The Perfume of Eros: A Fifth Avenue IncidentSaltus, Edgar
General
The Perfume of Eros: A Fifth Avenue Incident
Saltus, Edgar
Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Murder -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Trials (Murder) -- Fiction
"Ah!" Marie exclaimed, and immediately with that curious intuition
which women that really love possess she added, "to Dakota?"
"Perhaps," replied Loftus with a puff. The surety of the shot amazed
him, but of the amazement he gave no sign. "Perhaps, though I do not
remember that she said just where she did intend to go." He drew in a
large mouthful of smoke, which leisurely he blew forth. It circled
about her. She moved away. "Oh, excuse me," he said, "I did not
mean--" The girl made a gesture of indifference. "You see," he began
again, "the point is just here. My mother is not well. She rather
wants me with her this summer. In the circumstances I thought you
might like to go abroad."
Marie, through half-closed eyes, cautiously peered at him. "Without
you?" she asked.
Loftus nodded.
"For good?"
To this Loftus made no answer. Provided she went, though it were for
bad, he did not much care.
Marie, who had been standing, crossed the room and recrossed it. A
year before she had suggested the kitten. Where that had been the
leopard had come. In her movements were the same supple ease, the same
grace and alertness. Suddenly at the table where he sat she stopped,
rested a hand on it and bending a little looked him in the face.
"Liar," she muttered. "Liar! I know and so do you. Yes, I knew it
almost from the first, but, though I knew it, I tried as hard to
deceive myself as you did to deceive me. You never intended to marry
me, not for a moment, not even at the moment when you called God to
witness that you would."
Her hand had gone from the table, from it and him she turned away.
Loftus, who at the arraignment had retreated a full inch in his chair,
called after her. "It is untrue; what I said, I meant."
Marie turned back. "Then if you meant it, marry me this night. If you
have any honor, any whatever, a spark of it, you will; if not----"
She paused and looked at him. It was not this at all she had meant to
say. She had meant to entreat him, to picture what their life might
be, to tell him of her enveloping love, and that failing, to go, but
to go without words, without reproaches, without suffering that which
had been between them to be marred by vituperation and, so marred, to
descend to the level of some coarse intrigue. But something, his
manner, the manifest lie about his mother, the apparition of that
other woman, battening on nerves overwrought had irritated her into
entire forgetfulness of what she had meant to do and say.
The pause Loftus noticed. What was behind it he misconstrued. "Don't
mind me," he encouragingly interjected. "Threaten away. It is so nice
and well-bred. Yet I must be allowed to say that while I did intend to
marry you, the intention has been rather weakened through just such
scenes as this. Though, to be frank, it is not so much that I object
to scenes as it is that, if scenes there must be, I prefer to make
them myself."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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