Footsteps of Fate by Louis Couperus

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Episode Transcript

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Introduction to Footsteps of Fate by LuisCouperus. This is a LibriVox recording.
All LibriVox recordings are in the publicdomain. For more information or to volunteer,
please visit LibriVox dot org. Introductionthe Dutch Sensitivists by Edmund Goss.

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In the intellectual history of all countries, we find the same phenomenon incessantly recurring.
New writers, new artists, newcomposers arise in revolt against what has
delighted their grandfathers and satisfied their fathers. These young men, pressed together at
first by external opposition into a serriedphalanx, gradually win their way, become

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themselves the delight and then the satisfactionof their contemporaries, and falling apart as
successes secure to them, come toseem lax, defeats and obsolete to a
new race of youths who effect afresh esthetic revolution. In small communities.
These movements are often to be observedmore precisely than in larger ones, but

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they are very tardily perceived by foreigners. The established authorities in art and literature,
retaining their exclusive place in dictionaries andhandbooks long after the claim of their
juniors to be observed with attention hasbeen practically conceded at home. For this
reason, partly and partly also becausethe mental life of Holland receives little attention

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in this country. No account hasyet been taken of the revolution in Dutch
taste which has occupied the last sixor seven years. I believe that the
present occasion is the first on whichit has been brought to the notice of
any English speaking public. There exists, however, in Holland at this moment,
a group of young writers, mostof them between thirty five and twenty

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five years of age, who exhibita violent seal for literature, passing often
into extravagance, who repudiate sometimes withferocity. There rare the sleepy Dutch authorship
of the last forty years, andwho are held together or crushed together by
the weight of antiquated taste and indifferenceto executive merit which they experience around them.

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Certain facts seem to be undeniable,First that every young man of letters
in Holland whose work is really promisinghas joined the camp. And secondly,
that with all the ferment and crudityinseparable from prose and verse composed in direct
opposition to existing canons of taste.The poems and the stories of these young

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Dutchmen are often full of beauty anddelicacy. They have read much in their
boyhood. They have imitated Rosetti andKeats. They have been fascinated by certain
Frenchmen, by flood Ware, byGoncour, particularly by Weismanns, who is
a far away kinsman of their own. They have studied the disquieting stories of

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Edgar Poe. But these exotic influencesare passing away, and those who know
something of current Dutch belllectra can realizebest how imperatively a plowing up of the
phlegmatic tradition of Dutch thoughts was requiredbefore a new crop of imagination could spring
up, rejecting the conventional aspects ofcontemporary Dutch literature. I will now attempt

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to give some sketch of the presentsituation as it appears to a foreign critic
observing the field without prejudice. Thelatest novelist of great importance was Madame Gertrude
Boss born Toussaint, who was bornin eighteen twenty one. After having written
a long series of historical romances fornearly forty years, this intelligent woman and

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careful writer broke with her own assuredpost public had took up the discussion of
psychological questions. She treated the problemof socialism in Raymond de schein Wecker and
the status of women in Major France. Madame Bospon Toussain died in eighteen eighty
six, just too early to welcomethe new school of writers, with whom

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she would probably have had more sympathythan any of her contemporaries. Her place
in popular esteem was taken for ashort time by miss Obsomer he S.
C. Wallace, whose long novelshave been translated into English in Dargen van
Stride, in Troubled Times and forcedungunst Royal Favour. She had genuine talent,

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but her style was heavy and tedious. After the new wind began to
blow, although she was still young, she married, went to Hungary and
gave up writing novels. Three authorsof importance, each by a curious coincidence,
born in the year eighteen twenty six, fill up the interval between the

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old and new generation. These areDecca, buskan Witt, and vos Mar
Edward Douvers. Decca, whose novelMax Havilah dates from eighteen fifty eight,
was a man of exceptional genius.Bred in the interior of Java, he
observed the social conditions of life inthe Dutch Indies as no one else had

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done, but his one great bookremained a solitary one. He died in
eighteen eighty seven without having justified thevery high hopes awakened by that extraordinary and
revolutionary work. The career of ConradBuskin Houitt was very different. The principal
literary critic of Holland in his generation, he aimed at being the sad Buth

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of the Dutch, and in hisearly days as the dreaded thrasibulus of journalism,
he did much to awaken thought.His volumes of criticism are extremely numerous
and exercised a wholesome influence during hisown time. He died in Paris in
April eighteen eighty six. These twowriters have had a strong effect on the

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prose style of the younger school ofessayists and novelists. They lived long enough
to observe the dawn of the newliterature, and their relations with the latest
writers were cordial, if somewhat reserved. What Duva Stecca and Buskin Huet did
in prose was effected in poetry byCarol Vussmer. This estimable man, who

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died in eighteen eighty eight, waswell known throughout Europe as an art critic
and an authority on Rembrandts. InHolland, he was pre eminent as the
soul of a literary newspaper, theNederlanska Spectator, which took an independence line
in literary criticism and affected to leadpublic taste in dad directions less provincial and

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old fashioned than the rest of theDutch press. Vosmar wrote also several volumes
of more or less fantastic poetry,a translation of Homer into Alexandrian's and an
antiquarian novel, Amazona eighteen eighty one. But voss Mayer's position was above all
that of a precursor. He andhe alone saw that a new thing must

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be made in Dutch poetical literature.He and he alone was not satisfied with
the stereotyped Batavian tradition. At thesame time, Vossmar was not, it
may be admitted, strong enough himselfto found a new school, perhaps even
in his later days. The Olympiancalm which he affected, and a certain

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elegant indolence which overcame him, mayhave made him unsympathetic to the ardent and
the juvenile. At all events,the singular phenomenon has occurred. He who
have all living Dutchman was ten orfifteen years ago, fretting under the poverty
of thought and imagination in his fatherlandand longing for the new era to arrive.

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He is at this moment the oneman of the last generation who is
most exposed to that unseemly ferosita deJune, which is the ugliest feature of
these esthetic revolutions. I have justbeen reading with real pain the violent attack
on vos Mayer and his influence,which has been published by that very clever

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young poet mister Villum Close, theNew Vegheds, December eighteen ninety. All
that cheers me is to know thatthe whirligig of time will not forget its
revenges, and that if mister Closeonly lives long enough, he will find
somebody now unborn to call him abloodless puppet of one other representative of the

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transitional period, Marcellus Emmenced say Little. He wrote a poem Lilith and several
short stories. Much was expected ofhim, but I know not what has
been the result. The inaugurator ofthe New School was Jacques Perk, a
young poet of indubitable genius. Hewas influenced to some degree by Shelley and

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by the Florence of the Dutch browningPotchita. He wrote in eighteen eighty A
Matilda, for which he could findno publisher. Presently died. Had began
to be famous on the posthumous issueof his poems, edited by Vossmer and
Close in eighteen eighty three. Thesonnets of Perk, like those of Bulls

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with Us one hundred years ago,were the heralds of a whole new poetic
literature. The resistance made to theyoung writers who now began to express themselves,
and their experience that all the doorsof periodical publication in Holland were closed
to them, led to the foundationin eighteen eighty five of de Nuverheed's arrival
to the old Dutch quarterly Deheds.In this new Review, which has steadily

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maintained and improved its position, mostof the principal productions of the New School
have appeared. The first three numberscontained Decliner Johannes Little Johnny of Doctor Friedrich
van Aiden, the first considerable prosework of the younger generation. This is
a charming romance, fantastic and refined, half symbolical, half realistic, which

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deserves to be known to English readers. It has been highly appreciated in Holland.
To this followed two powerful books byL. Van Deesel, Ein Leifte
a Love and Decliner Republique The LittleRepublic. Van Deesel has written with great
force, but he has hitherto beenthe enfon terrible of the school, the

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one who is claim aimed with mostinsolence to say precisely what has occurred to
him. To say, he hasbeen influenced more than the rest by the
latest French literature. While speaking ofthe New School, it is difficult to
restrain from mentioning others of those whosework in the Nieu Vahids and elsewhere has

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raised hopes of high performance in thefuture. Jacques van Ley, a painter
by profession, has published, amongother things, an exquisitely finished volume of
prota prose essays. Franz Netzka,who deliberately marches in step with the French
Realists is the George Moore of Holland. He has published a variety of small

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sketches and one or two novels.Hari Prince, under the pseudonym of Copeland,
has written some very good studies oflife. Among the poets Avilem Close,
Albert Vervey, and Hermanhorta, eachof whom deserves a far more careful
critical consideration than can here be givento him. Philem Close, indeed,

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may be considered as the leader ofthe school since the death of Perk.
It was to Close that in theperiod from eighteen eighty to eighteen eighty five
each of the new writers went insecret for encouragement, criticism and sympathy.
He appears to be a man ofvery remarkable character, violent and passionate in
his public utterances. He is adoredby his own colleagues and disciples, and

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one of the most gifted of themhas told me that Close has never made
a serious mistake in his estimate ofthe force of a man or a book.
His writings, however, are veryfew, and his tone in controversy
is acrid and uncompromising. As Ihave already indicated, he remains the least
known and the least liked, thoughthe most powerful of the band. The

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member of a new generation whose verseand prose alike have one most acceptance is
certainly Fredrik van Eden. His cycleof lyrical verse Ellen eighteen ninety one is
doubtless the most exquisite product of recentDutch literature, for the peculiar quality which

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unites in one movement the varied elementsof the school which I have attempted thus
briefly to describe. The name sensitivismhas been invented by one of themselves,
by Van Diesel. It is adevelopment of Impressionism grafted upon naturalism. As
a frail and exotic bud may beset in the rough basis of a thorn.

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It preserves the delicacy of sensation ofthe one, and strengthens it by
the exactitude and conscientiousness of the other. Yet without giving way to the vagaries
of impressionism or to the brutality ofmere realism, it selects and refines.
It re embracesancy that's maiden so rudelyturned out of house and home by the

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naturalists. It aims, in fact, at retaining the best, and nothing
but the best of the experiments ofthe French during the last quarter of a
century. Vandesel greets Lajent with elaboratecourtesy, with the respect due to a
fallen divinity. He calls his friendsin Holland to attend the gorgeous funeral of

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naturalism, which is dead, buturges them not to sacrifice their own living
sensitivism to the imitation of what isabsolutely a matter of past history. It
will be seen that Dutch sensitivism isnot, by any means unlike French symbolism,
and we might expect prose like Malamaiseand verse like Mariases. As a

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matter of fact, however, theDutch seem, in their general attitude of
reserve, to leave their mother tongueunassailed and to be as intelligible as their
inspiration allows them to be. Be. To one of these writers, however,
and to one of the youngest,it is time that I should turn.
The first member of the new Dutchschool to be presented in the following

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pages to English readers is Louis MarieAnne Kuperus. Of him, as the
author of this book, I mustgive a fuller biography, although he is
still too young to occupy much spaceby the record of his achievements. Luis
Kuperus was born on the tenth ofJune eighteen sixty three at the Hague,

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where he spent the first ten yearsof his life. He was then taken
in company with his family to Javaand resided five years in Batavia, returning
to the Hague, where he completedhis education. He began to make teaching
his profession, but gradually drifted intodevoting himself entirely to literature. He published

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a little volume of verses in eighteeneighty four, and another of more importance
called Orchidean Orchids in eighteen eighty seven. Oriental and luscious. But he has
succeeded, as everyone allows, muchbetter in prose. His long novel of
modern life in the Hague, calledElena Vera, which ran through the reeds

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and was published in book form ineighteen eighty nine, is an admirable performance
of nod Lot literally to be translatedFate or Destiny eighteen ninety. Our readers
will now judge for themselves. MisterKuperis is at present engaged, as he
tells me on a novel called ExtazaEcstasy, such as the brief chronicle of

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a writer from whom much is expectedby the best critics of his own country.
End of introduction, Section one ofFootsteps of Fate by Luis Kuperus,

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translated by Clara Bell. This isa LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are
in the public domain. For moreinformation or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox
dot org. Part one one.His hands in his pockets and the collar
of his fur coat turned up,Frank was making his way one evening through

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squalls of snow along the deserted lengthof Adelaide Road. As he approached the
villa where he lived. White RoseCottage was called sunk buried, wrapped in
white snow like a nest in cottonwool. He was aware of someone coming
to meet him from Primrose Hill.He looked steadily in the man's face,

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since he evidently intended to address him, doubting as to what his purpose might
be this lonely snowy night, andhe was greatly surprised when he heard said
in Dutch, pardon the intrusion,Are you not, mister Vesthova, Yes,
replied Frank Vesthova, Who are you? What do you want? I
am Robert van Mehren. You mayperhaps remember what you Bertie, cried Frank.

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How came you here in London?And in his amazement, there rose
up before him through the driving snow, a vision of his youth, A
pleasing picture of boyish friendship, ofsomething young and warm. Not altogether by
chance, said the other, whosevoice had taken on a somewhat more confident
tone at the sound of the familiarBertie. I knew that you lived here,

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and I have been to your doorthree times, but you had not
come in. Your maid said youwere expected at home this evening, and
I made so bold as to waithere for you. And again his voice
lost its firmness and assumed the imploringaccent of a beggar. Is your business
so urgent? Then asked Frank insurprise, Yes, I want, Perhaps

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you could help me. I knowno one here. Where are you living
nowhere? I only arrived here earlythis morning, and I have I have
no money. He was shivering fromstanding in the cold during this short dialogue
and seemed to shrink into himself,almost fawning like a cowed dog. Come
in with me, said Frank,greatly astonished but full of sympathy, and

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of the affectionate reminiscences of his boyhood. Come and spend the night with me.
Oh, gladly, was the reply, eager and tremulous, as if
he feared that the heaven inspired wordsmight be retracted. They went together a
few steps further. Then Frank tooka key out of his pocket, the

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key of White Rose Cottage. Heopened the door. A hexangonal Moorish lantern
was burning low and shed a softlight in the hall. Go in,
said Frank, and he locked thedoor and bolted it behind them. It
was half past twelve. The maidhad not yet gone to bed. That

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gentleman called here a little while ago. Two or three times she murmured with
a look of suspicion at Bertie.And I've seen him hanging about all the
evening as if he was on thewatch. I was frightened, you know,
it's so lonely in these parts.Frank shook his head reassuringly. Make
the fire up as quickly as possible, Annie, is your husband still up

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the fire? Sir? Yes,Bertie. Will you have something to eat?
Gladly if it gives you no trouble? Replied Bertie in English, for
the benefit of the maid, andhe looked with an insinuating expression to meet
the surprised, cold blue eyes ofthe neat, brisk young woman. His
voice was persuasive and low. Hetried to take as little room as possible

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in the small hall, and toavoid her gaze, seemed to shrink to
efface himself in a corner where theshadow fell. Frank led the way into
a large back room, cold anddark when they entered, but soon lighted
up, and before long genially warmedby the huge fire which blazed up in
the grate. Annie laid the tablesapper for one, sir, nay for

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two. I will eat something,said Frank, thinking that Bertie would feel
more at his ease at his friend'sinvitation. The visitor had seated himself in
a large armchair by the fire,and there he sat bolt upright, without
speaking, feeling shy before the womanwho came and went. And now in

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the light, Frank could see thepoverty of his appearance, his thin shabby
coat shining with grease and bereft ofbuttons, his worn fringed trousers, his
dirty comforter hiding a lack of underlinen, his ripped and slipshod shoes oose.
In his confusion and awkwardness, hestill held his battered hat. This

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garb accorded ill with the aristocratic eleganceof his figure, the thin, pale,
chiseled features, full of distinction,in spite of the unkempt light hair
and unshaven stubble of a beard.It was like a masquerade of rank and
culture in the rags of misery,beseeming it as ill as an unsuitable part

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in a play. And the actorsat motionless, staring into the fire hill,
at ease in the atmosphere of luxurywhich surrounded him. In this room,
evidently the home of a young manof fortune who had no yearnings for
domestic society. The curtains and carpetswere of handsome quality, so were the
furniture and ornaments, but arranged withoutany reference to comfort. The chairs and

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tables against the wall, stiff andorderly and shining with polish. But it
did not make this impression on Bertie, for sense of the blessedness of warmth
and shelter possessed him wholly of peaceand reprieve, as calm as a lake,
and as delightful as an oasis,a smiling prospect after the snow and
cold of the last few hours.And when he saw that Frank was gazing

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at him invisible wonder at his motionlessattitude by the glorious fire, where the
dancing flames flew up like yellow dragon'stongs, at last he smiled and said,
with humble gratitude, in the toneof a beggar, thank you very
much. This is good. Anniehad not much to set before them,

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the remains from the larder of ayoung fellow who lives chiefly away from home.
A bit of cold beef, steakand salad, some biscuits and jam.
But it bore some resemblance to asupper, and Bertie did it full
honor, eating and drinking with systematicdeliberateness, hardly conscious of what, and
imbibing hot grog without confessing the hungerwith which had nipped his very vitals.

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At length, Frank tried to makehim speak, drew him into talk and
into telling him what had reduced himto such misery. Bertie told his tale
in a fragmentary fashion, very abjectly, every word sounding like a petition,
disputes with his father about his mother'sfortune, a trifle of a few thousand
golden quickly spent vicissitudes in America,where he had been by turns a farm

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servant, a waiter in a hotel, and a super on the stage.
His return to Europe on board aliner, working out his passage in every
variety of service. His first dayin London without assent, he remembered Vestova's
address from letters bearing date of someyears back, and had at once made

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his way to White Rose Cottage,only fearing that meanwhile Frank might have moved
half a dozen times and left notraces. Oh his anxiety that night,
waiting in the cold wind, whileit grew darker and darker, the gloom,
with no relief but the ghostly whitenessof the deathly silent snow, and
now the warmth, the shelter andfood. And again he thanked his friend,

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cowering, shriveled in his threadbare clothes, Thank you, thank you,
Annie Sulky, over so much troubleat this hour of the night, and
for such a vagabond brought in fromthe street, had nevertheless prepared a bedroom,
and Frank led him upstairs, Shockedby his exhausted appearance and ashy paleness.

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He patted him on the shoulder,promising to help him, but now
he must go to bed. Tomorrowthey would see what could be done.
When Bertie found himself alone, helooked about him. The room was very
comfortable, the bed ample, softand warm. He felt himself squalid and
dirty amidst such surroundings of luxury,and, by an actatural instinct of decency

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and cleanliness, though his teeth werechattering with cold, he first carefully and
elaborately washed himself, lathering, rubbing, brushing, till his whole body was
rosy and glowing and smelling of soapSuDS. He looked in the glass and
only regretted that he had no raisors. He would have shaved. At last,

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Having slipped on a night shirt whichlay ready for use, he crept
in between the blankets. He didnot immediately fall asleep, reveling in the
comfort, in his own purification,in the whiteness of the sheets, the
warmth of the quilt, in thegleam of the night light, even which
showed discreetly through a green shade.A smile came into his eyes and parted

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his lips and he was asleep withouta thought of the morrow, happy in
the respite of today and the warmthof the bed, his mind almost vacant,
indeed, but for the single recurringthought that Frank was really a good
fellow. Two next morning, therewas a hard frost, the snow glittered

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like crystals. They had breakfasted,and Bertie was relating his disasters in America.
He had been trimmed and shaved byFrank's barber, and he was wearing
Frank's clothes, which were a worldtoo wide for him, and a pair
of slippers in which his feet werelost. He already felt more at home
and began to bask, like acat which has found a warm spot of

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sunshine. He lounged at his easein the armchair, smoking comfortably, and
was on the old familiar terms withFrank. His voice was soft and mellow,
with a ring of full content,like an alloy of gold. Vesthova
was interested and let him tell hisstory in his own way, and he

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did so very simply, without makingany secret of his poverty. But everything
had happened inevitably and could not haveturned out otherwise. He was no favorite
of fortune. That was all,but he was tough. Many another would
not have pulled through as he had. Frank looked at him in astonishment.
He was so frail, so pale, so delicate, almost devoid of all

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manly developments. He was lost inthe grotesque amplitude of Frank's coat and trousers,
a mere stripling as compared with hisown stalwart's angular frame. And he
had gone through days of hunger,nights without a shelter, a depth of
poverty which to Frank, well fedand ruddy with vigorous health, seemed unendurable,

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had he spoke of it so coolly, almost jestingly, without complaining,
only looking with regretful pity at hishands, which were thin and blue with
the biting cold, and chapped andraw about the knuckles. At the moment,
the state of his hands seemed tobe the only thing that troubled him.
A very happy nature, thought Frank, while he laughed at him for

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his concern about his hands. ButBertie himself was shocked at his own heedlessness,
for he suddenly exclaimed, but whatam I to do? What am
I to do? He gazed intovacancy, helpless and desperate, wringing his
hands, Frank laughed him out ofhis despair, poured him out a glass

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of sherry, and told him thatfor the present he must stay where he
was to recover. He himself wouldbe heartily glad of Bertie's company for a
few weeks. He was a littlesick of his wealthy bachelor life. He
belonged to a circle of idlers whowent out a great deal and spent a
great deal, and he was tiredof it. All dinners and balls in

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the world as suppers and orgies inthe half world. It was always the
same thing, a life like amontaignourus down and then up again, down
and then up again, without amoment for thought, an existence made for
you in the position you made foryourself. At the moment, he had

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but one anxiety, Bertie himself.Frank would help him after a few weeks
rest to find an appointment or someemployment, but above all he was not
to worry himself. For the present. Vestova was only glad to have his
old friend. Under his roof,memories rose up before him like dissolving views,

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pale hued and swift, but appealingto his sympathy. Memories of his
school days, of boyish mischief,zigzag excursions, picnics among the sand hills
near the Hague. Did Bertie remember? Frank could see him still, the
slight, fragile lad, bullied bylouts, protected by himself, Frank,

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whose fists were always ready to hitout right and left in defense of his
friend, and later, on theirstudent days in Delft, Bertie's sudden disappearance
without leaving a trace even for Frank. Then a few letters at rare intervals,
and then years of silence. Oh, he was glad, indeed to

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see his friend at his side oncemore. He had always had a great
love for Bertie, just because Bertiewas so wholly unlike himself, with something
of the cat about him, lovingto be petted and made much of but
now and then irresistibly prompts it toflee over roofs and gutters, to get
myery and dirty, and return atlast to warm and clean himself on the

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hearth. Frank loved his friend asa twin brother, quite different from himself,
imposed upon by Bertie's supercilious and delicatelyegoistic fascination, a catslike creature altogether,
Bertie found it a great luxury tostay in door the whole of that
day sitting by the fire, whichhe kept blazing by feeding it with logs.

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Frank had some capital port, andthey sat after lunch sipping it,
dreaming or talking, Bertie telling ahundred tales of his adventures in America,
of his farmer, master, ofhis hotel, and the theater where he
had acted, and one anecdote ledto another, all garnished with a touch
of singular romance. Frank presently wanteda little fresh air and said he would

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go to his club, but Bertieremained where he was. He could not
go about in rags, but hecould not appear anywhere with Frank in the
clothes he had on. Frank wasto return to dinner at eight o'clock,
and then, suddenly, as ifit had come to him like a lightning
flash, Bertie said, say nothingabout me. Pray to any of your

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friends. They need not be toldthat you know such a bad lot as
I am. Promise me, Frankpromised, laughing and holding out his hand.
The bad lot added, how canI ever repay you? What a
happy thing for me that I shouldhave met you. You're the most generous
fellow I ever knew. Frank escapedfrom this volley of gratitude, and Bertie

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remained alone in front of the hearth, toasting all over in the blaze,
or stretching his legs with his feeton the shining bars. He poured himself
out another glass of port and madehimself think of nothing, reveling in the
enjoyment of idleness, while he seriouslyexamined his damaged hands, wondering how best

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to ensure their rapid recovery. ThreeBertie had been a month at white Rose
Cottage and was now hardly recognizable inthe young man who sat by Frank's side
in a Victoria in an irreproachable furlined coat a fashionable tall hat, both

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the men wrapped about the knees ina hands plaid. He now mixed quite
at his ease with Frank's other acquaintances, carefully dressed, agreeable and entertaining,
and lisping English with an affected accentwhich he thought elegant. He dined with
Frank every day at the club towhich he was introduced, criticized game and

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wines with the most blase air inthe world, and smoked havannahs at two
shillings apiece as if they were merestraw. Frank had in his inmost soul
the greatest belief in him, andwatched him with a smile of secret satisfaction
as he calmly went his own way, chatting with men of the world,
without ever for a moment's feeling shy. And Frank thought the comedy altogether so

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amusing that he introduced his friend whereverhe went. Winter yielded to a foggy
spring. The London season was uponthem, and a Bertie seemed to find
great pleasure in assisting at after noonteas and evenings at home, in sitting
at a grand dinner between two pairsof fine shoulders, and flirting with each

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in turn, never dazzled by theglitter of jewels, nor bewildered by the
sparkle of champagne, in leaning withlanguid grace in the stalls or dress circles,
his chiseled features full of distinction andlordly repose, a fragrant white flower
gleaming in his buttonhole, and hisopera glass dangling between his now white fingers,

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as though not one of the ladieswas worthy of his inspection. Frank
for lack of occupation as a manwho takes his pleasure where he finds it.
Had pushed Bertie forward in the world, not merely to help him,
but also for the fun of it, a silly amusement, to make a
fool of society. Bertie himself hadmany scruples, had kept a note in

(35:52):
a pocket book of everything Frank spentupon him. When times were better,
he would repay him all, andin a fortnight it had mounted up to
a total of some hundred pounds.Even at home, Frank found him amusing
Bertie, who had contrived, bya few kind words, to win the

(36:13):
good graces of Annie and her husband. Vestova's valet and butler, turned all
the furniture about in whimsical disorder,bought statuettes, palms, and oriental stuffs,
and changed the unsociable aspects of theroom into one of artistic comfort,
which invited to indolence as subdued lights, wide divans, the atmosphere of an

(36:36):
alcove redolent of Egyptian pastels and finecigarettes, in which thought floated into dreams,
and the half closed eyes rested onthe nude figures of bronze nymphs seen
through the greenery of plants. Herein the evening high festivals were held orgies
with a few chosen friends and selectfair ones, two ladies from skating rink,

(37:00):
and a figurance from a theater,who smoked cigarettes with their vermilion lips
and drank to Bertie's health. Frankleft, to his heart's content to see
Bertie, a contemner of the fairsex, quite insensible to the three charmers,
making game of them, teasing them, setting them by the ears till

(37:21):
they were almost ready to claw eachother, and to conclude the matter,
pouring floods of champagne down their descollite throats. No, Frank had never
been so well amused during all hislong residence in London, where he had
settled as an engineer in order togive, as he said, a cosmopolitan
character to his knowledge of the world. He was thoroughly good hearted and too

(37:45):
highly prosperous to be a deep thinker. He had tasted of every pleasure and
had no high opinion of life,which was after all but a farce,
lasting according to statistics on average sixand thirty years. He made small pretense
of any philosophical views of existence,beyond a determined avoidance of everything that was

(38:07):
not amusing. Now Bertie was veryamusing, not only in his fun with
women, the cruel sport of apanther, but especially in the farcical parts
he played in Frank's world, wherehe figured as a man of fashion,
he a vagabond who only a monthsince had stood shivering in rags on the

(38:27):
pavements. It was a constant secretdelight to his friend, who gave Bertie
carte blanche to enable him to keepit up, a carte blanche which was
amply honored, bringing in heavy tailor'sbills for Bertie, dressed with refined vanity,
bought ties by the dozen, adoptedevery fancy that came into fashion,

(38:49):
has scented himself with all the watersof Rimmel. It was as though he
was fain to plunge into every extravagantrefinement of an exquisite after having been a
squalid scarecrow. And although at firsthe kept faithful record of his outlay,
he soon forgot first one item,and then another, till at last he

(39:10):
forgot all. Thus weeks slipped by, and Frank never thought of troubling himself
to inquire among his influential acquaintances foremployment for his companion. Their life as
wealthy idlers filled their minds entirely.Frank's at any rate, for Bertie had

(39:30):
brought a new charm into it.But suddenly a strange thing happened. One
day Bertie went out in the morningalone and did not come in to lunch.
After luncheon at the club, noBertie, nor yet at dinner,
he did not come home in theevening. He had left no clue.

(39:52):
Frank, extremely uneasy, sat uphalf the night no one. Two days
went by still no one. Frankinquired right and left, and at last
gave information to the police. Atlast. One morning, before Frank was
up, Bertie appeared at his bedsidewith an apologetic smile. Frank must not

(40:15):
be angry with him. He surelyhad not been alarmed. You see,
such a monotonously genteel life had suddenlybeen too much for him. Always these
elegant ladies with trains and diamonds,always clubs full of lords and baronets,
and skating rinks, the pink offinery, always a chimney pot's hat,

(40:36):
and every evening full dress with theregulation buttonholer. It was intolerable. He
could endure it no longer it hadbeen too much for him. But where
did you hide yourself, asked Frankin utter amazements. Oh here and there
among old acquaintance. I've not beenout of London, and you did not

(40:58):
know a soul here. Oh well, no fashionable folk like your friends.
But escape grace or two, you'renot vexed with me. Frank had sat
up in bed to talk to him. He saw that he looked pale,
weary, and unkempt. His trouserswere deeply bordered with mud, his hat
crushed. There was a three corneredrent in his greatcoat. And he stood

(41:22):
there in evident confusion, like aboy with his doubting, coaxing smile.
Come, do not be cross withme, Take me into favor once more.
This was too much for Frank,Provoked beyond the measure, he exclaimed,
But Bertie, what a cat youlook? And where on earth have

(41:43):
you been? He asked again?Oh? Here and there? And he
could get no more out of him. Bertie would only say that he had
wanted to disappear, and now hewas tired he would go to bed.
He slept till three in the afternoon. Frank laughed over it all day and
Bertie went into fits when he heardof the police. At dinner at the

(42:07):
club, he related with a melancholyface that he had been out of town
for a few days attending a funeral. Frank had failed to receive a note
through the carelessness of a servant.But where in the world have you really
been? Whispered Frank for the thirdtime, infinitely amused and inquisitive, here

(42:27):
and there, I tell you,first in one place and then in another,
answered Bertie, with the most innocentface in the world, and dapper
as ever. He delicately lifted anoyster his little finger in the air and
swallowed down his half dozen without anotherword on the subject. Four the season

(42:52):
passed away, but Bertie remained sometimes. Indeed, he talked of going to
Holland. He had an uncle,a stockbroker in Amsterdam, possibly that uncle,
but Vestova would not hear of it, and when his friend's conscience pricked
him for sponging on him, hetalked him down. What did it matter.

