CltBERT FRANKMI 
 
v 
 
TID'APA' 
 
"TID'APA" 
 
 (What Does It Matter?) 
 
 BY 
 
 GILBERT FRANKAU 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 B. W. HUEBSCH 
 MCMXIV 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY B. W. HUEBSCH 
 
 PRINTED IN U. S. A. 
 
To ONE WHO CRIED 
 
 330950 
 
"Tid'apa 
 
 I 
 
 ft .8 I \ 
 
 Do you know our churchyard at Aden; lone t&mbs 
 ?. on a sun-parched plain 
 
 Tjfeeless ; and flowerless, untended. unkissed- of 
 
 % '- i *' * *'' 
 
 I God'SjKindly rain 
 
 Fenced ^quare with a low, green railing, les&the 
 
 > jackal filch from the priest? 
 Ay you drive through Cantonment gateway, !$fc 
 ^ welt! Jt is all the East! 
 
 no ' . , r ' f -f *?; 
 
 TAere'^ on^ tombstone in Aden churchyard, more 
 
 lone than its lonely mates, 
 Wnereuftder brown paper only between himVand 
 
 . Hell's "blazing gates 
 Lies the body of 'John James Sanders. Com'fner- 
 
 cial. Who died at sea.' 
 From the -Corner House' to Malay Street, run^the 
 
 trail of his memory; 
 From the''Spotted Dog,' to the Yacht Club, there 
 
 are stories of 'Whisky Jim' 
 Men's tales of fierce sprees and deep drinjung. 
 And yet, if they mention him, 
 
 f: 
 
 1 ?' 
 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 The women, the loose-gowned women, foregath- 
 ered at tiffin-time, 
 
 When 'The Street' shews stripped of its tinsel, 
 like an over-painted mime 
 
 In the sickly glare of the noonday when the beer 
 gleams amber-gold, 
 
 And the charred butts hiss in the saucers where 
 the coffee-dregs grow cold 
 
 There will always be one who voices the verdict 
 (they see so clear, 
 
 Our outcasts) "Ach, Whisky Jimmy, he was gentle- 
 man-born, my dear." 
 
 8 
 
II 
 
 Like ramparts of jade, in a garden sea-circled of 
 
 blues and of greens 
 A garden all frangipanni, and moonflowers, and 
 
 mangosteens 
 Wine-red under lustrous foliage where the mating 
 
 parrots scream 
 Due South from the Great Pagoda, four days of a 
 
 favouring steam, 
 
 Rise the Ridges of Lallong Island; jade ram- 
 parts, that beetle down 
 To the straight white roads, and the palm-trees, 
 
 and the beaches of Lallong Town. 
 Life's lazy for us in Lallong: we are few, far off, 
 
 on the fringe 
 Of the teeming Eastern markets; but ever their 
 
 trades impinge 
 On the sunbright, seasonless sequence of our 
 
 ordered, tropic days : 
 For, westward plying or eastward, black-funnelled, 
 
 the liner stays 
 Her course in our red-buoyed harbour; and ever 
 
 the mad-keen men, 
 
 9 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 Released from the blackened hillsides, from the 
 
 half-cleared rubber-fen, 
 From the red alluvial tin-bank and the tali-ayer's 
 
 flow, 
 Drift in by the 'kreta sombong' to drink at the 
 
 <M. & O.' 
 Where the white man drinks, there are women. 
 
 Desire's paid captives, they come 
 From the dreary Polish farm-land or the packed 
 
 Italian slum, 
 Weighed, chosen, and shipped like cattle, for a fate 
 
 that is no less sure, 
 In the lamplit passion-shambles where the white 
 
 bawd flaunts her lure. 
 But our prices are low in Lallong, low even for 
 
 kine as these ; 
 
 Cathayan and brown Malayan and the flower- 
 decked Japanese 
 Join issue with meat-fed Europe: "Come here. 
 
 Come up here, dear," they cry 
 To the drunkly-waving seaman as his rickshaw- 
 wheels roll by. 
 So you'll find but love's refuse and sweepings; 
 
 rouged cheek sliced deep where the blade 
 Of the husband, betrayed too often, wiped out the 
 
 charms that betrayed ; 
 10 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 Dull eye, red-rimmed as a vulture's with the wake- 
 ful nights and the wine; 
 
 Shrunk arm, pocked, pallid, and pitted by the 
 needle's anodyne ; 
 
 Drink-sodden or drug-sodden, outraged, or cank- 
 ered with fouller scourge, 
 
 In the white man's own 'white' houses which the 
 white man dares not purge. 
 
