ONE WORD DID IT.

Otago Witness, Issue 3714, 19 May 1925, Page 73

ONE WORD DID IT.

(By

A. Scholl.

Translated from the French by Louise Lafitto. Petite Madame Jamyn was on the point of deceiving her husband, a few moments was all that remained between virtue and accident. Time to make for the door, turn the street corner, hire a carriage, and —cross the rubicon. . . . She arrived at this decision not without a violent struggle, being generous as well as attractive. Gall and wormwood to her this cheating, this sneaking and driving into despair a man with whom she had lived a dozen years. But—she was not a bit happy with her husband. True, ha lived up to the contract, fulfilled the letter of the law. But he had long since ceased to take notice of his wife, had failed in the minute attentions so dear to a woman, spoke little, and amused her not at all. Not that lie was bad. No, indeed! During her indispositions he was tender, attentive, compassionate, helpful, even uneasy. Then tie managed to find tender words and nursed her lovingly. But the years flew, whizzed rapidly. No one benefited by her beauty. Her soul was shrivelling within her for lack of love, dearth of tenderness and affection. She wanted to give of herself generously, without stinting, yearned to spend herself, her wealth of tenderness and adoration, on some man. She must worship at the altar of some* man, must lay at nis feet her beauty, her soul, to do with as he sees fit. One lives but once. The affair had now become sin idee fixe with Madame Jamyn. She must have her fling, must spread" her wings. She must make life real, throbbing, thrilling, or—vegetate, mould on the nuptial couch. To be good and wilt and wither, or to deceive and blossom, flourish, bloom? In vain did she turn over the problem in her head. Invariably she came face to face with her wasted life, her useless beauty. No, she never lived! She was being admired, coveted, desired —but to what nurpose? And still, at the bust moment, on the point of crossing the line, when she had but to obey her instincts, she fell prey to indecision, ’to fear. There was pity, infinite sorrow, for her husband, and disgust, nausea with her imminent cheating. A rapid panorama of impressions, emotions, a subtle and generous melancholy. She insisted upon seeing her husband before departing, even as one wishes to bid adieu to one’s dear ones before embarking upon a prolonged journey. She felt she would never again see her husband as he is now. He would not seem the same after her fatal step. She pushed the door. Mr Jamyn was taking his coffee over his paper. Tho simple scene held something intimate, something poignant. It brought her a flood of memories. She gasped. At the rustling of petticouts Mi Jamyn raised his head. “You are going out?” “Yes.” He regarded her absent-mindedly and added carelessly: “Where are you going?' This annoyed her. “I do not know myself.” “Ail!” A mortal sadness gripped her, vague, remote, indefinible. The adultery appeared accomplished. Louise’s attitude was symbolic of fatality. She looked around, -

sighed softly, and was on the point of leaving, when her husband resumed: “Do you wish to ask me something?” “No, not at all.” Her voice was low. her face pale. He remarked : “Is there any trouble?” “None.” “Are you certain?” he added gently. “I am certain.” Once again he looked at her. Her eyes were sparkling, her face on tire. “You are not ill?” With a gentle laugh : “Not at all.” Her smile assured her husband. He chuckled : “So much the better.” They were silent. The young woman was no longer pale, or very little. She was still melancholy, but firm, resolute. Her husband’s solicitude touched her, but not sufficiently to make her recoil, to revoke her decision. The husband gave her a close scrutiny. Something in his wife’s face recalled him his youth, their youth. It was a whiff from the past. Like # an old song, it brought with it memories of long ago. His soul recaptured the faint fragrance of past perfumes, roses, witcheries. He then said, carelessly: ,-v ou are charming to-day.” ‘ \h,” she said, blushing. “You think so!” And, squirming out of an intended embrace, she fled wjth a troubled smile. She did not keep the appointment Silently and nobly she sacrificed her youth, not without bitterness. The afternoon was spent in a solitary walk. She was pale and touching. It was night when she returned, tired, sad. After dinner she permitted herself one word of malicious. conuetry: “One word did it.” He never knew.