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Red Room, a novel by August Strindberg |
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Chapter 21. A Soul Overboard |
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_ CHAPTER XXI. A SOUL OVERBOARD Rehnhjelm awoke on the following morning at four o'clock; somebody had called his name. He sat up in bed and listened--there was not a sound. He drew up the blind and looked out on a grey autumn morning, windy and rainy. He went back to bed and tried to sleep, but in vain. There were strange voices in the wind; they moaned and warned and wept and whimpered. He tried to think of something pleasant: of his happiness. He took his part and began to learn it; it seemed to be nothing but yes, my prince; he thought of Falander's words and could not help admitting that he was to some extent right. He tried to picture himself on the stage as Horatio; he tried to picture Agnes in the part of Ophelia, and could see in her nothing but a hypocritical schemer, spreading nets for Hamlet at Polonius's advice. He attempted to drive away the thought, and instead of Agnes he saw the coquettish Miss Jacquette, who had been the last to play the part at the Municipal Theatre. He tried in vain to drive away these disagreeable fancies; they followed him like gnats. At last, exhausted with the strain, he fell asleep, but only to suffer the same torment in his dream; he roused himself with an effort, but soon dropped off to sleep again, and immediately the same visions disturbed him. About nine o'clock he awoke with a scream, and jumped out of bed as if he were fleeing from evil spirits. When he looked into the glass he saw that his eyes were red with weeping. He dressed hastily and as he picked up his boot, a big spider ran across the floor. The sight pleased him for he believed in the superstition that a spider is a harbinger of happiness; his good-humour was restored and he came to the conclusion that if a man wanted an undisturbed night's rest, he should avoid crabs for supper. He drank his coffee and smoked a pipe and smiled at the rain-showers and the wind. A knock at the door aroused him from his reverie; he started, for he was afraid of news, he could not tell why; but he thought of the spider and calmly opened the door. A servant handed him a letter from Falander, begging him to come to his rooms at ten, on very important business. Again he was assailed by the indescribable feeling of fear which had troubled his morning slumber; he tried to while away the time until ten. It was impossible; he dressed and went to Falander's house. The latter had risen early; his room had been put straight and he was ready to receive his friend. He greeted Rehnhjelm cordially, but with unusual gravity. Rehnhjelm overwhelmed him with questions, but Falander refused to reply before ten o'clock. Rehnhjelm's anxiety grew and he wanted to know whether there was unpleasant news; Falander replied that nothing on earth was unpleasant as long as one looked at things in the right light. And he declared that many so-called unbearable situations could be borne quite easily if only one did not exaggerate their importance. The time passed slowly, but at last it struck ten. A gentle double-rap at the door relieved the tension. Falander opened at once and admitted Agnes. Without a look at those present she drew the key from the lock, and locked the door from the inside. A momentary embarrassment seized her when, on turning round, she was confronted by two men instead of only one, but her embarrassment gave way to pleasant surprise when she recognized Rehnhjelm. Throwing off her water-proof, she ran towards him; he took her in his arms and passionately pressed her to his heart, as if he had not seen her for a year. "You've been away a long time, Agnes!" "A long time? What do you mean?" "I feel as if I hadn't seen you for a life-time. How splendid you are looking! Did you sleep well?" "Do you think I look better than usual?" "Yes! You are flushed and there are little dimples in your cheeks! Won't you say good morning to Falander?" The latter stood quietly listening to the conversation, but his face was deadly white and he seemed to be absorbed in thought. "How worn you are looking," said Agnes, crossing the room with the graceful movements of a kitten, as Rehnhjelm released her from his arms. Falander made no reply. Agnes looked at him more keenly, and all at once became aware of his thoughts. A fleeting expression of trouble passed across her face, as the surface of a pond is rippled by the breeze; but she immediately regained her usual serenity, glanced at Rehnhjelm, realized the situation, and was prepared for anything. "May we be told what important business has brought us together here, at this early hour?" she asked gaily, putting her hand on Falander's shoulder. "Certainly," said the latter, with such firm resolution that her face paled; but at the same moment he threw back his head, as if he wanted to force his thoughts into another groove, "it's my birthday, and I want you to have breakfast with me." Agnes, who had seen the train rushing straight at her, felt relieved; she burst into merry laughter and embraced Falander. "But as breakfast has been ordered for eleven, we'll have to wait a while. Won't you sit down?" There was an ominous silence. "An angel is passing through the room," said Agnes. "You!" said Rehnhjelm, respectfully and ardently kissing her hand. Falander looked as if he had been thrown out of his saddle, and was making violent efforts to regain it. "I saw a spider this morning," said Rehnhjelm, "that predicts happiness." "Araignée