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The Major And Elenor Murray At Nice

by Edgar Lee Masters

Elenor Murray and Petain, the major,

The Promenade des Anglais walked at Nice.

A cloud was over him, and in her heart

A growing grief.

He knew her at the hospital,

First saw her face among a little group

Of faces at a grave when rain was falling,

The burial of a nurse, when Elenor's face

Was bathed in tears and strained with agony.

And after that he saw her in the wards;

Heard soldiers, whom she nursed, say as she passed,

Dear little soul, sweet soul, or take her hand

In gratitude and kiss it.

But as a stream

Flows with clear water even with the filth

Of scum, debris that drifts beside the current

Of crystal water, nor corrupts it, keeps

Its poisoned, heavier medium apart,

So at the hospital where the nurses' hands

Poured sacrifice, heroic love, the filth

Of envy, anger, malice, plots, intrigue

Kept pace with pure devotion, noble work

For suffering and the cause.

The major helped

To free the rules for Elenor Murray so

She might recuperate at Nice, and said:

"Go and await me, I shall join you there.

For in my trouble I must have a friend,

A woman to assuage me, give me light,

And ever since I saw you by that grave,

And saw you cross yourself, and bow your head

And watched your services along the wards

Among the sick and dying, I have felt

The soul of you, its human tenderness,

Its prodigal power of giving, pouring forth

Itself for others. And you seem a soul

Where nothing of our human frailty

Has come to dim the flame that burns in you,

You are all light, I think."

And Elenor Murray

Looked down and said: "There is no soul like that.

This hospital, the war itself, reflects

The good and bad together of our souls.

You are a boy - oh such a boy to see

All good in me."

And Major Petain said:

"At least you have not found dishonor here

As I have found it, for a lust of flesh

A weakness and a trespass."

This was after

The hospital was noisy with the talk

Of Major Petain and his shame, the hand

Of discipline lay on him.

Elenor Murray

Looked steadily in his eyes, but only said:

"We mortals know each other but a little,

Nor guess each other's secrets." And she glanced

A moment at the tragedy that had come

To her at Paris on her furlough there,

And of its train of sorrows, even now

Her broken health and failure in the work

As consequence to that, and how it brought

The breaking of her passionate will and dream

To serve and not to fail - she glanced at this

A moment as she faced him, looked at him.

Then as she turned away: "There is one thing

That I must tell you, it is fitting now,

I love and am beloved. But if you come

To Nice and I can help you, come, if talk

And any poor advice of mine can help."

So Major Petain, Elenor Murray walked

The Promenade at Nice, arm fast in arm.

And Major Petain to relieve his heart

Told all the tragedy that had come to him:

"Duty to France was first with me where love

Was paramount with you, if I divine

Your heart, America's, at least a love

Unmixed of other feelings as may be.

What could you find here, if you seek no husband,

Even in seeing France so partially?

What in adventure, lures to bring you here,

Where peril, labor are? You either came

To expiate your soul, or as you say,

To make more worthy of this man beloved

Back in America your love for him.

Dear idealist, I give my faith to you,

And all your words. But as I said 'twas duty,

Then dreams of freedom, Europe's chains struck off,

The menace of the German crushed to earth

That fired me as a soldier, trained to go

When France should need me. So it is you saw

France go about this business calm and stern,

And patient for the prize, or if 'twere lost

Then brave to meet the future as France met

The arduous years that followed Metz, Sedan."

"But had I been American to the core,

Would I have put the sweet temptation by?

However flamed with zeal had I said no

When lips like hers were offered? Oh, you see

Whatever sun-light gilds the mountain tops

Rich grass grows in the valleys, herds will feed,

Though rising suns put glories on the heights.

And herds will run and stumble over rocks,

Break fences and encounter beasts of prey

To get the grass that's sweetest."

"To begin

I met her there in Paris. In a trice

We loved each other, wrote, made vows, she pledged

The consummation. There was danger here,

Great danger, as you know, for her and me.

And yet it never stopped us, gave us fear.

And then I schemed and got her through the lines,

Took all the chances."

"Danger was not all:

There was my knowledge of her husband's love,

His life immaculate, his daily letters.

He put by woman chances that arose

With saying, I am married, am beloved,

I love my wife, all said so earnestly

We could not joke him, though behind his back

Some said: He trusts her, but he'd better watch;

At least no sense of passing good things by.

I sat with him at mess, I saw him read

The letters that she wrote him, face of light

Devouring eyes. The others rallied him;

But I was like a man who knows a plot

To take another's life, but keeps the secret,

Eats with the victim, does not warn him, makes

Himself thereby a party to the plot.

Or like a man who knows a fellow man

Has some insidious disease beginning,

And hears him speak with unconcern of it,

And does not tell him what to do, you know,

And let him go to death. And just for her,

The rapture of a secret love I choked

All risings of an honest manhood, mercy,

Honor with self and him. Oh, well you know

The isolation, hunger of us soldiers,

I only need to hint of these. But now

I see these well endured for sake of peace

And quiet memory."

"For here we stood

Just 'round the corner in that long arcade

That runs between our building, next to yours.

And this is what I hear - the husband's voice,

Which well I knew, the officer's in command:

'Why have you brought your wife here?' asked the officer.

'Pardon, I have not done so,' said the husband.

'You're adding falsehood to the offense; you know

The rules forbid your wife to pass the lines.'

'Pardon, I have not brought her,' he exclaimed

In passionate earnestness.

"Well, there we stood.

My sweetheart, but his wife, was turned to snow,

As white and cold. I got in readiness

To kill the husband. How could we escape?

I thought the husband had been sent away;

Her coming had been timed with his departure,

Arriving afterward, and we had failed.

But as for that, before our feet could stir,

The officer said, 'Come now, I'll prove your lie,'

And in a twinkling, taking a dozen steps

They turned into the arcade, there they were,

The officer was shaking him and saying,

'You lie! You lie!'

"All happened in a moment,

The humbled, ruined fellow saw the truth,

And blew his brains out on the very spot!

And made a wonder, gossip for you girls -

And here I am."

So Major Petain finished.

Then Elenor Murray said: "Let's watch the sea."

And as they sat in silence, as he turned

To look upon her face, he saw the tears,

Hanging like dew drops on her lashes, drip

And course her cheeks. "My friend, you weep for me,"

The major said at last, "my gratitude

For tears like these." "I weep," said Elenor Murray,

"For you, but for myself. What can I say?

Nothing, my friend, your soul must find its way.

Only this word: I'll go to mass with you,

I'll sit beside you, pray with you, for you,

And do you pray for me."

And then she paused.

The long wash of the sea filled in the silence.

And then she said again, "I'll go with you,

Where we may pray, each for the other pray.

I have a sorrow, too, as deep as yours."