the garden party(园会)-第30章
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disappearing through the swing doors。
〃Enjoying yourself； Leila？〃 asked Jose； nodding her golden head。
Laura passed and gave her the faintest little wink； it made Leila
wonder for a moment whether she was quite grown up after all。
Certainly her partner did not say very much。 He coughed； tucked his
handkerchief away； pulled down his waistcoat； took a minute thread off his
sleeve。 But it didn't matter。 Almost immediately the band started and
her second partner seemed to spring from the ceiling。
〃Floor's not bad；〃 said the new voice。 Did one always begin with the
floor？ And then； 〃Were you at the Neaves' on Tuesday？〃 And again
Leila explained。 Perhaps it was a little strange that her partners were not
more interested。 For it was thrilling。 Her first ball！ She was only at
the beginning of everything。 It seemed to her that she had never known
what the night was like before。 Up till now it had been dark； silent；
beautiful very oftenoh yesbut mournful somehow。 Solemn。 And
now it would never be like that againit had opened dazzling bright。
〃Care for an ice？〃 said her partner。 And they went through the swing
doors； down the passage； to the supper room。 Her cheeks burned； she
was fearfully thirsty。 How sweet the ices looked on little glass plates and
how cold the frosted spoon was； iced too！ And when they came back to
the hall there was the fat man waiting for her by the door。 It gave her
quite a shock again to see how old he was； he ought to have been on the
stage with the fathers and mothers。 And when Leila compared him with
her other partners he looked shabby。 His waistcoat was creased； there
was a button off his glove； his coat looked as if it was dusty with French
chalk。
〃Come along； little lady；〃 said the fat man。 He scarcely troubled to
clasp her； and they moved away so gently； it was more like walking than
dancing。 But he said not a word about the floor。 〃Your first dance； isn't
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it？〃 he murmured。
〃How did you know？〃
〃Ah；〃 said the fat man； 〃that's what it is to be old！〃 He wheezed
faintly as he steered her past an awkward couple。 〃You see； I've been
doing this kind of thing for the last thirty years。〃
〃Thirty years？〃 cried Leila。 Twelve years before she was born！
〃It hardly bears thinking about； does it？〃 said the fat man gloomily。
Leila looked at his bald head； and she felt quite sorry for him。
〃I think it's marvellous to be still going on；〃 she said kindly。
〃Kind little lady；〃 said the fat man； and he pressed her a little closer；
and hummed a bar of the waltz。 〃Of course；〃 he said； 〃you can't hope to
last anything like as long as that。 No…o；〃 said the fat man； 〃long before
that you'll be sitting up there on the stage； looking on； in your nice black
velvet。 And these pretty arms will have turned into little short fat ones；
and you'll beat time with such a different kind of fana black bony one。〃
The fat man seemed to shudder。 〃And you'll smile away like the poor old
dears up there； and point to your daughter； and tell the elderly lady next to
you how some dreadful man tried to kiss her at the club ball。 And your
heart will ache； ache〃the fat man squeezed her closer still； as if he really
was sorry for that poor heart〃because no one wants to kiss you now。
And you'll say how unpleasant these polished floors are to walk on； how
dangerous they are。 Eh； Mademoiselle Twinkletoes？〃 said the fat man
softly。
Leila gave a light little laugh； but she did not feel like laughing。 Was
itcould it all be true？ It sounded terribly true。 Was this first ball only
the beginning of her last ball； after all？ At that the music seemed to
change； it sounded sad； sad； it rose upon a great sigh。 Oh； how quickly
things changed！ Why didn't happiness last for ever？ For ever wasn't a
bit too long。
〃I want to stop；〃 she said in a breathless voice。 The fat man led her to
the door。
〃No；〃 she said； 〃I won't go outside。 I won't sit down。 I'll just stand
here； thank you。〃 She leaned against the wall； tapping with her foot；
pulling up her gloves and trying to smile。 But deep inside her a little girl
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threw her pinafore over her head and sobbed。 Why had he spoiled it all？
〃I say； you know；〃 said the fat man； 〃you mustn't take me seriously；
little lady。〃
