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diff --git a/34252-h/34252-h.htm b/34252-h/34252-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a6cadeb --- /dev/null +++ b/34252-h/34252-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8311 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Vanitas, by Vernon Lee</title> +<style type="text/css"> + body {background:#fdfdfd; + color:black; + font-size: large; + margin-top:100px; + margin-left:15%; + margin-right:15%; + text-align:justify; } + h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 {text-align: center; } + hr.narrow { width: 40%; + text-align: center; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; } + hr.minimal { width: 25%; + text-align: center; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; } + hr { width: 100%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 3px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + blockquote { font-size: large; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5% } + table {font-size: large; } + table.sm {font-size: medium; } + td.w50 { width: 50%; } + p {text-indent: 3%; } + p.noindent { text-indent: 0%; } + p.tbhigh {margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center; vertical-align: 0.5em;} + .big { font-size: 130%} + .center { text-align: center; } + img { border: 0; } + .ind1 { margin-left: 1em; } + .ind2 { margin-left: 2em; } + .ind3 { margin-left: 3em; } + .nowrap { white-space: nowrap; } + .revind { margin-left: 0em; text-indent: -2em; padding-left: 2em; } + .right { text-align: right; } + .small { font-size: 70%; } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps; } + .tblow {text-align: left; vertical-align: -0.5em;} + .wide { letter-spacing: .15em; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red; + text-decoration: underline; } + + hr.pg { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 80%;} +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Vanitas, by Vernon Lee</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p class="noindent">Title: Vanitas</p> +<p class="noindent"> Polite Stories (Lady Tal--A Worldly Woman--The Legend of Madame Krasinska)</p> +<p class="noindent">Author: Vernon Lee</p> +<p class="noindent">Release Date: November 8, 2010 [eBook #34252]</p> +<p class="noindent">Language: English</p> +<p class="noindent">Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> +<p class="noindent">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VANITAS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Delphine Lettau<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdpcanada.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4" summary="emblem"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/emblem.png"> + <img src="images/emblem.png" height="140" + alt="EMBLEM" /></a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<h1><span class="wide">VANITAS</span></h1> +<h3><i>POLITE STORIES</i></h3> +<p> </p> +<h5>BY</h5> + +<h2><span class="wide">VERNON LEE,</span></h2> +<h6>AUTHOR OF "HAUNTINGS," ETC.</h6> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4" summary="logo"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/logo.png"> + <img src="images/logo.png" height="100" + alt="logo" /></a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<h4><span class="wide">LONDON<br /><br /> +WILLIAM HEINEMANN</span></h4> +<h5>1892</h5> + +<h5>[<i>All rights reserved</i>]</h5> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><i>ALLA BARONESSA E. FRENCH-CINI.</i></h3> +<h4><i>PISTOIA PER IGNO.</i></h4> +<p> </p> +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My Dear Elena</span>,</p> +<p>We had a conversation once, walking on your terrace, with the +wind-rippled olives above and the quietly nodding cypress tufts +below—about such writings as you chose to compare with carved +cherry-stones. We disagreed, for it seemed to me that the world +needed cherry-stone necklaces as much as anything else; and that +the only pity was that most of its inhabitants could not afford such +toys, and the rest despised them because they were made of such +very cheap material. Still, lest you should wonder at my sending +such things to you, I write to declare that my three little tales, +whatever they be, are not carved cherry-stones.</p> + +<p>For round these sketches of frivolous women, there have gathered +some of the least frivolous thoughts, heaven knows, that have ever +come into my head; or rather, such thoughts have condensed and +taken body in these stories. Indeed, how can one look from outside +on the great waste of precious things, delicate discernment, +quick feeling and sometimes stoical fortitude, involved in frivolous +life, without a sense of sadness and indignation? Or what satisfaction +could its portrayal afford, save for the chance that such pictures +might mirror some astonished and abashed creature; or show +to men and women who toil and think that idleness, and callousness, +and much that must seem to them sheer wickedness, is less a +fault than a misfortune. For surely it is a misfortune not merely +to waste the nobler qualities one has, but to have little inkling of +the sense of brotherhood and duty which changes one, from a blind +dweller in caves, to an inmate of the real world of storms and sunshine +and serene night and exhilarating morning. And, if miracles +were still wrought nowadays, as in those times when great sinners +(as in Calderon's play) were warned by plucking the hood off their +own dead face, there would have been no waste of the supernatural +in teaching my Madame Krasinska that poor crazy paupers and +herself were after all exchangeable quantities.</p> + +<p>Of my three frivolous women, another performed the miracle +herself, and abandoned freely the service of the great Goddess +Vanitas. While the third … and there is the utter pity of the +thing, that frivolous living means not merely waste, but in many +cases martyrdom.</p> + +<p>That fact, though it had come more than once before my eyes, +would perhaps never have been clear to my mind, but for our long +talks together about what people are and might be. A certain indignation +verging on hatred might have made these stories of mine +utterly false and useless, but for the love of all creatures who may +suffer with which you lit up the subject. And for this reason the +proof sheets of my little book must go first to that old bishop's villa +on the lowest Apennine spur, where the chestnuts are dropping, +with a sound of rustling silk, on to the sere leaves below, and the +autumn rain storms are rushing by, veiling the plain with inky +crape, blotting out that distant white shimmer, which, in the sunlight, +was Florence a moment ago.</p> +<p class="right">VERNON LEE.<span class="ind1"> </span></p> +<p><span class="smallcaps">Chelsea</span>, <i>October</i>, 1891.</p> +</blockquote> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="2" summary="Contents"> +<tr><th align="center" valign="top"><span class="big">CONTENTS.</span></th></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" valign="top"><a href="#st_1"><span class="smallcaps">Lady Tal</span></a><br /> + </td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" valign="top"><a href="#st_2"><span class="smallcaps">A Worldly Woman</span></a><br /> + </td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" valign="top"><a href="#st_3"><span class="smallcaps">The Legend of Madame Krasinska</span></a><br /> + </td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="st_1" id="st_1"></a><span class="wide">LADY TAL.</span></h2> + +<p>The church of the Salute, with its cupolas and +volutes, stared in at the long windows, white, luminous, +spectral. A white carpet of moonlight stretched +to where they were sitting, with only one lamp lit, for +fear of mosquitoes. All the remoter parts of the vast +drawing-room were deep in gloom; you were somehow +conscious of the paintings and stuccos of the walls and +vaulted ceilings without seeing them. From the canal +rose plash of oar, gondolier's cry, and distant guitar +twang and quaver of song; and from the balconies +came a murmur of voices and women's laughter. The +heavy scent of some flower, vague, white, southern, +mingled with the cigarette smoke in that hot evening +air, which seemed, by contrast to the Venetian day, +almost cool.</p> + +<p>As Jervase Marion lolled back (that lolling of his +always struck one as out of keeping with his well-adjusted +speech, his precise mind, the something conventional +about him) on the ottoman in the shadow, +he was conscious of a queer feeling, as if, instead of +having arrived from London only two hours ago, he +had never ceased to be here at Venice, and under +Miss Vanderwerf's hospitable stuccoed roof. All +those years of work, of success, of experience (or was +it not rather of study?) of others, bringing with them +a certain heaviness, baldness, and scepticism, had +become almost a dream, and this present moment and +the similar moment twelve years ago remaining as +the only reality. Except his hostess, whose round, +unchangeable face, the face of a world-wise, kind but +somewhat frivolous baby, was lit up faintly by the +regular puffs of her cigarette, all the people in the +room were strangers to Marion: yet he knew them +so well, he had known them so long.</p> + +<p>There was the old peeress, her head tied up in a +white pocket-handkerchief, and lolling from side to +side with narcoticised benevolence, who, as it was +getting on towards other people's bedtime, was +gradually beginning to wake up from the day's +slumber, and to murmur eighteenth-century witticisms +and Blessingtonian anecdotes. There was +the American Senator, seated with postage-stamp +profile and the attitude of a bronze statesman, against the +moonlight, one hand in his waistcoat, the other incessantly +raised to his ear as in a stately "Beg +pardon?" There was the depressed Venetian naval +officer who always made the little joke about not +being ill when offered tea; the Roumanian Princess +who cultivated the reputation of saying spiteful +things cleverly, and wore all her pearls for fear of +their tarnishing; the English cosmopolitan who was +one day on the Bosphorus and the next in Bond +Street, and was wise about singing and acting; the +well turned out, subdued, Parisian-American æsthete +talking with an English accent about modern pictures +and ladies' dresses; and the awkward, enthusiastic +English æsthete, who considered Ruskin a ranter and +creaked over the marble floors with dusty, seven-mile +boots. There was a solitary spinster fresh from +higher efforts of some sort, unconscious that no one +in Venice appreciated her classic profile, and that +everyone in Venice stared at her mediæval dress and +collar of coins from the British Museum. There was +the usual bevy of tight-waisted Anglo-Italian girls +ready to play the guitar and sing, and the usual supply +of shy, young artists from the three-franc pensions, +wandering round the room, candle in hand, with the +niece of the house, looking with shy intentness at +every picture and sketch and bronze statuette and +china bowl and lacquer box.</p> + +<p>The smoke of the cigarettes mingled with the +heavy scent of the flowers; the plash of oar and +snatch of song rose from the canal; the murmur and +laughter entered from the balcony. The old peeress +lolled out her Blessingtonian anecdotes; the Senator +raised his hand to his ear and said "Beg pardon?" +the Roumanian Princess laughed shrilly at her own +malignant sayings; the hostess's face was periodically +illumined by her cigarette and the hostess's +voice periodically burst into a childlike: "Why, you +don't mean it!" The young men and women flirted +in undertones about Symonds, Whistler, Tolstoy, and +the way of rowing gondolas, with an occasional chord +struck on the piano, an occasional string twanged on +the guitar. The Salute, with its cupolas and volutes, +loomed spectral in at the windows; the moonlight +spread in a soft, shining carpet to their feet.</p> + +<p>Jervase Marion knew it all so well, so well, this half-fashionable, +half-artistic Anglo-American idleness of +Venice, with its poetic setting and its prosaic reality. +He would have known it, he felt, intimately, even if +he had never seen it before; known it so as to be +able to make each of these people say in print what +they did really say. There is something in being a +psychological novelist, and something in being a cosmopolitan +American, something in being an inmate of +the world of Henry James and a kind of Henry James, +of a lesser magnitude, yourself: one has the pleasure +of understanding so much, one loses the pleasure of +misunderstanding so much more.</p> + +<p>A singing boat came under the windows of Palazzo +Bragadin, and as much of the company as could, +squeezed on to the cushioned gothic balconies, much +to the annoyance of such as were flirting outside, +and to the satisfaction of such as were flirting within. +Marion—who, much to poor Miss Vanderwerf's disgust, +had asked to be introduced to no one as yet, +but to be allowed to realise that evening, as he daintily +put it, that Venice was the same and he a good +bit changed—Marion leaned upon the parapet of +a comparatively empty balcony and looked down at +the canal. The moonbeams were weaving a strange, +intricate pattern, like some old Persian tissue, in the +dark water; further off the yellow and red lanterns +of the singing boat were surrounded by black gondolas, +each with its crimson, unsteady prow-light; and +beyond, mysterious in the moonlight, rose the tower +and cupola of St. George, the rigging of ships, and +stretched a shimmering band of lagoon.</p> + +<p>He had come to give himself a complete holiday +here, after the grind of furnishing a three-volume +novel for Blackwood (Why did he write so much? +he asked himself; he had enough of his own, and to +spare, for a dainty but frugal bachelor); and already +vague notions of new stories began to arrive in his +mind. He determined to make a note of them and +dismiss them for the time. He had determined to be +idle; and he was a very methodical man, valuing +above everything (even above his consciousness of +being a man of the world) his steady health, steady, +slightly depressed spirits, and steady, monotonous, +but not unmanly nor unenjoyable routine of existence.</p> + +<p>Jervase Marion was thinking of this, and the necessity +of giving himself a complete rest, not letting +himself be dragged off into new studies of mankind +and womankind; and listening, at the same +time, half-unconsciously, to the scraps of conversation +which came from the other little balconies, +where a lot of heads were grouped, dark in the +moonlight.</p> + +<p>"I do hope it will turn out well—at least not too +utterly awful," said the languid voice of a young +English manufacturer's heir, reported to live exclusively +off bread and butter and sardines, and to have +no further desires in the world save those of the amiable +people who condescended to shoot on his moors, +yacht in his yachts, and generally devour his millions, +"it's ever so long since I've been wanting a +sideboard. It's rather hard lines for a poor fellow to +be unable to find a sideboard ready made, isn't it? +And I have my doubts about it even now."</p> + +<p>There was a faint sarcastic tinge in the languid +voice; the eater of bread and butter occasionally felt +vague amusement at his own ineptness.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, my dear boy," answered the cosmopolitan, +who knew all about acting and singing; +"it's sure to be beautiful. Only you must <i>not</i> let +them put on that rococo cornice, quite out of character, +my dear boy."</p> + +<p>"A real rococo cornice is a precious lot better, I +guess, than a beastly imitation Renaissance frieze cut +with an oyster knife," put in a gruff New York voice. +"That's my view, leastways."</p> + +<p>"I think Mr. Clarence had best have it made in +slices, and each of you gentlemen design him a slice—that's +what's called original nowadays—<i>c'est notre +façon d'entendre l'art aujourd'hui</i>," said the Roumanian +Princess.</p> + +<p>A little feeble laugh proceeded from Mr. Clarence. +"Oh," he said, "I shouldn't mind that at all. I'm +not afraid of my friends. I'm afraid of myself, of my +fickleness and weak-mindedness. At this rate I shall +never have a sideboard at all, I fear."</p> + +<p>"There's a very good one, with three drawers and +knobs, and a ticket 'garantito vero noce a lire 45,' +in a joiner's shop at San Vio, which I pass every +morning. You'd much better have that, Mr. Clarence. +And it would be a new departure in art and +taste, you know."</p> + +<p>The voice was a woman's; a little masculine, and +the more so for a certain falsetto pitch. It struck +Marion by its resolution, a sort of highbred bullying +and a little hardness about it.</p> + +<p>"Come, don't be cruel to poor Clarence, Tal darling," +cried Miss Vanderwerf, with her kind, infantine +laugh.</p> + +<p>"Why, what have I been saying, my dear thing?" +asked the voice, with mock humility; "I only want to +help the poor man in his difficulties."</p> + +<p>"By the way, Lady Tal, will you allow me to +take you to Rietti's one day?" added an æsthetic +young American, with a shadowy Boston accent; +"he has some things you ought really to see, some +quite good tapestries, a capital Gubbio vase. And +he has a carved nigger really by Brustolon, which +you ought to get for your red room at Rome. He'd +look superb. The head's restored and one of the +legs, so Rietti'd let him go for very little. He really +is an awfully jolly bit of carving—and in that red room +of yours<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Julian. I don't think I seem to care +much about him. The fact is, I have to see such a lot +of ugly white men in my drawing-room, I feel I really +couldn't stand an ugly black one into the bargain."</p> + +<p>Here Miss Vanderwerf, despite her solemn promise, +insisted on introducing Jervase Marion to a lady of +high literary tastes, who proceeded forthwith to congratulate +him as the author of a novel by Randolph +Tomkins, whom he abominated most of all living +writers.</p> + +<p>Presently there was a stir in the company, those of +the balcony came trooping into the drawing-room, +four or five young men and girls, surrounding a tall +woman in a black walking-dress; people dropped in +to these open evenings of Mrs. Vanderwerf's from their +row on the lagoon or stroll at St. Mark's.</p> + +<p>Miss Vanderwerf jumped up.</p> + +<p>"You aren't surely going yet, dearest?" she cried +effusively. "My darling child, it isn't half-past ten +yet."</p> + +<p>"I must go; poor Gerty's in bed with a cold, and I +must go and look after her."</p> + +<p>"Bother Gerty!" ejaculated one of the well turned +out æsthetic young men.</p> + +<p>The tall young woman gave him what Marion noted +as a shutting-up look.</p> + +<p>"Learn to respect my belongings," she answered, +"I must really go back to my cousin."</p> + +<p>Jervase Marion had immediately identified her as +the owner of that rather masculine voice with the +falsetto tone; and apart from the voice, he would +have identified her as the lady who had bullied the +poor young man in distress about his sideboard. She +was very tall, straight, and strongly built, the sort of +woman whom you instinctively think of as dazzlingly +fine in a ball frock; but at the same time active and +stalwart, suggestive of long rides and drives and +walks. She had handsome aquiline features, just a +trifle wooden in their statuesque fineness, abundant +fair hair, and a complexion, pure pink and white, +which told of superb health. Marion knew the type +well. It was one which, despite all the years he had +lived in England, made him feel American, impressing +him as something almost exotic. This great strength, +size, cleanness of outline and complexion, this look +of carefully selected breed, of carefully fostered +health, was to him the perfect flower of the aristocratic +civilization of England. There were more +beautiful types, certainly, and, intellectually, higher +ones (his experience was that such women were +shrewd, practical, and quite deficient in soul), but +there was no type more well-defined and striking, in +his eyes. This woman did not seem an individual +at all.</p> + +<p>"I must go," insisted the tall lady, despite the +prayers of her hostess and the assembled guests. "I +really can't leave that poor creature alone a minute +longer."</p> + +<p>"Order the gondola, Kennedy; call Titta, please," +cried Miss Vanderwerf to one of the many youths +whom the kindly old maid ordered about with +motherly familiarity.</p> + +<p>"Mayn't I have the honour of offering mine?" piped +the young man.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, it isn't worth while. I shall walk." Here +came a chorus of protestations, following the tall +young woman into the outer drawing-room, through +the hall, to the head of the great flight of open-air +stairs.</p> + +<p>Marion had mechanically followed the noisy, squabbling, +laughing crew. The departure of this lady +suggested to him that he would slip away to his +inn.</p> + +<p>"Do let me have the pleasure of accompanying +you," cried one young man after another.</p> + +<p>"<i>Do</i> take Clarence or Kennedy or Piccinillo, darling," +implored Mrs. Vanderwerf. "You can't really +walk home alone."</p> + +<p>"It's not three steps from here," answered the tall +one. "And I'm sure it's much more proper for a +matron of ever so many years standing to go home +alone than accompanied by a lot of fascinating young +creatures."</p> + +<p>"But, dear, you really don't know Venice; suppose +you were spoken to! Just think."</p> + +<p>"Well, beloved friend, I know enough Italian to be +able to answer."</p> + +<p>The tall lady raised one beautifully pencilled eyebrow, +slightly, with a contemptuous little look. "Besides, +I'm big enough to defend myself, and see, here's +an umbrella with a silver knob, or what passes for +such in these degenerate days. Nobody will come +near that."</p> + +<p>And she took the weapon from a rack in the hall, +where the big seventeenth-century lamp flickered on +the portraits of doges in crimson and senators in +ermine.</p> + +<p>"As you like, dearest. I know that wilful must +have her own way," sighed Miss Vanderwerf, rising +on tiptoe and kissing her on both cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Mayn't I really accompany you?" repeated the +various young men.</p> + +<p>She shook her head, with the tall, pointed hat on it.</p> + +<p>"No, you mayn't; good-night, dear friends," and she +brandished her umbrella over her head and descended +the stairs, which went sheer down into the moonlit +yard. The young men bowed. One, with the air of a +devotee in St. Mark's, kissed her hand at the bottom +of the flight of steps, while the gondolier unlocked +the gate. They could see him standing in the moonlight +and hear him say earnestly:</p> + +<p>"I leave for Paris to-morrow; good-night."</p> + +<p>She did not answer him, but making a gesture with +her umbrella to those above, she cried: "Good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night," answered the chorus above the stairs, +watching the tall figure pass beneath the gate and into +the moonlit square.</p> + +<p>"Well now," said Miss Vanderwerf, settling herself +on her ottoman again, and fanning herself after her +exertions in the drawing-room, "there is no denying +that she's a strange creature, dear thing."</p> + +<p>"A fine figure-head cut out of oak, with a good, +solid, wooden heart," said the Roumanian Princess.</p> + +<p>"No, no," exclaimed the lady of the house. "She's +just as good as gold,—poor Lady Tal!"</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>"Tal?" asked Marion.</p> + +<p>"Tal. Her name's Atalanta, Lady Atalanta Walkenshaw—but +everyone calls her Tal—Lady Tal. +She's the daughter of Lord Ossian, you know."</p> + +<p>"And who is or was Walkenshaw?—is, I presume, +otherwise she'd have married somebody else by this +time."</p> + +<p>"Poor Tal!" mused Miss Vanderwerf. "I'm sure +she would have no difficulty in finding another husband +to make up for that fearful old Walkenshaw +creature. But she's in a very sad position for so +young a creature, poor girl."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" ejaculated Marion, familiar with ladies thus +to be commiserated, and remembering his friend's +passion for romance, unquenchable by many seriocomic +disenchantments, "separated from her husband—that +sort of thing! I thought so."</p> + +<p>"Now, why did you think that, you horrid creature?" +asked his hostess eagerly. "Well, now, there's no +saying that you're not <i>real</i> psychological, Jervase. +Now <i>do</i> tell what made you think of such a thing."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I'm sure," answered Marion, suppressing +a yawn. He hated people who pried into +his novelist consciousness, all the more so that he +couldn't in the least explain its contents. "Something +about her—or nothing about her—a mere guess, +a stupid random shot that happens to have hit +right."</p> + +<p>"Why, that's just the thing, that you haven't hit +quite right. That is, it's right in one way, and wrong +in another. Oh, my! how difficult it is just to explain, +when one isn't a clever creature like you? +Well, Lady Tal isn't separated from her husband, but +it's just the same as if she were<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>"I see. Mad? Poor thing!" exclaimed Marion +with that air of concern which always left you in +doubt whether it was utterly conventional, or might +not contain a grain of sympathy after all.</p> + +<p>"No, he's not mad. He's dead—been dead ever +so long. She's one and thirty, you know—doesn't +look it, does she?—and was married at eighteen. +But she can't marry again, for all that, because if she +marries all his money goes elsewhere, and she's not +a penny to bless herself with."</p> + +<p>"Ah—and why didn't she have proper settlements +made?" asked Marion.</p> + +<p>"That's just it. Because old Walkenshaw, who +was a beast—just a beast—had a prejudice against +settlements, and said he'd do much better for his wife +than that—leave her everything, if only they didn't +plague him. And then, when the old wretch died, +after they'd been married a year or so, it turned out +that he had left her everything, but only on condition +of her not marrying again. If she did, it would all +go to the next of kin. He hated the next of kin, too, +they say, and wanted to keep the money away from +him as long as possible, horrid old wretch! So there +poor Tal is a widow, but unable to marry again."</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" ejaculated Marion, looking at the +patterns which the moonlight, falling between the +gothic balcony balustrade, was making on the shining +marble floor; and reflecting upon the neat way +in which the late Walkenshaw had repaid his wife +for marrying him for his money; for of course she +had married him for his money. Marion was not a +stoic, or a cynic, or a philosopher of any kind. He +fully accepted the fact that the daughters of Scotch +lords should marry for money, he even hated all sorts +of sentimental twaddle about human dignity. But he +rather sympathised with this old Walkenshaw, whoever +Walkenshaw might have been, who had just +served a mercenary young lady as was right.</p> + +<p>"I don't see that it's so hard, aunt," said Miss Vanderwerf's +niece, who was deeply in love with Bill Nettle, +a penniless etcher. "Lady Tal might marry again if +she'd learn to do without all that money."</p> + +<p>"If she would be satisfied with only a little less," +interrupted the sharp-featured Parisian-American whom +Mrs. Vanderwerf wanted for a nephew-in-law. "Why, +there are dozens of men with plenty of money who +have been wanting to marry her. There was Sir +Titus Farrinder, only last year. He mayn't have had +as much as old Walkenshaw, but he had a jolly bit +of money, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Besides, after all," put in the millionaire in distraction +about the sideboard, "why should Lady Tal +want to marry again? She's got a lovely house at +Rome."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come, come, Clarence!" interrupted Kennedy +horrified; "why, it's nothing but Japanese leather +paper and Chinese fans."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Clarence, crestfallen. "Perhaps +it isn't lovely. I thought it <i>rather</i> pretty—don't +you really think it <i>rather</i> nice, Miss Vanderwerf?"</p> + +<p>"Any house would be nice enough with such a +splendid creature inside it," put in Marion. These +sort of conversations always interested him; it was the +best way of studying human nature.</p> + +<p>"Besides," remarked the Roumanian Princess, +"Lady Tal may have had enough of the married +state. And why indeed should a beautiful creature +like that get married? She's got every one at her feet. +It's much more amusing like that<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>"Well, all the same, I <i>do</i> think it's just terribly sad, +to see a creature like that condemned to lead such a +life, without anyone to care for or protect her, now +poor Gerald Burne's dead."</p> + +<p>"Oh, her brother—her brother—do you suppose +she cared for <i>him</i>?" asked the niece, pouring out the +iced lemonade and Cyprus wine. She always rebelled +against her aunt's romanticalness.</p> + +<p>"Gerald Burne!" said Marion, collecting his +thoughts, and suddenly seeing in his mind a certain +keen-featured face, a certain wide curl of blond hair, +not seen for many a long year. "Gerald Burne! Do +you mean an awfully handsome young Scotchman, +who did something very distinguished in Afghanistan? +You don't mean to say he was any relation +of Lady Atalanta's? I never heard of his being +dead, either. I thought he must be somewhere in +India."</p> + +<p>"Gerald Burne was Lady Tal's half-brother—her +mother had married a Colonel Burne before her +marriage with Lord Ossian. He got a spear-wound +or something out in Afghanistan," explained one of +the company.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was his horse," interrupted another.</p> + +<p>"Anyhow," resumed Miss Vanderwerf, "poor Gerald +was crippled for life—a sort of spinal disease, +you know. That was just after old Sir Thomas +Walkenshaw departed, so Tal and he lived together +and went travelling from one place to another, consulting +doctors, and that sort of thing, until they +settled in Rome. And now poor Gerald is dead—he +died two years ago—Tal's all alone in the world, +for Lord Ossian's a wretched, tipsy, bankrupt old +creature, and the other sisters are married. Gerald was +just an angel, and you've no idea how devoted poor +Tal was to him—he was just her life, I do believe."</p> + +<p>The young man called Ted looked contemptuously +at his optimistic hostess.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "I don't know whether Lady Tal +cared much for her brother while he was alive. My +belief is she never cared a jackstraw for anyone. +Anyway, if she <i>did</i> care for him you must admit she didn't +show it after his death. I never saw a woman look so +utterly indifferent and heartless as when I saw her a +month later. She made jokes, I remember, and asked +me to take her to a curiosity shop. And she went to +balls in London not a year afterwards."</p> + +<p>The niece nodded. "Exactly. I always thought +it perfectly indecent. Of course Aunt says it's Tal's +way of showing her grief, but it's a very funny one, +anyhow."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure Lady Tal must regret her brother," said +the Roumanian Princess. "Just think how convenient +for a young widow to be able to say to all the men she +likes: 'Oh, do come and see poor Gerald.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, well!" remarked Miss Vanderwerf. "Of +course she did take her brother's death in a very unusual +way. But still I maintain she's not heartless for +all that."</p> + +<p>"Hasn't a pretty woman a right to be heartless, +after all?" put in Marion.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't care a fig whether Lady Tal is heartless +or not," answered Ted brusquely. "Heartlessness +isn't a social offence. What I object to most in Lady +Tal is her being so frightfully mean."</p> + +<p>"Mean?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes; avaricious. With all those thousands, +that woman manages to spend barely more than a few +hundreds."</p> + +<p>"Well, but if she's got simple tastes?" suggested +Marion.</p> + +<p>"She hasn't. No woman was ever further from it. +And of course it's so evident what her game is! She +just wants to feather her nest against a rainy day. +She's putting by five-sixths of old Walkenshaw's +money, so as to make herself a nice little <i>dot</i>, to marry +someone else upon one of these days."</p> + +<p>"A judicious young lady!" observed Marion.</p> + +<p>"Well, really, Mr. Kennedy," exclaimed the Roumanian +Princess, "you are ingenious and ingenuous! +Do you suppose that our dear Tal is putting +by money in order to marry some starving genius, to +do love in a cottage with? Why, if she's not married +yet, it's merely because she's not met a sufficient <i>parti</i>. +She wants something very grand—a <i>Pezzo Grosso</i>, as +they say here."</p> + +<p>"She couldn't marry as long as she had Gerald to +look after," said Miss Vanderwerf, fanning herself in +the moonlight. "She was too fond of Gerald."</p> + +<p>"She was afraid of Gerald, that's my belief, too," +corrected the niece. "Those big creatures are +always cowards. And Gerald hated the notion of +her making another money marriage, though he +seems to have arranged pretty well to live on old +Walkenshaw's thousands."</p> + +<p>"Of course Gerald wanted to keep her all for himself; +that was quite natural," said Miss Vanderwerf; +"but I think that as long as he was alive she did not +want anyone else. She thought only of him, poor +creature<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>"And of a score of ball and dinner-parties and a +few hundred acquaintances," put in Ted, making +rings with the smoke of his cigarette.</p> + +<p>"And now," said the Princess, "she's waiting to +find her <i>Pezzo Grosso</i>. And she wants money because +she knows that a <i>Pezzo Grosso</i> will marry a +penniless girl of eighteen, but won't marry a penniless +woman of thirty; she must make up for being a little +<i>passée</i> by loving him for his own sake, and for that, she +must have money."</p> + +<p>"For all that, poor Tal's very simple," wheezed +the old peeress, apparently awakening from a narcotic +slumber. "She always reminds me of an anecdote +poor dear Palmerston used to tell<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>"Anyhow," said Kennedy, "Lady Tal's a riddle, +and I pity the man who tries to guess it. Good-night, +dear Miss Vanderwerf—good-night, Miss Bessy. +It's all settled about dining at the Lido, I hope. And +you'll come, too, I hope, Mr. Marion."</p> + +<p>"I'll come with pleasure, particularly if you ask the +enigmatic Lady Tal."</p> + +<p>"Much good it is to live in Venice," thought Jervase +Marion, looking out of his window on to the +canal, "if one spends two hours discussing a young +woman six foot high looking out for a duke."</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>Jervase Marion had registered three separate, well-defined, +and solemn vows, which I recapitulate in +the inverse order to their importance. The first was: +Not to be enticed into paying calls during that month +at Venice; the second, Not to drift into studying any +individual character while on a holiday; and the +third, a vow dating from more years back than +he cared to think of, and resulting from infinite +bitterness of spirit, Never to be entrapped, beguiled, or +bullied into looking at the manuscript of an amateur +novelist. And now he had not been in Venice ten +days before he had broken each of these vows in +succession; and broken them on behalf, too, of one +and the same individual.</p> + +<p>The individual in question was Lady Atalanta +Walkenshaw, or, as he had already got accustomed +to call her, Lady Tal. He had called upon Lady +Tal; he had begun studying Lady Tal; and now he +was actually untying the string which fastened Lady +Tal's first attempt at a novel.</p> + +<p>Why on earth had he done any of these things, +much less all? Jervase Marion asked himself, leaving +the folded parcel unopened on the large round table, +covered with a black and red table-cloth, on which were +neatly spread out his writing-case, blotter, inkstand, +paper-cutter, sundry packets of envelopes, and boxes +of cigarettes, two uncut <i>Athenæums</i>, three dog-eared +French novels (Marion secretly despised all English ones, +and was for ever coveting that exquisite artistic sense, +that admirable insincerity of the younger Frenchmen), +a Baedeker, a Bradshaw, the photograph, done just +before her death, of his mother in her picturesque, +Puritan-looking widow's cap, and a little portfolio for +unanswered letters, with flowers painted on it by his +old friend, Biddy Lothrop.</p> + +<p>Marion gave the parcel, addressed in a large, quill-pen +hand, a look of utter despair, and thrusting his +hands ungracefully but desperately into the armhole +of his alpaca writing-jacket, paced slowly up and +down his darkened room on a side canal. He had +chosen that room, rather than one on the Riva, +thinking it would be less noisy. But it seemed to +him now, in one of his nervous fits, as if all the +noises of the world had concentrated on to that side +canal to distract his brain, weaken his will, and generally +render him incapable of coping with his own +detestable weakness and Lady Tal's terrible determination. +There was a plash of oar, a grind of keel, +in that side canal, a cry of <i>Stali</i> or <i>Premè</i> from the +gondoliers, only the more worrying for its comparative +rareness. There was an exasperating blackbird +who sang Garibaldi's hymn, in separate fragments, +a few doors off, and an even more exasperating +kitchen-maid, who sang the first bars of the umbrella +trio of <i>Boccaccio</i>, without getting any further, while +scouring her brasses at the window opposite, and +rinsing out her saucepans, with a furtive splash into +the canal. There was the bugle of the barracks, the +bell of the parish church, the dog yelping on the +boats of the Riva; everything in short which could +madden a poor nervous novelist who has the crowning +misfortune of looking delightfully placid.</p> + +<p>Why on earth, or rather how on earth, had he let +himself in for all this? "All this" being the horrible +business of Lady Atalanta, the visits to pay her, the +manuscript to read, the judgment to pass, the advice +to give, the lies to tell, all vaguely complicated with +the song of that blackbird, the jar of that gondola +keel, the jangle of those church bells. How on earth +could he have been such a miserable worm? Marion +asked himself, pacing up and down his large, bare +room, mopping his head, and casting despairing +glances at the mosquito curtains, the bulging yellow +chest of drawers painted over with nosegays, the iron +clothes-horse, the towel-stand, the large printed card +setting forth in various tongues the necessity of travellers +consigning all jewels and valuables to the secretary +of the hotel at the Bureau.</p> + +<p>He could not, at present, understand in the very +least why he had given that young woman any encouragement; +for he must evidently have given her +some encouragement before she could have gone to +the length of asking so great a favour of a comparative +stranger. And the odd part of it was, that when he +looked into the past, that past of a few days only, it +seemed as if, so far from his having encouraged Lady +Tal, it had been Lady Tal who had encouraged him. He +saw her, the more he looked, in the attitude of a woman +granting a favour, not asking one. He couldn't +even explain to himself how the matter of the novel +had ever come up. He certainly couldn't remember +having said: "I wish you would let me see your +novel, Lady Tal," or "I should be curious to have a +look at that novel of yours;" such a thing would have +been too absurd on the part of a man who had always +fled from manuscripts as from the plague. At the same +time he seemed to have no recollection either of her +having said the other thing, the more or less humble +request for a reading. He recollected her saying: +"Mind you tell me the exact truth—and don't be +afraid of telling me if it's all disgusting rubbish." Indeed +he could see something vaguely amused, mischievous, +and a little contemptuous in the handsome, regular +Scotch face; but that had been afterwards, after he +had already settled the matter with her.</p> + +<p>It was the sense of having been got the better of, +and in a wholly unintelligible way, which greatly aggravated +the matter. For Marion did not feel the +very faintest desire to do Lady Atalanta a service. +He would not have minded so much if she had wheedled +him into it,—no man thinks the worse of himself +for having been wheedled by a handsome young +woman of fashion,—or if she had been an appealing +or pathetic creature, one of those who seem to suggest +that this is just all that can be done for them, and +that perhaps one may regret not having done it over +their early grave.</p> + +<p>Lady Tal was not at all an appealing woman; she +looked three times as strong, both in body and in +mind, with her huge, strongly-knit frame, and clear, +pink complexion, and eyes which evaded you, as himself +and most of his acquaintances. And as to +wheedling, how could she wheedle, this woman with +her rather angular movements, brusque, sarcastic, +bantering speech, and look of counting all the world +as dust for an Ossian to trample underfoot? Moreover, +Marion was distinctly aware of the fact that he rather +disliked Lady Tal. It was not anything people said +about her (although they seemed to say plenty), nor +anything she said herself; it was a vague repulsion +due to her dreadful strength, her appearance of never +having felt anything, the hardness of those blue, bold +eyes, the resolution of that well-cut, firmly closing +mouth, the bantering tone of that voice, and the consequent +impression which she left on him of being +able to take care of herself to an extent almost dangerous +to her fellow-creatures. Marion was not a sentimental +novelist; his books turned mainly upon the +little intrigues and struggles of the highly civilized +portion of society, in which only the fittest have survived, +by virtue of talon and beak. Yet he owned +to himself, in the presence of Lady Atalanta Walkenshaw, +or rather behind her back, that he did like +human beings, and especially women, to have a +soul; implying thereby that the lady in question affected +him as being hampered by no such impediment +to digestion, sleep, and worldly distinction.</p> + +<p>It was this want of soul which constituted the +strength of Lady Tal. This negative quality had much +more than the value of a positive one. And it was Lady +Tal's want of soul which had, somehow, got the better +of him, pushed him, bullied him, without any external +manifestation, and by a mere hidden force, into accepting, +or offering to read that manuscript.</p> + +<p>Jervase Marion was a methodical man, full of +unformulated principles of existence. One of these +consisted in always doing unpleasant duties at once, +unless they were so unpleasant that he never did them +at all. Accordingly, after a turn or two more up and +down the room, and a minute or two lolling out of +the window, and looking into that kitchen on the +other side of the canal, with the bright saucepans in +the background, and the pipkins with carnations and +sweet basil on the sill, Marion cut the strings of the +manuscript, rolled it backwards to make it lie flat, +and with a melancholy little moan, began reading +Lady Tal's novel.</p> + +<p>"Violet<span class="nowrap">——</span>;" it began.</p> + +<p>"Violet! and her name's Violet too!" ejaculated +Marion to himself.</p> + +<p>"Violet is seated in a low chair in the gloom in +the big bow window at Kieldar—the big bow window +encircled by ivy and constructed it is said by Earl +Rufus before he went to the crusades and from which +you command a magnificent prospect of the broad +champaign country extending for many miles, all +dotted with oaks and farmhouses and bounded on the +horizon by the blue line of the hills of B<span class="nowrap">——</span>;shire—the +window in which she had sat so often and cried as a +child when her father Lord Rufus had married again +and brought home that handsome Jewish wife with +the <i>fardée</i> face and the exquisite dresses from Worth—Violet +had taken refuge in that window in order to +think over the events of the previous evening and that +offer of marriage which her cousin Marmaduke had +just made to her<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>"Bless the woman!" exclaimed Marion, "what on +earth is it all about?" And he registered the remark, +to be used upon the earliest occasion in one of his +own novels, that highly-connected and well-dressed +young women of the present generation, appear to +leave commas and semicolons, all in fact except full +stops and dashes, to their social inferiors.</p> + +<p>The remark consoled him, also, by its practical +bearing on the present situation, for it would enable +him to throw the weight of his criticisms on this part +of Lady Tal's performance.