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applied the scalpel boldly。
〃Stroeve told me that picture you painted of his wife was the best thing
you've ever done。〃
Strickland took his pipe out of his mouth； and a smile lit up his eyes。
〃It was great fun to do。〃
〃Why did you give it him？〃
〃I'd finished it。 It wasn't any good to me。〃
〃Do you know that Stroeve nearly destroyed it？〃
〃It wasn't altogether satisfactory。〃
He was quiet for a moment or two； then he took his pipe out of his
mouth again； and chuckled。
〃Do you know that the little man came to see me？〃
〃Weren't you rather touched by what he had to say？〃
〃No； I thought it damned silly and sentimental。〃
〃I suppose it escaped your memory that you'd ruined his life？〃 I
remarked。
He rubbed his bearded chin reflectively。
〃He's a very bad painter。〃
〃But a very good man。〃
〃And an excellent cook；〃 Strickland added derisively。
His callousness was inhuman； and in my indignation I was not inclined
to mince my words。
〃As a mere matter of curiosity I wish you'd tell me； have you felt the
smallest twinge of remorse for Blanche Stroeve's death？〃
I watched his face for some change of expression； but it remained
impassive。
〃Why should I？〃 he asked。
〃Let me put the facts before you。 You were dying； and Dirk Stroeve
took you into his own house。 He nursed you like a mother。 He sacrificed
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his time and his comfort and his money for you。 He snatched you from the
jaws of death。〃
Strickland shrugged his shoulders。
〃The absurd little man enjoys doing things for other people。 That's his
life。〃
〃Granting that you owed him no gratitude； were you obliged to go out
of your way to take his wife from him？ Until you came on the scene they
were happy。 Why couldn't you leave them alone？〃
〃What makes you think they were happy？〃
〃It was evident。〃
〃You are a discerning fellow。 Do you think she could ever have
forgiven him for what he did for her？〃
〃What do you mean by that？〃
〃Don't you know why he married her？〃
I shook my head。
〃She was a governess in the family of some Roman prince； and the son
of the house seduced her。 She thought he was going to marry her。 They
turned her out into the street neck and crop。 She was going to have a baby；
and she tried to commit suicide。 Stroeve found her and married her。〃
〃It was just like him。 I never knew anyone with so compassionate a
heart。〃
I had often wondered why that ill…assorted pair had married； but just
that explanation had never occurred to me。 That was perhaps the cause
of the peculiar quality of Dirk's love for his wife。 I had noticed in it
something more than passion。 I remembered also how I had always
fancied that her reserve concealed I knew not what； but now I saw in it
more than the desire to hide a shameful secret。 Her tranquillity was like
the sullen calm that broods over an island which has been swept by a
hurricane。 Her cheerfulness was the cheerfulness of despair。 Strickland
interrupted my reflections with an observation the profound cynicism of
which startled me。
〃A woman can forgive a man for the harm he does her；〃 he said； 〃but
she can never forgive him for the sacrifices he makes on her account。〃
〃It must be reassuring to you to know that you certainly run no risk of
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incurring the resentment of the women you come in contact with；〃 I
retorted。
A slight smile broke on his lips。
〃You are always prepared to sacrifice your principles for a repartee；〃
he answered。
〃What happened to the child？〃
〃Oh； it was still…born； three or four months after they were married。〃
Then I came to the question which had seemed to me most puzzling。
〃Will you tell me why you bothered about Blanche Stroeve at all？〃
He did not answer for so long that I nearly repeated it。
〃How do I know？〃 he said at last。 〃She couldn't bear the sight of me。
It amused me。〃
〃I see。〃
He gave a sudden flash of anger。
〃Damn it all； I wanted her。〃
But he recovered his temper immediately； and looked at me with a
smile。
〃At first she was horrified。〃
〃Did you tell her？〃
〃There wasn't any need。 She knew。 I never said a word。 She was
frightened。 At last I took her。〃
I do not know what there was in the way he told me this that
extraordinarily suggested the violence of his desire。 It was disconcerting
and rather horrible。 His life was strangely divorced from material things；
and it was as though his body at times wreaked a fearful revenge on his
spirit。 The satyr in him suddenly took possession； and he was powerless
in the grip of an instinct which had all the strength of the primitive forces
of nature。 It was an obsession so complete that there was no room in his
soul for prudence or gratitude。
〃But why did you want to take her away with you？〃 I asked。
〃I didn't；〃 he answered； frowning。 〃When she said she was coming I
was nearly as surprised as Stroeve。 I told her that when I'd had enough of
her she'd have to go； and she said she'd risk that。〃 He paused a little。
〃She had a wonderful body； and I wanted to paint a nude。 When I'd
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finished my picture I took no more interest in her。〃
〃And she loved you with all her heart。〃
He sprang to his feet and walked up and down the small room。
〃I don't want love。 I haven't time for it。 It's weakness。 I am a man；
and sometimes I want a woman。 When I've satisfied my passion I'm
ready for other things。 I can't overcome my desire； but I hate it； it
imprisons my spirit； I look forward to the time when I shall be free from
all desire and can give myself without hindrance to my work。 Because
women can do nothing except love； they've given it a ridiculous
importance。 They want to persuade us that it's the whole of life。 It's an
insignificant part。 I know lust。 That's normal and healthy。 Love is a
disease。 Women are the instruments of my pleasure； I have no patience
with their claim to be helpmates； partners； companions。〃
I had never heard Strickland speak so much at one time。 He spoke with
a passion of indignation。 But neither here nor elsewhere do I pretend to
give his exact words； his vocabulary was small； and he had no gift for
framing sentences； so that one had to piece his meaning together out of
interjections； the expression of his face； gestures and hackneyed phrases。
〃You should have lived at a time when women were chattels and men
the masters of slaves；〃 I said。
〃It just happens that I am a completely normal man。〃
I could not help laughing at this remark； made in all seriousness； but
he went on； walking up and down the room like a caged beast； intent on
expressing what he felt； but found such difficulty in putting coherently。
〃When a woman loves you she's not satisfied until she possesses your
soul。 Because she's weak； she has a rage for domination； and nothing
less will satisfy her。 She has a small mind； and she resents the abstract
which she is unable to grasp。 She is occupied with material things； and
she is jealous of the ideal。 The soul of man wanders through the
uttermost regions of the universe； and she seeks to imprison it in the circle
of her account…book。 Do you remember my wife？ I saw Blanche little by
little trying all her tricks。 With infinite patience she prepared to snare me
and bind me。 She wanted to bring me down to her level； she cared nothing
for me； she only wanted me to be hers。 She was willing to do everything
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