IV

At four o’clock next afternoon a station taxi stopped at the gate and Dick got out. Suddenly off balance, Nicole ran from the terrace to meet him.

“Where’s the car?” she asked.

“I left it in Arles. I didn’t feel like driving any more.”

“I thought from your note that you’d be several days.”

“I ran into a mistral and some rain.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Just as much fun as anybody has running away from things. I drove Rosemary as far as Avignon and put her on her train there.” They walked toward the terrace together. “I didn’t tell you in the note because I thought you’d imagine a lot of things. I wanted to find out if she had anything to offer—the only way was to see her alone.”

“Did she have—anything to offer?”

“Rosemary didn’t grow up,” he answered. “It’s probably better that way. What have you been doing?”

She felt her face change.

“I went dancing last night—with Tommy Barban. We went—”

He interrupted her: “Don’t tell me about it. It doesn’t matter what you do, only I don’t want to know anything.”

“There isn’t anything to know.”

“All right, all right.” Then as if he had been away a week : “How are the children?”

The phone rang in the house.

“If it’s for me I’m not home,” said Dick turning away quickly. “I’ve got some things to do.”

Nicole waited till he was out of sight; then she went into the house and took up the phone.

“Nicole, how are you?”

“Dick’s home.”

“Meet me here in Cannes,” he suggested. “I’ve got to talk to you.”

“I can’t.”

“Tell me you love me.” Without speaking she nodded at the receiver; he repeated, “Tell me you love me.”

“Oh, I do,” she said. “But there’s nothing to be done right now.”

“Of course there is,” he said impatiently. “Dick sees it’s over between you two—What does he expect you to do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to—” She stopped herself from saying “—to wait until I can ask Dick,” and instead finished with: “I’ll write and I’ll phone you tomorrow.”

She walked about the house, feeling satisfaction. Yesterday came back to her now in detail. With the opportunistic memory of women she scarcely remembered how she had felt when she and Dick had possessed each other in secret places around the corners of the world, during the month before they were married. Just so had she lied to Tommy last night, swearing to him that never before had she so completely, so…

… then remorse turned her walk toward Dick’s room.

Approaching noiselessly she saw him on the terrace, sitting in a chair, and for a moment she regarded him silently. He was thinking, he was living a world completely his own and in his face, she saw him progress from phase to phase of his own story going on inside him, his own, not hers. For almost the first time in her life she was sorry for him—it is hard for those who have once been mentally sick to be sorry for those who are well, she had thought of him really as a source of energy, always active—she forgot the troubles she caused him. Did he know that he no longer controlled her? Had he wished it all?—she felt as sorry for him as she had sometimes felt for Abe North, sorry as for the helplessness of infants and the old.

She went up putting her arm around his shoulder and touching their heads together said:

“Don’t be sad.”

He looked at her coldly.

“Don’t touch me!” he said.

Confused she moved a few feet away.

“Excuse me,” he continued abstractedly. “I was just thinking what I thought of you—”

“Why not add the new classification to your book?”

“I have thought of it—‘Beyond the psychoses and the neuroses—’”

“I didn’t come over here to quarrel.”

“Then why DID you come, Nicole? I can’t do anything for you any more. I’m trying to save myself.”

“From what?”

“Profession throws me in contact with questionable company sometimes.”

She felt anger rise in her.

“You’re a coward! You’ve made a failure of your life, and you want to blame it on me.”

While he did not answer she began to feel his old hypnotism. Again she struggled with it, with her affair with another man; she fought him with her money and her knowledge that her sister disliked him and was behind her now; with the thought of the new enemies he was making with his bitterness, with her health and beauty against his physical deterioration. And suddenly, in the space of two minutes she achieved her victory and justified herself to herself without lie, cut the cord forever.

Dick waited until she was out of sight. The case was finished. Doctor Diver was free.

