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"She's so anxious to meet you," Corydon went on. "She's coming up to see me to-morrow, and she's going to bring Mr. Harding. You won't mind, will you, Thyrsis?" "I guess I can stand it if he can," said Thyrsis, grimly. "You mustn't say anything to hurt their feelings," said Corydon, quickly. "She's terribly orthodox, you know; and she takes it so seriously.
Then suddenly, he began with trembling fingers to unfasten the neck of her dress. For a moment she did not comprehend what he meant. Then she gave a start. "Thyrsis!" she cried. And she sprang up, staring at him with fright in her eyes. "What is it?" he asked. "Thyrsis!" she gasped. "What what were you going to do?" And at her question, shame swept over him. He was horrified at himself.
And Thyrsis lay back and watched them and studied them. Their music was what is called "rag-time" they had apparently found nothing better to do with their lives than to learn hundreds of verses and melodies, of which the subject-matter was the whims and moods of the half-tamed African race their vanities and their barbarous impulses, and above all their hot and lustful passions.
People who passed him on the streets must have thought that he was crazy; and afterwards, that day and forever, he lived all his soul's life in music. As a result of this Thyrsis paid all his bank-account for a violin, and went to see a teacher. "You are too old," the teacher said. But Thyrsis answered, "I will work as no one ever worked before." "We all do that," replied the other, with a smile.
Among Henery's discoveries was a pair of aged and emaciated mules. He became eloquent as to how he could fatten up these mules and what crops he could raise in the spring. So Thyrsis bought the mules, and also a supply of feed; but the fattening process failed to take effect-for the reason, as Thyrsis finally discovered, that the mules were in need of new teeth.
"You have no ties." "I did have them I might have them still. But I broke them." "Ah, but you are a man!" "What difference does that make?" "It makes all the difference in the world. You can earn money, you can go away by yourself. But suppose you were a girl shut up in a home, and told that that was your 'sphere'?" "I'd fight," said Thyrsis "I'd break my way out somehow, never fear.
Then she shouted aloud, again and again wildly, and more wildly, laughing hysterically; she began flinging her arms about and then calling to Thyrsis, as her eyes closed, murmuring broken sentences of love, "babbling o' green fields." It was too much for the boy there was a choking in his throat, and he rushed from the room and sank down upon a chair in the hall, crying like a child.
He had to summon up his courage and nerve himself for yet another climb; and Corydon would have to face the prospect of another winter in the "soap-box in a marsh". It was now November, and Thyrsis had written nothing but Socialist manifestoes for six months. He was restless and chafing again; but living in distress as they were, he could not get his thoughts together at all.
The time came when I knew that our renunciation was simply a crime against the soul. Can you see what I mean?" "Yes," said Thyrsis, "I can see." 'And see what that meant to me the situation I faced! I was a clergyman and preaching a new crusade to the world. It was like being in a cage, with bars of red-hot metal. A hundred times I would go towards them and a hundred times I would shrink back.
"And how long do you expect to keep that up?" "Oh, for a good many years until we've accomplished something, and until we've got some money." And the doctor sank back and drew his breath. "I don't wonder your stomach's out of order!" he said. "What do you mean?" asked Thyrsis. But the man did not answer that question. Instead he asked, "Don't you realize what you'll do to Corydon?" "What?"
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