In Pursuit of the Green Lion Read Online Free PDF

Suddenly, my mind just broke with the rage. I snatched up the hair shirt from the bed, and before he could even realize what I’d done, I leapt up, grabbed the whip from his hand, and ran like a madwoman for the door. I flew down the stairs so fast, my feet didn’t even feel the stones. I didn’t listen to his shout of rage as he tore after me, or the drunken cheers of the men downstairs as I raced to the fire in nothing but my shift. Shaking with rage, my face all hot and red, I threw his hair shirt and discipline into the fire, grabbed the poker, and shoved them to the very hottest part, where they began to burn merrily. There was a chorus of guffaws as the drinkers realized what I was burning.
    Then I felt a heavy hand spin me around—his other was holding up his underdrawers, the points, freed from their moorings on his hose, flapping behind.
    “What have you DONE, you shameless, wanton— woman!” he roared at me.
    “I’ve burned them, and it serves you right!” I shouted right back, oblivious to the fire dancing perilously close behind my loose hair.
    “My God, what a woman!” I could hear his father exclaim. Gilbert turned his head to see the old man leaning on the table, thumping it repeatedly with his fist, tears of laughter rolling down his flushed face.
    “I’ll have her anytime, if you don’t want her!” shouted a man’s drunken voice.
    Gregory turned back to me in a fury, and I was fortunate that one of his hands was already occupied, or he might have strangled me.
    “Look what you’ve done. You’ve disgraced me. You’ve disgraced me in front of everyone.” I didn’t care if I died. Just let him push me into the fire.
    “Go ahead and kill me! I’m tired of you!” I shrieked.
    Gregory’s father had ceased holding his sides, and had walked up beside him. Silently, he took the dog-whip from his belt and held it out to his son. “It’s high time you broke her to your hand,” he said calmly.
    “Don’t you dare beat me, don’t you dare touch me!” I shouted, looking frantically at the crowd of grinning red faces taking in the scene. Gregory looked at them too. God, it’s going to be bad, I thought. He hates being humiliated worse than anything.
    Gregory let go of my shoulder and took the whip without a word. He looked down at his other hand, and then, with as much dignity as he could manage under the circumstances, said to his father, “But not down here in front of everyone. Leave us alone, and I’ll take her upstairs and do it right.”
    “Of course,” said his father.
    “If you touch me, I’ll throw myself out the window,” I hissed at him. I hated them all: heartless, repulsive men.
    “Margaret,” he said in a hard voice, “you’ve gone too far, and it’s time you paid. Now march upstairs, or there’s plenty of people down here who’ll be delighted to assist me.” They were all silent, and those who could stand had formed a circle around us. There was no escape.
    As Gregory walked up the stairs behind me, I heard someone hiccup, “I always said that woman needed a good beating.” I could feel my eyes burning. As I got to the top of the stairs, I turned. His face looked grim.
    “For God’s sake, don’t kill me. Think of my babies. Please.” But his face never changed. With a single harsh move he threw me down on the bed. Savagely pulling the curtain behind him, he climbed up beside me, and I screamed and put my hands up to protect my face as I saw him raise the dog-whip high above my head. There was a horrifying whack , but I didn’t feel the blow. Had the madness made me lose my senses? I peeked out between my fingers, and my eyes opened wide. He’d missed; he’d hit the bolster.
    “For goodness’ sake, Margaret, keep on screaming, or they’ll be up here to do the job properly,” he hissed. I was shaking all over.
    “Then—then you’re not—not going to …?”
    “Did you truly think so little of me? Can’t you see I couldn’t ever bear to hurt