Feminist fiction, Australian; Sex role -- Fiction; Short stories, Australian; Women -- Fiction
"Women! ay, women! man's curse. At the end of the race they beat us
always. We get one soft spot with our mother's milk, and well they know
it, well they know it. What a man I would have been [a rising growl]
if it hadn't been for women! Do you hear, you white-faced spawn? Yes,
I mean it. God! when I look back--But [chuckling] I paid them out, the
brutes!"
And curse follows curse, and worse than that; as from the lips of the
stepdaughter in the fairy tale, the words that drop from his lips are
the toads and vipers of filth.
"If one could forget! There was one, one long ago,--I might have spared
her; she pleaded hard against me. Why do I think of her to-night? It is
years, years ago. Ah, but I was big and beautiful in those days! She,
she was an innocent little thing. I fascinated her like a snake, and
I can see her eyes. They were blue, with long lashes. _I can see them
now_, curse them! She and the child, gibbering idiots both! Oh [groan],
curses on you for a devil, to plague me thus! Keep away! I say, keep
away! How the ghosts dance about the room! There is another one I had
forgotten. Light more candles, more! [a shriek] more! I say, all round
the room! make a damn wake of it!"
Mutter, mutter,--a sourdine epic of Hades. She closes her eyes. The
stick whirls past her, striking a vase off a table near her; she gets
up, hands it to him without a word. He hiccoughs and laughs; and then
he heaves one sob, and cries bitterly, with the great tears gushing
forth in jets. She picks up his handkerchief and puts it into his hand,
and he looks at her with a piteous softening of his wild eyes; and
he says quietly, hiccoughing all the while like a child tired after
a fit of passion,--for man in all his passions has a little of the
inconsequent child; it is only woman who sins with clear seeing,--
"I am a brute, I know it; but you don't know what it is to see the
ghosts of sins stirring in a man's soul like maggots in a dead rat. And
the children, that is the worst of all. Oh, God! my poor little girls!
What will become of them? Oh, oh!"
"But you settled for them!" soothing with her weary voice. "But you
settled for them all right!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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