When Trampy received the visit of the Gerichtsdiener, with the bill of costs to pay—for the Kolossal sued the Kaiserin for damages and the Kaiserin came down upon Trampy—when Trampy learned that, he became a limp rag. Already he saw himself dragged before the courts, his whole past laid bare: two wives on his hands, for all he knew; Lily crushing him with her scorn; Jimmy triumphant. Trampy had a moment of real despair. Lily preferred him like that, humbled at her feet. She seemed to understand her husband, a man spoiled by easy conquests, a boozer, a rake, who had taken too much upon himself when he wedded a wife. Trampy was certainly not made for marriage: having a wife was a different thing from having thirty-six girls. His heart, weakened with premature enjoyment, was no longer made for real love. All this he too now perceived; and, in spite of himself, realizing his unworthiness, he felt overcome by an ever-increasing jealousy. Those were melancholy weeks in the small room. He sat for hours brooding over his disgrace. Lily silently turned this time of rest to account and mended her costumes, sewed spangles on her bodices, beside the earthenware stove, on which the stew was bubbling; and then came the meal, on the table hastily cleared of the mass of ribbons, thread and needles, to make room for the plates. Trampy choked as he swallowed that dinner Lily was surrounded with sympathy. When she went the round of the agencies, the pros courted her. They looked upon Lily in the light of a wife tired of her husband. They prowled round that possible prey. A Lily was worth the having, meant an assured income for whoever succeeded in winning her affections and managing her properly: not with brutality, no, rather not; home joys, like Mr. Fuchs! Who was destined one day to own those full-blown seventeen years, those twinkling legs, that lissom body, trained to spin round and round, unerring and exact? What lucky dog would have her for himself, would succeed in making her love him? They pitied Lily openly, to disgust her with her husband and hasten on the catastrophe. Trampy? He was no husband for her! They, ah, yes, now that was a different matter! And they talked of the dangers attendant upon Trampy’s mode of life; the impersonator told her of the terrible diseases brought on by constant tippling; they exaggerated it all on purpose, amused themselves by frightening her; until Lily, sometimes, would look upon herself as a pretty little gazelle chained to a mangy bear. Trampy suspected all this, having himself, in the old days, in the time of his glory, been one of those who “I knew you when you were ‘that high.’ You used to sit on my knee. How beautiful you’ve grown!” There appeared to be an infinity of people who had known Lily when she was “that high.” They paid her more and more attention ... and then they believed her to be looked after by Jimmy. That again was a friendship dating back to her childhood, they said: Jimmy, the bill-topper. He, too, had known her when she was “that high.” The greater part of this talk reached Trampy’s ears. Oh, he could have killed that Jimmy! But he was obliged to hold his tongue. Jimmy had him under his heel, with that crushing lawsuit. They did not even dare speak of it, so painful was the subject. The little table by the earthenware stove separated them like a wall; and there was one thing always between them: Jimmy. Trampy never mentioned his name now. He would have had too much to say.... And there were continual summonses, always; and lawyers, always; and costs, always. Money melted away, like butter in the sun. Lily was tired of it; and an agony overcame her at the thought of leading a life like that for the rest of her days: “Oh,” she said, “he’s taking the very bread from our mouths, with his lawsuit! And I haven’t a decent hat to wear.” “He’ll drive us to the workhouse,” grumbled Trampy, staring before him, with folded arms. “It’s your fault!” Lily began, but soon stopped: the subject led to a surfeit of quarreling. But, in her own mind: “That son of a gun of a Jimmy!” she thought. “All the same, who would ever have believed it of him? Can he guess that all of this falls upon me?” “Suppose you were to go and see him,” said Trampy, at his wits’ end, one day when he had exhausted himself in stormy explanations with the manager of the Kaiserin. “I go and see Jimmy?” exclaimed Lily. “What for?” “To try and arrange things,” replied Trampy, dropping his head. “No one but you could ...” “I’ll think about it, I’ll see,” said Lily. But she had to get