struckin
on
the
eager
joy
,
the
confident
elation
,
on
all
the
delightful
confusion
of
feeling
within
me
and
instantaneously
destroyed
it
.
And
in
the
sudden
void
there
were
left
two
struggling
emotions
,
one
the
sense
of
mad
incredulity
,
the
other
the
conviction
that
it
was
true
.
I
knew
in
those
terrible
moments
clearly
that
it
was
so
somehow
in
some
incomprehensible
way
.
There
had
been
some
error
somewhere
.
It
would
be
explained
to
me
later
:
what
did
it
matter
?
I
glanced
at
her
ringless
hands
indifferently
.
I
had
no
power
to
feel
anger
.
All
emotion
was
lost
,
all
feelings
made
level
in
one
sickening
blank
.
At
last
the
sense
of
mere
physical
life
and
power
came
back
to
me
.
My
brain
was
stunned
and
deadened
still
,
but
mechanical
actions
became
possible
.
‘No
,
I
swear
I
did
not
know
it
,
’
I
said
quietly
,
and
I
got
up
and
left
her
.
I
walked
down
the
same
side
of
the
steamer
I
had
passed
up
a
few
moments
back
,
the
same
sound
of
laughter
from
the
far
end
reaching
me
,
the
same
light
circles
of
smoke
drifting
down
beside
me
,
the
same
calm
night
upon
the
water
round
,
only
now
there
was
a
hell
within
me
.
As
I
walked
on
,
I
met
Dickinson
by
the
saloon
door
.
‘Coming
to
the
smoking-room
?
’
he
said
.
‘No
.
I
've
rather
a
bad
head
.
I
'm
going
down
,
’
I
answered
.
Dickinson
looked
at
me
.
‘Sorry
.
You
look
seedy
.
What
's
she
been
doing
to
you
?
’
he
added
mockingly
.
I
shrugged
my
shoulders
and
passed
him
in
silence
.
Then
I
glanced
back
over
my
shoulder
and
saw
him
walking
decisively
in
her
direction
.
I
went
on
downstairs
with
a
smile
.
I
entered
my
own
cabin
and
crossed
to
the
window
,
folded
my
arms
there
and
leant
with
my
head
upon
them
,
letting
the
revolt
of
feeling
have
its
way
.
Married
!
this
woman
.
The
word
stirred
a
mad
unreasoning
rebellion
within
me
.
A
rebellion
of
all
those
finer
,
purer
,
more
tender
instincts
that
had
sprung
up
round
the
main
passionate
impulse
of
love
for
her
—
this
girl
as
I
had
thought
her
.
The
gentleness
,
the
reverence
,
the
consideration
that
ran
through
all
my
thoughts
regarding
her
,
and
that
I
had
sedulously
encouraged
and
cultivated
for
her
sake
,
had
been
like
delicate
flowers
growing
on
the
sides
of
a
volcano
and
co-existent
with
the
subterranean
flames
.
And
as
in
an
eruption
of
the
volcano
the
flowers
perish
,
are
annihilated
and
obliterated
in
the
flow
of
boiling
lava
,
so
now
all
those
holier
,
more
tender
impulses
,
sank
submerged
under
the
liberated
tide
of
the
underlying
passion
.
It
was
not
,
as
I
recognised
in
an
agony
of
self-abasement
,
that
my
love
for
her
was
dying
,
it
was
changing
.
Her
words
could
not
kill
it
,
but
they
would
transform
it
.
Its
extinction
I
would
have
welcomed
,
its
metamorphosis
I
knew
and
dreaded
.
It
must
have
been
a
long
time
that
I
stood
there
,
but
of
how
long
I
was
unconscious
,
and
at
last
,
breaking
the
silence
,
and
startlingly
distinct
in
it
came
a
hesitating
tap
at
the
door
.
It
was
a
gentle
knock
,
but
the
sound
went
through
the
cabin
and
sent
the
blood
across
my
face
.
I
turned
and
paused
irresolute
.
Should
I
open
the
door
or
not
?
I
felt
a
distinct
distaste
to
see
this
woman
then
.
I
waited
,
and
half
unconsciously
I
expected
the
knock
to
be
repeated
.
It
was
not
,
however
,
and
,
stimulated
by
the
thought
that
she
had
gone
,
I
walked
to
the
door
and
threw
it
open
.
She
had
not
gone
.
She
was
standing
there
,
and
the
light
from
the
electric
burner
fell
sharply
on
her
.
The
passage
and
all
beyond
her
was
in
darkness
.
We
both
stood
for
a
second
in
silence
,
and
I
noted
her
face
stone-white
except
for
the
scarlet
line
of
the
lips
.
I
felt
I
could
have
struck
her
as
she
stood
there
.
‘May
I
speak
to
you
...
explain
...
’
she
faltered
.
‘I
do
n't
think
there
's
much
use
in
talk
,
’
I
said
shortly
.
‘Perhaps
not
,
’
she
answered
,
with
a
touch
of
the
familiar
satire
.
‘Come
and
talk
all
the
same
!
’
I
stood
irresolute
,
unwilling
to
go
,
but
she
was
the
woman
I
loved
,
and
she
said
come
,
and
I
went
.
We
passed
through
the
passage
together
and
found
our
way
to
the
companion-stair
.
She
stumbled
twice
beside
me
in
the
darkness
,
and
twice
I
caught
her
arm
to
steady
her
.
When
we
reached
the
deck
she
crossed
to
the
side
and
leant
against
the
rail
,
holding
to
it
as
if
for
support
.
I
folded
my
arms
on
the
iron
bar
and
looked
away
from
her
,
down
on
the
black
dividing
water
beneath
us
where
the
phosphorus
rose
,
gleamed
,
scintillated
,
and
passed
as
the
ship
flew
forward
.
A
warm
breath
seemed
to
come
against
our
faces
from
the
heaving
,
ever-varying
smooth
salt
surface
.
I
would
not
look
at
her
,
but
the
keen
,
sensitive
side-vision
of
the
eye
gave
me
her
image
as
she
stood
beside
me
,
and
that
was
all
I
saw
.
‘So
you
did
n't
know
I
was
married
?
’
she
said
at
last
in
a
weak
,
hurried
tone
.
‘Of
course
I
did
not
!
married
women
usually
wear
their
wedding-ring
!
’
‘I
lost
it
the
second
day
I
came
on
board
,
’
she
answered
;
‘in
the
bathroom
,
I
was
using
cold
water
,
and
my
hands
were
very
cold
.
I
suppose
it
slipped
off
then
.
At
least
I
could
not
find
it
afterwards
,
and
I
could
not
replace
it
on
board
ship
,
but
my
name
was
down
on
the
list
of
passengers
as
Mrs.
Williamson
,
and
so
of
course
I
...
I
thought
...
’
‘I
do
n't
study
the
list
of
passengers
,
’
I
said
coldly
.
There
was
silence
for
a
long
time
,
and
then
she
said
timidly
:
‘I
think
you
're
angry
with
me.’
‘I
suppose
I
have
no
right
to
be
angry
,
’
I
returned
bitterly
;
‘but
it
seems
odd
after
all
our
conversation
together
that
the
subject
should
never
have
come
up.’
‘My
marriage
is
not
such
a
pleasant
thing
that
I
am
always
thinking
and
talking
of
it
,
’
she
said
,
with
a
short
laugh
.
‘Do
n't
you
care
for
the
man
?
’
I
said
after
a
minute
,
and
the
surge
of
struggling
emotions
within
me
and
the
restraint
upon
them
all
made
my
voice
sound
hard
and
cold
.
‘Care
for
him
!
’
and
the
contemptuous
laugh
said
the
rest
.
‘Why
did
you
marry
him
,
then
?
’
I
said
dully
.
‘A
woman
like
you
could
have
had
anybody.’