</p> + +<p>"You must try, my dear Lady Atalanta," he would +say very gravely, "to cultivate a—a—somewhat more +lucid style—to cut down your sentences a little—in +fact to do what we pedantic folk call break up the +members of a period. In order to do so, you must +turn your attention very seriously to the subject of +punctuation, which you seem to have—a—well—rather +neglected hitherto. I will send for an invaluable +little work on the subject—'Stops: and how to +manage them,' which will give you all necessary information. +Also, if you can find it in the library of +any of our friends here, I should recommend your +studying a book which I used in my boyhood,—a +great many years ago, alas!—called 'Blair's +Rhetoric.'"</p> + +<p>If that didn't quench Lady Tal's literary ardour, +nothing ever would. But all the same he felt bound +to read on a little, in order to be able to say he had +done so.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IV.</h3> + +<p>Jervase Marion fixed his eyes, the eyes of the spirit +particularly, upon Lady Tal, as he sat opposite her, +the next day, at the round dinner table, in Palazzo +Bragadin.</p> + +<p>He was trying to make out how on earth this +woman had come to write the novel he had been +reading. That Lady Tal should possess considerable +knowledge of the world, and of men and women, did +not surprise him in the least. He had recognised, in +the course of various conversations, that this young +lady formed an exception to the rule that splendid +big creatures with regular features and superb complexions +are invariably idiots.</p> + +<p>That Lady Tal should even have a certain talent—about +as cultivated as that of the little boys who +draw horses on their copy books—for plot and +dialogue, was not astonishing at all, any more than +that her sentences invariably consisted either of three +words, or of twenty-seven lines, and that her grammar +and spelling were nowhere. All this was quite consonant +with Lady Tal's history, manner, talk, and +with that particular beauty of hers—the handsome +aquiline features, too clean-cut for anything save +wood or stone, the bright, cold, blue eyes, which looked +you in the face when you expected it least, and +which looked away from you when you expected it +least, also; the absence of any of those little subtle +lines which tell of feeling and thought, and which +complete visible beauty, while suggesting a beauty +transcending mere visible things. There was nothing +at all surprising in this. But Jervase Marion had +found in this manuscript something quite distinct and +unconnected with such matters: he had found the +indications of a soul, a very decided and unmistakable +soul.</p> + +<p>And now, looking across the fruit and flowers, and +the set out of old Venetian glass on Miss Vanderwerf's +hospitable table, he asked himself in what portion of +the magnificent person of Lady Atalanta Walkenshaw +that soul could possibly be located.</p> + +<p>Lady Tal was seated, as I have remarked, immediately +opposite Marion, and between a rather battered +cosmopolitan diplomatist and the young millionaire +who had been in distress about a sideboard. Further +along was the Roumanian Princess, and opposite, on +the other side of Marion, an elderly American siren, in +an extremely simple white muslin frock, at the first +glance the work of the nursery maid, at the second of +Worth, and symbolising the strange, dangerous fascination +of a lady whom you took at first for a Puritan +and a frump. On the other sat Miss Gertrude Ossian, +Lady Tal's cousin, a huge young woman with splendid +arms and shoulders and atrocious manners, who +thought Venice such a bore because it was too hot to +play at tennis and you couldn't ride on canals, and +consoled herself by attempting to learn the guitar from +various effete Italian youths, whom she alarmed and +delighted in turn.</p> + +<p>Among this interesting company Lady Tal was +seated with that indefinable look of being a great deal +too large, too strong, too highly connected, and too +satisfied with herself and all things, for this miserable, +effete, plebeian, and self-conscious universe.</p> + +<p>She wore a beautifully-made dress of beautifully-shining +silk, and her shoulders and throat and arms +were as beautifully made and as shining as her dress; +and her blond hair was as elaborately and perfectly +arranged as it was possible to conceive. That blond +hair, verging upon golden, piled up in smooth and +regular plaits and rolls till it formed a kind of hard +and fantastic helmet about her very oval face, and +arranged in a close row of symmetrical little curls +upon the high, white, unmarked forehead, and about +the thin, black, perfectly-arched eyebrows—that hair of +Lady Tal's symbolised, in the thought of Marion, all +that was magnificent, conventional, and impassive +in this creature. Those blue eyes also, which looked +at you and away from you, when you expected each +least, were too large, under the immense arch of eyebrow, +to do more than look out indifferently upon +the world. The mouth was too small in its beautiful +shape for any contraction or expression of feeling, +and when she smiled, those tiny white teeth seemed +still to shut it. And altogether, with its finely-moulded +nostrils, which were never dilated, and its +very oval outline, the whole face affected Marion as +a huge and handsome mask, as something clapped +on and intended to conceal. To conceal what? It +seemed to the novelist, as he listened to the stream +of animated conventionalities, of jokes unconnected +with any high spirits, that the mask of Lady Atalanta's +face, like those great stone masks in Roman galleries +and gardens, concealed the mere absence of everything. +As Marion contemplated Lady Tal, he reviewed +mentally that manuscript novel written in a +hand as worn down as that of a journalist, and with +rather less grammar and spelling than might be expected +from a nursery maid; and he tried to connect +the impression it had left on his mind with the impression +which its author was making at the present +moment.</p> + +<p>The novel had taken him by surprise by its subject, +and even more by its particular moral attitude. The +story was no story at all, merely the unnoticed martyrdom +of a delicate and scrupulous woman tied to +a vain, mean, and frivolous man; the long starvation +of a little soul which required affections and duties +among the unrealities of the world. Not at all an uncommon +subject nowadays; in fact, Marion could +have counted you off a score of well-known novels on +similar or nearly similar themes.</p> + +<p>There was nothing at all surprising in the novel, the +surprising point lay in its having this particular author.</p> + +<p>Little by little, as the impression of the book +became fainter, and the impression of the writer +more vivid, Marion began to settle his psychological +problem. Or rather he began to settle that there was +no psychological problem at all. This particular +theme was in vogue nowadays, this particular moral +view was rife in the world; Lady Tal had read other +people's books, and had herself written a book +which was extremely like theirs. It was a case of +unconscious, complete imitation. The explanation +of Lady Tal's having produced a novel so very different +from herself, was simply that, as a matter of fact, +she had not produced that novel at all. It was unlike +herself because it belonged to other people, that +was all.</p> + +<p>"Tell me about my novel," she said after dinner, +beckoning Marion into one of the little gothic balconies +overhanging the grand canal; the little balconies +upon whose cushions and beneath whose +drawn-up awning there is room for two, just out of +earshot of any two others on the other balconies +beyond.</p> + +<p>Places for flirtation. But Lady Tal, Marion had +instinctively understood, was not a woman who +flirted. Her power over men, if she had any, or chose +to exert it, must be of the sledge-hammer sort. And +how she could possibly have any power over anything +save a mere gaping masher, over anything that had, +below its starched shirt front, sensitiveness, curiosity, +and imagination, Marion at this moment utterly failed +to understand.</p> + +<p>The tone of this woman's voice, the very rustle of +her dress, as she leaned upon the balcony and shook +the sparks from her cigarette into the dark sky and +the dark water, seemed to mean business and nothing +but business.</p> + +<p>She said:</p> + +<p>"Tell me all about my novel. I don't intend to be +put off with mere remarks about grammar and stops. +One may learn all about that; or can't all that, and +style, and so forth, be put in for one, by the printer's +devil? I haven't a very clear notion what a printer's +devil is, except that he's a person with a thumb. But +he might see to such details, or somebody else of the +same sort."</p> + +<p>"Quite so. A novelist of some slight established +reputation would do as well, Lady Tal."</p> + +<p>Marion wondered why he had made that answer; +Lady Tal's remark was impertinent only inasmuch +as he chose to admit that she could be impertinent to +him.</p> + +<p>Lady Tal, he felt, but could not see, slightly raised +one of those immensely curved eyebrows of hers in the +darkness.</p> + +<p>"I thought that you, for instance, might get me +through all that," she answered; "or some other +novelist, as you say, of established reputation, who +<i>was</i> benevolently inclined towards a poor, helpless +ignoramus with literary aspirations."</p> + +<p>"Quite apart from such matters—and you are perfectly +correct in supposing that there must be lots of +professed novelists who would most gladly assist +you with them—quite apart from such matters, your +novel, if you will allow me to say a rude thing, is +utterly impossible. You are perpetually taking all +sorts of knowledge for granted in your reader. Your +characters don't sufficiently explain themselves; you +write as if your reader had witnessed the whole thing +and merely required reminding. I almost doubt +whether you have fully realized for yourself a great +part of the situation; one would think you were repeating +things from hearsay, without quite understanding +them."</p> + +<p>Marion felt a twinge of conscience: that wasn't the +impression left by the novel, but the impression due +to the discrepancy between the novel and its author. +That hateful habit of studying people, of turning them +round, prodding and cutting them to see what was +inside, why couldn't he leave it behind for awhile? +Had he not come to Venice with the avowed intention +of suspending all such studies?</p> + +<p>Lady Tal laughed. The laugh was a little harsh. +"You say that because of the modelling of my face—I +know all about modelling of faces, and facial +angles, and cheek-bones, and eye cavities: I once +learned to draw—people always judge of me by the +modelling of my face. Perhaps they are right, perhaps +they are wrong. I daresay I <i>have</i> taken too +much for granted. One ought never to take anything +for granted, in the way of human insight, ought +one? Anyhow, perhaps you will show me when I +have gone wrong, will you?"</p> + +<p>"It will require a good deal of patience<span class="nowrap">——</span>;" began +Marion.</p> + +<p>"On your part, of course. But then it all turns to +profit with you novelists; and it's men's business to be +patient, just because they never are."</p> + +<p>"I meant on your part, Lady Tal. I question +whether you have any notion of what it means to +recast a novel—to alter it throughout, perhaps not only +once, but twice, or three times."</p> + +<p>"Make me a note of the main wrongness, and send +me the MS., will you? I'll set about altering it at +once, you'll see. I'm a great deal more patient than +you imagine, Mr. Marion, when I want a thing—and +I do want this—I want to write novels. I want the +occupation, the interest, the excitement. Perhaps some +day I shall want the money too. One makes pots of +money in your business, doesn't one?"</p> + +<p>Lady Atalanta laughed. She threw her cigarette +into the canal, and with a crackle and a rustle of her +light dress, straightened her huge person, and after +looking for a moment into the blue darkness full of +dim houses and irregularly scattered lights, she swept +back into the hum of voices and shimmer of white +dresses of Miss Vanderwerf's big drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Jervase Marion remained leaning on the balcony, +listening to the plash of oar and the bursts of hoarse +voices and shrill fiddles from the distant music boats.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>V.</h3> + +<p>The temptations of that demon of psychological +study proved too great for Marion; particularly when +that tempter allied himself to an equally stubborn +though less insidious demon apparently residing in +Lady Atalanta: the demon of amateur authorship. +So that, by the end of ten days, there was established, +between Lady Tal's lodgings and Marion's +hotel, a lively interchange of communication, porters +and gondoliers for ever running to and fro between +"that usual tall young lady at San Vio," and "that +usual short, bald gentleman on the Riva." The +number of parcels must have been particularly mysterious +to these messengers, unless the proverbially +rapid intuition (inherited during centuries of intrigue +and spying) of Venetian underlings arrived at the fact +that the seemingly numberless packets were in reality +always one and the same, or portions of one and +the same: the celebrated novel travelling to and fro, +with perpetual criticisms from Marion and corrections +from Lady Atalanta. This method of intercourse +was, however, daily supplemented by sundry notes, +in the delicate, neat little hand of the novelist, or the +splashing writing of the lady, saying with little variation—"Dear +Lady Atalanta, I fear I may not have +made my meaning very clear with respect to Chapter +I, II, III, IV—or whatever it might be—will you allow +me to give you some verbal explanations on the +subject?" and "Dear Mr. Marion,—<i>Do</i> come <i>at once</i>. +I've got stuck over that beastly chapter V, VI, or VII, +and positively <i>must</i> see you about it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never!" politely ejaculated Miss Vanderwerf +regularly every evening—"if that Marion isn't +the most <i>really</i> kind and patient creature on this +earth!"</p> + +<p>To which her friend the Princess, the other arbitress +of Venetian society in virtue of her palace, her bric-à-brac, +and that knowledge of Marie Corelli and Mrs. +Campbell-Praed which balanced Miss Vanderwerf's +capacity for grasping the meaning of Gyp—invariably +answered in her best English colloquial:</p> + +<p>"Well, my word! If that Lady Tal's not the most +impudent amateur scribble-scrabble of all the amateur +scribble-scrabbles that England produces."</p> + +<p>Remarks which immediately produced a lively +discussion of Lady Tal and of Marion, including the +toilettes of the one and the books of the other, with +the result that neither retained a single moral, intellectual, +or physical advantage; and the obvious corollary, +in the mind of the impartial listener, that Jervase +Marion evidently gave up much more of his time +to Lady Tal and her novel than to Miss Vanderwerf +and the Princess and their respective salons.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, however, although a degree +of impudence more politely described as energy and +determination, on the part of Lady Tal; and of kindness, +more correctly designated as feebleness of spirit, +on the part of Marion, had undoubtedly been necessary +in the first stages of this intercourse, yet nothing +of either of these valuable social qualities had been +necessary for its continuation. Although maintaining +that manner of hers expressive of the complete +rights which her name of Ossian and her additional +inches constituted over all things and people, Lady +Tal had become so genuinely enthusiastic for the +novelist's art as revealed by Marion, that her perpetual +intrusion upon his leisure was that merely of an +ardent if somewhat inconsiderate disciple. In the +eyes of this young lady, development of character, +foreshortening of narrative, construction, syntax, nay, +even grammar and punctuation, had become inexhaustible +subjects of meditation and discussion, upon +which every experience of life could be brought to +bear.</p> + +<p>So much for Lady Tal. As regards Marion, he +had, not without considerable self-contempt, surrendered +himself to the demon of character study. This +passion for investigating into the feelings and motives +of his neighbours was at once the joy, the pride, +and the bane and humiliation of Marion's placid life. +He was aware that he had, for years and years, +cultivated this tendency to the utmost; and he was +fully convinced that to study other folks and embody +his studies in the most lucid form was the one mission +of his life, and a mission in nowise inferior to +that of any other highly gifted class of creatures. +Indeed, if Jervase Marion, ever since his earliest +manhood, had given way to a tendency to withdraw +from all personal concerns, from all emotion or +action, it was mainly because he conceived that this +shrinkingness of nature (which foolish persons called +egoism) was the necessary complement to his power +of intellectual analysis; and that any departure from +the position of dispassioned spectator of the world's +follies and miseries would mean also a departure from +his real duty as a novelist. To be brought into contact +with people more closely than was necessary or +advantageous for their intellectual comprehension; +to think about them, feel about them, mistress, wife, +son, or daughter, the bare thought of such a thing +jarred upon Marion's nerves. So, the better to study, +the better to be solitary, he had expatriated himself, +leaving brothers, sisters (now his mother was dead), +friends of childhood, all those things which invade +a man's consciousness without any psychological +profit; he had condemned himself to live in a world +of acquaintances, of indifference; and, for sole diversion, +he permitted himself, every now and then, to +come abroad to places where he had not even acquaintances, +where he could look at faces which had +no associations for him, and speculate upon the +character of total strangers. Only, being a methodical +man, and much concerned for his bodily and intellectual +health, he occasionally thought fit to suspend +even this contact with mankind, and to spend six +weeks, as he had intended spending those six weeks +at Venice, in the contemplation of only bricks and +mortar.</p> + +<p>And now, that demon of psychological study had +got the better of his determination. Marion understood +it all now from the beginning: that astonishing +feebleness of his towards Lady Atalanta, that extraordinary +submission to this imperious and audacious +young aristocrat's orders. The explanation was simple, +though curious. He had divined in Lady Atalanta +a very interesting psychological problem, considerably +before he had been able to formulate the +fact to himself: his novelist's intuition, like the scent +of a dog, had set him on the track even before he +knew the nature of the game, or the desire to pursue. +Before even beginning to think about Lady Atalanta, +he had begun to watch her; he was watching her now +consciously; indeed all his existence was engrossed in +such watching, so that the hours he spent away from +her company, or the company of her novel, were so +many gaps in his life.</p> + +<p>Jervase Marion, as a result both of that shrinkingness +of nature, and of a very delicate artistic instinct, +had an aversion of such coarse methods of study as +consist in sitting down in front of a human being and +staring, in a metaphorical sense, at him or her. He +was not a man of theories (their cut-and-driedness +offending his subtlety); but had he been forced to +formulate his ideas, he would have said that in +order to perceive the real values (in pictorial +language) of any individual, you must beware of isolating +him or her; you must merely look attentively at +the moving ocean of human faces, watching for the +one face more particularly interesting than the rest, +and catching glimpses of its fleeting expression, and +of the expression of its neighbours as it appears and +reappears. Perhaps, however, Marion's other reason +against the sit-down-and-stare or walk-round-and-pray +system of psychological study was really the stronger +one in his nature, the more so that he would probably +not have admitted its superior validity. This +other reason was a kind of moral scruple against +getting to know the secret mechanism of a soul, +especially if such knowledge involved an appearance +of intimacy with a person in whom he could +never take more than a merely abstract, artistic +interest. It was a mean taking advantage of superior +strength, or the raising of expectations which could not +be fulfilled; for Marion, although the most benevolent +and serviceable of mortals, did not give his heart, +perhaps because he had none to give, to anybody.</p> + +<p>This scruple had occurred to Marion almost as soon +as he discovered himself to be studying Lady Tal; and +it occurred to him once or twice afterwards. But he +despatched it satisfactorily. Lady Tal, in the first +place, was making use of him in the most outrageous +way, without scruple or excuse; it was only just +that he, in his turn, should turn her to profit with +equal freedom. This reason, however, savoured +slightly of intellectual caddishness, and Marion rejected +it with scorn. The real one, he came to perceive, +was that Lady Tal gratuitously offered herself +for study by her quiet, aggressive assumption of inscrutability. +She really thrust her inscrutability down +one's throat; her face, her manner, her every remark, +her very novel, were all so many audacious challenges +to the more psychological members of the community. +She seemed to be playing on a gong and +crying: "Does anyone feel inclined to solve a +riddle? Is there any person who thinks himself +sufficiently clever to understand me?" And when a +woman takes up such an attitude, it is only natural, +human and proper that the first novelist who comes +along that way should stop and say: "I intend to +get to the bottom of you; one, two, three, I am going +to begin."</p> + +<p>So Jervase Marion assiduously cultivated the society +of Lady Atalanta, and spent most of his time instructing +her in the art of the novelist.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VI.</h3> + +<p>One morning Marion, by way of exception, saw +and studied Lady Tal without the usual medium of the +famous novel. It was early, with the very first autumn +crispness in the blue morning, in the bright sun which +would soon burn, but as yet barely warmed. Marion +was taking his usual ramble through the tortuous +Venetian alleys, and as usual he had found himself in +one of his favourite haunts, the market on the further +slope of the Rialto.</p> + +<p>That market—the yellow and white awnings, and +the white houses against the delicate blue sky; the +bales and festoons of red and green and blue and +purple cotton stuffs outside the little shops, and below +that the shawled women pattering down the bridge +steps towards it; the monumental display of piled up +peaches and pears, and heaped up pumpkins and +mysterious unknown cognate vegetables, round and +long, purple, yellow, red, grey, among the bay leaves, +the great, huge, smooth, green-striped things, cut +open to show their red pulp, the huger things looking +as if nature had tried to gild and silver them unsuccessfully, +tumbled on to the pavement; the butchers' +shops with the gorgeous bullocks' hearts and sacrificial +fleeced lambs; the endless hams and sausages—all +this market, under the blue sky, with this lazy, +active, noisy, brawling, friendly population jerking +and lolling about it, always seemed to Marion one of +the delightful spots of Venice, pleasing him with a +sense (although he knew it to be all false) that here +<i>was</i> a place where people could eat and drink and +laugh and live without any psychological troubles.</p> + +<p>On this particular morning, as this impression with +the knowledge of its falseness was as usual invading +Marion's consciousness, he experienced a little shock +of surprise, incongruity, and the sudden extinction of +a pleasingly unreal mood, on perceiving, coming towards +him, with hand cavalierly on hip and umbrella +firmly hitting the ground, the stately and faultlessly +coated and shirted and necktied figure of Lady +Atalanta.</p> + +<p>"I have had a go already at <i>Christina</i>," she said, +after extending to Marion an angular though friendly +handshake, and a cheerful frank inscrutable smile of +her big blue eyes and her little red mouth. "That +novel is turning me into another woman: the power +of sinning, as the Salvationists say, has been extracted +out of my nature even by the rootlets; I sat up till +two last night after returning from the Lido, and got +up this morning at six, all for the love of <i>Christina</i> +and literature. I expect Dawson will give me warning; +she told me yesterday that she 'had never +<i>know</i> any other lady that writes so much or used +them big sheets of paper, quite <i>henormous</i>, my lady.' +Dear old place, isn't it? Ever tasted any of that fried +pumpkin? It's rather nasty but quite good; have +some? I wonder we've not met here before; I +come here twice a week to shop. You don't mind +carrying parcels, do you?" Lady Tal had stopped +at one of the front stalls, and having had three vast +yellow paper bags filled with oranges and lemons, +she handed the two largest to Marion.</p> + +<p>"You'll carry them for me, won't you, there's a +good creature: like that I shall be able to get rather +more rolls than I usually can. It's astonishing how +much sick folk care for rolls. I ought to explain I'm +going to see some creatures at the hospital. It takes +too long going there in the gondola from my place, +so I walk. If you were to put those bags well on +your chest like that, under your chin, they'd be easier +to hold, and there'd be less chance of the oranges +bobbing out."</p> + +<p>At a baker's in one of the little narrow streets near +the church of the Miracoli, Lady Atalanta provided +herself with a bag of rolls, which she swung by the +string to her wrist. Marion then perceived that she +was carrying under her arm a parcel of paper-covered +books, fastened with an elastic band.</p> + +<p>"Now we shall have got everything except some +flowers, which I daresay we can get somewhere on +the way," remarked Lady Tal. "Do you mind +coming in here?" and she entered one of those little +grocer's shops, dignified with the arms of Savoy in +virtue of the sale of salt and tobacco, and where a +little knot of vague, wide-collared individuals usually +hang about among the various-shaped liqueur bottles +in an atmosphere of stale cigar, brandy and water, +and kitchen soap.</p> + +<p>"May—I—a—a—ask for anything for you, Lady +Tal?" requested Marion, taken completely by surprise +by the rapidity of his companion's movements. +"You want stamps, I presume; may I have the +honour of assisting you in your purchase?"</p> + +<p>"Thanks, it isn't stamps; it's snuff, and you +wouldn't know what sort to get." And Lady Tal, +making her stately way through the crowd of surprised +loafers, put a franc on the counter and requested +the presiding female to give her four ounces +of <i>Semolino</i>, but of the good sort<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"It's astonishing +how faddy those old creatures are about their +snuff!" remarked Lady Tal, pocketing her change. +"Would you put this snuff in your pocket for me? +Thanks. The other sort's called <i>Bacubino</i>, it's dark +and clammy, and it looks nasty. Have you ever +taken snuff? I do sometimes to please my old creatures; +it makes me sneeze, you know, and they think +that awful fun."</p> + +<p>As they went along Lady Atalanta suddenly perceived, +in a little green den, something which attracted +her attention.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether they're fresh?" she mused. "I +suppose you can't tell a fresh egg when you see it, +can you, Mr. Marion? Never mind, I'll risk it. If +you'll take this third bag of oranges, I'll carry the +eggs—they might come to grief in your hands, you +know."</p> + +<p>"What an odious, odious creature a woman is," +thought Marion. He wondered, considerably out of +temper, why he should feel so miserable at having to +carry all those oranges. Of course with three gaping +bags piled on his chest there was the explanation of +acute physical discomfort; but that wasn't sufficient. +It seemed as if this terrible, aristocratic giantess +were doing it all on purpose to make him miserable. +He saw that he was intensely ridiculous in her eyes, +with those yellow bags against his white waistcoat +and the parcel of snuff in his coat pocket; his face +was also, he thought, streaming with perspiration, and +he couldn't get at his handkerchief. It was childish, +absurd of him to mind; for, after all, wasn't Lady +Atalanta equally burdened? But she, with her packets +of rolls, and packet of books, and basket of eggs, and +her umbrella tucked under her arm, looked serene +and even triumphant in her striped flannel.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon—would you allow me to stop +a minute and shift the bags to the other arm?" Marion +could no longer resist that fearful agony. "If you +go on I'll catch you up in a second."</p> + +<p>But just as Marion was about to rest the bags upon +the marble balustrade of a bridge, his paralysed +arm gave an unaccountable jerk, and out flew one of +the oranges, and rolled slowly down the stone steps +of the bridge.</p> + +<p>"I say, don't do that! You'll have them all in +the canal!" cried Lady Atalanta, as Marion quickly +stooped in vain pursuit of the escaped orange, the +movement naturally, and as if it were being done on +purpose, causing another orange to fly out in its turn; +a small number of spectators, gondoliers and workmen +from under the bridge, women nursing babies +at neighbouring windows, and barefooted urchins +from nowhere in particular, starting up to enjoy the +extraordinary complicated conjuring tricks which the +stout gentleman in the linen coat and Panama hat had +suddenly fallen to execute.</p> + +<p>"Damn the beastly things!" ejaculated Marion, +forgetful of Lady Atalanta and good breeding, and +perceiving only the oranges jumping and rolling +about, and feeling his face grow redder and hotter in +the glare on that white stone bridge. At that moment, +as he raised his eyes, he saw, passing along, +a large party of Americans from his hotel; Americans +whom he had avoided like the plague, who, he felt +sure, would go home and represent him as a poor +creature and a snob disavowing his "people." He +could hear them, in fancy, describing how at Venice +he had turned flunky to one of your English aristocrats, +who stood looking and making game of him +while he ran after her oranges, "and merely because +she's the daughter of an Earl or Marquis or such like."</p> + +<p>"Bless my heart, how helpless is genius when it +comes to practical matters!" exclaimed Lady Atalanta. +And putting her various packages down +carefully on the parapet, she calmly collected the +bounding oranges, wiped them with her handkerchief, +and restored them to Marion, recommending +him to "stick them loose in his pockets."</p> + +<p>Marion had never been in a hospital (he had been +only a boy, and in Europe with his mother, a +Southern refugee, at the time of the War), the fact +striking him as an omission in his novelist's education. +But he felt as if he would never wish to describe +the one into which he mechanically followed +Lady Tal. With its immense, immensely lofty +wards, filled with greyish light, and radiating like the +nave and transepts of a vast church from an altar +with flickering lights and kneeling figures, it struck +Marion, while he breathed that hot, thick air, sickly +with carbolic and chloride of lime, as a most gruesome +and quite objectionably picturesque place. +He had a vague notion that the creatures in the rows +and rows of greyish white beds ought to have St. +Vitus's dance or leprosy or some similar mediæval +disease. They were nasty enough objects, he +thought, as he timidly followed Lady Tal's rapid and +resounding footsteps, for anything. He had, for all +the prosaic quality of his writings, the easily roused +imagination of a nervous man: and it seemed to him +as if they were all of them either skeletons gibbering +and screeching in bed, or frightful yellow and red +tumid creatures, covered with plasters and ligatures, +or old ladies recently liberated from the cellar in +which, as you may periodically read in certain public +prints, they had been kept by barbarous nephews +or grandchildren<span class="nowrap">——</span>;</p> + +<p>"Dear me, dear me, what a dreadful place!" he +kept ejaculating, as he followed Lady Atalanta, carrying +her bags of oranges and rolls, among the vociferating, +grabbing beldames in bed, and the indifferent nuns and +serving wenches toiling about noisily: Lady Tal going +methodically her way, businesslike, cheerful, giving +to one some snuff, to another an orange or a book, +laughing, joking in her bad Italian, settling the creatures' +disagreeable bed-clothes and pillows for them, +as if instead of cosseting dying folk, she was going +round to the counters of some huge shop. A most +painful exhibition, thought Marion.</p> + +<p>"I say, suppose you talk to her, she's a nice little +commonplace creature who wanted to be a school-mistress +and is awfully fond of reading novels—tell +her—I don't know how to explain it—that you write +novels. See, Teresina, this gentleman and I are +writing a book together, all about a lady who married +a silly husband—would you like to hear about +it?"</p> + +<p>Stroking the thin white face, with the wide forget-me-not +eyes, of the pretty, thin little blonde, Lady +Tal left Marion, to his extreme discomfort, seated on +the edge of a straw chair by the side of the bed, a +bag of oranges on his knees and absolutely no ideas +in his head.</p> + +<p>"She is so good," remarked the little girl, opening +and shutting a little fan which Lady Tal had just +given her, "and so beautiful. Is she your sister? +She told me she had a brother whom she was very +fond of, but I thought he was dead. She's like an +angel in Paradise."</p> + +<p>"Precisely, precisely," answered Marion, thinking +at the same time what an uncommonly uncomfortable +place Paradise must, in that case, be. All this +was not at all what he had imagined when he had +occasionally written about young ladies consoling +the sick; this businesslike, bouncing, cheerful +shake-up-your-pillows and shake-up-your-soul mode +of proceeding.</p> + +<p>Lady Tal, he decided within himself, had emphatically +no soul; all he had just witnessed, proved it.</p> + +<p>"Why do you do it?" he suddenly asked, as they +emerged from the hospital cloisters. He knew quite +well: merely because she was so abominably active.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I like ill folk. I'm always so +disgustingly well myself; and you see with my +poor brother, I'd got accustomed to ill folk, so I suppose +I can't do without. I should like to settle in +England—if it weren't for all those hateful relations +of mine and of my husband's—and go and live in +the East End and look after sick creatures. At least +I think I should; but I know I shouldn't."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Marion.</p> + +<p>"Why? Oh, well, it's making oneself conspicuous, +you know, and all that. One hates to be thought +eccentric, of course. And then, if I went to England, +of course I should have to go into society, otherwise +people would go and say that I was out of it and had +been up to something or other. And if I went into +society, that would mean doing simply nothing else, +not even the little I do here. You see I'm not an +independent woman; all my husband's relations are +perpetually ready to pull me to pieces on account of +his money! There's nothing they're not prepared to +invent about me. I'm too poor and too expensive +to do without it, and as long as I take his money, I +must see to no one being able to say anything that +would have annoyed him—see?"</p> + +<p>"I see," answered Marion.</p> + +<p>At that moment Lady Atalanta perceived a gondola +turning a corner, and in it the young millionaire +whom she had chaffed about his sideboard.</p> + +<p>"Hi, hi! Mr. Clarence!" she cried, waving her +umbrella. "Will you take me to that curiosity-dealer's +this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>Marion looked at her, standing there on the little +wharf, waving her red umbrella and shouting to the +gondola; her magnificent rather wooden figure more +impeccably magnificent, uninteresting in her mannish +flannel garments, her handsome pink and white face, +as she smiled that inexpressive smile with all the +pearl-like little teeth, more than ever like a big +mask<span class="nowrap">——</span>;</p> + +<p>"No soul, decidedly no soul," said the novelist to +himself. And he reflected that women without souls +were vaguely odious.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VII.</h3> + +<p>"I have been wondering of late why I liked you?" +said Lady Tal one morning at lunch, addressing the +remark to Marion, and cut short in her speech by a +burst of laughter from that odious tomboy of a cousin +of hers (how could she endure that girl? Marion +reflected) who exclaimed, with an affectation of +milkmaid archness:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tal! how <i>can</i> you be so rude to the <i>gentleman</i>? +You oughtn't to say to people you wonder +why you like them. Ought she, Mr. Marion?"</p> + +<p>Marion was silent. He felt a weak worm for disliking +this big blond girl with the atrocious manners, +who insisted on pronouncing his name <i>Mary Anne</i>, +with unfailing relish of the joke. Lady Tal did not +heed the interruption, but repeated pensively, leaning +her handsome cleft chin on her hand, and hacking +at a peach with her knife: "I have been +wondering why I like you, Mr. Marion (I usedn't to, +but made up to you for <i>Christina's</i> benefit), because +you are not a bit like poor Gerald. But I've found +out now and I'm pleased. There's nothing so pleasant +in this world as finding out <i>why</i> one thinks or +does things, is there? Indeed it's the only pleasant +thing, besides riding in the Campagna and drinking +iced water on a hot day. The reason I like you is +because you have seen a lot of the world and of +people, and still take nice views of them. The +people one meets always think to show their cleverness +by explaining everything by nasty little motives; +and you don't. It's nice of you, and it's clever. It's +cleverer than your books even, you know."</p> + +<p>In making this remark (and she made it with an +aristocratic indifference to being personal) Lady +Atalanta had most certainly hit the right nail on the +head. That gift, a rare one, of seeing the simple, +wholesome, and even comparatively noble, side of +things; of being, although a pessimist, no misanthrope, +was the most remarkable characteristic of Jervase +Marion; it was the one which made him, for all his +old bachelor ways and his shrinking from close personal +contact, a man and a manly man, giving this +analytical and nervous person a certain calmness and +gentleness and strength.</p> + +<p>But Lady Tal's remark, although in the main singularly +correct, smote him like a rod. For it so happened +that for once in his life Marion had not been +looking with impartial, serene, and unsuspecting eyes +upon one of his fellow-sufferers in this melancholy +world; and that one creature to whom he was not so +good as he might be, was just Lady Tal.</p> + +<p>He could not really have explained how it was. +But there was the certainty, that while recognising +in Lady Tal's conversation, in her novel, in the little +she told him of her life, a great deal which was delicate, +and even noble, wherewithal to make up a +somewhat unusual and perhaps not very superficially +attractive, but certainly an original and desirable +personality, he had got into the habit of explaining +whatever in her was obscure and contradictory by +unworthy reasons; and even of making allowance +for the possibility of all the seeming good points proving, +some day, to be a delusion and a snare. Perhaps +it depended upon the constant criticisms he was +hearing on all sides of Lady Atalanta's character and +conduct: the story of her mercenary marriage, the +recital of the astounding want of feeling displayed +upon the occasion of her brother's death, and that +perpetual, and apparently too well founded suggestion +that this young lady, who possessed fifteen thousand +a year and apparently spent about two, must be +feathering her nest and neatly evading the intentions +of her late lamented. Moreover there was something +vaguely disagreeable in the extraordinary absence of +human emotion displayed in such portion of her biography +as might be considered public property.</p> + +<p>Marion, heaven knows, didn't like women who +went in for <i>grande passion</i>; in fact passion, which +he had neither experienced nor described, was distinctly +repulsive to him. But, after all, Lady Tal +was young, Lady Tal was beautiful, and Lady Tal +had for years and years been a real and undoubted +widow; and it was therefore distinctly inhuman on +the part of Lady Tal to have met no temptations to +part with her heart, and with her jointure. It was +ugly; there was no doubt it was ugly. The world, +after all, <i>has</i> a right to demand that a young lady of +good birth and average education should have a +heart. It was doubtless also, he said to himself, the +fault of Lady Atalanta's physique, this suspicious +attitude of his; nature had bestowed upon her a face +like a mask, muscles which never flinched, nerves +apparently hidden many inches deeper than most +folk's: she was enigmatic, and a man has a right to +pause before an enigma. Furthermore<span class="nowrap">——</span>;But Marion +could not quite understand that furthermore.</p> + +<p>He understood it a few days later. They had had +the usual <i>séance</i> over <i>Christina</i> that morning; and +now it was evening, and three or four people had +dropped in at Lady Tal's after the usual stroll at +Saint Mark's. Lady Tal had hired a small house, +dignified with the title of Palazzina, on the Zattere. +It was modern, and the æsthetic colony at Venice +sneered at a woman with that amount of money +inhabiting anything short of a palace. They themselves +being mainly Americans, declared they couldn't +feel like home in a dwelling which was not possessed +of historical reminiscences. The point of Lady Tal's +little place, as she called it, was that it possessed +a garden; small indeed, but round which, as she +remarked, one solitary female could walk. In this +garden she and Marion were at this moment walking. +The ground floor windows were open, and +there issued from the drawing-room a sound of cups +and saucers, of guitar strumming and laughter, above +which rose the loud voice, the aristocratic kitchen-maid +pronunciation of Lady Atalanta's tomboy cousin.</p> + +<p>"Where's Tal? I declare if Tal hasn't gone off +with Mary Anne! Poor Mary Anne! She's tellin' +him all about <i>Christina</i>, you know; how she can't +manage that row between Christina and Christina's +mother-in-law, and the semicolons and all that. +<i>Christina's</i> the novel, you know. You'll be expected +to ask for <i>Christina</i> at your club, you know, when it +comes out, Mr. Clarence. I've already written to all +my cousins to get it from Mudie's<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>Marion gave a little frown, as if his boot pinched +him, as he walked on the gravel down there, among +the dark bushes, the spectral little terra-cotta statues, +with the rigging of the ships on the Giudecca canal +black against the blue evening sky, with a vague, +sweet, heady smell of <i>Olea fragrans</i> all round. Confound +that girl! Why couldn't he take a stroll in a +garden with a handsome woman of thirty without the +company being informed that it was only on account +of Lady Tal's novel. That novel, that position of +literary adviser, of a kind of male daily governess, +would make him ridiculous. Of course Lady Tal was +continually making use of him, merely making use of +him in her barefaced and brutal manner: of course +she didn't care a hang about him except to help her +with that novel: of course as soon as that novel +was done with she would drop him. He knew all +that, and it was natural. But he really didn't see the +joke of being made conspicuous and grotesque before +all Venice<span class="nowrap">——</span>;</p> + +<p>"Shan't we go in, Lady Tal?" he said sharply, +throwing away his cigarette. "Your other guests are +doubtless sighing for your presence."</p> + +<p>"And this guest here is not. Oh dear, no; there's +Gertrude to look after them and see to their being +happy; besides, I don't care whether they are. I +want to speak to you. I can't understand your +thinking that situation strained. I should have +thought it the commonest thing in the world, I mean, +gracious<span class="nowrap">——</span>; I can't understand your not understanding!"</p> + +<p>Jervase Marion was in the humour when he considered +Lady Tal a legitimate subject of study, and +intellectual vivisection a praiseworthy employment. +Such study implies, as a rule, a good deal of duplicity +on the part of the observer; duplicity doubtless +sanctified, like all the rest, by the high mission of +prying into one's neighbour's soul.