 Yet when Jimmy was liquor-crazy, nor the proven 
 
 risk nor the dread 
 Of the ten-fold deadlier peril fears known, 
 
 friends ruined, or dead 
 Could hold him back from the women. And that 
 
 night, ere the bar-boys slept, 
 He had shouted for pahit and for stinger till the 
 
 hot, strong bane of them swept 
 In flame to each brain-cell's tinder. Flesh called, 
 
 and all flesh was sweet, 
 As he kicked up his rickshaw-coolie, and steered 
 
 him, blind, for The Street.' 
 Past the sounds, and the signs, and the singing, and 
 
 the high verandah-glows, 
 Was it Luck, or The Larger Purpose which led 
 
 him to Madame Rose? 
 
 ii 
 
(t 
 
 Tid'apa 
 
 As the kites watch, waited die Alte. Thick- 
 lidded, her filmed eyes blinked; 
 
 She stiffened, her plumage ruffled; she was up ere 
 the stair-bell clinked, 
 
 "Du Glarchen!" she summoned. Languid, indif- 
 ferent, old to the game, 
 
 Raised hands smoothing tresses disordered, the 
 sloven Austrian came. 
 
 "Beer: lashings of beer." How it bubbled; how 
 the client rocked as he quaffed. 
 
 "Here's cheero, old thing," he hiccoughed; "here's 
 cheero." Die Alte laughed. 
 
 "Drunk thirty dollars you get it!" she whis- 
 pered. They were alone. 
 
 "Come 'n along," his thick voice slobbered to the 
 wheeze of the gramophone 
 
 "You vill stay mit me, von't you, liebchent" (Lust 
 jettisons love-finesse, 
 
 While the wine yet works in the wooed one.) But 
 ere he might answer 'Yes,' 
 
 To a patter of mounting footsteps and a mutter of 
 oath from Clare, 
 
 The chickstrings trembled and parted . . . and 
 Julie was there. 
 
 French Julie! just home from 'the pictures;' pink 
 chiffon scarf on her head; 
 12 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 Dark eyes, bright-clear as a baby's ; flushed cheeks, 
 
 as a schoolgirl's, red 
 With the pulse of unwonted pleasure. She was 
 
 pure grisette; yet a trace- 
 So soon! of the man-made hardness was stamped 
 
 on that roguish face. 
 The drunkard eyed her in wonder. "Lord love us, 
 
 whose infant is this? 
 A French kid. Here? And a new one! O 
 
 darling, give uncle a kiss. 
 What's that? Ne comprends pas. Eh bien done, 
 
 viens id m' embrasser, ma mie." 
 (Jim's brand was a seller in Saigon.) Clare 
 
 frowned, and rose from his knee. 
 "jWnifff/ dock immer die besten Kunden:" hate 
 
 snarled in the guarded voice: 
 But the brothel-code was upon her; the law of the 
 
 client's choice, 
 Which none may hinder nor question. She had 
 
 lost. It was Julie's trick. 
 Her worn shoes scraped on the matting as she 
 
 sulked through the rustling chick. 
 
 So much more like a maid than a harlot, demure, 
 unassuming, petite 
 
 13 
 

 "Tid'apa 
 
 t, what in the name of the devil, Brought 
 to Cinnabar Street? 
 H^jjjl he been Afl//-sober, some subtle, {some rin- 
 
 grained instinct of right ^:* j ' ?, 
 
 W($ild have sounded its voiceless message ; but |he 
 
 rjwholc mad man was alight 
 Wr&i the passions that drink had ^ndled, ' and 
 
 fondling fanned to a fire. 
 Anpyet, even on drink-doped senses,-dazed eyes, 
 
 .'Jbeast-blank with desire, 
 Sav? naught but a houri-vision, white arftis, red 'lips, 
 
 ^and the sheen |;v 
 
 Whtere the neck curved warm to the |;reastline v 
 
 :5the aura of things unseen, 
 A ^earce-breathed, flickering soul-wave; discocled 
 
 *i)ut conscience-deep, 
 Thnlled weak; as a whispered warning, 
 
 :j heard and forgotten in sleep. 
 So;(feak, yet for Julie a respite! 
 
 A stranger's voice, through the haz^e, 
 Hisf own voice came to him. Stumble? ahd-da'rk- 
 
 Hgfcfaess! Sudden, the blaze 
 
 Ofas-flares ! Coolth ! ! They were ^rtojf in. ';*|t 
 s all just a blurred dream-ride;} :.f 
 loin-cloth, dipping and rising to the lope 
 his coolie's stride : 
 
 * 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 Wheels whirring; a rush of faces; and the girl he 
 clasped ; and the gleam 
 
 As the lights spun past and behind them. Gay 
 dreams! But for her no dream; 
 
 Those dank hands seeking her, clutching and fum- 
 bling at bosom and waist; 
 
 Those lips that mocked at her struggles, lips bitter 
 as whisky to taste. 
 
