“I don’t like that Nilini. It is not at all true that he is a friend of
mine.”
She looked at me in surprise:
“He seems to be a gentleman. And Guido likes him very much too.
Besides, I think that Guido is very careful in business now.”
I had made up my mind never to say anything against Guido, so I was
silent. When I was alone again, it was not of Guido I thought, but
of myself. Perhaps it was a good thing that Ada had at last come to
seem to me like a sister, and nothing else. She neither promised nor
threatened me with anything in the nature of love. For the next few
days, however, I walked about the streets in a very unsettled state of
mind. Something seemed to have upset my balance. I could not understand
myself. Why did I feel exactly as if Carla had just given me up?
Nothing fresh had happened to me. I honestly believe that I have always
needed to be in the middle of an adventure, or of some complication
which gives the illusion of one. Yet there was nothing in the least
complicated now in my relations with Ada.
One day Nilini was preaching louder than ever from his arm-chair; there
was a cloud upon the horizon: money was growing dearer. The market had
suddenly become saturated and could not absorb any more.
“Let us throw in some sodium,” I said flippantly.
He was not at all pleased at my interruption, but pretended he had not
heard, so as not to be obliged to get angry and interrupt his sermon.
He said there was suddenly a shortage of money everywhere, so it had
gone up in price. He was only surprised at it happening just now,
whereas he had prophesied it for a month later.
“They must have packed all the money off to the moon!” I said.
Nilini did not deign to look at me, but went on staring at the ceiling.
“This is no laughing matter,” he said. “It is extremely serious. Now we
shall be able to see who is the real fighter, and who is going to give
in at the first blow.”
Just as I was quite unable to understand how there could possibly be
a shortage of money in the world, so I never guessed that Nilini was
numbering Guido among the fighting men who were to prove their valour.
I was so accustomed to defend myself from his sermons by paying no
attention to them, that even this one, which I actually listened to,
passed over my head without making the smallest impression on me.
A few days later, however, Nilini began to sing to quite a different
tune. He had made a discovery. He had found out that Guido was doing
business with another broker. Nilini began protesting in an injured
tone of voice that he had never failed Guido in anything, and that he
had behaved with the utmost discretion. Could not I bear him out in
this? Had he not always made a secret of Guido’s affairs even to me
whom he regarded as his dearest friend? But now he was going to throw
all reserve to the winds and shout into my ears that Guido had lost
everything and was up to his neck in debt. As far as the business was
concerned which had been done through him, he asserted that it would
recover with the smallest improvement in the situation, and they could
afford to wait for better times. It was monstrous that the first time
things went wrong Guido should have treated him like this.
Nilini’s jealousy was far worse than Ada’s. Nothing could appease him.
I tried to get some definite facts out of him, but he only became
more and more furious, and went on talking of the wrong that had been
done him, so that, contrary to his own intentions and to my hopes, he
remained perfectly discreet and gave nothing away.
That afternoon I found Guido in the office. He was lying at full length
on the divan in a curious state between sleep and desperation. I said:
“Is it true that you are ruined up to the ears?”
He did not answer at once. He only raised his arm and covered his face
with it. Then he said:
“Was there ever anyone more wretched than me?”
He lowered his arm and changed his position, turning over on his back.
He shut his eyes again and seemed to have completely forgotten my
presence.
I had no consolation to offer him. It made me quite angry that he
should think himself the unhappiest man in the world; it was not even
an exaggeration, it was a lie pure and simple. I would have helped
him if I could, but to comfort him was out of the question. In my
opinion, not even people who are more innocent and more unhappy than
Guido deserve pity, otherwise there would be no room for anything but
that feeling, which would be very tedious. The law of nature does not
confer the right to be happy, on the contrary it condemns us to pain
and suffering. Wherever the feast is spread parasites will flock to
it from all parts, and if there are not enough of them they hasten to
breed more. Soon there is only sufficient for the barest need, and
very soon all is devoured, for nature does not calculate, she only
makes experiments. When there is no more left the number of consumers
must dwindle, by a process of pain and death, and thus the balance
is restored for a moment. What is the use of complaining? Yet all do
complain. Those who have had no share at all of the prey die arraigning
the injustice of nature; those who have had their share feel that
it ought to have been bigger still. Why don’t they live and die in
silence? On the other hand it is pleasant to see the joy of someone
who has succeeded in securing a good share of the booty, and flaunts
himself in the sun, amidst the plaudits of the crowd. The only cry I
should allow is the cry of triumph.
