Chapter XI

A day later Ulick called on Easter. He felt depressed. His symptoms had become alarming. Easter was quite right--he should have long ago consulted a nerve-specialist. His left arm was continually numb and he dragged his left leg after him like a man who had suffered from a stroke; a mild stroke perhaps, yet something that threatened worse. He determined to see a doctor the next day. At the door he was greeted by Easter's Bavarian maid, who liked him because he could speak her own dialect. No, Madame went out for a call. She would soon return. His friend was in the fumoir--you know, the geistlicher Herr--the maid giggled--"What reverend sir?" he sharply asked. "Oh you know. Fraülein Mona's brother. He isn't well. I think he drinks an awful lot--" but Ulick didn't wait to hear the rest. He hurried to the smoking-room where he found Milt with a decanter of cognac before him, and uncomfortably drunk. Ulick was surprised and shocked.

"Milt! you here! What in the hell are you up to?" Milt didn't reply. His hair was tumbled, his eyes staring, his linen doubtful--all the stigmata of a man on a protracted spree. He mumbled unintelligible words and with a shaky hand pointed to the decanter. A mortal weakness seized Ulick. He sank on a divan and endeavoured to shut out the repugnant picture. Milt! His critic, Milt of the lofty ideals, a besotted animal in the House of the Harlot! It was that devil-woman who had dragged him down. Dame Lucifer. Yet he hadn't the heart to reproach the unfortunate young man who felt his disgrace and began to whimper.

"Spiritual pride, Ulick, goeth before a ... rotten fall! What have I done! I've lost my purity, my manhood ... it is my own doing--I, who would become one of God's anointed--I, Milton, of the priestly order of Melchizedek--that's my real name. Your Elsa-Istar coaxed the secret from me, first, making me drunk, as did Dalila, Samson, making me eat the insane root. Painted veils!--Oh! Jewel, Jewel, she is irresistible--and I didn't think you worthy of my poor little sister--you ruined her, you evil one--but I forgive--who am I to judge another?--miserable sinner...." He drank. Ulick was too stunned to prevent him. Easter's handi-work! He would wait for her and give her a tongue-lashing, then get Milt away, somehow, somewhere ... only to gratify a caprice she had ruined the career of a weak man ... she was a real vampire ... Milton pointed to the brandy and fell back dead-drunk. An irresistible impulse prompted Ulick. He took Milt's half empty glass and swallowed the cognac. Immediately his brain cleared. He felt the fiery liquid to his toe-tips. He stood up and with a formidable oath kicked over the tabouret, decanter and all. Milt did not stir. The little maid rushed in with a volley of "Mein Gotts!" "Tell your mistress I'll come back for this gentleman. I'll get a hansom." "I think I hear her now," exclaimed the frightened girl. Easter entered. She was in coal-black silk, glittering with steel beads. She seemed to him like Astrafiammente the Queen of the Night, or another Astaroth, the Istar, who went down into hell and came back unsinged, only more evil. She frigidly regarded him. He controlled his hysterical desire to drag her to her knees and shout: Ecce homo! Woman behold your work! But the gesture seemed melodramatic. He paused.

"Well?" she asked, "what are you doing here Jewel?" His tongue was tied. He trembled in every limb. He couldn't withstand the potency of her eyes. He ejaculated:

"Poor Milt!" She smiled.

"That imbecile with his purity talk; going around with a chastity chip on his shoulder like a challenge!" Ulick revolted.

"You are a beast, Easter. You called me a beast that day at Zaneburg: now it is you who are the beast." She steadily gazed at him.

"And ever since that day at Zaneburg, you have run after this beast as if you owned her. But you didn't--you never did, do you hear! You never had me." Her defiant speech was like the fortissimo from a full orchestra. The noise in his ears deafened him. He stammered:

"Never had you--but--but I did. I held you to me...."

"You held the other woman, Roarin' Nell--it's the last kiss that counts."

"You lie!"

"I don't lie. I've never been anything to you."

"Who was it then?" She answered in level tones:

"Brother Rainbow, of course. In the darkness we all got mixed-up. And, of course, I assented--physiologically."

"That black monster ... God!" He struggled with his emotions. Easter stood, waiting, her sombre beauty never before so disquieting. Then he got out of the accursed house, he didn't know how. He walked like a somnambulist to Ninth Avenue and entered the first saloon he encountered. He took a dose of whisky that brought an astonished expression to the red face of the bartender.

"Say mister, that's a hooker you took." He tried to forget the hideous, grotesque Brother Rainbow.

"It's my first drink of--whisky."

"And it won't be your last," said the man with a knowing grin ... Ulick immediately ordered another and gulped it down. Nell! Ugh! She!... He heard the cloud-harps sounding as he faltered along....

... Late that night Dora was awakened by a persistent buzzing. She ran to the door and found Ulick helplessly leaning against the bell. "What you my baby Jewel drunk? What a pink-tea party. Come in and go to bed on the couch. You'll be O.K. in the morning. What for did you go and booze like Paul or any other old drunk! You must feel awful bad slopping down red-eye at that. I'm glad you came home to your mamma--what's the matter?" Ulick moaned. "My side--it feels paralyzed--"

"It's only rum. Don't worry. What are you crying about?" Tears streamed down his tortured features. "I'm crying--I'm crying--because I'm so glad to be home again" ... he stuttered. "What a liar!" laughed Dora, and not attempting to undress him, she covered him with a shawl and went to her bed, where she slept the untroubled sleep of the wicked.