</p> + +<p>"Well," answered Marion—he positively hated +that good French Alabama name of his, since hearing +it turned into Mary Anne—"of course one understands +a woman avoiding, for many reasons, the +temptation of one individual passion; but a woman +who makes up her mind to avoid the temptation +of all passion in the abstract, and what is more, acts +consistently and persistently with this object in view, +particularly when she has never experienced passion +at all, when she has not even burnt the tips of her +fingers once in her life<span class="nowrap">——</span>;; that does seem rather far +fetched, you must admit."</p> + +<p>Lady Tal was not silent for a moment, as he expected +she would be. She did not seem to see the +danger of having the secret of her life extracted out +of her.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why you should say so, merely because +the person's a woman. I'm sure you must +have met examples enough of men who, without +ever having been in love, or in danger of being in +love—poor little things—have gone through life with +a resolute policy of never placing themselves in +danger, of never so much as taking their heart out of +their waistcoat pockets to look at it, lest it might +suddenly be jerked out of their possession."</p> + +<p>It was Marion who was silent. Had it not been +dark, Lady Tal might have seen him wince and redden; +and he might have seen Lady Tal smile a very +odd but not disagreeable smile. And they fell to +discussing the technicalities of that famous novel.</p> + +<p>Marion outstayed for a moment or two the other +guests. The facetious cousin was strumming in the +next room, trying over a Venetian song which the +naval captain had taught her. Marion was slowly +taking a third cup of tea—he wondered why he should +be taking so much tea, it was very bad for his nerves,—seated +among the flowering shrubs, the bits of old +brocade and embroidery, the various pieces of bric-à-brac +which made the drawing-room of Lady Tal +look, as all distinguished modern drawing-rooms +should, like a cross between a flower show and a +pawnbroker's, and as if the height of modern upholstery +consisted in avoiding the use of needles and +nails, and enabling the visitors to sit in a little heap +of variegated rags. Lady Tal was arranging a lamp, +which burned, or rather smoked, at this moment, +surrounded by lace petticoats on a carved column.</p> + +<p>"Ah," she suddenly said, "it's extraordinary how +difficult it is to get oneself understood in this world. +I'm thinking about <i>Christina</i>, you know. I never <i>do</i> +expect any one to understand anything, as a matter +of fact. But I thought that was probably because +all my friends hitherto have been all frivolous poops +who read only the Peerage and the sporting papers. +I should have thought, now, that writing novels +would have made you different. I suppose, after all, +it's all a question of physical constitution and blood +relationship—being able to understand other folk, I +mean. If one's molecules aren't precisely the same +and in the same place (don't be surprised, I've been +reading Carpenter's 'Mental Physiology'), it's no +good. It's certain that the only person in the world +who has ever understood me one bit was Gerald."</p> + +<p>Lady Tal's back was turned to Marion, her tall +figure a mere dark mass against the light of the lamp, +and the lit-up white wall behind.</p> + +<p>"And still," suddenly remarked Marion, "you +were not—not—<i>very</i> much attached to your brother, +were you?"</p> + +<p>The words were not out of Marion's mouth before +he positively trembled at them. Good God! what +had he allowed himself to say? But he had no time +to think of his own words. Lady Tal had turned +round, her eyes fell upon him. Her face was pale, +very quiet; not angry, but disdainful. With one +hand she continued to adjust the lamp.</p> + +<p>"I see," she said coldly, "you have heard all +about my extraordinary behaviour, or want of extraordinary +behaviour. It appears I did surprise and +shock my acquaintances very much by my proceedings +after Gerald's death. I suppose it really is the +right thing for a woman to go into hysterics and take +to her bed and shut herself up for three months at +least, when her only brother dies. I didn't think +of that at the time; otherwise I should have conformed, +of course. It's my policy always to conform, +you know. I see now that I made a mistake, +showed a want of <i>savoir-vivre</i>, and all that—I stupidly +consulted my own preferences, and I happened to +prefer keeping myself well in hand. I didn't seem +to like people's sympathy; now the world, you +know, has a right to give one its sympathies under +certain circumstances, just as a foreign man has a +right to leave his card when he's been introduced. +Also, I knew that Gerald would have just hated my +making myself a <i>motley to the view</i>—you mightn't think +it, but we used to read Shakespeare's sonnets, he +and I—and, you see, I cared for only one mortal +thing in the world, to do what Gerald wanted. I +never have cared for any other thing, really; after +all, if I don't want to be conspicuous, it's because +Gerald would have hated it—I never shall care for +anything in the world besides that. All the rest's +mere unreality. One thinks one's alive, but one isn't."</p> + +<p>Lady Atalanta had left off fidgeting with the lamp. +Her big blue eyes had all at once brightened with +tears which did not fall; but as she spoke the last +words, in a voice suddenly husky, she looked down at +Marion with an odd smile, tearing a paper spill with +her large, well-shaped fingers as she did so.</p> + +<p>"Do you see?" she added, with that half-contemptuous +smile, calmly mopping her eyes. "That's +how it is, Mr. Marion."</p> + +<p>A sudden light illuminated Marion's mind; a light, +and with it something else, he knew not what, +something akin to music, to perfume, beautiful, +delightful, but solemn. He was aware of being +moved, horribly grieved, but at the same moment intensely +glad; he was on the point of saying he didn't +know beforehand what, something which, however, +would be all right, natural, like the things, suddenly +improvised, which one says occasionally to children.</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>But the words did not pass Marion's lips. He +remembered suddenly by what means and in what +spirit he had elicited this unexpected burst of feeling +on the part of Lady Tal. He could not let her go on, +he could not take advantage of her; he had not the +courage to say: "Lady Tal, I am a miserable cad +who was prying into your feelings; I'm not fit to be +spoken to!" And with the intolerable shame at his +own caddishness came that old shrinking from any +sort of spiritual contact with others.</p> + +<p>"Quite so, quite so," he merely answered, looking +at his boots and moving that ring of his mother's up +and down his watch chain. "I quite understand. +And as a matter of fact you are quite correct in your +remark about our not being always alive. Or rather +we <i>are</i> usually alive, when we are living our humdrum +little natural existence, full of nothing at all; +and during the moments when we do really seem to +be alive, to be feeling, living, we are not ourselves, +but somebody else."</p> + +<p>Marion had had no intention of making a cynical +speech. He had been aware of having behaved like +a cad to Lady Tal, and in consequence, had somehow +informed Lady Tal he considered her as an impostor. +He had reacted against that first overwhelming +sense of pleasure at the discovery of the lady's +much-questioned soul. Now he was prepared to tell +her that she had none.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Lady Tal, lighting a cigarette +over the high lamp, "that's just it. I shall borrow +that remark and put it into <i>Christina</i>. You may use +up any remark of mine, in return, you know."</p> + +<p>She stuck out her under lip with that ugly little +cynical movement which was not even her own property, +but borrowed from women more trivial than herself +like the way of carrying the elbows, and the pronunciation +of certain words: a mark of caste, as a blue +triangle on one's chin or a yellow butterfly on one's +forehead might be, and not more graceful or engaging.</p> + +<p>"One thinks one has a soul sometimes," she +mused. "It isn't true. It would prevent one's clothes +fitting, wouldn't it? One really acts in this way or +that because <i>it's better form</i>. You see here on the +Continent it's good form to tear one's hair and roll on +the floor, and to pretend to have a soul; we've got +beyond that, as we've got beyond women trying to +seem to know about art and literature. Here they +do, and make idiots of themselves. Just now you +thought I'd got a soul, didn't you, Mr. Marion? +You've been wondering all along whether I had one. +For a minute I managed to make you believe it—it +was rather mean of me, wasn't it? I haven't got one. +I'm a great deal too well-bred."</p> + +<p>There was a little soreness under all this banter; +but how could she banter? Marion felt he detested +the woman, as she put out her elbow and extended a +stiff handsome hand, and said:</p> + +<p>"Remember poor old <i>Christina</i> to-morrow morning, +there's a kind man," with that little smile of close +eyes and close lips. He detested her just in proportion +as he had liked her half an hour ago. Remembering +that little gush of feeling of his own, he +thought her a base creature, as he walked across the +little moonlit square with the well in the middle and +the tall white houses all round.</p> + +<p>Jervase Marion, the next morning, woke up with +the consciousness of having been very unfair to Lady +Tal, and, what was worse, very unfair to himself. It +was one of the drawbacks of friendship (for, after all, +this was a kind of friendship) that he occasionally +caught himself saying things quite different from his +thoughts and feelings, masquerading towards people +in a manner distinctly humiliating to his self-respect. +Marion had a desire to be simple and truthful; but +somehow it was difficult to be simple and truthful as +soon as other folk came into play; it was difficult +and disagreeable to show one's real self; that was +another reason for living solitary on a top flat at Westminster, +and descending therefrom in the body, but +not in the spirit, to move about among mere acquaintances, +disembodied things, with whom there +was no fear of real contact. On this occasion he had +let himself come in contact with a fellow-creature; +and behold, as a result, he had not only behaved +more or less like a cad, but he had done that odious +thing of pretending to feel differently from how he +really did.</p> + +<p>From how he had really felt at the moment, be it +well understood. Of course Marion, in his capacity +of modern analytical novelist, was perfectly well +aware that feelings are mere momentary matters; +and that the feeling which had possessed him the +previous evening, and still possessed him at the present +moment, would not last. The feeling, he admitted +to himself (it is much easier to admit such +things to one's self, when one makes the proviso that +it's all a mere passing phase, one's eternal immutable +self, looking on placidly at one's momentary changing +self), the feeling in question was vaguely admiring +and pathetic, as regarded Lady Tal. He even +confessed to himself that there entered into it a slight +dose of poetry. This big, correct young woman, with +the beautiful inexpressive face and the ugly inexpressive +manners, carrying through life a rather exotic +little romance which no one must suspect, possessed a +charm for the imagination, a decided value. Excluded +for some reason (Marion blurred out his knowledge +that the reasons were the late Walkenshaw's +thousands) from the field for emotions and interests +which handsome, big young women have a right to, +and transferring them all to a nice crippled brother, +who had of course not been half as nice as she imagined, +living a conventional life, with a religion of +love and fidelity secreted within it, this well-born and +well-dressed Countess Olivia of modern days, had +appealed very strongly to a certain carefully guarded +tenderness and chivalry in Marion's nature; he saw +her, as she had stood arranging that lamp, with those +unexpected tears brimming in her eyes.</p> + +<p>Decidedly. Only that, of course, wasn't the way to +treat it. There was nothing at all artistic in that, nothing +modern. And Marion was essentially modern in +his novels. Lady Tal, doing the Lady Olivia, with +a dead brother in the background, sundry dukes in +the middle distance, and no enchanting page (people +seemed unanimous in agreeing that Lady Tal had +never been in love) perceptible anywhere; all that was +pretty, but it wasn't the right thing. Jervase Marion +thought Lady Tal painfully conventional (although of +course her conventionality gave all the value to her +romantic quality) because she slightly dropped her +final <i>g</i>'s, and visibly stuck out her elbows, and +resolutely refused to display emotion of any kind. Marion +himself was firmly wedded to various modes of looking +at human concerns, which corresponded, in the +realm of novel-writing, to these same modern conventionalities +of Lady Atalanta's. The point of it, +evidently, must be that the Lady of his novel would +have lived for years under the influence of an invalid +friend (the brother should be turned into a woman +with a mortal malady, and a bad husband, something +in the way of Emma and Tony in "Diana of the +Crossways," of intellectual and moral quality immensely +superior to her own); then, of course, after +the death of the Princess of Trasimeno (she being the +late Gerald Burne), Lady Tal (Marion couldn't fix +on a name for her) would gradually be sucked back +into frivolous and futile and heartless society; the <i>hic</i> +of the whole story being the slow ebbing of that noble +influence, the daily encroachments of the baser sides +of Lady Tal's own nature, and of the base side of the +world. She would have a chance, say by marrying +a comparatively poor man, of securing herself from +that rising tide of worldly futility and meanness; the +reader must think that she really was going to love +the man, to choose him. Or rather, it would be more +modern and artistic, less romantic, if the intelligent +reader were made to foresee the dismal necessity of +Lady Tal's final absorption into moral and intellectual +nothingness. Yes—the sort of thing she would live +for, a round of monotonous dissipation, which couldn't +amuse her; of expenditure merely for the sake of expenditure, +of conventionality merely for the sake of +conventionality;—and the sham, clever, demoralised +women, with their various semi-imaginary grievances +against the world, their husbands and children, their +feeble self-conscious hankerings after mesmerism, +spiritualism, Buddhism, and the other forms of intellectual +adulteration<span class="nowrap">——</span>;he saw it all. Marion threw +his cigar into the canal, and nursed his leg tighter, as +he sat all alone in his gondola, and looked up at the +bay trees and oleanders, the yellow straw blinds of +Lady Tal's little house on the Zattere.</p> + +<p>It would make a capital novel. Marion's mind +began to be inundated with details: all those conversations +about Lady Tal rushed back into it, her conventionality, +perceptible even to others, her disagreeable +parsimoniousness, visibly feathering her nest +with the late Walkenshaw's money, while quite unable +to screw up her courage to deliberately forego it, that +odd double-graspingness of nature.</p> + +<p>That was evidently the final degradation. It +would be awfully plucky to put it in, after showing +what the woman had been and might have been; +after showing her coquettings with better things (the +writing of that novel, for instance, for which he +must find an equivalent). It would be plucky, +modern, artistic, to face the excessive sordidness of +this ending. And still—and still<span class="nowrap">——</span>;Marion felt a +feeble repugnance to putting it in; it seemed too +horrid. And at the same moment, there arose in +him that vague, disquieting sense of being a cad, +which had distressed him that evening. To suspect +a woman of all that<span class="nowrap">——</span>;and yet, Marion answered +himself with a certain savageness, he knew it to be +the case.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VIII.</h3> + +<p>They had separated from the rest of the picnickers, +and were walking up and down that little orchard or +field—rows of brown maize distaffs and tangles of +reddening half trodden-down maize leaves, and +patches of tall grass powdered with hemlock under +the now rather battered vine garlands, the pomegranate +branches weighed down by their vermilion +fruit, the peach branches making a Japanese pattern +of narrow crimson leaves against the blue sky—that +odd cultivated corner in the God-forsaken little marsh +island, given up to sea-gulls and picnickers, of Torcello.</p> + +<p>"Poor little Clarence," mused Lady Tal, alluding +to the rather feeble-minded young millionaire, who +had brought them there, five gondolas full of women +in lilac and pink and straw-coloured frocks, and +men in white coats, three guitars, a banjo, and two +mandolins, and the corresponding proportion of table +linen, knives and forks, pies, bottles, and sweetmeats +with crinkled papers round them. "Poor little +Clarence, he isn't a bad little thing, is he? He +wouldn't be bad to a woman who married him, would +he?"</p> + +<p>"He would adore her," answered Jervase Marion, +walking up and down that orchard by Lady Tal's +side. "He would give her everything the heart of +woman could desire; carriages, horses, and diamonds, +and frocks from Worth, and portraits by Lenbach and +Sargent, and bric-à-brac, and—ever so much money +for charities, hospitals, that sort of thing<span class="nowrap">——</span>;and<span class="nowrap">——</span>;and +complete leisure and freedom and opportunities +for enjoying the company of men not quite so well off +as himself."</p> + +<p>Marion stopped short, his hands thrust in his +pockets, and with that frown which made people +think that his boots pinched. He was looking down +at his boots at this moment, though he was really +thinking of that famous novel, his, not Lady Tal's; so +Lady Tal may have perhaps thought it was the boots +that made him frown, and speak in a short, cross +little way. Apparently she thought so, for she took +no notice of his looks, his intonation, or his speech.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she continued musing, striking the ground +with her umbrella, "he's a good little thing. It's +good to bring us all to Torcello, with all that food +and those guitars, and banjos and things, particularly +as we none of us throw a word at him in return. +And he seems so pleased. It shows a very amiable, +self-effacing disposition, and that's, after all, the chief +thing in marriage. But, Lord! how dreary it would +be to see that man at breakfast, and lunch, and +dinner! or if one didn't, merely to know that there +he must be, having breakfast, lunch and dinner somewhere—for +I suppose he would have to have them—that +man existing somewhere on the face of the globe, +and speaking of one as 'my wife.' Fancy knowing the +creature was always smiling, whatever one did, and +never more jealous than my umbrella. Wouldn't it +feel like being one of the fish in that tank we saw? +Wouldn't living with the Bishop—is he a bishop?—of +Torcello, in that musty little house with all the lichen +stains and mosquito nests, and nothing but Attila's +throne to call upon—be fun compared with that? +Yes, I suppose it's wise to marry Clarence. I suppose +I shall do right in making him marry my cousin. +You know"—she added, speaking all these words +slowly—"I could make him marry anybody, because +he wants to marry me."</p> + +<p>Marion gave a little start as Lady Tal had slowly +pronounced those two words, "my cousin." Lady +Tal noticed it.</p> + +<p>"You thought I had contemplated having Clarence +myself?" she said, looking at the novelist with a +whimsical, amused look. "Well, so I have. I have +contemplated a great many things, and not had the +courage to do them. I've contemplated going off to +Germany, and studying nursing; and going off to +France, and studying painting; I've contemplated +turning Catholic, and going into a convent. I've +contemplated—well—I'm contemplating at present—becoming +a <i>great</i> novelist, as you know. I've contemplated +marrying poor men, and becoming their +amateur charwoman; and I've contemplated marrying +rich men, and becoming—well, whatever a +penniless woman does become when she marries a +rich man; but I've done that once before, and once +is enough of any experience in life, at least for a +person of philosophic cast of mind, don't you think? +I confess I have been contemplating the possibility +of marrying Clarence, though I don't see my way to it. +You see, it's not exactly a pleasant position to be a +widow and not to be one, as I am, in a certain +sense. Also, I'm bored with living on my poor +husband's money, particularly as I know he wished +me to find it as inconvenient as possible to do so. +I'm bored with keeping the capital from that wretched +boy and his mother, who would get it all as soon as +I was safely married again. That's it. As a matter +of fact I'm bored with all life, as I daresay most +people are; but to marry this particular Clarence, or +any other Clarence that may be disporting himself +about, wouldn't somehow diminish the boringness of +things. Do you see?"</p> + +<p>"I see," answered Marion. Good Heavens, what +a thing it is to be a psychological novelist! and how +exactly he had guessed at the reality of Lady Atalanta's +character and situation. He would scarcely +venture to write that novel of his; he might as well +call it <i>Lady Tal</i> at once. It was doubtless this discovery +which made him grow suddenly very red and +feel an intolerable desire to say he knew not what.</p> + +<p>They continued walking up and down that little +orchard, the brown maize leaves all around, the +bright green and vermilion enamel of the pomegranate +trees, the Japanese pattern, red and yellow, +of the peach branches, against the blue sky above.</p> + +<p>"My dear Lady Tal," began Marion, "my dear +young lady, will you allow—an elderly student of +human nature to say—how—I fear it must seem +very impertinent—how thoroughly—taking your whole +situation as if it were that of a third person—he understanding +its difficulties—and, taking the situation no +longer quite as that of a third person, how earnestly +he hopes that<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>Marion was going to say "you will not derogate +from the real nobility of your nature." But only a +fool could say such a thing; besides, of course, Lady +Tal <i>must</i> derogate. So he finished off:</p> + +<p>"That events will bring some day a perfectly +satisfactory, though perhaps unforeseen, conclusion +for you."</p> + +<p>Lady Tal was paying no attention. She plucked +one of the long withered peach leaves, delicate, and +red, and transparent, like a Chinese visiting card, and +began to pull it through her fingers.</p> + +<p>"You see," she said, "of the income my husband +left me, I've been taking only as much as seemed +necessary—about two thousand a year. I mean necessary +that people shouldn't see that I'm doing +this sort of thing; because, after all, I suppose a +woman could live on less, though I am an expensive +woman.—The rest, of course, I've been letting accumulate +for the heir; I couldn't give it him, for that +would have been going against my husband's will. +But it's rather boring to feel one's keeping that boy,—such +a nasty young brute as he is—and his horrid +mother out of all that money, merely by being there. +It's rather humiliating, but it would be more humiliating +to marry another man for his money. And I +don't suppose a poor man would have me; and perhaps +I wouldn't have a poor man. Now, suppose I +were the heroine of your novel—you know you <i>are</i> +writing a novel about me, that's what makes you so +patient with me and <i>Christina</i>, you're just walking +round, and looking at me<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear Lady Tal—how—how can you +think such a thing!" gobbled out Marion indignantly. +And really, at the moment of speaking, he +did feel a perfectly unprofessional interest in this +young lady, and was considerably aggrieved at this +accusation.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you? Well, I thought you were. You +see I have novel on the brain. Well, just suppose +you <i>were</i> writing that novel, with me for a heroine, +what would you advise me? One has got accustomed +to having certain things—a certain amount of +clothes, and bric-à-brac and horses, and so forth, +and to consider them necessary. And yet, I think if +one were to lose them all to-morrow, it wouldn't +make much difference. One would merely say: +'Dear me, what's become of it all?' And yet I suppose +one does require them—other people have +them, so I suppose it's right one should have them +also. Other people like to come to Torcello in five +gondolas with three guitars, a banjo, and lunch, and +to spend two hours feeding and littering the grass +with paper bags; so I suppose one ought to like +it too. If it's right, I like it. I always conform, you +know; only it's rather dull work, don't you think, +considered as an interest in life? Everything is dull +work, for the matter of that, except dear old <i>Christina</i>. +What do you think one might do to make things a +little less dull? But perhaps everything is equally +dull<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>Lady Tal raised one of those delicately-pencilled, +immensely arched eyebrows of hers, with a sceptical +little sigh, and looked in front of her, where they were +standing.</p> + +<p>Before them rose the feathery brown and lilac of +the little marsh at the end of the orchard, long seeding +reeds, sere grasses, sea lavender, and Michaelmas +daisy; and above that delicate bloom, on an unseen +strip of lagoon, moved a big yellow and brown sail, +slowly flapping against the blue sky. From the +orchard behind, rose at intervals the whirr of a belated +cicala; they heard the dry maize leaves crack beneath +their feet.</p> + +<p>"It's all very lovely," remarked Lady Tal pensively; +"but it doesn't somehow fit in properly. It's +silly for people like me to come to such a place. As +a rule, since Gerald's death, I only go for walks in +civilized places: they're more in harmony with my +frocks."</p> + +<p>Jervase Marion did not answer. He leaned against +the bole of a peach tree, looking out at the lilac and +brown sea marsh and the yellow sail, seeing them with +that merely physical intentness which accompanies +great mental preoccupation. He was greatly moved. +He was aware of a fearful responsibility. Yet neither +the emotion nor the responsibility made him wretched, +as he always fancied that all emotion or responsibility +must.</p> + +<p>He seemed suddenly to be in this young woman's +place, to feel the already begun, and rapid increasing +withering-up of this woman's soul, the dropping away +from it of all real, honest, vital interests. She seemed +to him in horrible danger, the danger of something +like death. And there was but one salvation: to +give up that money, to make herself free<span class="nowrap">——</span>;Yes, +yes, there was nothing for it but that. Lady Tal, +who usually struck him as so oppressively grown up, +powerful, able to cope with everything, affected him +at this moment as a something very young, helpless, +almost childish; he understood so well that during all +those years this big woman in her stiff clothes, with +her inexpressive face, had been a mere child in the +hands of her brother, that she had never thought, or +acted, or felt for herself; that she had not lived.</p> + +<p>Give up that money; give up that money; marry +some nice young fellow who will care for you; become +the mother of a lot of nice little children<span class="nowrap">——</span>;The +words went on and on in Marion's mind, close +to his lips; but they could not cross them. He almost +saw those children of hers, the cut of their pinafores +and sailor clothes, the bend of their blond and pink +necks; and that nice young husband, blond of course, +tall of course, with vague, regular features, a little +dull perhaps, but awfully good. It was so obvious, +so right. At the same time it seemed rather tame; +and Marion, he didn't know why, while perceiving +its extreme rightness and delightfulness, couldn't help +wincing a little bit at the prospect<span class="nowrap">——</span>;</p> + +<p>Lady Tal must have been engaged simultaneously +in some similar contemplation, for she suddenly turned +round, and said:</p> + +<p>"But after all, anything else might perhaps be +just as boring as all this. And fancy having given +up that money all for nothing; one would feel such +a fool. On the whole, my one interest in life is evidently +destined to be <i>Christina</i>, and the solution of all +my doubts will be the appearance of the 'New George +Eliot of fashionable life'; don't you think that sounds +like the heading in one of your American papers, the +Buffalo <i>Independent</i>, or Milwaukee <i>Republican</i>?"</p> + +<p>Marion gave a little mental start.</p> + +<p>"Just so, just so," he answered hurriedly: "I +think it would be a fatal thing—a very fatal thing for +you to—well—to do anything rash, my dear Lady +Tal. After all, we must remember that there is such +a thing as habit; a woman accustomed to the life you +lead, although I don't deny it may sometimes seem +dull, would be committing a mistake, in my opinion +a great mistake, in depriving herself, for however +excellent reasons, of her fortune. Life is dull, but, +on the whole, the life we happen to live is usually the +one which suits us best. My own life, for instance, +strikes me at moments, I must confess, as a trifle +dull. Yet I should be most unwise to change it, +most unwise. I think you are quite right in supposing +that novel-writing, if you persevere in it, will afford +you a—very—well—a—considerable interest in life."</p> + +<p>Lady Tal yawned under her parasol.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think it's time for us to go back to the +rest of our rabble?" she asked. "It must be quite +three-quarters of an hour since we finished lunch, so +I suppose it's time for tea, or food of some sort. +Have you ever reflected, Mr. Marion, how little +there would be in picnics, and in life in general, if +one couldn't eat a fresh meal every three-quarters of +an hour?"</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IX.</h3> + +<p>Few things, of the many contradictory things of +this world, are more mysterious than the occasional +certainty of sceptical men. Marion was one of the +most sceptical of sceptical novelists; the instinct that +nothing really depended upon its supposed or official +cause, that nothing ever produced its supposed or +official effect, that all things were always infinitely +more important or unimportant than represented, +that nothing is much use to anything, and the world +a mystery and a muddle; this instinct, so natural to +the psychologist, regularly honeycombed his existence, +making it into a mere shifting sand, quite unfit +to carry the human weight. Yet at this particular +moment, Marion firmly believed that if only Lady +Atalanta could be turned into a tolerable novelist, the +whole problem of Lady Atalanta's existence would be +satisfactorily solved, if only she could be taught construction, +style, punctuation, and a few other items; +if only one could get into her head the difference +between a well-written thing, and an ill-written thing, +then, considering her undoubted talent<span class="nowrap">——</span>;for Marion's +opinion of Lady Tal's talent had somehow increased +with a bound. Why he should think <i>Christina</i> a more +remarkable performance now that he had been tinkering +at it for six weeks, it is difficult to perceive. +He seemed certainly to see much more in it. Through +that extraordinary difficulty of expression, he now +felt the shape of a personality, a personality contradictory, +enigmatical, not sure of itself, groping, as it +were, to the light. <i>Christina</i> was evidently the real +Lady Tal, struggling through that overlaying of +habits and prejudices which constituted the false +one.</p> + +<p>So, <i>Christina</i> could not be given too much care; +and certainly no novel was ever given more, both by +its author and by its critic. There was not a chapter, +and scarcely a paragraph, which had not been dissected +by Marion and re-written by Lady Tal; the +critical insight of the one being outdone only by the +scribbling energy of the other. And now, it would +soon be finished. There was only that piece about +Christina's reconciliation with her sister-in-law to get +into shape. Somehow or other the particular piece +seemed intolerably difficult to do; the more Lady +Tal worked at it, the worse it grew; the more +Marion expounded his views on the subject, the less +did she seem able to grasp them.</p> + +<p>They were seated on each side of the big deal +table, which, for the better development of <i>Christina</i>, +Lady Tal had installed in her drawing-room, and +which at this moment presented a lamentable confusion +of foolscap, of mutilated pages, of slips for +gumming on, of gum-pots, and scissors. The scissors, +however, were at present hidden from view, +and Lady Tal, stooping over the litter, was busily +engaged looking for them.</p> + +<p>"Confound those beastly old scissors!" she exclaimed, +shaking a heap of MS. with considerable +violence.</p> + +<p>Marion, on his side, gave a feeble stir to the mass +of paper, and said, rather sadly: "Are you sure you +left them on this table?"</p> + +<p>He felt that something was going wrong. Lady +Tal had been unusually restive about the alterations +he wanted her to make.</p> + +<p>"You are slanging those poor scissors because you +are out of patience with things in general, Lady Tal."</p> + +<p>She raised her head, and leaning both her long, +well-shaped hands on the table, looked full at Marion:</p> + +<p>"Not with things in general, but with things in +particular. With <i>Christina</i>, in the first place; and +then with myself; and then with you, Mr. Marion."</p> + +<p>"With me?" answered Marion, forcing out a smile +of pseudo-surprise. He had felt all along that she +was irritated with him this morning.</p> + +<p>"With you"—went on the lady, continuing to +rummage for the scissors—"with you, because I +don't think you've been quite fair. It isn't fair to put +it into an unfortunate creature's head that she is an +incipient George Eliot, when you know that if she +were to slave till doomsday, she couldn't produce a +novel fit for the <i>Family Herald</i>. It's very ungrateful +of me to complain, but you see it is rather hard lines +upon me. You can do all this sort of thing as easy as +winking, and you imagine that everyone else must. +You put all your own ideas into poor <i>Christina</i>, and +you just expect me to be able to carry them out, and +when I make a hideous hash, you're not satisfied. +You think of that novel just as if it were you writing +it—you know you do. Well, then, when a woman +discovers at last that she can't make the beastly +thing any better; that she's been made to hope too +much, and that too much is asked of her, you understand +it's rather irritating. I am sick of re-writing +that thing, sick of every creature in it."</p> + +<p>And Lady Tal gave an angry toss to the sheets of +manuscript with the long pair of dressmaker's scissors, +which she had finally unburied. Marion felt a little +pang. The pang of a clever man who discovers himself +to be perpetrating a stupidity. He frowned that +little frown of the tight boots.</p> + +<p>Quite true. He saw, all of a sudden, that he +really had been over-estimating Lady Tal's literary +powers. It appeared to him monstrous. The +thought made him redden. To what unjustifiable +lengths had his interest in the novel—the novel in +the abstract, anybody's novel; and (he confessed to +himself) the interest in one novel in particular, his +own, the one in which Lady Tal should figure—led +him away! Perceiving himself violently to be in +the wrong, he proceeded to assume the manner, as +is the case with most of us under similar circumstances +(perhaps from a natural instinct of balancing +matters) of a person conscious of being in the right.</p> + +<p>"I think," he said, dryly, "that you have rather +overdone this novel, Lady Tal—worked at it too +much, talked of it too much too, sickened yourself +with it."</p> + +<p>"—And sickened others," put in Lady Atalanta +gloomily.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no—not others—only yourself, my dear +young lady," said Marion paternally, in a way which +clearly meant that she had expressed the complete +truth, being a rude woman, but that he, being a polite +man, could never admit it. As a matter of fact, +Marion was not in the least sick of <i>Christina</i>, quite +the reverse.</p> + +<p>"You see," he went on, playing with the elastic +band of one of the packets of MS., "you can't be +expected to know these things. But no professed +novelist—no one of any experience—no one, allow +me to say so, except a young lady, could possibly +have taken such an overdose of novel-writing as you +have. Why, you have done in six weeks what ought +to have taken six months! The result, naturally, is +that you have lost all sense of proportion and quality; +you really can't see your novel any longer, that's +why you feel depressed about it."</p> + +<p>Lady Tal was not at all mollified.</p> + +<p>"That wasn't a reason for making me believe I was +going to be George Eliot and Ouida rolled into one, +with the best qualities of Goethe and Dean Swift +into the bargain," she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Marion frowned, but this time internally. He really +had encouraged Lady Tal quite unjustifiably. He +doubted, suddenly, whether she would ever get a publisher; +therefore he smiled, and remarked gently:</p> + +<p>"Well, but—in matters of belief, there are two +parties, Lady Tal. Don't you think you may be +partly responsible for this—this little misapprehension?"</p> + +<p>Lady Tal did not answer. The insolence of the +Ossian was roused. She merely looked at Marion +from head to foot; and the look was ineffably scornful. +It seemed to say: "This is what comes of a +woman like me associating with Americans and +novelists."</p> + +<p>"I've not lost patience," she said after a moment; +"don't think that. When I make up my mind to a +thing I just do it. So I shall finish <i>Christina</i>, and print +her, and publish her, and dedicate her to you. Only, +catch me ever writing another novel again!—and"—she +added, smiling with her closed teeth as she extended +a somewhat stiff hand to Marion—"catch +you reading another novel of mine again either, now +that you've made all the necessary studies of me for +<i>your</i> novel!"</p> + +<p>Marion smiled politely. But he ran downstairs, and +through the narrow little paved lane to the ferry at +San Vio with a bent head.</p> + +<p>He had been a fool, a fool, he repeated to himself. +Not, as he had thought before, by exposing Lady +Tal to disappointment and humiliation, but by exposing +himself.</p> + +<p>Yes, he understood it all. He understood it when, +scarcely out of Lady Tal's presence, he caught himself, +in the garden, looking up at her windows, half +expecting to see her, to hear some rather rough joke +thrown at him as a greeting, just to show she was +sorry<span class="nowrap">——</span>; He understood it still better, when, every +time the waiter knocked in the course of the day, he +experienced a faint expectation that it might be a note +from Lady Tal, a line to say: "I was as cross as +two sticks, this morning, wasn't I?" or merely: +"don't forget to come to-morrow."</p> + +<p>He understood. He and the novel, both chucked +aside impatiently by this selfish, capricious, imperious +young aristocrat: the two things identified, and both +now rejected as unworthy of taking up more of her +august attention! Marion felt the insult to the novel—her +novel—almost more than to himself. After all, +how could Lady Tal see the difference between him +and the various mashers of her acquaintance, perceive +that he was the salt of the earth? She had not wherewithal +to perceive it. But that she should not perceive +the dignity of her own work, how infinitely finer that +novel was than herself, how it represented all her +own best possibilities; that she should be ungrateful +for the sensitiveness with which he had discovered its +merit, <i>her</i> merits, in the midst of that confusion of +illiterate fashionable rubbish<span class="nowrap">——</span>;</p> + +<p>And when that evening, having his coffee at St. +Mark's, he saw Lady Tal's stately figure, her white +dress, amongst the promenaders in the moonlight, a +rabble of young men and women at her heels, it +struck him suddenly that something was over. He +thought that, if Lady Tal came to London next spring, +he would not call upon her unless sent for; and he +was sure she would not send for him, for as to <i>Christina</i>, +<i>Christina</i> would never get as far as the proof-sheets; +and unless <i>Christina</i> re-appeared on the surface, +he also would remain at the bottom.</p> + +<p>Marion got up from his table, and leaving the +brightly illuminated square and the crowd of summer-like +promenaders, he went out on to the Riva, and +walked slowly towards the arsenal. The contrast was +striking. Out here it looked already like winter. +There were no chairs in front of the cafés, there were +scarcely any gondola-lights at the mooring places. +The passers-by went along quickly, the end of their +cloak over their shoulder. And from the water, +which swished against the marble landings, came a +rough, rainy wind. It was dark, and there were unseen +puddles along the pavement.</p> + +<p>This was the result of abandoning, for however +little, one's principles. He had broken through his +convictions by accepting to read a young lady's MS. +novel. It did not seem a very serious mistake. But +through that chink, what disorderly powers had now +entered his well-arranged existence!</p> + +<p>What the deuce did he want with the friendship of +a Lady Tal? He had long made up his mind to permit +himself only such friendship as could not possibly +involve any feeling, as could not distress or ruffle +him by such incidents as illness, death, fickleness, +ingratitude. The philosophy of happiness, of that +right balance of activities necessary for the dispassionate +student of mankind, consisted in never having +anything that one could miss, in never wanting +anything. Had he not long ago made up his mind +to live contemplative only of external types, if not +on a column like Simon Stylites, at least in its +meaner modern equivalent, a top flat at Westminster?</p> + +<p>Marion felt depressed, ashamed of his depression, +enraged at his shame; and generally intolerably +mortified at feeling anything at all, and still more, in +consequence, at feeling all this much.</p> + +<p>As he wandered up and down one of the stretches +of the Riva, the boisterous wind making masts and +sails creak, and his cigar-smoke fly wildly about, he +began, however, to take a little comfort. All this, +after all, was so much experience; and experience +was necessary for the comprehension of mankind. +It was preferable, as a rule, to use up other people's +experience; to look down, from that top flat at +Westminster, upon grief and worry and rage <i>in corpore +vili</i>, at a good five storeys below one. But, on +reflection, it was doubtless necessary occasionally to +get impressions a little nearer; the very recognition +of feeling in others presupposed a certain minimum +of emotional experience in oneself.</p> + +<p>Marion had a sense of humour, a sense of dignity, +and a corresponding aversion to being ridiculous. +He disliked extremely having played the part of the +middle-aged fool. But if ever he should require, for +a future novel, a middle-aged fool, why, there he +would be, ready to hand. And really, unless he had +thus miserably broken through his rules of life, thus +contemptibly taken an interest in a young lady +six-foot high, the daughter of a bankrupt earl, with an +inexpressive face and a sentimental novel, he would +never, never have got to fathom, as he now fathomed, +the character of the intelligent woman of the world, +with aspirations ending in frivolity, and a heart entirely +rusted over by insolence.</p> + +<p>Ah, he <i>did</i> understand Lady Tal. He had gone up +to his hotel; and shut his window with a bang, receiving +a spout of rain in his face, as he made that +reflection. Really, Lady Tal might be made into +something first-rate.</p> + +<p>He threw himself into an arm-chair and opened a +volume of the correspondence of Flaubert.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>X.</h3> + +<p>"I am glad to have made an end of <i>Christina</i>," +remarked Lady Tal, when they were on Miss Vanderwerf's +balcony together. <i>Christina</i> had been finished, +cleaned up, folded, wrapped in brown paper, stringed, +sealing-waxed and addressed to a publisher, a week +almost ago. During the days separating this great +event from this evening, the last of Lady Atalanta's stay +in Venice, the two novelists had met but little. Lady +Tal had had farewell visits to pay, farewell dinners +and lunches to eat. So had Jervase Marion; for, two +days after Lady Tal's return to her apartment near +the Holy Apostles at Rome, he would be setting out +for that dear, tidy, solitary flat at Westminster.