(43:13):
If Bertie had been the rich manand he the pauper, Bertie would
have done the same by him.They were friends. A true appreciation of
the case began to dawn on him. In the now firmly established habits of
their life. Frank's moral sense whispereddrowsily in the ease of their luxurious existence.

(43:35):
Now and then. Indeed, hehad something like a vague suspicion that
he was not rich enough for two, that he had spent more in the
last few months than in any formerseason. But he was too heedless to
dwell long on such unpleasant doubts.He was lulled to sleep by Bertie,
as if by opium or morphia.Bertie had become indispensable to him. He

(43:58):
consulted his friend on every part,and allowed himself to be led by him
on every occasion, completely subjugated bythe ascendancy held over him by the fragile
little man with his velvet paws,as though he had him under a yoke.
Every now and then, a longestfrequent intervals of about a fortnight,
Bertie disappeared, stayed away four orfive days, and came back one fine

(44:22):
morning with his insinuating smile, exhausted, pale, and tired out. These
were perhaps some secret excesses of dissipationmysterious adventure hunting in the sordid Purlieus of
the lowest neighbourhoods of which Frank neverheard nor understood the truth, a depth

(44:42):
of depravity into which Frank seemed tooprecise and dainty to be initiated, sins
in which he was to have nopart, at which Bertie, in his
refinement of selfishness, kept for himselfas an occasional treat. Then Frank's hours
were passed in disgusting of life.He missed the unwholesome stimulants of his existence.

(45:05):
In his solitude, he sank intogray, melancholy and sadness, verging
on despair. He stayed at homeall day, incapable of any exertion,
sulking in his lonely house, whereeverything, the draping of the handsome curtains,
the bronze nudity of the statues,the careless disarray of the cushions on
the divan had still, as itwere, an odor of Bertie, which

(45:30):
haunted him with regret. On suchdays as these, he was conscious of
the futility of his existence, theodious insignificance of his sinulous, empty life,
useless, aimless, null Sadly,sweet memories would come over him,
reminiscences of his parental home, shiningthrough the magic glass of retrospect, like

(45:53):
bright still pools of tender domestic harmony, in which the figures of his father
and mother stood forth, grand andnoble, glorified by childlike affection. He
longed for some unspeakable ideal, somethingpure and chaste, some high aim in
life. He would shake off thistorpor of the soul. He would send

(46:15):
away Bertie. But Bertie came back, and Bertie held him tightly once more
in his silken bonds, and hesaw more clearly every day that he could
not live without Bertie. And then, catching sight of himself in a mirror,
tall and brawny and strong, thehealthy blood tinging his clear complexion,

(46:39):
he could not forbear smiling at thefoolish visions of his solitude, which struck
him now as diseased imaginings, quiteout of keeping with his robust vigor.
Life was but a farce, andthe better part was to play it out
as a farce, in a meresensual enjoyment. Nothing else was worth the

(47:00):
pains. And yet sometimes at night, when his big body lay tired out
after some riotous evening, a gnawingdissatisfaction would come over him, not to
be conquered by this light hearted philosophy, and even Bertie himself would lecture him.
Why did not Frank seek some employment, some sphere of action. Why

(47:22):
did he not travel for a while? Why not go to Norway? Asked
Bertie one day for the sake ofsaying something. London was beginning to be
intolerable to Bertie, and as thenotion of traveling smiled on Frank, both
for a change and for economy,since they could live more cheaply abroad than
in the whorld of fashionable London.He thought it over had came to a

(47:45):
decision to leave white Rose Cottage foran indefinite period to the care of Annie
and her husband, and spend afew weeks in Norway. Bertie should go
with him. End of Section one, Section two of Footsteps of Fate by

(48:07):
Luis Kuperos. This LibriVox recording isin the public domain. Part two one.
After luncheon at the table dote ofthe Britannia Hotel at Torontier, the
friends made their way along the broadquiet streets with their low wooden houses,

(48:28):
and they had left the town,going in the direction of the Yettrielt when
they overtook in the village of Eileen, an elderly gentleman with a young girl,
evidently bent on the same excursion.The pair had sat a few places
off at the table dote, andas this much acquaintance justified a recognition in
so lonely a spot, Vestova andhis friend lifted their hats. The old

(48:52):
gentleman immediately asked in English whether theyknew the road to the yitfrielt He and
his daughter, who during the colloquynever looked up from her Badeka, could
not agree on the subject. Thisdifference of opinion led to a conversation.
The two young men begged to beallowed to join them, Frank being of

(49:14):
the opinion that Baedeker was right.Papa will never believe in Badeker, said
the young lady with a quiet smile, as she closed the red volume she
had been consulting. Nor will heever trust me when I tell him I
will guide him safely? Are youalways so sure of knowing your way?
Said Frank, laughing always she saw, soily, declared with a gay laugh.

(49:39):
Bertie inquired how long a walk itwas and what was to be seen
at the end of it. Frank'severlasting walks were a weariness and a bore.
During his residence with his friend,he had so spoilt himself in order
to forget his former wretchedness, thathe now knew no greater pleasure than that

(49:59):
of lying on a bed bench witha cigar or a glass of port,
and above all would avoid every exertion. But now abroad, when a man
is traveling, he cannot forever sitdozing in his hotel. Besides, he
was quite stiff with riding in acarryall. All this useless rushing about was

(50:20):
really monstrous folly, and White RoseCottage was not such a bad place.
Frank, on the contrary, thoroughlyenjoyed the clear, invigorating air of this
brilliant summer day, and he drankin the sunshine as though it were a
fine wine cooled by a fresh mountainbreeze. His step was elastic, and

(50:40):
his voice had a contented ring.Are you an Englishman? Asked the gentleman.
Vestova explained that they were Dutch,that they lived in London, and
his tone had the frank briskness whicha man instinctively adopts to fellow travelers as
sharing his lot for the moment whenthe weather is fine and the landscape pleasing,

(51:04):
their sympathy being thus aroused by theiradmiration of Norwegian scenery, they walked
on side by side, the elderman stepping out bravely, the young lady
very erect, with her fine figuremolded in a simple, close fitting blue
cloth dress, to which a capewith several folds, something like an elegant
type of coachman's cape, lent adash of smartness. She wore a sort

(51:29):
of jockey cap with a Mannish airon her thick twists of ruddy gold hair.
Bertie alone could not understand how allthis could be called pleasure, but
he made no complaint. He spokelittle, not thinking it necessary to make
himself agreeable to people whom he mightprobably never set eyes on again after the

(51:50):
morrow, so he just kept upwith them, wondering at Frank, who
had at once plunged into eager conversationwith the young lady, but perceiving on
a sudden that his own politeness andtact were a mere superficial varnish as compared
with Frank's instinctive good breeding at thatmoment for the first time, notwithstanding his

(52:14):
better features, and natty traveling costume. He felt himself so far Frank's inferior
as a surge of fury resembling hatethrilled through him. He could not bear
this sense of inferiority, so heapproached the old gentleman, and, walking
by his side, forced himself toa show of respectful amiability. As they

(52:36):
followed the windings of the upward anddiminishing path, they by degrees lagged behind
Frank and his companion, and thusclimbed the hill two and two. So
you live in London? What isyour name? Asked the young lady,
with calm curiosity. Frank Vestova.My name is Eva Rhodes. My father

(52:58):
is Sir Archibal Roads of Roads grow. And your friend his name is Robert
van Meren. I like the soundof your name best. I believe I
can say it like English. Tellit me again. He repeated his name,
and she said it after him withher English accent. It was very
funny, and they laughed over it. Frank Frank Westhoover, and they looked

(53:22):
back. Papa, are you tired? Cried Eva. The old man was
toiling up the height with his broadshoulders bent. His face was red under
his traveling cap, which he hadpushed to the back of his head,
and he was blowing like a triton. Bertie tried to smile pleasantly, though

(53:42):
he was inwardly raging in high dudgeonover this senseless clamber. They had half
an hour more of it, however, before the narrow track, which zigzagged
up the hillside like a gray Arabesque, came to an end, and they
sat down to rest on a blockof stone. Eva was enchanted. Far
below lay Drontime, with its modernhouses, encircled by the steely waters of

(54:07):
the Knee, and its fiord,a magic mirror on which floated the white
mass of the fortress of Munkenholm.The mountains rising on all sides were blue.
Nearest to them, the bloomy purpleblue of the grape, then the
deep sheeny blue of velvet, furtheroff, the transparent crystalline blue of the

(54:28):
sapphire, and in the distance thetender sky blue of the turquoise. The
water was blue like blue silver.The very air was blue as pearls are,
or mother of pearls. The equablesunlight fell on everything without glare and
without shadow, from exactly overhead It'salmost like Italy, exclaimed Eva. And

(54:52):
this is Norway. I had alwayspictured Norway to myself as being all like
rum Style, wild and barren,with rocky peaks like rob Style Horn and
the troll Tinder, and with ragingcascades like the slatter Hoss. But this
is quite lovely and so softly blue. I should like to build a house
here and live in it. ThatI would call its Eva's Bower, and

(55:15):
keep a whole flock of white doves. They would look so pretty flying in
the blue air, dear child,laughed Sir Archibald. It looks very different
in winter, I suspect, nodoubt, different, but still lovely.
In winter. I should love thefury of raging winds and the roar of

(55:35):
the waves of the fjord below myhouse, and gray mists would hang over
the hills. I can see itall. Why you would be frozen,
argued the father gravely. Oh no, and I should sit at my turret
window dreaming over Dante or Spencer.Do you love Dante and Spencer? The

(55:57):
question was addressed to Frank, whohad listened and somewhat puzzled to Eva's raptures
and was now a little startled.For you see, though he knew Dante
by name, he had never evenheard of the poet Spencer, only of
Herbert Spencer. What you do notknow the fairy Queen Yuna, and the
Red Cross Knight and britom Art.How very strange, dear child. What

(56:22):
a little fanatic you are over thosesilly allegories, said Papa. But they
are glorious, Papa, Eva insisted, Besides, I love allegory above all
things, and admire no other kindof poetry. The style is so affected,
you are drowned in symbolism. Itis the keynote of the Renaissance.

(56:45):
Eva protested. In the time ofElizabeth all the court talked in that high
flown style, and Edmund Spencer's imagesare splendid. They sparkle like jewels.
Bertie thought this disco much to learnard, but he kept his opinion to himself,
and made some remark about Dante's inferno. They were by this time rested,

(57:08):
and went on again up the hill. My daughter is half an aesthetic,
said the old gentleman, laughing,and Evil laughed too. Nay,
that is not the truth, Papa, Do not believe him, mister,
mister Westhoover. Do you know whatmakes Papa say so? A few years
ago, when I had but justleft school, I and a few girls

(57:31):
I knew were perfectly idiotic. Fora while, we tousled our hair into
mops, dressed in floppy garments ofdamask and brocade with enormous sieves, and
held meetings among ourselves to talk nonsenseabout art. We sat in attitudes,
holding a sunflower or a peacock's feather, and were perfectly ridiculous. That is

(57:53):
why Papa still says such things.I'm not so silly now, but I'm
still very fond of reading. Andis that so very esthetic? Frank looked
smilingly into her honest, clear grayeyes, and her ringing, decided voice
had an apologetic tone, as ifshe were asking pardon for her little display

(58:15):
of learning. He understood that therewas nothing of the Blue Stocking in this
girl, as might have seemed fromher sententious jest before, and he was
quite vexed with himself for having beencompelled to confess that he knew nothing of
the poet Spencer. How stupid shemust think him. But it was a
moment when the beauties of the sceneryhad so bewitched them that they moved,

(58:38):
as it were, in a magiccircle of sympathy, in which some unknown
law overruled their natural impulses, somethingelectrically swift and etherially subtle. As they
climbed the meandering mountain track or madeshortcuts through the low brushwood, where the
leaves glistened in the sun like polishedgreen needles, And as he breathed that

(59:00):
pure, intoxicating air, Frank feltas though he had known her quite a
long time, as if it wereyears since he had first seen her at
the table dote at dorontiim Ad.Sir Archibald and Bertie Lingering behind were far
off miles away. Mere remembered imagesEva's voice joined with his own inharmonious union,

(59:22):
as though their fragmentary talk of artand poetry were a duet which they
both knew how to sing. AlthoughFrank candidly confessed that he had read but
little that what he had read hescarcely remembered, she playfully scolded him,
and her sweet clear tones now andthen startled a bird, which flew piping

(59:43):
out of the shrubs. He feltwithin him a revival of strength, a
new birth, and would fain havespread his arms to embrace the air.
Two that evening, on their returnfrom their war, after dinner, over
a cup of coffee, they discussedtheir further projects. We are going to

(01:00:06):
milder, said Sir Archibald, andso are we, Frank, exclaimed The
old gentleman at once expressed a wishthat the friends would continue to give him
and his daughter the pleasure of theirsociety. Frank had taken a great fancy
to him, and Bertie thought himcourteous and good company. Bertie had talked

(01:00:28):
a good deal about America, buthe had not told the whole history of
his farming experiences in the far West. He had indeed idealized it a little
by speaking of my farm, andFrank did not contradict him. By the
end of two days spent at Fronteign, they were the best of friends,
with that confidential intimacy which on atour when etiquette is out of court sometimes

(01:00:53):
arises from mere contact without any knowledgeof character on either side, and sympathy
in trifles and mutual attraction a superficialsentiment of transient admiration which occupies the traveler's
leisure the day on the sea bysteamboat to Malder was like a party of

(01:01:14):
pleasure in spite of the rain whichdrove them below. And in the cabin
over a bottle of champagne, MissEva and the three men played a rubber
of whist but afterwards, in agleam of pale sunshine, there was an
endless walk to and fro on thewet deck. The low, rocky shore
glided slowly past on the larboard side, the hills varying in outline, now

(01:01:37):
close together and again showing a gapcovered with brown moss down by the water,
and gray above with patches of palerose or dull purple lights at Christian
sand. They were far from land, and the waters, now rougher,
were crimson in the glory of thesinking sun fast approaching the horizon. Everywhere

(01:02:00):
had a crest of flame colored foam, as though the ocean were on fire.
Frankened Eva, meanwhile, pacing upand down, laughed at each other's
faces, reddened like a couple ofpianists, or like two maskers rouged by
the glow of the sun, tothe semblance of clowns. They reached Malda
late at night, too late tosee its lovely feord. But next morning

(01:02:24):
there it lay before them, along, narrow inlet encircled by mountains,
capped with snow, a poem asong of mountains, pure, lofty,
beautiful, severe, solemn, withoutone jarring note. The sky above them
was calmly gray, like brooding melancholy, and the peace that rains sounded like

(01:02:46):
a passionless and ante. Three nextday, when Sir Archibald proposed a walk
at Maldehoy, Bertie declared that hewas tired and did not feel well,
and begged to be left at home. In point of fact, he thought
that the weather did not look promising. Heavy clouds were gathering about the chain

(01:03:08):
of hilltops, which shut in thefiord like a sweeping drapery of rain,
threatening ere long to fall and wrapeverything in their gloomy folds. Eva,
however, would not be checked bybad weather. When people were traveling.
They must not be afraid of awetting So the three set out, and

(01:03:29):
Bertie, in his patent slippers,remained in the drawing room of the Grand
Hotel with a book and a halfpint bottle. The road was muddy,
but they stepped out valiantly in theirwaterproofs and stout boots. The rain,
which hung threateningly above their heads,did not daunt them, but gave a
touch of romantic adventure to the expedition, as though it threatened to submerge them

(01:03:52):
in an impending deluge. Once offthe beaten road and still toiling upwards,
they occasionally missed the track, whichwas lost in a plashy bog, or
under ferns dripping with rain, orstruck across a wild growth of blue bilberries.
They crossed the morass, using therocks as stepping stones, the old

(01:04:15):
gentleman without help, and Eva withher hand on Frank's, fearing lest her
little feat should slide on the smoothgreen moss. She laughed, gaily,
skipping from stone to stone with hishelp, sometimes suddenly slipping and supporting herself
against his shoulder, and then againgoing on bravely trying the stones with her
stout stick. She felt as thoughshe need take no particular heed, now

(01:04:41):
that he was at her side,that he would support her if she stumbled,
and they chatted eagerly as they went, almost leaping from rock to rock.
What sort of man is your friend, mister westhova Eva suddenly inquired.
Frank was a little startled. Itwas always an unpleasant task to give any
information concerning Bertie, less on accountof his past life than of his present

(01:05:06):
position, his quiet sponging on himself. Frank, who though enslaved by Bertie
knew full well that the situation wasstrange, to say the least of it
in the eyes of the world.Oh, he's a man who's been very
unfortunate, he said evasively. Hadhe presently added? Has he not made

(01:05:27):
a pleasant impression on you? Evalaughed so heartily that she was near falling
into a pool of mud if Frankhad not firmly thrown his arm round her
waist. Eva Eva cried her father, shaking his head. Pray be more
careful. Eva threw herself up witha slight blush. What can I say,

(01:05:49):
she went on, pursuing the subject, if I were to speak the
whole truth, of course, Butperhaps you will be vexed, For I
can see very plainly that you arequite infatuated with your friend. Then you
do not like him? Well,then if you insist on knowing the first
day, when I made his acquaintance, I thought him insufferable. With you,

(01:06:13):
we got on famously at once asan amusing traveling companion, but with
him. But perhaps he has nottraveled much. Oh, yes he has,
said Frank, who could not helpsmiling. Well, then perhaps he
was shy or awkward. However,I began to think differently of him after
that. I don't think him insufferablenow. It was strange, but Frank

(01:06:38):
felt no particular satisfaction on hearing theyoung lady's changed opinion. He made no
reply. You say he has hadmuch to trouble him, And indeed I
can see it in his face.There is something so gentle in him,
so tender, I might almost say, such soft dark eyes and such a
sweet voice. At first, asI tell you, I found it intolerable,

(01:07:03):
but now it strikes me as ratherpoetical. He must certainly be a
poet and have been crossed in love. He can be no commonplace man.
No, that he certainly is not, said Frank, vaguely. A little
ill at ease over Eva's raptures,and a mingling of jealousy and regret,

(01:07:24):
something like an aversion for the worldlypolish, and a dull envy of the
poetic graces which Yva attributed to hisfriend, ran through his veins like a
chill. He glanced up, almostpathetically at the pretty creature, who was
sometimes so shrewd and sometimes so naive, so learned in all that bore on

(01:07:45):
her favorite studies, so ignorant ofreal life. A dim compassion came over
him, and on a sudden thegray rain clouds weighed upon him with a
pall of melancholy, as though theywere ominous of some inevitable fatality which threatened
to crush her. His fingers involuntarilyclasped her hand more tightly. Here's the

(01:08:06):
path, once more, cried SirArchibald, who was twenty steps ahead of
them. Oh yes, there isthe path. Thank you, mister Westhova,
said Eva, as she sprang fromthe last stepping stone, pushing her
way through the snapping bracken to thebeaten track. And up there is the
huts with the weather cock. Herfather went on, I believe we've made

(01:08:30):
a long round out of our way. Instead of chattering so much, you
would do well to keep a sharplook out for the path. My old
eyes, you know, but itwas great fun jumping over the stones,
laughed Eva. Far above them,they could now see the huts with the
tall pole of the weather cock,and they went on at an easier pace,

(01:08:51):
their feet sinking into the violet anda pink blossomed heath. Crushing the
bilberries, dimly purple like tiny grapes. Eva stooped and picked some. Oh
so nice and sweet, she exclaimed, with childish surprise, as she pulled
some more, dyeing her lips andfingers blue with the juice of the berries.

(01:09:14):
Taste them, mister Westove. Hetook them from her soft, small
hand, stained as it were withpurple blood. It was true, they
were deliciously sweet, and such fineones. And then they went on again,
following Sir Archibald, often stopping andtriumphing like children. When they came
on a large patch where the watleberrieshad spread unhindered, like a miniature orchard.

(01:09:39):
Papa, Papa, do try them, Eva cried, heedless of the
fact that Papa was far ahead,but Sir Archibald was not out of sight,
and they had to run to overtakehim. Eva's laughter ringing like a
bell, while she lamented that shemust leave so many berries untouched, and
such beauties. I dare say therewill be plenty round the hut, said

(01:10:02):
Frank consolingly. Do you think so, she said, with a merry laugh.
Oh, what a couple of babieswe are. The path grew wider,
and they found it easy walking upto the top, sometimes quitting the
track and scrambling over the stones toshorten the way. Presently they heard a

(01:10:23):
shout, and looking up, theysaw Sir Archibald standing on the cairn,
in which the staff of the weathercockwas fixed, and waving his traveling cap.
They hurried on and soon were athis side. Eva knocked at the
door of the hut. The hutis shut up, said her father.
How stupid, she exclaimed. Whydoes it stand there at all? If

(01:10:46):
it's shut up, there's no onelive in it. Why, of course
not, said Sir Archibald, asif it was the most natural thing in
the world. Frank helped Eva toclimb the cairn round the pole, and
they looked down on the panorama attheir feet. It's beautiful, but melancholy,
said Eva. The long fiord laybelow them, a narrow ribbond of

(01:11:12):
pale, motionless water, hemmed inby the mountains, now wreathed with gray
vapor, through which they gleamed fitfullylike ghosts of mountains Laupardon and Venulinda,
Troultinda, and the Romsdal Hall toweringup through the envious rolling mist, which
swelled by the coming storm, hungin black clouds from every peak and cast

(01:11:36):
a gloomy reflection on the still waters. The hills were weeping, unsubstantial,
motionless phantoms, sorrowing and tragical undersome august and superhuman woe, a grief
as of giants and demigods. TheFiord, with its township, a plot
of gardens and roofs and walls,and the white chalet of the Grand Hotel,

(01:12:00):
all weeping, all motionless under thegloomy sky. A ghostly chill rose
up from the gulf to where thetrio stood, mingling with the tangible clamminess
of the mist, which seemed toweigh on their eyelids. It was not
raining, but the moisture seemed todistill on them. From the black,
unbroken rack of clouds, and tothe westwards, between two cliffs which parted

(01:12:24):
to show a gleaming strip of ocean, a streak was visible of pale gold
and faint rose color, hardly morethan a touch of pink. A sparkle
of gold, a stinted arms ofthe setting sun. They scarcely said another
word, oppressed by the superhuman sadnesswhich enwrapped them like a shroud. When

(01:12:44):
Eva at last spoke, her clearvoice sounded far away through a curtain.
Look, there's a glint of sunshineover the sea. Here. We are
pining for the sun. Oh Iwish the sun would break through the cloud.
It's so dismal here, so dreary. How well I understand Oswald's cry

(01:13:05):
in Ibsen's ghosts when he is goingmad the sun the sun men might pray
for sunshine here and get to nomore than that distant gleam Oh I am
perished. She shivered violently under thestiff, shining folds of her waterproof cloak.

(01:13:26):
Her face was drawn and white,and her eyes looked large and anxious.
She suddenly felt herself so forlorn andlonely that she instinctively took her father's
arm and clung to him closely.Are you cold, my child? Shall
we go home? He asked?She nodded, and they both helped her

(01:13:46):
down the heap of stones. Whyshe knew not, but suddenly she had
thought of her mother, who wasdead, and wondered whether she had ever
felt thus forlorn in spite of herfather's fondness. But when they came in
sight of the hut again, shesaid, as if it had just occurred
to her Papa, there are somenames cut in the door. Let us

(01:14:10):
cut ours too, But child,you are so cold and pale. Never
mind, let us cut our names. I want to, she urged,
like a spoilt child. No,Eva, what nonsense. Oh but I
do want to, she repeated,coaxingly, But the old man would not
give in. Grumbling still, Frank, however, pulled out his pocket knife.

(01:14:35):
Oh, mister Westhova, do cutmy name? Nothing but Eva,
only three letters, will you,she asked softly. Frank had it on
his lips to say that he wouldlike to cut his own name with hers,
although it was so long, buthe was silent. It would have
sounded flat and commonplace in the midstof this mournful scenery. So he carved

(01:14:59):
the letters on the door, whichwas like a traveler's album. Eva stood
gazing out to the west, andshe saw the three streaks of gold turn
pale, and the rose tint fadeaway. The sun, the sun she
murmured with a shudder and a faintsmile on her white lips and in her
tearful eyes. A few heavy dropsof rain had begun to fall, so

(01:15:24):
Archibald asked if they were ever coming, and led the way. Eva nodded
with a smile and went up toFrank. Have you done, it's,
mister Westover, Yes, said Frank, hastily finishing the last letter. She
looked up and saw that he hadcut Eva rhoades and in very neat,
even letters smoothly finished below he hadroughly cut Frank in a great hurry.

(01:15:49):
Why did you add roads, sheasked, and her voice was faint,
as if far away, because ittook longer. Frank replied simply four.
They got back to the Grand Hotelin a torrent of rain. A deluge
poured out of all the urns ofheaven, muddy to their waists, wet

(01:16:13):
to the skin, and chilled tothe bone. Eva, after a hot
supper, was sent off to bedby her father and the three men,
Sir Archibald, Frank, and Bertiesat in the drawing room, where a
few other visitors, all very crossat the bad weather, tried to solace
themselves with illustrated papers or albums.The old gentleman took a doze in an

(01:16:35):
easy chair. Frank gazed pensively atthe straight streaks of rain, which fell
like an endless curtain of close steelneedles thrashing the surface of the fiord.
Bertie sipped to hot grog and lukedas his shiny slippers. And did you
not miss my company on your excursion, he asked, addressing Frank with a

(01:16:58):
smile, just to break the silencethat reigned in the room. Vesthova turned
to him in some surprise, asif roused from a dream. Then,
with a frank laugh, he brieflyanswered no. Bertie stared at him,
but his friend had already turned away, lost in thought over the patter of
the rain. So Bertie at lasttook up his book again and tried to

(01:17:23):
read, but the letters danced beforehis eyes. His ears and nerves still
thrilled uncomfortably under the remembrance of thatone short, astounding word which Frank had
fired into the silence like a leadenbullet. It annoyed him that Frank should
take no further notice of him.Frank stood and moved, looking out at

(01:17:45):
the mountains, scarcely visible through thewatery shroud. What he saw was their
walk back from Maldoy, the meanderingdownward path through the tall, dripping bracken,
the pelting rains streaming in the facesas from a watering pot. Eva
closely wrapped in her wet macintosh andclinging to his arm as if seeking his

(01:18:08):
protection. Behind them, her fathercarefully feeling the slippery moss grown stones with
his walking stick. Frank had wantedto wrap her in his own thick waterproof
coat, but this she had positivelyrejected. She would not have him made
ill for her sake, she saidin that far away voice. And then

(01:18:29):
when they were home again, afterthey had changed their clothes and dined and
laughed over their adventure, Sir Archibaldwas afraid lest Eva should have taken cold.
Frank remembered at this moment the fragmentsof their conversation, his asking her,
a little surprised, in spite ofhimself, have you read Ibsen's Ghosts?

(01:18:49):
You spoke of Oswald when we wereup on Milderhoy. As it happened,
he had himself read Ghosts, andhe did not think it's a book
for a young girl. She noticedhis surprise and had blushed deeply as she
replied, Yes, I have readit. I read a great deal,
and Papa has brought me up onrather liberal lines. Do you think that

(01:19:12):
I ought not to have read Ghosts? She herself had seen no harm in
it and had not perhaps fully understoodit, As she candidly confessed, he
had not ventured to tell her thatthe study of such a drama of physiological
heredity was, to say the least, unnecessary for a young girl. She
had answered vaguely, and she hadcolored yet more deeply and said no more.

(01:19:39):
She must have regarded me as aprig of a schoolmaster, thought he
Ill at ease. Why should shenot read what she likes? She does
not need my permission for her reading. She has grown up enough. She
must have thought me a pedantic owl. Frank, said Bertie again. What
said Frank startled? Will this placetomorrow morning? I suppose yes, that

(01:20:02):
was our plan, at least ifthe weather improves. What is the name
of the next outlandish spot? Weare going to fabe lungs Nas and from
there to Romsdahl and gudbrand Stahl andthe roads. They are going to bergen
tomorrow I don't know, And hestood once more lost in thought, the

(01:20:27):
gray, wet atmosphere without cast agloom on the scene. Within, and
in his soul too, rained thedeepest gloom. What was the use of
fostering warm feelings when a few daysof sympathetic companionship could only end imparting?
This was always the case with friendlytraveling acquaintance. And was it not so

(01:20:47):
throughout life? With everyone everything welove? Was it worthwhile to care for
anything? Was not all love agreat delusion by which men blinded themselves to
their disgust at life? End ofsection two, Section three of Footsteps of

(01:21:13):
Fate by Luis Kuperus. This LibriVoxrecording is in the public domain. Part
three one to six, one Decemberin London, cold and foggy, white
rose cottage, wrapped in mist,in the back room a blazing fire.
But Robert van meyer And was nolonger in the blissful mood to enjoy this

(01:21:38):
luxury as we have hitherto known him. Moreover, he now regarded it as
quite a matter of course, whichcame to him by right, since he
was a creature of such refined feeling, so slight and fragile, and did
not feel himself born to endure povertyand want. Still he had known misery,

(01:22:00):
slavery of hired labor, to whichhe had bent his back with crafty
subservience. Still he had felt thegnawings of hunger, the bitterness of squalid
beggary. But all this seemed longago, and as vague as a dream,
or as the vanishing lines of Londonstreets out there, dimmed and blurred
by the pall of fog, asindistinct as our dubious impressions of a former

(01:22:23):
state of existence. For after hismetamorphosis, he had determined to forget.
He had forced himself to forget,never for an instant to recall his sufferings,
ought to think of the future.He hated the past as an injustice,
a disgrace, an ineradicable stain onthe superficial spotlessness of his present life.

