The Moon and Sixpence

Chapter XXXVII
T
HE
CIRCUMSTANCES
of Blanche Stroeve’s death ne-
cessitated all manner of dreadful formalities, but
at last we were allowed to bury her. Dirk and I
alone followed the hearse to the cemetery. We
went at a foot-pace, but on the way back we trot-
ted, and there was something to my mind singu-
larly horrible in the way the driver of the hearse
whipped up his horses. It seemed to dismiss the
dead with a shrug of the shoulders. Now and then
I caught sight of the swaying hearse in front of
us, and our own driver urged his pair so that we
might not remain behind. I felt in myself, too,
the desire to get the whole thing out of my mind.
I was beginning to be bored with a tragedy that
did not really concern me, and pretending to
myself that I spoke in order to distract Stroeve, I
turned with relief to other subjects.
“Don’t you think you’d better go away for a
bit?” I said. “There can be no object in your stay-

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Somerset Maugham
ing in Paris now. ”
He did not answer, but I went on ruthlessly:
“Have you made any plans for the immediate
future?”
“ N o . ”
“ You must try and gather together the threads
again. Why don’t you go down to Italy and start
working?”
Again he made no reply, but the driver of our
carriage came to my rescue. Slackening his pace
for a moment, he leaned over and spoke. I could
not hear what he said, so I put my head out of
the window. he wanted to know where we wished
to be set down. I told him to wait a minute.
“ You’d better come and have lunch with me,”
I said to Dirk. “I’ll tell him to drop us in the
Place Pigalle.”
“I’d rather not. I want to go to the studio.”
I hesitated a moment.
“ Would you like me to come with you?” I asked
then.
“No; I should prefer to be alone.”
“All right.”
I gave the driver the necessary direction, and
in renewed silence we drove on. Dirk had not
been to the studio since the wretched morning
on which they had taken Blanche to the hospi-
tal. I was glad he did not want me to accompany
him, and when I left him at the door I walked
away with relief. I took a new pleasure in the
streets of Paris, and I looked with smiling eyes
at the people who hurried to and fro. The day
was fine and sunny, and I felt in myself a more
acute delight in life. I could not help it; I put
Stroeve and his sorrows out of my mind. I wanted
to enjoy.

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The Moon and Sixpence