 How she loathed these English the drunkards! 
 
 "Do you love me?" Piteous guile, 
 Her writhed mouth shrivelled in answer to the 
 
 wan, dumb wraith of a smile. 
 "A peach but an iced one. Tid'apa, he liked 
 
 them cold, till. . . ." The wheels 
 Stopped dead. They were back at Rose's. He 
 
 had climbed the stairs at her heels. 
 
 Arms pressed on the sill, deaf and blind to the 
 eddying pageant below, 
 
 She leaned from the open casement. Mixed oc- 
 taves, the ebb and the flow 
 
 Of life in 'the lines,' beat upwards boys shouting, 
 a fragment of song, 
 IS 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 Click-scrape of dropped shafts on the sidewalk, 
 
 weird music, plunk of a gong, 
 Strings twanging, lewd laughter of women, 
 
 "Faut blen nous coucher, ma chere" 
 ... Hardly a sound, but he heard it : "Mon Dieu, 
 
 que la vie est amere." 
 And a great fear fell upon Jimmy; the scarlet of 
 
 drink went gray; 
 For he seemed to catch, in that whisper, the cry of 
 
 a soul at bay. 
 'There was nothing her form in Lallong . . but 
 
 he wasn't going to stay 
 No, not for millions of dollars. . Should he give 
 
 his reasons, explain, 
 Console, or try to? . . Quite hopeless! What 
 
 was the reason?' His brain 
 Refused. 'Still he mustn't stop there. Best slip 
 
 away. . .' To the creak 
 Of his footfall, she turned, and faced him, and 
 
 knew, and ere he could speak, 
 Lost clients meant fines from die Alte, or worse 
 
 she had clutched him, and held 
 Till the frayed silk ripped at his shoulder. She 
 begged, she implored, she compelled, 
 16 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 She wept, she caressed, and cajoled him, clung 
 
 tight as a drowning one clings: 
 And her words were the words of a harlot, she 
 
 offered unnameable things. 
 The words were the words of the harlot, but the 
 
 voice on her quivering lips 
 Was the voice of the prisoner in torment; stark 
 
 fear in it, fear of the whips. 
 "Stop here? Yes, I'd stop, if you liked me." 
 
 "Je t'aime" she sobbed, "only stay. 
 Je t'aime. See, I tell you I love you. Oh, please, 
 
 please don't go away!" 
 
 Loosed hair rippled fragrance about him, he car- 
 ried her down to her room: 
 Perched sideways, short-frocked, on the mattress, 
 
 he thought her a child in the gloom. 
 (Pretty nurseries, aren't they? where the lizard 
 
 runs on the wall, 
 And the rat on the worn-out matting; where the 
 
 louse and the cockroach crawl; 
 Where the lean mosquito buzzes, and the torpid 
 
 Kling boy's snore 
 Drones loud to the heat-waked sleeper through the 
 
 fanlight over her door.) 
 "You can't fool me, you know, Julie. If you liked 
 
 me, only a damn, 
 
 17 
 
Tid'apa" 
 
 I'd stay like a shot. Do you like me? The love 
 
 you talk of's a sham; 
 And you loathe me, loathe me like poison. Come, 
 
 tell me now don't be afraid 
 Would you rather I paid you, and vanished; or 
 
 paid you and stayed?" 
 She looked at him, laughed, leaned forward, and 
 
 flung him his answer pat: 
 "I know, though I'm young to the business, men 
 
 don't treat women like that." 
 "All rules have exceptions, Julie; and it's nine 
 
 to four that I'm tight; 
 
 But here are your thirty dollars. Don't thank 
 me, kiddie. Good night." 
 
 18 
 
III 
 
 "Tea, Master." The glued eyes opened. Ah 
 Wong's face grinned at him, blank, 
 
 Through the gap in the parted curtains. "Heap 
 late." He cursed him, and drank. 
 
 'Blind, blind to the wide.' It was shaky, his hand 
 on the dipper-bar, 
 
 As the water slopped over, gurgling, from its Ali- 
 baba jar. 
 
 There was work that morning confound it 
 work, letters and order-sheets: 
 
 For mails close, and firms wait indents, in spite 
 of Cinnabar Streets. 
 
 How the blurred keys slipped to the finger! "Ten 
 cases of Number Three, 
 
 "Red Seal. To be shipped twice monthly. Cash 
 Glasgow. Net F.O.B. 
 
