Madam Sapphira by Edgar Saltus

"Imbecile that you are! Don't you know, Haven't I told you, haven't I arch-told you that nothing could cause her greater joy?"

"But what a reason! Am I to live merely because my death might gratify another?"

With an expression that was both furious and indulgent, Jones glowered in amicable rage.

"And truly," Nevius added, "I don't thank any of you."

Long before he had awaked, conscious, if at all, only that people were leaving the room. Presently he had recognized Patrick; at once the episode of the previous night returned, and with it the perception of failure. Later he learned that Patrick, attracted by his breathing, alarmed at his attitude, had sent for a physician, for Jones as well. The physician had been the first to arrive, and after hours of labor, had gone, threatening to prosecute the druggist.

But now, three days later, clothed and in his right mind the resurrected sat talking with his friend.

"No," Jones answered. "That would be medieval. I mean nothing so Hugoesque. But, dear boy, you have no right to leave the planet until you have shown this accusation to be as false as you and I know it to be. The bare bodkin may be simpler, but it is not at all chivalrous to leave Miss Adulam in the plight she is. Can't you understand that if this effort had succeeded even her own mother would have believed that the story was true? No, you must live for the reporters, you must live for your wife, and meanwhile get a verdict. When you have got that kill yourself as often as you like. Yet there is just the eccentricity of the whole thing, man never commits suicide twice. If he recovers he has no desire to repeat the experiment, and if he doesn't that is the end of that. But don't you have anything to drink in this house?"

Oh, yes. Though little else had been discoverable drink there was in plenty, and presently, comforted by a Scotch and soda, the garrulous novelist ran on:

"But whatever possessed you to do a thing of that sort with your hat on? Do you know, that is what we call a document. I shall have a suicide in my next novel merely for that hat. I would give the whole story, for that matter, were it not so bald. It would not do for New York. Here the reporter can be as pornograph as the Marquess of Sade, if he knows how, and he usually does, but the novelist must be like Marguerite's home, chaste and pure. We are willing enough to applaud Tristan and Isolde, when it is put to music and sung in a language which is not a court-tongue. But beyond that we won't go. The unbribable Comstock won't let us. But even apart from that, I couldn't handle the thing. No one would think it probable, and to my reputation for realism a long farewell."

The novelist looked into his glass. "It's a good subject though. A deuced good subject. I might call it, let me see -- I might call it Bagatelles, yes, Bagatelles or One of the Ten Commandments.

"Why not several of them while you are about it?"

"Several of the Ten Commandments? Why, that would be a tip-top title. Take in all classes of readers. Dear boy, if you don't object I think I will."

Nevius jumped from his seat.

"If you say one word," he cried hotly, "one word that a microscopist could detect as referring to my wife, by the Lord Harry I'll put daylight through you."

"Dear me! " mumbled Jones, "how was I to suppose that you were in love with her still?"

At that you should have heard Nevius bluster. How he ranted, how he raved! In love with her? The idea! No indeed, not he. And when at last for sheer lack of breath he stopped, of the entire diatribe Jones believed actually not one word.

But, false friend that he was, he nodded as though he did.

"That's right, that's the way to talk, that's the way you must talk to O'Donnell. We went over the whole matter today. He'll be here now at any moment."

And, vatic as usual, Mr. Jabez O'Donnell, a member of the bar, still young, yet already famous, a man with the face of a cherub and the guile of a fox, was promptly announced.

"This," said Jones, as the lawyer entered, "this, my dear O'Donnell, is my friend and brother in Christ, Mr. Carol Nevius. His retainer will be large, his refreshers abundant. Let me earnestly commend him to your care."