used by degrees to the idea of going and seeing that Jimmy who was now ruining her. A strange curiosity, nevertheless, drove her toward that conqueror, once a bike-cleaning workman, who was now topping the bill at Berlin and making as much money by himself as a whole program put together. He would receive her kindly, she was sure of that. Oh and then she wanted to tell him that she had had nothing to do with that business of the patents ... that she did not approve of Trampy’s conduct ...! And then he could give her news of Pa and Ma, as he had come from London, where he must have seen them! And she was dying to know! The idea was increasing with her that life with Trampy had become impossible. And, in case she should leave him, she dreaded finding herself alone. Already there were all those offers being made to her, a married woman, driving her mad! She, Lily Clifton, Lily would have liked to look handsome and elegant on the day when she went to Jimmy, so as to show him that he was not the only one who made a lot of money; but she felt very small and terribly excited. The hotel itself, the great clock, the waiters, everything made an impression on her, so different from her boarding-house in the Akerstrasse. She felt like running away after knocking at his door; and Jimmy opened it with the preoccupied air of a man who is disturbed at an inconvenient moment. But suddenly he put out his hand in hearty greeting: “Hullo, Lily! Come in.” Lily entered a bright sitting-room, neatly furnished with a sofa and comfortable chairs; no bed; a room which served only for that. She at once felt more at her ease. Jimmy motioned her to a seat near a table covered with papers, full of marks and signs which she did not understand, and books, rulers and compasses. She tried to be simple and dignified; apologized for interrupting him: “Brain-work, I see,” she said, pointing to the papers. “That’s hard, too, I suppose,” she added, to say something, for a start, like talking about the weather. “A matter of habit, like the bike,” said Jimmy, in a tone of conviction. “Sit down, Lily, there in that big arm-chair; you’re not disturbing me.” “’K you,” said Lily, sitting down, feeling reassured by his cordial welcome and thinking that, at least, he was polite. “I am glad to see you again, Lily,” Jimmy went on, taking a chair himself. “Always glad to see you. And how are you? Keeping well?” “’K you,” said Lily. “I’m very glad to hear it,” said Jimmy, scrutinizing Lily with great kindness and trying not to see her preoccupied expression. “I know what brings you here, Lily. You’re a dear little thing, a kid, eh? A real kid at heart, aren’t you? I bet you I guess. I’ve come from London. You want to hear the latest news of your Pa and Ma, eh? You’re not angry with them, I hope? Oh, it would be wrong of you to be angry with them still! They’re very fond of you, you know. They cried when you went away, Lily. Your ... going away,” Jimmy insisted, with a quaver in his voice, “was ... a great blow ... to them ... too.” “How do they get on without me?” asked Lily eagerly, not wishing to break down and cry before Jimmy. “Poor Pa! Yes, he was fond of me. He never let me fall on purpose. He did not force me to work when I was ill.” “Your Pa!” Jimmy broke in, glad of the chance to give a fresh turn to the conversation. “Why, there’s no harm in him! Your Pa’s an artiste in love with his art, that’s all! I shouldn’t be surprised if the troupe “Who stars?” asked Lily. “Your cousin Daisy. She came as soon as you ... as you went away and offered to take your place. Pa Clifton sent her to the right-about, treated her like a “No! Impossible!” exclaimed Lily. “What, that fat freak?” “And your Pa will succeed,” Jimmy hastened to add. “You’ll see. You ought to be proud of having a Pa like that.” “Yes, in a sense,” said Lily, who felt a certain satisfaction at being the daughter of her Pa. He was a bit harsh at times; but a man like her Pa, or like Jimmy, was much better than her loafer of a tramp cyclist! “And ... Ma?” asked Lily. “Your Ma,” said Jimmy, in a lower voice, “cried ... oh, how she cried when she found that you had gone! No doubt, she exaggerated any wrong she had done you. It seems she fell upon her knees and prayed and asked for forgiveness.” “Forgiveness? What for? Of whom?” Lily inquired. “Why,” said Jimmy, in a serious tone, “of whom do you think people ask forgiveness, when they are alone, on their knees?” “Oh,” said Lily, greatly touched, “I understand! So they didn’t put the blame on me?” “What blame?” “For my