24

THERE were stormy scenes at home, sobs, moans, hysterics. She flung herself on the sofa, the bed, the floor. Her eyes sparkled brilliantly and wrathfully; one of her stockings had slipped down. The world was swamped in tears.

Albinus, as he tried to console her, unconsciously used the very words with which he had once comforted Irma when he kissed a bruise—words which now, after Irma’s death, were vacant.

At first Margot vented her whole wrath upon him; then she abused Dorianna in terrible language; after which she assailed the producer. On the way she had a fling at Grossman, the old man with the stye, though he had had nothing at all to do with the matter.

“All right,” said Albinus at last. “I’ll do everything I possibly can for you. But I really don’t think it was a failure. On the contrary, in several of the scenes you acted very well—in that first one, for instance, you know, when you—”

“Hold your tongue!” shrieked Margot, flinging an orange at him.

“But do listen to me, my pet. I’m prepared to do anything to make my darling happy. Now let’s take a fresh handkerchief and dry up our tears for good. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. The film belongs to me. I’ve paid for the rubbish—I mean the rubbish Schwarz has made of it. I shall refuse to allow it to be shown anywhere, and I’ll keep it as a souvenir for myself.”

“No, burn it,” sobbed Margot.

“Very well, I’ll burn it. Dorianna won’t be overpleased with that, I can assure you. Now—are we satisfied?”

She still went on sobbing, but more quietly.

“Come, come, don’t cry any more, darling. Tomorrow you shall go and choose yourself something. Shall I tell you what? A big thing on four wheels. Have you forgotten that? Now, won’t that be fun? Then you’ll show it to me, and perhaps” (he smiled and raised his eyebrows, as he slyly drawled the word “perhaps”) “I’ll buy it. We’ll drive miles and miles away. You shall see the spring in the South.… Eh, Margot?”

“That’s not the point,” she said sulkily.

“The point is that you should be happy. And happy you’ll be. Where’s that hanky? We’ll come back in the autumn; you shall take some more courses in film-acting, and I’ll find a really clever producer for you—Grossman, for instance.”

“No, not him,” muttered Margot with a shudder.

“All right, another one then. And now, wipe away your tears like a good girl, and we’ll go out to supper. Please, little one.”

“I’ll never be happy until you get a divorce,” she said, sighing deeply. “But I’m afraid you’ll leave me, now that you’ve seen me in that disgusting film. Oh, another man in your place would have slapped their faces for making me look so monstrous! No, you shan’t kiss me. Tell me, have you done anything about the divorce? Or has the whole thing been dropped?”

“Well, no … You see, it’s like this,” stammered Albinus. “You … We … Oh, Margot, we have just … That is to say, she in particular … in a word, this bereavement makes it rather difficult for me.”

“What’s that you say?” asked Margot, rising to her feet. “Does she still not know that you want her to divorce you?”

“No, I didn’t mean that,” said Albinus lamely. “Of course, she feels … That is to say, she knows … Or, better say …”

Margot slowly drew herself up higher and higher, like a snake when it uncoils.

“To tell the truth, she won’t divorce me,” said Albinus at last, for the first time in his life telling a lie about Elisabeth.

“Oh, is that so?” asked Margot, as she advanced on him.

“She’s going to strike me,” thought Albinus wearily.

Margot came right up to him and slowly placed her arms round his neck.

“I can’t go on being only your mistress,” she said, pressing her cheek against his tie, “I can’t. Do something about it. Say to yourself tomorrow: I’ll do it for my baby! There are lawyers. It can all be arranged.”

“I promise you I’ll do it this autumn,” he said.

She sighed softly, walked to the mirror and languidly gazed at her own reflection.

“Divorce?” thought Albinus. “No, no, that’s out of the question.”