(01:22:45):
He persuaded himself that all those thingswhich he had now hidden, buried,
forever ignored, had indeed never happened. Had he had succeeded in this
effacement of his life in America,it seemed wiped out of the annals of
his memory. Why now must thoseyears rise slowly before him, like ghosts

(01:23:06):
out of the grave of oblivion.What had they to say to him?
Now? Nearer and nearer, tillyear by year, month by month,
day by day they passed before him, dancing in the flames at which he
sat staring, like a dance ofdeath. Of the years. They grinned
at him from skulls with hollow eyesand pallid faces distorted by a crafty smile,

(01:23:31):
the dead years which beckoned to him, wearing filthy rags and poisoning his
cigar with their foul odor. Hesaw them, He smelt them, He
shuddered with their chill. There infront of the fire. He felt their
hunger, in spite of the dinnerthat awaited him. Why was it that
the future, which he no lesspersistently ignored, was beginning to hang over

(01:23:57):
him as an omen of evil,which each day he jour brought nearer and
nearer irresistibly inevitably. That future mustperhaps be such as the past had been.
Yes, something was impending there hesat, sick with alarms, cowardly,
spiritless, sea feet. Something wasin the air. He felt its

(01:24:21):
coming nearer to overwhelm him, towrestle with him for life or death.
In a frenzy of despair, hefelt himself tottering, sinking. He was
torn from the ease and comfort ofhis present life, cast out into the
streets without shelter, without anything,for what had he of his own?

(01:24:42):
The clothes he wore, the shoeson his feet, the ring on his
finger were franks. The dinner tocome, the bed upstairs were franks.
Thus had it been for a yearpast? And if he were to go
with all he possessed, he wouldgo naked in the winter, And he
could not again be as he hadbeen in America, tramping for work day
after day. His body and mindalike were enervated, as by a warm

(01:25:08):
bath of luxury. He had becomelike a hothouse plant, which is accustomed
to the moist heat and perishes whenit is placed in the open air.
But it hung over him, crueland unrelenting. Not for an instant did
the threat relax, And in hisabject weakness, he feebly wrung his white

(01:25:28):
hands, and two tears, hotwith despair, rolled down his cheeks struggle
for existence. He was incapable ofsuch a battle. His energy was too
lax for that, a laxity whichhe had felt growing on him as a
joy after his fight for life,but which now had made him powerless to

(01:25:50):
screw himself up to the merest semblanceof determination. And before him he saw
the fateful chain of events passing onwards, some so infinitely small, each detail
a terrible link, and all leadingon to catastrophe. Strange that each one
was the outcome of its predecessor,the future, the outcome of the past.

(01:26:15):
If after his failure from sheer idlenessat Leiden, his father had not
placed him as clerk in the officeof a Manchester house, he would probably
never have known certain youths, hisfellow clerks, fashionable young rakes and fierce
strugglers for existence, still scarcely morethan boys had already the worse for dissipation.

(01:26:36):
If he had never known them,And yet how pleasantly had they borne
him along merely by humoring his naturalbent, he might perhaps not have played
such underhand tricks with the money belongingto the firm that his patron, out
of sympathy and regard for his father, had helped him to go to America.
That was where he had sunk deepest, swamped in the mailstre more energetic

(01:27:00):
fortune hunters. If only he hadbeen less unlucky in America, he would
not have found himself stranded in Londonin such utter destitution, or have applied
to Vestovah for help. And Frankbut for his suggestion, Frank would never
have gone to Norway, never havemet Eva. Oh, that journey to

(01:27:21):
Norway, how he cursed it now, for Frank might perhaps not have fallen
in love and never thought of marriage. And only yesterday Vestova had called at
Sir Archibald's house whether two friends hadbeen made very welcome after their acquaintance in
Norway, and had come home engagedto Eva. Frank would marry and he

(01:27:45):
Bertie? Where was he to go? What was to become of him?
He was painfully conscious of the fatalityof life, of the injustice of the
dispensations of fortune. And he discernedthat his own immediate difficul cultis owed their
origin to a single word, onesingle word, Norway, Norway, Eva,

(01:28:08):
Frank's falling in love, Frank's engagementand marriage, and his own shipwreck.
How horribly clear he saw every linkof the chain of his own life
in each word, one word utteredunder a foolish impulse Norway, and it
had irretrievably wrought to the happiness oftwo other persons at the cost of his

(01:28:30):
own injustice. In justice, hadhe cursed the impulse, the mysterious innates
force which more or less prompts everyword we speak? And he cursed the
facts that every word uttered by thetongue of man remains beyond recall. What
is that impulse? Something obscurely goodand unconscious better self as men declare,

(01:28:56):
which, though deeply and mysteriously hidden, dashes ahead like an unbroken colt,
treading down the most elaborate results ofcareful thought. Oh, if he had
but held his tongue, why Norway? What concern had he with that one
fatal, fateful land above all others? Why not Spain, Russia, Japan?

(01:29:18):
Good God can chat her for aught? He cared, why, especially
Norway idiotic impulse, which had unlockedhis miserable lips to pronounce that luckless name.
And Oh, the injustice of fate, of life, of everything,
energy, will? What could willand energy do against fate? They were

(01:29:42):
words, empty words, be acringing fatalist like a Turk or Arab,
And let day follow day, neverthink, for behind thoughts, lurks,
impulse, fight against fate, whoforges her chains blindly, link upon link.
He threw himself back in his chair, still feebly wringing his hands,

(01:30:05):
and the tears trickled again and againdown his cheeks. He saw his own
cowardice take shape before him. Hestared into its frightened eyes, and he
did not condemn it, for hewas as Fate had made him. He
was a craven, and he couldnot help it. Men called such a

(01:30:25):
one as he a coward. Itwas but a word. Why coward?
Or simple and loyal and brave,or good and noble. It was all
a matter of convention, of acceptedmeaning. The whole world was mere convention,
a concept, an illusion of thebrain. There was nothing real at
all, nothing, and yet therewas something real. Misery and poverty were

(01:30:49):
real. He had felt them,wrestled with them hand to hand, and
now he was too weak to fightthem again, too delicate, too refined,
would not face them again. Then, leaning back with his pallid head
resting against the cushion the back ofhis chair, his deep set, black

(01:31:09):
eyes clouded with the venom of thesereflections, he was aware of a gentle,
pleasing electric current thrilling through him,a current of will. Fatality had
willed to bring Frank and Eva together. Well, he, a mere plaything
of fate, would will that,Yes, he would will to part them.

(01:31:30):
And before his very eyes, asit seemed that purpose rose up,
cold and rigid, an evil andmysterious form, like an incarnation of satanic
malignity. It looked at him withthe eye of a sybil, of a
sphynx. And as compared with thetitanic cruelty of that image, his former
vision sank into nothingness. The danceof death, of the years, the

(01:31:55):
continuity of fatality, had his cursingof it. All these now vanished,
and he only saw that figure,like a ghost, almost tangible and almost
visibly solid in the dusk against thedying glow of the fire. The gloomy,
questioning gaze of those eyes hypnotized hissoul. His instincts fell asleep under

(01:32:17):
its crushing power. Friendship, gratitude, They too were mere words. There
was nothing real in life but conventionalityand poverty. And then there was that
image there in front of the fire, with its staring, fixed gaze,
petrified to an embodiment of silence,irresistible, infernal magnetism. Two that night,

(01:32:45):
he saw Frank no more, forhe had stayed to dine with Sir
Archibald Roads van Mehren. Could notsleep. The wildest fancies kept him wide
awake. Illusions and schemes whirled throughhis feet brain. Strange voices buzzed in
his ears, hissing like an angrysea. He saw himself sitting with Eva

(01:33:08):
in a cab passing through the gloomiestand foulest parts of London. Squalid figures
stood in their way and came closeto Eva. He laughed as he saw
her dragged away by men with brutalfaces, and then come back to him
with her clothes torn, sobbing becauseshe had been insulted. A fearful headache

(01:33:29):
hammered in his brain, and hegroaned with a painful effort to control the
wild extravagance of his fancy. Hegot up, rubbing his eyes as if
to drive away the melodramatic vision.Had wrapped his burning head in a wet,
cold towel. He involuntarily looked inthe glass, and in the subdued
glimmer of the night light, hisface stared back at him as pale as

(01:33:53):
death, drawn and haggard, withhollow sunken eyes and a gaping mouth.
His heart beat violently, as ifit were rising into his throat, and
he pressed it down with both hands. After drinking a glass of water,
he lay down again, forcing himselfto be calm. Subtler fancies now crowded

(01:34:14):
his mind like fine threads caught athwart and across webbs mingled in a maze,
like an inextricable tangle of lace,and his imagination worked out the intricacies
of weariful intrigues, as though hewere a poet who, during a night
of lucid sleeplessness, constructs a drama, and, not content with its plot,

(01:34:36):
goes through it again and again tomaster the great conception in his mind
before writing it out. Now hesaw the orges of a past day repeating
themselves below in the sitting room,he saw the skating rink and Frank and
himself drinking champagne and laughing and singing. But suddenly the door opened as Archibald

(01:34:58):
came in with Eva on his arm. So Archibald cursed Frank with tremendous words
and vehement gestures, and Frank hunghis head, but Eva threw herself between
them with words of anguish and imploringhands. And it was all the last
scene of the fourth act of anopera. The singing in his ears and
the dreadful throbbing in his aching headwere like the thunder of a full orchestra,

(01:35:23):
excited to the utmost by the beatof an energetic conductor and the loud,
strident crash of brass instruments. Bertiemoaned and tossed from side to side,
compelling himself to picture less violent scenes. Now it was like a modern
comedy. Eva, at his suggestion, was suspiciously watching Annie, the maiden

(01:35:45):
housekeeper at White Rose Cottage. Evawas jealous, and then a grand catastrophe.
Eva, finding Annie in Frank's arms, sick with thinking, bewildered by
his his own imaginings, he droveaway the chaotic vision. Exhaustion overcame him.
His frenzy was worn out, thoughhis head was still burning, throbbing,

(01:36:11):
bursting, although acute pain shot throughhis brain from his brows to his
neck as if he were being scalped, Although the blood in his temples leapt
furiously in his veins with rhythmical torture, and in the immediate torment of physical
suffering, his pride, which wasto defy fatality, collapsed like a tower

(01:36:32):
crumbling into ruins. His imagination becamevacancy. He forgot his terrors of the
future. He lay motionless, bathedin clammy sweat, his eyes and mouth
wide open, and the indecision ofexhaustion cast a softened light on all his
fancies, mere delirious dreams, whichcould never bear the faintest resemblance to reality.

(01:36:58):
Things must go on as they might. He lazily thought the future was
still remote. He would think nomore about it. He would let himself
go with the chain of events linkby link. It was madness to double
his fists against fate, which wasso strong so omnipotence. Three the following

(01:37:21):
days passed quietly enough, though avague fear still hung over Bertie's head.
He bowed that head without further thought, but still with a dull ferment in
the depths of his heart, belowthe superficial calm. Then one day he
went with Frank to the roads,and Eva, taking his hand, said

(01:37:42):
we shall be good friends, shallwe not? And after she had spoken,
he heard her voice still ringing inhis ears like little bells. He
mechanically let his velvety eyes rest onhers and smiled and allowed her to lead
him to a sofa and show himdesigns for furniture and patterns of curtains for
their new home, her home andFrank's. Frank himself sat a little way

(01:38:06):
off talking to Sir Archibald. Helooked at them, sitting side by side,
like brother and sister, on thesoftly cushioned settee, their heads bent
together over the rustling pages of thepattern book, their hands meeting from time
to time, and his brows wereknit in a frown of displeasure. And

(01:38:27):
yet he laughed and said to Eva, Bertie will be of the greatest use.
He has far better taste than I. And he felt as though he
had spoken the words in spite ofhimself, or had meant to say something
quite other than this compliment, butcould not help it. All the time
he was talking politics to Sir Archibald, his eyes rested on them, magnetically

(01:38:48):
attracted by their familiar manner. Therewas a sisterly gentleness in Eva, an
emanation of sympathy for her lover's friend, a somewhat romantic interest in the missile
of Van Mehren's fine, dark eyesand insinuating voice, had a compassion for
the deep byronic sorrows, which sheattributed to him something like the esthetic pathos

(01:39:11):
of a sentimental reader over the inexplicablewoes of a hero of romance. It
was to her a poetic friendship whichvery harmoniously supplemented her love for frank Vestova,
a kind of love which, inher girlish enthusiasm she had never imagined
the existence, and of which,if she could have suspected it, she

(01:39:31):
would certainly never have thought herself capable. A calm, peaceful and true affection,
practical, almost homely, without thefaintest tinge of romance, a love
not blind to her lover's faults,but faithful to him in spite of them,
like a mother's for her undeserving child. She perceived his indolence over every

(01:39:55):
voluntary effort, his indecision over everyserious question, his vacillation between this and
that, and did not blind herselfto all this weakness. But it was
this very weakness which had gained herheart, as a pleasing contrast with the
cool, uneffusive sober affection of herfather, who spoiled her indeed, but

(01:40:16):
never so much as she herself desired. Then there was another contrast which charmed
her even more, which had filledher heart with an admiration that had become
a passion. The contrast in Frankhimself, of his mild, yielding character,
with the robust vigor of his stalwart'sperson. She woman, as she

(01:40:39):
was, found something adorable in thefact of this splendidly strong youth, with
his broad chest and shoulders, hisgreat mane of fair hair and powerful neck,
this man, whose suppleness and easein lifting and moving things betrayed constant
practice and the use of his limbs, being so feeble in determination, so

(01:41:00):
gentle in demeanor. When she wasalone and thought of him, so she
could not help smiling, though thetears came into her eyes, tears of
happiness, for this contrast made herhappy. It was very strange, she
thought, and she could not understandit. It was a riddle, but
she did not try to solve it, for it was a riddle that she

(01:41:21):
loved. And as she thought ofit, with smiling lips and tear dimmed
eyes, she longed only to haveher arms round his neck her own Franks.
She did not idealize him. Shenever now thought of platonic twin souls
in superhuman ecstasy. She took himas he was a mere man, and

(01:41:43):
it was for what he was thatshe worshiped him, calm and at rest
in her worship. Although she knewthat the romantic side of her nature could
never find fulfillment such as it nowdid through her sisterly regard for Bertie,
she had no regret for it inher abounding love for Frank. And since
nature found completion in the enjoyment ofthe moment, she was pleased and quite

(01:42:05):
satisfied, and felt such a sunnyglow in her and about her as deserves
to be called true happiness. Thiswas her frame of mind now as she
looked through the patterns with Bertie whileFrank sat chatting with her father. There
was the man she loved, here, her brother friend. This was all

(01:42:28):
good. She never could wish foranything more than to be thus happy in
her love and her friendship. Shelooked at Bertie with a protecting and pitying
smile, and yet with a touchof contempt at his slight, boyish figure,
his white hands, and diamond ring, his little feet in patent leather
shoes hardly larger than her own.What a dapper little mannikin. He was

(01:42:51):
always spotlessly precise in dress and manner, with an appealing cloud of melancholy over
his whole person. As he glancedup at her, consulting her about some
detail in one of the prints,Bertie detected this smile on Eva's face,
ironically patronizing and at the same timekind and sisterly, and knowing that she

(01:43:14):
liked him, He could to someextent read its meaning. But he asked
her, what are you smiling at? At? Nothing, said she,
as she went on, still smilingaffectionately. Why did you never become an
artist? Bertie? An artist,said Van Meren, What next? A
painter or an author? You havegreat artistic taste, aye, he repeated,

(01:43:40):
much surprised, for he really didnot know that he possessed very remarkable
esthetic feeling, an exquisiteness of tasteworthy of a woman of a connoisseur.
And her words set his own characterbefore him in a new light. Does
a man never know himself and whatreally lies in him? I could do

(01:44:00):
nothing, he replied, somewhat flatteredby Eva's speech, and in his astonishment,
candid for once, in spite ofhimself, he went on, I
should be too lazy. He wasstartled by his own words, as though
he had stripped himself bare, andhe instinctively looked across at Frank to see
if he had heard him. Vexedat his own thoughtlessness, he colored and

(01:44:26):
laughed to hide his annoyance, whileshe, still smiling, shook her head
reproachfully. Four. When a littlelater Eva was alone with her lover and
she showed him the patterns which hisfriend had preferred, Frank began Eva.
She looked at him inquiringly, beamingwith quiet happiness. There was a turmoil

(01:44:50):
in his brain. He wanted tospeak to her about Bertie, but he
suddenly remembered his promise to his friendnever to reveal anything of his past life.
Frank was a man who simply regardeda spoken word as inviolable, and
he suddenly perceived that he could notsay what he had on his tongue.
And yet he remembered his uncomfortable sensationswhen on the top of Mulderhoy Eva had

(01:45:16):
so innocently expressed her change of opinionin his friend's favor. Had he not
then felt as though the black cloudswere an omen of evil hanging over her
head, And had he not experiencedthe same shudder as he saw them sitting
side by side on the sofa,as if a noose were ready to cast
round her neck. It was aninstinctive dread springing up unexpectedly, without anything

(01:45:41):
to lead up to it. Oughthe not to speak, to tell her
what Bertie was, but he hadpromised, and it was foolishly superstitious to
allow such an unreasoning terror to haveany influence on his mind. Bertie was
not like ordinary men. He wasvery late and lived too contentedly at the
expense of others. I think thatVeshova could not understand, and over which,

(01:46:06):
in his good nature he simply shookhis head with a smile. But
Bertie was not wicked. So hewas concealing nothing from Eva, but that
Bertie had no money. Still,he meant to say something, Something was
seething in his brain. Eva waslooking at him wide eyed. He must

(01:46:26):
speak, So he went on,embarrassed in spite of himself, coerced by
a mysterious force which seemed to dictatethe words. I was going to say.
Perhaps you will think me silly,but I do not like. I
do not think it's right. Shestill looked at him with her surprised eyes,
smiling at his hesitancy. It wasthis very indecision which, in her

(01:46:51):
eyes, was so engaging a contrastto his stalwart's frame. She sat down
on his knee, leaning against him, and her voice sounded like a poem
of love. Well, what,Frank, my dearest Frank, what is
it? Her eyes smiled in his. She laid her arms round his neck,

(01:47:12):
clasping her hands, and again sheasked, tell me, foolish boy,
what is the matter? I donot like to see you always that
you should always sit so with Bertie. The words forced their way against his
will, and now that they werespoken, it seemed to him that he
had meant to say something quite different. Eva was amazed. Sit so with

(01:47:36):
Bertie? She repeated, how doI sit with Bertie? Have I done
anything I ought not? Or?Tell me, Frank, are you so
horribly jealous? He clasped her closerand kissing her hair, He muttered,
yes, yes I am jealous,but of Bertie, your best friend who
lives with you. You cannot surelybe jealous of him. She burst out,

(01:48:00):
laughing, and carried away by herown mirth, fairly shook as she
sat there on his knee, withher head against his shoulder. Ah,
Bertie, she said, still gasping. How is it possible, Oh,
oh, of Bertie. But Ionly think of him as a pretty boy,
almost a girl. He is sotiny and has such neat little hands.

(01:48:25):
Oh, oh, what jealous ofBertie? Do not laugh? So,
he said, with a frown.I really mean it. You are
so familiar with him, But heis your dearest friend. Yes, so
he may be. But yet shebegan again to laugh. She thought him
most amusing, and at the sametime she loved him all the better for

(01:48:46):
being so sullen and jealous. Sillyfellow, she said, and her fingers
played with his fair, gold tintedmustache. How foolish, oh, how
foolish you are. But promise me, he began again. Of course,
if it will make your mind easy, I shall keep more at a distance.

(01:49:08):
But I shall find it very difficult, for I am so accustomed to
Bertie, and Bertie must not beallowed to guess it. Thus your friendship
will remain unbroken. I must stillbe good friends with him. No,
no, I tell you, Imust be kind to him. Foolish boy
that you are. I never knewthat you could be so silly. And
she laughed again, very heartily,shaking his head in her engaging merriment and

(01:49:31):
touzling his thick hair with her twolittle hands. Five. Frank had of
late begun to think of Bertie asan intolerable burthen, though he himself did
not understand why he could not bearto see Eva and his friend together,
and their intimacy brought this about almostevery day. Eva had rightly perceived that

(01:49:57):
she could hardly behave to Bertie otherwisethan she had done hitherto. Meanwhile,
he had to put up with greatcoolness from Frank after one of his escapades,
which had lasted three days. Thiscoolness was very conspicuous. Vestova,
who usually made very pressing inquiries onhis return from these mysterious absences, on

(01:50:19):
this occasion, said not a word, and Bertie vowed to himself that this
should be the last of these disappearances. But then came the discussion which Van
Mehren had so greatly dreaded. Ina confidential moment, his friend spoke of
his impending marriage and asked Bertie whatplans he had for the future. For

(01:50:42):
you know, dear old fellow,was Frank's kind way of putting it,
that I will, with pleasure domy best to help you here or in
Holland. I have a few connections, and so long as you have nothing,
of course, I shall not leaveyou out in the cold on that
you may safely reckon. But Ishall be leaving Whitrose Cottage. Eva thinks
it too much out of the way, and as you know, prefers Kensington.

(01:51:04):
But we have had good times together, haven't we. And he clapped
Bertie on the shoulder, grateful forthe life of good fellowship they had enjoyed
within those walls, and feeling alittle compassion for the poor youth who took
so kindly to the good gifts ofwealth, and who had alas no wealth
to procure them with. However,he penetrated no further into Bertie's state of

(01:51:29):
mind, and had always had aturn for a bohemian existence. He had
known luxury after living in misery.Now life must be a little less easy
for him again, that was allBertie, on his part, horrified by
the heartless villainy of his first reflections, allowed himself to slide on day by

(01:51:51):
day with no further thought of hisvarious plots. He sometimes even had a
naive belief the last moment, fortunewould look on him with favor. His
fatalism was like a form of worship, giving him strength and hope. Six.

(01:52:13):
However, a moment came when hethought all hope lost. The danger
was pressing an imminent Bertie, saidVestova, who had just come home in
some excitement. Tomorrow you can findsome employment to suit you. I think
tail You know, our friend atthe club tells me that he wants to
find a secretary for his father,Lord Tail. The old man lives on

(01:52:35):
his place up in Northumberland. He'salways ailing and sometimes tiresome. Still,
it seems to me that you willnot easily get such another chance. You
will have a salary of eighty poundsand live in the house. Of course,
I should have spoken of you toTailor at once, but that you
begged me long ago. Then youdid not mention my name, said Bertie

(01:52:58):
hastily, and almost a no,replied Frank, surprised at his tone,
I could make no overtures till Ihad spoken to you, But to make
up your mind at once. TheTail has two other men in his eye
already. If you can decide atonce, I will go back to Tail
this minute. My cab is waiting. And he took up his hat.

(01:53:19):
Eighty pounds and a position as secretarywith three quarters at the castle. How
the splendor of such an offer wouldhave dazzled Bertie not so very long since
in America. But now, mydear Frank, he said, very coldly,
I am much obliged for your kindintentions, but pray take no trouble

(01:53:41):
on my account. I cannot acceptthe place. Dismiss your cab. What
cried his friend in utter amazement.Will you not at least think it over?
Thank you very much. If youhave nothing better to offer me than
to become the servant of the fatherof a man with whom I have been
intimate as an equal, I canonly say thank you for nothing. I'm

(01:54:02):
not going to shut myself up ina country house and scribble for an ailing,
fractious old man for a pittance ofeighty pounds a year. And what
would Tale think of me? Hehas always known me as your friend,
and we have been familiar on thatfootaying, and now he is to see
me his father's hired menial. Icannot say that you have much delicate feeling,

(01:54:25):
Frank. His brain was in awhirl while he spoke. Never before
had he assumed such a haughty tonein addressing Frank, But it was like
a cry of despair rising up fromthe ruins of his false pride. But
good god man, what do youexpect, exclaimed Vesthova. You know all
my friends, and it is onlythrough my friends that I can hope to

(01:54:48):
help you. I will take nohelp from anyone like the men of our
own club, nor from any oneto whom you have introduced me as their
equal. That's certainly, it makesthe case a difficult one, said Veshova
with a sharp laugh, for greatwrath was rising up in him. Then
you have nothing to say to this, nothing, But what on earth do

(01:55:11):
you want, said Frank indignantly forthe moment? Nothing for the moment,
well and good, But by andby that I will see all in good
time. And if you cannot bemore considerate, he stopped short, startled
by his own voice. He wasspeaking loudly, as it would seem with
domineering vehemence, but in fact onlywith the energy of despairing indolence and pride.

(01:55:36):
At bay. The two men lookedat each other for a few seconds,
and each suddenly feeling as though hehad a store of buried grievances against
the other, grievances which had accumulatedin spite of the friendly intimacy of their
lives, and which they were onthe point now were flinging in each other's
teeth as foul insults. But Vanmer And checked his out first. He

(01:56:00):
recollected himself, or he had notforgotten himself. He smiled and held out
his hand. Forgive me, Frank, he said, humbly, with that
voice like beat and gold, andthat mitigating smile. I know you,
bent well. I can never,no, never repay you for all you
have done for me, But thisplace I cannot really accept. I would

(01:56:25):
rather be a waiter or the conductorof a tram car. Forgive me if
I seem ungrateful. So they madeit up. But vesover thought this pride
on his companion's part ridiculous, andwas vexed that the whole affair must remain
a secret from Eva. He wouldhave liked to consult her on the subject.
And it was with a deeper frownand more scowling glance that he watched

(01:56:47):
those two Bertie and Eva, asthey sat side by side in the evening,
in the subdued light of the blueshaded lamp, chatting like brother and
sister, like some covered dishonesty.It was all he could do to keep
from proclaiming aloud that Bertie was aparasite, a low fellow, from tearing

(01:57:09):
them apart from snatching them away fromtheir blissful, smiling and guileless intimacy as
they discussed furniture and hangings. Endof section three, Section four of Footsteps

(01:57:29):
of Fate by Luis Kuperus. ThisLibriVox recording is in the public domain,
Part three seven to ten seven.After this ineffectual attempt to help Vanameron,
his friend took no further trouble,expecting that when the case became urgent,

(01:57:51):
Bertie himself would ask his assistance.But Bertie's refusal led Frank to perceive for
the first time the false pers positionin which he had placed his companion,
both with regard to himself and tohis associates. His kindness to a friend
out of luck in allowing him tolive for a year as a man of

(01:58:11):
fortune. Struck him, now seenin the light of an attachment which had
purified, renovated, and transformed hiswhole nature, as indescribably preposterous, as
trampling on every law of honor andveracity, and unjustifiable mockery of the good
faith of the world he lived in. Formerly, he had thought all this

(01:58:31):
very amusing, But now he feltthat it was mean to have enjoyed such
amusement as this had he understood thathe had himself encouraged the growth as of
some poisonous weed of Van Mahden's falsepride, which now forbade him to accept
a favor from any one of theirboon companions. The days glided by,

(01:58:54):
and Vestova could not shake off thesense of self reproach, which indeed grew
up on him. As time wenton. Van Maheron cast a shadow over
the happiness of his love. Evasaw that some dull grief made him silent.
He would sit brooding for many minutesat a time, his brows knit,
and a deep furrow across his forehead. What ails you, frank nothing,

(01:59:19):
my darling, Are you still jealous. No, I will cure myself
of it. Well, you see, it is your own fault. If
you had not always sang the praisesof Bertie as your best friend, I
should never have become so intimate withhim. Yes, it was his own
fault that he saw very clearly.And are you satisfied with me now?

(01:59:43):
She asked, laughing. He toolaughed, for indeed it was true.
For Frank's sake, she had nowsuddenly changed her behavior to Bertie. She
would rise and quit the sofa wherethey sat while he was yet speaking.
She sometimes contradicted him, reproached himfor his foppishness, and laughed at him
for his dainty little hands. Helooked at her in amazement, fancied she

(02:00:09):
meant it for flirtation, but couldnot understand what she would be at one
evening. For hour after hour,she pestered him with petty annoyances pinpricks,
which she intended should reassure Frank andnot wound Bertie too deeply. The conversation
presently turned on heraldry, and SirArchibald wanted to show the two men the

(02:00:30):
blazoned roll of his family tree.Frank rose, ready to follow him to
his study, and Bertie did thesame. Eva felt a little compunction,
thinking she had carried her teasing ratherfar this time, and she knew that
her father's pedigree would not interest himin the least. Leave Bertie here,
Papa, said she he knows nothingabout heraldry, And at the same time,

(02:00:55):
to comfort Frank, who dared notbetray his jealousy, she added lightly,
with a mollifying twinkle of her longeyelashes, Frank will trust us alone
together, I dare say. Hervoice was so simple, her glance so
loving, that Frank smiled and noddedtrustfully, though annoyed at seeing Bertie sit
down again. As soon as theywere alone, Bertie began for shame ether,

(02:01:20):
how could you torment me as youhave been doing. She laughed and
blushed, a little, ashamed ofherself for treating him so to please Frank.
But Bertie's face was grave, andwith an appealing gesture, he folded
his hands and said, beseechingly,promise me that you will not do so
again. She gazed at him insurprise at his earnest tone. It's only

(02:01:45):
by fun, said she, buta form of fun which is suffering to
me, he replied in a lowvoice, and still she looked at him,
not understanding. He sat huddled up, his head on his breast,
his eyes fixed before him, andhis brown hair, which waved a little
over his forehead, clinging to histemples, which were damp with perspiration.