 "Ten cases of Purple Capsule. . . ." To the type- 
 bars' rattle and tap, 
 
 The man and the woman in Jimmy fought-over 
 the night's mishap. 
 
 19 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 'You ought to do something to help her,' cried the 
 
 voice of his woman-heart; 
 But the man-mind jeered in rejoinder, 'You fool, 
 
 she's only a tart.' 
 Came tiffin. His mail was finished. Legs wide on 
 
 the strutted chair, 
 He rested; but might not slumber: for the picture 
 
 of her, in despair, 
 Dark eyes brimming tears, loosened tresses, pale 
 
 fingers clenched on his sleeve, 
 Rose up on the shimmering skyline to banish 
 
 sleep's craved reprieve. 
 Day waned with his indecision, while he lounged 
 
 at the <M. & O.' 
 
 Until gray-blue hills in the distance and green- 
 blue waters below 
 Grew one in the azure twilight; till the Love-star's 
 
 carcanet 
 Gleamed clear on the hushed horizon where the 
 
 blent blue velvets met; 
 And out from the darkling leafage ghost-harpies 
 
 of hawks long-slain 
 
 Slow-flapping their sable pinions, swept the flying- 
 foxes' chain. . . . 
 Should he make an end, and forget her, or go back 
 
 to Rose's again? 
 
 20 
 
Ere he clambered the creaking staircase, he could 
 
 hear, to a ragtime's beat, 
 Sharp clapping of hands, and laughter, and the 
 
 scuffle of moving feet. 
 Men swarmed that evening at Rose's. Already, 
 
 the air was foul 
 
 With reek of their smoke. As he entered, a drunk- 
 ard flung him a scowl. 
 A boy, a stranger, was playing. They had rolled 
 
 back the dusty rugs, 
 And were dancing one-steps and two-steps and 
 
 tangos and bunny-hugs 
 
 Clare with them. But what of Julie? 'It was over- 
 early for trade, 
 
 Yet with house so full, could it be that ' 
 
 The thought stabbed keen as a blade. 
 "Your vife she go out in de rickshaw. Chust time 
 
 for vun leetle smoke, 
 
 And vun visky-tansan, Chimmy." How die Alte 
 leered as she spoke! 
 21 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 How he hated her, and her "Chimmy," her leering, 
 
 trafficking face, 
 And the silly songs, and the music, and Clare, and 
 
 the whole damn place: 
 It was tawdry to-night he knew it: the unclean 
 
 daubs on the wall; 
 Yon full-fed man in the corner, wine-ripe for a 
 
 kiss or a brawl; 
 The reek, and the reeling couples: 'Good God, 
 
 how he hated it all! 
 This was Julie's life.' . . . Was he barmy, a 
 
 youngster, fresh from his school?' 
 'Your chippy was always your chippy.' He 
 
 cursed himself for a fool. 
 A pert face peeped from the chickstrings ; and a 
 
 pleased glance smiled to his own. 
 But ere he could rise to claim her, as the wild dog 
 
 leaps for the bone, 
 Or the goshawk swoops on the partridge when the 
 
 huddled cheepers rise, 
 The wine-ripe man in the corner had spotted his 
 
 tender prize, 
 Pounced, grappled, but scarcely held her: fists 
 
 doubled, eyes murder-red, 
 "Mine, mine for to-night," flared Jimmy. And 
 
 the man saw death there and fled. 
 22 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 He felt, as his arms went round her, how the young 
 
 breasts fluttered and fell. 
 "My car is waiting." 
 
 "Mais, Madame?" 
 
 "Die Alte can go to Hell." 
 
With a sputter, the engines started; the gears 
 
 clicked home; and the car 
 Crawled out from the crowded streetways where 
 
 the passion-shambles are: 
 Crawled out, through the jostling rickshaws, 
 
 through the soiled, seethed heart of the town, 
 Where signs gleamed gold in the flarelights, and 
 
 the faces, yellow and brown, 
 Grinned void in the glare and vanished : crawled 
 
 free, took speed and shot on : 
 Purred out from dazzle to darkness; till the last 
 
 light-flicker was gone, 
 Till they were alone with the fireflies, and the soft 
 
 night gloom, and the trees, 
 And the white road swirling past them to the rush 
 
 of the upland breeze: 
 Alone, with his arms about her, and her tired head 
 
 drooped on his breast, 
 
 As a child, held close by her father, droops play- 
 time-weary to rest. 
 