Dick and Nicole usually went together to have their hair cut. They were at the Carleton Hotel, when a car passed them and Tommy Barban was in it. His appearance disturbed her. The mirror in front of Nicole reflected the passage between the men’s side and the women’s, and Nicole saw Tommy entering and walking into the men’s room.

In a minute Dick came up to Nicole, annoyed.

“Your friend has worked himself up into a state. He wants to see us together, so I agreed to talk to him. Come along!”

“But my hair—it’s half cut.”

“It doesn’t matter—come along!”

She followed Dick from the hotel. Outside Tommy was waiting.

“We’ll go to the Café des Alliées,” said Dick.

Tommy agreed.

“Your wife does not love you,” said Tommy suddenly. “She loves me.”

The two men regarded each other in silence.

“It’s clear to me that your marriage to Nicole has run its course. I’ve waited five years for that to be so,” Tommy said.

“What does Nicole say?”

They both looked at her.

“I’ve gotten very fond of Tommy, Dick.”

He nodded.

“You don’t care for me any more,” she continued. “It’s all just habit. Things were never the same after Rosemary.”

Tommy broke in sharply with: “You don’t understand Nicole. You treat her always like a patient because she was once sick. She would have more happiness with me.”

“You’d be new to each other. But Nicole and I have had much happiness together, Tommy.”

Tommy faced Dick, saying: “I think Nicole wants a divorce, I suppose you’ll make no obstacles?”

Nicole wanted Dick to take the initiative, but he sat quiet with his hair half-cut.

“Isn’t it true you’re not happy with me any more?” Nicole continued. “Without me you could get to your work again—you could work better if you didn’t worry about me.”

Tommy moved impatiently.

“That is useless. Nicole and I love each other.”

“Well, then,” said the Doctor, “I think we should go back to complete the haircuts. Nicole and I will talk things over. Don’t worry—I agree in principal, and Nicole and I understand each other.”

“Remember that from this moment,” Tommy said, “I stand in the position of Nicole’s protector until details can be arranged.”

Dick nodded, and walked off toward the hotel with Nicole’s eyes following him.

“He was fair enough,” Tommy admitted. “Darling, will we be together tonight?”

“I suppose so.”

So it had happened—and with a minimum of drama; Nicole realized that from the episode of the camphor-rub Dick had expected it. She felt happy and excited, but her eyes followed his figure until it was lost in the summer crowd.

The day before Doctor Diver left the Riviera he spent all his time with his children. He was not young any more, so he wanted to remember them well. The children had been told that this winter they would be with their aunt in London and that soon they were going to come and see him in America.

He was glad he had given so much to the little girl—about the boy he was more uncertain—always he had been uneasy about what he had to give to the children. But, when he said good-by to them, he wanted to hold them close for hours.

Nicole was sleeping late, as had been agreed upon—he left a note for her, and one for Baby Warren who was just back from Sardinia and staying at the house. Dick took a big drink from a bottle of brandy, then he decided to leave his bags by the station in Cannes and take a last look at Gausse’s Beach.

The beach was nearly empty, when Nicole and her sister arrived that morning. When Nicole started out on the beach she saw Dick, not dressed for swimming, sitting on a rock above. In a minute Baby joined her, saying:

“Dick’s still there.”

“This is his place—in a way, he discovered it. Old Gausse always says it was Dick who made this place fashionable.”

Baby looked calmly at her sister.

“Dick was a good husband to me for six years,” Nicole said. “All that time I never suffered a minute’s pain because of him, and he always did his best never to let anything hurt me.”

There was contempt in Baby’s face as she said:

“That’s what he was educated for.”

The sisters sat in silence; Nicole thinking about her future; Baby considering whether or not to marry the latest candidate for her hand and money.

“Is he gone?” Nicole asked after a while.

Baby looked.

“No. Anyhow there are so many people now that he won’t see us.”

He had seen them though. As he stood up he swayed a little; he did not feel well any more. Faces turned to him from several umbrellas.

“I’m going to him.” Nicole got to her feet.

“No, you’re not,” said Baby, pulling her down.