The Moon and Sixpence

Chapter XXXV
I 
SCARCELY
KNOW
how we got through that day.
Stroeve could not bear to be alone, and I ex-
hausted myself in efforts to distract him. I took
him to the Louvre, and he pretended to look at
pictures, but I saw that his thoughts were con-
stantly with his wife. I forced him to eat, and
after luncheon I induced him to lie down, but he
could not sleep. He accepted willingly my invita-
tion to remain for a few days in my apartment. I
gave him books to read, but after a page or two
he would put the book down and stare miserably
into space. During the evening we played innu-
merable games of piquet, and bravely, not to dis-
appoint my efforts, he tried to appear interested.
Finally I gave him a draught, and he sank into
uneasy slumber.
When we went again to the hospital we saw a
nursing sister. She told us that Blanche seemed
a little better, and she went in to ask if she would
see her husband. We heard voices in the room in
which she lay, and presently the nurse returned
to say that the patient refused to see anyone.
We had told her that if she refused to see Dirk
the nurse was to ask if she would see me, but
this she refused also. Dirk’s lips trembled.
“I dare not insist,” said the nurse. “She is too
ill. Perhaps in a day or two she may change her
mind.”
“Is there anyone else she wants to see?” asked
Dirk, in a voice so low it was almost a whisper.
“She says she only wants to be left in peace.”
Dirk’s hands moved strangely, as though they
had nothing to do with his body, with a move-
ment of their own.
“Will you tell her that if there is anyone else
she wishes to see I will bring him? I only want
her to be happy. ”
The nurse looked at him with her calm, kind
eyes, which had seen all the horror and pain of
the world, and yet, filled with the vision of a

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The Moon and Sixpence
world without sin, remained serene.
“I will tell her when she is a little calmer. ”
Dirk, filled with compassion, begged her to take
the message at once.
“It may cure her. I beseech you to ask her now. ”
With a faint smile of pity, the nurse went back
into the room. We heard her low voice, and then,
in a voice I did not recognise the answer:
“No. No. No.”
The nurse came out again and shook her head.
“ Was that she who spoke then?” I asked. “Her
voice sounded so strange.”
“It appears that her vocal cords have been
burnt by the acid.”
Dirk gave a low cry of distress. I asked him to
go on and wait for me at the entrance, for I
wanted to say something to the nurse. He did
not ask what it was, but went silently. He seemed
to have lost all power of will; he was like an obe-
dient child.
“Has she told you why she did it?” I asked.
“No. She won’t speak. She lies on her back
quite quietly. She doesn’t move for hours at a
time. But she cries always. Her pillow is all wet.
She’s too weak to use a handkerchief, and the
tears just run down her face.”
It gave me a sudden wrench of the heart-
strings. I could have killed Strickland then, and I
knew that my voice was trembling when I bade
the nurse goodbye.
I found Dirk waiting for me on the steps. He
seemed to see nothing, and did not notice that I
had joined him till I touched him on the arm. We
walked along in silence. I tried to imagine what
had happened to drive the poor creature to that
dreadful step. I presumed that Strickland knew
what had happened, for someone must have been
to see him from the police, and he must have
made his statement. I did not know where he
was. I supposed he had gone back to the shabby
attic which served him as a studio. It was curi-
ous that she should not wish to see him. Perhaps

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Somerset Maugham
she refused to have him sent for because she
knew he would refuse to come. I wondered what
an abyss of cruelty she must have looked into
that in horror she refused to live.