 24 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 And the car purred out past the palm-trees to a 
 
 dim, green jungle-plain. . . . 
 Warm woodlands and wax-white blossoms, dew- 
 kissed of the evening rain, 
 Breathed incense, whispering to them, as they 
 
 strolled to the culvert-bridge. 
 Blue-dark against star-strown turquoise, rose the 
 
 ramparts of Lallong Ridge; 
 
 And high o'er those frowned embrazures, blank- 
 burnished, silver-bright, 
 Trailed clouds and paled star-beams to guard her, 
 
 sailed the waxing orb of the night. 
 Green-dark to the rampart-bases, save where, like 
 
 a wild beast's eye, 
 One red light glowered and glimmered in the 
 
 shadow-tracery, 
 Stretched jungle. Leaves, palm-fronds rustled; 
 
 and the beat of a native drum 
 Throbbed bass to the marsh frog's treble, and the 
 
 shrilled cicada-hum. 
 But the woman was utterly lonely, and she yearned 
 
 for the light, bright ways, 
 For the glitter, the glare, and the glamour of lost 
 
 Parisian days; 
 For the work-room chaff, and the chatter, and the 
 
 timbre of her mother-tongue, 
 25 
 
t ( 
 
 Tid'apa" 
 
 For the crowds and the known, home faces. It is 
 
 evil work to be young, 
 To be young, and already broken: they fracture 
 
 where true steels bend, 
 Your weaker, less-tempered alloys. And the man 
 
 seemed almost a friend. . . . 
 A friend! Were there friends, in Lallong? Lust, 
 
 passion, hate, she had known; 
 Not friendship, sympathy. . Coward. . She must, 
 
 fight her battles alone, 
 Nor whimper for useless allies. . Yet, could she 
 
 but voice it, her pain. . 
 Why not? He was kind, and a stranger. . She 
 
 would never see him again! 
 
 It was old, the story she told him, as old as the 
 
 horse-leech breed, 
 The tale of the lover who promised; the lover, 
 
 helped in his need 
 With money and more than money; the lover 
 
 whose lips were a lie; 
 And the choice of selling her body or watching 
 
 the starved babe die. 
 "But it did die, poor mite. I was heartbroken, 
 
 crazy. The shops were slack, 
 26 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 No hat-hands wanted, no dress-hands Poiret 
 
 would have taken me back 
 In a month, two months. . And my parents? I 
 
 couldn't face mother; she knew 
 Of my savings, would ask, cross-question. . But 
 
 what are my troubles to you? 
 I'm very mean to be crying when you've taken me 
 
 out like this, 
 And been ever so good. Do forgive me. Let's 
 
 laugh, and forget it, and kiss." 
 Was it love that woke in you, Jimmy? or pity? or 
 
 just the desire 
 (Just peacock-decency, Jimmy?) of picking a rose 
 
 from the mire? 
 "How long have I been with die Alte? Why, it 
 
 seems like a century. 
 How long? Three four six weeks to-morrow. 
 
 Six weeks, and it's killing me! 
 I can't sleep. Such a heat, and no punkahs. All 
 
 night, I can feel my heart 
 Throb, throbbing away my life-blood." Speech 
 
 choked her. 
 
 A bullock-cart 
 Creaked past them, out of the shadows dark 
 
 beasts against moon-bright road, 
 27 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 Lit lanterns a-swing from the palm-tilt, tired 
 
 driver asleep on his goad. 
 "Do you ask what brought me to Lallong? What 
 
 lures us all to the East, 
 You men, and us others, but money? It doesn't 
 
 pay to be triste, 
 And they didn't want me, in Paris. One night, at 
 
 the Bar Palmyre, 
 I met a woman, a Yankee. She had been in the 
 
 East not here, 
 But in China. Such tales, she told me, of the easy 
 
 life she had led. 
 And the prices! One worked for a season, and 
 
 came back, dowered, to be wed. 
 
 Mon Dieu, how I wish I were married. I might 
 
 have been married, once: 
 
 But I didn't love, and I wouldn't. Not love! 
 Sacre nom, what a dunce! . . 
 
 1 booked my passage next morning. . They were 
 
 all so nice on the ship, 
 Doctor, and purser, and captain. I shall never 
 
 forget it, that trip ; 
 Port Said with the Arabs coaling, and Aden, so 
 
 barren, so sad, 
 And Colombo, dear green Colombo. . I wasn't 
 
 meant to be bad, 
 
 28 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 But life isn't simple for women. . Then, here: 
 
 we stopped for the day; 
 
