Fear

  And now that she was called upon, for the first time, to pay the real price of danger for that adventure, she began to calculate its value in meticulous detail. Spoilt by fate, cosseted by her family, and with almost nothing left to wish for in her financially easy circumstances, she found the very first moment of discomfort too much to bear. She immediately resolved that she was not going to give up any part of her freedom from anxiety, and in fact without further ado she was ready to sacrifice her lover to her peace of mind.

  His answer, a nervously disjointed letter expressing his dismay, was brought by a messenger that same afternoon. The letter, full of distraught pleading, complaints and accusations, shook her determination to end the relationship because his desire flattered her vanity. Indeed, she was delighted by his frenzied desperation. Her lover begged her, pled urgently with her, at least to grant him a brief meeting, an opportunity of explaining his offence if he had unwittingly injured her in any way. Now she was intrigued by this new game of showing that she was in a sulky mood, and making herself even more desirable to him by refusing her favours without giving any reason. She felt that she was in the midst of excitement, and like all naturally cool people she found it pleasant to be surrounded by surging waves of passion while she herself did not burn with true ardour. She arranged to meet him at a café where, she suddenly remembered, she had once had a rendezvous with an actor when she was a young girl—an episode that admittedly now seemed to her childish in its carefree propriety. How strange, she thought, smiling to herself, that romance, stunted by all these years of marriage, was beginning to blossom in her life again. By now she was almost glad of yesterday’s abrupt encounter with that woman—for the first time in a long while, it had made her feel truly strong, stimulating emotions which still left her nervous system secretly tingling, in contrast to its usual state of mild relaxation.

  This time she wore a dark, plain dress and a different hat, which would lead the woman’s memory astray if they did by any chance meet again. She had a veil ready to disguise herself further, but with sudden defiance she left it at home. Was she, a respected, highly regarded woman, to be afraid to venture out into the street for fear of some female whom she didn’t know at all? There was already something curiously tempting mingled with her fear of the danger—an alarmingly pleasurable readiness to do battle, rather like caressing the cold blade of a dagger with her bare fingers, or looking down the black muzzle of a revolver where death in compressed form lurked in waiting. This thrill of adventure was not what her sheltered life was used to, and she toyed with the enticing idea of coming close to it again. The sensation exerted delightful tension on her nerves, sending electrical sparks flying through her bloodstream.

  A momentary sense of fear overwhelmed her only in the first moment when she stepped out into the street. It passed through her like the nervous chill when you dip your toes into the water, before entrusting yourself entirely to the waves. But that chill lasted for only a split second, and then, all of a sudden, she felt a strange delight in life rushing through her veins. She relished the pleasure of walking along with more of a light, strong, springy step than she ever known herself to adopt before. She was almost sorry that the café was so close, for some kind of impulse was now urging her to go rhythmically on, attracted by the mysterious magnetism of adventure. But the time she had set aside for this meeting was short, and she felt in her heart, with a pleasing certainty, that her lover was already there waiting for her. Sure enough, he was sitting in a corner when she came in, and leapt to his feet in a state of agitation that she found both pleasant and painful. Such a whirlwind of heated questions and reproaches poured out of him in his mental turmoil that she had to remind him to keep his voice down. Without giving him any idea of the real reason for her failure to visit him, she played with hints so vaguely phrased that they inflamed his passions even more. She could not and would not comply with his wishes this time, she told him, and she even hesitated to make any promises, sensing how much her sudden withdrawal and refusal to give herself excited him. And when, after half-an-hour of heated conversation, she left without giving him the slightest sign of affection, or even holding out the prospect of any in the future, she was glowing with a very strange feeling that she had known before only as a girl. She felt as if a small, tingling fire were burning deep inside her, just waiting for the wind to fan it into flames that would rise and unite above her head. She was quick to notice, in passing, all the glances cast at her in the street, and her unusual ability to attract so much masculine attention made her so curious to see her own face that she suddenly stopped in front of the mirror in the window of a flower shop, to see her own beauty framed in red roses and violets gleaming with dew. She was looking back at herself with sparkling eyes, young and light at heart. A sensuous mouth, half-open, smiled at her with satisfaction, and when she walked on she felt the rhythmical movement of her limbs as if her feet had wings. A need for some physical release, a need to dance or run wildly, took over from the usual sedate pace of her footsteps, and now she was sorry to hear the clock on St Michael’s Church, as she hurried past, calling her home to her small, neat, tidy world. Not since girlhood had she felt so light at heart, with all her senses so animated. Nothing like it had sent sparks flying through her body, not in the first days of her marriage or in her lover’s embrace, and the idea of wasting this strange lightness, this sweet