that and my
candle he stood conspicuous in all his details. Swaying somewhat, he
supported himself by the balustrade, and was thus distant about two feet
from the door. He was drunk--viciously drunk; and in an instant I knew
the cruel truth concerning him, and wondered that I had not perceived it
before. He was a drunkard--simply that. He had not taken to drinking as a
consequence of nervous breakdown. Nervous breakdown was a euphemism for
the result of alcoholic excess. I saw his slow descent as in a vision,
and everything was explained. My heart leapt.

'I can save him,' I said to myself. 'I can restore him.'

I was aware of the extreme difficulty of curing a drunkard, of the
immense proportion of failures. But, I thought, if a woman such as I
cannot by the lavishing of her whole soul and body deliver from no matter
what fiend a man such as Diaz, then the world has changed, and the
eternal Aphrodite is dead.

'I can save him!' I repeated.

Oh, heavenly moment!

'Aren't you coming in?' I addressed him quietly. 'I've been
waiting for you.'

'Have you?' he angrily replied. 'I waited long enough for you.'

'Well,' I said, 'come in.'

'Who is it?' he demanded. 'I inzizt--who is it?'

'It's I,' I answered; 'Magda.'

'That's no' wha' I mean,' he went on. 'And wha's more--you know it. Who
is it addrezzes you, madame?'

'Why,' I humoured him, 'it's you, of course--Diaz.'

There was the sound of a door opening on one of the lower storeys, and I
hoped I had pacified him, and that he would enter; but I was mistaken. He
stamped his foot furiously on the landing.

'Diaz!' he protested, shouting. 'Who dares call me Diaz? Wha's my
full name?'

'Emilio Diaz,' I murmured meekly.

'That's better,' he grumbled. 'What am I?'

I hesitated.

'Wha' am I?' he roared; and his voice went up and down the echoing
staircase. 'I won't put foot ev'n on doormat till I'm told wha' I am
here.'

'You are the--the master,' I said. 'But do come in.'

'The mas'r! Mas'r of wha'?'

'Master of the pianoforte,' I answered at once.

He smiled, suddenly appeased, and put his foot unsteadily on the
doormat.

'Good!' he said. 'But, un'stan', I wouldn't ev'n have pu' foot on
doormat--no, not ev'n on doormat--'

And he came in, and I shut the door, and I was alone with my wild beast.

'Kiss me,' he commanded.

I kissed him on the mouth.

'You don't put your arms roun' me,' he growled.

So I deposited the candle on the floor, an