 So I landed; hired me a rickshaw. Madame in- 
 duced me to stay. 
 She was up at her window, watching, as we drove 
 
 through Cinnabar Street; 
 She beckoned; we stopped; and I entered. She 
 
 gave me to drink and to eat; 
 She offered me board and lodging, and half of all 
 
 I could earn 
 So I fetched my trunks from the steamer . . . and 
 
 now, I shall never return. 
 There, that's my poor little story: and it's no use 
 
 crying, no use; 
 For I've nothing on earth to console me not even 
 
 one good excuse." 
 Charged silence: shy schoolgirl-kisses just a 
 
 quiver of pleading lips 
 That are so, so weary of passion: and, bright as 
 
 the rain-drop drips 
 From the frangipanni blossom at the turn of our 
 
 changeless year, 
 Pearl-bright under purple eyelids the unshed dew 
 
 of a tear. 
 Vain gods of unbiassed judgment, that we worship 
 
 when noon-day's light 
 29 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 Falls pale on your court-room altars, shall you 
 
 order Malaya's night? 
 He had lived as a man lives, taken all that which 
 
 a man may take 
 From the yielding trees in the garden; and jeered 
 
 at the baffled snake. 
 Could such common fruit be forbidden? The 
 
 thought-train sputtered, and died. 
 Was it only the one frail sister who wept to-night 
 
 at his side, 
 Or the myriad hopeless others, man's hard-eyed 
 
 victims of lust- 
 Ensnared souls bartered for passion, spoiled bodies 
 
 swapped for a crust 
 Who raised limp hands to implore him? ... Or 
 
 was this the finger of fate; 
 Could it be that here was the woman, predestined, 
 
 his dreamed-of mate? 
 Tid'apa the kid was a white girl, alone, in a 
 
 brown man's land : 
 It was up to him, as a white man, to lend her a 
 
 helping hand. 
 "Stop crying, and listen, Julie. If a fellow gave 
 
 you the chance 
 Of getting away from Lallong and starting, afresh, 
 
 in France, 
 
 30 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 Would you take it, Julie? And could you?" 
 
 "Would I take it? You are a man, 
 Yet you know what our life means at Rose's, the 
 
 horror of it, the ban 
 Between us and your sneering memsahibs, the risks 
 
 we run, and the mask 
 We must wear for each drunkard's pleasure. All 
 
 this you know. And you ask 
 Would I take the chance if I got it!" 
 
 "Yes ; but could you? How would you live, 
 Over there, on your own, in Paris? Let's say that 
 
 I were to give. . . ." 
 "You? Give?" 
 
 "Yes, give you the money." 
 
 Incredulous, wide-eyed, mute; 
 As a lean cur, thrashed from a puppy by some lout- 
 ish master-brute, 
 Will wince to a stranger's petting; she heard but 
 
 belief was numb 
 With fear, with the wounds, and the heartache of 
 
 a youth-long martyrdom. 
 "I meant what I said. Are you willing?" He 
 
 sensed her grasp it, and thrill. 
 Dark head jerked free from his shoulder: remote 
 
 and suspicion-chill, 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 Those veiled orbs probed him in judgment, 
 
 weighed, wavered ; and kindled afresh 
 With the spark of a hope long-clinkered. Vain 
 
 hope for the leper flesh 
 Of the harlot may not be cleansed and she knew 
 
 it vain; yet the high, 
 Clean joy of it surged and stammered through the 
 
 banter of her reply: 
 "You, you're mad. . . ." 
 
 "I'm in deadly earnest, I swear to you. Yes or No? 
 You must give me your answer, Julie. The money's 
 
 up. Will you go?" 
 Hands locked on her lap, brows crinkled and tense 
 
 to the stress of her thought, 
 Begged maiden you might have deemed her, but 
 
 never one of the bought 
 Begged maiden with pleading lover. No drum 
 
 throbbed now. Not a flower, 
 Not a leaf, not a palm-frond rustled. Long since, 
 
 had the one red glower 
 Gone black in the jungle-shadows. Etched sepias 
 
 and silver-grays, 
 Hushed, breezeless, the spent plain languished, 
 
 a-dream in the pale moonrays: 
 Lulled, even the marsh-frog music and the loud 
 
 cicada-shrill. 
 
 32 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 All nature seemed waiting, silent, on the voice of a 
 
 woman's will. 
 "Ah, mais non, mats non. Tu es gentil. But this; 
 
 this wouldn't be right." 
 "Then you won't. Why not?" 
 "Don't be angry. Don't spoil it, my wonder-night ! 
 You, and the peace you have given, Ridge, jungle, 
 
 the moon on the plain, 
 White road, and white bridge where we rested 
 
 our bridge, shall we see it again? 
 Let them all be sweet to remember." 
 
 "And will nothing alter your mind?" 
 "No. Nothing!" 
 
 "You give no reasons. ." 
 
