Reflections in a Golden Eye (4 page)

'You work too hard, Weldon,' Major Langdon said, 'And let me tell you one thing it's
not worth it. Your health comes first because where would you be if you lost it? Leonora,
do you want another card?'

As Captain Penderton poured Mrs. Langdon's drink, he avoided her eyes. He loathed her so
much that he could scarcely bear to look at her. She sat very quiet and stiff before the
fire and she was knitting. Her face was deadly pale and her lips were rather swollen and
chapped. She had soft, black eyes of feverish brilliance. She was twenty nine years old,
two years younger than Leonora. It was said that she once had had a beautiful voice, but
no one on this post had ever heard her sing. As the Captain looked at her hands, he felt a
quiver of nausea. Her hands were slender to the point of emaciation, with long fragile
fingers and delicate branchings of greenish veins from the knuckles to the wrist. They
were sickly pale against the crimson wool of the sweater she was knitting. Frequently, in
many mean and subtle ways, the Captain tried to hurt this woman. He disliked her first of
all because of her total indifference to himself. The Captain despised her also for the
fact that she had done him a service she knew, and kept secret, a matter which if
gossiped about could cause him the most distressing embarrassment.

'Another sweater for your husband?'

'No,' she said quietly. 'I haven't decided just what I mean to do with this.'

Alison Langdon wanted terribly to cry. She had been thinking of her baby, Catherine, who
had died three years before. She knew that she should go home and let her houseboy,
Anacleto, help her get to bed. She was in pain and nervous. Even the fact that she did not
know for whom she was knitting this sweater was a source of irritation to her. She had
taken to knitting only when she had learned about her husband. At first she had done a
number of sweaters for him. Then she had knitted a suit for Leonora. During the first
months she could not quite believe that he could be so faithless to her. When at last she
had scornfully given up her husband, she had turned desperately to Leonora. There began
one of those peculiar friendships between the wife who has been betrayed and the object of
her husband's love. This morbid, emotional attachment, bastard of shock and jealousy, she
knew was unworthy of her. Of its own accord it had soon ended. Now she felt the tears come
to her eyes and she drank a little whiskey to brace herself, although liquor was forbidden
her because of her heart She herself did not even like the taste of it. She much preferred
a tiny glass of some syrupy liqueur, or a little sherry, or even a cup of coffee if it
came to that. But now she drank the whiskey because it was there, and the others were
drinking, and there was nothing else to do.

'Weldon!' called out the Major suddenly, 'your wife is cheating! She peeked under the
card to find if she wanted it.'

'No, I didn't. You caught me before I had a chance to see it. What have you got there?'

'I'm surprised at you, Moms,' said Captain Penderton. 'Don't you know you can never trust
a woman at cards?'

Mrs. Langdon watched this friendly badinage with an on the defensive expression that is
often seen in the eyes of persons who have been ill for a long time and dependent upon the
thoughtfulness, or negligence, of others. Since the night she had rushed home and hurt
herself, she had felt in her a constant, nauseous shame. She was sure that everyone who
looked at her must be thinking of what she had done. But as a matter of fact the scandal
had been kept quite secret; besides those in the room only the doctor and the nurse knew
what had happened and the young Filipino servant who had been with Mrs. Langdon since he
was seventeen years old and who adored her. Now she stopped knitting and put the tips of
her fingers to her cheekbones. She knew that she should get up and leave the room, and
break with her husband altogether. But lately she had been overcome by a terrible
helplessness. And where on earth would she go? When she tried to think ahead, weird
fancies crept into her mind and she was beset by a number of nervous compulsions. It had
come to the point where she feared her own self as much as she feared others. And all the
time, unable to break away, she had the feeling that some great disaster was in wait for
her.

'What's the matter, Alison?' Leonora asked. 'Are you hungry? There's some sliced chicken
in the icebox.' For the past few months Leonora often addressed Mrs. Langdon in a curious
manner. She worked her mouth exaggeratedly to form the words and spoke in the careful and
reasonable voice that one would use when addressing an abject idiot. 'Both white meat and
dark. Very good. Mmmmh?'

'No, thank you.'

'Are you sure, darling?' the Major asked. 'You don't want anything?'

'I'm quite all right. But would you mind ? Don't tap your heel like that on the floor.
It bothers me.'

