the lesson of the master-第8章

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common　with　her。　　So　these　two　young　persons　sat　discussing　high

themes　in　their　eclectic　drawing…room；　in　their　London　〃season〃　…

discussing；　with　extreme　seriousness；　the　high　theme　of　perfection。

It　must　be　said　in　extenuation　of　this　eccentricity　that　they　were

interested　in　the　business。　　Their　tone　had　truth　and　their　emotion

beauty；　they　weren't　posturing　for　each　other　or　for　some　one　else。



The　subject　was　so　wide　that　they　found　themselves　reducing　it；　the

perfection　to　which　for　the　moment　they　agreed　to　confine　their

speculations　was　that　of　the　valid；　the　exemplary　work　of　art。　　Our

young　woman's　imagination；　it　appeared；　had　wandered　far　in　that

direction；　and　her　guest　had　the　rare　delight　of　feeling　in　their

conversation　a　full　interchange。　　This　episode　will　have　lived　for

years　in　his　memory　and　even　in　his　wonder；　it　had　the　quality　that

fortune　distils　in　a　single　drop　at　a　time　…　the　quality　that

lubricates　many　ensuing　frictions。　　He　still；　whenever　he　likes；

has　a　vision　of　the　room；　the　bright　red　sociable　talkative　room

with　the　curtains　that；　by　a　stroke　of　successful　audacity；　had　the

note　of　vivid　blue。　　He　remembers　where　certain　things　stood；　the

particular　book　open　on　the　table　and　the　almost　intense　odour　of

the　flowers　placed；　at　the　left；　somewhere　behind　him。　　These　facts

were　the　fringe；　as　it　were；　of　a　fine　special　agitation　which　had

its　birth　in　those　two　hours　and　of　which　perhaps　the　main　sign　was

in　its　leading　him　inwardly　and　repeatedly　to　breathe　〃I　had　no

idea　there　was　any　one　like　this　…　I　had　no　idea　there　was　any　one

like　this！〃　　Her　freedom　amazed　him　and　charmed　him　…　it　seemed　so

to　simplify　the　practical　question。　　She　was　on　the　footing　of　an

independent　personage　…　a　motherless　girl　who　had　passed　out　of　her

teens　and　had　a　position　and　responsibilities；　who　wasn't　held　down

to　the　limitations　of　a　little　miss。　　She　came　and　went　with　no

dragged　duenna；　she　received　people　alone；　and；　though　she　was

totally　without　hardness；　the　question　of　protection　or　patronage

had　no　relevancy　in　regard　to　her。　　She　gave　such　an　impression　of

the　clear　and　the　noble　combined　with　the　easy　and　the　natural　that

in　spite　of　her　eminent　modern　situation　she　suggested　no　sort　of

sister…hood　with　the　〃fast〃　girl。　　Modern　she　was　indeed；　and　made

Paul　Overt；　who　loved　old　colour；　the　golden　glaze　of　time；　think

with　some　alarm　of　the　muddled　palette　of　the　future。　　He　couldn't

get　used　to　her　interest　in　the　arts　he　cared　for；　it　seemed　too

good　to　be　real　…　it　was　so　unlikely　an　adventure　to　tumble　into

such　a　well　of　sympathy。　　One　might　stray　into　the　desert　easily　…

that　was　on　the　cards　and　that　was　the　law　of　life；　but　it　was　too

rare　an　accident　to　stumble　on　a　crystal　well。　　Yet　if　her

aspirations　seemed　at　one　moment　too　extravagant　to　be　real　they

struck　him　at　the　next　as　too　intelligent　to　be　false。　　They　were

both　high　and　lame；　and；　whims　for　whims；　he　preferred　them　to　any

he　had　met　in　a　like　relation。　　It　was　probable　enough　she　would

leave　them　behind　…　exchange　them　for　politics　or　〃smartness〃　or

mere　prolific　maternity；　as　was　the　custom　of　scribbling　daubing

educated　flattered　girls　in　an　age　of　luxury　and　a　society　of

leisure。　　He　noted　that　the　water…colours　on　the　walls　of　the　room

she　sat　in　had　mainly　the　quality　of　being　naives；　and　reflected

that　naivete　in　art　is　like　a　zero　in　a　number：　　its　importance

depends　on　the　figure　it　is　united　with。　　Meanwhile；　however；　he

had　fallen　in　love　with　her。　　Before　he　went　away；　at　any　rate；　he