(02:02:10):
He was evidently much agitated. Hehad no idea what might come of this
dialogue, but he was aware thathis tone had been solemn, that these
first words might be the prelude toa very important interview. He felt that
these few minutes were destined to becomea precious link in the chain of his
life, and he waited with thepatience of a fatalist, for the thoughts

(02:02:32):
which should take shape in his brainand the words which should rise to his
lips. He kept an eye onhimself, as it were, and at
the same time spun a web aboutEva. As a spider entangles a fly
in the thread, it draws outof its bowels. You see, he
went on slowly. I cannot bearthat you should torment me, so you

(02:02:55):
think less well of me than youused. But if I have little hands,
I cannot help it. She couldnot forbear a smile at the intentionally
coquettish tone. He had assumed anaffectation of spoilt childishness, which she saw
through at once, But she repliednevertheless, well, I beg your pardon
for teasing you. I will notdo so again. He, however,

(02:03:18):
had risen from his chair, and, pretending not to see the hand she
held out, he silently went tothe window and stood there, looking out
on the parklike greenery of Kensington Gardens, dimmed with mist. She sat still,
waiting for him to speak, buthe said nothing, Are you angry,

(02:03:39):
Bertie? Then he slowly turned round. The gray daylight fell through the
muslin curtains and gave a pallid look, a hue of Parian china to his
delicate features. Very gently, witha deep, melancholy smile, he shook
his head in negation, and toher romantic fancy, the madness of that

(02:04:00):
smile gave him a poetic interest,as of a youthful god or a fallen
angel, the celestial softness of asexless mythological being, such as she had
seen in illustrated books of verse,a man in form a woman in face.
She longed to invite him to pourout his woes, and at this
moment. It would scarcely have surprisedher if his speech had sounded like a

(02:04:25):
rhythmical monologue, a long lament inblank verse. Bertie, my dear fellow,
what is the matter? There hestood speechless in the pale, slanting
light, knowing that the effects mustbe almost theatrical, and she, sitting
where it was darker, could seethat his eyes glistened through tears. Much

(02:04:46):
moved, she went up to him. She took his hand and made him
sit down by her side. Speak, Bertie, have I vexed you?
Can you not tell me? Butagain he shook his head with that face
smile, and at last he said, huskily, no, Eva, I'm
not vexed. I can be vexedno more. But I am very very

(02:05:09):
sad because we must so soon part, and I care for you so much
part. Why where are you going? Indeed? I do not myself know
that, sweet girl. I shallremain till you are married, and then
I must go to wander hither andthither quite alone. Will you sometimes think

(02:05:29):
of me? I wonder? Butwhy do you not stay in London?
He looked at her. He hadbegun this conversation without knowing whither it might
lead him abandoning himself to chance.But now with this luke which her eyes
met in response, there suddenly blazedup in him a little diabolical flame.
He knew now what he was drivingat. He weighed every word he uttered

(02:05:54):
as if they were grains of gold. He felt himself very lucid, very
logical, calm, free from thepainful incoherence agitation of the last few minutes.
And he spoke very slowly, ina mournful, hollow voice, like
a sick man in London. No, Eva, I cannot remain here,

(02:06:15):
Why not? I cannot, deargirl, I cannot, not with any
decency. It is impossible. Thehypocrisy of his eye, the languor of
his tone, his assumption of inconsolablegrief, distilled into her mind a vague
suspicion, like an insidious poison,the suspicion that it was on her accounts

(02:06:36):
that he could not remain in Londonbecause he would have to meet her as
his friend's wife. It was nomore than a suggestion. The wordless despair
which seemed to exhale from him inspiredthe inference, but her mind rebelled against
it. It was a mere suspicionand groundless. He went on, still

(02:06:58):
very slowly, becausensidering every word asif with mathematical accuracy. And when I
am gone and you are left withFrank, always with him, will you
be happy? Eva? Why Bertie? She paused, It would be almost
cruel to say yes in the securityof her happiness in the face of his
pain. Why do you ask,she said, almost timidly. He gazed

(02:07:25):
into her face with the deep,soft, misty blackness of his fine eyes.
Then he bent his head and theyfilled with tears, and he clutched
his hands as if they were cold. Why why, Eva insisted nothing nothing,
Promise me that you will be happy, For if you were not happy,

(02:07:45):
I should be heartbroken. What shouldhinder my being happy? I love
Frank so dearly, she exclaimed,though still fearing lest she should hurt his
feelings. Yes, and so longas you are happy, all is well,
he murmured, low, still rubbinghis hands. Then, on a
sudden while her inquiring gaze still restedon his face, he said, poor

(02:08:09):
child. What why poor child?She asked in dismay. He seized her
hands, his tears dropped on herfingers. Oh, Eva, Eva,
God, who can read my heart? If you, Oh, I feel
such pity, such great passionate pityfor you. I would do I know

(02:08:33):
not what I would give my lifeif I if you, poor poor child.
She was standing up now, tremblingand as pale as death. Her
fingers clutched the table cover, whichslipped as she pulled it, and a
glass vase in which a few flowerswere fading was upset. The water trickled

(02:08:54):
over the velvets cloth in great silverybeads. She let it flow into pool,
staring at it with wide, terrifiedeyes, while he covered his face
with his hands. Bertie, shecried, oh, Bertie, why do
you speak thus? What is itall? Tell me, tell me everything

(02:09:15):
I must know. I desire youto speak out. His reply was a
gesture, a perfectly natural gesture ofdeprecation, with no touch of theatrical insincerity,
a gesture as though he would retracthis words and had said something he
should have kept to himself. Thenhe too rose, and his face had
changed. His expression was no longerone of suffering or pity, but of

(02:09:41):
cool decision. No, no,there is nothing to tell eva, nothing,
And you could exclaim, poor child, And you pity me, Good
God, but why what is this? What evil threatens me? She had
Frank's name on her lips, butdared not utter it. And he was

(02:10:01):
conscious of this. Nothing, reallyand truly nothing. Dear Eva, I
assure you nothing. I sometimes havethe most foolish thoughts, mere fancies.
Look, the vase has fallen over. But what were you thinking? Then?
What fancies? He wiped the wateroff the tablecloth with his pocket's handkerchief

(02:10:22):
and replaced the flowers in the glass. Nothing, nothing at all, he
murmured huskily. He was tremulous withnervousness, and his tone was deeply compassionate,
as if his words were meant toshroud some awful secret. Then,
as he said no more, shesank on the sofa and broke into uncontrolled

(02:10:43):
and passionate sobs, scared by theundefinable terror which rose up in her soul.
Eva, dear Eva, be calm, he entreated her, fearing lest
someone should come into the room,And then then he knelt down close by
her, taking her hands and pressingthem tenderly. Look at me, Eva,

(02:11:05):
I assure you, I swear toyou there is nothing wrong, nothing
at all. But what exists inmy own imagination. But you see,
I care for you so fondly.You will let me say so, won't
you? For what I feel foryou is only guileless devoted friendship for my
friend's bride and my own little sister. I love you so truly that I

(02:11:26):
cannot help asking myself, will mydear Eva be happy? It is a
foolish thought, no doubt, Butin me it is not strange, because
I am always thinking of those Ilove. You. See, I have
known so much sorrow and suffering thatwhen I see anyone I care for so
truly as I do for you,see her so full of confidence in life

(02:11:50):
and of fair illusions, the thoughtcomes over me, terrible but irresistible,
will she be happy? Is thereindeed any such thing as happiness? Us?
Oh? I ought not to saysuch things. I only darken your
outlook and give you pessimistic notions.But sometimes when I see you with Frank,
my heart is so full. ForI love Frank too. I owe

(02:12:13):
so much to him, and Ishould so gladly see him happy with some
woman with someone. Still, Ican only say, trust wholly in Frank.
He loves you, Though he isa little fickle, a little capricious
in his feelings, but he adoresyou. The delicate shades of a woman's
nature are above his comprehension, perhaps, and he is apt to carry his

(02:12:37):
light heartedness a little too far.Still, he means no harm. He
is so candid, so honest,You know, always so exactly what he
is at. And so, Eva, dear Eva, never let any misunderstanding
come between you. Always be openwith each other, will you not,
my child? Oh, my poorEva. And he two sobbed low in

(02:13:01):
his mysterious anguish, which was notaltogether a pretense, for he was really
in despair at the prospects before him. She looked down on him in dismay,
greatly distressed by his words, fromwhich she inferred something which he would
not reveal, each word a dropof subtle venom, and the germ of

(02:13:22):
strange doubts which shot up like poisonousweeds. Then there is nothing to tell,
she said once more, in aweary tone of entreaty, clasping her
hands. No, dear Eva,nothing at all. Only I am worn
out, you see, quite anold man, And so I worry myself
sometimes about you two, when howfar away, far from London. Will

(02:13:46):
you be happy? Tell me,Eva, will you be happy? Promise
me, swear to me that youwill. She gently nodded in the affirmative,
with a sigh of regrets that hemust leave London, regrets for what
he had suggested, worst of all, for what he had left, and
said, the mystery, the terror. He meanwhile had risen, holding out

(02:14:09):
his hands to her and shaking hishead as though over the follies of man.
He said, with his most patheticsmile, How silly you must think
me to torment myself so about nothing. I ought not to have said so
much. Perhaps I have saddened youwith it all, have I? No?
She replied with a gentle smile,shaking her head. No, not

(02:14:33):
really. He let himself drop intoa chair, sighing deeply. Alas such
is life, he murmured, witha fixed gaze full of sinister significance.
She made no answer, her heartwas too full. By this time it
was dark. Van Maheron took hisleave. Frank alone had been asked to

(02:14:56):
stay to dinner. Have you forgivenme? He asked, very humbly,
with his most insinuating and romantic air. As the last rays of daylight shed
an ethereal glow on his face forwhat she said. But she was silently
weeping for having distressed you even fora minute. She nodded and rose,

(02:15:18):
trembling, exhausted and tottering, Oh, yes, you gave me a great
fright, but you will not doso again. I beg Never, he
murmured. He kissed her hand,a courteous caress he was accustomed to bestow,
with a touch of foppery, likean eighteenth century marquis, and he
went away. She was left alone, standing there in the middle of the

(02:15:43):
room. She closed her eyes,and she felt as though a mist had
fallen and then wrapped her. Andin that mist she saw Mulder her and
the spectral fjord gleaming between the tworanges of protecting mountains, and far away
in the wear those three thin barsof gold. And suddenly she felt as

(02:16:05):
she had never felt before, soforlorn, so lonely, in the midst
of the cloud, without even athought of Sir Archibald and Frank, remembering
nothing but her long dead mother.Her weight pressed on her brain like the
icy palm of a giant's hand.Dusky gloom closed in upon her, and
Suddenly the living warmth within her waschilled, as with a deadly frost.

(02:16:31):
She felt as if she were standingin vast space and through it, invisible,
intangible, and yet sensibly and undeniablyreal. She was aware of a
coming horror, rolling dully on likedistant thunder. She stretched out her hands,
feeling for some support, but shedid not fall senseless. She recovered

(02:16:52):
herself and found that she was stillin the middle of the room, now
almost dark, a little tremulin andwith a feeble sensation about the knees.
And she could not but think therewas something, yet, something which Bertie
had concealed from her. Eight nextday she thought it all over once more.

(02:17:16):
What was it? What was it? Would Bertie have pitied her so
if there really had been nothing init but his own pessimistic fears for her
happiness? Or was he not indeedhiding something and had it anything to do
with Frank? And then Frank came, and she often saw him sit quite
still for a time with a frownon his brow. What is the matter,

(02:17:39):
she asked, and he replied,just as usual, nothing, sweetheart.
And they chatted together, at firsta little constrained, but soon quite
happy again in their plans and dreams, forgetting what weighed on their minds.
Eva would laugh brightly and perch herselfon Frank's knee and play with his stash.

(02:18:01):
But if Bertie came in, somethingseemed at once to come between them,
a shadow which parted them. Itwas when the friends were alone together
that they were most still at ease. Then Vestova could only long to turn
Van Mayern out of doors at oncewithout the smallest perceptible cause, like a
mangy hound, he pictured Bertie ashe had seen him, standing shivering in

(02:18:26):
his wretched raiment that snowy night.Now he was such a dandy, and
nothing was too good for him,and he was irreproachable. He did not
even go off for a few daysat a time, wandering obscurely like a
cat. He was always interesting withhis halo of melancholy, and since the

(02:18:48):
scene over the Secretary Ship, heoften assumed a reproachful tone in his voice
and expression when speaking to Frank.Eva, when left to herself, was
deeply wretched. Chaotic doubts tortured hersoul, doubts which for the moment she
could set aside, but which wouldforce themselves on her as soon as she
thought of Bertie's sympathetic smile and strangecompassion for her. Oh, what was

(02:19:15):
it? What was it? Shehad often meant to talk it over with
Frank, but when she was onthe point of beginning the subject, she
did not know what to say.That Bertie pitied her. It could be
nothing but his own pessimism, which, in its universal humanity, regarded the
world as worthy of pity, sinceit seemed created to be wretched. Should

(02:19:39):
she ask Frank whether he had anysilent grief, if he had anything to
trouble him. This she did onceor twice, and the answer was always
the same, nothing, dearest.What's then? Oh? What was this?
Horror? Alas she could get nofurther, She stood as it were
a blindfolding, an enchant circle whichshe could not overstep, and her hand

(02:20:03):
felt all round but could grasp nothing. If she resolutely banished such thoughts,
they came back again, persistently,they overwhelmed her afresh. They repossessed themselves
of her brain, suggesting endless doubts, and ending always always in the same
question. Which was the invariable outcomeof these miserable cogitations? What can it

(02:20:28):
be? Is there anything at all? And never an answer? She had
once again questioned Bertie, but hehad only smiled with that terrifying smile of
woe, and had implored her notto rack her brain over anything which he
might have inconsiderately let drop as thenatural outcome of his melancholy temper. Otherwise

(02:20:50):
he should henceforth always be afraid ofspeaking to her with any frankness. He
must weigh his words and their confidentialintimacy a brother and sister would be at
an end, and her own feelingin the matter was full of dubious half
lights, in which no outline wasdistinct, no color decided, a confusion

(02:21:11):
of shadowy gray tints which dimmed theclear brightness of her love with increasing gloom,
fatiguing her spirit by their indefiniteness,then no existence in actual life,
and their intangible semblance of reality likea dream. Nine Once, however,

(02:21:33):
the dream took substance. Once shetouched, she saw, she heard something,
but what was that it? Theywere coming out of the lyceum.
The crowd streamed forth, slowly,shuffling, pushing impatiently now and then shoulders
to shoulder and in the crush closeto her. Eva saw the flaming red,

(02:21:56):
plush opera cloak of a tall,stout woman and under a babyish cherry
ripe hat. Her face rose whiteand black, with a doll like smile,
which suddenly leaned across her to addressFrank. The brim of the hat
rested on a mass of yellow curls. A scent of musk and rice powder
greeted her nostrils, and like ablow in her own face, she heard

(02:22:20):
the words, HALLO, good evening, Frank, how are you, old
boy? She started and shrank back, looking hastily first at the rouged face
and then at Frank. She sawhis flashing look of rage. Nor did
the tall woman's confusion escape her noticea damsel of the skating rink. Though

(02:22:41):
the stranger drew back at seeing alady on Frank's arm, she had evidently
at first seen him over Eva's headin the crowd, and she now vanished,
disconcerted by her own blunder in addressinga man who had a lady with
him. But she shot a glanceof amazed inquiry at Van Meyren, who
close behind Bertie might have warned her, for it was Bertie who had whispered

(02:23:05):
three words under the cherry ripe hat, with a nod towards the front,
saying, there goes Frank. Shewas vexed with herself, but she really
had not seen the young lady.When they reached home, Sir Archibald,
who had observed nothing, was biddingthem good night at the door. But

(02:23:26):
Frank exclaimed, I beg your pardon, but I must speak to Eva.
I beg of you. It wasalready late, but Sir Archibald was no
stickle of her etiquette. They werealone, looking at each other with anxious
eyes, but neither spoke. Frankbegan hurriedly, stumbling over his words,

(02:23:46):
as if he were eager to forestallany evil suspicion she might entertain. Eva.
Believe me, Eva, you mustbelieve me. It was nothing.
You must not think anything of ofwhat's happened just now. In a few
brief words, he told a formeracquaintance, a young man's acquaintance of the
skating rink. This was all atan end. It was a thing of

(02:24:09):
the past. She must know thatevery man had a past. She knew
that, surely a past, sheechoed, coldly, Oh, every man
has a past. But we wehave no past, Eva, Eva,
he cried, for through the ironyof her tone there pierced such acute pain

(02:24:33):
that he stood dismayed and helpless,not knowing how to comfort her. Tell
me only this match. She wenton, going close up to him and
looking into his face with that strangestare. She laid her hands on his
shoulders and tried to read his inmostsoul through his eyes, and she slowly
said, expecting to hear her owndoom in the first word, he should

(02:24:56):
utter, is it? At anend, he fell on his knees before
her, where she had dropped ona chair, rigidly upright, as if
she were frozen. He warmed herresisting hands in his grasp, and he
swore that it was his oath.Rang true truth was stamped on his face,

(02:25:16):
and she believed him. He besoughtforgiveness, told her that she must
never think of it again, thatall men, Oh, yes, She
nodded her comprehension, I know,I understand, Papa has brought me upon
rather liberal lines. He recollected thatphrase. She had used it once before,

(02:25:37):
and they both at once remembered Mulderhoyand the black clouds. Eva shuddered,
are you cold, dearest? Butshe shook her head still, with
a strange light in her eyes.He would have clasped her in his arms,
but she drew back, and hefelt himself rebuffed, almost rejected.

(02:25:58):
He could not understand her. Whyno kiss, Why no generous reconciliation?
If she understood so well, ifshe had been so liberally trained, but
she was perhaps a little upset.He would not be too urgent. It
would, no doubt blow over whenhe was gone. Eva, in her

(02:26:20):
own room, shivered and her teethchattered, as if she had an ague,
and she began to cry, bitterly, miserably, with deep, despairing
sobs, for grief that she lived, that she was a rational being,
a woman above all that she hadever loved, that the world existed,
That everything was so mean, sobase, a mud heap. She loathed

(02:26:43):
it all. She felt as ifshe had never really understood any of the
books she had read. Neither thefairy Queen nor ghosts, especially ghosts,
never understood anything she had learnt underher father's rather liberal training. The White
Fea, the redown of her illusions, was blown into space. A rough

(02:27:05):
hand had rubbed away the bloom fromher most secret and inmost soul. The
sacred innocence of her maidenhood had beendragged in the gutter for the first time.
The peace of her great but reasonablelove for Frank came into violent collision
with the romance of her girlish dreams, and the balance of the two feelings

(02:27:26):
was destroyed. Of the practical andthe romantic side of her character. Ten
after that conversation with Eva, Bertiefelt as though he were living in a
more subtle atmosphere, wondering in alabyrinth full of mysterious ways of craft and
cunning, in which he must walkvery circumspectully if he did not wish to

(02:27:48):
lose himself. He knew very wellwhat he had been driving at. He
wanted to instill into Eva suspicions ofFrank's constancy. She not herself know her
lover to be fickle, almost capricious. Had not his hints been well chosen,
had he not sown the seed ofdoubt he did not know. He

(02:28:11):
saw nothing to reassure him. Inthe regular monotonous routine of everyday life,
in which subtle shades of manner sooften escape even the keenest observer. Eva
had indeed once asked him about thatsomething. But after that, in appearance
at least their intercourse had been onthe old footing. Again, he saw

(02:28:33):
no difference in Eva, none inFrank. So Eva could have said nothing
to her lover and asked him noquestions. Before that afternoon, Bertie had
known hesitancy, had felt some disgustat his own heartlessness, some horror of
his own monstrous selfishness. But thattalk with Eva had been the first step

(02:28:56):
on a downward path, where itwas now impossible to turn back. A
singular lucidity of thought dawned in hisbrain, as though his brain was a
crystal mirror in which his ideas werereflected in a vivid light. Never yet
had he felt himself so keenly alert, so clearly logical, Never had he
aimed so true at an object inview with the precision of a needle.

(02:29:22):
The clearness of his mind was soperfect that, in a naive perception of
his own baseness, a lucid momentof self knowledge which once flashed on him
to his surprise, for no morethan a second, he wondered that he
should not apply so much talent andingenuity to a nobler purpose. Why did
you never become an artist? Hecould hear, even asking him, but

(02:29:46):
he only smiled. The practical wearinessof life rose up before him, his
own indolence, his catlike love ofphysical ease. No, no, he
could not help himself. So itmust be the first step was taken.
It was fate then, that evening, as they came out of the theater,

(02:30:09):
that woman who belonged to their pastlife, his own significant nod and
his words, there goes Frank.Was not all this too a fatality?
Did not Fate s drew such trivialincidents as these in the path of those
who burnt incense at her shrine andpaid her due worship, to be utilized
by them as benefits, infinitely smalllinks which they must themselves welded into the

(02:30:33):
chain. Did not Fate give menthe illusion of free will and a semblance
of truth to the lie which saysthat they, by their own energy can
coerce the course of circumstance no morethan a word a nod, there goes
Frank. And then for the resttrust to the chance chance. What is

(02:30:56):
chance that the smart damsel of theskating ring should Overlookeiva, tiny dainty,
Eva lost in the crowd. Hadthe results been such as he had counted
on, had he guessed the purposeof fate, Yes, he thought,
in some small degree, Why elseshould Frank have craved an interview with Eva
at so late an hour, andso in that atmosphere of finely spun cunning,

(02:31:20):
in that labyrinth of wiles. Heno longer regarded himself as base,
heartless, selfish words, mere words, It was folly to consider things too
closely. He dismissed all scruples,and if they would sometimes force themselves on
him, he would argue with himself. Who could tell whether it was not

(02:31:43):
a good thing. If Frank shouruednot to marry, he was not a
man to marry. No, really, he was changeable, capricious, and
inconstant. He would not make awife happy. Still, Van Meyern could
see at once that this was aself deception, and he would laugh to
himself, shaking his head at findinghimself so droll, so singular. Life

(02:32:07):
was as nothing, Nothing was worthtroubling one's self about. But this introspection,
this self study, looking into one'sown mind, juggling with one's own
thoughts, that was really interesting,That was an amusing occupation while lying at
full length on a comfortable sofa,And yet he seldom enjoyed any repose of

(02:32:30):
mind. The web of his schemingwas perpetually being wearily woven in his mind.
His interviews with Eva were a fatiguingeffort, sometimes a long discourse,
sometimes only half utterances, for hehad constantly and precisely to weigh every word.
Still, this weariness was never tobe detected in his air and manner,

(02:32:54):
or in the phrases which fell fromhis lips, so apparently unpremeditated that
they seemed alive with natural impulse,They were in fact the outcome of a
theatrical and carefully elaborated pessimism. Theywere lamentations over the ills of life,
pity for Eva, wrapped in mysteriousregrets. And amid all this melancholy accusations

(02:33:18):
against Vestova mere trifles, passing hints, amounting to nothing but for the tone
and accent, accusations of levity,inconstancy, caprice, fickleness. But at
the slightest outcry on Eva's part,he was ready to contradict himself, fencing

(02:33:39):
cleverly enough now with himself and nowwith Eva, with all the feints of
a master of the foils, justtouching her lightly, a prick here and
a prick there, drawing a tinydrop of blood at each hit. And
to Eva it seemed that her soul, after having been dragged through a gutter,

(02:34:00):
was bleeding to death under these pinpricks. It was a very sensible pain
when she hopelessly compared the reality withher dreams as they grew more vague and
faded away. When she argued withherself in the cold light of reason and
asked herself, why am I sowretched? Because Frank is a young man

(02:34:20):
like other young men, because Bertieis a pessimist, The despairs of my
ever being happy. And then shewould shrug her shoulders. Her trouble was
intangible, had paled to a thincloud and vanished. She had always been
very happy. Bertie's dejection was sicklynonsense. She should be happy again.

(02:34:41):
But notwithstanding that, her common sensethus dissipated the pain, it's constantly returned,
in spite of reason and argument,returned persistently, like an object tossed
on a wave which comes and goes, comes and goes. She could enery
you're it no longer. And oneday, when she ventured to look honestly

(02:35:03):
into her own heart, she sawthat she did indeed doubt Frank and the
truth of his statements about that woman. Longing for some certainty, she asked
Bertie, his friend, tell me, Bertie, that's something of which you
once spoke to me. That's mystery. What is it? Oh? Nothing,

(02:35:24):
my dear girl, Absolutely nothing.She gazed at him with penetrating eyes
and went on in a strange,cold tone. Well, but I know
I have guessed. Bertie was startled. What was she thinking? What had
she got into her head? Yes, I have guessed it, she repeated.

(02:35:45):
Frank does not love me. Heloves he loves that's woman, that
creature of the lyceum. He hasalways loved her. Is it so?
Bertie said nothing, but stared beforehim. That was the easiest and best
reply, Bertie, tell me,is it so? No? It is

(02:36:07):
not so, he answered, Dully, what a foolish notion to have got
into your head? What made youthink of such a thing? But there
was no ring of conviction in hisvoice. He spoke mechanically, as though
in absence of mind, as ifhe were thinking of something else. Does
he ever see her now? Shewent on, feeling as if she were

(02:36:28):
defiling herself with her own words,as if her lips were dropping slime.
Why, of course not, whatare you thinking of? She leaned back
with a sigh, and tears glistenedin her large eyes. He was silent
for a minute, studying her outof the corner of his eye. Then,

(02:36:50):
as if to mitigate his too feeblerepudiation of the suspicion, he went
on, reproachfully. Really, Eva, you must not think such things as
Frank. It is not nice.He must have some confidence in the manure
to marry. Then it is notthe truth, certainly not. He never
sees her now? But does nothe think of her? Still? He

(02:37:15):
gave her a long, deep,enigmatical look. His eyes were like black
velvet darkness. She could not readtheir meaning. Fie said, he reprovingly,
and he shook his head. Thatis no answer, she said urgently,
and again he fixed that dark gazeon her. Good God, answer

(02:37:39):
me, she cried, her heartwrung to the very core. How can
you expect me to know Frank's feelings? He dared to murmur, I don't
know. There, then it isso, she moaned, clutching his hands.
I don't know, he repeated,and freeing himself from her grass,

(02:38:00):
he turned away and rose. Heloves her, he cannot live without her.
Hears that creature's slave, as youmen sometimes are to such women.
And though he sees her no more, out of respect for me, he
thinks of her and talks of herto you. And that is why he
is so silent and grave when heis here. Is it so good?

(02:38:22):
Heavens? I do not know,he groaned with mild impatience. How should
I know? But why then doeshe pretend to love me? Why did
he ask me to marry him?Because once, for a moment, in
no way he fancied he could dowithout her, because he meant to live
a new life, and out findsthat he cannot. She clasped her hands

(02:38:45):
with a gesture of anguish. GoodGod, Eva, say no more,
Say no more. I do notknow. I tell you, I know
nothing about it. Nothing. Hesank back in his chair with a sigh
of exhaustion. She said no more. The tears streamed from her eyes like
rain, impossible to be restrained.End of Section four, Section five of

(02:39:20):
Footsteps of fate by Luis Kuperos.This LibriVox recording is in the public domain,
Part three eleven to fourteen eleven.And in her misery, she thought
she had been very clever and cunning, and that she had guessed rightly,
while in truth as guileless as achild. She had been, as it

(02:39:43):
were, hypnotized by his magnetic gaze, and had spoken the very words he
had intended she should utter. Shefelt nothing of this. She saw him
still as her brother friend, fragile, affectionate and unhappy, dreading to wound
her, anxious to screen her fromthe truth for fear of hurting her,

(02:40:03):
and yet not crafty enough to concealit when she pressed him too closely.
This was how he appeared to her. Not for an instant did she suspect
that she was as a fly wrappingitself closer and closer in the spider's toils.
But he himself, after this scene, failed to see clearly that he

(02:40:24):
had pulled the wires, that hehad been the first to taint her confidence
with the poison of suspicion, thathe had brought about the catastrophe as they
came out of the lyceum, thathe had compelled Eva to follow the clue
he had chosen to suggest. Dimnessshrouded the clearness of his mental vision as
a breath clouds a mirror. Thelucid crisis of his faculties was pasted.

(02:40:50):
This was all the outcome of circumstances, he thought. No human being of
his own free will would work suchthings out. How easily everything had come
about, how simply without a hitch. It was because fate had so willed
it and had favored him. Hehad no part in it. Nor was

(02:41:11):
this self deception, he really thoughtso. In the evening after their last
interview, Eva went very late toseek her father in his study, where
he sat reading his books on heraldry. He supposed she had come to bid
him good night, as usual,but she sat down facing him, very

(02:41:31):
upright and with a set face,like a sleepwalker. Father, I want
to speak to you, he lookedat her in surprise. In the Olympian
piece of his genealogical studies, inthe calm, emotionless existence of a hale
old man who finds a solace foradvancing years, among his books, he

(02:41:52):
had never discerned that a drama wasgoing on close beside him. Played by
three beings whom he saw every day. And he was startled at his daughter's
rigid face and tone of suppressed suffering. Are you ill, my child?
Oh no, I'm quite well.But I want to ask you something.
I want to know if you willspeak to Frank. To Frank, Yes,

(02:42:16):
to Frank. The other evening,as we were coming out of the
lyceum, and she told him thewhole story, sitting straight up in her
chair, with that strange look inher face and a husky, subdued voice,
all about the yellow haired woman andher own suspicions and distrust. It
was wrong of her to doubt Frank, but really she could not help it.

