Our story today is called "The Line of Least Resistance." It was written by Edith Wharton. Here is Larry West with the story.
Storyteller: Mr. Mindon returned home for lunch. His wife Millicent was not at home. The servants did not know where she was.
Mr.
Mindon sat alone at the table in the garden. He ate a small piece of
meat and drank some mineral water. Mr. Mindon always ate simple meals,
because he had problems with his stomach. Why then did he keep a cook
among his servants? Because his wife Millicent liked to invite her
friends to big dinners and serve them rare and expensive food and wine.
Mr.
Mindon did not enjoy his wifes parties. Millicent complained that he
did not know how to enjoy life. She did a lot of things that he did not
like.
Millicent wasted Mr. Mindons money and was unpleasant to him. But he never got angry with his wife.
After
eating, Mr. Mindon took a walk through his house. He did not stay long
in the living room. It reminded him of all the hours he had spent there
at his wifes parties. The sight of the formal dining room made him feel
even more uncomfortable. He remembered the long dinners where he had to
talk to his wifes friends for hours. They never seemed very interested
in what he was saying.
Mr. Mindon walked quickly past the ballroom
where his wife danced with her friends. He would go to bed after
dinner. But he could hear the orchestra playing until three in the
morning.
Mr. Mindon walked into the library. No one in the house
ever read any of the books. But Mr. Mindon was proud to be rich enough
to have a perfectly useless room in his house.
He went into the
sunny little room where his wife planned her busy days and evenings. Her
writing table was covered with notes and cards from all her friends.
Her wastepaper basket was full of empty envelopes that had carried
invitations to lunches, dinners, and theater parties.
Mr. Mindon
saw a letter crushed into a small ball on the floor. He bent to pick it
up. Just as he was about to throw it into the wastepaper basket, he
noticed that the letter was signed by his business partner, Thomas
Antrim. But Antrims letter to Mr. Mindons wife was not about business.
As
Mr. Mindon read it, he felt as if his mind was spinning out of control.
He sat down heavily in the chair near his wifes little writing table.
Now
the room looked cold and unfamiliar. "Who are you?" the walls seemed to
say. "Who am I?" Mr. Mindon said in a loud voice. "Ill tell you who I
am! I am the man who paid for every piece of furniture in this room. If
it were not for me and my money, this room would be empty!" Suddenly,
Mr. Mindon felt taller. He marched across his wifes room. It belonged to
him, didnt it? The house belonged to him, too. He felt powerful.
He
sat at the table and wrote a letter to Millicent. One of the servants
came into the room. "Did you call, sir?" he asked. "No," Mr. Mindon
replied. "But since you are here, please telephone for a taxi cab at
once."
The taxi took him to a hotel near his bank. A clerk showed
him to his room. It smelled of cheap soap. The window in the room was
open and hot noises came up from the street. Mr. Mindon looked at his
watch. Four oclock. He wondered if Millicent had come home yet and read
his letter.
His head began to ache, and Mr. Mindon lay down on the
bed. When he woke up, it was dark. He looked at his watch. Eight
oclock. Millicent must be dressing for dinner. They were supposed to go
to Missus Targes house for dinner tonight. Well, Mr. Mindon thought,
Millicent would have to go alone. Maybe she would ask Thomas Antrim to
take her to the party!
Mr. Mindon realized he was hungry. He left
his room and walked down the stairs to the hotel dining room. The air --
smelling of coffee and fried food -- wrapped itself around his head.
Mr.
Mindon could not eat much of the food that the hotel waiter brought
him. He went back to his room, feeling sick. He also felt hot and dirty
in the clothing he had worn all day. He had never realized how much he
loved his home!
Someone knocked at his door. Mr. Mindon jumped to
his feet. "Mindon?" a voice asked. "Are you there?" Mr. Mindon
recognized that voice. It belonged to Laurence Meysy. Thirty years ago,
Meysy had been very popular with women -- especially with other mens
wives. As a young man he had interfered in many marriages. Now, in his
old age, Laurence Meysy had become a kind of "marriage doctor." He
helped husbands and wives save their marriages.
Mr. Mindon began
to feel better as soon as Laurence Meysy walked into his hotel room. Two
men followed him. One was Mr. Mindons rich uncle, Ezra Brownrigg. The
other was the Reverend Doctor Bonifant, the minister of Saint Lukes
church where Mr. Mindon and his family prayed every Sunday.
Mr.
Mindon looked at the three men and felt very proud that they had come to
help him. For the first time in his married life, Mr. Mindon felt as
important as his wife Millicent.
Laurence Meysy sat on the edge of
the bed and lit a cigarette. "Misses Mindon sent for me," he said. Mr.
Mindon could not help feeling proud of Millicent. She had done the right
thing. Meysy continued. "She showed me your letter. She asks you for
mercy." Meysy paused, and then said: "The poor woman is very unhappy.
And we have come here to ask you what you plan to do."
Now Mr. Mindon began to feel uncomfortable. "To do?" he asked. "To do? Well…I, I plan to…to leave her."
Meysy stopped smoking his cigarette. "Do you want to divorce her?" he asked.
"Why, yes! Yes!" Mr. Mindon replied.
Meysy knocked the ashes from his cigarette. "Are you absolutely sure that you want to do this?" he asked.
Mr. Mindon nodded his head. "I plan to divorce her," he said loudly.
Mr.
Mindon began to feel very excited. It was the first time he had ever
had so many people sitting and listening to him. He told his audience
everything, beginning with his discovery of his wifes love affair with
his business partner, and ending with his complaints about her expensive
dinner parties.
His uncle looked at his watch. Doctor Bonifant
began to stare out of the hotel window. Meysy stood up. "Do you plan to
dishonor yourself then?" he asked. "No one knows what has happened. You
are the only one who can reveal the secret. You will make yourself look
foolish."
Mr. Mindon tried to rise. But he fell back weakly. The
three men picked up their hats. In another moment, they would be gone.
When they left, Mr. Mindon would lose his audience, and his belief in
himself and his decision. "I wont leave for New York until tomorrow," he
whispered. Laurence Meysy smiled.
"Tomorrow will be too late," he
said. "Tomorrow everyone will know you are here." Meysy opened the
hotel room door. Mr. Brownrigg and Doctor Bonifant walked out of the
room.
Meysy turned to follow them, when he felt Mr. Mindons hand
grab his arm. "I…I will come with you," Mr. Mindon sighed. "Its…its…for
the children." Laurence Meysy nodded as Mr. Mindon walked out of the
room. He closed the door gently.
You have just heard the story
"The Line of Least Resistance." It was written by Edith Wharton and
adapted for Special English by Dona de Sanctis. Your storyteller was
Larry West. For VOA Special English, this is Shep O'Neal.

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