Short Story , The Man With The Scar - Art of Writing [ 2 ]

2- ] Art of Writing .

Examples Of Short Stories .

The Man With The Scar .

By : W. Somerset Maugham .

It was on account of the scar that I first noticed him , for it ran , broad and red , in a great crescent from his temple to his chin . It must have been due to a formidable wound and I wondered whether this had been caused by a sabre or by a fragment of shell . It was unexpected on that round , fat and good-humored face . He had small and undistinguished features , and his expression was artless . His face went oddy with his corpulent body . He was powerful man of more than common height . I never saw him in anything but a very shabby grey suit , a khaki shirt and a battered sombrero . He was far from clean . He used to come into the Palace Hotel at Guatemala City every day at cocktail time and strolling leisurely round the bar offer lottery tickets for sale . If this was the way he made his living it must have been a poor one for I never saw anyone buy , but now and then I saw him offered a drink . He never refused it . He threaded his way among the tables with a sort of rolling walk as though he were accustomed to traverse long distance on foot , paused at each table , with a little smile mentioned the numbers he had for sale and then , when no notice was taken of him , with the same smile passed on . I think he was for the most part a trifle the worse for liquor .

    I was standing at the bar on e evening , my foot on the rail , with an acquaintance – they make a very good dry Martini at the Palace Hotel in Guatemala City – when the man with the scar came up . I shook my head as for the twentieth time since my arrival he held out for my inspection his lottery tickets . But my companion nodded affably .

‘ Qué tal , general ? How is life ? ‘

‘ Not so bad . Business is none too good , but it might be worse .’

‘ What will you have , general ?’

‘ A brandy .’

He tossed it down and put the glass back on the bar . He nodded to my acquaintance .

‘ Gracias . Hasta luego .’

Then he turned away and offered his tickets to the men who were standing next to us .

‘ Who is your friend ?’ I asked . ‘ That’s a terrific scar on his face .’

‘ It doesn’t add to his beauty , does it ? He’s an exile from Nicaragua . He’s a ruffian of course and a bandit , but not a bad fellow . I give him a few pesos now and then . He was a revolutionary general , and if his ammunition hadn’t given out he’d have upset the government and be Minister of War now instead of selling lottery tickets in Guatemala . They captured him , along with his staff , such as it was , and tried gim by court-martial . Such things are rather summary in these countries , you know , and he was sentenced to be shot at dawn . I guess he knew what was coming to him when he was caught . He spent the night in Gaol and he and the others , there were five of them altogether , passed the time playing poker . They used matches for chips . He told me he’d never had such a run of bad luck in his life ; they were playing with a short pack , Jacks to open , but he never held a card ; he never improved more than half a dozen times in the whole sitting and no sooner did he buy a new stack than he lost it . When day broke and the soldiers came into the cell to fetch them for execution he had lost more matches than a reasonable man could use in a lifetime .

       ‘ They were led into the patio of the goal and placed against a wall , the five of them side by side , with the firing-party facing them . There was a pause and our friend asked the officer in charge of them what the devil they were keeping him waiting for . The officer said that the general commanding the government troops wished to attend the execution and they awaited his arrival .

‘ Then I have time to smoke another cigarette ,” said our friend . “ He was always unpunctual .”

‘ But he had barely lit it when the general – it was San Ignacio , by the way : I don’t know whether you ever met him – followed by his A.D.C. came unto the patio . The usual formalities were performed and San Ignacio asked the condemned men whether there was anything they wished before the execution took place . Four of the five shook their heads , but our friend spoke .

“ Yes , I should like to say good-bye to my wife .”

“ Bueno ,” said the general ,” I have no objection to that . Where is she ?”

“ She is waiting at the prison door .”

“ Then it will not cause a delay of more than five minutes .”

“ Hardly that , Señor General ,” said our friend .

“ Have him placed on one side .”

‘ Two soldiers advanced and between them the condemned rebel walked to the spot indicated . The officer in command of the firing-squad on a nod from the general gave an order , there was a ragged report , and the four men fell . They fell strangely , not together , but one after the other , with movements that were almost grotesque , as though they were puppets in a toy theatre . The officer went up to them and into one who was still alive emptied two barrels of the revolver . Our friend finished his cigarette and threw away the stub .

‘ There was a little stir at the gateway . A woman came into the patio , with quick steps , and then , her hand on her heart , stopped suddenly . She gave a cry and with outstretched arms ran forward .

“ Garamba ,” said the General .

‘ She was in black , with a veil over her hair , and her face was dead white . She was hardly more than a girl , a slim creature , with little regular features and enormous eyes . But they were distraught with anguish . Her loveliness was such that as she ran , her mouth slightly open and the agony of her face beautiful , a gasp of surprise was wrung from those indifferent soldiers who looked at her .

    ‘ The rebel advanced a step or two to meet her . She flung herself into his arms and with a hoarse cry of passion : alma de mi corazón , soul of my heart , he pressed his lips to hers . And at the same moment he drew a knife from his ragged shirt – I haven’t a notion how he managed to retain possession of it – and stabbed her in the neck . The blood spurted from the cut vein and dyed his shirt . Then he flung his arms round her and once more pressed his lips to hers .

‘ It happened so quickly that many did not know what had occurred , but from the others  burst a cry of horror ; they sprang forward and seized him.  They loosened his grasp and the girl would have fallen if the A.D.C. had not caught her . She was unconscious . They laid her on the ground and with dismay on their faces stood round watching her . The rebel knew where he was striking and it was impossible to staunch the blood . In a moment the A.D.C. who had been kneeling by her side rose .

“ She’s dead ,” he whispered .

‘ The rebel crossed himself .

“ Why did you do it ?” asked the general .

 “ I loved her .”

‘ A sort of sigh passed through those men crowded together and they looked with strange faces at the murderer . The general stared at him for a while in silence .

“ It was a noble gesture ,” he said at last . “ I cannot execute this man . Take my car and have him led to the frontier . Senõr , I offer you the homage which is due from one brave man to another .”

‘ A murmur of approbation broke from those who listened . The A.D.C. tapped the rebel on the shoulder , and between the two soldiers without a word he marched to the waiting car .’

    My friend stopped and for a little I was silent . I must explain that he was a Guatemalan and spoke to me in Spanish . I have translated what he told me as well as I could , but I have made no attempt to tone down his rather high-flown language . To tell the truth I think it suits the story .

‘ But how then did he get the scar ?’ I asked at length .

‘ Oh , that was due to a bottle that burst when I was opening it . A bottle of ginger ale .’

‘ I never liked it ,” said I .