(02:42:39):
She would fain have quoted Bertie asevidence, but Bertie had, after
all, said nothing definite, soshe did not see how she could bring
him into court, and did nottherefore mention his name. Sir Archibald listened
in dismay. He had never suspectedwhat was going on in his daughter's mind.
He had always suppose that everything wasas clear as the sun at noon.

(02:43:03):
And what then, he asked,in some embarrassments, And then I
want you to speak to Frank,ask him point blank whether he still loves
this woman who has played some partin his past life. Whether he cannot
bear to give her up, whetherthat is the reason he is always so
silent and gloomy when we see himhere. Get him to speak out.

(02:43:26):
I would rather hear my doom thanlive in this dreadful suspense. And to
you, perhaps he will clear itall up so that things may go on
as they were before. Say nothingof my distrust. If it is not
justified by the facts. It mightmake him angry. It is too bad
of me to suspect his truth.And I have tried to bring myself to

(02:43:46):
a better mind, but I cannotsucceed. There is something in it I
know not what. There is somethingin the air about me. Oh what
I know not which whispers to me. Do not trust him, Do not
trust him. I cannot understand whatit is, but I feel it in
me, all about me. Itis a voice in my ear, sometimes

(02:44:09):
an eye which gazes at me atnight when I cannot sleep. It looks
down on me, it speaks tome. I feel as if I were
going crazy. Perhaps it is aspirit. But do you speak to him,
Papa, do that much for yourchild. I'm so very very unhappy.
She knelt at his feet and laidher head on his knees, sobbing

(02:44:31):
bitterly. He mechanically stroked her hair. But he did not in the least
understand. He loved his child,but his affection was more a matter of
tender habits than of sympathetic intelligence.He did not understand her. He thought
her foolish and fanciful. Was itfor this that he had given her a

(02:44:52):
first rate education, let her readall kinds of books, and made her
know the world as it was sternpractice and selfish, a struggle in which
each one must endeavor to conquer andsecure a place and a share of happiness
by sheer calm determination. He hadhis own corner in it, with his
books and his heraldry. Why didshe let herself be a victim to nervous

(02:45:16):
fancies? For it was all nerves, nothing but nerves. Cursed things were
nerves. How like her mother shewas, in spite of her liberal education,
dreamy, romantic, full of absurdimagination. He speak to Frank,
Why what about? What was heto say the lady at the lyceum,

(02:45:39):
this woman or that to whom hehad bowed, that might happen to anyone.
Eva was very absurd not to seethat it might. And as to
his talking it over with Frank,why the young man would think that his
future father in law was a perfectfool. There were thousands of such women
in London. Where was the youngman who had no acquaintance among them?

(02:46:01):
And the picture of disturbed peace,of an unpleasant discussion which would destroy an
hour of perhaps a day, ofhis Olympian repose, and tear him from
his studies rose up in his brain, a terror to his simple minded selfishness.
Come, Eva, this is sheerfolly, he good, humanly grumbled.

(02:46:24):
What good you think I can do? These are mere sickly fancies.
No, no, they are notsickly fancies, not fancies at all.
It is something something quite different.There is something in me, around me,
beyond my control. But child,you are talking nonsense. When I

(02:46:46):
try to think it out, itgoes away for a little while, but
then it comes back again. Really, Eva, you must not talk so
foolishly. After all, what isthis story you have told me? What
does it all mean? It comesand it goes, and it stays away,
and then again it comes and goes. She shook her head sadly,

(02:47:07):
sitting on the floor at his feetin front of the fire. No,
no, she said, very positively. You do not understand. You are
a man. You do not understandall there is in a woman. We
women are quite different. But youwill speak to him, will you not?
And ask him about it? No, Eva, that I certainly will

(02:47:28):
not. Frank might very well askme what business it was of mine.
You know as well as I dothat every man has or has had acquaintance
among such women. There is nothingin that, And Frank strikes me as
too honorable to have anything to dowith one of them. Now that he
is engaged to you. I knowhim too well to imagine that. It

(02:47:52):
is really too silly of you.Do you hear too silly? She began
to sob passionately and a moan.In an overpowering fit of grief. She
wrung her hands, rocking herself fromside to side as if suffering intolerable torments.
Oh Papa, she entreated, dearPapa, do do do this for

(02:48:16):
your child's sake, you little Eva. Go to him, Talk to him.
I am so unhappy. I cannotbear it. I am so wretched.
Speak to him. I cannot speakof such a matter. I am
only a girl. It is allso horrible, so sickening. Oh,
Papa, Papa, do speak toFrank. She tried to lean coaxingly against

(02:48:39):
his knees, but he stood up. Her tears angered him and made him
more obstinate. His wife had nevergot anything from him by tears, quite
the reverse. Eva was silly andchildish. He could not recognize his spirited
daughter, always indefatigable and bright,with whom he had traveled half over the
world. World in this crushed creaturedissolved in woe. Stand up, Eva,

(02:49:05):
he said, sternly, Do notcrouch on the floor. You will
end by vexing me seriously by yourfolly. What are you crying for?
For nothing? Pure foolish imagining.I will have no more of it.
You must behave reasonably Get up.Stand up. She dragged herself to her
feet, groaning as she did so, with a white face and clenched hands.

(02:49:30):
I cannot help it, she said, it is my nature. I
suppose. Have you no pity foryour child, even if you don't understand
her. Oh, go and speakto him, only a few words,
I implore you. I beseech you. No, no, no, he
cried, stamping his foot, hisface quite red, as if from a

(02:49:52):
congestion of rage at all, thisuseless, undefined vexation, and his daughter's
folly and weeping entry, which hisobstinacy urged him on no account to indulge.
She, however, rose, lookingtaller in her despair. Her eyes
had a strange look as they gazedinto her father's. Then you will not

(02:50:13):
speak to Frank, You will notdo that much for me. No,
it is all nonsense. I tellyou, worry me about it no more.
Very well, then I must doit, she said, gravely,
as if pronouncing some irrevocable decision,and very slowly, without looking round,

(02:50:33):
without bidding him good night, sheleft the room. It was as though
Sir Archibald was a total stranger,as though there were no bond of tenderness
between her and her father, nothingbut the hostility of two antagonistic natures.
No, under their superficial affection,they had had no feeling in common.

(02:50:54):
They had never really known, nevertry to understand each other. She had
no sympathy with his old age,he had none with her youth. They
were miles asunder a desert, apathless waste lay between them. They dwelt
apart, as completely as though theywere locked up in two shrines, where

(02:51:15):
each worshiped a different god. Heis my father, thought she as she
went along the passage. I amhis child. She could not understand it.
It was a mystery of nature thatscarcely seemed possible. He her father,
she his child, and yet hecould not feel her anguish, could

(02:51:37):
not see that it was anguish calledits folly and fancy, and a vehement
longing for her mother rose up inher heart. She would have understood.
Mamma, mamma, she sobbed out, Oh, mamma, come back,
tell me what I can do.Come as a ghost. I will not

(02:51:58):
be afraid of you. I'm solawn, so miserable, so miserable,
Come and haunt me. Come onlycome in her room. In the darkness,
she watched for the ghost, butit came not. The night hung
unbroken, like a black curtain behindwhich there was nothing but emptiness. Twelve.

(02:52:24):
When Frank came to call next morning, he at once saw in her
face that she was greatly agitated.What is the matter, dearest, he
asked. At first, she feltweak. There was something so terrible and
then again so shocking. But shecommanded herself. She drew herself up in
her pretty self will, which gavefirmness to the childlike enthusiasm and womanly coyness

(02:52:50):
of her nature, like a sternerbackground against which so much that was soft
and tender stood out and feeling aboveall she stood alone, abandoned by her
father, she was determined to befirm. Frank, I have no alternative,
she began, with the energy ofdespair. I must talk matters over

(02:53:13):
with you, even before you answerme. I am almost convinced that I
am wrong and think myself odious.But still I must speak, for I
am too unhappy under this, allthis, to keep it all to myself
in silence is more than I canbear. I can endure it no longer.
Frank. I ask Papa to speakto you, but he will not.

(02:53:35):
Perhaps he is right, Still itis not kind of him. For
now I must do it to myself. Even in the excited state of mind
she was in, she loathed thiscruel necessity, but she controlled herself and
went on That woman, Frank,Frank, that woman. I could think

(02:53:56):
of nothing else but dear Eva,Oh, let me speak I must speak.
I see that creature always at myelbow. I smell her perfume,
I hear her voice. I cannotget it out of my ears. She
shuddered violently, and the dreadful thingcame over her again, again, possessed

(02:54:16):
her, the ghostly hypnotism of thateye, that whisper, that strange magnetic
power which her father could not understand. The words she spoke seemed prompted inspired
by that voice. Her expression andattitude obeyed the coercion of that gaze in
her. Inmost soul, she feltthose eyes as black as nights. Oh

(02:54:41):
Frank, she cried, and thetears came from nervous excitement and the fear
lest she should not have courage toobey these promptings. I must, I
must ask you. Why when youcome to see me are you always so
grave and silent? So you werenot happy in my society? Why do

(02:55:01):
you evade all direct replies? Whydo you always tell me that there is
nothing the matter? That woman?It is because of her, because you
still love her, better perhaps thanyou love me, because you cannot forget
her, because she still is apart of your life, a large part,
perhaps the largest, Oh, itis such torture, such misery,

(02:55:26):
ever present misery. And I amnot meanly jealous, I have never been.
I quite understand your feeling about herthe first comer, though it is
dreadful. But you yourself are toosilent, too sad, And when I
think it's over, I doubt,in spite of myself, Frank, in
spite of myself, I swear toyou, but the suspicion forces itself upon

(02:55:48):
me and overwhelms me. Greats God, why must it be? But Frank,
tell me I am a simpleton tothink so, and that she is
nothing to you any longer, nothingat all. You never see her,
do you tell me? Tell methe anguish of her soul? As she

(02:56:09):
spoke, was eloquent in her face, though disfigured with grief and pale with
the dead whiteness of a faded azaleablossom, A convulsive pang pinched the corners
of her mouth, and a quiveringeyelids. She was indeed a martyr to
her own too vivid fancy, Buthe, at this moment was incapable of

(02:56:30):
seeing her as a martyr. Herwords had roused in him a surge of
fury, such as he could rememberhaving felt, occasionally as a child,
lashed up, as it were,by the blast of a hurricane, drowning
every other feeling, sweeping away everyother thought like dust before the storm.
It came blustering up at the notionof his honesty being questioned, his perfect

(02:56:54):
candor, honor, and truth,like a whirlwind of righteous indignation at such
injustice. For his own mind.He could not conceive of such a doubt,
knowing himself to be honest, honorable, and true. His dark gray
eyes flashed between his deeply knit brows. His words came viciously from between his

(02:57:16):
set teeth, which shone large andwhite under his mustache like polished ivory.
It is inconceivable, Good God,this is monstrous. I have answered you
once and for all. I havetold you in plain words, no,
no, no, And you askme again and again. Do you think
I am a liar? Why haveyou ever seen anything in me to make

(02:57:39):
you think I can lie? Isay no, and I mean no,
And you still have doubts. Stillyou think and worry over it like an
old woman. Why do you nottake things as they are? You know
the facts. Why do you notbelieve me? I am not sad,
I am not gloomy. I'm quitehappy with you. I love you.

(02:58:01):
I do not doubt you, butyou you believe me. If you go
on in this way, you willmake yourself miserable, and me too,
me too. She looked at himsteadfastly, and her pride rose up to
meet his wrath, for his wordsoffended her. You need not speak to
me in that tone, she answered, haughtily. When I tell you that

(02:58:24):
it is against my will, youhear in spite of myself, that I
have doubts, and that this makesme miserable. You need not take that
tone, have some pity on me, and do not speak like that.
But Eva, when I assure you. He began again, trembling with rage,

(02:58:45):
which he tried to control, forcinghimself to speak gently. When I
assure you, you had done soalready, and you doubt my word,
only in so far as you disbelieveme, he roared, quite beside himself.
Only in so far as I thinkyou are keeping something back, She

(02:59:07):
cried, something back? What inHeaven's name? His friend's name was on
her tongue. But as soon asshe thought of Bertie, hesitancy and indecision
took possession of her, for sheknew not what exactly Bertie had in fact
told her. It was always asthough Van Mehren had enclosed her in a
magic circle, a spell of silencewhich made it impossible for her to mention

(02:59:31):
him. And even at this juncture, he was an intangible presence, his
name an unutterable word, his hintsa mere, inarticulate jangle. What what,
she gasped in bewilderment, Oh,I do not know, if only
I knew, But you are concealingsomething from me. Perhaps it is something

(02:59:52):
about her, that woman. Butwhen I tell you that she no,
no, she insisted, confirmed inher imaginings by her offended pride. I
know, I know you men countsuch matters as nothing, a thing of
the past. It is so allthe world over, you say, And

(03:00:13):
what I called something you call nothing. And so I say, there is
something that you are hiding. FrankEva, I swear, do not swear
to it, for that would bea sin. She shrieked out, wrought
up in spite of herself to aparoxysm of insane belief in a thing of
which she knew nothing certain. ForI feel it, I feel it here

(03:00:37):
in me, about me, everywhere. He seized her by the wrists,
carried away by his rage at herrejecting his asseverations, wounded in his proud
consciousness of honor and truthfulness, andamazed at the depth of her infatuated distrust.
Then you do not believe me,he said, with an oath,

(03:01:00):
you do not believe me, andfor the second time, his tone offended
and enraged her. The exposure oftheir two antagonistic natures, with all their
passions and infirmities, brought them intocollision. No, since you will have
it, No, she cried,and she wrenched herself free from his vise
like grasp with such violence that herslender wrists cracked. Now you know it.

(03:01:26):
I do not believe you. Youare hiding something from me, and
it has something to do with thatwoman. I feel it, and what
I feel is to me undeniable.That creature who dared to speak to you
has taken root in my imagination.I feel her close to me, smell
her scent, and am so intenselyconscious that there is still something between you

(03:01:50):
and her that I am bold tosay to you. You lie, You
lie for her sake, and arecheating me. With a sort of low
bellow, which broke from him involuntarily. He rushed at her, clenching his
fists, and she mechanically shrank back, But he seized her hands again and

(03:02:11):
closing them in his great, strongfingers, so that she felt his power
through her flesh, in her verybones. Oh, and it was like
muttering thunder. You have no heart, none that you can say such things
to me. You are base,mean even to think them. You feel,

(03:02:31):
and you feel, Yes, itis your own petty narrowness that you
feel. You have nothing in youbut base and contemptible incredulity. Your whole
nature is mean. Everything is atan end between us. I have nothing
more to do with you. Iwas mistaken in you. He flung her

(03:02:52):
off onto a sofa. There sheremained staring up at the ceiling with wide
open eyes. Yes, at themoment, she was startled rather than angry,
and did not fully understand the stateof things. Her overwrought brain was
bewildered. She knew not what hadhappened. For a minute, he stood

(03:03:13):
looking at her, His lips worea sneer of contempt, and his eyes
half closed in scorn, glanced overher prostrate form. He saw how pretty
she was. Her graceful figure,stretched on the Turkish pillows, revealed the
soft lines of its supple, girlishmold through the clinging folds of a thin,

(03:03:35):
pale green material. Her hair,which had come loose, hung to
the floor like the red gold fleeceof some rare wild creature. Her bosom
heaved with spasmodic rapidity. She laythere like a ravished maid, flung aside.
In a fit of passion, hesaw all the charms that he had

(03:03:56):
forfeited. Deep wrath sprang up inhim, wild longing for the happiness he
had lost, But his injured honorousted regrets and longing, he turned away
and left her there. She remainedon the same spot, in the same
attitude. She was full of obscurewonderment. Darkness had fallen on her soul,

(03:04:20):
as though after being entrapped by falsehood, blindfolded by doubt, she had
been led into a labyrinth, andthen suddenly released her eyes and bound in
a dark chamber. Her soul indeedseemed to have bled to death. She
could not yet know how deeply itwas wounded, And in spite of her

(03:04:41):
intolerable grief. She still thought onlyof the darkness about her. How strange,
she whispered, But why in Heaven'sname, why? Thirteen after this
there was a month peace. Asudden calm had fallen on them, both

(03:05:03):
full for both alike of silent,bitter grief, and with it all the
insignificant commonplace of ordinary life and therecurring, monotonous tasks of every day.
Even Bertie found himself breathing this strange, stagnant air. He wondered greatly what
could have occurred, how simply,how easily things had worked themselves out?

(03:05:26):
He no, he had done nothing, He could have done nothing. Events
had merely followed each other. Whathad come about was the inevitable, and
the possibility of a life free fromcare again lay before him an eternity of
comfort and wealth with Vestova, forwhom he felt his old affection revived with
the glow almost of a passion,now that Frank severed from Eva. Though

(03:05:50):
blaming himself, indeed needed consolation andsympathy, and Bertie's low, unctuous tones
were full of sympathy. Oh thedark man. Melancholy of the first few
days, the terrible grief of wonderingwhen now his indignation cold, Frank asked
himself, as Eva had asked herself, why why had this happened? What

(03:06:11):
had he done? What had broughtit about? And he could not see,
could not understand. It was likea book out of which leaves have
been torn so as to spoil thesense. He could comprehend, neither himself
and his fury, nor Eva andher doubts. All life seemed to him

(03:06:33):
a riddle. For hours together hewould sit gazing out of the window,
staring at the opaque, dullness ofthe London fog, his eye fixed on
that riddle. He rarely went out, but sat dreaming in White Rose Cottage,
which was lonely and quiet enough inits remote suburb and enovating indifference possessed
his stalwart's frame. For the firsttime in his life, he saw himself

(03:06:58):
in a true light, and detectedthe vacillation and weakness deep down in his
being, like a lymphatic stream traversinghis sanguine physical vigor. He saw himself
as a mere child in resistance tothe storm of rage. The blast of
fury, which had swept away hishappiness and his suffering, was so terrible

(03:07:18):
that he could not entirely comprehend it. It seemed too all embracing for the
human mind. These were days ofdreary gloom which they spent together, Frank
too dejected to go out of doors, Bertie creeping about very softly under the
pressure of a vague dread and indefinabledissatisfaction. He felt Frank's friendship reviving,

(03:07:41):
and flattered by this revival, wasconscious of a sentiment of pity, almost
of sympathy. He tried to rouseFrank from his moodiness and talked of a
supper party with ladies on the oldpattern. He made plans for going away
here or there for a few days. Es He tried to persuade Vestovah to

(03:08:03):
take to work, mentioning the namesof various great engineers who were to be
found in London. But everything felldead against Frank's obdurate melancholy. Everything was
swallowed up in the dark cloud ofhis dejection, which seemed incapable of more
than one idea, one self reproach, one grief. Had. The only
solace of his life was always tohave Bertie at his side, a closer

(03:08:26):
intimacy to which Van Mahern himself wasno less prompted now that he had gained
his selfish ends, having no furtherfear of impending poverty, and seeing always
by him a consuming sorrow. Hadhe not rejected the notion that he had
been the cause of it all,and had he not, during his late
existence as an idle bachelor, becomeso super fine a being that he felt

(03:08:52):
a craving for the vague delights ofsympathy, nothing more than sympathy, Since
no greater and noble love, nostrong and generous friendship, could breathe in
the complicated recesses of his soul,for lack of room and fresh air in
those narrow cells built up on strangefallacies, And since love and friendship must
pine and die there like a lionin a boudoir. Thus it was that

(03:09:18):
he could still feel, for Frank, could lay his hand on his shoulders
and try to comfort him, couldfind words of affection new on his lips,
and unwanted phrases of consolation or cheering. Women, he would say,
were so narrow minded, they werenothing, They loved nothing, They were
a mere illusion. No man shouldever make himself miserable for a woman there

(03:09:41):
was nothing like friendship, which womencould not even understand and never felt for
each other, a passion of sympathy, the noble joy of affinity and agreement.
And he believed what he said,sunning himself in platonism with cats like
complacency, just as he basked inmateri real ease and comfort, rejoicing in

(03:10:01):
his raptures of friendship and admiring himselffor his lofty ideals. But Frank's love
for Eva had been and was stillso absorbing that he erelong saw through this
feats and decrepit devotion, and thenceforwardit afforded him no solace. His depression

(03:10:22):
wrapped him in darker folds. Heforced himself to recall exactly everything that had
happened, what Eva had said,what he had replied, and he laid
all the blame on himself, exoneratingEva for her doubts. He cursed his
own temper, his barbarous violence toa woman and to her what was to

(03:10:45):
be done? Parted, parted forever. It was a fearful thought that he
might never see her again, thatshe could be nothing henceforth in his life?
Could it be not? Otherwise?Was all lost? Irrevocably. No,
no, no, The desperate denialrose up within him. He would

(03:11:05):
triumph over circumstances. He would winback his happiness. And she, how
was she? Was she too suffering? Did she still doubt him? Or
had his vehemence, notwithstanding its brutality, made his innocence clear. But if
it were so, if she nolonger doubted him, and how could she?
Good? Heavens, how wretched shemust be, grieving over her want

(03:11:28):
of trust, with self accusation evenmore terrible than his own, For his
wrath had at any rate been justifiableand her suspicions were not. Was it
so? Or was she, onthe contrary, stricken almost to death,
perhaps by his cruelty, or filledwith contempt for his lack of power to
control his anger, which was likesome raging wild beast? How was she?

(03:11:52):
What was her mood? A passionatedesire to know pierced his heart now
and again, like a sword thrustto go to her, to pray for
pardon, for restoration to the happinesshe had thrown away as he had flung
her from him on that sofa.She would never admit him to her presence
after so great an insult that hemight write, of course, a letter.

(03:12:18):
His heart leapt with joy but blissto grovel on paper in the dust
at her feet, to humble himselfin penitential prayers for mercy and adoring words,
while asserting his dignity and the prideof his truth and his anguish under
her doubts. She would hearken asa madonna to a sinner. He would
recover his lost happiness. Had hetried to compose his letter, thrilling with

(03:12:43):
the effort to find words which stilldid not seem fervent or humble enough,
he spent a whole day over histask, polishing his phrases as a poet
does a sonnet, And when atlast it was finished, he felt refreshed
in spirit, with renewed hopes acomplete resurrection. He was convinced that his

(03:13:05):
letter would remove every misunderstanding between himand Eva. In the highest spirits,
he betook himself to Van Mehreen,told his friend of the step he had
taken and all he hoped for.He spoke eagerly. His very voice was
changed. Bertie leaned back in hischair, rather grave and pale, but

(03:13:26):
he controlled himself so far as tosmile in answer to Vestov's smile, and
he agreed in his anticipations, inwords to which he vainly strove to give
a ring of conviction. To besure, of course, everything must come
right again, he muttered, andthe perspiration stood on his forehead under his
chestnut curls fourteen. But an hourlater, alone in his room that evening,

(03:13:56):
he walked to and fro with suchseething agitation has set every nerve quivering
in his slight frame as a stormtosses a rowing boat. His soft features
were distorted to a hideous expression ofmalignancy. With rage at his own impotence,
had he strode up and down,up and down like a beast in

(03:14:16):
a cage, clenching his fists.Then it was for this that he had
elaborated his tastes, had sharpened andpolished all his natural gifts, and had
directed all the powers of his mindlike a battery charged with some mysterious fluid,
on the secrets of a girl's loveand life. A single letter,

(03:14:37):
a few pages of tender words,and the whole work would be destroyed.
But now, in his wrath,he suddenly saw and prided himself on the
fact, he saw that he verycertainly he had guided events to sever frankened
Eva, how could he, evenfor a moment have doubted it? And

(03:14:58):
it was all to come to naught, never, never, no, a
thousand times no, awful and infinitelyfar as the horizon, the perspective of
life yawned before him, the deadlevel of poverty, the barren desert in
which he must pine and perish ofhunger. And in his horror of treading
that wilderness, every sinew of hislax resolve seemed strained to the verge of

(03:15:24):
snapping. He must take steps forthwithan idea flashed through his brain like the
zigzag of forked lightning. Yes,that was his only course, the simplest
and most obvious means, a merestroke of villainy, as conventionality would term
it. No need here for anyelaborate psychological pros and cons They were never

(03:15:48):
of any use. They got entangledin their uncomplications, simply a theatrical coup.
He took his hat and crept quietlyout of the house, with a
near of contempt, of scorn forhimself that he should have fallen so low.
It was half past ten. Hehailed a cab and laughed to hear

(03:16:09):
the melodramatic sound of his own voiceas he gave the driver Sir Archibald's address,
the voice of a stage traitor.Then he shrank into a corner of
the vehicle, his shoulders up tohis ears, his eyes half closed,
and gazing out through the dim mysteryof the night, deadly melancholy lurked at

(03:16:30):
the bottom of his soul. Hegot out near Sir Archibald's house, walked
a few yards to the door,and rang. And the minutes he waited
in the darkness before the closed houseseemed an eternity of intolerable misery, of
horror, aversion loathing of himself.His lips were pinched into a grimace of

(03:16:50):
disgust. A manservant opened the doorwith a look of surprise at the belated
visitor, a surprise which gave wayto an impertinent stare when he saw that
Van Mehren was alone, without vestover. He bowed with insolent irony and held
the door wide open with exaggerated civilityfor Bertie to enter. I must speak

(03:17:13):
with you at once, said Bertiecoolly, At once, and alone.
The man looked at him, butsaid nothing. You can do me a
service. I need your assistance pressingly. Can I say two words to you
without being seen by anyone? Now, said the servant, Yes, now,

(03:17:33):
without delay? Will you come ininto the servants hall? No?
No, come out and walk upand down with me and speak low.
I cannot leave the house yet.The old man will be going to bed
in an hour or so, andthen I can join you in the street.
Then I will wait for you oppositeby the park railings. You will
be sure to come. I willmake it worth your while. The footman

(03:17:56):
laughed, a loud, brazen laughwhich rang through the hall, filling Bertie
with alarm. Then you are agentleman now and pretty flush, eh,
yes, said Van Mehren hoarsely.Then you will come, yes, yes,
in an hour, or more fullyan hour wait for me. But

(03:18:18):
if I am to do anything foryou, you will have to fork out,
you know, and fork out handsomelytoo. All right, all right,
said Bertie, But I hope youwill not fail me. I count
on your coming. Mind. Thedoor was ruthlessly shut. He walked up
and down for a very long timein the cold and damp. The chill
pierced to his very marrow, whilethe twinkling gas lamp stared at him through

(03:18:43):
the gray mist like watery eyes.He waited, pacing the pavement for an
hour an hour and a half,perishing a fatigue and cold, like a
beggar without a shelter. Still hewaited, shivering as he walked, his
hands in his pot, his eyesdull with self contempt, staring out of

(03:19:03):
his white face at the dark squareof the door, which still remains shut.
End of section five, Section sixof Footsteps of Fate by Louis Kuperus.

(03:19:24):
This library vox recording is in thepublic domain. Part three fifteen to
eighteen fifteen. When after a fewdays of anxious expectancy, Frank still had
no answer from Eva, he wrotea second time, and although the first
bloom of his revived hopes was alreadydying, he started whenever the bell rang

(03:19:48):
and would go to the letterbox inthe front door. His thoughts were constantly
busy with picturing the messenger who waswalking up the road with his happiness wrapped
up in an envelope, and hewould imagine what, ever's answer might be,
just a few lines somewhat cool,perhaps in her large, bold English
hand on the scented ivory laid papershe always used, with her initials crossed

(03:20:11):
in pink and silver in one corner. How long she took to write that
answer? Was she angry? Howcould she not make up her mind how
to word her forgiveness? Was sheelaborating her letter as he had elaborated his
had The days went by while hewaited for that note. When he was
at home, he pictured the postmancoming nearer and nearer, now only four

(03:20:37):
three, two doors away. Nowhe would ring, and he listened,
but the bell did not sound,or if it did, it was not
by reason of the letter. Whenhe was out, he would be electrified
by the thought, for the lettermust be lying at home. And he
hurried back to White Rose Cottage,looked in the letter box, and then

(03:20:58):
in the sitting room, but henever found it, and the intolerable emptiness
of the place where he looked forit made him swear and stamp with rage.
Twice he had written two letters,and yet she gave no sign,
and he could think of no causein his ardent expectancy, which made him
regard it as the most natural thingthat she should reply at once. Still

(03:21:22):
he lived on this waiting. Thereply must come. It could not be
otherwise. His brain held no otherthought than it is coming. It would
come to day. All life wasvoid and flat, but it could be
filled by just one letter. Dayfollowed day, and there was no change.