‘No
;
that
's
just
where
you
make
the
mistake
!
’
she
said
vehemently
.
‘That
is
what
a
man
always
says
to
a
woman
who
is
decent
looking
and
young
;
but
those
things
do
not
last
,
and
a
girl
's
time
is
not
long
enough
for
her
to
make
her
choice
in
.
Hardly
a
girl
in
a
thousand
marries
the
man
she
would
choose
.
I
did
not
.
From
fifteen
upwards
I
have
had
offers
from
men
I
did
not
care
for
,
nor
want
,
and
at
twenty-three
I
accepted
one
of
them
from
the
man
who
pleased
me
most
.
I
thought
it
did
not
matter
.
I
had
ceased
to
expect
to
meet
a
man
I
really
loved
—
I
had
seen
so
many
in
those
eight
years
,
I
was
getting
to
think
I
expected
too
much
from
life
,
that
love
,
as
I
imagined
it
,
did
not
perhaps
exist
at
all
,
that
,
in
waiting
for
something
imaginary
,
I
should
let
the
reality
pass
by
me
.
Do
n't
you
see
,
’
she
said
impatiently
patiently
,
‘what
a
woman
's
position
is
?
You
men
only
care
for
youth
and
beauty
!
Nothing
else
weighs
a
straw
with
you
!
Character
,
intellect
,
virtue
,
they
are
practically
as
nothing
to
you
.
You
teach
a
woman
that
,
so
she
knows
she
must
either
marry
in
her
twenties
or
face
all
the
rest
of
her
life
alone
.
I
waited
eight
years
—
then
I
married
without
love
,
and
now
,
one
year
after
...
we
have
met
.
‘Is
it
not
the
ordinary
rule
of
life
,
just
the
ordinary
mockery
of
fate
,
everything
comes
just
a
little
,
and
only
a
little
,
too
late
?
‘He
does
not
care
for
me
,
’
she
continued
bitterly
.
‘I
am
nothing
to
him
now
,
in
fact
I
have
not
been
since
...
since
...
oh
,
well
,
I
do
n't
know
when
his
fancy
for
me
died
;
at
the
end
of
the
first
month
of
our
married
life
,
I
think
,
and
when
I
realised
it
...
the
fearful
blank
that
overspread
everything
—
I
seemed
to
see
the
future
like
a
huge
trackless
desert
before
me
stretching
up
even
to
the
edge
of
my
grave
,
and
he
,
he
shares
his
life
with
other
women
!
’
‘Then
why
do
you
not
get
a
divorce
?
’
I
asked
,
a
sudden
ray
of
hope
breaking
upon
me
at
her
words
.
‘Surely
your
self-respect
,
the
self-respect
of
any
woman
,
should
urge
that
!
’
‘How
can
I
?
’
she
said
simply
.
‘He
is
not
cruel.’
She
looked
at
me
as
she
spoke
,
and
in
those
few
words
I
read
the
whole
tragedy
of
this
woman
's
life
.
I
understood
,
and
I
said
nothing
.
What
can
one
say
against
these
laws
of
life
?
‘He
has
never
sworn
in
my
presence
and
never
struck
me
,
’
she
continued
quietly
,
as
if
pursuing
her
own
thoughts
,
and
then
,
as
an
exclamation
of
anger
escaped
me
,
she
looked
up
quickly
and
said
:
‘Why
?
It
would
be
the
kindest
thing
he
could
do
.
I
have
often
looked
at
him
and
longed
for
a
blow
,
though
even
then
I
am
not
sure
I
would
get
a
divorce
if
I
could.’
‘Why
not
?
’
I
asked
,
with
another
question
burning
on
my
lips
that
they
refused
to
frame
.
‘Because
,
’
she
said
in
a
low
voice
,
‘to
me
marriage
is
the
holiest
of
all
sacraments
and
divorce
is
a
sacrilege.’
I
was
surprised
,
and
I
looked
at
her
in
wonder
.
Unmoved
and
seemingly
unconscious
of
my
gaze
she
stood
,
a
slight
white
figure
leaning
against
the
rail
,
with
the
measureless
,
abysmal
blackness
of
the
sea
beneath
and
before
her
,
and
the
fathomless
gloom
of
the
night
above
and
around
her
.
Her
arms
were
folded
motionless
upon
the
bar
;
her
eyes
,
turned
away
from
me
,
looked
out
into
the
darkness
.
Had
the
words
come
from
a
woman
happy
in
her
life
,
happy
in
her
love
,
they
would
hardly
have
struck
me
,
but
from
her
lips
,
the
lips
of
a
woman
who
had
suffered
,
was
at
this
moment
suffering
acutely
through
this
very
marriage
she
termed
the
holiest
of
all
sacraments
ments
,
those
words
had
tremendous
weight
,
and
revealed
still
further
to
me
the
great
impersonality
of
this
mind
I
loved
.
‘But
surely
,
’
I
urged
,
‘when
he
has
so
far
broken
the
ties
,
then
you
also
are
free.’
‘Hardly
,
I
think
,
’
she
said
in
the
level
voice
of
one
who
has
passed
through
and
left
behind
doubt
and
question
,
whose
decisions
are
immutably
formed
,
and
whose
acting
on
them
has
become
almost
mechanical
.
‘He
has
broken
them
in
secret
,
but
divorce
breaks
them
in
public
.
You
see
,
’
she
added
,
and
her
voice
became
intensely
grave
,
‘suppose
I
take
the
communion
with
another
,
and
I
see
that
he
spills
the
wine
,
I
would
not
overturn
the
table
for
that
reason.’
I
was
silent
.
The
solemnity
of
her
manner
half
awed
me
,
and
checked
all
personal
and
selfish
arguments
.
When
I
spoke
,
it
was
with
a
weak
evasiveness
.
‘If
you
left
him
surely
the
world
even
would
not
condemn
you
.
At
least
you
would
have
the
sympathy
of
all
those
whose
sympathy
is
worth
having.’
‘And
what
then
?
’
she
said
with
an
accent
of
surprise
.
‘I
do
n't
live
for
the
world
's
sympathy
,
I
live
for
my
own
duty
.
To
be
true
to
myself
is
my
principle
,
and
the
only
guide
I
have
,
’
she
added
,
turning
fully
to
me
,
and
the
tremendous
force
and
power
that
looked
out
from
the
light
brilliant
eyes
seemed
to
beat
down
personal
thought
in
my
brain
and
hold
me
,
merely
listening
.
‘Always
to
do
that
which
I
consider
right
and
honourable
,
independent
of
loss
or
gain
,
or
praise
or
condemnation
.
Others
may
say
what
they
please
,
for
their
opinion
I
care
not
at
all
,
but
my
own
good
opinion
I
must
have
.
I
could
not
live
without
it
.
I
must
feel
always
that
I
have
nothing
to
reproach
myself
with
;
and
if
I
left
him
I
should
reproach
myself
.
The
fact
that
he
has
sinned
does
not
give
me
a
licence
to
sin
also
.
Besides
,
even
supposing
for
one
instant
that
I
felt
myself
justified
in
leaving
him
,
I
would
not
;
for
,
if
I
did
,
my
example
might
make
the
way
easier
for
another
woman
less
justified
,
or
even
not
justified
at
all
,
to
desecrate
her
word
.
I
have
given
mine
once
,
and
now
I
am
bound
by
it
until
Death
releases
me.’
‘And
yet
you
can
praise
Marriage
as
a
glorious
institution.’
The
words
were
stung
out
of
me
by
the
pressure
of
my
own
feelings
,
said
in
spite
of
my
self-control
,
and
brought
regret
the
moment
after
.
Her
white
face
became
even
whiter
,
and
I
saw
her
tremble
visibly
with
nervous
excitement
as
she
hesitated
for
a
moment
,
seeking
words
to
defend
that
which
she
considered
holy
against
my
sneer
.