marriage,” said Lily, lowering her eyes. “No ... if you had gone off to live with him ... oh, not you, not you, I know!” protested Jimmy, seeing a gesture of Lily’s. “But marriage is different, I suppose. You had the right, you were old enough to go away with the man you loved.” Jimmy turned pale as he said this; but Lily, hanging her head and red with shame, did not notice it. “What!” said Jimmy. “You’re blushing! Do you regret it?” Lily did not reply. “Then,” continued Jimmy slowly, “what they said—I wouldn’t believe it, but you know they say a lot of things—is it true?” She nodded yes and raised her eyes to him with a sad, weary smile. “He doesn’t love you? And ... and ... you, Lily,” asked Jimmy, taking her hand in his, “don’t you love him?” “Certainly not!” said Lily, with such an accent of conviction and such a look of disgust that Jimmy was, at one and the same time, delighted to the bottom of his heart and pained to the verge of tears. Poor Lily! He now noticed her pallor, the dark rims round her eyes, that exquisite face refined by inmost grief. Lily, upon whom, since her visit to the shop in Gresse Street, he had built his hopes of happiness! It seemed to him like yesterday and already it was the distant past. Was that what her rebellion, her bid for freedom had ended in? Was that the crowning point of her hard life? Lily, fashioned to be the companion of a loving heart, was the prey of a footy rotter! Oh, if Jimmy had not controlled himself, if he had not clenched his teeth, for fear of talking! If he had listened to his anger, let loose the storm that raged within him, shouted out what he felt! But what would be the good of telling her his love? Why add to Lily’s sorrows by letting her know what might have been and thus cause trouble in her household, when he wished for one thing only, Lily’s happiness? Nor did he wish to incense Trampy’s jealousy. Lily would have had to bear the brunt of it ... as in the old days, with Ma’s temper. Oh, there was no doubt about it: Jimmy, to hold his tongue now, needed more courage than when risking his life six times in six seconds! But what was the use of fighting against fate? Better submit, when there was no remedy, and strive for peace! “Everything gets straight sooner or later,” Jimmy went on. “Many lives that once seemed spoiled have become quite endurable. Time is the great healer. Trampy, no doubt, will get over his faults. He will learn to appreciate you. Have patience. Don’t exaggerate your bothers, Lily. There are others unhappier than yourself. You have a claim to happiness. You will know it yet. Just think. You’re so young, you have all your life before you.” “The simpleton!” thought Lily. “It’s easy for him to talk. But then ... why was he so jealous? Why did he tell Pa about me? But for him, I should be at home now!” It was certain that, notwithstanding his kindly reception, Jimmy now seemed to be taking Trampy’s part, as formerly he had sided with Pa and Ma. And he was lalerperlooser enough to ask Lily if her husband knew that she had come to see him: “I hope he knows, Lily. We must have no secrets: did you tell him?” “He sent me,” she said, resolving to tell everything frankly, since that was what she had come for and not, after all, to talk about love ... money, only, and business ... it was a question of bread and butter to her. “Ah! He did!” said Jimmy, a little surprised. “Yes,” said Lily, “it’s about that lawsuit.” “Speak quite frankly, Lily. Tell me everything,” said Jimmy, very calm. “Well,” said Lily, yielding before his air of candor, “Trampy is at the end of his tether; he has no money”—she colored up to the eyes—“no money, no work; the law-costs ...” “And whose fault is that?” interrupted Jimmy, rising and picking up a cigarette, so as to have something to fumble at with his fingers. “Whose fault is it, Lily, if not that ... well, if not Trampy’s? Isn’t it fair that he should pay for it? It would really become too easy, else, to steal other people’s ideas! You know quite well, Lily—you saw it at my place, on the wall—is it my invention or is it not? And here comes Trampy,” he continued, crunching up his cigarette with a nervous gesture, “and patents it ... as if it were his own. It’s a bit too much, you know!” “Jimmy,” cried Lily, starting up from her chair, “I swear to you that I had nothing to do with it! If I had known, Jimmy, I would have stopped it! I call it stealing, as you do.” “Oh, I’m quite sure of that, Lily! I never thought it was you! Calm yourself; sit down, do,” said Jimmy, relieved at the sight