Kitty would be free, then? A flash of fire, which subsided quickly under
the smothering truth. What if she were free? He could not ask her to be
his wife. Not because of last night's madness. That no longer troubled
him. She was the sort who would understand, if he told her. She had
a soul big with understanding. It was that he walked in the shadow of
death, and would so long as Karlov was free; and he could not ask any
woman to share that.
He pushed back his chair slowly. In the living room he took the Amati
from its case and began improvising. What the chrysoprase did for Cutty
the fiddle did for this derelict--solved problems.
He reviewed all the phases as he played. That dish of bacon and eggs,
the resolute air of her, that popping fan! [Allegretto.] She had found
him senseless on the floor. She had had the courage to come to his
assistance. [Andante con espressione.] What had been in her mind that
night she had taken flight from his bedroom, after having given him the
wallet? Something like tears. What about? An American girl, natural,
humorous, and fanciful. Somehow he felt assured that it had not been his
kisses; she had looked into his eyes and seen the taint. Always there,
the beast that old Stefani had chained and subdued. He knew now that
this beast would never again lift its head. And he had let her go
without a sign. [Dolorosomente.] To have gone through life with a woman
who would have understood his nature. The test of her had been last
night in the streets. His mood had been hers. [Allegretto con amore.] "Love," he said, lowering the bow.
"Love," said Cutty, shifting his chrysoprase. There was no fool like an
old fool. It did not serve to recall Molly in all her glory, to reach
hither and yon for a handhold to pull him out of this morass. Molly had
become an invisible ghost. He loved her daughter. Double sunset; the
phenomenon of the Indian Ocean was now being enacted upon his own
horizon. Double sunset.
But why should Kitty have any problem to solve? Why should she dodder
over such a trifle as this prospective official marriage? It was only
a joke which would legalize his generosity. She had sent that telegram
after leaving this apartment. What had happened here to decide her? Had
Hawksley fiddled? There was something the matter with the green stones
to-night; they evoked nothing.
He leaned back in his chair, listening, the bowl of his pipe touching
the lapel of his coat. Music. Queer, what you could do with a fiddle if
you knew how.