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to have made an end of <i>Christina</i>," remarked +Lady Tal, "it had got to bore me fearfully."</p> + +<p>Marion winced. He disliked this young woman's +ingratitude and brutality. It was ill-bred and stupid; +and of all things in the world, the novelist from +Alabama detested ill-breeding and stupidity most. +He was angry with himself for minding these qualities +in Lady Tal. Had he not long made up his mind +that she possessed them, <i>must</i> possess them?</p> + +<p>There was a pause. The canal beneath them was +quite dark, and the room behind quite light; it was +November, and people no longer feared lamps on account +of mosquitoes, any more than they went posting +about in gondolas after illuminated singing boats. +The company, also, was entirely collected within +doors; the damp sea-wind, the necessity for shawls +and overcoats, took away the Romeo and Juliet +character from those little gothic balconies, formerly +crowded with light frocks and white waistcoats.</p> + +<p>The temperature precluded all notions of flirtation; +one must intend business, or be bent upon catching +cold, to venture outside.</p> + +<p>"How changed it all is!" exclaimed Lady Tal, +"and what a beastly place Venice does become in +autumn. If I were a benevolent despot, I should +forbid any rooms being let or hotels being opened +beyond the 15th of October. I wonder why I didn't +get my bags together and go earlier! I might have +gone to Florence or Perugia for a fortnight, instead +of banging straight back to Rome. Oh, of course, it +was all along of <i>Christina</i>! What were we talking +about? Ah, yes, about how changed it all was. Do +you remember the first evening we met here, a splendid +moonlight, and ever so hot? When was it? +Two months ago? Surely more. It seems years ago. +I don't mean merely on account of the change of +temperature, and leaving off cotton frocks and that: +I mean we seem to have been friends so long. You +will write to me sometimes, won't you, and send +any of your friends to me? Palazzo Malaspini, +Santi Apostoli (just opposite the French Embassy, +you know), after five nearly always, in winter. I +wonder," continued Lady Tal, musingly, leaning her +tweed elbow on the damp balustrade, "whether we +shall ever write another novel together; what do you +think, Mr. Marion?"</p> + +<p>Something seemed suddenly to give away inside +Marion's soul. He saw, all at once, those big rooms, +which he had often heard described (a woman of her +means ought to be ashamed of such furniture, the +Roumanian Princess had remarked), near the Holy +Apostles at Rome: the red damask walls, the big +palms and azaleas, with pieces of embroidery wrapped +round the pots, the pastel of Lady Tal by Lenbach, +the five hundred photographs dotted about, +and fifteen hundred silver objects of indeterminable +shape and art, and five dozen little screens all covered +with odd bits of brocade—of course there was all +that: and the door curtain raised, and the butler +bowing in, and behind him the whitish yellowish curl, +and pinky grey face of Clarence. And then he saw, +but not more distinctly, his writing-table at Westminster, +the etchings round his walls, the collection +of empty easy-chairs, each easier and emptier, with +its book-holding or leg-stretching apparatus, than its +neighbor. He became aware of being old, remarkably +old, of a paternal position towards this woman +of thirty. He spoke in a paternal tone—</p> + +<p>"No!" he answered, "I think not. I shall be too +busy. I must write another novel myself."</p> + +<p>"What will your novel be about?" asked Lady +Tal, slowly, watching her cigarette cut down through +the darkness into the waters below. "Tell me."</p> + +<p>"My novel? What will my novel be about?" +repeated Marion, absently. His mind was full of +those red rooms at Rome, with the screens, and the +palms, and odious tow-coloured head of Clarence. +"Why, my novel will be the story of an old artist, a +sculptor—I don't mean a man of the Renaissance, I +mean old in years, elderly, going on fifty—who was +silly enough to imagine it was all love of art which +made him take a great deal of interest in a certain +young lady and her paintings<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>"You said he was a sculptor just now," remarked +Lady Tal calmly.</p> + +<p>"Of course I meant in her statues—modelling—what +d'you call it<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>"And then?" asked Lady Tal after a pause, looking +down into the canal. "What happened?"</p> + +<p>"What happened?" repeated Marion, and he heard +his own voice with surprise, wondering how it could +be his own, or how he could know it for his, so suddenly +had it grown quick and husky and unsteady—"What +happened? Why—that he made an awful +old fool of himself. That's all."</p> + +<p>"That's all!" mused Lady Tal. "Doesn't it seem +rather lame? You don't seem to have got sufficient +<i>dénouement</i>, do you? Why shouldn't we write +that novel together? I'm sure I could help you to +something more conclusive than that. Let me see. +Well, suppose the lady were to answer: 'I am as +poor as a rat, and I fear I'm rather expensive. But +I <i>can</i> make my dresses myself if only I get one of +those wicker dolls, I call them Theresa, you know; and +I <i>might</i> learn to do my hair myself; and then I'm +going to be a great painter—no, sculptor, I mean—and +make pots of money; so suppose we get married.' +Don't you think Mr. Marion, that would be more +<i>modern</i> than your <i>dénouement</i>? You would have to +find out what that painter—no, sculptor, I beg your +pardon—would answer. Consider that both he and +the lady are rather lonely, bored, and getting into the +sere and yellow<span class="nowrap">——</span>; We ought to write that novel together, +because I've given you the ending—and also +because I really can't manage another all by myself, +now that I've got accustomed to having my +semicolons put in for me<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>As Lady Atalanta spoke these words, a sudden +downpour of rain drove her and Marion back into +the drawing-room.</p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> + +<h2><a name="st_2" id="st_2"></a><span class="wide">A WORLDLY WOMAN.</span></h2> +<p> </p> +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p>"But why should you mind who buys your pots, so +long as your pots are beautiful?" asked the girl.</p> + +<p>"Because as things exist at present, art can minister +only to the luxury of the rich, idle classes. The +people, the people that works and requires to play, and +requires something to tell it of happier things, gets no +share in art. The people is too poor to possess beautiful +things, and too brutish to care for them: the only +amusement it can afford is getting drunk. And one +wearies and sickens of merely adding one's grain of +sand to the inequality and injustice of existing social +conditions—don't you see, Miss Flodden?"</p> + +<p>Leonard Greenleaf stopped short, his breathlessness +mingling with the annoyance at having let himself be +carried away by his ideas, and producing a vague sense +of warm helplessness.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he went on, taking up a big jar of +yellow Hispano-Moorish lustre ware, and mechanically +dusting it with the feather brush, "it's absurd to talk like +that about such things as pots, and it's absurd to talk +like that to you."</p> + +<p>And raising his head he gave a furtive little glare at +the girl, where she stood in a golden beam of dust and +sunlight, which slanted through his workshop.</p> + +<p>Miss Valentine Flodden—for such was the name on +the family card which she had sent in together with +that of Messrs. Boyce—made rather a delightful +picture in that yellow halo: the green light from under +the plane trees filtering in through the door behind her, +and gleams of crimson and glints of gold flickering, +in the brown gloom wherever an enamel plate or pot +was struck by a sunbeam, winnowed by the blind which +flapped in the draught. Greenleaf knew by some dim, +forgotten experience or unaccountable guess-work, +that she was what was called, in the detestable jargon +of a certain set, a pretty woman. He also recognised +in her clothes—they were would-be manly, far more +simple and practical than those of the girls he knew, +yet telling of a life anything but practical and simple—that +she belonged to that same set of persons; +a fact apparent also in her movements, her words +and accent, nay in the something indefinable in her +manner which seemed to take things for granted. +But he didn't care for her being beautiful. His feeling +was solely of vague irritation at having let himself +speak—he had quite unnecessarily told her he +intended giving up the pottery next year—about the +things which were his very life, to a stranger; a stranger +who had come with a card to ask advice about her +own amateur work, and from out of a world which +was foreign and odious to him, the world of idleness +and luxury. Also, he experienced slight shame at a +certain silly, half-romantic pleasure at what was in +reality the unconscious intrusion of a fashionable +eccentric. This girl, who had been sent on from +Boyce & Co.'s for information which they could +not give, must evidently have thought she was coming +to another shop, otherwise she would never have +come all alone; she evidently took him for a shopman, +otherwise she would not have staid so long +nor spoken so freely. It was much better she should +continue to regard him as a shopman; and indeed +was it not his pride to have shaken off all class distinctions, +and to have become a workingman like any +other?</p> + +<p>It was this thought which made him alter his tone +and ask with grave politeness, "Is there any further +point upon which I can have the pleasure of giving +you any information?"</p> + +<p>Miss Flodden did not answer this question. She +stood contemplating the old warped oaken floor, on +whose dust she was drawing a honeysuckle pattern +with the end of her parasol.</p> + +<p>"Why did you say that you ought not to speak +about such things to—people, Mr. Greenleaf?" she +asked. "Of course, one's a Philistine, and in outer +darkness, but still<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>She had raised her eyes full upon him. They were +a strange light blue, darkening as she spoke, under +very level brows, and she had an odd way of opening +them out at one. Like that, with her delicate complexion, +and a little vagueness about the mouth, she +looked childish, appealing, and rather pathetic.</p> + +<p>"All these things are very interesting," she added +quickly; "at least they must be if one understands +anything about them."</p> + +<p>Greenleaf was sorry. He didn't know exactly +why; but he felt vaguely as if he had been brutal. +He had made her shut up—for he recognised that the +second part of her speech was the reaction against his +own; and that was brutal. He ought not to have +let the conversation depart from the technicalities of +pottery, as he had done by saying he intended giving +it up, and then bursting into that socialistic rhapsody. +It wasn't fair upon her.</p> + +<p>By this time the reaction had completely set in +with her. Her face had a totally different expression, +indifferent, bored, a little insolent—the expression of +her society and order.</p> + +<p>"It's been very good of you," she said, looking +vaguely round the room, with the shimmer of green +leaves and the glint of enamel in its brown dustiness, +"to tell me so many things, and to have given up +so much of your time. I didn't know, you know, +from Messrs. Boyce, that I was breaking in upon +you at your work. I suppose they were so kind +because of my father having a collection—they +thought that I knew more about pottery than I +do."</p> + +<p>She stretched out her hand stiffly. Leonard Greenleaf +did not know whether he ought to take it, because +he guessed that she did not know whether she ought +to offer it him. Also he felt awkward, and sorry to +have shut her up.</p> + +<p>"I should—be very happy to tell you anything +more that I could, Miss Flodden," he said; +"besides, the owners of Yetholme must be privileged +people with us potters."</p> + +<p>"If—if ever you be passing anywhere near Eaton +Square—that's where I live with my aunt," she said, +"won't you come in and have a cup of tea? Number +5; the number is on the card. But," she added +suddenly, with a little laugh, which was that social +stiffening once more, "perhaps you never do pass +anywhere near tea-time; or you pass and don't come +in. It would be a great waste of your time."</p> + +<p>What had made her stiffen suddenly like that was +a faint smile which had come into Greenleaf's face at +the beginning of her invitation. He had understood, +or thought he understood, that his visitor had grasped +the fact of his being a sort of gentleman after all, +and that she thought it necessary to express her recognition +of the difference between him and any other +member of the firm of Boyce & Co. by asking him to +call.</p> + +<p>"Of course you are a great deal too busy," she +repeated. "Perhaps some day you will let me come +to your studio again—some day next year—good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Shall I call you a hansom?" he asked, wondering +whether he had been rude.</p> + +<p>"Thank you; I think I'll go by the Underground. +You cross the big square, and then along the side of +the British Museum, don't you? I made a note of +the way as I came. Or else I'll get a 'bus in Tottenham +Court Road."</p> + +<p>She spoke the words <i>'bus</i> and <i>Underground</i>, he +thought, with a little emphasis. She was determined +to have her fill of eccentricity, now that she had gone +in for pottery, and for running about all alone to +strange places, and scoring out everything save her +own name on the family card. At least so Greenleaf +said to himself, as he watched the tall, slight +young figure disappearing down the black Bloomsbury +street, and among the green leaves and black +stems of the Bloomsbury square. An unlikely apparition, +oddly feminine in its spruce tailoring, in that +sleepy part of the world, whence fashion had retreated +long, long ago, with the last painted coach +which had rumbled through the iron gates, and the +last link which had been extinguished in the iron +extinguishers of the rusty areas.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>Greenleaf had a great disbelief in his own intuitions; +perhaps because he vibrated unusually to the +touch of other folks' nature, and that the number and +variety of his impressions sometimes made it difficult +to come to a cut-and-dry conclusion. There was in +him also a sensitiveness on the subject of his own +beliefs and ideals which made him instinctively +avoid contact with other folk, and avoid even knowing +much about them. He often felt that in a way +he was very unfit to be a Socialist and an agitator; +for besides the absurd attraction that everything +beautiful, distinguished, exotic, exercised upon him, +and a corresponding repugnance to the coarse and +sordid sights of the world, he knew himself to look +at people in an excessively subjective way, never +seeking spontaneously to understand what they +themselves were trying to do and say, but analysing +them merely from the series of impressions which he +received. Just as his consciousness of being a born +æsthete and aristocrat had pushed him into social +questions and democratic views; so also his extreme +conscientiousness occasionally made him attempt, +rather abortively, to behave to others as he might +wish to be behaved to himself, his imagination being +taxed to the utmost by the inquiry as to what behaviour +would be altruistic and just under the circumstances.</p> + +<p>This preamble is necessary to explain various inconsistencies +in our hero's conduct, and more particularly +at this moment, the inconsistency of suddenly +veering round in his suppositions about Miss +Valentine Flodden. In his monotonous life of artistic +work and social study—in those series of quiet days, +as like one another as the rows of black Bloomsbury +houses with their garlanded door-lintels and worn-out +doorsteps, as the spear-heads of the railings, the +spikes of blossom on the horse-chestnuts, and the +little lions on the chain curbs round the British +Museum—the weekly firing of his pottery kiln at +Boyce's Works near Wandsworth, the weekly lecture +to workingmen down at Whitechapel, the weekly +reception in the sooty rooms of Faber, the Socialist +poet and critic who had married the Socialist painter—all +these were the landmarks of Greenleaf's existence, +and landmarks of the magnitude of martello +towers along a sea-shore. So that anything at all +unexpected became, in his life of subversive thoughts +and methodical activity, an incident and an adventure.</p> + +<p>Thus it was that the visit of Miss Flodden, although +he repeatedly noted its utter unimportance to himself +and everyone else, became the theme of much idle +meditation in the intervals of his work and study. +He felt it as extraordinarily strange. And feeling it in +this way, his conscientious good sense caused him to +analyse it as sometimes almost unusually commonplace.</p> + +<p>It was in consequence of repeatedly informing +himself that after all nothing could be more natural +than this visit, that he took the step which brought +him once more into contact with the eccentricity of the +adventure. For he repeated so often to himself how +natural it was that a girl with a taste for art should +care for pottery (particularly as her father owned the +world-famous Yetholme collection), and caring for +pottery should go for information to Messrs. Boyce's +the decorators, and being referred by Boyce's to himself +should come on, at once, and quite alone, to the +studio of his unknown self; he identified Miss Flodden +so completely with any one of the mature maidens +who carried their peacock blue and sage green and +amber beads, and interest in economics, archæology +and so forth freely through his world, that he decided +to give Miss Flodden the assistance which he would +have proffered to one of the independent and studious +spinsters of Bloomsbury and West Kensington. Accordingly +he took a sheet of paper with "Boyce +& Co., Decorators," stamped at the head of it, and +wrote a note directed to Miss Valentine Flodden, +Eaton Square, saying that as she would doubtless +be interested in examining the Rhodian and Damascene +pottery of the British Museum, which she had +told him she knew very imperfectly, he ventured to +enclose an introduction to the Head of the Department, +whom she would find a most learned and amiable +old gentleman; the fact of her connection with +the famous Yetholme collection would, for the rest, +be introduction enough in itself.</p> + +<p>After posting the note and the enclosure, Leonard +Greenleaf reflected, with some wonder and a little +humiliation, that he had chosen a sheet of Boyce's +business paper to write to Miss Flodden; while he +had selected a sheet with the name of his old Oxford +college for writing to the Head of the Department. +But it was not childish contradictoriness after all; at +least so he told himself. For old Colonel Hancock +Dunstan (one never dropped the Colonel even in one's +thoughts) had a weakness in favour of polite society +and against new-fangled democracy, and liked Greenleaf +exactly because he had better shaped hands and +a better cut coat than other men who haunted the +Museum. And as to Miss Flodden, why, it seemed +more appropriate to keep things on the level of pottery +and decoration, and therefore to have Boyce & Co. +well to the fore.</p> + +<p>Greenleaf had made up his mind that Fate would +never again bring him face to face with Miss Flodden, +and that he would certainly take no steps towards +altering Fate's intentions. It was for this very reason +that he had introduced the lady to his old friend of +the Museum: for it is singular how introducing someone +to somebody else keeps up the sense of the someone's +presence; and how, occasionally, one insists +upon such vicarious company. But, as stated already, +he never dreamed, at least he thought he never +dreamed, to see his eccentric young visitor again.</p> + +<p>Such being the case, it might seem odd, had not his +experience of human feelings destroyed all perception +of oddity, that Greenleaf experienced no surprise +when, obeying a peremptory scrawl from the former +terror of Pashas and the present terror of scholars, he +found himself one afternoon in Colonel Dunstan's +solemn bachelor drawing-room, and in the presence +once more of Miss Valentine Flodden.</p> + +<p>Colonel Hancock Dunstan, who in his distant days +had gone to Mecca disguised as a pilgrim, dug up +Persian temples, slain uncivil Moslems with his own +hand, and altogether constituted a minor Eastern +question in his one boisterous self, had now settled +down (a Government post having been created expressly +to keep him quiet) into a life divided between +furious archæological disputes and faithful service of +the fair sex. He was at this moment promenading +his shrunken person—which somehow straightened +out into military vigour in the presence of young ladies—round +a large table spread with innumerable cups +of tea, plates of strawberries and dishes of bonbons. +Of this he partook only in the spirit, offering it all, +together with the service of a severe housekeeper and +a black, barefooted Moor, for the consumption of +his fair guests. The other guest, indeed, a gaunt and +classic female archæologist, habited in peacock plush, +was fair only in mind; and Colonel Dunstan, devoted +as he was to all womankind, was wont to neglect +such intellectual grace when in the presence of more +obvious external beauty. Hence, at this moment, +the poor archæological lady, accustomed to a shower +of invitations to lunch, tea, dinner, and play-tickets +from the gallant though terrible old man, was abandoned +to the care of the housekeeper until she +could be passed over to that of Greenleaf. And +Colonel Dunstan, with his shrunken tissues and +shrunken waistcoat regaining a martial ampleness, +as the withered rose of Dr. Heidegger's experiment +regained colour and perfume in the basin of Elixir of +Youth, was wandering slowly about (for he never sat +still) heaping food and conversation on Miss Flodden. +He was informing her, among anecdotes of dead celebrities, +reminiscences of Oriental warfare, principles +of Persian colour arrangement, and panegyrics of +virtuous incipient actresses, that Greenleaf was a +capital fellow, although he would doubtless have +been improved by military training; a scholar, and +the son of a great scholar (Thomas Greenleaf's great +edition of the "Mahabarata," which she should read +some day when he, Colonel Dunstan, taught her +Sanskrit), and that, for the rest, philanthropy, socialism, +and the lower classes were a great mistake, +of which the Ancient Persians would have made very +short work indeed. To Greenleaf also he conveyed +sundry information, not troubling to make it quite +intelligible, for Colonel Dunstan considered that young +men ought to be taught their place, which place +was nowhere. So from various mutterings and +ejaculations addressed to Miss Flodden, such as, +"Ah, your great aunt, the duchess—what a woman +she was! she had the shoulders of the Venus of +Milo—I always told her she ought to ride out in the +desert to excavate Palmyra with me;" and "that +dear little cousin of yours—why didn't she let me +teach her Arabic?" it became gradually apparent to +Greenleaf that the old gentleman, who seemed as +versed in Burke's Peerage and Baronetage as in cuneiform +inscriptions, had known many generations of +ladies of the house of Flodden. Nay, most unexpected +of all, that the young lady introduced by +Greenleaf had been a familiar object to the learned +and hot-tempered Colonel ever since she had left the +nursery. Greenleaf experienced a slight pang on +this discovery: he had forgotten, in his own unworldliness, +that worldly people like Colonel Dunstan +and Miss Flodden probably moved in the same +society.</p> + +<p>"And your sister, how is she?" went on the old +gentleman; "is she as bright as ever, now she is +married, and has she got that little <i>air mutin</i> still? It's +months since I've seen her; why didn't you bring +her with you, my dear? And does <i>she</i> also take an +interest in Rhodian pots, the dear, beautiful creature?"</p> + +<p>Miss Flodden's face darkened as he slowly spun out +his questions.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what my sister is doing. I don't +live with her any longer, Colonel Dunstan; and she +is always busy rushing about with people; and I'm +busy with pots and practising the fiddle; I've turned +hermit since quite a long time."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, practising the fiddle isn't a bad thing; +Orpheus with his lute, you know. But you'd much +better let me teach you Greek, my dear, and come +to Asia Minor next winter with me. Lady Betty's +coming, and we'll see what we can dig up among +those sots of Turks. You can get capital tents at +that fellow's—what's his name—in Piccadilly. And +how are your people? I saw your brother Herbert +the other day at a sale. He told me your father was +determined not to let us have your collection, more's +the pity! And what's become of that nice young +fellow, Hermann Struwë, who used to be at your +house? He hasn't got a wife yet, eh?"</p> + +<p>Miss Flodden took no notice of these questions. +She passed them over in disdainful silence, Greenleaf +thought, till she suddenly said coldly:</p> + +<p>"I should think Mr. Struwë will have no more difficulty +in finding a wife than in hiring a shooting, or +buying a sham antique."</p> + +<p>She was a very beautiful woman, Greenleaf said to +himself. She was very tall (Greenleaf wondered +whether the women of that lot, of the idlers, were +always a head taller than those of his acquaintance), +and slender almost to thinness, with a rigid, undeveloped +sort of grace which contrasted with the extreme +composure—that sort of taking things for granted—of +her manner. Old Mr. Dunstan had just alluded to +her mother having been a Welshwoman; and Greenleaf +thought he saw very plainly the Celt in this +superficially Saxon-looking girl. That sharp perfection +of feature—features almost over-much chiselled +and finished in every minutest detail—that excessive +mobility of mouth and eyes, did not belong to the +usual kind of English pretty women. She was so +much of a Celt, despite her Northumbrian name, +that the pale-brown of her hair—hair crisp and close +round her ears—gave him almost the impression of a +wig; underneath it must really be jet black.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding a slight weariness at Colonel Dunstan's +social reminiscences and questions, she seemed +pleased and rather excited at finding herself in the +sanctuary of his learning. While quietly taking care +of the old gentleman, and much concerned lest he +should stumble over chairs and footstools in his polite +haverings, she let her eyes ramble over the expanse +of books which covered the walls, evidently impressed +by all that must be in them. And from the timid +though pertinacious fashion in which she questioned +him, it was clear that she thought him an oracle, +although an oracle rather difficult to keep to the +point.</p> + +<p>"And now," she finally said, with a little suppressed +desperation, "won't you show me some of the Rhodian +ware, Colonel Dunstan? It would be so awfully +good of you."</p> + +<p>Colonel Dunstan suddenly unwrinkled himself with +considerable importance. He had forgotten the Rhodian +ware, and rather resented its existence. Why, +bless you! <i>He</i> didn't possess such things as pots; +and as to going to the Museum, it was the most cold-taking +place in the world. He would show her his +books some day, and the casts of the cuneiform inscriptions. +She must come to tea again soon with +him. Did she know Miss Tilly Tandem, who had just +been engaged by Irving? He should like them to +meet. That was her photograph.</p> + +<p>"But," said Miss Flodden—Val Flodden it appeared +she was called—"mayn't I—couldn't I—be allowed +to see those Rhodian pots also?" She was dreadfully +crestfallen, and had a little disappointed eagerness, +like a child.</p> + +<p>"Of course you can," Colonel Dunstan answered, +with infinite disdain. "<i>I</i> don't think anything of +Rhodian ware, you know—mere debased copy of the +old Persian. Those Greeks of the islands were a poor +lot, then as now. Believe me, those Greeks have +always been a set of confounded liars and their +account of Salamis will be set right some day. But if +you want to see it, why of course you can. Greenleaf, +take Miss Val Flodden to see the Rhodian ware some +day soon; do you hear, Greenleaf, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." Greenleaf had always said sir to Colonel +Dunstan, like a little boy, or a subordinate. It +made up for a kind of contempt with which the +learned, but worldly and hot-tempered old gentleman +very unreasonably inspired him. Greenleaf was full of +prejudices, like all very gentle and apostolic persons.</p> + +<p>"There's Greenleaf—go with him some morning," +said Colonel Dunstan, regaining his temper; "but, +bless me! Why haven't you had any more strawberries, +Miss Val?"</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>The discovery that he had introduced two people +who had already been acquainted for years, depressed +Greenleaf with something more than the mere sense +of slight comicality. Indeed, Greenleaf, like many +apostolic persons, was deficient in the sense of the +comic, and destitute of all fear of social solecisms. +As he waited under the portico of the Museum, the +pigeons fluttering from the black temple frieze on +to the sooty steps, and the rusty students pressing +through the swinging glass doors, he felt a vague +dissatisfaction—the sort of faint crossness common +in children, and of which no contact with the world, +the contact with its grating or planing powers, had +cured this dreamer; but such crossness leaves in the +candid mind a doubt of possible vicariousness, of +being caused by something not its ostensible reason, +or being caused by the quite undefinable. When at +last, from out of the blue haze and gauzy blackness of +the Bloomsbury summer, there emerged an object of +interest, and the slender recognised figure detached +itself from the crowd of unreal other creatures, on +foot, in cabs, and behind barrows, he was aware of a +certain flat and prosaic quality in things since that tea-party +at Colonel Dunstan's. And he was very angry +with himself, and consequently with everything else, +when it struck him suddenly that perhaps he was +annoyed at the little eccentric adventure—the adventure +of the lady dropped from the clouds and never +seen again—turning into a humdrum acquaintance, +which might even linger on, with a girl about whose +family he now knew everything, who, on her side, was +now certain that he was a gentleman, and who did +really and seriously intend to find out all about +pots.</p> + +<p>They walked quickly upstairs, exchanging very few +words, save on the subject of umbrellas and umbrella +tickets; and when they had arrived in the pottery +room, they became wonderfully business-like. Miss +Flodden was business-like simply because she was +extraordinarily interested in the matter in hand; and +Greenleaf was business-like because he was ashamed +of having perhaps thought about Miss Flodden apart +from pottery, and therefore most anxious, for his own +moral dignity, to look at her and pottery as indissolubly +connected.</p> + +<p>As the narrator of this small history is unhappily +an ignoramus on the subject of pottery, prudence +forbids all attempt to repeat the questions of Miss +Flodden and the answers of Greenleaf on the subject +of clay, colours, fixing glaze and similar mysteries. +These were duly discussed for some time while the +patient assistant unlocked case after case, and let +them handle the great Hispano-Moorish dishes, heraldic +creatures spreading wings among their arabesques +of yellow brown goldiness; the rotund vases and +ewers where Roman consuls and Jewish maidens and +Greek gods were crowded together, yellow and green +and brown, on the deep sea-blue of Castel Durante +and Gubbio majolica; the fanciful scalloped blue +upon blue nymphs and satyrs of seventeenth century +Savona, which looked as if the very dishes and plates +had wished to wear furbelows and perukes; and the +precious pieces, cracked and broken, of Brusa tiles +and Rhodian and Damascene platters, with the gorgeous +crimson tulips—opening vistas of Oriental bean-fields—and +fantastic green and blue fritillaries standing +almost in relief on the thick white glaze.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's being brought up among the Yetholme +collection that makes you know so much about +pottery?" remarked Greenleaf, in considerable surprise: +"you haven't been to this part of the Museum +before?"</p> + +<p>Miss Flodden raised her pale blue luminous +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, I've never been to the Museum +since I was a tiny girl, at least, except once, when my +married sister conducted a party of New York friends. +I thought we were going to see stuffed birds, and I +was so surprised to see all those beautiful Greek +things—I had seen statues once when we went to +Rome—I wanted so much to look at them a little, +but my friends thought they weren't in good repair, +and wanted to have tea and go to the park, so they +scooted me round among the Egyptian things and +the reading rooms and out by the door. Yes, the +little I know I have learned by playing with our +things at home. Some day you must see them, Mr. +Greenleaf."</p> + +<p>Greenleaf did not answer for a moment. Good +heavens! here was a young woman of twenty-four or +twenty-five who had spent part of every year of her +life in London, and had been only once to the British +Museum, and then had expected to see stuffed birds! +And the girl apparently an instinctive artist, extraordinarily +quick and just in her appreciations.</p> + +<p>Then there were other things to do, besides opening +galleries on Sundays and promenading East-end +workmen in company with young men from Toynbee +Hall! And Greenleaf's heart withered—as one's +mouth withers at the contact of strong green tea or +caper sauce—with indignation at all the waste of intellectual +power and intellectual riches implied in this +hideous present misarrangement of all things. Was it +possible that the so-called upper classes, or at least +some members thereof, were in one way as much the +victims of injustice and barbarism as the lower classes, +off whose labour they basely subsisted?</p> + +<p>The thought came over him as his eyes met Miss +Flodden's face—that delicately chiselled, mobile +young face which was suddenly contracted with a +smile of cynical, yet resigned bitterness. He made +that reflection once more, when with the wand-bearing +custodian imperturbably occupying the only seat +in the place, they leaned upon the glass case, and she +asked him, and he told her, about the various currents +in art history—the form element of ancient +Greece, the colour element of the Orientals, the +patterns of Persian ware, the outline figures on Greek +and Etruscan vases—things which he imagined every +child to know, and about which, as about Greeks, +Orientals, and Etruscans, and Latin and geography +and most matters, this girl seemed completely ignorant.</p> + +<p>"My word," she exclaimed, and that little piece of +slang grated horribly on Greenleaf's nerves; "how +very interesting things are when one knows something +about them! Do you suppose all things would +be equally interesting if one knew about them? Or +would it only be every now and then, just as with +other matters, balls, and picnics, and so forth? Or +does one get interested whenever one does anything +as hard as one can, like hard riding, or rowing, or +playing tennis properly? Some books seem so awfully +interesting, you know; but there are such a lot +of others that one would just throw into the fire if they +didn't belong to Mudie. But somehow a thread seems +always to be wanting. It's like trying to play a game +without knowing the rules. How have you got to +know all these things, Mr. Greenleaf? I mean all the +connections between things; and could anybody get +the connecting links if they tried, or must one have a +special vocation?"</p> + +<p>Greenleaf was embarrassed how to answer. He +really could not realise the extraordinary emptiness +in this young woman's mind; and at the same time +he felt strangely touched and indignant, as he did +sometimes when giving some little street Arab a good +thing which it had never eaten before, and did not +clearly know how to begin eating.</p> + +<p>"Have you—have you—never read at all methodically?" +he asked. He really meant, "Have you +never received any education?"</p> + +<p>Miss Flodden reflected for a moment. "No. +Somehow one never thought of reading as a methodical +thing, as a business, you know. Dancing and hunting +and playing tennis and seeing people, all that's a +business, because one has to do it. At least one has +to do it as long as one hadn't turned into a savage; +everyone else has to do it. Of course, there's the +fiddle; I've practised that rather methodically, but it +was because I liked the sound of the thing so much, +and I once had a little German—my brother's +German crammer for diplomacy—who taught me. +And then one knew that, unless one got up at five in +the morning and did it regularly, it wouldn't be done +at all. But reading is different. One just picks up a +book before dinner, or while being dressed. And the +books are usually such rot."</p> + +<p>It was getting late, and Greenleaf conducted Miss +Flodden back to her parasol, where it was waiting +among the vast and shabby umbrellas of the studious, +very incongruous in its semi-masculine, yet +rather futile smartness, at the door of the reading-room.</p> + +<p>"It is all very beautiful," remarked Miss Flodden, +as they descended the Museum steps, with the +pigeons fluttering all round in the dim, smoky air, +nodding her head pensively.</p> + +<p>"What?" asked Greenleaf. He had an almost conventual +hatred of noise and bustle, which seemed to +him, perhaps because he had elected to work among +them, the utter profanation of life; and to his æsthetic +soul, the fact that many thousands of people lived +among smoke and smuts, and never saw a clear +stream, a dainty meadow of grass and daisies, or a +sky just washed into blueness by a shower, was one +of the chief reasons for condemning modern industrial +civilisation.</p> + +<p>"Why, all that—the pale blue mist with the black +houses quite soft, like black flakes against it, and the +green of the trees against the black walls, and the +moving crowd." Then, as if suddenly taking courage +to say something rather dreadful, she said: "Tell +me about Colonel Dunstan. Is he really so learned, +does he know such a lot of things?"</p> + +<p>Greenleaf laughed at the simplicity with which she +asked this. She seemed to have a difficulty in realising +that anyone could know anything.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he knows a great lot of things. He is one +of the first Orientalists in Europe, I believe—at least +my father, who was an Oriental scholar himself, used +to say so; and he is a great archæologist, besides +his knowledge of Eastern things, and of course he +knows more about Oriental art, and in fact all art, than +almost anyone."</p> + +<p>"Does he know," hesitated Miss Flodden, "what +you were telling me about the different currents of +ancient art, Persian and Greek and Etruscan, and the +way in which artists lived then—all that you were +telling me just now?"</p> + +<p>Greenleaf laughed. "Good gracious, yes; I know +nothing compared with him. Why, most of the little +I know I learned at his lectures. Shall I hail that +hansom for you, Miss Flodden?"</p> + +<p>They were crossing Bedford Square. The birds +were singing in the plane trees, and from the open +windows of a solemn Georgian house, with its courses +of white stone, and its classic door frieze, came the +notes of a sonata of Mozart. All was wonderfully +peaceful under the hazy summer sky.</p> + +<p>"No—not yet. Tell me, then: since Colonel Dunstan +knows so many interesting things, why in the +world does he live like that?"</p> + +<p>"Like what, Miss Flodden?"</p> + +<p>"Why, as if—well, as if he knew nothing at all. +Why does he go every afternoon a round of calls on +silly women, gossiping about their dresses, and listening +to all—well—the horrid, because it often <i>is</i> +horrid, nonsense and filth people talk? I used to +meet him about everywhere, when I used still to go +into the world. He often came to my sister's—I +thought he was just an old—well, an old creature like +the rest of them, collecting gossip to retail it next +door. Since he really knows all about beautiful things, +why doesn't he stick to them—why does he go about +with stupid folk—he must know lots of clever ones?"</p> + +<p>"Because—because Colonel Dunstan is a man of +the world," answered Greenleaf bitterly; "because he +cares about art, and history, and philosophy, but he +also cares for pretty women, and pretty frocks, and +good manners, and white hands."</p> + +<p>"But—why shouldn't one care—doesn't everyone +care—for—well, good manners?"</p> + +<p>He had spoken with such violence that Miss Flodden +had turned round. Her question died away as +she looked into his face. It had hitherto struck her +merely by its great kindness, and a sort of gentle candour +which was rare. Now, the clean-shaven features +and longish hair gave her the impression of a fanatic +priest, at least what she imagined such to be.</p> + +<p>"In this world, as it now exists," continued Greenleaf +in an undertone, which was almost a hiss, +"things are so divided that a man must choose between +people who are pretty and pleasant and well-mannered; +and people who are ugly and brutish and +hateful, because the first are idle and unjust, and the +second overworked and oppressed. Nowadays, more +even than when Christ taught it, a man cannot serve +both God and Mammon; and God, at present, at least +God's servants, live among the ignorant, and dirty, and +suffering. Shan't I stop that hansom for you, Miss +Flodden?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered with a catch in her breath, as +if overcome by surprise, almost as by an attack.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," he said, closing the flaps of the hansom.</p> + +<p>Miss Flodden's hand mechanically dropped on to +one of them, and her head, with the little black bonnet +all points and bows of lace, was looking straight into +space, as one overcome by great astonishment.</p> + +<p>Greenleaf sickened with shame at his vehemence.</p> + +<p>"You will let me show you the Etruscan things some +day?" he cried, as the hansom rolled off.</p> + +<p>Ah, could he never, never learn to restrain himself? +What business had he to talk of such things to such +a woman. To let the holy of holies become, most +likely, a subject of mere idle curiosity and idle +talk?</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IV.</h3> + +<p>As Greenleaf looked up from the article on the "Rochdale +Pioneers and Co-operation" and glanced out +of the window at the smoke-veiled, soot-engrained +Northern towns, and the bleak-green North country +hillsides which flashed past the express, he did not +realise at all clearly that he was going to see once +more Miss Val Flodden, and see her in the unexpected +relations of hostess and guest.</p> + +<p>She had indeed, during their last ramble through +the British Museum, said something vague about his +coming to Yetholme if ever he came North; but he +had given the invitation no weight and had forgotten +it completely. His journey was due to a circumstance +more important in his eyes than the visit of a +young lady to his studio, and would be crowned by an +event far more satisfactory than the meeting with a +stray acquaintance.</p> + +<p>For Sir Percy Flodden had at last decided to sell +the famous Yetholme collection of majolica and +Palissy ware; and the South Kensington authorities +had selected Leonard Greenleaf, potter and writer on +pottery, to verify the catalogue and conclude the purchase. +It was one of Greenleaf's socialist maxims +that no important works of art should be hidden from +public enjoyment in the houses of private collectors; +an Act of Parliament, in his opinion, should force all +owners to sell to the nation, supposing that arguments +in favour of true citizenship and true love of +art had failed to make them bestow their property +gratis. Greenleaf had agitated during several years +to induce the public to make the first bid for the +Yetholme collection; difficulties of all kinds had +stood in the way, and the owner himself had become +restive in the negotiations; but now, at last, this immortal +earthenware had been saved from further private +collections and secured for the enjoyment of +everybody.