But Guido! He not only lacked the power to conquer, but even to hold
the riches he had got. He would come from the gaming-table and weep
over his losses. He could not even behave like a gentleman; he sickened
me. That was why, at the moment when he probably most stood in need of
my sympathy, I had none to give him. Not all my many good resolutions
could move me so far.
Meanwhile Guido’s breathing was becoming gradually louder and more
regular. He had fallen asleep! What an unmanly way to meet misfortune!
They had stolen his booty and he quietly closed his eyes and dreamed,
perhaps, that it was still in his possession, instead of opening them
wide and trying to snatch back a small part of it.
I was curious to know whether Ada had been told of the calamity that
had befallen him, and asked him in a loud voice. He started, and it was
a few moments before he could accustom himself to his misfortune, which
suddenly rose again before him to its full stature.
“No!” he murmured, and again closed his eyes.
I believe it is a fact that all who have received a violent blow have a
tendency to sleep. Sleep restores one’s strength. I stood a few moments
irresolute, looking at Guido. If he insisted on sleeping how was one to
help him? It was not the moment for sleep. I took hold of him roughly
by the shoulder and shook him:
“Guido!” I said.
He had really been fast asleep. He looked at me doubtfully, his eyes
still heavy with sleep, and asked:
“What is it?” Suddenly he got angry, and shouted out again: “What is it
you want?”
I wanted to help him, otherwise I should have had no right to wake him
up. I got angry too and shouted that this was not the moment for going
to sleep; that we must get to work quickly and save what we could. We
must decide what was to be done, and discuss it with all the members
of our family here and in Buenos Aires.
Guido sat up at last. He was still rather disconcerted by my rough
method of waking him. He said bitterly:
“It would have been much better if you had let me go on sleeping. Who
do you imagine can help me now? Don’t you remember what means I had to
adopt last time in order to get the little I then needed to save me?
But now it is a matter of very large sums of money. Who do you propose
I should turn to now?”
I felt quite unsympathetic, even angry, at the thought that I should
have to rob myself and my own family in order to help him.
“Aren’t I still here?” I said. My avarice, however, at once stepped in
to modify my first generous impulse:
“Isn’t Ada still there? And your mother-in-law. Can’t we all combine to
save you?”
He rose and came towards me, evidently intending to embrace me. But
I was determined to avoid that at all costs. Now that I had offered
to help him I had a perfect right to take him to task, and I made the
utmost use of it. I upbraided him for his weakness and for his conceit,
which had really been the cause of his ruin, and which he was even yet
not free from. He had acted just as he thought fit, without consulting
anybody. How often I had tried to find out what he was engaged on, so
that I might restrain him if necessary, and save him from the very
danger into which he had fallen; and he had always refused to tell me
anything, and had persisted in confiding only in Nilini.
At this Guido smiled; he actually smiled, poor man! He said that for
the last fortnight he had had nothing to do with Nilini; he thought his
ugly mug would bring him ill-luck.
How characteristic of him that smile was, and that falling asleep; he
could ruin everyone belonging to him and still go on smiling. I put on
a very severe judicial air; if I was going to save Guido I should have
to educate him first. I wanted to know how much he had lost, and flew
into a rage when he said he could not tell exactly. I was still more
furious when he named a relatively low figure, which turned out to be
the sum that must be paid at the fortnightly settlement which was only
five days ahead. Guido asserted that the end of the month was still a
long way off and things might easily change before then. The shortage
on the money market could hardly last for ever.