American fiction; Detective and mystery stories, American; Narrative poetry, American
"And with these thoughts
Came thought of changing them. A wonder slipped
About her diary in my brain. I paused,
Said to myself, you have no right to spy
Upon such secret records, yet indeed
A devilish sense of curiosity
Came as relaxment to my graver mood,
As one will fetch up laughter to dispel
Thoughts that cannot be quelled or made to take
The form of action, clarity. I arose
Took from her bag the diary, turned to see
What entry she had made when first she came
And gave herself to me. And look! The page
Just opposite from this had words to show
She gave herself to Gregory Wenner just
The week that followed on the week in which
She gave herself to me."
"A glass of water,
Before I can proceed!"...
"I reeled and struck
The bed post. She awoke. I thought that death
Had come with apoplexy, could not see,
And in a spell vertiginous, with hands
That shook and could not find the post, stood there
Palsied from head to foot. Quick, she divined
The event, the horror anyway, sprang out,
And saw the diary lying at my feet.
Before I gained control of self, could catch
Or hold her hands, she seized it, threw it out
The window on the street, and flung herself
Face down upon the bed."
"Oh awful hell!
What other entries did I miss, what shames
Recorded since she left me, here in France?
What was she then? A woman of one sin,
Or many sins, her life filled up with treason,
Since I had left her?"
"And now think of me:
This monstrous war had entered me through her,
Its passion, beauty, promise came through her
Into my blood and spirit, swept me forth
From country, life I knew, all settled things.
I had gone mad through her, and from her lips
Had caught the poison of the war, its hate,
Its yellow sentiment, its sickly dreams,
Its lying ideals, and its gilded filth.
And here she lay before me, like a snake
That having struck, by instinct now is limp;
By instinct knows its fangs have done their work,
And merely lies and rests."
"I went to her,
Pulled down her hands from eyes and shook her hard:
What is this? Tell me all?"
"She only said:
'You have seen all, know all.'"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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