said　to　her：　　〃I　thought　St。　George　was　coming　to　see　you　to…day；

but　he　doesn't　turn　up。〃



For　a　moment　he　supposed　she　was　going　to　cry　〃Comment　donc？　　Did

you　come　here　only　to　meet　him？〃　　But　the　next　he　became　aware　of

how　little　such　a　speech　would　have　fallen　in　with　any　note　of

flirtation　he　had　as　yet　perceived　in　her。　　She　only　replied：　　〃Ah

yes；　but　I　don't　think　he'll　come。　　He　recommended　me　not　to　expect

him。〃　　Then　she　gaily　but　all　gently　added：　　〃He　said　it　wasn't

fair　to　you。　　But　I　think　I　could　manage　two。〃



〃So　could　I；〃　Paul　Overt　returned；　stretching　the　point　a　little　to

meet　her。　　In　reality　his　appreciation　of　the　occasion　was　so

completely　an　appreciation　of　the　woman　before　him　that　another

figure　in　the　scene；　even　so　esteemed　a　one　as　St。　George；　might

for　the　hour　have　appealed　to　him　vainly。　　He　left　the　house

wondering　what　the　great　man　had　meant　by　its　not　being　fair　to

him；　and；　still　more　than　that；　whether　he　had　actually　stayed　away

from　the　force　of　that　idea。　　As　he　took　his　course　through　the

Sunday　solitude　of　Manchester　Square；　swinging　his　stick　and　with　a

good　deal　of　emotion　fermenting　in　his　soul；　it　appeared　to　him　he

was　living　in　a　world　strangely　magnanimous。　　Miss　Fancourt　had

told　him　it　was　possible　she　should　be　away；　and　that　her　father

should　be；　on　the　following　Sunday；　but　that　she　had　the　hope　of　a

visit　from　him　in　the　other　event。　　She　promised　to　let　him　know

should　their　absence　fail；　and　then　he　might　act　accordingly。

After　he　had　passed　into　one　of　the　streets　that　open　from　the

Square　he　stopped；　without　definite　intentions；　looking　sceptically

for　a　cab。　　In　a　moment　he　saw　a　hansom　roll　through　the　place　from

the　other　side　and　come　a　part　of　the　way　toward　him。　　He　was　on

the　point　of　hailing　the　driver　when　he　noticed　a　〃fare〃　within；

then　he　waited；　seeing　the　man　prepare　to　deposit　his　passenger　by

pulling　up　at　one　of　the　houses。　　The　house　was　apparently　the　one

he　himself　had　just　quitted；　at　least　he　drew　that　inference　as　he

recognised　Henry　St。　George　in　the　person　who　stepped　out　of　the

hansom。　　Paul　turned　off　as　quickly　as　if　he　had　been　caught　in　the

act　of　spying。　　He　gave　up　his　cab　…　he　preferred　to　walk；　he　would

go　nowhere　else。　　He　was　glad　St。　George　hadn't　renounced　his　visit

altogether　…　that　would　have　been　too　absurd。　　Yes；　the　world　was

magnanimous；　and　even　he　himself　felt　so　as；　on　looking　at　his

watch；　he　noted　but　six　o'clock；　so　that　he　could　mentally

congratulate　his　successor　on　having　an　hour　still　to　sit　in　Miss

Fancourt's　drawing…room。　　He　himself　might　use　that　hour　for

another　visit；　but　by　the　time　he　reached　the　Marble　Arch　the　idea

of　such　a　course　had　become　incongruous　to　him。　　He　passed　beneath

that　architectural　effort　and　walked　into　the　Park　till　he　got　upon

the　spreading　grass。　　Here　he　continued　to　walk；　he　took　his　way

across　the　elastic　turf　and　came　out　by　the　Serpentine。　　He　watched

with　a　friendly　eye　the　diversions　of　the　London　people；　he　bent　a

glance　almost　encouraging　on　the　young　ladies　paddling　their

sweethearts　about　the　lake　and　the　guardsmen　tickling　tenderly　with

their　bearskins　the　artificial　flowers　in　the　Sunday　hats　of　their

partners。　　He　prolonged　his　meditative　walk；　he　went　into

Kensington　Gardens；　he　sat　upon　the　penny　chairs；　he　looked　at　the

little　sail…boats　launched　upon　the　round　pond　and　was　glad　he　had

no　engagement　to　dine。　　He　repaired　for　this　purpose；　very　late；　to

his　club；　where　he　found　himself　unable　to　order　a　repast　and　told

the　waiter　to　bring　whatever　there　was。　　He　didn't　even　observe