of Lily’s indignation, as she stood “Important tricks like that!” went on Lily, sitting down again. “No, those have no right to be copied. It’s brain-work. You designed it yourself.” “Yes, but about the present,” said Jimmy, with a serious air. “I can’t give in to Trampy. I’m bound to defend myself. You came to see me about my action, Lily. I can’t say anything on the subject. It’s ... Trampy’s business, I suppose! Why, what would you do in my place, Lily?” “I should do as you’re doing, Jimmy, you’re perfectly right,” said Lily, very low, without raising her head. “But couldn’t one come to terms ... avoid a lawsuit ... and not waste all that money on jossers? What do you gain by it yourself? We can’t pay up, Jimmy: those costs are breaking us.” “What do you mean by ‘us’?” “Trampy isn’t working,” continued Lily. “He hasn’t done anything for a long time.” “But then,” asked Jimmy, stopping in front of her, “how does he live?” “I ... I’m earning money,” explained Lily, blushing, ashamed to own her distress. Oh, it was hard for her, Lily Clifton, to have no money and to confess it to Jimmy, that josser, who was making his five hundred marks a day! Jimmy saw her before him, huddled in her chair ... her faded hat, her mean gown. He took in everything at a glance. Poor Lily, who used to dream of dresses, to be reduced to that! Then he understood. Pity moved him at the sight of that poor Lily. It was all very well for him to say, just now, “Business is business,” and to ask, “What would you do “Listen, Lily,” he said, putting his hand kindly on her shoulder, “if all this is to fall upon you, we must see how we can arrange matters. Sorry you didn’t come sooner; I don’t want to add to your burdens, Lily, heaven knows I don’t! I never thought of that. I ought to have suspected, perhaps. However, I will withdraw the case. I’ll manage. And the costs ... well, I’ll pay them myself, if necessary, for you, Lily, for you; because I knew you when you were ‘that high’ ... no, not quite so small; how old were you? Thirteen ... and such a little thing, such a dear little wee thing. Do you remember when I made night and day in your cabin, by just touching my levers? And then it seems to me that I always knew you: in Mexico, in India, in South Africa, at the time of the elephants and the tiny birds. And then later, that other Lily, the London one: the one of only a few months ago. The one for whom ...” continued Jimmy, in a voice smothered with emotion. “The Lily of Rathbone Place. The Lily of Gresse Street. That little toque, which suited you so well and which you complained of ... you poor little Lily!... You poor silly little thing! There, go home now and make your mind easy, as far as I’m concerned, Lily. None of your troubles shall come from me. Besides, as they say, a bad settlement is better than the best lawsuit. I’m doing it for your sake. Well, is that all right?” “Oh, how kind you are!” she said, raising her eyes to him, with a tear in them. “Why, Jimmy, you’re not so bad, after all!” “Pooh!” said Jimmy, lighting a cigarette. “I’m no better “For me,” thought Lily, as she returned home, “for me. Ah, if I had known! Ah, when I think that he, too, wanted to marry me, what a fool I was!” she said, with a sigh. She still felt in her own palm the gentle, manly pressure of Jimmy’s hand. She still heard the kind words with which he had comforted her on the threshold. Goodness, how happy she would have been with a man like him! Her ill-will disappeared. He was no longer a cur, that josser, but a gentleman, rather, a brother, a friend.... And she was proud, also, that Jimmy, who was so busy and making such a lot of money, had promised to come and applaud her, one of these evenings, at her theater, at Kleim’s Garden, before his own turn at the Kolossal. Oh, wouldn’t she work hard that night! She would do all her tricks! She was bent on pleasing him. And how vulgar and common Trampy appeared in comparison. However, there was no help for it now; and Lily hastened home to bring him the good news.... In any case, Trampy would be grateful to her for what she had done for him. As a matter of fact, it had cost her an effort to go and pay this visit. She happened to run up against Trampy coming out of the bar, where, according to his custom, he had been drowning his cares. He had a moment of delight on learning the result of the visit, but, mad with jealousy, at once adopted a lofty tone, so as not to have to thank her: “I knew he would knuckle under!” he said, without looking at Lily. “The braggart! He prefers