The Devourers
By
A. Vivanti Chartres
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
New York And London
The Knickerbocker Press
1910
Copyright, 1910, by
A. VIVANTI CHARTRES.
TO MY WONDERCHILD
VIVIEN
TO READ WHEN SHE HAS WONDERCHILDREN
OF HER OWN
PREFACE
There was a man, and he had a canary. He said, "What a dear littlecanary! I wish it were an eagle." God said to him: "If you give yourheart to it to feed on, it will become an eagle." So the man gave hisheart to it to feed on. And it became an eagle, and plucked his eyesout.
There was a woman, and she had a kitten. She said: "What a dear littlekitten! I wish it were a tiger." God said to her: "If you give yourlife's blood to it to drink, it will become a tiger." So the woman gaveher life's blood to it to drink. And it became a tiger, and tore her topieces.
There was a man and a woman, and they had a child. They said: "What adear little child! We wish it were a genius." ...
BOOK I
I-I
The baby opened its eyes and said: "I am hungry."
Nothing moved in the silent, shadowy room, and the baby repeated itsbrief inarticulate cry. There were hurrying footsteps; light arms raisedit, and a laughing voice soothed it with senseless, sweet-soundingwords. Then its cheek was laid on a cool young breast, and all was tepidtenderness and mild delight. Soon, on the wave of a light-swingingbreath, it drooped into sleep again.
Edith Avory had hurried home across the meadow from the children's partyat the vicarage, her pendant plaits flying, her straw hat aslant, andnow she entered the dining-room of the Grey House fluttered andbreathless.
"Have they come?" she asked of Florence, who was laying the cloth fortea.
"Yes, dear," answered the maid.
"Where are they? Where is the baby?" and, without waiting for an answer,the child ran out of the room and helter-skeltered upstairs.
In front of the nursery she stopped. It was her own room, but throughthe closed door she had heard a weak, shrill cry that plucked at herheart. Slowly she opened the door, then paused on the threshold,startled and disappointed.[Pg 2]
Near the window, gazing out across the verdant Hertfordshire fields, sata large, square-faced woman in pink print, and on her lap, facedownward, wrapped in flannel, lay a baby. The nurse was slapping it onthe back with quick, regular pats. Edith saw the soles of two little redfeet, and at the other end a small, oblong head, covered with soft blackhair.
"Oh dear!" said Edith. "Is that the baby?"
"Please shut the door, miss," said the nurse.
"I thought babies had yellow hair, with long muslin dresses and bluebows," faltered Edith.
The square-faced nurse did not answer, but continued pat—pat—pat withher large hand on the small round back.
Edith stepped a little nearer. "W