Stephen Archer and Other Tales by George MacDonald (best novels for students txt) 📖

his hands . COL. G. watches
him .]

Ger. Ah! obedience, is it? Then turn those women out. They will hurt you-may kill you; but you must not mind that. They burn, they blister, and they blast, for as white as they look! The hottest is the white fire. But duty, old soldier!-obedience, you know!-Ha! ha! Oh, my head! my head! I believe I am losing my senses, William. I was in a bad part of the town this morning. I went to see a place I knew long ago. It had gone to hell-but the black edges of it were left. There was a smell-and I can't get it out of me. Oh, William! William! take hold of me. Don't let them come near me. Psyche is laughing at me. I told you to throw the red cloth over her.

Col. G. My poor boy!

Ger. Don't fancy you're my father, though! I wish you were. But I cannot allow that.-Why the devil didn't you throw the red cloth over that butterfly? She's sucking the blood from my heart.

Col. G. You said the Psyche, sir! The red cloth is over the Psyche, sir. Look.

Ger. Yes. Yes. I beg your pardon. Take it off. It is too red. It will scorch her wings. It burns my brain. Take it off, I say! (COL. G.
uncovers the Psyche .) There! I told you! She's laughing at me! Ungrateful child! I 'm not her Cupid. Cover her up. Not the red cloth again. It's too hot, I say. I won't torture her . I am a man and I can bear it. She's a woman and she shan't bear it.

Sinks back in his chair . COL. G. lays him on the dais, and sits down beside him .

Col. G. His heart's all right! And when a fellow's miserable over his faults, there must be some way out of them.-But the consequences?-Ah! there's the rub.

Ger. What's the matter? Where am I?

Col. G. I must fetch a doctor, sir. You've been in a faint.

Ger. Why couldn't I keep in it? It was very nice: you know nothing-and that's the nicest thing of all. Why is it we can't stop, William?

Col. G. I don't understand you, sir.

Ger. Stop living, I mean. It's no use killing yourself, for you don't stop then. At least they say you go on living all the same. If I thought it did mean stopping, William-

Col. C. Do come to your room, sir.

Ger. I won't. I'll stop here. How hot it is! Don't let anybody in.

Stretches out his hand . COL. G. holds it. He falls asleep .

Col. G. What shall I do? If he married her, he'd be miserable, and make her miserable too. I'll take her away somewhere. I'll be a father to her; I'll tend her as if she were his widow. But what confusions would follow! Alas! alas! one crime is the mother of a thousand miseries! And now he's in for a fever-typhus, perhaps!-I must find this girl!-What a sweet creature that Miss Lacordere is! If only he might have her ! I don't care what she was.

Ger. Don't let them near me, William! They will drive me mad. They think I shall love them. I will not. If she comes one step nearer, I shall strike her. You Diana! Hecate! Hell-cat!-Fire-hearted Chaos is burning me to ashes! My brain is a cinder! Some water, William!

Col. G. Here it is, sir.

Ger. But just look to Psyche there. Ah. she's off! There she goes! melting away in the blue, like a dissolving vapour. Bring me my field-glass, William. I may catch a glimpse of her yet. Make haste.

Col. G. Pray don't talk so, sir. Do be quiet, or you will make yourself very ill. Think what will become of me if-

Ger. What worse would you be, William? You are a soldier. I must talk. You are all wrong about it: it keeps me quiet ( holding his head with both hands ). I should go raving mad else ( wildly ). Give me some water. ( He drinks eagerly, then looks slowly round the room .) Now they are gone, and I do believe they won't come again! I see everything-and your face, William. You are very good to me-very patient! I should die if it weren't for you.

Col. G. I would die for you, sir.

Ger. Would you? But perhaps you don't care much for your life. Anybody might have my life for the asking. I dare say it's just as good to be dead.-Ah! there is a toad-a toad with a tail! No; it's a toad with a slow-worm after him. Take them away, William!-Thank you.-I used to think life pleasant, but now-somehow there's nothing in it. She told me the truth about it-Constance did. Don't let those women come back. What if I should love them, William!-love and hate them both at once! William! William! ( A knock at the door .) See who that is. Mind you don't let them in.

Col. G. Martha is there, sir.