a settlement, eh? And quite right too! He knows he’s in the wrong. He’s retreating, he’s afraid.” “Afraid of what?” asked Lily, bewildered. “Afraid of me. He knows it won’t pay to try my patience too far!” “Afraid? Jimmy?” said Lily, indignant at all that foolery. “Do you think he’s done that because he’s afraid?” “And for what other reason would he have given in so soon?” “He did it to please me, he did it for me, damn it, for me!” said Lily. “You’re rid of your lawsuit: you ought to talk differently and thank me!” “And why should he do it to please you? What is there between you?” asked Trampy, looking her in the face. “You’re drunk!” said Lily furiously, with her hand ready to scratch. “No scenes in the street!” said Trampy. “We’ll go into this at home ...” “Then I shan’t come in!” said Lily, abruptly turning her back on him. “I’m going to the theater!” She had nothing to do on the stage; only the idea of being alone in the room with Trampy seemed intolerable to her. At the least discussion, Lily felt it, she would have thrown the lamp at his head, so great was her indignation at his insolence! She was boiling over with anger when she reached the theater. There were people practising; it was the time for it. Lily went up to her dressing-room, shifted things in her trunk, anyhow, for something to do. The idea that “You fool, if I catch you!” she said. Then another idea passed through her brain. Oh, if it were true! She would have danced for joy! Trampy’s marriage in America. “Is it true? Is it true? God above, grant that it be true!” It was possible. Already, a few days before, the Jim Crows who hovered round her had talked about it, in covert words, in the hope of making things worse. There must be some truth in it. There was so much news going from mouth to mouth: Lillian, Edith and Polly were the rage in Chicago.... That poor boy-violinist: at Budapest, the stuffed seat to his trousers had slipped from its place and allowed the dog’s teeth to reach the living flesh; he had had to spend a week in bed with poultices.... Harrasford was contemplating a theatrical trust on the Continent, planning a model music-hall in Paris.... There were Jimmy’s successes, his ambitions.... Amid all this news, to which Lily listened, sometimes absent-mindedly, sometimes with interest, among these adventures dating from everywhere—names which she greeted like old acquaintances, with a Lily, haunted by this idea of a divorce which would set her free, had rummaged in Trampy’s trunk, among his programs and posters. It was full of letters, photographs of girls in outrageous hats, in tucked-up skirts, in tights, with inscriptions. All this dated back to before the marriage, a collection of treasures which he had not had the courage to destroy. She had hoped to find some proof, some clue; but no, there was nothing serious in it. Lily did not give up, for all that; on the contrary. After the visit to Jimmy, which made Trampy so meanly jealous, she lost no opportunity of inquiring. But Martello himself, the father, never had news of his daughter. He hadn’t heard for ever so long; and it was to no avail that Lily asked about Ave Maria, the one who ran away with a man, a great artiste; she always received the same reply: “Ave Maria? Don’t know the name. Ave Maria? Haven’t seen her since ...” But Jimmy, always; Jimmy here, Jimmy there; they talked about him all the time: his ideas; something new he had invented; something no one had ever seen: much cleverer than “Bridging the Abyss,” it seemed; but nobody knew what. “I know!” said Lily, with a well-informed air and very proud of knowing Jimmy and of letting people think ... “Do you know Jimmy?” “Ever since I was that high,” answered Lily. “He used to hold me on his knees.” “And what is his new trick?” “I’m not allowed to tell. He asked me not to say.” Everybody praised her for her discretion. The sympathy with which she was surrounded increased. “Jimmy,” they hinted. “Now there’s a fellow you ought to have married, instead of your ...” “Not a word against my husband,” she said, like a good and devoted little wife. “I won’t have him insulted.” That did not prevent her from laughing with her friends. She felt a need of forgetting, or she would have died of boredom, with a husband like that. She was heavy at heart, sometimes. She was a woman, not an icicle. She felt herself made for love. She was flesh and blood, like Jimmy. She would have liked some one to console her, to talk softly to her, as Glass-Eye Maud used to do. There were plenty willing to play the