Evening star., 1925-06-14
LOutre
BY LISA YSAYE TARLEAU.
Copyright. 1925. by the Ridgway Co.


Charles who broke it.
Listen. Aristide," he began solemn
ly. what you told me this night Is
sacred to me. I shall never tell any
one a word about it.
Aristide interrupted him with
mocking laughter.
''Of course not, Charley" he said "I
know you'll keep your mouth shut.
Anyhow, you'd better. Loutre might
not like 1t If you told on him. and If
l were you l should not care to med.
die with him, whatever he may be.
Swift vengeance. you know. Well,
what did you want to say?"
Il wanted to say" continued Charles
diSconcertedly, that / implore you to
tell the whole truth to max ca public
confession. That l pray you to purge
your soul, to get rid of the sinister
power which got hold of you. That l
abjure you to do penance before 1t Is
too late"
well, I'll see. I'll see," ,"'yawned Aris-
tide. Anyhow, it's too late to discuss
anything any more. I'll give you a
shakedown on my couch. You can't 60
home now. Berthe will never let you
in. Let's go to sleep. old boy, and 1
hope that Loutre will not haunt you
in your dreams"
When Aristide awoke the next day
and found Charles Morissey still sleep
ing on his couch he wondered what
had possessed him to spend such a
night with an old friend whom he had
decidedly outgrown. He must really
have been drunk-much more drunk
than he had imagined himself to be,
or he would not have told Charley all
he did tell. Not that he was afraid
Charles would gossip-he knew him
to well for that-but 1t was disagree
able to face him after all the revela-
tions of the night before. Charles
would surely not have sense enough
to disregard their talk or to treat 1t as
something entirely unrelated to the
usual run of thingS-there were hard
ly any people in the world who had
this spiritual tact Most of them, all
of them, in fact, pinned you down to
the consequences of a passing mood,
and, having been intimate with them
for one moment, you were committed
of your life.
What a miserable proposition! Aris-
tide shuddered at the idea of continu-
ing any personal talk. Therefore he
dressed quietly, told his Japanese man
to make coffee for his guest as soon
as he should awake and went out,
leaving a note for Charles excusing
himself with an appointment and
promising to see him soon again. Well,
he would take good care that soon
should not be SO very soon. He only
hoped that Charles would be gone
before he returned. On second thought
he added a postscript to his note,
saying Don't wait for me. Might be
late"
Charles did not wait. He left, but
before he left he penned line to Aris-
tide which read, Good bye. implore
you to follow my advice"
Aristide. coming home and seeing
this message, was annoyed. What a
presuming ass, this Charles! Follow
my advice. AS If anybody could pos
sibly advise anybody else! In the
depths of our being always strangers,
misunderstanding one another on all
points, and yet offering advice-pre.
posterousi Only human beings could
be quite so fatuous and silly. No lion
in Gods world advises another lion as
to his duties in the animal kingdom:
no tiger advises another tiger to curb
his appetite and let not the lust of
blood run away with him. Beasts were
satisfied to follow the law Of their
nature and to rest there. Beasts had
dignity. But man, in his sick and
swollen vanit", goes and advises. Aris-
this. The first sentence formed itself
in his head: "If you want to follow
my advice, don't follow anybody's ad-
vice" He WINGED. Awful. Journalese.
Cheap. Why, for heavens sake, was
he always tempted to write cheap
things, to make cheap jokes? Once
upon time he had had other dreams
Well, better not think about once
upon-a-time. He went to bed and slept
the dead sleep of utter oblivion.
In the next few days Aristide pom
dered over his problem and could not
find any way out. He was sick of
everything, he wanted to tell and
to get out of all complications;
yet at the same time some part in
Loutrepart he thought, re-
membered his talk with Charles-some
part of him decided that it was impos-
sible to speak, that he had to go on
and let things shape themselves as
they would. And, indeed, it was diff
cult. What could he tell? The truth?
But what exactly was the truth? And
to whom could he tell It? Mondell?
him of the day when he
had come to the Office and stating the
facts as they had developed? Impos-
s1ble. Mondell would never under
stand. He would see a common fraud
in something which was really quite
different, something ever so much
more complicated. MondeIl was a
splendid fellow, but he lacked imagina-
ton. He would never understand the
intangible influences that had domi-
mated Aristide. The Comtesse would
have more instinct for these doubtful
and difficult things, yet to speak to
her was also an appalling task. To ex.
plain to somebody else what one could
only In an hour of drunkenness, of van
ished inhibitions. explain somehow to
was almost impossible.
What he would have to say in bald
words would amount to this: I have
fooled you all. There Is no Loutre. Yet
again, was there really no Loutre?
Granted that Loutre was merely an
idea-well, but 1t was his idea, his
creation. That he had not made a book
out of this idea was a mere accident.
Why make so much fuss about that
accident? The whole thing was rotten.
Awful mess. He wished 1t had never
Yet what could he do now?
There was really nothing to do. Con.
fess? Repent? He sneered in his
thoughts at Morissey's moral attitude.
What a fool Charles was; what a big
ger fool he himself for having told
1t was bad enough to be
bothered by ones own conscience, but
to be bothered in addition by the con.
science of somebody else was worse.
And above all, Charles. How he had
outgrown him and the whole crowd
of the Trois Couronnes! He could
never return to them and lead the old
life any more. Just as little as Loutre
could return to his former life. Funny
he had not written "Loutre," but he
had lived him. Was Loutre himself.
Perhaps one could start a 'confes-
sion" from this point. Make 1t the be-
ginning of some kind of explanation.
Though, God knows, 1t would be a
tough proposition Damnably hard