The Moon and Sixpence

Chapter XXXIII
T
WO
OR
THREE
DAYS
later Dirk Stroeve called on me.
“I hear you’ve seen Blanche,” he said.
“How on earth did you find out?”
“I was told by someone who saw you sitting
with them. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought it would only pain you.”
“What do I care if it does? You must know that
I want to hear the smallest thing about her. ”
I waited for him to ask me questions.
“What does she look like?” he said.
“Absolutely unchanged.”
“Does she seem happy?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“How can I tell? We were in a cafe; we were
playing chess; I had no opportunity to speak to
her. ”
“Oh, but couldn’t you tell by her face?”
I shook my head. I could only repeat that by no
word, by no hinted gesture, had she given an

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indication of her feelings. He must know better
than I how great were her powers of self-con-
trol. He clasped his hands emotionally.
“Oh, I’m so frightened. I know something is
going to happen, something terrible, and I can
do nothing to stop it.”
“What sort of thing?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he moaned, seizing his
head with his hands. “I foresee some terrible ca-
tastrophe.”
Stroeve had always been excitable, but now he
was beside himself; there was no reasoning with
him. I thought it probable enough that Blanche
Stroeve would not continue to find life with
Strickland tolerable, but one of the falsest of prov-
erbs is that you must lie on the bed that you
have made. The experience of life shows that
people are constantly doing things which must
lead to disaster, and yet by some chance man-
age to evade the result of their folly. When
Blanche quarrelled with Strickland she had only
to leave him, and her husband was waiting hum-
bly to forgive and forget. I was not prepared to
feel any great sympathy for her.
“ You see, you don’t love her,” said Stroeve.
“After all, there’s nothing to prove that she is
unhappy. For all we know they may have settled
down into a most domestic couple.”
Stroeve gave me a look with his woeful eyes.
“Of course it doesn’t much matter to you, but
to me it’s so serious, so intensely serious.”
I was sorry if I had seemed impatient or flip-
pant.
“Will you do something for me?” asked Stroeve.
“Willingly. ”
“Will you write to Blanche for me?”
“Why can’t you write yourself?”
“I’ve written over and over again. I didn’t ex-
pect her to answer. I don’t think she reads the
letters.”
“ You make no account of feminine curiosity. Do
you think she could resist?”

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The Moon and Sixpence
“She could — mine.”
I looked at him quickly. He lowered his eyes.
That answer of his seemed to me strangely hu-
miliating. He was conscious that she regarded
him with an indifference so profound that the
sight of his handwriting would have not the
slightest effect on her.
“Do you really believe that she’ll ever come
back to you?” I asked.
“I want her to know that if the worst comes to
the worst she can count on me. That’s what I
want you to tell her. ”
I took a sheet of paper.
“What is it exactly you wish me to say?”
This is what I wrote:
DEAR MRS. STROEVE, 
Dirk wishes me to tell you
that if at any time you want him he will be grate-
ful for the opportunity of being of service to you.
He has no ill-feeling towards you on account of
anything that has happened. His love for you is
unaltered. You will always find him at the fol-
lowing address:

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