‘Yes
,
’
she
answered
passionately
,
‘It
is
:
I
have
always
thought
so
,
and
think
so
still
.
The
fact
that
I
have
through
folly
or
misfortune
rendered
myself
unhappy
by
its
means
does
not
blind
me
to
its
value
.
Because
the
gift
of
gold
is
sometimes
ruin
to
a
man
,
would
you
deny
that
gold
is
gold
?
As
a
sacrament
married
life
is
holy
;
as
a
theory
it
is
perfect
.
In
practice
,
perhaps
,
it
is
not
always
either
,
for
humanity
is
neither
holy
nor
perfect
,
but
blame
Humanity
for
that
,
not
Marriage
.
Love
,
absolute
love
,
is
so
difficult
to
find
,
only
to
be
obtained
by
the
fortunate
,
to
be
envied
by
the
unfortunate
,
but
if
you
have
found
it
,
then
surely
this
marriage
that
it
's
the
fashion
to
laugh
at
,
this
knitting
together
for
ever
of
the
two
half
lives
,
this
absolute
dedication
each
to
the
other
,
this
open
unashamed
union
,
blessed
and
ratified
in
the
sight
of
all
men
,
this
undenied
and
eternal
devotion
and
surrender
of
the
two
existences
to
each
other
,
surely
this
is
the
most
satisfying
sphere
in
which
two
love-inspired
minds
can
move
.
Think
what
it
might
have
been
,
would
have
been
,
if
we
had
entered
it
together
!
’
She
was
facing
me
now
,
and
her
form
seemed
suddenly
taller
,
dilated
with
the
strength
of
feeling
moving
her
.
In
the
darkness
that
had
grown
and
grown
as
we
stood
there
,
I
could
still
see
the
pallid
suffering
face
raised
to
mine
.
Involuntarily
I
made
a
step
towards
her
with
outstretched
arms
;
all
the
best
part
of
human
love
,
all
in
it
that
most
nearly
reflects
the
Divine
,
roused
and
stirred
in
me
.
I
forgot
my
anger
against
her
of
an
hour
back
.
Even
myself
and
my
own
personal
passion
for
her
sank
into
momentary
oblivion
.
For
that
instant
I
worshipped
rather
than
loved
her
.
She
stepped
back
from
me
farther
into
the
gloom
of
the
body
of
the
ship
,
and
farther
away
from
the
slight
reflected
light
that
came
from
the
water
.
‘No
,
do
n't
follow
me
,
’
she
said
in
a
suffocated
voice
.
‘There
is
nothing
,
nothing
now
for
us
,
but
separation.’
With
the
last
word
she
vanished
;
the
black
background
seemed
to
divide
for
a
moment
and
then
close
again
between
me
and
her
.
When
I
went
forward
there
was
black
space
only
and
the
hanging
cords
of
the
rigging
.
The
next
days
contained
an
indescribable
,
almost
indefinable
suffering
for
me
,
caged
on
board
face
to
face
with
Eurydice
,
never
separated
by
more
than
a
few
feet
of
space
,
seeing
her
with
my
physical
eyes
,
hearing
her
voice
,
brushed
by
her
dress
,
and
yet
conscious
of
that
relentless
wall
between
us
,
invisible
,
intangible
,
impalpable
,
and
yet
horribly
real
,
as
some
overpowering
presence
in
a
nightmare
.
There
were
five
more
days
of
the
voyage
before
us
,
and
on
the
first
,
as
I
came
into
the
breakfast-room
,
pale
and
heavy-eyed
,
and
took
my
place
opposite
her
,
as
I
sat
through
the
déjeuner
facing
her
across
the
narrow
table
on
which
our
plates
nearly
touched
,
I
slowly
realised
the
rack
to
which
I
was
bound
.
‘Good
God
!
’
was
the
first
thought
that
went
through
me
,
as
I
felt
an
intolerable
impulse
rise
in
me
to
escape
from
her
proximity
.
‘Is
it
possible
that
another
personality
can
have
dominated
me
so
far
?
’
Last
night
the
way
had
seemed
hard
but
clear
.
She
was
married
.
She
was
absolutely
another
's
,
and
therefore
of
no
use
to
me
,
and
should
have
been
,
according
to
my
reason
,
of
no
interest
for
me
.
This
had
seemed
so
clear
to
me
last
night
.
It
was
not
so
clear
now
.
On
the
contrary
,
I
felt
that
this
woman
who
could
never
be
anything
,
whom
,
now
,
I
did
not
even
wish
to
be
anything
to
me
,
had
yet
an
absorbing
,
overpowering
interest
for
me
.
The
thought
of
her
filled
my
mind
to
running
over
,
just
as
her
presence
,
her
image
,
seemed
to
weigh
upon
my
physical
senses
.
Before
the
breakfast
was
one-third
over
I
pushed
away
my
unfinished
coffee
and
untouched
plate
and
got
up
.
I
left
the
saloon
and
went
on
deck
,
to
the
extreme
point
forward
and
leant
there
.
I
was
surprised
,
angered
,
annoyed
,
to
feel
that
my
whole
mental
being
seemed
overstraining
and
stronger
than
the
control
I
put
upon
it
.
Last
night
I
had
confessed
to
myself
,
I
had
told
myself
openly
—
the
thing
is
at
an
end
—
all
is
over
,
and
this
woman
has
no
further
attraction
for
you
.
You
are
now
face
to
face
with
a
temptation
which
to
yield
to
would
blacken
,
in
your
own
eyes
,
your
conscience
for
ever
.
Trample
on
the
idea
now
and
stamp
it
out
finally
,
and
I
had
thought
I
could
,
in
adherence
to
my
principles
.
Most
men
have
some
principles
,
since
principles
are
nothing
more
than
obstinate
prejudices
against
certain
acts
,
and
a
high-principled
man
means
nothing
more
than
an
individual
whose
prejudices
are
very
obstinate
,
very
numerous
,
and
against
those
acts
which
the
community
he
happens
to
be
living
in
is
also
prejudiced
against
.
And
,
like
the
rest
,
I
had
several
prejudices
,
which
I
called
my
principles
,
and
the
chief
amongst
them
perhaps
was
the
one
in
question
now
.
To
seduce
another
's
wife
was
an
idea
that
in
itself
revolted
me
;
rather
unreasonably
,
since
the
accomplishment
was
fashionable
in
the
regiment
and
in
the
station
I
had
come
from
;
but
,
in
spite
of
my
training
,
it
still
seemed
to
me
an
act
tinged
with
disgrace
and
dishonour
,
an
act
mean
and
as
utterly
impossible
to
myself
as
to
steal
a
friend
's
money
or
to
forge
his
name
.
And
it
seemed
so
to
me
still
.
I
felt
an
intense
revolt
from
it
in
my
whole
nature
that
no
temptation
and
no
passion
could
overcome
.
Impossible
!
yes
,
it
was
simply
that
and
nothing
less
than
that
,
and
I
knew
it
.
But
why
,
then
,
this
overwhelming
domination
of
the
mind
by
the
thought
of
an
impossibility
?
I
leant
hard
on
the
rails
and
looked
down
into
the
fathomless
depths
of
green
water
seething
at
the
vessel
's
side
—
not
more
fathomless
than
the
psychology
of
one
poor
feeble
human
being
.
It
is
not
the
function
of
the
sane
mind
to
dwell
upon
a
desire
which
is
absolutely
beyond
its
attainment
,
and
once
convinced
of
the
entire
helplessness
of
a
project
it
usually
has
no
difficulty
in
losing
its
grasp
upon
it
,
yet
here
my
mind
seemed
gripped
as
in
a
vice
,
paralysed
by
a
desire
that
I
knew
was
absolutely
vain
.
