26

ROADS bordered with apple trees, and then roads with plum trees, were lapped up by the front tires—endlessly. The weather was fine, and toward night the steel cells of the radiator were crammed with dead bees, and dragon-flies, and meadow-browns. Rex drove wonderfully, reclining lazily on the very low seat and manipulating the steering wheel with a tender and almost dreamy touch. In the back-window hung a plush monkey, gazing toward the North from which they were speeding away.

Then, in France, there were poplars along the roads; the maids in the hotels did not understand Margot, and this made her wild. It was proposed that they should spend the spring on the Riviera, and then push on to the Italian lakes. Shortly before reaching the coast, their last stopping place was at Rouginard.

They arrived there at sunset. An orange-flushed cloud curled in wisps across the pale green sky, above the dark mountains; lights glowed in the squatting cafés; the plane trees on the boulevard were already shrouded in darkness.

Margot was tired and irritable, as she always was toward night. Since their departure—that is to say, for almost three weeks (for they had not hurried, stopping in a number of picturesque little places with the same old church in the same old square), she had not once been alone with Rex. When they drove into Rouginard, and Albinus was going into ecstasies over the outlines of the purpling hills, Margot muttered through her clenched teeth: “Oh, gush away, gush away.” She was on the brink of tears. They drove up to a big hotel, and Albinus went to ask about rooms.

“I shall go mad if this goes on much longer,” said Margot, without looking at Rex.

“Give him a sleeping draught,” suggested Rex. “I’ll get one from the chemist.”

“I’ve tried already,” answered Margot, “but it doesn’t act.”

Albinus returned a little upset.

“No good,” he said. “It’s very tiresome. I’m sorry, darling.”

They drove to three hotels in succession, and they were all full up. Margot flatly refused to go on to the next town, as she said that the curves of the road made her sick. She was in such a temper that Albinus was afraid to look at her. At last, in the fifth hotel, they were asked to enter the lift in order to go up and see the only two rooms available. An olive-skinned lift-boy who took them up stood with his handsome profile toward them.

“Look at those eyelashes,” said Rex, nudging Albinus gently.

“Stop that damfoolery,” exclaimed Margot suddenly.

The room with the double bed was not at all bad, but Margot kept tapping her heel gently on the floor and repeating in a low sulky voice: “I won’t stay here, I won’t stay here.”

“But really, it’s quite nice for one night,” said Albinus entreatingly.

The servant opened an inside door to the bathroom; went through and opened a second door, disclosing a second bedroom.

Rex and Margot suddenly exchanged glances.

“I don’t know if you’ll mind sharing the bathroom with us, Rex?” said Albinus. “Margot is rather splashy and long about it.”

“Good,” laughed Rex. “We’ll manage somehow.”

“Are you quite sure you haven’t got another single room?” asked Albinus, turning to the servant, but here Margot hurriedly intervened:

“Nonsense,” she said. “It’s all right. I refuse to traipse around any longer.”

She walked to the window while the baggage was being brought in. There was a big star in the plum-colored sky, the black tree-tops were perfectly still, crickets chirped … but she saw and heard nothing.

Albinus began to unpack the toilet-things.

“I’m going to have a bath first,” she said, undressing hurriedly.

“Go ahead,” he answered cheerily. “I’ll be shaving. But don’t be too long—we must get some dinner.”

In the mirror he saw Margot’s jumper, skirt, a couple of light undergarments, one stocking and then the other, fly swiftly through the air.

“Little slattern,” he said thickly, as he lathered his chin.

He heard the door shut, the bolts rattle and the water pour in noisily.

“You needn’t lock yourself in, I’m not going to turn you out,” he called out laughingly, as he stretched his cheek with his finger.

There was a loud and steady rush of water behind the locked door. Albinus carefully scraped his cheek with a heavily plated Gillette. He wondered whether they had lobsters à l’Américaine here.

The water went on rushing—and grew louder and louder. He had turned the corner, so to speak, and was about to return to his Adam’s apple, where a few little bristles were always reluctant to go, when suddenly he noticed with a shock that a stream of water was trickling from beneath the door of the bathroom. The roar of the taps had now taken on a triumphant note.

“Surely she can’t be drowned,” he muttered, running to the door and knocking.

“Darling, are you all right? You’re flooding the room!”

No answer.

“Margot, Margot!” he shouted, rattling the handle (and quite unconscious of the queer part doors played in his and her life).

Margot slipped back into the bathroom. It was full of steam and hot water. She swiftly turned off the taps.

“I went to sleep in the bath,” she called out plaintively through the door.

“You’re crazy,” said Albinus. “How you frightened me!”

The rivulets blackening the pale gray carpet weakened and stopped. Albinus walked back to the mirror and lathered his throat once more.

In a few minutes Margot emerged fresh and radiant, and began to smother herself with talc-powder. Albinus, in his turn, went to have a bath. The place was reeking with moisture. He knocked at Rex’s door.

“I won’t keep you waiting,” he cried. “The bath’ll be free in a moment.”

“Oh, take your time, take your time!” shouted Rex happily.

At supper Margot was in splendid spirits. They sat on the terrace. A white moth fluttered round the lamp and fell down on the tablecloth.

“We’ll stay here a long, long time,” said Margot. “I like this place tremendously.”