Gladiator | Page 6

going to faint. "What's the matter?" he said again.
He looked at Hugo and saw nothing terrifying in the ravishing hunger
which the infant showed.
"Matter! Matter! You know the matter!"
Then he knew and he realized that his wife had discovered. "I don't.
You look frightened. Shall I bring some water?"
Mrs. Danner spoke again. Her voice was icy, distant, terrible. "I came
in to feed him just a minute ago. He was lying in his crib. I tried to--to
hug him and he put his arms out. As God lives, I could not pull that
baby to me! He was too strong, Abednego! Too strong. Too strong. I
couldn't unbend his little arms when he stiffened them. I couldn't
straighten them when he bent them. And he pushed me--harder than
you could push. Harder than I could push myself. I know what it means.
You have done your horrible thing to my baby. He's just a baby,
Abednego. And you've done your thing to him. How could you? Oh,
how could you!"
Mrs. Danner rose and laid the baby gently on the chair. She Stood
before her husband, towering over him, raised her hand, and struck
with all her force. Mr. Danner fell to one knee, and a red welt lifted on
his face. She struck him again and he fell against the chair. Little Hugo
was dislodged. One hand caught a rung of the chair back and he hung
suspended above the floor.
"Look!" Mrs. Danner screamed.
As they looked, the baby flexed its arm and lifted itself back into the

chair. It was a feat that a gymnast would have accomplished with
difficulty. Danner stared, ignoring the blows, the crimson on his cheek.
For once in his lifetime, he suddenly defied his wife. He pointed to the
child.
"Yes, look!" His voice rang clearly. "I did it. I vaccinated you the night
the cordial put you to sleep. And there's my son. He's strong. Stronger
than a lion's cub. And he'll increase in strength as he grows until
Samson and Hercules would be pygmies beside him. He'll be the first
of a new and glorious race. A race that doesn't have to fear--because it
cannot know harm. You can knock me down. You can knock me down
a thousand times. I have given you a son whose little finger you cannot
bend with a crow-bar. Oh, all these years I've listened to you and
obeyed you and--yes, I've feared you a little--and God must hate me for
it. Now take your son. And my son. You cannot change him. You
cannot bend him to your will. He is all I might have been. All that
mankind should be." Danner's voice broke and he sobbed. He relented.
"I know it's hard for you. It's against your religion--against your love
even. But try to like him. He's no different from you and me--only
stronger. And strength is a glorious thing, a great thing.
Then--afterwards--if you can--forgive me." He collapsed.
Blood pounded in her ears. She stared at the huddled body of her
husband. He had stood like a prophet and spoken words of fire. She
was shaken from her pettiness. For one moment she had loved Danner.
In that same instant she had glimpsed the superhuman energy that had
driven him through the long years of discouragement to triumph. She
had seen his soul. She fell at his feet, and when Danner opened his eyes,
he found her there, weeping. He took her in his arms, timidly, clumsily.
"Don't cry, Mattie. It'll be all right. You love him, don't you?"
She stared at the babe. "Of course I love him. Wash your face,
Abednego."
After that there was peace in the house, and with it the child grew.
During the next months they ignored his peculiarities. When they found
him hanging outside his crib, they put him back gently. When he
smashed the crib, they discussed a better place for him to repose. No

hysteria, no conflict. When, in the early spring, young Hugo began to
recognize them and to assert his feelings, they rejoiced as all parents
rejoice.
Danner made a pen of the iron heads and feet of two old beds. He wired
them together. The baby was kept in the in-closure thus formed. The
days warmed and lengthened. No one except the Danners knew of the
prodigy harbored by their unostentatious house. But the secret was
certain to leak out eventually.
Mrs. Nolan, the next-door neighbor, was first to learn it. She had called
on Mrs. Danner to borrow a cup of sugar. The call, naturally, included a
discussion of various domestic matters and a visit to the baby. She
voiced a question that had occupied her mind for some time.
"Why do you keep the child