It
was
extraordinary
,
the
indefinable
,
irresistible
fascination
that
the
thought
of
her
,
the
image
of
her
,
possessed
for
me
.
I
resented
it
,
wrestled
with
it
,
struggled
under
it
in
vain
,
the
mind
was
passing
through
an
inexplicable
phase
,
completely
subjugated
,
unnerved
and
unstrung
by
the
abstract
contemplation
of
pleasure
which
it
fully
recognised
,
absolutely
impossible
of
attainment
.
The
last
day
came
.
We
were
due
at
Marseilles
at
seven
in
the
evening
.
We
dined
at
six
.
Eurydice
and
I
sat
as
usual
opposite
each
other
;
and
,
do
what
I
would
,
I
could
not
keep
my
eyes
from
resting
on
her
,
an
irresistible
magnetism
drew
them
back
and
back
to
her
.
She
ate
nothing
.
She
accepted
a
few
courses
and
sent
them
away
untouched
.
She
sat
white
,
motionless
,
with
almost
all
the
beauty
stamped
out
of
her
face
,
leaving
a
blank
of
pallor
and
suffering
.
The
punkah
still
swayed
over
our
table
,
and
it
almost
brushed
our
heads
;
each
time
it
passed
over
hers
it
lifted
the
black
,
gilt-tinted
curls
from
her
forehead
and
then
came
back
to
me
.
She
never
raised
her
eyes
once
to
mine
,
nor
spoke
throughout
the
whole
dinner
,
and
then
,
when
we
all
rose
,
I
heard
the
woman
next
her
say
:
‘You
look
terribly
ill
,
what
is
the
matter
,
dear
?
’
Eurydice
was
just
rising
from
her
chair
,
her
shoulder
was
slightly
raised
as
she
leant
one
arm
on
the
chair-back
,
the
other
smooth
,
supple
hand
just
touched
the
edge
of
the
table
.
I
watched
her
.
The
heavy
white
lids
lifted
suddenly
,
and
the
brilliant
eyes
flashed
over
her
friend
's
face
,
and
the
white
lips
curved
in
a
satiric
smile
.
‘Sea-sick
!
’
she
said
with
a
mocking
laugh
,
and
got
up
and
passed
out
of
the
saloon
.
I
had
heard
,
and
I
walked
over
to
the
port-window
,
feeling
a
sudden
violent
revolt
,
a
wild
rebellion
of
Self
against
Self-made
laws
.
That
laugh
of
hers
,
full
of
bravely
repressed
and
hidden
pain
,
and
ringing
with
mockery
and
cynical
philosophy
,
stirred
and
roused
my
admiration
.
She
was
of
the
material
of
which
martyrs
are
made
.
An
untamable
,
unbreakable
spirit
,
that
laughed
in
the
face
of
Fate
and
mocked
at
its
own
pain
,
fired
the
blood
in
those
smooth
veins
.
I
stood
there
for
a
time
.
Then
I
turned
to
seek
her
.
See
her
I
must
,
speak
to
her
once
more
before
we
touched
the
land
.
I
threaded
my
way
through
the
confusion
,
over
and
amongst
the
scattered
luggage
and
round
the
groups
of
passengers
,
passed
down
the
companion-stairs
,
found
my
way
to
her
cabin
door
and
knocked
.
There
was
an
assentive
murmur
from
within
,
and
I
pushed
the
door
open
.
She
was
sitting
on
the
floor
in
the
centre
of
the
cabin
,
before
a
half-packed
portmanteau
.
Her
face
was
blanched
,
and
she
looked
ill
and
tired
,
as
she
glanced
up
when
the
door
opened
.
She
did
not
move
as
her
eyes
fixed
upon
me
.
I
came
in
,
shut
the
door
and
leant
against
it
.
Ceremony
was
laid
aside
,
forgotten
.
The
cabin
was
in
disorder
,
crowded
with
feminine
attire
and
trifles
of
all
sorts
;
over
the
berth
by
the
window
swung
,
still
unpacked
,
her
husband
's
portrait
.
The
window
stood
open
,
and
beyond
gleamed
the
lights
of
the
port
.
‘I
am
leaving
now
,
’
I
said
,
and
my
voice
sounded
half-strangled
to
myself
,
‘if
you
wish
it
;
do
you
?
’
Her
lips
quivered
visibly
.
The
pale
face
grew
paler
;
then
she
turned
her
eyes
from
me
and
looked
into
the
trunk
.
‘Yes
,
’
she
answered
in
a
low
voice
;
‘go.’
‘And
is
this
to
be
final
?
Do
think
again
.
Let
me
know
where
you
are
going
,
let
me
know
where
you
will
be
.
Let
me
have
the
hope
of
seeing
you
sometimes
,
Eurydice
!
’
I
added
desperately
as
she
would
not
speak
.
‘No
;
it
is
impossible
,
’
she
said
at
last
in
a
low
tone
.
‘I
have
quite
decided
.
This
is
final.’
‘Shall
I
never
see
you
again
?
’
I
said
dully
,
and
my
eyes
seemed
literally
to
drink
in
the
vision
of
her
and
hold
it
.
‘Chance
may
throw
us
together
again
,
but
I
hope
not
,
’
she
answered
with
an
intense
gravity
.
‘This
is
our
duty
—
to
part
now
—
and
we
know
it
.
Let
us
do
it.’
She
turned
her
face
to
me
.
It
was
white
and
agonised
.
Her
lips
trembled
violently
in
soft
human
weakness
,
but
the
eyes
were
lit
up
with
holy
determination
and
resolve
.
It
appealed
to
me
;
for
that
moment
I
felt
I
would
not
break
it
if
I
could
.
‘Good-bye
,
then.’
One
step
forward
and
I
bent
over
her
,
lifted
her
,
and
strained
her
hard
to
my
breast
and
kissed
her
.
It
was
the
death
of
our
love
,
and
guiltless
as
a
dying
kiss
.
The
white
throat
swelled
in
a
suffocated
sob
,
the
tremulous
arms
fluttered
against
my
throat
.
‘Good-bye
,
Evelyn.’
And
I
went
out
.
I
walked
along
the
crowded
lower
passage
,
blind
and
deaf
to
all
round
me
,
conscious
only
of
what
a
curse
at
times
this
life
can
seem
.
I
found
Dickinson
waiting
for
me
with
our
luggage
just
outside
the
smoking-room
door
.
‘Thought
you
were
never
coming
,
’
he
exclaimed
discontentedly
as
I
came
up
.
Then
he
looked
hard
at
me
.
‘I
say
,
old
man
,
have
a
drink
or
,
er
—
something
,
wo
n't
you
?
’
he
added
in
a
different
sort
of
voice
.
‘No
,
thanks
,
’
I
said
with
a
smile
.
‘Come
along
,
let
's
get
off
this
as
soon
as
we
can.’
Dickinson
did
the
best
he
could
do
under
the
circumstances
—
he
let
me
alone
—
and
arranged
himself
for
the
luggage
and
the
other
formalities
,
and
within
ten
minutes
we
were
walking
down
the
quay
away
from
the
ship
.
I
glanced
back
at
it
once
before
passing
the
customs
barrier
.
Its
masts
and
rigging
stood
out
clear
against
the
white
light
of
the
town
,
but
all
I
saw
was
the
inside
of
her
cabin
.
Dickinson
passed
our
baggage
through
the
customs
and
then
we
rattled
in
the
lumbering
cab
through
the
stony
streets
of
Marseilles
.
‘How
soon
can
we
get
on
to
London
?
’
I
asked
.
‘Oh
,
I
say
,
old
fellow
,
ca
n't
you
stop
the
night
here
.
I
'm
beastly
tired
and
sea-sick
,
’
said
Dickinson
remonstratingly
.
I
put
my
hand
on
his
arm
.
‘I
know
you
are
,
but
hold
on
another
few
hours.’