</p> + +<p>This being the case, it was not wonderful if Miss +Flodden was thrown into the shade by her family +collection; and if Greenleaf had gradually got to +think very little about her of late—I say of late, +because until the Yetholme sale had diverted his +mind from theory to practice, Miss Flodden had +played a certain part in Greenleaf's thoughts. Her +sudden intrusion upon the monotony of his existence +had made him ponder once more upon his undergraduate's +dream of reclaiming the upper as well as +the lower classes; a dream which had gradually vanished +before practical contact with the pressing want +of the poor. He had forgotten, during the last five +or six years, that the leisured classes existed otherwise +than as oppressors of the overworked ones. But now +there had returned to the surface his constitutional +craving for harmony, his horror of class warfare, a +horror all the greater that in this very gentle soul +there was a possibility of intense hatred. Why +should not the whole of society work out harmoniously +a new and better social order? After all, he +and his chosen friends belonged to the privileged +class, and only the privileged class could give the +generous initiative required to counteract the selfish +claiming of rights from below. Mankind was not +wicked and perverse; and the injustice, wantonness, +and cruelty of the rich were, doubtless, a result of +their ignorance: they must be shown that they could +do without so many things and that other folk were +wanting those things so very much. And, half consciously, +the image of Val Flodden rose up to concentrate +and typify the ideas she had evoked. She was +the living example of the ignorance of all higher +right and wrong, of all the larger facts of existence, in +which the so-called upper classes lived on no better +than heathen blacks.</p> + +<p>In these reflections Greenleaf had never claimed +for Miss Flodden any individual superiority: to do so +would have been to diminish her value as a type and +an illustration. She had become, in his thoughts, the +natural woman as produced, or rather as destroyed, by +the evil constitution of idle society. She appeared, +indeed, to have a personal charm, but this was doubtless +a class peculiarity which his inexperience perceived +as an individual one. It was the sole business +of idle folk, Greenleaf said to himself, to make themselves +charming, and they doubtless carried this +quality as high as blacksmiths do strength of arm, and +sempstresses nimbleness of finger: for the occasional +examples of idle folk without any charm at all quickly +faded from Greenleaf's logical memory. Also, he forgot +for the moment, that many women, neither ignorant +nor idle, the three Miss Carpenters for instance, +who lived in a servantless flat in Holborn and worked +in the East End, had as much charm, though not quite +the same; and that there were tricks of manner and +speech, affectations of school-boy slang, yokel ways, +about Miss Flodden herself, which affected his sensitive +nerves as ungraceful. But, be this as it may, the +acquaintance with Miss Flodden had set his thoughts +on the disadvantages of the upper classes, and he +found it convenient to use Miss Flodden as an illustration +thereof.</p> + +<p>Besides, every now and then, Greenleaf had felt, in +those long talks at the Museum, a curious pang of pity +for her. In Greenleaf's nature, more thoughtful than +logical, the dominating forces were a kind of transcendent +æstheticism, and an extraordinary, also transcendent, +compassion—compassion which, coming +upon him in veritable stabs, went to his head and +soon passed the boundaries of individual pain and +wrong. This man, who aspired towards the future +and really hankered painfully after the past, was like +some mediæval monk all quivering at the sufferings +of a far-distant, impersonal Godhead, for the sake of +whose wrongs he could even hate fiercely, and for the +sake of whose more than individual sufferings he +could feel, every now and then, overwhelming pity for +some small, ill-treated bird, or beast, or man. That +this girl—intelligent and good—had been brought up +not merely in utter indifference to real evil (tempered +only by a vague fear of a black man who carried you +to hell and a much blacker man who turned you out +of society) but in ignorance of every one of the nobler +and more beautiful activities of life; this perception +of moral and intellectual starvation, veiled his mind +with tears and made him spiritually choke, like the +sight of a supperless ragged child, or of a dog that +had lost its master.</p> + +<p>Such impressions had been common enough in +their two or three meetings. They had met several +times in the Museum, and once at Messrs. Boyce's +works, the utter unworldliness of Greenleaf's mind +preventing his asking himself, even once, whether +such proceedings did not display unusual recklessness +on the part of a girl belonging to Miss Flodden's set; +so much that he did not even take heed of Miss Flodden's +occasional remarks showing that this liberty, +this familiarity with a man and a stranger, were possible +only because she had deliberately turned her +back on her former companions. Indifferent to personal +matters, he had not even understood very +plainly (although he had a pleasant, vague sense of +something similar) that unfamiliarity with the class +and type to which he belonged had given the girl +a sense of absolute safety which allowed her to go +about and discuss everything with this man from a +different sphere, as she might have done with another +woman. This knowledge was vague and scarce conscious, +taking the form rather of indignation with +Miss Flodden's world and pity for Miss Flodden's +self, whenever, incidentally, she said things which revealed +the habit of an opposite state of things, the +habit of a woman's liberty of action, speech and feeling +being cramped by disbelief in men's purity and +honour, or rather by knowledge of their thinly varnished +baseness.</p> + +<p>Thus it had come about during that dim and delicate +London June that the young lady from Eaton +Square had become a familiar figure in the mind, if +not in the life, of the Socialist potter of Church Street, +Bloomsbury. There was, of course, a certain exotic +strain in the matter; and as they rambled among the +solemn sitting Pharaohs, the Roman Emperors and +headless Greek demigods, and the rows of glass cases +in the cool, empty Museum, Greenleaf occasionally +experienced, while discussing various forms of art +and describing dead civilisations, a little shock of +surprise on realising the nature of his companion, on +catching every now and then an intonation and an +expression which told of ball-rooms and shooting-houses, +on perceiving suddenly, silhouetted against +the red wall, or reflected in a glass case, the slender, +dapper figure in its plain, tight clothes; the tight, +straight-featured head beneath its close little bonnet. +But this sense of the unusual and the exotic was subdued +by the sense of the real, the actually present, +just as, in some foreign or Eastern town, our disbelief +in the possibility of it all is oddly moulded into a sort +of familiarity by the knowledge that we are our ourselves, +and ourselves are on the spot.</p> + +<p>It was different now; as his train jogged slowly +along the banks of the Tweed, between the bare, green +hills and the leafy little ravines of Northumberland. +A couple of months' separation had gradually reduced +Miss Flodden to an unfamiliar, and almost an abstract +being. She was the subject no longer of impressions, +but merely of reflections; and of reflections which +had grown daily more general, as the perfume of individuality +faded away. Greenleaf lived so much +more in his thoughts than in his life that creatures +very speedily got to represent nothing but problems +to him. At this moment his main interest in life was +to secure the Yetholme collection of majolica and +Palissy work; the fact that he was going, in a few +minutes, to meet Miss Flodden was not more important +than the fact that he would have to get his +portmanteau out of the van. And as to Miss Flodden, +she represented to him, in a rather rubbed-out way, +the problem of upper class want of education and +moral earnestness.</p> + +<p>It seemed to him also, as he shook hands with Miss +Flodden, in her cart at Yetholme station, and took his +place beside her in the vehicle, that not only all his +own feelings about Miss Flodden, but Miss Flodden +herself had changed. She had grown so much more +like everybody else, he thought, or he had got to see +her so much more in her reality. There was nothing +exotic about her now, wrapped in a big, fuzzy cloak, +a big cap drawn over her head, concealing the close, +light-brown curls, and making her face so very much +less keen in feature. He wondered why he had seen +so much of the Celt in her, and such a far-fetched +nervous fineness. She seemed also, in her almost +monosyllabic conversation, mainly preoccupied with +his portmanteau, the hours of his train, the names of +the villages and hills they passed, and similar commonplace +matters; whereas, in London he had noted +the eager insistence with which she had immediately +set the conversation and firmly kept it on intellectual +and artistic problems.</p> + +<p>The cart rolled away by high-lying fields of pale +green barley and oats shivering in the cold breeze, +between the stunted hedges, whence an occasional +wind-warped thorn-tree rose black against the pale +yellow afternoon sky, with every now and then a +bunch of blue cranesbill, or a little fluttering group of +poppies, taking the importance of bushes and trees in +this high, bleak, Northern country. Great savage +dogs, with chests and pointed ears like the antique +Cerberus, came barking out of the black stone cottages; +and over the fields, from the tree-tops just +visible in the river valley below, circled innumerable +rooks, loudly cawing. The road made a sudden dip, +and they were on a level with the wide, shingly bed of +the Tweed, scattered sheep grazing along the banks. +Then a black belfry appeared among black ash trees; +a row of black cottages bordered the road with their +hollyhocks and asters; and the cart rolled in between +rows of rook-peopled trees, and stopped at last before +a long, black stone house, sunk, as in some parts +of Scotland, into a kind of trench. There was a +frightful alarum of dogs of all kinds, rushing up +from all directions. But Miss Flodden led Greenleaf +into the house and through various passages, +without any human being appearing, save a boy, to +whom she threw the reins at the door. At last, in +a big, dark drawing-room, a child was discovered +helping herself to milk and bread and jam at a +solitary table.</p> + +<p>"They're all out," she said, taking no notice of +Greenleaf, although scanning him with the critical +eyes of six or seven. "Cut me a scone, Val, and put +butter on it, but not too much."</p> + +<p>"This is a step-sister of mine," explained Miss +Flodden, laconically, nodding in the child's direction, +as she threw aside her cloak, drew off her gloves, and +began pouring out tea. "I say, leave that scone alone +until I can cut it for you. It's rather hard lines on one +for the family to have its tea and leave us only the +cold dregs."</p> + +<p>She looked listless and calm and bored. Greenleaf +wondered how he could ever have romanced about +this handsome, commonplace young woman. Then he +began to speculate as to where the famous collection +was kept.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>V.</h3> + +<p>"It's very unfair of me, of course," Miss Flodden +remarked next morning, as she handed down plate +after plate, jar after jar, to Greenleaf, seated, the catalogue +before him and the pen in his hand, at a long +deal table—"it's very unfair, and it isn't at all business, +but I used to think I should like to see you +again; and now, on account of these pots, I dislike +you."</p> + +<p>Greenleaf looked up in astonishment. It was as if +the veil of sullenness, preventing his recognition of +Miss Flodden ever since his arrival, had suddenly +been torn asunder by a burst of passion. The girl +was standing by the glass case, dusting a Limoges +platter with a feather brush, her mannish coat and +short skirt covered with dust. She spoke in an +undertone, and her eyes were looking down upon the +platter; but it struck him at once that she was a Celt +once more, and that the Celtic waywardness and +emotion were bursting out the more irresistibly for +that long repression due to the Spartan undemonstrativeness +of smart society. He noticed also a trait he +had forgotten, and which had seemed to be, long ago +at the Museum, a sort of mark of temperament, telling +of inherited ferocity in this well-bred young lady; +two of her little white teeth, instead of being square +pearls, like their companions, were pointed and sharp, +like those of a wild animal. And as she raised her +eyes, their light, whitish blue, flashed angrily.</p> + +<p>"Excuse my being so rude, Mr. Greenleaf," she +added very coldly, "you have been so good, showing +and explaining a lot of things to me, that it's only +fair you should know that, on account of the pots, I +have—well, got to dislike you. You see," she went +on, turning her back to him, "they were my toys. +They were the only people, except the trees and the +river, one had to talk to sometimes."</p> + +<p>Greenleaf had noticed at dinner last night, and +again this morning at lunch, that Miss Flodden +seemed to have very little in common with her family, +and, indeed, scarcely any communication at all.</p> + +<p>Sir Percy Flodden, an old gentleman with a beautiful +white beard, and beautiful soft manners, but a +deficiency in further characteristics, had found leisure, +in the intervals of organising Primrose meetings, +making speeches at Conservative dinners, writing +letters to the <i>Times</i> about breeds of cattle, and hunting +and fishing a great deal, to get married a second +time, and to produce a large number of younger +fishermen and huntresses, future Primrose Leaguers +and writers to the <i>Times.</i> The second wife being +dead, and sundry aunts installed in her place, the +younger generation of Floddens, after gradually +emerging from the nursery, ran wild in brooks and +streams, stables and haylofts, until the boys were +packed off to civilisation and Eton, pending further +civilisation and Sandhurst; and the girls were initiated +into their proper form of civilisation by being +taken to a drawing-room and then hustled into further +female evolution by an energetic and tactful married +sister. The elder girls were now at home, preparing +clothes for various balls and packing trunks for various +visits; and the elder boys had come back on +holidays, with fishing-rods, coin collections, the first +three books of Euclid, and the last new thing in +slang; as to the younger half-brothers and sisters, +they were still in the phase of the hayloft and stable, +emerging only to partake of gigantic breakfasts and +teas.</p> + +<p>Among all these good-natured and well-mannered, +but somewhat dull creatures, Val Flodden moved in +an atmosphere of her own, somewhat of a stranger, +considerably of a puzzle, and regarded with the +mixed awe and suspicion due to her having been +recently an admittedly pretty woman, and now +showing signs of becoming an undoubtedly eccentric +one. Besides, there was the fact that Val Flodden +was partially a Celt, and that her father and brothers +were most emphatically Saxons.</p> + +<p>All this it has been necessary to explain that the +reader might understand that Greenleaf might have +understood Miss Flodden's passionate clinging to her +sole companions at Yetholme, the old crockery of her +grandfather's collection.</p> + +<p>But although Greenleaf did actually take in a portion +of the situation, he was mainly impressed by the +want of public spirit exhibited by the young lady; +so inevitably do we expect other folk to possess even +our most eccentric standards, and to rule their feelings +and actions by notions of which they have probably +never even heard.</p> + +<p>Miss Flodden had broken through all rules in manifesting +her feelings about the pots; Greenleaf never +dreamed of taking advantage of her false move, but +with his usual simplicity, encouraged by a plain-spokenness, +which never struck him as otherwise +than natural, he answered very gravely: "Of course +I understand how fond you must be of these beautiful +things, and how much it must have been to you—it +would be to anyone who cared for art, even if not +specially interested like you in pottery—to have them +constantly before you. But you ought to remember +that you are parting with them for the advantage of +others."</p> + +<p>Miss Flodden flushed a little. It was probably from +surprise and shame at this man's stupidity. She must +have felt as if she herself had alluded to the necessity +of selling these heirlooms, as if she herself had done +the incredible thing of pointing out the pecuniary +advantage. Then, apparently, she reflected that if +this man was so obtuse, he could not help himself; +but that he was doubtless honest in his intentions. +For she added coldly, and hiding her contemptuous +face from him with a jar held at arms' length:</p> + +<p>"Of course I know that it's for the benefit of my +brothers and sisters. I don't grudge them the money, +heaven knows, and when one's broke, one's broke. +Only it's sad to think what sort of things—what stupid +amusements and useless necessaries these lovely +things will be exchanged for, merely because the +world is so idiotically constituted. You see, the +possession of these pots ought to give everyone more +pleasure than the possession of an additional horse, +or an extra frock."</p> + +<p>Greenleaf was as much taken aback at her misconception +of his meaning as she had been at her supposed +understanding of it.</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, Miss Flodden, I didn't mean the +advantage of your brothers and sisters. But surely +you ought to reflect that these pots passing from a +private house in Northumberland to the South Kensington +Museum, will mean that hundreds of people +will be afforded pleasure, instead of only one or two—one, +namely yourself, by your own account. Besides, +do you really think that any private individual +has a moral right to keep for himself any object +capable of giving a noble kind of pleasure to his fellows, +merely because the present state of society allows +him to possess more money than his neighbours, and +to lock up things as his property? Surely art belongs +to all who can enjoy it!"</p> + +<p>There was something fault-finding in Greenleaf's +tone, owing to the fact that he could not realise such +ideas, so very familiar to himself, not being equally +familiar to everyone else.</p> + +<p>Miss Flodden set down the jar she was dusting, +keeping her wrist balanced on its edge, and looked +at Greenleaf with surprise in her blue eyes, which concentrated, +and seemed to grow darker and deeper by +the concentration.</p> + +<p>"Really," she asked incredulously, "are you speaking +seriously? But then—what would become of +luxury and so forth?"</p> + +<p>"The active would enjoy it as well as the idle—or +rather, there would be no longer either active or idle; +everyone would work and enjoy equally, and equally +fairly and rationally."</p> + +<p>"Then," went on Miss Flodden slowly, the sequence +of thoughts bursting with difficulty on to her mind, +"no one would have things, except for real enjoyment +and as a result of fairly earning them? People would +all have books and beautiful trees and fields to look +at, and pictures and music; but no diamonds, or +stepping horses, or frocks from Worth—the things +one has because other folk have them."</p> + +<p>Greenleaf smiled: she seemed to him, talking of +these things which "one" had because "others" had +them, things so futile, so foreign to his mind, extraordinarily +like a child talking of the snakes, whales, +and ogres, represented by tables and chairs, and +hearthrugs.</p> + +<p>"Of course not."</p> + +<p>"At that rate," went on the girl, "there would no +longer be any need for marrying and giving in marriage. +One would live quite free; free to work at +what one liked, and look about without folks worrying +one."</p> + +<p>Greenleaf did not follow her thought, for his own +thoughts were too foreign to the habits she was +alluding to.</p> + +<p>"I don't see," he added simply, "why people +shouldn't marry or be given in marriage because every +one worked and had leisure. Some mightn't, perhaps, +because some would always, perhaps, want to work too +much, and because things matter to me—I mean to some—more +than other people. But I can't see why others +shouldn't marry and be given in marriage, Miss +Flodden."</p> + +<p>A little contraction passed across the girl's face, and +she answered in a hurried, husky voice:</p> + +<p>"No, no; that would be all over."</p> + +<p>And they fell again to the catalogue. It was a +very hard day's work, that first one, for the catalogue +was in horrid confusion; and they really could not +have had time to talk much about other things, for +they went on with merely a brief space for lunch, and +Greenleaf was sent for a walk with one of the boys +at tea time, while Miss Flodden unwillingly entertained +some neighbours. Then at dinner the conversation, +in which she took no part, rolled mainly upon +local pedigrees, crops, how many fish the boys had +caught, in what houses friends were staying, whom +sundry young ladies of the neighbourhood were likely +to marry, and how many bags had been made at the +various shoots. Still, despite these irrelevant interests, +Miss Flodden seemed to have understood why Greenleaf +had expected her to like the sale of the collection, +and Greenleaf to have understood why Miss Flodden +should have been vexed at the collection being sold. +At least there was a sense of mutual comprehension +and good-will, such as the morning had scarcely +promised. And when, after fretting a little over more +bags of game and more local pedigrees, with his +host and the boys after dinner, Greenleaf returned to +find the ladies in various stages of somnolence, over +the drawing-room fire; he experienced an odd sense +of the naturalness of things when Miss Flodden asked +whether he could play the piano, and took her violin +out of its case.</p> + +<p>Miss Flodden did not play exactly well, for it appears +that very few people do; and she, of course, +had had but little opportunity of learning. Yet, in a +way, she played the fiddle much better, Greenleaf +felt, than he himself, who was decidedly a proficient, +could play the piano. For there was in her playing +the expression not merely of talent, but of extraordinary, +passionate, dogged determination to master +the instrument. It was as much this as the actual +execution which gave the charm to her performance. +To Greenleaf the charm was immense. He nearly +always played, when he did play, with men; and he +hated the way in which the fiddle crushes the starched +hideous shirt, the movement of bowing rucks the +black sleeve and hard white cuff too high above +the red, masculine wrist; and among the dreams of +his life there had always been a very silly one, of a +younger sister—he always thought of her as called +Emily—who would have learned the violin, and who +would have stood before him like this, bow in hand, +while he looked up from his piano. It seems odd, +perhaps, that the fair violinist should never have appeared +to his mind as a possible wife; but so it was. +And so it was that this image, which had dawned +upon his school-boy fancy long before the delectableness +of marriage could ever be understood, and when +his solitary little soul still smarted at his dull, grown-up, +companionless home—so it was that the image +of "Emily"—the imaginary sister with the violin—had +gradually taken the place in his heart of that +grave Miss Delia Carpenter, the only woman whom +he had ever loved, and who had told him she was in +love with another.</p> + +<p>The family was beginning to disperse; the girls to +wake up yawning from their novels or their embroidery; +the father to start suddenly from his slumber +over the <i>Times</i>; the boys, having satisfied themselves +in the newspapers about the number of brace of +grouse, had sneaked off to prepare flies for the next +day's fishing; and still the duet went on, the image of +"Emily" gradually acquiring the blue eyes (its own +had been brownish) and clear-cut, nervous features +(she had hitherto had an irregular style of beauty) of +Val Flodden.</p> + +<p>"That's enough," said Miss Flodden, putting her +violin tenderly—she had the same rather unwonted +tenderness with some of the majolica—into its case, +and looking round at the sleepy faces of the family. +"Jack, give Mr. Greenleaf his candle. And," she +added, as they shook hands, "you'll tell me some +more about how it will be when everybody works +and has leisure, won't you, to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>That night Greenleaf saw in his dreams his father's +rectory among the south country pines, the garden +and paddock, the big library and loft full of books; +and among it all there wandered about, rather dim in +features, but unhesitatingly recognised, that imaginary +sister, the violinist Emily.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VI.</h3> + +<p>"Tell me more about the Miss Carpenters," said +Miss Flodden shyly, keeping her eyes fixed on the +rapidly flowing twist of water between the big shingle, +where every now and then came the spurt of a +salmon's leap.</p> + +<p>They were seated, after tea, and another hard day's +cataloguing, under some beech trees that overhung +the Tweed. From the fields opposite—no longer +England, already Scotland—came the pant and whirr +of a threshing-machine; while from the woods issued +the caw of innumerable rooks, blackening the sky. +A heron rose from among the reeds of the bank, and +mounted, printing the pale sky with his Japanese +outline. There was incredible peacefulness, not unmixed +with austerity, in the gurgle of the water, the +green of the banks, the scent of damp earth.</p> + +<p>Greenleaf, who was very reserved about his friends, +so much that one friend might almost have imagined +him to possess no others, had somehow slid into +speaking of his little Bloomsbury world to this girl, +who was so foreign to it. It had come home to him +how utterly Miss Flodden had lived out of contact +with all the various concerns of life, and out of sight +of the people who have such. Except pottery and +violin music, come into her existence by the merest +accident, and remaining there utterly isolated, she had +no experience, save of the vanities of the world. But +what struck him most, and seemed to him even more +piteous, was her habit of regarding these vanities as +matters not of amusement, but of important business. +To her, personally, it would seem, indeed, that frocks, +horses, diamonds, invitations to this house or that, and +all the complications of social standing, afforded little +or no satisfaction. But then she accepted the fact of +being an eccentric, a creature not quite all it should +be; and she expected everyone else to be different, +to be seriously engaged in the pursuit of the things +she, personally, and owing to her eccentricity, did not +want.</p> + +<p>It was extraordinary how, while she expressed her +own distaste for various weaknesses and shortcomings, +she defended those who gave way to them as perfectly +normal creatures. Greenleaf was horrified to +hear her explain, with marvellous perception of how +and wherefore, and without any blame, the manner +in which women may gradually allow men not their +husbands to pay their dressmaker's bills, and gradually +to become masters of their purse and of themselves: +the necessity of a new frock at some race or +ball, the desire to outshine another woman, to get +into royalty's notice, and the fear of incensing a +husband already hard up—all this seemed to Miss +Flodden perfectly natural and incontrovertible; and she +pleaded for those who gave way under such pressure.</p> + +<p>"Of course I wouldn't do it," she said, twisting a +long straw in her hands; "it strikes me as bad form, +don't you know; but then I'm peculiar, and there are +so many things in the world which other folk don't +mind, and which I can't bear. I don't like some of +their talk, and I don't like their not running quite +straight. But then I seem to have been born with a +skin less than one ought to have."</p> + +<p>Greenleaf listened in silent horror. In the course of +discussing how much the world might be improved by +some of his socialistic plans, this young lady of four or +five and twenty had very simply and quietly unveiled +a state of corruption, of which, in his tirades against +wealth and luxury, he had had but the vaguest +idea. "You see," Miss Flodden had remarked, +"it's because one has to have so many things which +one's neighbours have, whether they give one much +pleasure or not, that a woman gets into such false +positions, which make people, if things get too obvious, +treat her in a beastly, unjust way. But women +have always been told that they <i>must</i> have this and +that, and go to such and such a house, otherwise +they'd not keep up in it all; and then they're fallen +upon afterwards. It's awfully unfair. Why, of +course, if one hadn't always been told that one <i>must</i> +have frocks, and carriages, and <i>must</i> go to Marlborough +House, one wouldn't get married. Of +course it's different with me, because I'm queer, and +I like making pots, and am willing to know no one. +But then that's all wrong, at least my married +sister is always saying so. And, of course, I'm +not going to marry, however much they bore me +about it."</p> + +<p>"You speak as if women got married merely for +the sake of living like their neighbours," remarked +Greenleaf; "that's absurd."</p> + +<p>Miss Flodden, seated on a stone, looked up at him +under his beech tree. Her face bore a curious expression +of incredulity dashed with contempt. Could +he be a Pharisee?</p> + +<p>"There may be exceptions," she answered, "and +perhaps you may know some. But if a woman were +secure of her living, and did not want things, why +should she get married?" It was as if she had said, +Why should a Hindoo widow burn herself? "There +must be some inducement," she added, looking into +the water and plucking at the grass, "to give oneself +into the keeping of another person." Her face had +that same contraction, as once when she had mentioned +the matter before.</p> + +<p>"Good God," thought Greenleaf, "into what ugly bits +of life had this girl been forced to look!" And he +felt a great pity and indignation about things in +general.</p> + +<p>Miss Flodden sent a stone skimming across the +river, as if to dismiss the subject, and then it was that +she said rather hesitatingly:</p> + +<p>"Tell me more about the Miss Carpenters."</p> + +<p>She had an odd, timid curiosity about Greenleaf's +friends, about everyone who did anything, as if she +feared to intrude on them even in thought.</p> + +<p>Greenleaf had spoken about them before and not +unintentionally. These three sisters, living in their +flat off Holborn, doing all their housework themselves, +and yet finding time to work among the poor, to be +cultivated and charming, were a stalking horse of his, +an example he liked to bring before this member of +fast society.</p> + +<p>He had taken his refusal by one of the sisters with +a philosophy which had astonished himself, for he +certainly had thought that Delia was very dear to +him. She was dear in a way now. But he felt quite +pleased at her marriage with young Farquhar of +the Museum, and he rather enjoyed talking about +her. He told Miss Flodden of Maggie Carpenter's +work among the sweaters, and of the readings of English +literature she and Clara gave to the shop-girls; +and he was a little shocked, when he told her of the +young woman from Shoolbred's who had borrowed +a volume of Webster, that Val Flodden had never +heard of that eminent dramatist, and thought he was +the dictionary. He described the little suppers they +gave in their big kitchen, where the one or two guests +helped to lay the table and to wash up afterwards, +previous to going to the highest seats in the Albert +Hall, or to some socialist lecture; then the return on +foot through the silent, black Bloomsbury streets. +He made it sound even more idyllic than it really +was. Then he spoke of Delia and the piano lessons +she gave and the poems she wrote. He even repeated +two of the poems out loud and felt that they were very +beautiful.</p> + +<p>"They can never bore themselves," remarked Miss +Flodden, pensively.</p> + +<p>"Bore themselves?" responded Greenleaf.</p> + +<p>"Yes: bore themselves and feel they just <i>must</i> +have something different to think about, like birds +beating against cage bars." Then, after a pause, she +said vaguely and hesitatingly: "I wish there were +a chance for one to know the Miss Carpenters."</p> + +<p>Greenleaf brightened up. This was what he +wished. "Of course you shall know them, if you +care, Miss Flodden, only<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>"Only—you mean that they would think me a bore +and an intruder."</p> + +<p>"No," answered Greenleaf, he scarcely knew why, +"that's not what I meant. But you must remember +that you and they belong to different classes of +society."</p> + +<p>Miss Flodden's face contracted. "Ah," she exclaimed +angrily. "Why must you throw that in my +face? You have said that sort of thing several times +before. Why do you?"</p> + +<p>Why, indeed? For Greenleaf could not desist, +every now and then, from bringing up that fact. It +made the girl quiver, but he could not help himself; +it was an attempt to find out whether she was really +in earnest, which he occasionally doubted; and also +it was a natural reaction against certain cynical assumptions, +certain takings for granted on Miss Flodden's +part that the vanity and corruption of her miserable +little clique permeated the whole of the world—of +the world which did not even know, in many instances, +that there was such a thing as a smart lot!</p> + +<p>But now he was sorry.</p> + +<p>"Indeed," he said sorrowfully, "such a gulf between +classes unfortunately still exists. In our civilisation, +where luxury and the money which buys it go +for so much, those who work must necessarily be +separate from those who play."</p> + +<p>"Heaven knows you have no right to abuse us for +having money," exclaimed Miss Flodden, much hurt. +"Why, if I don't get married, and I shan't, I shall never +have a penny to bless myself with."</p> + +<p>"It's a question of the lot one belongs to," answered +Greenleaf unkindly; but added, rather remorsefully: +"Would you like me to give you a letter for the +Miss Carpenters when next you go to town? I have," +he hesitated a little, "talked a good deal about you +with them."</p> + +<p>"Really!" exclaimed Miss Flodden quickly. +"That's awfully good of you—I mean to give me +a letter—only I fear it will bore them. I shall be +going to town for a week or two in October. May I +call on them then, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Of course." And Greenleaf, who was a business-like +man, drew out his pocket-book, full of little +patterns for pots and notes for lectures, and wrote on +a clean page:</p> + +<p>"Mem.: Letter for the Miss Carpenters for Miss +Flodden."</p> + +<p>"I will write it to-night or to-morrow; you shall +have it before I leave. By the way, that train the +day after to-morrow is at 6.20, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Miss Flodden. "I wish you +could stay longer."</p> + +<p>And they walked home.</p> + +<p>As they wandered through the high-lying fields of +green oats and yellow barley, among whose long +beards the low sun made golden dust, with the dark, +greenish Cheviots on one side, purple clouds hanging +on their moor sides, and the three cones of the Eildons +rising, hills of fairy-land, faint upon the golden sunset +mist—as they wandered talking of various things, pottery, +philosophy, and socialism, Greenleaf felt stealing +across his soul a peacefulness as unlike his usual +mood, as this northern afternoon, with soughing grain +and twittering of larks, was different from the grime +and bustle of London. He knew, now, that Miss +Delia Carpenter's refusal had been best for him; his +nature was too thin to allow of his giving himself both +to a wife and family, and to the duties and studies +which claimed him; he would have starved the affections +of the first while neglecting the second. His +life must always be a solitary one with his work. But +into this rather cheerless solitude, there seemed to +be coming something, he could scarcely tell what. +Greenleaf believed in the possible friendship between +a man and a woman; if it had not existed often +hitherto, that was the fault of our corrupt bringing up. +But it was possible and necessary; a thing different +from, more perfect and more useful, than any friendship +between persons of the same sex. But more +different still, breezier, more robust and serene, than +love even at its best. And had he not always wished +for that sister, that Emily who had never existed? +Of course he did not contemplate seeing very much +of Miss Flodden; still less did he admit to himself +that this strange, reserved, yet outspoken girl might +be the friend he craved for. But he felt a curious +satisfaction, despite his better reason, which protested +against everything abnormal, and which explained a +great deal by premature experience of the world's +ugliness—he felt a satisfaction at Miss Flodden's +aversion to marriage. He could not have explained +why, but he knew in a positive manner that this girl +never had been, and never would be, in love; that +this young woman of a frivolous and fast lot, was a +sort of female Hippolytus, but without a male Diana; +and he held tight to the knowledge as to a treasure.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VII.</h3> + +<p>The next day, Greenleaf was a little out of conceit +with himself and the world at large: a vague depression +and irritation got hold of him. Before breakfast, +while ruminating over a list of books for Miss Flodden's +reading, he had mechanically taken up a volume +which lay on the drawing-room table. There were not +many books at Yetholme, except those which were +never moved from the library shelves; and the family's +taste ran to Rider Haggard and sporting novels; +while the collection put in his room, and bearing the +name of <i>Valentine Flodden</i>, consisted either of things he +already knew by heart—a selection from Browning, +a volume of Tolstoy, and an Imitation of Christ;—or of +others—as sundry works on Esoteric Buddhism, a +handbook of Perspective, and a novel by Marie Corelli—which +he felt little desire to read. The book that +he took up was from the Circulating Library, Henry +James's "Princess Casamassima." He had read it, +of course, and dived into it—the last volume it was—at +random. Do authors ever reflect how much influence +they must occasionally have, coming by accident, +to arouse some latent feeling, or to reinforce +some dominant habit of mind? Certainly Henry +James had been possessed of no ill-will towards Miss +Val Flodden, whom indeed he might have made the +heroine of some amiable story. Yet Henry James, at +that moment, did Val Flodden a very bad turn. +Greenleaf got up from the book, after twenty minutes' +random reading, in a curiously suspicious and aggressive +mood. Of course he never dreamed that he, +a gentleman of some independent means, a scholar, +a man who had known the upper classes long before +he had ever come in contact with the lower, could +have anything in common with poor Hyacinth, the +socialist bookbinder, pining for luxury and the love +of a great lady; neither was there much resemblance +between Christina Light, married to Prince Casamassima, +and this young Val Flodden married to nobody; +yet the book depressed him horribly, by its suggestion +of the odd freaks of curiosity which relieve the +weariness of idle lives. And the depression was such, +that he could not hold his tongue on the subject.</p> + +<p>"Have you read that book—the 'Princess Casamassima'—Miss +Flodden?" he asked at breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered the girl; "isn't it good? and so +natural, don't you think?"</p> + +<p>"You don't mean that you think the Princess +natural—you don't think there ever could be such a +horrible woman?"</p> + +<p>He was quite sure there might be, indeed the fear +of such an one quite overpowered him at this very +moment; and he asked in hopes of Miss Flodden +saying that there were no Princess Casamassimas.</p> + +<p>Something in his tone appeared to irritate Miss +Flodden. She thought him pharisaical, as she sometimes +did, and considered it her duty to give him a +setting down with the weight of her superior worldly +wisdom.</p> + +<p>"Of course I think her natural; only she might be +more natural still."</p> + +<p>"You mean more wicked?" asked Greenleaf +sharply.</p> + +<p>"No, not more wicked. The woman in the book +may be intended to be wicked; but she needn't have +been so in real life. Not at all wicked. She's merely +a clever woman who is bored by society, and who +wants to know about a lot of things and people. +Heaps of women want to know about things because +they're bored, but it's not always about nice things +and nice people, as in the case of the Princess. She +may have done mischief—she shouldn't have played +with that wretched little morbid bookbinding boy; +women oughtn't to play with men even when they're +fools, indeed especially not then. But that wasn't +inevitable. Hyacinth <i>would</i> run under her wheels. +Of course I shouldn't have cared for that chemist creature +either, nor for that Captain Sholto; he behaved +rather like a cad all round, don't you think? But after +all, they all talked very well; about interesting things—real, +important things—didn't they?"</p> + +<p>"And you think that to hear people talk about <i>real, +important things</i> is a great delight, Miss Flodden?" +asked Greenleaf, with a bitterness she did not fully +appreciate.</p> + +<p>"You would understand it if you had lived for years +among people who talked nothing but gossip and rot," +she answered sadly, rising from her place.</p> + +<p>No more was said that morning about the Princess +Casamassima. Miss Flodden was rather silent during +their cataloguing work, and Greenleaf felt vaguely +sore, he knew not what about.</p> + +<p>Throughout the day, there kept returning to his +mind those words, "You see they talked very well, +about interesting things, important, <i>real</i> things, didn't +they?" and the simple, taking-things-for-granted tone +in which they had been said. Women of her lot, +Miss Flodden had once informed him, would go great +lengths for the sake of a new frock or a pair of stepping +horses. Was it not possible that some of them, +to whom frocks and horses had been offered in too +great abundance, might transfer their desire for novelty +to interesting talk and <i>real</i> things?</p> + +<p>That was their last afternoon together. The catalogue +had been finished with. Miss Flodden took +Greenleaf for a drive in her cart. They sped along +under the rolling clouds of the blustering northern +afternoon, the rooks, in black swarms, cawing loudly, +and the pee-wits screeching among the stunted hedges +and black stones of the green, close-nibbled pastures; +it was one of those August days which foretell winter. +Greenleaf could never recollect very well what +they had talked about, except that it had been about a +great variety of things, which the blustering wind had +seemed to sweep away like the brown beech leaves in +the hollows. The fact was that Greenleaf was not attending. +He kept revolving in his mind the same idea, +with the impossibility of solving it. He was rather +like a man in love, who cannot decide whether or not +he is sufficiently so to make a declaration and feels the +propitious moment escaping. Greenleaf was not in +love; had he been, had there been any chance of his +being so, Val Flodden would not have been there in +the cart by his side; she had once told him, in one of +her fits of abstract communicativeness, that people in +love were despicable, but for that reason to be pitied, +and that to let them fall in love was to be unkind to +them, and to prepare a detestable exhibition for oneself. +So Greenleaf was not in love. But he was as +excited as if he had been. He felt that a great suspicion +had arisen within him; and that this suspicion +was about to deprive him of a friendship to which he +clung as to a newly-found interest in life.</p> + +<p>About Miss Flodden he did not think—that is to +say, whether he might be running the risk of depriving +<i>her</i> of something. He had not made love to her, so +what could he deprive her of? Besides he thought of +Miss Flodden exclusively as of the person who was +probably going to deprive him of something he wanted. +Deprive him if his suspicions should be true. For if +his suspicions were true, there was no alternative to +giving up all relations with her. He was not a selfish +man, trying to save himself heartburns and disenchantments. +He was thinking of his opinions, solely. It +was quite impossible that they should become the toys +of an idle, frivolous woman. Such a thing could not be. +The sense of sacrilege was so great that he did not even +say to himself that such a thing could <i>not be allowed</i>: +to him it took the form of impossibility of its being at all.