| |
| THIS was the last time. I was lounging in | |
| The night-café that lights the suburb gloom, | |
| Tired with the reek of sultry sofa plush, | |
| And with my glowing toddy, and the steam | |
| Of women sweating in their gowns: tired, lustful. | 5 |
| |
| Clouds of tobacco smoke were wavering through | |
| The laughter and the haggling cries and shrieks | |
| Of painted women and the men they drew. | |
| The rattling at the sideboard of the spoons | |
| Cheered on the hubbub of the mart of love | 10 |
| Uninterrupted like a tambourine.… | |
| |
| I was about to choose, when, where I sate, | |
| The crimson curtain of the door was split, | |
| And a fresh couple entered. A cold draught | |
| Cut through the heated room, and some one swore; | 15 |
| But through the crowd the pair stepped noiselessly. | |
| Over against me at the transverse end | |
| Of the corridor, whence they could sweep the room, | |
| They took their seats. The chandelier of bronze | |
| Hung o’er them like an awning heavy, old. | 20 |
| And no one seemed to know the couple, but | |
| At my right hand I heard a hoarse voice pipe: | |
| “I must have come across that pair before.” | |
| |
| He sat quite still. The loud gray of the air | |
| Almost recoiled before his callous brow, | 25 |
| Which wan as wax rose into his sparse hair. | |
| His great pale eye-lids hung down deep and shut, | |
| On both sides lay around his sunken nose | |
| Their shadows, and through his thin beard shone the skin. | |
| And only when the woman at his side, | 30 |
| Less tall than he, and of a lissom shape, | |
| Hissed, giggling, in his ear some obscene word, | |
| Half rose of one black eye the heavy lid, | |
| And slowly round he turned his long, thin neck, | |
| As when a vulture lunges at a corpse. | 35 |
| |
| And silent and more silent grew the room; | |
| All eyes were fixed upon the silent guest, | |
| And on the woman squatted, strange to see. | |
| “She is quite young”—a whispering round me went; | |
| And with a child’s greed she was drinking milk. | 40 |
| Yet almost old she seemed to me, whenever | |
| Her tongue shot through a gap in her black teeth, | |
| Her pointed tongue out of her hissing mouth, | |
| While her gray, eager glance took in the room; | |
| The gaslight in it shone like poisonous green. | 45 |
| |
| And now she rose. He had not touched his glass; | |
| A great coin lit the table. She went out; | |
| He automatically followed her. | |
| The crimson curtain round the door fell to, | |
| Once more the cold draught shivered through the heat, | 50 |
| But no one cursed. Through me a shiver ran. | |
| |
| I did not choose a partner—suddenly | |
| I knew them: it was Syphilis and Death. | |
| |
