Man and Maid | Page 3

prisoner's
thigh bone being polished into an umbrella handle--She had assisted at
the amputation--and the man had afterwards died--"A really cute
souvenir," she assured me it was going to be!
Are we all mad--?
No wonder the finest and best "go West."--Will they come again, souls

of a new race, when all these putrid beings have become extinguished
by time? I hope so to God....
These French women enjoy their crepe veils--and their high-heeled
shoes, and their short black skirts, even a cousin is near enough for the
trappings of woe.--Can any of us feel woe now?--I think not....
Maurice has his uses--Were I a man once more I should despise
Maurice--He is so good a creature, such a devoted hanger on of the
very rich--and faithful too. Does he not pander to my every fancy, and
procure me whatever I momentarily desire?
How much better if I had been killed outright! I loathe myself and all
the world.
* * *
Once--before the war--the doing up of this flat caused me raptures. To
get it quite English--in Paris! Every antiquaire in London had exploited
me to his heart's content. I paid for it through the nose, but each bit is a
gem. I am not quite sure now what I meant to do with it when finished,
occupy it when I did come to Paris--lend it to friends?--I don't
remember--Now it seems a sepulchre where I can retire my maimed
body to and wait for the end.
* * *
Nina once proposed to stay with me here, no one should know,
Nina?--would she come now?--How dare they make this noise at the
door--what is it?--Nina!
* * *
Sunday--it was actually Nina herself--"Poor darling Nicholas," she said.
"The kindest fate sent me across--I 'wangled' a passport--really serious
war work, and here I am for a fortnight, even in war time one must get
a few clothes--"

I could see I was a great shock to her, my attraction for her had gone--I
was just "poor darling Nicholas," and she began to be motherly--Nina
motherly!--She would have been furious at the very idea once. Nina is
thirty-nine years old, her boy has just gone into the flying corps, she is
so glad the war will soon be over.
She loves her boy.
She gave me news of the world, our old world of idle uselessness,
which is now one of solid work.
"Why have you completely cut yourself off from everything and
everybody, ever since you first went out to fight?--Very silly of you."
"When I was a man and could fight, I liked fighting, and never wanted
to see any of you again. You all seemed rotters to me, so I spent my
leaves in the country or here. Now you seem glorious beings, and I the
rotter. I am no use at all--"
Nina came close to me and touched my hand--
"Poor darling Nicholas," she said again.
Something hurt awfully, as I realized that to touch me now caused her
no thrill. No woman will ever thrill again when I am near.
Nina does know all about clothes! She is the best-dressed
Englishwoman I have ever seen. She has worked awfully well for the
war, too, I hear, she deserves her fortnight in Paris.
"What are you going to do, Nina?" I asked her.
She was going out to theatres every night, and going to dine with lots
of delicious 'red tabs' whose work was over here, whom she had not
seen for a long time.
"I'm just going to frivol, Nicholas, I am tired of work."
Nothing could exceed her kindness--a mother's kindness.

I tried to take an interest in everything she said, only it seemed such
aeons away. As though I were talking in a dream.
She would go plodding on at her war job when she got back again, of
course, but she, like everyone else, is war weary.
"And when peace comes--it will soon come now probably--what then?"
"I believe I shall marry again."
I jumped--I had never contemplated the possibility of Nina marrying,
she has always been a widowed institution, with her nice little house in
Queen Street, and that wonderful cook.
"What on earth for?"
"I want the companionship and devotion of one man."
"Anyone in view?"
"Yes--one or two--they say there is a shortage of men, I have never
known so many men in my life."
Then presently, when she had finished her tea, she said--
"You are absolutely out of gear, Nicholas--Your voice is rasping, your
remarks are bitter, and you must be awfully unhappy, poor boy."
I told her that I was--there was no use in lying.
"Everything is finished," I said, and she bent down and kissed me as
she said good-bye--a mother's kiss.
* * *
And now