matin: chagrin," said Falander. "Have you never heard that?" "What does that mean?" asked Agnes. "A spider on the morrow: grief and sorrow." "Hm!" Again they grew silent. The only sound which disturbed the stillness was the sound of the rain beating in gusts against the windows. "I read an awfully tragic book last night," presently remarked Falander. "I hardly slept a wink." "What book was that?" asked Rehnhjelm, without betraying very much interest. "Its title was 'Pierre Clément,' and its subject the usual woman's game. But it was told so well that it made a great impression on me." "May I ask what the usual woman's game is?" said Agnes. "Faithlessness and treachery!" "And this Pierre Clément?" "He was, of course, betrayed. He was a young artist, in love with another man's mistress...." "I remember the book; I liked it very much. Wasn't she later on engaged to a man whom she really loved? Yes, that was it, and during all the time she kept up her old liaison. The author wanted to show that a woman can love in two ways; a man only in one. That's true enough, isn't it?" "Certainly! But the day came when her fiancé was going to compete with a picture. To cut my tale short, she gave herself to the president, and Pierre Clément was happy and could be married." "And by this the author wanted to show that a woman will sacrifice everything to the man she loves--a man, on the other hand...." "That is the most infamous statement I ever heard!" burst out Falander. He rose, went to his writing-desk, threw open the flap and took out a black box. "Here," he said, handing it to Agnes; "go home and rid the world of a monster." "What's that?" laughed Agnes, opening the box and taking out a six-barrelled revolver. "I say, what a sweet thing! Didn't you use this as Carl Moor? I believe it is loaded." She raised the revolver and fired up the chimney. "Lock it up," she said, "this is no toy, my friends." Rehnhjelm had watched the scene speechlessly. He understood the meaning well enough, but he was unable to say a word; and he was so much under the girl's spell, that he could not even feel angry with her. He realized that he had been stabbed, but he had as yet not had time to feel the pain. The girl's impudence disconcerted Falander; he wanted time to recover; his moral execution had been a complete failure, and his coup de théâtre had been disastrous to himself. "Hadn't we better go now?" asked Agnes, straightening her hat before the glass. Falander opened the door. "Go and be damned to you!" he said. "You have ruined an honest man's peace of mind." "What are you talking about? Shut the door! It's none too warm here." "I see, I have to speak more plainly. Where were you last night?" "Hjalmar knows, and it's no business of yours." "You were not at your aunt's! You had supper with the manager!" "It's a lie!" "I saw you at nine in the vaults of the Town-hall." "I say it's a lie! I was at home at that time! Go and ask aunt's maid who saw me home." "I should never have expected this from you!" "Hadn't we better stop talking nonsense now and be off? You shouldn't read stupid books all night; then you wouldn't be in a bad temper on the next day. Put on your hats and come." Rehnhjelm put his hand to his head to feel whether it was in its accustomed place, for everything seemed to him to be turned upside down. When he found that it was still there, he attempted to come to a clear understanding of the matter, but he was unable to do so. "Where were you on the sixth of July?" asked Falander, with the sternness of a judge. "What an idiotic question to ask! How can I remember what happened three months ago?" "You were with me, but you told Hjalmar you were with your aunt." "Don't listen to him," said Agnes, going up to Rehnhjelm and caressing him. "He's talking nonsense." Rehnhjelm's hand shot out; he seized her by the throat and flung her on her back behind the stove, where she fell on a little pile of wood and remained lying still and motionless. He put on his hat, but Falander had to help him with his coat, for he trembled violently. "Come along, let's be off," he said, spitting on the hearthstone. Falander hesitated for a moment, felt Agnes' pulse and then followed Rehnhjelm with whom he caught up in the lower hall. "I admire you!" he said; "the matter was really beyond discussion." "Then let it for ever remain so! We haven't much time to enjoy each other's company. I am leaving for home by the next train, to work and to forget! Let's go to the vaults now." They went to the vaults and engaged a private room, where breakfast was served to them. "Has my hair turned grey?" asked Rehnhjelm, passing his hand over his hair which was damp and clung closely to his skull. "No, old man, that doesn't often happen; even I'm not grey." "Is she hurt?" "No!" "It was in this room--I met her for the first time." He rose from the table, staggered to the sofa, and threw himself on his knees by the side of it. Burying his head in the cushions, he burst into tears like a child crying in his mother's lap. Falander took his head in both his hands, and Rehnhjelm felt something hot and scalding dropping on his neck. "Where's your philosophy now, old fellow? Out with it! I'm drowning! Give me a straw to clutch at!" "Poor boy! poor old boy!" "I must see her! I must ask her forgiveness! I love her in spite of it! In spite of it! Are you sure she isn't hurt? Oh! my God, that one can be so unhappy and yet not die!" * * * * * At three o'clock in the afternoon Rehnhjelm left for Stockholm. Falander slammed the carriage door behind him and turned the handle. _ |
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