part of Glass-Eye Maud, no doubt: the female-impersonator, for instance, with the green eyes. Oh, she would have liked to be hugged, kissed full on the mouth, or else stroked and petted gently! No home, no happiness; marriage without love; that was her life henceforth. These stage friendships were a relief. The Bambinis romped with her. She loved their gaiety, liked to touch their sturdy little limbs. That evening, Lily, who was ready for her performance early, was having fun with them. Dressed in her pink tights, she looked like a blithe nymph playing with rollicking cupids. “What a charming group!” said a voice behind her. “If I were a painter, Lily, I would do you like that!” It was Jimmy, who had come to see her on the stage, as he had promised. “Am I spoiling your game?” he asked. “It’s so pretty! It makes me want to kiss the lot of you!” “Well, booby!” said Lily, all excited and laughing. “Why don’t you? You daren’t!” “I daren’t! I’ll show you whether I dare ... and ... I’m stronger than I look!” And thereupon he caught hold of Lily and lifted her like a feather—Lily, all taken aback, had not time to say “Oof!” so great was her surprise—and Jimmy crossed the whole stage with Lily in his arms, shouting to the manager: “Look what a dear little baby I’ve found! Isn’t she sweet, eh?” And then, in the wings, he gave her a good big kiss on the cheek before putting her down. The people around them laughed, applauded that stage joke: “Jimmy, her old friend,” they said, “knew her when she was that high.” Lily was very proud of it. And, a few minutes after, when he had left her to take a seat in front, Lily jumped into the saddle and rode round and round, without a hitch, smiling to the audience, smiling to Jimmy in a front box, Jimmy to whom she was grateful for coming to see her: a famous bill-topper putting himself out for her ... before everybody! She was faultless that evening, did a dozen twirls on the back-wheel, made a record, was grand. Trampy, meanwhile, was waiting for Lily outside, in the passage leading to the stage-door. He had not seen Jimmy kiss Lily, but he saw him carry her across the stage, just as he was coming on himself, so he had turned “I’ve had enough of this,” he said. “I saw you, you and your Jimmy! You can’t deny it this time!” “Oh, Trampy, don’t insult me like that!” protested Lily. “Why do you always say ‘my’ Jimmy? One can have a laugh and a joke on the stage without meaning wrong, you know one can. Besides, if you didn’t like to see him carry me in his arms, you ought to have smashed his face, without so much talk.” “I didn’t want to make a fuss.” “You were afraid to. You’re afraid of him, that’s what you are!” “Stop jeering at me!” said Trampy, shaking her violently. “You’re dragging me in the mud; it’s like those whippings of yours! I’m tired of the affronts you put upon me! You ought to have married your Jimmy and left me in peace.” “I can’t say,” sneered Lily, “that I remember running after you!” “That Jimmy!” repeated Trampy. “I’ll kill that fellow like a dog! If I don’t do it now, I will later, in a year, in a hundred years, if necessary. I’ll kill him like a dog!” Lily gave a little laugh as she went out, followed by Trampy. She did not wish, in that lobby, before the people passing, to look like a woman insulted by her husband. She laughed bravely, as she used to, on the stage, with Ma, in the days of the great smackings. To see her “I’ll kill him like a dog, like a dog!” “Pooh!” said Lily, who knew Trampy. “You talk too much to act.” “We shall see. Where’s your Jimmy hiding?” “You’d be nicely caught, if you met him,” said Lily, who had just noticed Jimmy leaving the music-hall to go to the Kolossal: “there he is, behind you.”... “What’s that? Don’t you try to get at me!” said Trampy. “I tell you, he’s behind you, damn it! Turn round and you’ll see ... if you have eyes to see with.” Trampy turned round, half-reluctantly: he didn’t like those jokes, but he didn’t wish to seem afraid. “Where? Where do you see Jimmy?” he grumbled. “There, in front of you,” insisted Lily, pointing with her finger and pushing him by the shoulder. “Off you go!” There was no drawing back. He marched straight up to Jimmy, who did not even recognize him and who stopped politely. But Trampy had time for reflection, no doubt: a clearer perception of professional brotherhood. Better, after all, to remain friends ... among artistes. And, when he stood before him: “H’m, h’m. Have you got a light about you, Jimmy? Give us a match,” said Trampy, taking a cigar from his pocket. |