The MagicianMaugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
General
The Magician
Maugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
Magic -- Fiction; Paris (France) -- Fiction
He was surprised, for she had never used it before. It was a faint,
almost acrid perfume that he did not know. It reminded him vaguely of
those odours which he remembered in his childhood in the East. It was
remote and strange. It gave Margaret a new and troubling charm. There
had ever been something cold in her statuesque beauty, but this touch
somehow curiously emphasized her sex. Arthur’s lips twitched, and his
gaunt face grew pale with passion. His emotion was so great that it was
nearly pain. He was puzzled, for her eyes expressed things that he had
never seen in them before.
“Why don’t you kiss me?” she said.
She did not see Susie, but knew that a quick look of anguish crossed
her face. Margaret drew Arthur towards her. His hands began to tremble.
He had never ventured to express the passion that consumed him, and
when he kissed her it was with a restraint that was almost brotherly.
Now their lips met. Forgetting that anyone else was in the room, he
flung his arms around Margaret. She had never kissed him in that way
before, and the rapture was intolerable. Her lips were like living
fire. He could not take his own away. He forgot everything. All his
strength, all his self-control, deserted him. It crossed his mind that
at this moment he would willingly die. But the delight of it was so
great that he could scarcely withhold a cry of agony. At length Susie’s
voice reminded him of the world.
“You’d far better go out to dinner instead of behaving like a pair of
complete idiots.”
She tried to make her tone as flippant as the words, but her voice was
cut by a pang of agony. With a little laugh, Margaret withdrew from
Arthur’s embrace and lightly looked at her friend. Susie’s brave smile
died away as she caught this glance, for there was in it a malicious
hatred that startled her. It was so unexpected that she was terrified.
What had she done? She was afraid, dreadfully afraid, that Margaret had
guessed her secret. Arthur stood as if his senses had left him,
quivering still with the extremity of passion.
“Susie says we must go,” smiled Margaret.
He could not speak. He could not regain the conventional manner of
polite society. Very pale, like a man suddenly awaked from deep sleep,
he went out at Margaret’s side. They walked along the passage. Though
the door was closed behind them and they were out of earshot, Margaret
seemed not withstanding to hear Susie’s passionate sobbing. It gave her
a horrible delight.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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