‘Few
hours
!
’
groaned
Dickinson
from
the
back
of
the
cab
.
‘It
's
thirty
at
the
least
.
I
hope
you
know
that.’
‘Yes
...
well
,
Paris
,
then
...
for
God
's
sake
let
's
get
away
from
here
!
’
‘Very
good
,
’
said
Dickinson
resignedly
;
‘let
it
be
Paris
,
then
,
and
we
'll
go
on
by
the
one
A.M.
train
.
There
I
shall
drop
like
a
ton
of
bricks
.
Sleep
for
a
week
,
I
think.’
CHAPTER
III
THE
next
six
months
,
spent
partly
in
Paris
partly
in
London
,
were
six
months
lost
,
thrown
away
in
dissipation
that
failed
even
in
being
amusing
,
and
in
which
I
wasted
as
much
money
and
strength
as
one
could
well
do
in
the
time
.
Of
course
I
made
excuses
for
myself
.
No
man
,
except
sometimes
in
retrospection
,
and
sometimes
under
the
influence
of
a
great
moral
shock
,
will
ever
look
his
conduct
in
the
face
.
If
he
admits
it
is
bad
,
he
immediately
marshals
an
illimitable
number
of
excuses
to
explain
and
justify
the
evil
he
is
committing
,
until
he
has
conclusively
proved
that
he
is
in
reality
but
the
passive
and
suffering
martyr
to
the
surrounding
circumstances
.
And
my
excuses
seemed
to
me
to
be
legion
.
I
needed
distraction
.
It
was
positively
necessary
to
me
to
forget
,
at
any
rate
to
conquer
,
the
dishonourable
passion
for
another
's
wife
.
Anything
that
I
could
do
was
better
than
to
encourage
my
present
feelings
,
to
continue
to
think
of
her
as
I
was
thinking
;
and
without
distraction
,
without
diversion
,
it
was
impossible
to
drown
the
remembrance
of
her
as
it
was
obviously
my
duty
to
do
.
As
to
the
passion
itself
,
I
was
greatly
to
be
excused
.
I
had
been
badly
treated
,
unfairly
used
.
Of
course
,
if
I
had
known
the
truth
from
the
first
,
the
passion
would
never
have
been
allowed
to
grow
into
being
,
etc.
,
etc.
Then
,
too
,
I
realised
so
keenly
that
I
had
done
my
duty
in
the
matter
by
accepting
my
dismissal
,
that
I
felt
I
could
allow
myself
a
little
license
now
,
for
in
the
male
moral
code
we
make
a
little
virtue
go
a
long
way
.
Besides
,
there
was
no
doubt
that
there
was
but
one
method
by
which
I
could
efface
Eurydice
's
image
from
my
mind
,
blunt
the
edge
of
remembrance
and
steel
myself
to
indifference
to
her
if
it
should
chance
that
we
met
again
.
And
now
that
the
six
months
had
dwindled
down
to
their
last
few
days
,
I
sat
alone
in
the
dining-room
as
the
March
afternoon
closed
in
,
with
hosts
and
legions
of
uncomfortable
thoughts
advancing
upon
me
,
silently
,
in
whole
armies
of
serried
battalions
.
They
came
in
squadrons
,
the
first
cohorts
supplied
by
the
just
past
month
,
and
continually
supplemented
by
detachments
of
recollections
from
each
preceding
month
,
backwards
to
the
very
night
I
had
left
her
on
board
.
When
I
had
sat
down
in
the
chair
I
had
attempted
to
roll
up
a
cigarette
,
but
the
violent
trembling
of
my
shaky
fingers
had
left
it
a
simple
impossibility
,
and
this
sight
of
my
weakness
had
been
the
signal
for
the
commencement
of
the
march
of
that
terrible
army
upon
me
.
I
looked
round
the
room
weighted
down
with
depression
.
I
hated
the
solitude
but
yet
felt
too
ill
to
go
out
of
it
.
I
leant
farther
back
in
the
chair
,
and
my
eyes
travelled
mechanically
round
and
round
the
room
in
the
growing
dusk
.
It
had
every
conceivable
comfort
and
bore
signs
of
,
I
might
say
,
wealth
.
Yes
,
I
had
means
,
money
,
and
almost
every
other
gift
to
make
life
acceptable
,
and
yet
from
six
months
'
leave
and
idleness
I
had
been
unable
to
purchase
more
than
at
the
most
two
or
three
hours
of
pleasure
.
For
pleasure
,
unfortunately
,
does
not
sell
herself
at
a
fixed
price
,
and
enjoyment
exists
not
in
that
which
we
enjoy
,
but
in
our
capacity
for
enjoying
,
just
as
not
the
food
we
eat
,
but
only
that
which
we
digest
,
nourishes
us
.
I
got
up
after
a
time
,
crossed
the
room
,
my
shadow
falling
huge
and
distorted
on
the
red
and
gilt
paper
in
the
firelight
,
pushed
aside
the
velvet
curtains
hanging
across
the
door
into
the
bedroom
and
entered
the
room
.
I
was
moved
by
an
impulse
of
curiosity
to
see
whether
I
looked
as
ill
as
I
felt
,
whether
the
relentless
army
that
was
invading
and
wounding
my
brain
left
visible
traces
of
its
ravages
.
I
walked
up
to
the
glass
and
from
its
dusky
surface
in
the
gathering
gloom
,
my
own
face
looked
back
at
me
.
I
scrutinised
it
attentively
with
a
cynical
smile
,
pallid
,
lined
and
seamed
about
the
eyes
,
the
lips
livid
,
and
all
the
vitality
gone
out
of
it
.
Not
much
consoled
,
I
strolled
back
again
to
the
dining-room
hearth
,
my
resolution
to
make
some
break
in
this
sort
of
existence
ratified
by
that
glance
in
the
glass
.
I
looked
idly
along
the
mantelpiece
,
and
amongst
the
letters
lying
there
my
eye
caught
a
still
unanswered
invitation
from
the
old
colonel
of
my
former
regiment
to
stay
with
him
.
I
remembered
he
had
a
big
place
just
out
of
Dover
.
‘The
very
thing
,
’
I
thought
,
and
I
sat
down
and
wrote
an
acceptance
of
his
offer
for
a
three
weeks
'
stay
.
‘It
will
make
a
break
here
at
least
,
’
I
thought
.
‘Dickinson
is
such
an
awful
fellow
for
going
the
pace
,
and
I
am
tired
of
keeping
up
with
him.’
The
three
weeks
went
by
,
and
at
their
end
,
with
a
sense
of
relief
,
lined
,
as
it
were
,
with
boredom
,
I
was
coming
back
to
town
.
As
the
train
slid
into
the
station
,
I
drew
back
idly
the
curtain
that
had
fallen
across
the
window-panes
and
looked
down
the
platform
.
The
electric
light
streamed
from
above
on
some
scattered
,
moving
figures
,
and
a
warmer
blaze
from
the
bookstall
fell
on
a
compact
group
nearer
my
end
of
the
train
.
The
knot
loosened
just
as
my
carriage
approached
it
,
and
one
figure
detached
itself
and
walked
on
down
towards
the
refreshment-room
.
It
was
Eurydice
.
I
knew
it
directly
,
though
my
gaze
had
not
caught
her
face
.
But
that
gait
was
hers
and
hers
alone
,
the
same
that
had
arrested
my
eyes
as
she
walked
the
length
of
the
slippery
,
sloping
deck
;
the
same
,
the
perfect
balance
of
the
figure
;
the
same
,
that
erectness
of
the
head
.
The
very
toilette
was
as
distinctly
hers
—
extremely
quiet
as
to
colour
and
extremely
smart
as
to
cut
;
and
how
familiar
the
fall
of
that
skirt
,
short
enough
to
let
me
see
the
incomparably
tiny
feet
walking
down
the
lighted
platform
.
