The Broad Highway

And suddenly the trees and bushes swung giddily round--the grass

swayed beneath my feet--and Charmian was beside me with her arm

about my shoulders; but I pusbed her from me, and leaned against

a tree near by, and hearkened to the hammer in my brain.

"Why--Peter!" said she. "Oh--Peter!"

"Please, Charmian," said I, speaking between the hammer-strokes,

"do not--touch me again--it is--too soon after--"

"What do you mean--Peter? What do you mean?"

"He has--been with you--again--"

"What do you mean?" she cried.

"I know of--his visits--if he was--the same as--last time--in a

--blue coat--no, don't, don't touch me."

But she had sprung upon me, and caught me by the arms, and shook

me in a grip so strong that, giddy as I was, I reeled and

staggered like a drunken man. And still her voice hissed: "What

do you mean?" And her voice and hands and eyes were strangely

compelling.

"I mean," I answered, in a low, even voice, like one in a trance,

"that you are a Messalina, a Julia, a Joan of Naples, beautiful

as they--and as wanton."

Now at the word she cried out, and struck me twice across the

face, blows that burnt and stung.

"Beast!" she cried. "Liar! Oh, that I had the strength to

grind you into the earth beneath my foot. Oh! you poor, blind,

self-deluding fool!" and she laughed, and her laughter stung me

most of all. "As I look at you," she went on, the laugh still

curling her lip, "you stand there--what you are--a beaten hound.

This is my last look, and I shall always remember you as I see

you now--scarlet-cheeked, shamefaced--a beaten hound!" And,

speaking, she shook her hand at me, and turned upon her heel;

but with that word, and in that instant, the old, old demon

leapt up within me, and, as he leapt, I clasped my arms about

her, and caught her up, and crushed her close and high against

my breast.

"Go?" said I. "Go--no--no, not yet!"

And now, as her eyes met mine, I felt her tremble, yet she strove

to hide her fear, and heaped me with bitter scorn; but I only

shook my head and smiled. And now she struggled to break my

clasp, fiercely, desperately; her long hair burst its fastenings,

and enveloped us both in its rippling splendor; she beat my face,

she wound her fingers in my hair, but my lips smiled on, for the

hammer in my brain had deadened all else.