One night Marise woke up with a start, staring into the darkness,
feeling very cold and sick. She knew what had happened. She had come to
her senses in time. She had almost slipped into the trap, the trap set
for her by life, which she had so mortally feared. She had been playing
a foolish, reckless game of hide-and-seek with herself, pretending that
she did not know what was happening. She knew perfectly well what was
happening. Neale Crittenden was in love with her. And she was falling in
love with him. She wanted him.
Oh, this was the way it must always happen. This was the way all women
were caught in the trap ... these dizzying moments of joy, this
causeless singing of your heart, this blind, rapturous rushing forward
with outstretched arms to clasp all life to your heart ... treacherous
deadly life that only sought to debase you.
She had always wondered how women could go on, go on to the fatal moment
from which there was no drawing back. Now she knew. You were poisoned,
you were made mad till you longed for that moment with all your being.
But she had come to her senses in time to draw back. She would save
herself, defend herself, since there was no one to help her, now more
than ever. First of all, she knew passionately, she must not think of
him for a moment or she would not draw back. She must not remember how
he looked or spoke or moved, not even the sound of his voice. She must
concentrate her thoughts on the one fact that she had almost been caught
in that great dreadful trap, that she, Marise, who knew so much better,
had almost fallen in love ... love!
She drew the covers about her, as she sat bolt-upright in the dark, her
teeth chattering. Love! She sickened at the sound. The gray cat ...
Jeanne ... Isabelle ... the pictures in one of the hidden books at
school ... the passages in her mother's novels ... her mother ...
Madame Vallery ... Madame de la Cueva ... they were all of them looking
at her out of the dark, pointing at her, shaming her, exulting over
her.... "You too ... you have come to it."
The gray cat! She was like the gray cat! She began to sob hysterically
and thrust the covers into her mouth to smother the sound.
What could she do? What could she do? She had no strength left. She did
not know how to defend herself! She did not want to defend herself!
She could run away. Even poor defenseless things could run away. She
stopped sobbing, and sprang out of bed, lighting her candle with
trembling fingers. Her watch showed three in the morning. There was a
railroad time-table down in the dining room. She huddled on her wrapper,
thrust her feet into slippers and, shading her candle-flame, crept
downstairs.
* * * * *
At five, hatted and cloaked, she was gently shaking Eugenia and saying,
"I'm so sorry to bother you, but do you happen to have some money on
hand? I've been worrying about Father for some time. It's so long since
I've been back to straighten out the household for him. I've just
decided to get off on the early morning train. I ought to go to see
Jeanne too. It's past my regular time for making her a visit. If you
could just loan me enough to buy the ticket to Paris? I've almost enough
as it is, but I must leave some for Miss Oldham and my _pension_."
How kind Eugenia had been! How discreet and uninquisitive! She reached
under her pillow, pulled out her gold-meshed purse with the ridiculously
large sum in cash she always carried with her, and gave her a
five-hundred-lira note together with a kiss on each cheek. "When will
you be back, Marise?"
"Oh, I don't know. I don't know. Quite a long time. I may--I shall
probably not come back at all. It won't be worth while. Mme. de la Cueva
will soon be in Paris again. Good-by, Eugenia dear. You'll be soon
coming north, too, won't you?"
"Oh, I dare say," said Eugenia, "if it gets too hot here."
Going down the hall, silent and empty in the dawn, Marise stopped for an
instant before his door. For an instant she was forced to think of him,
the thought like a weakening potion. She stared hard at his door, her
hands pressed tightly together, trembling from head to foot. She was
going away. She would never see him again. She turned back towards her
own room. She could not go. She ran desperately down the stairs, sick at
the idea of what love is. She had almost been caught. She heard the
steel jaws snap shut as she fled.