“Clarinda!” Peter could not understand. He could not believe the person who talked was Clarinda. He looked at her as if to reassure his mind that it was really she. He could not think. His mind was in a turmoil. “The baby?” he asked.
“That is yours, you will raise it, you will lie to it, you will tell it of its mother, her beauty, her cleanness of spirit. You will lie to it as you have lied all your life. You will tell it that you are going to take it to its mother, and when it gets old enough you will lie to it again. You will blame me. But you will not tell the child the truth. You’ve not the fearlessness to do that. You will not tell it that this thing was your fault, you will not tell it that the greatest failure in your life was of your own making, you have not the temerity.”
“I shall tell the child,” he answered.
“Oh no you won’t. I know you, Peter. Even better than you know yourself. You are a coward, Peter, a wonderful coward. This part is finished, this chapter is done. You may as well go. It is of no avail to talk more. I will go with you to my mother’s tomorrow and we will listen to the will. Another farce. Goodbye, Peter. Would you like to kiss me goodbye? You might think of it afterwards, Peter. It might do you good.”
Peter arose from the divan. He looked at her squarely in the face. A shiver went down his back. He said nothing but walked to the door and opening it quietly as one does on the dead, he walked from the room and closed it even as gently behind him.
Clarinda listened to his footfall and it gradually grew more and more indistinct and then died out. A silence fell in the place. The dark became impenetrable, there was no sound. Clarinda gave a great sigh and leaned back among the cushions and closed her eyes.
IV
In the morning at nine, Clarinda’s maid came into her room. Quietly she threw open the blinds and drew down the windows. She went from one place to another and picked up the various articles of clothing Clarinda had dropped upon the floor, a stocking, a pair of shoes, a skirt. When she had finished she turned towards the bed and saw Clarinda sitting up among the covers. Her hair streamed down about her shoulders and her eyes blazed like two great stars. Dark circles were under each of them, as if painted. The maid was startled. She came over to the side of the bed.
“Madame has not slept. Will Madame have a bath?” she asked with hesitation.
“No,” answered Clarinda shortly.