(03:21:43):
I've had no answer yet from Eva, he said, in a subdued
tone to Bertie, as feeling himselfhumiliated, disgraced by her determined silence,
mocked at in his illusory hopes.Not yet, said Bertie, and a
mist of melancholy glistened in his black, velvety eyes. Await indeed lay on

(03:22:03):
his mind. He sighed deeply andfrequently. He really was unhappy. What
he had done was so utterly base, But it was all Frank's fault.
Why now that he was parted fromEva, could he not forget his passion?
Why could he not find sufficient comfortin the sweets of friendship. How

(03:22:26):
delightful it might have been to liveon together, a happy pair of friends,
under the calm, blue sky ofbrotherhood, in the golden bliss of
perfect sympathy, with no woman todisturb it. Thus he romanced, consciously,
working up his friendly, compassionate feelingtowards Frank to a sort of frenzy,
in the hope of comforting himself alittle and forgetting his foul deed,

(03:22:50):
of convincing himself that he was magnanimous. Nay, that in spite of that
little deception, he now, morethan ever since he was sunk in the
mind, really longed for a highideal. It was all Frank's fault.
And yet was Frank to blame becausehe could not forget eva. No,

(03:23:11):
No, that was all fatality.No one was to blame for that.
That was the act of fate.Yes, that is certain, thought he.
But why have we brains to thinkwith? And why do we feel
pain if we can do nothing tohelp ourselves? Why are we not plants
or stones? Why should this vast, useless universe exist at all? And

(03:23:35):
why why did nothingness cease to be? How peaceful? How delightfully peaceful that
would be? He stud as itwere before the sealed portals of the Great
Enigma, suddenly amazed and horrified athimself. Good God, how had he
come to this? How was itthat nowadays he was always thinking of such

(03:23:58):
things? Had he ever had suchnotions in America? When he was toiling
and tramping in his daily slavery.Had he not then regarded himself as a
gross materialist, caring for nothing butplenty of good food and unbroken peace?
And now, when he had longexperience of such material comforts, now he

(03:24:18):
felt as though his nerves had beenspun finer and finer to mere silken threads,
thrilling and quivering under one emotion afteranother, vibrating like the invisible aerial
pulsations which are irresistibly transmitted with amusical murmur along the telephone wires overhead.
How had he come by all thisphilosophy the blossom of his idle hours,

(03:24:43):
And in his bewilderment, he triedto recall his youth and remember whether he
had then had this predisposition to thought, whether he had then had any books
which had impressed him deeply, triedto picture his parents, and whether this
might be hereditary he he had handedround coffee cups in New York. Was

(03:25:03):
he not, after all happier inthose days and freer from care? Or
was it only that distance lent enchantmentto the view, the distance of so
few years sixteen, when Frank,after a few days of death in life
patience had still received no answer,he wrote to Sir Archibald. Still the

(03:25:28):
same silence, he poured out hisgrief to Bertie in bitter complaint, no
longer humble, but full of wrath, like an enraged animal, and yet
half woeful at the ill feeling shownby Eva and her father. Was it
not enough that he had three timescraved forgiveness? Had Eva cared for him,
in fact, so little that whenhe groveled at her feet, she

(03:25:52):
could find no word even to tellhim that all was at an end.
I cannot now remember all I said, he told Bertie, as he paced
the room with long, equal anddetermined steps. But I must have been
hard upon her. God help me. I can never govern my speech.
And I seized her. I recollectso by the arms, and then I

(03:26:15):
came away. I was too furious. I ought not to have done it.
But I cannot keep cool. Icannot frank. I wish you could
get over it, said Bertie soothinglyfrom the depths of his arm chair.
There is nothing now to be done. It is very sad that it should
have happened. So, but youmust throw it off. Throw it off.

(03:26:37):
Were you ever in love with awoman, certainly then you must know
something of it, But you couldnever love any one much. It's not
in your nature. You love yourselftoo well. That may be, But
at any rate I love you,and I cannot bear to see you.
Thus, Frank, get over it. They seem to have taken the whole

(03:26:58):
business so ill there is nothing moreto be done. I wish you would
only see that and submit to theinevitable. Try to live for something else.
Can there be no other woman inthe world for you? Perhaps there
is another. A man does notperish so for love. You are not
a girl. Girls do so.He gazed at Frank with such a magnetic

(03:27:20):
light in his eyes that Vestova fancied. There was a great truth in his
words, and Bertie's last reproof remindedhim of his vacillation, his miserable weakness,
which lay beneath his manly and powerfulexterior like an insecure foundation. Still,
he clung to his passionate longings,his vehement craving for the happiness he

(03:27:41):
had lost. You cannot possibly judgeof the matter, he retorted, impatiently,
trying to escape from Van Mehren's eye. You never did love a woman,
though you may say so. Whyshould not everything come right again.
What has happened? After all?What have I done? I fell into
a violent, vulgar rage? Whatthen, is that so unpardonable in the

(03:28:05):
person you love? But perhaps,I say, can I have addressed the
letters wrongly? During a few secondsthere was a weight of silence in the
room, an atmosphere of lead.Then Van Meyrn said, and his voice
had a tender, coaxing tone.If you had written but once, I
might think it's possible. But threeletters to the same house it is scarcely

(03:28:30):
possible. I will go myself andcall, said Vesthova. Yes, yes,
I will go myself. What areyou saying? Asked Bertie dreamily.
He was still under the influence ofthat heavy moral atmosphere. He had not
quite understood nor grasp the idea.What was it you said? He repeated,

(03:28:52):
I shall go myself and call atthe house. Frank reiterated, at
what house? Where? Why?At the roads on eva? Are you
daft? But Bercy rose to hisfeet, and his eyes glittered in his
pale face like black diamonds with ahundred facets. What to do there?

(03:29:13):
He said, with a convulsive effortin his throat to keep his voice calm
to talk to her and set mattersstraight. I cannot bear it. It
has gone on too long. Youare a fool, said Van Merin shortly.
Why am I a fool? Whilereyou a fool? You have not

(03:29:33):
a grain of self respect? Doyou really think of going there? Yes?
Of course I consider it absurd,said Bertie. All right, said
Frank Pray think so, I myselfcan see that this is very weak of
me. But good God, Ican hold out no longer. I love
her. So I was so happy, life was so sweet, and now

(03:29:56):
now by my own fault, Ido not care what you think about it,
absurd or not. I mean togo all the same. In his
distress of mind, he had thrownhimself into a chair, and every muscle
of his features was quivering with agitation. But he went on, I do
not know what it is that Ifeel. I am so unhappy, so

(03:30:18):
deeply, deeply wretched. Never inmy life had I known what it was
to feel so content in such harmoniousequilibrium of soul as when I was with
Eva. At least, so itseems to me now. And now it
is all at an end, andeverything seems aimless. I no longer know
why I live and move and eatand have my being. Why should I

(03:30:41):
take all that trouble and then havethis misery into the bargain. I might
just as well be dead, yousee. That is why I mean to
call there. And if things donot come right, then well I shall
make an end of myself. Yes, yes, I shall make an end
of myself by the burthen of life. He lay back in his chair,

(03:31:03):
with his features set, his greatlimbs stretched out in their useless strength,
all his power, and a mindby the mysterious inertia which gnawed it away
like a worm. Before him stoodVan Mehren, drawn to his full height
and the energy of despair, andhis flashing eyes darting sparks of fire.

(03:31:24):
He laid his tremulous hands on Vestova'sshoulders, feeling their massive breadth, heavy
and strong. A reaction electrified himwith something like defiance. He scorned this
man of might in his love sickness. But above all, oh, above
all, he felt himself being draggeddown to the lowest deep. And it

(03:31:46):
was with the tenacity of a parasiticgrowth that he clung to Frank, setting
his fingers into his shoulders. Frank, he began almost hoarsely. Just listen
to me. You're making yourself ill. You talk like a fool, and
then you cry out just like ababy. You must get over it,
show a little more pluck. Donot mar your whole life by these foolish

(03:32:09):
lamentations. And what about when allis said and done? What about all
because a girl has ceased to loveyou? Do you place your highest hopes
of happiness in a girl? They'recreatures without brains or heart, superficial and
vain, whipped up to a frothmere, windy nothingness. And you would

(03:32:30):
kill yourself for that heaven above,man, it is impossible. I do
not know what it is to lovea woman. Hey, but you do
not know what trouble and misery?Are you? Fancy that all the woes
on earth have come upon you?And it is nothing, after all but
a little discomfort, a little woundedconceit. Perhaps it will be no worse.

(03:32:52):
If I had made away with myselfat every turn of ill luck,
I should have been dead a thousandtimes, but I pulled through. You.
See, how can you be sucha coward? Eva has shown you
very plainly that she does not wantto have anything more to say to you,
and you would see her once more. Suppose she were to show you
the door, What then if youdo such a thing, if you go

(03:33:16):
to her, you would be somean, in my eyes, so weak,
so cowardly, so childish, sucha fool, such a damned fool,
that you may go to the devilfor aught. Eye care. He
cleared his throat as if he wereactually sick, and turned away, with
a queer, light headed feeling inhis brain. Vestova said, nothing torn

(03:33:39):
in his mind between two impulses.He was no longer clear as to his
purpose, quite bewildered by the falsevoice in his ear, in his soul,
there was something factitious in Bertie's speech, a false ring which Frank could
not detect, though he was consciousof it. And the voice of his
own desires rang false too, withjarring, unresolved chords which jangled inharmoniously against

(03:34:05):
each other. He had completely losthis head. But he sat silent for
some time, till at length herepeated, with solemn obstinacy, all right,
I do not care a pin.I shall go all the same.
But Bertie began again with honeyed smoothness, this time seating himself on the floor,

(03:34:26):
as was his wont when he wasout of luck on the fur rug
before the fire, resting his throbbinghead against a chair. Come, Frank,
get this out of your mind.You never meant that you would really
go. You are at heart tooproud and too brave to think of it.
Seriously pulled yourself together? Have youforgotten everything? Did not even tell

(03:34:48):
you that she did not believe yourword, that you were false to her,
that you were still friends with thatother girl, and that she knew
it. To tell you the truth, I observed from the fur how suspicious
she was, and I did notthink it to be coming in a young
lady. I did not think it'squite quite nice to be sure that evening

(03:35:09):
at the lyceum it did look asif there was something in it still when
you assured her that it was atan end. It seems to me quite
monstrous that she did not believe you. Then you cannot possibly mean what you
say when you speak of seeing heragain. Of course it makes no difference
to me go by all means forwhat I care, But I should regard

(03:35:31):
it as such folly, such utterfolly. And still Frank sat speechless,
lost with the bewildering jangle still inhis brain. And you will take the
same view of it if you onlythink it over. Think it over,
Frank, I will, said Frankgloomily. Bertie went on flattering his manly

(03:35:54):
courage, and it sounded like bellsin Frank's ears, pride, pluck,
pride, pluck, Only the bellswere cracked, and yet the jingle soothed
him. Did he, at thismoment's love Eva? Or was it all
over? Had she killed his loveby her doubts? Pride, pluck,
pride pluck? He could not tell, alas he could not tell. With

(03:36:20):
a movement like a caress, Bertiecrept nearer, laid his head on the
arm of Vestova's chair and clasped hishands about his knees, looking in the
dusk and firelight like a supple panther, and his eyes gleamed like a panther's
black and flame colored speak. Frank, I cannot bear to see you like

(03:36:41):
this. I care for you somuch, though perhaps it does not seem
so to you just now, andthough I have my own way of showing
it. Oh, I know verywell that you sometimes think me ungrateful,
But you do not know me.I am really devoted to you. I
never loved my father, nor anywoman, nor even myself as I do

(03:37:01):
you. I could do anything inthe world for you, and that is
a great deal for me to say. I say, Frank, I will
not have you. Look, solet us leave London. Let us travel,
or go to live somewhere else inParis or Vienna. Yes, let
us go to Vienna. That isa long way off. Or to America,

(03:37:22):
to San Francisco, or to Australia. Wherever you choose. The world
is wide and you may see somany things that you will get fresh ideas.
Or let us make an expedition tothe interior of Africa. I should
enjoy seeing such a savage country.And I'm stronger than I look, I'm
tough. Let us wander about agreat deal and go through a great deal

(03:37:46):
great bodily fatigue. Don't you thinkit must be splendid to cut your way
through the impenetrable bush. Oh?Yes, let us bathe our souls in
nature, in fresh air and spaceand health very well, Frank grumbled.
We will go away, we willtravel, but I cannot do it comfortably.

(03:38:07):
I have very little money. Ispent so much last year. Oh,
but we will be economical. Whatneed have we of luxury? Ay,
at any rate, can do withoutit very well, Frank muttered again,
we will do it cheaply. Thenthey were silent for a time in
the twilight. Frank, by someslight movement, touched one of Bertie's hands.

(03:38:31):
He suddenly grasped it, squeezed italmost to crushing, and said,
in a low voice, good oldfellow, dear good fellow. Seventeen can
you have gone there? Thought ofAnna Mahren, as he sat at home
alone the next evening and did notknow with what purpose Vestova had gone out.

(03:38:56):
Well, he would sit up forhim. There was nothing else to
be done, just a few daysto arrange matters, and then they would
be off away from London. Ohwhat a luckless wretch, he thought himself,
All this villainy for the sake ofmere material comfort, of idleness and
wealth, which, as he wasslowly beginning to discover, had all become

(03:39:16):
a matter of indifference to him.Oh for the bohemian liberty of his vagabond
life in the States, free,unshackled. His pockets, now full of
dollars, had again empty, absolutelyempty. He felt quite homesick for it.
It struck him as an enviable existenceof careless independence, as compared with

(03:39:39):
his present state of vacuous ease andservility. How greatly he was changed.
Formerly he had been unfettered, indeedby conventional rules, but free from any
great duplicity. And now his mindhad been cultivated, but was sunk in
a depth of baseness, and whatsfor to enable him to hold fast that

(03:40:01):
which no longer had any value inhis eyes? No value? Why then,
did he not cut his way outof his own net, to go
away in poverty and write a singleword to Frank and Eva, to bring
them together again. It was stillin his power to do this, He
thought of it, but smiled atthe thought. It was impossible, And

(03:40:22):
yet he could not see wherein theimpossibility lay. But it was impossible.
It was a thing which could notbe done. It was illogical, full
of dark difficulties, a thing thatcould never come about for mysterious reasons of
fatality, which indeed he did notclearly discern, but accepted as unanswerable.

(03:40:43):
He was musing in this vein alonethat evening, when Annie, the housekeeper
came to tell him that someone wantedto speak with him. Who is it?
She did not know, so hewent into the sitting room, where
he found Sir Archibald's footman, withhis big nose and ugly, shifty gray
eyes like a bird's twinkling in histerra cotta face, which was varied by

(03:41:07):
blue tracts of shorn, whisker andbeard. He was out of his livery
and dressed like a gentleman, ina light overcoat and a felt hat with
a cane and gloves. What bringsyou here? Said Van Mehren shortly,
with a scowl. I have alwaystold you that I would not have you
come to the house. You haveno complaint to make of me, I

(03:41:28):
suppose. Oh no, he hadno complaint to make. He had only
come to call on an old friendsuch as swell Bertie would remember the times
they had had in New York.They had been waiters together, pals at
the same hotel. Rumchan say thatthey should run up against each other.
In London. It was a smallworld. You were always running up against

(03:41:50):
someone wherever you might go. Youcouldn't keep out of anyone's way. In
fact, if it was God's will, you should meet a fella you couldn't
keep out of that fella's way,and then you might sometimes be able to
do him a good turn. Therehad been some letters written, and he
scraped his throat inconvenient letters. Sixtyquid down for two letters to the young

(03:42:11):
woman. That was the bargain.Life was hard to get a little fun
now and then in London cost adeal o money. And now there was
a third letter in the same hand, dear, dear, who's could it
be? Now? Addressed to theold man. He didn't want to be
too hard on an old pal,but he had come just to ask him

(03:42:31):
whether that letter, too, wasof any value. He had it with
him, Then give it here,stammered Van Meron, as pale as death,
holding out his hand. Aye,but thirty sovs was too little,
a mere song. This letter wasto the old man who was worth more.
And to tell the truth, hisold friend was hard up, desperately

(03:42:54):
hard up. Bertie was a gentlemanwho could throw the money about, and
he had a noble heart. Hewould never leave an old pal in the
lurch, the devils in it.We must help each other in this world.
Say a hundred you are a rascal, cried Bertie. We had agreed
on thirty pounds. I have nota hundred pounds. I am not rich.

(03:43:16):
Well, of course he knew that. But mister Vestovna, no doubt
gave his friend sixpence now and then. And mister Vesthova was made of money.
Come, come, mister van Meyer, and must think it over.
He really should do something for anold pal, and a hundred pounds was
not the whole world. After all, I have not a hundred pounds at

(03:43:37):
this moment, I assure you,said Bertie, huskily, from a parched
throat and shaking as if in aneager fit. Well, he would come
again, then, by and byhe would take great care of the letter.
Hand over the letter. I willgive you the money another time.
But his old pal laughed cheerfully.No, no given is given. They

(03:44:01):
might trust each other, but itshould be given. Take the letter for
the hundred pounds down. But Iwill not have you coming here again.
I will not have it. Itell you all right. There was no
difficulty on that score. His swellfriend might bring it himself to morrow,
Yes, to morrow without fail.And now go, for God's sake,

(03:44:22):
go. He pushed his demon outof the house. Promising him to morrow
to morrow evening. Then he calledup Annie and vehemently asked her whether she
knew the man who was the fellowhe roughly inquired, like a gambler who
plays a high tramp at a criticalpoint of the game. She however,

(03:44:43):
did not know, and was surprisedthat mister van Marin should not have known
him. Had he been troublesome.Yes, a beggar, a regular beggar.
He was dressed like a gentleman too. Be more careful for the future,
said Bertie, and let no oneinto the house. Eighteen. He

(03:45:05):
sat up that evening till Frank camehome. As he sat alone, he
wept for hours. He sobbed passionately, miserably, till in the slightly built
little villa Annie and her husband mighthave heard him, till his head felt
like a drum and bursting with throbbingpain. He fairly cried in irrepressible wretchedness,

(03:45:30):
and his sobs shook his little bodylike a rhythm of agony. Oh,
how could he get out of thisslough? Kill himself? How could
he live on in such wretchedness?And again and again he looked about him
for a weapon, his hands clutchedhis throat like a vice. But he
had not the courage, at leastnot at that moment. For as he

(03:45:52):
clenched his fingers, and an endurablepain mounted to his already aching head that
he wept all the more bitterly atfinding himself too weak to do it.
It was one in the morning.Frank must surely come in soon. He
looked in the glass and saw apale, purple gray face, with swollen,

(03:46:13):
wet eyes, and thick blue veinson the temples, pulsating visibly under
the transparent skin. Frank must notsee him thus, and yet he must
know that he must ask. Hewent up to his room undressed and got
shivering into bed, but he didnot go to sleep. He lay listening

(03:46:33):
for the front door to open.At half past two, Vesthova came in.
Good God, if he had goneto the roads. No, no,
he must have been at the club. He went straight upstairs to bed.
Annie and her husband locked up thehouse. There was a noise of
bolts and locks, the clank ofmetal bars. Half an hour later,

(03:46:58):
Bertie rose. Now it would bedark in Frank's room, Otherwise he would
have seen that purple pallor out intothe passage. Tap Frank Hallo come in
in he went. Vesthova was inbed. No light but the night light
Bertie with his back to the glimmer. Now would Frank mention the roads?

(03:47:22):
No? He asked what was upand found Mahring began. There was an
urgent matter he must lay before hisfriend, some old debts he had remembered,
which he must pay before they wentaway. He was so vexed about
it, it was really taking advantageof Frank's kindness. Could Frank give him
the money? My dear fellow,I have run completely dry. I have

(03:47:46):
only just enough to pay for ourpassage to buen as Aires. How much
do you want? A hundred pounds? A hundred pounds, I assure you.
I do not know where to laymy hand on the money. Do
you want it now on the spot? Can you not put it off?
Or can you not do with abill? No? I must have money
down, hard cash. Well,wait a bit, Perhaps I can find

(03:48:11):
a way. Yes, I willmanage it somehow. I will see about
it tomorrow tomorrow morning. Are youin such a juice of a hurry?
Well, all right, I willfind it somehow. But now go to
bed, for I'm sleepy. Wemade a night of it. Tomorrow I
am sure I can help you,and at any rate I will not leave
you in a fix that you mayrely on. But you are a troublesome

(03:48:35):
boy. Do you hear? Onlythe other day you had thirty pounds,
and then again thirty more. Fora minute Van Mayern stood rigid, a
dark mass against the dim gleam ofthe night light. Then he went up
to the bed, and, fallingon his knees, lay his head on
the coverlet, and fairly sobbed.I say, are you ill? Are

(03:48:58):
you going? Cre asked Vestova?What on earth ails you? No?
He was not crazy, but onlyso grieved to take advantage of Frank's good
nature, especially if his friend washimself in difficulties. They were such shameful
debts he would rather not tell himwhat for debts outstanding from a time when

(03:49:18):
for a few days he had disappeared. Frank knew, didn't he old sins
to pay for a well behave betterfor the future. We will set it
all right tomorrow. Make no morenoise and go to bed. I'm dead
sleepy. We all had as muchas we could carry come get up,
I say. Van Maheron rose,and taking Vestov's hand, tried to thank

(03:49:43):
him. There that will do.Go to bed, I say, And
he went in his own room.He presently through the wall heard Frank snoring.
He remained sitting on the edge ofhis bed. Once more his fingers
gripped his throat tighter, tighter,But it's hurt him, made his headache.

(03:50:07):
Great, God, he thought,is it possible that I should be
the thing I am? End ofsection six Section seven of Footsteps of Fate
by Luis Kuperus. This LibriVox recordingis in the public domain. Part four

(03:50:33):
one to four one A life ofwandering for two years and more of voyages
from America to Australia, from Australiaback to Europe, painfully restless, finding
no new aims in life, nonew reason for their own existence, no
new thing in the countries they traversed, or in the various atmospheres they breathed.

(03:50:58):
A life at first with that thestruggle for existence, dragged out by
each under the weight of his ownwoe, with many regrets, but no
anxiety as to the material burden ofexistence. But presently there was that growing
dread of that material burden, theunpleasant consciousness that there was no more money
coming out from home month after month, disagreeable transactions with bankers in distant places,

(03:51:24):
constant letter writing to and fro.In short, the almost total evaporation
of a fortune of which too muchhad long since been dissipated in golden vapor.
Then they saw the necessity of lookingabout them for means of subsistence,
and they had taken work in factories, assurance offices, brokers' warehouses and what

(03:51:46):
not, simply to keep their headsabove water. In this life which they
found so aimless and wretched. Theyhad known hours of bitter anguish and many
long days of poverty with no escape, and the remembrance of White Rose Cottage.
Still they had felt no longing forWhite Rose Cottage, again, gradually

(03:52:07):
yielding to indifference and solemn patience,their fears for the future and struggles to
live with the outcome of natural inheritedinstinct rather than of spontaneous impulse and personal
desire. And even in this gloomyindifference, Van Mehern had one comforting reflection,
one delicate pleasure, exquisite and peculiar, as a solace to his self

(03:52:31):
contempt, the consolation of knowing that, now that Vestova had known some buffeting
of fortune, now that they hadto work for their bread, he had
never felt impelled to leave his friendto his fate or desert him as soon
as the game was up. Theimpulse to abandon Frank had never risen in
his soul, and he was gladof it, glad that when it occurred

(03:52:54):
to him afterwards as a possibility,it was merely as a notion with which
he had no concern and which wasno part of himself. No, he
had stuck by Frank, partly,perhaps as a result of his cat like
nature, and because he clung tohis place at Frank's side, but not
for that alone. There was somethingideal in it, some little sentiments.

(03:53:18):
He liked, the notion of remainingfaithful to a man who had not assent
left in the world. They hadworked together, sharing the toil and the
pay with brotherly equality, two longyears, and now they were back in
Europe, avoiding England and returning totheir native land, Holland, Amsterdam and

(03:53:39):
the Hague. A strange longing hadgrown up in them both to see once
more the places they had quitted solong before, bored by their familiarity,
to see the wider world, todrag home their broken lives, as though
they hoped there to find a cure, a miraculous bomb to console them for
existence. They had scraped together somelittle savings and might take a few months

(03:54:05):
of summer holiday by thriftily spending theirhandful of cash. So they had taken
lodgings in a villa at Scathing,a little house to the left of the
Orange Hotel, looking out over thesea, and the sea had become a
changeful background for their lazy summer fancies, for they did not care to wander
away. Amid the bustle of thecourt house and the sands. Frank would

(03:54:28):
sit for hours on the balcony ina cane chair, his legs on the
railing, the blue smoke of hiscigars curling up in front of his nose,
and then he felt soothed, freefrom all acute pain, resigned to
his own uselessness, though with amemory now and again of the past,
and of a sorrow which was nolonger too keen and then stiff. With

(03:54:52):
sitting still, he would play agame of quoits or hockey offence a little
with Bertie, whom he had taughtto use the foils. He looked,
full of health, was stouter thanof yore, with a fine, high
color under his clear tanned skin,a mild gravity in his bright gray eyes,
and sometimes a rather bitter curl underhis sheeny yellow mustache. But Bertie

(03:55:16):
suffered more. And as he lookedout over the semicircle of ocean and saw
the waters break with their endless rollersof blue and green, and gray and
violet and pearly iridescence, the vaultedsky above, full of endless cloud scenery,
sweeping or creeping masses of opaque grayor white, silvery pinions, dappled

(03:55:37):
feathers, drifts of down like skyfoam. He fancied that his fate was
coming up over the sea. Itwas coming closer, irresistibly closer, and
he watched its approach. He feltit so intensely that sometimes his whole being
seemed to be on the alert whilehe sat motionless in his cane chair with

(03:56:00):
his eyes fixed on the barren wasteof waters. Two. Thus it happened
that, sitting here one day,he saw on the shore below, between
the tufts of yellow broom growing onthe sand hills. Two figures coming towards
him, a man and a woman, like finely drawn silhouettes in Indian ink

(03:56:22):
against the silver sea. A pangsuddenly shot through his frame, from his
heart to his throat, to histemples. But the saltreak came up to
him and roused his senses with afreshness that mounted to his brain, so
that in spite of the shock,it remained quite clear, as if filled
with a rare atmosphere. He saweverything distinctly, down to the subtlest detail

(03:56:48):
of hue and line, The silvergray curve of the horizon like an enormous,
glittering liquid eye with mother of pearltints, broken by the tumbling crests
of the way leaves, and hardlydarker than the spread of sky, strewn
with a variously gray fleece of rentand raveled clouds. To the right,

(03:57:09):
one stucco facade of the courthouse,looking with stupid dignity at the sea out
of its staring window. Eyes furtheraway by the water's edge, the fishing
boats like large walnut shells with filmyveils of black netting hanging from the masts.
Each boat with its little flag playfullywaving and curling in the breeze.

(03:57:33):
And on the terrace, on thestrand, among a confused crowd of yellow
painted chairs, a throng of summervisitors, like a great stain of pale
water color in gay but delicate tints, he could see quite clearly. Hear
a rent in the red sail ofa boat. There a ribbon fluttering from
a basket chair. And again aseagull on the shore, swooping to snatch

(03:57:56):
something out of the surf. Henoted all these little details, minute and
motley trifles, bright specks in theexpanse of sky and ocean, and very
visible in the subdued light of asunless day. And those two silhouettes,
a man and a woman, grewlarger, came nearer along the sands,

(03:58:18):
till they were just opposite to him. He knew them at once by their
general appearance, the man by apeculiar gesture of raising his hat and wiping
his forehead, the lady by theway she carried her parasol, the stick
resting on her shoulder while she heldthe point of one of the ribs.
And recognizing them, he had asingular light headed sensation, as though he

(03:58:43):
would presently be floating dizzily out ofhis chair as swept away over the sea.
He fell back, feeling strangely weary, and dazzling sparks danced before his
fixed gaze like glittering notes of interrogation. What was to be done? Could
he devise some ingenious excuse and tryto tempt Frank to leave the place to

(03:59:05):
fly? Oh? How small theworld was? Was it? For this?
They had wandered over the globe,never knowing any rest, to meet
at their very first halting place,the two beings he most dreaded? Was
this accident or fatality? Yes?Fatality? But then was he really afraid?

(03:59:26):
And in his dejection he felt quitesure that he was afraid of nothing,
That he was profoundly indifferent, fullof an intolerable weariness of self torture.
He was too tired to feel alarm. He would wait and see what
would happen. It must come.There was no escape. It was fatality.

(03:59:48):
It was rest to sit there,motionless, inert, willless, with
the wide silver gray waters before him, waiting for what might happen, To
struggle no more for his own ends, to fear, no more, but
to wait patiently and forever. Itmust come, like the tide from the
ocean. It must cover him asthe surf covers the sands, and then

(04:00:11):
go down again, and perhaps draghim with it, drowned and dead.
A wave of that flood would washover him and stop his breath, and
more waves would follow, endlessly,a senseless tide, a fruitless eternity.
I wish I did not feel itso acutely, he painfully thought. It

(04:00:33):
is too silly to feel it.So perhaps nothing will come of it,
and I shall live to be ahundred in peace and contentment. Still,
this is undeniable. This is afact. They are there. They are
here. But if it were reallycoming, I should not feel it.
Nothing happens but the unexpected. Itis mere nervous weakness over tension. Nothing

(04:00:54):
can really matter to me, Nothingmatters. The air is lovely and pleasant,
soft. There floats a cloud,and I will just sit still without
fear, quite at my ease.There they are again, the sea,
muse fly low. I will wait. Wait. Those boys are playing in

(04:01:15):
that boat. What's folly? Theywill have it over? He looked with
involuntary interest at their antics, andthen again at the gentleman and lady.
They were now full in sight,just below him, and they went past,
knowing nothing, without a gesture,like two puppets. Ah, but
I know, thought he. Theyare here, and it has come in

(04:01:39):
their train perps. But it maygo away with them too and be no
more than a threat. So Ishall wait. I do not care.
If it must come, it must. They had gone out of sight.
The boys and their boats were gonetoo. The shore in front of him
was lonely, a long stretch ofdesert. Suddenly he was seized with a

(04:02:01):
violent, shivering an agu He stoodup, his face quite colorless, his
knees quaking. Terror had suddenly beentoo much for him, and large beads
of sweat bedewed his forehead. Godabove, thought he life is terrible.
I have made it terrible. I'mafraid. What can I do? Run

(04:02:24):
away? No? No, Imust wait. Can any harm come to
me? No? None, none, none. There they were, both
of them, she and her father. I am really afraid. Oh,
if it must come, great,God, only let it come quickly.
Then he fancied his eyes had deceivedhim, that it had not been those

(04:02:46):
two impossible. And yet he knewthat they were there. Terror throbbed in
his breast with vehement hearts beating,and he now only marveled that he could
have looked at the boats with theboys at all whilst Archiebald and Eva were
walking down on the shore. Butit's not to be upset. That was

(04:03:07):
what he had been thinking of theboat. Three A whole fortnight of broiling
summer days slipped by. Had hewaited, always too weary to make the
smallest effort to induce Frank to quitthe place, it might perhaps have cost
him no more than a single word. But he never spoke the word,

(04:03:30):
waiting and gradually falling under a spellof waiting, as though he were looking
for the mysterious outcome of an interestingdenouement. Had they already met, anywhere?
Would they meet? And if theyshould, would anything come of it?
One thing inevitably follows another thought.He nothing could ever be done to
check their course. Vestova was inthe habit of remaining a great deal indoors,

(04:03:56):
leading a quiet life between his gloomythoughts and his favorite gymnastics, not
troubling himself about the summer crowd outsideon the terrace and the shore. Thus
the fortnight passed without his becoming awareof the vicinity of the woman whom Van
Meherin dreaded. Not a suspicion ofpremonition thrilled through Frank's mild melancholy. He

(04:04:20):
had gone on breathing the fresh seaair without perceiving any fragrance in the atmosphere
that could suggest her presence. Hedid not discern the prince of her little
chores on the level strand below thevilla, nor the tilt of her parasol
passing under his eyes as he satcalmly smoking with his feet on the railings.