</p> + +<p>Greenleaf was in an agony of doubt; he kept on repeating +to himself—"Is she a Princess Casamassima?" +so often, that at last he found it quite natural to put +the question, so often formulated internally, out loud to +her. Of course if she were a Princess Casamassima, +her denial would be worth nothing; but when we cannot +endure a suspicion against someone, we do not, in +our wild desire to have it denied at any price, stop +short to reflect that the denial will be worthless. A +denial; he wanted a denial, not for the sake of justice +towards her, but for his own peace of mind. He was +on the very point of putting that strange question to +her, when, in the process of a conversation in which he +had taken part as in a dream, there suddenly came the +unasked-for answer.</p> + +<p>They must have been talking of the Princess Casamassima +again, and of the uninterestingness of most +people's lives. Greenleaf could not remember. It +was all muddled in his memory, only there suddenly +flashed a sentence, distinct, burning, out of that forgotten +confusion.</p> + +<p>"It's odd," said Miss Flodden's high, occasionally +childish voice; "but I've always found that the people +who bored one least were either very clever or very +fast."</p> + +<p>They were clattering into a little border town, with +low black houses on either side, and a square tower, +with a red tile extinguisher, and a veering weather-cock, +closing the distance and connecting the grey, +wet flags below with the grey, billowy sky above.</p> + +<p>Greenleaf, although forgetful of all save theories, +remembered for a long time that street and that tower. +He did not answer, for his heart was overflowing with +bitterness.</p> + +<p>So it was true; and it just had to be. He had let +his belief become the plaything of a capricious child. +He had lost his dear friend. It was inevitable.</p> + +<p>Greenleaf did not say a word, and showed nothing +until his departure. But his letter to Miss Flodden, +thanking for the hospitality of Yetholme, was brief, +and it contained no allusion to any future meeting, and +no promised introduction to the Miss Carpenters. +Only at the end was this sentence: "I have lately +been re-reading Henry James's 'Princess Casamassima': +and I agree with you completely now as to the +naturalness of her character."</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VIII.</h3> + +<p>Some ten years later found Leonard Greenleaf once +more—but this time with only a brougham and a footman +to meet him—on his way to stay in a country +house. He had been left penniless by his attempts to +start co-operative workshops: and overwork and worry +had made him far too weak to be a tolerable artisan; +so, after having given up his pottery, those long years +ago, because it ministered exclusively to rich men's +luxury, he had been obliged to swallow the bitterness +of perfecting rich men's dwellings in the capacity of +Messrs. Boyce & Co.'s chief decorator; and now he +was bent upon one of these hated errands.</p> + +<p>Time, and the experience of many failures, had indeed +perplexed poor Greenleaf's socialistic schemes +a little, and had left him doubtful how to hasten the +millennium, except by the slow methods of preaching +morality and thrift; but time had rather exasperated +his hatred of the idleness and selfishness of the privileged +classes, to whose luxury he now found himself +a minister. And, as he looked out of his window +while dressing for dinner (those evening clothes, necessary +for such occasions, had become a badge of +servitude in his eyes), he felt that old indignation arise +with unaccountable strength, and choke him with his +own silence. It was a long, low house, the lawn +spread, with scarcely any fall, down to the river brink; +a wide band of green, then a wide band of shimmering, +undecided blue and grey, reflecting the coppery clouds +and purple banks of loose-strife, and then beyond and +higher up in the picture, flat meadows, whose surface +was beginning to be veiled in mist, and whose boundary +elms were growing flat and unsubstantial, like +painted things. There were birds twittering, and +leaves rustling: a great sense of peacefulness, for the +family and guests were doubtless within doors busy +dressing. Suddenly, there was a plash of oars, and a +peal of laughter; and, after a minute, two men and a +woman came hurrying up the green lawn, against whose +darkening slopes their white clothes made spots of unearthly +whiteness in the twilight. They were noisy, +and Greenleaf hated their laughter; but suddenly the +lady stopped short a moment, and said to her companions +in a tone of boredom and irritation: "Oh, shut +up; can't you let one look about and listen to things +once in a way?"</p> + +<p>There was more laughter, and they all disappeared +indoors. Greenleaf leaned upon his window, wondering +where he had heard that voice before—that voice, or +rather one different, but yet very like it.</p> + +<p>Downstairs, after a few civil speeches about the +pleasure of having the assistance of so great an artistic +authority, and sundry contradictory suggestions about +styles of furniture and architecture, Greenleaf's host +and hostess requested him to join in a little game devised +for the removal of precedence in the arrangement +of places at table. The game, which had been +suggested that very moment by one of the various tall, +blond and moustached youths hanging about the +drawing-room, consisted in hiding all the men behind +a door curtain, whence projected, as sole clue to their +identity, their more or less tell-tale feet, by which the +ladies were to choose their partners. The feet, so +Greenleaf said to himself, were singularly without identity; +he saw in his mind's eye the row of projecting, +pointed-toed, shining pumps, cut low upon the fantastic +assortment of striped, speckled, and otherwise enlivened +silk stockings. Among them all there could +only be a single pair betraying the nature of their +owner, and it was his. They said, or would say, in +the mute but expressive language of their square-toedness +(Greenleaf felt as if they might have elastic sides +even, although his democratic views had always +stopped short before that), that their owner was the +curate, the tutor, the house-decorator, in fine, the interloper. +He wondered whether, as good nature to +himself and consideration for the other guests must +prompt, those feet would be immediately selected by +the mistress of the house, or whether they would be +left there unclaimed, when all the others had marched +cheerfully off.</p> + +<p>But his suspense was quickly converted into another +feeling, when among the laughter and exclamations +provoked by the performance, a voice came from beyond +the curtain, saying slowly: "I think I'll have this +pair." The voice was the same he had heard from the +lawn, the same he had heard years ago in the British +Museum, and on the banks of the Tweed—the same +which once or twice since, but at ever-increasing intervals, +he had tried in vain to recall to his mind's +hearing. The voice—but grown deeper, more deliberate +and uniformly weary—of Val Flodden.</p> + +<p>Greenleaf heard vaguely the introductory interchange +of names performed by his hostess; and felt in his +back the well-bred smile of amusement of the couples +still behind, as the lady took his unprepared arm and +walked him off in the helter-skelter move to the dining-room; +and it was as in a dream that he heard his +name pronounced, with the added information, on the +part of his companion, that it was a long time since +they had last met.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Greenleaf, as the servant gently +pushed him and his chair nearer the table; "it must +be quite a lot of years ago. I have come here," he +added, he scarce knew why—but with a vague sense of +protest and self-defence—"about doing up the house."</p> + +<p>"Yes, to be sure—it is all going to be overhauled +and made beautiful and inappropriate," replied the +lady, with a faint intonation of insolence, Greenleaf +thought, in her bored voice.</p> + +<p>"It is not always easy, is it," rejoined Greenleaf, "to +make things appropriate?"</p> + +<p>"And beautiful? I suppose not. We aren't any of +us very appropriate to a river-bank, with cows lowing +and scythes being whetted and all that sort of thing, +when one comes to think of it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I do think cows are such interesting creatures—don't +you?" put in the charming voice of a charming, +charmingly dressed, innocent looking woman +opposite, who was evidently the accredited fool of +the party. "Sir Robert took us to see a lot of his—all +over the dairies, you know—this afternoon, while +you were punting."</p> + +<p>Another lady, also very charming and charmingly +dressed, but neither innocent nor foolish, made some +comment on this speech to the man next to her; he +said something in his turn, there was a general suppressed +laugh, and the innocent looking lady laughed +too; but protesting they oughtn't to say such things.</p> + +<p>Greenleaf's mind, little accustomed to the charms +of innuendoes and slippery allusions, had not followed +the intricacies of the conversation. An astonishing +girl, beautiful with the beauty of a well-bred horse, +sat next to him, and tried to perplex him with sundry +questions which she knew he could not follow; but +she speedily found there was no rise to be got out of +him, and bestowed elsewhere her remarks, racy in +more senses than one. So Greenleaf sat silent, +looking vaguely at the pools of light beneath the +candle-shades, in which the rose petals strewn about, +the roses lying loosely, took warm old ivory tints, +and the silver—the fantastic confusion of chased salt-cellars +and menu-holders and spoons and indescribable +objects—flashed blue and lilac on its smooth or +chiselled surfaces. From the table the concentrated, +shaded light led upwards to the opal necklace of the +lady opposite, the blue of the opals changing, with +the movement of her head, to green, burning and +flickering into fiery sparks; then Greenleaf noticed, +sometimes modelled into roundness and sometimes +blurred into flatness in the shadow, the black sleeves +of the men, the arms of the women, ivory like the +rose petals where they advanced beneath the candle-shades; +and behind, to the back of the shimmer of the +light stuffs and the glare of white shirt-fronts, the big +footmen, vague, shadowy, moving about. A man +opposite, with babyish eyes and complexion, was +telling some story about walking from a punt into +the water, which raised the wrath of the girl near +Greenleaf; others added further details, which she +laughingly tried to deny; there was something about +having fastened her garter with a diamond star, and +the river having to be dragged for it. Another man, +gaunt and languid, said something about not hiding +old damask under rose-leaves; but being unnoticed +by his hostess, went on about "Parsifal" to his +neighbour, the lady interested in cows. There were +also allusions to the other Cowes, the place, and to +yachting; and a great many to various kinds of sport +and to gambling and losing money; indeed, it was +marvellous how much money was lost and bankruptcy +sustained (technically called <i>getting broke</i>).</p> + +<p>The men were mostly more good-looking than not; +the women, it seemed to Greenleaf, beautiful enough, +each of them, to reward a good month's search. +There was a smell, cool and white and acute, of +gardenias, from the buttonholes, and a warmer, +vaguer one of rose petals; the mixture of black coats +and indescribable coloured silk, and of bare arms +and necks, the alternations of concentrated light and +vague shadow, the occasional glint and glimmer of +stones, particularly that warm ivory of roses among +the silver, struck Greenleaf, long unaccustomed to +even much slighter luxury, as extraordinarily beautiful, +like some Tadema picture of Roman orgies. +And the more beautiful it seemed to him, with its +intentional, elaborate beauty, the more did it make +him gnash his teeth with the sense of its wickedness, +and force him, for his own conscience' sake, to conjure +up other pictures: of grimy, gaslit London streets, +and battered crowds round barrows of cheap, half-spoilt +food.</p> + +<p>The lady who had once been called Val Flodden, +and whose name—and he fancied he had heard it +before—was now Mrs. Hermann Struwë, addressed +him with the necessary politeness, and asked him +one or two questions about his work and so forth, in +a conventional, bored tone. But, although the knowledge +that this was his old acquaintance, and the +recognition, every now and then, of the fact, put his +feelings into a superficial flutter, Greenleaf's mind +kept revolving the fact that this woman was really +quite a stranger to him; and the apparently somewhat +contradictory fact that this was what, after all, +he had known she would end in. He noted that +among these beautiful and self-satisfied women, with +their occasional cleverness and frequent unseemliness +of word and allusion, the former Val Flodden was in +a way conspicuous, not because she was better looking, +but because she was more weary, more reckless, +because one somehow expected her to do more, for +good or bad, than the others.</p> + +<p>"I don't see exactly which of the party could have +reported the case," said the woman with the opals, +"at least, the crucifix could scarcely have done so … well, +well."</p> + +<p>There was a great deal of laughter, as the hostess +gave the signal for rising; but over it and the rustle +and crackle of the ladies' frocks, the voice of Mrs. +Hermann Struwë was heard to say in languid, contemptuous +tone: "I think your story is a little bit +beastly, my dear Algy."</p> + +<p>Fortunately for Greenleaf, the men did not stay +long at table, as smoking was equally allowed all +over the house and in the ladies' presence. For +Greenleaf, whose conversation with other men had +for years turned only on politics, philosophy, or +business, was imbued, much as a woman might +have been, with a foregone conviction that as soon +as idle men were left to themselves they began to +discuss womankind. And there was at the table one +man in particular, a long, black, nervous man, with +a smiling, jerky mouth, an odd sample of Jewry +acclimatised in England, a horrid, half-handsome man, +with extraordinarily bland manners and an extraordinarily +hard expression, obstinate and mocking, +about whom Greenleaf felt that he positively could +not sit out any of <i>his</i> conversation on women, and, +of course, <i>his</i> conversation <i>would</i> turn on women; +partly, perhaps, because the fellow had been introduced +as Mr. Hermann Struwë.</p> + +<p>Her husband—<i>that</i> was her husband! Greenleaf +kept repeating to himself, as he answered as best he +could his host's remarks about Elizabethan as against +Queen Anne. It was only now when he thought of +her in connection with this man that Greenleaf realised +that he was really a little upset by this meeting with +his old acquaintance. And the thought went on and +on, round and round, in his head, when he had followed +the first stragglers who went to smoke their +cigarettes with the ladies, and answered the interrogations +of the æsthetic man who had talked about +old damask and Wagner. The man in question, +delighted to lay hold of so great an authority as +Greenleaf, had also noticed that Greenleaf had known +Mrs. Hermann Struwë at some former period. He +had evidently been snubbed a little by the lady, and +partly from a desire to hear her artistic capacities pooh-poohed +by a professional (since every amateur imagines +himself the only tolerable one), and partly from +a natural taste for knowing what did not concern +him, he had set very artfully to pump poor Greenleaf, +who, at best, was no match for a wily man of the +world.</p> + +<p>"Miss Flodden had a good deal of talent—quite a +remarkable talent—as a draughtsman, had she only +studied seriously," he answered emphatically, seeing +only that the fellow wished for some quotable piece +of running down. "It is, in fact, a pity"—but he +stopped. He was really not thinking of that. The +long drawing-room opened with all its windows on +to the lawn, and you could see, at the bottom of +that, the outlines of trees and boats in the moonlight, +and Chinese lanterns hanging about the flotilla +of moored punts and canoes and skiffs, to which +some of the party had gone down, revealing themselves +with occasional splashings, thrummings on +the banjo, and little cries and peals of laughter. +Nearer the house a couple was walking up and down +on the grass, the light of the drawing-room lamps +catching their faces with an odd, yellow glow every +now and then, and making the woman's white frock +shimmer like silver against the branches of the big +cedars. "It appears Lady Lilly told her mother she +was going to try on a frock, but somehow on the +way there she met Morton's coach, so she thought +she'd get on to it and have some change of air and +she changed the air so often that by the evening she +had contrived to win sixty pounds at Sandown," said +one of the promenading couples, pausing in the stream +of light from the window. "Oh, bless your soul, she +doesn't mind it's being told; she thinks it an awful +joke, and so it was."</p> + +<p>That man—that Val Flodden should have married +that man—Greenleaf kept repeating to himself, and +the recollection of her words about never getting +married, about a world where there would be no +diamonds and no stepping horses, and also, as she +expressed it, no marrying and giving in marriage, +filled Greenleaf's mind as with some bitter, heady +dram. And he had thought of her as a sort of unapproachable +proud amazon, or Diana of Hippolytus, +incapable of any feeling save indignation against +injustice and pity for weak and gentle things. Oh +Lord, oh Lord! It was horrible, horrible, and at +the same time laughable. And just that man, too—that +narrow, obstinate looking creature with the brain +and the heart (Greenleaf knew it for a certainty) of a +barn-door cock! And yet, was he any worse than +the others, the others who, perhaps, had a little more +brains and a little more heart, and who all the same +lived only to waste the work of the poor, to make +debts, to gamble, to ruin women, and to fill the +world with filthy talk and disbelief in better things? +Was he worse than all the other manly, well-mannered, +accomplished, futile, or mischievous creatures? +Was he worse than <i>she</i>?</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, of course; you have known her so +much more than I have," said the æsthetic man, +puffing at his cigarette, opposite to Greenleaf. "But +now, I should have thought there would have always +been something lacking in anything that woman +would do. A certain—I don't know what to call it—but, +in short, proper mental balance and steadiness. +I consider, that for real artistic quality, it is necessary +that one should possess some sort of seriousness, of +consistency of character—of course you know her +so much better, Mr. Greenleaf—but now I can't +understand a really artistic woman—after refusing +half a dozen other fellows who were at least gentlemen, +suddenly choosing a tubbed Jew like that—and +apparently not seeing that he is only a tubbed Jew," +the æsthetic man stopped, disappointed in not getting +a rise from Greenleaf, but Greenleaf was scarcely +listening.</p> + +<p>A man had sat down to the piano and was singing, +on the whole, rather well. Some of the people were +standing by him, others were in little groups, men +and women nearly all smoking equally, scattered +about the big white room with the delicate blue china, +and the big stacks of pale pink begonias. Mrs. Hermann +Struwë was standing near the piano, leaning +against the long, open window, the principal figure +in a group of two other women and a man. In her +fanciful, straight-hanging dress of misty-coloured +crape, her hair, elaborately and tightly dressed, making +her small head even smaller, and her strong, +slender neck, with the black pearls around it, drawn +up like a peacock's, she struck Greenleaf as much +more beautiful than before, and even much taller; +but there had been a gentleness, a something timid +and winning, in her former occasional little stoop, +which was now quite gone. She looked young, +but young in quite another way; she was now +very thin, and her cheeks were hollowed very perceptibly.</p> + +<p>The bland, blurred man at the piano was singing +with all his might, and with considerable voice and +skill; but the music, of his own composition, was +indecorously passionate as he sang it, at least taken +in connection with the words, culled from some decadent +French poet, and which few people would +have deliberately read out aloud. The innocent lady +who had talked about cows even made some faint +objection, to which the singer answered much surprised, +by blandly pointing out the passionate charm +of the words, and assuring her that she did not know +what real feeling was. And when he had finished +that song, and begun another, one of the two other +women actually moved away, while the other buried +her head in a volume of <i>Punch</i>; there was a little +murmur, "Well, I think he is going a little too far." +But Mrs. Hermann Struwë never moved.</p> + +<p>"I can't make out that woman," remarked Greenleaf's +new acquaintance, the æsthetic man; "she's +usually by ways of being prudish, and has a way of +shutting up poor Chatty when he gets into this strain. +Only yesterday, she told him his song was beastly, +and it wasn't half as bad as this one. I expect +she's doing it from cussedness, because her husband +was bored at her being too particular yesterday; +because, of course, he'll be bored by her not being +particular enough to-day."</p> + +<p>Greenleaf walked up to a picture, and thence slunk +off to the door. As he was leaving the room, he +looked back at the former Miss Flodden: she was +still standing near the piano, listening composedly, +but he thought that her thin face bore an expression +of defiance.</p> + +<p>He was so excited that he opened his room door +too quickly to give effect to a practical joke, consisting +of a can of water balancing on its angle as it stood +ajar, and intended to tumble on his head while he +was passing in; a delicate jest which the girl who +had sat next to him—she of the punt, diamond garter +and coach adventures—occasionally practised on +the new inmates of what she technically called +"houses."</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IX.</h3> + +<p>The next morning, after surveying the house with +his host, and making elaborate plans for its alteration +with his hostess, Greenleaf was going for a stroll +outside the grounds, when he suddenly heard his +name called by the voice of her who had once been +Val Flodden, but of whom he already thought only +as Mrs. Hermann Struwë. She arose from under a +big cedar, among whose sweeping branches she had +been seated reading.</p> + +<p>"Are you going for a walk?" she asked, coming +towards him in her white frock, incredibly white +against the green lawn, and trailing her also incredibly +white parasol after her.</p> + +<p>"Is it true that you go back to town this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Greenleaf, laconically.</p> + +<p>"Then," she said, "I will come with you a little +way."</p> + +<p>They walked silently through a little wood of +beeches, and out into the meadows by the river. +Greenleaf found it too difficult to say anything, and, +after all, why say anything to her?</p> + +<p>"Look here," began Mrs. Hermann Struwë, suddenly +stopping short by the water's brink. "I want +to speak to you quite plainly, Mr. Greenleaf. Quite +plainly, as one does, don't you know, to a person one +isn't likely ever to meet again. I didn't want to speak +to you yesterday, because—well—because I disliked +you too much."</p> + +<p>Greenleaf looked up from the grasses steeping at +the root of a big willow, in the water.</p> + +<p>"Why?" he asked blankly, but a vague pain invading +his consciousness, with the recollection of the +library at Yetholme, of the catalogue and the dusty +majolica, when Miss Flodden had said once before +that she disliked him, because he was taking away +the pots.</p> + +<p>"But I've thought over it," she went on, not noticing +his interruption; "and I see again, what I recognised +years ago—only that every now and then I +can't help forgetting it and feeling bad—namely, that +it was quite natural on your part—I mean your never +having introduced me to the Miss Carpenters, nor +even written to me again." She spoke slowly and +very gently, with just a little hesitation, as he remembered +so well her having done those years ago in +Northumberland.</p> + +<p>An unknown feeling overwhelmed Greenleaf and +prevented his speaking—the feeling, he vaguely +understood, of having destroyed, of having killed +something.</p> + +<p>"I don't reproach you with it. I never really did. +I understood very soon that it was quite natural on +your part to take me for a Princess Casamassima. I +had done nothing to make you really know me, and +I had no right to expect you to take me on my own +telling. And there must have been so many things +to make you suspect my not deserving to know your +friends, or to learn about your ideas. It wasn't that," +she added, hurriedly, "that I wished really to explain, +because, as I repeat, although I sometimes feel unreasonable +and angry, like last night, when something +suddenly makes me see the contrast between what I +might have been, and what I am, I don't bear you +any grudge. What I wanted to tell you, Mr. Greenleaf, +is that I wasn't unworthy of the confidence, +though it wasn't much, which you once placed in me. +I was not a Princess Casamassima; I was not a humbug +then, saying things and getting you to say them +for the sake of the novelty. And I'm not really +changed since. I wasn't a worthless woman then; +and I haven't really become a worthless woman now. +Shall we go towards home? I think I heard the +gong."</p> + +<p>They were skirting the full river, with its fringe of +steeping loose-strife and meadow-sweet, and its clumps +of sedge, starred with forget-me-not, whence whirred +occasional water-fowl. From the field opposite there +came every now and then the lazy low of a cow.</p> + +<p>"It was very different, wasn't it, on the Tweed," +she said, looking round her; "the banks so steep and +bare, and all that shingle. Do you remember the +heron? Didn't he look Japanese? I hate all this," +and she dug up a pellet of green with her parasol +point, and flung it far into the water.</p> + +<p>"Of course," she went on, "to you it must seem +the very proof of your suspicions having been justified, +I mean your finding me again—well, in this house. +And, perhaps, you may remember my telling you, all +those years ago at Yetholme, that I would never +marry."</p> + +<p>She raised her eyes from the ground and looked +straight into his, with that odd deepening of colour of +her own. She had guessed his thoughts: that sentence +about not marrying and being given in marriage +was ringing in his mind; and he felt, as she looked into +his face, that she wished above all to clear herself from +that unspoken accusation.</p> + +<p>"I never should have, most likely," she went on. +"Although you must remember that all my bringing +up had consisted in teaching me that a woman's one +business in life <i>is</i> to marry, to make a good marriage, +to marry into this set, a man like my husband. For +a long while before I ever met you, I had made up +my mind that although this was undoubtedly the +natural and virtuous course, I would not follow it, +that I would rather earn my living or starve; and +I had been taught that to do either, to go one's own +ways and think one's own thoughts, was scandalous. +It was about this that I had broken with my sister. +She had bothered me to marry one of a variety of +men whom she unearthed for the purpose; and we +quarrelled because I refused the one she wanted me +to have most—the one, as a matter of fact, who is +now my husband. I tell you all these uninteresting +things because I want you to know that I was in earnest +when I told you I did not want the things a +woman gets by marrying. I was in earnest," she +went on, stopping and twisting a long willow leaf +round her finger, the tone of her voice changing suddenly +from almost defiant earnestness to a sad, helpless +little tone, "but it was of no good. I saw—you +showed me—that I was locked, walled into the place +into which I had been born; you made me feel that +it was useless for an outsider to try to gain the confidence +of you people who work and care about things; +that your friends would consider me an intruder, that +you considered me a humbug—you slammed in my +face the little door through which I had hoped to have +escaped from all this sort of thing."</p> + +<p>And she nodded towards the white house, stretched +like a little encampment upon the green river bank, +with the flotilla of boats and punts and steam launches, +moored before its windows.</p> + +<p>"Then," said Greenleaf, a light coming into his +mind, a light such as would reveal some great ruin +of flood or fire to the unconscious criminal who has +opened the sluice or dropped the match in the dark, +"then you sat out that song last night to make me +understand…?"</p> + +<p>"It was very childish of me, and also very unjust," +answered Mrs. Hermann composedly. "Of course +you couldn't help it. I don't feel angry with you. +But sometimes, when I remember those weeks when +I gradually understood that it was all to be, and I +made up my mind to live out the life for which I had +been born—and, now that the pots were sold—well, +to sell myself also to the highest bidder—sometimes +I did feel a little bad. You see when one is really +honest oneself, it is hard to be misunderstood—and +the more misunderstood the more one explains oneself—by +other people who are honest."</p> + +<p>They walked along in silence; which Greenleaf broke +by asking as in a dream—"And your violin?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! I've given that up long ago—my husband +didn't like it, and as he has given me everything that +I possess, it wouldn't be business, would it, to do +things he dislikes? If it had been the piano, or the +guitar, or the banjo! But a woman can't lock herself +up and practice the fiddle! People would think it odd. +And now," she added, as they came in sight of the +little groups of variegated pink and mauve frocks, and +the white boating-clothes under the big cedars, "good-bye, +Mr. Greenleaf; and—be a little more trustful to +other people who may want your friendship—won't +you? I shall like to think of that." She stretched +out her hand, with the thin glove loosely wrinkled +over the arm, and she smiled that good, wide-eyed +smile, like that of a good, serious child who wishes to +understand.</p> + +<p>Greenleaf did not take her hand at once.</p> + +<p>"You have children at least?" he asked hoarsely.</p> + +<p>She understood his thought, but hesitated before +answering.</p> + +<p>"I have three—somewhere—at the sea-side, or some +other place where children ought to be when their +parents go staying about,"—she answered quickly—"they +are quite happy, with plenty of toys, now; and +they will be quite happy when they grow up, for they +will have plenty of money, and they will be their +father's image—good-bye!"</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," answered Greenleaf, and added, after +he had let go her hand, "It is very generous of you +to be so forgiving. But your generosity makes it only +more impossible for me ever to forgive myself."</p> + +<p>Out of the station of that little group of river houses +the line goes almost immediately on to a long bridge. +It was in process of repair, and as the train moved +slowly across, Greenleaf could see, on the upper river +reach, close beneath him, a flotilla of boats, canoes, +and skiffs of various sizes, surrounding a punt, and all +of them gay with lilac and pale green and pale pink +frocks, and white flannels, and coloured sashes and +cushions, and fantastic umbrellas. Some of the ladies +were scrambling from one of the skiffs into the punt, +which was pinned into its place by the long pole held +upright in the green, glassy water, reflecting the pink, +green, lilac, and white, the red cushions, and the shimmering +greyness of the big willows. There was much +laughter and some little shrieks, and the twang of a +banjo; and it looked altogether like some modern +Watteau's version of a latter-day embarkation for the +island of Venus. And, in the little heap of bright +colours, Greenleaf recognised, over the side of a skiff, +the parasol, white, incredibly white, of the former Val +Flodden.</p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> +<h2><a name="st_3" id="st_3"></a>THE LEGEND OF<br /> +<br /> + <span class="wide">MADAME KRASINSKA.</span></h2> +<p> </p> + +<p>It is a necessary part of this story to explain how I +have come by it, or rather, how it has chanced to have +me for its writer.</p> + +<p>I was very much impressed one day by a certain +nun of the order calling themselves Little Sisters of the +Poor. I had been taken to these sisters to support +the recommendation of a certain old lady, the former +door-keeper of his studio, whom my friend Cecco Bandini +wished to place in the asylum. It turned out, of +course, that Cecchino was perfectly able to plead his +case without my assistance; so I left him blandishing +the Mother Superior in the big, cheerful kitchen, and +begged to be shown over the rest of the establishment. +The sister who was told off to accompany me was the +one of whom I would speak.</p> + +<p>This lady was tall and slight; her figure, as she +preceded me up the narrow stairs and through the +whitewashed wards, was uncommonly elegant and +charming; and she had a girlish rapidity of movement, +which caused me to experience a little shock +at the first real sight which I caught of her face. It +was young and remarkably pretty, with a kind of refinement +peculiar to American women; but it was +inexpressibly, solemnly tragic; and one felt that under +her tight linen cap, the hair must be snow white. +The tragedy, whatever it might have been, was now +over; and the lady's expression, as she spoke to the +old creatures scraping the ground in the garden, ironing +the sheets in the laundry, or merely huddling +over their braziers in the chill winter sunshine, was +pathetic only by virtue of its strange present tenderness, +and by that trace of terrible past suffering.</p> + +<p>She answered my questions very briefly, and was +as taciturn as ladies of religious communities are +usually loquacious. Only, when I expressed my admiration +for the institution which contrived to feed +scores of old paupers on broken victuals begged +from private houses and inns, she turned her eyes +full upon me and said, with an earnestness which +was almost passionate, "Ah, the old! The old! It +is so much, much worse for them than for any others. +Have you ever tried to imagine what it is to be poor +and forsaken and old?"</p> + +<p>These words and the strange ring in the sister's +voice, the strange light in her eyes, remained in my +memory. What was not, therefore, my surprise +when, on returning to the kitchen, I saw her start +and lay hold of the back of the chair as soon as she +caught sight of Cecco Bandini. Cecco, on his side +also, was visibly startled, but only after a moment; +it was clear that she recognised him long before he +identified her. What little romance could there exist +in common between my eccentric painter and that +serene but tragic Sister of the Poor?</p> + +<p>A week later, it became evident that Cecco Bandini +had come to explain the mystery; but to explain it +(as I judged by the embarrassment of his manner) +by one of those astonishingly elaborate lies occasionally +attempted by perfectly frank persons. It was +not the case. Cecchino had come indeed to explain +that little dumb scene which had passed between +him and the Little Sister of the Poor. He had come, +however, not to satisfy my curiosity, or to overcome +my suspicions, but to execute a commission which +he had greatly at heart; to help, as he expressed it, +in the accomplishment of a good work by a real +saint.</p> + +<p>Of course, he explained, smiling that good smile +under his black eyebrows and white moustache, he +did not expect me to believe very literally the story +which he had undertaken to get me to write. He +only asked, and the lady only wished, me, to write +down her narrative without any comments, and leave +to the heart of the reader the decision about its truth +or falsehood.</p> + +<p>For this reason, and the better to attain the object +of appealing to the profane, rather than to the religious, +reader, I have abandoned the order of narrative +of the Little Sister of the Poor; and attempted to +turn her pious legend into a worldly story, as follows:—</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p>Cecco Bandini had just returned from the Maremma, +to whose solitary marshes and jungles he had fled in +one of his fits of fury at the stupidity and wickedness +of the civilised world. A great many months spent +among buffaloes and wild boars, conversing only with +those wild cherry-trees, of whom he used whimsically +to say, "they are such good little folk," had sent him +back with an extraordinary zest for civilisation, and a +comic tendency to find its products, human and otherwise, +extraordinary, picturesque, and suggestive. He +was in this frame of mind when there came a light rap +on his door-slate; and two ladies appeared on the +threshold of his studio, with the shaven face and +cockaded hat of a tall footman over-topping them from +behind. One of them was unknown to our painter; +the other was numbered among Cecchino's very few +grand acquaintances.</p> + +<p>"Why haven't you been round to me yet, you +savage?" she asked, advancing quickly with a brusque +hand-shake and a brusque bright gleam of eyes and +teeth, well-bred but audacious and a trifle ferocious. +And dropping on to a divan she added, nodding first at +her companion and then at the pictures all round, +"I have brought my friend, Madame Krasinska, to +see your things," and she began poking with her +parasol at the contents of a gaping portfolio.</p> + +<p>The Baroness Fosca—for such was her name—was +one of the cleverest and fastest ladies of the +place, with a taste for art and ferociously frank +conversation. To Cecco Bandini, as she lay back +among her furs on that shabby divan of his, she +appeared in the light of the modern Lucretia Borgia, +the tamed panther of fashionable life. "What an +interesting thing civilisation is!" he thought, watching +her every movement with the eyes of the imagination; +"why, you might spend years among the +wild folk of the Maremma without meeting such a +tremendous, terrible, picturesque, powerful creature +as this!"</p> + +<p>Cecchino was so absorbed in the Baroness Fosca, +who was in reality not at all a Lucretia Borgia, but +merely an impatient lady bent upon amusing and +being amused, that he was scarcely conscious of the +presence of her companion. He knew that she was +very young, very pretty, and very smart, and that he +had made her his best bow, and offered her his least +rickety chair; for the rest, he sat opposite to his +Lucretia Borgia of modern life, who had meanwhile +found a cigarette, and was puffing away and explaining +that she was about to give a fancy ball, which +should be the most <i>crâne</i>, the only amusing thing, of +the year.</p> + +<p>"Oh," he exclaimed, kindling at the thought, "do +let me design you a dress all black and white and +wicked green—you shall go as Deadly Nightshade, +as Belladonna Atropa<span class="nowrap">——</span>;"</p> + +<p>"Belladonna Atropa! why my ball is in comic +costume" … The Baroness was answering contemptuously, +when Cecchino's attention was suddenly +called to the other end of the studio by an exclamation +on the part of his other visitor.</p> + +<p>"Do tell me all about her;—has she a name? Is +she really a lunatic?" asked the young lady who had +been introduced as Madame Krasinska, keeping a +portfolio open with one hand, and holding up in the +other a coloured sketch she had taken from it.</p> + +<p>"What have you got there? Oh, only the Sora +Lena!" and Madame Fosca reverted to the contemplation +of the smoke-rings she was making.</p> + +<p>"Tell me about her—Sora Lena, did you say?" +asked the younger lady eagerly.</p> + +<p>She spoke French, but with a pretty little American +accent, despite her Polish name. She was very +charming, Cecchino said to himself, a radiant impersonation +of youthful brightness and elegance as she +stood there in her long, silvery furs, holding the +drawing with tiny, tight-gloved hands, and shedding +around her a vague, exquisite fragrance—no, not a +mere literal perfume, that would be far too coarse +but something personal akin to it.</p> + +<p>"I have noticed her so often," she went on, with +that silvery young voice of hers; "she's mad, isn't she? +And what did you say her name was? Please tell me +again."</p> + +<p>Cecchino was delighted. "How true it is," he +reflected, "that only refinement, high-breeding, luxury +can give people certain kinds of sensitiveness, of +rapid intuition! No woman of another class would +have picked out just that drawing, or would have been +interested in it without stupid laughter."</p> + +<p>"Do you want to know the story of poor old Sora +Lena?" asked Cecchino, taking the sketch from +Madame Krasinska's hand, and looking over it at the +charming, eager young face.</p> + +<p>The sketch might have passed for a caricature; but +anyone who had spent so little as a week in Florence +those six or seven years ago would have recognised at +once that it was merely a faithful portrait. For Sora +Lena—more correctly Signora Maddalena—had been +for years and years one of the most conspicuous sights +of the town. In all weathers you might have seen +that hulking old woman, with her vague, staring, +reddish face, trudging through the streets or standing +before shops, in her extraordinary costume of thirty +years ago, her enormous crinoline, on which the silk +skirt and ragged petticoat hung limply, her gigantic +coal-scuttle bonnet, shawl, prunella boots, and great +muff or parasol; one of several outfits, all alike, of +that distant period, all alike inexpressibly dirty and +tattered. In all weathers you might have seen her +stolidly going her way, indifferent to stares and jibes, +of which, indeed, there were by this time comparatively +few, so familiar had she grown to staring, jibing +Florence. In all weathers, but most noticeably in the +worst, as if the squalor of mud and rain had an +affinity with that sad, draggled, soiled, battered piece +of human squalor, that lamentable rag of half-witted +misery.</p> + +<p>"Do you want to know about Sora Lena?" +repeated Cecco Bandini, meditatively. They formed a +strange, strange contrast, these two women, the one +in the sketch and the one standing before him. And +there was to him a pathetic whimsicalness in the +interest which the one had excited in the other. +"How long has she been wandering about here? +Why, as long as I can remember the streets of Florence, +and that," added Cecchino sorrowfully, "is a +longer while than I care to count up. It seems to +me as if she must always have been there, like the +olive-trees and the paving stones; for after all, Giotto's +tower was not there before Giotto, whereas poor old +Sora Lena—But, by the way, there is a limit even +to her. There is a legend about her; they say that +she was once sane, and had two sons, who went as +Volunteers in '59, and were killed at Solferino, and +ever since then she has sallied forth, every day, +winter or summer, in her best clothes, to meet the +young fellows at the Station. May be. To my mind +it doesn't matter much whether the story be true or +false; it is fitting," and Cecco Bandini set about dusting +some canvases which had attracted the Baroness +Fosca's attention. When Cecchino was helping that +lady into her furs, she gave one of her little brutal +smiles, and nodded in the direction of her companion.</p> + +<p>"Madame Krasinska," she said laughing, "is very +desirous of possessing one of your sketches, but she +is too polite to ask you the price of it. That's what +comes of our not knowing how to earn a penny for +ourselves, doesn't it, Signor Cecchino?"</p> + +<p>Madame Krasinska blushed, and looked more young, +and delicate, and charming.</p> + +<p>"I did not know whether you would consent to +part with one of your drawings," she said in her silvery, +child-like voice,—"it is—this one—which I +should so much have liked to have— … to have +… bought." Cecchino smiled at the embarrassment +which the word "bought" produced in his +exquisite visitor. Poor, charming young creature, he +thought; the only thing she thinks people one knows +can sell, is themselves, and that's called getting married. +"You must explain to your friend," said Cecchino +to the Baroness Fosca, as he hunted in a +drawer for a piece of clean paper, "that such rubbish +as this is neither bought nor sold; it is not even possible +for a poor devil of a painter to offer it as a gift +to a lady—but,"—and he handed the little roll to +Madame Krasinska, making his very best bow as he +did so—"it is possible for a lady graciously to accept +it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you so much," answered Madame Krasinska, +slipping the drawing into her muff; "it is very +good of you to give me such a … such a very interesting +sketch," and she pressed his big, brown +fingers in her little grey-gloved hand.