The Greatest Works of Aleister Crowley. Aleister Crowley
of misty blue ; the Pantheon and the Eiffel Tower leapt from its folds. They seemed like symbols of the history of mankind ; the noble, solid past and the mechanical efficient future.
I leant upon the parapet entranced. Lou's arm was around my neck. We were so still that I could feel her pulses softly beating.
" Great Scott, Pendragon !"
For all its suggestion of surprise, the voice was low and winsome. I looked around.
Had I been asked, I should have said, no doubt, that I should have resented any disturbance ; and here was a sudden, violent, unpleasant disturbance; and it did not disturb me. There was a somewhat tentative smile on the face of the man who had spoken. I recognised him instantly, though I had not seen him since we were at school together. The man's name was Elgin Feccles. He had been in the mathematical sixth when I was in the lower school.
In my third term he had become head prefect ; he had won a scholarship at Oxford-one of the best things going. Then, without a moment's warning, he had disappeared from the school. Very few people knew why, and those who did pretended not to. But he never went to Oxford.
I had only heard of the man once since. It was in the club. His name came up in connection with some vague gossip about some crooked financial affair. I had it in my mind, vaguely enough, that that must have had something to do with the trouble at school. He was not the sort of boy to be expelled for any of the ordinary reasons. It was certainly something to do with the subtlety of his intellect. To tell you the truth, he had been a sort of hero of mine at school. He possessed all the qualities I most admired-and lacked-in their fullest expansion.
I had known him very slightly ; but his disappearance had been a great shock. It had stuck in my mind when many more important things had left no trace.
He had hardly changed from when I had last seen him. Of middle height, he had a long and rather narrow face. There was a touch of the ecclesiastic in his expression. His eves were small and gray; he had a trick of blinking. the nose was long and beaked like Wellington's ; the mouth was thin and tense ; the skin was fresh and rosy. He had not developed even the tiniest wrinkle.
He kept the old uneasy nervous movement which had been so singular in him as a boy. One would have said that he was constantly on the alert, expecting something to happen, and yet the last thing that any one could have said about him was that he was ill at ease. He possessed superb confidence.
Before I had finished recognising him, he had shaken hands with me and was prattling about the old days.
" I hear you're Sir Peter now, by the way," he said. Good for you. I always picked you for a winner."
" I think I've met you," interrupted Lou. " Surely, it's Mr. Feccles."
" Oh, yes, I remember you quite well. Miss Laleham, isn't it ? "
" Please let's forget the past," smiled Lou, taking my arm.
I don't know why I should have felt embarrassed at explaining that we were married.
Feccles rattled off a string of congratulations. " May I introduce Mademoiselle Haide' Lamoureux? "
The girl beside him smiled and bowed.
Haide' Lamoureux was a brilliant brunette with a flashing smile and eyes with pupils like pin-points. She was a mass of charming contradictions. The nose and mouth suggested more than a trace of Semitic blood, but the wedge-shaped contour of the face betokened some very opposite strain. Her cheeks were hollow, and crows' feet marred the corners of her eyes. Dark purple rims suggested sensual indulgence pushed to the point of weariness. Though her hair was luxuriant, the eyebrows were almost non-existent. She had pencilled fine black arches above them. She was heavily and clumsily painted. She wore a loose and rather daring evening dress of blue with silver sequins, and a yellow sash spotted with black. Over this she had thrown a cloak of black lace garnished with vermilion tassels. Her hands were deathly thin. There was something obscene in the crookedness of her fingers, which were covered with enormous rings of sapphires and diamonds.
Her manner was one of vivid languor. It seemed as if she always had to be startled into action, and that the instant the first stimulus had passed she relapsed into her own deep thoughts.
Her cordiality was an obvious affectation ; but both Lou and myself, as we shook hands, were aware of a subtle and mysterious sympathy which left behind it a stain of inexpressible evil.
I also felt sure that Feccles understood this unspoken communion, and that for some reason or other it pleased him immensely. His manner changed to one of peculiarly insinuating deference, and I felt that he was somehow taking command of the party when he said -
" May I venture to suggest that you and Lady Pendragon take supper with us at the Petit Savoyard ?"
Haide' slipped her arm into mine, and Lou led the way with Feccles.
" We were going there ourselves," she told him, " and it will be perfectly delightful to be with friends. I see you're quite an old friend of my husband's."
He began to tell her of the old school. As if by accident, he gave an account of the circumstances which had led to his leaving.
" My old man was in the city, you know," I heard him say, " and he dropped his pile 'somewhere in Lombard Street' " (he gave a false little laugh), " where he couldn't pick it up, so that was the end of my academic career. He persuaded old Rosenbaum, the banker, that I had a certain talent for finance, and got me a job as private secretary. I really did take to it like a duck to water, and things have gone very well for me ever since. But London isn't the place for men with real ambition. It doesn't afford the scope. It's either Paris or New York for yours sincerely, Elgin Feccles."
I don't know why I didn't believe a word of the tale ; but I didn't. The heroin was working beautifully. I hadn't the slightest inclination to talk to Haide'. In the same way she took no notice of me. She never uttered a word.
Lou was in the same condition. She was apparently listening to what Feccles was saying ; but she made no remark, and preserved a total detachment. The whole scene had not taken three minutes. We reached the Petit Savoyard and took our seats.
The patron appeared to know our friends very well. He welcomed them with even more than the usual French fussiness. We sat down by the window.
The restaurant overhangs the steep slopes of the Montmartre like an eyrie. We ordered supper, Feccles with bright intelligence, the rest of us with utter listlessness. I looked at Lou across the table. I had never seen the woman before in my life. She meant nothing whatever to me. I felt a sudden urgent desire to drink a great deal of water. I couldn't trouble to pour myself out a glass. I couldn't trouble to call the waiter, but I think I must have said the word " water," for Haidde filled my goblet. A smile wriggled across her face. It was the first sign of life she had given. Even the shaking hands had been in the nature of a mechanical reflex rather than of a voluntary action. There was something sinister and disquieting in her gesture. It was as if she had the after-taste in her mouth of some abominable bitterness.
I looked across at Lou. I saw she had changed colour. She looked dreadfully ill. It mattered nothing to me. I had a little amusing cycle of thoughts on the subject. I remembered that I loved her passionately ; at the same time she happened not to exist. My indifference was a source of what I can only call diabolical beatitude.
It occurred to me as a sort of joke that she might have poisoned herself. I was certainly feeling very unwell. That didn't disturb me either.
The waiter brought a bowl of mussels. We ate them dreamily. It was part of the day's work. We enjoyed them because they were enjoyable ; but nothing mattered, not even enjoyment. It struck me as strange that Haide' was simply pretending to cat, but I attributed this to preoccupation.
I felt very much better. Feccles talked easily and lightly about various matters of no importance. Nobody took any notice. He did not appear to observe, for his own part, any lack of politeness.
I certainly was feeling tired. I thought the Chambertin would pick me up, and swallowed a couple of glasses.
Lou kept on looking