The great Gabriel Salvini, whose genius has electrified the populace of a
thousand vaudeville centers, sat in his suite at the Astor Hotel and
listened glumly to the strains from a phonograph.
"What is the use?" growled the great Salvini. "It is no use. You listen to
her."
"New music for your act, signor?"
"No, no, no. My wife. You hear her? She lie on the floor. The phonograph
music play. The man call from the phonograph, 'one, two; one, two; one,
higher; one, two.' And my wife, she lie on the floor and she kick up. She
kick down. She roll over. She bend back. She bend forward. But it is no
use."
"Madam is reducing, then, signor?"
"Bah! She kick. She roll. She jump. I say 'Lucia, what good for you to
kick and jump when tonight you sit down and you eat; name of God, how you
eat! Potatoes and more potatoes. Bread with butter on it. Meat, pie,
cream, candy--ten thousand devils! She eat and eat until the eyes stick
out. There is no more place to put. And I say, 'Lucia, you eat enough for
six weeks every time you set down to the table.' I say, 'Lucia, look how
the MacSwiney of Ireland go for thirty weeks without eating one bite.'
Bah!"
"It is difficult to make a woman stop eating, signor."
"Difficult! Aha, but she must stop, or what become of me, the great
Salvini, who have 200 medals? Look! I will show you from my book what they
say of me. They say, 'Salvini is the greatest in his line.' They say,
'Here is genius; here is a man whose skill transcends the imagination.' So
what I do if madam keep on growing fatter? Ah, you hear that music? It
drive me crazy. I sit every day and listen. You hear her kick. Bang, bang!
That's how she kick up she lie on the back. Ah, it is tragedy, tragedy!"
I nodded in silence as the great Salvini arose and moved across the room,
a dapper figure in a scarlet dressing gown and green silk slippers. He
returned with a fresh load of cigarettes. I noticed his hands--thin,
gentle-looking fingers, like a woman's. They quivered perceptibly as he
lighted his smoke, and I marveled at this--that the wizard fingers of the
great Gabriel Salvini should shake!
"I tell you my story," he resumed. "I tell no one else. But you shall hear
it. It is a story of--of this." And he clapped his hand despairingly over
his heart. "I suffer. Name of God, I suffer every day, every night. And
why? because! You listen to her. She still kick and kick and kick. And I
sit here and think 'Where will it all end?' Another five pounds and I am
ruined.
"It is ten years ago I meet her. Ah, so beautiful, so sweet, so
light--like this." And the great Salvini traced the wavering elfin
proportions of the Lucia of his youth in the air with his hands.
"And I say to her, 'My beloved, my queen, you and I will be married and we
will work together and grow famous and rich.' And she say, 'Yes.' So we
marry and begin work at once. I am in Milan, in Italy. And all through the
honeymoon I study my Lucia. For my work is hard. All through the honeymoon
I use only little stickers I throw at her. I begin that way. Five, six,
seven hours a day we practice. Ah, so sweet and beautiful she is as she
stand against the board and I throw the little stickers at her. She smile
at me, 'Have courage, Salvini.' And I see the love in her eyes and am
happy and my arm and wrist are sure.
"Then I buy the knives to throw at her. I buy the best. Beautiful knives.
I have them made for her special. For not a hair of my beloved's head must
be touched. And we practice with the knives. I am then already famous.
Everybody in Italy knows Salvini, the great knife thrower. They say,
'Never has there been a young man of such genius with the knives.' But I
am only begin.
* * * * *
"Our début is a success. What do I say, 'Success!' Bah! It is like
wildfire. They stand up and cheer. 'Salvini, Salvini!' they cry. And she,
my beloved, stand against the board framed by the beautiful knives that
fit exactly around her--to an inch, to a quarter inch, to a hair from her
ears and neck. And she stand, and as they cheer for Salvini, the great
Salvini, I see her smile at me. Ah, how sweet she is! How happy I am!
"And so we go on. I train all the time. Soon I know the outline of my
Lucia so well I can close my eyes and throw knives at her, and always they
come with the point only a hair away from her body. I pin her dress
against the board. Her arms she stretch out and I give her two sleeves of
knives. And for five years, no for eight years, everything go well. Never
once I touch her. Always I watch her eyes when I throw and her eyes give
me courage.
"But then what happen? Ah, ten thousand devils, she begin. She grow fat.
One night I send a knife through the skin of her arm. I cannot go on with
the act. I must stop. I break down and weep. For I love her so much the
blood that comes from her arm drive me crazy. But I say, 'How did the
great Salvini make such a mistake? It is incredible.' Then I look at her
and I see something. She is getting fat. Name of God, I shudder. I say,
'Lucia, we are ruined. You get fat. I can only throw knives at you like
you were, like we have studied together. You get fat. I must change my
throw. I cannot!"
* * * * *
The great Salvini raised his shoulders in a despairing shrug.
"Two years ago that was," he whispered. "She weigh one hundred fifty
pounds when we marry. So pretty, so light she is. But now she weigh
already two hundred pounds, and she is going up. She will not listen to
me.
"It is the eat, the eat, the terrible eat which do this. And every night
when we perform I shiver, I grow cold. I stand looking at her as she take
her place on the board. And I see she have grow bigger. Perhaps it is
nothing to you, a woman grown bigger. But to Salvini it is ruin.
"I throw the knife. Zip it goes and I close my eyes each time. I no longer
dare give her the beautiful frame as before. But I must throw away.
Because for eight years I have thrown at a target of 150 pounds. And my
art cannot change.
"Some day she will be sorry. Yes, some day she will understand what she is
doing to me. She will eat, eat until she grow so fat that it is all my
target that I mastered on the honeymoon. And I will throw the knife over.
She will no longer be Lucia, and it will hit. Name of God, it will hit her
and sink in."
"Well, she will have learned a lesson then, signor."
"She will have learned. But me, I will be ruined. They will laugh. They
will say, 'Salvini, the great Salvini, is done. He cannot throw the knives
any more. Look, last night he hit his wife. Twice, three, times he threw
the knives into her.' _Sapristi!_ It is the stubbornness of
womankind.
"I will tell you. Why does she eat, eat, eat? Why does she grow fat?
Because she no longer loves me. No, she do it on purpose to ruin me."
And the great Salvini covered his ears with his hands as the phonograph
continued relentlessly, "one, two, one, two, higher, two."