〃As if I should！〃 said Leila； tossing her small dark head and sucking
her underlip。。。
Again the couples paraded。 The swing doors opened and shut。 Now
new music was given out by the bandmaster。 But Leila didn't want to
dance any more。 She wanted to be home； or sitting on the veranda
listening to those baby owls。 When she looked through the dark
windows at the stars； they had long beams like wings。。。
But presently a soft； melting； ravishing tune began； and a young man
with curly hair bowed before her。 She would have to dance； out of
politeness； until she could find Meg。 Very stiffly she walked into the
middle； very haughtily she put her hand on his sleeve。 But in one minute；
in one turn； her feet glided； glided。 The lights； the azaleas； the dresses；
the pink faces； the velvet chairs； all became one beautiful flying wheel。
And when her next partner bumped her into the fat man and he said；
〃Pardon；〃 she smiled at him more radiantly than ever。 She didn't even
recognise him again。
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11。 THE SINGING LESSON。
With despaircold； sharp despairburied deep in her heart like a
wicked knife； Miss Meadows； in cap and gown and carrying a little baton；
trod the cold corridors that led to the music hall。 Girls of all ages； rosy
from the air； and bubbling over with that gleeful excitement that comes
from running to school on a fine autumn morning； hurried； skipped；
fluttered by； from the hollow class…rooms came a quick drumming of
voices； a bell rang； a voice like a bird cried； 〃Muriel。〃 And then there
came from the staircase a tremendous knock…knock…knocking。 Some one
had dropped her dumbbells。
The Science Mistress stopped Miss Meadows。
〃Good mor…ning；〃 she cried； in her sweet； affected drawl。 〃Isn't it
cold？ It might be win…ter。〃
Miss Meadows； hugging the knife； stared in hatred at the Science
Mistress。 Everything about her was sweet； pale； like honey。 You wold
not have been surprised to see a bee caught in the tangles of that yellow
hair。
〃It is rather sharp；〃 said Miss Meadows； grimly。
The other smiled her sugary smile。
〃You look fro…zen；〃 said she。 Her blue eyes opened wide； there came
a mocking light in them。 （Had she noticed anything？）
〃Oh； not quite as bad as that；〃 said Miss Meadows； and she gave the
Science Mistress； in exchange for her smile； a quick grimace and passed
on。。。
Forms Four； Five； and Six were assembled in the music hall。 The
noise was deafening。 On the platform； by the piano； stood Mary Beazley；
Miss Meadows' favourite； who played accompaniments。 She was turning
the music stool。 When she saw Miss Meadows she gave a loud； warning
〃Sh…sh！ girls！〃 and Miss Meadows； her hands thrust in her sleeves； the
baton under her arm； strode down the centre aisle； mounted the steps；
turned sharply； seized the brass music stand； planted it in front of her； and
gave two sharp taps with her baton for silence。
〃Silence； please！ Immediately！〃 and； looking at nobody； her glance
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swept over that sea of coloured flannel blouses； with bobbing pink faces
and hands； quivering butterfly hair…bows； and music…books outspread。
She knew perfectly well what they were thinking。 〃Meady is in a wax。〃
Well； let them think it！ Her eyelids quivered； she tossed her head；
defying them。 What could the thoughts of those creatures matter to some
one who stood there bleeding to death； pierced to the heart； to the heart； by
such a letter
。。。〃I feel more and more strongly that our marriage would be a mistake。
Not that I do not love you。 I love you as much as it is possible for me to
love any woman； but； truth to tell； I have come to the conclusion that I am
not a marrying man； and the idea of settling down fills me with nothing
but〃 and the word 〃disgust〃 was scratched out lightly and 〃regret〃
written over the top。
Basil！ Miss Meadows stalked over to the piano。 And Mary Beazley；
who was waiting for this moment； bent forward； her curls fell over her
cheeks while she breathed； 〃Good morning； Miss Meadows；〃 and she
motioned towards rather than handed to her mistress a beautiful yellow
chrysanthemum。 This little ritual of the flower had been gone through
for ages and ages； quite a term and a half。 It was as much part of the
lesson as opening the piano。 But this morning； instead of taking it up；
instead of tucking it into her belt while