My
heart
rose
suddenly
,
leapt
with
the
same
violent
pulse
as
when
I
had
seen
her
the
first
morning
on
board
.
Keen
pleasure
ran
through
my
tired
brain
and
languid
nerves
,
and
I
recoginised
I
had
been
chasing
it
for
the
last
six
months
in
vain
.
I
gripped
my
bag
with
one
hand
,
unfastened
the
door
with
the
other
,
and
jumped
from
the
still-gliding
train
.
She
was
walking
slowly
before
me
,
and
a
few
steps
of
mine
brought
me
up
to
her
just
as
she
passed
beneath
the
central
light
.
‘Eurydice
!
’
It
was
great
cheek
on
my
part
to
use
her
Christian
name
,
but
it
was
accidental
,
and
not
intentional
,
cheek
.
It
never
passed
into
my
brain
nor
came
to
my
lips
to
say
Mrs.
Williamson
,
and
after
all
I
do
n't
know
that
it
mattered
.
She
turned
suddenly
,
and
we
were
face
to
face
beneath
the
white
,
searching
light
.
That
face
!
The
light
played
over
it
and
showed
it
to
me
in
all
its
own
familiar
charm
.
The
delicacy
of
the
pallor
,
the
brilliance
of
the
eyes
,
and
the
long
lines
of
the
eyebrows
;
I
noted
and
recognised
them
all
with
a
pained
and
eager
delight
;
and
under
the
rolled-back
velvet
hat-brim
one
small
,
dark
curl
lay
on
her
forehead
beneath
her
transparent
veil
.
Our
right
hands
were
in
each
other
's
,
our
eyes
locked
together
,
and
we
said
nothing
.
Time
,
circumstance
,
position
,
resolutions
,
decisions
,
for
those
first
few
seconds
were
not
.
We
were
the
one
woman
and
the
one
man
in
the
world
for
each
other
,
and
we
had
met
again
after
absence
.
‘Is
this
your
luggage
,
sir
?
’
The
porter
wheeled
his
truck
close
up
beside
us
.
I
drew
her
to
one
side
out
of
its
way
by
her
small
,
gloved
hand
,
and
I
knew
in
those
few
seconds
that
it
had
the
same
old
magnetism
,
the
same
curious
electric
power
over
my
own
nerves
and
frame
as
when
it
had
touched
mine
first
.
‘Yes
;
that
's
mine
,
’
I
said
,
hastily
.
‘Look
after
it
a
minute
,
will
you
?
’
‘Sorry
,
sir
,
it
's
against
the
regerlations
.
I
ca
n't
stay
by
it
,
sir.’
Damn
!
I
thought
.
‘Well
,
put
it
in
the
cloak-room
,
then
.
You
can
do
that
,
I
suppose
?
’
The
porter
nodded
and
turned
the
truck
round
.
I
still
held
my
companion
's
dear
little
hand
in
mine
.
I
looked
down
on
her
with
a
smile
.
‘What
a
fortunate
chance
to
meet
you
here
!
’
I
said
,
conventionality
coming
to
my
aid
and
throwing
a
suffocating
cloak
over
all
my
feelings
,
and
giving
them
their
expression
only
in
this
one
stereotyped
phrase
.
And
almost
any
other
woman
would
have
answered
me
in
the
same
language
of
convention
.
Eurydice
,
however
,
withdrew
her
hand
from
mine
and
said
merely
,
‘Fortunate
!
What
's
the
use
of
it
?
’
Her
tone
was
half
hopeless
,
half
impatient
,
and
a
still
paler
shade
came
across
her
face
.
The
words
brought
back
upon
my
recollection
all
that
had
been
forgotten
for
that
first
instant
.
It
was
she
,
as
usual
,
with
her
peculiar
decision
and
clear
mental
vision
who
saw
the
situation
as
it
really
was
,
not
as
it
appeared
to
be
.
For
me
the
meeting
,
at
least
in
these
first
moments
,
was
a
simple
pleasure
;
for
her
,
whose
mind
gripped
only
realities
,
and
whose
eyes
it
was
impossible
to
blind
with
illusions
,
the
meeting
was
simply
a
vexation
,
useless
,
as
she
said
,
and
therefore
worthless
.
She
turned
from
me
,
and
I
thought
she
was
positively
going
to
leave
me
without
another
word
.
‘Where
are
you
going
now
?
’
I
said
hurriedly
.
She
looked
at
me
,
with
the
familiar
mocking
laughter
on
her
brilliant
face
,
which
was
her
mask
for
everything
.
I
had
seen
it
drawn
down
over
pain
,
weariness
,
and
despair
.
She
met
the
shocks
and
the
tedium
of
life
,
and
she
would
meet
the
fear
and
horror
of
death
with
that
same
careless
smile
.
‘To
the
refreshment-room
,
’
she
said
lightly
,
and
walked
on
;
and
I
walked
beside
her
.
‘And
there
is
no
use
...
’
I
said
mechanically
,
‘Nothing
is
changed
?
’
‘Nothing
,
’
she
answered
in
a
grave
,
inflexible
voice
,
looking
straight
before
her
up
the
platform
.
A
few
steps
more
,
and
we
were
at
the
refreshment-room
doors
.
At
the
entrance
stood
a
group
of
loose
women
talking
,
and
a
vile
expression
reached
us
as
we
came
up
.
Eurydice
passed
through
them
indifferently
with
an
‘allow
me
,
’
and
without
a
shade
upon
her
face
.
It
was
I
that
felt
revolt
for
her
as
her
skirt
brushed
theirs
.
We
found
the
room
quite
full
.
It
was
not
long
before
the
departure
of
the
Dover
express
,
and
a
crowd
of
thirsty
passengers
had
closed
in
round
the
counter
.
We
pushed
our
way
gradually
through
them
to
one
end
,
and
Eurydice
leant
her
back
against
the
wall
and
laughed
at
my
efforts
to
find
her
a
chair
.
‘It
does
n't
matter
a
bit
,
’
she
said
.
‘And
there
's
really
no
space
to
sit
down
.
Get
me
the
coffee
;
and
what
are
you
going
to
have
for
yourself
?
’
‘Coffee
,
I
think
,
too
,
’
I
said
,
and
ordered
for
us
both
over
the
heads
of
a
couple
of
Germans
,
and
then
turned
to
look
at
her
again
at
my
ease
.
In
the
crush
and
the
heat
,
with
the
careless
gabble
of
voices
round
us
,
the
clatter
of
glasses
and
scent
of
drink
from
the
bar
,
the
blaze
of
light
from
above
and
the
tobacco
smoke
in
the
air
,
that
calm
,
delicate
face
was
singularly
striking
.
She
noticed
me
scanning
it
eagerly
,
and
her
eyes
softened
in
a
smile
as
they
rested
on
mine
.
‘Like
the
scratch
suppers
on
board
,
is
n't
it
?
’
she
said
as
we
waited
patiently
for
the
appearance
of
our
coffee
.
‘Yes
,
’
I
answered
without
heeding
her
words
,
absorbed
in
noting
the
tired
shades
beneath
her
eyes
.
‘What
have
you
been
doing
all
these
six
months
?
’
‘Living
at
Wimbledon
taking
care
of
Mrs.
Williamson
.
I
am
a
model
daughter-in-law
,
you
know.’
‘And
wife
!
’
I
murmured
,
and
a
line
of
scarlet
glowed
suddenly
in
her
cheeks
and
then
died
as
suddenly
.
‘And
what
have
you
been
doing
?
’
she
said
,
fixing
her
eyes
upon
me
.
I
coloured
suddenly
.
I
felt
the
hot
blood
mount
in
a
scalding
stream
to
my
very
eyes
as
I
muttered
‘Nothing
,
’
and
I
turned
from
her
to
the
counter
and
looked
anxiously
for
the
cups
of
coffee
.