'I beg your pardon.'

The Major took his legs from under the table and crossed them sideways in his chair. On
the surface the Major naively believed that his wife knew nothing about his affair.
However, this soothing thought had become increasingly more difficult for him to hold on
to; the strain of not realizing the truth had given him hemorrhoids and had almost upset
his good digestion. He tried, and succeeded, in looking on her obvious unhappiness as
something morbid and female, altogether outside his control. He remembered an incident
that had happened soon after they were married. He had taken Alison out quail shooting
and, although she had done target practice, she had never been hunting before. They had
flushed a covey and he remembered still the pattern of the flying birds against the winter
sunset. As he was watching Alison, he had only brought down one quail, and that one he
insisted gallantly was hers. But when she took the bird from the dog's mouth, her face had
changed. The bird was still living, so he brained it carelessly and then gave it back to
her. She held the little warm, ruffled body that had somehow become degraded in its fall,
and looked into the dead little glassy black eyes. Then she had burst into tears. That was
the sort of thing the Major meant by 'female' and 'morbid'; and it did a man no good to
try to figure it all out. Also, when the Major was troubled about his wife these days he
thought instinctively, as a means of self defense, of a certain Lieutenant Weincheck, who
was a company commander in the Major's own battalion and a close friend of Alison's. So
now as her face troubled his conscience he said, to soothe himself:

'Did you say you spent the afternoon with Weincheck?'

'Yes, I was there,' she said.

'That's good. How did you find him?'

'Fairly well.' She decided suddenly to give the sweater to Lieutenant Weincheck, as he
could put it to good use, and she hoped it was not too broad across the shoulders.

'That man!' said Leonora. 'I can't understand what in the world you see in him, Alison.
Of course I know you all get together and talk about highbrow things. He calls me “Madam.”
He can't stand me and he says “Yes, Madam,” and “No, Madam.” Think of it!'

Mrs. Langdon smiled somewhat wryly, but made no comment.

Here a few words might be due this Lieutenant Weincheck, although with the exception of
Mrs. Langdon he was of no consequence to anyone on the post. In the service he cut a sorry
figure, as he was nearing fifty and had never yet earned his Captain's bars. His eyes gave
him so much trouble that soon he was to be retired. He lived in one of the apartment
houses set aside for bachelor lieutenants, most of whom were just out of West Point In his
two small rooms was crowded an accumulation of a lifetime, including a grand piano, a
shelf of phonograph albums, many hundreds of books, a big Angora cat, and about a dozen
potted plants. He grew some sort of green creeper on the walls of his sitting room and
often one was likely to stumble over an empty beer bottle or a coffee cup that had been
set down on the floor. Finally, this old Lieutenant played the violin. From his rooms
there would come the lost sound of some naked melody from a string trio or quartet a sound
that made the young officers passing along the corridor scratch their heads and wink at
each other. Here Mrs. Langdon often came to visit in the late afternoon. She and
Lieutenant Weincheck would play Mozart sonatas, or drink coffee and eat crystallized
ginger before the fire. In addition to his other handicaps the Lieutenant was very poor,
as he was trying to send two nephews through school. He had to practice any number of mean
little economies to make ends meet and his one dress uniform was so seedy that he only
attended the most obligatory social affairs. When Mrs. Langdon learned that he did his own
mending, she got in the habit of bringing over her own sewing and taking care of the
Lieutenant's underwear and linen along with her husband's. Sometimes the two of them went
in the Major's car on trips together to concerts in a city about a hundred and fifty
miles away. On these occasions they took Anacleto with them.

'I'm putting up everything on this one hand and if I win I'll have every chip,' Mrs.
Penderton said. 'It's about time we finished this.'

As Mrs. Penderton dealt, she managed to pick up an ace and king from her lap and give
herself blackjack. Everyone in the room saw this and the Major chuckled. Also it was
observed that the Major patted Leonora on her thigh underneath the table before he pushed
back his chair. Mrs. Langdon got up at the same time and put her knitting in her bag.

'I must be getting along,' she said. 'But you stay, Morris, and don't break up the party.
Good night everybody.'

Mrs. Langdon walked rather slowly and stiffly, and when she was gone Leonora said, 'I
wonder what ails her now.'