(04:04:41):
And they must often have gazed atthe self same packets steaming into the
narrow harbor, like a colored silhouettecut out of a prince, with its
little sails and flag of smoke.But their eyes were unconscious. How nearly
they must be crossing each other outthere over the sea. After these two
scorching weeks, there came a dull, gray, sunless day, with heavy

(04:05:05):
rains stored in the driving black cloudslike swollen water skins. Frank had gone
for a walk on the shore bythe edge of the wailing, fretting sea.
The basket chairs had been carried higherup and were closely packed and almost
unoccupied. There was scarcely anyone out. A dismal, sighing wind swept the

(04:05:28):
waters. It was an autumn dayfull of the desolation of departed summer joys.
And as he walked on his earsfilled with the morning breeze, he
saw her coming towards him, withwaving skirts and fluttering ribbons, and great
heaven, it was she. Itwas as though a massive rock had been

(04:05:50):
suddenly cast at his breast with agiant's throat, and he lay crushed and
breathless beneath a surge of mingled joyand anguish, struggled through his pulses,
thrilled his nerves mounted to his brain. He involuntarily stood still and almost unconsciously
exclaimed in a tone inaudible, indeedat any distance and drowned in the wind.

(04:06:13):
Eva, my god, Eva.But the distance was lessening. Now
She was close to him, andapparently quite calm, because she had already
seen him that very morning, thoughhe had not seen her because she had
gone through the first emotion, becauseshe had walked that way in the wind,
close by the villa into which shehad seen him. Vanish in the

(04:06:35):
hope of meeting him again. Thequestion flashed through his mind whether he should
greet her with a bow as astranger, doing it with affected indifference,
as though unmoved by this accidental meetingand forgets full of the past. And
in spite of his tremulous excitement,he could still be amazed at seeing her

(04:06:56):
cam straight towards him without a hesitation, as if to her goal. In
an instant she stood before him withher pale, earnest face and dark eyes
beaming with vitality. He saw herwhole form and figure, absorbed them into
himself, as though his soul woulddevour the vision. Frank, she said

(04:07:20):
softly. He made no reply,shivering with emotion and scarcely able to see
through the mist of tears which dimmedhis eyes. She smiled sadly. Will
you not hear me, she said, in her low, silvery voice.
He bowed awkwardly, muttering something awkwardly, putting out his hand. She gently

(04:07:43):
grasped it and went on still inthat subdued tone like an echo. Don't
be vexed with me for addressing you. There is something I should like to
say to you. I'm glad tohave met you here in scathing, and
by mere chance, or perhaps notby mere chance, there was some misunderstanding,
Frank, between you and me,and unpleasant words were spoken on both

(04:08:05):
sides. We are parted, andyet I should like to ask your forgiveness
for what I then said. Tearschoked her. She could scarcely control herself,
but she concealed her emotion and stoodcalmly before him, brave as women
can be brave, and with thatsad smile, full of hopeless submission,

(04:08:26):
without affectation, candid and simple.Do not take it amiss. Only let
me ask you whether you can forgiveme for having once offended you, and
will henceforth think of me more tenderly? Eva Eva, he stammered, You
ask me to forgive? It wasI? It was I who Nay,

(04:08:50):
She gently interrupted, you have forgottenit was I? Do you forgive me?
And she held out her hand.Frank wrung it with a sob that
choked in his throat. Thank you, I am glad, she went on.
I was in the wrong. Whyshould I not confess it? I
own it? Frankly, Will younot come and see Papa. We are

(04:09:13):
living in a hotel, GARNI haveyou anything to do if not come now
with me, Papa will be verypleased to see you. Certainly, of
course, he muttered, walking onby her side. But I am not
taking you from any one else.Perhaps some one is waiting for you.
Perhaps now by this time you aremarried. She forced herself to look at

(04:09:37):
him with her faint smile, alanguid, pale courtesy which parted her lips,
but sadly, and her voice wasmildly blank, devoid of any special
interest. He started at her words. They conveyed a suggestion which had never
occurred to him, A strange ideatransferred from her to him, but it
took no root and perished instantly married. Oh Eva, no, never,

(04:10:03):
he exclaimed, Well, such athing might have been, said she coolly.
They were silent for a while,but in a few moments, Eva,
touched by the tone of his lastwords, could no longer contain herself
and began to cry gently like afrightened child, sobbing spasmodically as they walked

(04:10:24):
on, the tears soaking her whitegauze veil in front of their hotel,
she stopped, and, controlling herselffor a moment, said Frank, be
honest with me. Do you notthink it odious of me to have spoken
to you? I could not makeup my mind what I ought to do,
but I so much wanted to confessmyself wrong and ask you to forgive

(04:10:46):
me. Do you despise me fordoing such a thing which perhaps some other
girl would never have done? Despiseyou? I despise you, cried he
with a gulp. But he couldsay no more, for some visitors were
coming towards them, though, butfew were out on this windy and threatening
day. They went a little further, hanging their heads like criminals under the

(04:11:11):
eyes of the strangers. Then theyturned into the hotel four. Sir Archibald
received Frank somewhat coolly, though civilly. Then he left them together, and
Eva at once began sit down.Frank, I have something to tell you,
he obeyed, in some surprise.Her tone was business like, her

(04:11:35):
emotion was suppressed, and she seemedto be prepared to make some clear and
logical statements. Frank said, sheyou once wrote a letter to Papa,
did you not, Yes? Henodded, sadly, You did, she
exclaimed eagerly. Yes, he repeated, two to you, and one to

(04:11:56):
sir Archibald, what two to me? Well, she cried in dismay.
Yes, he nodded once more,and you had no answers, She went
on more calmly. Did you everwonder why why, he echoed in surprise,
because you were offended because I hadbeen so rough, no, said
she very positively. Simply and solelybecause we never received your letters, what

(04:12:24):
cried Vestova, They never reached us. Our servant William seems to have had
some interest in keeping them back,some interest, repeated Frank Dully, bewildered
Why that? I do not know, replied Eva. All I know is
this our maid Kate, who rememberher, came crying one day to tell

(04:12:46):
me that she could not stay anylonger, for she was afraid of William,
who had declared that he would murderher. I inquired what had happened,
and then she told me that shehad once been just about to bring
up a letter to Papa in yourhandwriting. She knew your writing. William
had come behind her when she wasclose to the door and had snatched it

(04:13:07):
from her, saying that he wouldcarry it in, But instead of doing
so, he had put the letterinto his pocket. She had asked him
what he meant by it. Thenthey had a violent quarrel, and ever
since she had been afraid of theman. She had wanted to tell me
a long time ago, but darednot for fear of William. We questioned

(04:13:28):
William, who was rough and sulky, and considered himself offended by our doubts
of his honesty. Papa had hisroom searched to see if he had stolen
any more letters or other things.Nothing, however, was to be found,
neither stolen articles, nor letters,nor even the letter to Papa,
which seems to be the last ofthe three. You wrote, it,

(04:13:52):
was said Frank. Of course Papadismissed the man, And oh what was
it? I wanted to tell you? I cannot remember. So you wrote
actually three times? Indeed I didthree times. And what did you say,
she asked, with a sob inher throat. I ask you to
forgive me, and whether whether allcould not be the same again. I

(04:14:16):
confessed that I had been wrong,but you were not, perhaps not,
I cannot tell now I felt it. So then I waited and waited for
a word from you or your father, and none came. No, none,
She sighed, and then what couldI have done? Why did you
not come yourself? Oh? Whydid you never come near us? She

(04:14:41):
wailed reproachfully. He was silent fora minute, collecting his thoughts. He
could not remember it all. Tellme, Frank, she said softly,
Why did you not come yourself?I cannot remember exactly, he said,
dully. Then you did think ofit, yes, certainly, said he.

(04:15:03):
Then how was it that you nevercame? Frank suddenly broke down.
He gulped down his tears with difficulty, a gulp of anguish. Because I
was heart broken, because I wasso wretched, so unspeakably wretched. I
had always taken rather cynical views ofwomen and love and so forth, and

(04:15:24):
then when I met you, itwas all so new, so fresh to
me. I felt myself a boyagain. I was in love with you,
not only for your beauty, butfor everything you said and did,
for being what you are, alwaysso calm and sweet, good God,
I adored you, Eva. Thenthere was that change that doubts, that

(04:15:45):
dreadful time. I cannot remember itall now, and I felt so forlorn
and broken hearted I could have diedthen, Eva, Eva, you were
so miserable and you did not cometo me. No, but good Heavens,
why not I wanted to go toyou? And why did you not

(04:16:06):
do it? Then again he satlost in thought, his brain seemed clouded.
Ah, yes, I think Iremember all about it now, he
said, slowly. I wanted togo, And then Bertie said, what
did Bertie say that? He thoughtto me a fool for my pains,

(04:16:26):
A coward and a cur and afool. But why because you had disbelieved
my word? And then I thoughtperhaps he was right? And I did
not go. She flung herself ona sofa in utter woe, weeping passionately.
Then it was what Bertie said,She cried, reproachfully. Yes,

(04:16:48):
nothing else, he said, mournfully, God in heaven. That alone.
They were both silent. Then Evasat upright again, shivering. Her face
was white and bloodless, her eyesfixed with a dull, vacant glare,
like weathered glass. Oh, Frank, she cried, Frank, I am

(04:17:12):
so frightened. It is coming whatwhat he asked? In alarm? I
felt its coming upon me, shemoaned, panting. It is like the
sound of distant thunder droning in myears and in my brain. Great heavens,
it is close to me. Frank, oh, frank, it is
above me, over me. Thethunder is over my head. She shrieked

(04:17:36):
and fought the air with her armsas if to beat something off, and
her slender frame was convulsed as froma series of mysterious electric shocks. Her
breath came rattling in her throat.Then she tottered, and he thought she
would have fallen. He clasped herin his arms. Eva, Eva,
he cried. She allowed him todrag her to the sofa without making any

(04:18:02):
resistance, happy in his embrace inspite of her hallucination. And there she
remains sitting by him, with hisarm round her, cowering against his breast.
Eva, come, Eva, whatis it that ails you? It
has passed over, she murmured,almost inaudibly. Yes, it is gone,

(04:18:22):
now it is gone. It hascome over me so often lately.
It comes roaring on slowly and stealthily, and then it breaks over my head,
shaking me to the core, andthen it goes away, dies away
away. I am in such terrorof it. It is like a monster
which comes bellowing at me, andit frightens me. So what can it

(04:18:45):
be I cannot tell overwrought nerves,perhaps, he said consolingly. Oh,
hold me close, she said,caressingly, Hold me tightly to you.
When I am alone, after itis past. I am left in such
deadly fear. But now now Ihave you you once more, you will
not cast me from you again.You will protect me, your poor little

(04:19:08):
evil, will you not? Ah? Yes, I have you back now.
I knew, I felt I shouldhave you back some day, and
I have made Papa come to Scaveningenevery summer. I had an idea that
you must be somewhere in Holland,at the Hague or at Scaveningen, that
if we were ever to meet again, it would be here. And now

(04:19:30):
it has happened. And I haveyou once more. Hold me tightly now
in both arms, both arms.Then I shall not be frightened. She
clung more closely to his breast,her head on his shoulder, and then,
in a voice like a child's luke, she said, holding out her
wrist, What asked he that littlescar you did that I did? Yes,

(04:19:57):
you clutched me by the ri lists. He felt utterly miserable in spite
of having found her again. Hadhe covered the line of the scar with
little kisses, She laughed quietly.It's a bracelet, she said lightly.
End of section seven, Section eightof Footsteps of Fate by Luis Kuperus.

(04:20:27):
This libery vox recording is in thepublic domain Part four, five and six
five. Presently, however, hestarted up eva he began suddenly recollecting himself.
How why what is it? Shesaid, laughing, but a little

(04:20:51):
exhausted after her strange fear of thefancied thunder? Those letters? Why did
William? What could they matter toWilliam? Not make curiosity to see what
was in them? He would nothave snatched that last one so roughly from
Kate if it had been all no, no, Then you think he had
some interest I do? But whatWhy should he care whether I wrote to

(04:21:15):
you or no? Perhaps he wasacting for well, for someone else,
but for whom. What concern couldmy letters be of anybody's? What advantage
could it be to anyone to hinderor getting them? She sat up and
looked at him for some time,without speaking, dreading the questions she must

(04:21:36):
ask. Can you barely think ofno one? She said? No?
Did no one know that you hadwritten? No one but Bertie Ah only
Bertie, said she with emphasis.But Bertie, no, surely, he
asked her, indignant at so preposterousa suspicion, Perhaps, she whispered,

(04:22:00):
almost inaudibly. Perhaps Bertie eva impossible. Why how she sank back into her
former attitude, her head on hisbreast, trembling still from the impression of
the thunder she had heard, andshe went on, I know nothing.
I only think I have thought itover day after day for two years,

(04:22:23):
and I have begun to find agreat deal that seems mysterious in what had
never before been puzzling, but indeedsympathetic to me in Bertie. You know,
we often used to talk together andsometimes alone. You were a little
jealous sometimes, but you had notthe smallest reason for it, for there
was never anything to make you.So we were like a brother and sister.

(04:22:47):
We often talked of you. Well. Afterwards, I remembered those talks,
and it struck me that Bertie,yes, that Bertie, that he
did not speak of you as atrue friend should I'm not sure when he
was talking. It never occurred tome, for Bertie had a tone and
a way of saying things. Ialways fancied then that he meant well by

(04:23:10):
us both, and that he reallycared for us, but that he was
afraid of something happening, some evil, some catastrophe, if we were married.
He seemed to think that we oughtnot to marry. When afterwards I
thought over what he had said,that was always the impression. He really
seemed to think that we that weought never to be married. She closed

(04:23:32):
her eyes, worn out by thiseffort to solve the enigmas of the past,
and she took his hand and strokedit as she held it in her
own. He too, tried tolook into that labyrinth of the past,
but he could discern nothing. Hismemory carried him back to their last days
in London, and he did recallsomething. He recollected Van Mayhorn's stern tone

(04:23:56):
when he Vestova had said that heshould call at the roads. He remembered
Bertie's urgent haste to get out ofLondon and wonder about the world. Could
Bertie had Bertie any interest? Buthe could not discern it in the simplicity
of his unpractical, heedlessly liberal friendship, which had never taken any account of

(04:24:17):
expenses, always sharing what he hadwith his companion because he had plenty,
and the other had nothing. Hecould not see it, since he had
never thought of such a possibility inhis strange indifference to everything that approached money
matters, an indifference so complete asto constitute a mental deficiency, as another

(04:24:37):
man is indifferent to all that concernspolitics or art or what not, matters
which he held so cheap and understoodso little, and could only shake his
head over it, as over anabracadabra he looked, but saw not you
see? I fancy it afterwards thatBertie had been opposed to our marrying,
Eva repeated dreamily, and then,bewildered by the mystery which life had woven

(04:25:03):
about her, she went on,tell me, Frank, what was there
in him? What was he?Who was he? Why would you never
tell me anything about him? ForI discovered that too later during those two
years when I thought out so manythings. He looked at her in dismay,
bitter self reproach came upon him,but never having told her that Bertie

(04:25:26):
was poor, penniless, and dependenton his friend's bounty. Why was it
he had never told her? Wasit out of a sense of shame at
being himself so careless, so foolishlyweak about a concern in which others were
so cautious and prudent, so foolishlyweak, careless to imbecility. And still

(04:25:47):
he looked at her in dismay.Then a suspicion of the truth flashed across
his mind like the zigzag glimmer ofdistant lightning, and he shrank from its
lurid gleam. Eva, he said, I will go to Bertie. To
Bertie. She shrieked, is hehere? Yes? He here? Oh?

(04:26:10):
I had never thought of that.I fancied he was away, far
away, dead. Perhaps I didnot care what had become of him.
Great God. Here, Frank.I implore you, Frank, leave him,
do not go near him. ButEva, I must ask him.
No, Frank, oh, Frank, for God's sake, do not go.

(04:26:30):
I am afraid, afraid. Donot go. He soothed her gently
with a soft, sad smile,which just lifted his yellow mustache. With
grave fondness in his honest eyes.He soothed and petted her very gently to
reassure her. Do not be afraid, my darling. I will be quite

(04:26:51):
calm. But still I must ask, don't you see? Wait for me
here? I will return in theevening, Can you really be Oh,
you had better not go. Ipromise you I will be quite calm,
quite cool, And he embraced herfondly, closely, with passionate fervor.
Then you are mine once more,he asked. She threw her arms round

(04:27:15):
his neck and kissed his lips,his eyes, his face. Yes,
she said, I am yours.Do what you will with me till we
meet again, then said he,and he quitted the house. Eva,
left alone, looked about her witha shudder, as if seeking the evil
she dreaded. She was afraid,afraid for herself and for Frank, but

(04:27:40):
chiefly for Frank. In an instant, her fears had risen to intolerable horror.
She heard her father's step in thepassage. She recognized his shuffling tread.
It was impossible to her to meethim. Just then, she snatched
up a cloak and wrapped it abouther, pulling the hood up over her
head as she rushed out of doors. It was raining heavily. Six Frank

(04:28:07):
found Van Maren at home, andBertie saw at once that it had come.
He read it in Frank's drawn face, heard it in the thick utterance
of his voice. And at thesame time he felt that the lax springs
of his determination were trying to bracethemselves in despair, in self defense,
and that they failed. Bertie said, Vestova, I want to speak to

(04:28:33):
you, to ask you something.Bertie made no reply. His legs quaked.
He was sitting in a large canechair, and he did not move.
I have just met Eva. Frankwent on, and I went with
her to see her father. SoArchibald tells me that they have been here
some weeks. Still Bertie spoke not. He gazed up at Frank with his

(04:28:56):
deep black eyes, and their brilliancywas overcast by distress and fear. Frank
stood in front of him, andhe now passed his hand over his brow
in some confusion. He had atfirst purpose to tell his story, and
then quite calmly, to ask aquestion. But something he knew, not
what in Bertie's cat like indolence rousedhis anger made him furious with him for

(04:29:21):
the first time in all the yearshe had known him. He was angry
that Bertie could stay there, halflying down languidly at ease, his graceful
hand hanging over the arm of thelounge, and he did not detect that
his attitude at this moment was assumedmerely to conceal an all too overwhelming agitation.

(04:29:41):
Had Frank's intention of telling a logicaltale and asking a plain question suddenly
collapsed in rage, giving way toa mad desire to know at once,
at once. Listen to me,Bertie, you remember the three letters that
I wrote before we left London.Eva tells me they were kept back by

(04:30:02):
their servants. William. Do youknow anything about it? Bertie was silent,
but his eyes were fixed on Frankwith dull, anxious entreaty. No
one knew of the existence of thoseletters. But you have you any suspicion
why it should be to William's interestto suppress them? Then? No,
how should I said Bertie, scarcelyabove his breath. Come speak out,

(04:30:27):
cried Vestova, quivering in every muscle. You must know something about it,
that is quite clear. You mustspeak out. All thought of self defense
melted away under the vehemence of Frank'stone. Bertie hardly had any curiosity even
to know what had occurred to betrayWilliam's complicity, and he felt that it

(04:30:49):
would be easiest now to give himselfup completely without reserve, since that which
he had been dreading for weeks hadcome upon him inevitably and fatally, since
whatever was to happen would happen inevitablyand fatally. And in his weakness he
was conscious of the horrible pathos,the hopeless pity of his being what he

(04:31:11):
was, of things being as theywere. Well, then he muttered,
dejectedly, I do know what doyou know? It was I who who
did what? Who bribed William notto deliver the letters? Vestova looked at
him in dumb astonishment. Darkness cloudedhis sight. Everything was in a whirl.

(04:31:33):
He did not hear, did notunderstand, forgetting that the truth had
already flashed across his brain. Youyou, he gasped, My god,
but why vanam Heron got up.He burst into tears, because because I
don't know, I cannot tell you. It is too vile. Vestovah had

(04:31:56):
seized him by the shoulders. Heshook him and said, in horse raar,
you damned villain. You will nottell me. Why you will not
tell me? Almost I shake itout of your body. Why tell me
this instant? Because because sobbed VanMehren, wringing his white hands, tell
me out with it because I wantedto stay with you, and because if

(04:32:21):
you married, I should have hadto go. I was so fond of
you, and speak out. Youwere so fond of me and then and
you were so kind to me.You gave me everything. I foresaw that
I should have to work for myliving again. And I was so well
off where I was, Frank,Frank, listen to me. Hear what
I have to tell you. Beforeyou say anything, before you are angry,

(04:32:45):
let me explain. Do not condemnme till you know. Oh,
yes, it was base of meto do what I did. But let
me say a word, and donot be angry, Frank, till you
know everything. Frank. Try tosee me as I am. I am
as God made me, and Icannot help it. I would have been
different if I could, And Ionly did what I could not help doing.

(04:33:08):
Indeed, I could not help it. I was driven to it by
a power outside me. I wasso weak, so tired. I could
rest with you. And though youmay not believe me, I loved you,
I worshiped you, and you wantedto turn me out and make me
work. Then it was then Idid it. Hear me, Frank,

(04:33:30):
let me tell you all. Imust tell you all. I made either
believe that you did not really loveher. I made her doubt you so
that everything was broken off between youand the letters. I stopped them.
It was all my doing, Frank, all all. And I hated myself
while I did it because I wasnot different from what I am. But

(04:33:52):
I could not help it. Iwas made so. And you do not
understand me. I am such astrange mixture that you cannot understand. But
try to understand me, and youwill, Frank, And then you will
forgive me. Perhaps you will evenforgive me. Oh, believe me,
I beseech you. I am notwholly selfish. I love you with all

(04:34:12):
my soul, so truly as oneman hardly ever loves another. Because you
were so good to me. Ican prove it to you. Did I
not stick by you when you hadlost all your money in America? If
I had been selfish, should Inot have left you then? But I
stayed with you. I worked withyou, and we shared everything and were

(04:34:33):
happy. Oh why did not thingsremain as they were? Now? You
have met her? And now haveyou done with words? Roared Frank?
So you did this? You wreckedall that life held for me. God
in Heaven, is it possible?No, you are right, I do
not understand you. He ended witha venomous laugh, his face crimson,

(04:34:59):
and he eyes starting with rage.Bertie had dropped crouching in a heap on
the ground and sobbed aloud. Ohbut try to understand, he entreated.
Try to see a fellow creature ashe is, in all his comfortless nakedness,
with no conventional rappings. My God, I swear to you that I

(04:35:21):
wish I was different, But howcan I help being what I am?
I was born without any option ofmy own. I was endowed with a
brain, and I must think,and I think otherwise than I gladly would
think. And I have been tossedthrough life like a ball. Like a
ball, What could I do thustossed? But try to keep my head

(04:35:42):
up? Strength of will, strengthof mind. I do not know whether
you have any, but I havenever never felt such a thing. When
I do a thing, it isbecause I must, because I can do
no otherwise. For though I mayhave the wish to act differently, the
strength and energy are not there.Believe me, I despise myself. Believe

(04:36:06):
that Frank And tried to understand andto forgive words words you are raving,
growled Frank, I do not knowwhat all your talk means. I can
understand nothing at this moment, andeven if I could, at this moment,
I would not. All I understandis that you have ruined me,
that you have destroyed my whole life'sjoy, and that you are a low

(04:36:30):
scoundrel who bribed a servant to stopmy letters out of gross, vile,
unfathomable selfishness. Bribed him. Tellme, rascal, wretch, coward,
bribed him with what in Heaven's name? Tell me with what you bribed him
with with? But Van mehr Andhesitated in abject fear, for Westover had

(04:36:55):
collared him by the waistcoats as hegroveled on the floor, and shook him
again and again by thunder, youvillain. You bribed him with my money,
with my own money. Tell mespeak, or I'll kick it out
of you. Yes, with mymoney, Yes, yes, yes.

(04:37:17):
Frank flung him down with a yellof contempt, of loathing of such a
thing as he. But Vana Meheronwas experiencing a reaction from his self abasement.
The world was so stupid. Menwere stupid. Frank was stupid.
He did not understand that a manshould be such as he Bertie was.

(04:37:37):
He could not understand. He bellowedout in his brutal rage, like some
wild beast without brains or sense.He himself had brains. Happier was he
who had none. He envied Frankhis lack of them. He sprang up
with one leap. Yes, yes, yes, he hissed it hard if

(04:37:59):
you don't understand, if you aretoo idiotic to take it in, yes,
I say, yes, yes,yes, I bribed him with your
money that you were so kind asto give me. The very last day,
when we were leaving London, yougave me one hundred pounds to pay
William. Do you remember to payWilliam? You do not understand, well,

(04:38:22):
you don't understand. You're a stupidbrute without brains, Aye, and
I envy you for having none.There was a time when I had none.
And do you know how I cameby them? Why? Through you?
There was a time when I toiledand worked and never thought and never
cared. I ate all I earned, and when I earned nothing, I

(04:38:44):
went hungry and I was happy.It was you, You who fed me
on dainties and gave me wine todrink. And it was you who clothed
me so that I had not towork, but had nothing to do but
to think, think in my contemptidleness all day long. And now I
only wish I could crack my skullopen and throw my brains in your face.

(04:39:07):
Having made me what I am,so finikin and full of ideas you
don't understand, then perhaps you willnot understand that at this moment I feel
no gratitude for all you have donefor me, that I hate you for
it, all that I despise you, and that you have made my life
infinitely more wretched than I have madeyours. Do you understand that much at

(04:39:30):
any rate? Ah, that Idespise you and hate you, hate you.
He had entrenched himself behind a table, sputtering out this volume of words
in a paroxysm of nervous excitements.He felt as though every fiber of his
frame was ready to crack like anoverstrained cord. He got behind the table

(04:39:52):
because Vestova was standing before him atthe other side, now, his eyes
staringly white and bloodshot in his head, purple face his nostrils dilated, his
shoulders up, his fists clenched readyas it seemed to spring upon him.
Vestova was waiting, as it appeared, till Van Mehern had spit out in

(04:40:14):
his face all the foul words hecould find. Yes, I hate you,
Bertie repeated, I hate you.He could find nothing else to say.
Then Frank let himself go with abellow like a wild beast, a
sound that had nothing human in it. He sprang over the table, which

(04:40:36):
tilted on its side, and camedown with all the weight of his impetus
on Bertie, who fell under himlike a reed. He seized his foe
by the throat, dragged him overthe legs of the table into the middle
of the room, dropped him witha crack on the floor, and fell
upon him. With his bony,square knee on Bertie's chest and his left

(04:40:57):
hand holding his no like a vice, and a hard, dry feeling like
a thirst for sheer brutality rose toVestova's throat. With a dreadful smile on
his lips, he swallowed two orthree times, fiendishly, glad that he
had him in his power. Inthe clutch of his left hand under his

(04:41:18):
knee, and he doubled his rightfist and raised it like a hammer with
a tigerish roar. There there therehe growled, And each time a sledgehammer
blow fell on Bertie there there there, on his nose, his eyes,

(04:41:40):
his mouth, his forehead, andthe blows resounded dully on his skull,
as if on metal. A redmist clouded a vestover's sight. Everything was
red, purple, scarlet's vermilion,a blood stained metally circled round him like
whirring wheels, and through that strangecrimson halo, a distorted face grinned up

(04:42:03):
at him under the pounding of hisfist. The corners of the room swam
in red, as if they werefull of tangible red terror, whirling whirling
round him, a purple dizziness,a scarlet madness, a nightmare bathed in
blood. And his blows fell fastand steadily there there there, and his

(04:42:29):
left hand closed tighter on the throatbelow that face. The door flew open,
and she Eva rushed up to himthrough the red mist, parting it,
dispelling it by the swift actuality ofher appearance. Frank, Frank,
She screamed, stop, I entreatyou, stop, you are murdering him.

(04:42:52):
He let his arm drop and lookedat her as in a dream.
She tried to drag him back,to get him away from the battered body
to which he clung in his furylike a vampire. Leave him, Frank,
I beseech you. Let him standup, Do not kill him.
I was outside and I was frightened. I did not understand because you were

(04:43:15):
speaking Dutch. Great heavens, whathave you done to him? Look?
Look what a state he is in. Frank had risen to his feet,
dazed by that red frenzy. Hehad to lean on the table. I've
given him what he deserved. I'vethrashed him, and I will do it
again. He was on the pointof falling on the foe once more,

(04:43:37):
with that devilish grin on his face. And that's brutal thirst still choking him.
Frank. No, Frank, criedEva, clinging to him with both
hands. For God's sake, besatisfied. Look at him, oh,
look at him? Well, Thenlet him get up, Frank snarled.