 "Please, dear you've been ever so kind, 
 And I'm grateful, you know I'm grateful don't 
 
 ask me again ! It's so late. 
 Will you drive me home by the shore-road. J'adore 
 
 qa. Rest and the great, 
 Deep hush of the cool sea-spaces. ." 
 
 Child-limbs, that were once so fleer, 
 As you tripped down the work-room stair-case, 
 
 skirts flying, eager, to meet 
 The lover who waited nightly, you are tired, you 
 
 can scarcely crawl 
 As far as those gleaming car-lights! . . . Does He 
 
 watch when these sparrows fall? 
 
 33 
 
VI 
 
 Have you pined on some world-end foreshore 
 when the sea-lanes call you home? . . . 
 
 Dulled sapphire, moonstone and gold-stone, in a 
 faint fringe-setting of foam, 
 
 Pearl-white 'gainst the darkling lustre at the black- 
 pearl plinths of the capes, 
 
 The bay gleamed jewelled to the skyline. Mast- 
 high o'er the shadow-shapes 
 
 Of the shadow-ships at anchor, poised brilliants, 
 the riding lights. . . . 
 
 Safe ships of a dream! whither sailing? 
 
 As the uncaged homer flights, 
 
 The swift, winged woman-spirit shook free, flashed 
 pinion, and flew 
 
 To the call of the pleasure-city. It is there, just 
 there where the blue 
 
 Black, flawless, shimmering sky-vault, star-span- 
 gled, fire-opaline, 
 
 Dips sheer to her prison sea-rim. She can see it. 
 Glad arc-lamps shine 
 
 34 
 
Tid'apa' 
 
 On the washed, gray glass of its roadways ; she can 
 
 hear the clop of the hooves, 
 And the purr of the taxi-autos: she is one with the 
 
 crowd that moves, 
 Refluent, laughter-loving, through the nights that 
 
 are almost days, 
 Down the mile-long tree-girt boulevards. Night 
 
 ebbs to the chill dawn-haze, 
 Yet she does not flinch from the daylight, nor fear 
 
 for the unclean thing, 
 She is young; he loves her; c'est Paris; new lilac 
 
 purples to Spring; 
 
 They have only this instant parted; waked swal- 
 lows twitter and fly, 
 !As she leans from her creepered casement to wave 
 
 him a last good-bye. ... 
 Had the man no share in her vision? Had he not 
 
 yearned with the ache 
 Of the days we have put behind us, self-exile we 
 
 dare not break? 
 "Go back, while the way's yet open." Hands 
 
 touched her, the home-spell broke; 
 The dream-scene flickered and vanished. Her lorn 
 
 soul shuddered; awoke. 
 "Go back." 
 
 35 
 
tt 
 
 Tid'apa 
 
 "Don't tempt me !" she whispered. (Oh, the night- 
 mare aeons ahead!) 
 
 "Yet you loathe it, this life of . ." 
 
 "Loathe it? I would ten times rather be dead. 
 
 But to take your money, deprive you of little things 
 that you want 
 
 So that / can. . . ." 
 
 "What nonsense, Julie!" 
 
 "No, I just can't take it, I can't." 
 
 "But . ." 
 
 "It isn't as if you were rich, dear; die Alte told 
 me, she knows. 
 
 And I'm such a fool about money. . That's why 
 I'm here, I suppose. . 
 
 It was only the other Sunday, Clare had to settle 
 my fee 
 
 With a client who . . . Christ Almighty, is there 
 no shame left in me?" 
 
 Star-shine, and shadow, and sea-shine man's 
 world, beyond all belief 
 
 Exquisite! . . Man's own tortures, despair unend- 
 ing, the grief 
 
 Of one sobless woman-atom, racked, conscience- 
 stricken, adrift! 
 
 "You must take this money, Julie. We'll call it a 
 loan, not a gift 
 
 36 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 A loan to be paid at your leisure." 
 
 The full home-vision was gone, 
 But her gaze still lingered seaward where the 
 
 beckoning mastlights shone, 
 And her soul still fluttered for freedom. 
 
 "The money is mine to lend, 
 Though Madame does think me a pauper. To 
 
 borrow, once, from a friend- 
 Is that such an awful crime, child?" 
 
 "You will trust me, knowing me bad 
 A prostitute?" 
 "Trust you? Always! If you only guessed just 
 
 how glad 
 It would make me to know I had helped you. 
 
 When I think of my own career, 
 Of the chances I've had yes and wasted; and 
 
 of you with no chance. . . . Oh, my dear, 
 Don't be foolish; life isn't just money. . . ." 
 
 He could scarcely hear it, her low 
 "As long as I live, I shall bless you. You have my 
 
 promise. I'll go." 
 
