"'Perhaps you think he is too young for me?' the witch asked.
"'But you have the magic ring!'
"'Do I look so old?'
"'No, not old!' I saw she was angry.
"'Perhaps I am not a flapper. But I am not decrepit. I can still get
around. Ha, ha, ha, ha!' Her laugh scares me. It is make-believe. She
never feels like laughing.
"'Wouldn't you rather appear young and pretty?'
"'Pretty! Pretty, pretty, pretty! Suppose I was! The last witch would
look out through a girl's eyes.... Once I became a pretty girl and went
among people. Girls felt I was different; men feared me. Oh! It was
worse being a pretty girl mysteriously repellent, than a lonely old
woman....
"'But Spike Flecker is also different. He knows true values. Do you
think Flecker would notice you? Your eyes are empty. You have a flat
little face covered with paint!'
"I did not say a word.
"'There is true beauty in my face,' said the witch. 'You can't see
it because you don't know what beauty is!' She looked in the mirror,
holding her chin up. 'I even look rather young!'
"I said I was sorry I had spoken and pulled on my gloves. She followed
me down the passage. When I touched the doorknob she put her hand over
mine.
"'Let's not be silly!' she said. 'Let's be friends. You won't fling
insults at me again, will you? I am so tired, so incapable of defending
myself!'
"Her smile was wistful and patient. I had been very angry, but now I
was sorry for her.
"She has no imagination about the feeling of others. She can only
pretend to be kind to others, she feels so sorry for herself all the
time. Sometimes I couldn't believe even in her self-pity. I would think
she didn't feel anything. She was pretty bad when she pretended to be
humble--when she wept with pity for herself--but worse when she was
gay and started a sort of jig, kicking her feet up, and looking out of
the corner of her eye. She was all right when she told stories, and I
did not mind when she talked about you.
"I was sorry for her because she was so mean. Mean people have
feelings. They sit around thinking and thinking how much they suffer
and so their suffering grows bigger than other people's.
"She got so arrogant and insulting I could hardly stand it. She laughed
at my ignorance of history. She even asked me why was I coming each
day--to get free tea and cakes?
"Her friends have always dropped her after a day or two and she was
afraid I would stop coming so she tried to beat me to it by insulting
me. But I had to hear about you! When I came next day as if nothing
had happened, she was surprised and suspicious. Then she was almost
cheerful. But she could not help being a little condescending.
"She decided I had come back because she was so charming.
"'I am not young,' she said. 'I suppose I am not very careful of my
appearance sometimes. I am not witty. I wonder why I wield such a
powerful influence over my friends!
"'You and I have had a very pleasant time in my simple little house.'
She smiled modestly. 'It is such a neat and cozy home, isn't it?'
"'Yes, it is!' I said, though her house is dirty and bleak."
Spike whispered: "There she is now! Oh, my God, she is coming right
here!"
The witch stood on the sidewalk beyond the trees. The light was in her
eyes and she squinted.
She took a step toward them and halted, resting first on one foot, then
on the other. Strands of hair blew across her face.
"What does she want?" whispered Spike.
"Perhaps she is coming for the ring."
Spike slipped it off and held it in the palm of his right hand. "You
give it to her! Please, you give it to her." The witch came toward
them, step by step. Spike's fist nudged Marie's knee. "Take it!" he
commanded in a whisper. "Take the _ring_!"
Her hand accepted it under the table. "_Bon jour, madame!_" she
exclaimed, raising her voice so that the witch, still some distance
away, would hear.
The witch bobbed her head. Her dead eyes were fixed on Flecker.