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Page 76
He went up and touched him on the shoulder.
He twitched away, and began to pass his hands over
things more rapidly--over the table, the chairs, the entire
floor, the walls as high as he could reach them. Philip had
not presumed to comfort him. But now the tension was too
great--he tried.
"Break down, Gino; you must break down. Scream and
curse and give in for a little; you must break down."
There was no reply, and no cessation of the sweeping hands.
"It is time to be unhappy. Break down or you will be
ill like my sister. You will go--"
The tour of the room was over. He had touched
everything in it except Philip. Now he approached him. He
face was that of a man who has lost his old reason for life
and seeks a new one.
"Gino!"
He stopped for a moment; then he came nearer. Philip
stood his ground.
"You are to do what you like with me, Gino. Your son is
dead, Gino. He died in my arms, remember. It does not
excuse me; but he did die in my arms."
The left hand came forward, slowly this time. It
hovered before Philip like an insect. Then it descended and
gripped him by his broken elbow.
Philip struck out with all the strength of his other
arm. Gino fell to the blow without a cry or a word.
"You brute!" exclaimed the Englishman. "Kill me if you
like! But just you leave my broken arm alone."
Then he was seized with remorse, and knelt beside his
adversary and tried to revive him. He managed to raise him
up, and propped his body against his own. He passed his arm
round him. Again he was filled with pity and tenderness.
He awaited the revival without fear, sure that both of them
were safe at last.
Gino recovered suddenly. His lips moved. For one
blessed moment it seemed that he was going to speak. But he
scrambled up in silence, remembering everything, and he made
not towards Philip, but towards the lamp.
"Do what you like; but think first--"
The lamp was tossed across the room, out through the
loggia. It broke against one of the trees below. Philip
began to cry out in the dark.
Gino approached from behind and gave him a sharp pinch.
Philip spun round with a yell. He had only been pinched on
the back, but he knew what was in store for him. He struck
out, exhorting the devil to fight him, to kill him, to do
anything but this. Then he stumbled to the door. It was
open. He lost his head, and, instead of turning down the
stairs, he ran across the landing into the room opposite.
There he lay down on the floor between the stove and the
skirting-board.
His senses grew sharper. He could hear Gino coming in
on tiptoe. He even knew what was passing in his mind, how
now he was at fault, now he was hopeful, now he was
wondering whether after all the victim had not escaped down
the stairs. There was a quick swoop above him, and then a
low growl like a dog's. Gino had broken his finger-nails
against the stove.
Physical pain is almost too terrible to bear. We can
just bear it when it comes by accident or for our good--as it
generally does in modern life--except at school. But when it
is caused by the malignity of a man, full grown, fashioned
like ourselves, all our control disappears. Philip's one
thought was to get away from that room at whatever sacrifice
of nobility or pride.
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