The
memory
of
those
six
months
came
back
upon
me
so
horribly
.
They
glared
in
such
contrast
to
her
own
.
For
six
months
she
had
been
treading
the
clean
narrow
path
of
duty
,
temptations
passed
,
difficulties
overcome
,
and
I
for
those
same
months
had
been
wandering
further
into
the
mire
of
personal
satisfaction
,
all
temptations
embraced
,
all
difficulties
avoided
.
I
could
see
as
in
a
mirror
held
up
to
me
what
her
days
had
been
,
pure
and
clear
,
and
filled
with
a
wearying
,
unsatisfying
virtue
,
dragging
after
each
other
in
intolerable
tedium
,
which
she
had
had
the
strength
to
endure
and
the
will
to
live
through
,
and
mine
seemed
lost
,
as
I
looked
back
,
in
a
mist
of
mere
degradation
.
‘My
dear
fellow
,
I
can
see
what
you
have
been
doing
,
’
she
said
in
an
undertone
with
a
suppressed
laugh
,
and
as
I
caught
the
mockery
on
the
pale
face
and
the
derision
in
her
eyes
I
would
have
given
more
than
I
can
say
to
be
able
to
deny
her
thoughts
.
‘I
never
thought
I
should
meet
you
again
,
’
I
muttered
lamely
.
‘So
it
did
n't
matter.’
‘No
;
it
is
very
extraordinary
that
two
people
,
both
living
in
or
near
town
and
both
going
about
a
good
deal
,
should
ever
meet
!
I
admit
that
!
Oh
,
here
'
s
the
coffee.’
She
straightened
her
figure
and
turned
to
the
counter
and
drew
the
two
steaming
cups
towards
her
.
I
watched
her
,
and
the
knowledge
ledge
came
to
me
suddenly
that
I
loved
her
now
,
as
when
we
had
parted
.
Dimly
,
in
a
vague
,
hurried
way
,
I
realised
now
that
the
past
six
months
had
done
nothing
to
deaden
the
passion
,
nothing
to
alter
or
weaken
that
;
it
was
my
will
to
resist
it
that
they
had
weakened
.
Like
a
man
roused
from
his
sleep
,
who
feels
hurriedly
for
his
weapons
of
defence
to
find
them
gone
,
I
tried
to
recall
all
those
feelings
that
I
remembered
had
moved
me
when
I
parted
from
her
,
but
they
were
nowhere
.
I
had
no
time
for
thought
,
for
she
kept
asking
me
whether
I
liked
three
or
four
lumps
of
sugar
in
my
coffee
,
but
I
felt
a
confused
sense
of
apprehension
and
surprise
that
I
could
not
define
to
myself
.
‘Oh
,
three
please
,
no
more
,
and
no
milk
...
Where
are
you
staying
now
,
then
,
in
town
?
’
Her
face
was
hidden
by
the
coffee
cup
,
but
I
saw
her
eyebrows
contract
above
the
edge
.
‘What
does
it
matter
where
I
am
staying
?
’
she
said
as
she
set
the
cup
down
.
‘May
n't
I
come
and
see
you
?
’
I
said
,
and
I
looked
straight
into
her
eyes
and
wondered
vaguely
that
my
conscience
did
not
reproach
me
,
but
it
did
not
.
A
cold
surprise
came
all
over
her
face
.
She
elevated
her
eyebrows
.
‘What
do
you
mean
?
Have
you
forgotten
all
that
was
said
on
board
,
settled
and
decided
and
arranged
?
’
‘I
do
n't
know
,
’
I
answered
,
looking
down
into
the
coffee
and
stirring
it
,
and
that
was
strictly
the
truth
.
I
remembered
we
had
talked
on
board
and
made
resolutions
and
decisions
,
and
I
had
suffered
,
and
she
had
perhaps
cried
,
but
somehow
I
seemed
to
have
forgotten
all
that
had
prompted
it
,
and
why
we
had
done
it
.
Now
as
I
looked
at
her
,
there
seemed
to
have
been
no
necessity
.
In
fact
the
necessities
seemed
to
be
all
the
other
way
.
‘I
know
I
have
not
had
an
hour
's
pleasure
since
I
last
saw
you.’
She
laughed
slightingly
.
‘I
should
be
inclined
to
doubt
that
,
but
even
if
it
were
true
,
we
're
not
here
for
pleasure
,
you
know
:
we
're
always
told
that.’
The
passengers
round
us
had
emptied
themselves
onto
the
platform
,
and
the
room
now
was
nearly
empty
.
On
a
bench
at
our
left
side
sat
one
man
with
an
objectionable
person
drinking
brandy
and
water
,
and
three
men
leant
across
the
bar
chaffing
the
gilt-haired
barmaid
.
A
marble
table
at
the
far
end
was
vacant
and
secluded
.
‘Let
us
transfer
ourselves
,
’
I
said
.
‘You
must
be
tired
of
standing.’
I
carried
the
coffee
to
the
table
,
and
then
drew
a
chair
to
it
:
she
came
up
slowly
and
sat
down
.
‘But
why
may
I
not
come
to
see
you
,
just
once
or
twice
?
’
I
persisted
.
She
balanced
her
spoon
idly
on
the
edge
of
the
cup
,
looked
at
me
,
and
laughed
.
‘When
one
stands
on
the
top
of
a
hill
,
and
one
is
particularly
anxious
not
to
find
oneself
at
the
bottom
,
does
one
take
the
first
few
steps
down
the
declivity
?
It
is
very
stupid
if
one
does
;
then
one
has
to
go
on
against
one
's
will
or
turn
and
go
back
,
and
the
little
bit
of
hill
behind
one
seems
very
steep
.
We
are
both
on
the
summit
now
,
let
us
stop
there.’
‘I
do
n't
know
so
much
about
that
,
’
I
muttered
.
‘I
have
been
going
downhill
steadily
all
these
months
,
and
shall
go
on
,
I
suppose
.
‘
Well
,
in
any
case
you
must
go
alone.’
The
tone
was
very
cold
,
and
,
looking
at
her
,
I
saw
the
old
severity
come
into
her
eyes
and
settle
on
her
face
.
There
was
a
long
silence
.
She
gazed
past
me
absently
towards
the
gilt-haired
creature
leaning
confidentially
towards
the
three
male
heads
,
this
side
of
the
counter
.
I
looked
at
her
face
and
studied
the
stamp
of
hopeless
virtue
on
it
.
‘Just
as
friends
,
’
I
murmured
at
last
,
following
up
my
own
thoughts
.
She
brought
her
eyes
back
to
mine
,
and
they
flashed
with
cynical
mockery
.
‘Friendship
is
an
illusion
.
Do
please
let
us
look
life
in
the
face.’
‘Nobody
ever
does
,
’
I
said
,
limply
.
‘I
have
always
tried
to
.
One
does
deceive
and
cheat
oneself
at
times
,
but
I
always
try
not
to
voluntarily.’
‘Still
,
let
me
come
,
’
I
answered
,
hammering
away
at
the
point
I
wanted
to
gain
with
the
dull
persistency
of
the
male
,
and
sliding
away
from
the
involved
metaphysical
arguments
she
loved
.
I
knew
they
were
dangerous
ground
where
one
often
gets
led
into
unconsciously
admitting
the
theoretical
infamy
of
some
practical
step
one
is
urging
.
It
was
all
very
well
for
Eurydice
,
she
could
always
find
her
way
about
amongst
the
sinuous
windings
of
her
talk
,
but
I
sometimes
found
myself
left
behind
,
hopelessly
entangled
.
‘No.’
‘At
least
tell
me
where
you
are.’
‘But
what
is
the
good
?
