"You enjoy being sarcastic," he observed. "Well, it gives a spice to
conversation, I own. Talk is apt to be dull without it."
For reply I struck the glass from his hand; it fell and shivered, and
he looked for the moment really distressed.
"I had rather you had struck me," he remarked, "for I have an answer
for an injury like that; but for a broken glass----" He sighed and
looked dolefully at the pieces on the floor.
Mortified and somewhat ashamed, I put down my own glass.
"You should not have exasperated me," I cried, and walked away beyond
temptation, to the other side of the room.
His spirits had received a dampener, but in a few minutes he seized
upon a cigar and began smoking; as the wreaths curled over his head he
began to talk, and this time it was on subjects totally foreign to
myself and even to himself. It was good talk; that I recognized,
though I hardly listened to what he said. I was asking myself what
time it had now got to be, and what was the meaning of my
incarceration, till my brain became weary and I could scarcely
distinguish the topic he discussed. But he kept on for all my seeming,
and indeed real, indifference, kept on hour after hour in a monologue
he endeavored to make interesting, and which probably would have been
so if the time and occasion had been fit for my enjoying it. As it
was, I had no ear for choicest phrases, his subtlest criticisms, or his
most philosophic disquisitions. I was wrapped up in self and my cruel
disappointment, and when in a certain access of frenzy I leaped to my
feet and took a look at the watch still lying on the table, and saw it
was four o'clock in the morning, I gave a bound of final despair, and
throwing myself on the floor, gave myself up to the heavy sleep that
mercifully came to relieve me.
I was roused by feeling a touch on my breast. Clapping my hand to the
spot where I had felt the intruding hand, I discovered that my watch
had been returned to my pocket. Drawing it out I first looked at it
and then cast my eyes quickly about the room. There was no one with
me, and the doors stood open between me and the hall. It was eight
o'clock, as my watch had just told me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account