'Oh, Magda,' he murmured, 'my head! There was a piece of hot brick in my
mouth, and I tried to take it out. But it was my tongue. Can I have some
tea? Will you give me some cold water first?'
Strange that the frank and simple way in which he accepted my presence
there, and assumed my willingness to serve him, filled me with a new joy!
He said nothing of the night. I think that Diaz was one of the few men
who are strong enough never to regret the past. If he was melancholy, it
was merely because he suffered bodily in the present.
I gave him water, and he thanked me.
'Now I will make some tea,' I said.
And I went into the tiny kitchen and looked around, lifting my skirts.
'Can you find the things?' he called out.
'Yes,' I said.
'What's all that splashing?' he inquired.
'I'm washing a saucepan,' I said.
'I never have my meals here,' he called. 'Only tea. There are two taps to
the gas-stove--one a little way up the chimney.'
Yes, I was joyous, actively so. I brought the tea to the bedroom with a
glad smile. I had put two cups on the tray, which I placed on the
night-table; and there were some biscuits. I sat at the foot of the bed
while we drank. And the umbrella, unperceived by Diaz, lay with its
handle on a pillow, ludicrous and yet accusing.
'You are an angel,' said Diaz.
'Don't call me that,' I protested.
'Why not?'
'Because I wish it,' I said. 'Angel' was Ispenlove's word.
'Then, what shall I call you?'
'My name is Carlotta Peel,' I said. 'Not Magdalen at all.'
It was astounding, incredible, that he should be learning my name then
for the first time.
'I shall always call you Magda,' he responded.
'And now I must go,' I stated, when I had explained to him about
the servant.
'But you'll come back?' he cried.
No question of his coming to me! I must come to him!
'To a place like this?' I demanded.
Unthinkingly I put into my voice some of the distaste I felt for his
deplorable apartments, and he was genuinely hurt. I believe that in all
honesty he deemed his apartments to be quite adequate and befitting. His
sensibilities had been so dulled.
He threw up his head.
'Of course,' he said, 'if you--'
'No, no!' I stopped him quickly. 'I will come here. I was only teasing
you. Let me see. I'll come back at four, just to see how you are. Won't
you get up in the meantime?'
He smiled, placated.
'I may do,' he said. 'I'll try to. But in case I don't, will you take my
key? Where did you put it last night?'
'I have it,' I said.
He summoned me to him just as I was opening the door.
'Magda!'
'What is it?'
I returned.
'You are magnificent,' he replied, with charming, impulsive eagerness,
his eyes resting upon me long. He was the old Diaz again. 'I can't thank
you. But when you come back I shall play to you.'
I smiled.
'Till four o'clock,' I said.
'Magda,' he called again, just as I was leaving, 'bring one of your books
with you, will you?'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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