(04:43:59):
He may get up, Get up, wretched once, get up. He
gave him a kick, and asecond and a third to make him rise,
but Van Meheron did not move.Great God only look at him,
said Eva, kneeling down by thebody. Luke, don't you see She
turned to Frank, and he,as if awaking from his dream of blood,

(04:44:22):
did see now, and soar withhorror. There it lay the legs
and arms, convulsed and writhing,the body breathlessly still in the loose,
light hued summer suit, and theface a mask of blue and green and
violet stained with purplish black, whichoozed from ears and nose and mouth,

(04:44:45):
trickling down clammy and dark, dropby drop onto the carpet. One eye
was a shapeless mass, half pulpand jelly. The other stared out of
the oval socket like a large,dull, melancholy opal. The throat looked
as though it had a very broadpurple band round it, and as they

(04:45:07):
stood gazing down at the features,it seemed that they were swelling, swelling
to a sickening, unrecognizable deformity.Out of doors, the storm of rain
had not ceased. There they stood, staring at the horror that lay bleeding
and motionless on the ground before them, a leaden silence within and without the

(04:45:30):
falling torrent, an endless endless plash. Eva, kneeling by Bertie's side and
shuddering with terror, had felt hisheart. Had listened with her ear against
the breathless trunk, close to thedreadful thing to make sure. As she
had got up again quaking, hadvery softly stepped back from it, her

(04:45:53):
eyes still directed on it, andnow stood clinging against Frank as if she
would become one with him. Inher agony of fear Frank, she gasped,
God, have mercy, Frank,he's dead. Let us go,
let us go, let us fly. Is he dead? Asked Vestova dully.

(04:46:17):
His mind was beginning to wake,a faint dawn like murky daybreak.
He released himself from her grasp,knelts down, listened, felt, thought
vaguely of fetching a doctor of remedies, and then he added, huskily,
certain indeed of what he said,but quite uncertain of what he should do.

(04:46:38):
Yes, he's dead, he's dead. What can i Eva still hung
on to him, imploring him tofly, to escape, but his mind
was gradually getting clearer, daylight shiningin on his bewilderments. He freed himself
from her embrace and tried to gohis hand was already on the door handle.

(04:47:00):
Frank, She shrieked, for shesaw that he meant to abandon her.
Hush, he whispered, with afinger on his lips. Stay here,
stay here and watch him. Iwill come back, and he went.
She would have followed him, haveclung to him in an agony of
terror, but he had already shutthe door behind him, and her trembling

(04:47:22):
knees could scarcely carry her. Shesat down by the body, shivering miserably.
There it was, the swollen,bruised and purple face, sad and
sickening in the diffused afternoon light whichcame in obliquely through the curtain of rain,
every breath stuck in her throat.She was dying for air, and

(04:47:44):
long to open the window, beingcloser to that than to the door,
but she dared not. But outside, through the dim square panes, she
saw the tragical sky covered with drivingslate colored piles of cloud, and the
rain falling in a perfect deluge,and the sea dark and ominous as an

(04:48:06):
imminent threat, the raging foam gleamingthrough a shroud of pouring water. Mulder
moulder, she exclaimed, icy cold, with terrible remembrance. It is the
sky of Moulder, the fjord ofMulder, that was where I first felt
it. Oh God, help help, And she fell senseless on the floor.

(04:48:33):
End of section eight Section nine ofFootsteps of Fate by Louis Uberus.
This libertyvox recording is in the publicdomain. Part five one. Since that

(04:48:55):
day of terror, two years hadelapsed, years of silence, endurance for
them, both each suffering alone,for they were parted with only the solace
of a brief meeting now and then, when she could go and see him
where he was spending those two years, the days slowly dragging past in the
prison among the sand hills. Hehad given himself up at once to the

(04:49:18):
police of Scheveningen, as if hewere walking in his sleep, had been
taken to the house of detention.He had stood his trial. It had
lasted six weeks, a short time, his lawyer had said to comfort him,
because there was no mystery to clearup. The murder was proved to
a demonstration beyond the shadow of adoubt, to be the result of a

(04:49:41):
quarrel. This was evident also fromthe evidence of miss Rhodes, who had
stated that the criminal himself had notat first understood that his friend was dead,
for that he had immediately after kickedhim two or three times to rouse
him, thinking he was only ina state of collapse, and that this
had taken and place in her presence. The trial was watched with interest by

(04:50:03):
the public, and their sympathy wasaroused when the purchase of the letters came
out through the evidence of Sir Archibaldand his daughter, confirmed by William,
whose presence was secured by diplomatic interference, there were no difficulties. Six weeks
settled everything. Frank was sentenced totwo years imprisonment and the case was not

(04:50:26):
taken to a higher court. Hehad spent the time, day after day
in a waking dream of gloomy lucidity, with always always the sinister vision of
that writhing body and the horror ofthat dreadful, battered face before his eyes.
He had felt its glide over thepages of his book when he tried

(04:50:47):
to read among the letters he tracedwhen he tried to write what he scarcely
knew fragments of an account of histravels through America and Australia. A melancholy
employment and full of pain, sinceevery word reminded him of the murdered man
who had been his constant companion.And when he did nothing but gazed in
dreary reverie out of the window ofhis cell, there just below and not

(04:51:12):
very far away, he could seethe villa where they had dwelt together and
where he had done the deed,with a glimmer of the sea, a
shining gray streak, and in fancyhe could smell the briny scent, as
in the days when he had spenthour after hour with his feet on the
balustrade, the hours which, asthey crept on, though he knew it's

(04:51:33):
not, were bringing inevitable doom onthem both every moments nearer. So it's
never left him, It's haunted himincessantly. Heava had entreated her father to
remain at the Hague during all thisterrible time, and Sir Archibald had consented,
fearing for his daughter's health. Hernatural sweet equanimity had given way to

(04:52:00):
a fitful nervousness, which tormented herwith hallucinations, visions of thunder and of
blood. So they had settled inthe van Storck Park, and all through
Frank's imprisonment she had been able tosee him from time to time, coming
home more exhausted from each visit,in despair over his melancholy. However,

(04:52:21):
she might try to encourage him withhopes for the future. Later on,
when he should be free, sheherself could hope, nay, lived only
on hope, controlling her excitability underthe yoke of patience and of her confidence
in something brighter which might come intoher life by and by when Frank was
free, a new life, ohfor a new life, and her spirit

(04:52:47):
stanced at the thought and new happiness, Great God, some happiness. She
did not herself understand how she couldstill hope, since she had known so
much of life and of men,and since she had lived through that fearful
experience. But she would not thinkof it, and in the distant future
she saw everything fair and good.Even her hallucinations did not destroy her hopefulness,

(04:53:15):
though dreading them she regarded them asa recurring malady of the brain,
which would presently depart of itself.She could even smile as she sat streaming
in the pale light of a starlitsummer evening, the calendar in her hand,
on which she scratched through each dayas it died with a gold pencil
case which she had bought on purposeand used for nothing else. Wearing it

(04:53:38):
in a bracelet, struck it outwith a glad, firm stroke as bringing
her nearer to the blissful future.And she would even let the days pass
without erasing them severally, that shemight have the joy at the end of
a week of making six or sevenstrokes, one after another in a luxury

(04:53:59):
of anticipation. Two and now longas they had been, the days had
all stolen by all, one afteranother. Beyond recall, the past was
more and more the past, andwould forever remain so it would never come
back to them, she thought,never haunt them more with hideous memories.

(04:54:22):
She grew calmer, her nervousness diminished, and something like peace came upon her
in a passionate longing for the happyfuture, for she was going to be
happy with Frank. She was nowin London again with her father, living
very quietly, still feeling the pastin spite of her present gladness, still

(04:54:44):
conscious of what had been in allits misery and its horror. Frank too
was in London, in a poorlypaid place as an assistant overseer, in
some engineering works, the only openinghe could find by the help of his
old connections, jumping at it.Indeed, in consideration of his antecedents,
of which he had no cause tobe proud by and by, he should

(04:55:08):
get something better, something more suitedto his attainments. And he took up
his studies again to refresh his technicalknowledge, which had grown somewhat rusty.
So Archibald had grown much older andwas crippled by attacks of rheumatism, but
he still sat poring over his heraldicstudies, living in Holland for his daughter's

(04:55:30):
sake. He had too long beenout of his own circle of acquaintance and
groove of habits. And though hehad, from time to time, in
a fit of childish temper, expressedhis vexation at Eva's becoming the wife of
a murderer, he now agreed toeverything, shrinking from the world and troubling
himself about nothing, only craving tobe left undisturbed in the apathy of his

(04:55:53):
old age. He knew nothing aboutit, old men, nothing thing of
such things. The young people mightplease themselves. They always knew best,
and must have their own way.So he grumbled on apparently indifferent, but
glad at heart that Eva should marryFrank, since Frank, if he could

(04:56:15):
be violent, was good at heart, and Eva would be well cared for,
and he himself would have someone tobear him company in his own house.
Yes, yes, a little company. Frank and Eva met but rarely
during the week, for he wasbusy in the evenings. But they saw

(04:56:36):
each other regularly on Sundays, andEva had the whole week in which to
think over the Sunday which he hadlast seen him, and she tried to
recall every word that he had said, every look that he had given her.
On these treasures she lived all theweek. She had never loved him
so dearly as now, when crushingdepression weighed on him, which he longed

(04:56:57):
to lighten by the solace of herlove. There was something motherly in her
feeling for him, as though hissufferings had made a child of him,
needing a tenderer regard than of yore. She had loved him then for the
mysterious charm, as it seemed toher of the contrast between his feeble gentleness
and his powerful physique, And nowit was no more than a higher development

(04:57:22):
of the same charm, since shesaw the stalwart strong man suffering so pitiably
under the memory of what he hadgone through, and lacking the energy to
rise superior to it and to beginlife anew. But this want of vigor
did not discourage her in her hopesfor the future. On the contrary,
she loved him for his weakness,while regarding this as singular and incomprehensible in

(04:57:47):
herself, dreaming it over in hersolitude, or smiling with gladness, for
she, as a woman, inspite of her nervous visionary temperament, could
resolutely forget the power as bravely goforward and meet the future, compelling happiness
to come to her by her sweetpatience and elastic constancy. Had not all

(04:58:10):
the woes of the past lain outsidethem both, had not Frank done penance
enough for his fit of rage tohold up his head again. Now,
Oh, they would soon have gotover it completely. They would insist on
being happy, and she would curehim of everything like heart sickness. Thus
she hoped on a long long time, refusing at first to acknowledge that he

(04:58:34):
grew more melancholy and gloomy, sinkinginto deeper and deeper dejection under his burden.
But at last she was compelled tosee it, could no longer blind
herself. She could not help seeingthat he sat speechless when she talked,
so hopefully listened in silence to hercheerful words and bright illusions, saying nothing

(04:58:59):
and sometimes closing his eyes with asigh which he tried to suppress. She
could not deceive herself. Her sanguinemoods aroused in him only an echo of
despair. And when one day thiswas suddenly clear to her, she felt
suddenly too that her nervous fears hadworn her out, that she was sad

(04:59:21):
and ill, that her courage,her hopes, her illusions were sinking down
down, deeper and deeper. Herbitterness, as of wormwood, rose up
in her, tainting everything. Sheflung herself on her bed in her loneliness,
hearts broken, in utter anguish,and cursed her life, cursed God

(04:59:44):
in helpless woe. Three then circumstancesoccurred, which, in spite of all
this, led to its being settledthat they were to be married in quite
a short time. In about sixweeks, Frank had been helped by some
of his old friends to obtain anappointment as an engineer in a great Glasgow

(05:00:07):
firm. Eva was to have hermother's fortune. There were no difficulties in
the way. Frank now always spentthe whole of Sunday at Sir Archibald's house.
He came to lunch sitting as silentas ever, and after lunch they
were usually left to themselves. Atfirst, the hours flew by, sped

(05:00:29):
by Eva's daydreams. Though she wasstill and in spite of herself somewhat nervous.
They would discuss various matters and evenreadtogether. But then for some little
time, minutes would link itself tominute while they did nothing but sit side
by side on a deep sofa,holding each other's hands and gazing into vacancy.

(05:00:51):
And a moment came when they couldno longer endure that grasp, no
longer dared, the image of Bertiewith his purpose old, blood stained face
would rise up between them. Theirhands parted. They were both thinking of
the dead. Eva felt as ifshe had been an accomplice in the deed.

(05:01:12):
As it grew darker, intolerable miserywould so overpower her that it seemed
as though she must suffocate. Thenthey would throw the windows open, and
stand for a long long time torefresh themselves in the cool air, looking
out over the park in the gatheringgloom. She listened in dread to Frank's

(05:01:33):
breath as it came and went hi. And she was afraid of him in
spite of her love. After all, he had committed murder. He could
do such things in his rage.Oh if in a fit of passion she
too, But she would defend herselfwith the strength of despair, she would
cling to life. Had she notherself felt strong enough to kill. No,

(05:01:59):
No, no, she surely shewas too timid. And besides,
she loved him so dearly, sheadored him, and soon she would be
his wife. Still she was afraid. The Sundays were no longer days so
sweet as to leave a treasure ofmemory in which she could live through the
week. On the contrary, evennow dreaded Sunday, she awaited it with

(05:02:22):
terror. Friday, Saturday. Hereit was again. There was Frank.
She heard his step as still shewas afraid, and she still loved him.
They were sitting thus one evening,hand in hand and silence. It
was still early in the afternoon,but a storm threatened and the gray gloom

(05:02:45):
peered in through the thick lace curtains. Eva, depressed by the heavy weather,
thirsting for some comfort, suddenly,in spite of her fears, threw
herself on Frank's breast. I couldnot longer endure this weather, she wailed,
almost moaning, the dark, cloudysky always oppresses me. Of late,

(05:03:07):
I want to go to Italy.Frank, to the sun, the
sun. He pressed her to him, but did not speak. She began
to weep softly, Say something,Frank, She sobbed. Yes, I
do not like this heavy sky,he said dully. Again, there was
silence. She tried to control herself, clinging closely to him. Then she

(05:03:32):
went on, I cannot be upagainst it. I believe since that rainy
day which overtook us in Mulder solong ago, now five years and more.
You remember when we had met threeor four times a few days before
at Doroncim. She smiled and kissedhis hand, remembering her youth. She
was old. Now you recollect.We got home to the hotel drenched.

(05:03:57):
I believe I have been well eversince that day that I took a bad
cold which settled in me, thoughat first I did not feel it and
said nothing about it, but whichhas been undermining me ever since, all
this long time. He made noreply. He too had a vague recollection
of something tragically painful at Smulda,but he could no longer remember what.

(05:04:22):
But she suddenly burst into a violentfit of weeping. Oh, Frank,
speak say something, She besought him, in despair at his silence, feeling
her terror grow greater in the stillnessand her heart throbbing wildly in spite of
herself. He passed his hands overhis forehead, trying to collect his thoughts.

(05:04:45):
Then he slowly replied, Yes,Eva, for I have something to
say to you, just this veryday. What is that? She asked,
looking up through her tears in surpriseat strange tone. I want to
speak to you very seriously, Eva, Will you listen? Yes, I

(05:05:07):
want to ask you something to askif you would not rather be free to
ask, if you would not beglad that I should release you. She
did not immediately understand him, andsat gazing at him, open mouthed.
Why, she said at length,shuddering, terrified, lest he should understand
something of what was torturing her soul, because it would be so much better

(05:05:33):
for you my child, he saidgently. I have no right to fetter
your life to mine. I amwrecked an old man, and you are
young. She clung closely to him. No, I am old too,
said she with a smile, andI will not have it. I will
be true to you. I willalways comfort you when you are out of

(05:05:55):
heart, and so together we willboth grow young again and both be happy.
Her voice was as sweet as balm. To give him strength. She
felt something of her old illusions revivingin her. She would cling to him
whatever the cost. She loved him. He clasped her tightly to his breast
and kissed her fondly. For themoment, she felt no fear. He

(05:06:21):
was so unhappy. You are adear good girl, he whispered in a
husky, trembling voice. I donot deserve that you should be so good
to me. But seriously, Eva, think it over once more. Consider
again whether you would not be unhappy, nay wretched, if you had to
be with me always. There isyet time. We have our future lives

(05:06:45):
in our hands, and I cannotspend mine with you, Eva, only
to make yours more miserable than Ihave done already. So for your sake
for your happiness. I would gladlygive you back your word, but I
will not have it, she moaneddesperately. I will not. I do
not understand you. Why should yougive me back my word? He took

(05:07:07):
her hands caressingly in his own andlooked in her face a long time,
with a sad smile under the goldcolored mustache. Why because because you are
afraid of me, my darling.A spasm shot through her whole frame like
an electric shock. Wildly, shelooked at him and wildly protested, It's

(05:07:32):
not true, Frank, I swearit's not true. Great God, why
do you think that? What haveI done to make you think it?
Believe me, Frank, take myword. I swear to you by all
that is holy there, I swearto you it is not true. I
am not afraid of you. Yes, yes, Eva, you are afraid

(05:07:52):
of me, he said, calmly. And I understand it. It must
be so. And yet I assureyou you should have no cause to be,
for I should be a lamb inyour hands. I would lay my
head in your hands, your prettycold white hands, and sleep like a
child. You should do with mewhatever you would, and I would never
be angry with you, for Icould never be so again. Never again,

(05:08:17):
I would lie at your feet,I would feel your feet on me
on my breast, and lies sostill, so calm and blessed. He
had fallen on his knees before her, with his head in her lap,
on her hands. Well, then, she said, gently, if that
is the case, why should Iever be afraid of you? Since you

(05:08:38):
promised me this? And why doyou talk of releasing me from my word?
Because I cannot bear to live onseeing you so unhappy? Because you
are unhappy with me, as Ican see, and because you will be
even more so when we are togetherlater Always, she quivered in every fiber,

(05:08:59):
A strange li ucidity came over her. She saw all that had happened
as if mirrored in crystal. Hearme, frank, she said, in
a clear, bright voice, Remainwhere you are and listen to me.
Listen well. I mean to betrue to you, and we shall be
happy. I feel that we shall. What has occurred that we should always

(05:09:19):
be so miserable? Nothing, Irepeat it, nothing. Do not let
us spoil our own lives. Idoubted you once you have forgiven me.
That is all. At an endyou discovered that Bertie was a scoundrel,
and you killed him. That toois ended. Nothing of all this can
matter to me now. I willnever think of it again. It has

(05:09:41):
ceased to exist so far as Iam concerned. And that is all,
Frank. Consider reflect, that isall. Nothing else has happened, and
that is not much. We areyoung and strong, we are not really
old. And I tell you wecan live a new life somewhere together,
somewhere a long way from London,A new life, Frank, a new

(05:10:03):
life. I love you, Frank. You are everything to me. You
are my idol, my husband,my darling, my child, my great
child. She clasped his head passionatelyto her bosom in a rapture, her
eyes sparkling and a flush tinging theazalea whiteness of her cheeks. But his

(05:10:26):
eyes met hers with a look ofanguish. You are an angel, Eva,
you are an angel. But Icannot claim you for Listen to me
the real truth. Well, whatis the truth? Bertie was not a
scoundrel. He was nothing but aman, a very weak man. That
is the truth. Listen to me, Eva, let me speak. I

(05:10:51):
thought a great deal at Scheveningen,among the sand hills. You know,
I thought over everything I could rememberof what he had said to me in
those liveslast moments in self defense,and by degrees all his words came back
to me, and I felt thathe had been in the right, in
the right. Oh, Frank,I do not know what he said in

(05:11:12):
self defense. But now still shallBertie's influence come between us to part us?
She cried in bitter despair. Noit is not, that, he
replied, Make no mistake. Itis not Bertie's influence which divides us.
It is my guilt, your guilt, My guilt which rises up before me

(05:11:33):
from time to time, reminding meof what I have done, so that
I cannot forget it, shall neverforget it. Let me tell you he
was right in what he said atlast. He was a weak creature,
he said, flung into life withoutany strength of will. Was that his
fault? He despised himself for havingdone so mean a thing about those letters,

(05:11:56):
but he had not known what elseto do. Well, And I
forgive him for being weak, forhe could not help it. And we
are all weak. I am weaktoo. But you would never have done
such a thing, cried Eva,because I perhaps some difference, But I
am weak all the same. Iam weak when I am angry, and
then then in my fury, Iwas utterly, utterly weak. This is

(05:12:21):
the truth. This is what iscrushing me and broken as I am.
I cannot be your husband. Ohwhat would I not give to have him
still alive. I was fond ofhim once, and now I could say
to him that I do understand thatI forgive him. Frank, do not
be so foolish, so foolishly good, she exclaimed. Oh it is not

(05:12:45):
foolish goodness, he said, witha melancholy smile. It is philosophy.
Well, then, she cried,in a hard, rough tone, I
am no philosopher. I am notfoolishly good. I do not forgive him
for being a villain and for makingus miserable. I hate him, hate
him dead as he is. Ihate him for coming between us and haunting

(05:13:07):
us now that you have killed him, and for the diabolical influence he still
brings to bear on you and onme. But I say I will not
have it, She shrieked, despairingly, starting to her feet, but still
clinging to him. I tell youthat I will not lose you for the
second time. I swear that ifyou try to leave me here, I

(05:13:30):
will stand, holding you fast inmy arms, clasping you to me till
we both are dead, for Iwill not let impart us. I hate
him. I am glad you murderedhim, and if he were living now,
I would do it myself. Iwould kill him, strangle him,
strangle him. She clenched her handsas if she gripped his throat, and

(05:13:52):
held Frank in her embrace as thoughhe were her prey. Out of doors,
it was growing darker every minute.He gently released himself, supporting her
indeed, for he felt that shewas tottering in her overtension of energy and
courage. She was staring out atthe weather with her sunken gray eyes,

(05:14:14):
and she shivered from head to foot. He led her back to the sofa,
made her sit down, and againknelt before her in more passionate devotion
than ever eva. He whispered,Oh, look at the clouds, She
cried, It is pouring a deluge, Yes, said he, What does
that matter? I love you.I cannot bear up against such weather.

(05:14:40):
She moaned. It oppresses me andfrightens me. Oh, it terrifies me.
So protect me, Frank, shelterme. Come close. She drew
him to her on the sofa,and, opening his coat, nestled against
him. I have so frightened.Hold me tightly, wrap your coat round

(05:15:02):
me. Oh, do not letit come upon me. Lord, have
mercy, and do not let itcome over me again. I beseech thee.
It was the visionary thunder. Sheprayed to be spared, and she
threw both arms round her lover,clinging to him as if to hide herself.
So she remained while he held herclose. When presently twisting her fingers

(05:15:26):
into his waistcoat pocket, she murmured, what is this? What have you
here? What have you found?He said, in alarm, This in
your waistcoat pocket? Nothing? Alittle file, he muttered, Some drops
for my eyes. I've been troubledby my eyes lately. She took out
the file. It was a tiny, dark blue bottle with a cut glass

(05:15:49):
stopper and no label. For youreyes, she said, I did not
know. Yes, really, heanswered, give it me. But she
held it hidden in her two handsand laughed, No, No, I
will not give it to you.Why are you so uneasy? I shall
not break it? Does it smeltI want to open it, but the

(05:16:11):
stopper's stuck. Eva, I entreatyou, give it me, he implored
her, and the perspiration stood onhis brow. It is nothing but drops
for the eyes, and it hasno scent. You will spill it and
it stains. But she puts herhands behind her back. It is not
for the eyes, and you havenothing the matter with yours, she said

(05:16:34):
positively. Yes, really, no, you are deceiving me. It is
it is something else, is itnot? Eva? Give it to me?
Does it take effect? Quickly?She asked. Eva, I insist
give it me, he repeated,angry now, and at his wits end,

(05:16:55):
he threw his arm round her andtried to seize her wrists, but
he only grasped one empty hand,while the other flung the file over his
head on the floor. There wasa little clatter of falling glass, and
before he could rise, she hadthrown her arms round him again, dragging
him down among the cushions. Letit lie there, she murmured, with

(05:17:18):
a smile. It is broken.I have broken it for you. Tell
me why did you carry that aboutwith you? It is not what you
fancy, he replied, still onthe defensive. So much the better.
Why did you have it? Hesat silent for a moment, then yielding
to her insistence, he said,to take it when all was at an

(05:17:41):
end between us in the evening,of course, And now you cannot do
so. Perhaps I can manage tobuy some more, he said, with
a gloomy laugh. But why iseverything to be at an end between us?
He was suddenly quite serious, mockingno more at life and death.
For your sake, my angel,for your happiness, I beseech you,

(05:18:04):
let it all be ended. Letme feel that I no longer need to
make you wretched. You may yetbe happy, but I I feel that
everything in me hinders my ever beinghappy, and all happiness must begin in
ourselves alone. And do you thinkI shall let you go now that you
have just told me what you woulddo in the evening. But you are

(05:18:26):
not to think that I should doit only for your sake. I always
go about with that in my pocket. I have often thought of doing it,
But then I have thought of you, and I lacked courage, for
I know that you loved me onlytoo well, not too well. I
have lived in you, but foryou I should never have truly lived but
for me you might have lived withanother and have been happy. No,

(05:18:49):
never with any other. That couldnever have been. I had to live
with you. It was fatality,ay, fatality, Bertie, you to
say, do not mention Bertie.As she spoke, the rain dashed against
the window panes in a perfect torrent. It is always raining, she murmured,

(05:19:12):
Yes, always, he mechanically repeated. She shuddered and looked in his
face. Why do you say that, she asked quickly. I do not
know, said he startled and bewildered. I really do not know. Why
what did I say? They wereboth silent. Then she began again,

(05:19:33):
Frank, my darling, I willnot let you leave me again, not
even for a day. I shallalways be in terror for you. Let
there be an end to everything,my child. No, no, listen,
Let us be together forever, foreverand ever. Let us lie down
to sleep while it is still raining. Eva together. You say yourself that

(05:19:57):
everything in you fails of happines,and that nevertheless, happiness must come from
within. Well, it is thesame with me, And yet we love
each other, do we not?Yes? Yes? Then why should we
remain awake in this weariful life?It is always always raining? Give me
a kiss, Frank, a goodnight's kiss, and let us sleep while

(05:20:19):
it rains. Let me go tosleep in your arms. Eva, What
do you mean, he asked hoarsely, for he did not understand her.
I broke the file, broke itfor you, she went on wildly.
But you can always get another.An icy chill shot through his very marrow

(05:20:41):
like a sudden frost. God inheaven, Eva, what do you want?
She smiled at him, calmly,with the soft light in her beaming
eyes, and she threw her armsround him. So die with you,
my dearest, she whispered, asin an ecstasy of joy. What good
can life do us? You wereright? You can never be happy again,

(05:21:04):
and I can never be happy withyou. And yet I will not
leave you, for you are allin all to me. Then how can
we live? Or why? But, oh, Frank, to die together
in each other's arms, That isthe greatest bliss, A kindly poison,
Frank, nothing painful, something easyto take that we can take together and

(05:21:27):
clasp each other and die, die, die. Frank shuddered with horror.
No, Weaver, no, hecried. You must not wish that,
you cannot wish that. I forbidit, Oh, do not forbid it,
she said, persuasively, falling onthe floor and embracing his knees.

(05:21:48):
Let us share the same fate.That will be bliss. All about us
will be rose color and gold andsilver like a glorious sunset. Oh,
can you image anything more beautiful?Frank? That is happiness, the happiness
we have looked for, which everyonein this world is looking for. It
is paradise, It is heaven.He was not carried away by her rapture,

(05:22:15):
but her words tempted him, aswith the promise of a brief joy
in this life and an unutterably peacefulrest in death. He could say no
more to dissuade her, to checkher in the heavenward flight of her fancy.
But still he reflected that there wereno means at hand since the file
was broken. Eva had risen irresistiblyattracted to the spot where the file had

(05:22:38):
fallen. She stooped and picked itup. It had fallen into the drapery
of a curtain. It was notbroken, only cracked and chipped. Not
a drop had been spilt. Frank, she screamed in her frenzied gladness.
It is not broken. Look itis whole. It is Fate's would not

(05:23:00):
allow it to be broken. Hetoo was standing up, quaking with an
icy chill. She had already forcedout the stopper and half emptied the file
with a mad, ecstatic smile.Eva, he shrieked, and quite calmly
smiling still, she handed it tohim. He looked at her for a

(05:23:21):
moment, feeling as if they toowere already no longer of this world,
as if they were floating in asphere of unknown natural laws in which strange
things must come to pass. Theworld, as it seemed, was about
to perish in that deluge of pouringrain. But he saw that she stood
waiting with her strange smile, andhe drank. It was quite dark.

(05:23:48):
They lay on the sofa, sideby side, in each other's arms.
He was dead. She raised herhead in an agony of alarm at the
storm which was raging outside and thatother storm which was raging in her dying
body. The lightning glared white,and the thunder was close overhead, but
louder than the echoes in the air. The thunder came rolling on towards Eva,

(05:24:14):
nearer and nearer, louder and louder. A supernatural thunder on the wheels
of the spheres tis coming. Shemurmured, in the anguish of death,
Great heavens. The thunder again,and she sank, convulsed on the body
of her lover, hiding her headunder his coat to die. There then

(05:24:37):
came a shuffling step in the passageoutside the dark room. An old man's
thin voice twice called the name ofEva, and a hand opened the door.
End of section nine, end ofFootsteps of Fate by Luis Kuperus,
translated by Clara Bell, read byPhil Benson in Sydney, Australia,