 37 
 
VII 
 
 And what is the end of my story? Midsummer? 
 
 the long straight street 
 
 Of some French provincial township, green-shut- 
 tered 'gainst noonday's heat? 
 And a stranger, an English stranger? and a gamin 
 
 pointing the way 
 To the hat-shop of MamVlle Julie in the Rue 
 
 Quatorze Juillet? 
 And a cry of "C'est tot done, Jimmy/' from a girl 
 
 in a plain, print dress, 
 Who has fought her battle, and conquered, and 
 
 waited in faithfulness, 
 For the man that can scarce believe her the pale, 
 
 frail woman he knew? 
 And my lovers at last united in their city of dreams- 
 
 come-true? . . . 
 . . . But our dreams come true so seldom to the 
 
 drifting souls and the weak, 
 Never! 
 
 What does it matter? 
 
 38 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 Let us hide this thing from our sleek, 
 Incurious marrying-women. Let us feed them 
 
 some half-proved tale 
 Of an Army Officer's daughter, trapped, bound, 
 
 and offered for sale. 
 Then let them read in our news-rags (real pimps, 
 
 that pander to cash!) 
 How we stamped out a phantom traffic with our 
 
 threats of a phantom lash. 
 We are stern, we are moral, and righteous, and 
 
 . . . skilful at saving our face 
 With cruelty-clauses, and health-lies, and this 
 
 'safety-valve of the race' 
 Our Clares and our tortured Julies. 'They are 
 
 daughters of Ishmael; 
 They are hardened, forsaken of Heaven.' Is there 
 
 any torment in Hell, 
 That hardens? Are virgins 'hardened?' Ere we 
 
 gave them the Judas-kiss, 
 These were virgins we starved or made love us. 
 
 We have crucified them for this! . . . 
 Tid'apa, it's only a story. 
 
 On a labouring, creaking ship, 
 As she stumbles from Guardafui through the 
 cross-wise roll and the dip 
 39 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 Of the South monsoon's tail-fury; in the hospital- 
 cabin, abaft, 
 
 Propped patient and weary doctor. Caged fan- 
 blades shrill, as they waft 
 
 The damp, hot, sea-staled airgusts to the man who 
 must fight each breath. 
 
 He has hoisted on livid cheekbones the grim, blue 
 Peter of death. 
 
 Ice drips from those bandaged temples. Twitched 
 fingers fumble and grope, 
 
 Smoke-brown, on the wrinkled sheeting. There is 
 neither solace nor hope 
 
 Nor peace in this lime-washed death-trap. Loud 
 bottles jar in the rack, 
 
 Tilt, clink as she rolls to leeward, right, clink as 
 she lurches back, 
 
 Tilt, clink again as she pitches. The bunk-springs 
 jiggle and grate. 
 
 A door-catch raps on the woodwork. From a 
 strained expansion-plate, 
 
 Groans answer to wave-thud's tremor on the sod- 
 den hatchways below. 
 
 Cramp-crouched on his rocking camp-chair, tired- 
 eyed in the bed-lamp's glow, 
 
 Two days and two nights has he vigiled the doc- 
 tor dozes and blinks. 
 40 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 'How long can the heart-valves stand it? his sys- 
 tem's rotten with drinks : 
 And diplococcus pneumonia. . . .' 
 
 A sudden tremor 1 'A start! 
 Bolt upright, eyes staring, arms rigid, slack blued 
 
 lips trembling apart, 
 The patient struggles for utterance. 
 
 "Ah Wong, Ah Wong, what time train? . . . 
 Blue sketch-plans one of them's missing not I, 
 
 Sir Edward. . . . Rain, rain, 
 And the rain's all blood, Julie's life-blood I must 
 
 leave Lallong to-night 
 You'll see to her, won't you, padre? I'll post the 
 
 cash when you write. . . . 
 James Sanders that's from the parson my 
 
 name's not Sanders, you know, 
 It's . . . Curse her, she won't won't chuck it 
 
 she promised, promised to go 
 My Julie, still there, in that hell-shop. . . . White 
 
 rabbits the pit's all slime 
 No ropes they're climbing and climbing, but the 
 
 pitwalls slide as they climb 
 Down, down, down look, bodies, twitching 
 
 black shapes, black shapes in the flame 
 The snakes, the snakes! . . ." 
 Gasping silence. Arms crumble. Tottering frame 
 
"Tid'apa" 
 
 Rocks; sways; recovers; collapses. "You will bless 
 
 you promise me. Lies! . . ." 
 "No hope when they've once gone under." 
 
 Death glazes those staring eyes. 
 
 42 
 
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