Ger. She's but an old woman; she can't keep them out. They would walk over her. All the goddesses have such long legs! You go and look. You'll easily know them: if they've got no irises to their eyes, don't let them in, for the love of God, William! Real women have irises to their eyes: those have none-those frightful snowy beauties.-And yet snow is very nice! And I'm so hot! There they come again! Exit COL. G.

Enter MRS. CLIFFORD.

Ger. Aunt! aunt! help me! There they come!

Mrs. C. What is it, my Arthur? They shan't hurt you. I am here. I will take care of you.

Ger. Yes, yes, you will! I am not a bit afraid of them now. Do you know them, aunt? I'll tell you a secret: they are Juno and Diana and Venus.-They hate sculptors. But I never wronged them. Three white women-only, between their fingers and behind their knees they are purple-and inside their lips, when they smile-and in the hollows of their eyes-ugh! They want me to love them; and they say you are all-all of you women-no better than they are. I know that is a lie; for they have no eyelids and no irises to their eyes.

Mrs. C. Dear boy, they shan't come near you. Shall I sing to you, and drive them away?

Ger. No, don't. I can't bear birds in my brain.

Mrs. C. How long have you had this headache? ( laying her hand on his forehead .)

Ger. Only a year or two-since the white woman came-that woman ( pointing to the Psyche ). She's been buried for ages, and won't grow brown.

Mrs. C. There's no woman there, Arthur.

Ger. Of course not. It was an old story that bothered me. Oh, my head! my head!-There's my father standing behind the door and won't come in!- He could help me now, if he would. William! show my father in. But he isn't in the story-so he can't.

Mrs. C. Do try to keep yourself quiet, Arthur. The doctor will be here in a few minutes.

Ger. He shan't come here! He would put the white woman out. She does smell earthy, but I won't part with her. ( A knock .) What a devil of a noise! Why don't they use the knocker? What's the use of taking a sledge-hammer?

Mrs. C. It's that stupid James!

Enter CONSTANCE. MRS. C. goes to meet her .

Mrs. C. Constance, you go and hurry the doctor. I will stay with Arthur.

Con. Is he very ill, aunt?

Mrs. C. I'm afraid he is.

Ger. ( sitting up ). Constance! Constance!

Con. Here I am! ( running to him ).

Ger. Oh, my head! I wish I could find somewhere to lay it!-Sit by me, Constance, and let me lay my head on your shoulder-for one minute-only one minute. It aches so! ( She sits down by him. His head sinks on her shoulder . MRS. C. looks annoyed, and exit .)

Con. Thank you, thank you, dear Arthur! ( sobbing ). You used to like me! I could not believe you hated me now. You have forgiven me? Dear head!

He closes his eyes. Slow plaintive music .

Ger. ( half waking ). I can't read. When I get to the bottom of the page, I wonder what it was all about. I shall never get to Garibaldi! and if I don't, I shall never get farther. If I could but keep that one line away! It drives me mad, mad. "He took her by the lily-white hand."-I could strangle myself for thinking of such things, but they
will come!-I won't go mad. I should never get to Garibaldi, and never be rid of this red-hot ploughshare ploughing up my heart. I will
not go mad! I will die like a man.

Con. Arthur! Arthur!

Ger. God in heaven! she is there! And the others are behind her!-Psyche! Psyche! Don't speak to those women! Come alone, and I will tear my heart out and give it you.-It is Psyche herself now, and the rest are gone! Psyche-listen.

Con. It's only me, Arthur! your own little Constance! If aunt would but let me stay and nurse you! But I don't know what's come to her: she's not like herself at all.

Ger. Who's that behind you?

Con. Behind me? ( looking round ). There's nobody behind me.

Ger. I thought there was somebody behind you. William!-What can have become of William?

Con. I dare say aunt has sent him somewhere.

Ger. Then he's gone! he's gone!

Con. You're not afraid of being left alone with me, Arthur?

Ger. Oh no! of course not?-What can have become of William? Don't you know they sent him-not those women, but the dead people-to look after me? He's a good fellow. He said he would die for me. Ha! ha! ha! Not much in that-is there?

Con. Don't laugh so, dear Arthur.

Ger. Well, I won't. I have something to tell you, Constance. I will try to keep my senses till I've told you.

Con. Do tell me. I hope I haven't done anything more to vex you. Indeed I am sorry. I won't speak to that man again, if you like. I would rather not-if you wish it.

Ger. What