Chapter V: The Tamers

_“I smiled at him, and looked pleasantly, and beckoned to him to come
still nearer. At length he came close to me, and then he kneeled down
again, kissed the ground, and laid his head upon the ground, and
taking me by the foot, set my foot upon his head: this, it seems, was
in token of swearing to be my slave forever. I took him up and made
much of him, and encouraged him all I could.”_

DANIEL DEFOE--_“Robinson Crusoe”_

1

The shriveled and grimy park, dead and still under the winter sunlight. Branches of trees stiffened and distorted with the cold, twigs like upturned rootlets. The bright sky belonged to another land.

Howard and Em were walking in the park.

Em in a coarse woven red-brown cape and tam-o’-shanter, hair shading into her cap. Her eyes saw without looking. The old scene brought her an unworded pain. Les seemed part of the park. The dead tree and the pool. Together, so long ago--She had never gone back to Jane Street. When her clothes and easel were moved to Howard’s she had sent Les the key--with no letter. The park had remained. _Their_ path, hers and Les’s. Howard was walking beside her, hunched like a crane in his long heavy coat with its big collar, narrow face under golf cap. Les had unity of body. Les was--

Howard’s voice startled her.

“Has Drane settled in Chicago?”

“I don’t know.” Em glanced keenly at Howard. Did he see my thoughts?

“Don’t you ever communicate with him?”

“No.” What has kept me? Why? Will this go on--Then anger came. “Is a report expected on all I do or don’t do?”

Howard frowned slightly.

“No, but I wondered. He may turn up here in New York some of these days.”

“What if he does?” She spoke with coldness.

“Well, it wouldn’t be very--”

Em broke in almost harshly.

“I don’t see how you are concerned, whether he does or doesn’t.”

Howard’s lips tightened.

“I beg pardon for presuming to mention him. I didn’t know that his name was interdicted.”

An undefined perception checked Em in her unrecognized desire for enmity between the two men.

“Why shouldn’t he come if he wants to, Howard?” Her voice was reasonable, almost beseeching. Half-acknowledged determinations.

“I stand aside,” Howard replied bitterly.

Em’s restraint dissipated.

“I should love to see him!” she cried impetuously, her face working. “Why shouldn’t I? He’s a lovely person, unselfish and--”

“Unselfishness is trading services,” Howard interrupted cuttingly.

She scarcely heard him.

“And strong and--” Her breathing was agitated.

“It isn’t possible to be strong in a relation,” he said carefully. “But I congratulate you on your ex-ideal. I had no notion of how much he still obsessed you.” Howard wanted to be indifferent to Em’s reverence for Les. Anyone who inspired reverence--faugh!

Each striving to conquer the other. Em stopped on the path and looked fixedly at Howard. Is he jealous? The thought solaced her. I’ve hurt them both. She felt kinder toward them both, almost maternal.

“Howard, why should you feel this way? Les always spoke so generously of you--”

“I don’t thank him for an unsolicited condescension,” Howard rejoined testily. “But I suppose he enjoyed the grand gesture.”

Em’s cheeks flushed.

“Well, you might thank him!” she burst out. “He’s big enough. Les isn’t complacent.”

“You should have stayed with him.” Howard’s voice trembled. He became obvious when attacked. He was brilliant only when tearing down.

Em turned on him with suppressed enmity.

“I know I should,” she said passionately.

Howard had begun to realize that he might lose Em, but he could not forbear to dare her.

“It’s not too late to go back to him,” he taunted coolly. He almost wanted her to leave him. He could be sure of his superiority only when they were apart.

Turning suddenly he left her alone on the path.

2

Howard had begun to avoid his friends.

None of them except Celia had spoken to him of Em’s indiscretion, but he could not endure their smiles. It was not enough that he was not ashamed of Em, not ashamed of himself. He could bear to see no one but Celia. Celia’s eyes were naked against his, like a body touching his body. Celia had no shame. Still he kept away even from her, began to stay at home, locked in his apartment. Em was not always there. But several whom he ran into unavoidably had lightly hinted that he was growing uxorious. Howard feared only light things. Em is banal in her intensity, he told himself. Yet he would not go out more. His vanity was inverting: he wished to defy himself.

