Valerie French (1923) Read Online Free Page B

taking a cigarette. "I tell you I can't. But you forget the fever ... the raging fever ... raging to be expressed. You see, the tears are there. They must be. I can't get them out."
    André Strongi'th'arm stared at this strange, quiet girl who talked of death and tears as though they were pens and ink. She began to realize that she was in the presence of one whose acquaintance with Grief was rather more intimate than she had believed.
    At length—
    "You ask me," she said slowly, "to teach you to cry. Well, I'll tell you a tale. If that doesn't make you weep, I shouldn't think anything would."
    "Do," said Valerie French.
    The other leaned back in her chair and covered her eyes.
    "I was engaged," she said, "to a king among men. He looked like a god. He could have married anyone, and— he chose me. The trouble was, Life wasn't big enough for him. He wanted worlds to conquer, and there weren't any worlds going. He was like Warwick the King-maker. If the earl was alive to-day, I imagine he'd be out of a job. So was Richard. Then some relative died, and he inherited. Hardly any money, but an estate— a cursed horror of woodland down in the Cotswold Hills." Valerie started violently. Her face went very white. The voice proceeded jerkily. "A place called Gramarye. Only about forty minutes from where I live.... Well, the estate was a wreck. A park had been made once— cut out of a forest. Then it had been let go, and the forest had gradually swallowed it up again. It was a pity, of course, but the damage was done. Any idea of restoration was fantastic ... out of the question. Very good. So was any idea of building the Pyramids....
    "I said Richard wanted a world. Well, here was one for him to conquer. He set himself to restore this dreadful estate. It gave his ambition scope, his wonderful 'drive' a field, his tremendous physical energy something to spend itself on. But the place was accursed. Soon it got into his blood. He could think of nothing else. Our marriage was postponed ... postponed ... postponed.... I hung on and hung on, watching Gramarye squeeze me out of his life and worm her way into his brain....
    "Then ... some one else came along— more splendid than Richard. His name was Anthony...."
    The girl stifled a sob and bowed her head, pressing her pointed fingers against her temples till the blood ran back from the nails. Valerie French sat as though carved out of stone— or salt.
    "He— was— the— most— perfect— thing.... I told you Richard was a king and looked like a god. Well, Anthony was a god and looked like a king. He was the handsomest man in mind and body anyone ever saw. Of course I went under at once— right under. I flung myself at his head. So would you. I dare say you think you wouldn't, but I tell you you would. I never even stopped to think— I'll tell you why. This wonderful creature was sitting at Richard's feet ... working at Gramarye, too .... wrapping her ghastly toils about his brain . If I hadn't lost my head, I might have saved him. He might have listened to me if only I'd held myself in. I went to see him one night, determined to open his eyes. I opened them wider than I meant— and finished everything. I meant him to turn down Gramarye. I only strengthened her case and got turned down myself....
    "Well, Richard went mad. I knew he would. He's in an asylum now. And, after a little, Anthony went mad, too. Where he is, I don't know."
    There was a long silence. Presently André's hands slid into her lap.
    "I think that's enough to bear," she continued dully, "but there's some more to come— a sort of aftermath. You see, my people don't know ... that there was somebody else. They know I'm half off my head— all my friends do. But they think it's because of Richard . They're sweet and land and gentle. They do all they can. Their interest's amazing, their understanding marvellous. But all the time they're bathing the wrong leg . Bathing and rubbing and bandaging till I could scream." She