Chapter X

"You look blue about the gills, Ulick," said Milt in his heartiest manner. "You're not well these days, are you? What's the trouble?"

"I'm dizzy most of the time. No, it's not the stomach it's something worse. You know I didn't get a clean bill of health from my father's side of the house. Of late, my left side goes numb for days at a time--partial paralysis or, at least, its prodromes." Ulick seemed out of sorts. His face was earth-coloured. He had been going the pace and consequently suffering. Milt stood over him and harangued:

"Come! Ulick, my boy. You've got to stop your ways of living else land in a hospital, or worse--perhaps in a mad-house, for the epileptic spasm you call love. You are bartering your birthright of soul and body. Now listen! Here is a fair proposition. There is to be a retreat for men at our college, men like you, weary of the world, men who have the honesty to repeat your favourite Baudelaire's prayer: 'O! Lord God! Give me the force and courage to contemplate my heart and my body without disgust.' Admirable humility, for where you end Christianity begins. Yours is not an exceptional case. The whole world is morally out of joint. It is become godless, and were it not for the saving remnant, God in His just wrath would destroy the earth as he destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah. But He leaves the wicked to their own devices. A catastrophe will surely come to Europe, perhaps Asia and America, a catastrophe that beggars the imagination in the contemplation thereof. Satan will be released from his fiery pit and Antichrist will rule the nations. Presumptuous man has tried to regulate the mighty diapason of the spheres with his pitiful tuning-fork and lo! he has miserably failed. Woe, woe, I say to souls unprepared--" Ulick interrupted.

"Honestly, Milt, I don't mean to be rude, but you ought to charge admission. Hire a hall. You are a born missionary. I mean it."

"Don't mock, Ulick. Reality is stranger than rhetoric. You are at the crossroads. Decide at once. My college, as you know, is up-country. A week's retreat will therefore be hygiene for body as well as soul. And after the retreat there is to be a Novena of the Blessed Virgin. Be with us, dear brother! You will bathe in the lustral waters and become cleansed. Born anew everything will work out for the best. Your bohemian life is your undoing. You look like a man with spinal trouble. Pardon me, is it so!" Ulick shook his head but his knees shook too. Marry Mona! There it is at last! Not a hint but a veiled command. Of course, he would marry the girl. Marriage was the only way for an honourable man.

"I've nothing seriously the matter with me, Milt, I've inherited bad blood from my father. Mona needn't fear. I shan't taint her. But I'm in no physical or mental condition to marry at present. Give me time to recuperate my forces. I've been going it hard for the past years. Paris couldn't be worse than New York." Milt was gloomy.

"Keep away from Dora, and that other enchantress, Istar. The pair of them would kill Casanova," Milt sullenly replied.

"I've not seen them since the night they threw me out at Dora's." Milt was curious. Ulick told the story; how Easter contrived to get into Dora's apartment. She went boldly to the top floor, rang the bell of Dora's neighbor, also a pretty lady, and told a fib. Could she be permitted to go to Dora's room by way of the balcony? The little woman paled at the proposition. Simple madness. There was only a narrow ledge, a few inches wide, and balancing herself on the window-sill, Easter would have to make a swift leap to the balcony and then she would be compelled to pull herself over the stone balcony, and it was broad. Otherwise, no coming back, she would drop to the sidewalk and be smashed to a pulp if she turned her body. "By God!" exclaimed Ulick, "she did it. Easter took the risks. She has muscles like steel. But what agility, what fearlessness!" Milt agreed with him.

"God is preserving her for something wonderful." "The devil, you mean."

"God, I said. That woman--oh! how shamelessly she lives--interests me. I should like to be the one to lead her to salvation."

"Take care, Milt! Pride goeth before a fall. Your pride is the most dangerous brand--spiritual pride. Remember À Kempis: 'No man commandeth safely but he that hath learned to obey.'"

"A beautiful thought; the devil knows good quotations. I'm glad you remember your Imitation. Throw Petronius to the dogs. But I am talking so much that you have forgotten Mona and our engagement."

"The only subjects that interest me are sex, art, and religion."

"Huysmans said that better, Ulick. I'll ring up Mona. She's a good girl and will make you a good wife, and give me a brother I love very much...."

They weren't too late for their appointment. Mona met them at the car and they rode across the park to Easter's apartment. It was an engagement made that afternoon at the Vienna Café. Mona went to see Easter at intervals, but, as she had promised, Milt was to be of the party. It was in the fumoir Easter greeted them. She jestingly called her bedroom her "aimoir." Sprawling on luxurious divans were three or four girls, Allie Wentworth among the rest. A monstrously fat woman with a face that recalled the evil eyes and parrot-beak of an octopus, sat enthroned, and in her puffy lips a long black cigar. Introductions. "We call her Anactoria," cried Allie, pointing at the large lady. "Isn't she a queen?" "Allie," said the other in a thick voice, "Allie, you ought to be spanked." "Spanking is too good for her," interrupted Easter. "Spanking is too expensive nowadays," pertly added the girl, who wore her hair like a pianist. "Spanking," remarked the fat creature, "is for virtuosi only." A roar followed this delightful allusion. "Anactoria has cell-hunger today," smirked Allie. "Out you go if you say another word. Remember company," Easter threatened. "Oh, as for that, a young man can't scare me even if he does button his collar behind." Allie distinctly pouted. "Don't mind her, Mel," interposed Mona. "There you go with you and Mel! Please do please tell me what Mel stands for Mr. Milton--or should I say, Father Milton?" Easter sat near Milt and poured into his eyes all the magnetism of her own.

"Not Father Milton, Miss Easter," he remonstrated, "not yet. I shan't be ordained for several years. Mel is only a short version of my long and not pretty-sounding baptismal name. My mother must have been in a religious mood when she gave it to me. I am not worthy to bear it." Easter pleaded. He did not weaken, and she was secretly infuriated. She became a human dynamo. "I'll sing some Schubert and Schumann for you," she whispered to him, "better still, come to see me tomorrow and I'll sing Wagner for you--alone. I want to have a confidential talk about Ulick. He looks awful. He should consult a specialist." Her smile was grim. She was aware of Milt's plan to marry off Mona; the girl had informed her. Milt grew uneasy. He knew he was blushing. His throat was dry, his lips drier. The company rallied him. Ulick declared that he was flirting, but Allie raged. Her jealousy was so childish that Anactoria reproved her. "You can't blame Istar if the men adore her. I shouldn't trust what's-his-name with the collar buttoned behind over there a moment." With this decision she emitted a cloud of smoke and closed her little porcine eyes.

Easter sang Schubert's Almighty, and ended with Erlking. She sang gloriously. Milt absorbed the luscious tones as if they were living corpuscles. His passion for music had been rebuked more than once at the college. Canalized the tone-art could be made the vehicle ad majoram Dei gloriam; but in the theatre, it was only another snare of Satan, a specious, sensual snare. They drank tea. The conversation became general. As they went away Easter made a movement with her lips which Milt read: Tomorrow! He bowed. In the car Mona confessed boredom. Ulick affirmed her judgment. An afternoon wasted. And what a queer gang Easter has around her, added Ulick. But Milt repeated the Pater Noster, and prayed: et ne nos inducas in tentationem! Openly he nicknamed Easter--Dame Lucifer.