The MagicianMaugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
General
The Magician
Maugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
Magic -- Fiction; Paris (France) -- Fiction
“It’s no use resisting. It can’t do any good—I think I shall be glad
when the moment comes. I shall at least cease to suffer.”
“But you must be mad.”
“I don’t know. I know that he is.”
“But if your life is in danger, come away for God’s sake. After all,
you’re free. He can’t stop you.”
“I should have to go back to him, as I did last time,” she answered,
shaking her head. “I thought I was free then, but gradually I knew that
he was calling me. I tried to resist, but I couldn’t. I simply had to
go to him.”
“But it’s awful to think that you are alone with a man who’s
practically raving mad.”
“I’m safe for today,” she said quietly. “It can only be done in the
very hot weather. If there’s no more this year, I shall live till next
summer.”
“Oh, Margaret, for God’s sake don’t talk like that. I love you—I want
to have you with me always. Won’t you come away with me and let me take
care of you? I promise you that no harm shall come to you.”
“You don’t love me any more; you’re only sorry for me now.”
“It’s not true.”
“Oh yes it is. I saw it when we were in the country. Oh, I don’t blame
you. I’m a different woman from the one you loved. I’m not the Margaret
you knew.”
“I can never care for anyone but you.”
She put her hand on his arm.
“If you loved me, I implore you to go. You don’t know what you expose
me to. And when I’m dead you must marry Susie. She loves you with all
her heart, and she deserves your love.”
“Margaret, don’t go. Come with me.”
“And take care. He will never forgive you for what you did. If he can,
he will kill you.”
She started violently, as though she heard a sound. Her face was
convulsed with sudden fear.
“For God’s sake go, go!”
She turned from him quickly, and, before he could prevent her, had
vanished. With heavy heart he plunged again into the bracken.
When Arthur had given his friends some account of this meeting, he
stopped and looked at Dr Porhoët. The doctor went thoughtfully to his
bookcase.
“What is it you want me to tell you?” he asked.
“I think the man is mad,” said Arthur. “I found out at what asylum his
mother was, and by good luck was able to see the superintendent on my
way through London. He told me that he had grave doubts about Haddo’s
sanity, but it was impossible at present to take any steps. I came
straight here because I wanted your advice. Granting that the man is
out of his mind, is it possible that he may be trying some experiment
that entails a sacrifice of human life?”
“Nothing is more probable,” said Dr Porhoët gravely.
Susie shuddered. She remembered the rumour that had reached her ears in
Monte Carlo.
“They said there that he was attempting to make living creatures by a
magical operation.” She glanced at the doctor, but spoke to Arthur.
“Just before you came in, our friend was talking of that book of
Paracelsus in which he speaks of feeding the monsters he has made on
human blood.”
Arthur gave a horrified cry.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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