what　he　was　served　with；　and　he　spent　the　evening　in　the　library　of

the　establishment；　pretending　to　read　an　article　in　an　American

magazine。　　He　failed　to　discover　what　it　was　about；　it　appeared　in

a　dim　way　to　be　about　Marian　Fancourt。



Quite　late　in　the　week　she　wrote　to　him　that　she　was　not　to　go　into

the　country　…　it　had　only　just　been　settled。　　Her　father；　she

added；　would　never　settle　anything；　but　put　it　all　on　her。　　She

felt　her　responsibility　…　she　had　to　…　and　since　she　was　forced

this　was　the　way　she　had　decided。　　She　mentioned　no　reasons；　which

gave　our　friend　all　the　clearer　field　for　bold　conjecture　about

them。　　In　Manchester　Square　on　this　second　Sunday　he　esteemed　his

fortune　less　good；　for　she　had　three　or　four　other　visitors。　　But

there　were　three　or　four　compensations；　perhaps　the　greatest　of

which　was　that；　learning　how　her　father　had　after　all；　at　the　last

hour；　gone　out　of　town　alone；　the　bold　conjecture　I　just　now　spoke

of　found　itself　becoming　a　shade　more　bold。　　And　then　her　presence

was　her　presence；　and　the　personal　red　room　was　there　and　was　full

of　it；　whatever　phantoms　passed　and　vanished；　emitting

incomprehensible　sounds。　　Lastly；　he　had　the　resource　of　staying

till　every　one　had　come　and　gone　and　of　believing　this　grateful　to

her；　though　she　gave　no　particular　sign。　　When　they　were　alone

together　he　came　to　his　point。　　〃But　St。　George　did　come　…　last

Sunday。　　I　saw　him　as　I　looked　back。〃



〃Yes；　but　it　was　the　last　time。〃



〃The　last　time？〃



〃He　said　he　would　never　come　again。〃



Paul　Overt　stared。　　〃Does　he　mean　he　wishes　to　cease　to　see　you？〃



〃I　don't　know　what　he　means；〃　the　girl　bravely　smiled。　　〃He　won't

at　any　rate　see　me　here。〃



〃And　pray　why　not？〃



〃I　haven't　the　least　idea；〃　said　Marian　Fancourt；　whose　visitor

found　her　more　perversely　sublime　than　ever　yet　as　she　professed

this　clear　helplessness。







CHAPTER　V







〃Oh　I　say；　I　want　you　to　stop　a　little；〃　Henry　St。　George　said　to

him　at　eleven　o'clock　the　night　he　dined　with　the　head　of　the

profession。　　The　company　…　none　of　it　indeed　OF　the　profession　…

had　been　numerous　and　was　taking　its　leave；　our　young　man；　after

bidding　good…night　to　his　hostess；　had　put　out　his　hand　in　farewell

to　the　master　of　the　house。　　Besides　drawing　from　the　latter　the

protest　I　have　cited　this　movement　provoked　a　further　priceless

word　about　their　chance　now　to　have　a　talk；　their　going　into　his

room；　his　having　still　everything　to　say。　　Paul　Overt　was　all

delight　at　this　kindness；　nevertheless　he　mentioned　in　weak　jocose

qualification　the　bare　fact　that　he　had　promised　to　go　to　another

place　which　was　at　a　considerable　distance。



〃Well　then　you'll　break　your　promise；　that's　all。　　You　quite　awful

humbug！〃　St。　George　added　in　a　tone　that　confirmed　our　young　man's

ease。



〃Certainly　I'll　break　it　…　but　it　was　a　real　promise。〃



〃Do　you　mean　to　Miss　Fancourt？　　You're　following　her？〃　his　friend

asked。



He　answered　by　a　question。　　〃Oh　is　SHE　going？〃



〃Base　impostor！〃　his　ironic　host　went　on。　　〃I've　treated　you

handsomely　on　the　article　of　that　young　lady：　　I　won't　make　another

concession。　　Wait　three　minutes　…　I'll　be　with　you。〃　　He　gave

himself　to　his　departing　guests；　accompanied　the　long…trained

ladies　to　the　door。　　It　was　a　hot　night；　the　windows　were　open；　the

sound　of　the　quick　carriages　and　of　the　linkmen's　call　came　into

the　house。　　The　affair　had　rather　glittered；　a　sense　of　festal

things　was　in　the　heavy　air：　　not　only　the　influence　of　that

particular　entertainment；　but　the　suggestion　of　the　wide　hurry　of

pleasure　which　in　London　on　summer　nights　fills　so　many　of　the