</p> + +<p>"Poor Sora Lena!" exclaimed Cecchino, when +there remained of the visit only a faint perfume of +exquisiteness; and he thought of the hideous old +draggle-tailed mad woman, reposing, rolled up in +effigy, in the delicious daintiness of that delicate grey +muff.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>A fortnight later, the great event was Madame +Fosca's fancy ball, to which the guests were bidden +to come in what was described as comic costume. +Some, however, craved leave to appear in their ordinary +apparel, and among these was Cecchino Bandini, +who was persuaded, moreover, that his old-fashioned +swallow-tails, which he donned only at +weddings, constituted quite comic costume enough.</p> + +<p>This knowledge did not interfere at all with his +enjoyment. There was even, to his whimsical mind, +a certain charm in being in a crowd among which he +knew no one; unnoticed or confused, perhaps, with +the waiters, as he hung about the stairs and strolled +through the big palace rooms. It was as good as +wearing an invisible cloak, one saw so much just +because one was not seen; indeed, one was momentarily +endowed (it seemed at least to his fanciful +apprehension) with a faculty akin to that of understanding +the talk of birds; and, as he watched and +listened he became aware of innumerable charming +little romances, which were concealed from more +notable but less privileged persons.</p> + +<p>Little by little the big white and gold rooms began +to fill. The ladies, who had moved in gorgeous isolation, +their skirts displayed as finely as a peacock's +train, became gradually visible only from the waist +upwards; and only the branches of the palm-trees +and tree ferns detached themselves against the shining +walls. Instead of wandering among variegated +brocades and iridescent silks and astonishing arrangements +of feathers and flowers, Cecchino's eye was +forced to a higher level by the thickening crowd; it +was now the constellated sparkle of diamonds on +neck and head which dazzled him, and the strange, +unaccustomed splendour of white arms and shoulders. +And, as the room filled, the invisible cloak was also +drawn closer round our friend Cecchino, and the +extraordinary faculty of perceiving romantic and +delicious secrets in other folk's bosoms became more +and more developed. They seemed to him like exquisite +children, these creatures rustling about in fantastic +dresses, powdered shepherds and shepherdesses +with diamonds spirting fire among their ribbons and +top-knots; Japanese and Chinese embroidered with +sprays of flowers; mediæval and antique beings, and +beings hidden in the plumage of birds, or the petals of +flowers; children, but children somehow matured, +transfigured by the touch of luxury and good-breeding, +children full of courtesy and kindness. There were, of +course, a few costumes which might have been better +conceived or better carried out, or better—not to say +best—omitted altogether. One grew bored, after a +little while, with people dressed as marionettes, champagne +bottles, sticks of sealing-wax, or captive balloons; +a young man arrayed as a female ballet dancer, +and another got up as a wet nurse, with baby <i>obligato</i> +might certainly have been dispensed with. Also, +Cecchino could not help wincing a little at the daughter +of the house being mummed and painted to represent +her own grandmother, a respectable old lady +whose picture hung in the dining-room, and whose +spectacles he had frequently picked up in his boyhood. +But these were mere trifling details. And, as a whole, +it was beautiful, fantastic. So Cecchino moved backward +and forward, invisible in his shabby black suit, +and borne hither and thither by the well-bred pressure +of the many-coloured crowd; pleasantly blinded by the +innumerable lights, the sparkle of chandelier pendants, +and the shooting flames of jewels; gently deafened by +the confused murmur of innumerable voices, of crackling +stuffs and soughing fans, of distant dance music; +and inhaling the vague fragrance which seemed less +the decoction of cunning perfumers than the exquisite +and expressive emanation of this exquisite bloom of +personality. Certainly, he said to himself, there is no +pleasure so delicious as seeing people amusing themselves +with refinement: there is a transfiguring magic, +almost a moralising power, in wealth and elegance and +good-breeding.</p> + +<p>He was making this reflection, and watching between +two dances, a tiny fluff of down sailing through the +warm draught across the empty space, the sort of +whirlpool of the ball-room—when a little burst of voices +came from the entrance saloon. The multi-coloured +costumes fluttered like butterflies toward a given spot, +there was a little heaping together of brilliant colours +and flashing jewels. There was much craning of delicate, +fluffy young necks and heads, and shuffle on tiptoe, +and the crowd fell automatically aside. A little +gangway was cleared; and there walked into the +middle of the white and gold drawing-room, a lumbering, +hideous figure, with reddish, vacant face, sunk in +an immense, tarnished satin bonnet; and draggled, +faded, lilac silk skirts spread over a vast dislocated +crinoline. The feet dabbed along in the broken prunella +boots; the mangy rabbit-skin muff bobbed loosely +with the shambling gait; and then, under the big +chandelier, there came a sudden pause, and the thing +looked slowly round, a gaping, mooning, blear-eyed +stare.</p> + +<p>It was the Sora Lena.</p> + +<p>There was a perfect storm of applause.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>Cecchino Bandini did not slacken his pace till he +found himself, with his thin overcoat and opera hat +all drenched, among the gas reflections and puddles +before his studio door; that shout of applause and +that burst of clapping pursuing him down the stairs of +the palace and all through the rainy streets. There +were a few embers in his stove; he threw a faggot on +them, lit a cigarette, and proceeded to make reflections, +the wet opera hat still on his head. He had +been a fool, a savage. He had behaved like a child, +rushing past his hostess with that ridiculous speech in +answer to her inquiries: "I am running away because +bad luck has entered your house."</p> + +<p>Why had he not guessed it at once? What on earth +else could she have wanted his sketch for?</p> + +<p>He determined to forget the matter, and, as he +imagined, he forgot it. Only, when the next day's +evening paper displayed two columns describing +Madame Fosca's ball, and more particularly "that +mask," as the reporter had it, "which among so +many which were graceful and ingenious, bore off in +triumph the palm for witty novelty," he threw the +paper down and gave it a kick towards the wood-box. +But he felt ashamed of himself, picked it up, smoothed +it out and read it all—foreign news and home news, +and even the description of Madame Fosca's masked +ball, conscientiously through. Last of all he perused, +with dogged resolution, the column of petty casualties: +a boy bit in the calf by a dog who was not +mad; the frustrated burgling of a baker's shop; even +to the bunches of keys and the umbrella and two +cigar-cases picked up by the police, and consigned to +the appropriate municipal limbo; until he came to the +following lines: "This morning the <i>Guardians of +Public Safety</i>, having been called by the neighbouring +inhabitants, penetrated into a room on the top +floor of a house situate in the Little Street of the +Gravedigger (Viccolo del Beccamorto), and discovered, +hanging from a rafter, the dead body of Maddalena +X. Y. Z. The deceased had long been noted throughout +Florence for her eccentric habits and apparel." +The paragraph was headed, in somewhat larger type: +"Suicide of a female lunatic."</p> + +<p>Cecchino's cigarette had gone out, but he +continued blowing at it all the same. He could see in +his mind's eye a tall, slender figure, draped in silvery +plush and silvery furs, standing by the side of an +open portfolio, and holding a drawing in her tiny +hand, with the slender, solitary gold bangle over the +grey glove.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IV.</h3> + +<p>Madame Krasinska was in a very bad humour. The +old Chanoiness, her late husband's aunt, noticed it; +her guests noticed it; her maid noticed it: and she +noticed it herself. For, of all human beings, Madame +Krasinska—Netta, as smart folk familiarly called her—was +the least subject to bad humour. She was as +uniformly cheerful as birds are supposed to be, and +she certainly had none of the causes for anxiety or +sorrow which even the most proverbial bird must +occasionally have. She had always had money, +health, good looks; and people had always told her—in +New York, in London, in Paris, Rome, and St. +Petersburg—from her very earliest childhood, that +her one business in life was to amuse herself. The +old gentleman whom she had simply and cheerfully +accepted as a husband, because he had given her +quantities of bonbons, and was going to give her +quantities of diamonds, had been kind, and had +been kindest of all in dying of sudden bronchitis +when away for a month, leaving his young widow +with an affectionately indifferent recollection of +him, no remorse of any kind, and a great deal of +money, not to speak of the excellent Chanoiness, who +constituted an invaluable chaperon. And, since his +happy demise, no cloud had disturbed the cheerful +life or feelings of Madame Krasinska. Other women, +she knew, had innumerable subjects of wretchedness; +or if they had none, they were wretched from the +want of them. Some had children who made them +unhappy, others were unhappy for lack of children, +and similarly as to lovers; but she had never had a +child and never had a lover, and never experienced +the smallest desire for either. Other women suffered +from sleeplessness, or from sleepiness, and took +morphia or abstained from morphia with equal inconvenience; +other women also grew weary of amusement. +But Madame Krasinska always slept beautifully, +and always stayed awake cheerfully; and +Madame Krasinska was never tired of amusing herself. +Perhaps it was all this which culminated in +the fact that Madame Krasinska had never in all her +life envied or disliked anybody; and that no one, +apparently, had ever envied or disliked her. She did +not wish to outshine or supplant any one; she did +not want to be richer, younger, more beautiful, or more +adored than they. She only wanted to amuse herself, +and she succeeded in so doing.</p> + +<p>This particular day—the day after Madame Fosca's +ball—Madame Krasinska was not amusing herself. +She was not at all tired: she never was; besides, she +had remained in bed till mid-day: neither was she +unwell, for that also she never was; nor had anyone +done the slightest thing to vex her. But there it was. +She was not amusing herself at all. She could not +tell why; and she could not tell why, also, she was +vaguely miserable. When the first batch of afternoon +callers had taken leave, and the following +batches had been sent away from the door, she threw +down her volume of Gyp, and walked to the window. +It was raining: a thin, continuous spring drizzle. +Only a few cabs, with wet, shining backs, an occasional +lumbering omnibus or cart, passed by with +wheezing, straining, downcast horses. In one or two +shops a light was appearing, looking tiny, blear, and +absurd in the gray afternoon. Madame Krasinska +looked out for a few minutes; then, suddenly turning +round, she brushed past the big palms and azaleas, +and rang the bell.</p> + +<p>"Order the brougham at once," she said.</p> + +<p>She could by no means have explained what earthly +reason had impelled her to go out. When the footman +had inquired for orders she felt at a loss: certainly +she did not want to go to see anyone, nor to +buy anything, nor to inquire about anything.</p> + +<p>What <i>did</i> she want? Madame Krasinska was not +in the habit of driving out in the rain for her pleasure; +still less to drive out without knowing whither. What +did she want? She sat muffled in her furs, looking +out on the wet, grey streets as the brougham rolled +aimlessly along. She wanted—she wanted—she +couldn't tell what. But she wanted it very much. +That much she knew very well—she wanted. The +rain, the wet streets, the muddy crossings—oh, how +dismal they were! and still she wished to go on.</p> + +<p>Instinctively, her polite coachman made for the +politer streets, for the polite Lung' Arno. The river +quay was deserted, and a warm, wet wind swept lazily +along its muddy flags. Madame Krasinska let down +the glass. How dreary! The foundry, on the other +side, let fly a few red sparks from its tall chimney into +the grey sky; the water droned over the weir; a lamp-lighter +hurried along.</p> + +<p>Madame Krasinska pulled the check-string.</p> + +<p>"I want to walk," she said.</p> + +<p>The polite footman followed behind along the messy +flags, muddy and full of pools; the brougham followed +behind him. Madame Krasinska was not at all in the +habit of walking on the embankment, still less walking +in the rain.</p> + +<p>After some minutes she got in again, and bade the +carriage drive home. When she got into the lit +streets she again pulled the check-string and ordered +the brougham to proceed at a foot's pace. At a +certain spot she remembered something, and bade +the coachman draw up before a shop. It was the big +chemist's.</p> + +<p>"What does the Signora Contessa command?" and +the footman raised his hat over his ear. Somehow +she had forgotten. "Oh," she answered, "wait a +minute. Now I remember, it's the next shop, the +florist's. Tell them to send fresh azaleas to-morrow +and fetch away the old ones."</p> + +<p>Now the azaleas had been changed only that morning. +But the polite footman obeyed. And Madame +Krasinska remained for a minute, nestled in her fur +rug, looking on to the wet, yellow, lit pavement, and +into the big chemist's window. There were the red, +heart-shaped chest protectors, the frictioning gloves, +the bath towels, all hanging in their place. Then +boxes of eau-de-Cologne, lots of bottles of all sizes, +and boxes, large and small, and variosities of indescribable +nature and use, and the great glass jars, +yellow, blue, green, and ruby red, with a spark from the +gas lamp behind in their heart. She stared at it all, +very intently, and without a notion about any of these +objects. Only she knew that the glass jars were uncommonly +bright, and that each had a ruby, or topaz, +or emerald of gigantic size, in its heart. The footman +returned.</p> + +<p>"Drive home," ordered Madame Krasinska. As +her maid was taking her out of her dress, a thought—the +first since so long—flashed across her mind, at the +sight of certain skirts, and an uncouth cardboard mask, +lying in a corner of her dressing-room. How odd that +she had not seen the Sora Lena that evening…. She +used always to be walking in the lit streets at that +hour.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>V.</h3> + +<p>The next morning Madame Krasinska woke up quite +cheerful and happy. But she began, nevertheless, to +suffer, ever since the day after the Fosca ball, from the +return of that quite unprecedented and inexplicable depression. +Her days became streaked, as it were, with +moments during which it was quite impossible to amuse +herself; and these moments grew gradually into hours. +People bored her for no accountable reason, and +things which she had expected as pleasures brought +with them a sense of vague or more distinct wretchedness. +Thus she would find herself in the midst of a +ball or dinner-party, invaded suddenly by a confused +sadness or boding of evil, she did not know which. +And once, when a box of new clothes had arrived from +Paris, she was overcome, while putting on one of the +frocks, with such a fit of tears that she had to be put +to bed instead of going to the Tornabuoni's party.</p> + +<p>Of course, people began to notice this change; +indeed, Madame Krasinska had ingenuously complained +of the strange alteration in herself. Some +persons suggested that she might be suffering from +slow blood-poisoning, and urged an inquiry into the +state of the drains. Others recommended arsenic, +morphia, or antipyrine. One kind friend brought her +a box of peculiar cigarettes; another forwarded a parcel +of still more peculiar novels; most people had +some pet doctor to cry up to the skies; and one or two +suggested her changing her confessor; not to mention +an attempt being made to mesmerise her into +cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>When her back was turned, meanwhile, all the kind +friends discussed the probability of an unhappy love +affair, loss of money on the Stock Exchange, and +similar other explanations. And while one devoted +lady tried to worm out of her the name of her unfaithful +lover and of the rival for whom he had forsaken +her, another assured her that she was suffering from +a lack of personal affections. It was a fine opportunity +for the display of pietism, materialism, idealism, +realism, psychological lore, and esoteric theosophy.</p> + +<p>Oddly enough, all this zeal about herself did not +worry Madame Krasinska, as she would certainly +have expected it to worry any other woman. She took +a little of each of the tonic or soporific drugs; and +read a little of each of those sickly sentimental, brutal, +or politely improper novels. She also let herself be +accompanied to various doctors; and she got up early +in the morning and stood for an hour on a chair in a +crowd in order to benefit by the preaching of the +famous Father Agostino. She was quite patient even +with the friends who condoled about the lover or +absence of such. For all these things became, more +and more, completely indifferent to Madame Krasinska—unrealities +which had no weight in the presence of +the painful reality.</p> + +<p>This reality was that she was rapidly losing all +power of amusing herself, and that when she did occasionally +amuse herself she had to pay for what she +called this <i>good time</i> by an increase of listlessness and +melancholy.</p> + +<p>It was not melancholy or listlessness such as other +women complained of. They seemed, in their fits of +blues, to feel that the world around them had got all +wrong, or at least was going out of its way to annoy +them. But Madame Krasinska saw the world quite +plainly, proceeding in the usual manner, and being +quite as good a world as before. It was she who +was all wrong. It was, in the literal sense of the +words, what she supposed people might mean when +they said that So-and-so was <i>not himself</i>; only that So-and-so, +on examination, appeared to be very much himself—only +himself in a worse temper than usual. +Whereas she… Why, in her case, she really did not +seem to be herself any longer. Once, at a grand dinner, +she suddenly ceased eating and talking to her +neighbour, and surprised herself wondering who the +people all were and what they had come for. Her +mind would become, every now and then, a blank; a +blank at least full of vague images, misty and +muddled, which she was unable to grasp, but of +which she knew that they were painful, weighing on +her as a heavy load must weigh on the head or back. +Something had happened, or was going to happen, +she could not remember which, but she burst into tears +none the less. In the midst of such a state of things, +if visitors or a servant entered, she would ask sometimes +who they were. Once a man came to call, during +one of these fits; by an effort she was able to +receive him and answer his small talk more or less at +random, feeling the whole time as if someone else +were speaking in her place. The visitor at length rose +to depart, and they both stood for a moment in the +midst of the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"This is a very pretty house; it must belong to +some rich person. Do you know to whom it belongs?" +suddenly remarked Madame Krasinska, looking slowly +round her at the furniture, the pictures, statuettes, +nicknacks, the screens and plants. "Do you know +to whom it belongs?" she repeated.</p> + +<p>"It belongs to the most charming lady in Florence," +stammered out the visitor politely, and fled.</p> + +<p>"My darling Netta," exclaimed the Chanoiness +from where she was seated crocheting benevolently +futile garments by the fire; "you should not joke in +that way. That poor young man was placed in +a painful, in a very painful position by your nonsense."</p> + +<p>Madame Krasinska leaned her arms on a screen, +and stared her respectable relation long in the face.</p> + +<p>"You seem a kind woman," she said at length. +"You are old, but then you aren't poor, and they +don't call you a mad woman. That makes all the +difference."</p> + +<p>Then she set to singing—drumming out the tune on +the screen—the soldier song of '59, <i>Addio, mia bella, +addio</i>.</p> + +<p>"Netta!" cried the Chanoiness, dropping one ball +of worsted after another. "Netta!"</p> + +<p>But Madame Krasinska passed her hand over her +brow and heaved a great sigh. Then she took a +cigarette off a cloisonné tray, dipped a spill in the fire +and remarked,</p> + +<p>"Would you like to have the brougham to go to +see your friend at the Sacré Cœur, Aunt Thérèse? I +have promised to wait in for Molly Wolkonsky and +Bice Forteguerra. We are going to dine at <i>Doney's</i> +with young Pomfret."</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VI.</h3> + +<p>Madame Krasinska had repeated her evening drives +in the rain. Indeed she began also to walk about +regardless of weather. Her maid asked her whether +she had been ordered exercise by the doctor, and she +answered yes. But why she should not walk in the +Cascine or along the Lung' Arno, and why she should +always choose the muddiest thoroughfares, the maid +did not inquire. As it was, Madame Krasinska never +showed any repugnance or seemly contrition for the +state of draggle in which she used to return home; +sometimes when the woman was unbuttoning her +boots, she would remain in contemplation of their +muddiness, murmuring things which Jefferies could +not understand. The servants, indeed, declared that +the Countess must have gone out of her mind. The +footman related that she used to stop the brougham, +get out and look into the lit shops, and that he had +to stand behind, in order to prevent lady-killing +youths of a caddish description from whispering expressions +of admiration in her ear. And once, he +affirmed with horror, she had stopped in front of a +certain cheap eating-house, and looked in at the bundles +of asparagus, at the uncooked chops displayed +in the window. And then, added the footman, she +had turned round to him slowly and said,</p> + +<p>"They have good food in there."</p> + +<p>And meanwhile, Madame Krasinska went to dinners +and parties, and gave them, and organised picnics, +as much as was decently possible in Lent, and indeed +a great deal more.</p> + +<p>She no longer complained of the blues; she assured +everyone that she had completely got rid of them, +that she had never been in such spirits in all her life. +She said it so often, and in so excited a way, that +judicious people declared that now that lover must +really have jilted her, or gambling on the Stock Exchange +have brought her to the verge of ruin.</p> + +<p>Nay, Madame Krasinska's spirits became so obstreperous +as to change her in sundry ways. Although +living in the fastest set, Madame Krasinska had never +been a fast woman. There was something childlike +in her nature which made her modest and decorous. +She had never learned to talk slang, or to take up +vulgar attitudes, or to tell impossible stories; and +she had never lost a silly habit of blushing at expressions +and anecdotes which she did not reprove other +women for using and relating. Her amusements had +never been flavoured with that spice of impropriety, +of curiosity of evil, which was common in her set. +She liked putting on pretty frocks, arranging pretty +furniture, driving in well got up carriages, eating +good dinners, laughing a great deal, and dancing a +great deal, and that was all.</p> + +<p>But now Madame Krasinska suddenly altered. She +became, all of a sudden, anxious for those exotic sensations +which honest women may get by studying +the ways, and frequenting the haunts, of women by +no means honest. She made up parties to go to the +low theatres and music-halls; she proposed dressing +up and going, in company with sundry adventurous +spirits, for evening strolls in the more dubious portions +of the town. Moreover, she, who had never +touched a card, began to gamble for large sums, and +to surprise people by producing a folded green roulette +cloth and miniature roulette rakes out of her pocket. +And she became so outrageously conspicuous in her +flirtations (she who had never flirted before), and so +outrageously loud in her manners and remarks, that +her good friends began to venture a little remonstrance….</p> + +<p>But remonstrance was all in vain; and she would +toss her head and laugh cynically, and answer in a +brazen, jarring voice.</p> + +<p>For Madame Krasinska felt that she must live, live +noisily, live scandalously, live her own life of wealth +and dissipation, because …</p> + +<p>She used to wake up at night with the horror of +that suspicion. And in the middle of the day, pull +at her clothes, tear down her hair, and rush to the +mirror and stare at herself, and look for every feature, +and clutch for every end of silk, or bit of lace, or wisp +of hair, which proved that she was really herself. +For gradually, slowly, she had come to understand +that she was herself no longer.</p> + +<p>Herself—well, yes, of course she was herself. Was +it not herself who rushed about in such a riot of +amusement; herself whose flushed cheeks and over-bright +eyes, and cynically flaunted neck and bosom +she saw in the glass, whose mocking loud voice and +shrill laugh she listened to? Besides, did not her servants, +her visitors, know her as Netta Krasinska; +and did she not know how to wear her clothes, dance, +make jokes, and encourage men, afterwards to discourage +them? This, she often said to herself, as she +lay awake the long nights, as she sat out the longer +nights gambling and chaffing, distinctly proved that +she really was herself. And she repeated it all mentally +when she returned, muddy, worn out, and as +awakened from a ghastly dream, after one of her long +rambles through the streets, her daily walks towards +the station.</p> + +<p>But still…. What of those strange forebodings +of evil, those muddled fears of some dreadful calamity … something +which had happened, or was going +to happen … poverty, starvation, death—whose +death, her own? or someone else's? That knowledge +that it was all, all over; that blinding, felling blow +which used every now and then to crush her…. Yes, +she had felt that first at the railway station. At +the station? but what had happened at the station? +Or was it going to happen still? Since to the station +her feet seemed unconsciously to carry her every day. +What was it all? Ah! she knew. There was a +woman, an old woman, walking to the station to +meet…. Yes, to meet a regiment on its way back. +They came back, those soldiers, among a mob yelling +triumph. She remembered the illuminations, the red, +green, and white lanterns, and those garlands all over +the waiting-rooms. And quantities of flags. The +bands played. So gaily! They played Garibaldi's +hymn, and <i>Addio, Mia Bella</i>. Those pieces always +made her cry now. The station was crammed, and +all the boys, in tattered, soiled uniforms, rushed into +the arms of parents, wives, friends. Then there was +like a blinding light, a crash… An officer led the +old woman gently out of the place, mopping his eyes. +And she, of all the crowd, was the only one to go +home alone. Had it really all happened? and to +whom? Had it really happened to her, had her boys…. But +Madame Krasinska had never had any +boys.</p> + +<p>It was dreadful how much it rained in Florence; +and stuff boots do wear out so quick in mud. There +was such a lot of mud on the way to the station; but +of course it was necessary to go to the station in order +to meet the train from Lombardy—the boys must be +met.</p> + +<p>There was a place on the other side of the river +where you went in and handed your watch and your +brooch over the counter, and they gave you some +money and a paper. Once the paper got lost. Then +there was a mattress, too. But there was a kind +man—a man who sold hardware—who went and +fetched it back. It was dreadfully cold in winter, but +the worst was the rain. And having no watch one +was afraid of being late for that train, and had to +dawdle so long in the muddy streets. Of course one +could look in at the pretty shops. But the little boys +were so rude. Oh, no, no, not that—anything rather +than be shut up in an hospital. The poor old woman +did no one any harm—why shut her up?</p> + +<p>"<i>Faites votre jeu, messieurs</i>," cried Madame Krasinska, +raking up the counters with the little rake she +had had made of tortoise-shell, with a gold dragon's +head for a handle—"<i>Rien ne va plus—vingt-trois—Rouge, +impair et manque</i>."</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VII.</h3> + +<p>How did she come to know about this woman? +She had never been inside that house over the tobacconist's, +up three pairs of stairs to the left; and yet +she knew exactly the pattern of the wall-paper. It +was green, with a pinkish trellis-work, in the grand +sitting-room, the one which was opened only on +Sunday evenings, when the friends used to drop in +and discuss the news, and have a game of <i>tresette</i>. +You passed through the dining-room to get through +it. The dining-room had no window, and was lit +from a skylight; there was always a little smell of +dinner in it, but that was appetising. The boys' rooms +were to the back. There was a plaster Joan of Arc +in the hall, close to the clothes-peg. She was painted +to look like silver, and one of the boys had broken +her arm, so that it looked like a gas-pipe. It was +Momino who had done it, jumping on to the table +when they were playing. Momino was always the +scapegrace; he wore out so many pairs of trousers +at the knees, but he was so warm-hearted! and after +all, he had got all the prizes at school, and they all +said he would be a first-rate engineer. Those dear +boys! They never cost their mother a farthing, once +they were sixteen; and Momino bought her a big, +beautiful muff out of his own earnings as a pupil-teacher. +Here it is! Such a comfort in the cold +weather, you can't think, especially when gloves are +too dear. Yes, it is rabbit-skin, but it is made to +look like ermine, quite a handsome article. Assunta, +the maid of all work, never would clean out that +kitchen of hers—servants are such sluts! and she tore +the moreen sofa-cover, too, against a nail in the wall. +She ought to have seen that nail! But one mustn't +be too hard on a poor creature, who is an orphan +into the bargain. Oh, God! oh, God! and they lie +in the big trench at San Martino, without even a cross +over them, or a bit of wood with their name. But +the white coats of the Austrians were soaked red, I +warrant you! And the new dye they call magenta is +made of pipe-clay—the pipe-clay the dogs clean their +white coats with—and the blood of Austrians. It's a +grand dye, I tell you!</p> + +<p>Lord, Lord, how wet the poor old woman's feet +are! And no fire to warm them by. The best is to +go to bed when one can't dry one's clothes; and it +saves lamp-oil. That was very good oil the parish +priest made her a present of … Aï, aï, how one's +bones ache on the mere boards, even with a blanket +over them! That good, good mattress at the pawn-shop! +It's nonsense about the Italians having been +beaten. The Austrians were beaten into bits, made +cats'-meat of; and the volunteers are returning to-morrow. +Temistocle and Momino—Momino is Girolamo, +you know—will be back to-morrow; their +rooms have been cleaned, and they shall have a flask +of real Montepulciano…. The big bottles in the +chemist's window are very beautiful, particularly the +green one. The shop where they sell gloves and +scarfs is also very pretty; but the English chemist's +is the prettiest, because of those bottles. But they +say the contents of them is all rubbish, and no real +medicine…. Don't speak of San Bonifazio! I have +seen it. It is where they keep the mad folk and the +wretched, dirty, wicked, wicked old women…. +There was a handsome book bound in red, with gold +edges, on the best sitting-room table; the Æneid, +translated by Caro. It was one of Temistocle's prizes. +And that Berlin-wool cushion … yes, the little dog +with the cherries looked quite real….</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking I should like to go to Sicily, +to see Etna, and Palermo, and all those places," said +Madame Krasinska, leaning on the balcony by the +side of Prince Mongibello, smoking her fifth or sixth +cigarette.</p> + +<p>She could see the hateful hooked nose, like a nasty +hawk's beak, over the big black beard, and the creature's +leering, languishing black eyes, as he looked up +into the twilight. She knew quite well what sort of +man Mongibello was. No woman could approach +him, or allow him to approach her; and there she was +on that balcony alone with him in the dark, far from +the rest of the party, who were dancing and talking +within. And to talk of Sicily to him, who was a +Sicilian too! But that was what she wanted—a +scandal, a horror, anything that might deaden those +thoughts which would go on inside her…. The +thought of that strange, lofty whitewashed place, +which she had never seen, but which she knew so +well, with an altar in the middle, and rows and rows +of beds, each with its set-out of bottles and baskets, +and horrid slobbering and gibbering old women. +Oh … she could hear them!</p> + +<p>"I should like to go to Sicily," she said in a tone +that was now common to her, adding slowly and with +emphasis, "but I should like to have someone to +show me all the sights…."</p> + +<p>"Countess," and the black beard of the creature +bent over her—close to her neck—"how strange—I +also feel a great longing to see Sicily once more, but +not alone—those lovely, lonely valleys…."</p> + +<p>Ah!—there was one of the creatures who had sat +up in her bed and was singing, singing "Casta Diva!" +"No, not alone"—she went on hurriedly, a sort of +fury of satisfaction, of the satisfaction of destroying +something, destroying her own fame, her own life, +filling her as she felt the man's hand on her arm—"not +alone, Prince—with someone to explain things—someone +who knows all about it—and in this +lovely spring weather. You see, I am a bad traveller—and +I am afraid … of being alone…." The +last words came out of her throat loud, hoarse, and +yet cracked and shrill—and just as the Prince's arm +was going to clasp her, she rushed wildly into the +room, exclaiming—</p> + +<p>"Ah, I am she—I am she—I am mad!"</p> + +<p>For in that sudden voice, so different from her own, +Madame Krasinska had recognised the voice that +should have issued from the cardboard mask she had +once worn, the voice of Sora Lena.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VIII.</h3> + +<p>Yes, Cecchino certainly recognised her now. Strolling +about in that damp May twilight among the +old, tortuous streets, he had mechanically watched +the big black horses draw up at the posts which +closed that labyrinth of black, narrow alleys; the servant +in his white waterproof opened the door, and +the tall, slender woman got out and walked quickly +along. And mechanically, in his wool-gathering +way, he had followed the lady, enjoying the charming +note of delicate pink and grey which her little +frock made against those black houses, and under +that wet, grey sky, streaked pink with the sunset. +She walked quickly along, quite alone, having left +the footman with the carriage at the entrance of that +condemned old heart of Florence; and she took no +notice of the stares and words of the boys playing in +the gutters, the pedlars housing their barrows under +the black archways, and the women leaning out +of window. Yes; there was no doubt. It had +struck him suddenly as he watched her pass under a +double arch and into a kind of large court, not +unlike that of a castle, between the frowning tall +houses of the old Jews' quarter; houses escutcheoned +and stanchioned, once the abode of Ghibelline nobles, +now given over to rag-pickers, scavengers and unspeakable +trades.</p> + +<p>As soon as he recognised her he stopped, and was +about to turn: what business has a man following +a lady, prying into her doings when she goes out +at twilight, with carriage and footman left several +streets back, quite alone through unlikely streets? +And Cecchino, who by this time was on the point of +returning to the Maremma, and had come to the conclusion +that civilisation was a boring and loathsome +thing, reflected upon the errands which French novels +described ladies as performing, when they left their +carriage and footman round the corner…. But the +thought was disgraceful to Cecchino, and unjust +to this lady—no, no! And at this moment he +stopped, for the lady had stopped a few paces before +him, and was staring fixedly into the grey evening +sky. There was something strange in that stare; it +was not that of a woman who is hiding disgraceful +proceedings. And in staring round she must have +seen him; yet she stood still, like one wrapped in +wild thoughts. Then suddenly she passed under the +next archway, and disappeared in the dark passage +of a house. Somehow Cecco Bandini could not +make up his mind, as he ought to have done long +ago, to turn back. He slowly passed through the +oozy, ill-smelling archway, and stood before that +house. It was very tall, narrow, and black as ink, +with a jagged roof against the wet, pinkish sky. +From the iron hook, made to hold brocades and +Persian carpets on gala days of old, fluttered some +rags, obscene and ill-omened in the wind. Many of +the window panes were broken. It was evidently +one of the houses which the municipality had condemned +to destruction for sanitary reasons, and +whence the inmates were gradually being evicted.</p> + +<p>"That's a house they're going to pull down, isn't +it?" he inquired in a casual tone of the man at the corner, +who kept a sort of cookshop, where chestnut pudding +and boiled beans steamed on a brazier in a den. +Then his eye caught a half-effaced name close to the +lamp-post, "Little Street of the Grave-digger." "Ah," +he added quickly, "this is the street where old Sora +Lena committed suicide—and—is—is that the house?"</p> + +<p>Then, trying to extricate some reasonable idea out +of the extraordinary tangle of absurdities which had +all of a sudden filled his mind, he fumbled in his +pocket for a silver coin, and said hurriedly to the +man with the cooking brazier,</p> + +<p>"See here, that house, I'm sure, isn't well inhabited. +That lady has gone there for a charity—but—but one +doesn't know that she mayn't be annoyed in there. +Here's fifty centimes for your trouble. If that lady +doesn't come out again in three-quarters of an hour—there! +it's striking seven—just you go round to the +stone posts—you'll find her carriage there—black +horses and grey liveries—and tell the footman to run +upstairs to his mistress—understand?" And Cecchino +Bandini fled, overwhelmed at the thought of the indiscretion +he was committing, but seeing, as he turned +round, those rags waving an ominous salute from the +black, gaunt house with its irregular roof against the +wet, twilight sky.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>IX.</h3> + +<p>Madame Krasinska hurried though the long black +corridor, with its slippery bricks and typhoid smell, +and went slowly but resolutely up the black staircase. +Its steps, constructed perhaps in the days of Dante's +grandfather, when a horn buckle and leathern belt +formed the only ornaments of Florentine dames, were +extraordinarily high, and worn off at the edges by +innumerable generations of successive nobles and +paupers. And as it twisted sharply on itself, the +staircase was lighted at rare intervals by barred +windows, overlooking alternately the black square +outside, with its jags of overhanging roof, and a black +yard, where a broken well was surrounded by a heap +of half-sorted chickens' feathers and unpicked rags. +On the first landing was an open door, partly screened +by a line of drying tattered clothes; and whence +issued shrill sounds of altercation and snatches of +tipsy song. Madame Krasinska passed on heedless +of it all, the front of her delicate frock brushing the +unseen filth of those black steps, in whose crypt-like +cold and gloom there was an ever-growing breath of +charnel. Higher and higher, flight after flight, steps +and steps. Nor did she look to the right or to the +left, nor ever stop to take breath, but climbed upward, +slowly, steadily. At length she reached the topmost +landing, on to which fell a flickering beam of the +setting sun. It issued from a room, whose door was +standing wide open. Madame Krasinska entered. +The room was completely empty, and comparatively +light. There was no furniture in it, except a chair, +pushed into a dark corner, and an empty bird-cage at +the window. The panes were broken, and here and +there had been mended with paper. Paper also hung, +in blackened rags, upon the walls.</p> + +<p>Madame Krasinska walked to the window and +looked out over the neighbouring roofs, to where the +bell in an old black belfry swung tolling the Ave +Maria. There was a porticoed gallery on the top of +a house some way off; it had a few plants growing +in pipkins, and a drying line. She knew it all so well.</p> + +<p>On the window-sill was a cracked basin, in which +stood a dead basil plant, dry, grey. She looked at it +some time, moving the hardened earth with her +fingers. Then she turned to the empty bird-cage. +Poor solitary starling! how he had whistled to the +poor old woman! Then she began to cry.</p> + +<p>But after a few moments she roused herself. Mechanically, +she went to the door and closed it carefully. +Then she went straight to the dark corner, where she +knew that the staved-in straw chair stood. She +dragged it into the middle of the room, where the +hook was in the big rafter. She stood on the chair, +and measured the height of the ceiling. It was so low +that she could graze it with the palm of her hand. +She took off her gloves, and then her bonnet—it was +in the way of the hook. Then she unclasped her +girdle, one of those narrow Russian ribbons of silver +woven stuff, studded with niello. She buckled one +end firmly to the big hook. Then she unwound the +strip of muslin from under her collar. She was standing +on the broken chair, just under the rafter. +"Pater noster qui es in cælis," she mumbled, as she +still childishly did when putting her head on the +pillow every night.</p> + +<p>The door creaked and opened slowly. The big, +hulking woman, with the vague, red face and blear +stare, and the rabbit-skin muff, bobbing on her huge +crinolined skirts, shambled slowly into the room. +It was the Sora Lena.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>X.</h3> + +<p>When the man from the cook-shop under the archway +and the footman entered the room, it was pitch +dark. Madame Krasinska was lying in the middle of +the floor, by the side of an overturned chair, and under +a hook in the rafter whence hung her Russian girdle. +When she awoke from her swoon, she looked slowly +round the room; then rose, fastened her collar and +murmured, crossing herself, "O God, thy mercy is +infinite." The men said that she smiled.</p> + +<p>Such is the legend of Madame Krasinska, known as +Mother Antoinette Marie among the Little Sisters of +the Poor.</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> + +<h6><i>Printed by</i> <span class="smallcaps">Ballantyne, Hanson & Co</span><br /> +<i>Edinburgh and London</i></h6> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="minimal" /> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #E6F6FA; margin: 0 auto" cellspacing="2" cellpadding="4" summary="NOTES"> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> + <div class="center">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</div> + +<p class="noindent" style="background-color: #E6F6FA"> +Publisher's advertising, which faces the title page in the original book, has been +moved to the end of the listings following this note.<br /> +<br /> +Missing punctuation has been silently added, especially quotation marks. +Hyphenation is inconsistent.<br /> +<br /> +The following additional changes have been made: +</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="left" valign="top">… implored Mrs. Wanderwerf …</td> +<td align="left" valign="top">… implored Mrs. <b>Vanderwerf</b> …</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="left" valign="top">… to the South Kensington Musuem …</td> + <td align="left" valign="top">… to the South Kensington <b>Museum</b> …</td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td align="left" valign="top">… c'est notre facon …</td> +<td align="left" valign="top">… c'est notre <b>façon</b> …</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td align="left" colspan="2">In the advertising following this note, the name Bacharcah was corrected +to read Bacharach.</td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><i>Mr. William Heinemann's List.