'There's no telling,' said the Major miserably. 'But I guess I have to go. Here, let's
make it one last round.'

Major Langdon hated to leave the cheerful room, but after he had told the Pendertons good
bye he stood for a time on the walk before the house. He was looking up at the stars and
thinking that life sometimes was a bad business. He remembered suddenly the baby who had
died. What bedlam all the way through! In her labor Alison had clung to Anacleto (for he,
the Major, could not stand it) and she had screamed for thirty three solid hours. And when
the doctor said, 'You're not trying hard enough, bear down' why, the little Filipino
would bear down also, with bent knees and the sweat pouring down his face, giving out wail
for wail with Alison. Then, when it was over, they found the baby's index and third
fingers were grown together, and the Major's only thought was that if he had to touch that
baby he would shudder all over.

It had drawn out for eleven months. They had been stationed in the Middle West and he
would come in out of the snow to find something such as a cold plate of tuna fish salad in
the icebox and the doctors and trained nurses all over the place. Anacleto would be
upstairs bringing a diaper up to the light to judge the stool, or perhaps holding the baby
for Alison while she walked up and down, up and down the room with her jaws clamped. When
the whole business was over, he could feel nothing except relief. But not Alison! How
bitter and cold it had left her! And how damned, damned finicky! Yes, life could be sad.

The Major opened the front door and saw Anacleto coming down the stairs. The little
Filipino walked with grace and composure. He was dressed in sandals, soft gray trousers,
and a blouse of aquamarine linen. His flat little face was creamy white and his black eyes
glowed. He did not appear to notice the Major but when he reached the bottom of the
stairs he slowly raised his right leg, with the toes flexed like a ballet dancer's, and
gave an airy little slap.

'Idiot!' the Major said. 'How is she?'

Anacleto lifted his eyebrows and closed his delicate white eyelids very slowly. 'Tres
fatiguee.'

'Ah!' said the Major furiously, for he did not speak a word of French. 'Vooley voo rooney
moo ney moo! I say, how is she?'

'C'est les ' But Anacleto himself had only recently taken up his study of French and he
did not know of the word for 'sinuses.' However, he completed his reply with the most
impressive dignity, 'Maitre Corbeau sur un arbre perche, Major.' He paused, snapped his
fingers, and then added pensively, as though speaking aloud to himself, 'Some hot broth
very attractively arranged.'

'You can fix me an Old Fashioned,' the Major said.

'I will suddenly,' said Anacleto. He knew very well that 'suddenly' could not be used in
the place of 'immediately,' as he spoke choice and beautifully enunciated English in a
voice that was exactly like Mrs. Langdon's; he made this mistake only in order further to
addle the Major. I shall do so as soon as I have arranged the tray and made Madame Alison
comfortable.'

By the Major's watch the preparations for this tray took thirty eight minutes. The little
Filipino aired about the kitchen in the liveliest manner and brought in a bowl of flowers
from the dining room. The Major watched him with his hairy fists on his hips. All the
while Anacleto kept up a soft and vivacious chattering to himself. The Major caught
something about Mr. Rudolph Serkin and about a cat which was walking around in a candy
counter with bits of peanut brittle stuck to its fur. In the meantime the Major mixed his
own drink and fried himself two eggs. When this thirty eight minute tray was finished,
Anacleto stood with his feet crossed, liquids clasped behind his head, and rocked himself
slowly.

'God! You're a rare bird,' the Major said. 'What I wouldn't do if I could get you in my
battalion!'

The little Filipino shrugged. It was common knowledge that he thought the Lord had
blundered grossly in the making of everyone except himself and Madame Alison the sole
exceptions to this were people behind footlights, midgets, great artists, and such like
fabulous folk. He looked down with satisfaction at the tray. On it were a cloth of yellow
linen, a brown pottery jug of hot water, the broth cup, and two bouillon cubes. In the
right corner there was a little blue Chinese rice bowl holding a bouquet of feathery
Michaelmas daisies. Very deliberately Anacleto reached down, plucked off three of the blue
petals, and placed them on the yellow napkin. He was not really as frisky as he appeared
to be this evening. At times his eyes were anxious, and often he shot the Major a glance
that was subtle, swift, and accusing.