"I guess. Look here, Denzil, do try and be frank with me. You are acquainted with me and know whether I am to be trusted or not. You are aware that I love her with the spirit. You and the worthy husband are off to be killed, and yet just because you are so damned reserved English, you can't bring yourself to do the sensible thing and tell me all about it so that if you go to glory I could look after her rights and—the child's—and take care of her. It is you who are a fool really, not I! Because I get a little drunk with my moods and talk about suicide, that is froth, but I should not bottle up a confidence because it's 'not the thing' to talk about a woman—even though it's for her benefit and protection to do so. I've more common sense. Some difficult questions might crop up later with Ferdinand Ardayre, and I want to have the real truth made plain to myself so that I can crush him. If you've some cards up your sleeve that I don't know of, I can't defend Amaryllis so well."
Denzil put down his knife and fork for a moment; he realised the truth of what his friend said, but it was very difficult for him to speak all the same.
"Tell me what you know, Stépan, and I'll see what I can do. It is not because I don't trust you, but it is against everything in me to talk."
"Convention again, and selfishness. You are thinking more about the Englishman's point of view than the good of the woman you love—because I feel partly from her letter that you do love her and that she loves you—and I surmise that the child is yours, not John's, though how this miracle has been accomplished, since it was clear that you had never seen her until the night at the Carlton, I don't pretend to guess!"
Denzil drank down his champagne, and then he made Verisschenzko understand in a few words—the Russian's imagination filled in the details.
He lit a cigarette between the course and puffed rings of smoke.
"So poor John devised this plan, and yet he loves her—he must indeed be obsessed by the family!"
"He is—he is a frightfully reserved person too, and I am sure has frozen
Amaryllis from the first day."
"My idea was always for this, directly I went to Ardayre. I felt that mysterious pull of the family there in that glorious house. I thought she would probably simplify things by just taking you for a lover, when you met, as you are her counterpart—a perfect mate for her. I had even made up my mind to suggest this to her, and influence her as much as I could to this end—but lo! the husband takes the matter out of our hands and devises a really unique accomplishment of our wishes. Gosh! Denzil! it's John who's got the common sense and the genius, not we!"
"Yes, he has—so far, but he did not reckon with human emotion. He might have known that directly I should see Amaryllis I should fall in love with her, and he ought to have understood that that extraordinary thing, nature, might make her draw to me afterwards. Now the situation is tragic, however you look at it. John will have the hell of a life if he comes back; he can't help feeling jealous every time he sees the child, and the tension between him and Amaryllis, now that she knows, will be great. Amaryllis is wretched—she is passionate and vivid as a humming bird. Every hair of her darling head is living and quivering with human power for joy and union, and she will lead the famished life of a nun! I absolutely worship her. I am frantically in love, so my outlook, if I come back is not gay either. I wonder if we did well, after all, John and I, and if the family makes all this suffering worth while? Perhaps it would have been better to leave it to fate!" Denzil sighed and forgot to notice a dish the waiter was handing.