</i></h3> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="big">VICTORIA:</span><br /> +<br /> +QUEEN AND EMPRESS.<br /><br /> +<span class="small">BY</span><br /><br /> +<span class="wide">JOHN CORDY JEAFFRESON,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="small">Author of "The Real Lord Byron," etc.</span><br /> +<span class="small">In Two Volumes, 8vo. With Portraits.</span> +</p> +</div> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In October.</span></i></p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="big">TWENTY-FIVE YEARS IN THE<br /> +<br /> +SECRET SERVICE.</span><br /> +<br /> +<i>THE RECOLLECTIONS OF A SPY.</i><br /> +<br /> +<span class="small">BY</span><br /> +<br /> +MAJOR LE CARON.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="small">In One Volume, 8vo. With Portraits and Facsimiles.</span> +</p> +</div> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In October.</span></i></p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="big">REMINISCENCES OF<br /> +<br /> +COUNT LEO NICHOLAEVITCH<br /> +<br /> +TOLSTOI.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="small">BY</span><br /> +<br /> +C. A. BEHRS,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="small">TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY</span><br /> +<br /> +PROFESSOR C. E. TURNER.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="small">In One Volume, Crown 8vo.</span> +</p> +</div> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In October.</span></i></p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="big">THE REALM</span> OF THE <span class="big">HABSBURGS</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="small">BY</span><br /> +<br /> +SIDNEY WHITMAN,<br /> +<br /> +<span class="small">Author of "Imperial Germany."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="small">In One Volume.</span> <span class="ind2"> </span><span class="small">Crown 8vo.</span> +</p> +</div> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In November.</span></i></p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<p class="revind"><b><span class="wide">THE WORKS OF HEINRICH HEINE.</span></b> <span class="small">Translated +by</span> <span class="smallcaps">Charles Godfrey Leland, M.A., F.R.L.S.</span> <span class="small">(Hans Breitmann). +Crown 8vo, cloth, 5<i>s.</i> per Volume.</span> +</p> +<blockquote> +<p class="revind">I. FLORENTINE NIGHTS, SCHNABELEWOPSKI, +THE RABBI OF BACHARACH, and SHAKESPEARE'S +MAIDENS AND WOMEN. +</p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Ready.</span></i></p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="med"> +<p> +<i>Times.</i>—"We can recommend no better medium for making acquaintance +at first hand with 'the German Aristophanes' than the works of Heinrich +Heine, translated by Charles Godfrey Leland. Mr. Leland manages pretty +successfully to preserve the easy grace of the original." +</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">II., III. PICTURES OF TRAVEL. 1823-1828. In Two Volumes.</p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Ready.</span></i></p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="med"> +<p><i>Daily Chronicle.</i>—"Mr. Leland's translation of 'The Pictures of Travel' +is one of the acknowledged literary feats of the age. As a traveller Heine is +delicious beyond description, and a volume which includes the magnificent +Lucca series, the North Sea, the memorable Hartz wanderings, must needs +possess an everlasting charm." +</p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote><p class="noindent">IV. THE BOOK OF SONGS.</p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In the Press.</span></i></p> +<p class="noindent">V., VI. GERMANY. In Two Volumes.</p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Ready.</span></i></p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote class="med"> +<p><i>Daily Telegraph.</i>—"Mr. Leland has done his translation in able and +scholarly fashion." +</p> +</blockquote> + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">VII., VIII. FRENCH AFFAIRS. In Two Volumes.</p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In the Press.</span></i></p> +</blockquote> +<blockquote> +<p>IX. THE SALON.</p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In preparation.</span></i></p> + +<p class="tbhigh">* <span class="tblow">*</span> * <span class="small"><i>Large Paper Edition, limited to 100 Numbered Copies. Particulars on +application.</i></span></p> +</blockquote> +<p> </p> +<p class="revind"><b>THE POSTHUMOUS WORKS OF THOMAS DE QUINCEY.</b> <span class="small">Edited with Introduction and Notes from the Author's +Original MSS., by</span> <span class="smallcaps">Alexander H. Japp</span>, LL.D, F.R.S.E., &c. <span class="small">Crown +8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i> each.</span></p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">I. SUSPIRIA DE PROFUNDIS. With Other Essays.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="small"><i>Times.</i>—"Here we have De Quincey at his best. Will be welcome to +lovers of De Quincey and good literature."</span> +</p> +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">II. CONVERSATION AND COLERIDGE. With other Essays.</p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In preparation.</span></i></p> +</blockquote> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><b><i><span class="big">The Great Educators.</span></i></b></p> + +<p class="noindent"><i>A Series of Volumes by Eminent Writers, presenting in their +entirety "A Biographical History of Education."</i></p> +</div> +<p><span class="small"><i>The Times.</i>—"A Series of Monographs on 'The Great Educators' should +prove of service to all who concern themselves with the history, theory, and +practice of education."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>The Speaker.</i>—"There is a promising sound about the title of Mr. Heinemann's +new series, 'The Great Educators.' It should help to allay the hunger +and thirst for knowledge and culture of the vast multitude of young men and +maidens which our educational system turns out yearly, provided at least with +an appetite for instruction."</span></p> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="small">Each subject will form a complete volume, crown 8vo, 5<i>s.</i></span></p> +<p> </p> +<p class="noindent"><i><span class="small">Now ready.</span></i></p> +</div> + +<p class="revind"><b>ARISTOTLE, and the Ancient Educational Ideals.</b> By +Thomas Davidson, M.A., LL. D.</p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>The Times.</i>—"A very readable sketch of a very interesting subject."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>LOYOLA, and the Educational System of the Jesuits.</b> By +<span class="smallcaps">Rev. Thomas Hughes</span>, S.J.</p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Saturday Review.</i>—"Full of valuable information…. If a schoolmaster +would learn how the education of the young can be carried on so as to +confer real dignity on those engaged in it, we recommend him to read Mr. +Hughes' book."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>ALCUIN, and the Rise of the Christian Schools.</b> By +Professor <span class="smallcaps">Andrew F. West</span>, Ph.D.</p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In October.</span></i></p> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><i><span class="small">In preparation.</span></i></p> +</div> + +<p class="revind"><b>ABELARD, and the Origin and Early History of Universities.</b> +<span class="small">By</span> <span class="smallcaps">Jules Gabriel Compayre</span>, <span class="small">Professor in the Faculty of Toulouse.</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>ROUSSEAU; or, Education according to Nature.</b></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>HERBART; or, Modern German Education.</b></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>PESTALOZZI; or, the Friend and Student of Children.</b></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>FROEBEL.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">H. Courthope Bowen</span>, M.A.</p> + +<p class="revind"><b>HORACE MANN, and Public Education in the United States.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Nicholas Murray Butler</span>, Ph.D.</p> + +<p class="revind"><b>BELL, LANCASTER, and ARNOLD; or, the English Education of To-Day.</b> +By <span class="smallcaps">J. G. Fitch</span>, LL. D., Her Majesty's Inspector of Schools.</p> + +<div class="center"> + <p><i><span class="small">Others to follow.</span></i></p> +</div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<p class="revind"><b><span class="wide">THE GREAT WAR OF 189-.</span> A Forecast.</b> <small>By <span class="smallcaps">Rear-Admiral +Colomb, Col. Maurice, R.A., Major Henderson, Staff +College, Captain Maude, Archibald Forbes, Charles Lowe, +D. Christie Murray, F. Scudamore</span>, and <span class="smallcaps">Sir Charles Dilke</span>.</small> <span class="small">In +One Volume, 4to, Illustrated.</span></p> + +<p><span class="small">In this narrative, which is reprinted from the pages of <i>Black and White</i>, +an attempt is made to forecast the course of events preliminary and incidental +to the Great War which, in the opinion of military and political experts, will +probably occur in the immediate future.</span></p> + +<p><span class="small">The writers, who are well-known authorities on international politics and +strategy, have striven to derive the conflict from its most likely source, to +conceive the most probable campaigns and acts of policy, and generally to give +to their work the verisimilitude and actuality of real warfare. The work has +been profusely illustrated from sketches by Mr. Frederic Villiers, the well-known +war artist.</span></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Nearly ready.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES.</b> <span class="small">As +pleasingly exemplified in many instances, wherein the serious ones of this +earth, carefully exasperated, have been prettily spurred on to indiscretions +and unseemliness, while overcome by an undue sense of right. By</span> +<span class="smallcaps">J. M'Neil Whistler</span>. <span class="small"><i>A New Edition</i>. Pott 4to, half cloth, 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></span></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Just ready.</span></i></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Punch</i>.—"The book in itself, in its binding, print and arrangement, is a +work of art…. A work of rare humour, a thing of beauty and a joy for now +and ever."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE JEW AT HOME.</b> Impressions of a Summer and +Autumn Spent with Him in Austria and Russia. By <span class="smallcaps">Joseph Pennell</span>. +<span class="small">With Illustrations by the Author. 4to, cloth, 5<i>s.</i></span></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Just ready.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE NEW EXODUS.</b> A Study of Israel in Russia. By +<span class="smallcaps">Harold Frederic</span>. <span class="small">Demy 8vo, Illustrated. 16<i>s.</i></span></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Just ready.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>PRINCE BISMARCK.</b> An Historical Biography. By +<span class="smallcaps">Charles Lowe</span>, M.A. <span class="small">With Portraits. Crown 8vo, 6<i>s.</i></span></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Just ready.</span></i></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>The Times.</i>—"Is unquestionably the first important work which deals, +fully and with some approach to exhaustiveness, with the career of Bismarck +from both the personal and the historical points of view."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>ADDRESSES.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Henry Irving</span>. Small crown 8vo. +<span class="small">With Portrait by J. M'N. Whistler.</span></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In the Press.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>STRAY MEMORIES.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Ellen Terry</span>. <small>4to. With +Portraits.</small></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In preparation.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>LITTLE JOHANNES.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Frederick van Eeden</span>. <small>Translated +from the Dutch by</small> <span class="smallcaps">Clara Bell</span>. <small>With an Introduction by</small> +<span class="smallcaps">Andrew Lang</span>. <small>Illustrated.</small></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In Preparation.</span></i></p> +<div class="center"> +<p class="tbhigh">* <span class="tblow">*</span> * <span class="small"><i>Also a Large Paper Edition</i>.</span></p> +</div> + +<p class="revind"><b>LIFE OF HEINRICH HEINE.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Richard Garnett, LL. D.</span> +<small>With Portrait. Crown 8vo (uniform with the translation of Heine's +Works).</small></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In preparation.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE SPEECH OF MONKEYS.</b> By Professor <span class="smallcaps">R. L. Garner</span>. +<small>Crown 8vo, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></small></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Just ready.</span></i></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Daily Chronicle</i>.—"A real, a remarkable, contribution to our common +knowledge."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Daily Telegraph</i>.—"An entertaining book."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE OLD MAIDS' CLUB.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">I. Zangwill</span>, <small>Author of +"The Bachelors' Club." Illustrated by</small> <span class="smallcaps">F. H. Townsend</span>. <small>Crown 8vo, +cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>National Review</i>.—"Mr. Zangwill has a very bright and a very original +humour, and every page of this closely printed book is full of point and go, and +full, too, of a healthy satire that is really humorously applied common-sense."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Athenæum</i>.—"Most strongly to be recommended to all classes of readers."</span></p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<p class="revind"><b>WOMAN—THROUGH A MAN'S EYEGLASS.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Malcolm C. Salaman</span>. +<small>With Illustrations by</small> <span class="smallcaps">Dudley Hardy</span>. <span class="small">Crown +8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Daily Graphic.</i>—"A most amusing book."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Daily Telegraph.</i>—"Written with brightness and elegance, and with +touches of both caustic satire and kindly humour."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Daily Chronicle.</i>—"It is the very thing for a punt cushion or a garden +hammock."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>GIRLS AND WOMEN.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">E. Chester</span>. <small>Pott 8vo, cloth, +2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, or gilt extra, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Literary World.</i>—"We gladly commend this delightful little work to the +thoughtful girls of our own country. We hope that many parents and daughters +will read and ponder over the little volume."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>GOSSIP IN A LIBRARY.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Edmund Gosse</span>, <small>Author of +"Northern Studies," &c.</small> <span class="small">Second Edition. Crown 8vo, buckram, gilt top, +7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Athenæum.</i>—"There is a touch of Leigh Hunt in this picture of the book-lover +among his books, and the volume is one that Leigh Hunt would have +delighted in."</span></p> + +<div class="center"> +<p class="tbhigh">* <span class="tblow">*</span> * <i><span class="small">Large Paper Edition, limited to 100 Numbered Copies, 25s. net.</span></i></p> +</div> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Henrik Jæger</span>. +<small>Translated by</small> <span class="smallcaps">Clara Bell</span>. <small>With the Verse done into English from the +Norwegian Original by</small> <span class="smallcaps">Edmund Gosse</span>. <span class="small">Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i></span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Academy.</i>—"We welcome it heartily. An unqualified boon to the many +English students of Ibsen."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>DE QUINCEY MEMORIALS.</b> <small>Being Letters and other +Records here first Published, with Communications from</small> <span class="smallcaps">Coleridge</span>, <small>The</small> +<span class="smallcaps">Wordsworths</span>, <span class="smallcaps">Hannah More</span>, <span class="smallcaps">Professor Wilson</span> and others. Edited, +<small>with Introduction, Notes, and Narrative, by</small> <span class="smallcaps">Alexander H. Japp</span>, LL. D. +F.R.S.E. <span class="small">In two volumes, demy 8vo, cloth, with portraits, 30<i>s.</i> net.</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Daily Telegraph.</i>—"Few works of greater literary interest have of late years +issued from the press than the two volumes of 'De Quincey Memorials.' They +comprise most valuable materials for the historian of literary and social England +at the beginning of the century; but they are not on that account less calculated +to amuse, enlighten, and absorb the general reader of biographical memoirs."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE WORD OF THE LORD UPON THE WATERS.</b> +<small>Sermons read by His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Germany, while +at Sea on his Voyages to the Land of the Midnight Sun. Composed by +Dr.</small> <span class="smallcaps">Richter</span>, <small>Army Chaplain, and Translated from the German by</small> <span class="smallcaps">John +R. McIlraith</span>. <span class="small">4to, cloth, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Times.</i>—"The Sermons are vigorous, simple, and vivid in themselves, and +well adapted to the circumstances in which they were delivered."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE HOURS OF RAPHAEL, IN OUTLINE.</b> +<small>Together with the Ceiling of the Hall where they were originally painted. +By</small> <span class="smallcaps">Mary E. Williams</span>. <span class="small">Folio, cloth, <i>£</i>2 2<i>s.</i> net.</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE PASSION PLAY AT OBERAMMERGAU, 1890.</b> +By <span class="smallcaps">F. W. Farrar, D.D., F.R.S.</span>, <span class="small">Archdeacon and Canon of Westminster +&c. &c. 4to, cloth, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Spectator.</i>—"This little book will be read with delight by those who have, +and by those who have not, visited Oberammergau."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE GARDEN'S STORY</b>; <small>or, Pleasures and Trials of an +Amateur Gardener.</small> By <span class="smallcaps">G. H. Ellwanger</span>. <small>With an Introduction by the +Rev.</small> <span class="smallcaps">C. Wolley Dod</span>. <span class="small">12mo, cloth, with Illustrations, 5<i>s.</i></span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Scotsman.</i>—"It deals with a charming subject in a charming manner."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>IDLE MUSINGS</b>: Essays in Social Mosaic. <small>By</small> <span class="smallcaps">E. Conder Gray</span>, +<small>Author of "Wise Words and Loving Deeds," &c. &c.</small> <span class="small">Crown 8vo, +cloth, 6<i>s.</i></span></p> +<p><span class="small"><i>Saturday Review.</i>—"Light, brief, and bright."</span></p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><b><i><span class="big">Fiction.</span></i></b></p> +</div> +<h5>In Three Volumes.</h5> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE HEAD OF THE FIRM.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smallcaps">Riddell</span>, <small>Author +of "George Geith," "Maxwell Drewett," &c.</small></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Just ready.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">I. Zangwill</span>, +<small>Author of "The Old Maids' Club," &c.</small></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Just ready.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE TOWER OF TADDEO.</b> A Novel. By <span class="smallcaps">Ouida</span>, +<small>Author of "Two Little Wooden Shoes," &c.</small></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In October.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>KITTY'S FATHER.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Frank Barrett</span>. <small>Author of +"Lieutenant Barnabas," &c.</small></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In November.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE COUNTESS RADNA.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">W. E. Norris</span>, <small>Author of +"Matrimony," &c.</small></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In January.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>ORIOLE'S DAUGHTER.</b> A Novel. By <span class="smallcaps">Jessie Fothergill</span>, +<small>Author of "The First Violin," &c.</small></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In February.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE LAST SENTENCE.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Maxwell Gray</span>, <small>Author of +"The Silence of Dean Maitland," &c.</small></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In March.</span></i></p> +<p> </p> + +<h5>In Two Volumes.</h5> + +<p class="revind"><b>WOMAN AND THE MAN.</b> A Love Story. By <span class="smallcaps">Robert Buchanan</span>, +<small>Author of "Come Live with Me and be My Love," "The +Moment After," "The Coming Terror," &c.</small></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In preparation.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>A KNIGHT OF THE WHITE FEATHER.</b> By "<span class="smallcaps">Tasma</span>," +<small>Author of "The Penance of Portia James," "Uncle Piper of Piper's +Hill," &c.</small></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Just ready.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>A LITTLE MINX.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Ada Cambridge</span>, <small>Author of "A +Marked Man," "The Three Miss Kings," &c.</small></p> +<p> </p> + +<h5>In One Volume.</h5> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE NAULAHKA.</b> A Tale of West and East. By <span class="smallcaps">Rudyard Kipling</span> and +<span class="smallcaps">Wolcott Balestier</span>. <span class="small">Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i> Second +Edition.</span></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Just ready.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE AVERAGE WOMAN.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Wolcott Balestier</span>. +<small>With an Introduction by</small> <span class="smallcaps">Henry James</span>. <span class="small">Small crown 8vo, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></span></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Just ready.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE ATTACK ON THE MILL and Other Sketches of War.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Emile Zola</span>. <small>With an essay on the short stories of M. +Zola by Edmund Gosse.</small> <span class="small">Small crown 8vo, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></span></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">Just ready.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>DUST.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Björnstjerne Björnson</span>. <small>Translated from the +Norwegian.</small> <span class="small">Small crown 8vo.</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE SECRET OF NARCISSE.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Edmund Gosse</span>. +<span class="small">Crown 8vo.</span></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In October.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>MADEMOISELLE MISS and Other Stories.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Henry Harland</span>, +<small>Author of "Mea Culpa," &c.</small> <span class="small">Small crown 8vo.</span></p> +<p class="right">[<i><span class="small">In the Press.</span></i></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE DOMINANT SEVENTH.</b> A Musical Story. By +<span class="smallcaps">Kate Elizabeth Clarke</span>. <span class="small">Crown 8vo, cloth, 5<i>s.</i></span></p> +<p><span class="small"><i>Speaker.</i>—"A very romantic story."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>PASSION THE PLAYTHING.</b> A Novel. By <span class="smallcaps">R. Murray Gilchrist</span>. +<span class="small">Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i></span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Athenæum.</i>—"This well-written story must be read to be appreciated."</span></p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><b><i><span class="big">Heinemann's International Library.</span></i></b> +<br /><br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Edited by</span> EDMUND GOSSE. +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="small"><i>New Review.</i>—"If you have any pernicious remnants of literary chauvinism +I hope it will not survive the series of foreign classics of which Mr. William +Heinemann, aided by Mr. Edmund Gosse, is publishing translations to the great +contentment of all lovers of literature."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Times.</i>—"A venture which deserves encouragement."</span></p> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><i><span class="small">Each Volume has an Introduction specially written by the Editor.</span></i><br /> +<span class="small">Price, in paper covers, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each, or cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></span> +</p> +</div> + +<p class="revind"><b>IN GOD'S WAY.</b> From the Norwegian of <span class="smallcaps">Björnstjerne Björnson</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Athenæum.</i>—"Without doubt the most important and the most interesting +work published during the twelve months…. There are descriptions which +certainly belong to the best and cleverest things our literature has ever produced. +Amongst the many characters, the doctor's wife is unquestionably the first. It +would be difficult to find anything more tender, soft, and refined than this +charming personage."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>PIERRE AND JEAN.</b> From the French of <span class="smallcaps">Guy de Maupassant</span>.</p> +<p><span class="small"><i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i>—"So fine and faultless, so perfectly balanced, so +steadily progressive, so clear and simple and satisfying. It is admirable from +beginning to end."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Athenæum.</i>—"Ranks amongst the best gems of modern French fiction."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE CHIEF JUSTICE.</b> From the German of <span class="smallcaps">Karl Emil Franzos</span>, +<small>Author of "For the Right," &c.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>New Review.</i>—"Few novels of recent times have a more sustained and +vivid human interest."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Christian World.</i>—"A story of wonderful power … as free from anything +objectionable as 'The Heart of Midlothian.'"</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>WORK WHILE YE HAVE THE LIGHT.</b> From the +Russian of Count <span class="smallcaps">Lyof Tolstoy</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Liverpool Mercury.</i>—"Marked by all the old power of the great Russian +novelist."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Manchester Guardian.</i>—"Readable and well translated; full of high and +noble feeling."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>FANTASY.</b> From the Italian of <span class="smallcaps">Matilde Serao</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>National Observer.</i>—"The strongest work from the hand of a woman that +has been published for many a day."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Scottish Leader.</i>—"The book is full of a glowing and living realism…. +There is nothing like 'Fantasy' in modern literature…. It is a work of elfish +art, a mosaic of light and love, of right and wrong, of human weakness and +strength, and purity and wantonness, pieced together in deft and witching +precision."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>FROTH.</b> From the Spanish of Don <span class="smallcaps">Armando Palacio-Valdés</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Daily Telegraph.</i>—"Vigorous and powerful in the highest degree. It +abounds in forcible delineation of character, and describes scenes with rare and +graphic strength."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>FOOTSTEPS OF FATE.</b> From the Dutch of <span class="smallcaps">Louis Couperus</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Daily Chronicle.</i>—"A powerfully realistic story which has been excellently +translated."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Gentlewoman.</i>—"The consummate art of the writer prevents this tragedy +from sinking to melodrama. Not a single situation is forced or a circumstance +exaggerated."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>PEPITA JIMÉNEZ.</b> From the Spanish of <span class="smallcaps">Juan Valera</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>New Review</i> (Mr. George Saintsbury):—"There is no doubt at all that +it is one of the best stories that have appeared in any country in Europe for the +last twenty years."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE COMMODORE'S DAUGHTERS.</b> From the Norwegian of <span class="smallcaps">Jonas Lie</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Athenæum.</i>—"Everything that Jonas Lie writes is attractive and pleasant; +the plot of deeply human interest, and the art noble."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE HERITAGE OF THE KURTS.</b> From the Norwegian of <span class="smallcaps">Björnstjerne Björnson</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i>—"A most fascinating as well as a powerful book."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>National Observer.</i>—"It is a book to read and a book to think about, for, +incontestably, it is the work of a man of genius."</span></p> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><i><span class="small">In the Press.</span></i></p> +</div> + +<p class="revind"><b>LOU.</b> From the German of <span class="smallcaps">Baron v. Roberts</span>.</p> + +<p class="revind"><b>DONA LUZ.</b> From the Spanish of <span class="smallcaps">Juan Valera</span>.</p> + +<p class="revind"><b>WITHOUT DOGMA.</b> From the Polish of <span class="smallcaps">H. Sienkiewicz</span>.</p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><b><span class="big"><i>Popular 3s. 6d. Novels.</i></span></b></p> +</div> + +<p class="revind"><b>CAPT'N DAVY'S HONEYMOON</b>, The Blind Mother, +and The Last Confession. By <span class="smallcaps">Hall Caine,</span> <small>Author of "The Bondman," +"The Scapegoat," &c.</small></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE SCAPEGOAT.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Hall Caine</span>, Author of "The Bondman," &c.</p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Mr. Gladstone writes</i>:—"I congratulate you upon 'The Scapegoat' as a +work of art, and especially upon the noble and skilfully drawn character of +Israel."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Times.</i>—"In our judgment it excels in dramatic force all his previous efforts. +For grace and touching pathos Naomi is a character which any romancist in the +world might be proud to have created."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE BONDMAN.</b> A New Saga. By <span class="smallcaps">Hall Caine</span>. +<small>Twentieth Thousand.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Mr. Gladstone.</i>—"'The Bondman' is a work of which I recognise the +freshness, vigour, and sustained interest no less than its integrity of aim."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Standard.</i>—"Its argument is grand, and it is sustained with a power that is +almost marvellous."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>DESPERATE REMEDIES.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Thomas Hardy</span>, <small>Author +of "Tess of the D'Urbervilles," &c.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Saturday Review.</i>—"A remarkable story worked out with abundant skill."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>A MARKED MAN</b>: Some Episodes in his Life. By <span class="smallcaps">Ada Cambridge</span>, +<small>Author of "Two Years' Time," "A Mere Chance," &c.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Morning Post.</i>—"A depth of feeling, a knowledge of the human heart, and +an amount of tact that one rarely finds. Should take a prominent place among +the novels of the season."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE THREE MISS KINGS.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Ada Cambridge</span>, <small>Author of "A Marked Man."</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Athenæum.</i>—"A charming study of character. The love stories are excellent, +and the author is happy in tender situations."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>NOT ALL IN VAIN.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Ada Cambridge</span>, <small>Author of "A +Marked Man," "The Three Miss Kings," &c.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Guardian.</i>—"A clever and absorbing story."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Queen.</i>—"All that remains to be said is 'read the book.'"</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>UNCLE PIPER OF PIPER'S HILL.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Tasma</span>. <small>New Popular Edition.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Guardian.</i>—"Every page of it contains good wholesome food, which demands +and repays digestion. The tale itself is thoroughly charming, and all the +characters are delightfully drawn. We strongly recommend all lovers of wholesome +novels to make acquaintance with it themselves, and are much mistaken if +they do not heartily thank us for the introduction."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>IN THE VALLEY.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Harold Frederic</span>, <small>Author of +"The Lawton Girl," "Seth's Brother's Wife," &c. With Illustrations.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Times.</i>—"The literary value of the book is high; the author's studies of +bygone life presenting a life-like picture."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>PRETTY MISS SMITH.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Florence Warden</span>, <small>Author +of "The House on the Marsh," "A Witch of the Hills," &c.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Punch.</i>—"Since Miss Florence Warden's 'House on the Marsh,' I have +not read a more exciting tale."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>NOR WIFE, NOR MAID.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smallcaps">Hungerford</span>, <small>Author +of "Molly Bawn," &c.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Queen.</i>—"It has all the characteristics of the writer's work, and greater +emotional depth than most of its predecessors."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Scotsman.</i>—"Delightful reading, supremely interesting."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>MAMMON.</b> A Novel. By Mrs. <span class="smallcaps">Alexander</span>, <small>Author of "The Wooing O't," &c.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Scotsman.</i>—"The present work is not behind any of its predecessors. +'Mammon' is a healthy story, and as it has been thoughtfully written it has the +merit of creating thought in its readers."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>DAUGHTERS OF MEN.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Hannah Lynch</span>, <small>Author of +"The Prince of the Glades," &c.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Daily Telegraph.</i>—"Singularly clever and fascinating."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Academy.</i>—"One of the cleverest, if not also the pleasantest, stories that +have appeared for a long time."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>A ROMANCE OF THE CAPE FRONTIER.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Bertram Mitford</span>, +<small>Author of "Through the Zulu Country," &c.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Observer.</i>—"This is a rattling tale, genial, healthy, and spirited."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>'TWEEN SNOW AND FIRE.</b> A Tale of the Kafir War of +1877. By <span class="smallcaps">Bertram Mitford</span>.</p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE MASTER OF THE MAGICIANS.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Elizabeth Stuart Phelps</span> and <span class="smallcaps">Herbert D. Ward</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Athenæum.</i>—"A thrilling story."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>LOS CERRITOS.</b> A Romance of the Modern Time. By +<span class="smallcaps">Gertrude Franklin Atherton</span>, <small>Author of "Hermia Suydam," and +"What Dreams may Come."</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Athenæum.</i>—"Full of fresh fancies and suggestions. Told with strength +and delicacy. A decidedly charming romance."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>A MODERN MARRIAGE.</b> By the Marquise <span class="smallcaps">Clara Lanza</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Queen.</i>—"A powerful story, dramatically and consistently carried out."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Black and White.</i>—"A decidedly clever book."</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><b><span class="big"><i>Popular Shilling Books.</i></span></b></p> +</div> + +<p class="revind"><b>MADAME VALERIE.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">F. C. Philips</span>, <small>Author of "As +in a Looking-Glass," &c.</small></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE MOMENT AFTER</b>: A Tale of the Unseen. By <span class="smallcaps">Robert Buchanan</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Athenæum.</i>—"Should be read—in daylight."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Observer.</i>—"A clever <i>tour de force.</i>"</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Guardian.</i>—"Particularly impressive, graphic, and powerful."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>CLUES; or, Leaves from a Chief Constable's Note-Book.</b> +By <span class="smallcaps">William Henderson</span>, <small>Chief Constable of Edinburgh.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Mr. Gladstone.</i>—"I found the book full of interest."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>A VERY STRANGE FAMILY.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">F. W. Robinson</span>, +<small>Author of "Grandmother's Money," "Lazarus in London," &c.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Glasgow Herald.</i>—"An ingeniously devised plot, of which the interest is +kept up to the very last page. A judicious blending of humour and pathos +further helps to make the book delightful reading from start to finish."</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><b><span class="big"><i>Dramatic Literature.</i></span></b></p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="wide">THE PLAYS OF ARTHUR W. PINERO.</span></p> +<p class="noindent"><small>With Introductory Notes by <span class="smallcaps">Malcolm C. Salaman</span>. 16mo, Paper Covers,<br /> +1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; or Cloth, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</small></p> +</div> +<p class="revind"><b>THE TIMES</b>: <small>A Comedy in Four Acts. With a Preface by +the Author. (Vol. I.)</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Daily Telegraph.</i>—"'The Times' is the best example yet given of Mr. +Pinero's power as a satirist. So clever is his work that it beats down opposition. +So fascinating is his style that we cannot help listening to him."</span></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Morning Post.</i>—"Mr. Pinero's latest belongs to a high order of dramatic +literature, and the piece will be witnessed again with all the greater zest after the +perusal of such admirable dialogue."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE PROFLIGATE:</b> <small>A Play in Four Acts. With Portrait +of the Author, after <span class="smallcaps">J. Mordecai</span>. (Vol. II.)</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i>—"Will be welcomed by all who have the true interests +of the stage at heart."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE CABINET MINISTER:</b> <small>A Farce in Four Acts. (Vol. III.)</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Observer.</i>—"It is as amusing to read as it was when played."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE HOBBY HORSE:</b> <small>A Comedy in Three Acts. (Vol. IV.)</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>St. James's Gazette.</i>—"Mr. Pinero has seldom produced better or more +interesting work than in 'The Hobby Horse.'"</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>LADY BOUNTIFUL.</b> <small>A Play in Four Acts. (Vol. V.)</small></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE MAGISTRATE.</b> <small>A Farce in Three Acts. (Vol. VI.)</small></p> + +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><span class="small">To be followed by Dandy Dick, The Schoolmistress, The Weaker Sex,<br /> +Lords and +Commons, The Squire, and Sweet Lavender.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<p class="noindent"><b><span class="big"><i>The Crown Copyright Series.</i></span></b></p> +<p class="noindent"><i><span class="small">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, price 5s. each.</span></i></p> +</div> + +<p class="revind"><b>ACCORDING TO ST. JOHN.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Amélie Rives</span>, <small>Author +of "The Quick or the Dead."</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Scotsman.</i>—"… It has beauty and brightness, and a kind +of fascination which carries the reader on till he has read to the +last page."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE PENANCE OF PORTIA JAMES.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Tasma</span>, +<small>Author of "Uncle Piper of Piper's Hill," &c.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Athenæum.</i>—"A powerful novel."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>INCONSEQUENT LIVES.</b> A Village Chronicle. By +<span class="smallcaps">J. H. Pearce</span>, <small>Author of "Esther Pentreath," &c.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Saturday Review.</i>—"A vivid picture of the life of Cornish +fisher-folk. It is unquestionably interesting."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>A QUESTION OF TASTE.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Maarten Maartens</span>, +<small>Author of "An Old Maid's Love," &c.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>National Observer.</i>—"There is more than cleverness; there +is original talent, and a good deal of humanity besides."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>COME LIVE WITH ME AND BE MY LOVE.</b> By +<span class="smallcaps">Robert Buchanan</span>, <small>Author of "The Moment After," +"The Coming Terror," &c.</small></p> + +<p><span class="small"><i>Daily Telegraph.</i>—"We will conclude this brief notice by +expressing our cordial admiration of the skill displayed in its +construction, and the genial humanity that has inspired its +author in the shaping and vitalising of the individuals created +by his fertile imagination."</span></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>VANITAS.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Vernon Lee</span>, <small>Author of "Hauntings," &c.</small></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>THE O'CONNORS OF BALLINAHINCH.</b> By Mrs. +<span class="smallcaps">Hungerford</span>, <small>Author of "Molly Bawn," &c.</small></p> + +<p class="revind"><b>A BATTLE AND A BOY.</b> By <span class="smallcaps">Blanche Willis +Howard</span>, <small>Author of "Guenn," &c.</small></p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent">LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN,<br /> +<small>21 <span class="smallcaps">Bedford Street, W.C.</span></small> +</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VANITAS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 34252-h.txt or 34252-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/2/5/34252">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/5/34252</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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