A dreary afternoon. The gray walls were grayer. Em was in her bedroom. She never worked any more. One partly finished canvas had lasted for a month. Her body was growing gaunt, her face narrower. She came out, started as she saw Howard, cheek in hand, seated idly by the table.

“What’s the matter, Howard?”

He did not raise his eyes.

“How should I know? It’s hard enough to decide what’s the matter with other people, let alone myself.”

Em drew near and placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Can’t you tell me what it is?”

The touch of her hand made him respond. He wanted to strike her. Since he could not he relaxed to her sympathy.

“I suppose it’s because I’m not a strong character.” Howard’s pride was never fixed on virility.

Em’s tenderness was drawn by submission. She bent over him and laid her cheek to his.

“I’m not a strong character either, Howard.”

He feared to succumb.

“You don’t need to be, Em.” He tried to blame her for her artistic success.

“Neither do you, dear.” He started to reply and she placed her fingers over his lips. “Let’s just be, Howard, and not talk about things.” Her voice was wistful.

He could not bear any more of this. He wished blindly to destroy his recognition of his human dependence.

“I haven’t made you the effigy of a class.”

Em straightened up.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Howard.”

“You substitute me for everyone who hurts you.”

She walked to the other side of the table and sat down.

“No more than you, Howard. That’s the kind of people we are: that’s the way our emotions work. The trouble is you won’t admit it.”

“We’re not the same kind of people,” he said impatiently. “You think you’re noble because you’re remorseless in things that kill others, and you despise me because I’m selfish in matters that hurt no one. All your instincts are infallible and all mine perverse!”

How like my talks with Les, thought Em. But at least we feel each other. Poor Howard’s vanity. She felt sad for him. Yet the weaker he showed himself the more certain she, in her pity for him, became.

“Let’s not tear each other,” she replied gently. “If we can’t have affection--” I’m talking like Les now. I wonder if--

“Affection is feeding on someone else,” Howard interrupted bitterly. “But you’re not even affectionate.”

Her face flushed.

“I am!” she cried. “I am!”

“You’re not. All you want is to bait me whenever you need crisis, and then clear it up with a little drama.”

Em rose angrily.

“And all you want is--”

“Somebody to be half human,” he broke in vindictively. “I’m not in Drane’s class as a strong man.”

3

Em paced her room in the darkness.

I want to live. I must know I’m alive. How can I live alone? I must touch something!

She sobbed. She moved her hands wildly.

Keep death away from me! Life is so little! All I want--all I want--

She sank to the floor. She lay weeping without tears. That was the end of everything--just this dullness. She fancied with horror that it made no difference to her how things went on.

4

Howard was trying to be gentler. Em’s almost ill look made him talk sociably. Since his letter from Algeria he had referred to her several times. To Em it seemed that he was always invoking Algeria. Why does she bother me?

“I think Algeria will be back in New York before long,” he said suddenly one night after they had gone to bed.

When Howard had first begun to live with Em he had written Algeria a letter which seemed to end the phase of his intimacy with her. But he was allowing it to revive. Algeria was not the effacing kind. Howard himself was never true to any relationship. He never admitted for himself the necessity of selection.

“I don’t care.” Em yawned as she replied. She felt that Howard should be interested in _her_.

“You’ll like Algeria, Em.”

“I shan’t like her.”

“How do you know? You’ve never seen her.” Howard wished he had not spoken of Algeria, but he would not desist.

“I’ve heard enough.” We didn’t come to bed to talk about Miss Westover. Howard’s party--He’s worked over there ever since I came.

“She’s a remarkable woman.” Did he wish to hurt Em with Algeria? He knew that in the beginning he had desired to hurt Algeria with Em.

“She must be. Do all the rest of your friends lie awake nights raving about her?”

“I believe you’re jealous of her.” Howard laughed as he took Em in his arms. She pushed him from her. She could not bear to have him with her while he was thinking of Algeria. Why did Algeria mean anything? Let him go to her! Em rose and put on her slippers and kimono. “Where are you going, Em?” said Howard angrily.

“To sleep in the other room.”

“Do!” he retorted. There was a veiled threat in his tone but he felt a novel guiltiness he could not explain.

Em paused at the doorway.

“I don’t want to disturb your thoughts.”

He did not reply. When she awoke next morning he was gone.