’
‘Because
,
’
I
said
,
flushing
hotly
and
looking
straight
into
the
mocking
eyes
,
‘it
will
show
that
you
trust
me
.
You
know
if
you
tell
me
not
to
come
,
I
shall
not
come
.
We
do
n't
fool
with
each
other
.
A
command
from
you
and
a
promise
from
me
is
a
command
and
is
a
promise
.
Tell
me
your
address
,
and
say
“
Come
”
or
“
Do
n't
come
,
”
and
I
shall
obey
,
but
I
object
to
being
treated
as
if
you
were
a
coquette
,
or
I
could
not
be
trusted.’
‘Oh
,
certainly
,
I
trust
you
,
’
she
said
quickly
.
‘I
am
staying
in
rooms
in
Ebury
Street
,
’
and
she
added
the
number
.
‘But
my
express
command
to
you
is
not
to
come
,
nor
to
try
and
see
me
in
any
way.’
‘Very
good
,
’
I
said
sullenly
,
and
there
was
a
strained
silence
.
She
rose
after
a
few
minutes
,
and
I
started
to
my
feet
.
‘Are
you
going
?
’
I
said
.
‘Yes
;
I
only
came
in
here
to
order
a
book
at
the
stall
,
’
she
answered
.
‘Will
you
see
me
into
a
hansom
?
’
she
added
smiling
,
and
we
walked
out
together
on
to
and
down
the
platform
to
the
station
yard
.
I
put
her
into
the
hansom
and
gave
the
address
to
the
cabman
.
I
closed
the
doors
together
across
her
knees
,
and
then
leant
forward
upon
the
panels
and
fixed
my
eyes
on
her
face
.
I
gazed
at
it
in
the
blue
sheet
of
light
that
fell
on
us
from
the
station
lamps
,
through
the
murky
,
rain-filled
air
,
and
shone
in
the
hansom
doors
,
over
which
her
face
looked
out
.
It
seemed
as
if
I
could
never
transfer
my
eyes
:
hers
had
a
strange
expression
in
them
:
they
were
on
mine
,
and
dilated
.
I
was
startled
by
their
gaze
.
Something
of
tenderness
looked
out
of
them
,
half-veiled
in
their
usual
sorrow
.
The
horse
moved
forward
:
she
stretched
out
one
small
light-gloved
hand
:
there
was
a
sudden
impulsive
leaning
forward
of
her
figure
,
a
flash
of
her
white
cheek
in
the
light
.
‘Come
,
’
she
said
.
The
whip
fell
,
the
horse
plunged
forward
,
there
was
a
splash
of
muddy
puddles
,
a
rattle
of
the
wheels
,
and
the
cab
bowled
away
through
the
glistening
,
rain-swept
station
yard
.
I
stood
there
on
the
kerb
motionless
,
with
that
one
word
stinging
my
brain
like
a
bullet
embedded
there
.
Had
she
really
said
it
?
It
seemed
incredible
.
Had
I
imagined
it
?
No
;
it
sounded
in
my
ears
still
,
her
voice
.
‘Come.’
So
she
had
given
way
,
yielded
.
Was
it
possible
?
After
the
scornful
hardness
of
all
her
words
to
me
to-night
.
After
the
inflexible
resistance
at
our
last
parting
?
Yes
,
but
after
six
months
.
What
was
it
?
How
was
it
?
What
influence
had
worked
this
change
in
us
?
How
was
it
that
our
strength
had
slipped
from
us
?
She
was
as
weak
as
I
.
And
quick
as
a
flash
of
light
passes
before
the
eyes
,
the
thought
struck
my
brain
,
I
did
not
condemn
her
for
her
weakness
,
did
not
even
despise
it
.
I
was
indifferent
.
And
I
knew
six
months
back
I
should
have
condemned
her
.
I
had
loved
her
then
for
her
strength
,
been
stung
to
an
enthusiasm
for
her
virtue
,
and
now
I
recognised
that
both
were
failing
,
and
realised
that
their
failure
neither
pained
nor
shocked
me
.
I
stood
there
an
indefinite
time
,
with
my
brain
in
a
whirl
of
surprised
confusion
,
shot
through
and
through
with
pleasure
,
and
then
turned
half-mechanically
back
into
the
station
to
have
a
drink
and
think
it
all
over
.
I
got
my
drink
,
and
then
stood
turning
the
empty
tumbler
round
and
round
upon
the
counter
,
and
staring
absently
at
it
while
I
tried
to
wrestle
out
the
cause
of
this
change
of
phase
.
My
own
side
of
the
problem
was
fairly
easy
.
I
saw
now
my
six
months
'
dissipation
had
failed
to
destroy
or
even
weaken
in
the
slightest
my
love
for
her
.
And
,
granting
this
were
so
,
the
real
effect
that
it
had
had
,
that
of
blunting
my
moral
susceptibilities
and
obscuring
my
judgment
was
comprehensible
enough
,
but
why
then
in
her
should
six
months
,
spent
in
an
entirely
different
,
in
fact
,
directly
opposite
way
,
have
produced
exactly
the
same
result
?
Could
it
be
,
I
asked
myself
,
that
both
Virtue
and
Vice
are
essentially
tiring
in
their
nature
?
Could
it
be
that
the
human
being
is
not
fitted
to
sustain
an
extended
course
of
either
one
or
the
other
?
In
a
natural
state
,
he
would
alternate
one
with
the
other
,
and
in
this
mixed
existence
his
moral
character
perhaps
most
fully
develops
and
expands
itself
.
Was
it
possible
that
an
enforced
protracted
course
of
virtue
is
really
as
enfeebling
,
as
enervating
to
the
finer
moral
constitution
as
a
course
of
vice
?
Perhaps
there
is
something
attenuating
to
the
mental
fibres
in
long
continued
virtue
:
the
soul
,
the
heart
,
the
moral
muscles
become
cramped
by
it
:
they
are
deprived
of
all
that
movement
and
exercise
natural
to
them
,
in
the
fervours
of
repentance
,
passionate
remorse
and
agonised
regret
consequent
upon
error
,
and
they
degenerate
as
the
body
does
,
of
which
all
its
muscles
are
not
brought
properly
into
play
.
Could
it
be
that
Eurydice
had
degenerated
during
six
months
of
immaculate
virtue
,
as
I
had
during
six
months
of
virtue
's
opposite
?
Had
she
grown
insensibly
as
tired
of
virtue
as
I
of
vice
?
Paradoxical
as
it
might
seem
,
our
meeting
with
each
other
promised
a
radical
change
to
each
of
us
.
To
me
,
sunk
for
six
months
in
coarser
forms
of
pleasure
,
my
love
for
this
woman
soared
up
before
my
mental
vision
as
something
brilliantly
pure
,
even
holy
and
virtuous
by
contrast
:
a
change
almost
from
vice
to
virtue
.
To
her
,
wearied
of
the
absolute
,
colourless
purity
of
her
life
,
her
love
for
me
seemed
something
terribly
,
fearfully
guilty
,
a
transition
from
virtue
to
vice
.
Was
this
change
that
which
had
captivated
her
?
The
next
moment
I
hated
myself
for
thinking
in
this
way
of
her
.
No
,
I
told
myself
,
ten
thousand
times
no.
There
was
some
other
motive
,
but
what
?
At
last
I
broke
up
my
reflections
in
sheer
despair
,
finished
hurriedly
a
fourth
whisky
and
soda
,
and
came
out
on
the
platform
.
I
collected
my
luggage
from
the
cloak-room
,
had
it
put
on
a
hansom
,
and
drove
off
to
my
rooms
.
When
I
came
into
the
dining-room
I
found
Dickinson
there
,
extended
in
a
long
chair
,
smoking
and
reading
the
Globe
.
‘Hullo
,
old
pally
,
got
back
?
’
he
said
,
looking
round
his
paper
,
as
I
walked
in
and
flung
my
