposed to burning sun, suffering violent emotion.
Movement of any sort caused him such agony that he could only lie in stupor, counting the spots dancing before, his eyes.Dawney did everything for him, and Harz resented in a listless way the intent scrutiny of the doctor's calm, black eyes.
Towards the end of the second day he was able to get up; Dawney found him sitting on the bed in shirt and trousers.
"My son," he said, "you had better tell me what the trouble is--it will do your stubborn carcase good.""I must go back to work," said Harz.
"Work!" said Dawney deliberately: "you couldn't, if you tried.""I must."
"My dear fellow, you couldn't tell one colour from another.""I must be doing something; I can't sit here and think."Dawney hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat: "You won't see the sun for three days yet, if I can help it."Harz got up.
"I'm going to my studio to-morrow," he said."I promise not to go out.I must be where I can see my work.If I can't paint, I can draw; I can feel my brushes, move my things about.I shall go mad if I do nothing."Dawney took his arm, and walked him up and down.
"I'll let you go," he said, "but give me a chance! It's as much to me to put you straight as it is to you to paint a decent picture.
Now go to bed; I'll have a carriage for you to-morrow morning."Harz sat down on the bed again, and for a long time stayed without moving, his eyes fixed on the floor.The sight of him, so desperate and miserable, hurt the young doctor.
"Can you get to bed by yourself?" he asked at last.
Harz nodded.
"Then, good-night, old chap!" and Dawney left the room.
He took his hat and turned towards the Villa.Between the poplars he stopped to think.The farther trees were fret-worked black against the lingering gold of the sunset; a huge moth, attracted by the tip of his cigar, came fluttering in his face.The music of a concertina rose and fell, like the sighing of some disillusioned spirit.Dawney stood for several minutes staring at the house.
He was shown to Mrs.Decie's room.She was holding a magazine before her eyes, and received him with as much relief as philosophy permitted.
"You are the very person I wanted to see," she said.
He noticed that the magazine she held was uncut.
"You are a young man," pursued Mrs.Decie, "but as my doctor I have a right to your discretion."Dawney smiled; the features of his broad, clean-shaven face looked ridiculously small on such occasions, but his eyes retained their air of calculation.
"That is so," he answered.
"It is about this unfortunate affair.I understand that Mr.Harz is with you.I want you to use your influence to dissuade him from attempting to see my niece.""Influence!" said Dawney; "you know Harz!"Mrs.Decie's voice hardened.
"Everybody," she said, "has his weak points.This young man is open to approach from at least two quarters--his pride is one, his work an other.I am seldom wrong in gauging character; these are his vital spots, and they are of the essence of this matter.I'm sorry for him, of course--but at his age, and living a man's life, these things--" Her smile was extra pale."I wish you could give me something for my head.It's foolish to worry.Nerves of course!
But I can't help it! You know my opinion, Dr.Dawney.That young man will go far if he remains unfettered; he will make a name.You will be doing him a great service if you could show him the affair as it really is--a drag on him, and quite unworthy of his pride! Do help me! You are just the man to do it!"Dawney threw up his head as if to shake off this impeachment; the curve of his chin thus displayed was imposing in its fulness;altogether he was imposing, having an air of capability.
She struck him, indeed, as really scared; it was as if her mask of smile had become awry, and failed to cover her emotion; and he was puzzled, thinking, 'I wouldn't have believed she had it in her....'
"It's not an easy business," he said; "I'll think it over.""Thank you!" murmured Mrs.Decie."You are most kind."Passing the schoolroom, he looked in through the open door.
Christian was sitting there.The sight of her face shocked him, it was so white, so resolutely dumb.A book lay on her knees; she was not reading, but staring before her.He thought suddenly: 'Poor thing! If I don't say something to her, I shall be a brute!'
"Miss Devorell," he said: "You can reckon on him."Christian tried to speak, but her lips trembled so that nothing came forth.
"Good-night," said Dawney, and walked out....
